Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There are times to weep and times to laugh. I would like to see you laugh.\\\"\\n\\nShe did laugh, a dry laugh. \\\"There's little reason while I wear white, Rolan.\\\" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Was she going too fast? But he only nodded.\\n\\n\\\"Still, I would like to see it. Smiles suit your face. Laughter would suit it even better. I have no wife, but I can make a woman laugh, sometimes. I have heard you have a husband?\\\"\\n\\nStartled, Faile tripped over her own feet and caught herself on his arm. Quickly, she snatched her hand away, studying him past the edge of her cowl. He paused long enough for her to steady herself, then walked on when she did. His expression was no more than mildly curious. Despite Nadric, Aiel custom was fora woman to do the asking, after a man attracted her interest. Giving her gifts was one way. Making her laugh was another. So much for his not liking women. \\\"I do have a husband, Rolan, and I love him very much. Very much. I can't wait to return to him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What happens while you are gai'shain cannot beheld against you when you put off white,\\\" he said calmly, \\\"but perhaps you wet-landers do not see it that way. Still, it can be lonely when you are gai'shain. Perhaps we can talk sometimes.\\\"\\n\\nThe man wanted to see her laugh, and she did not know whether to laugh or cry. He was announcing that he did not intend to give up trying to attract her interest. Aiel women admired perseverance in a man. Still, if Chiad and Bain would not, could not, help beyond giving her aid in reaching the trees, Rolan washer best hope. She thought she could convince him, given time. Of course she could; faint hearts never succeeded! He was a scorned outcast, accepted only because the Shaido needed his spear. But she was going to have to give him a reason to persist.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I would like that,\\\" she said carefully.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A little flirting might be necessary after all, but she could not go from telling him how much she loved her husband straight to wide-eyed and breathless. Not that she had any intention of going that far-she was no Domani!-yet she might need to come close. For the time being, a little reminder that Sevanna had usurped his'right\\\" would not go amiss. \\\"I have work to do now, though, and I doubt Sevanna would be pleased if I spent the time talking to you instead.\\\"\\n\\nRolan nodded again, and Faile sighed. He might know how to make a woman laugh, as he claimed, but he certainly did not talk very much. She was going to have to work to draw him out if she intended to get anything more than jokes she did not understand. Even with Chiad and Bain's help, Aiel humor remained incomprehensible to her.\\n\\nThey had reached the broad square in front of the fortress at the north end of the city, a towered mass of gray stonewalls that had protected its inhabitants no better than the city walls. Faile thought she had seen the lady who had ruled Maiden and everything for twenty miles around, a handsome dignified widow in her middle years, among the gai'shain hauling water. White-clad men and women carrying buckets crowded the stone-paved square. At the eastern end of the square, what looked like a section of the city's outer wall, gray and thirty feet high, was actually the wall of a huge cistern fed by an aqueduct. Four pumps, each worked by a pair of men, gushed out water to fill the buckets, a good bit more splashing to the paving stones than the men would have dared allow if they had known Rolan was close enough to see. Faile had considered crawling through the tunnel-like aqueduct to escape, but they had noway to keep anything dry, and wherever it let them out, they would be soaking wet and more likely to freeze to death than make it more than a mile or two in the snow.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There were two other places in the city to get water, both fed by stone conduits underground, but here along, lion-footed black-wood table had been placed at the foot of the cistern wall. Once it had been a banqueting table, the top inlaid with ivory, but the ivory wedges had been pried out and several wooden washtubs sat on the tabletop now. A pair of wooden buckets stood beside the table, and atone end a copper kettle steamed over afire made from broken-up chairs. Faile doubted that Sevanna had her laundry carried into the city to save her gai'shain the labor of hauling water out to the tents, but whatever the reason, Faile was grateful. A basket of laundry was lighter than full water buckets. She had carried enough of them to know. Two baskets stood on the table, but only one woman wearing the golden belt and collar was at work, the sleeves of her white robe rolled up as high as they would go and her long dark hair tied with a strip of white cloth to keep it from falling into the washtub's water.\\n\\nWhen Alliandre saw Faile approaching with Rolan, she straightened, drying her bare arms on her robe. Alliandre Maritha Kigarin, Queen of Ghealdan, Blessed of the Light, Defender of Garen's Wall and a dozen more titles, had been an elegant, reserved woman, poised and stately. Alliandre the gai'shain was still pretty, but she wore a perpetually harried expression. With damp patches on her robes and her hands wrinkled from long immersion in the water, she could have passed fora pretty washerwoman. Watching Rolan set down the basket and smile at Faile before striding away, watching Faile return the smile, she raised a quizzical eyebrow.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He's the one who captured me,\\\" Faile said, setting pieces of clothing from the basket on the table. Even here among none but gai'shain, it was best to talk while working. \\\"He's one of the Brotherless, and I think he doesn't really approve of making wetlanders gai'shain. I think he may help us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see,\\\" Alliandre said. With one hand she brushed delicately at the back of Faile's robe.\\n\\nFrowning, Faile twisted to look over her shoulder. Fora moment she stared at the dirt and ash that covered her back from the shoulders down; then heat flooded her face. \\\"I fell,\\\" she said quickly. She could not tell Alliandre what had happened with Nadric. She did not think she could tell anyone. \\\"Rolan offered to carry my basket.\\\"\\n\\nAlliandre shrugged. \\\"If he helped me escape, I would marry him. Or not, as he wanted. He's not quite pretty, but it wouldn't be painful, and my husband, if I had one, would never have to know. If he had any sense, he would be overjoyed to have me back and ask no questions he didn't want to hear answers to.\\\"\\n\\nHands tightening on a silk blouse, Faile gritted her teeth. Alliandre washer liege woman, through Perrin, and she held to that well enough, at least insofar as obeying commands, but the nature of the relationship had become strained. They had agreed that they must try to think like servants, try to be servants, if they were to survive, yet that meant that each had seen the other curtsying and scurrying to obey. Sevanna's punishments were dealt out by the nearest gai'shain to hand when she made her decision, and once Faile had been ordered to switch Alliandre. Worse, Alliandre had been ordered to return the favor twice. Holding back only meant a taste of the same for yourself plus the other woman having to endure a double dose from someone who would not spare her arm. It had to make a difference when you had twice made your liege-lady kick and shriek.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Abruptly she realized that the blouse she was gripping was one of those that had picked up extra dirt when the basket fell. Loosening her grip, she examined the garment anxiously. It did not seem that she had ground the dirt in. Fora moment, she felt relief, and then irritation at being relieved. Even more irritating, the relief did not go away.\\n\\n\\\"Arrela and Lacile escaped three days ago,\\\" she said in a low voice. \\\"They should be well away by now. Where is Maighdin?\\\"\\n\\nA worried frown appeared on the other woman's face. \\\"She is trying to sneak into Therava's tent. Therava passed us with a group of Wise Ones, and from what we overheard, they seemed to be on their way to meet with Sevanna. Maighdin shoved her basket at me and said she was going to try. I think... I think she's becoming desperate enough to take too many chances,\\\" she said with a touch of hopelessness in her own voice. \\\"She should have been hereby now.\\\"\\n\\nFaile drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. They were all becoming desperate. They had gathered supplies for their escape-knives and food, boots and men's breeches and coats that fit near enough, all carefully hidden in the wagons; the white robes would serve as blankets, and as cloaks to hide them in the snow-but the chance to use all that preparation seemed no closer now than the day they were captured. Only two weeks. Twenty-two days to be exact. That should have not been long enough to change anything, but their pretense of being servants was changing them in spite of all they could do. Only two weeks, and they found themselves jumping to obey commands without thought, worrying over punishments and whether they were pleasing Sevanna. The worst of it was, they could see themselves doing these things, knew some part of them was being molded against their wills. For now, they could tell themselves they were just doing what was needed to avoid suspicion until they could escape, yet everyday the reactions became more automatic. How long before escape was a pale dream dreamed in the night after a day of being a perfect gai'shain in thought as well as deed? No one had dared ask that question aloud, so far, and Faile knew that she herself tried not to think it, but the question was always on the edge of her consciousness. Ina way, she was afraid of it leaving. When it did, would it already have been answered?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"With an effort, she forced herself back from despondency. That was the second trap, and only willpower held it open. \\\"Maighdin knows she has to be careful,\\\" she said in a firm voice. \\\"She will be here soon, Alliandre.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And if she is caught?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She won't be!\\\" Faile said sharply. If she was... No. She had to think of victory, not defeat. Faint hearts never won.\\n\\nWashing the silk was time-consuming. The buckets of water they fetched from the cistern pumps were icy cold, but hot water scooped from the copper kettle brought the temperature in the washtubs up to lukewarm. You could not wash silk in hot water. Sinking your hands into the washtubs felt wonderful in the cold, but you always had to take them out again, and then the cold was twice as bitter. There was no soap, not that was mild enough anyway, so each skirt and blouse had to be submersed one by one and delicately scrubbed against itself. Then it was laid on apiece of toweling and gently rolled up to squeeze out as much water as possible. The damp garment was dipped again, in another wash-tub that was filled with a mixture of vinegar and water-that reduced fading and enhanced the gloss of the silk-then rolled up in toweling again. The wet toweling was wrung out hard and spread in the sun to dry wherever there was room, while each piece of silk was hung on a horizontal pole, slung in the shade of a rough canvas pavilion erected at the edge of the square, and smoothed by hand to rub out wrinkles. With luck, nothing would need ironing. Both of them knew how silk had to be cared for, but ironing it needed experience neither of them had. None of Sevanna's gai'shain did, not even Maighdin, though she had been a lady's maid even before entering Faile's service, but Sevanna did not accept excuses. Every time Faile or Alliandre went to hang another garment, they checked those already there and smoothed any that seemed to need it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Faile was adding hot water to a washtub when Alliandre said bitterly, \\\"Here comes the Aes Sedai.\\\"\\n\\nGalina was Aes Sedai, complete with the ageless face and a golden Great Serpent ring on her finger, but she wore white gai'shain robes, too-in silk as thick as anyone else's wool, no less!-along with a wide, elaborate belt of gold and firedrops that cinched her waist tightly and a tall matching collar around her neck, jewels fit fora monarch. She was Aes Sedai, and sometimes rode out from the camp alone, but she always returned, and she jumped when any Wise One crooked a finger, especially Therava, whose tent she often shared. Ina way, that last was the strangest thing of all. Galina knew who Faile was, knew who her husband was and Perrin's connection to Rand al'Thor, and she threatened to reveal it to Sevanna unless Faile and her friends stole something from the very tent she slept in. That was the third trap lying in wait for them. Sevanna was obsessed with al'Thor, insanely convinced that she could somehow marry him, and if she learned about Perrin, Faile would never be allowed far enough out of her sight to think of escape. She would be staked out like a goat to draw a lion.\\n\\nFaile had seen Galina slinking and cowering, but now the sister glided through the square like a queen disdaining the rabble around her, an Aes Sedai to the hilt. There were no Wise Ones here for her simper at. Galina was pretty, but nowhere near beautiful, and Faile did not understand what Therava saw in her, unless it was simply the pleasure of dominating an Aes Sedai. That still left the question of why the woman remained when Therava seemed to take every opportunity to humiliate her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Stopping apace from the table, Galina surveyed them with a small smile that might have been called pitying. \\\"You are not progressing very far in your work,\\\" she said. She was not speaking of the laundry.\\n\\nIt was Faile's place to do the talking, but Alliandre spoke up, even more bitterly than before. \\\"Maighdin went to fetch your ivory rod this morning, Galina. When will we see some of the help you promised?\\\" Help in their escape was the carrot Galina offered along with the stick of threatening Faile's exposure. So far, however, they had seen only the stick.\\n\\n\\\"She went to Therava's tent this morning?\\\" Galina whispered, the blood draining from her face.\\n\\nIt dawned on Faile that the sun was halfway down to the horizon in the west, and her heart began to thud painfully. Maighdin should have joined them long since.\\n\\nThe Aes Sedai seemed even more shaken than she. \\\"This morning?\\\" Galina repeated, looking over her shoulder. She gave a start and a cry when Maighdin suddenly appeared out of the throng of gai'shain crowding the square.\\n\\nUnlike Alliandre, the golden-haired woman had grown tougher by the day since their capture. She was no less desperate, but she seemed to focus it all into determination. She always had a presence that belonged more to a queen than a lady's maid, though most lady's maids had it, but now she stumbled past them, dull-eyed, and plunged her hands into a water bucket, cupping a double handful to her mouth to drink thirstily, then scrubbing the back of a hand across her mouth.\\n\\n\\\"I want to kill Therava when we go,\\\" she said thickly. \\\"I would like to kill her now.\\\" Her blue eyes took on life again, and heat. \\\"You're safe, Galina. She thought I was thereto steal. I hadn't started looking. Something... Something happened, and she left. After tying me up. For later.\\\" The heat faded from her gaze to be replaced by puzzlement. \\\"What is it, Galina? Even I feel it, and I have so little ability these Aiel women decided I was no danger.\\\" Maighdin could channel. Not reliably, though and not very much-from what little Faile knew, the White Tower would have sent her away in a matter of weeks, and she claimed never to have gone-so her ability would not be of much use in aiding their escape. Faile would have asked what she was talking about, but she never got the chance.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Galina's face was still pale, but otherwise she was all Aes Sedai calm. Except that she seized a handful of Maighdin's cowl and the hair beneath and wrenched her head back. \\\"Never you mind what it is,\\\" she said coolly. \\\"Nothing to do with you. All you need worry about is getting me what I want. But you should worry about that very hard.\\\"\\n\\nBefore Faile could move to defend Maighdin, another woman wearing the wide golden belt over her white robes was there, pulling Galina away and slinging her to the ground. Plump and plain, Aravine had been weary-eyed and resigned the first time Faile saw her, the day the Amadician woman handed her the golden belt she wore and told her she was now in the service of'the Lady Sevanna.\\\" The intervening days had stiffened Aravine even more than they had Maighdin, though.\\n\\n\\\"Are you mad, to lay hands on an Aes Sedai?\\\" Galina snapped, struggling to her feet. Brushing at the dirt staining her silk robes, she directed all her fury at the plump woman. \\\"I will have you-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Shall I tell Therava you were manhandling one of Sevanna's gai'shain?\\\" Aravine broke in coldly. Her accents were cultured. She might have been a merchant of some note, or perhaps even a noble, but she never spoke of what she had been before putting on white. \\\"The last time Therava thought you'd poked your nose where she didn't want it, everybody inside a hundred paces could hear you squealing and begging.\\\"\\n\\nGalina actually quivered with rage, the first time Faile had ever seen an Aes Sedai so outdone. With a visible effort, she gained control of herself. Just. Her voice dripped acid. \\\"Aes Sedai do what we do for our own reasons, Aravine, reasons you could not possibly understand. You will regret incurring this debt when I decide to collect payment. You will regret it to your heart.\\\" Giving her robes a last brush, she stalked away, no longer the queen disdaining rabble but a leopard daring sheep to block her path.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Watching her go, Aravine seemed unimpressed, and uninclined to chat. \\\"Sevanna wants you, Faile\\\" was all she said.\\n\\nFaile did not bother to ask why. She just dried her hands, rolled down her sleeves, and followed the Amadician woman, after promising Alliandre and Maighdin to return as soon as she could. Sevanna was fascinated with the three of them. Maighdin, the only true lady's maid among her gai'shain, seemed to interest her as much as Queen Alliandre, and Faile herself, a woman powerful enough to have a queen as her liege woman, and sometimes she summoned one of them by name to help her change clothes or bathe in the large copper bathtub that she used more often than the sweat tent, or just to pour her wine. The rest of the time they were given the same chores as her other servants, but she never asked whether they had already been assigned work or let them off because of it. Whatever Sevanna wanted, Faile knew she still would beheld accountable for the laundry along with the other two. Sevanna wanted what she wanted when she wanted it, and she did not accept excuses.\\n\\nThere was no need for Faile to be shown the way to Sevanna's tent, but Aravine led the way through the throng of water carriers until they reached the first low Aiel tents, and then she pointed in the opposite direction to Sevanna's tent and said, \\\"This way, first.\\\"\\n\\nFaile stopped where she stood. \\\"Why?\\\" she asked suspiciously. There were actually men and women among Sevanna's servants who were jealous of the attentions she gave Faile, Alliandre and Maighdin, and though Faile had never detected that in Aravine, some of the rest might well try to get them in trouble bypassing on false instructions.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You will want to see this before you see Sevanna. Believe me.\\\"\\n\\nFaile opened her mouth to demand more explanation, but Aravine simply turned and walked away. Faile gathered up the skirts of her robes and followed.\\n\\nAll sorts and sizes of carts and wagons stood among the tents, their wheels replaced by sleds. Most were piled high with bundles and wooden crates and barrels, with the wheels tied on top of the loads, but she did not have to follow Aravine far before she saw a flatbed cart that had been emptied. Except that the cart bed was not empty. Two women lay on the rough wooden planks, naked and cruelly hogtied, shivering in the cold yet panting as if they were running. Both women's heads hung tiredly, but as if they somehow knew Faile was there, both looked up. Arrela, a dark Tairen as tall as most Aiel women, averted her eyes in embarrassment. Lacile, slim and pale and Cairhienin, went bright red.\\n\\n\\\"They were brought back this morning,\\\" Aravine said, watching Faile's face. \\\"They will be untied before dark, since it's the first time they've tried to escape, though I doubt they will be in any condition to walk before tomorrow.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why did you show me this?\\\" Faile said. They had been so careful to keep the connection between them a secret.\\n\\n\\\"You forget, my Lady, I was there when you were all put in white.\\\" Aravine studied her a moment, then suddenly took Faile's hands and turned them so that her own hands were between Faile's palms. Bending her knees just short of kneeling, she said quickly, \\\"Under the Light and by my hope of rebirth, I, Aravine Carnel, do pledge my fealty and obedience in all things to the Lady Faile t'Aybara.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Only Lacile appeared to have noticed; the Shaido walking past paid no mind to two gai'shain women. Faile jerked her hands free. \\\"How do you know that name?\\\" She had had to give more of her name than Faile, of course, but she had chosen Faile Bashere once she realized that none of the Shaido had a clue who Davram Bashere was. Aside from Alliandre and the others, only Galina knew the truth. Or so she had thought. \\\"And who have you told?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I listen, my Lady. I overheard Galina speaking to you, once.\\\" Anxiety touched Aravine's voice. \\\"And I have told no one.\\\" She did not sound surprised that Faile wanted to hide her name, though clearly t'Aybara meant nothing to her. Perhaps Aravine Carnel was not her true name, or not all of it. \\\"In this place, secrets must beheld as closely as in Amador. I knew these women were yours, but I told no one. I know you intend to escape. I've been certain since the second or third day, and nothing I've seen since convinces me otherwise. Accept my oath, and take me with you. I can help, and what is more, I can be trusted. I have proved it by keeping your secrets. Please.\\\" The last word came out strained, as if from someone unused to saying it. A noblewoman, then, rather than a merchant.\\n\\nThe woman had proven nothing beyond that she could spy out secrets, but that in itself was a useful trait. On the other hand, Faile knew of at least two gai'shain who had tried to escape and been betrayed by others. Some people really did try to feather their own nests no matter what the circumstances. But Aravine already knew enough to ruin everything. Faile thought about her hidden knife again. A dead woman could betray nothing. But the knife was half a mile away, she could think of noway to hide the body, and besides, the woman could have curried favor with Sevanna just by saying she thought Faile was planning escape.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Taking Aravine's hands between hers, she spoke as quickly as the other woman had. \\\"Under the Light, I do accept your pledge and will defend and protect you and yours through battle's wrack and winter's blast and all that time may bring. Now. Do you know anyone else who can be trusted? Not people you think you can trust, people you know you can.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not with this, my Lady,\\\" Aravine said grimly. Her face shone with relief, though. She had not been sure Faile would accept her. That it was relief rather that anything else made Faile tend to believe in her. Tend to, which was not to say completely. \\\"Half would betray their own mothers in hopes of buying freedom, and the other half are too afraid to try or too stunned to be trusted not to panic. There must be some, and I have my eye on one or two, but I want to be very careful. One mistake is one more than I'll be allowed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very careful,\\\" Faile agreed. \\\"Did Sevanna really send for me? If she didn't-\\\"\\n\\nIt seemed that she had, and Faile was quick about reaching Sevanna's tent-quicker than she would have liked, in truth; it was irritating to leap to avoid Sevanna's displeasure-but no one paid her the slightest heed when she walked in and stood meekly by the entry flaps.\\n\\nSevanna's tent was no low Aiel structure, but a wall-tent of red canvas large enough to need two center poles, lit by near a dozen mirrored stand-lamps. Two gilded braziers gave a little warmth, emitting thin tendrils of smoke that eddied out through the smoke holes in the roof, but the interior was little warmer than outside. Rich carpets, the snow carefully scraped away before they were laid, made a floor of reds and greens and blues, Tairen mazes and flowers and animals. Tasseled silk cushions lay strewn about the carpets, and one chair, a massive thing intricately carved and heavily gilded, satin a corner. Faile had never seen anyone sit in it, but its presence was supposed to evoke the presence of a clan chief, she knew. She was just as happy to stand quietly with her eyes down. Three other gai'shain with golden belts and collars, one a bearded male, stood along one wall of the tent, in case some service was needed. Sevanna was there, and so was Therava.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Sevanna was a tall woman, a little taller than Faile herself, with pale green eyes and hairlike spun gold.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She might have been beautiful except fora strong hint of avarice around her plump mouth. Little about her really seemed Aiel, beyond her eyes and hair and sun-dark face. Her blouse was white silk, her skirt divided for riding and also silk, if a dark gray, and the scarf folded around her temples was ablaze of crimson and gold. Also silk. Red boots peeked out beneath the hem of her skirt when she moved. Jeweled rings decorated her every finger, and her necklaces and bracelets of fat pearls and cut diamonds and rubies as large as pigeon's eggs, sapphires and emeralds and firedrops, paled anything Someryn had. Not a single one was Aiel-made. Therava, on the other hand, was all Aiel, in dark wool and white algode, her hands bare and her necklaces and bracelets gold and ivory. No finger rings or gems for her. Taller than most men, her dark red hair touched with streaks of white, she was a blue-eyed eagle that it seemed must devour Sevanna like a crippled lamb. Faile would rather anger Sevanna ten times than Therava once, but the two women faced another across a table inlaid with ivory and turquoise, and Sevanna met Therava glare for glare.\\n\\n\\\"What is happening today means danger,\\\" Therava said with the air of someone tired of repeating herself. And perhaps about to draw the knife at her belt. She caressed the hilt as she spoke, and not entirely absently, Faile thought. \\\"We need to put as much distance between ourselves and whatever it is as we possibly can, and as soon as we can. There are mountains to the east. Once we reach them, we can be safe until we gather all the septs together again. Septs that would never have been separated if you had not been so sure of yourself, Sevanna.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You speak of safety?\\\" Sevanna laughed. \\\"Have you grown so old and toothless you need to be fed bread and milk? Look. These mountains of yours are how distant? How many days, or weeks, when we must crawl through this cursed snow?\\\" She gestured to the table between them where a map lay spread out, weighted down with two thick golden bowls and a heavy three-pronged golden candlestick. Most Aiel disdained maps, but Sevanna had taken to them along with other wetland customs. \\\"Whatever happened is faraway, Therava. You agreed it is so, as did every Wise One. This city is full of food, enough to feed us for weeks, if we remain here. Who is thereto challenge us, if we do? And if we do. ... You have heard the runners, the messages. In two or three weeks, four at the most, ten more septs will have joined me. Perhaps more! This snow will have melted by then, if these wet-landers from the city can be believed. We will travel quickly instead of having to drag everything on sleds.\\\" Faile wondered whether any of the city people had mentioned mud.\\n\\n\\\"Ten more septs will join you,\\\" Therava said, her voice flat except for the last word. Her hand tightened on the knife hilt. \\\"You speak for the clan chief, Sevanna, and so I was chosen to advise you as a clan chief, who must listen to advice for the good of our clan. I advise you to move east and keep moving east. The other septs can join us as easily in those mountains as here, and if we must go a little hungry on the way, who among us is a stranger to privation?\\\"\\n\\nSevanna fingered her necklaces, a large emerald on her right hand like green fire in the light of the stand-lamps. Her mouth tightened, and seemed hungrier for it. She might have known privation, but despite the lack of warmth in the tent, she no longer chose to. \\\"I speak for the chief, and I say we will remain here.\\\" There was more than a hint of challenge in her voice, but she did not give Therava a chance to meet it. \\\"Ah, I see that Faile has come. My good, obedient gai'shain.\\\" Taking something wrapped in a cloth from the table, she stripped away the cloth. \\\"Do you recognize this, Faile Bashere?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"What Sevanna held was a knife with a single-edged blade a hand and a half long, a simple tool of the sort that thousands of farmers carried. Except that Faile recognized the pattern of rivets in the wooden handle, and the chip in the edge. It was the knife that she had stolen and hidden away with such care. She said nothing. There was nothing to say. Gai'shain were forbidden to possess any weapon, even a knife except when cutting meat or vegetables for cooking. She could not help jerking when Sevanna went on, though.\\n\\n\\\"As well Galina brought me this before you could use it. For whatever purpose. If you stabbed someone, I would have to be very angry with you.\\\"\\n\\nGalina? Of course. The Aes Sedai would not allow them to escape before they did as she wanted.\\n\\n\\\"She is shocked, Therava.\\\" Sevanna's laughter was amused. \\\"Galina knows what is required of gai'shain, Faile Bashere. What should I do with her, Therava? That is advice you can give me. Several wetlanders have been killed for hiding weapons, but I would hate to lose her.\\\"\\n\\nTherava tipped Faile's chin up with a finger and stared into her eyes. Faile met that gaze without blinking, but she felt her knees tremble. She did not try telling herself it was only the cold. Faile knew she was not a coward, but when Therava looked at her, Faile saw herself as a rabbit in that eagle's talons, alive and waiting for the beak to descend. It had been Therava who first told her to spy on Sevanna, and however circumspect the other Wise Ones might have been, Faile had no doubt that Therava would slither throat without the slightest qualm if she failed her. There was no use pretending the woman did not frighten her. She just had to control that fear. If she could.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I think she was planning to runaway, Sevanna. But I think she can learn to do as she is told.\\\"\\n\\nThe rough wooden table had been set out between the tents in the nearest open space to Sevanna's tent, a hundred paces away. At first, Faile thought that the shame of being naked would be the worst of it, that and the icy cold that pebbled her skin. The sun sat low in the sky; the air had grown colder, and it would get much colder before morning. She had to stay there till morning. The Shaido were good at learning what shamed wetlanders, and they used shame as a punishment. She thought she would die of blushing whenever anyone looked at her, but the Shaido who passed by did not even pause. In itself, nudity was no reason for shame among Aiel. Aravine appeared in front of her, but she stopped only long enough to whisper, \\\"Keep your courage,\\\" and then she was gone. Faile understood. Whether or not the woman was loyal, she did not dare do anything to help.\\n\\nAfter a very short time, Faile no longer worried about shame. Her wrists had been tied behind her, and then her ankles had been doubled back and tied to her elbows. She understood now why Lacile and Arrela had been panting. Breathing was an effort in this position. The cold bit deeper and deeper, until she was shivering uncontrollably, but even that soon seemed secondary. Cramps began to burn in her legs, her shoulders, her sides, bunching muscles that seemed on fire, twisting tighter and tighter and tighter. She focused on not screaming. That became the center of her existence. She-would-not-scream. But, oh, Light, she hurt!\\n\\n\\\"Sevanna ordered that you were to remain here till dawn, Faile Bashere, but she did not say you could not have company.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She had to blink several times before she could see clearly. Sweat stung her eyes. How could she be sweating when she was frozen to the marrow? Rolan was standing in front of her, and strangely, he was carrying a pair of low bronze braziers full of glowing coals, with pieces of cloth wrapped around a leg of each to protect his hands from the heat. Seeing her stare at the braziers, he shrugged. \\\"Once, a night in the cold would not have bothered me, but I have grown soft since I crossed the Dragonwall.\\\"\\n\\nShe almost gasped when he set the braziers beneath the table. Warmth flooded up through the cracks between the planks. Her muscles still shrieked with cramps, but oh, the blessed warmth. She did gasp when the man put an arm across her chest and the other across her bent knees. Suddenly she realized the pressure was gone from her elbows. He had... squeezed... her. One of his hands began working at her thigh, and she almost screamed as his fingers dug into knotted muscles, but she felt the knots begin to loosen. They still hurt, his massaging hurt, but the pain in that one thigh muscle was changing in kind. Not growing less, exactly, but she knew that it would, if he continued.\\n\\n\\\"You do not mind if I occupy myself while I try to think of away to make you laugh, do you?\\\" he asked.\\n\\nSuddenly she realized that she was laughing, and not hysterically. Well, it was only partly hysteria. She was trussed like a goose for the oven and being saved from the cold for the second time by a man she thought maybe she would not stab after all, Sevanna would be watching her like a hawk from now on, and Therava might be trying to kill her as an example; but she knew she was going to escape. One door never closed but another opened. She was going to escape. She laughed until she cried.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Chapter 10\\n\\nA Blazing Beacon\\n\\nThe wide-eyed maid was more used to kneading bread dough than doing up rows of tiny buttons, but eventually she finished buttoning Elayne into her dark green riding dress, curtsied and stepped back breathing heavily, though whether from the effort of concentration or just from being in the presence of the Daughter-Heir was hard to tell. The Great Serpent ring on Elayne's left hand might have had something to do with it, too. Just over twenty miles in a straight line would take you from the manor of House Matherin to the River Erinin and all its great commerce, but the distance was far greater in actual miles to be covered through the Chishen Mountains, and people here were more accustomed to cattle raids across the border from Murandy than any sort of visitor, especially a visitor who wrapped the Daughter-Heir and an Aes Sedai into one package. The honor seemed beyond what some of the servants could bear. Elsie had been painfully conscientious in folding the blue silk gown that Elayne had worn last night and packing it away in a large leather traveling chest, one of a pair in the apartment's dressing room, so conscientious that Elayne had nearly taken over the task herself. She had slept poorly at first, fitful and waking, then slept late when she could sleep, and she was beyond chafing to be on her way back to Caemlyn.\\n\\nThis was the fifth time she had spent a night out of Caemlyn since learning the city was threatened, and on each trip she had given a day to visiting three or four manors, once five, all the property of men and women bound to House Trakand by blood or oaths, and every visit took time. The press of time weighed down her bones, yet presenting the proper image was necessary. Riding clothes were needed to travel from one manor to the next lest she arrived rumpled and looking a fugitive, but she had to change before settling in whether it was for the night or just a few hours. Half those hours might betaken up by shifting from riding clothes to a gown and back again, but riding clothes spoke of haste and need, perhaps of desperation, while the coronet of the Daughter-Heir and an embroidered gown trimmed with lace, unpacked from a set of traveling cases and donned after washing, portrayed confidence and strength. She would have brought her own maid to add to the impression if Essande had been up to keeping the pace in winter, though she suspected the white-haired woman's slowness would have had her chewing her tongue in frustration. Still, Essande could not have been as slow as this goggled-eyed young Elsie.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"At last Elsie handed her her fur-lined crimson cloak with a curtsy, and she slung the cloak around her shoulders hastily. Afire blazed on the stone hearth, but the room was nowhere near warm, and recently she could not seem to ignore the cold with any reliability. The girl bobbed as she asked whether she could fetch men to carry down the chests if it pleased Her Majesty. The first time she had done that, Elayne had gently explained that she was not yet Queen, but Elsie seemed horrified at the idea of addressing her simply as my Lady, or even as Princess, though in truth the last was considered very old-fashioned. Proper or not, it usually pleased Elayne to hear someone acknowledge her right to the throne, but this morning she was too tired to be anything but anxious to be on the road. Suppressing a yawn, she told Elsie curtly to fetch the men and be quick about it, and turned for the paneled door. The girl rushed to open it for her, which took longer than if she had done it herself, with a curtsy before opening and yet another after. Her divided silk skirts whispered furiously against each other as she strode out of the room tugging on her red riding gloves. If Elsie had delayed her one more second, she thought she would have screamed.\\n\\nIt was the girl who shrieked, however, before Elayne had gone three paces, a horrified howl that sounded ripped from her throat. The cloak flared as Elayne spun around, embracing the True Source, feeling the richness of saidar flood through her. Elsie was standing on the strip of carpet that ran along the middle of the pale brown floor tiles, staring the other way down the hall with both hands pressed to her mouth. Two crossing corridors opened in that direction, but there was not another soul insight.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What is it, Elsie?\\\" Elayne demanded. She had several weaves already on the edge of forming, ranging from a simple net of air to a fireball that would have demolished half the walls in front of her, and in her present humor, she wanted to use one of them, to strikeout with the Power. Her moods were uncertain of late, to say the least.\\n\\nThe girl looked back over one shoulder, trembling, and if her eyes had been wide before, they bulged now. Her hands remained clamped to mouth as if to prevent another scream. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, tall and plump-bosomed in House Matherin's gray-and-blue livery, she was not really a girl-Elsie might be four or five years older than herself-but the way she behaved made it difficult to think of her any other way.\\n\\n\\\"What is it, Elsie? And don't tell me it was nothing. You look as if you'd seen a ghost.\\\"\\n\\nThe girl flinched. \\\"I did,\\\" she said unsteadily. That she gave Elayne no title showed just how unsteady she was. \\\"Lady Nelein, as was Lord Aedmun's grandmother. She died when I was little, but I remember even Lord Aedmun tiptoed around her temper, and the maids used to jump if she looked at them, and other ladies who visited, too, and the lords, as well. Everybody was afraid of her. She was right therein front of me, and she scowled so furious-\\\" She broke off, blushing, when Elayne laughed.\\n\\nIt was more a laugh of relief than anything else. The Black Ajah had not somehow followed her to Lord Aedmun's manor. There were no assassins waiting with knives in their fists, no sisters loyal to Elaida wanting to whisk her back to Tar Valon. Sometimes she dreamed about those things, about all of them in the same dream. She released saidar, reluctantly as always, regretful as that fullness of joy and life drained out of her. Matherin supported her, but Aedmun might have taken it amiss if she had ruined half his home place.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2380,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 2"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What is it, Elsie?\" Elayne demanded. She had several weaves already on the edge of forming, ranging from a simple net of air to a fireball that would have demolished half the walls in front of her, and in her present humor, she wanted to use one of them, to strikeout with the Power. Her moods were uncertain of late, to say the least.\n\nThe girl looked back over one shoulder, trembling, and if her eyes had been wide before, they bulged now. Her hands remained clamped to mouth as if to prevent another scream. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, tall and plump-bosomed in House Matherin's gray-and-blue livery, she was not really a girl-Elsie might be four or five years older than herself-but the way she behaved made it difficult to think of her any other way.\n\n\"What is it, Elsie? And don't tell me it was nothing. You look as if you'd seen a ghost.\"\n\nThe girl flinched. \"I did,\" she said unsteadily. That she gave Elayne no title showed just how unsteady she was. \"Lady Nelein, as was Lord Aedmun's grandmother. She died when I was little, but I remember even Lord Aedmun tiptoed around her temper, and the maids used to jump if she looked at them, and other ladies who visited, too, and the lords, as well. Everybody was afraid of her. She was right therein front of me, and she scowled so furious-\" She broke off, blushing, when Elayne laughed.\n\nIt was more a laugh of relief than anything else. The Black Ajah had not somehow followed her to Lord Aedmun's manor. There were no assassins waiting with knives in their fists, no sisters loyal to Elaida wanting to whisk her back to Tar Valon. Sometimes she dreamed about those things, about all of them in the same dream. She released saidar, reluctantly as always, regretful as that fullness of joy and life drained out of her. Matherin supported her, but Aedmun might have taken it amiss if she had ruined half his home place."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The dead cannot harm the living, Elsie,\" she said gently. The more gently because she had laughed, not to mention wanting to box the ninny's ears. \"They're not of this world anymore, and they can't touch anything in it, including us.\" The girl nodded, and dropped another curtsy, but by the size of her eyes and the trembling of her lips she was unconvinced. Elayne had no time to cosset her, though. \"Fetch the men for my cases, Elsie,\" she said firmly, \"and don't worry about ghosts.\" With yet another curtsy the girl dashed off, her head swiveling anxiously in case the Lady Nelein leaped out of the paneled walls. Ghosts! The fool girl was a ninny!\n\nMatherin was an old House, if not large or strong, and the main stairs, leading down to the entry hall, were broad and trimmed with marble railings. The entry hall itself was a generous space, with gray-and-blue floor tiles and mirrored oil lamps hanging on chains from the ceiling twenty feet above. There was nothing in the way of gilding and little inlay, but ornately carved chests and cabinets stood along the sides of the hall, and two wall hangings were displayed on one wall. One showed men hunting leopards from horseback, a chancy business at best, and the other women of House Matherin presenting a sword to the first Queen of Andor, an event that Matherin treasured and that might or might not have actually happened.\n\nAviendha was already down, pacing restlessly in the hall, and Elayne sighed at the sight. They would have shared a room, if not for the implication that Matherin could not provide adequately for two visitors of note, but Aviendha did not really understand that the smaller the House, the loftier the pride. Often, the smaller Houses possessed little more. Pride, she should have understood, since a fierce pride and strength all but shone from her. Straight-backed and even taller than Elayne, a thick dark shawl draped over her pale blouse and a folded gray headscarf holding back her long reddish hair, she was the very picture of a Wise One despite being only a year older than Elayne. Wise Ones who could channel often appeared to be much younger than they were, and Aviendha had the dignity. At this moment she did, anyway, though the pair of them had giggled together often enough. Of course, her only jewelry was along, silver Kandori necklace, an amber brooch in the shape of a turtle and a wide ivory bracelet, and Wise Ones always wore festoons of necklaces and bracelets, but Aviendha was not a Wise One yet, merely an apprentice. Elayne never thought of Aviendha as merely anything, but it did present problems now and then. Sometimes she thought the Wise Ones considered her an apprentice of some sort as well, or at least a student. A silly thought, to be sure, but sometimes..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As Elayne reached the foot of the stairs, Aviendha adjusted her shawl and asked, \"Did you sleep well?\" Her tone was untroubled, but anxiety nestled around her green eyes. \"You did not send for wine to help you sleep, did you? I made sure your wine was watered when we ate, but I saw you looking at the wine pitcher.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother,\" Elayne said in a sickly sweet voice. \"No, Mother. I was wondering how Aedmun got his hands on such a fine vintage, Mother. It was a shame to water it. And I drank the goat's milk before I went to sleep.\" If anything brought her to birthing sickness, it would be goat's milk! And to think she used to like it.\n\nAviendha planted her fists on her hips, such an embodiment of indignation that Elayne had to laugh. There were inconveniences to being with child, ranging from abrupt swings in her temper to tenderness in her breasts to always being tired, but the coddling was the worst, in someways. Everyone in the Royal Palace knew she was pregnant-a good many had known before she did, courtesy of Min's viewing and Min being too free with her tongue-and she did not think she could have been so mothered when she was an infant. Still, she put up with all the bother with as much grace as she could muster. Usually, she did. They were only trying to be helpful. She just wished every woman she knew did not believe that pregnancy had made her brainless. Nearly every woman she knew. Those who had never borne a child themselves were the worst.\n\nThinking of her baby-at times she wished Min had said whether it would be a boy or girl, or rather that Aviendha or Birgitte could recall exactly what Min actually had said; Min was always right, but the three of them had consumed a great deal wine that night, and Min had been gone from the palace long before Elayne herself knew to ask-thinking of the child growing in her always made her think of Rand, just as thinking of him made her think of the babe. One followed the other as surely as cream rose in the milkpan. She missed Rand terribly, and yet she could not miss him. Apart of him, the sense of him, rode always in the back of her head unless she masked the bond, right alongside her sense of Birgitte, her other Warder. The bond had its limits, however. He was somewhere to the west, far enough that she could tell little more than that he was alive. Nothing more, really, though she thought she would know if he had been badly injured. She was not sure she wanted to know what he was up to. He had been far to the south fora longtime after leaving her, and now, just this morning, he had Traveled to the west. It was disconcerting, really, to feel him in one direction and then suddenly have him off in another, even farther away. He could be pursuing enemies or running from enemies or anyone of a thousand things. She hoped very much it was something innocuous that made him Travel. He was going to die on her all too soon-men who could channel always died of it-but she wanted so very much to keep him alive as long as possible."},{"from":"human","value":"\"He is well,\" Aviendha said almost as though she could read her mind."},{"from":"gpt","value":"They had their own shared sense of one another since their mutual adoption as first-sisters, but it did not go as far as the Warder bond they and Min shared with Rand. \"If he allows himself to be killed, I will cutoff his ears.\"\n\nElayne blinked, then laughed again, and after a startled glance, Aviendha joined in. It was not that funny, except maybe to an Aiel-Aviendha's sense of humor was very odd-but Elayne could not stop laughing, and Aviendha seemed as helpless. Shaking with mirth, they hugged one another and hung on. Life was very strange. Had anyone told her a few years ago that she would share a man with another woman-with two other women!-she would have called them mad. The very idea would have been indecent. But she loved Aviendha every bit as much as she did Rand, only in a different way, and Aviendha loved Rand as much as she did.\n\nDenying that meant denying Aviendha, and she could as easily step out of her skin. Aiel women, sisters or close friends, often married the same man, and seldom gave him any say in the matter. She was going to marry Rand, and so was Aviendha, and so was Min. Whatever anyone said or thought, that was all there was to it. If he lived long enough.\n\nSuddenly she became afraid that her laughter was edging toward tears. Please, Light, let her not be one of those women who became weepy when they were with child. It was bad enough not knowing whether she was going to be melancholy or furious from one minute to the next. Hours might pass when she felt perfectly normal, but then there were hours when she felt like a child's ball bouncing down an endless flight of stairs. This morning, she seemed to be on the stairs."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He is well, and he will be well,\" Aviendha whispered fiercely, as if she intended to assure his survival by killing anything that threatened him.\n\nWith the tips of her fingers, Elayne brushed a tear from her sister's cheek. \"He is well, and he will be well,\" she agreed softly. But they could not kill saidin, and the taint on the male half of the Power was what was going to kill him.\n\nThe lamps overhead flickered as one of the tall doors to the outside opened, letting in a gust of air even colder than that in the entry hall, and they quickly moved a little apart, just holding hands. Elayne schooled her face to a serene smoothness fully worthy of an Aes Sedai. She could not afford to let anyone see her apparently seeking comfort in a hug. A ruler, or one who sought to rule, was not allowed the slightest suggestion of weakness or tears, not in public. There were rumors enough about her as it was, as many bad as good. She was benevolent or cruel, fair-minded or arbitrary, generous or avaricious, all according to which tale you listened to. At least the tales balanced out one another, but anyone who could say they had actually seen the Daughter-Heir huddling in the arms of her companion might add a tale of fear to the blend, and if her enemies believed she was afraid, they would only grow bolder. And stronger. Cowardice was the sort of rumor that stuck like greasy mud; you never could wash it off completely. History recorded women who had lost their bids for the Lion Throne on no further discernible grounds. Capability was a requirement fora successful ruler and wisdom was to be hoped for, though women lacking both had gained the throne and muddled through somehow, but few would support a coward, and none of those people she wanted on her side."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The man who came in, turning to push the massive door shut behind him, had only one leg and used a crutch in place of the other. Even with fleece padding, the sleeve of his heavy woolen coat was worn from it. A heavy-shouldered former soldier, Fridwyn Ros managed Lord Aedmun's estate, with the aid of a fat clerk who had blinked at the Daughter-Heir in consternation, gaped at her Great Serpent ring with something near to awe, and scurried back to his ledgers in relief as soon as he realized she had no business with him. He had probably feared a levy on the manor's accounts. Master Ros had stared at herring in amazement, to be sure, but he had grinned with delight at the Daughter-Heir and regretted that he could no longer ride for her with such sincerity that, had he been a liar, he would already have bilked Aedmun and the clerk of everything they owned between them. She did not fear him carrying the wrong tales.\n\nHis crutch made a rhythmic thump as he came up the hall, and he managed a credible bow in spite of it, including Aviendha in his courtesy. He had been startled by her at first, but surprisingly quick to catch their friendship, and if he did not entirely trust an Aiel, it meant he accepted her. You could not ask for everything.\n\n\"The men are strapping your cases to the pack animals, my Queen, and your escort is ready.\" He was one of those who refused to call her anything except'my Queen\" or'Majesty,\" but a hint of doubt entered his voice at mention of her escort. He covered it hastily with a cough and hurried on. \"The men we're sending with you are all mounted as well as I could manage. Young men, mainly, and a few more experienced, but they all know which end of a halberd has the point. I wish the manor could give you more, but I explained, when Lord Aedmun heard there were others claiming what's yours by right, he decided not to wait for spring, and he called in his armsmen and set out for Caemlyn. We've had a couple of bad snowfalls since, but he might be halfway thereby now with luck in the passes.\" His gaze carried conviction, but he knew better than she that with the wrong luck Aedmun and his armsmen might be dead in those passes."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Matherin has always maintained faith with Trakand,\" Elayne told him, \"and I put my trust that it always will."},{"from":"gpt","value":"I value Lord Aedmun's loyalty, Master Ros, and yours.\"\n\nShe did not insult Matherin, and him, by promising to remember or offering rewards, yet Master Ros' broad smile said she had already given him as much reward as he desired. Matherin would receive rewards, if they were earned, but they could not beheld out as if offering to buy a horse.\n\nThumping along on his crutch, Master Ros bowed her to the door, and bowed her out onto the broad granite step where servants wearing heavy coats waited in the bitter cold with a stirrup cup of hot spiced wine that she rejected with a murmur. Until she had a chance to adjust to the sharp air, she wanted both hands to hold her cloak closed. Aviendha would probably have found away to make her drop it anyway. She took a cup, after wrapping her shawl around her head and shoulders, the only concession she made to the icy morning. She was ignoring the cold, of course. Elayne was the one who had taught her how. Elayne tried again to push the cold away, and to her surprise, it receded. Not all the way-she still felt chilly-but it was better than freezing.\n\nThe sky was clear, the sun bright as it sat over the mountains, but storm clouds could come boiling across the surrounding peaks at anytime. It would be best to reach their first destination today as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, Fireheart, her tall black gelding, was living up to his name, rearing and snorting gouts of steamy breath as if he had never worn a bridle before, and Aviendha's leggy arch-necked gray had taken it into her head to imitate him, dancing in the knee-deep snow and trying to go anywhere except where the groom tried to lead her. She was a more spirited animal than Elayne would have chosen for her sister, yet Aviendha herself had insisted after learning the mare's name. Siswai meant spear, in the Old Tongue. The grooms seemed capable women, but they appeared to think they needed to calm the animals before handing them over. It was all Elayne could do not to snap at them that she had managed Fireheart before they ever saw him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Her escort was already mounted, to avoid standing in the snow, twenty-odd riders in the white-collared redcoats and brightly burnished breastplates and helmets of the Queen's Guard. Master Ros\" doubt might be explained by the fact that the riders'coats were silk, as were their red breeches with the white stripe up each leg, and by the pale lace they wore at neck and cuff. They certainly appeared more ceremonial than effective. Or it might have been that they were all women. Women were uncommon in jobs that required using weapons, just the occasional merchants\" guard or a rare woman who turned up in an army during time of war, and Elayne had never heard of a group of all-female soldiers before she created one. Except the Maidens, of course, but they were Aiel and a different matter. She hoped people would think them an affectation on her part, and largely decorative with all the lace and silk. Men tended to underestimate a woman carrying weapons until they faced one, and even most other women tended to think her a brainless fool. Bodyguards usually tried to appear so ferocious that no one would dare trying to get past them, but her enemies would just find anew way to attack if she stood the whole Queen's Guard around her shoulder-to-shoulder. A bodyguard her enemies would dismiss until it was too late for more than regrets washer aim. She intended to make their uniforms more elaborate, partly to feed those misconceptions and partly to feed the women's pride as soldiers marked out from the rest, but she herself had no doubts. Everyone of them, from merchants' guards to Hunters of the Horn, had been carefully chosen for her skills, experience and courage. She was ready to put her life in their hands. She already had.\n\nA lean woman wearing a lieutenant's two golden knots on the shoulder of her red cloak saluted Elayne with an arm across her chest, and her roan gelding tossed his head, making the silver bells in his mane chime faintly, as if he too were saluting. \"We are ready, my Lady, and the area is clear.\" Caseille Raskovni was one of those who had been a merchant's guard, and her Arafellin accents were not those of an educated woman, but her voice was brisk and no-nonsense. She used the proper form of address, and would until Elayne was crowned, yet she was ready to fight to gain that crown for Elayne. Very, very few, male or female, signed the roster of the Queen's Guard these days unless they were ready for that. \"The men Master Ros handed over are ready, too. As ready as they'll ever be.\" Clearing his throat, the man shifted his crutch and took to studying the snow in front of his boots."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Elayne could see what Caseille meant. Master Ros had scraped together eleven men from the manor to send to Caemlyn and outfitted them with halberds and short-swords and what armor he could find, nine antique helmets without faceguards and seven breastplates with dents that made them vulnerable. Their mounts were not bad, though hairy with their winter coats, but even huddled as their riders were in thick cloaks, she could see that eight were unlikely to need to shave above once in a week, if that. The men Master Ros had described as being experienced had wrinkled faces and bony hands and probably not a full set of teeth between them. He had not been lying or trying to stint; Aedmun would have gathered all the fit men in the area to take with him and outfitted them in the best he had. The story had been the same everywhere. Apparently a great number of hale and hearty men scattered the length of Andor were trying to reach her in Caemlyn. And none of them likely to get into the city until all was decided, now. She could search everyday without finding a single band. Still, this little bunch held their halberds as if they knew how to use them. Then again, that was not hard to do sitting a saddle at rest with the halberd's butt tucked in your stirrup. She could have managed that.\n\n\"We have visited nineteen of these manors, sister,\" Aviendha said softly, moving closer until their shoulders touched, \"and counting these, we have gathered two hundred and five boys too young to be blooded and old men who should have laid down the spear long ago. I have not asked befote. You know your people and your ways. Is this worth the time you give it?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, sister.\" Elayne kept her voice just as low, so the one-legged former soldier and the servants could not overhear. The best of people could turn muleheaded if they realized you wanted them to behave a certain way. Particularly if they realized that the help they had painfully gathered and offered, and you had accepted, was not what you were after at all. \" Everyone in that village down by the river knows I'm hereby now, and so do half the farms for miles. By noon, the other half will know, and by tomorrow, the next village over, and more farms. News travels slowly in winter, especially in this country. They know I've spoken my claim to the throne, yet if I gain the throne tomorrow or die tomorrow, they might not learn of it before the middle of spring, maybe not even until summer. But today they know that Elayne Trakand is alive that she visited the manor in silks and jewels and summoned men to her banner. People twenty miles from here will claim they saw me and touched my hand. Few people can say that without speaking in favor of whoever they claim to have seen, and when you speak in favor of someone, you convince yourself to favor them. There are men and women in nineteen places around Andor talking about how they saw the Daughter-Heir just this last week, and everyday the area that talk covers spreads like an inkblot."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"If I had time, I'd visit every village in Andor. It won't make a hair of difference in what happens in Caemlyn, but it may make all the difference after I win.\" She would not admit to any possibility other than winning. Especially not given who would take the throne if she failed. \"Most Queens in our history spent the first years of their rule gathering the people solidly behind them, Aviendha, and some never did, but harder times than these are coming. I may not have one year before I need every Andoran to stand behind me. I can't wait until I have the throne. Harder times are coming, and I have to be ready. Andor has to be ready, and I must make it so,\" she finished firmly.\n\nSmiling, Aviendha touched Elayne's cheek. \"I think I will learn a great deal about being a Wise One from you.\"\n\nTo her mortification, Elayne blushed in embarrassment. Her cheeks felt on fire! Maybe the swings in humor were worse than the cosseting. Light, she had months of this to look forward to! Not for the first time, she found a kernel of resentment toward Rand. He had done this to her-all right, she had helped him, instigated the doing, in fact, but that was beside the point-he had done this and walked away with a smug grin on his face. She doubted his grin tiad really been smug, but she could picture it all too easily. Let him dart from giddy to weepy every other hour and see how he liked it! I can't think in a straight line, she thought irritably. That was his fault, too.\n\nThe grooms finally deemed Fireheart and Aviendha's Siswai meek enough to be mounted by ladies, and Aviendha climbed to her saddle from the stone mounting block with a good deal more grace than she once had shown, arranging her bulky undivided skirts to cover as much of her dark-stockinged legs as possible. She still believed that her own legs were superior to any horse, yet she had become a passable rider. Though she did have a tendency to look surprised when the horse did as she wanted. Fireheart tried to dance once Elayne was on his back, but she reined him in smartly, and a bit more sharply than she would have normally. Her teetering moods had taken her to a sudden sense of dread for Rand, and if she could not ensure his safety, there was one male at hand she could make certain did exactly as he was supposed to."},{"from":"human","value":"Six of the Guardswomen led the way down the road from the manor at a slow walk, all the depth of snow would allow, with the rest following her and Aviendha in smart columns, the last horsewomen inline leading the pack animals."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The local men trailed behind raggedly with their own packhorse, a shaggy creature tied about with cookpots and rough bundles and even half a dozen live chickens. A few cheers greeted them as they rode through the thatch-roofed village and across the stone bridge that crossed a snake-curved frozen stream, loud cries of'Elayne of the Lily!\" and'Trakand! Trakand!\" and'Matherin stands!\" But she saw a woman crying on her husband's chest, and tears on his face, too, and another woman who stood with her back to the riders and her head down, refusing even to look. Elayne hoped she would send their sons home to them. There should belittle fighting at Caemlyn, unless she blundered badly, but there would be some, and once the Rose Crown washers, battles lay ahead. To the south lay the Seanchan, and to the north, Myrddraal and Trollocs waiting to descend for Tarmon Gai'don. Andor would bleed sons in the days to come. Burn her, she was not going to cry!\n\nBeyond the bridge, the road slanted up again, a steep climb through pine and fir and leatherleaf, but it was no more than along mile to the mountain meadow they sought. The snow shining beneath the midmorning sun still bore the marks of hooves coming from where a gateway had left a deep furrow in the snow. It could have been nearer the manor, but the possibility of someone standing where your gateway opened was always the danger.\n\nThe glow of saidar surrounded Aviendha as they rode into the meadow. She had made the gateway to come here from their last stop yesterday afternoon, a manor a hundred miles north, so she would weave the gateway to go to Caemlyn, but the sight of Aviendha shining with the Power made Elayne go broody. Whoever made the gateway to leave Caemlyn always ended up making all the others until they returned, since she learned the ground at each place her gateway touched, but on each of their five trips, Aviendha had asked to make that first gateway. She might simply have wanted the practice, as she claimed, though Elayne hardly had more practice than she did, but another possibility had come to mind. Maybe Aviendha wanted to keep her from channeling, in any considerable amount at least. Because she was pregnant. The weave that had made them sisters of the same mother could not have been used if either of them had been with child, because the unborn child would have shared in the bond, a thing it could not be strong enough to survive, but surely one of the Aes Sedai in the palace would have said something if channeling was to be avoided in pregnancy. Then again, very few Aes Sedai ever bore children. They might not know. She was aware there were many things Aes Sedai did not know, however much they might pretend otherwise to the rest of the world-she herself had taken advantage of that presumption from time to time-but it seemed very strange that they might be ignorant of something so important to most women. It was as though a bird knew how to eat every seed and grain except barley, so supposedly knew, because if it did not know how to eat barley, what else might it be ignorant of? Wise Ones bore children, though, and they had said nothing about-"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Abruptly concerns over her babe and channeling and what Aes Sedai might or might not know were pushed right out of her head. She could feel someone channeling saidar. Not Aviendha, not someone on one of the surrounding mountains, not anyone near as close as that. This was distant, like a beacon blazing on afar mountaintop in the night. Avery distant mountain. She could not imagine how much of the One Power was needed for her to feel channeling at that distance. Every woman in the world who could channel must be able to sense this. To point straight to it. And the beacon lay to the west. Nothing had changed in the bond with Rand, she could not have said exactly where he was within a hundred miles, but she knew.\n\n\"He's in danger,\" she said. \"We must go to him, Aviendha.\"\n\nAviendha gave herself a shake and stopped staring westward. The glow remained around her, and Elayne could feel that she had drawn on the Source as deeply as she could. But even as Aviendha turned to her, she felt the amount of saidar the other woman held dwindle. \"We must not, Elayne.\"\n\nAghast, Elayne twisted in Fireheart's saddle to stare at her. \"You want to abandon him? To that!\" No one could handle so much of saidar, not the strongest circle, not unaided. Supposedly a sa'angreal existed, greater than anything else ever made, and if what she had heard was correct, that might be able to handle this. Maybe. But from what she had heard, no woman could use it and live, not without ter'angreal made for the purpose, and no one had ever seen one that she knew of. Surely no sister would try even if she had found one. That much of the One Power could level mountain ranges at a stroke! No sister would try except perhaps one of the Black Ajah. Or worse, one of the Forsaken. Maybe more than one. What else could it be? And Aviendha simply wanted to ignore it, when she must know that Rand was there?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Guardswomen, unaware, were still waiting patiently on their horses, keeping watch on the treeline around the meadow and little concerned with that after their reception at the manor, though Caseille was watching Elayne and Aviendha, a slight frown visible behind the face-bars of her helmet. She knew they never delayed at opening a gateway. The men from the manor were gathered around their packhorse, pawing at the bundles and apparently arguing over whether or not something had been included. Aviendha still moved her gray closer to Elayne's black and spoke in a voice that would not carry.\n\n\"We know nothing, Elayne. Not whether he is dancing the spears or this is something else. If he dances the spears and we rush in, will he attack us before he knows who are? Will we distract him because he does not expect us, and allow his enemies to win? If he dies, we will find who took his life and kill them, but if we go to him now, we go blindly, and we may bring disaster on our backs.\"\n\n\"We could be careful,\" Elayne said sullenly. It infuriated her that she was feeling sullen, and showing it, but all she could do was ride her moods and try not let them get the upper hand completely. \"We don't have to Travel right to the spot.\" Gripping her pouch, feeling the small ivory carving of a seated woman that nestled inside, she looked pointedly at her sister's amber brooch. \"Light, Aviendha, we have angreal, and neither of us is exactly helpless.\" Oh, Light, now she was sounding petulant. She knew very well that both of them together, angreal and all, would be flies battling aflame against what they could sense, but even so, a fly-bite at the right moment might make the difference. \"And don't tell me I'll endanger the baby. Min said she will be born strong and healthy. You told me so yourself. That means I will live at least long enough for my daughter to be born.\" She hoped fora daughter."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fireheart chose that moment to nip at the gray, and Siswai nipped back, and fora bit Elayne was occupied with getting her gelding under control and keeping Aviendha from being thrown and telling Caseille that they did not need any help, and by the end of it, she was not feeling sullen any longer. She wanted to smack Fireheart right between his ears.\n\nAside from making the animal obey the reins, Aviendha behaved as if nothing had happened at all. She did frown, a little uncertainly, her face framed by the dark wool of her shawl, but her uncertainty had nothing to do with the horse.\n\n\"I have told you about the rings in Rhuidean,\" she said slowly, and Elayne gave an impatient nod. Every woman who wanted to become a Wise One was sent through a ter'angreal before she began training. It was something like the ter'angreal used to test novices for being raised to Accepted in the White Tower, except that in this one, a woman saw her whole life. All of her possible lives, really, every decision made differently, an infinite fan of lives based on differing choices. \"No one can remember all of that, Elayne, only bits and pieces. I knew I would love Rand al'Thor...\" she was still uncomfortable sometimes about using just his first name in front of others, \"and that I would find sister-wives. For most things, all you retain is a vague impression at best. A hint of warning, sometimes. I think if we go to him now, something very bad will happen. Maybe one of us will die, maybe both in spite of what Min said.\" That she said Min's name without fumbling was a measure of her concern. She did not know Min very well, and usually named her formally, as Min Farshaw. \"Perhaps he will die. Perhaps something else. I do not know for sure-maybe we will all survive, and we will sit around afire with him roasting pecara when we find him-but the glimmer of a warning is therein my head.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Elayne opened her mouth angrily. Then she closed it again, anger draining away like water down a hole, and her shoulders slumped. Perhaps Aviendha's glimmer was true and perhaps not, but the fact was that her arguments had been good from the start. A great risk taken in ignorance, and taking it might bring disaster. The beacon had grown brighter still. And he was there, right where the beacon was. The bond did not tell her so, not at this distance, but she knew. And she knew she had to leave him to take care of himself while she took care of Andor.\n\n\"I don't have anything to teach you about being a Wise One, Aviendha,\" she said quietly. \"You are already much wiser than I. Not to mention braver and more coolheaded. We return to Caemlyn.\"\n\nAviendha colored faintly under the praise-she could be very sensitive, at times-but she wasted no time in opening the gateway, a rotating view of a stableyard in the Royal Palace that widened into a hole in the air and let snow from the meadow fall onto the clean-swept paving stones as near three hundred miles away as made no difference. The sense of Birgitte, somewhere in the palace, sprang alive in Elayne's head. Birgitte had a headache and a sour stomach, not unusual occurrences of late, but they suited Elayne's mood all too well.\n\nI must leave him to take care of himself, she thought as she rode through. Light, how often had she thought that? No matter. Rand was the love of her heart and the joy of her life, but Andor washer duty.\n\nChapter 11\n\nTalk of Debts\n\nThe gateway was positioned so that Elayne seemed to be riding out of a hole in the wall against the street, into a square marked out for safety by sand-filled wine barrels standing on the paving stones. Oddly, she could not feel a single woman channeling anywhere in the palace, though it housed more than a hundred and fifty with the ability. Some would be stationed on the city's outer walls, of course, too far for her to sense anything short of a linked circle, and a few would be out of the city altogether, yet someone in the palace was almost always using saidar, whether to try forcing one of the captive sul'dam to admit that she really could see weaves of the One Power or simply to smooth the wrinkles from a shawl without heating an iron. Not this morning, though. Windfinder arrogance often matched the worst shown by any Aes Sedai, yet even that must be quashed by what they sensed. Elayne thought that if she climbed to a high window, she must be able to seethe weaves of that great beacon, hundreds of leagues distant as they were. She felt like an ant that had just become aware of mountains, an ant comparing the Spine of the World to the hills it had always held in awe. Yes, even the Windfinders must be walking small in the face of that."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"On the eastern side of the palace and fronted on north and south by two-story-high stables of pure white stone, the Queen's Stableyard traditionally was given over to the Queen's personal horses and carriages, and she had hesitated overusing it before the Lion Throne was acknowledged hers. The steps that led to the throne were as delicate as any court dance, and if the dance sometimes came to resemble a tavern brawl, you still had to make your steps with grace and precision in order to gain your goal. Claiming the perquisites before being confirmed had cost some women their chance to rule. In the end, she had decided it was not a transgression that would make her seem over-proud. Besides, the Queen's Stableyard was relatively small and had no other use. There were fewer people to keep away from an opening gateway here. In fact, when she entered it, the stone-paved yard was empty apart from a single red-coated groom standing in one of the arched stable doorways, but he turned to give a shout inside, and dozens more came spilling out as she guided Fireheart clear of the marked-off square. After all, she might have returned with an entourage of powerful lords and ladies, or perhaps they just hoped she had.\n\nCaseille brought the Guardswomen through the gateway, and ordered most to dismount and see to their animals. She and half a dozen more remained in their saddles, keeping watch over the heads of the people afoot. Even here, she would not leave Elayne unguarded. Particularly here, where she faced more danger than in any manor she had visited. The Matherin men milled about, getting in the way of grooms and Guards while gaping at the white stone balconies and colonnades that overlooked the yard and the spires and golden domes visible beyond. The cold seemed less here than in the mountains-refusing to let it touch her, as far as she could at present, did not make her totally unaware-but men and women and horses all still breathed faint plumes of mist. The odor of horse dung seemed strong, too, after the clean air of the mountains. A hot bath in front of a roaring fire would be welcome. Afterward, she would have to plunge back into the business of securing the throne, but right now along soak would be just the thing."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A pair of grooms ran to Fireheart. One took his bridle with a hurried curtsy for Elayne, more concerned with seeing that the tall gelding made no bother while Elayne dismounted than with making courtesies herself, and another who made his bow and remained bent with his hands making a stirrup for Elayne. Neither gave more than a glance at the view of a snow-covered mountain meadow where they would normally see a stonewall. The stable-workers were accustomed to gateways by now. She had heard that they garnered drinks in the taverns by boasting of how often they saw the Power used and the things they supposedly had seen done with it. Elayne could imagine what those tales sounded like by the time they reached Arymilla. She rather enjoyed the thought of Arymilla chewing her fingernails.\n\nAs she set foot on the paving stones, a cluster of Guardswomen appeared around her, in crimson hats with white plumes lying flat on the broad brims, and lace-edged crimson sashes, embroidered with the White Lion, that slanted across their bright breastplates. Not until then did Caseille take the remainder of Elayne's escort to the stable. Their replacements were just as wary, eyes watching every direction, hands hovering near their sword hilts, except for Deni, a wide, placid-faced woman who carried along brass-studded cudgel. They were only nine in number-Only nine, Elayne thought bitterly. I need only nine bodyguards in the Royal Palace itself!-yet everyone who carried a sword was expert. Women who followed the'trade of the sword,\" as Caseille called it, had to be good, or else sooner or later they were cut down by some fellow whose only advantage was strength enough to batter her down. Deni possessed no facility with a sword at all, but the few men who had tested her cudgel regretted doing so. Despite her bulk, Deni was very quick, and she had no concept of fighting fair, or of practice, for that matter."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Rasoria, the stocky under-lieutenant in charge, seemed relieved when the grooms led Fireheart off. If Elayne's bodyguard had their way, no one except themselves would have been allowed within arm's reach. Well, maybe they were not quite that bad, but they looked with suspicion at almost everyone except Birgitte and Aviendha. Rasoria, a Tairen despite her blue eyes and the yellow hair she wore cut short, was among the worst in that regard, even insisting on watching the cooks make Elayne's meals and having everything tasted before it was brought up. Elayne had not protested, however over-zealous they might be. One experience of drugged wine was more than enough, even when she knew she would live at least long enough to bear her child. But it was neither the Guardswomen's mistrust nor the need for it that tightened her mouth. It was Birgitte, weaving her way through the crowded stableyard, but not toward her.\n\nAviendha was last to appear out of the gateway, of course, after she was sure that everyone was through, and before she let the gateway wink out of existence, Elayne started in her direction, striding off so suddenly that her escort had to leap to maintain their guarding ring around her. As quickly as she moved, though, Birgitte, with her thick golden braid hanging to her waist, was there first, helping Aviendha down and handing the gray mare over to along-faced groom who seemed almost as leggy as Siswai. Aviendha always had more difficulty getting off a horse than getting on, but Birgitte had more than assistance in mind. Elayne and her escort arrived just in time to hear the woman say to Aviendha in a low, hurried voice, \"Did she drink her goat's milk? Did she get enough sleep? She feels...\" Her voice trailed off at the end, and she drew a deep breath before turning to face Elayne, outwardly calm, and unsurprised to find her right there. The bond did work both ways."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Birgitte was not a big woman, though she stood taller than Elayne in her heeled boots, as tall as Aviendha, but she usually had a presence that was only heightened by the uniform of the Captain-General of the Queen's Guards, a short redcoat with a high white collar worn over baggy blue trousers tucked into gleaming black boots, four golden knots on her left shoulder and four bands of gold on each white cuff. After all, she was Birgitte Silverbow, a hero out of legend. She remained wary of trying to live up to those legends; she claimed that the stories were grossly inflated where they were not complete fabrications. Yet she was still the same woman who had done everyone of the things that formed the heart of those legends and more besides. Now, despite her apparent composure, unease tinged the concern for Elayne that flowed through the bond along with her headache and her sullen stomach. She knew very well that Elayne hated for them to check on her behind her back. That was not the whole reason for Elayne's irritation, but the bond let Birgitte know just how upset she was.\n\nAviendha, calmly unwrapping her shawl from around her head and draping it over her shoulders, attempted the gaze of a woman who had done nothing wrong and certainly was not involved with anyone else who had done anything wrong. She might have managed it if she had not widened her eyes for an added touch of innocence. Birgitte was a bad influence on her in someways.\n\n\"I drank the goat's milk,\" Elayne said in a level voice, all too conscious of the Guardswomen ringing the three of them. Facing outward, eyes scanning the yard and the balconies and the rooftops, nearly everyone was certainly listening. \"I got enough sleep. Is there anything else you want to ask me?\" Aviendha's cheeks colored faintly."},{"from":"human","value":"\"I think I have all the answers I need for the moment,\" Birgitte replied without a hint of the blush Elayne had been hoping for."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The woman knew she was tired, knew she had to belying about the sleep.\n\nThe bond was decidedly inconvenient at times. She had drunk nothing but half a cup of extremely well watered wine last night, but she was beginning to have Birgitte's morning-after head and her sour stomach. None of the other Aes Sedai she had spoken to about the bond had mentioned anything of the kind, but she and Birgitte all too often mirrored one another, physically and emotionally. The last presented real problems when her moods were on a seesaw. Sometimes she managed to shrug it off, or fight it off, but today she knew she was going to have to suffer until Birgitte was Healed. She thought the mirroring must occur because they were both women. No one had heard of anyone bonding another woman before. Few had heard of it now, to tell the truth, and some of them seemed to believe it could not be true. A Warder was male as surely as a bull was male. Everyone knew that, and not many stopped to think that anything that'everyone knew\" deserved close examination.\n\nBeing caught in a lie, when she was trying to follow Egwene's dictate about living as if she had already taken the Three Oaths, made Elayne defensive, and that made her blunt. \"Is Dyelin back?\"\n\n\"No,\" Birgitte said just as bluntly, and Elayne sighed. Dyelin had left the city days before Arymilla's army appeared, taking Reanne Corly with her to make gateways and speed her travel, and a great deal depended on Dyelin's return. On what news she brought back. On whether she brought anything besides news.\n\nChoosing who would be Queen of Andor was quite simple, boiled down to essentials. There were over four hundred Houses in the realm, but only nineteen strong enough that others would follow where they led. Usually, all nineteen stood behind the Daughter-Heir, or most of them, unless she was plainly incompetent. House Mantear had lost the throne to Trakand when Mordrellen died only because Tigraine, the Daughter-Heir, had vanished and Mantear had begun running heavily to boy children. And because Morgase Trakand had gathered thirteen Houses in her support. Only ten of the nineteen were necessary to ascend the throne, bylaw and custom. Even claimants who still thought they should have the throne themselves usually fell in with the rest, or at least fell silent and gave up their pursuit, once another woman had ten Houses at her back."},{"from":"human","value":"Things had been bad enough when she had three declared rivals, but now Naean and Elenia were united behind Arymilla Marne, of all people, the least likely of the three to have succeeded, and that meant she had two Houses-two large enough to count; Matherin and those eighteen others she had visited were too small-her own Trakand and Dyelin's Taravin, to face six."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Oh, Dyelin insisted that Carand, Coelan and Renshar would come to Elayne, and Norwelyn and Pendar and Traemane besides, but the first three wanted Dyelin herself on the throne, and the last three seemed to have gone into hibernation. Dyelin was firm in her loyalty, though, and tireless on Elayne's behalf. She persisted in her belief that some of the Houses that were keeping silent could be convinced to support Elayne. Of course, Elayne could not approach them herself, but Dyelin could. And now the situation verged on desperate. Six Houses supporting Arymilla, and only a fool would think she had not sent feelers out toward the others. Or that some might listen just because she did have six already.\n\nDespite the fact that Caseille and her Guards had vacated the courtyard, Elayne and the others had to thread their way across the paving stones though a crowd. The men from Matherin were finally down off their horses, but they were still moiling about, dropping their halberds and picking them up only to drop them again, trying to unload their packhorse therein the stableyard. One of the boys was chasing a chicken that somehow had gotten loose and was scuttling between the horses' legs, while one of the wrinkled old men shouted encouragement, though whether for the boy or the chicken was unclear. A leather-faced bannerman with the merest fringe of white hair remaining, in a faded redcoat that strained across his belly, was trying to establish order with the help of an only slightly younger Guardsman, both of them likely returned from their pensions, as a good many had, but another of the boys seemed about to lead his shaggy horse into the palace itself, and Birgitte had to order him out of the way before Elayne could enter. The boy, a fuzz-cheeked lad who could not have been above fourteen, gaped at Birgitte as widely as he had at the palace. She was certainly more picturesque in her uniform than the Daughter-Heir in a riding dress, and he had already seen the Daughter-Heir. Rasoria gave him a shove back toward the old bannerman, shaking her head."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I don't flaming know what I can do with them,\" Birgitte grumbled as a maid liveried in red-and-white took Elayne's cloak and gloves in the small entry hall. Small in terms of the Royal Palace. With gilded stand-lamps flickering between narrow, fluted white columns, it was half again the size of Matherin's main entry hall, though the ceiling was not so high. Another maid with the White Lion on the left breast of her dress, a girl not that much older than the boy who had tried to bring his horse inside, offered a ropework silver tray with tall cups of steaming spiced wine before simultaneous frowns from Aviendha and Birgitte made her shy back. \"The flaming boys fall asleep if they're put on guard,\" Birgitte went on, scowling at the retreating maid. \"The old men stay awake, but half can't remember what they're flaming supposed to do if they see somebody trying to scale the bloody wall, and the other half together couldn't fight off six shepherds with a dog.\" Aviendha raised an eyebrow at Elayne and nodded.\n\n\"They aren't hereto fight,\" Elayne reminded them as they started down a blue-tiled corridor lined with mirrored stand-lamps and inlaid chests, Birgitte and Aviendha on either side of her and the Guardswomen spreading out a few paces ahead of them and behind. Light, she thought, I wouldn't have taken the wine! Her head pounded in rhythm with Birgitte's, and she touched her temple, wondering whether she should order her Warder to go find Healing immediately.\n\nBirgitte had other ideas, though. She eyed Rasoria and the others in front, then looked over her shoulder and motioned those following to fallback a little more. That was strange. She had handpicked every last woman in the Guards, and she trusted them. Even so, when she spoke it was in a hurried near-whisper, bending her head close to Elayne. \"Something happened just before you returned. I was asking Sumeko if she'd Heal me before you got back, and she suddenly fell over in a faint. Her eyes just rolled up in her head, and down she went. It isn't only her. Nobody will admit a flaming thing, not tome, but the other Kin I've seen have been jumping out of their bloody skins, and the Windfinders, too. Not one of them could spit if she had to. You were back before I could find a sister, but I suspect they'd give me the fish eye, too. They'll tell you, though.\""},{"from":"human","value":"The palace required the population of a large village to keep running, and servants had begun to appear, liveried men and women scurrying along the corridors, flattening themselves against the walls or ducking into crossing hallways to make room for Elayne's escort, so she explained the little she knew in as soft a voice and as few words as possible."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Some rumors she did not mind reaching the streets, and inevitably Arymilla, but tales of Rand could be as bad as tales of the Forsaken by the time they were twisted through a few retellings. Worse, in away. No one would believe the Forsaken were trying to put heron the throne as a puppet. \"In any event,\" she finished, \"it's nothing to do with us here.\"\n\nShe thought she sounded very convincing, very cool and detached, but Aviendha reached out to squeeze her hand, for an Aiel as much as a comforting hug with so many people to see, and Birgitte's sympathy flooded through the bond. It was more than commiseration; it was the shared feeling of a woman who had already suffered the loss she herself feared and more. Gaidal Cain was lost to Birgitte as surely as if he were dead, and on top of that, her memories of her past lives were fading. She remembered almost nothing clearly before the founding of the White Tower, and not all of that. Some nights, the fear that Gaidal would fade from her memory, too, that she would lose any remembrance of actually having known and loved him, left her unable to sleep until she drank as much brandy as she could hold. That was a poor solution, and Elayne wished she could offer a better, yet she knew her own memories of Rand would not die until she did, and she could not imagine the horror of knowing those memories might leave her. Still, she hoped someone Healed Birgitte's morning-after head soon, before her own split open like an over-ripe melon. Her ability with Healing fell short of the task, and Aviendha's was no stronger.\n\nDespite the emotion she could feel in Birgitte, the other woman kept her face smooth and unconcerned. \"The Forsaken,\" she muttered dryly. And softly. That was not a name to bandy about. \"Well, as long as it has nothing to do with us, we're bloody all right.\" A grunt that might have been a laugh gave her the lie. But then, although Birgitte said she had never been a soldier before, she had a soldier's view. Long odds were usually the only odds you could find, but you still had to get the job done. \"I wonder what they think of it?\" she added, nodding toward the four Aes Sedai who had just stepped out of a crossing corridor down the hallway."},{"from":"human","value":"Vandene, Merilille, Sareitha and Careane had their heads together as they walked, or rather, the last three were clustered around Vandene, leaning toward her and talking with urgent gestures that made the fringes on their shawls sway."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Vandene glided along slowly as if she were alone, paying no heed. She had always been slender, but her dark green dress, embroidered with flowers on the sleeves and shoulders, hung on her as though made fora stouter woman, and the white hair gathered at the nape of her neck seemed in need of a brush. Her expression was bleak, but that might have had nothing to do with whatever the other sisters were saying. She had been joyless ever since her sister's murder. Elayne would have wagered that dress had belonged to Adeleas. Since the murder, Vandene wore her sister's clothes more often than her own. Not that that accounted for the fit. The two women had been of a size, but Vandene's appetite for food had died with her sister. Her taste for most things seemed to have died then.\n\nSareitha, a Brown whose dark square face was not yet touched with agelessness, saw Elayne just then, and put a hand on Vandene's arm as if to draw her up the corridor. Vandene brushed the Tairen woman's hand away and glided on with the merest glance at Elayne, disappearing on along the hallway they had come out of. Two women in novice white, who had been following the others at a respectful distance, offered quick curtsies to the remaining sisters and hastened after Vandene. Merilille, a tiny woman in dark gray that made her Cairhienin paleness seem like ivory, stared as if she might follow. Careane adjusted her green-fringed shawl on shoulders wider than those of many men and exchanged quiet words with Sareitha. The pair of them turned to meet Elayne as she approached, making her curtsies almost as deep as the novices had given them. Merilille noticed the Guardswomen and blinked, then noticed Elayne and gave a start. Her curtsy matched the novices'."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Merilille had worn the shawl for over a hundred years, Careane for more than fifty, and even Sareitha had worn it longer than Elayne Trakand, but standing among Aes Sedai went with strength in the Power, and none of these three was more than middling strong among sisters. In Aes Sedai eyes, increased strength gave, if not increased wisdom, at least increased weight to your opinions. With a sufficient gap, those opinions became commands. Sometimes, Elayne thought the Kin's way was better.\n\n\"I don't know what it is,\" she said before any of the other Aes Sedai could speak, \"but there is nothing we can do about it, so we might as well quit worrying. We have enough right in front of us without fretting over things we can't affect.\"\n\nRasoria half-turned her head, frowning and plainly wondering what she had missed, but the words smoothed the anxiety from Sareitha's dark eyes. Perhaps not from the rest of her, since her hands moved as if she wanted to smooth her brown skirts, yet she was willing to follow the lead of a sister who stood as high as Elayne. Sometimes, there were advantages to standing high enough that you could quell objections with a sentence. Careane had already regained serenity, if she had ever lost it. It sat easily on her, though she looked more like a wagon driver than an Aes Sedai despite her beryl-slashed silks and smooth, ageless coppery face. But then, Greens usually were made of tougher stuff than Browns. Merilille did not look at all serene. Wide eyes and half-parted lips gave her the appearance of startlement. That was usual for her, though.\n\nElayne continued along the hallway, hoping they would go about their business, but Merilille fell in beside Birgitte. The Gray should have taken primacy among the three, but she had developed a tendency to wait for someone to tell her what to do, and she shifted over without a word when Sareitha politely asked Birgitte to give her room. The sisters were unfailingly courteous to Elayne's Warder when she was acting as Captain-General. It was Birgitte as Warder they tried to ignore. Aviendha received no such civility from Careane, who elbowed in between her and Elayne. Anyone not trained in the White Tower was a wilder by definition, and Careane despised wilders. Aviendha pursed her lips though she did not draw her belt knife or even suggest that she might, for which Elayne was grateful. Her first-sister could be... precipitate, at times. On second thought, she would have forgiven a little hastiness from Aviendha right then. Custom forbade rudeness toward another Aes Sedai under any circumstances, but Aviendha could have growled threats and waved her knife to her heart's content. That might have been enough to make the threesome leave, even if in a tizzy. Careane did not seem to notice the cool green gaze marking her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I told Merilille and Sareitha it was nothing we could do anything about,\" she said calmly. \"But shouldn't we be ready to flee if it comes closer? There's no shame flying from that. Even linked, we would be moths fighting a forest fire. Vandene wouldn't bother to listen.\"\n\n\"We really should make some sort of preparations, Elayne,\" Sareitha murmured absently, as if making lists in her head. \"It's when you don't make plans that you wish you had. There area number of volumes in the library here that mustn't be left behind. I believe several can't be found in the Tower library.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Merilille's voice was breathless, and as anxious as her large dark eyes. \"Yes, we really should be ready to go. Perhaps... Perhaps we should not wait. Surely going from necessity would not violate our agreement. I am sure it would not.\" Only Birgitte as much as glanced at her, but she flinched.\n\n\"If we do go,\" Careane said as if Merilille had not spoken, \"we'll have to take all of the Kin with us. Allow them to scatter, and the Light only knows what they'll door when we will ever catch them again, especially now that some have learned to Travel.\" There was no bitterness in her voice, though only Elayne among the sisters in the palace could Travel. It seemed to make a difference to Careane that the Kinswomen had begun in the White Tower, even if most had been putout and a few had runaway. She had identified no fewer than four of them herself, including one runaway. At least they were not wilders.\n\nSareitha's mouth tightened, though. It weighed on her that several Kinswomen could weave gateways, and she had very different notions of the Kin. Normally, she limited her objections to the occasional frown or disparaging grimace, since Elayne had made her own views clear, but the stress of the morning seemed to have loosened her tongue. \"We do indeed need to take them with us,\" she said in a cutting tone, \"else they'll all be claiming to be Aes Sedai as soon as they're out of our sight. Any woman who maintains she was putout of the Tower over three hundred years ago will claim anything! They need to be kept under a close watch, if you ask me, instead of going about as they please, most especially those who can Travel. They may have gone where you told them and comeback so far, Elayne, but how long before one of them doesn't return? Mark my words, once one of them escapes, others will follow, and we will have a mess on our hands we'll never cleanup.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"There is no reason for us to go anywhere,\" Elayne said firmly, as much for the Guards as for the sisters. That distant beacon was still in the same spot where she had first sensed it, and if it did move, the chance seemed small that it would move toward Caemlyn, much less actually come there, but a rumor that Aes Sedai were planning flight might be enough to engender a stampede, mobs clawing to reach the gates ahead of whatever could frighten Aes Sedai. An army sacking the city would not kill as many. And these three chattered away as if there were no one to hear but the wall hangings! There was some excuse for Merilille, but not the others. \"We will remain here, as the Amyrlin Seat has commanded, until the Amyrlin commands otherwise. The Kinswomen will continue to receive every courtesy until they are welcomed back into the Tower, and that is the Amyrlin's command, too, as you very well know. And you will continue teaching the Windfinders and go about your lives as Aes Sedai should. We are supposed to deal with people's fears and soothe them, not spread senseless gossip and panic.\"\n\nWell, perhaps she had been a touch more than firm. Sareitha put her gaze on the floor tiles like a rebuked novice. Merilille flinched again at mention of the Windfinders, but that was to be expected. The others gave lessons, but the Sea Folk held Merilille as tightly as they did one of their apprentices. She slept in their quarters and normally was not seen without two or three of them, and her trailing meekly at their heels. They refused to accept anything less than meekness from her.\n\n\"Of course, Elayne,\" Careane said hastily. \"Of course. None of us would suggest disobeying the Amyrlin.\" Hesitating, she adjusted her green-fringed shawl over her arms, seemingly occupied with setting it just so. She did spare a pitying look for Merilille. \"But speaking of the Sea Folk, could you tell Vandene to take her share of the lessons?\" When Elayne said nothing, her voice took on an edge that would have been called sullen in anyone not Aes Sedai. \"She says she's too busy with those two runaways, but she finds enough time to keep me talking some nights until I'm half asleep. That pair is already so cowed they wouldn't squeak if their dresses caught fire. They don't need her attention. She could take her portion of teaching those cursed wilders. Vandene needs to start behaving as an Aes Sedai, too!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Standing or no, rebuke or no, she gave Elayne a baleful glare that took her a moment to smother. Elayne had been the one who made the bargain that led to Aes Sedai having to teach Windfinders, but so far she herself had managed to miss giving more than a handful of lessons, claiming the press of other, more important duties. Besides, the Sea Folk saw a shorebound teacher as a hireling, even an Aes Sedai, and a hireling with less standing than a scullion at that. A scullion who might try to cheat on her labor. She still thought Nynaeve had gone away just to avoid giving those lessons. Certainly no one expected to end up in Merilille's state, but even a few hours at a time was bad enough.\n\n\"Oh, no, Careane,\" Sareitha put in, still avoiding Elayne's eye. And Merilille's. In her opinion, the Gray had gotten herself into this fix and thus deserved what came of it, but she did try not to rub salt in the wounds. \"Vandene is distraught over her sister, and Kirstian and Zarya help her occupy her mind.\" Whatever she thought of the other Kin, she accepted that Zarya was a runaway, as she had to, since Zarya was one of those Careane had recognized, and if Kirstian must be a liar, her own lie would make her pay in full for that. Runaways were not treated kindly. \"I spend hours with her, too, and she almost never talks of anything but Adeleas. It's as if she wants to add my memories to her own. I think she needs to be allowed as much time as she needs, and those two keep her from being alone too often.\" Giving Elayne a sidelong glance, she drew breath. \"Still, teaching the Windfinders is certainly... challenging. Perhaps an hour now and then would help pull her out of despondency, if only by making her angry. Don't you agree, Elayne? Just an hour or two, now and then.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Vandene will be allowed as much time to grieve for her sister as she needs or wants,\" Elayne said in level tones. \"And there will be no more discussion of it.\"\n\nCareane sighed heavily and rearranged her shawl again. Sareitha sighed faintly and began twisting the Great Serpent ring on the forefinger of her left hand. Perhaps they had sensed her mood, or perhaps it was just that neither looked forward to another session with the Windfinders. Merilille's permanently surprised expression did not change, but then, her sessions with the Sea Folk lasted all day and all night unless Elayne managed to pry her away, and the Windfinders were becoming less and less willing to let her go no matter how Elayne pried.\n\nAt least she had managed to avoid being curt with the three. It took an effort, especially with Aviendha there. Elayne did not know what she would do if she ever lost her sister. Vandene was not only grieving fora sister, she was searching for Adeleas's murderer, and there could be no doubt that the killer was Merilille Ceandevin, Careane Fransi or Sareitha Tomares. One of them, or worse, more than one. The charge was hard to believe of Merilille, in her present condition, but it was not easy to believe of any sister. As Birgitte had pointed out, one of the worst Darkfriends she had ever met, during the Trolloc Wars, was a mild-as-milk lad who jumped at loud noises. And poisoned an entire city's water supply. Aviendha's suggestion was to put all three to the question, which had horrified Birgitte, but Aviendha was considerably less in awe of Aes Sedai than she once had been. The proper courtesies must be maintained, until there was evidence to convict. Then there would be no courtesy at all."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\\nChapter: 2\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What is it, Elsie?\\\" Elayne demanded. She had several weaves already on the edge of forming, ranging from a simple net of air to a fireball that would have demolished half the walls in front of her, and in her present humor, she wanted to use one of them, to strikeout with the Power. Her moods were uncertain of late, to say the least.\\n\\nThe girl looked back over one shoulder, trembling, and if her eyes had been wide before, they bulged now. Her hands remained clamped to mouth as if to prevent another scream. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, tall and plump-bosomed in House Matherin's gray-and-blue livery, she was not really a girl-Elsie might be four or five years older than herself-but the way she behaved made it difficult to think of her any other way.\\n\\n\\\"What is it, Elsie? And don't tell me it was nothing. You look as if you'd seen a ghost.\\\"\\n\\nThe girl flinched. \\\"I did,\\\" she said unsteadily. That she gave Elayne no title showed just how unsteady she was. \\\"Lady Nelein, as was Lord Aedmun's grandmother. She died when I was little, but I remember even Lord Aedmun tiptoed around her temper, and the maids used to jump if she looked at them, and other ladies who visited, too, and the lords, as well. Everybody was afraid of her. She was right therein front of me, and she scowled so furious-\\\" She broke off, blushing, when Elayne laughed.\\n\\nIt was more a laugh of relief than anything else. The Black Ajah had not somehow followed her to Lord Aedmun's manor. There were no assassins waiting with knives in their fists, no sisters loyal to Elaida wanting to whisk her back to Tar Valon. Sometimes she dreamed about those things, about all of them in the same dream. She released saidar, reluctantly as always, regretful as that fullness of joy and life drained out of her. Matherin supported her, but Aedmun might have taken it amiss if she had ruined half his home place.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The dead cannot harm the living, Elsie,\\\" she said gently. The more gently because she had laughed, not to mention wanting to box the ninny's ears. \\\"They're not of this world anymore, and they can't touch anything in it, including us.\\\" The girl nodded, and dropped another curtsy, but by the size of her eyes and the trembling of her lips she was unconvinced. Elayne had no time to cosset her, though. \\\"Fetch the men for my cases, Elsie,\\\" she said firmly, \\\"and don't worry about ghosts.\\\" With yet another curtsy the girl dashed off, her head swiveling anxiously in case the Lady Nelein leaped out of the paneled walls. Ghosts! The fool girl was a ninny!\\n\\nMatherin was an old House, if not large or strong, and the main stairs, leading down to the entry hall, were broad and trimmed with marble railings. The entry hall itself was a generous space, with gray-and-blue floor tiles and mirrored oil lamps hanging on chains from the ceiling twenty feet above. There was nothing in the way of gilding and little inlay, but ornately carved chests and cabinets stood along the sides of the hall, and two wall hangings were displayed on one wall. One showed men hunting leopards from horseback, a chancy business at best, and the other women of House Matherin presenting a sword to the first Queen of Andor, an event that Matherin treasured and that might or might not have actually happened.\\n\\nAviendha was already down, pacing restlessly in the hall, and Elayne sighed at the sight. They would have shared a room, if not for the implication that Matherin could not provide adequately for two visitors of note, but Aviendha did not really understand that the smaller the House, the loftier the pride. Often, the smaller Houses possessed little more. Pride, she should have understood, since a fierce pride and strength all but shone from her. Straight-backed and even taller than Elayne, a thick dark shawl draped over her pale blouse and a folded gray headscarf holding back her long reddish hair, she was the very picture of a Wise One despite being only a year older than Elayne. Wise Ones who could channel often appeared to be much younger than they were, and Aviendha had the dignity. At this moment she did, anyway, though the pair of them had giggled together often enough. Of course, her only jewelry was along, silver Kandori necklace, an amber brooch in the shape of a turtle and a wide ivory bracelet, and Wise Ones always wore festoons of necklaces and bracelets, but Aviendha was not a Wise One yet, merely an apprentice. Elayne never thought of Aviendha as merely anything, but it did present problems now and then. Sometimes she thought the Wise Ones considered her an apprentice of some sort as well, or at least a student. A silly thought, to be sure, but sometimes...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As Elayne reached the foot of the stairs, Aviendha adjusted her shawl and asked, \\\"Did you sleep well?\\\" Her tone was untroubled, but anxiety nestled around her green eyes. \\\"You did not send for wine to help you sleep, did you? I made sure your wine was watered when we ate, but I saw you looking at the wine pitcher.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Mother,\\\" Elayne said in a sickly sweet voice. \\\"No, Mother. I was wondering how Aedmun got his hands on such a fine vintage, Mother. It was a shame to water it. And I drank the goat's milk before I went to sleep.\\\" If anything brought her to birthing sickness, it would be goat's milk! And to think she used to like it.\\n\\nAviendha planted her fists on her hips, such an embodiment of indignation that Elayne had to laugh. There were inconveniences to being with child, ranging from abrupt swings in her temper to tenderness in her breasts to always being tired, but the coddling was the worst, in someways. Everyone in the Royal Palace knew she was pregnant-a good many had known before she did, courtesy of Min's viewing and Min being too free with her tongue-and she did not think she could have been so mothered when she was an infant. Still, she put up with all the bother with as much grace as she could muster. Usually, she did. They were only trying to be helpful. She just wished every woman she knew did not believe that pregnancy had made her brainless. Nearly every woman she knew. Those who had never borne a child themselves were the worst.\\n\\nThinking of her baby-at times she wished Min had said whether it would be a boy or girl, or rather that Aviendha or Birgitte could recall exactly what Min actually had said; Min was always right, but the three of them had consumed a great deal wine that night, and Min had been gone from the palace long before Elayne herself knew to ask-thinking of the child growing in her always made her think of Rand, just as thinking of him made her think of the babe. One followed the other as surely as cream rose in the milkpan. She missed Rand terribly, and yet she could not miss him. Apart of him, the sense of him, rode always in the back of her head unless she masked the bond, right alongside her sense of Birgitte, her other Warder. The bond had its limits, however. He was somewhere to the west, far enough that she could tell little more than that he was alive. Nothing more, really, though she thought she would know if he had been badly injured. She was not sure she wanted to know what he was up to. He had been far to the south fora longtime after leaving her, and now, just this morning, he had Traveled to the west. It was disconcerting, really, to feel him in one direction and then suddenly have him off in another, even farther away. He could be pursuing enemies or running from enemies or anyone of a thousand things. She hoped very much it was something innocuous that made him Travel. He was going to die on her all too soon-men who could channel always died of it-but she wanted so very much to keep him alive as long as possible.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He is well,\\\" Aviendha said almost as though she could read her mind.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They had their own shared sense of one another since their mutual adoption as first-sisters, but it did not go as far as the Warder bond they and Min shared with Rand. \\\"If he allows himself to be killed, I will cutoff his ears.\\\"\\n\\nElayne blinked, then laughed again, and after a startled glance, Aviendha joined in. It was not that funny, except maybe to an Aiel-Aviendha's sense of humor was very odd-but Elayne could not stop laughing, and Aviendha seemed as helpless. Shaking with mirth, they hugged one another and hung on. Life was very strange. Had anyone told her a few years ago that she would share a man with another woman-with two other women!-she would have called them mad. The very idea would have been indecent. But she loved Aviendha every bit as much as she did Rand, only in a different way, and Aviendha loved Rand as much as she did.\\n\\nDenying that meant denying Aviendha, and she could as easily step out of her skin. Aiel women, sisters or close friends, often married the same man, and seldom gave him any say in the matter. She was going to marry Rand, and so was Aviendha, and so was Min. Whatever anyone said or thought, that was all there was to it. If he lived long enough.\\n\\nSuddenly she became afraid that her laughter was edging toward tears. Please, Light, let her not be one of those women who became weepy when they were with child. It was bad enough not knowing whether she was going to be melancholy or furious from one minute to the next. Hours might pass when she felt perfectly normal, but then there were hours when she felt like a child's ball bouncing down an endless flight of stairs. This morning, she seemed to be on the stairs.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He is well, and he will be well,\\\" Aviendha whispered fiercely, as if she intended to assure his survival by killing anything that threatened him.\\n\\nWith the tips of her fingers, Elayne brushed a tear from her sister's cheek. \\\"He is well, and he will be well,\\\" she agreed softly. But they could not kill saidin, and the taint on the male half of the Power was what was going to kill him.\\n\\nThe lamps overhead flickered as one of the tall doors to the outside opened, letting in a gust of air even colder than that in the entry hall, and they quickly moved a little apart, just holding hands. Elayne schooled her face to a serene smoothness fully worthy of an Aes Sedai. She could not afford to let anyone see her apparently seeking comfort in a hug. A ruler, or one who sought to rule, was not allowed the slightest suggestion of weakness or tears, not in public. There were rumors enough about her as it was, as many bad as good. She was benevolent or cruel, fair-minded or arbitrary, generous or avaricious, all according to which tale you listened to. At least the tales balanced out one another, but anyone who could say they had actually seen the Daughter-Heir huddling in the arms of her companion might add a tale of fear to the blend, and if her enemies believed she was afraid, they would only grow bolder. And stronger. Cowardice was the sort of rumor that stuck like greasy mud; you never could wash it off completely. History recorded women who had lost their bids for the Lion Throne on no further discernible grounds. Capability was a requirement fora successful ruler and wisdom was to be hoped for, though women lacking both had gained the throne and muddled through somehow, but few would support a coward, and none of those people she wanted on her side.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The man who came in, turning to push the massive door shut behind him, had only one leg and used a crutch in place of the other. Even with fleece padding, the sleeve of his heavy woolen coat was worn from it. A heavy-shouldered former soldier, Fridwyn Ros managed Lord Aedmun's estate, with the aid of a fat clerk who had blinked at the Daughter-Heir in consternation, gaped at her Great Serpent ring with something near to awe, and scurried back to his ledgers in relief as soon as he realized she had no business with him. He had probably feared a levy on the manor's accounts. Master Ros had stared at herring in amazement, to be sure, but he had grinned with delight at the Daughter-Heir and regretted that he could no longer ride for her with such sincerity that, had he been a liar, he would already have bilked Aedmun and the clerk of everything they owned between them. She did not fear him carrying the wrong tales.\\n\\nHis crutch made a rhythmic thump as he came up the hall, and he managed a credible bow in spite of it, including Aviendha in his courtesy. He had been startled by her at first, but surprisingly quick to catch their friendship, and if he did not entirely trust an Aiel, it meant he accepted her. You could not ask for everything.\\n\\n\\\"The men are strapping your cases to the pack animals, my Queen, and your escort is ready.\\\" He was one of those who refused to call her anything except'my Queen\\\" or'Majesty,\\\" but a hint of doubt entered his voice at mention of her escort. He covered it hastily with a cough and hurried on. \\\"The men we're sending with you are all mounted as well as I could manage. Young men, mainly, and a few more experienced, but they all know which end of a halberd has the point. I wish the manor could give you more, but I explained, when Lord Aedmun heard there were others claiming what's yours by right, he decided not to wait for spring, and he called in his armsmen and set out for Caemlyn. We've had a couple of bad snowfalls since, but he might be halfway thereby now with luck in the passes.\\\" His gaze carried conviction, but he knew better than she that with the wrong luck Aedmun and his armsmen might be dead in those passes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Matherin has always maintained faith with Trakand,\\\" Elayne told him, \\\"and I put my trust that it always will.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I value Lord Aedmun's loyalty, Master Ros, and yours.\\\"\\n\\nShe did not insult Matherin, and him, by promising to remember or offering rewards, yet Master Ros' broad smile said she had already given him as much reward as he desired. Matherin would receive rewards, if they were earned, but they could not beheld out as if offering to buy a horse.\\n\\nThumping along on his crutch, Master Ros bowed her to the door, and bowed her out onto the broad granite step where servants wearing heavy coats waited in the bitter cold with a stirrup cup of hot spiced wine that she rejected with a murmur. Until she had a chance to adjust to the sharp air, she wanted both hands to hold her cloak closed. Aviendha would probably have found away to make her drop it anyway. She took a cup, after wrapping her shawl around her head and shoulders, the only concession she made to the icy morning. She was ignoring the cold, of course. Elayne was the one who had taught her how. Elayne tried again to push the cold away, and to her surprise, it receded. Not all the way-she still felt chilly-but it was better than freezing.\\n\\nThe sky was clear, the sun bright as it sat over the mountains, but storm clouds could come boiling across the surrounding peaks at anytime. It would be best to reach their first destination today as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, Fireheart, her tall black gelding, was living up to his name, rearing and snorting gouts of steamy breath as if he had never worn a bridle before, and Aviendha's leggy arch-necked gray had taken it into her head to imitate him, dancing in the knee-deep snow and trying to go anywhere except where the groom tried to lead her. She was a more spirited animal than Elayne would have chosen for her sister, yet Aviendha herself had insisted after learning the mare's name. Siswai meant spear, in the Old Tongue. The grooms seemed capable women, but they appeared to think they needed to calm the animals before handing them over. It was all Elayne could do not to snap at them that she had managed Fireheart before they ever saw him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Her escort was already mounted, to avoid standing in the snow, twenty-odd riders in the white-collared redcoats and brightly burnished breastplates and helmets of the Queen's Guard. Master Ros\\\" doubt might be explained by the fact that the riders'coats were silk, as were their red breeches with the white stripe up each leg, and by the pale lace they wore at neck and cuff. They certainly appeared more ceremonial than effective. Or it might have been that they were all women. Women were uncommon in jobs that required using weapons, just the occasional merchants\\\" guard or a rare woman who turned up in an army during time of war, and Elayne had never heard of a group of all-female soldiers before she created one. Except the Maidens, of course, but they were Aiel and a different matter. She hoped people would think them an affectation on her part, and largely decorative with all the lace and silk. Men tended to underestimate a woman carrying weapons until they faced one, and even most other women tended to think her a brainless fool. Bodyguards usually tried to appear so ferocious that no one would dare trying to get past them, but her enemies would just find anew way to attack if she stood the whole Queen's Guard around her shoulder-to-shoulder. A bodyguard her enemies would dismiss until it was too late for more than regrets washer aim. She intended to make their uniforms more elaborate, partly to feed those misconceptions and partly to feed the women's pride as soldiers marked out from the rest, but she herself had no doubts. Everyone of them, from merchants' guards to Hunters of the Horn, had been carefully chosen for her skills, experience and courage. She was ready to put her life in their hands. She already had.\\n\\nA lean woman wearing a lieutenant's two golden knots on the shoulder of her red cloak saluted Elayne with an arm across her chest, and her roan gelding tossed his head, making the silver bells in his mane chime faintly, as if he too were saluting. \\\"We are ready, my Lady, and the area is clear.\\\" Caseille Raskovni was one of those who had been a merchant's guard, and her Arafellin accents were not those of an educated woman, but her voice was brisk and no-nonsense. She used the proper form of address, and would until Elayne was crowned, yet she was ready to fight to gain that crown for Elayne. Very, very few, male or female, signed the roster of the Queen's Guard these days unless they were ready for that. \\\"The men Master Ros handed over are ready, too. As ready as they'll ever be.\\\" Clearing his throat, the man shifted his crutch and took to studying the snow in front of his boots.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Elayne could see what Caseille meant. Master Ros had scraped together eleven men from the manor to send to Caemlyn and outfitted them with halberds and short-swords and what armor he could find, nine antique helmets without faceguards and seven breastplates with dents that made them vulnerable. Their mounts were not bad, though hairy with their winter coats, but even huddled as their riders were in thick cloaks, she could see that eight were unlikely to need to shave above once in a week, if that. The men Master Ros had described as being experienced had wrinkled faces and bony hands and probably not a full set of teeth between them. He had not been lying or trying to stint; Aedmun would have gathered all the fit men in the area to take with him and outfitted them in the best he had. The story had been the same everywhere. Apparently a great number of hale and hearty men scattered the length of Andor were trying to reach her in Caemlyn. And none of them likely to get into the city until all was decided, now. She could search everyday without finding a single band. Still, this little bunch held their halberds as if they knew how to use them. Then again, that was not hard to do sitting a saddle at rest with the halberd's butt tucked in your stirrup. She could have managed that.\\n\\n\\\"We have visited nineteen of these manors, sister,\\\" Aviendha said softly, moving closer until their shoulders touched, \\\"and counting these, we have gathered two hundred and five boys too young to be blooded and old men who should have laid down the spear long ago. I have not asked befote. You know your people and your ways. Is this worth the time you give it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, yes, sister.\\\" Elayne kept her voice just as low, so the one-legged former soldier and the servants could not overhear. The best of people could turn muleheaded if they realized you wanted them to behave a certain way. Particularly if they realized that the help they had painfully gathered and offered, and you had accepted, was not what you were after at all. \\\" Everyone in that village down by the river knows I'm hereby now, and so do half the farms for miles. By noon, the other half will know, and by tomorrow, the next village over, and more farms. News travels slowly in winter, especially in this country. They know I've spoken my claim to the throne, yet if I gain the throne tomorrow or die tomorrow, they might not learn of it before the middle of spring, maybe not even until summer. But today they know that Elayne Trakand is alive that she visited the manor in silks and jewels and summoned men to her banner. People twenty miles from here will claim they saw me and touched my hand. Few people can say that without speaking in favor of whoever they claim to have seen, and when you speak in favor of someone, you convince yourself to favor them. There are men and women in nineteen places around Andor talking about how they saw the Daughter-Heir just this last week, and everyday the area that talk covers spreads like an inkblot.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"If I had time, I'd visit every village in Andor. It won't make a hair of difference in what happens in Caemlyn, but it may make all the difference after I win.\\\" She would not admit to any possibility other than winning. Especially not given who would take the throne if she failed. \\\"Most Queens in our history spent the first years of their rule gathering the people solidly behind them, Aviendha, and some never did, but harder times than these are coming. I may not have one year before I need every Andoran to stand behind me. I can't wait until I have the throne. Harder times are coming, and I have to be ready. Andor has to be ready, and I must make it so,\\\" she finished firmly.\\n\\nSmiling, Aviendha touched Elayne's cheek. \\\"I think I will learn a great deal about being a Wise One from you.\\\"\\n\\nTo her mortification, Elayne blushed in embarrassment. Her cheeks felt on fire! Maybe the swings in humor were worse than the cosseting. Light, she had months of this to look forward to! Not for the first time, she found a kernel of resentment toward Rand. He had done this to her-all right, she had helped him, instigated the doing, in fact, but that was beside the point-he had done this and walked away with a smug grin on his face. She doubted his grin tiad really been smug, but she could picture it all too easily. Let him dart from giddy to weepy every other hour and see how he liked it! I can't think in a straight line, she thought irritably. That was his fault, too.\\n\\nThe grooms finally deemed Fireheart and Aviendha's Siswai meek enough to be mounted by ladies, and Aviendha climbed to her saddle from the stone mounting block with a good deal more grace than she once had shown, arranging her bulky undivided skirts to cover as much of her dark-stockinged legs as possible. She still believed that her own legs were superior to any horse, yet she had become a passable rider. Though she did have a tendency to look surprised when the horse did as she wanted. Fireheart tried to dance once Elayne was on his back, but she reined him in smartly, and a bit more sharply than she would have normally. Her teetering moods had taken her to a sudden sense of dread for Rand, and if she could not ensure his safety, there was one male at hand she could make certain did exactly as he was supposed to.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Six of the Guardswomen led the way down the road from the manor at a slow walk, all the depth of snow would allow, with the rest following her and Aviendha in smart columns, the last horsewomen inline leading the pack animals.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The local men trailed behind raggedly with their own packhorse, a shaggy creature tied about with cookpots and rough bundles and even half a dozen live chickens. A few cheers greeted them as they rode through the thatch-roofed village and across the stone bridge that crossed a snake-curved frozen stream, loud cries of'Elayne of the Lily!\\\" and'Trakand! Trakand!\\\" and'Matherin stands!\\\" But she saw a woman crying on her husband's chest, and tears on his face, too, and another woman who stood with her back to the riders and her head down, refusing even to look. Elayne hoped she would send their sons home to them. There should belittle fighting at Caemlyn, unless she blundered badly, but there would be some, and once the Rose Crown washers, battles lay ahead. To the south lay the Seanchan, and to the north, Myrddraal and Trollocs waiting to descend for Tarmon Gai'don. Andor would bleed sons in the days to come. Burn her, she was not going to cry!\\n\\nBeyond the bridge, the road slanted up again, a steep climb through pine and fir and leatherleaf, but it was no more than along mile to the mountain meadow they sought. The snow shining beneath the midmorning sun still bore the marks of hooves coming from where a gateway had left a deep furrow in the snow. It could have been nearer the manor, but the possibility of someone standing where your gateway opened was always the danger.\\n\\nThe glow of saidar surrounded Aviendha as they rode into the meadow. She had made the gateway to come here from their last stop yesterday afternoon, a manor a hundred miles north, so she would weave the gateway to go to Caemlyn, but the sight of Aviendha shining with the Power made Elayne go broody. Whoever made the gateway to leave Caemlyn always ended up making all the others until they returned, since she learned the ground at each place her gateway touched, but on each of their five trips, Aviendha had asked to make that first gateway. She might simply have wanted the practice, as she claimed, though Elayne hardly had more practice than she did, but another possibility had come to mind. Maybe Aviendha wanted to keep her from channeling, in any considerable amount at least. Because she was pregnant. The weave that had made them sisters of the same mother could not have been used if either of them had been with child, because the unborn child would have shared in the bond, a thing it could not be strong enough to survive, but surely one of the Aes Sedai in the palace would have said something if channeling was to be avoided in pregnancy. Then again, very few Aes Sedai ever bore children. They might not know. She was aware there were many things Aes Sedai did not know, however much they might pretend otherwise to the rest of the world-she herself had taken advantage of that presumption from time to time-but it seemed very strange that they might be ignorant of something so important to most women. It was as though a bird knew how to eat every seed and grain except barley, so supposedly knew, because if it did not know how to eat barley, what else might it be ignorant of? Wise Ones bore children, though, and they had said nothing about-\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Abruptly concerns over her babe and channeling and what Aes Sedai might or might not know were pushed right out of her head. She could feel someone channeling saidar. Not Aviendha, not someone on one of the surrounding mountains, not anyone near as close as that. This was distant, like a beacon blazing on afar mountaintop in the night. Avery distant mountain. She could not imagine how much of the One Power was needed for her to feel channeling at that distance. Every woman in the world who could channel must be able to sense this. To point straight to it. And the beacon lay to the west. Nothing had changed in the bond with Rand, she could not have said exactly where he was within a hundred miles, but she knew.\\n\\n\\\"He's in danger,\\\" she said. \\\"We must go to him, Aviendha.\\\"\\n\\nAviendha gave herself a shake and stopped staring westward. The glow remained around her, and Elayne could feel that she had drawn on the Source as deeply as she could. But even as Aviendha turned to her, she felt the amount of saidar the other woman held dwindle. \\\"We must not, Elayne.\\\"\\n\\nAghast, Elayne twisted in Fireheart's saddle to stare at her. \\\"You want to abandon him? To that!\\\" No one could handle so much of saidar, not the strongest circle, not unaided. Supposedly a sa'angreal existed, greater than anything else ever made, and if what she had heard was correct, that might be able to handle this. Maybe. But from what she had heard, no woman could use it and live, not without ter'angreal made for the purpose, and no one had ever seen one that she knew of. Surely no sister would try even if she had found one. That much of the One Power could level mountain ranges at a stroke! No sister would try except perhaps one of the Black Ajah. Or worse, one of the Forsaken. Maybe more than one. What else could it be? And Aviendha simply wanted to ignore it, when she must know that Rand was there?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Guardswomen, unaware, were still waiting patiently on their horses, keeping watch on the treeline around the meadow and little concerned with that after their reception at the manor, though Caseille was watching Elayne and Aviendha, a slight frown visible behind the face-bars of her helmet. She knew they never delayed at opening a gateway. The men from the manor were gathered around their packhorse, pawing at the bundles and apparently arguing over whether or not something had been included. Aviendha still moved her gray closer to Elayne's black and spoke in a voice that would not carry.\\n\\n\\\"We know nothing, Elayne. Not whether he is dancing the spears or this is something else. If he dances the spears and we rush in, will he attack us before he knows who are? Will we distract him because he does not expect us, and allow his enemies to win? If he dies, we will find who took his life and kill them, but if we go to him now, we go blindly, and we may bring disaster on our backs.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We could be careful,\\\" Elayne said sullenly. It infuriated her that she was feeling sullen, and showing it, but all she could do was ride her moods and try not let them get the upper hand completely. \\\"We don't have to Travel right to the spot.\\\" Gripping her pouch, feeling the small ivory carving of a seated woman that nestled inside, she looked pointedly at her sister's amber brooch. \\\"Light, Aviendha, we have angreal, and neither of us is exactly helpless.\\\" Oh, Light, now she was sounding petulant. She knew very well that both of them together, angreal and all, would be flies battling aflame against what they could sense, but even so, a fly-bite at the right moment might make the difference. \\\"And don't tell me I'll endanger the baby. Min said she will be born strong and healthy. You told me so yourself. That means I will live at least long enough for my daughter to be born.\\\" She hoped fora daughter.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fireheart chose that moment to nip at the gray, and Siswai nipped back, and fora bit Elayne was occupied with getting her gelding under control and keeping Aviendha from being thrown and telling Caseille that they did not need any help, and by the end of it, she was not feeling sullen any longer. She wanted to smack Fireheart right between his ears.\\n\\nAside from making the animal obey the reins, Aviendha behaved as if nothing had happened at all. She did frown, a little uncertainly, her face framed by the dark wool of her shawl, but her uncertainty had nothing to do with the horse.\\n\\n\\\"I have told you about the rings in Rhuidean,\\\" she said slowly, and Elayne gave an impatient nod. Every woman who wanted to become a Wise One was sent through a ter'angreal before she began training. It was something like the ter'angreal used to test novices for being raised to Accepted in the White Tower, except that in this one, a woman saw her whole life. All of her possible lives, really, every decision made differently, an infinite fan of lives based on differing choices. \\\"No one can remember all of that, Elayne, only bits and pieces. I knew I would love Rand al'Thor...\\\" she was still uncomfortable sometimes about using just his first name in front of others, \\\"and that I would find sister-wives. For most things, all you retain is a vague impression at best. A hint of warning, sometimes. I think if we go to him now, something very bad will happen. Maybe one of us will die, maybe both in spite of what Min said.\\\" That she said Min's name without fumbling was a measure of her concern. She did not know Min very well, and usually named her formally, as Min Farshaw. \\\"Perhaps he will die. Perhaps something else. I do not know for sure-maybe we will all survive, and we will sit around afire with him roasting pecara when we find him-but the glimmer of a warning is therein my head.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Elayne opened her mouth angrily. Then she closed it again, anger draining away like water down a hole, and her shoulders slumped. Perhaps Aviendha's glimmer was true and perhaps not, but the fact was that her arguments had been good from the start. A great risk taken in ignorance, and taking it might bring disaster. The beacon had grown brighter still. And he was there, right where the beacon was. The bond did not tell her so, not at this distance, but she knew. And she knew she had to leave him to take care of himself while she took care of Andor.\\n\\n\\\"I don't have anything to teach you about being a Wise One, Aviendha,\\\" she said quietly. \\\"You are already much wiser than I. Not to mention braver and more coolheaded. We return to Caemlyn.\\\"\\n\\nAviendha colored faintly under the praise-she could be very sensitive, at times-but she wasted no time in opening the gateway, a rotating view of a stableyard in the Royal Palace that widened into a hole in the air and let snow from the meadow fall onto the clean-swept paving stones as near three hundred miles away as made no difference. The sense of Birgitte, somewhere in the palace, sprang alive in Elayne's head. Birgitte had a headache and a sour stomach, not unusual occurrences of late, but they suited Elayne's mood all too well.\\n\\nI must leave him to take care of himself, she thought as she rode through. Light, how often had she thought that? No matter. Rand was the love of her heart and the joy of her life, but Andor washer duty.\\n\\nChapter 11\\n\\nTalk of Debts\\n\\nThe gateway was positioned so that Elayne seemed to be riding out of a hole in the wall against the street, into a square marked out for safety by sand-filled wine barrels standing on the paving stones. Oddly, she could not feel a single woman channeling anywhere in the palace, though it housed more than a hundred and fifty with the ability. Some would be stationed on the city's outer walls, of course, too far for her to sense anything short of a linked circle, and a few would be out of the city altogether, yet someone in the palace was almost always using saidar, whether to try forcing one of the captive sul'dam to admit that she really could see weaves of the One Power or simply to smooth the wrinkles from a shawl without heating an iron. Not this morning, though. Windfinder arrogance often matched the worst shown by any Aes Sedai, yet even that must be quashed by what they sensed. Elayne thought that if she climbed to a high window, she must be able to seethe weaves of that great beacon, hundreds of leagues distant as they were. She felt like an ant that had just become aware of mountains, an ant comparing the Spine of the World to the hills it had always held in awe. Yes, even the Windfinders must be walking small in the face of that.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"On the eastern side of the palace and fronted on north and south by two-story-high stables of pure white stone, the Queen's Stableyard traditionally was given over to the Queen's personal horses and carriages, and she had hesitated overusing it before the Lion Throne was acknowledged hers. The steps that led to the throne were as delicate as any court dance, and if the dance sometimes came to resemble a tavern brawl, you still had to make your steps with grace and precision in order to gain your goal. Claiming the perquisites before being confirmed had cost some women their chance to rule. In the end, she had decided it was not a transgression that would make her seem over-proud. Besides, the Queen's Stableyard was relatively small and had no other use. There were fewer people to keep away from an opening gateway here. In fact, when she entered it, the stone-paved yard was empty apart from a single red-coated groom standing in one of the arched stable doorways, but he turned to give a shout inside, and dozens more came spilling out as she guided Fireheart clear of the marked-off square. After all, she might have returned with an entourage of powerful lords and ladies, or perhaps they just hoped she had.\\n\\nCaseille brought the Guardswomen through the gateway, and ordered most to dismount and see to their animals. She and half a dozen more remained in their saddles, keeping watch over the heads of the people afoot. Even here, she would not leave Elayne unguarded. Particularly here, where she faced more danger than in any manor she had visited. The Matherin men milled about, getting in the way of grooms and Guards while gaping at the white stone balconies and colonnades that overlooked the yard and the spires and golden domes visible beyond. The cold seemed less here than in the mountains-refusing to let it touch her, as far as she could at present, did not make her totally unaware-but men and women and horses all still breathed faint plumes of mist. The odor of horse dung seemed strong, too, after the clean air of the mountains. A hot bath in front of a roaring fire would be welcome. Afterward, she would have to plunge back into the business of securing the throne, but right now along soak would be just the thing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A pair of grooms ran to Fireheart. One took his bridle with a hurried curtsy for Elayne, more concerned with seeing that the tall gelding made no bother while Elayne dismounted than with making courtesies herself, and another who made his bow and remained bent with his hands making a stirrup for Elayne. Neither gave more than a glance at the view of a snow-covered mountain meadow where they would normally see a stonewall. The stable-workers were accustomed to gateways by now. She had heard that they garnered drinks in the taverns by boasting of how often they saw the Power used and the things they supposedly had seen done with it. Elayne could imagine what those tales sounded like by the time they reached Arymilla. She rather enjoyed the thought of Arymilla chewing her fingernails.\\n\\nAs she set foot on the paving stones, a cluster of Guardswomen appeared around her, in crimson hats with white plumes lying flat on the broad brims, and lace-edged crimson sashes, embroidered with the White Lion, that slanted across their bright breastplates. Not until then did Caseille take the remainder of Elayne's escort to the stable. Their replacements were just as wary, eyes watching every direction, hands hovering near their sword hilts, except for Deni, a wide, placid-faced woman who carried along brass-studded cudgel. They were only nine in number-Only nine, Elayne thought bitterly. I need only nine bodyguards in the Royal Palace itself!-yet everyone who carried a sword was expert. Women who followed the'trade of the sword,\\\" as Caseille called it, had to be good, or else sooner or later they were cut down by some fellow whose only advantage was strength enough to batter her down. Deni possessed no facility with a sword at all, but the few men who had tested her cudgel regretted doing so. Despite her bulk, Deni was very quick, and she had no concept of fighting fair, or of practice, for that matter.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Rasoria, the stocky under-lieutenant in charge, seemed relieved when the grooms led Fireheart off. If Elayne's bodyguard had their way, no one except themselves would have been allowed within arm's reach. Well, maybe they were not quite that bad, but they looked with suspicion at almost everyone except Birgitte and Aviendha. Rasoria, a Tairen despite her blue eyes and the yellow hair she wore cut short, was among the worst in that regard, even insisting on watching the cooks make Elayne's meals and having everything tasted before it was brought up. Elayne had not protested, however over-zealous they might be. One experience of drugged wine was more than enough, even when she knew she would live at least long enough to bear her child. But it was neither the Guardswomen's mistrust nor the need for it that tightened her mouth. It was Birgitte, weaving her way through the crowded stableyard, but not toward her.\\n\\nAviendha was last to appear out of the gateway, of course, after she was sure that everyone was through, and before she let the gateway wink out of existence, Elayne started in her direction, striding off so suddenly that her escort had to leap to maintain their guarding ring around her. As quickly as she moved, though, Birgitte, with her thick golden braid hanging to her waist, was there first, helping Aviendha down and handing the gray mare over to along-faced groom who seemed almost as leggy as Siswai. Aviendha always had more difficulty getting off a horse than getting on, but Birgitte had more than assistance in mind. Elayne and her escort arrived just in time to hear the woman say to Aviendha in a low, hurried voice, \\\"Did she drink her goat's milk? Did she get enough sleep? She feels...\\\" Her voice trailed off at the end, and she drew a deep breath before turning to face Elayne, outwardly calm, and unsurprised to find her right there. The bond did work both ways.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Birgitte was not a big woman, though she stood taller than Elayne in her heeled boots, as tall as Aviendha, but she usually had a presence that was only heightened by the uniform of the Captain-General of the Queen's Guards, a short redcoat with a high white collar worn over baggy blue trousers tucked into gleaming black boots, four golden knots on her left shoulder and four bands of gold on each white cuff. After all, she was Birgitte Silverbow, a hero out of legend. She remained wary of trying to live up to those legends; she claimed that the stories were grossly inflated where they were not complete fabrications. Yet she was still the same woman who had done everyone of the things that formed the heart of those legends and more besides. Now, despite her apparent composure, unease tinged the concern for Elayne that flowed through the bond along with her headache and her sullen stomach. She knew very well that Elayne hated for them to check on her behind her back. That was not the whole reason for Elayne's irritation, but the bond let Birgitte know just how upset she was.\\n\\nAviendha, calmly unwrapping her shawl from around her head and draping it over her shoulders, attempted the gaze of a woman who had done nothing wrong and certainly was not involved with anyone else who had done anything wrong. She might have managed it if she had not widened her eyes for an added touch of innocence. Birgitte was a bad influence on her in someways.\\n\\n\\\"I drank the goat's milk,\\\" Elayne said in a level voice, all too conscious of the Guardswomen ringing the three of them. Facing outward, eyes scanning the yard and the balconies and the rooftops, nearly everyone was certainly listening. \\\"I got enough sleep. Is there anything else you want to ask me?\\\" Aviendha's cheeks colored faintly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I think I have all the answers I need for the moment,\\\" Birgitte replied without a hint of the blush Elayne had been hoping for.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The woman knew she was tired, knew she had to belying about the sleep.\\n\\nThe bond was decidedly inconvenient at times. She had drunk nothing but half a cup of extremely well watered wine last night, but she was beginning to have Birgitte's morning-after head and her sour stomach. None of the other Aes Sedai she had spoken to about the bond had mentioned anything of the kind, but she and Birgitte all too often mirrored one another, physically and emotionally. The last presented real problems when her moods were on a seesaw. Sometimes she managed to shrug it off, or fight it off, but today she knew she was going to have to suffer until Birgitte was Healed. She thought the mirroring must occur because they were both women. No one had heard of anyone bonding another woman before. Few had heard of it now, to tell the truth, and some of them seemed to believe it could not be true. A Warder was male as surely as a bull was male. Everyone knew that, and not many stopped to think that anything that'everyone knew\\\" deserved close examination.\\n\\nBeing caught in a lie, when she was trying to follow Egwene's dictate about living as if she had already taken the Three Oaths, made Elayne defensive, and that made her blunt. \\\"Is Dyelin back?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Birgitte said just as bluntly, and Elayne sighed. Dyelin had left the city days before Arymilla's army appeared, taking Reanne Corly with her to make gateways and speed her travel, and a great deal depended on Dyelin's return. On what news she brought back. On whether she brought anything besides news.\\n\\nChoosing who would be Queen of Andor was quite simple, boiled down to essentials. There were over four hundred Houses in the realm, but only nineteen strong enough that others would follow where they led. Usually, all nineteen stood behind the Daughter-Heir, or most of them, unless she was plainly incompetent. House Mantear had lost the throne to Trakand when Mordrellen died only because Tigraine, the Daughter-Heir, had vanished and Mantear had begun running heavily to boy children. And because Morgase Trakand had gathered thirteen Houses in her support. Only ten of the nineteen were necessary to ascend the throne, bylaw and custom. Even claimants who still thought they should have the throne themselves usually fell in with the rest, or at least fell silent and gave up their pursuit, once another woman had ten Houses at her back.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Things had been bad enough when she had three declared rivals, but now Naean and Elenia were united behind Arymilla Marne, of all people, the least likely of the three to have succeeded, and that meant she had two Houses-two large enough to count; Matherin and those eighteen others she had visited were too small-her own Trakand and Dyelin's Taravin, to face six.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Oh, Dyelin insisted that Carand, Coelan and Renshar would come to Elayne, and Norwelyn and Pendar and Traemane besides, but the first three wanted Dyelin herself on the throne, and the last three seemed to have gone into hibernation. Dyelin was firm in her loyalty, though, and tireless on Elayne's behalf. She persisted in her belief that some of the Houses that were keeping silent could be convinced to support Elayne. Of course, Elayne could not approach them herself, but Dyelin could. And now the situation verged on desperate. Six Houses supporting Arymilla, and only a fool would think she had not sent feelers out toward the others. Or that some might listen just because she did have six already.\\n\\nDespite the fact that Caseille and her Guards had vacated the courtyard, Elayne and the others had to thread their way across the paving stones though a crowd. The men from Matherin were finally down off their horses, but they were still moiling about, dropping their halberds and picking them up only to drop them again, trying to unload their packhorse therein the stableyard. One of the boys was chasing a chicken that somehow had gotten loose and was scuttling between the horses' legs, while one of the wrinkled old men shouted encouragement, though whether for the boy or the chicken was unclear. A leather-faced bannerman with the merest fringe of white hair remaining, in a faded redcoat that strained across his belly, was trying to establish order with the help of an only slightly younger Guardsman, both of them likely returned from their pensions, as a good many had, but another of the boys seemed about to lead his shaggy horse into the palace itself, and Birgitte had to order him out of the way before Elayne could enter. The boy, a fuzz-cheeked lad who could not have been above fourteen, gaped at Birgitte as widely as he had at the palace. She was certainly more picturesque in her uniform than the Daughter-Heir in a riding dress, and he had already seen the Daughter-Heir. Rasoria gave him a shove back toward the old bannerman, shaking her head.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I don't flaming know what I can do with them,\\\" Birgitte grumbled as a maid liveried in red-and-white took Elayne's cloak and gloves in the small entry hall. Small in terms of the Royal Palace. With gilded stand-lamps flickering between narrow, fluted white columns, it was half again the size of Matherin's main entry hall, though the ceiling was not so high. Another maid with the White Lion on the left breast of her dress, a girl not that much older than the boy who had tried to bring his horse inside, offered a ropework silver tray with tall cups of steaming spiced wine before simultaneous frowns from Aviendha and Birgitte made her shy back. \\\"The flaming boys fall asleep if they're put on guard,\\\" Birgitte went on, scowling at the retreating maid. \\\"The old men stay awake, but half can't remember what they're flaming supposed to do if they see somebody trying to scale the bloody wall, and the other half together couldn't fight off six shepherds with a dog.\\\" Aviendha raised an eyebrow at Elayne and nodded.\\n\\n\\\"They aren't hereto fight,\\\" Elayne reminded them as they started down a blue-tiled corridor lined with mirrored stand-lamps and inlaid chests, Birgitte and Aviendha on either side of her and the Guardswomen spreading out a few paces ahead of them and behind. Light, she thought, I wouldn't have taken the wine! Her head pounded in rhythm with Birgitte's, and she touched her temple, wondering whether she should order her Warder to go find Healing immediately.\\n\\nBirgitte had other ideas, though. She eyed Rasoria and the others in front, then looked over her shoulder and motioned those following to fallback a little more. That was strange. She had handpicked every last woman in the Guards, and she trusted them. Even so, when she spoke it was in a hurried near-whisper, bending her head close to Elayne. \\\"Something happened just before you returned. I was asking Sumeko if she'd Heal me before you got back, and she suddenly fell over in a faint. Her eyes just rolled up in her head, and down she went. It isn't only her. Nobody will admit a flaming thing, not tome, but the other Kin I've seen have been jumping out of their bloody skins, and the Windfinders, too. Not one of them could spit if she had to. You were back before I could find a sister, but I suspect they'd give me the fish eye, too. They'll tell you, though.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The palace required the population of a large village to keep running, and servants had begun to appear, liveried men and women scurrying along the corridors, flattening themselves against the walls or ducking into crossing hallways to make room for Elayne's escort, so she explained the little she knew in as soft a voice and as few words as possible.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Some rumors she did not mind reaching the streets, and inevitably Arymilla, but tales of Rand could be as bad as tales of the Forsaken by the time they were twisted through a few retellings. Worse, in away. No one would believe the Forsaken were trying to put heron the throne as a puppet. \\\"In any event,\\\" she finished, \\\"it's nothing to do with us here.\\\"\\n\\nShe thought she sounded very convincing, very cool and detached, but Aviendha reached out to squeeze her hand, for an Aiel as much as a comforting hug with so many people to see, and Birgitte's sympathy flooded through the bond. It was more than commiseration; it was the shared feeling of a woman who had already suffered the loss she herself feared and more. Gaidal Cain was lost to Birgitte as surely as if he were dead, and on top of that, her memories of her past lives were fading. She remembered almost nothing clearly before the founding of the White Tower, and not all of that. Some nights, the fear that Gaidal would fade from her memory, too, that she would lose any remembrance of actually having known and loved him, left her unable to sleep until she drank as much brandy as she could hold. That was a poor solution, and Elayne wished she could offer a better, yet she knew her own memories of Rand would not die until she did, and she could not imagine the horror of knowing those memories might leave her. Still, she hoped someone Healed Birgitte's morning-after head soon, before her own split open like an over-ripe melon. Her ability with Healing fell short of the task, and Aviendha's was no stronger.\\n\\nDespite the emotion she could feel in Birgitte, the other woman kept her face smooth and unconcerned. \\\"The Forsaken,\\\" she muttered dryly. And softly. That was not a name to bandy about. \\\"Well, as long as it has nothing to do with us, we're bloody all right.\\\" A grunt that might have been a laugh gave her the lie. But then, although Birgitte said she had never been a soldier before, she had a soldier's view. Long odds were usually the only odds you could find, but you still had to get the job done. \\\"I wonder what they think of it?\\\" she added, nodding toward the four Aes Sedai who had just stepped out of a crossing corridor down the hallway.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Vandene, Merilille, Sareitha and Careane had their heads together as they walked, or rather, the last three were clustered around Vandene, leaning toward her and talking with urgent gestures that made the fringes on their shawls sway.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Vandene glided along slowly as if she were alone, paying no heed. She had always been slender, but her dark green dress, embroidered with flowers on the sleeves and shoulders, hung on her as though made fora stouter woman, and the white hair gathered at the nape of her neck seemed in need of a brush. Her expression was bleak, but that might have had nothing to do with whatever the other sisters were saying. She had been joyless ever since her sister's murder. Elayne would have wagered that dress had belonged to Adeleas. Since the murder, Vandene wore her sister's clothes more often than her own. Not that that accounted for the fit. The two women had been of a size, but Vandene's appetite for food had died with her sister. Her taste for most things seemed to have died then.\\n\\nSareitha, a Brown whose dark square face was not yet touched with agelessness, saw Elayne just then, and put a hand on Vandene's arm as if to draw her up the corridor. Vandene brushed the Tairen woman's hand away and glided on with the merest glance at Elayne, disappearing on along the hallway they had come out of. Two women in novice white, who had been following the others at a respectful distance, offered quick curtsies to the remaining sisters and hastened after Vandene. Merilille, a tiny woman in dark gray that made her Cairhienin paleness seem like ivory, stared as if she might follow. Careane adjusted her green-fringed shawl on shoulders wider than those of many men and exchanged quiet words with Sareitha. The pair of them turned to meet Elayne as she approached, making her curtsies almost as deep as the novices had given them. Merilille noticed the Guardswomen and blinked, then noticed Elayne and gave a start. Her curtsy matched the novices'.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Merilille had worn the shawl for over a hundred years, Careane for more than fifty, and even Sareitha had worn it longer than Elayne Trakand, but standing among Aes Sedai went with strength in the Power, and none of these three was more than middling strong among sisters. In Aes Sedai eyes, increased strength gave, if not increased wisdom, at least increased weight to your opinions. With a sufficient gap, those opinions became commands. Sometimes, Elayne thought the Kin's way was better.\\n\\n\\\"I don't know what it is,\\\" she said before any of the other Aes Sedai could speak, \\\"but there is nothing we can do about it, so we might as well quit worrying. We have enough right in front of us without fretting over things we can't affect.\\\"\\n\\nRasoria half-turned her head, frowning and plainly wondering what she had missed, but the words smoothed the anxiety from Sareitha's dark eyes. Perhaps not from the rest of her, since her hands moved as if she wanted to smooth her brown skirts, yet she was willing to follow the lead of a sister who stood as high as Elayne. Sometimes, there were advantages to standing high enough that you could quell objections with a sentence. Careane had already regained serenity, if she had ever lost it. It sat easily on her, though she looked more like a wagon driver than an Aes Sedai despite her beryl-slashed silks and smooth, ageless coppery face. But then, Greens usually were made of tougher stuff than Browns. Merilille did not look at all serene. Wide eyes and half-parted lips gave her the appearance of startlement. That was usual for her, though.\\n\\nElayne continued along the hallway, hoping they would go about their business, but Merilille fell in beside Birgitte. The Gray should have taken primacy among the three, but she had developed a tendency to wait for someone to tell her what to do, and she shifted over without a word when Sareitha politely asked Birgitte to give her room. The sisters were unfailingly courteous to Elayne's Warder when she was acting as Captain-General. It was Birgitte as Warder they tried to ignore. Aviendha received no such civility from Careane, who elbowed in between her and Elayne. Anyone not trained in the White Tower was a wilder by definition, and Careane despised wilders. Aviendha pursed her lips though she did not draw her belt knife or even suggest that she might, for which Elayne was grateful. Her first-sister could be... precipitate, at times. On second thought, she would have forgiven a little hastiness from Aviendha right then. Custom forbade rudeness toward another Aes Sedai under any circumstances, but Aviendha could have growled threats and waved her knife to her heart's content. That might have been enough to make the threesome leave, even if in a tizzy. Careane did not seem to notice the cool green gaze marking her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I told Merilille and Sareitha it was nothing we could do anything about,\\\" she said calmly. \\\"But shouldn't we be ready to flee if it comes closer? There's no shame flying from that. Even linked, we would be moths fighting a forest fire. Vandene wouldn't bother to listen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We really should make some sort of preparations, Elayne,\\\" Sareitha murmured absently, as if making lists in her head. \\\"It's when you don't make plans that you wish you had. There area number of volumes in the library here that mustn't be left behind. I believe several can't be found in the Tower library.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\" Merilille's voice was breathless, and as anxious as her large dark eyes. \\\"Yes, we really should be ready to go. Perhaps... Perhaps we should not wait. Surely going from necessity would not violate our agreement. I am sure it would not.\\\" Only Birgitte as much as glanced at her, but she flinched.\\n\\n\\\"If we do go,\\\" Careane said as if Merilille had not spoken, \\\"we'll have to take all of the Kin with us. Allow them to scatter, and the Light only knows what they'll door when we will ever catch them again, especially now that some have learned to Travel.\\\" There was no bitterness in her voice, though only Elayne among the sisters in the palace could Travel. It seemed to make a difference to Careane that the Kinswomen had begun in the White Tower, even if most had been putout and a few had runaway. She had identified no fewer than four of them herself, including one runaway. At least they were not wilders.\\n\\nSareitha's mouth tightened, though. It weighed on her that several Kinswomen could weave gateways, and she had very different notions of the Kin. Normally, she limited her objections to the occasional frown or disparaging grimace, since Elayne had made her own views clear, but the stress of the morning seemed to have loosened her tongue. \\\"We do indeed need to take them with us,\\\" she said in a cutting tone, \\\"else they'll all be claiming to be Aes Sedai as soon as they're out of our sight. Any woman who maintains she was putout of the Tower over three hundred years ago will claim anything! They need to be kept under a close watch, if you ask me, instead of going about as they please, most especially those who can Travel. They may have gone where you told them and comeback so far, Elayne, but how long before one of them doesn't return? Mark my words, once one of them escapes, others will follow, and we will have a mess on our hands we'll never cleanup.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There is no reason for us to go anywhere,\\\" Elayne said firmly, as much for the Guards as for the sisters. That distant beacon was still in the same spot where she had first sensed it, and if it did move, the chance seemed small that it would move toward Caemlyn, much less actually come there, but a rumor that Aes Sedai were planning flight might be enough to engender a stampede, mobs clawing to reach the gates ahead of whatever could frighten Aes Sedai. An army sacking the city would not kill as many. And these three chattered away as if there were no one to hear but the wall hangings! There was some excuse for Merilille, but not the others. \\\"We will remain here, as the Amyrlin Seat has commanded, until the Amyrlin commands otherwise. The Kinswomen will continue to receive every courtesy until they are welcomed back into the Tower, and that is the Amyrlin's command, too, as you very well know. And you will continue teaching the Windfinders and go about your lives as Aes Sedai should. We are supposed to deal with people's fears and soothe them, not spread senseless gossip and panic.\\\"\\n\\nWell, perhaps she had been a touch more than firm. Sareitha put her gaze on the floor tiles like a rebuked novice. Merilille flinched again at mention of the Windfinders, but that was to be expected. The others gave lessons, but the Sea Folk held Merilille as tightly as they did one of their apprentices. She slept in their quarters and normally was not seen without two or three of them, and her trailing meekly at their heels. They refused to accept anything less than meekness from her.\\n\\n\\\"Of course, Elayne,\\\" Careane said hastily. \\\"Of course. None of us would suggest disobeying the Amyrlin.\\\" Hesitating, she adjusted her green-fringed shawl over her arms, seemingly occupied with setting it just so. She did spare a pitying look for Merilille. \\\"But speaking of the Sea Folk, could you tell Vandene to take her share of the lessons?\\\" When Elayne said nothing, her voice took on an edge that would have been called sullen in anyone not Aes Sedai. \\\"She says she's too busy with those two runaways, but she finds enough time to keep me talking some nights until I'm half asleep. That pair is already so cowed they wouldn't squeak if their dresses caught fire. They don't need her attention. She could take her portion of teaching those cursed wilders. Vandene needs to start behaving as an Aes Sedai, too!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Standing or no, rebuke or no, she gave Elayne a baleful glare that took her a moment to smother. Elayne had been the one who made the bargain that led to Aes Sedai having to teach Windfinders, but so far she herself had managed to miss giving more than a handful of lessons, claiming the press of other, more important duties. Besides, the Sea Folk saw a shorebound teacher as a hireling, even an Aes Sedai, and a hireling with less standing than a scullion at that. A scullion who might try to cheat on her labor. She still thought Nynaeve had gone away just to avoid giving those lessons. Certainly no one expected to end up in Merilille's state, but even a few hours at a time was bad enough.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, no, Careane,\\\" Sareitha put in, still avoiding Elayne's eye. And Merilille's. In her opinion, the Gray had gotten herself into this fix and thus deserved what came of it, but she did try not to rub salt in the wounds. \\\"Vandene is distraught over her sister, and Kirstian and Zarya help her occupy her mind.\\\" Whatever she thought of the other Kin, she accepted that Zarya was a runaway, as she had to, since Zarya was one of those Careane had recognized, and if Kirstian must be a liar, her own lie would make her pay in full for that. Runaways were not treated kindly. \\\"I spend hours with her, too, and she almost never talks of anything but Adeleas. It's as if she wants to add my memories to her own. I think she needs to be allowed as much time as she needs, and those two keep her from being alone too often.\\\" Giving Elayne a sidelong glance, she drew breath. \\\"Still, teaching the Windfinders is certainly... challenging. Perhaps an hour now and then would help pull her out of despondency, if only by making her angry. Don't you agree, Elayne? Just an hour or two, now and then.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Vandene will be allowed as much time to grieve for her sister as she needs or wants,\\\" Elayne said in level tones. \\\"And there will be no more discussion of it.\\\"\\n\\nCareane sighed heavily and rearranged her shawl again. Sareitha sighed faintly and began twisting the Great Serpent ring on the forefinger of her left hand. Perhaps they had sensed her mood, or perhaps it was just that neither looked forward to another session with the Windfinders. Merilille's permanently surprised expression did not change, but then, her sessions with the Sea Folk lasted all day and all night unless Elayne managed to pry her away, and the Windfinders were becoming less and less willing to let her go no matter how Elayne pried.\\n\\nAt least she had managed to avoid being curt with the three. It took an effort, especially with Aviendha there. Elayne did not know what she would do if she ever lost her sister. Vandene was not only grieving fora sister, she was searching for Adeleas's murderer, and there could be no doubt that the killer was Merilille Ceandevin, Careane Fransi or Sareitha Tomares. One of them, or worse, more than one. The charge was hard to believe of Merilille, in her present condition, but it was not easy to believe of any sister. As Birgitte had pointed out, one of the worst Darkfriends she had ever met, during the Trolloc Wars, was a mild-as-milk lad who jumped at loud noises. And poisoned an entire city's water supply. Aviendha's suggestion was to put all three to the question, which had horrified Birgitte, but Aviendha was considerably less in awe of Aes Sedai than she once had been. The proper courtesies must be maintained, until there was evidence to convict. Then there would be no courtesy at all.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2381,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 2"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Vandene will be allowed as much time to grieve for her sister as she needs or wants,\" Elayne said in level tones. \"And there will be no more discussion of it.\"\n\nCareane sighed heavily and rearranged her shawl again. Sareitha sighed faintly and began twisting the Great Serpent ring on the forefinger of her left hand. Perhaps they had sensed her mood, or perhaps it was just that neither looked forward to another session with the Windfinders. Merilille's permanently surprised expression did not change, but then, her sessions with the Sea Folk lasted all day and all night unless Elayne managed to pry her away, and the Windfinders were becoming less and less willing to let her go no matter how Elayne pried.\n\nAt least she had managed to avoid being curt with the three. It took an effort, especially with Aviendha there. Elayne did not know what she would do if she ever lost her sister. Vandene was not only grieving fora sister, she was searching for Adeleas's murderer, and there could be no doubt that the killer was Merilille Ceandevin, Careane Fransi or Sareitha Tomares. One of them, or worse, more than one. The charge was hard to believe of Merilille, in her present condition, but it was not easy to believe of any sister. As Birgitte had pointed out, one of the worst Darkfriends she had ever met, during the Trolloc Wars, was a mild-as-milk lad who jumped at loud noises. And poisoned an entire city's water supply. Aviendha's suggestion was to put all three to the question, which had horrified Birgitte, but Aviendha was considerably less in awe of Aes Sedai than she once had been. The proper courtesies must be maintained, until there was evidence to convict. Then there would be no courtesy at all."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Oh,\" Sareitha said, brightening suddenly."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Here's Captain Mellar. He was a hero again while you were gone, Elayne.\"\n\nAviendha gripped the hilt of her belt knife, and Birgitte stiffened. Careane's face went very still, very cold, and even Merilille managed a disapproving hauteur. Neither sister made any secret of her dislike for Doilan Mellar.\n\nWith a narrow face, he was not pretty, or even handsome, yet he moved with a swordsman's lithe grace that spoke of physical strength. As Captain of Elayne's bodyguard, he rated three golden knots of rank, and he wore them soldered to each shoulder of his brightly burnished breastplate. An ignorant observer might have thought he outranked Birgitte. The falls of snow-white lace at his throat and wrists were twice as thick and twice as long as those worn by any of the Guardswomen, but he had left off the sash again, perhaps because it would have obscured one set of golden knots. He claimed that he wanted nothing more in life than to command her bodyguard, yet he frequently talked of battles he had fought as a mercenary. It seemed he had never been on the losing side, and victory had often come from his unsung efforts on the field. He swept off his white-plumed hat in a deep, flourishing bow, managing his sword deftly with one hand, then offered a slightly lesser to Birgitte with an arm across his chest in salute.\n\nElayne arranged a smile on her face. \"Sareitha says you were a hero again, Captain Mellar. How so?\"\n\n\"Nothing more than my duty to my queen.\" Despite a voice thick with self-deprecation, his answering smile was warmer than it should have been. Half the palace thought him the father of Elayne's child. That she had not crushed that rumor seemed to make him believe he had prospects. The smile never reached his dark eyes, though. They remained as cold as death. \"My duty to you is my pleasure, my Queen.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Captain Mellar led another sortie without orders yesterday,\" Birgitte said in a carefully even voice."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"This time the fighting almost spilled into the Far Madding Gate, which he had ordered left open against his return.\" Elayne felt her face growing hard.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" Sareitha protested. \"It wasn't like that at all. A hundred of Lord Luan's armsmen tried to reach the city in the night, but they left it too late, and sunrise caught them. So did three times their number of Lord Nasin's men. If Captain Mellar hadn't opened the gates and led a rescue, they'd have been cut to pieces insight of the walls. As it was, he managed to save eighty for your cause.\" Smiling, Mellar basked in the Aes Sedai's praise as if he had not heard Birgitte's criticism. Of course, he seemed unaware of Careane and Merilille's disapproving stares, too. He always managed to ignore disapproval.\n\n\"How did you know they were Lord Luan's men, Captain?\" Elayne asked quietly. A small smile that should have given Mellar warning appeared on Birgitte's face. But then, he was one of those who seemed not to believe she was a Warder. Even if he did, few except Warders and Aes Sedai knew what the bond entailed. If anything, Mellar's expression grew more smug.\n\n\"I didn't go by banners, my Queen. Anybody can carry a banner. I recognized Jurad Accan through my looking glass. Accan is Luan's man to his toenails. Once I knew that...\" He made a dismissive gesture in a flurry of lace. \"The rest was no more than taking a little exercise.\"\n\n\"And did this Jurad Accan bring any message from Lord Luan? Anything signed and sealed, affirming House Norwelyn's support for Trakand?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Nothing in writing, my Queen, but as I said-\"\n\n\"Lord Luan has not declared for me, Captain.\"\n\nMellar's smile faded somewhat. He was unused to being cut short. \"But, my Queen, Lady Dyelin says that Luan is as good as in your camp right now. Accan showing up is proof of-\"\n\n\"Of nothing, Captain,\" Elayne said coldly. \"Perhaps Lord Luan will be in my camp eventually, Captain, but until he declares, you've given me eighty men who need to be watched.\" Eighty out of a hundred. And how many of hers had he lost? And he had risked Caemlyn doing it, burn him! \"Since you can find time in your duties commanding my bodyguard to lead sorties, you can find time to arrange for watching them. I won't spare anyone from the walls for it. Set Master Accan and his fellows to drilling the men I've brought in from the manors. That will keep them all busy and out of trouble most of each day, but I leave it to you how to keep them away from the walls the rest of the time. And I do expect them kept away from the walls and out of trouble, Captain. You may see to it now.\"\n\nMellar stared at her, stunned. She had never taken him to task before, and he did not like it, particularly in front of so many witnesses. There were no over-warm smiles now. His mouth twitched, and a sullen heat grew in his eyes. But there was nothing for him to do except to jerk another bow, murmur'As my Queen commands\" in a hoarse voice, and leave with as good a grace as he could muster. Before he had gone three paces he was striding down the hall as if to trample anyone who got in his way. She would have to tell Rasoria to take care. He might try to soothe his bile by taking it out on those who had seen and heard. Merilille and Careane gave almost identical nods; they would have seen Mellar called down, and preferably putout of the palace, long since."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Even if he did wrong,\" Sareitha said carefully, \"and I am not convinced that he did, Captain Mellar saved your life at risk to his own, Elayne, your life and that of the Lady Dyelin. Was there really need to embarrass him in front of the rest of us?\"\n\n\"Never think I avoid paying my debts, Sareitha.\" Elayne felt Aviendha grip one of her hands, and Birgitte the other. She gave each of them alight squeeze. When you were surrounded by enemies, it was good to have a sister and a friend close by. \"I am going to find a hot bath now, and unless one of you wishes to scrub my back...?\"\n\nThey could recognize a dismissal, and they departed more gracefully than Captain Mellar, Careane and Sareitha already discussing whether or not the Windfinders would actually want lessons today, Merilille trying to look every direction at once in hope of avoiding any Windfinders. What would they talk of later, though? Whether Elayne was having a spat with the father of her child? Whether they had successfully hidden their guilt in killing Adeleas?\n\nI always pay my debts, Elayne thought, watching them go. And I help my friends pay theirs.\n\nChapter 12\n\nA Bargain\n\nAbath was not hard to find, though Elayne had to wait in the hall frowning at the lion-carved doors of her apartments, drafts flickering the mirrored stand-lamps while Rasoria and two of the Guardswomen went into search. Once they were sure there were no assassins lying in wait, and guards had been arrayed in the corridor and outer room, Elayne entered to find white-haired Essande waiting in the bedchamber with Nans and Sephanie, the two young tirewomen she was training. Essande was slim, with Elayne's Golden Lily embroidered over her left breast and a very great dignity emphasized by her deliberate way of moving, though some of that came from age and aching joints she refused to acknowledge. Naris and Sephanie were sisters, fresh-faced, sturdy and shy-eyed, proud of their livery and happy to have been chosen out for this rather than cleaning hallways but almost as much in awe of Essande as of Elayne. There were more experienced maids available, women who had worked years in the palace, but sadly, girls who had come seeking any sort of work they could find were safer."},{"from":"human","value":"Two copper bathtubs sat on thick layers of toweling laid atop the rose-colored floor tiles where one of the carpets had been rolled up, evidence that word of Elayne's arrival had flown ahead of her."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Servants had a knack for learning what was happening that the Tower's eyes-and-ears might envy. A good blaze in the fireplace and tight casements in the windows made the room warm after the corridors, and Essande waited only to see Elayne enter the room before sending Sephanie off at a run to fetch the men with the hot water. That would be brought up in double-walled pails with lids to keep it from getting cold on the way from the kitchens, though it might be delayed a little by Guardswomen checking to make sure there were no knives hidden in the water.\n\nAviendha eyed the second bathtub almost as doubtfully as Essande eyed Birgitte, the one still uneasy about actually stepping into water and the other still not accepting that anyone more than necessary should be present during a bath, but the white-haired woman wasted no time before quietly bustling Elayne and Aviendha both into the dressing room, where another fire on a wide marble hearth had taken the chill from the air. It was a great relief to have Essande help her out of her riding clothes, knowing that she had more ahead of her than a hasty wash and a show of ease while worrying about how quickly she could move onto her next destination. Other pretenses awaited, the Light help her, and other worries, but she was home, and that counted for much. She could almost forget about that beacon shining in the west. Almost. Well, not at all, really, but she could manage to stop fretting over it as long as she did not dwell on the thing.\n\nBy the time they had been undressed-with Aviendha slapping Naris' hands away and removing her own jewelry, doing her best to pretend that Naris did not exist and her garments were somehow removing themselves-by the time they had been bundled into embroidered silk robes and had their hair tied up in white toweling-Aviendha tried to wrap the towel around her own head three times, and only after the construction collapsed down her neck for the third time did she allow Naris to do it, muttering about getting so soft that she soon would need someone to lace up her boots until Elayne began laughing and she joined in, throwing her head back so that Naris had to start over again-by the time all that was done and they had returned to the bedchamber, the bathtubs were full and the scent of the rose oil that had been added to the water filled the air. The men who had brought up the water were gone, of course, and Sephanie was waiting with her sleeves pushed above her elbows in case someone wanted her back scrubbed. Birgitte was sitting on the turquoise-inlaid chest at the foot of the bed, her elbows on her knees."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Elayne allowed Essande to help her off with her pale green, swallow-worked robe and sank into her tub immediately, submerging herself to her neck in water just a hair short of too hot. That left her knees poking up, but it immersed most of her in the warmth, and she sighed, feeling weariness leach out of her and languor creep in. Hot water might have been the greatest single gift of civilization.\n\nStaring at the other tub, Aviendha gave a start when Naris attempted to remove her robe, lavender and embroidered with flowers on the wide sleeves. Grimacing, she finally allowed it, and stepped gingerly into the water, but she snatched the round soap out of Sephanie's hand and began washing herself vigorously. Vigorously, but very careful not to slop so much as a spoonful of water over the tub's rim. The Aiel did use water for washing, as well as in the sweat tents, especially for rinsing out the shampoo they made from a fat leaf that grew in the Waste, yet the dirty water was conserved and used for watering crops. Elayne had shown her two of the great cisterns beneath Caemlyn, fed by a pair of underground rivers and large enough that the far side of each was lost in a forest of thick columns and shadows, but the arid Waste was in Aviendha's bones.\n\nIgnoring Essande's pointed looks-she seldom said two words more than necessary, and thought baths no time to say anything-Birgitte talked while they bathed, though she took care of what she said in front of Naris and Sephanie. It was unlikely they were in the pay of another House, but maids gossiped almost as freely as men-it seemed almost a tradition. Some rumors were worth fostering, nonetheless. Mostly Birgitte talked of two huge merchants\" trains that had arrived yesterday from Tear, the wagons heavy with grain and salted beef, and another from Illian with oil and salt and smoked fish. It was always worthwhile reminding people that food continued to flow into the city. Few merchants braved the roads of Andor in winter, none carrying anything as cheap as food, but gateways meant that Arymilla could intercept all the merchants she wished and her forces still would starve long before Caemlyn felt the first pangs of hunger. The Windfinders, who were making most of those gateways, reported that the High Lord Darlin-claiming the title of Steward in Tear for the Dragon Reborn, of all things!-was besieged in the Stone of Tear by nobles who wanted the Dragon Reborn out of Tear completely, but even they were unlikely to try stopping a rich trade ingrain, particularly since they believed the Kin who accompanied the Windfinders were Aes Sedai. Not that any real attempt was made at deception, but Great Serpent rings had been made for Kinswomen who had passed their tests for Accepted before being putout of the Tower, and if anyone drew the wrong conclusion, no one actually lied to them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The water was going to shed its heat if she waited much longer, Elayne decided, so she took arose-scented soap from Sephanie and allowed Naris to begin scrubbing her back with along-handled brush. If there had been news of Gawyn or Galad, Birgitte would have mentioned it straight off. She was as eager to hear as Elayne, and she could not have held it back. Gawyn's return was one rumor they dearly wanted to reach the streets. Birgitte performed her duties well as Captain-General, and Elayne meant her to keep the position, if she could be convinced, but having Gawyn there would allow both women to relax a little. Most of the soldiers in the city were mercenaries, and only enough of them to man the gates strongly and make a display along the miles of wall surrounding the New City, but they still numbered more than thirty companies, each with its own captain who inevitably was full of pride, obsessed with precedence, and ready to squabble over any imagined slight from another captain at the drop of a straw. Gawyn had trained his whole life to command armies. He could deal with the squabblers, leaving her free to secure the throne.\n\nApart from that, she simply wanted him away from the White Tower. She prayed that one of her messengers had gotten through and that he was well downriver by this time. Egwene had been besieging Tar Valon with her army for more than a week, now, and it would be the cruelest spinning of fate for Gawyn to be caught between his oaths to defend the Tower and his love for Egwene. Worse, he had already broken that oath once, or at least bent it, for love of his sister and perhaps his love of Egwene. If Elaida ever suspected that Gawyn had aided Siuan's escape, whatever credit he had gained by helping her replace Siuan as Amyrlin would evaporate like a dewdrop, and if he was still within Elaida's reach when she learned, he would find himself in a cell, and lucky to avoid the headsman. Elayne did not resent his decision to aid Elaida; he could not have known enough then to make any other choice. A good many sisters had been confused over what was happening, too. A good many still seemed to be. How could she ask Gawyn to see what Aes Sedai could not?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As for Galad... She had grownup unable to like the man, sure he must resent her, and resent Gawyn most of all. Galad had to have thought he would be First Prince of the Sword one day, until Gawyn was born. Her earliest memories of him were of a boy, a young man, already behaving more like a father or uncle than a brother, giving Gawyn his first lessons with a sword. She remembered being afraid he would break open Gawyn's head with the practice blade. But he had never given more than the bruises any youth expected in learning swords. He knew what was right, Galad did, and he was willing to do what was right no matter the cost to anyone, including himself. Light, he had started a war to help her and Nynaeve escape from Samara, and it was likely he had known the risk from the start! Galad fancied Nynaeve, or had fora time-it was hard to imagine he still felt that way, with him a Whitecloak, the Light only knew where and doing what-but the truth was, he had started that war to rescue his sister. She could not condone him being a Child of the Light, she could not like him, yet she hoped that he was safe and well. She hoped he found his way home to Caemlyn, too. News of him would have been nearly as welcome as news of Gawyn. That surprised her, but it was true.\n\n\"Two more sisters came while you were away. They're at the Silver Swan.\" Birgitte made it sound as though they were merely stopping at an inn because every bed in the palace was taken. \"A Green with two Warders and a Gray with one. They came separately. A Yellow and a Brown left the same day, so there are still ten altogether. The Yellow went south, toward Far Madding. The Brown was heading east.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Sephanie, waiting patiently beside Aviendha's tub with nothing to do, exchanged a glance with her sister over Elayne's head and grinned."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Like many in the city, they knew fora fact that the presence of Aes Sedai at the Silver Swan signified White Tower support for Elayne and House Trakand. Watching the two girls like a hawk, Essande nodded; she knew it, too. Every streetsweeper and ragpicker was aware that the Tower was divided against itself, but even so, the name still carried weight, and an image of strength that never failed. Everyone knew the White Tower had lent support to every rightful Queen of Andor. In truth, most sisters looked forward to a sitting monarch who was also Aes Sedai, the first in a thousand years and the first since the Breaking of the World to be openly known as Aes Sedai, but Elayne would not be surprised to find there was a sister in Arymilla's camp, keeping discreetly out of notice. The White Tower never placed all of its coin on one horse unless the race was fixed.\n\n\"That's enough of the brush,\" she said, irritably twisting away from the bristles. Well trained, the girl laid the brush down on a stool and handed her a large Illianer sponge that she used to begin sluicing off soap. She wished she knew what those sisters meant. They were like a grain of sand in her slipper, so tiny a thing that you could hardly imagine it being a discomfort, but the longer it remained, the larger it seemed. The sisters at the Silver Swan were becoming a sizable stone just by being there.\n\nSince before she arrived in Caemlyn the number at the inn had been changed frequently, a few sisters leaving every week and a few coming to replace them. The siege had not changed anything; the soldiers surrounding Caemlyn were no more likely to try stopping an Aes Sedai from going where she wanted than were the rebellious nobles in Tear. There had been Reds in the city too, fora while, asking after men heading for the Black Tower, but the more they learned, the more they had let their disgruntlement show, and the last pair had ridden out of the city the day after Arymilla appeared before the walls. Every Aes Sedai who entered the city was carefully watched, and none of the Reds had gone near the Silver Swan, so it seemed unlikely the sisters there had been sent by Elaida to kidnap her. For some reason she imagined little groups of Aes Sedai scattered from the Blight to the Sea of Storms, and constant streams of sisters flowing between, gathering information, sharing information. A peculiar thought. Sisters used eyes-and-ears to watch the world, and rarely shared what they learned unless it was a threat to the Tower itself. Likely those at the Swan were among the sisters sitting out the Tower's troubles, waiting to see whether Egwene or Elaida would end with the Amyrlin Seat before they declared themselves. That was wrong-an Aes Sedai should stand for what she thought was right without worrying over whether she was choosing the winning side!-but these made her uneasy for another reason."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Recently one of her watchers at the Swan had overheard a disturbing name, murmured and quickly shushed, as if in fear of eavesdroppers. Cadsuane. Not a common name, that. And Cadsuane Melaidhrin had meshed herself closely with Rand while he was in Cairhien. Vandene did not think much of the woman, calling her opinionated and muleheaded, but Careane had almost fainted in awe at hearing her name. It seemed the stories surrounding Cadsuane amounted to legends. Trying to deal with the Dragon Reborn single-handed was just the sort of thing Cadsuane Melaidhrin might do. Not that Elayne had concerns about Rand and any Aes Sedai, except that he might outrage her beyond her control-the man was too pigheaded himself sometimes to see where his own good lay!-but why would a sister in Caemlyn mention her name? And why had another hushed her?\n\nDespite the hot bathwater, she shivered, thinking of all the webs the White Tower had spun through the centuries, so fine that none could see them except the sisters who did the spinning, so convoluted that none but those sisters could have unraveled them. The Tower spun webs, the Ajahs spun webs, even individual sisters spun webs. Sometimes those schemes blended into one another as though guided by a single hand. Other times they had pulled one another apart. That was how the world had been shaped for three thousand years. Now the Tower had divided itself neatly into rough thirds, one third for Egwene, one for Elaida, and one that was standing aside. If those last were in contact with one another, exchanging information-forming plans?-the implications...\n\nA sudden tumult of voices, dimmed by the closed door, made her sit up straight. Naris and Sephanie squealed and leaped to clutch one another, staring wide-eyed at the door."},{"from":"human","value":"\"What in the bloody flaming...?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Snarling, Birgitte hurled herself off the chest and out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The voices rose higher.\n\nIt did not sound as if the Guardswomen were fighting, just arguing at the tops of the lungs, and the bond carried mainly anger and frustration, along with her bloody headache, but Elayne climbed out of the bathtub, holding out her arms for Essande to slip her robe on. The white-haired woman's calmness, and perhaps Elayne's, soothed the two maids enough that they blushed when Essande looked at them, but Aviendha leaped from her tub, splashing water everywhere, and dashed dripping into the dressing room. Elayne expected her to return with her belt knife, but instead she came back surrounded by the glow of saidar and holding the amber turtle in one hand. With the other she handed Elayne the angreal that had been in her belt pouch, an aged ivory carving of a woman clothed only in her hair. Excepting the towel atop her head, Aviendha wore only a wet sheen, and she angrily waved Sephanie away when the woman tried to put her robe on her. Knife or no knife, Aviendha still tended to think as if she were going to fight with a blade and might need to move suddenly.\n\n\"Put this back in the dressing room,\" Elayne said, handing the ivory angreal to Essande. \"Aviendha, I really don't think we need to–\"\n\nThe door opened a crack, and Birgitte put her head in, scowling. Naris and Sephanie jumped, not so soothed as they had seemed.\n\n\"Zaida wants to see you,\" Birgitte growled at Elayne. \"I told her she'd have to wait, but-\" With a sudden yelp, she staggered into the room, catching her balance after two steps and whirling to face the woman who had pushed her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Wavemistress of Clan Catelar did not look as though she had pushed anyone. The ends of her intricately knotted red sash swirling about her knees, she entered the room calmly, followed by two Windfinders, one of whom shut the door in Rasoria's angry face. All three swayed when they moved nearly as much as Birgitte did in her heeled boots. Zaida was short, with streaks of gray in her tightly curled hair, but her dark face was one of those that grew more beautiful with the years, and her beauty only seemed magnified by the golden chain, heavy with small medallions, that connected one of her fat golden earrings to her nose ring. More importantly, her air was one of command. Not of arrogance, but of the knowledge that she would be obeyed. The Windfinders eyed Aviendha, still glowing with the Power, and Chanelle's angular face tightened, yet aside from a murmur from Shielyn that'the Aiel girl\" was ready to weave, they remained silent and waited. The eight earrings in Shielyn's ears marked her as Windfinder to a Clan Wavemistress, and Chanelle's honor-chain carried nearly as many golden medallions as that of Zaida herself. Both were women of authority, and it was plain in the way they held themselves and moved, yet one needed to know nothing of the Atha'an Miere to know as soon as one saw them that Zaida din Parede held the first spot.\n\n\"Your boots must have tripped you, Captain-General,\" she murmured with a small smile on her full lips, one dark tattooed hand toying with the golden scent-box that dangled on her chest. \"Clumsy things, boots.\" She and the two Windfinders were barefoot as always. The soles of the Atha'an Miere's feet were as tough as shoe-soles, unbothered by rough decks or cold floor tiles. Strangely, in addition to their blouses and trousers of brightly colored silk brocades, each woman wore a wide stole of plain white that hung below her waist and almost hid her multitude of necklaces."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I was taking a bath,\" Elayne said in a tight voice. As if they could not see that with her hair done up and her robe clinging to her damply. Essande was almost quivering with indignation, which meant she must be beside herself with fury. Elayne felt close to it herself. \"I will betaking a bath again as soon as you go. I will speak with you when I have finished taking my bath. If it pleases the Light.\" There! If they were going to shove into her rooms, let them chew on that for ceremony!\n\n\"The grace of the Light be upon you also, Elayne Sedai,\" Zaida replied smoothly. She raised an eyebrow at Aviendha, though neither at the continuing light of saidar, since Zaida could not channel, nor at her nudity, since the Sea Folk were quite casual about that, at least out of sight of landmen. \"You have never invited me to bathe with you, though it would have been courteous, but we will not speak of that. I have learned that Nesta din Reas Two Moons is dead, killed by the Seanchan. We mourn her loss.\" All three women touched their white stoles and touched fingertips to lips, yet Zaida seemed as impatient with formality as Elayne. Without raising her voice or speeding its pace, she merely pushed on, almost shockingly abrupt and to the point for one of the Sea Folk.\n\n\"The First Twelve of the Atha'an Miere must meet to choose another Mistress of the Ships. What is happening to the west makes it clear there can be no delay.\" Shielyn's mouth tightened, and Chanelle raised her pierced scent box to her nose as if to drown the smell of something. Its spicy perfume was sharp enough to slice through the scent of rose oil in the room. However they had described what they sensed to Zaida, she displayed no unease, or anything but certainty. Her gaze held steady on Elayne's face. \"We must be ready for whatever comes, and for that we need a Mistress of the Ships. In the name of the White Tower, you promised twenty teachers. I cannot take Vandene in her grief, or you, but I will take the other three with me. The rest, the White Tower owes, and I will expect prompt payment. I have sent to the sisters at the Silver Swan to see whether some of them will meet the Tower's debt, but I cannot wait on their reply. If it pleases the Light, I will bathe with the other Wavemistresses tonight at the harbor of Illian.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Elayne fought very hard to keep her own face smooth. The woman just announced that she intended to scoop up every Aes Sedai lying around loose in Caemlyn and carry them off? And it sounded very much as if she did not intend to leave any of the Windfinders behind. That made Elayne's heart sink. Until Reanne returned, there were seven of the Kin with sufficient strength to weave a gateway, but two of those could not make one large enough to admit a horse cart. Without the Windfinders, plans for keeping Caemlyn supplied from Tear and Illian became problematical at best. The Silver Swan! Light, whoever Zaida had sent would reveal every line of the bargain she had made! Egwene was not going to thank her for spilling that mess out into the open. She did not think she had ever had so many problems dropped in her lapin the course of one short statement.\n\n\"I regret your loss, and the Atha'an Miere's loss,\" she said, thinking fast. \"Nesta din Reas was a great woman.\" She had been a powerful woman, anyway, and a very strong personality. Elayne had felt happy to walkaway with more than her shift after her one meeting with her. Speaking of shifts, she could not afford time to dress. Zaida might not wait. She belted her robe tighter. \"We must talk. Have wine brought for our guests, Essande, and tea for me. Weak tea,\" she sighed at a burst of caution through the bond to Birgitte. \"In the smaller sitting room. Will you join me, Wavemistress?\"\n\nTo her surprise, Zaida merely nodded as if she had expected this. That started Elayne thinking about Zaida's side of the bargain between them. The bargains; there were two, really, and that might be a key point."},{"from":"human","value":"No one had expected the smaller sitting room to be used for sometime, so the air held a chill even after Sephanie rushed with a spark-wheel to light the kindling laid beneath split oak on the wide white hearth and scurried out of the room."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Flames leapt up from the fatwood, catching on the log atop the fire-irons as the women arrayed themselves in the lightly carved low-backed chairs arranged in a semicircle in front of the fireplace. Well, Elayne and the Sea Folk women arrayed themselves, Elayne arranging her robe carefully over her knees and wishing Zaida had delayed just an hour so she could be properly dressed, the Windfinders coolly waiting for the Wavemistress to take a chair, then sitting to either side of her. Birgitte stood in front of the writing table with her hands on her hips and her feet apart, her face a thunderhead. The bond carried a clear desire to wring an Atha'an Miere neck. Aviendha leaned casually against one of the sideboards, and even when Essande brought her robe and pointedly held it out for her, she merely put it on and resumed her pose with her arms folded beneath her breasts. She had released saidar, but the turtle was still in her hand, and Elayne suspected she was ready to embrace the Power again in an instant. Neither Aviendha's cold green-eyed stare nor Birgitte's scowl affected the Sea Folk in the least, however. They were who they were, and they knew who they were.\n\n\"The Atha'an Miere were promised twenty teachers,\" Elayne said, emphasizing slightly. Zaida had said that she had been promised, that she would collect payment, but that bargain had been made with Nesta din Reas. Of course, Zaida might believe she would become the new Mistress of the Ships herself. \"Proper teachers, to be selected by the Amyrlin Seat. I know that the Atha'an Miere pride themselves on meeting their bargains in full, and the Tower will meet its side, too. But you knew when sisters here agreed to teach, that it was temporary. And a bargain quite apart from that made with the Mistress of the Ships. You admitted as much when you agreed for Windfinders to weave gateways to bring supplies to Caemlyn from Illian and Tear. Surely you would not have gotten involved in the affairs of the shorebound for any reason other than paying off a bargain. But if you are leaving, your help is at an end, and so is our requirement to teach. I fear you will harvest no teachers at the Silver Swan, either. The Atha'an Miere will have to wait until the Amyrlin sends teachers. According to the bargain made with the Mistress of the Ships.\" A pity she could not demand they stay away from the inn, but it might already be too late for that, and every reason she could think of sounded hollow. An argument that shattered for lack of a center would only embolden Zaida. The Atha'an Miere were ferocious hagglers. Scrupulous, but ferocious. She had to go very slowly, very carefully."},{"from":"human","value":"\"My sister has you by the ear, Zaida din Parede,\" Aviendha chortled, slapping her thigh."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Hung up by the ankles, in fact.\" That was a Sea Folk punishment that she found incredibly amusing, for some reason.\n\nElayne stifled a burst of irritation. Aviendha enjoyed chances to tweak the Sea Folk's noses-she had begun while they were fleeing Ebou Dar and never really stopped-but this was no time for it.\n\nChanelle stiffened, her calm face sinking into a glare. The lean woman had been the butt of Aviendha's nose-tweaking more than once, including a regrettable episode involving oosquai, a very potent Aiel drink. The glow of saidar actually surrounded her! Zaida could not see that, but she knew about the oosquai and Chanelle being carried to her bed, sicking up the whole way, and she raised a peremptory hand toward the Windfinder. The glow faded, and Chanelle's face darkened. It might have been a blush or anger.\n\n\"All that you say maybe so,\" Zaida said, which was not far from insulting, especially said to an Aes Sedai. \"In any event, Merilille was not part of that. She agreed to be one of the teachers long before she reached Caemlyn, and she will go with me to continue her teaching.\"\n\nElayne drew along breath. She could not even try to argue Zaida out of this. A great part of the White Tower's influence rested on the fact that the Tower kept its word as surely as the Sea Folk. That it was known to keep its word. Oh, people said you had to listen carefully to be sure an Aes Sedai had promised what you thought she had, and that was often true, but once the promise was clear, it was as good as an oath under the Light. At least the Windfinders were not likely to let Merilille getaway. They hardly let her out of their sight. \"You may have to return her tome, if I have particular need of her.\" If Vandene and the two helpers found proof that she was Black Ajah. \"If that happens, I will arrange a replacement.\" And who that could be, she had no idea."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"She has the rest of her year to serve. At least a year, by the bargain.\" Zaida gestured as if making a concession. \"But so long as you understand that her replacement must come before she leaves. I will not let her go without another in her place.\"\n\n\"I suppose that will do,\" Elayne replied calmly. It would bloody well have to, since she had no other choice!\n\nZaida smiled faintly and let the silence stretch. Chanelle shifted her feet, but more in impatience than as if to rise, and the Wavemistress did not stir. Plainly she wanted something more, intended another bargain, and plainly she wanted Elayne to speak first. Elayne set herself to outwait the other woman. The fire had begun to blaze and crackle, sending sparks up the chimney and radiating a fine warmth into the room, but her damp robe absorbed the chill in the air and transferred it to her skin. Ignoring the cold was all very well, but how were you supposed to ignore being cold and wet? She met Zaida's gaze levelly and matched her tiny smile. Essande returned, followed by Naris and Sephanie carring ropework trays, the one with a silver teapot in the shape of a lion and thin green cups of Sea Folk porcelain, the other hammered silver cups and a tall-necked wine pitcher that gave off the aroma of spices. Everyone took wine, except for Elayne, who was never offered the choice. Peering into her tea, she sighed. She could seethe bottom of the cup quite clearly. If they made it any weaker, they might as well give her water!\n\nAfter a moment, Aviendha strode across the room to set her winecup back on the tray atop one of the sideboards and pour herself a cup of tea. She gave Elayne a nod and a smile combining sympathy with a suggestion that she really preferred watery tea to wine. Elayne smiled back in spite of herself. First-sisters shared the bad as well as the good. Birgitte grinned over the top of her silver cup, and proceeded to empty half of it in a gulp. The bond carried her amusement at the grumpiness she felt from Elayne. And it still carried her headache, in noway reduced. Elayne rubbed her temple. She should have insisted that Merilille Heal the woman as soon as she had seen her. A number of the Kin outstripped Merilille when it came to Healing, but she was the only sister in the palace with a halfway decent ability."},{"from":"human","value":"\"You have great need of women to make these gateways,\" Zaida said suddenly."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Her full mouth was no longer smiling. She disliked having spoken first.\n\nElayne sipped her wretched excuse for tea and said nothing.\n\n\"It might please the Light that I could leave one or two Windfinders here,\" Zaida went on. \"Fora set time.\"\n\nElayne wrinkled her brow as though considering. She needed those bloody women, and more than one or two. \"What would you ask in return?\" she said finally.\n\n\"One square mile of land on the River Erinin. Good land, mind. Not marshy or boggy. It is to be Atha'an Miere land in perpetuity. Under our laws, not Andor's,\" she added as if that were a small afterthought hardly worth mentioning.\n\nElayne choked on her tea. The Atha'an Miere hated leaving the sea, hated being out of sight of it. And Zaida was asking for land a thousand miles from the nearest saltwater? Asking for it to be ceded absolutely, at that. Cairhienin and Murandians and even Altarans had bled trying to take bits of Andor, and Andorans had bled to keep them out. Still, one square mile was a small bit, and a small price to keep Caemlyn supplied. Not that she would let Zaida know that. And if the Sea Folk began trading directly into Andor, then Andoran goods would be able to move in Sea Folk bottoms everywhere the Sea Folk sailed, and that was everywhere. Zaida surely knew that already, but there was no point in letting her know that Elayne had thought of it. The Warder bond urged caution, yet there were times for boldness, as Birgitte should know better than anyone.\n\n\"Sometimes tea goes down the wrong way.\" Not a lie; merely an evasion. \"Fora square mile of Andor, I deserve more than two Windfinders. The Atha'an Miere got twenty teachers and more for help using the Bowl of the Winds, and when they go you will have twenty to replace them. You have twenty-one Windfinders with you. Fora mile of Andor, I should have all twenty-one, and twenty-one more in their places when they leave, for as long as Aes Sedai teach Sea Folk.\" Best not to let the woman think that washer way of rejecting the offer out of hand. \"Of course, the normal customs duties would apply to any goods moving off this land into Andor.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Zaida raised her silver cup to her mouth, and when she lowered it, she wore the tiniest smile. Yet Elayne thought it was a smile of relief rather than triumph. \"Goods moving into Andor, but not goods coming from the river onto our land. I might leave three Windfinders. For half a year, say. And they must not be used infighting. I will not have my people die for you, and I will not have other Andorans angry at us because Sea Folk have killed some of them.\"\n\n\"They will be asked only to make gateways,\" Elayne said, \"though they must make them wherever I require.\" Light! As if she intended using the One Power as a weapon! The Sea Folk did so without a second thought, but she was trying very hard to behave as Egwene demanded, as though she had already taken the Three Oaths. Besides, if she blasted those camps outside the walls with saidar, or allowed anyone else to, not a House in Andor would stand with her. \"They must stay until my crown is secure, whether that is half a year or longer.\" The crown should be hers in much less time, but as her old nurse Lini used to say, you counted your plums in the basket, not on the tree. Once the crown washers, though, she would not need Windfinders to supply the city, and in all truth, she would be happy to see their backs. \"But three is not nearly enough. You will want Shielyn, since she is your Windfinder. I will keep the rest.\"\n\nThe medallions on Zaida's honor-chain swayed gently as she shook her head. \"Talaan and Metarra are apprentices still. They must return to their training. The others have duties, too. Four might be spared until your crown is secure.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"From there it was just a matter of bargaining. Elayne had never expected to keep the apprentices, and Windfinders to Clan Wavemistresses could not be spared either, which she had expected. Most Wavemistresses used their Windfinders and Swordmasters as close advisors, and would be parted from one as easily as she would be parted from Birgitte. Zaida tried to exclude others as well, such as Windfinders who served on large vessels like rakers and skimmers, but that would have disqualified the greater number right there, and Elayne refused, and refused to comedown in her demands unless Zaida came up in her offers. Which the woman did slowly, grudging every concession. But not so slowly as Elayne might have expected. Clearly, the Wavemistress needed this bargain as much as she herself needed women who could weave gateways.\n\n\"Under the Light, it is agreed,\" she was able to say at last, kissing the fingertips of her right hand and leaning forward to press them to Zaida's lips. Aviendha grinned, obviously impressed. Birgitte kept a smooth face, but the bond said she found it hard to believe Elayne had come out so well.\n\n\"It is agreed, under the Light,\" Zaida murmured. Her fingers on Elayne's lips were hard and callused, though she could not have hauled on a rope herself in many years. She looked quite satisfied fora woman who had yielded nine of the fourteen Windfinders who had been on the table. Elayne wondered how many of those nine would be women whose ships had been destroyed by the Seanchan in Ebou Dar. Losing a ship was a serious matter among the Atha'an Miere, whatever the reason, and maybe cause enough to want to stay away from home a little longer. No matter."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Chanelle looked glum, her tattooed hands tight on the knees of her red brocaded trousers, yet not so glum as might be expected from a Sea Folk woman who would have to remain ashore awhile longer. She was to command the Windfinders who stayed, and she did not like it that Zaida had acceded to her being under Elayne's authority, and Birgitte's. There were to be no more Sea Folk striding about the palace as if they owned it and making demands left and right. But then, Elayne suspected that Zaida had come to this meeting knowing she would leave some of her party behind, and Chanelle had come knowing she would command them. That hardly mattered, either, nor did it matter what advantage Zaida hoped to gain toward becoming Mistress of the Ships. That she saw some was clear as good glass. All that mattered was that Caemlyn would not go hungry. That and the... the bloody beacon still blazing in the west. No, she would be a queen, and she could not be a moonstruck girl. Caemlyn and Andor were all that could matter.\n\nChapter 13\n\nHigh Seats\n\nZaida and the two Windfinders departed from Elayne's apartments, graceful and outwardly unhurried but with almost as little ceremony as they had entered, a bare wish that the Light illumine Elayne and see her safe. For Atha'an Miere, that was almost rushing off without a word. Elayne decided that if Zaida did indeed want to be the next Mistress of the Ships, the woman had a rival she hoped to steal a march on. It might be well for Andor if Zaida did attain the Atha'an Miere throne, or whatever the Sea Folk called it; bargain or no bargain, she would always be aware that Andor had helped her, and that had to be for the good. Though if she failed, her rival would be aware of where Andor's favor had gone, too. Still, it was all if and maybe. Here and now was another thing altogether."},{"from":"human","value":"\"I do not expect anyone to manhandle an ambassador,\" she said quietly once the doors had closed behind them, \"but in the future I do expect the privacy of my rooms."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Even ambassadors are not to be allowed simply to wander in. Am I understood?\"\n\nRasoria nodded, her face wooden, but by the color that flashed into her cheeks, she felt the mortification of having let the Sea Folk pass as keenly as Birgitte, and the bond... writhed... until Elayne felt her own face growing red with a stinging embarrassment. \"You did nothing wrong, exactly, but don't let it happen again.\" Light, now she sounded a dolt! \"We will speak no more of it,\" she said stiffly. Oh, burn Birgitte and the bond! They would have had to wrestle with Zaida to stop her, but adding bone-deep humiliation to the other woman's headache was piling insult on injury! And Aviendha had no call to grin in that... that smarmy way. Elayne did not know when or how her sister had learned that she and Birgitte sometimes reflected one another, but Aviendha found the whole thing vastly amusing. Her sense of humor could be rough at times.\n\n\"I think you two will make each other melt, one day,\" she said, laughing. \"But then, you already played that joke, Birgitte Trahelion.\" Birgitte scowled at her, sudden alarm crushing embarrassment in the bond, and she returned such a look of innocence it seemed her eyes might fallout of her face.\n\nBetter not to ask, Elayne decided. When you ask questions, Lini used to say, then you have to hear the answers whether you want to or not. She did not want to hear, not with Rasoria studiously examining the floor tiles in front of her boots and the rest of the Guardswomen in the anteroom failing to pretend not to be listening. She had never realized how precious privacy was until she lost it completely. Near enough completely, anyway. \"I am going to finish my bath now,\" she said calmly. Blood and ashes, what joke had Birgitte played on her? Something that made her... melt? It could not have been much if she still did not know what it was."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Unfortunately, the bathwater had gone cold. Tepid, anyway. Hardly anything she wanted to sit in. A little while longer soaking would have been wonderful, but not at the expense of waiting while the tubs were emptied bucket by bucket and more hot water brought up. The entire palace must know she was back by now, and the First Maid and the First Clerk would be anxious to make their daily reports. Daily when she was in the city, and doubly anxious because she had been gone fora day. Duty came before pleasure, if you were going to rule a country. And that went doubly for trying to gain the throne in the first place.\n\nAviendha pulled the towel from her head and shook down her hair, appearing relieved that she would not have to climb into water again. She started for the dressing room, shedding her robe before she reached the door, and had donned most of her garments when Elayne and the maids entered. With only a few mutters, she let Naris complete the job, although little remained beyond stepping into her heavy woolen skirt. She slapped the maid's hands away and tightened the laces of her soft knee-high boots herself.\n\nFor Elayne, it was not so easy. Unless some emergency loomed, Essande felt slighted when she did not discuss her choice of dresses. With close servants, there was always a delicate balance to maintain. Without exception a bodyservant knew more of your secrets than you thought she did, and she saw you at your worst, grumpy, tired, weeping in your pillow, in rages and sulks. Respect had to go both ways, or the situation became impossible. So Aviendha was sitting on one of the padded benches, allowing Naris to comb out her hair, before Elayne could conclude on a simple gray in fine wool, embroidered in green on the high neck and the sleeves and trimmed with black fox. It was not so much that she had difficulty deciding, but that Essande kept putting forward silks sewn with pearls or sapphires or firedrops, each more ornately embroidered than the last. No matter that the throne was not yet hers, Essande wanted to dress her everyday as a queen readying for an audience."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There had been a point to that, back when everyday brought delegations of merchants to offer petitions or make their respects, especially outlanders hoping the troubles in Andor would not affect their trade. The old saying that who held Caemlyn held Andor had never really been true, and in merchant eyes, the chances she would actually gain the throne had diminished with the arrival of Arymilla's army outside the gates. They could count the Houses arrayed on either side as easily as they could count coin. Even Andoran merchants avoided the Royal Palace now, keeping out of the Inner City as much as possible so no one would think they had gone to the palace, and bankers came well hooded, in anonymous carriages. None wished her ill, that she knew, and certainly none wanted to anger her, but neither did they want to anger Arymilla, not now. Still, the bankers did come, and so far she had not heard of any merchants presenting petitions to Arymilla. That would be the first sign that her cause was lost.\n\nGetting into the dress took twice as long as it should have, since Essande allowed Sephanie to help Elayne. The girl breathed heavily the whole time, unaccustomed as yet to dressing someone else and fearful of making a mistake under Essande's eye. Much more than of making one in front of her mistress, Elayne suspected. Apprehension made the sturdy young woman clumsy, clumsiness made her more painstaking, and taking pains made her worry more about mistakes, so the result was that she moved more slowly than the frail older woman ever had. Finally, however, Elayne found herself seated facing Aviendha, letting Essande draw an ivory comb through her curls. In Essande's view, allowing one of the girls to slip a shift over Elayne's head or fasten her buttons was one thing, but risking either of them making a tangle in her hair quite another."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Before the comb had made two dozen strokes, though, Birgitte appeared in the doorway. Essande sniffed, and Elayne could all but seethe woman grimace behind her back. Essande had given way on Birgitte being present at baths, however reluctantly, but the dressing room was sacrosanct.\n\nSurprisingly, Birgitte let the maid's disapproval slide past without so much as a placating look. Usually, she refrained from pushing Essande an inch further than Elayne required. \"Dyelin has returned, Elayne. She's brought company. The High Seats of Mantear, Haevin, Gilyard and Northan.\" For some reason, the bond carried streaks of puzzlement and annoyance.\n\nShared headache or no, Elayne could have jumped for joy. If Essande had not had the comb deep in her hair, she might have. Four! She had never expected Dyelin to accomplish so much. Hoped for it, prayed for it, but never expected it, certainly not in one short week. In truth, she had been sure Dyelin would return empty-handed. Four gave her an equal footing with Arymilla. It was galling to think of being on'an equal footing\" with that foolish woman, but truth was truth. Mantear, Haevin, Gilyard and Northan. Why not Candraed? That was the fifth House Dyelin had gone to approach. No. She had four more Houses, and she was not going to fret over the lack of one.\n\n\"Entertain them in the formal sitting room until I can come, Birgitte.\" The small sitting room had been sufficient for Zaida-she hoped the Wavemistress had not noticed the slight-but four High Seats required more. \"And ask the First Maid to arrange apartments.\" Apartments. Light! The Atha'an Miere would have to be hurried out of theirs to make room. Until they left, most beds that did not have two occupants had three. \"Essande, the green silk with the sapphires, I think. And sapphires for my hair, too. The large sapphires.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Birgitte left still feeling puzzled and upset. Why? Surely she could not think she should have left Dyelin cooling her heels because of Zaida? Oh, Light, now she was feeling puzzled over Birgitte feeling puzzled; if that was allowed to feed on itself, they would both end up dizzy! As the door closed, Essande moved to the nearest wardrobe wearing a smile that might have been called triumphant.\n\nLooking at Aviendha, who had motioned Naris and her comb away and was folding a dark gray scarf to tie her hair back, Elayne smiled herself. She needed something to take her out of that spinning loop. \"Maybe you should wear silks and gems just this once more, Aviendha,\" she said in a gently teasing tone. \"Dyelin won't mind, of course, but the others aren't used to Aiel. They might think I'm entertaining a stablehand.\"\n\nShe meant it fora joke-they twitted one another about clothes all the time, and Dyelin looked askance at Aviendha whatever she wore-but her sister frowned at the wardrobes lining the wall, then nodded and set the scarf down beside heron the tufted cushion. \"Just so these High Seats will be properly impressed. Do not think I will do this all the time. It is a favor to you.\"\n\nFor someone just doing a favor, she pored over the clothes that Essande pulled outwith a great deal of interest before deciding on a dark blue velvet slashed with green, and a silver net to catch her hair. They were her clothes, made for her, but since reaching Caemlyn she had avoided them as if they were crawling with death's-head spiders. Stroking the sleeves, she hesitated as if she might change her mind, but finally she let Naris do up the tiny pearl buttons. She declined Elayne's offer of emeralds that would have suited the gown admirably, keeping her silver snowflake necklace and heavy ivory bracelet, but at the last minute she did pin the amber turtle to her shoulder."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You can never tell when it might be needful,\" she said.\n\n\"Better safe than sorry,\" Elayne agreed. \"Those colors look beautiful on you.\" It was true, but Aviendha blushed. Compliment heron how well she shot a bow or how fast she could run, and she took it as no more than her due, but she had difficulty coming to grips with the fact that she was beautiful. That was apart of herself she had managed to ignore, till recently.\n\nEssande shook her head in disapproval, unaware that the brooch was an angreal. Amber did not go with blue velvet. Or maybe it was Aviendha's horn-hilted knife, which she tucked behind her green velvet belt. The white-haired woman made sure that Elayne wore a small dagger with sapphires on the scabbard and pommel, hanging from a belt of woven gold. Everything had to be just so to gain Essande's approbation.\n\nRasoria gave a start when Aviendha entered the anteroom in her high-necked velvets. The Guardswomen had never seen her in anything but Aiel garb before. Aviendha scowled as if they had laughed, and gripped her belt knife firmly, but luckily her attention was diverted by a cloth-covered tray sitting on the long side table against the wall. Elayne's midday meal had been delivered while they were dressing. Whisking the blue-striped cloth aside, Aviendha tried to interest Elayne in eating, smiling and pointing out how sweet the stew of dried plums would be and exclaiming over the pieces of pork in the grainy mush. Slivers, they looked like. Rasoria cleared her throat and mentioned that afire was burning nicely in the apartment's larger sitting room. She would be more than happy to carry the tray in for the Lady Elayne. Everyone tried to make sure Elayne ate properly, however they saw'properly,\" but this was ridiculous. The tray had been sitting there sometime. The mush was a congealed mass that would have stuck in the bowl if she turned it upside down!"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She had the High Seats of four Houses waiting on her, and they had waited long enough. She pointed that out, but offered to let the two of them eat if they were hungry. In fact, she implied that she might insist on them eating. That was enough to make Aviendha drop the cloth back over the tray with a shudder, and Rasoria wasted no more time, either.\n\nIt was only a short walk down the icy hallway to the formal sitting room, and the only things that moved, aside from them, were the bright winter wall hangings that stirred in the corridor's drafts, but the Guardswomen formed a ring around Elayne and Aviendha and kept watch as if they expected Trollocs. It was only with an effort that Elayne convinced Rasoria there was no need to search the sitting room before she entered. The Guardswomen served her and obeyed her, but they also were pledged to keep her alive, and they could be as muley over that last duty as Birgitte was over deciding whether she was Warder, Captain-General or elder sister at any given moment. Likely, following on the heels of the incident with Zaida, Rasoria would have wanted the lords and ladies waiting inside to surrender their weapons! The threat with the mush might have had its part, too. After a short argument, however, Elayne and Aviendha swept in through the wide doorway together, and alone. Elayne's feeling of satisfaction did not last, though.\n\nThe sitting room was large, meant to accept dozens of people comfortably, a dark-paneled space with layered carpets covering the floor tiles and a horseshoe arch of high-back chairs in front of a tall fireplace of white marble with fine red veins. Here, important dignitaries could be received with more honor than an audience before the throne, because it was more intimate. The blaze dancing along the logs on the hearth had barely had time to take an edge off the chill in the air, but that certainly was not the reason Elayne felt as if she had been struck in the stomach. She understood Birgitte's puzzlement, now."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dyelin turned from warming her hands at the fire as they entered. A strong-faced woman with fine lines at the corners of her eyes and hints of gray in her golden hair, she had not waited to change on reaching the palace, and still wore a riding dress of deep gray that showed a few travel stains on the hem. Her curtsy was the merest bend of her neck, the slightest dip of her knees, but she intended no discourtesy. Dyelin knew who she was as surely as Zaida did-her only jewelry was a small golden pin in the shape of Taravin's Owl and Oak on her shoulder, a clear statement that High Seat of Taravin needed nothing more-yet she had almost died to prove her loyalty to Elayne. \"My Lady Elayne,\" she said formally, \"it gives me honor to present to you Lord Perival, High Seat of House Mantear.\"\n\nA pretty, golden-haired boy in a plain blue coat jerked away from peering through the four-barreled kaleidoscope on a gilded stand taller than he was. He had a silver cup in his hand that Elayne hoped very much did not contain wine, or at least extremely well watered if it did. One of the side tables held several trays laden with pitchers and cups. And an ornate teapot she knew might as well be filled with water. \"My pleasure, my Lady Elayne,\" he piped, blushing and managing a credible bow despite a little clumsiness in handling the sword belted to his waist. The weapon looked much too long for him. \"House Mantear stands with House Trakand.\" She returned his courtesy in a daze, spreading her skirts mechanically.\n\n\"Lady Catalyn, High Seat of House Haevin,\" Dyelin continued."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Elayne,\" a dark-eyed young woman at her side murmured, touching her dark green divided skirts and making a fractional dip that might possibly have been intended fora curtsy, though perhaps she just meant to imitate Dyelin. Or perhaps she wanted to avoid poking her chin against the large enameled brooch on the high neck of her dress, the Blue Bear of Haevin. Her hair was caught in a silver networked with the Blue Bear, too, and she wore along ring with the sigil as well. A touch too much pride of House, perhaps. Despite her cool haughtiness, she was a woman only by courtesy, her cheeks still round with baby fat. \"Haevin stands with Trakand, obviously, or I would not be here.\"\n\nDyelin's mouth tightened slightly, and she gave the girl a hard glance that Catalyn seemed not to see. \"Lord Branlet, High Seat of House Gilyard.\"\n\nAnother boy, this one with unruly black curls, in green embroidered with gold on the sleeves, who hastily set his winecup down on aside table as if uneasy at being seen with it. His blue eyes were too big for his face, and he nearly tripped himself with his sword, bowing. \"It is my pleasure to say that House Gilyard stands for Trakand, Lady Elayne.\" Halfway through, his voice broke from treble to bass, and he blushed even harder than Perival.\n\n\"And Lord Conail, High Seat of House Northan.\"\n\nConail Northan grinned over the rim of his silver cup. Tall and lean, in a gray coat with sleeves just too short to cover his bony wrists, he had an engaging grin, merry brown eyes, and an eagle's beak fora nose. \"We drew straws for the order to be introduced, and I drew short. Northan stands with Trakand. Can't let a ninny like Arymilla take the throne.\" He managed his sword smoothly, and heat least had reached his majority, but if he was many months past sixteen, Elayne would eat his turned-down boots and his silver-knot spurs."},{"from":"human","value":"Their youth was no surprise, of course, but she had expected Conail to have a graying head at his side to advise him and the others to have their guardians looking over their shoulders."},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was no one else in the room aside from Birgitte, standing in front of the tall arched windows with her arms folded beneath her breasts. Bright midday sunlight flooding through the clear glass set in the casements made her a silhouette of displeasure.\n\n\"Trakand welcomes all of you, and I welcome all of you,\" Elayne said, suppressing her dismay. \"I will not forget your support, and Trakand will not forget.\" Something of her consternation must have crept through, because Catalyn's mouth compressed and her eyes glittered.\n\n\"I am past my guardianship, as you must know, Elayne,\" she said in a stiff voice. \"My uncle, Lord Arendor, said at the Feast of Lights that I was as ready as I would ever be and might as well have free rein then as in a year. Truth, I think he wanted more time to go hunting while he still can. He has always loved hunting, and he's quite old.\" Once again she failed to see Dyelin's frown. Arendor Haevin and Dyelin were roughly of an age.\n\n\"I have no guardian either,\" Branlet said uncertainly, his voice nearly as high-pitched as Catalyn's.\n\nDyelin gave him a sympathetic smile and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. It promptly fell forward again. \"Mayv was riding alone, as she liked to do, and her horse stepped into a gopher hole,\" she explained quietly. \"By the time anyone found her, it was too late. There has been some... discussion... over who's to take her place.\"\n\n\"They've been arguing for three months,\" Branlet muttered.\n\nFora moment he looked younger than Perival, a boy trying to find his way with no one to show him the path. \"I'm not supposed to tell anyone that, but I can tell you. You're going to be the Queen.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\\nChapter: 2\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Vandene will be allowed as much time to grieve for her sister as she needs or wants,\\\" Elayne said in level tones. \\\"And there will be no more discussion of it.\\\"\\n\\nCareane sighed heavily and rearranged her shawl again. Sareitha sighed faintly and began twisting the Great Serpent ring on the forefinger of her left hand. Perhaps they had sensed her mood, or perhaps it was just that neither looked forward to another session with the Windfinders. Merilille's permanently surprised expression did not change, but then, her sessions with the Sea Folk lasted all day and all night unless Elayne managed to pry her away, and the Windfinders were becoming less and less willing to let her go no matter how Elayne pried.\\n\\nAt least she had managed to avoid being curt with the three. It took an effort, especially with Aviendha there. Elayne did not know what she would do if she ever lost her sister. Vandene was not only grieving fora sister, she was searching for Adeleas's murderer, and there could be no doubt that the killer was Merilille Ceandevin, Careane Fransi or Sareitha Tomares. One of them, or worse, more than one. The charge was hard to believe of Merilille, in her present condition, but it was not easy to believe of any sister. As Birgitte had pointed out, one of the worst Darkfriends she had ever met, during the Trolloc Wars, was a mild-as-milk lad who jumped at loud noises. And poisoned an entire city's water supply. Aviendha's suggestion was to put all three to the question, which had horrified Birgitte, but Aviendha was considerably less in awe of Aes Sedai than she once had been. The proper courtesies must be maintained, until there was evidence to convict. Then there would be no courtesy at all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Oh,\\\" Sareitha said, brightening suddenly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Here's Captain Mellar. He was a hero again while you were gone, Elayne.\\\"\\n\\nAviendha gripped the hilt of her belt knife, and Birgitte stiffened. Careane's face went very still, very cold, and even Merilille managed a disapproving hauteur. Neither sister made any secret of her dislike for Doilan Mellar.\\n\\nWith a narrow face, he was not pretty, or even handsome, yet he moved with a swordsman's lithe grace that spoke of physical strength. As Captain of Elayne's bodyguard, he rated three golden knots of rank, and he wore them soldered to each shoulder of his brightly burnished breastplate. An ignorant observer might have thought he outranked Birgitte. The falls of snow-white lace at his throat and wrists were twice as thick and twice as long as those worn by any of the Guardswomen, but he had left off the sash again, perhaps because it would have obscured one set of golden knots. He claimed that he wanted nothing more in life than to command her bodyguard, yet he frequently talked of battles he had fought as a mercenary. It seemed he had never been on the losing side, and victory had often come from his unsung efforts on the field. He swept off his white-plumed hat in a deep, flourishing bow, managing his sword deftly with one hand, then offered a slightly lesser to Birgitte with an arm across his chest in salute.\\n\\nElayne arranged a smile on her face. \\\"Sareitha says you were a hero again, Captain Mellar. How so?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nothing more than my duty to my queen.\\\" Despite a voice thick with self-deprecation, his answering smile was warmer than it should have been. Half the palace thought him the father of Elayne's child. That she had not crushed that rumor seemed to make him believe he had prospects. The smile never reached his dark eyes, though. They remained as cold as death. \\\"My duty to you is my pleasure, my Queen.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Captain Mellar led another sortie without orders yesterday,\\\" Birgitte said in a carefully even voice.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"This time the fighting almost spilled into the Far Madding Gate, which he had ordered left open against his return.\\\" Elayne felt her face growing hard.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, no,\\\" Sareitha protested. \\\"It wasn't like that at all. A hundred of Lord Luan's armsmen tried to reach the city in the night, but they left it too late, and sunrise caught them. So did three times their number of Lord Nasin's men. If Captain Mellar hadn't opened the gates and led a rescue, they'd have been cut to pieces insight of the walls. As it was, he managed to save eighty for your cause.\\\" Smiling, Mellar basked in the Aes Sedai's praise as if he had not heard Birgitte's criticism. Of course, he seemed unaware of Careane and Merilille's disapproving stares, too. He always managed to ignore disapproval.\\n\\n\\\"How did you know they were Lord Luan's men, Captain?\\\" Elayne asked quietly. A small smile that should have given Mellar warning appeared on Birgitte's face. But then, he was one of those who seemed not to believe she was a Warder. Even if he did, few except Warders and Aes Sedai knew what the bond entailed. If anything, Mellar's expression grew more smug.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't go by banners, my Queen. Anybody can carry a banner. I recognized Jurad Accan through my looking glass. Accan is Luan's man to his toenails. Once I knew that...\\\" He made a dismissive gesture in a flurry of lace. \\\"The rest was no more than taking a little exercise.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And did this Jurad Accan bring any message from Lord Luan? Anything signed and sealed, affirming House Norwelyn's support for Trakand?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Nothing in writing, my Queen, but as I said-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord Luan has not declared for me, Captain.\\\"\\n\\nMellar's smile faded somewhat. He was unused to being cut short. \\\"But, my Queen, Lady Dyelin says that Luan is as good as in your camp right now. Accan showing up is proof of-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of nothing, Captain,\\\" Elayne said coldly. \\\"Perhaps Lord Luan will be in my camp eventually, Captain, but until he declares, you've given me eighty men who need to be watched.\\\" Eighty out of a hundred. And how many of hers had he lost? And he had risked Caemlyn doing it, burn him! \\\"Since you can find time in your duties commanding my bodyguard to lead sorties, you can find time to arrange for watching them. I won't spare anyone from the walls for it. Set Master Accan and his fellows to drilling the men I've brought in from the manors. That will keep them all busy and out of trouble most of each day, but I leave it to you how to keep them away from the walls the rest of the time. And I do expect them kept away from the walls and out of trouble, Captain. You may see to it now.\\\"\\n\\nMellar stared at her, stunned. She had never taken him to task before, and he did not like it, particularly in front of so many witnesses. There were no over-warm smiles now. His mouth twitched, and a sullen heat grew in his eyes. But there was nothing for him to do except to jerk another bow, murmur'As my Queen commands\\\" in a hoarse voice, and leave with as good a grace as he could muster. Before he had gone three paces he was striding down the hall as if to trample anyone who got in his way. She would have to tell Rasoria to take care. He might try to soothe his bile by taking it out on those who had seen and heard. Merilille and Careane gave almost identical nods; they would have seen Mellar called down, and preferably putout of the palace, long since.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Even if he did wrong,\\\" Sareitha said carefully, \\\"and I am not convinced that he did, Captain Mellar saved your life at risk to his own, Elayne, your life and that of the Lady Dyelin. Was there really need to embarrass him in front of the rest of us?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Never think I avoid paying my debts, Sareitha.\\\" Elayne felt Aviendha grip one of her hands, and Birgitte the other. She gave each of them alight squeeze. When you were surrounded by enemies, it was good to have a sister and a friend close by. \\\"I am going to find a hot bath now, and unless one of you wishes to scrub my back...?\\\"\\n\\nThey could recognize a dismissal, and they departed more gracefully than Captain Mellar, Careane and Sareitha already discussing whether or not the Windfinders would actually want lessons today, Merilille trying to look every direction at once in hope of avoiding any Windfinders. What would they talk of later, though? Whether Elayne was having a spat with the father of her child? Whether they had successfully hidden their guilt in killing Adeleas?\\n\\nI always pay my debts, Elayne thought, watching them go. And I help my friends pay theirs.\\n\\nChapter 12\\n\\nA Bargain\\n\\nAbath was not hard to find, though Elayne had to wait in the hall frowning at the lion-carved doors of her apartments, drafts flickering the mirrored stand-lamps while Rasoria and two of the Guardswomen went into search. Once they were sure there were no assassins lying in wait, and guards had been arrayed in the corridor and outer room, Elayne entered to find white-haired Essande waiting in the bedchamber with Nans and Sephanie, the two young tirewomen she was training. Essande was slim, with Elayne's Golden Lily embroidered over her left breast and a very great dignity emphasized by her deliberate way of moving, though some of that came from age and aching joints she refused to acknowledge. Naris and Sephanie were sisters, fresh-faced, sturdy and shy-eyed, proud of their livery and happy to have been chosen out for this rather than cleaning hallways but almost as much in awe of Essande as of Elayne. There were more experienced maids available, women who had worked years in the palace, but sadly, girls who had come seeking any sort of work they could find were safer.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Two copper bathtubs sat on thick layers of toweling laid atop the rose-colored floor tiles where one of the carpets had been rolled up, evidence that word of Elayne's arrival had flown ahead of her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Servants had a knack for learning what was happening that the Tower's eyes-and-ears might envy. A good blaze in the fireplace and tight casements in the windows made the room warm after the corridors, and Essande waited only to see Elayne enter the room before sending Sephanie off at a run to fetch the men with the hot water. That would be brought up in double-walled pails with lids to keep it from getting cold on the way from the kitchens, though it might be delayed a little by Guardswomen checking to make sure there were no knives hidden in the water.\\n\\nAviendha eyed the second bathtub almost as doubtfully as Essande eyed Birgitte, the one still uneasy about actually stepping into water and the other still not accepting that anyone more than necessary should be present during a bath, but the white-haired woman wasted no time before quietly bustling Elayne and Aviendha both into the dressing room, where another fire on a wide marble hearth had taken the chill from the air. It was a great relief to have Essande help her out of her riding clothes, knowing that she had more ahead of her than a hasty wash and a show of ease while worrying about how quickly she could move onto her next destination. Other pretenses awaited, the Light help her, and other worries, but she was home, and that counted for much. She could almost forget about that beacon shining in the west. Almost. Well, not at all, really, but she could manage to stop fretting over it as long as she did not dwell on the thing.\\n\\nBy the time they had been undressed-with Aviendha slapping Naris' hands away and removing her own jewelry, doing her best to pretend that Naris did not exist and her garments were somehow removing themselves-by the time they had been bundled into embroidered silk robes and had their hair tied up in white toweling-Aviendha tried to wrap the towel around her own head three times, and only after the construction collapsed down her neck for the third time did she allow Naris to do it, muttering about getting so soft that she soon would need someone to lace up her boots until Elayne began laughing and she joined in, throwing her head back so that Naris had to start over again-by the time all that was done and they had returned to the bedchamber, the bathtubs were full and the scent of the rose oil that had been added to the water filled the air. The men who had brought up the water were gone, of course, and Sephanie was waiting with her sleeves pushed above her elbows in case someone wanted her back scrubbed. Birgitte was sitting on the turquoise-inlaid chest at the foot of the bed, her elbows on her knees.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Elayne allowed Essande to help her off with her pale green, swallow-worked robe and sank into her tub immediately, submerging herself to her neck in water just a hair short of too hot. That left her knees poking up, but it immersed most of her in the warmth, and she sighed, feeling weariness leach out of her and languor creep in. Hot water might have been the greatest single gift of civilization.\\n\\nStaring at the other tub, Aviendha gave a start when Naris attempted to remove her robe, lavender and embroidered with flowers on the wide sleeves. Grimacing, she finally allowed it, and stepped gingerly into the water, but she snatched the round soap out of Sephanie's hand and began washing herself vigorously. Vigorously, but very careful not to slop so much as a spoonful of water over the tub's rim. The Aiel did use water for washing, as well as in the sweat tents, especially for rinsing out the shampoo they made from a fat leaf that grew in the Waste, yet the dirty water was conserved and used for watering crops. Elayne had shown her two of the great cisterns beneath Caemlyn, fed by a pair of underground rivers and large enough that the far side of each was lost in a forest of thick columns and shadows, but the arid Waste was in Aviendha's bones.\\n\\nIgnoring Essande's pointed looks-she seldom said two words more than necessary, and thought baths no time to say anything-Birgitte talked while they bathed, though she took care of what she said in front of Naris and Sephanie. It was unlikely they were in the pay of another House, but maids gossiped almost as freely as men-it seemed almost a tradition. Some rumors were worth fostering, nonetheless. Mostly Birgitte talked of two huge merchants\\\" trains that had arrived yesterday from Tear, the wagons heavy with grain and salted beef, and another from Illian with oil and salt and smoked fish. It was always worthwhile reminding people that food continued to flow into the city. Few merchants braved the roads of Andor in winter, none carrying anything as cheap as food, but gateways meant that Arymilla could intercept all the merchants she wished and her forces still would starve long before Caemlyn felt the first pangs of hunger. The Windfinders, who were making most of those gateways, reported that the High Lord Darlin-claiming the title of Steward in Tear for the Dragon Reborn, of all things!-was besieged in the Stone of Tear by nobles who wanted the Dragon Reborn out of Tear completely, but even they were unlikely to try stopping a rich trade ingrain, particularly since they believed the Kin who accompanied the Windfinders were Aes Sedai. Not that any real attempt was made at deception, but Great Serpent rings had been made for Kinswomen who had passed their tests for Accepted before being putout of the Tower, and if anyone drew the wrong conclusion, no one actually lied to them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The water was going to shed its heat if she waited much longer, Elayne decided, so she took arose-scented soap from Sephanie and allowed Naris to begin scrubbing her back with along-handled brush. If there had been news of Gawyn or Galad, Birgitte would have mentioned it straight off. She was as eager to hear as Elayne, and she could not have held it back. Gawyn's return was one rumor they dearly wanted to reach the streets. Birgitte performed her duties well as Captain-General, and Elayne meant her to keep the position, if she could be convinced, but having Gawyn there would allow both women to relax a little. Most of the soldiers in the city were mercenaries, and only enough of them to man the gates strongly and make a display along the miles of wall surrounding the New City, but they still numbered more than thirty companies, each with its own captain who inevitably was full of pride, obsessed with precedence, and ready to squabble over any imagined slight from another captain at the drop of a straw. Gawyn had trained his whole life to command armies. He could deal with the squabblers, leaving her free to secure the throne.\\n\\nApart from that, she simply wanted him away from the White Tower. She prayed that one of her messengers had gotten through and that he was well downriver by this time. Egwene had been besieging Tar Valon with her army for more than a week, now, and it would be the cruelest spinning of fate for Gawyn to be caught between his oaths to defend the Tower and his love for Egwene. Worse, he had already broken that oath once, or at least bent it, for love of his sister and perhaps his love of Egwene. If Elaida ever suspected that Gawyn had aided Siuan's escape, whatever credit he had gained by helping her replace Siuan as Amyrlin would evaporate like a dewdrop, and if he was still within Elaida's reach when she learned, he would find himself in a cell, and lucky to avoid the headsman. Elayne did not resent his decision to aid Elaida; he could not have known enough then to make any other choice. A good many sisters had been confused over what was happening, too. A good many still seemed to be. How could she ask Gawyn to see what Aes Sedai could not?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As for Galad... She had grownup unable to like the man, sure he must resent her, and resent Gawyn most of all. Galad had to have thought he would be First Prince of the Sword one day, until Gawyn was born. Her earliest memories of him were of a boy, a young man, already behaving more like a father or uncle than a brother, giving Gawyn his first lessons with a sword. She remembered being afraid he would break open Gawyn's head with the practice blade. But he had never given more than the bruises any youth expected in learning swords. He knew what was right, Galad did, and he was willing to do what was right no matter the cost to anyone, including himself. Light, he had started a war to help her and Nynaeve escape from Samara, and it was likely he had known the risk from the start! Galad fancied Nynaeve, or had fora time-it was hard to imagine he still felt that way, with him a Whitecloak, the Light only knew where and doing what-but the truth was, he had started that war to rescue his sister. She could not condone him being a Child of the Light, she could not like him, yet she hoped that he was safe and well. She hoped he found his way home to Caemlyn, too. News of him would have been nearly as welcome as news of Gawyn. That surprised her, but it was true.\\n\\n\\\"Two more sisters came while you were away. They're at the Silver Swan.\\\" Birgitte made it sound as though they were merely stopping at an inn because every bed in the palace was taken. \\\"A Green with two Warders and a Gray with one. They came separately. A Yellow and a Brown left the same day, so there are still ten altogether. The Yellow went south, toward Far Madding. The Brown was heading east.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Sephanie, waiting patiently beside Aviendha's tub with nothing to do, exchanged a glance with her sister over Elayne's head and grinned.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Like many in the city, they knew fora fact that the presence of Aes Sedai at the Silver Swan signified White Tower support for Elayne and House Trakand. Watching the two girls like a hawk, Essande nodded; she knew it, too. Every streetsweeper and ragpicker was aware that the Tower was divided against itself, but even so, the name still carried weight, and an image of strength that never failed. Everyone knew the White Tower had lent support to every rightful Queen of Andor. In truth, most sisters looked forward to a sitting monarch who was also Aes Sedai, the first in a thousand years and the first since the Breaking of the World to be openly known as Aes Sedai, but Elayne would not be surprised to find there was a sister in Arymilla's camp, keeping discreetly out of notice. The White Tower never placed all of its coin on one horse unless the race was fixed.\\n\\n\\\"That's enough of the brush,\\\" she said, irritably twisting away from the bristles. Well trained, the girl laid the brush down on a stool and handed her a large Illianer sponge that she used to begin sluicing off soap. She wished she knew what those sisters meant. They were like a grain of sand in her slipper, so tiny a thing that you could hardly imagine it being a discomfort, but the longer it remained, the larger it seemed. The sisters at the Silver Swan were becoming a sizable stone just by being there.\\n\\nSince before she arrived in Caemlyn the number at the inn had been changed frequently, a few sisters leaving every week and a few coming to replace them. The siege had not changed anything; the soldiers surrounding Caemlyn were no more likely to try stopping an Aes Sedai from going where she wanted than were the rebellious nobles in Tear. There had been Reds in the city too, fora while, asking after men heading for the Black Tower, but the more they learned, the more they had let their disgruntlement show, and the last pair had ridden out of the city the day after Arymilla appeared before the walls. Every Aes Sedai who entered the city was carefully watched, and none of the Reds had gone near the Silver Swan, so it seemed unlikely the sisters there had been sent by Elaida to kidnap her. For some reason she imagined little groups of Aes Sedai scattered from the Blight to the Sea of Storms, and constant streams of sisters flowing between, gathering information, sharing information. A peculiar thought. Sisters used eyes-and-ears to watch the world, and rarely shared what they learned unless it was a threat to the Tower itself. Likely those at the Swan were among the sisters sitting out the Tower's troubles, waiting to see whether Egwene or Elaida would end with the Amyrlin Seat before they declared themselves. That was wrong-an Aes Sedai should stand for what she thought was right without worrying over whether she was choosing the winning side!-but these made her uneasy for another reason.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Recently one of her watchers at the Swan had overheard a disturbing name, murmured and quickly shushed, as if in fear of eavesdroppers. Cadsuane. Not a common name, that. And Cadsuane Melaidhrin had meshed herself closely with Rand while he was in Cairhien. Vandene did not think much of the woman, calling her opinionated and muleheaded, but Careane had almost fainted in awe at hearing her name. It seemed the stories surrounding Cadsuane amounted to legends. Trying to deal with the Dragon Reborn single-handed was just the sort of thing Cadsuane Melaidhrin might do. Not that Elayne had concerns about Rand and any Aes Sedai, except that he might outrage her beyond her control-the man was too pigheaded himself sometimes to see where his own good lay!-but why would a sister in Caemlyn mention her name? And why had another hushed her?\\n\\nDespite the hot bathwater, she shivered, thinking of all the webs the White Tower had spun through the centuries, so fine that none could see them except the sisters who did the spinning, so convoluted that none but those sisters could have unraveled them. The Tower spun webs, the Ajahs spun webs, even individual sisters spun webs. Sometimes those schemes blended into one another as though guided by a single hand. Other times they had pulled one another apart. That was how the world had been shaped for three thousand years. Now the Tower had divided itself neatly into rough thirds, one third for Egwene, one for Elaida, and one that was standing aside. If those last were in contact with one another, exchanging information-forming plans?-the implications...\\n\\nA sudden tumult of voices, dimmed by the closed door, made her sit up straight. Naris and Sephanie squealed and leaped to clutch one another, staring wide-eyed at the door.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What in the bloody flaming...?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Snarling, Birgitte hurled herself off the chest and out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The voices rose higher.\\n\\nIt did not sound as if the Guardswomen were fighting, just arguing at the tops of the lungs, and the bond carried mainly anger and frustration, along with her bloody headache, but Elayne climbed out of the bathtub, holding out her arms for Essande to slip her robe on. The white-haired woman's calmness, and perhaps Elayne's, soothed the two maids enough that they blushed when Essande looked at them, but Aviendha leaped from her tub, splashing water everywhere, and dashed dripping into the dressing room. Elayne expected her to return with her belt knife, but instead she came back surrounded by the glow of saidar and holding the amber turtle in one hand. With the other she handed Elayne the angreal that had been in her belt pouch, an aged ivory carving of a woman clothed only in her hair. Excepting the towel atop her head, Aviendha wore only a wet sheen, and she angrily waved Sephanie away when the woman tried to put her robe on her. Knife or no knife, Aviendha still tended to think as if she were going to fight with a blade and might need to move suddenly.\\n\\n\\\"Put this back in the dressing room,\\\" Elayne said, handing the ivory angreal to Essande. \\\"Aviendha, I really don't think we need to–\\\"\\n\\nThe door opened a crack, and Birgitte put her head in, scowling. Naris and Sephanie jumped, not so soothed as they had seemed.\\n\\n\\\"Zaida wants to see you,\\\" Birgitte growled at Elayne. \\\"I told her she'd have to wait, but-\\\" With a sudden yelp, she staggered into the room, catching her balance after two steps and whirling to face the woman who had pushed her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Wavemistress of Clan Catelar did not look as though she had pushed anyone. The ends of her intricately knotted red sash swirling about her knees, she entered the room calmly, followed by two Windfinders, one of whom shut the door in Rasoria's angry face. All three swayed when they moved nearly as much as Birgitte did in her heeled boots. Zaida was short, with streaks of gray in her tightly curled hair, but her dark face was one of those that grew more beautiful with the years, and her beauty only seemed magnified by the golden chain, heavy with small medallions, that connected one of her fat golden earrings to her nose ring. More importantly, her air was one of command. Not of arrogance, but of the knowledge that she would be obeyed. The Windfinders eyed Aviendha, still glowing with the Power, and Chanelle's angular face tightened, yet aside from a murmur from Shielyn that'the Aiel girl\\\" was ready to weave, they remained silent and waited. The eight earrings in Shielyn's ears marked her as Windfinder to a Clan Wavemistress, and Chanelle's honor-chain carried nearly as many golden medallions as that of Zaida herself. Both were women of authority, and it was plain in the way they held themselves and moved, yet one needed to know nothing of the Atha'an Miere to know as soon as one saw them that Zaida din Parede held the first spot.\\n\\n\\\"Your boots must have tripped you, Captain-General,\\\" she murmured with a small smile on her full lips, one dark tattooed hand toying with the golden scent-box that dangled on her chest. \\\"Clumsy things, boots.\\\" She and the two Windfinders were barefoot as always. The soles of the Atha'an Miere's feet were as tough as shoe-soles, unbothered by rough decks or cold floor tiles. Strangely, in addition to their blouses and trousers of brightly colored silk brocades, each woman wore a wide stole of plain white that hung below her waist and almost hid her multitude of necklaces.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I was taking a bath,\\\" Elayne said in a tight voice. As if they could not see that with her hair done up and her robe clinging to her damply. Essande was almost quivering with indignation, which meant she must be beside herself with fury. Elayne felt close to it herself. \\\"I will betaking a bath again as soon as you go. I will speak with you when I have finished taking my bath. If it pleases the Light.\\\" There! If they were going to shove into her rooms, let them chew on that for ceremony!\\n\\n\\\"The grace of the Light be upon you also, Elayne Sedai,\\\" Zaida replied smoothly. She raised an eyebrow at Aviendha, though neither at the continuing light of saidar, since Zaida could not channel, nor at her nudity, since the Sea Folk were quite casual about that, at least out of sight of landmen. \\\"You have never invited me to bathe with you, though it would have been courteous, but we will not speak of that. I have learned that Nesta din Reas Two Moons is dead, killed by the Seanchan. We mourn her loss.\\\" All three women touched their white stoles and touched fingertips to lips, yet Zaida seemed as impatient with formality as Elayne. Without raising her voice or speeding its pace, she merely pushed on, almost shockingly abrupt and to the point for one of the Sea Folk.\\n\\n\\\"The First Twelve of the Atha'an Miere must meet to choose another Mistress of the Ships. What is happening to the west makes it clear there can be no delay.\\\" Shielyn's mouth tightened, and Chanelle raised her pierced scent box to her nose as if to drown the smell of something. Its spicy perfume was sharp enough to slice through the scent of rose oil in the room. However they had described what they sensed to Zaida, she displayed no unease, or anything but certainty. Her gaze held steady on Elayne's face. \\\"We must be ready for whatever comes, and for that we need a Mistress of the Ships. In the name of the White Tower, you promised twenty teachers. I cannot take Vandene in her grief, or you, but I will take the other three with me. The rest, the White Tower owes, and I will expect prompt payment. I have sent to the sisters at the Silver Swan to see whether some of them will meet the Tower's debt, but I cannot wait on their reply. If it pleases the Light, I will bathe with the other Wavemistresses tonight at the harbor of Illian.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Elayne fought very hard to keep her own face smooth. The woman just announced that she intended to scoop up every Aes Sedai lying around loose in Caemlyn and carry them off? And it sounded very much as if she did not intend to leave any of the Windfinders behind. That made Elayne's heart sink. Until Reanne returned, there were seven of the Kin with sufficient strength to weave a gateway, but two of those could not make one large enough to admit a horse cart. Without the Windfinders, plans for keeping Caemlyn supplied from Tear and Illian became problematical at best. The Silver Swan! Light, whoever Zaida had sent would reveal every line of the bargain she had made! Egwene was not going to thank her for spilling that mess out into the open. She did not think she had ever had so many problems dropped in her lapin the course of one short statement.\\n\\n\\\"I regret your loss, and the Atha'an Miere's loss,\\\" she said, thinking fast. \\\"Nesta din Reas was a great woman.\\\" She had been a powerful woman, anyway, and a very strong personality. Elayne had felt happy to walkaway with more than her shift after her one meeting with her. Speaking of shifts, she could not afford time to dress. Zaida might not wait. She belted her robe tighter. \\\"We must talk. Have wine brought for our guests, Essande, and tea for me. Weak tea,\\\" she sighed at a burst of caution through the bond to Birgitte. \\\"In the smaller sitting room. Will you join me, Wavemistress?\\\"\\n\\nTo her surprise, Zaida merely nodded as if she had expected this. That started Elayne thinking about Zaida's side of the bargain between them. The bargains; there were two, really, and that might be a key point.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"No one had expected the smaller sitting room to be used for sometime, so the air held a chill even after Sephanie rushed with a spark-wheel to light the kindling laid beneath split oak on the wide white hearth and scurried out of the room.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Flames leapt up from the fatwood, catching on the log atop the fire-irons as the women arrayed themselves in the lightly carved low-backed chairs arranged in a semicircle in front of the fireplace. Well, Elayne and the Sea Folk women arrayed themselves, Elayne arranging her robe carefully over her knees and wishing Zaida had delayed just an hour so she could be properly dressed, the Windfinders coolly waiting for the Wavemistress to take a chair, then sitting to either side of her. Birgitte stood in front of the writing table with her hands on her hips and her feet apart, her face a thunderhead. The bond carried a clear desire to wring an Atha'an Miere neck. Aviendha leaned casually against one of the sideboards, and even when Essande brought her robe and pointedly held it out for her, she merely put it on and resumed her pose with her arms folded beneath her breasts. She had released saidar, but the turtle was still in her hand, and Elayne suspected she was ready to embrace the Power again in an instant. Neither Aviendha's cold green-eyed stare nor Birgitte's scowl affected the Sea Folk in the least, however. They were who they were, and they knew who they were.\\n\\n\\\"The Atha'an Miere were promised twenty teachers,\\\" Elayne said, emphasizing slightly. Zaida had said that she had been promised, that she would collect payment, but that bargain had been made with Nesta din Reas. Of course, Zaida might believe she would become the new Mistress of the Ships herself. \\\"Proper teachers, to be selected by the Amyrlin Seat. I know that the Atha'an Miere pride themselves on meeting their bargains in full, and the Tower will meet its side, too. But you knew when sisters here agreed to teach, that it was temporary. And a bargain quite apart from that made with the Mistress of the Ships. You admitted as much when you agreed for Windfinders to weave gateways to bring supplies to Caemlyn from Illian and Tear. Surely you would not have gotten involved in the affairs of the shorebound for any reason other than paying off a bargain. But if you are leaving, your help is at an end, and so is our requirement to teach. I fear you will harvest no teachers at the Silver Swan, either. The Atha'an Miere will have to wait until the Amyrlin sends teachers. According to the bargain made with the Mistress of the Ships.\\\" A pity she could not demand they stay away from the inn, but it might already be too late for that, and every reason she could think of sounded hollow. An argument that shattered for lack of a center would only embolden Zaida. The Atha'an Miere were ferocious hagglers. Scrupulous, but ferocious. She had to go very slowly, very carefully.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"My sister has you by the ear, Zaida din Parede,\\\" Aviendha chortled, slapping her thigh.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Hung up by the ankles, in fact.\\\" That was a Sea Folk punishment that she found incredibly amusing, for some reason.\\n\\nElayne stifled a burst of irritation. Aviendha enjoyed chances to tweak the Sea Folk's noses-she had begun while they were fleeing Ebou Dar and never really stopped-but this was no time for it.\\n\\nChanelle stiffened, her calm face sinking into a glare. The lean woman had been the butt of Aviendha's nose-tweaking more than once, including a regrettable episode involving oosquai, a very potent Aiel drink. The glow of saidar actually surrounded her! Zaida could not see that, but she knew about the oosquai and Chanelle being carried to her bed, sicking up the whole way, and she raised a peremptory hand toward the Windfinder. The glow faded, and Chanelle's face darkened. It might have been a blush or anger.\\n\\n\\\"All that you say maybe so,\\\" Zaida said, which was not far from insulting, especially said to an Aes Sedai. \\\"In any event, Merilille was not part of that. She agreed to be one of the teachers long before she reached Caemlyn, and she will go with me to continue her teaching.\\\"\\n\\nElayne drew along breath. She could not even try to argue Zaida out of this. A great part of the White Tower's influence rested on the fact that the Tower kept its word as surely as the Sea Folk. That it was known to keep its word. Oh, people said you had to listen carefully to be sure an Aes Sedai had promised what you thought she had, and that was often true, but once the promise was clear, it was as good as an oath under the Light. At least the Windfinders were not likely to let Merilille getaway. They hardly let her out of their sight. \\\"You may have to return her tome, if I have particular need of her.\\\" If Vandene and the two helpers found proof that she was Black Ajah. \\\"If that happens, I will arrange a replacement.\\\" And who that could be, she had no idea.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She has the rest of her year to serve. At least a year, by the bargain.\\\" Zaida gestured as if making a concession. \\\"But so long as you understand that her replacement must come before she leaves. I will not let her go without another in her place.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suppose that will do,\\\" Elayne replied calmly. It would bloody well have to, since she had no other choice!\\n\\nZaida smiled faintly and let the silence stretch. Chanelle shifted her feet, but more in impatience than as if to rise, and the Wavemistress did not stir. Plainly she wanted something more, intended another bargain, and plainly she wanted Elayne to speak first. Elayne set herself to outwait the other woman. The fire had begun to blaze and crackle, sending sparks up the chimney and radiating a fine warmth into the room, but her damp robe absorbed the chill in the air and transferred it to her skin. Ignoring the cold was all very well, but how were you supposed to ignore being cold and wet? She met Zaida's gaze levelly and matched her tiny smile. Essande returned, followed by Naris and Sephanie carring ropework trays, the one with a silver teapot in the shape of a lion and thin green cups of Sea Folk porcelain, the other hammered silver cups and a tall-necked wine pitcher that gave off the aroma of spices. Everyone took wine, except for Elayne, who was never offered the choice. Peering into her tea, she sighed. She could seethe bottom of the cup quite clearly. If they made it any weaker, they might as well give her water!\\n\\nAfter a moment, Aviendha strode across the room to set her winecup back on the tray atop one of the sideboards and pour herself a cup of tea. She gave Elayne a nod and a smile combining sympathy with a suggestion that she really preferred watery tea to wine. Elayne smiled back in spite of herself. First-sisters shared the bad as well as the good. Birgitte grinned over the top of her silver cup, and proceeded to empty half of it in a gulp. The bond carried her amusement at the grumpiness she felt from Elayne. And it still carried her headache, in noway reduced. Elayne rubbed her temple. She should have insisted that Merilille Heal the woman as soon as she had seen her. A number of the Kin outstripped Merilille when it came to Healing, but she was the only sister in the palace with a halfway decent ability.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You have great need of women to make these gateways,\\\" Zaida said suddenly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Her full mouth was no longer smiling. She disliked having spoken first.\\n\\nElayne sipped her wretched excuse for tea and said nothing.\\n\\n\\\"It might please the Light that I could leave one or two Windfinders here,\\\" Zaida went on. \\\"Fora set time.\\\"\\n\\nElayne wrinkled her brow as though considering. She needed those bloody women, and more than one or two. \\\"What would you ask in return?\\\" she said finally.\\n\\n\\\"One square mile of land on the River Erinin. Good land, mind. Not marshy or boggy. It is to be Atha'an Miere land in perpetuity. Under our laws, not Andor's,\\\" she added as if that were a small afterthought hardly worth mentioning.\\n\\nElayne choked on her tea. The Atha'an Miere hated leaving the sea, hated being out of sight of it. And Zaida was asking for land a thousand miles from the nearest saltwater? Asking for it to be ceded absolutely, at that. Cairhienin and Murandians and even Altarans had bled trying to take bits of Andor, and Andorans had bled to keep them out. Still, one square mile was a small bit, and a small price to keep Caemlyn supplied. Not that she would let Zaida know that. And if the Sea Folk began trading directly into Andor, then Andoran goods would be able to move in Sea Folk bottoms everywhere the Sea Folk sailed, and that was everywhere. Zaida surely knew that already, but there was no point in letting her know that Elayne had thought of it. The Warder bond urged caution, yet there were times for boldness, as Birgitte should know better than anyone.\\n\\n\\\"Sometimes tea goes down the wrong way.\\\" Not a lie; merely an evasion. \\\"Fora square mile of Andor, I deserve more than two Windfinders. The Atha'an Miere got twenty teachers and more for help using the Bowl of the Winds, and when they go you will have twenty to replace them. You have twenty-one Windfinders with you. Fora mile of Andor, I should have all twenty-one, and twenty-one more in their places when they leave, for as long as Aes Sedai teach Sea Folk.\\\" Best not to let the woman think that washer way of rejecting the offer out of hand. \\\"Of course, the normal customs duties would apply to any goods moving off this land into Andor.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Zaida raised her silver cup to her mouth, and when she lowered it, she wore the tiniest smile. Yet Elayne thought it was a smile of relief rather than triumph. \\\"Goods moving into Andor, but not goods coming from the river onto our land. I might leave three Windfinders. For half a year, say. And they must not be used infighting. I will not have my people die for you, and I will not have other Andorans angry at us because Sea Folk have killed some of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They will be asked only to make gateways,\\\" Elayne said, \\\"though they must make them wherever I require.\\\" Light! As if she intended using the One Power as a weapon! The Sea Folk did so without a second thought, but she was trying very hard to behave as Egwene demanded, as though she had already taken the Three Oaths. Besides, if she blasted those camps outside the walls with saidar, or allowed anyone else to, not a House in Andor would stand with her. \\\"They must stay until my crown is secure, whether that is half a year or longer.\\\" The crown should be hers in much less time, but as her old nurse Lini used to say, you counted your plums in the basket, not on the tree. Once the crown washers, though, she would not need Windfinders to supply the city, and in all truth, she would be happy to see their backs. \\\"But three is not nearly enough. You will want Shielyn, since she is your Windfinder. I will keep the rest.\\\"\\n\\nThe medallions on Zaida's honor-chain swayed gently as she shook her head. \\\"Talaan and Metarra are apprentices still. They must return to their training. The others have duties, too. Four might be spared until your crown is secure.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"From there it was just a matter of bargaining. Elayne had never expected to keep the apprentices, and Windfinders to Clan Wavemistresses could not be spared either, which she had expected. Most Wavemistresses used their Windfinders and Swordmasters as close advisors, and would be parted from one as easily as she would be parted from Birgitte. Zaida tried to exclude others as well, such as Windfinders who served on large vessels like rakers and skimmers, but that would have disqualified the greater number right there, and Elayne refused, and refused to comedown in her demands unless Zaida came up in her offers. Which the woman did slowly, grudging every concession. But not so slowly as Elayne might have expected. Clearly, the Wavemistress needed this bargain as much as she herself needed women who could weave gateways.\\n\\n\\\"Under the Light, it is agreed,\\\" she was able to say at last, kissing the fingertips of her right hand and leaning forward to press them to Zaida's lips. Aviendha grinned, obviously impressed. Birgitte kept a smooth face, but the bond said she found it hard to believe Elayne had come out so well.\\n\\n\\\"It is agreed, under the Light,\\\" Zaida murmured. Her fingers on Elayne's lips were hard and callused, though she could not have hauled on a rope herself in many years. She looked quite satisfied fora woman who had yielded nine of the fourteen Windfinders who had been on the table. Elayne wondered how many of those nine would be women whose ships had been destroyed by the Seanchan in Ebou Dar. Losing a ship was a serious matter among the Atha'an Miere, whatever the reason, and maybe cause enough to want to stay away from home a little longer. No matter.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Chanelle looked glum, her tattooed hands tight on the knees of her red brocaded trousers, yet not so glum as might be expected from a Sea Folk woman who would have to remain ashore awhile longer. She was to command the Windfinders who stayed, and she did not like it that Zaida had acceded to her being under Elayne's authority, and Birgitte's. There were to be no more Sea Folk striding about the palace as if they owned it and making demands left and right. But then, Elayne suspected that Zaida had come to this meeting knowing she would leave some of her party behind, and Chanelle had come knowing she would command them. That hardly mattered, either, nor did it matter what advantage Zaida hoped to gain toward becoming Mistress of the Ships. That she saw some was clear as good glass. All that mattered was that Caemlyn would not go hungry. That and the... the bloody beacon still blazing in the west. No, she would be a queen, and she could not be a moonstruck girl. Caemlyn and Andor were all that could matter.\\n\\nChapter 13\\n\\nHigh Seats\\n\\nZaida and the two Windfinders departed from Elayne's apartments, graceful and outwardly unhurried but with almost as little ceremony as they had entered, a bare wish that the Light illumine Elayne and see her safe. For Atha'an Miere, that was almost rushing off without a word. Elayne decided that if Zaida did indeed want to be the next Mistress of the Ships, the woman had a rival she hoped to steal a march on. It might be well for Andor if Zaida did attain the Atha'an Miere throne, or whatever the Sea Folk called it; bargain or no bargain, she would always be aware that Andor had helped her, and that had to be for the good. Though if she failed, her rival would be aware of where Andor's favor had gone, too. Still, it was all if and maybe. Here and now was another thing altogether.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I do not expect anyone to manhandle an ambassador,\\\" she said quietly once the doors had closed behind them, \\\"but in the future I do expect the privacy of my rooms.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Even ambassadors are not to be allowed simply to wander in. Am I understood?\\\"\\n\\nRasoria nodded, her face wooden, but by the color that flashed into her cheeks, she felt the mortification of having let the Sea Folk pass as keenly as Birgitte, and the bond... writhed... until Elayne felt her own face growing red with a stinging embarrassment. \\\"You did nothing wrong, exactly, but don't let it happen again.\\\" Light, now she sounded a dolt! \\\"We will speak no more of it,\\\" she said stiffly. Oh, burn Birgitte and the bond! They would have had to wrestle with Zaida to stop her, but adding bone-deep humiliation to the other woman's headache was piling insult on injury! And Aviendha had no call to grin in that... that smarmy way. Elayne did not know when or how her sister had learned that she and Birgitte sometimes reflected one another, but Aviendha found the whole thing vastly amusing. Her sense of humor could be rough at times.\\n\\n\\\"I think you two will make each other melt, one day,\\\" she said, laughing. \\\"But then, you already played that joke, Birgitte Trahelion.\\\" Birgitte scowled at her, sudden alarm crushing embarrassment in the bond, and she returned such a look of innocence it seemed her eyes might fallout of her face.\\n\\nBetter not to ask, Elayne decided. When you ask questions, Lini used to say, then you have to hear the answers whether you want to or not. She did not want to hear, not with Rasoria studiously examining the floor tiles in front of her boots and the rest of the Guardswomen in the anteroom failing to pretend not to be listening. She had never realized how precious privacy was until she lost it completely. Near enough completely, anyway. \\\"I am going to finish my bath now,\\\" she said calmly. Blood and ashes, what joke had Birgitte played on her? Something that made her... melt? It could not have been much if she still did not know what it was.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Unfortunately, the bathwater had gone cold. Tepid, anyway. Hardly anything she wanted to sit in. A little while longer soaking would have been wonderful, but not at the expense of waiting while the tubs were emptied bucket by bucket and more hot water brought up. The entire palace must know she was back by now, and the First Maid and the First Clerk would be anxious to make their daily reports. Daily when she was in the city, and doubly anxious because she had been gone fora day. Duty came before pleasure, if you were going to rule a country. And that went doubly for trying to gain the throne in the first place.\\n\\nAviendha pulled the towel from her head and shook down her hair, appearing relieved that she would not have to climb into water again. She started for the dressing room, shedding her robe before she reached the door, and had donned most of her garments when Elayne and the maids entered. With only a few mutters, she let Naris complete the job, although little remained beyond stepping into her heavy woolen skirt. She slapped the maid's hands away and tightened the laces of her soft knee-high boots herself.\\n\\nFor Elayne, it was not so easy. Unless some emergency loomed, Essande felt slighted when she did not discuss her choice of dresses. With close servants, there was always a delicate balance to maintain. Without exception a bodyservant knew more of your secrets than you thought she did, and she saw you at your worst, grumpy, tired, weeping in your pillow, in rages and sulks. Respect had to go both ways, or the situation became impossible. So Aviendha was sitting on one of the padded benches, allowing Naris to comb out her hair, before Elayne could conclude on a simple gray in fine wool, embroidered in green on the high neck and the sleeves and trimmed with black fox. It was not so much that she had difficulty deciding, but that Essande kept putting forward silks sewn with pearls or sapphires or firedrops, each more ornately embroidered than the last. No matter that the throne was not yet hers, Essande wanted to dress her everyday as a queen readying for an audience.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There had been a point to that, back when everyday brought delegations of merchants to offer petitions or make their respects, especially outlanders hoping the troubles in Andor would not affect their trade. The old saying that who held Caemlyn held Andor had never really been true, and in merchant eyes, the chances she would actually gain the throne had diminished with the arrival of Arymilla's army outside the gates. They could count the Houses arrayed on either side as easily as they could count coin. Even Andoran merchants avoided the Royal Palace now, keeping out of the Inner City as much as possible so no one would think they had gone to the palace, and bankers came well hooded, in anonymous carriages. None wished her ill, that she knew, and certainly none wanted to anger her, but neither did they want to anger Arymilla, not now. Still, the bankers did come, and so far she had not heard of any merchants presenting petitions to Arymilla. That would be the first sign that her cause was lost.\\n\\nGetting into the dress took twice as long as it should have, since Essande allowed Sephanie to help Elayne. The girl breathed heavily the whole time, unaccustomed as yet to dressing someone else and fearful of making a mistake under Essande's eye. Much more than of making one in front of her mistress, Elayne suspected. Apprehension made the sturdy young woman clumsy, clumsiness made her more painstaking, and taking pains made her worry more about mistakes, so the result was that she moved more slowly than the frail older woman ever had. Finally, however, Elayne found herself seated facing Aviendha, letting Essande draw an ivory comb through her curls. In Essande's view, allowing one of the girls to slip a shift over Elayne's head or fasten her buttons was one thing, but risking either of them making a tangle in her hair quite another.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Before the comb had made two dozen strokes, though, Birgitte appeared in the doorway. Essande sniffed, and Elayne could all but seethe woman grimace behind her back. Essande had given way on Birgitte being present at baths, however reluctantly, but the dressing room was sacrosanct.\\n\\nSurprisingly, Birgitte let the maid's disapproval slide past without so much as a placating look. Usually, she refrained from pushing Essande an inch further than Elayne required. \\\"Dyelin has returned, Elayne. She's brought company. The High Seats of Mantear, Haevin, Gilyard and Northan.\\\" For some reason, the bond carried streaks of puzzlement and annoyance.\\n\\nShared headache or no, Elayne could have jumped for joy. If Essande had not had the comb deep in her hair, she might have. Four! She had never expected Dyelin to accomplish so much. Hoped for it, prayed for it, but never expected it, certainly not in one short week. In truth, she had been sure Dyelin would return empty-handed. Four gave her an equal footing with Arymilla. It was galling to think of being on'an equal footing\\\" with that foolish woman, but truth was truth. Mantear, Haevin, Gilyard and Northan. Why not Candraed? That was the fifth House Dyelin had gone to approach. No. She had four more Houses, and she was not going to fret over the lack of one.\\n\\n\\\"Entertain them in the formal sitting room until I can come, Birgitte.\\\" The small sitting room had been sufficient for Zaida-she hoped the Wavemistress had not noticed the slight-but four High Seats required more. \\\"And ask the First Maid to arrange apartments.\\\" Apartments. Light! The Atha'an Miere would have to be hurried out of theirs to make room. Until they left, most beds that did not have two occupants had three. \\\"Essande, the green silk with the sapphires, I think. And sapphires for my hair, too. The large sapphires.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Birgitte left still feeling puzzled and upset. Why? Surely she could not think she should have left Dyelin cooling her heels because of Zaida? Oh, Light, now she was feeling puzzled over Birgitte feeling puzzled; if that was allowed to feed on itself, they would both end up dizzy! As the door closed, Essande moved to the nearest wardrobe wearing a smile that might have been called triumphant.\\n\\nLooking at Aviendha, who had motioned Naris and her comb away and was folding a dark gray scarf to tie her hair back, Elayne smiled herself. She needed something to take her out of that spinning loop. \\\"Maybe you should wear silks and gems just this once more, Aviendha,\\\" she said in a gently teasing tone. \\\"Dyelin won't mind, of course, but the others aren't used to Aiel. They might think I'm entertaining a stablehand.\\\"\\n\\nShe meant it fora joke-they twitted one another about clothes all the time, and Dyelin looked askance at Aviendha whatever she wore-but her sister frowned at the wardrobes lining the wall, then nodded and set the scarf down beside heron the tufted cushion. \\\"Just so these High Seats will be properly impressed. Do not think I will do this all the time. It is a favor to you.\\\"\\n\\nFor someone just doing a favor, she pored over the clothes that Essande pulled outwith a great deal of interest before deciding on a dark blue velvet slashed with green, and a silver net to catch her hair. They were her clothes, made for her, but since reaching Caemlyn she had avoided them as if they were crawling with death's-head spiders. Stroking the sleeves, she hesitated as if she might change her mind, but finally she let Naris do up the tiny pearl buttons. She declined Elayne's offer of emeralds that would have suited the gown admirably, keeping her silver snowflake necklace and heavy ivory bracelet, but at the last minute she did pin the amber turtle to her shoulder.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You can never tell when it might be needful,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"Better safe than sorry,\\\" Elayne agreed. \\\"Those colors look beautiful on you.\\\" It was true, but Aviendha blushed. Compliment heron how well she shot a bow or how fast she could run, and she took it as no more than her due, but she had difficulty coming to grips with the fact that she was beautiful. That was apart of herself she had managed to ignore, till recently.\\n\\nEssande shook her head in disapproval, unaware that the brooch was an angreal. Amber did not go with blue velvet. Or maybe it was Aviendha's horn-hilted knife, which she tucked behind her green velvet belt. The white-haired woman made sure that Elayne wore a small dagger with sapphires on the scabbard and pommel, hanging from a belt of woven gold. Everything had to be just so to gain Essande's approbation.\\n\\nRasoria gave a start when Aviendha entered the anteroom in her high-necked velvets. The Guardswomen had never seen her in anything but Aiel garb before. Aviendha scowled as if they had laughed, and gripped her belt knife firmly, but luckily her attention was diverted by a cloth-covered tray sitting on the long side table against the wall. Elayne's midday meal had been delivered while they were dressing. Whisking the blue-striped cloth aside, Aviendha tried to interest Elayne in eating, smiling and pointing out how sweet the stew of dried plums would be and exclaiming over the pieces of pork in the grainy mush. Slivers, they looked like. Rasoria cleared her throat and mentioned that afire was burning nicely in the apartment's larger sitting room. She would be more than happy to carry the tray in for the Lady Elayne. Everyone tried to make sure Elayne ate properly, however they saw'properly,\\\" but this was ridiculous. The tray had been sitting there sometime. The mush was a congealed mass that would have stuck in the bowl if she turned it upside down!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She had the High Seats of four Houses waiting on her, and they had waited long enough. She pointed that out, but offered to let the two of them eat if they were hungry. In fact, she implied that she might insist on them eating. That was enough to make Aviendha drop the cloth back over the tray with a shudder, and Rasoria wasted no more time, either.\\n\\nIt was only a short walk down the icy hallway to the formal sitting room, and the only things that moved, aside from them, were the bright winter wall hangings that stirred in the corridor's drafts, but the Guardswomen formed a ring around Elayne and Aviendha and kept watch as if they expected Trollocs. It was only with an effort that Elayne convinced Rasoria there was no need to search the sitting room before she entered. The Guardswomen served her and obeyed her, but they also were pledged to keep her alive, and they could be as muley over that last duty as Birgitte was over deciding whether she was Warder, Captain-General or elder sister at any given moment. Likely, following on the heels of the incident with Zaida, Rasoria would have wanted the lords and ladies waiting inside to surrender their weapons! The threat with the mush might have had its part, too. After a short argument, however, Elayne and Aviendha swept in through the wide doorway together, and alone. Elayne's feeling of satisfaction did not last, though.\\n\\nThe sitting room was large, meant to accept dozens of people comfortably, a dark-paneled space with layered carpets covering the floor tiles and a horseshoe arch of high-back chairs in front of a tall fireplace of white marble with fine red veins. Here, important dignitaries could be received with more honor than an audience before the throne, because it was more intimate. The blaze dancing along the logs on the hearth had barely had time to take an edge off the chill in the air, but that certainly was not the reason Elayne felt as if she had been struck in the stomach. She understood Birgitte's puzzlement, now.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dyelin turned from warming her hands at the fire as they entered. A strong-faced woman with fine lines at the corners of her eyes and hints of gray in her golden hair, she had not waited to change on reaching the palace, and still wore a riding dress of deep gray that showed a few travel stains on the hem. Her curtsy was the merest bend of her neck, the slightest dip of her knees, but she intended no discourtesy. Dyelin knew who she was as surely as Zaida did-her only jewelry was a small golden pin in the shape of Taravin's Owl and Oak on her shoulder, a clear statement that High Seat of Taravin needed nothing more-yet she had almost died to prove her loyalty to Elayne. \\\"My Lady Elayne,\\\" she said formally, \\\"it gives me honor to present to you Lord Perival, High Seat of House Mantear.\\\"\\n\\nA pretty, golden-haired boy in a plain blue coat jerked away from peering through the four-barreled kaleidoscope on a gilded stand taller than he was. He had a silver cup in his hand that Elayne hoped very much did not contain wine, or at least extremely well watered if it did. One of the side tables held several trays laden with pitchers and cups. And an ornate teapot she knew might as well be filled with water. \\\"My pleasure, my Lady Elayne,\\\" he piped, blushing and managing a credible bow despite a little clumsiness in handling the sword belted to his waist. The weapon looked much too long for him. \\\"House Mantear stands with House Trakand.\\\" She returned his courtesy in a daze, spreading her skirts mechanically.\\n\\n\\\"Lady Catalyn, High Seat of House Haevin,\\\" Dyelin continued.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Elayne,\\\" a dark-eyed young woman at her side murmured, touching her dark green divided skirts and making a fractional dip that might possibly have been intended fora curtsy, though perhaps she just meant to imitate Dyelin. Or perhaps she wanted to avoid poking her chin against the large enameled brooch on the high neck of her dress, the Blue Bear of Haevin. Her hair was caught in a silver networked with the Blue Bear, too, and she wore along ring with the sigil as well. A touch too much pride of House, perhaps. Despite her cool haughtiness, she was a woman only by courtesy, her cheeks still round with baby fat. \\\"Haevin stands with Trakand, obviously, or I would not be here.\\\"\\n\\nDyelin's mouth tightened slightly, and she gave the girl a hard glance that Catalyn seemed not to see. \\\"Lord Branlet, High Seat of House Gilyard.\\\"\\n\\nAnother boy, this one with unruly black curls, in green embroidered with gold on the sleeves, who hastily set his winecup down on aside table as if uneasy at being seen with it. His blue eyes were too big for his face, and he nearly tripped himself with his sword, bowing. \\\"It is my pleasure to say that House Gilyard stands for Trakand, Lady Elayne.\\\" Halfway through, his voice broke from treble to bass, and he blushed even harder than Perival.\\n\\n\\\"And Lord Conail, High Seat of House Northan.\\\"\\n\\nConail Northan grinned over the rim of his silver cup. Tall and lean, in a gray coat with sleeves just too short to cover his bony wrists, he had an engaging grin, merry brown eyes, and an eagle's beak fora nose. \\\"We drew straws for the order to be introduced, and I drew short. Northan stands with Trakand. Can't let a ninny like Arymilla take the throne.\\\" He managed his sword smoothly, and heat least had reached his majority, but if he was many months past sixteen, Elayne would eat his turned-down boots and his silver-knot spurs.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Their youth was no surprise, of course, but she had expected Conail to have a graying head at his side to advise him and the others to have their guardians looking over their shoulders.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was no one else in the room aside from Birgitte, standing in front of the tall arched windows with her arms folded beneath her breasts. Bright midday sunlight flooding through the clear glass set in the casements made her a silhouette of displeasure.\\n\\n\\\"Trakand welcomes all of you, and I welcome all of you,\\\" Elayne said, suppressing her dismay. \\\"I will not forget your support, and Trakand will not forget.\\\" Something of her consternation must have crept through, because Catalyn's mouth compressed and her eyes glittered.\\n\\n\\\"I am past my guardianship, as you must know, Elayne,\\\" she said in a stiff voice. \\\"My uncle, Lord Arendor, said at the Feast of Lights that I was as ready as I would ever be and might as well have free rein then as in a year. Truth, I think he wanted more time to go hunting while he still can. He has always loved hunting, and he's quite old.\\\" Once again she failed to see Dyelin's frown. Arendor Haevin and Dyelin were roughly of an age.\\n\\n\\\"I have no guardian either,\\\" Branlet said uncertainly, his voice nearly as high-pitched as Catalyn's.\\n\\nDyelin gave him a sympathetic smile and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. It promptly fell forward again. \\\"Mayv was riding alone, as she liked to do, and her horse stepped into a gopher hole,\\\" she explained quietly. \\\"By the time anyone found her, it was too late. There has been some... discussion... over who's to take her place.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They've been arguing for three months,\\\" Branlet muttered.\\n\\nFora moment he looked younger than Perival, a boy trying to find his way with no one to show him the path. \\\"I'm not supposed to tell anyone that, but I can tell you. You're going to be the Queen.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2382,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 2"},{"from":"human","value":"Their youth was no surprise, of course, but she had expected Conail to have a graying head at his side to advise him and the others to have their guardians looking over their shoulders."},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was no one else in the room aside from Birgitte, standing in front of the tall arched windows with her arms folded beneath her breasts. Bright midday sunlight flooding through the clear glass set in the casements made her a silhouette of displeasure.\n\n\"Trakand welcomes all of you, and I welcome all of you,\" Elayne said, suppressing her dismay. \"I will not forget your support, and Trakand will not forget.\" Something of her consternation must have crept through, because Catalyn's mouth compressed and her eyes glittered.\n\n\"I am past my guardianship, as you must know, Elayne,\" she said in a stiff voice. \"My uncle, Lord Arendor, said at the Feast of Lights that I was as ready as I would ever be and might as well have free rein then as in a year. Truth, I think he wanted more time to go hunting while he still can. He has always loved hunting, and he's quite old.\" Once again she failed to see Dyelin's frown. Arendor Haevin and Dyelin were roughly of an age.\n\n\"I have no guardian either,\" Branlet said uncertainly, his voice nearly as high-pitched as Catalyn's.\n\nDyelin gave him a sympathetic smile and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. It promptly fell forward again. \"Mayv was riding alone, as she liked to do, and her horse stepped into a gopher hole,\" she explained quietly. \"By the time anyone found her, it was too late. There has been some... discussion... over who's to take her place.\"\n\n\"They've been arguing for three months,\" Branlet muttered.\n\nFora moment he looked younger than Perival, a boy trying to find his way with no one to show him the path. \"I'm not supposed to tell anyone that, but I can tell you. You're going to be the Queen.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dyelin put a hand on Perival's shoulder, and he stood up straighter, though he still was shorter than she. \"Lord Willin would be herewith Lord Perival, but the years have him bedridden. Age creeps upon us all, eventually.\" She shot another look at Catalyn, but the girl was studying Birgitte, now, her lips pursed. \"Willin said I was to tell you that he sends his good wishes and also one he considers a son.\"\n\n\"Uncle Willin told me to uphold the honor of Mantear and of Andor,\" Perival said, intent as only a child being serious could be. \"I will try, Elayne. I will try very hard.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you will succeed,\" Elayne told him, managing to put at least a little warmth into her tone. She wanted to chase them all out and ask Dyelin some very pointed questions, but that could not be, not right away. Whatever their ages, they were all the High Seats of powerful Houses, and she had to offer refreshment and at least a modicum of conversation before they went to change from their journey.\n\n\"Is she really the Captain-General of the Queen's Guards?\" Catalyn asked as Birgitte handed Elayne a thin blue porcelain cup of slightly darkened hot water. The girl spoke as though Birgitte was not there. Birgitte raised an eyebrow before leaving, but Catalyn seemed practiced in not seeing what she did not want to see. The winecup in her plump hand gave off the sharply sweet aroma of spices. There was not so much as a drop of honey in Elayne's miserable excuse for tea.\n\n\"Yes, and my Warder, too,\" she said. Politely. As ready as she would ever be! The girl probably thought it a compliment. She deserved a switching for pure rudeness, yet you could not switch a High Seat. Not when you needed her support."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Catalyn's eyes flashed to Elayne's hands, but the Great Serpent ring did nothing to alter the coolness of her expression. \"They gave you that? I had not heard you had been raised Aes Sedai. I thought the White Tower had sent you home. When your mother died. Or perhaps because of the troubles in the Tower we hear about. Imagine, Aes Sedai squabbling like farmwives at market. But how can she be a general or a Warder without a sword? In any case, my aunt Evelle says a woman should leave swords to men. You don't shoe your own horse when you have a farrier, or grind your own grain when you have a miller.\" A quote from Lady Evelle, no doubt.\n\nElayne schooled her face, ignoring the only slightly buried insults. \"An army is a general's sword, Catalyn. Gareth Bryne says a general who uses another blade is mistaking the job.\" The name seemed to make no impression on her, either. Miners\" children in the Mountains of Mist knew Gareth Bryne's name!\n\nAviendha appeared at Elayne's side, smiling as though delighted at the opportunity to talk with the girl. \"Swords are no use at all,\" she said sweetly. Sweetly! Aviendha! Elayne had never realized her sister could dissemble so skillfully. She had a cup of mulled wine, too. It would have been too much to expect her to continue drinking bitter tea out of sisterly affection. \"You should learn the spear. Also the knife, and the bow. Birgitte Trahelion could shoot your eyes out at two hundred paces with her bow. Maybe at three hundred.\"\n\n\"The spear?\" Catalyn said faintly. And then, in a slightly incredulous tone, \"My eyes?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You have not met my sister,\" Elayne said. \"Aviendha, Lady Catalyn Haevin. Catalyn, Aviendha of the Nine Valleys Taardad.\" Perhaps she should have done that the other way around, but Aviendha washer sister, and even a High Seat must settle for being introduced to the sister of the Daughter-Heir. \"Aviendha is Aiel. She's studying to become a Wise One.\"\n\nThe fool girl's mouth dropped open at the start, her chin falling more and more with each pronouncement until she was gaping like a fish. Very satisfying. Aviendha gave Elayne a smaller smile, her green eyes sparkling with approbation above her winecup. Elayne kept her own face smooth, but she wanted to grin back.\n\nThe others were much more easily handled, much less infuriating. Perival and Branlet were shy their first time in Caemlyn much less in the Royal Palace, hardly saying two words unless someone drew them out. Conail did think the claim that Aviendha was Aiel must be a joke, and nearly got her belt knife in his brisket for laughing raucously, but luckily, he thought that was a joke as well.\n\nAviendha adopted an icy composure that might have made her seem a Wise One in her usual clothes; in velvets, she appeared even more a lady of the court no matter how she fingered her knife. And Branlet did keep sneaking sidelong peaks at Birgitte. It took Elayne a little while to realize that he was watching her walk in her heeled boots-those wide trousers were actually quite snug over the hips-but she only sighed. Fortunately, Birgitte never noticed, and the bond would have let Elayne know even if she tried to hide it. Birgitte liked having men look at her. Grown men. It would have done Elayne's cause no good if her Warder smacked young Branlet's bottom."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mainly they wanted to know whether Reanne Corly was an Aes Sedai. None of the four had ever seen a sister before, but they thought she must be, since she could channel, and carry them and their armsmen across hundreds of miles in a step. It was a good opportunity to practice evasion without actually lying, helped by the Great Serpent ring on her own finger. A lie would taint her relations with these four at the start, but it would hardly do to hope that rumors of Aes Sedai aid would filter out to Arymilla while spreading the truth about freely. Of course, all four were eager to let her know how many armsmen they had brought, a total of just over three thousand, nearly half of them crossbowmen or halberdiers who would be especially useful on the walls. That was a sizable force for four Houses to have had ready to hand when Dyelin came calling, but then, no House wanted its High Seat unguarded in these times. Kidnapping was not unheard of when the throne satin question. Conail said as much, with a laugh; he seemed to find everything worth a laugh. Branlet nodded and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Elayne wondered how many of his numerous aunts, uncles and cousins knew he was gone, and what they would do when they learned.\n\n\"If Dyelin had been willing to wait a few days,\" Catalyn said, \"I could have brought more than twelve hundred men.\" That was the third time in as many sentences that she had managed to point out that she had brought the largest contingent by a considerable margin. \"I have sent to all of the Houses pledged to Haevin.\"\n\n\"And Ito every House pledged to Northan,\" Conail added. With a grin, of course. \"Northan may not summon as many swords as Haevin or Trakand-or Mantear,\" he put in with a bow to Perival, \"but whoever rides when the Eagles call will be riding for Caemlyn.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"They will not ride very fast in winter,\" Perival said quietly. And astonishingly, since no one had spoken to him. \"I think that whatever we do, we will have to do it with who we have now.\"\n\nConail laughed and cuffed the lad's shoulder and told him to buck up his spirits, because every man with a heart was on his way to Caemlyn to support the Lady Elayne, but Elayne studied Perival more closely. His blue eyes met hers fora moment without blinking before he shyly lowered his gaze. A boy, but he knew what he had ridden into better than Conail or Catalyn, who proceeded to tell them yet again how many armsmen she had brought, and how many Haevin could call on, as if everyone there except Aviendha did not know exactly how many rode to each House's summons, in trained soldiers and farmers who had carried a halberd or pike in some war and village men who could be drafted at need. Close enough to exactly, anyway. Lord Willin had done good work with young Perival. Now she had to keep it from going to waste.\n\nEventually it was time to exchange kisses, with Branlet blushing to his hair, and Perival blinking bashfully when Elayne bent to him, and Conail vowing never to wash his cheek. Catalyn returned a surprisingly hesitant peck to Elayne's cheek, as if it had just occurred to her that she had consented to placing Elayne above her, but after a moment she nodded to herself, cool pride settling back on her like a mantle. Once the four were handed over to the maids and serving men who would take them to the apartments that Elayne hoped the First Maid had had time to ready, Dyelin refilled her winecup and settled herself in one of the tall, carved chairs with a weary sigh."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"As fine a week's work as I've ever done, if I do say so myself. I got Candraed out of the way straight off. I never thought Danine would be able to makeup her mind, and it only took an hour to prove me right, though I had to stay three to keep from offending her. The woman must keep in bed till noon from being unable to decide to which side of the mattress to climb down from! The rest were ready to see sense with only a little convincing. No one with any sense wants to risk Arymilla gaining the throne.\"\n\nFora moment, she frowned at her wine, then fixed Elayne with a steady look. She never hesitated to speak her mind, whether or not she thought Elayne would agree, and plainly she intended to do so now. \"It may have been a mistake to pass these Kinswomen off as Aes Sedai, however side-mouthed we've been about it. The strain maybe too much to ask of them, and it puts us all at risk. This morning, for no reason I could make out, Mistress Corly was staring and gaping like a goose-girl come to the city. I think she almost failed at weaving the gateway to bring us here. That would have been wonderful, everyone lined up to ride through a miraculous hole in the air that never materialized. Not to mention that it would have stuck me in Catalyn's company for the Light knows how long. Odious child! There's a good mind there, if someone took her in hand fora few years, but she has a double dose of the viperous Haevin tongue.\"\n\nElayne gritted her teeth. She knew how cutting Haevins could be. The whole family took pride in it! Catalyn obviously did. And she was tired of explaining what on this day could frighten any woman who could channel. She was tired of being reminded of what she was trying to ignore. That bloody beacon was still blazing in the west, an utter impossibility both for its size and its duration. The thing had been unchanging for hours! Anyone who channeled for this long without a rest must have fallen over with exhaustion by now. And Rand bloody al'Thor was right there, in the heart of it. She was certain of that! He was alive, but that only made her want to slap his face for putting her through this. Well, his face was not there, but-"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Birgitte slammed her silver cup down on aside table so hard that wine flew everywhere. Some laundress was going to sweat to take that stain out of her coatsleeve. A maid would labor for hours to restore the side table's polish. \"Children!\" she barked. \"People are going to die because of the decisions they make, and they're flaming children, Conail worst of all! You heard him, Dyelin. He wants to challenge Arymilla's champion like Artur bloody Hawkwing! Hawkwing never fought anybody's flaming champion, and he knew when he was younger than Lord Northan that it was a fool's game to rest so much on a flaming duel, but Conail thinks he can win Elayne the flaming throne with his flaming sword!\"\n\n\"Birgitte Trahelion is right,\" Aviendha said fiercely. Her hands were fists gripping her skirts. \"Conail Northan is a fool! But how could anyone follow those children into the dance of spears? How could anyone ask them to lead?\"\n\nDyelin regarded them both, and chose to answer Aviendha first. She was plainly bemused by Aviendha's garb. But then, she was bemused by Aviendha and Elayne adopting one another as sisters, by Elayne having an Aiel friend in the first place. That Elayne chose to include that friend in their counsels was something she tolerated. Though not without letting her toleration show. \" I became High Seat of Taravin at fifteen, when my father died in a skirmish on the Altaran Marches. My two younger brothers died fighting cattle raiders out of Murandy that same year. I listened to advisors, but I told Taravin riders whereto strike, and we taught the Altarans and the Murandians to look elsewhere for their thieving. The times choose when children must grow up, Aviendha, not we, and in these times, a High Seat who is a child cannot be a child any longer."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"As for you, Lady Birgitte,\" she went on in a drier voice. \"Your language is, as ever... pungent.\" She did not ask how Birgitte presumed to know so much of Artur Hawkwing, things no historian knew, but she studied her appraisingly. \"Branlet and Perival will take guidance from me, and so will Catalyn, I think, much as I regret the time I'll have to spend with the girl. As for Conail, he's hardly the first young man to think he's invincible and immortal. If you can't keep him reined in as Captain-General, I suggest you try walking for him. The way he was eyeing those breeches of yours, he'll follow anywhere you lead.\"\n\nElayne... shrugged off... the pure fury welling up in her. Not her fury, anymore than it had been her anger at Dyelin in the first place, or her anger at Birgitte splashing wine about. It was Birgitte's. She did not want to slap Rand's face. Well, she did, but that was beside the point. Light, Conail had been looking at Birgitte, too? \"They are the High Seats of their Houses, Aviendha. No one in their Houses would thank me for treating them as less; far from it. The men who ride for them will fight to keep them alive, but it is Perival and Branlet, Conail and Catalyn they ride for, not me. Because they are the High Seats.\" Aviendha frowned, and folded her arms as though pulling a shawl around herself, but she nodded. Abruptly, and reluctantly-no one rose to such prominence among the Aiel without years of experience, and the approval of the Wise Ones-but she nodded.\n\n\"Birgitte, you will have to deal with them, Captain-General to High Seat. White hair wouldn't necessarily make them any wiser, and it definitely wouldn't make them any easier to deal with. They'd still have their own opinions, and with years of experience to give them weight, most likely they'd be ten times ascertain they knew what needs to be done better than you do. Or than I do.\" She made a great effort to keep her tone clear of sharpness, and no doubt Birgitte felt the effort. At least, the flow of rage through the bond suddenly diminished. It was only tamped down, not gone-Birgitte enjoyed having men look, at least when she wanted them to look, but she very much did not like anyone saying she was trying to attract their attention-yet even so, she knew the danger to both of them of letting their emotions run too free."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dyelin had begun sipping at her wine, still studying Birgitte. Only a bare handful knew the truth that Birgitte desperately wanted to keep hidden, and Dyelin was not among them, yet Birgitte had been careless enough, a slip of the tongue here, a slip there, that the older woman was certain that some mystery hid behind Birgitte's blue eyes. The Light only knew what she would think if she solved that riddle. As it was, the two were oil and water. They could argue over which way was up, and certainly over everything else. This time, Dyelin clearly thought she had won, foot and horse.\n\n\"Be that as it may, Dyelin,\" Elayne continued, \"I would have been more pleased if you had brought their advisors with them. What's done is done, but Branlet troubles me in particular. If Gilyard accuses me of kidnapping him, matters become worse than they were, not better.\"\n\nDyelin waved that away. \"You don't know the Gilyards well, do you? The way they squabble among themselves, they may not notice the boy is gone before summer, and if they do, none will repudiate what he's done. None of them will admit they were so busy in arguing over who's to be his guardian that they forgot to keep an eye on him. And second, none of them will admit they weren't consulted beforehand. In any event, Gilyard would stand for Zaida before standing for Marne, and they don't like Arawn or Sarand much better.\"\n\n\"I hope you're right, Dyelin, because I'm appointing you to deal with any angry Gilyards who appear. And while you're advising the other three, you can keep a thumb on Conail so he doesn't do anything completely harebrained.\""},{"from":"human","value":"For all her talk, the first suggestion made Dyelin wince slightly."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The second made her sigh.\n\nIt made Birgitte laugh out loud. \"If you have any problems, I'll lend you a pair of breeches and some boots, and you can walk for him.\"\n\n\"Some women,\" Dyelin murmured into her wine, \"can make a fish bite by crooking a finger, Lady Birgitte. Other women have to drag their bait allover the pond.\" Aviendha laughed at that, but Birgitte's anger began to edge upward in the bond.\n\nA wave of cold air swept into the room as the door opened, and Rasoria entered, coming to a stiff attention. \"The First Maid and the First Clerk have come, my Lady Elayne,\" she announced. Her voice faltered at the end, as she caught the mood in the room.\n\nA blind goat could have caught it, with Dyelin smug as a cat in the creamery, and Birgitte scowling at her and Aviendha both, and Aviendha choosing this moment to remember that Birgitte was Birgitte Silverbow, which on this occasion made her stare at the floor, as abashed as if she had been laughing at a Wise One. Now and again Elayne wished her friends could all get on as well as she and Aviendha did, but somehow they managed to rub on together, and she supposed that was really all she could ask from real people. Perfection was a thing for books and gleemen's stories.\n\n\"Send them in,\" she told Rasoria. \"And don't disturb us unless the city is under attack. Unless it is important,\" she amended. In stories, women who gave orders like that were always setting themselves up for disaster. Sometimes, there were lessons in stories, if you looked for them.\n\nChapter 14"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"What Wise Ones Know\n\nHalwin Norry, the First Clerk, and Reene Harfor, the First Maid, entered together, him making a jerky, unpracticed bow, and her a graceful curtsy that was neither too low nor too shallow. They could not have been more different. Mistress Harfor was round-faced and regally dignified, her hair in a neat gray bun atop her head, Master Norry tall and gawky as a wading-bird, with his little remaining hair sticking up behind his ears like sprays of white feathers. Each carried an embossed leather folder stuffed with papers, but she held hers at her side as if not to rumple her formal scarlet tabard, unwrinkled as it always seemed to be, no matter the hour or how long she had been on her feet, while he clutched his folder to his narrow chest as if to hide old inkstains, of which several spotted his tabard, including a large blot that made the White Lion's tail end in a black tuft. Courtesies done, they immediately put a little distance between them, each not quite watching the other.\n\nAs soon as the door closed behind Rasoria, the glow of saidar sprung up around Aviendha, and she wove award against eavesdropping that clung to the walls of the room. What was said between them was now as safe as they could make it, and Aviendha would know if anyone even tried to listen with the Power. She was very good with this sort of weave.\n\n\"Mistress Harfor,\" Elayne said, \"if you will begin.\" She did not offer wine or seats, of course. Master Norry would have been shocked to his toenails by such a lapse in the proprieties, and Mistress Harfor might well have been offended. As it was, Norry twitched and glanced sideways at Reene, and her mouth thinned. Even after a week's meetings, their dislike forgiving their reports where the other could hear was palpable. They were jealous of their fiefs, the more so since the First Maid had moved into territory that once might have been considered Master Norry's responsibility. Of course, running the Royal Palace had always been the First Maid's charge, and it might be said that her new duties were only an extension of that. It would not be said by Halwin Norry, though. The blazing logs settled in the fireplace with aloud crack, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I am convinced the Second Librarian is... a spy, my Lady,\" Mistress Harfor said finally, ignoring Norry as if to make him disappear. She had resisted letting anyone else know that she was searching out spies in the palace, yet the First Clerk knowing seemed to grate on her worst of all. His only authority over her, if such it was, came from paying the palace accounts, and he never questioned an expenditure, but even that little was more than she wished. \"Every three or four days Master Harnder visits an inn called the Hoop and Arrow, supposedly for the ale made by the innkeeper, one Millis Fendry, but Mistress Fendry also keeps pigeons, and whenever Master Harnder visits, she sends off a pigeon that flies north. Yesterday, three of the Aes Sedai staying at the Silver Swan found reason to visit the Hoop and Arrow, though it caters to a much poorer crowd than the Swan. They came and went hooded, and were closeted with Mistress Fendry in private for over an hour. All three are Brown Ajah. I fear that indicates Master Harnder's employer.\"\n\n\"Hairdressers, footmen, cooks, the master cabinetmaker, no fewer than five of Master Norry's clerks, and now one of the librarians.\" Leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, Dyelin glowered sourly. \"Is there anyone we won't eventually learn is a spy, Mistress Harfbr?\" Norry stretched his neck uncomfortably; he took the malfeasance of his clerks as a personal affront.\n\n\"I have hopes I maybe reaching the bottom of that barrel, my Lady,\" Mistress Harfor said complacently. Neither spies nor the High Seats of powerful Houses ruffled her. Spies were pests she intended to rid the palace of as surely as she kept it clear of fleas and rats-though she had been forced to accept Aes Sedai aid with rats recently-while powerful nobles were like rain or snow, facts of nature to be endured until they went away, but nothing to get flustered over. \"There are only so many people who can be bought, and only so many can afford to buy, or want to.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Elayne tried to picture Master Harnder, but all she could bring up in her mind was vague, a chubby, balding man who blinked incessantly."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He had served her mother, and as she recalled, Queen Mordrellen before that. No one commented on the fact that it seemed he also served the Brown Ajah. Every ruler's palace between the Spine of the World and the Aryth Ocean contained the Tower's eyes-and-ears. Any ruler with half a brain expected it. Doubtless the Seanchan would soon be living under the White Tower's gaze, too, if they were not already. Reene had discovered several spies for the Red Ajah, assuredly legacies of Elaida's time in Caemlyn, but this librarian was the first for another Ajah. Elaida would not have liked other Ajahs knowing what went on in the palace while she was advisor to the Queen.\n\n\"A pity we have no false stories we want the Brown Ajah to believe,\" she said lightly. A great pity they, and the Reds, knew about the Kin. At best, they had to know there were a large number of women in the palace who could channel, and it would not take them long to figure out who they were. That would create any number of problems down the road, yet those difficulties did lie somewhere in the future. Always plan ahead, Lini used to say, but worry too hard over next year, and you can trip over tomorrow. \"Watch Master Harnder and try to find out his friends. That will have to suffice for the time being.\" Some spies depended on their ears, either to hear gossip or listen at doors; others lubricated tongues with a few friendly cups of wine. The first part of counteracting a spy was to find out how he learned what he sold.\n\nAviendha snorted loudly and, spreading her skirts, started to sit down on the carpet before realizing what she wore. With a warning glance at Dyelin, she perched stiffly on the front edge of a chair instead, the picture of a court lady with her eyes flashing. Except that a lady of the court would not have checked the edge of her belt knife with a thumb. Left to her own devices, Aviendha would slit every spy's throat as soon as it could be stretched for the knife. Spying was a vile business, in her view, no matter how often Elayne explained that every spy found was a tool that could be used to make her enemies believe what she wanted."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Not that every spy necessarily worked for an enemy. Most of those the First Maid had uncovered took money from more than one source, and among those she had identified were King Roedran of Murandy, various Tairen High Lords and Ladies, a handful of Cairhienin nobles, and a fair number of merchants. A good many people were interested in what happened in Caemlyn, whether for its effect on trade or other reasons. Sometimes it seemed that everyone spied on everyone else.\n\n\"Mistress Harfor,\" she said, \"you haven't found any eyes-and-ears for the Black Tower.\"\n\nLike most people who heard the Black Tower mentioned, Dyelin shivered, and took a deep drink of her wine, but Reene just grimaced faintly. She had decided to ignore the fact that they were men who could channel, since she could not change matters. To her, the Black Tower was... an annoyance. \"They haven't had time, my Lady. Give them a year, and you'll find footmen and librarians taking their coin, too.\"\n\n\"I suppose I will.\" Dreadful thought. \"What else do you have for us today?\"\n\n\"I've had a word with Jon Skellit, my Lady. A man who turns his coat once is often amenable to turning it again, and Skellit is.\" Skellit, a barber, was in the pay of House Arawn, which for the present made him Arymilla's man.\n\nBirgitte bit off an oath in midword-for some reason, she tried to watch her language around Reene Harfor-and spoke in a pained voice. \"You had a word with him? Without asking anyone?\"\n\nDyelin was under no compunctions regarding the First Maid, and she muttered, \"Mother's milk in a cup!\" Elayne had never heard her use an obscenity before. Master Norry blinked and almost dropped his folder, and busied himself with not looking at Dyelin. The First Maid, however, merely paused until sure she and Birgitte were done, then went on calmly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The time seemed ripe, and so did Skellit. One of the men he hands his reports to left the city and hasn't returned yet, while it appears the other broke his leg. The streets are always icy where afire has been putout.\" She said that so blandly, it seemed more than likely she had engineered the man's fall somehow. Hard times uncovered hard talents in the most surprising people. \"Skellit is quite agreeable to carrying his next communication out to the camps himself. He saw a gateway made, and he won't have to pretend terror.\" You would have thought she herself had been seeing merchants\" wagons rumble out of holes in the air for her entire life.\n\n\"What's to stop this barber keeping on running once he's outside the fla... uh... the city?\" Birgitte demanded irritably, beginning to pace in front of the fire with her hands clasped behind her. Her heavy golden braid should have been bristling. \"If he goes, Arawn will hire somebody else, and you'll have to hunt him out allover again. Light, Arymilla must have heard of the gateways almost as soon as she arrived, and Skellit has to know it.\" It was not the thought of Skellit escaping that irritated her, or not only that. The mercenaries thought they had been hired to stop soldiers, but fora few silvers they would allow one or two to slip through the gates by night in either direction. One or two could do no harm, as they saw matters. Birgitte did not like being reminded of that.\n\n\"Greed will stop him, my Lady,\" Mistress Harfor replied calmly. \"The thought of earning gold from the Lady Elayne as well as from Lady Naean is enough to make the man breathe hard. It's true, Lady Arymilla must already have heard of the gateways, but that only adds credit to Skellit's reason forgoing in person.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And if his greed is great enough for him to try earning still more gold by turning his coat a third time?\" Dyelin said. \"He could cause a great deal of... mischief, Mistress Harfor.\"\n\nReene's tone became a little crisper. She would never step over the boundaries, but she disliked anyone thinking her careless. \"Lady Naean would have him buried under the nearest snowdrift, my Lady, as I made certain he is aware. She has never been patient. As I am sure you are aware. In any case, the news we get from the camps is quite sparse, to say the least, and he might see a few things we would like to know.\"\n\n\"If Skellit can tell us which camp Arymilla, Elenia and Naean will be in and when, I'll give him his gold with my own hand,\" Elayne said deliberately. Elenia and Naean stayed close to Arymilla, or she kept them close, and Arymilla was much less patient than Naean, much less willing to believe that anything could function without her presence. She spent half of each day riding from camp to camp, and never slept in the same two nights running, as far as anyone could learn. \"That is the only thing he can tell us of the camps that I want to know.\"\n\nReene inclined her head. \"As you say, my Lady. I will see to it.\" She too often tried not to say things straight out in front of Norry, but she gave no sign that she had heard any reproof. Of course, Elayne was not sure she actually would rebuke the woman openly. Mistress Harfor would continue to perform her duties properly if she did, and she certainly would continue hunting spies with undiminished ardor, if for no other reason than their presence in the palace offended her, yet Elayne might find a dozen inconveniences in everyday, a dozen small discomforts that added up to misery, and not a one that she could directly attribute to the First Maid. We must follow the steps of the dance as surely as our servants, her mother had told her once. You can keep hiring new servants, and spend all your time training them and suffering till they learn, only to find yourself back where you started, or you can accept the rules as they do, and live comfortably while you use your time to rule."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Thank you, Mistress Harfor,\" she said, for which she received another precise curtsy. Reene Harfor was another who knew her own worth. \"Master Norry?\"\n\nThe heron-like man gave a start and stopped frowning at Reene. In someways, he saw the gateways as his, and not to be trifled with. \"Yes, my Lady. Of course.\" His voice was a dusty monotone. \"I trust the lady Birgitte already has informed you of the merchants' trains from Illian and Tear. I believe that is... um... her usual custom when you return to the city.\" Fora moment, his eyes rested reproachfully on Birgitte. He would never think of causing Elayne the smallest irritation even if she shouted at him, but he lived by his own set of rules, and, in a mild fashion, he resented Birgitte stealing his chance to enumerate the wagons and casks and barrels that had arrived. He did love his numbers. At least, Elayne supposed it was in a mild fashion. There seemed to be very little heat in Mister Norry.\n\n\"She did,\" she told him, with just a hint of apology, not enough to embarrass him. \"I fearsome of the Sea Folk are leaving us. We'll only have half the number to make gateways after today.\"\n\nHis fingers spidered across the leather folder against his chest as though feeling the papers within. She had never seen him consult one. \"Ah. Ah. We shall... cope, my Lady.\" Halwin Norry always coped. \"To continue, there were nine arsons yesterday and last night, slightly more than usual. Three attempts were made to fire warehouses storing food. None successful, I hasten to add.\" He might hasten to add, yet he did it in that same drone. \"If I may say so, the Guards patrolling the streets are having an effect-the number of assaults and thefts has declined to little more than normal for this time of year-but it seems evident that some hand is directing the arsons. Seventeen buildings were destroyed, all save one abandoned,\" his mouth narrowed in disapproval; it would take far more than a siege to make him leave Caemlyn, \"and in my opinion, all of the fires were placed so as to draw the water-wagons as far as possible from the warehouses where attempts were made. I now believe that pattern holds for every fire we've seen these past weeks.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Birgitte?\" Elayne said.\n\n\"I can try plotting the warehouses on a map,\" Birgitte replied doubtfully, \"and put extra Guards on the streets that seem to be farthest away, but it's still leaving a lotto fla... uh... to chance.\" She did not look toward Mistress Harfor, but Elayne felt a faint hint of a blush from her. \"Anybody can have flint and steel in a belt pouch, and it only takes a minute with some dry straw to start afire.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Do what you can,\" Elayne told her. It would be pure luck if they caught an arsonist in the act, and beyond luck if the arsonist could say more than that she had been handed coin by someone with a hood hiding her face. Tracing that gold back to Arymilla or Elenia or Naean would require Mat Cauthon's luck. \"Have you anything more, Master Norry?\"\n\nKnuckling his long nose, he avoided her gaze. \"It has... uh... come to my attention,\" he said hesitantly, \"that Marne, Arawn and Sarand have all recently taken very large loans against the revenues of their estates.\" Mistress Harfor's eyebrows climbed before she got them under control.\n\nPeering into her teacup, Elayne discovered that she had actually emptied it. Bankers never told anyone how much they had loaned to whom, or against what, but she did not ask how he knew. It would be... embarrassing. For both of them. She smiled when her sister took the cup, then grimaced when Aviendha returned with it filled again. Aviendha seemed to think she should drink weak tea till her eyes floated! Goat's milk was better, but dishwater for tea would do. Well, she would hold the bloody cup, but she did not have to drink.\n\n\"The mercenaries,\" Dyelin growled, the heat in her eyes enough to make a bear backup. \"I've said it before, and I'll say it again; the trouble with sell-swords is they don't always stay bought.\" She had opposed hiring mercenaries to help defend the city from the start, though the fact was that without them, Arymilla could have ridden in with her army by any gate she picked, or near enough. There simply had not been enough men to guard every gate properly otherwise, much less man the walls."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Birgitte had opposed the mercenaries, too, yet she had accepted Elayne's reasons, if reluctantly. She still distrusted them, but now she shook her head. Sitting on the arm of a chair near the fire, she rested her spurred boot on the seat. \"Mercenaries have a concern for their reputations if not their honor. Changing sides is one thing; actually betraying agate is something else entirely. A company that did that would never be hired again, anywhere. Arymilla would have to offer enough fora captain to live the rest of his lifelike a lord, and at least convince his men they'd be able to, as well.\"\n\nNorry cleared his throat. Even that sounded dusty, somehow. \"It seems they may have borrowed against the same revenues twice or even three times. The bankers, of course, are... unaware... of this, as yet.\"\n\nBirgitte began to curse, then cut herself off. Dyelin scowled into her wine hard enough to make it turn sour. Aviendha squeezed Elayne's hand, just a quick pressure quickly released. The fire crackled in a shower of sparks, some nearly reaching the carpets.\n\n\"The mercenary companies will have to be watched.\" Elayne raised a hand to forestall Birgitte. The other woman had not opened her mouth, but the bond shouted volumes. \"You will have to find the men for it somewhere.\" Light! They seemed to be guarding against as many people inside the city as outside! \"It shouldn't take that many, but we need to know if they start to act strangely, or secretively, Birgitte. That might be our only warning.\"\n\n\"I was thinking what to do if one of the companies does sellout,\" Birgitte said wryly. \"Knowing won't be enough unless I have men to rush to any gate I think is going to be betrayed. And half the soldiers in the city are mercenaries. Half the rest are old men who were living on their pensions a few months gone. I'll shift the mercenaries'postings at irregular intervals. It will be harder for them to betray agate if they can't be sure where they'll be tomorrow, but that doesn't make it impossible.\" Protest how she would that she was no general, she had seen more battles and sieges than any ten generals living, and she knew very well how these matters unfolded."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Elayne almost wished she had wine in her cup. Almost. \"Is there any chance the bankers will learn what you have, Master Norry? Before the loans come due?\" If they did, some might decide they preferred Arymilla on the throne. She could strip the country's coffers to repay those loans, then. She might even do it. Merchants rode the political winds, whichever way they blew. Bankers had been known to attempt to influence events.\n\n\"In my opinion, it is unlikely, my Lady. They would have to... um... ask the right questions of the right people, but bankers are normally... um... closemouthed... with one another. Yes, I think it unlikely. For the time being.\"\n\nThere was nothing to be done in any case. Except to tell Birgitte there might be anew source for assassins and kidnappers. Only given her hard expression and a sudden grimness in the bond, she had already realized that. There would belittle chance of keeping the bodyguard under a hundred women, now. If there ever had been.\n\n\"Thank you, Master Norry,\" Elayne said. \"You've done well, as always. Let me know immediately if you see any indications that the bankers have asked those questions.\"\n\n\"Of course, my Lady,\" he murmured, ducking his head like an egret darting after a fish. \"My Lady is very kind.\"\n\nWhen Reene and Norry left the room, him holding the door for her and making a bow that was a hair more graceful than usual and her giving him a slight bow of her head as she glided past him into the corridor, Aviendha did not release the ward she was holding. As soon as the door closed, its solid sound swallowed by the ward, she said, \"Someone tried to listen.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Elayne shook her head. There was noway to tell who-a Black sister? A curious Kinswoman?-but at least the eavesdrop had failed. Not that there was much chance of anyone getting past one of Aviendha's wards, maybe not even the Forsaken, but she would have spoken upright away if someone had.\n\nDyelin took Aviendha's announcement with less aplomb, muttering about the Sea Folk. She had not turned a hair at hearing that half the Windfinders were leaving, not in front of Reene and Norry, but now she demanded to know the whole story. \"I never did trust Zaida,\" she grumbled when Elayne finished. \"This agreement sounds good for trade, I suppose, but it wouldn't surprise me if she had one of the Windfinders try to listen in. She struck meas a woman who wants to know everything, just in case it might be useful one day.\" There was very little hesitant about Dyelin, yet she hesitated now, rolling her winecup between her palms. \"Are you certain this... this beacon... can't harm us, Elayne?\"\n\n\"Ascertain as I can be, Dyelin. If it was going to crack open the world, I think it would have by now.\" Aviendha laughed, but Dyelin turned quite pale. Really! Sometimes you had to laugh if only to keep from crying.\n\n\"If we tarry much longer now that Norry and Mistress Harfor are gone,\" Birgitte said, \"somebody might start wondering why.\" She waved a hand at the walls, indicating the ward she could not see. She knew it was still in place, though. The daily meetings with the First Maid and the First Clerk always concealed a little something more.\n\nEveryone gathered around her as she moved a pair of golden Sea Folk porcelain bowls on one of the side tables and pulled a much-folded map from inside her short coat. It rode there always, except when she slept, and then it resided beneath her pillow. Spread out, with empty winecups at the corners to hold it flat, the map displayed Andor from the River Erinin to the border between Altara and Murandy. In truth, it could have been said to show all of Andor, since what lay farther west had been only half under Caemlyn's control for generations. It had hardly been a masterpiece of the mapmaker's art to begin with, and creases obscured much of the detail, but it showed the terrain well enough, and every town and village was marked, every road and bridge and ford. Elayne set her teacup down at arm's length from the map to avoid spilling on it and adding more stains. And to rid herself of the wretched excuse for tea."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The Borderlanders are moving,\" Birgitte said, pointing to the forests north of Caemlyn, to a spot above Andor's northmost border, \"but they haven't covered much ground. At this rate, they'll be well over a month getting close to Caemlyn.\"\n\nSwirling her silver cup, Dyelin peered into the dark wine, then looked up suddenly. \"I thought you northerners were used to snow, Lady Birgitte.\" Even now she had to probe, and telling her not to would only make her ten times ascertain that Birgitte was hiding secrets, and twenty times as determined to learn them.\n\nAviendha scowled at the older woman-when she was not in awe of Birgitte, sometimes she became fiercely protective of Birgitte's secrets-but Birgitte herself met Dyelin's gaze levelly, with no hint of alarm in the bond. She had become quite comfortable with the lie about her origins. \"I haven't been back to Kandor in along time.\" That was simple truth, though it had been far longer than Dyelin could have imagined. The country had not even been called Kandor, then. \"But no matter what you're used to, moving two hundred thousand soldiers, not to mention the Light alone knows how many camp followers, is slow going in winter. Worse, I sent Mistress Ocalin and Mistress Fote to visit some of the villages a few miles south of the border.\" Sabeine Ocalin and Julanya Fote were Kinswomen who could Travel. \"They say the villagers think the Borderlanders are camped for the winter.\"\n\nElayne tsked, frowning at the map as she traced distances with a finger. She was counting on news of the Borderlanders, if not on the Borderlanders themselves. Word of an army that size entering Andor should be leaping ahead of it like wildfire in dry grass. No one but a fool could believe they had marched all those hundreds of leagues to try conquering Andor, but everyone who heard would be speculating on their intentions and what to do about them, a different opinion on every tongue. Once the news began to spread, anyway. When it did, she had an advantage over everyone else. She had arranged for the Borderlanders to cross into Andor into the first place, and she had already arranged for them to leave."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The choice had not been very difficult. Stopping them would have been a bloody affair, if it could have been managed at all, and they wanted no more than the width of a road to march onward into Murandy, where they thought they would find the Dragon Reborn. That washer doing, as well. They hid their reason for seeking Rand, and she was not about to give them a true location, not when they had as many as a dozen Aes Sedai with them and hid that fact, too. But once news of them reached the High Seats...\n\n\"It should work,\" she said softly. \"If necessary, we can plant rumors of the Borderlanders ourselves.\"\n\n\"It should work,\" Dyelin agreed, then added in a dark voice, \"As long as Bashere and Bael keep a close rein on their men. It's going to be a volatile mix, with Borderlanders, Aiel and the Legion of the Dragon all within a few miles of one another. And I can't see how we can be sure the Asha'man won't do something mad.\" She ended with a sniff. In her book, a man had to be mad in the first place, or he would never have chosen to become an Asha'man. Aviendha nodded. She disagreed with Dyelin almost as frequently as Birgitte did, but for the most part, the Asha'man were one thing they agreed on.\n\n\"I'll make sure the Borderlanders stay well clear of the Black Tower,\" Elayne reassured them, though she had done the same before. Even Dyelin knew that Bael and Bashere would hold their forces in check-neither man wanted a battle he did not need, and Davram Bashere certainly would not fight his own countrymen-but anyone had aright to be uneasy about the Asha'man and what they might do. She slid her finger from the six-pointed star identifying Caemlyn across the few miles to the ground the Asha'man had usurped. The Black Tower was not marked, but she knew all too well exactly where it lay. At least that was well away from the Lugard Road. Sending the Borderlanders south into Murandy without upsetting the Asha'man would not be difficult."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Her mouth compressed at the thought that she must not upset the Asha'man, but there was nothing to be done about it anytime soon, so she mentally shifted the black-coated men to one side. What could not be dealt with now, had to be dealt with later.\n\n\"And the others?\" She did not have to say more. Six major Houses remained uncommitted-at least to her or Arymilla. Dyelin claimed they would all come to Elayne eventually, but they showed no sign of it so far. Sabeine and Julanya had been looking for word of those six, too. Both women had spent the last twenty years as peddlers, accustomed to hard journeys, sleeping in stables or under the trees, and listening to what people did not say as much as to what they said. They made perfect scouts. It would be a great loss if they had to be shifted to helping keep the city supplied.\n\n\"Rumor has Lord Luan a dozen places, east and west.\" Frowning at the much-creased map as though Luan's position should have been marked on it, Birgitte muttered a curse, much viler than called for, now that Reene Harfor was absent. \"Always the next village over, or the one beyond that. Lady Ellorien and Lord Abelle seem to have vanished completely, difficult as that has to be fora High Seat. At least, Mistress Ocalin and Mistress Fote haven't been able to find a whisper of them, or of any House Pendar or House Traemane armsmen, either. Not a manor a horse.\" That was very unusual. Someone was exerting great effort.\n\n\"Abelle was always a ghost when he wanted to be,\" Dyelin muttered, \"always able to catch you wrong-footed. Ellorien...\" Brushing fingers against her lips, she sighed. \"The woman's too flamboyant to disappear. Unless she's with Abelle or Luan. Or both of them.\" She was not happy with that idea, no matter what she said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"As for our other\" friends',\"Birgitte said,\" Lady Arathelle crossed out of Murandy five days ago, here.\"She touched the map lightly, some two hundred miles south of Caemlyn.\" Four days ago, Lord Pelivar crossed about five or six miles west of that, and Lady Aemlyn here, another five or six miles.\"\n\n\"Not together,\" Dyelin said, nodding. \"Did they bring any Murandians? No? Good. They could be moving to their estates, Elayne. If they move further apart, we'll know for certain.\" Those three Houses made her most anxious of all.\n\n\"They could beheading home,\" Birgitte agreed, reluctantly as always when agreeing with Dyelin. Drawing her intricate braid over her shoulder, she gripped it in a fist almost the way Nynaeve did. \"The men and horses must be worn out, after marching into Murandy in winter. But all we can be sure of is that they're on the move.\"\n\nAviendha snorted. With her inelegant velvets, it was a startling sound. \"Always assume your enemy will do what you do not want. Decide what you least want them to do, and plan on that.\"\n\n\"Aemlyn, Arathelle and Pelivar aren't enemies,\" Dyelin protested weakly. Wherever she believed their allegiance would fall in time, those three had announced their support of Dyelin herself for the throne.\n\nElayne had never read of any queen being forced onto the throne-that sort of thing might not have made it into the histories in any case-yet Aemlyn, Arathelle and Pelivar seemed willing to try, and not for hope of power for themselves. Dyelin did not want the throne, but she would hardly be a passive ruler. The simple fact was that Morgase Trakand's final year had been marred by blunder after blunder, and few knew or believed that she had been a captive of one of the Forsaken during that time. Some Houses wanted anyone except another Trakand on the throne. Or thought they did."},{"from":"human","value":"\"What is the last thing we want them to do?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Elayne said. \"If they disperse to their estates, then they are out of it until spring at the earliest, and everything will be decided by then.\" The Light willing, it would. \"But if they continue onto Caemlyn?\"\n\n\"Without the Murandians, they don't have enough armsmen to challenge Arymilla.\" Studying the map, Birgitte rubbed her chin. \"If they don't know by now that the Aiel and the Legion of the Dragon are staying out of this, they'll have to learn of it soon, but they'll want to be careful. None of them seems foolish enough to provoke a fight they can't win when they don't have to. I'd say they'll camp somewhere to the east or southeast, where they can keep an eye on events and maybe influence what happens.\"\n\nDowning the last of her wine, which must have been cold by now, Dyelin exhaled heavily and walked over to fill her cup again. \"If they come to Caemlyn,\" she said in a leaden tone, \"then they are hoping that Luan or Abelle or Ellorien will join them. Perhaps all three.\"\n\n\"Then we must figure out how to stop them reaching Caemlyn before our plans come to fruit, without making them permanent enemies.\" Elayne worked to make her voice assure and firm as Dyelin's was dull. \"And we must plan what to do in case they arrive here too early. If that happens, Dyelin, you will have to convince them the choice is between me and Arymilla. Otherwise, we'll be in a tangle we may never straighten out, and all of Andor in it with us.\"\n\nDyelin grunted as if she had been punched. The last time the great Houses split evenly among three claimants for the Lion Throne had been nearly five hundred years ago, and seven years of open war followed before a queen was crowned. The original claimants were all dead by that point."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Without thinking, Elayne picked up her teacup and took a sip. The tea had gone cold, but honey exploded on her tongue. Honey! She looked at Aviendha in astonishment, and her sister's lips quirked in a small smile. A conspiratorial smile, as if Birgitte did not know exactly what had happened. Even their strangely enhanced bond did not extend to her tasting what Elayne did, yet she had surely felt Elayne's surprise and pleasure on tasting the tea. Planting fists on hips, she adopted a censorious look. Or rather, she tried to; despite all she could do, a smile crept onto her face, too. Abruptly, Elayne realized that Birgitte's headache was gone. She did not know when it had vanished, but it certainly was not there any longer.\n\n\"Hope for the best and plan for the worst,\" she said. \"Sometimes, the best actually happens.\"\n\nDyelin, unaware of the honey or anything except that they were all three grinning, harrumphed loudly. \"And sometimes it doesn't happen. If your clever scheme comes off exactly as planned, Elayne, we won't have any need for Aemlyn or Ellorien or the others, but it's a terrible gamble. All it takes to go wrong is-\"\n\nThe left-hand door opened to admit a wave of cold and an apple-cheeked woman with icy eyes and the golden knot of an under-lieutenant on her shoulder. She might have knocked first, but if so, the ward had sealed off the sound. Like Rasoria, Tzigan Sokorin had been a Hunter for the Horn before joining Elayne's bodyguard. It seemed the guard had changed. \"The Wise One Monaelle wishes to seethe Lady Elayne,\" Tzigan announced, drawing herself up rigidly. \"Mistress Karistovan is with her.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Sumeko could be put off, but not Monaelle."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arymilla's people would as soon interfere with Aes Sedai as with the Aiel, yet only something important would have brought a Wise One into the city. Birgitte knew that, too; she immediately began folding the map up again. Aviendha let the warding dissipate and released the Source.\n\n\"Ask them to come in,\" Elayne said.\n\nMonaelle did not wait on Tzigan, gliding into the room as soon as the ward vanished, her multitude of gold and ivory bracelets rattling as she lowered her shawl from shoulders to elbows in the comparative warmth. Elayne did not know how old Monaelle was-Wise Ones were not as reticent about age as Aes Sedai, but they were oblique-yet she appeared not far into her middle years. There were hints of red in her waist-long yellow hair, but not a touch of gray. Short for an Aiel, shorter than Elayne, with a mild, motherly face, she was barely strong enough in the Power to have been accepted in the White Tower, but strength did not count among Wise Ones, and among them, she stood very high. More importantly for Elayne and Aviendha, she had been the midwife at their rebirth as first-sisters. Elayne offered her a curtsy, ignoring Dyelin's disapproving sniff, and Aviendha made a deep bow, folding herself over her hands. Aside from the duties owed to her midwife under Aiel customs, she was still only an apprentice Wise One, after all.\n\n\"I assume your need for privacy is ended, since you lowered the ward,\" Monaelle said, \"and it is time I checked on your condition, Elayne Trakand. It should be done twice in the month until full term.\" Why was she frowning at Aviendha? Oh, Light, the velvets!"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And I have come to see what she does,\" Sumeko added, following the Wise One into the room. Sumeko was imposing, a stout woman with confident eyes, in well-cut red-belted yellow wool, with silver combs in her straight black hair, and a red-enameled silver circle-pinon the high neck of her dress. She might have been a noblewoman or a successful merchant. Once she had shown a certain diffidence, at least around Aes Sedai, but no longer. Not with Aes Sedai or soldiers of the Queen's Guards. \"You may go,\" she told Tzigan. \"This doesn't concern you.\" Or with nobles, for that matter. \"You may leave, too, Lady Dyelin, and you, Lady Birgitte.\" She studied Aviendha as if considering adding her to the list.\n\n\"Aviendha may remain,\" Monaelle said. \"She is missing a great many lessons, and she must learn this sooner or later.\" Sumeko nodded in acceptance of Aviendha, but she kept a coolly impatient gaze on Dyelin and Birgitte.\n\n\"Lady Dyelin and I have matters to discuss,\" Birgitte said, stuffing the folded map back under her redcoat as she started for the door. \"I'll tell you tonight what we've thought of, Elayne.\"\n\nDyelin gave her a sharp look, almost as sharp as the one she had given Sumeko, but she set her winecup on one of the trays and made her courtesies to Elayne, then waited with visible impatience while Birgitte bent to murmur at length in Monaelle's ear and the Wise One replied briefly, but just as quietly. What were they whispering about? Probably goat's milk.\n\nOnce the door closed behind Tzigan and the other two women, Elayne offered to send for more wine, since what was in the pitchers was cold, but Sumeko declined curtly, and Monaelle politely if rather absently. The Wise One was studying Aviendha with such intensity that the younger woman began to redden and looked away, gripping her skirts."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You mustn't take Aviendha to task about her clothes, Monaelle,\" Elayne said. \"I asked her to wear them, and she did as a favor tome.\"\n\nPursing her lips, Monaelle thought before answering. \"First-sisters should give one another favors,\" she said finally. \"You know your duty to our people, Aviendha. So far, you have done well at a difficult task. You must learn to live in two worlds, so it is fitting that you become comfortable in those clothes.\" Aviendha began to relax. Until Monaelle continued. \"But not too comfortable. From now on, you will spend every third day and night in the tents. You can return with me tomorrow. You have a great deal to learn yet before you can become a Wise One, and that is as much your duty as is being a binding cord.\"\n\nElayne reached out and took her sister's hand, and when Aviendha tried to let go after one squeeze, she held on. After a brief hesitation, Aviendha clung, too. Ina strange way, having Aviendha there had comforted Elayne for the loss of Rand; she was not only a sister but a sister who also loved him. They could share strength and make each other laugh when they wanted to cry, and they could cry together when that was needed. One night in three alone very likely meant one night in three weeping alone. Light, what was Rand doing? That awful beacon to the west was still blazing as strongly as ever, and she was certain that he was in the heart of it. Not one particle had changed in the bond with him, but she was certain.\n\nSuddenly she realized that she had a crushing grasp on Aviendha's hand, and Aviendha was holding hers as fiercely. They loosened their grips at the same instant. Neither let go, however."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Men cause trouble even when they are elsewhere,\" Aviendha said softly.\n\n\"They do,\" Elayne agreed.\n\nMonaelle smiled at the exchange. She was among the few who knew about the bonding of Rand, and who the father of Elayne's baby was. None of the Kinswomen did, though.\n\n\"I'd think you've let a man cause you all the trouble he could, Elayne,\" Sumeko said primly. The Kin's Rule followed the rules for novices and Accepted, forbidding not only children but anything that might lead to them, and they held to it strictly. Once, a Kinswoman would have swallowed her tongue before suggesting an Aes Sedai fell short of their Rule. Much had changed since then, however. \"I'm supposed to travel to Tear today so I can bring back a shipment of grain and oil tomorrow, and it is growing late, so if you are done talking about men, I suggest you let Monaelle get on with what she came for.\"\n\nMonaelle positioned Elayne in front of the fireplace, close enough that the heat from the nearly consumed logs was near to uncomfortable-it was best if the mother was very warm, she explained-then the glow of saidar surrounded her, and she began to weave threads of Spirit and Fire and Earth. Aviendha watched almost as avidly as Sumeko.\n\n\"What is this?\" Elayne asked as the weave settled around her and sank into her. \"Is it like Delving?\" Every Aes Sedai in the palace had Delved her, though only Merilille had sufficient skill with Healing for it to be much use, but neither they nor Sumeko had been able to say much more than that she was with child. She felt a faint tingling, a sort of hum inside her flesh."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Don't be silly, girl,\" Sumeko said absently. Elayne raised an eyebrow, and even thought of waving her Great Serpent ring under Sumeko's nose, but the round-faced woman did not appear to notice. She might not have noticed the ring, either. She was leaning forward, peering as though she could seethe weave inside Elayne's body. \"The Wise Ones learned about Healing from me. And from Nynaeve, I suppose,\" she allowed after a moment. Oh, Nynaeve would have gone up like an Illuminator's firework, hearing that. But then, Sumeko had outstripped Nynaeve long since. \"And they did learn the simple form from Aes Sedai.\" A snort like ripping canvas showed what Sumeko thought of the'simple\" form, the only sort of Healing Aes Sedai had known for thousands of years. \"This is something of the Wise Ones' own.\"\n\n\"It is called Caressing the Child,\" Monaelle said in an abstracted voice. Most of her attention was focused on the weave. A simple Delving to learn what ailed someone-it was simple, come to think-would have been finished by now, but she altered the flows, and the hum inside Elayne changed pitch, sinking deeper. \"It maybe some part of Healing, a sort of Healing, but we have known this since before we were sent to the Three-fold Land. Some of the ways the flows are used are similar to what Sumeko Karistovan and Nynaeve al'Meara showed us. In Caressing the Child, you learn the health of mother and child, and by changing the weaves, you can cure some problems of either, but they will notwork on a woman who is not with child. Or on a man, of course.\" The hum grew louder, until it seemed everyone must be able to hear it. Elayne thought her teeth were vibrating."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"An earlier thought returned to her, and she said, \"Will channeling hurt my child? If I channel, I mean.\"\n\n\"No more than breathing does.\" Monaelle let the weave vanish with a grin. \"You have two. It is too early to say whether they are girls are boys, but they are healthy, and so are you.\"\n\nTwo! Elayne shared a wide smile with Aviendha. She could almost feel her sister's delight. She was going to have twins. Rand's babies. A boy and a girl, she hoped, or two boys. Twin girls would present all manner of difficulties for the succession. No one ever gained the Rose Crown with everyone behind her.\n\nSumeko made an urgent sound in her throat, gesturing toward Elayne, and Monaelle nodded. \"Do exactly as I did, and you will see.\" Watching Sumeko embrace the Source and form the weave, she nodded again, and the round Kinswoman let it sink into Elayne, letting out a gasp as if she felt the humming herself. \"You will not have to worry about birthing sickness,\" Monaelle went on, \"but you will find that you have difficulty in channeling sometimes. The threads may slip away from you as though greased or fade like mist, so you will have to try again and again to make the simplest weave or hold it. This may grow worse as your pregnancy progresses, and you will not be able to channel at all while in labor or giving birth, but it will come right after the children are born. You soon will become moody, too, if that has not already started, weepy one minute and snarling the next. The father of your child will be wise to step warily and keep his distance as much as he can.\"\n\n\"I hear she's already snapped his head off once this morning,\" Sumeko muttered. Releasing the weave, she straightened and adjusted her red belt around her girth. \"This is remarkable, Monaelle. I never thought of a weave that could only be used on a pregnant woman.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\\nChapter: 2\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Their youth was no surprise, of course, but she had expected Conail to have a graying head at his side to advise him and the others to have their guardians looking over their shoulders.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was no one else in the room aside from Birgitte, standing in front of the tall arched windows with her arms folded beneath her breasts. Bright midday sunlight flooding through the clear glass set in the casements made her a silhouette of displeasure.\\n\\n\\\"Trakand welcomes all of you, and I welcome all of you,\\\" Elayne said, suppressing her dismay. \\\"I will not forget your support, and Trakand will not forget.\\\" Something of her consternation must have crept through, because Catalyn's mouth compressed and her eyes glittered.\\n\\n\\\"I am past my guardianship, as you must know, Elayne,\\\" she said in a stiff voice. \\\"My uncle, Lord Arendor, said at the Feast of Lights that I was as ready as I would ever be and might as well have free rein then as in a year. Truth, I think he wanted more time to go hunting while he still can. He has always loved hunting, and he's quite old.\\\" Once again she failed to see Dyelin's frown. Arendor Haevin and Dyelin were roughly of an age.\\n\\n\\\"I have no guardian either,\\\" Branlet said uncertainly, his voice nearly as high-pitched as Catalyn's.\\n\\nDyelin gave him a sympathetic smile and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. It promptly fell forward again. \\\"Mayv was riding alone, as she liked to do, and her horse stepped into a gopher hole,\\\" she explained quietly. \\\"By the time anyone found her, it was too late. There has been some... discussion... over who's to take her place.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They've been arguing for three months,\\\" Branlet muttered.\\n\\nFora moment he looked younger than Perival, a boy trying to find his way with no one to show him the path. \\\"I'm not supposed to tell anyone that, but I can tell you. You're going to be the Queen.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dyelin put a hand on Perival's shoulder, and he stood up straighter, though he still was shorter than she. \\\"Lord Willin would be herewith Lord Perival, but the years have him bedridden. Age creeps upon us all, eventually.\\\" She shot another look at Catalyn, but the girl was studying Birgitte, now, her lips pursed. \\\"Willin said I was to tell you that he sends his good wishes and also one he considers a son.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Uncle Willin told me to uphold the honor of Mantear and of Andor,\\\" Perival said, intent as only a child being serious could be. \\\"I will try, Elayne. I will try very hard.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm sure you will succeed,\\\" Elayne told him, managing to put at least a little warmth into her tone. She wanted to chase them all out and ask Dyelin some very pointed questions, but that could not be, not right away. Whatever their ages, they were all the High Seats of powerful Houses, and she had to offer refreshment and at least a modicum of conversation before they went to change from their journey.\\n\\n\\\"Is she really the Captain-General of the Queen's Guards?\\\" Catalyn asked as Birgitte handed Elayne a thin blue porcelain cup of slightly darkened hot water. The girl spoke as though Birgitte was not there. Birgitte raised an eyebrow before leaving, but Catalyn seemed practiced in not seeing what she did not want to see. The winecup in her plump hand gave off the sharply sweet aroma of spices. There was not so much as a drop of honey in Elayne's miserable excuse for tea.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, and my Warder, too,\\\" she said. Politely. As ready as she would ever be! The girl probably thought it a compliment. She deserved a switching for pure rudeness, yet you could not switch a High Seat. Not when you needed her support.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Catalyn's eyes flashed to Elayne's hands, but the Great Serpent ring did nothing to alter the coolness of her expression. \\\"They gave you that? I had not heard you had been raised Aes Sedai. I thought the White Tower had sent you home. When your mother died. Or perhaps because of the troubles in the Tower we hear about. Imagine, Aes Sedai squabbling like farmwives at market. But how can she be a general or a Warder without a sword? In any case, my aunt Evelle says a woman should leave swords to men. You don't shoe your own horse when you have a farrier, or grind your own grain when you have a miller.\\\" A quote from Lady Evelle, no doubt.\\n\\nElayne schooled her face, ignoring the only slightly buried insults. \\\"An army is a general's sword, Catalyn. Gareth Bryne says a general who uses another blade is mistaking the job.\\\" The name seemed to make no impression on her, either. Miners\\\" children in the Mountains of Mist knew Gareth Bryne's name!\\n\\nAviendha appeared at Elayne's side, smiling as though delighted at the opportunity to talk with the girl. \\\"Swords are no use at all,\\\" she said sweetly. Sweetly! Aviendha! Elayne had never realized her sister could dissemble so skillfully. She had a cup of mulled wine, too. It would have been too much to expect her to continue drinking bitter tea out of sisterly affection. \\\"You should learn the spear. Also the knife, and the bow. Birgitte Trahelion could shoot your eyes out at two hundred paces with her bow. Maybe at three hundred.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The spear?\\\" Catalyn said faintly. And then, in a slightly incredulous tone, \\\"My eyes?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You have not met my sister,\\\" Elayne said. \\\"Aviendha, Lady Catalyn Haevin. Catalyn, Aviendha of the Nine Valleys Taardad.\\\" Perhaps she should have done that the other way around, but Aviendha washer sister, and even a High Seat must settle for being introduced to the sister of the Daughter-Heir. \\\"Aviendha is Aiel. She's studying to become a Wise One.\\\"\\n\\nThe fool girl's mouth dropped open at the start, her chin falling more and more with each pronouncement until she was gaping like a fish. Very satisfying. Aviendha gave Elayne a smaller smile, her green eyes sparkling with approbation above her winecup. Elayne kept her own face smooth, but she wanted to grin back.\\n\\nThe others were much more easily handled, much less infuriating. Perival and Branlet were shy their first time in Caemlyn much less in the Royal Palace, hardly saying two words unless someone drew them out. Conail did think the claim that Aviendha was Aiel must be a joke, and nearly got her belt knife in his brisket for laughing raucously, but luckily, he thought that was a joke as well.\\n\\nAviendha adopted an icy composure that might have made her seem a Wise One in her usual clothes; in velvets, she appeared even more a lady of the court no matter how she fingered her knife. And Branlet did keep sneaking sidelong peaks at Birgitte. It took Elayne a little while to realize that he was watching her walk in her heeled boots-those wide trousers were actually quite snug over the hips-but she only sighed. Fortunately, Birgitte never noticed, and the bond would have let Elayne know even if she tried to hide it. Birgitte liked having men look at her. Grown men. It would have done Elayne's cause no good if her Warder smacked young Branlet's bottom.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mainly they wanted to know whether Reanne Corly was an Aes Sedai. None of the four had ever seen a sister before, but they thought she must be, since she could channel, and carry them and their armsmen across hundreds of miles in a step. It was a good opportunity to practice evasion without actually lying, helped by the Great Serpent ring on her own finger. A lie would taint her relations with these four at the start, but it would hardly do to hope that rumors of Aes Sedai aid would filter out to Arymilla while spreading the truth about freely. Of course, all four were eager to let her know how many armsmen they had brought, a total of just over three thousand, nearly half of them crossbowmen or halberdiers who would be especially useful on the walls. That was a sizable force for four Houses to have had ready to hand when Dyelin came calling, but then, no House wanted its High Seat unguarded in these times. Kidnapping was not unheard of when the throne satin question. Conail said as much, with a laugh; he seemed to find everything worth a laugh. Branlet nodded and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Elayne wondered how many of his numerous aunts, uncles and cousins knew he was gone, and what they would do when they learned.\\n\\n\\\"If Dyelin had been willing to wait a few days,\\\" Catalyn said, \\\"I could have brought more than twelve hundred men.\\\" That was the third time in as many sentences that she had managed to point out that she had brought the largest contingent by a considerable margin. \\\"I have sent to all of the Houses pledged to Haevin.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And Ito every House pledged to Northan,\\\" Conail added. With a grin, of course. \\\"Northan may not summon as many swords as Haevin or Trakand-or Mantear,\\\" he put in with a bow to Perival, \\\"but whoever rides when the Eagles call will be riding for Caemlyn.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They will not ride very fast in winter,\\\" Perival said quietly. And astonishingly, since no one had spoken to him. \\\"I think that whatever we do, we will have to do it with who we have now.\\\"\\n\\nConail laughed and cuffed the lad's shoulder and told him to buck up his spirits, because every man with a heart was on his way to Caemlyn to support the Lady Elayne, but Elayne studied Perival more closely. His blue eyes met hers fora moment without blinking before he shyly lowered his gaze. A boy, but he knew what he had ridden into better than Conail or Catalyn, who proceeded to tell them yet again how many armsmen she had brought, and how many Haevin could call on, as if everyone there except Aviendha did not know exactly how many rode to each House's summons, in trained soldiers and farmers who had carried a halberd or pike in some war and village men who could be drafted at need. Close enough to exactly, anyway. Lord Willin had done good work with young Perival. Now she had to keep it from going to waste.\\n\\nEventually it was time to exchange kisses, with Branlet blushing to his hair, and Perival blinking bashfully when Elayne bent to him, and Conail vowing never to wash his cheek. Catalyn returned a surprisingly hesitant peck to Elayne's cheek, as if it had just occurred to her that she had consented to placing Elayne above her, but after a moment she nodded to herself, cool pride settling back on her like a mantle. Once the four were handed over to the maids and serving men who would take them to the apartments that Elayne hoped the First Maid had had time to ready, Dyelin refilled her winecup and settled herself in one of the tall, carved chairs with a weary sigh.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"As fine a week's work as I've ever done, if I do say so myself. I got Candraed out of the way straight off. I never thought Danine would be able to makeup her mind, and it only took an hour to prove me right, though I had to stay three to keep from offending her. The woman must keep in bed till noon from being unable to decide to which side of the mattress to climb down from! The rest were ready to see sense with only a little convincing. No one with any sense wants to risk Arymilla gaining the throne.\\\"\\n\\nFora moment, she frowned at her wine, then fixed Elayne with a steady look. She never hesitated to speak her mind, whether or not she thought Elayne would agree, and plainly she intended to do so now. \\\"It may have been a mistake to pass these Kinswomen off as Aes Sedai, however side-mouthed we've been about it. The strain maybe too much to ask of them, and it puts us all at risk. This morning, for no reason I could make out, Mistress Corly was staring and gaping like a goose-girl come to the city. I think she almost failed at weaving the gateway to bring us here. That would have been wonderful, everyone lined up to ride through a miraculous hole in the air that never materialized. Not to mention that it would have stuck me in Catalyn's company for the Light knows how long. Odious child! There's a good mind there, if someone took her in hand fora few years, but she has a double dose of the viperous Haevin tongue.\\\"\\n\\nElayne gritted her teeth. She knew how cutting Haevins could be. The whole family took pride in it! Catalyn obviously did. And she was tired of explaining what on this day could frighten any woman who could channel. She was tired of being reminded of what she was trying to ignore. That bloody beacon was still blazing in the west, an utter impossibility both for its size and its duration. The thing had been unchanging for hours! Anyone who channeled for this long without a rest must have fallen over with exhaustion by now. And Rand bloody al'Thor was right there, in the heart of it. She was certain of that! He was alive, but that only made her want to slap his face for putting her through this. Well, his face was not there, but-\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Birgitte slammed her silver cup down on aside table so hard that wine flew everywhere. Some laundress was going to sweat to take that stain out of her coatsleeve. A maid would labor for hours to restore the side table's polish. \\\"Children!\\\" she barked. \\\"People are going to die because of the decisions they make, and they're flaming children, Conail worst of all! You heard him, Dyelin. He wants to challenge Arymilla's champion like Artur bloody Hawkwing! Hawkwing never fought anybody's flaming champion, and he knew when he was younger than Lord Northan that it was a fool's game to rest so much on a flaming duel, but Conail thinks he can win Elayne the flaming throne with his flaming sword!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Birgitte Trahelion is right,\\\" Aviendha said fiercely. Her hands were fists gripping her skirts. \\\"Conail Northan is a fool! But how could anyone follow those children into the dance of spears? How could anyone ask them to lead?\\\"\\n\\nDyelin regarded them both, and chose to answer Aviendha first. She was plainly bemused by Aviendha's garb. But then, she was bemused by Aviendha and Elayne adopting one another as sisters, by Elayne having an Aiel friend in the first place. That Elayne chose to include that friend in their counsels was something she tolerated. Though not without letting her toleration show. \\\" I became High Seat of Taravin at fifteen, when my father died in a skirmish on the Altaran Marches. My two younger brothers died fighting cattle raiders out of Murandy that same year. I listened to advisors, but I told Taravin riders whereto strike, and we taught the Altarans and the Murandians to look elsewhere for their thieving. The times choose when children must grow up, Aviendha, not we, and in these times, a High Seat who is a child cannot be a child any longer.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"As for you, Lady Birgitte,\\\" she went on in a drier voice. \\\"Your language is, as ever... pungent.\\\" She did not ask how Birgitte presumed to know so much of Artur Hawkwing, things no historian knew, but she studied her appraisingly. \\\"Branlet and Perival will take guidance from me, and so will Catalyn, I think, much as I regret the time I'll have to spend with the girl. As for Conail, he's hardly the first young man to think he's invincible and immortal. If you can't keep him reined in as Captain-General, I suggest you try walking for him. The way he was eyeing those breeches of yours, he'll follow anywhere you lead.\\\"\\n\\nElayne... shrugged off... the pure fury welling up in her. Not her fury, anymore than it had been her anger at Dyelin in the first place, or her anger at Birgitte splashing wine about. It was Birgitte's. She did not want to slap Rand's face. Well, she did, but that was beside the point. Light, Conail had been looking at Birgitte, too? \\\"They are the High Seats of their Houses, Aviendha. No one in their Houses would thank me for treating them as less; far from it. The men who ride for them will fight to keep them alive, but it is Perival and Branlet, Conail and Catalyn they ride for, not me. Because they are the High Seats.\\\" Aviendha frowned, and folded her arms as though pulling a shawl around herself, but she nodded. Abruptly, and reluctantly-no one rose to such prominence among the Aiel without years of experience, and the approval of the Wise Ones-but she nodded.\\n\\n\\\"Birgitte, you will have to deal with them, Captain-General to High Seat. White hair wouldn't necessarily make them any wiser, and it definitely wouldn't make them any easier to deal with. They'd still have their own opinions, and with years of experience to give them weight, most likely they'd be ten times ascertain they knew what needs to be done better than you do. Or than I do.\\\" She made a great effort to keep her tone clear of sharpness, and no doubt Birgitte felt the effort. At least, the flow of rage through the bond suddenly diminished. It was only tamped down, not gone-Birgitte enjoyed having men look, at least when she wanted them to look, but she very much did not like anyone saying she was trying to attract their attention-yet even so, she knew the danger to both of them of letting their emotions run too free.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dyelin had begun sipping at her wine, still studying Birgitte. Only a bare handful knew the truth that Birgitte desperately wanted to keep hidden, and Dyelin was not among them, yet Birgitte had been careless enough, a slip of the tongue here, a slip there, that the older woman was certain that some mystery hid behind Birgitte's blue eyes. The Light only knew what she would think if she solved that riddle. As it was, the two were oil and water. They could argue over which way was up, and certainly over everything else. This time, Dyelin clearly thought she had won, foot and horse.\\n\\n\\\"Be that as it may, Dyelin,\\\" Elayne continued, \\\"I would have been more pleased if you had brought their advisors with them. What's done is done, but Branlet troubles me in particular. If Gilyard accuses me of kidnapping him, matters become worse than they were, not better.\\\"\\n\\nDyelin waved that away. \\\"You don't know the Gilyards well, do you? The way they squabble among themselves, they may not notice the boy is gone before summer, and if they do, none will repudiate what he's done. None of them will admit they were so busy in arguing over who's to be his guardian that they forgot to keep an eye on him. And second, none of them will admit they weren't consulted beforehand. In any event, Gilyard would stand for Zaida before standing for Marne, and they don't like Arawn or Sarand much better.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hope you're right, Dyelin, because I'm appointing you to deal with any angry Gilyards who appear. And while you're advising the other three, you can keep a thumb on Conail so he doesn't do anything completely harebrained.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"For all her talk, the first suggestion made Dyelin wince slightly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The second made her sigh.\\n\\nIt made Birgitte laugh out loud. \\\"If you have any problems, I'll lend you a pair of breeches and some boots, and you can walk for him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Some women,\\\" Dyelin murmured into her wine, \\\"can make a fish bite by crooking a finger, Lady Birgitte. Other women have to drag their bait allover the pond.\\\" Aviendha laughed at that, but Birgitte's anger began to edge upward in the bond.\\n\\nA wave of cold air swept into the room as the door opened, and Rasoria entered, coming to a stiff attention. \\\"The First Maid and the First Clerk have come, my Lady Elayne,\\\" she announced. Her voice faltered at the end, as she caught the mood in the room.\\n\\nA blind goat could have caught it, with Dyelin smug as a cat in the creamery, and Birgitte scowling at her and Aviendha both, and Aviendha choosing this moment to remember that Birgitte was Birgitte Silverbow, which on this occasion made her stare at the floor, as abashed as if she had been laughing at a Wise One. Now and again Elayne wished her friends could all get on as well as she and Aviendha did, but somehow they managed to rub on together, and she supposed that was really all she could ask from real people. Perfection was a thing for books and gleemen's stories.\\n\\n\\\"Send them in,\\\" she told Rasoria. \\\"And don't disturb us unless the city is under attack. Unless it is important,\\\" she amended. In stories, women who gave orders like that were always setting themselves up for disaster. Sometimes, there were lessons in stories, if you looked for them.\\n\\nChapter 14\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"What Wise Ones Know\\n\\nHalwin Norry, the First Clerk, and Reene Harfor, the First Maid, entered together, him making a jerky, unpracticed bow, and her a graceful curtsy that was neither too low nor too shallow. They could not have been more different. Mistress Harfor was round-faced and regally dignified, her hair in a neat gray bun atop her head, Master Norry tall and gawky as a wading-bird, with his little remaining hair sticking up behind his ears like sprays of white feathers. Each carried an embossed leather folder stuffed with papers, but she held hers at her side as if not to rumple her formal scarlet tabard, unwrinkled as it always seemed to be, no matter the hour or how long she had been on her feet, while he clutched his folder to his narrow chest as if to hide old inkstains, of which several spotted his tabard, including a large blot that made the White Lion's tail end in a black tuft. Courtesies done, they immediately put a little distance between them, each not quite watching the other.\\n\\nAs soon as the door closed behind Rasoria, the glow of saidar sprung up around Aviendha, and she wove award against eavesdropping that clung to the walls of the room. What was said between them was now as safe as they could make it, and Aviendha would know if anyone even tried to listen with the Power. She was very good with this sort of weave.\\n\\n\\\"Mistress Harfor,\\\" Elayne said, \\\"if you will begin.\\\" She did not offer wine or seats, of course. Master Norry would have been shocked to his toenails by such a lapse in the proprieties, and Mistress Harfor might well have been offended. As it was, Norry twitched and glanced sideways at Reene, and her mouth thinned. Even after a week's meetings, their dislike forgiving their reports where the other could hear was palpable. They were jealous of their fiefs, the more so since the First Maid had moved into territory that once might have been considered Master Norry's responsibility. Of course, running the Royal Palace had always been the First Maid's charge, and it might be said that her new duties were only an extension of that. It would not be said by Halwin Norry, though. The blazing logs settled in the fireplace with aloud crack, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I am convinced the Second Librarian is... a spy, my Lady,\\\" Mistress Harfor said finally, ignoring Norry as if to make him disappear. She had resisted letting anyone else know that she was searching out spies in the palace, yet the First Clerk knowing seemed to grate on her worst of all. His only authority over her, if such it was, came from paying the palace accounts, and he never questioned an expenditure, but even that little was more than she wished. \\\"Every three or four days Master Harnder visits an inn called the Hoop and Arrow, supposedly for the ale made by the innkeeper, one Millis Fendry, but Mistress Fendry also keeps pigeons, and whenever Master Harnder visits, she sends off a pigeon that flies north. Yesterday, three of the Aes Sedai staying at the Silver Swan found reason to visit the Hoop and Arrow, though it caters to a much poorer crowd than the Swan. They came and went hooded, and were closeted with Mistress Fendry in private for over an hour. All three are Brown Ajah. I fear that indicates Master Harnder's employer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hairdressers, footmen, cooks, the master cabinetmaker, no fewer than five of Master Norry's clerks, and now one of the librarians.\\\" Leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, Dyelin glowered sourly. \\\"Is there anyone we won't eventually learn is a spy, Mistress Harfbr?\\\" Norry stretched his neck uncomfortably; he took the malfeasance of his clerks as a personal affront.\\n\\n\\\"I have hopes I maybe reaching the bottom of that barrel, my Lady,\\\" Mistress Harfor said complacently. Neither spies nor the High Seats of powerful Houses ruffled her. Spies were pests she intended to rid the palace of as surely as she kept it clear of fleas and rats-though she had been forced to accept Aes Sedai aid with rats recently-while powerful nobles were like rain or snow, facts of nature to be endured until they went away, but nothing to get flustered over. \\\"There are only so many people who can be bought, and only so many can afford to buy, or want to.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Elayne tried to picture Master Harnder, but all she could bring up in her mind was vague, a chubby, balding man who blinked incessantly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He had served her mother, and as she recalled, Queen Mordrellen before that. No one commented on the fact that it seemed he also served the Brown Ajah. Every ruler's palace between the Spine of the World and the Aryth Ocean contained the Tower's eyes-and-ears. Any ruler with half a brain expected it. Doubtless the Seanchan would soon be living under the White Tower's gaze, too, if they were not already. Reene had discovered several spies for the Red Ajah, assuredly legacies of Elaida's time in Caemlyn, but this librarian was the first for another Ajah. Elaida would not have liked other Ajahs knowing what went on in the palace while she was advisor to the Queen.\\n\\n\\\"A pity we have no false stories we want the Brown Ajah to believe,\\\" she said lightly. A great pity they, and the Reds, knew about the Kin. At best, they had to know there were a large number of women in the palace who could channel, and it would not take them long to figure out who they were. That would create any number of problems down the road, yet those difficulties did lie somewhere in the future. Always plan ahead, Lini used to say, but worry too hard over next year, and you can trip over tomorrow. \\\"Watch Master Harnder and try to find out his friends. That will have to suffice for the time being.\\\" Some spies depended on their ears, either to hear gossip or listen at doors; others lubricated tongues with a few friendly cups of wine. The first part of counteracting a spy was to find out how he learned what he sold.\\n\\nAviendha snorted loudly and, spreading her skirts, started to sit down on the carpet before realizing what she wore. With a warning glance at Dyelin, she perched stiffly on the front edge of a chair instead, the picture of a court lady with her eyes flashing. Except that a lady of the court would not have checked the edge of her belt knife with a thumb. Left to her own devices, Aviendha would slit every spy's throat as soon as it could be stretched for the knife. Spying was a vile business, in her view, no matter how often Elayne explained that every spy found was a tool that could be used to make her enemies believe what she wanted.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Not that every spy necessarily worked for an enemy. Most of those the First Maid had uncovered took money from more than one source, and among those she had identified were King Roedran of Murandy, various Tairen High Lords and Ladies, a handful of Cairhienin nobles, and a fair number of merchants. A good many people were interested in what happened in Caemlyn, whether for its effect on trade or other reasons. Sometimes it seemed that everyone spied on everyone else.\\n\\n\\\"Mistress Harfor,\\\" she said, \\\"you haven't found any eyes-and-ears for the Black Tower.\\\"\\n\\nLike most people who heard the Black Tower mentioned, Dyelin shivered, and took a deep drink of her wine, but Reene just grimaced faintly. She had decided to ignore the fact that they were men who could channel, since she could not change matters. To her, the Black Tower was... an annoyance. \\\"They haven't had time, my Lady. Give them a year, and you'll find footmen and librarians taking their coin, too.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suppose I will.\\\" Dreadful thought. \\\"What else do you have for us today?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've had a word with Jon Skellit, my Lady. A man who turns his coat once is often amenable to turning it again, and Skellit is.\\\" Skellit, a barber, was in the pay of House Arawn, which for the present made him Arymilla's man.\\n\\nBirgitte bit off an oath in midword-for some reason, she tried to watch her language around Reene Harfor-and spoke in a pained voice. \\\"You had a word with him? Without asking anyone?\\\"\\n\\nDyelin was under no compunctions regarding the First Maid, and she muttered, \\\"Mother's milk in a cup!\\\" Elayne had never heard her use an obscenity before. Master Norry blinked and almost dropped his folder, and busied himself with not looking at Dyelin. The First Maid, however, merely paused until sure she and Birgitte were done, then went on calmly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The time seemed ripe, and so did Skellit. One of the men he hands his reports to left the city and hasn't returned yet, while it appears the other broke his leg. The streets are always icy where afire has been putout.\\\" She said that so blandly, it seemed more than likely she had engineered the man's fall somehow. Hard times uncovered hard talents in the most surprising people. \\\"Skellit is quite agreeable to carrying his next communication out to the camps himself. He saw a gateway made, and he won't have to pretend terror.\\\" You would have thought she herself had been seeing merchants\\\" wagons rumble out of holes in the air for her entire life.\\n\\n\\\"What's to stop this barber keeping on running once he's outside the fla... uh... the city?\\\" Birgitte demanded irritably, beginning to pace in front of the fire with her hands clasped behind her. Her heavy golden braid should have been bristling. \\\"If he goes, Arawn will hire somebody else, and you'll have to hunt him out allover again. Light, Arymilla must have heard of the gateways almost as soon as she arrived, and Skellit has to know it.\\\" It was not the thought of Skellit escaping that irritated her, or not only that. The mercenaries thought they had been hired to stop soldiers, but fora few silvers they would allow one or two to slip through the gates by night in either direction. One or two could do no harm, as they saw matters. Birgitte did not like being reminded of that.\\n\\n\\\"Greed will stop him, my Lady,\\\" Mistress Harfor replied calmly. \\\"The thought of earning gold from the Lady Elayne as well as from Lady Naean is enough to make the man breathe hard. It's true, Lady Arymilla must already have heard of the gateways, but that only adds credit to Skellit's reason forgoing in person.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And if his greed is great enough for him to try earning still more gold by turning his coat a third time?\\\" Dyelin said. \\\"He could cause a great deal of... mischief, Mistress Harfor.\\\"\\n\\nReene's tone became a little crisper. She would never step over the boundaries, but she disliked anyone thinking her careless. \\\"Lady Naean would have him buried under the nearest snowdrift, my Lady, as I made certain he is aware. She has never been patient. As I am sure you are aware. In any case, the news we get from the camps is quite sparse, to say the least, and he might see a few things we would like to know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If Skellit can tell us which camp Arymilla, Elenia and Naean will be in and when, I'll give him his gold with my own hand,\\\" Elayne said deliberately. Elenia and Naean stayed close to Arymilla, or she kept them close, and Arymilla was much less patient than Naean, much less willing to believe that anything could function without her presence. She spent half of each day riding from camp to camp, and never slept in the same two nights running, as far as anyone could learn. \\\"That is the only thing he can tell us of the camps that I want to know.\\\"\\n\\nReene inclined her head. \\\"As you say, my Lady. I will see to it.\\\" She too often tried not to say things straight out in front of Norry, but she gave no sign that she had heard any reproof. Of course, Elayne was not sure she actually would rebuke the woman openly. Mistress Harfor would continue to perform her duties properly if she did, and she certainly would continue hunting spies with undiminished ardor, if for no other reason than their presence in the palace offended her, yet Elayne might find a dozen inconveniences in everyday, a dozen small discomforts that added up to misery, and not a one that she could directly attribute to the First Maid. We must follow the steps of the dance as surely as our servants, her mother had told her once. You can keep hiring new servants, and spend all your time training them and suffering till they learn, only to find yourself back where you started, or you can accept the rules as they do, and live comfortably while you use your time to rule.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Thank you, Mistress Harfor,\\\" she said, for which she received another precise curtsy. Reene Harfor was another who knew her own worth. \\\"Master Norry?\\\"\\n\\nThe heron-like man gave a start and stopped frowning at Reene. In someways, he saw the gateways as his, and not to be trifled with. \\\"Yes, my Lady. Of course.\\\" His voice was a dusty monotone. \\\"I trust the lady Birgitte already has informed you of the merchants' trains from Illian and Tear. I believe that is... um... her usual custom when you return to the city.\\\" Fora moment, his eyes rested reproachfully on Birgitte. He would never think of causing Elayne the smallest irritation even if she shouted at him, but he lived by his own set of rules, and, in a mild fashion, he resented Birgitte stealing his chance to enumerate the wagons and casks and barrels that had arrived. He did love his numbers. At least, Elayne supposed it was in a mild fashion. There seemed to be very little heat in Mister Norry.\\n\\n\\\"She did,\\\" she told him, with just a hint of apology, not enough to embarrass him. \\\"I fearsome of the Sea Folk are leaving us. We'll only have half the number to make gateways after today.\\\"\\n\\nHis fingers spidered across the leather folder against his chest as though feeling the papers within. She had never seen him consult one. \\\"Ah. Ah. We shall... cope, my Lady.\\\" Halwin Norry always coped. \\\"To continue, there were nine arsons yesterday and last night, slightly more than usual. Three attempts were made to fire warehouses storing food. None successful, I hasten to add.\\\" He might hasten to add, yet he did it in that same drone. \\\"If I may say so, the Guards patrolling the streets are having an effect-the number of assaults and thefts has declined to little more than normal for this time of year-but it seems evident that some hand is directing the arsons. Seventeen buildings were destroyed, all save one abandoned,\\\" his mouth narrowed in disapproval; it would take far more than a siege to make him leave Caemlyn, \\\"and in my opinion, all of the fires were placed so as to draw the water-wagons as far as possible from the warehouses where attempts were made. I now believe that pattern holds for every fire we've seen these past weeks.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Birgitte?\\\" Elayne said.\\n\\n\\\"I can try plotting the warehouses on a map,\\\" Birgitte replied doubtfully, \\\"and put extra Guards on the streets that seem to be farthest away, but it's still leaving a lotto fla... uh... to chance.\\\" She did not look toward Mistress Harfor, but Elayne felt a faint hint of a blush from her. \\\"Anybody can have flint and steel in a belt pouch, and it only takes a minute with some dry straw to start afire.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Do what you can,\\\" Elayne told her. It would be pure luck if they caught an arsonist in the act, and beyond luck if the arsonist could say more than that she had been handed coin by someone with a hood hiding her face. Tracing that gold back to Arymilla or Elenia or Naean would require Mat Cauthon's luck. \\\"Have you anything more, Master Norry?\\\"\\n\\nKnuckling his long nose, he avoided her gaze. \\\"It has... uh... come to my attention,\\\" he said hesitantly, \\\"that Marne, Arawn and Sarand have all recently taken very large loans against the revenues of their estates.\\\" Mistress Harfor's eyebrows climbed before she got them under control.\\n\\nPeering into her teacup, Elayne discovered that she had actually emptied it. Bankers never told anyone how much they had loaned to whom, or against what, but she did not ask how he knew. It would be... embarrassing. For both of them. She smiled when her sister took the cup, then grimaced when Aviendha returned with it filled again. Aviendha seemed to think she should drink weak tea till her eyes floated! Goat's milk was better, but dishwater for tea would do. Well, she would hold the bloody cup, but she did not have to drink.\\n\\n\\\"The mercenaries,\\\" Dyelin growled, the heat in her eyes enough to make a bear backup. \\\"I've said it before, and I'll say it again; the trouble with sell-swords is they don't always stay bought.\\\" She had opposed hiring mercenaries to help defend the city from the start, though the fact was that without them, Arymilla could have ridden in with her army by any gate she picked, or near enough. There simply had not been enough men to guard every gate properly otherwise, much less man the walls.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Birgitte had opposed the mercenaries, too, yet she had accepted Elayne's reasons, if reluctantly. She still distrusted them, but now she shook her head. Sitting on the arm of a chair near the fire, she rested her spurred boot on the seat. \\\"Mercenaries have a concern for their reputations if not their honor. Changing sides is one thing; actually betraying agate is something else entirely. A company that did that would never be hired again, anywhere. Arymilla would have to offer enough fora captain to live the rest of his lifelike a lord, and at least convince his men they'd be able to, as well.\\\"\\n\\nNorry cleared his throat. Even that sounded dusty, somehow. \\\"It seems they may have borrowed against the same revenues twice or even three times. The bankers, of course, are... unaware... of this, as yet.\\\"\\n\\nBirgitte began to curse, then cut herself off. Dyelin scowled into her wine hard enough to make it turn sour. Aviendha squeezed Elayne's hand, just a quick pressure quickly released. The fire crackled in a shower of sparks, some nearly reaching the carpets.\\n\\n\\\"The mercenary companies will have to be watched.\\\" Elayne raised a hand to forestall Birgitte. The other woman had not opened her mouth, but the bond shouted volumes. \\\"You will have to find the men for it somewhere.\\\" Light! They seemed to be guarding against as many people inside the city as outside! \\\"It shouldn't take that many, but we need to know if they start to act strangely, or secretively, Birgitte. That might be our only warning.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was thinking what to do if one of the companies does sellout,\\\" Birgitte said wryly. \\\"Knowing won't be enough unless I have men to rush to any gate I think is going to be betrayed. And half the soldiers in the city are mercenaries. Half the rest are old men who were living on their pensions a few months gone. I'll shift the mercenaries'postings at irregular intervals. It will be harder for them to betray agate if they can't be sure where they'll be tomorrow, but that doesn't make it impossible.\\\" Protest how she would that she was no general, she had seen more battles and sieges than any ten generals living, and she knew very well how these matters unfolded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Elayne almost wished she had wine in her cup. Almost. \\\"Is there any chance the bankers will learn what you have, Master Norry? Before the loans come due?\\\" If they did, some might decide they preferred Arymilla on the throne. She could strip the country's coffers to repay those loans, then. She might even do it. Merchants rode the political winds, whichever way they blew. Bankers had been known to attempt to influence events.\\n\\n\\\"In my opinion, it is unlikely, my Lady. They would have to... um... ask the right questions of the right people, but bankers are normally... um... closemouthed... with one another. Yes, I think it unlikely. For the time being.\\\"\\n\\nThere was nothing to be done in any case. Except to tell Birgitte there might be anew source for assassins and kidnappers. Only given her hard expression and a sudden grimness in the bond, she had already realized that. There would belittle chance of keeping the bodyguard under a hundred women, now. If there ever had been.\\n\\n\\\"Thank you, Master Norry,\\\" Elayne said. \\\"You've done well, as always. Let me know immediately if you see any indications that the bankers have asked those questions.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course, my Lady,\\\" he murmured, ducking his head like an egret darting after a fish. \\\"My Lady is very kind.\\\"\\n\\nWhen Reene and Norry left the room, him holding the door for her and making a bow that was a hair more graceful than usual and her giving him a slight bow of her head as she glided past him into the corridor, Aviendha did not release the ward she was holding. As soon as the door closed, its solid sound swallowed by the ward, she said, \\\"Someone tried to listen.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Elayne shook her head. There was noway to tell who-a Black sister? A curious Kinswoman?-but at least the eavesdrop had failed. Not that there was much chance of anyone getting past one of Aviendha's wards, maybe not even the Forsaken, but she would have spoken upright away if someone had.\\n\\nDyelin took Aviendha's announcement with less aplomb, muttering about the Sea Folk. She had not turned a hair at hearing that half the Windfinders were leaving, not in front of Reene and Norry, but now she demanded to know the whole story. \\\"I never did trust Zaida,\\\" she grumbled when Elayne finished. \\\"This agreement sounds good for trade, I suppose, but it wouldn't surprise me if she had one of the Windfinders try to listen in. She struck meas a woman who wants to know everything, just in case it might be useful one day.\\\" There was very little hesitant about Dyelin, yet she hesitated now, rolling her winecup between her palms. \\\"Are you certain this... this beacon... can't harm us, Elayne?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ascertain as I can be, Dyelin. If it was going to crack open the world, I think it would have by now.\\\" Aviendha laughed, but Dyelin turned quite pale. Really! Sometimes you had to laugh if only to keep from crying.\\n\\n\\\"If we tarry much longer now that Norry and Mistress Harfor are gone,\\\" Birgitte said, \\\"somebody might start wondering why.\\\" She waved a hand at the walls, indicating the ward she could not see. She knew it was still in place, though. The daily meetings with the First Maid and the First Clerk always concealed a little something more.\\n\\nEveryone gathered around her as she moved a pair of golden Sea Folk porcelain bowls on one of the side tables and pulled a much-folded map from inside her short coat. It rode there always, except when she slept, and then it resided beneath her pillow. Spread out, with empty winecups at the corners to hold it flat, the map displayed Andor from the River Erinin to the border between Altara and Murandy. In truth, it could have been said to show all of Andor, since what lay farther west had been only half under Caemlyn's control for generations. It had hardly been a masterpiece of the mapmaker's art to begin with, and creases obscured much of the detail, but it showed the terrain well enough, and every town and village was marked, every road and bridge and ford. Elayne set her teacup down at arm's length from the map to avoid spilling on it and adding more stains. And to rid herself of the wretched excuse for tea.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Borderlanders are moving,\\\" Birgitte said, pointing to the forests north of Caemlyn, to a spot above Andor's northmost border, \\\"but they haven't covered much ground. At this rate, they'll be well over a month getting close to Caemlyn.\\\"\\n\\nSwirling her silver cup, Dyelin peered into the dark wine, then looked up suddenly. \\\"I thought you northerners were used to snow, Lady Birgitte.\\\" Even now she had to probe, and telling her not to would only make her ten times ascertain that Birgitte was hiding secrets, and twenty times as determined to learn them.\\n\\nAviendha scowled at the older woman-when she was not in awe of Birgitte, sometimes she became fiercely protective of Birgitte's secrets-but Birgitte herself met Dyelin's gaze levelly, with no hint of alarm in the bond. She had become quite comfortable with the lie about her origins. \\\"I haven't been back to Kandor in along time.\\\" That was simple truth, though it had been far longer than Dyelin could have imagined. The country had not even been called Kandor, then. \\\"But no matter what you're used to, moving two hundred thousand soldiers, not to mention the Light alone knows how many camp followers, is slow going in winter. Worse, I sent Mistress Ocalin and Mistress Fote to visit some of the villages a few miles south of the border.\\\" Sabeine Ocalin and Julanya Fote were Kinswomen who could Travel. \\\"They say the villagers think the Borderlanders are camped for the winter.\\\"\\n\\nElayne tsked, frowning at the map as she traced distances with a finger. She was counting on news of the Borderlanders, if not on the Borderlanders themselves. Word of an army that size entering Andor should be leaping ahead of it like wildfire in dry grass. No one but a fool could believe they had marched all those hundreds of leagues to try conquering Andor, but everyone who heard would be speculating on their intentions and what to do about them, a different opinion on every tongue. Once the news began to spread, anyway. When it did, she had an advantage over everyone else. She had arranged for the Borderlanders to cross into Andor into the first place, and she had already arranged for them to leave.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The choice had not been very difficult. Stopping them would have been a bloody affair, if it could have been managed at all, and they wanted no more than the width of a road to march onward into Murandy, where they thought they would find the Dragon Reborn. That washer doing, as well. They hid their reason for seeking Rand, and she was not about to give them a true location, not when they had as many as a dozen Aes Sedai with them and hid that fact, too. But once news of them reached the High Seats...\\n\\n\\\"It should work,\\\" she said softly. \\\"If necessary, we can plant rumors of the Borderlanders ourselves.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It should work,\\\" Dyelin agreed, then added in a dark voice, \\\"As long as Bashere and Bael keep a close rein on their men. It's going to be a volatile mix, with Borderlanders, Aiel and the Legion of the Dragon all within a few miles of one another. And I can't see how we can be sure the Asha'man won't do something mad.\\\" She ended with a sniff. In her book, a man had to be mad in the first place, or he would never have chosen to become an Asha'man. Aviendha nodded. She disagreed with Dyelin almost as frequently as Birgitte did, but for the most part, the Asha'man were one thing they agreed on.\\n\\n\\\"I'll make sure the Borderlanders stay well clear of the Black Tower,\\\" Elayne reassured them, though she had done the same before. Even Dyelin knew that Bael and Bashere would hold their forces in check-neither man wanted a battle he did not need, and Davram Bashere certainly would not fight his own countrymen-but anyone had aright to be uneasy about the Asha'man and what they might do. She slid her finger from the six-pointed star identifying Caemlyn across the few miles to the ground the Asha'man had usurped. The Black Tower was not marked, but she knew all too well exactly where it lay. At least that was well away from the Lugard Road. Sending the Borderlanders south into Murandy without upsetting the Asha'man would not be difficult.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Her mouth compressed at the thought that she must not upset the Asha'man, but there was nothing to be done about it anytime soon, so she mentally shifted the black-coated men to one side. What could not be dealt with now, had to be dealt with later.\\n\\n\\\"And the others?\\\" She did not have to say more. Six major Houses remained uncommitted-at least to her or Arymilla. Dyelin claimed they would all come to Elayne eventually, but they showed no sign of it so far. Sabeine and Julanya had been looking for word of those six, too. Both women had spent the last twenty years as peddlers, accustomed to hard journeys, sleeping in stables or under the trees, and listening to what people did not say as much as to what they said. They made perfect scouts. It would be a great loss if they had to be shifted to helping keep the city supplied.\\n\\n\\\"Rumor has Lord Luan a dozen places, east and west.\\\" Frowning at the much-creased map as though Luan's position should have been marked on it, Birgitte muttered a curse, much viler than called for, now that Reene Harfor was absent. \\\"Always the next village over, or the one beyond that. Lady Ellorien and Lord Abelle seem to have vanished completely, difficult as that has to be fora High Seat. At least, Mistress Ocalin and Mistress Fote haven't been able to find a whisper of them, or of any House Pendar or House Traemane armsmen, either. Not a manor a horse.\\\" That was very unusual. Someone was exerting great effort.\\n\\n\\\"Abelle was always a ghost when he wanted to be,\\\" Dyelin muttered, \\\"always able to catch you wrong-footed. Ellorien...\\\" Brushing fingers against her lips, she sighed. \\\"The woman's too flamboyant to disappear. Unless she's with Abelle or Luan. Or both of them.\\\" She was not happy with that idea, no matter what she said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"As for our other\\\" friends',\\\"Birgitte said,\\\" Lady Arathelle crossed out of Murandy five days ago, here.\\\"She touched the map lightly, some two hundred miles south of Caemlyn.\\\" Four days ago, Lord Pelivar crossed about five or six miles west of that, and Lady Aemlyn here, another five or six miles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not together,\\\" Dyelin said, nodding. \\\"Did they bring any Murandians? No? Good. They could be moving to their estates, Elayne. If they move further apart, we'll know for certain.\\\" Those three Houses made her most anxious of all.\\n\\n\\\"They could beheading home,\\\" Birgitte agreed, reluctantly as always when agreeing with Dyelin. Drawing her intricate braid over her shoulder, she gripped it in a fist almost the way Nynaeve did. \\\"The men and horses must be worn out, after marching into Murandy in winter. But all we can be sure of is that they're on the move.\\\"\\n\\nAviendha snorted. With her inelegant velvets, it was a startling sound. \\\"Always assume your enemy will do what you do not want. Decide what you least want them to do, and plan on that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aemlyn, Arathelle and Pelivar aren't enemies,\\\" Dyelin protested weakly. Wherever she believed their allegiance would fall in time, those three had announced their support of Dyelin herself for the throne.\\n\\nElayne had never read of any queen being forced onto the throne-that sort of thing might not have made it into the histories in any case-yet Aemlyn, Arathelle and Pelivar seemed willing to try, and not for hope of power for themselves. Dyelin did not want the throne, but she would hardly be a passive ruler. The simple fact was that Morgase Trakand's final year had been marred by blunder after blunder, and few knew or believed that she had been a captive of one of the Forsaken during that time. Some Houses wanted anyone except another Trakand on the throne. Or thought they did.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What is the last thing we want them to do?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Elayne said. \\\"If they disperse to their estates, then they are out of it until spring at the earliest, and everything will be decided by then.\\\" The Light willing, it would. \\\"But if they continue onto Caemlyn?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Without the Murandians, they don't have enough armsmen to challenge Arymilla.\\\" Studying the map, Birgitte rubbed her chin. \\\"If they don't know by now that the Aiel and the Legion of the Dragon are staying out of this, they'll have to learn of it soon, but they'll want to be careful. None of them seems foolish enough to provoke a fight they can't win when they don't have to. I'd say they'll camp somewhere to the east or southeast, where they can keep an eye on events and maybe influence what happens.\\\"\\n\\nDowning the last of her wine, which must have been cold by now, Dyelin exhaled heavily and walked over to fill her cup again. \\\"If they come to Caemlyn,\\\" she said in a leaden tone, \\\"then they are hoping that Luan or Abelle or Ellorien will join them. Perhaps all three.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then we must figure out how to stop them reaching Caemlyn before our plans come to fruit, without making them permanent enemies.\\\" Elayne worked to make her voice assure and firm as Dyelin's was dull. \\\"And we must plan what to do in case they arrive here too early. If that happens, Dyelin, you will have to convince them the choice is between me and Arymilla. Otherwise, we'll be in a tangle we may never straighten out, and all of Andor in it with us.\\\"\\n\\nDyelin grunted as if she had been punched. The last time the great Houses split evenly among three claimants for the Lion Throne had been nearly five hundred years ago, and seven years of open war followed before a queen was crowned. The original claimants were all dead by that point.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Without thinking, Elayne picked up her teacup and took a sip. The tea had gone cold, but honey exploded on her tongue. Honey! She looked at Aviendha in astonishment, and her sister's lips quirked in a small smile. A conspiratorial smile, as if Birgitte did not know exactly what had happened. Even their strangely enhanced bond did not extend to her tasting what Elayne did, yet she had surely felt Elayne's surprise and pleasure on tasting the tea. Planting fists on hips, she adopted a censorious look. Or rather, she tried to; despite all she could do, a smile crept onto her face, too. Abruptly, Elayne realized that Birgitte's headache was gone. She did not know when it had vanished, but it certainly was not there any longer.\\n\\n\\\"Hope for the best and plan for the worst,\\\" she said. \\\"Sometimes, the best actually happens.\\\"\\n\\nDyelin, unaware of the honey or anything except that they were all three grinning, harrumphed loudly. \\\"And sometimes it doesn't happen. If your clever scheme comes off exactly as planned, Elayne, we won't have any need for Aemlyn or Ellorien or the others, but it's a terrible gamble. All it takes to go wrong is-\\\"\\n\\nThe left-hand door opened to admit a wave of cold and an apple-cheeked woman with icy eyes and the golden knot of an under-lieutenant on her shoulder. She might have knocked first, but if so, the ward had sealed off the sound. Like Rasoria, Tzigan Sokorin had been a Hunter for the Horn before joining Elayne's bodyguard. It seemed the guard had changed. \\\"The Wise One Monaelle wishes to seethe Lady Elayne,\\\" Tzigan announced, drawing herself up rigidly. \\\"Mistress Karistovan is with her.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Sumeko could be put off, but not Monaelle.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arymilla's people would as soon interfere with Aes Sedai as with the Aiel, yet only something important would have brought a Wise One into the city. Birgitte knew that, too; she immediately began folding the map up again. Aviendha let the warding dissipate and released the Source.\\n\\n\\\"Ask them to come in,\\\" Elayne said.\\n\\nMonaelle did not wait on Tzigan, gliding into the room as soon as the ward vanished, her multitude of gold and ivory bracelets rattling as she lowered her shawl from shoulders to elbows in the comparative warmth. Elayne did not know how old Monaelle was-Wise Ones were not as reticent about age as Aes Sedai, but they were oblique-yet she appeared not far into her middle years. There were hints of red in her waist-long yellow hair, but not a touch of gray. Short for an Aiel, shorter than Elayne, with a mild, motherly face, she was barely strong enough in the Power to have been accepted in the White Tower, but strength did not count among Wise Ones, and among them, she stood very high. More importantly for Elayne and Aviendha, she had been the midwife at their rebirth as first-sisters. Elayne offered her a curtsy, ignoring Dyelin's disapproving sniff, and Aviendha made a deep bow, folding herself over her hands. Aside from the duties owed to her midwife under Aiel customs, she was still only an apprentice Wise One, after all.\\n\\n\\\"I assume your need for privacy is ended, since you lowered the ward,\\\" Monaelle said, \\\"and it is time I checked on your condition, Elayne Trakand. It should be done twice in the month until full term.\\\" Why was she frowning at Aviendha? Oh, Light, the velvets!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And I have come to see what she does,\\\" Sumeko added, following the Wise One into the room. Sumeko was imposing, a stout woman with confident eyes, in well-cut red-belted yellow wool, with silver combs in her straight black hair, and a red-enameled silver circle-pinon the high neck of her dress. She might have been a noblewoman or a successful merchant. Once she had shown a certain diffidence, at least around Aes Sedai, but no longer. Not with Aes Sedai or soldiers of the Queen's Guards. \\\"You may go,\\\" she told Tzigan. \\\"This doesn't concern you.\\\" Or with nobles, for that matter. \\\"You may leave, too, Lady Dyelin, and you, Lady Birgitte.\\\" She studied Aviendha as if considering adding her to the list.\\n\\n\\\"Aviendha may remain,\\\" Monaelle said. \\\"She is missing a great many lessons, and she must learn this sooner or later.\\\" Sumeko nodded in acceptance of Aviendha, but she kept a coolly impatient gaze on Dyelin and Birgitte.\\n\\n\\\"Lady Dyelin and I have matters to discuss,\\\" Birgitte said, stuffing the folded map back under her redcoat as she started for the door. \\\"I'll tell you tonight what we've thought of, Elayne.\\\"\\n\\nDyelin gave her a sharp look, almost as sharp as the one she had given Sumeko, but she set her winecup on one of the trays and made her courtesies to Elayne, then waited with visible impatience while Birgitte bent to murmur at length in Monaelle's ear and the Wise One replied briefly, but just as quietly. What were they whispering about? Probably goat's milk.\\n\\nOnce the door closed behind Tzigan and the other two women, Elayne offered to send for more wine, since what was in the pitchers was cold, but Sumeko declined curtly, and Monaelle politely if rather absently. The Wise One was studying Aviendha with such intensity that the younger woman began to redden and looked away, gripping her skirts.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You mustn't take Aviendha to task about her clothes, Monaelle,\\\" Elayne said. \\\"I asked her to wear them, and she did as a favor tome.\\\"\\n\\nPursing her lips, Monaelle thought before answering. \\\"First-sisters should give one another favors,\\\" she said finally. \\\"You know your duty to our people, Aviendha. So far, you have done well at a difficult task. You must learn to live in two worlds, so it is fitting that you become comfortable in those clothes.\\\" Aviendha began to relax. Until Monaelle continued. \\\"But not too comfortable. From now on, you will spend every third day and night in the tents. You can return with me tomorrow. You have a great deal to learn yet before you can become a Wise One, and that is as much your duty as is being a binding cord.\\\"\\n\\nElayne reached out and took her sister's hand, and when Aviendha tried to let go after one squeeze, she held on. After a brief hesitation, Aviendha clung, too. Ina strange way, having Aviendha there had comforted Elayne for the loss of Rand; she was not only a sister but a sister who also loved him. They could share strength and make each other laugh when they wanted to cry, and they could cry together when that was needed. One night in three alone very likely meant one night in three weeping alone. Light, what was Rand doing? That awful beacon to the west was still blazing as strongly as ever, and she was certain that he was in the heart of it. Not one particle had changed in the bond with him, but she was certain.\\n\\nSuddenly she realized that she had a crushing grasp on Aviendha's hand, and Aviendha was holding hers as fiercely. They loosened their grips at the same instant. Neither let go, however.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Men cause trouble even when they are elsewhere,\\\" Aviendha said softly.\\n\\n\\\"They do,\\\" Elayne agreed.\\n\\nMonaelle smiled at the exchange. She was among the few who knew about the bonding of Rand, and who the father of Elayne's baby was. None of the Kinswomen did, though.\\n\\n\\\"I'd think you've let a man cause you all the trouble he could, Elayne,\\\" Sumeko said primly. The Kin's Rule followed the rules for novices and Accepted, forbidding not only children but anything that might lead to them, and they held to it strictly. Once, a Kinswoman would have swallowed her tongue before suggesting an Aes Sedai fell short of their Rule. Much had changed since then, however. \\\"I'm supposed to travel to Tear today so I can bring back a shipment of grain and oil tomorrow, and it is growing late, so if you are done talking about men, I suggest you let Monaelle get on with what she came for.\\\"\\n\\nMonaelle positioned Elayne in front of the fireplace, close enough that the heat from the nearly consumed logs was near to uncomfortable-it was best if the mother was very warm, she explained-then the glow of saidar surrounded her, and she began to weave threads of Spirit and Fire and Earth. Aviendha watched almost as avidly as Sumeko.\\n\\n\\\"What is this?\\\" Elayne asked as the weave settled around her and sank into her. \\\"Is it like Delving?\\\" Every Aes Sedai in the palace had Delved her, though only Merilille had sufficient skill with Healing for it to be much use, but neither they nor Sumeko had been able to say much more than that she was with child. She felt a faint tingling, a sort of hum inside her flesh.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Don't be silly, girl,\\\" Sumeko said absently. Elayne raised an eyebrow, and even thought of waving her Great Serpent ring under Sumeko's nose, but the round-faced woman did not appear to notice. She might not have noticed the ring, either. She was leaning forward, peering as though she could seethe weave inside Elayne's body. \\\"The Wise Ones learned about Healing from me. And from Nynaeve, I suppose,\\\" she allowed after a moment. Oh, Nynaeve would have gone up like an Illuminator's firework, hearing that. But then, Sumeko had outstripped Nynaeve long since. \\\"And they did learn the simple form from Aes Sedai.\\\" A snort like ripping canvas showed what Sumeko thought of the'simple\\\" form, the only sort of Healing Aes Sedai had known for thousands of years. \\\"This is something of the Wise Ones' own.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is called Caressing the Child,\\\" Monaelle said in an abstracted voice. Most of her attention was focused on the weave. A simple Delving to learn what ailed someone-it was simple, come to think-would have been finished by now, but she altered the flows, and the hum inside Elayne changed pitch, sinking deeper. \\\"It maybe some part of Healing, a sort of Healing, but we have known this since before we were sent to the Three-fold Land. Some of the ways the flows are used are similar to what Sumeko Karistovan and Nynaeve al'Meara showed us. In Caressing the Child, you learn the health of mother and child, and by changing the weaves, you can cure some problems of either, but they will notwork on a woman who is not with child. Or on a man, of course.\\\" The hum grew louder, until it seemed everyone must be able to hear it. Elayne thought her teeth were vibrating.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"An earlier thought returned to her, and she said, \\\"Will channeling hurt my child? If I channel, I mean.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No more than breathing does.\\\" Monaelle let the weave vanish with a grin. \\\"You have two. It is too early to say whether they are girls are boys, but they are healthy, and so are you.\\\"\\n\\nTwo! Elayne shared a wide smile with Aviendha. She could almost feel her sister's delight. She was going to have twins. Rand's babies. A boy and a girl, she hoped, or two boys. Twin girls would present all manner of difficulties for the succession. No one ever gained the Rose Crown with everyone behind her.\\n\\nSumeko made an urgent sound in her throat, gesturing toward Elayne, and Monaelle nodded. \\\"Do exactly as I did, and you will see.\\\" Watching Sumeko embrace the Source and form the weave, she nodded again, and the round Kinswoman let it sink into Elayne, letting out a gasp as if she felt the humming herself. \\\"You will not have to worry about birthing sickness,\\\" Monaelle went on, \\\"but you will find that you have difficulty in channeling sometimes. The threads may slip away from you as though greased or fade like mist, so you will have to try again and again to make the simplest weave or hold it. This may grow worse as your pregnancy progresses, and you will not be able to channel at all while in labor or giving birth, but it will come right after the children are born. You soon will become moody, too, if that has not already started, weepy one minute and snarling the next. The father of your child will be wise to step warily and keep his distance as much as he can.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hear she's already snapped his head off once this morning,\\\" Sumeko muttered. Releasing the weave, she straightened and adjusted her red belt around her girth. \\\"This is remarkable, Monaelle. I never thought of a weave that could only be used on a pregnant woman.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2383,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 3"},{"from":"human","value":"\"Did you see any gold change hands?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"he asked. \"Did you hear anything?\"\n\n\"I would have said,\" she replied thinly. \"And by our agreement, it is my turn fora question.\"\n\nHe managed to mask his irritation behind an expectant look. The fool woman always asked about the Aes Sedai in the palace or those she called the Kin, or about the Sea Folk. Silly questions. Who was friendly with whom, and who unfriendly. Who exchanged private words and who avoided one another. What he had heard them say. As if he had nothing to do with his time but lurk around the hallways spying on them. He never lied to her-there was too much chance she might learn the truth, even mired herein this house as a maid; she was Aes Sedai, after all-but it was growing difficult to come up with something he had not already told her, and she was adamant that he give information if he expected to receive any. Still, he had a few tidbits to offer today, some of the Sea Folk going off, and the whole lot of them jumping for most of the day as if they had icicles shoved down their backs. She would have to settle for that. What he needed to know was important, not bloody gossip.\n\nBefore she could get her question out, though, the door to the outside opened. Murellin was large enough that he almost filled the doorway, yet icy cold still swirled in, a gust that made the small fire dance and sent sparks flying up the chimney until the big man pushed the door shut. He gave no sign that he felt the chill, but then, his brown coat looked thick as two cloaks. Besides, the man was not only the size of an ox, he had the wits of one. Setting a tall wooden mug down on the table with a thump, he tucked his thumbs behind his wide belt and eyed Hanlon resentfully. \"You messing with my woman?\" he muttered."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hanlon gave a start. Not from any fear of Murellin, not with the oaf on the other side of the table. What startled him was the Aes Sedai leaping from her chair and snatching up the wine pitcher. Dumping in the ginger and cloves, she added a scoop of honey and swirled the pitcher around as if that was going to mix everything, then used a fold of her skirt to pull the poker from the fire and shove it into the wine without checking to see whether it was hot enough yet. She never looked in Murellin's direction at all.\n\n\"Your woman?\" Hanlon said carefully. That earned a smirk from the other man.\n\n\"Near enough. The Lady figured I might as well use what you aren't. Anyway, Fally and me keep each other warm nights.\" Murellin started around the table, still grinning, but at the woman, now. A shout echoed in the hallway, and he stopped with a sigh, his grin fading.\n\n\"Falion!\" Shiaine's distant voice called sharply. \"Bring Hanlon up now and be quick about it!\" Falion set the pitcher on the table hard enough to slop wine over the rim and was heading for the door before Shiaine finished. When the other woman spoke, Falion jumped.\n\nHanlon jumped too, if fora different reason. Catching up to her, he seized her arm as she took the first step on the stairs. A quick glance back showed the kitchen door closed. Maybe Murellin did feel the cold. He kept his voice low anyway. \"What was that all about?\"\n\n\"It is none of your business,\" she said curtly. \"Can you get me something that will make him sleep? Something I can put in his ale or wine? He will drink anything, however it tastes.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"If Shiaine thinks I'm not obeying orders, it bloody well is my business, and you ought to see it that way, too, if you have two bloody thoughts to rub together.\"\n\nShe tilted her head, staring down that long nose at him, cold as a fish. \"This has nothing to do with you. As far as Shiaine is concerned, I will still belong to you when you are here. You see, certain matters changed.\" Suddenly, something unseen grasped his wrist tightly and pulled his hand from her sleeve. Something else latched onto his throat, squeezing till he could not draw breath. Futilely, he scrabbled left-handed for his dagger. Her tone remained cool. \"I thought certain other matters should change accordingly, but Shiaine does not see things logically. She says that when the Great Master Moridin wishes my punishment lessened, he will say so. Moridin gave me to her. Murellin is her way of making sure I understand that. Her way of making sure I know that I am her dog until she says otherwise.\" Abruptly she drew a deep breath, and the pressure vanished from his wrist and throat. Air had never tasted so sweet. \"You can get what I ask for?\" she said, as calm as if she had not just tried to kill him with the bloody Power. Just the thought that that had been touching him made his skin crawl.\n\n\"I can...\" he began hoarsely, and stopped to swallow, rubbing at his throat. It felt as though it had been cinched in a hangman's noose. \"I can get you something that will put him in asleep he'll never wake from.\" As soon as it was safe, he was going to gut her like a goose.\n\nShe snorted derisively. \"I would be the first Shiaine suspected, and I might as well cut my own wrists as object to anything she decided to do. It will be enough if he sleeps the nights through. Leave the thinking tome, and we will both be the better for it.\" Resting a hand on the carved newelpost, she glanced up the stairs. \"Come. When she says now, she means now.\" A pity he could not hang her up like a goose to wait for the knife."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Following her, his boots thumped on the treads, sending a clatter through the entry hall, and it struck him that he had not heard the visitor leave. Unless the house had some secret way out he did not know, there was only the front door, the one in the kitchen, and a second at the back that could only be reached bypassing the kitchen. So it seemed he was to meet this soldier. Maybe it was supposed to come as a surprise. Surreptitiously, he eased his dagger in its sheath.\n\nAs expected, the front sitting room had a fine blaze burning away in the wide fireplace of blue-veined marble. It was a room worth the looting, with Sea Folk porcelain vases on the gilt-edged side tables, and tapestries and carpets that would fetch a pretty price. Except that one of the carpets was likely worthless, now. A low blanket-covered mound lay near the middle of the room, and if the fellow that made it had not stained the carpet with his blood, Hanlon would eat the boots sticking out from one end.\n\nShiaine herself was sitting in a carved armchair, a pretty woman in gold-embroidered blue silk with an ornate belt of woven gold and a heavy gold necklace around her slim neck. Glossy brown hair hung below her shoulders even caught in a net of intricate lace. She looked delicate at first glance, but there was something vulpine about her face, and her smile never touched those big brown eyes. She was using a lace-edged handkerchief to clean a small dagger capped with a firedrop on the pommel. \"Go tell Murellin that I will have a... bundle... for him to dispose of later, Falion,\" she said calmly.\n\nFalion's face remained smooth as polished marble, but she made a curtsy that lacked little of cringing before she scuttled out of the room at a run."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Watching the woman and her dagger from the corner of his eye, Hanlon moved to the covered mound and bent to lift a corner of the blanket. Glazed blue eyes stared out of a face that might have been hard, alive. The dead always looked softer. Apparently he had been neither as cautious nor as intelligent as Falion thought him. Hanlon let the blanket fall and straightened. \"He said something you objected to, my Lady?\" he said mildly. \"Who was he?\"\n\n\"He said several things I objected to.\" She held her dagger up, studying the small blade to be sure it was clean, then slid it into a gold-worked sheath at her waist. \"Tell me, is Elayne's child yours?\"\n\n\"I don't know who fathered the whelp,\" he said wryly. \"Why, my Lady? Do you think I'd go soft? The last chit who claimed I'd gotten a child on her, I stuffed her down a well to cool her head and made sure she stayed there.\" There were along-necked silver wine pitcher and two chased silver cups sitting on a tray on one of the side tables. \"Is this safe?\" he asked, peering into the cups. Both had wine in the bottom, but a little addition to one would have turned the dead man into easy prey.\n\n\"Catrelle Mosenain, an ironmonger's daughter from Maerone,\" the woman said, just as smoothly as if it were common knowledge, and he very nearly flinched in surprise. \"You split her head open with a rock before you pitched her down, no doubt to spare her drowning.\" How did she know the wench's name, much less about the rock? He had not remembered her name himself. \"No, I doubt you would go soft, but I would hate to think you were kissing the Lady Elayne without letting me know. I would purely hate that.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Suddenly she frowned at the bloodstained handkerchief in her hand and rose gracefully to glide to the fireplace and toss it into the flames. She stood there warming herself, never even glancing in his direction. \"Can you arrange for some of the Seanchan women to escape? Best if it can be both those called sul'dam and the ones called damane,\" she stumbled a little over the strange words, \"but if you can't do both, then a few of the sul'dam should do. They will free some of the others.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\" Blood and bloody ashes, she was dancing from one thing to another worse than Falion tonight. \"It won't be easy, my Lady. They're all guarded close.\"\n\n\"I didn't ask whether it was easy,\" she said, staring into the flames. \"Can you shift guards away from the food warehouses? It would please me if some of those actually burned. I am tired of attempts that always fail.\"\n\n\"That I cannot do,\" he muttered. \"Not unless you expect me to go into hiding right after. They keep a record of orders that would make a Cairhienin wince. And it wouldn't do any good anyway, not with those bloody gateways bringing in more wagons every bloody day.\" In truth, he was not sorry for that. Queasy over the means used, certainly, but not sorry. He expected the palace would be the last place in Caemlyn to go hungry in any case, but he had lived out sieges on both sides of the lines, and he had no intention of ever boiling his boots for soup again. Shiaine wanted fires, though.\n\n\"Another answer I did not ask for.\" She shook her head, still looking into the fireplace, not at him. \"But perhaps something can be done there. How close are you to actually... enjoying Elayne's affections?\" she finished primly."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Closer than the day I arrived in the palace,\" he growled, glowering at her back."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He tried never to offend those the Chosen had set above him, but the chit was trying him. He could snap that slender neck like a twig! To keep his hands from her throat, he filled one of the cups and held it with no intention of drinking. In his left hand, of course. Just because there was one dead man in the room already did not mean she had no plans to make it two corpses. \"But I have to go slow. It isn't as if I can back her into a corner and tickle her out of her shift.\"\n\n\"I suppose not,\" Shiaine said in a muffled voice. \"She is hardly the sort of woman you are used to.\" Was she laughing? Was she amused at him? It was all he could do not to throw down the winecup and strangle the fox-faced bint.\n\nSuddenly she turned around, and he blinked as she casually slipped her dagger back into its sheath. He had never seen her draw the bloody thing! He took a swallow of wine without thinking, and almost choked when he realized what he had done.\n\n\"How would you like to see Caemlyn looted?\" she asked.\n\n\"Well enough, if I have a good company at my back and a clear path to the gates.\" The wine had to be safe. Two cups meant she had drunk, too, and if he had picked up the dead man's, there could not be enough poison left in it to sicken a mouse. \"Is that what you want? I follow orders as well as the next man.\" He did when he seemed likely to survive them, or when they came from the Chosen. As well die fora fool as disobey the Chosen. \"But sometimes it helps to know more than'go there and do that. \"If you told me what you're after herein Caemlyn, I might be able to help you reach it faster.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Of course.\" She smiled a toothy smile while her eyes stayed as flat as brownstones. \"But first, tell me why there is fresh blood on your gauntlet?\"\n\nHe smiled back. \"A footpad who got unlucky, my Lady.\" Maybe she had sent the man and maybe not, but he added her throat to the list of those he intended to slit. And he might as well add Marillin Gemalphin, too. After all, alone survivor was the only one who could tell the tale of what had happened.\n\nChapter 16\n\nThe Subject of Negotiations\n\nThe morning sun sat on the horizon, leaving the nearer side of Tar Valon still wrapped in shadows, but the snow that covered everything gleamed brightly. The city itself seemed to shine behind its long whitewalls, all bravely towered and bannered, yet to Egwene, sitting her roan gelding on the river-bank above the city, it seemed even farther away than it really was. The Erinin widened to more than two miles here, and the Alindrelle Erinin and Osendrelle Erinin, flowing to either side of the island, were almost half that, so that Tar Valon appeared to sit in the middle of a great lake, unreachable despite the massive bridges that stood high above the waters so that ships could sail beneath them easily. The White Tower itself, a thick bone-white shaft rising to an impossible height from the city's heart, filled her own heart with a yearning for home. Not for the Two Rivers, but for the Tower. That washer home, now. A plume of smoke caught her eye, a faint black line rising from the far bank beyond the city, and she grimaced. Daishar stamped a hoof in the snow, but a pat on the neck sufficed to soothe the roan. It would take more to soothe his rider. Homesickness was the smallest part of it. Minuscule, compared to the rest."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"With a sigh, she rested her reins on the high pommel of her saddle and raised the long brass-bound looking glass. Her cloak fell back, slipping off one shoulder, but she ignored the cold that misted her breath and placed a gloved hand to shield the front lens against the sun's glare. The city walls leaped closer in her sight. She focused on the tall curving arms of Northharbor that pushed out into the upstream currents. People moved purposefully atop the battlements that enfolded the harbor, but she could barely discern men from women at that distance. Still, she was glad that she was not wearing her seven-striped stole, and that her face was deep within her cowl, just in case someone there had a stronger glass than she. The wide mouth of the man-made harbor was blocked by a massive iron chain drawn taut a few feet above the water. Tiny dots on the water, diving birds fishing in front of the harbor, gave the chain scale. One single pace-long link would have required two men to lift it. A rowboat might slip under that barrier, but no vessel of any size would enter unless the White Tower allowed. Of course, the chain was only intended to keep out enemies.\n\n\"There they are, Mother,\" Lord Gareth murmured, and she lowered the glass. Her general was a stocky man in a plain breastplate worn over a plain brown coat, without any touch of gilt or embroidery anywhere. His face was bluff and weathered behind the bars of his helmet, and the years had given him a strange sort of comforting calmness. All you need do was look at Gareth Bryne to know that if the Pit of Doom opened in front of him, he would smother his fear and go about doing what needed doing. And other men would follow him. He had proved on battlefield after battlefield that following him was the path to victory. A good man to have following her. Her eyes followed his gauntleted hand, pointing upriver."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Just coming insight around a point of land, five, six-no, seven-riverships were slicing furrows down the Erinin. Large vessels as such things were seen on the river, one with three masts, their triangular sails stood out tight, and their long sweeps cut hard through the blue-green water to add a little more speed. Everything about the craft spoke of a burning desire for speed, a desire to reach Tar Valon now! The river was deep enough here that ships could run within shouting distance of the banks in places, but these sailed in almost single file as close to the middle of the Erinin as the steersmen could manage and hold the wind. Sailors clinging to the mastheads kept watch along the shoreline, and not for mudbanks.\n\nIn fact, they had nothing at all to fear so long as they kept out of bowshot. True, from where she sat her horse, she could have set fire to everyone of those ships, or simply cut holes through their hulls and let them sink. The work of moments. Yet doing so surely meant some of those aboard would drown. The currents were strong, the water like ice, and the swim to shore long, for those who actually could swim. Even one death would make what she did using the Power as a weapon. She was trying to live as though already bound by the Three Oaths, and the Oaths protected those vessels from her or any other sister. A sister who had sworn on the Oath Rod would not be able to make herself set those weaves, perhaps not even to form them, unless she could convince herself she was in immediate danger from the ships. But neither captains nor crews believed that, apparently.\n\nAs the riverships came closer, shouts thinned to threadbare by distance drifted across the water. The lookouts upon the masts pointed to her and Gareth, and it quickly became apparent they took her for an Aes Sedai with her Warder. Or at least, the captains were unwilling to take the chance she was not. After a moment, the beat of the sweeps increased. Only by a fraction, but the oarsmen labored to find that fraction. A woman on the quarterdeck of the lead vessel, likely the captain, waved her arms as if demanding still more effort, and a handful of men began running up and down the deck, tightening this line or loosening that to change the angle of the sails, though Egwene could not see that they achieved anything. There were men on those decks other than sailors, and most of those crowded to the railings, a handful raising looking glasses of their own. Some seemed to be measuring the distance left to cover before they reached the safety of the harbor."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She thought about weaving a flare, a starburst of light, perhaps with aloud bang, just above each of the vessels. That would certainly let anyone aboard with brains realize that neither speed nor distance kept them safe here, only a forbearance born of the Three Oaths. They should know that they were safe because of Aes Sedai.\n\nExhaling heavily, she shook her head and mentally upbraided herself. That simple weave would also attract attention in the city, certainly more than the appearance of a single sister. Sisters often came to the riverbank to stare at Tar Valon and the Tower. Even if the only reaction to her flares was some sort of counterdisplay, once begun, that sort of contest could be very difficult to put a stop to. Once begun, matters might well escalate out of hand. There were too many opportunities for that, as it was, the more so these last five days.\n\n\"The harbormaster hasn't let above eight or nine ships in atone time since we arrived,\" Gareth said as the first vessel drew abreast of them, \"but the captains seemed to have worked out the timing. Another clutch will appear soon, and reach the city about the time the Tower Guards are sure these fellows actually came to enlist. Jimar Chubain knows enough to guard against me sneaking men in aboard ships. He has more of the Guards crowded into the harbors than anywhere except at the bridge towers, and not many anywhere else, so far as I can learn. That will change, though. The flow of ships starts at first light and keeps up till near nightfall, here and at Southharbor too. This lot doesn't seem to be carrying as many soldiers as most do. Every plan is brilliant until the day comes, Mother, but then you must adapt to circumstances or be ridden down.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Egwene made a vexed sound."},{"from":"gpt","value":"There must be two hundred or more passengers altogether on those seven ships. A few might be merchants or traders or some other sort of innocent traveler, but the low sun glittered off helmets and breastplates and steel discs sewn to leather jerkins. How many shiploads arrived each day? Whatever the number, a steady flow was pouring into the city to enlist under High Captain Chubain. \"Why do men always rush so hard to kill or be killed?\" she muttered irritably.\n\nLord Gareth looked at her calmly. He sat his horse, a big bay gelding with a white stripe down his nose, like a statue. Sometimes, she thought she knew one small part of how Siuan felt about the man. Sometimes she thought it would be worth whatever effort was needed to startle him, just to see him startled.\n\nUnfortunately, she knew the answer to her own question as well as he did. At least as it applied to men going soldiering. Oh, there were men enough who rushed to support a cause or defend what they thought what was right, and some who sought adventure, whatever they believed that was, yet the simple fact was that for carrying a pike or spear, a man could earn twice each day what he would get for walking behind another man's plow, and half again as much if he could ride well enough to join the cavalry. Crossbowmen and archers fell in between. The man who worked for another could dream of having his own farm or shop one day, or a beginning toward one that his sons could build on, but he surely had heard a thousand tales of men soldiering for five years or ten and coming home with enough gold to set themselves up in comfort, tales of ordinary men who rose to become generals, or lords. Fora poor man, Gareth had said bluntly, staring down the point of a pike could be a better view than the hind end of somebody else's plow horse. Even if he was far more likely to die from the pike than earn fame or fortune. A bitter way to look at it, yet she imagined that was how most of those men on the ships saw matters, too. But then, that was how she had gotten her own army. For every man who wanted to seethe usurper pulled from the Amyrlin Seat, for every man who even knew for certain who Elaida was, ten if not a hundred had joined for the pay. Some of the men on the ship were raising their hands, to show the guards on the harbor walls they were not holding weapons."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No,\" she said, and Lord Gareth sighed. His voice remained calm, but his words were hardly comforting when he spoke.\n\n\"Mother, so long as the harbors remain open, Tar Valon will eat better than we do, and rather than growing weaker with hunger, the Tower Guard will grow larger and stronger. I very much doubt that Elaida will let Chubain rush out to attack us, as much as I wish he would. Everyday you wait only adds to the butcher's bill we'll have to pay sooner or later. I've said from the start it will come to an assault, in the end, and that hasn't changed, but everything else has. Have the sisters put me and my men inside the walls now, and I can take Tar Valon. It won't be clean. It never is. But I can take the city for you. And fewer will die than if you delay.\"\n\nA knot formed in her belly, twisted tight till she could hardly breathe. Carefully, step by step, she performed novice exercises to make it loosen. The bank contained the river, guiding without controlling. Calm settled on her, in her.\n\nToo many people had begun seeing the uses of gateways, and in away, Gareth represented the worst. His business was war, and he was very good at it. As soon as he learned a gateway could take more than a small group of people atone time, he had seen the implications. Even the great walls of Tar Valon, beyond the range of any siege catapult not on a barge, and worked with the Power till the largest catapult could not mark them in any case, might as well be made of paper against an army that could Travel. But whether Gareth Bryne had learned or not, other men would seize on that idea. The Asha'man already had, it seemed. War had always been ugly, yet it was going to grow uglier."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No,\" she repeated. \"I know people are going to die before this is over.\" The Light help her, she could see them dying just by closing her eyes. Even more would die if she made the wrong decisions, though, and not just here. \"But I have to keep the White Tower alive-against Tarmon Gai'don-to stand between the world and the Asha'man-and the Tower will die if this comes to sisters killing one another in the streets of Tar Valon.\" That had already happened once. It could not be allowed a second time. \"If the White Tower dies, hope dies. I shouldn't have to tell you that again.\"\n\nDaishar snorted and tossed his head, lunging as though he had sensed her irritation, but she reined him in firmly and slipped the looking glass into the tooled leather case hanging from her saddle. The diving birds gave up their fishing and sprang into the air as the thick chain that blocked Northharbor began to droop. It would dip beneath the surface well before the first ship reached the harbor mouth. How long ago had it been that she reached Tar Valon by that same route? Almost beyond memory, it seemed. An Age gone. It had been another woman who came ashore and was met by the Mistress of Novices.\n\nGareth shook his head with a quick grimace. But then, he never gave up, did he? \"You have to keep the White Tower alive, Mother, but my job is to give it to you. Unless things have changed that I don't know about. I can see sisters whispering and looking over their shoulders even if I don't know what it means. If you still want the Tower, it will come to an assault, better soon than late.\"\n\nSuddenly the morning seemed darker, as though clouds had obscured the sun. Whatever she did, the dead were going to pileup like cordwood, but she had to keep the White Tower alive. She had to. When there were no good choices, you had to choose the one that seemed least wrong."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I've seen enough here,\" she said quietly. With one last glance at that narrow line of smoke beyond the city, she turned Daishar toward the trees a hundred paces back from the river, where her escort waited among the evergreen leatherleaf and winter-bare beech and birch.\n\nTwo hundred light cavalry, in boiled leather breastplates or coats covered with metal discs, would certainly have attracted notice appearing on the riverbank, but Gareth had convinced her of the necessity of these men with their slender lances and short horsebows. Without any doubt, that smoke plume on the far bank rose from burning wagons or supplies. Pinpricks, yet those pinpricks came every night, sometimes one, sometimes two or three, till everyone looked for smoke first thing on rising. Hunting the raiders down had proved impossible, so far. Sudden snow squalls flared around the pursuers, or fierce freezing night winds, or the tracks simply vanished abruptly, the snow beyond the last hoof-print as smooth as fresh fallen. The residues of weavings made it plain enough they were being aided by Aes Sedai, and there was no point in taking a chance that Elaida had men and maybe sisters on this side of the river, too. Few things could please Elaida more than getting her hands on Egwene al'Vere.\n\nThey were not her whole escort, of course. Besides Sheriam, her Keeper, she had ridden outwith six more Aes Sedai this morning, and those who had Warders had brought them, so behind the sister eight men waited in color-shifting cloaks that rippled in queasy-making fashion when a breeze caught them and otherwise made parts of riders and horses seem to vanish into the tree trunks. Aware of the dangers-from raiders, at least-aware that their Aes Sedai were wound tight to near breaking, they watched the surrounding copse as though the cavalrymen were not there. The safety of their own Aes Sedai was their primary concern, and that they trusted to no one else. Sarin, a black-bearded stump of a man, not that short but very wide, stayed so close to Nisao that he seemed to loom over the diminutive Yellow, and Jori managed to loom over Morvrin as well, though he was actually shorter than she. As broad as Sarin, but very short even fora Cairhienin. Myrelle's three Warders, the three she dared acknowledge, clustered around her until she could not have moved her horse without pushing one of theirs out of her way. Anaiya's Setagana, lean and dark and as beautiful as she was plain, almost managed to surround her by himself, and Tervail, with his bold nose and scarred face, did the same with Beonin. Carlinya had no Warder, not unusual fora White, but she studied the men from the depths of her fur-lined cowl as if thinking about finding one."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Not too long ago, Egwene would have hesitated to be seen with those six women. They and Sheriam had all sworn fealty to her, for various reasons, and neither they nor she wanted the fact known or even suspected. They had been her way to influence events, to the extent that she could, when everyone thought her no more than a figurehead, a girl Amyrlin the Hall of the Tower could use as it wished and no one listened to. The Hall had lost that illusion when she brought them to declare war on Elaida, finally admitting what they had been about since the day they had fled the Tower in the first place, but that only made the Hall, and the Ajahs, worry over what she would do next and try to figure out how to make sure that whatever it was met with their approval. The Sitters had been very surprised when she accepted their suggestion of a council, one sister from each Ajah, to advise her with their wisdom and experience. Or perhaps they thought her success with the declaration of war had gone to her head. Of course, she had just told Morvrin and Anaiya and the others to make sure they were the sisters chosen, and they retained enough prestige within their Ajahs to manage it, just. She had been listening to their advice, if not always taking it, for weeks by that time, but now there was no longer any need to arrange furtive meetings or pass messages in secret.\n\nIt seemed, however, that there had been an addition to the party while Egwene was staring at the Tower.\n\nSheriam, wearing the narrow blue stole of her office outside her cloak, managed a very formal bow from her saddle. The flame-haired woman could be incredibly formal at times. \"Mother, the Sitter Delana wishes to speak with you,\" she said as if Egwene could not seethe stout Gray sister sitting thereon a dappled mare almost as dark as Sheriam's black-footed mount. \"On a matter of some importance, so she says.\" And the slight touch of asperity meant Delana had not told her what matter. Sheriam would not have liked that. She could be very jealous of her position."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"In private, if you please, Mother,\" Delana said, pushing back her dark hood to reveal hair nearly the color of silver. Her voice was deep fora woman's, but it hardly carried the urgency of someone with important matters to speak of.\n\nHer presence was something of a surprise. Delana often supported Egwene in the Hall of the Tower, when Sitters were quibbling over whether a particular decision actually concerned the war against Elaida. That meant the Hall was required to support Egwene's commands as if they had stood with the greater consensus, and even the Sitters who had stood for war did not half like that little fact, which made for endless quibbling. They wanted to pull Elaida down, yet left to themselves, the Hall would have done nothing but argue. Truth to tell, though, Delana's support was not always welcome. One day she could be the very image of a Gray negotiator seeking consensus, and the next so strident in her arguments that every Sitter within hearing got her backup. She had been known to set the cat among the pigeons in other ways, too. No fewer than three times now, she had demanded the Hall make a formal declaration that Elaida was Black Ajah, which inevitably led to an awkward silence until someone called for the sitting to be adjourned. Few were willing to discuss the Black Ajah openly. Delana would discuss anything, from how they were to find proper clothes for nine hundred and eighty-seven novices to whether Elaida had secret supporters among the sisters, another topic that gave most sisters a case of the prickles. Which left the question of why she had ridden out so early, and by herself. She had never approached Egwene before without another Sitter or three for company. Delana's pale blue eyes gave away no more than did her smooth Aes Sedai face."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"While we ride,\" Egwene told her. \"We will want a little privacy,\" she added when Sheriam opened her mouth. \"Stay back with the others, please.\" The Keeper's green eyes tightened in what might almost have been anger. An efficient Keeper, and eager with it, she had pinned her hopes on Egwene and made little secret that she disliked being excluded from any meeting Egwene had. Upset or not, she bowed her head in acceptance with only a small hesitation. Sheriam had not always known which of them commanded, but she did now.\n\nThe land tended upward from the River Erinin, not in hills but simply rising toward the monstrous peak that loomed to the west, so massive it seemed to mock the name mountain. Dragonmount would have towered above everything else even in the Spine of the World; in the relatively flat country around Tar Valon, its white-capped crest seemed to reach the heavens, especially when a thin thread of smoke was streaming away from the jagged top as it was now. A thin thread at that height would be something else entirely, close at hand. Trees gave out less than halfway up Dragonmount, and no one had ever succeeded in reaching the crest or even coming close, though it was said the slopes were littered with the bones of those who had tried. Why anyone would try in the first place, no one could quite explain. Sometimes the long evening shadow of the mountain stretched all the way to the city. People who lived in the region were accustomed to Dragonmount dominating the sky, much as they were accustomed to the White Tower looming above the city walls and visible for miles. Both were unchanging fixtures that had always been there and always would be, but crops and crafts occupied the people's lives, not mountains or Aes Sedai.\n\nIn tiny hamlets often or a dozen stone houses roofed in thatch or slate, and the occasional village of a hundred, children playing in the snow or carrying buckets of water from the wells stopped to gape at the soldiers riding along the dirt tracks that passed for roads when not covered in snow. They carried no banners, but a few of the soldiers wore the Flame of Tar Valon worked on their cloaks or coatsleeves, and the Warders'strange cloaks named at least some of the women as Aes Sedai. Even this near the city, sisters had been an uncommon sight till recently, and they were still something to make a child's eyes gleam. But then, the soldiers themselves probably came close in the list of marvels. The farms that fed Tar Valon covered most of the land, stone-walled fields surrounding sprawling houses and tall barns of stone or brick, with copses and coppices and thickets of trees between, and groups of farm children often ran a little distance parallel to the line of travel, leaping across the snow like hares. Winter chores kept most older folk indoors, but those who ventured out, heavily bundled against the cold, spared barely a glance for soldiers or Warders or Aes Sedai. Spring would becoming soon, and the plowing and planting, and what Aes Sedai did would not affect that. The Light willing, it would not."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was no point to guards unless they rode as if expecting an attack, and Lord Gareth had arranged a strong party of foreriders and lines of flankers, with trailers riding to the rear while he led the mass of the soldiers right behind the Warders who followed closely on the heels of Sheriam and the'council.\" They all made a large, lopsided ring around Egwene, and she could almost imagine she was riding through the countryside alone with Delana if she did not look around too closely. Or if she looked beyond. Instead of pressing the Gray Sitter to speak-it was along ride back to camp, and no one was allowed to weave a gateway where the weave might be observed; there was plenty of time to hear what Delana had to say-Egwene compared the farms they passed to those in the Two Rivers.\n\nPerhaps the realization that the Two Rivers was no longer homemade her study them. Acknowledging the truth could never be a betrayal, yet she needed to remember the Two Rivers. You could forget who you were if you forgot where you came from, and sometimes the innkeeper's daughter from Emond's Field seemed a stranger to her. Any of these farms would have looked decidedly odd, set down near Emond's Field, though she could not put a finger on why, exactly. A different shape to the houses, a different slant to the roofs. And more often slate topped a house than thatch, here, when you could make out either through the snow that was often mounded on the rooftops. Of course, there was less thatch and more stone and brick in the Two Rivers now than there had been. She had seen it, in Tel'aran'rhiod. Change came so slowly you never noticed it creeping upon you, or far too fast for comfort, but it came. Nothing stayed the same, even when you thought it did. Or hoped it would."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Some think you're going to bond him your Warder,\" Delana said suddenly in a quiet voice. She might have been engaging in casual conversation. Her whole attention seemed to be on arranging the hood of her cloak with green-gloved hands. She rode well, blending with the motion of her mare so effortlessly that she appeared unaware of the animal. \"Some think perhaps you already have. I haven't had one myself for sometime, but just knowing your Warder is there can be a comfort. If you choose the right one.\"\n\nEgwene raised an eyebrow-she was proud that she did not gape at the woman; this was the very last topic she would have expected-and Delana added, \"Lord Gareth. He spends a great deal of time with you. He's rather older than is usual, but Greens often choose a more experienced man for their first. I know you never actually had an Ajah, yet I often think of you as a Green. I wonder, will Siuan be relieved if you bond him, or upset? Sometimes I think one, sometimes the other. Their relationship, if it can be called that, is most peculiar, yet she seems completely unembarrassed.\"\n\n\"You must ask Siuan herself about that.\" Egwene's smile had some bite in it. So did her tone, for that matter. She did not entirely understand herself why Gareth Bryne had offered her his loyalty, but the Hall of the Tower had better uses for its time than gossiping like village women. \"You can tell whoever you choose that I've bonded no one, Delana. Lord Gareth spends time with me, as you put it, because I am the Amyrlin and he is my general. You may remind them of that, as well.\" So Delana thought of her as a Green. That was the Ajah she would have chosen, though in truth, she wanted only one Warder. But Gawyn was either inside Tar Valon or else on his way to Caemlyn, and either way, she would not lay hands on him soon. She patted Daishar's neck unnecessarily and tried to keep her smile from becoming a glare. It had been pleasant to forget the Hall, among other things, fora while. The Hall made her understand why Siuan had so often looked like a bear with a sore tooth when she was Amyrlin."},{"from":"human","value":"\"I wouldn't say it has become a matter for wide discussion,\" Delana murmured."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So far. Still, there is some interest in whether you will bond a Warder, and who. I doubt that Gareth Bryne would be considered a wise pick.\" She twisted in her saddle to look behind them. At Lord Gareth, Egwene thought, but when the Sitter turned back around, she said, very softly, \"Sheriam was never your choice for Keeper, of course, but you must know that the Ajahs set the rest of that lotto watch you, as well.\" Her dappled gray mare was shorter than Daishar, so she had to lookup at Egwene, which she tried to do without seeming to. Those watery blue eyes were suddenly quite sharp. \"There was some thought that Siuan might be advising you... too well... after the way you brought about the declaration of war against Elaida. But she's still resentful over her changed circumstances, isn't she? Sheriam is seen as the most likely culprit, now. In any case, the Ajahs want a little warning if you decide to pull another surprise.\"\n\n\"I thank you for the warning,\" Egwene said politely. Culprit? She had proven to the Hall that she would not be their puppet, yet most insisted on thinking she had to be someone's. At least no one suspected the truth about her council. It was to be hoped no one did.\n\n\"There is another reason you should be wary,\" Delana went on, the intensity in her eyes belying the casualness of her voice. This was more important to her than she wanted Egwene to know. \"You maybe sure that any advice one of them gives you comes straight from the head of her Ajah, and as you know, the head of an Ajah and its Sitters don't always see eye to eye. Listening too closely could put you at odds with the Hall. Not every decision concerns the war, remember, but you will surely want some of those to go your way.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"An Amyrlin should listen to every side before making any decision,\" Egwene replied, \"but I'll remember your warning when they advise me, Daughter.\" Did Delana think she was a fool? Or perhaps the woman was trying to make her angry. Anger made for hasty decisions and rash words that sometimes were hard to take back. She could not imagine what Delana was aiming at, but when Sitters could not manipulate her one way, they tried another. She had gotten a great deal of practice in sidestepping manipulation since being raised Amyrlin. Taking deep, regular breaths, she sought the balance of calm and found it. She had entirely too much practice at that, too, of late.\n\nThe Gray looked up at her past the edge of her hood, her face utterly smooth. But her pale blue eyes were very sharp, now, like augers. \"You might inquire what they think on the subject of negotiations with Elaida, Mother.\"\n\nEgwene almost smiled. The pause had been very deliberate. Apparently Delana disliked being called Daughter by a woman younger than most novices. Younger than most who had come from the Tower, let alone the newest. But then, Delana herself was too young to be a Sitter. And she could not hold her temperas well as the innkeeper's daughter. \"And why would I ask that?\"\n\n\"Because the subject has come up in the Hall in the last few days. Not as a proposal, but it has been mentioned, very quietly, by Varilin, and by Takima, and also by Magla. And Faiselle and Saroiya have appeared interested in what they have had to say.\"\n\nCalm or no calm, a worm of anger suddenly writhed inside Egwene, and crushing it was no easy task. Those five had been Sitters before the Tower was broken, but more importantly, they were divided between the two major factions struggling for control of the Hall. In reality, they were divided between following Romanda or Lelaine, yet that pair would oppose one another if it meant they both drowned. They also kept an iron grip on their followers."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She might believe the others had been panicked by events, but not Romanda or Lelaine. For half a week now, talk of Elaida or retaking the Tower had been all but overwhelmed by worried conversations over that impossibly powerful, impossibly long eruption of the Power. Nearly everyone wanted to know what had caused it, and nearly everyone was afraid to learn. Only yesterday had Egwene been able to convince the Hall that it must be safe fora small party to Travel to where that eruption had been-even the memory was strong enough for everyone to pinpoint exactly where it had been-and most sisters still seemed to beholding their collective breath until Akarrin and the others returned. Every Ajah had wanted a representative, but Akarrin had been the only Aes Sedai to push forward.\n\nNeither Lelaine nor Romanda seemed concerned, however. Violent and prolonged as the display had been, it also had been very faraway, and no harm done that they could see; if it was the Forsaken's work, as seemed certain, the chance of learning anything was vanishingly small, and the possibility that they could do anything to counter it even smaller. Wasting time and effort on impossibilities was senseless when an important task lay right in front of them. So they said, gritting their teeth over finding themselves in agreement. They did agree that Elaida must be stripped of the stole and staff, though, Romanda with almost as much fervor as Lelaine, and if Elaida unseating a former Blue as Amyrlin had enraged Lelaine, Elaida's proclamation that the Blue Ajah was disbanded had made her near-rabid. If they were allowing talk of negotiation... It made no sense.\n\nThe last thing Egwene wanted was for Delana or anyone else to suspect that Sheriam and the others were more than a set of sheepdogs set to watch her, but she summoned them with a sharp call. They were smart enough to keep the secrets that needed keeping, since their own Ajahs would have their hides if even the half came out, and with no great haste, they came forward and rode in a cluster around her, their faces all masks of Aes Sedai serenity and patience. Then Egwene told Delana to repeat what she had said. For all her initial request for privacy, the Gray made only a perfunctory demurral before complying. And that was the end of calm and patience."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"That's madness,\" Sheriam said before anyone else could open her mouth. She sounded angry, and perhaps a little frightened. Well she might be. Her name was on a list of those marked for stilling. \"None of them can really believe negotiation is possible.\"\n\n\"I should hardly think so,\" Anaiya put in dryly. Her plain face belonged on a farmwife rather than a Blue sister, and she dressed very simply, publicly at least, in good wool, but she handled her bay gelding as easily as Delana did her mare. Very little could ruffle Anaiya's calm. Of course, there was no Blue among the Sitters talking negotiation. Anaiya looked an unlikely soldier, but for Blues, this was war to the knife, no quarter asked or given. \"Elaida has made the situation quite clear.\"\n\n\"Elaida is irrational,\" Carlinya said with a toss of her head that made her cowl fall to her shoulders and shook her short dark curls. She pulled the hood back into place irritably. Carlinya seldom showed any hint of emotion, yet her pale cheeks were nearly as flushed as Sheriam's, and heat filled her voice. \"She cannot possibly believe that we will all come crawling back to her now. How can Saroiya believe she will accept anything less?\"\n\n\"Crawling is what Elaida has demanded, though,\" Morvrin muttered acridly. Her usually placid round face wore a sour expression, too, and her plump hands were tight on her reins. She scowled so hard at a flight of magpies, scattering from a stand of birch trees at the passage of horses, that it seemed they should fallout of the sky. \"Takima likes the sound of her own voice, sometimes. She must be talking to hear herself.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Faiselle must, too,\" Myrelle said darkly, glaring at Delana as though she were to blame. The olive-skinned woman was known for her temper, even among Greens. \"I never expected to hear that sort of talk out of her. She's never been a fool before.\"\n\n\"I can't believe Magla really means any such thing,\" Nisao insisted, peering at each of them in turn. \"She just can't. For one thing, as much as I hate to say it, Romanda has Magla so tight under her thumb that Magla squeaks whenever Romanda sneezes, and the only doubt Romanda has is whether Elaida should be birched before she's exiled.\"\n\nDelana's expression was so bland, she had to be suppressing a smug smile. Plainly, this was exactly the reaction she had hoped for. \"Romanda holds Saroiya and Varilin just as firmly, and Takima and Faiselle hardly put one foot in front of the other without Lelaine's permission, but they still said what they said. I think your advisors are closer to the feelings of most sisters, though, Mother.\" Smoothing her gloves, she gave Egwene a sidelong look. \"You maybe able to nip this in the bud, if you move firmly. It seems you will have the support you need from the Ajahs. And mine, of course, in the Hall. Mine, and enough more to stop it dead.\" As if Egwene needed support to accomplish that. Perhaps she was trying to ingratiate herself. Or just to make it appear that support of Egwene washer only concern.\n\nBeonin had been riding in silence, clutching her cloak around her and peering at a spot between her brown mare's ears, but suddenly she shook her head. Ordinarily, her large blue-gray eyes made her appear startled, but they peered from her hood in ablaze of anger as she glared from one of her companions to another, including Egwene. \"Why should negotiations be out of the question?\" Sheriam blinked at her in surprise, and Morvrin opened her mouth with a scowl, but Beonin plunged on, directing her ire at Delana, now, her Taraboner accent stronger than usual. \"We are Gray, you and I. We negotiate, mediate. Elaida, she has stated the conditions most onerous, but that is often the casein the beginning of negotiations. We can reunite the White Tower and assure the safety of everyone, if we only talk.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We also judge,\" Delana snapped, \"and Elaida has been judged.\" That was not precisely true, but she seemed more startled than anyone else by Beonin's outburst. Her voice dripped acid. \"Perhaps you are willing to negotiate yourself into being birched. I am not, and I think you will find few others who are, either.\"\n\n\"The situation, it has altered,\" Beonin persisted. She stretched a hand toward Egwene, almost pleading. \"Elaida would not have made the proclamation she did concerning the Dragon Reborn unless she had him in hand, one way or another. That flare of saidar was a warning. The Forsaken must be moving, and the White Tower, it must be-\"\n\n\"Enough,\" Egwene cut in. \"You are willing to open negotiations with Elaida? With the Sitters still in the Tower?\" she amended. Elaida would never talk.\n\n\"Yes,\" Beonin said fervently. \"Matters can be arranged to everyone's satisfaction. I know they can.\"\n\n\"Then you have my permission.\"\n\nImmediately everyone but Beonin began talking frantically on top of one another, trying to dissuade her, telling her this was insanity. Anaiya shouted as loudly as Sheriam, gesturing emphatically, and Delana's eyes bulged in what looked like near terror. Some of the outriders began looking toward the sisters as much as they watched the farms they were riding past, and there was astir among the Warders, who certainly had no need of their bonds at the moment to know their Aes Sedai were agitated, but they held their places. Wise men kept their noses out of the way when Aes Sedai began raising their voices.\n\nEgwene ignored the shouts and arm-waving. She had considered every possibility she could think of for ending this struggle with the White Tower whole and united. She had talked for hours with Siuan, who had more reason than anyone to want to unseat Elaida. If it could have saved the Tower, Egwene would have surrendered to Elaida, forget whether the woman had come to the Amyrlin Seat legally. Siuan had nearly had apoplexy at the suggestion, yet she had agreed, reluctantly, that preserving the Tower superseded every other consideration. Beonin wore such a beautiful smile, it seemed a crime to quench it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egwene raised her voice just enough to be heard over the others. \"You will approach Varilin and the others Delana named, and arrange to approach the White Tower. These are the terms I will accept: Elaida is to resign and go into exile.\" Because Elaida would never accept back the sisters who had rebelled against her. An Amyrlin had no say over how an Ajah governed itself, but Elaida had declared that the sisters who fled the Tower were no longer members of any Ajah. According to her, they would have to beg readmittance to their Ajahs, after serving a penance under her direct control. Elaida would not reunite the Tower, only shatter it worse than it already was. \"Those are the only terms I will accept, Beonin. The only terms. Do you understand me?\"\n\nBeonin's eyes rolled up in her head, and she would have fallen from her horse if Morvrin had not caught her, muttering under her breath as she held the Gray upright and slapped her face, not lightly. Everyone else stared at Egwene as though they had never seen her before. Even Delana, who must have planned for something like this to happen from the first word she had said. They had come to a halt with Beonin's fainting fit, and the ring of soldiers around them drew up at a shouted command from Lord Gareth. Some stared toward the Aes Sedai, their anxiety plain even with their faces hidden behind the bars of their helmets.\n\n\"It's time to get back to camp,\" Egwene said. Calmly. What had to be done had to be done. Perhaps surrender would have healed the Tower, but she could not believe it. And now it might comedown to Aes Sedai facing one another in the streets of Tar Valon, unless she could find away to make her plan succeed. \"We have work to do,\" she said, gathering her reins, \"and there isn't much time left.\" She prayed there was enough."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Chapter 17\n\nSecrets\n\nOnce Delana was sure that her noxious seed had taken root, she murmured that it might be best if they were not seen arriving back at the camp together and slipped away, pushing her mare to a quick trot through the snow and leaving the rest of them to ride on in uneasy silence except for the crunch of the horses' hooves. The Warders maintained their distance behind, and the escorting soldiers had their attention back on the farms and thickets, without so much as a glance toward the Aes Sedai that Egwene could see, now. Men never knew when to keep their mouths shut, though. Telling a man to be quiet only made him gossip all the harder, just to close friends he could trust, to be sure, as if they in turn would not tell everyone who would listen. The Warders might be different-Aes Sedai always insisted they were, those who had Warders-but no doubt the soldiers would talk of sisters arguing, and no doubt they would say Delana had been sent off with a flea in her ear. The woman had planned this very carefully. Worse than fireweed or stranglervine could grow if that seed was allowed to sprout, but the Gray Sitter had sheltered herself from blame very neatly. Truth almost always did come out in the end, but by the end, truth was often so wrapped around with rumors and speculation and absolute lies that most people never did believe it.\n\n\"I trust I don't have to ask whether any of you had heard about this before.\" Egwene said that quite casually, seemingly studying the countryside as they rode, but she was pleased when everyone denied it outright with considerable indignation, including Beonin, who was working her jaw and glaring at Morvrin. Egwene trusted them as far as she dared-they could not have given her their oaths without meaning to hold to every word; not unless they were Black Ajah, a niggling possibility that accounted for most of her caution-yet even oaths of fealty left room for the most loyal people doing the worst possible thing in the belief that it was in your best interest. And people who had been coerced into their oaths could be adept at spotting the gaps and leeways."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The real question,\" she continued, \"is what was Delana after?\" She had no need to explain, not for these women, everyone experienced in the Game of Houses. If all Delana had wanted was to stop negotiations with Elaida while keeping her own name out of it, she could simply have spoken to Egwene alone at anytime. Sitters needed no excuse to come to the Amyrlin's study. Or she could have used Halima, who slept on a pallet in Egwene's tent most nights despite being Delana's secretary. Egwene was troubled with headaches, and some nights only Halima's massages could soothe them so she could sleep. For that matter, an anonymous note might have been sufficient to make her present the Hall with an edict forbidding negotiations. The touchiest quibbler would have to admit that talks to end the war certainly touched on the war. But plainly Delana wanted Sheriam and the others to know, too. Her talebearing was an arrow aimed at another target.\n\n\"Strife between the Ajah heads and the Sitters,\" Carlinya said, as cool as the snow. \"Perhaps strife between the Ajahs.\" Casually adjusting her cloak, intricately embroidered white-on-white but lined with dense black fur, she might have been discussing the price of a spool of thread. \"Why she wants these things, I can't begin to say, but those will be the results, unless we are very careful, and she could not know we would be careful, or that we have any reason to be, so logically one or both must be her aim.\"\n\n\"The first answer that comes to mind isn't always correct, Carlinya,\" Morvrin said. \"There's no saying that Delana thought her actions through as carefully as you have, or that she thought along the same lines.\" The stout Brown believed more in commonsense than logic, or so she said, but in truth she seemed to blend the two, a combination that made her very hardheaded, and suspicious of quick or easy answers. Which was not a bad thing to be. \"Delana maybe trying to sway some among the Sitters on some issue that's important to her. Maybe she hopes to get Elaida declared Black Ajah after all. No matter the results, her goal maybe something we don't even suspect. Sitters can be as petty as anyone else. For all we know, she might have a grudge against one of those she named dating back to when she was a novice and they taught her. Better to concentrate on what will come of it than to worry about why until we know more.\" Her tone was as placid as her broad face, but Carlinya's cool composure flickered to cool disdain fora moment. Her rationality made few concessions for human foibles. Or for anyone disagreeing with her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Anaiya laughed, a sound of almost motherly amusement that made her bay dance a few steps before she reined him back to a walk. A motherly farmwife amused by the antics of others in the village. Even some sisters were foolish enough to dismiss her that easily. \"Don't sulk, Carlinya. You are very probably right. No, Morvrin, she probably is. In any event, I believe we can squash any hopes she has for discord.\" That did not sound amused at all. No Blue was amused by anything that might hamper pulling Elaida down.\n\nMyrelle gave a savage nod of agreement, then blinked in surprise when Nisao said, \"Can you afford to stop this, Mother?\" The tiny Yellow did not speak up often. \"I don't mean whatever Delana is trying to do. If we can settle on what that is,\" she added quickly, making a gesture at Morvrin, who had opened her mouth again. Nisao looked a child alongside the other women, but it was a peremptory gesture. She was Yellow, after all, with all the self-assurance that implied, and unwilling to step back for anyone inmost circumstances. \"I mean the talk of parley with the Sitters in the Tower.\"\n\nFora moment, everyone gaped at her, even Beonin.\n\n\"And why would we want to allow that?\" Anaiya said finally, in a dangerous voice. \"We didn't come all this way to talk to Elaida.\" She was a farmwife with a cleaver hidden behind her back and a mind to use it, now.\n\nNisao looked up at her and sniffed dismissively. \"I didn't say we wanted it. I asked whether we dare stop it.\"\n\n\"I hardly seethe difference.\" Sheriam's voice was icy, and her face pale. With anger, Egwene thought, but it might have been fear."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Then think fora while, and you might see it,\" Nisao said dryly. Dry the way a knife-blade was dry, and equally cutting. \"At present, talk of negotiations is limited to five Sitters, and very quiet, but will it remain so? Once word spreads that talks were proposed and rejected, how long before despair sets in? No, hear me out! We all set off full of righteous fury for justice, yet here we sit, staring at the walls of Tar Valon, while Elaida sits in the Tower. We've been here nearly two weeks, and for all anyone can see, we maybe here two years, or twenty. The longer we sit with nothing happening, the more sisters will start making excuses for Elaida's crimes. The more they'll start thinking that we have to mend the Tower, never mind the cost. Do you want to wait until sisters start slipping back to Elaida one by one? I myself do not fancy standing on the riverbank defying the woman with just the Blue Ajah and the rest of you for company. Negotiations will at least let everyone see that something is happening.\"\n\n\"No one is going to return to Elaida,\" Anaiya protested, shifting on her saddle, but she wore a troubled frown, and she sounded as if she could see it happening. The Tower beckoned to every Aes Sedai. Very likely even Black sisters yearned for the Tower to be whole again. And there it stood, just a few miles away, but seemingly out of reach.\n\n\"Talk could buy time, Mother,\" Morvrin said reluctantly, and no one could put as much reluctance in her voice as she. Her frown was thoughtful, and not at all pleased. \"A few more weeks, and Lord Gareth might be able to find the ships he needs to block the harbors. That will alter everything, in our favor. With noway for food to get in or mouths to get out, the city will be starving inside a month.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egwene hung onto a smooth face with an effort. There was no real hope of ships to block the harbor, though none of them knew that. Gareth had made it plain enough to her, however, long before leaving Murandy. Originally, he had hoped to buy vessels while they marched north along the Erinin, using them to ferry supplies until they reached Tar Valon, then sinking them in the harbor mouths. Using gateways to reach Tar Valon had put paid to that in more ways than one. Word of the siege had left the city with the first ships sailing after the army arrived, and now, as far north and south as he had sent riders, ship captains were carrying out their business ashore by boat, from anchorages well out in the river. No captain was willing to risk the chance her ship would simply be seized. Gareth made his reports only to her, and his officers only to him, yet any sister could have known if she talked with a few soldiers.\n\nFortunately, even sisters looking for Warders rarely spoke to soldiers. They were generally accounted a thieving, unlettered lot who only bathed by accident, when they had to wade a stream. Not the kind of man any sister spent time with except when compelled to. It made keeping secrets easier, and some secrets were essential. Including, sometimes, secrets kept from those seemingly on your side. She could remember not thinking that way, but that was apart of the innkeeper's daughter she had been obliged to leave behind. This was another world, with very different rules from Emond's Field. A misstep there meant a summons to the Women's Circle. Here, a misstep meant death or worse, and for more than herself.\n\n\"The Sitters remaining in the Tower should be willing to talk,\" Carlinya put in, with a sigh. \"They have to know that the longer the siege lasts, the more chance Lord Gareth will find his ships. I cannot think how long they will continue talking, though, when they realize we do not mean to surrender.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Elaida will insist on that,\" Myrelle muttered, yet she did not seem to be arguing, just talking to herself, and Sheriam shivered, drawing her cloak around her as though she had let the cold touch her.\n\nOnly Beonin looked happy, sitting eager and upright in her saddle, dark honey hair framing a wide smile inside her hood. She did not press her case, however. She was good at negotiation, so everyone said, and knew when to wait.\n\n\"I did say you could begin,\" Egwene said. Not that she had meant it for more than a setdown, yet if you were going to live by the Three Oaths, then you had to standby what you said. She could not wait to hold the Oath Rod. It would be so much easier, then. \"Just make sure you're very careful what you say. Unless they think we all grew wings to fly here, they must suspect we've rediscovered Traveling, but they can't be certain unless someone confirms it. It's better for us if they stay uncertain. That must be one secret you hold as tightly as you hold the secret of our ferrets in the Tower.\"\n\nMyrelle and Anaiya jerked at that, and Carlinya looked around as though fearful, though neither Warders nor soldiers were close enough to hear unless someone shouted. Morvrin merely took on an even more sour expression. Even Nisao looked a little ill, though she had had nothing to do with the decision to send sisters back to the Tower in secret, supposedly answering Elaida's summons. The Hall might be happy to learn that ten sisters were in the Tower trying to undermine Elaida however they could, even if the effort had borne no apparent fruit so far, but the Sitters would most definitely be unhappy at realizing that it had been kept secret because these women feared that some of the Sitters might actually be Black Ajah. As well for Sheriam and the others to reveal their oaths to Egwene as reveal that. The results for them might not be very different. The Hall had not ordered anyone birched yet, but the way most Sitters chafed at the bit over Egwene's control of the war, it could hardly come as a surprise if they jumped at the chance to show they still had some authority while simultaneously expressing their displeasure forcefully."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\\nChapter: 3\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Did you see any gold change hands?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"he asked. \\\"Did you hear anything?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would have said,\\\" she replied thinly. \\\"And by our agreement, it is my turn fora question.\\\"\\n\\nHe managed to mask his irritation behind an expectant look. The fool woman always asked about the Aes Sedai in the palace or those she called the Kin, or about the Sea Folk. Silly questions. Who was friendly with whom, and who unfriendly. Who exchanged private words and who avoided one another. What he had heard them say. As if he had nothing to do with his time but lurk around the hallways spying on them. He never lied to her-there was too much chance she might learn the truth, even mired herein this house as a maid; she was Aes Sedai, after all-but it was growing difficult to come up with something he had not already told her, and she was adamant that he give information if he expected to receive any. Still, he had a few tidbits to offer today, some of the Sea Folk going off, and the whole lot of them jumping for most of the day as if they had icicles shoved down their backs. She would have to settle for that. What he needed to know was important, not bloody gossip.\\n\\nBefore she could get her question out, though, the door to the outside opened. Murellin was large enough that he almost filled the doorway, yet icy cold still swirled in, a gust that made the small fire dance and sent sparks flying up the chimney until the big man pushed the door shut. He gave no sign that he felt the chill, but then, his brown coat looked thick as two cloaks. Besides, the man was not only the size of an ox, he had the wits of one. Setting a tall wooden mug down on the table with a thump, he tucked his thumbs behind his wide belt and eyed Hanlon resentfully. \\\"You messing with my woman?\\\" he muttered.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hanlon gave a start. Not from any fear of Murellin, not with the oaf on the other side of the table. What startled him was the Aes Sedai leaping from her chair and snatching up the wine pitcher. Dumping in the ginger and cloves, she added a scoop of honey and swirled the pitcher around as if that was going to mix everything, then used a fold of her skirt to pull the poker from the fire and shove it into the wine without checking to see whether it was hot enough yet. She never looked in Murellin's direction at all.\\n\\n\\\"Your woman?\\\" Hanlon said carefully. That earned a smirk from the other man.\\n\\n\\\"Near enough. The Lady figured I might as well use what you aren't. Anyway, Fally and me keep each other warm nights.\\\" Murellin started around the table, still grinning, but at the woman, now. A shout echoed in the hallway, and he stopped with a sigh, his grin fading.\\n\\n\\\"Falion!\\\" Shiaine's distant voice called sharply. \\\"Bring Hanlon up now and be quick about it!\\\" Falion set the pitcher on the table hard enough to slop wine over the rim and was heading for the door before Shiaine finished. When the other woman spoke, Falion jumped.\\n\\nHanlon jumped too, if fora different reason. Catching up to her, he seized her arm as she took the first step on the stairs. A quick glance back showed the kitchen door closed. Maybe Murellin did feel the cold. He kept his voice low anyway. \\\"What was that all about?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is none of your business,\\\" she said curtly. \\\"Can you get me something that will make him sleep? Something I can put in his ale or wine? He will drink anything, however it tastes.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"If Shiaine thinks I'm not obeying orders, it bloody well is my business, and you ought to see it that way, too, if you have two bloody thoughts to rub together.\\\"\\n\\nShe tilted her head, staring down that long nose at him, cold as a fish. \\\"This has nothing to do with you. As far as Shiaine is concerned, I will still belong to you when you are here. You see, certain matters changed.\\\" Suddenly, something unseen grasped his wrist tightly and pulled his hand from her sleeve. Something else latched onto his throat, squeezing till he could not draw breath. Futilely, he scrabbled left-handed for his dagger. Her tone remained cool. \\\"I thought certain other matters should change accordingly, but Shiaine does not see things logically. She says that when the Great Master Moridin wishes my punishment lessened, he will say so. Moridin gave me to her. Murellin is her way of making sure I understand that. Her way of making sure I know that I am her dog until she says otherwise.\\\" Abruptly she drew a deep breath, and the pressure vanished from his wrist and throat. Air had never tasted so sweet. \\\"You can get what I ask for?\\\" she said, as calm as if she had not just tried to kill him with the bloody Power. Just the thought that that had been touching him made his skin crawl.\\n\\n\\\"I can...\\\" he began hoarsely, and stopped to swallow, rubbing at his throat. It felt as though it had been cinched in a hangman's noose. \\\"I can get you something that will put him in asleep he'll never wake from.\\\" As soon as it was safe, he was going to gut her like a goose.\\n\\nShe snorted derisively. \\\"I would be the first Shiaine suspected, and I might as well cut my own wrists as object to anything she decided to do. It will be enough if he sleeps the nights through. Leave the thinking tome, and we will both be the better for it.\\\" Resting a hand on the carved newelpost, she glanced up the stairs. \\\"Come. When she says now, she means now.\\\" A pity he could not hang her up like a goose to wait for the knife.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Following her, his boots thumped on the treads, sending a clatter through the entry hall, and it struck him that he had not heard the visitor leave. Unless the house had some secret way out he did not know, there was only the front door, the one in the kitchen, and a second at the back that could only be reached bypassing the kitchen. So it seemed he was to meet this soldier. Maybe it was supposed to come as a surprise. Surreptitiously, he eased his dagger in its sheath.\\n\\nAs expected, the front sitting room had a fine blaze burning away in the wide fireplace of blue-veined marble. It was a room worth the looting, with Sea Folk porcelain vases on the gilt-edged side tables, and tapestries and carpets that would fetch a pretty price. Except that one of the carpets was likely worthless, now. A low blanket-covered mound lay near the middle of the room, and if the fellow that made it had not stained the carpet with his blood, Hanlon would eat the boots sticking out from one end.\\n\\nShiaine herself was sitting in a carved armchair, a pretty woman in gold-embroidered blue silk with an ornate belt of woven gold and a heavy gold necklace around her slim neck. Glossy brown hair hung below her shoulders even caught in a net of intricate lace. She looked delicate at first glance, but there was something vulpine about her face, and her smile never touched those big brown eyes. She was using a lace-edged handkerchief to clean a small dagger capped with a firedrop on the pommel. \\\"Go tell Murellin that I will have a... bundle... for him to dispose of later, Falion,\\\" she said calmly.\\n\\nFalion's face remained smooth as polished marble, but she made a curtsy that lacked little of cringing before she scuttled out of the room at a run.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Watching the woman and her dagger from the corner of his eye, Hanlon moved to the covered mound and bent to lift a corner of the blanket. Glazed blue eyes stared out of a face that might have been hard, alive. The dead always looked softer. Apparently he had been neither as cautious nor as intelligent as Falion thought him. Hanlon let the blanket fall and straightened. \\\"He said something you objected to, my Lady?\\\" he said mildly. \\\"Who was he?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He said several things I objected to.\\\" She held her dagger up, studying the small blade to be sure it was clean, then slid it into a gold-worked sheath at her waist. \\\"Tell me, is Elayne's child yours?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't know who fathered the whelp,\\\" he said wryly. \\\"Why, my Lady? Do you think I'd go soft? The last chit who claimed I'd gotten a child on her, I stuffed her down a well to cool her head and made sure she stayed there.\\\" There were along-necked silver wine pitcher and two chased silver cups sitting on a tray on one of the side tables. \\\"Is this safe?\\\" he asked, peering into the cups. Both had wine in the bottom, but a little addition to one would have turned the dead man into easy prey.\\n\\n\\\"Catrelle Mosenain, an ironmonger's daughter from Maerone,\\\" the woman said, just as smoothly as if it were common knowledge, and he very nearly flinched in surprise. \\\"You split her head open with a rock before you pitched her down, no doubt to spare her drowning.\\\" How did she know the wench's name, much less about the rock? He had not remembered her name himself. \\\"No, I doubt you would go soft, but I would hate to think you were kissing the Lady Elayne without letting me know. I would purely hate that.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Suddenly she frowned at the bloodstained handkerchief in her hand and rose gracefully to glide to the fireplace and toss it into the flames. She stood there warming herself, never even glancing in his direction. \\\"Can you arrange for some of the Seanchan women to escape? Best if it can be both those called sul'dam and the ones called damane,\\\" she stumbled a little over the strange words, \\\"but if you can't do both, then a few of the sul'dam should do. They will free some of the others.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe.\\\" Blood and bloody ashes, she was dancing from one thing to another worse than Falion tonight. \\\"It won't be easy, my Lady. They're all guarded close.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I didn't ask whether it was easy,\\\" she said, staring into the flames. \\\"Can you shift guards away from the food warehouses? It would please me if some of those actually burned. I am tired of attempts that always fail.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That I cannot do,\\\" he muttered. \\\"Not unless you expect me to go into hiding right after. They keep a record of orders that would make a Cairhienin wince. And it wouldn't do any good anyway, not with those bloody gateways bringing in more wagons every bloody day.\\\" In truth, he was not sorry for that. Queasy over the means used, certainly, but not sorry. He expected the palace would be the last place in Caemlyn to go hungry in any case, but he had lived out sieges on both sides of the lines, and he had no intention of ever boiling his boots for soup again. Shiaine wanted fires, though.\\n\\n\\\"Another answer I did not ask for.\\\" She shook her head, still looking into the fireplace, not at him. \\\"But perhaps something can be done there. How close are you to actually... enjoying Elayne's affections?\\\" she finished primly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Closer than the day I arrived in the palace,\\\" he growled, glowering at her back.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He tried never to offend those the Chosen had set above him, but the chit was trying him. He could snap that slender neck like a twig! To keep his hands from her throat, he filled one of the cups and held it with no intention of drinking. In his left hand, of course. Just because there was one dead man in the room already did not mean she had no plans to make it two corpses. \\\"But I have to go slow. It isn't as if I can back her into a corner and tickle her out of her shift.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suppose not,\\\" Shiaine said in a muffled voice. \\\"She is hardly the sort of woman you are used to.\\\" Was she laughing? Was she amused at him? It was all he could do not to throw down the winecup and strangle the fox-faced bint.\\n\\nSuddenly she turned around, and he blinked as she casually slipped her dagger back into its sheath. He had never seen her draw the bloody thing! He took a swallow of wine without thinking, and almost choked when he realized what he had done.\\n\\n\\\"How would you like to see Caemlyn looted?\\\" she asked.\\n\\n\\\"Well enough, if I have a good company at my back and a clear path to the gates.\\\" The wine had to be safe. Two cups meant she had drunk, too, and if he had picked up the dead man's, there could not be enough poison left in it to sicken a mouse. \\\"Is that what you want? I follow orders as well as the next man.\\\" He did when he seemed likely to survive them, or when they came from the Chosen. As well die fora fool as disobey the Chosen. \\\"But sometimes it helps to know more than'go there and do that. \\\"If you told me what you're after herein Caemlyn, I might be able to help you reach it faster.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Of course.\\\" She smiled a toothy smile while her eyes stayed as flat as brownstones. \\\"But first, tell me why there is fresh blood on your gauntlet?\\\"\\n\\nHe smiled back. \\\"A footpad who got unlucky, my Lady.\\\" Maybe she had sent the man and maybe not, but he added her throat to the list of those he intended to slit. And he might as well add Marillin Gemalphin, too. After all, alone survivor was the only one who could tell the tale of what had happened.\\n\\nChapter 16\\n\\nThe Subject of Negotiations\\n\\nThe morning sun sat on the horizon, leaving the nearer side of Tar Valon still wrapped in shadows, but the snow that covered everything gleamed brightly. The city itself seemed to shine behind its long whitewalls, all bravely towered and bannered, yet to Egwene, sitting her roan gelding on the river-bank above the city, it seemed even farther away than it really was. The Erinin widened to more than two miles here, and the Alindrelle Erinin and Osendrelle Erinin, flowing to either side of the island, were almost half that, so that Tar Valon appeared to sit in the middle of a great lake, unreachable despite the massive bridges that stood high above the waters so that ships could sail beneath them easily. The White Tower itself, a thick bone-white shaft rising to an impossible height from the city's heart, filled her own heart with a yearning for home. Not for the Two Rivers, but for the Tower. That washer home, now. A plume of smoke caught her eye, a faint black line rising from the far bank beyond the city, and she grimaced. Daishar stamped a hoof in the snow, but a pat on the neck sufficed to soothe the roan. It would take more to soothe his rider. Homesickness was the smallest part of it. Minuscule, compared to the rest.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"With a sigh, she rested her reins on the high pommel of her saddle and raised the long brass-bound looking glass. Her cloak fell back, slipping off one shoulder, but she ignored the cold that misted her breath and placed a gloved hand to shield the front lens against the sun's glare. The city walls leaped closer in her sight. She focused on the tall curving arms of Northharbor that pushed out into the upstream currents. People moved purposefully atop the battlements that enfolded the harbor, but she could barely discern men from women at that distance. Still, she was glad that she was not wearing her seven-striped stole, and that her face was deep within her cowl, just in case someone there had a stronger glass than she. The wide mouth of the man-made harbor was blocked by a massive iron chain drawn taut a few feet above the water. Tiny dots on the water, diving birds fishing in front of the harbor, gave the chain scale. One single pace-long link would have required two men to lift it. A rowboat might slip under that barrier, but no vessel of any size would enter unless the White Tower allowed. Of course, the chain was only intended to keep out enemies.\\n\\n\\\"There they are, Mother,\\\" Lord Gareth murmured, and she lowered the glass. Her general was a stocky man in a plain breastplate worn over a plain brown coat, without any touch of gilt or embroidery anywhere. His face was bluff and weathered behind the bars of his helmet, and the years had given him a strange sort of comforting calmness. All you need do was look at Gareth Bryne to know that if the Pit of Doom opened in front of him, he would smother his fear and go about doing what needed doing. And other men would follow him. He had proved on battlefield after battlefield that following him was the path to victory. A good man to have following her. Her eyes followed his gauntleted hand, pointing upriver.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Just coming insight around a point of land, five, six-no, seven-riverships were slicing furrows down the Erinin. Large vessels as such things were seen on the river, one with three masts, their triangular sails stood out tight, and their long sweeps cut hard through the blue-green water to add a little more speed. Everything about the craft spoke of a burning desire for speed, a desire to reach Tar Valon now! The river was deep enough here that ships could run within shouting distance of the banks in places, but these sailed in almost single file as close to the middle of the Erinin as the steersmen could manage and hold the wind. Sailors clinging to the mastheads kept watch along the shoreline, and not for mudbanks.\\n\\nIn fact, they had nothing at all to fear so long as they kept out of bowshot. True, from where she sat her horse, she could have set fire to everyone of those ships, or simply cut holes through their hulls and let them sink. The work of moments. Yet doing so surely meant some of those aboard would drown. The currents were strong, the water like ice, and the swim to shore long, for those who actually could swim. Even one death would make what she did using the Power as a weapon. She was trying to live as though already bound by the Three Oaths, and the Oaths protected those vessels from her or any other sister. A sister who had sworn on the Oath Rod would not be able to make herself set those weaves, perhaps not even to form them, unless she could convince herself she was in immediate danger from the ships. But neither captains nor crews believed that, apparently.\\n\\nAs the riverships came closer, shouts thinned to threadbare by distance drifted across the water. The lookouts upon the masts pointed to her and Gareth, and it quickly became apparent they took her for an Aes Sedai with her Warder. Or at least, the captains were unwilling to take the chance she was not. After a moment, the beat of the sweeps increased. Only by a fraction, but the oarsmen labored to find that fraction. A woman on the quarterdeck of the lead vessel, likely the captain, waved her arms as if demanding still more effort, and a handful of men began running up and down the deck, tightening this line or loosening that to change the angle of the sails, though Egwene could not see that they achieved anything. There were men on those decks other than sailors, and most of those crowded to the railings, a handful raising looking glasses of their own. Some seemed to be measuring the distance left to cover before they reached the safety of the harbor.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She thought about weaving a flare, a starburst of light, perhaps with aloud bang, just above each of the vessels. That would certainly let anyone aboard with brains realize that neither speed nor distance kept them safe here, only a forbearance born of the Three Oaths. They should know that they were safe because of Aes Sedai.\\n\\nExhaling heavily, she shook her head and mentally upbraided herself. That simple weave would also attract attention in the city, certainly more than the appearance of a single sister. Sisters often came to the riverbank to stare at Tar Valon and the Tower. Even if the only reaction to her flares was some sort of counterdisplay, once begun, that sort of contest could be very difficult to put a stop to. Once begun, matters might well escalate out of hand. There were too many opportunities for that, as it was, the more so these last five days.\\n\\n\\\"The harbormaster hasn't let above eight or nine ships in atone time since we arrived,\\\" Gareth said as the first vessel drew abreast of them, \\\"but the captains seemed to have worked out the timing. Another clutch will appear soon, and reach the city about the time the Tower Guards are sure these fellows actually came to enlist. Jimar Chubain knows enough to guard against me sneaking men in aboard ships. He has more of the Guards crowded into the harbors than anywhere except at the bridge towers, and not many anywhere else, so far as I can learn. That will change, though. The flow of ships starts at first light and keeps up till near nightfall, here and at Southharbor too. This lot doesn't seem to be carrying as many soldiers as most do. Every plan is brilliant until the day comes, Mother, but then you must adapt to circumstances or be ridden down.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene made a vexed sound.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There must be two hundred or more passengers altogether on those seven ships. A few might be merchants or traders or some other sort of innocent traveler, but the low sun glittered off helmets and breastplates and steel discs sewn to leather jerkins. How many shiploads arrived each day? Whatever the number, a steady flow was pouring into the city to enlist under High Captain Chubain. \\\"Why do men always rush so hard to kill or be killed?\\\" she muttered irritably.\\n\\nLord Gareth looked at her calmly. He sat his horse, a big bay gelding with a white stripe down his nose, like a statue. Sometimes, she thought she knew one small part of how Siuan felt about the man. Sometimes she thought it would be worth whatever effort was needed to startle him, just to see him startled.\\n\\nUnfortunately, she knew the answer to her own question as well as he did. At least as it applied to men going soldiering. Oh, there were men enough who rushed to support a cause or defend what they thought what was right, and some who sought adventure, whatever they believed that was, yet the simple fact was that for carrying a pike or spear, a man could earn twice each day what he would get for walking behind another man's plow, and half again as much if he could ride well enough to join the cavalry. Crossbowmen and archers fell in between. The man who worked for another could dream of having his own farm or shop one day, or a beginning toward one that his sons could build on, but he surely had heard a thousand tales of men soldiering for five years or ten and coming home with enough gold to set themselves up in comfort, tales of ordinary men who rose to become generals, or lords. Fora poor man, Gareth had said bluntly, staring down the point of a pike could be a better view than the hind end of somebody else's plow horse. Even if he was far more likely to die from the pike than earn fame or fortune. A bitter way to look at it, yet she imagined that was how most of those men on the ships saw matters, too. But then, that was how she had gotten her own army. For every man who wanted to seethe usurper pulled from the Amyrlin Seat, for every man who even knew for certain who Elaida was, ten if not a hundred had joined for the pay. Some of the men on the ship were raising their hands, to show the guards on the harbor walls they were not holding weapons.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No,\\\" she said, and Lord Gareth sighed. His voice remained calm, but his words were hardly comforting when he spoke.\\n\\n\\\"Mother, so long as the harbors remain open, Tar Valon will eat better than we do, and rather than growing weaker with hunger, the Tower Guard will grow larger and stronger. I very much doubt that Elaida will let Chubain rush out to attack us, as much as I wish he would. Everyday you wait only adds to the butcher's bill we'll have to pay sooner or later. I've said from the start it will come to an assault, in the end, and that hasn't changed, but everything else has. Have the sisters put me and my men inside the walls now, and I can take Tar Valon. It won't be clean. It never is. But I can take the city for you. And fewer will die than if you delay.\\\"\\n\\nA knot formed in her belly, twisted tight till she could hardly breathe. Carefully, step by step, she performed novice exercises to make it loosen. The bank contained the river, guiding without controlling. Calm settled on her, in her.\\n\\nToo many people had begun seeing the uses of gateways, and in away, Gareth represented the worst. His business was war, and he was very good at it. As soon as he learned a gateway could take more than a small group of people atone time, he had seen the implications. Even the great walls of Tar Valon, beyond the range of any siege catapult not on a barge, and worked with the Power till the largest catapult could not mark them in any case, might as well be made of paper against an army that could Travel. But whether Gareth Bryne had learned or not, other men would seize on that idea. The Asha'man already had, it seemed. War had always been ugly, yet it was going to grow uglier.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No,\\\" she repeated. \\\"I know people are going to die before this is over.\\\" The Light help her, she could see them dying just by closing her eyes. Even more would die if she made the wrong decisions, though, and not just here. \\\"But I have to keep the White Tower alive-against Tarmon Gai'don-to stand between the world and the Asha'man-and the Tower will die if this comes to sisters killing one another in the streets of Tar Valon.\\\" That had already happened once. It could not be allowed a second time. \\\"If the White Tower dies, hope dies. I shouldn't have to tell you that again.\\\"\\n\\nDaishar snorted and tossed his head, lunging as though he had sensed her irritation, but she reined him in firmly and slipped the looking glass into the tooled leather case hanging from her saddle. The diving birds gave up their fishing and sprang into the air as the thick chain that blocked Northharbor began to droop. It would dip beneath the surface well before the first ship reached the harbor mouth. How long ago had it been that she reached Tar Valon by that same route? Almost beyond memory, it seemed. An Age gone. It had been another woman who came ashore and was met by the Mistress of Novices.\\n\\nGareth shook his head with a quick grimace. But then, he never gave up, did he? \\\"You have to keep the White Tower alive, Mother, but my job is to give it to you. Unless things have changed that I don't know about. I can see sisters whispering and looking over their shoulders even if I don't know what it means. If you still want the Tower, it will come to an assault, better soon than late.\\\"\\n\\nSuddenly the morning seemed darker, as though clouds had obscured the sun. Whatever she did, the dead were going to pileup like cordwood, but she had to keep the White Tower alive. She had to. When there were no good choices, you had to choose the one that seemed least wrong.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I've seen enough here,\\\" she said quietly. With one last glance at that narrow line of smoke beyond the city, she turned Daishar toward the trees a hundred paces back from the river, where her escort waited among the evergreen leatherleaf and winter-bare beech and birch.\\n\\nTwo hundred light cavalry, in boiled leather breastplates or coats covered with metal discs, would certainly have attracted notice appearing on the riverbank, but Gareth had convinced her of the necessity of these men with their slender lances and short horsebows. Without any doubt, that smoke plume on the far bank rose from burning wagons or supplies. Pinpricks, yet those pinpricks came every night, sometimes one, sometimes two or three, till everyone looked for smoke first thing on rising. Hunting the raiders down had proved impossible, so far. Sudden snow squalls flared around the pursuers, or fierce freezing night winds, or the tracks simply vanished abruptly, the snow beyond the last hoof-print as smooth as fresh fallen. The residues of weavings made it plain enough they were being aided by Aes Sedai, and there was no point in taking a chance that Elaida had men and maybe sisters on this side of the river, too. Few things could please Elaida more than getting her hands on Egwene al'Vere.\\n\\nThey were not her whole escort, of course. Besides Sheriam, her Keeper, she had ridden outwith six more Aes Sedai this morning, and those who had Warders had brought them, so behind the sister eight men waited in color-shifting cloaks that rippled in queasy-making fashion when a breeze caught them and otherwise made parts of riders and horses seem to vanish into the tree trunks. Aware of the dangers-from raiders, at least-aware that their Aes Sedai were wound tight to near breaking, they watched the surrounding copse as though the cavalrymen were not there. The safety of their own Aes Sedai was their primary concern, and that they trusted to no one else. Sarin, a black-bearded stump of a man, not that short but very wide, stayed so close to Nisao that he seemed to loom over the diminutive Yellow, and Jori managed to loom over Morvrin as well, though he was actually shorter than she. As broad as Sarin, but very short even fora Cairhienin. Myrelle's three Warders, the three she dared acknowledge, clustered around her until she could not have moved her horse without pushing one of theirs out of her way. Anaiya's Setagana, lean and dark and as beautiful as she was plain, almost managed to surround her by himself, and Tervail, with his bold nose and scarred face, did the same with Beonin. Carlinya had no Warder, not unusual fora White, but she studied the men from the depths of her fur-lined cowl as if thinking about finding one.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Not too long ago, Egwene would have hesitated to be seen with those six women. They and Sheriam had all sworn fealty to her, for various reasons, and neither they nor she wanted the fact known or even suspected. They had been her way to influence events, to the extent that she could, when everyone thought her no more than a figurehead, a girl Amyrlin the Hall of the Tower could use as it wished and no one listened to. The Hall had lost that illusion when she brought them to declare war on Elaida, finally admitting what they had been about since the day they had fled the Tower in the first place, but that only made the Hall, and the Ajahs, worry over what she would do next and try to figure out how to make sure that whatever it was met with their approval. The Sitters had been very surprised when she accepted their suggestion of a council, one sister from each Ajah, to advise her with their wisdom and experience. Or perhaps they thought her success with the declaration of war had gone to her head. Of course, she had just told Morvrin and Anaiya and the others to make sure they were the sisters chosen, and they retained enough prestige within their Ajahs to manage it, just. She had been listening to their advice, if not always taking it, for weeks by that time, but now there was no longer any need to arrange furtive meetings or pass messages in secret.\\n\\nIt seemed, however, that there had been an addition to the party while Egwene was staring at the Tower.\\n\\nSheriam, wearing the narrow blue stole of her office outside her cloak, managed a very formal bow from her saddle. The flame-haired woman could be incredibly formal at times. \\\"Mother, the Sitter Delana wishes to speak with you,\\\" she said as if Egwene could not seethe stout Gray sister sitting thereon a dappled mare almost as dark as Sheriam's black-footed mount. \\\"On a matter of some importance, so she says.\\\" And the slight touch of asperity meant Delana had not told her what matter. Sheriam would not have liked that. She could be very jealous of her position.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"In private, if you please, Mother,\\\" Delana said, pushing back her dark hood to reveal hair nearly the color of silver. Her voice was deep fora woman's, but it hardly carried the urgency of someone with important matters to speak of.\\n\\nHer presence was something of a surprise. Delana often supported Egwene in the Hall of the Tower, when Sitters were quibbling over whether a particular decision actually concerned the war against Elaida. That meant the Hall was required to support Egwene's commands as if they had stood with the greater consensus, and even the Sitters who had stood for war did not half like that little fact, which made for endless quibbling. They wanted to pull Elaida down, yet left to themselves, the Hall would have done nothing but argue. Truth to tell, though, Delana's support was not always welcome. One day she could be the very image of a Gray negotiator seeking consensus, and the next so strident in her arguments that every Sitter within hearing got her backup. She had been known to set the cat among the pigeons in other ways, too. No fewer than three times now, she had demanded the Hall make a formal declaration that Elaida was Black Ajah, which inevitably led to an awkward silence until someone called for the sitting to be adjourned. Few were willing to discuss the Black Ajah openly. Delana would discuss anything, from how they were to find proper clothes for nine hundred and eighty-seven novices to whether Elaida had secret supporters among the sisters, another topic that gave most sisters a case of the prickles. Which left the question of why she had ridden out so early, and by herself. She had never approached Egwene before without another Sitter or three for company. Delana's pale blue eyes gave away no more than did her smooth Aes Sedai face.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"While we ride,\\\" Egwene told her. \\\"We will want a little privacy,\\\" she added when Sheriam opened her mouth. \\\"Stay back with the others, please.\\\" The Keeper's green eyes tightened in what might almost have been anger. An efficient Keeper, and eager with it, she had pinned her hopes on Egwene and made little secret that she disliked being excluded from any meeting Egwene had. Upset or not, she bowed her head in acceptance with only a small hesitation. Sheriam had not always known which of them commanded, but she did now.\\n\\nThe land tended upward from the River Erinin, not in hills but simply rising toward the monstrous peak that loomed to the west, so massive it seemed to mock the name mountain. Dragonmount would have towered above everything else even in the Spine of the World; in the relatively flat country around Tar Valon, its white-capped crest seemed to reach the heavens, especially when a thin thread of smoke was streaming away from the jagged top as it was now. A thin thread at that height would be something else entirely, close at hand. Trees gave out less than halfway up Dragonmount, and no one had ever succeeded in reaching the crest or even coming close, though it was said the slopes were littered with the bones of those who had tried. Why anyone would try in the first place, no one could quite explain. Sometimes the long evening shadow of the mountain stretched all the way to the city. People who lived in the region were accustomed to Dragonmount dominating the sky, much as they were accustomed to the White Tower looming above the city walls and visible for miles. Both were unchanging fixtures that had always been there and always would be, but crops and crafts occupied the people's lives, not mountains or Aes Sedai.\\n\\nIn tiny hamlets often or a dozen stone houses roofed in thatch or slate, and the occasional village of a hundred, children playing in the snow or carrying buckets of water from the wells stopped to gape at the soldiers riding along the dirt tracks that passed for roads when not covered in snow. They carried no banners, but a few of the soldiers wore the Flame of Tar Valon worked on their cloaks or coatsleeves, and the Warders'strange cloaks named at least some of the women as Aes Sedai. Even this near the city, sisters had been an uncommon sight till recently, and they were still something to make a child's eyes gleam. But then, the soldiers themselves probably came close in the list of marvels. The farms that fed Tar Valon covered most of the land, stone-walled fields surrounding sprawling houses and tall barns of stone or brick, with copses and coppices and thickets of trees between, and groups of farm children often ran a little distance parallel to the line of travel, leaping across the snow like hares. Winter chores kept most older folk indoors, but those who ventured out, heavily bundled against the cold, spared barely a glance for soldiers or Warders or Aes Sedai. Spring would becoming soon, and the plowing and planting, and what Aes Sedai did would not affect that. The Light willing, it would not.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was no point to guards unless they rode as if expecting an attack, and Lord Gareth had arranged a strong party of foreriders and lines of flankers, with trailers riding to the rear while he led the mass of the soldiers right behind the Warders who followed closely on the heels of Sheriam and the'council.\\\" They all made a large, lopsided ring around Egwene, and she could almost imagine she was riding through the countryside alone with Delana if she did not look around too closely. Or if she looked beyond. Instead of pressing the Gray Sitter to speak-it was along ride back to camp, and no one was allowed to weave a gateway where the weave might be observed; there was plenty of time to hear what Delana had to say-Egwene compared the farms they passed to those in the Two Rivers.\\n\\nPerhaps the realization that the Two Rivers was no longer homemade her study them. Acknowledging the truth could never be a betrayal, yet she needed to remember the Two Rivers. You could forget who you were if you forgot where you came from, and sometimes the innkeeper's daughter from Emond's Field seemed a stranger to her. Any of these farms would have looked decidedly odd, set down near Emond's Field, though she could not put a finger on why, exactly. A different shape to the houses, a different slant to the roofs. And more often slate topped a house than thatch, here, when you could make out either through the snow that was often mounded on the rooftops. Of course, there was less thatch and more stone and brick in the Two Rivers now than there had been. She had seen it, in Tel'aran'rhiod. Change came so slowly you never noticed it creeping upon you, or far too fast for comfort, but it came. Nothing stayed the same, even when you thought it did. Or hoped it would.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Some think you're going to bond him your Warder,\\\" Delana said suddenly in a quiet voice. She might have been engaging in casual conversation. Her whole attention seemed to be on arranging the hood of her cloak with green-gloved hands. She rode well, blending with the motion of her mare so effortlessly that she appeared unaware of the animal. \\\"Some think perhaps you already have. I haven't had one myself for sometime, but just knowing your Warder is there can be a comfort. If you choose the right one.\\\"\\n\\nEgwene raised an eyebrow-she was proud that she did not gape at the woman; this was the very last topic she would have expected-and Delana added, \\\"Lord Gareth. He spends a great deal of time with you. He's rather older than is usual, but Greens often choose a more experienced man for their first. I know you never actually had an Ajah, yet I often think of you as a Green. I wonder, will Siuan be relieved if you bond him, or upset? Sometimes I think one, sometimes the other. Their relationship, if it can be called that, is most peculiar, yet she seems completely unembarrassed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You must ask Siuan herself about that.\\\" Egwene's smile had some bite in it. So did her tone, for that matter. She did not entirely understand herself why Gareth Bryne had offered her his loyalty, but the Hall of the Tower had better uses for its time than gossiping like village women. \\\"You can tell whoever you choose that I've bonded no one, Delana. Lord Gareth spends time with me, as you put it, because I am the Amyrlin and he is my general. You may remind them of that, as well.\\\" So Delana thought of her as a Green. That was the Ajah she would have chosen, though in truth, she wanted only one Warder. But Gawyn was either inside Tar Valon or else on his way to Caemlyn, and either way, she would not lay hands on him soon. She patted Daishar's neck unnecessarily and tried to keep her smile from becoming a glare. It had been pleasant to forget the Hall, among other things, fora while. The Hall made her understand why Siuan had so often looked like a bear with a sore tooth when she was Amyrlin.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I wouldn't say it has become a matter for wide discussion,\\\" Delana murmured.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So far. Still, there is some interest in whether you will bond a Warder, and who. I doubt that Gareth Bryne would be considered a wise pick.\\\" She twisted in her saddle to look behind them. At Lord Gareth, Egwene thought, but when the Sitter turned back around, she said, very softly, \\\"Sheriam was never your choice for Keeper, of course, but you must know that the Ajahs set the rest of that lotto watch you, as well.\\\" Her dappled gray mare was shorter than Daishar, so she had to lookup at Egwene, which she tried to do without seeming to. Those watery blue eyes were suddenly quite sharp. \\\"There was some thought that Siuan might be advising you... too well... after the way you brought about the declaration of war against Elaida. But she's still resentful over her changed circumstances, isn't she? Sheriam is seen as the most likely culprit, now. In any case, the Ajahs want a little warning if you decide to pull another surprise.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I thank you for the warning,\\\" Egwene said politely. Culprit? She had proven to the Hall that she would not be their puppet, yet most insisted on thinking she had to be someone's. At least no one suspected the truth about her council. It was to be hoped no one did.\\n\\n\\\"There is another reason you should be wary,\\\" Delana went on, the intensity in her eyes belying the casualness of her voice. This was more important to her than she wanted Egwene to know. \\\"You maybe sure that any advice one of them gives you comes straight from the head of her Ajah, and as you know, the head of an Ajah and its Sitters don't always see eye to eye. Listening too closely could put you at odds with the Hall. Not every decision concerns the war, remember, but you will surely want some of those to go your way.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"An Amyrlin should listen to every side before making any decision,\\\" Egwene replied, \\\"but I'll remember your warning when they advise me, Daughter.\\\" Did Delana think she was a fool? Or perhaps the woman was trying to make her angry. Anger made for hasty decisions and rash words that sometimes were hard to take back. She could not imagine what Delana was aiming at, but when Sitters could not manipulate her one way, they tried another. She had gotten a great deal of practice in sidestepping manipulation since being raised Amyrlin. Taking deep, regular breaths, she sought the balance of calm and found it. She had entirely too much practice at that, too, of late.\\n\\nThe Gray looked up at her past the edge of her hood, her face utterly smooth. But her pale blue eyes were very sharp, now, like augers. \\\"You might inquire what they think on the subject of negotiations with Elaida, Mother.\\\"\\n\\nEgwene almost smiled. The pause had been very deliberate. Apparently Delana disliked being called Daughter by a woman younger than most novices. Younger than most who had come from the Tower, let alone the newest. But then, Delana herself was too young to be a Sitter. And she could not hold her temperas well as the innkeeper's daughter. \\\"And why would I ask that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because the subject has come up in the Hall in the last few days. Not as a proposal, but it has been mentioned, very quietly, by Varilin, and by Takima, and also by Magla. And Faiselle and Saroiya have appeared interested in what they have had to say.\\\"\\n\\nCalm or no calm, a worm of anger suddenly writhed inside Egwene, and crushing it was no easy task. Those five had been Sitters before the Tower was broken, but more importantly, they were divided between the two major factions struggling for control of the Hall. In reality, they were divided between following Romanda or Lelaine, yet that pair would oppose one another if it meant they both drowned. They also kept an iron grip on their followers.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She might believe the others had been panicked by events, but not Romanda or Lelaine. For half a week now, talk of Elaida or retaking the Tower had been all but overwhelmed by worried conversations over that impossibly powerful, impossibly long eruption of the Power. Nearly everyone wanted to know what had caused it, and nearly everyone was afraid to learn. Only yesterday had Egwene been able to convince the Hall that it must be safe fora small party to Travel to where that eruption had been-even the memory was strong enough for everyone to pinpoint exactly where it had been-and most sisters still seemed to beholding their collective breath until Akarrin and the others returned. Every Ajah had wanted a representative, but Akarrin had been the only Aes Sedai to push forward.\\n\\nNeither Lelaine nor Romanda seemed concerned, however. Violent and prolonged as the display had been, it also had been very faraway, and no harm done that they could see; if it was the Forsaken's work, as seemed certain, the chance of learning anything was vanishingly small, and the possibility that they could do anything to counter it even smaller. Wasting time and effort on impossibilities was senseless when an important task lay right in front of them. So they said, gritting their teeth over finding themselves in agreement. They did agree that Elaida must be stripped of the stole and staff, though, Romanda with almost as much fervor as Lelaine, and if Elaida unseating a former Blue as Amyrlin had enraged Lelaine, Elaida's proclamation that the Blue Ajah was disbanded had made her near-rabid. If they were allowing talk of negotiation... It made no sense.\\n\\nThe last thing Egwene wanted was for Delana or anyone else to suspect that Sheriam and the others were more than a set of sheepdogs set to watch her, but she summoned them with a sharp call. They were smart enough to keep the secrets that needed keeping, since their own Ajahs would have their hides if even the half came out, and with no great haste, they came forward and rode in a cluster around her, their faces all masks of Aes Sedai serenity and patience. Then Egwene told Delana to repeat what she had said. For all her initial request for privacy, the Gray made only a perfunctory demurral before complying. And that was the end of calm and patience.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"That's madness,\\\" Sheriam said before anyone else could open her mouth. She sounded angry, and perhaps a little frightened. Well she might be. Her name was on a list of those marked for stilling. \\\"None of them can really believe negotiation is possible.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I should hardly think so,\\\" Anaiya put in dryly. Her plain face belonged on a farmwife rather than a Blue sister, and she dressed very simply, publicly at least, in good wool, but she handled her bay gelding as easily as Delana did her mare. Very little could ruffle Anaiya's calm. Of course, there was no Blue among the Sitters talking negotiation. Anaiya looked an unlikely soldier, but for Blues, this was war to the knife, no quarter asked or given. \\\"Elaida has made the situation quite clear.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Elaida is irrational,\\\" Carlinya said with a toss of her head that made her cowl fall to her shoulders and shook her short dark curls. She pulled the hood back into place irritably. Carlinya seldom showed any hint of emotion, yet her pale cheeks were nearly as flushed as Sheriam's, and heat filled her voice. \\\"She cannot possibly believe that we will all come crawling back to her now. How can Saroiya believe she will accept anything less?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Crawling is what Elaida has demanded, though,\\\" Morvrin muttered acridly. Her usually placid round face wore a sour expression, too, and her plump hands were tight on her reins. She scowled so hard at a flight of magpies, scattering from a stand of birch trees at the passage of horses, that it seemed they should fallout of the sky. \\\"Takima likes the sound of her own voice, sometimes. She must be talking to hear herself.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Faiselle must, too,\\\" Myrelle said darkly, glaring at Delana as though she were to blame. The olive-skinned woman was known for her temper, even among Greens. \\\"I never expected to hear that sort of talk out of her. She's never been a fool before.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can't believe Magla really means any such thing,\\\" Nisao insisted, peering at each of them in turn. \\\"She just can't. For one thing, as much as I hate to say it, Romanda has Magla so tight under her thumb that Magla squeaks whenever Romanda sneezes, and the only doubt Romanda has is whether Elaida should be birched before she's exiled.\\\"\\n\\nDelana's expression was so bland, she had to be suppressing a smug smile. Plainly, this was exactly the reaction she had hoped for. \\\"Romanda holds Saroiya and Varilin just as firmly, and Takima and Faiselle hardly put one foot in front of the other without Lelaine's permission, but they still said what they said. I think your advisors are closer to the feelings of most sisters, though, Mother.\\\" Smoothing her gloves, she gave Egwene a sidelong look. \\\"You maybe able to nip this in the bud, if you move firmly. It seems you will have the support you need from the Ajahs. And mine, of course, in the Hall. Mine, and enough more to stop it dead.\\\" As if Egwene needed support to accomplish that. Perhaps she was trying to ingratiate herself. Or just to make it appear that support of Egwene washer only concern.\\n\\nBeonin had been riding in silence, clutching her cloak around her and peering at a spot between her brown mare's ears, but suddenly she shook her head. Ordinarily, her large blue-gray eyes made her appear startled, but they peered from her hood in ablaze of anger as she glared from one of her companions to another, including Egwene. \\\"Why should negotiations be out of the question?\\\" Sheriam blinked at her in surprise, and Morvrin opened her mouth with a scowl, but Beonin plunged on, directing her ire at Delana, now, her Taraboner accent stronger than usual. \\\"We are Gray, you and I. We negotiate, mediate. Elaida, she has stated the conditions most onerous, but that is often the casein the beginning of negotiations. We can reunite the White Tower and assure the safety of everyone, if we only talk.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We also judge,\\\" Delana snapped, \\\"and Elaida has been judged.\\\" That was not precisely true, but she seemed more startled than anyone else by Beonin's outburst. Her voice dripped acid. \\\"Perhaps you are willing to negotiate yourself into being birched. I am not, and I think you will find few others who are, either.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The situation, it has altered,\\\" Beonin persisted. She stretched a hand toward Egwene, almost pleading. \\\"Elaida would not have made the proclamation she did concerning the Dragon Reborn unless she had him in hand, one way or another. That flare of saidar was a warning. The Forsaken must be moving, and the White Tower, it must be-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Enough,\\\" Egwene cut in. \\\"You are willing to open negotiations with Elaida? With the Sitters still in the Tower?\\\" she amended. Elaida would never talk.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Beonin said fervently. \\\"Matters can be arranged to everyone's satisfaction. I know they can.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then you have my permission.\\\"\\n\\nImmediately everyone but Beonin began talking frantically on top of one another, trying to dissuade her, telling her this was insanity. Anaiya shouted as loudly as Sheriam, gesturing emphatically, and Delana's eyes bulged in what looked like near terror. Some of the outriders began looking toward the sisters as much as they watched the farms they were riding past, and there was astir among the Warders, who certainly had no need of their bonds at the moment to know their Aes Sedai were agitated, but they held their places. Wise men kept their noses out of the way when Aes Sedai began raising their voices.\\n\\nEgwene ignored the shouts and arm-waving. She had considered every possibility she could think of for ending this struggle with the White Tower whole and united. She had talked for hours with Siuan, who had more reason than anyone to want to unseat Elaida. If it could have saved the Tower, Egwene would have surrendered to Elaida, forget whether the woman had come to the Amyrlin Seat legally. Siuan had nearly had apoplexy at the suggestion, yet she had agreed, reluctantly, that preserving the Tower superseded every other consideration. Beonin wore such a beautiful smile, it seemed a crime to quench it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene raised her voice just enough to be heard over the others. \\\"You will approach Varilin and the others Delana named, and arrange to approach the White Tower. These are the terms I will accept: Elaida is to resign and go into exile.\\\" Because Elaida would never accept back the sisters who had rebelled against her. An Amyrlin had no say over how an Ajah governed itself, but Elaida had declared that the sisters who fled the Tower were no longer members of any Ajah. According to her, they would have to beg readmittance to their Ajahs, after serving a penance under her direct control. Elaida would not reunite the Tower, only shatter it worse than it already was. \\\"Those are the only terms I will accept, Beonin. The only terms. Do you understand me?\\\"\\n\\nBeonin's eyes rolled up in her head, and she would have fallen from her horse if Morvrin had not caught her, muttering under her breath as she held the Gray upright and slapped her face, not lightly. Everyone else stared at Egwene as though they had never seen her before. Even Delana, who must have planned for something like this to happen from the first word she had said. They had come to a halt with Beonin's fainting fit, and the ring of soldiers around them drew up at a shouted command from Lord Gareth. Some stared toward the Aes Sedai, their anxiety plain even with their faces hidden behind the bars of their helmets.\\n\\n\\\"It's time to get back to camp,\\\" Egwene said. Calmly. What had to be done had to be done. Perhaps surrender would have healed the Tower, but she could not believe it. And now it might comedown to Aes Sedai facing one another in the streets of Tar Valon, unless she could find away to make her plan succeed. \\\"We have work to do,\\\" she said, gathering her reins, \\\"and there isn't much time left.\\\" She prayed there was enough.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Chapter 17\\n\\nSecrets\\n\\nOnce Delana was sure that her noxious seed had taken root, she murmured that it might be best if they were not seen arriving back at the camp together and slipped away, pushing her mare to a quick trot through the snow and leaving the rest of them to ride on in uneasy silence except for the crunch of the horses' hooves. The Warders maintained their distance behind, and the escorting soldiers had their attention back on the farms and thickets, without so much as a glance toward the Aes Sedai that Egwene could see, now. Men never knew when to keep their mouths shut, though. Telling a man to be quiet only made him gossip all the harder, just to close friends he could trust, to be sure, as if they in turn would not tell everyone who would listen. The Warders might be different-Aes Sedai always insisted they were, those who had Warders-but no doubt the soldiers would talk of sisters arguing, and no doubt they would say Delana had been sent off with a flea in her ear. The woman had planned this very carefully. Worse than fireweed or stranglervine could grow if that seed was allowed to sprout, but the Gray Sitter had sheltered herself from blame very neatly. Truth almost always did come out in the end, but by the end, truth was often so wrapped around with rumors and speculation and absolute lies that most people never did believe it.\\n\\n\\\"I trust I don't have to ask whether any of you had heard about this before.\\\" Egwene said that quite casually, seemingly studying the countryside as they rode, but she was pleased when everyone denied it outright with considerable indignation, including Beonin, who was working her jaw and glaring at Morvrin. Egwene trusted them as far as she dared-they could not have given her their oaths without meaning to hold to every word; not unless they were Black Ajah, a niggling possibility that accounted for most of her caution-yet even oaths of fealty left room for the most loyal people doing the worst possible thing in the belief that it was in your best interest. And people who had been coerced into their oaths could be adept at spotting the gaps and leeways.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The real question,\\\" she continued, \\\"is what was Delana after?\\\" She had no need to explain, not for these women, everyone experienced in the Game of Houses. If all Delana had wanted was to stop negotiations with Elaida while keeping her own name out of it, she could simply have spoken to Egwene alone at anytime. Sitters needed no excuse to come to the Amyrlin's study. Or she could have used Halima, who slept on a pallet in Egwene's tent most nights despite being Delana's secretary. Egwene was troubled with headaches, and some nights only Halima's massages could soothe them so she could sleep. For that matter, an anonymous note might have been sufficient to make her present the Hall with an edict forbidding negotiations. The touchiest quibbler would have to admit that talks to end the war certainly touched on the war. But plainly Delana wanted Sheriam and the others to know, too. Her talebearing was an arrow aimed at another target.\\n\\n\\\"Strife between the Ajah heads and the Sitters,\\\" Carlinya said, as cool as the snow. \\\"Perhaps strife between the Ajahs.\\\" Casually adjusting her cloak, intricately embroidered white-on-white but lined with dense black fur, she might have been discussing the price of a spool of thread. \\\"Why she wants these things, I can't begin to say, but those will be the results, unless we are very careful, and she could not know we would be careful, or that we have any reason to be, so logically one or both must be her aim.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The first answer that comes to mind isn't always correct, Carlinya,\\\" Morvrin said. \\\"There's no saying that Delana thought her actions through as carefully as you have, or that she thought along the same lines.\\\" The stout Brown believed more in commonsense than logic, or so she said, but in truth she seemed to blend the two, a combination that made her very hardheaded, and suspicious of quick or easy answers. Which was not a bad thing to be. \\\"Delana maybe trying to sway some among the Sitters on some issue that's important to her. Maybe she hopes to get Elaida declared Black Ajah after all. No matter the results, her goal maybe something we don't even suspect. Sitters can be as petty as anyone else. For all we know, she might have a grudge against one of those she named dating back to when she was a novice and they taught her. Better to concentrate on what will come of it than to worry about why until we know more.\\\" Her tone was as placid as her broad face, but Carlinya's cool composure flickered to cool disdain fora moment. Her rationality made few concessions for human foibles. Or for anyone disagreeing with her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Anaiya laughed, a sound of almost motherly amusement that made her bay dance a few steps before she reined him back to a walk. A motherly farmwife amused by the antics of others in the village. Even some sisters were foolish enough to dismiss her that easily. \\\"Don't sulk, Carlinya. You are very probably right. No, Morvrin, she probably is. In any event, I believe we can squash any hopes she has for discord.\\\" That did not sound amused at all. No Blue was amused by anything that might hamper pulling Elaida down.\\n\\nMyrelle gave a savage nod of agreement, then blinked in surprise when Nisao said, \\\"Can you afford to stop this, Mother?\\\" The tiny Yellow did not speak up often. \\\"I don't mean whatever Delana is trying to do. If we can settle on what that is,\\\" she added quickly, making a gesture at Morvrin, who had opened her mouth again. Nisao looked a child alongside the other women, but it was a peremptory gesture. She was Yellow, after all, with all the self-assurance that implied, and unwilling to step back for anyone inmost circumstances. \\\"I mean the talk of parley with the Sitters in the Tower.\\\"\\n\\nFora moment, everyone gaped at her, even Beonin.\\n\\n\\\"And why would we want to allow that?\\\" Anaiya said finally, in a dangerous voice. \\\"We didn't come all this way to talk to Elaida.\\\" She was a farmwife with a cleaver hidden behind her back and a mind to use it, now.\\n\\nNisao looked up at her and sniffed dismissively. \\\"I didn't say we wanted it. I asked whether we dare stop it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hardly seethe difference.\\\" Sheriam's voice was icy, and her face pale. With anger, Egwene thought, but it might have been fear.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Then think fora while, and you might see it,\\\" Nisao said dryly. Dry the way a knife-blade was dry, and equally cutting. \\\"At present, talk of negotiations is limited to five Sitters, and very quiet, but will it remain so? Once word spreads that talks were proposed and rejected, how long before despair sets in? No, hear me out! We all set off full of righteous fury for justice, yet here we sit, staring at the walls of Tar Valon, while Elaida sits in the Tower. We've been here nearly two weeks, and for all anyone can see, we maybe here two years, or twenty. The longer we sit with nothing happening, the more sisters will start making excuses for Elaida's crimes. The more they'll start thinking that we have to mend the Tower, never mind the cost. Do you want to wait until sisters start slipping back to Elaida one by one? I myself do not fancy standing on the riverbank defying the woman with just the Blue Ajah and the rest of you for company. Negotiations will at least let everyone see that something is happening.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No one is going to return to Elaida,\\\" Anaiya protested, shifting on her saddle, but she wore a troubled frown, and she sounded as if she could see it happening. The Tower beckoned to every Aes Sedai. Very likely even Black sisters yearned for the Tower to be whole again. And there it stood, just a few miles away, but seemingly out of reach.\\n\\n\\\"Talk could buy time, Mother,\\\" Morvrin said reluctantly, and no one could put as much reluctance in her voice as she. Her frown was thoughtful, and not at all pleased. \\\"A few more weeks, and Lord Gareth might be able to find the ships he needs to block the harbors. That will alter everything, in our favor. With noway for food to get in or mouths to get out, the city will be starving inside a month.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene hung onto a smooth face with an effort. There was no real hope of ships to block the harbor, though none of them knew that. Gareth had made it plain enough to her, however, long before leaving Murandy. Originally, he had hoped to buy vessels while they marched north along the Erinin, using them to ferry supplies until they reached Tar Valon, then sinking them in the harbor mouths. Using gateways to reach Tar Valon had put paid to that in more ways than one. Word of the siege had left the city with the first ships sailing after the army arrived, and now, as far north and south as he had sent riders, ship captains were carrying out their business ashore by boat, from anchorages well out in the river. No captain was willing to risk the chance her ship would simply be seized. Gareth made his reports only to her, and his officers only to him, yet any sister could have known if she talked with a few soldiers.\\n\\nFortunately, even sisters looking for Warders rarely spoke to soldiers. They were generally accounted a thieving, unlettered lot who only bathed by accident, when they had to wade a stream. Not the kind of man any sister spent time with except when compelled to. It made keeping secrets easier, and some secrets were essential. Including, sometimes, secrets kept from those seemingly on your side. She could remember not thinking that way, but that was apart of the innkeeper's daughter she had been obliged to leave behind. This was another world, with very different rules from Emond's Field. A misstep there meant a summons to the Women's Circle. Here, a misstep meant death or worse, and for more than herself.\\n\\n\\\"The Sitters remaining in the Tower should be willing to talk,\\\" Carlinya put in, with a sigh. \\\"They have to know that the longer the siege lasts, the more chance Lord Gareth will find his ships. I cannot think how long they will continue talking, though, when they realize we do not mean to surrender.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Elaida will insist on that,\\\" Myrelle muttered, yet she did not seem to be arguing, just talking to herself, and Sheriam shivered, drawing her cloak around her as though she had let the cold touch her.\\n\\nOnly Beonin looked happy, sitting eager and upright in her saddle, dark honey hair framing a wide smile inside her hood. She did not press her case, however. She was good at negotiation, so everyone said, and knew when to wait.\\n\\n\\\"I did say you could begin,\\\" Egwene said. Not that she had meant it for more than a setdown, yet if you were going to live by the Three Oaths, then you had to standby what you said. She could not wait to hold the Oath Rod. It would be so much easier, then. \\\"Just make sure you're very careful what you say. Unless they think we all grew wings to fly here, they must suspect we've rediscovered Traveling, but they can't be certain unless someone confirms it. It's better for us if they stay uncertain. That must be one secret you hold as tightly as you hold the secret of our ferrets in the Tower.\\\"\\n\\nMyrelle and Anaiya jerked at that, and Carlinya looked around as though fearful, though neither Warders nor soldiers were close enough to hear unless someone shouted. Morvrin merely took on an even more sour expression. Even Nisao looked a little ill, though she had had nothing to do with the decision to send sisters back to the Tower in secret, supposedly answering Elaida's summons. The Hall might be happy to learn that ten sisters were in the Tower trying to undermine Elaida however they could, even if the effort had borne no apparent fruit so far, but the Sitters would most definitely be unhappy at realizing that it had been kept secret because these women feared that some of the Sitters might actually be Black Ajah. As well for Sheriam and the others to reveal their oaths to Egwene as reveal that. The results for them might not be very different. The Hall had not ordered anyone birched yet, but the way most Sitters chafed at the bit over Egwene's control of the war, it could hardly come as a surprise if they jumped at the chance to show they still had some authority while simultaneously expressing their displeasure forcefully.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2384,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 5"},{"from":"human","value":"Jondyn and Get and Hu had caught up to the fleeing inhabitants of Maiden, but the only useful thing they had gotten was this map, and making anyone pause long enough to provide that had been a chore."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Those strong enough to fight were dead or wearing gai'shain white for the Shaido; those who remained to flee were the old and the very young, the sick and the lame. According to Jondyn, the thought that someone might force them to return and fight the Shaido had quickened their steps north toward Andor and safety. The map was a puzzle, with its maze of streets and the lady's fortress and the great cistern in the northeast corner. It tantalized him with possibilities. But they were possibilities only if he found a solution to the greater puzzle that was not shown on the map, the huge mass of Shaido surrounding the walled town, not to mention four or five hundred Shaido Wise Ones who could channel. So the map went back into his sleeve, and he continued to pace.\n\nThe red-striped tent itself made him chafe as much as the map, and so did the furnishings, the gilt-edged chairs that folded for storage and the mosaic-topped table that did not, the stand-mirror and the mirrored washstand and even the brass-bound chests standing in a row along an outer wall. It was barely light outside, and all twelve of the lamps were lit, mirrors sparkling. The braziers that had held off the night's freezing cold still contained a few embers. He had even had Faile's two silk hangings, worked with lines of birds and flowers, brought out and hung from the roof poles. He had let Lamgwin trim his beard and shave his cheeks and neck; he had washed and donned clean clothes. He had had the tent setup as if Faile were going to return any moment from a ride. All so everyone would look at him and see a bloody lord, look at him and feel confident. And every bit of it reminded him that Faile was not out riding. Tugging off one of his gauntlets, he felt in his coat pocket and ran his fingers along the rawhide cord tucked in there. Thirty-two knots, now. He did not need reminding of that, but sometimes he lay awake a whole night in the bedding that did not have Faile in it, counting those knots. Somehow, they had become a connection to her. Anyway, wakefulness was better than nightmares."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"If you don't sit down, you are going to be too tired to ride to So Habor even with Neald's help,\" Berelain said, sounding faintly amused. \"Just watching you is exhausting me.\"\n\nHe managed not to glare at her. Ina dark blue silk riding dress, a wide golden necklace studded with firedrops tight around her neck and the narrow crown of Mayene holding a golden hawk in flight above her brows, the First of Mayene was seated atop her crimson cloak on one of the folding chairs with her hands folded around red gloves in her lap. She looked as composed as an Aes Sedai, and she smelled... patient. He did not understand why she had stopped smelling as if he were a fat lamb caught in brambles for her meal, but he almost felt grateful to her. It was good to have someone he could talk to about missing Faile. She listened, and smelled of sympathy.\n\n\"I want to be here if... when Gaul and the Maidens bring in some prisoners.\" The slip made him grimace as much as the delay. It was as if he doubted. Sooner or later they would capture some of the Shaido, yet apparently that was no easy matter. Taking prisoners did no good unless they could be brought away, and the Shaido were only careless compared to other Aiel. Sulin had been patient, too, explaining it to him. It was getting so hard for him to be patient, though. \"What's keeping Arganda?\" he growled.\n\nAs if the Ghealdanin's name had summoned him at last, Arganda pushed through the entry flaps, his face like stone and his eyes sunken. He looked as though he slept as little as Perrin. The short man wore his silvery breastplate, but no helmet. He had not shaved yet this morning, and graying stubble grizzled his chin. Dangling from one gauntleted hand, a fat leather purse clinked as he set it on the table alongside two already there. \"From the Queen's strongbox,\" he said sourly. He had said little the last ten days that was not sour. \"Enough to cover our share and more. I had to break open the lock and put three men to guard the chest. It's a temptation to the best of them, with the lock broken.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Good, good,\" Perrin said, trying not to sound too impatient."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He did not care whether Arganda had to set a hundred men guarding his queen's strongbox. His own purse was the smallest of the three, and he had gleaned every bit of gold or silver he could find to make it up. Slinging his cloak around his shoulders, he picked up the purses and brushed past the man out into the gray morning.\n\nTo his disgust, the camp had taken a more permanent air, though it was not by design, and there was nothing he could do about it. Many of the Two Rivers men slept under tents now, pale brown patched canvas rather than striped red like his, but big enough for eight or ten men each, with their ill-assorted polearms stacked at the front, and the others had turned their temporary brush shelters into sturdy little huts of woven evergreen branches. The tents and huts made at best meandering rows, not at all like the rigid lines seen among the Ghealdanin and Mayeners, yet it still looked a little like a village, with paths and lanes through the snow trampled down to bare, frozen earth. A neat stone fire-ring surrounded each of the cookfires, where clusters of men stood cloaked and hooded against the cold, waiting for their breakfast.\n\nIt was what was in those black iron cookpots that had Perrin moving this morning. With so many men hunting, game was growing thin on the ground, and everything else was running out. They were down to searching for squirrels' hoards of acorns to grind for stretching the oatmeal, and this late in the winter, what they found were old and dried out at best. The sour mixture filled the belly after a fashion, but you had to be hungry to get it down. Most of the faces Perrin could see were watching the cookpots eagerly. The last of the carts were rattling though a gap made in the ring of sharpened stakes around the camp, the Cairhienin drivers swathed to their ears and hunched on their seats like dark sacks of wool. Everything the carts had held was stacked in the center of the camp. Empty, they lurched in the ruts left by the carts ahead, a single file disappearing into the surrounding forest."},{"from":"human","value":"Perrin's appearance with Berelain and Arganda at his heels caused astir, although not among the hungry Two Rivers men."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Oh, a few made cautious nods in his direction-one or two fools gave rough bows!-but most still tried not to look at him when Berelain was in the vicinity. Idiots. Stonebrained idiots! There were plenty of other people, though, gathered a little way from the red-striped tent, crowding into the lanes between the other tents. An unarmored Mayener soldier in a gray coat came running with Berelain's white mare, bowing and bending to hold her stirrup. Annoura was already upon a sleek mare almost as dark as Berelain's mount was pale. Thin beaded braids hanging down her chest from the cowl of her cloak, the Aes Sedai barely seemed to notice the woman she was supposed to advise. Back stiff, she peered fixedly toward the low Aiel tents, where nothing moved but the thin wavering lines of smoke rising from the smoke holes. One-eyed Gallenne, in his red helmet and breastplate and eyepatch, made up for the Taraboner sister's inattention, though. As soon as Berelain appeared, he barked an order that stiffened fifty of the Winged Guards to statues, long, red-streamered steel-tipped lances upright at their sides, and when she mounted, Gallenne snapped another command that put them on their horses so smoothly they seemed to move as one.\n\nArganda directed a frown toward the Aiel tents, frowned at the Mayeners, then stalked over to whereas many Ghealdanin lancers waited, in shining armor and conical green helmets, and spoke softly to the fellow who would be commanding them, a lean man named Kireyin who Perrin suspected was nobly born from the haughty gaze visible behind the face-bars of his silvered helmet. Arganda was short enough that Kireyin had to bend to listen to what he had to say, and the necessity frosted the taller man's face even more. One of the men behind Kireyin was carrying a staff with a red banner bearing the three six-pointed Silver Stars of Ghealdan instead of a green-streamered lance, and one of the Winged Guards carried Mayene's Golden Hawk on blue."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Aram was there, too, though off to one side and not ready to ride. Wrapped in his putrid green cloak, sword hilt rising behind his shoulder, he shared his jealous scowls between the Mayeners and the Ghealdanin. When he saw Perrin, the man's scowl turned sullen, and he hurried off, blundering through the Two Rivers men waiting for their breakfast. He did not pause to offer apologies when he bumped someone. Aram had grown increasingly touchy, snapping and sneering at everyone but Perrin as the days passed and they sat and waited. Yesterday, he had almost come to blows with a pair of Ghealdanin over something none of them could quite recall once they were separated, except that Aram said the Ghealdanin had no respect and they said he had a badmouth. That was why the former Tinker was staying behind this morning. Things were likely to be touchy enough in So Habor without Aram starting a fight when Perrin was not looking.\n\n\"Keep an eye on Aram,\" he said quietly when Dannil brought up his bay. \"And keep a close eye on Arganda,\" he added, stuffing the purses into his saddlebags and buckling the flaps down tight. The weight of Berelain's contribution balanced his and Arganda's together very nicely. Well, she had cause to be generous. Her men were as hungry as anyone else. \"Arganda looks a man ready to do something stupid, tome.\" Stayer frisked a little and tossed his head as Perrin took the reins, but the stallion settled quickly under a firm, gentle hand.\n\nDannil rubbed his tusk-like mustaches with a cold-reddened knuckle and eyed Arganda sideways, then exhaled heavily in a mist. \"I'll watch him, Lord Perrin,\" he muttered, giving his cloak a hitch, \"but no matter what you said about me being in charge, as soon as you're out of sight, he won't listen to a thing I say.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Unfortunately, that was true."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perrin would rather have taken Arganda with him and left Gallenne here, but neither had been willing to accept that. The Ghealdanin did accept that men and horses would begin starving soon unless food and fodder were found somewhere, but he could not make himself spend a day farther from his queen than he already was. In someways, he seemed even more frantic than Perrin, or maybe just more ready to give into it. Left to himself, Arganda would have been edging a little nearer the Shaido everyday until he was right under their noses. Perrin was ready to die to free Faile. Arganda just seemed ready to die.\n\n\"Do what you canto keep him from doing anything stupid, Dannil.\" After a moment, he added, \"As long as it doesn't come to blows.\" There was only so far he could expect Dannil to restrain the fellow, after all. There were three Ghealdanin for every Two Rivers man, and Faile would never be freed if it came to them killing each other. Perrin very nearly rested his head on Stayer's flank. Light, but he was tired, and he could not see anyplace ahead of him anywhere.\n\nA slow clop of hooves announced the arrival of Masuri and Seonid, with their three Warders riding close behind wrapped in cloaks that made most of each man vanish, along with part of his horse. Both Aes Sedai wore shimmering silk, and a heavy gold necklace, layers of thick strands, showed under the edge of Masuri's dark cloak. A small white jewel dangled onto Seonid's forehead from a fine golden chain fastened in her hair. Annoura relaxed, settling more easily in her saddle. Back among the Aiel tents, the Wise Ones stood in a line watching, six tall women with their heads wrapped in dark shawls. The people of So Habor might be about as welcoming to Aiel as the people of Maiden would have been, but Perrin had not been sure the Wise Ones would let either sister come alone. They had been the last reason for waiting. The sun was a red-gold rim on the treetops."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The sooner there, the sooner back,\" he said, climbing into the bay's saddle. Ashe rode through the gap that had been made to let the carts out, Two Rivers men were already beginning to replace the missing stakes. No one lacked for wariness with Masema's people nearby.\n\nIt was a hundred paces to the treeline, but his eye caught movement, someone on a horse slipping away into the deeper shadows beneath the towering trees. One of Masema's watchers, no doubt, racing to tell the Prophet that Perrin and Berelain had left the camp. No matter how fast he rode, though, he could not be in time. If Masema wanted Berelain or Perrin dead, as seemed likely, he would have to wait on another opportunity.\n\nGallenne was not about to take any chances, though. No one had seen hide nor toenails of Santes or Gendar, Berelain's two thief-catchers, since the day they failed to return from Masema's camp, and to Gallenne that was assure a message as their heads in a sack. He had his lancers spread in a sharp-eyed ring around Berelain before they reached the trees. And around Perrin, too, but that was only incidental. Given his wishes, Gallenne would have brought all nine hundred or so of his Winged Guards, or better yet, in his view, talked Berelain out of going. Perrin had tried that, as well, with no better luck. The woman had away of listening, then doing exactly as she wished. Faile was like that, too. Sometimes a man just had to live with it. Most of the time, since there was nothing else to do.\n\nThe huge trees and stone outcrops sticking out of the snow broke up the formation, of course, but it was still a colorful sight even in the dim light of the forest, red streamers floating on light airs in slanted beams of sunlight, red-armored riders vanishing momentarily behind massive oaks and leatherleafs. The three Aes Sedai rode behind Perrin and Berelain, followed by their Warders, all watching the woods around them, and then the man with Berelain's banner. Kireyin and the banner of Ghealdan came a little behind, his men dressed in neat, shining lines, or as near as they could manage. The forest's openness was a deception, and ill suited to neat lines and bright banners, but add in embroidered silks and gems and a crown and Warders in those color-shifting cloaks, and it was a most impressive sight. Perrin could have laughed, though without much mirth."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Berelain seemed to sense his thoughts. \"When you go to buy a sack of flour,\" she said, \"wear plain wool so the seller thinks you can't afford to pay anymore than you must. When you're after flour by the wagonload, wear jewels so she thinks you can afford to comeback for all she can lay hands on.\"\n\nPerrin snorted a laugh in spite of himself. It sounded very much like something Master Luhhan had told him, once, with a nudge in the ribs to say it was a joke and a look in his eye that said it was a little more. Dress poor when you want a small favor, and fine when you want a large one. He was very glad Berelain no longer smelled like a hunting wolf. At least that took one worry off his mind.\n\nThey soon caught up to the tail end of the carts, a line that was no longer moving by the time they reached the Traveling ground. Axework and sweat had removed the trees sheared off by gateways and made a little clearing, but it was crowded even before Gallenne spread his ring of lancers around it facing outward. Pager Neald was there already, a foppish Murandian with his mustache waxed to points, on a dapple gelding. His coat would do for anyone who had not seen an Asha'man before; the only other one he had was black as well, and at least he had no collar pins to mark him out. The snow was not deep, but the twenty Two Rivers men led by Wil al'Seen were on their horses, too, rather than standing and waiting for their feet to freeze in their boots. They looked a harder lot than the fellows who had left the Two Rivers with him, longbows slung across their backs, bristling quivers and swords of various descriptions at their belts. Perrin hoped he could send them home soon, or better, take them home."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Most were balancing a polearm over their saddles, but Tod al'Caar and Flann Barstere carried banners, Perrin's own Red Wolf-head and the Red Eagle of Manetheren. Tod's heavy jaw was set stubbornly, and Flann, a tall skinny fellow from up to Watch Hill, looked sullen. Likely he had not wanted the job. Maybe Tod had not, either. Wil gave Perrin one of those open, innocent looks that fooled so many girls back home-Wil liked too much embroidery on his coat at feastdays, and he purely loved riding ahead of those banners, probably in the hope some woman would think they were his-but Perrin let it pass. He had not expected the other three people in the clearing anymore than he had the banners.\n\nHolding his cloak around him as if the mild breeze were a gale, Balwer clumsily heeled his blunt-nosed roan forward to meet Perrin. Two of Faile's hangers-on trailed after him with defiant expressions. Medore's blue eyes looked odd in her dark Tairen face, but then, her coat, with its puffy green-striped sleeves, looked odd on her bosomy frame. The daughter of a High Lord, she was every inch a noblewoman, and men's clothing just did not suit her. Latian, Cairhienin and pale in a coat almost as dark as Neald's, though marked with four slashes of red and blue across the chest, was not much taller than she, and the way he sniffled with a cold and rubbed at his sharp nose made him look much less competent. Neither wore a sword, another surprise.\n\n\"My Lord; my Lady First,\" Balwer said in that dry voice, ducking a bow in his saddle, a sparrow bobbing on a branch. His eyes flickered toward the Aes Sedai behind them, but that was the only sign he gave that he was aware of the sisters. \"My Lord, I recalled that I have an acquaintance in this So Habor. A cutler who travels with his wares, but he maybe at home, and I've not seen him in several years.\" This was the first time he had ever mentioned having a friend anywhere, and a town buried in the north of Altara seemed a peculiar place for it, but Perrin nodded. He suspected there was more to this friend than Balwer was letting on. He was beginning to suspect there was more to Balwer than the man let on."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And your companions, Master Balwer?\" Berelain's face stayed smooth inside her fur-lined cowl, but she smelled amused. She knew very well that Faile had used her young followers as spies and was sure that Perrin made the same use of them.\n\n\"They wanted an outing, my Lady First,\" the bony little man replied blandly. \"I will vouch for them, my Lord. They've promised to cause no trouble, and they may learn something.\" He smelled amused, too-a musty smell, of course, coming from him-though with a touch of irritation. Balwer knew she knew, which did not please him, but she never made open reference to the fact, which did. There definitely was more to Balwer than he let on. The man must have his reasons for taking them along. He had managed to take up all of Faile's young followers one way and another, and had them eavesdropping and watching among the Ghealdanin and the Mayeners and even the Aiel. According to him, what your friends said and did could be as interesting as what your enemies planned, and that was when you were sure they were your friends. Of course, Berelain knew that her people were being spied on. And Balwer knew she knew that, too. And she knew that he... It was all too sophisticated fora country blacksmith.\n\n\"We're wasting time,\" Perrin said. \"Open the gateway, Neald.\"\n\nThe Asha'man grinned at him and stroked his waxed mustaches-Neald grinned too much since the Shaido were found; maybe he was eager to come to grips with them-he grinned and gestured grandly with one hand. \"As you command,\" he said in a cheerful voice, and the familiar silvery slash of light appeared, widening into a hole in the air."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Without waiting for anyone else, Perrin rode through into a snow-covered field, surrounded by a low stonewall, in rolling country that seemed almost treeless compared with the forest he had left behind, just a few miles from So Habor unless Neald had made a substantial error. If he had, Perrin thought he might pull those fool mustaches right off the man's face. How could the fellow be cheerful?\n\nSoon, though, he was riding west beneath a gray cloudy sky, along a snowy road with the high-wheeled carts trundling along in a line after him and early-morning shadows stretching ahead. Stayer tugged at the reins, wanting to run, but Perrin held him to a steady walk, no faster than the carthorses could manage. Gallenne's Mayeners had to cross fields beside the road to maintain their ring around him and Berelain, and that meant getting past the low walls of rough stone that divided field from field. Some had gates from one farmer's property to the next, probably to allow sharing plow-teams, and others they jumped flamboyantly with the streamers on their lances flying, risking their animal's legs and their necks. Perrin cared the less about their necks, in truth.\n\nWil and the two fools carrying the Wolfhead and the Red Eagle joined the Mayener bannerman behind the Aes Sedai and Warders, but the other Two Rivers men strung themselves outflanking the line of carts. There were far too many carts for fewer than twenty men to guard, yet the cart drivers would feel easier seeing them. Not that anyone expected brigands, or Shaido for that matter, but no one felt comfortable outside the protection of the camp. In any case, here they would be able to see any threat well before it reached them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The low rolling hills did not really allow a very long view, but it was farm country, with sturdy thatch-roofed stone houses and barns scattered among the fields, and nothing of wildness about it anywhere. Even most of the small thickets clinging to the slopes were coppiced for firewood. But it struck Perrin suddenly that the snow on the road ahead of him was not fresh; yet the only tracks were those made by Gallenne's foreriders. No one moved around any of those dark houses and barns; no smoke rose from any of the thick chimneys. The countryside seemed absolutely still and absolutely empty. The hair on the back of his neck stirred, trying to stand.\n\nAn exclamation from one of the Aes Sedai made him look over his shoulder, and he followed Masuri's pointing finger north to a shape flying through the air. It might have been taken fora large bat at first glance, sweeping eastward on long ribbed wings, a strange bat with along neck and along thin tail trailing behind. Gallenne barked an oath and pressed his looking glass to his eye. Perrin could see it well enough unaided, and even make out the figure of a human being clinging to the creature's back, riding it like a horse.\n\n\"Seanchan,\" Berelain breathed, both her voice and the smell of her worried.\n\nPerrin twisted in his saddle to watch the thing's flight until the glare of the sunrise made him turn away. \"Nothing to do with us,\" he said. If Neald had made a mistake, he would strangle the man.\n\nChapter 26\n\nIn So Habor\n\nAs it happened, Neald, who had had to remain to hold the gateway open till Kireyin and the Ghealdanin were through, had placed the hole in the air very close to where he aimed. He and Kireyin caught up at a gallop just as Perrin topped arise and drew rein with the town of So Habor in front of him, on the other side of a small river crossed by a pair of arching timber bridges. Perrin was no soldier, but he knew right away why Masema had left this place alone. Hard against the river, the town had two massive stonewalls dotted with towers around it, the inner rising taller than the outer. A pair of barges were tied to along wharf that ran along the river wall from bridge to bridge, yet the wide bridge gates, iron-strapped and closed tight, seemed to be the only openings in that expanse of rough gray stone, and battlements topped the whole length of it. Built to hold off greedy neighboring nobles, So Habor would have had little fear of the Prophet's rabble even if they came by thousands. Anyone wanting to break into this town would need siege engines and patience, and Masema was more comfortable terrorizing villages and towns without walls or defenses."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Well, it's glad I am to see people on the walls over there,\" Neald said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I was beginning to think everyone in this country was dead and buried.\" He sounded only half joking, and his grin looked forced.\n\n\"As long as they're alive enough to sell grain,\" Kireyin murmured in his nasal, bored voice. Unbuckling his silvery, white-plumed helmet, he lifted it down to the tall pommel of his saddle. His eyes swept past Perrin and paused briefly on Berelain before he twisted around to address the Aes Sedai in the same weary tone. \"Are we going to sit here, or go down?\" Berelain arched an eyebrow at him, a dangerous look, as a man with any brains would see. Kireyin did not see.\n\nPerrin's hackles were still trying to stand, the more so since seeing the town. Maybe it was just the part of him that was wolf, disliking walls. But he did not think so. The people atop the walls pointed toward them, and some held looking glasses. Those, at least, would be able to make out the banners clearly. Everyone would be able to seethe soldiers, with the streamers on their lances floating on a morning breeze. And the first few carts of the line that stretched down the road out of their sight. Maybe everyone from the farms was crowded into the town. \"We didn't come hereto sit,\" he said.\n\nBerelain and Annoura between them had laid out how to approach So Habor. The local lord or lady had surely heard of Shaido depredations not many miles to the north of them, and they might have heard of the Prophet's presence in Altara, too. Either thing was enough to make anyone wary; together, they might be enough to make people loose arrows and wait till after to ask who they had shot. In any case, it was highly unlikely they would welcome outland soldiers through their gates at the moment. The lancers remained spread along the rise, a show that these visitors possessed some armed might even if they chose not to employ it. Not that So Habor would be overly impressed by a hundred men, but the burnished armor of the Ghealdanin and the red armor of the Winged Guards said the visitors were not wandering tricksters. The Two Rivers men would impress no one until they used their bows, so they remained back with the carts, to holdup the cart drivers\" spirits. It was all an elaborate bit of nonsense, fluff and feathers, but Perrin was a country blacksmith no matter who called him lord. The First of Mayene and an Aes Sedai should know what they were about in a thing like this."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gallenne led the way down to the river at a slow walk, bright crimson helmet resting on his saddle, his back straight. Perrin and Berelain rode a little way behind, with Seonid between them and Masuri and Annoura to either side, the Aes Sedai with their hoods thrown back so anyone on those walls who could recognize an Aes Sedai face would have the opportunity to see three. Aes Sedai were welcomed most places, even where people really would rather not. At their backs came all four bannermen, with the Warders spaced among them in their eye-wrenching cloaks. And Kireyin with his shining helmet balanced on his thigh, sour-mouthed at being relegated to riding with the Warders and now and then glaring coldly down his nose at Balwer, who trailed at the rear with his two companions. No one had told Balwer he could come, yet no one had said he could not. He bobbed a bow whenever the nobleman looked at him, then went back to studying the town walls ahead.\n\nPerrin could not shake his uneasiness as they drew nearer the town. The horses' hooves clattered hollowly on the southernmost bridge, a wide structure that rose high enough above the swift-flowing river to let a barge like those tied to the wharf pass easily underneath on sweeps. Neither of the broad bluff-bowed craft had any provision for stepping a mast. One of those barges had settled deep in the water, slanting against taut mooring ropes, and the other somehow looked abandoned, too. A rank, sour smell in the air made him rub at his nose. No one else seemed to notice.\n\nNear the foot of the bridge, Gallenne drew up. The closed gates, covered with black iron straps afoot wide, would have forced a pause anyway. \"We have heard of the troubles plaguing this land,\" he bellowed at the men atop the wall, managing formality at the top of his lungs, \"but we are merely passing through, and we come for trade, not trouble; to buy grain and other needful things, not to fight. I have the honor to announce Berelain sur Paendrag Paeron, First of Mayene, Blessed of the Light, Defender of the Waves, High Seat of House Paeron, come to speak with the lord or lady of this land. I have the honor to announce Perrin t'Bashere Aybara...\" He tossed in Lord of the Two Rivers for Perrin, and several other titles that Perrin had no more right to and had never heard before, then went on for the Aes Sedai, giving each the full honorific and adding her Ajah, as well. It was a very impressive recital. When he fell silent, there was... silence."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"In the crenelations above, dirty-faced men exchanged bleak looks and fierce whispers, shifting crossbows and polearms nervously. Only a few wore helmets or any sort of armor. Most were in rough coats, but on one man Perrin thought he saw what might have been silk under a layer of grime. It was hard to tell, with so much caked dirt. Even his ears could not make out what they were saying.\n\n\"How do we know you're alive?\" a hoarse voice shouted down at last.\n\nBerelain blinked in surprise, but no one laughed. It was fool talk, yet Perrin thought the hair on the back of his neck really was standing stiff. Something was very wrong, here. The Aes Sedai seemed not to sense it. Then again, Aes Sedai could hide anything behind those smooth masks of cool serenity. The beads in Annoura's thin braids clicked faintly as she shook her head. Masuri ran an icy gaze along the men on the wall.\n\n\"If I must prove I am alive, you will regret it,\" Seonid announced loudly in crisp Cairhienin accents, a little more heated than her face suggested. \"If you continue to point that crossbow at me, you will regret it even more.\" Several of the men hastily raised their crossbows to point at the sky. Not all, though.\n\nMore whispers rustled along the top of the wall, but someone must have recognized Aes Sedai. At last, the gates squealed open on massive rusty hinges. A gagging stench swept out of the town, the stink Perrin had been smelling, only stronger. Old dirt and old sweat, decaying middens and chamber pots too long unemptied. Perrin's ears tried to lie back. Gallenne half-lifted his red helmet as if to replace it on his head before urging his dun through the gates. Perrin booted Stayer to follow, easing his axe in its belt loop."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Just inside the gate, a filthy man in a torn coat poked Perrin's leg with a finger, then darted back when Stayer snapped at him. The fellow had been fat, once, but his coat sagged and his skin hung loose. \"Just wanted to be sure,\" he muttered, scratching his side absently. \"My Lord,\" he added, a tick late. His eyes seemed to focus on Perrin's face for the first time, and his scratching fingers froze. Golden yellow eyes were not a common sight, after all.\n\n\"Do you see many dead men walking?\" Perrin asked wryly, trying to make a joke of it, as he patted the bay's neck. A trained war-horse wanted to be rewarded for protecting his rider.\n\nThe fellow flinched as if the horse had bared teeth at him again; his mouth twitched into a rictus smile, and he edged sideways. Until he bumped solidly into Berelain's mare. Gallenne was right behind her, still looking ready to don his helmet, his one eye trying to watch six ways at once.\n\n\"Where can I find your lord or lady?\" she demanded impatiently. Mayene was a small nation, but Berelain was unaccustomed to being ignored. \"Everyone else seems to have gone mute, but I heard you use your tongue. Well, man? Speak up.\"\n\nThe fellow stared up at her, licking his lips. \"Lord Cowlin... Lord Cowlin is... away. My Lady.\" His eyes darted toward Perrin, then flickered away. \"The grain merchants... They're who you want. They can always be found at the Golden Barge. That way.\" He thrust out a hand pointing vaguely deeper into the town, then suddenly scrambled away, looking back over his shoulder at them as though fearful of pursuit."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I think we should find somewhere else,\" Perrin said. That fellow had been afraid of more than yellow eyes. This place felt... askew.\n\n\"We are already here, and there is nowhere else,\" Berelain replied in a very practical voice. In all that stink, he could not catch her scent; he would have to go by what he heard and saw, and her face was calm enough for an Aes Sedai. \"I've been in towns that smelled worse than this, Perrin. I'm sure I have. And if this Lord Cowlin is gone, it won't be the first time I've dealt with merchants. You don't really believe they've seen the dead walking, do you?\" What was a man to say to that without sounding a pure wool head?\n\nIn any case, the others were already crowding through the gates, though not in any neat array, now. Wynter and Alharra heeled Seonid like mismatched guard dogs, the one fair, the other dark, and both ready to rip out throats at the blink of an eye. They certainly had the feel of So Habor. Kirklin, riding beside Masuri, looked unwilling to wait for that eye to blink; his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Kireyin had a hand to his nose, and a glare in his eye that said someone was going to pay for making him smell this. Medore and Latian looked ill, too, but Balwer merely peered about, tilting his head, then drew the pair of them off into a narrow side street leading north. As Berelain said, they were there already.\n\nThe colorful banners looked decidedly out of place as Perrin rode through the cramped winding streets of the town. Some of the streets were actually quite wide for the size of So Habor, but they felt close, as if the stone buildings on either side somehow loomed higher than their two or three stories and were about to topple on his head, to boot. Imagination made the streets seem dim, too. It had to be imagination. The sky was not that gray. People filled the dirty stone paving, but not enough to account for all the farms in the area being abandoned, and everyone scurried, heads down. Not hurrying toward something; hurrying away. No one looked at anyone else. With a river practically on their doorsteps, they had forgotten how to wash, too. He did not see a face without a coating of grime or a garment that did not look to have been worn fora week, and hard work in muck with it. The stink only worsened the deeper into the town they rode. He supposed you could get used to anything, in time. Worst of all was the quiet, though. Villages were quiet sometimes, if not so still as the woods, but a town always held a faint murmur, the sound of shopkeepers bargaining and people going about their lives. So Habor did not even whisper. It barely seemed to breathe."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Getting better directions was difficult, since most people darted away if spoken to, but eventually they dismounted in front of a prosperous-appearing inn, three stories of neatly dressed gray stone under a slate roof, with a sign hanging out front announcing the Golden Barge. The sign even had a touch of gilt on the lettering, and on the grain mounded high in the barge and uncovered as it never would be for shipping. No grooms appeared from the stableyard beside the inn, so the bannermen had to serve as horse holders, a task that did not make them happy. Tod put so much attention into peering at the flow of dirty people that scurried by and fondling the hilt of his short-sword that Stayer very nearly got a couple of his fingers when he took the stallion's reins. The Mayener and the Ghealdanin seemed to be wishing they had lances rather than banners. Flann just looked wild-eyed. In spite of the morning sun, the light did seem... shadowy. Going inside did not make things any better.\n\nAt first glance, the common room bore out the inn's prosperity, with polished round tables and proper chairs instead of benches, standing beneath a high, stout-beamed ceiling. The walls were painted with fields of barley and oats and millet, ripening under a bright sun, and a colorfully painted clock stood on the carved mantel above a wide fireplace of white stone. The fireplace was cold, though, the air nearly as icy as outside. The clock had rundown and the polish dulled. Dust lay on everything. The only people in the room were six men and five women huddling over their drinks around an oval table, larger than the rest, that stood in the middle of the floor.\n\nOne of the men leaped to his feet with an oath, face paling underneath the dirt, when Perrin and the others entered. A plump woman with lank greasy hair shoved her pewter cup to her mouth and tried to gulp so fast that wine spilled over her chin. Maybe it was his eyes. Maybe."},{"from":"human","value":"\"What happened in this town?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Annoura said firmly, tossing back her cloak as though afire blazed on the hearth. The calm gaze she ran across the people at the table froze everyone of them. Abruptly Perrin realized that neither Masuri nor Seonid had followed him inside. He doubted very much that they were waiting in the street with the horses. What they and their Warders were doing was any man's guess.\n\nThe man who had jumped up tugged at his coat collar with a finger. The coat had been fine blue wool once, with a row of gilded buttons to his neck, but he appeared to have been spilling food down the front of it for sometime. Maybe more than had gone into him. He was another whose skin hung slack. \"H-happened, Aes Sedai?\" he stammered.\n\n\"Be quiet, Mycal!\" a haggard woman said quickly. Her dark dress was embroidered on the high neck and along the sleeves, but dirt made the colors uncertain. Her eyes were sunken pits. \"What makes you think something happened, Aes Sedai?\"\n\nAnnoura would have continued, but Berelain stepped in as the Aes Sedai opened her mouth again. \"We are looking for the grain merchants.\" Annoura's expression never changed, but her mouth snapped shut with an audible click.\n\nLong looks passed between the people around the table. The haggard woman studied Annoura fora moment, quickly passing onto Berelain and obviously taking in the silks and firedrops. And the diadem. She spread her skirts in a curtsy. \"We are the merchant's guild of So Habor, my Lady. What's left of-\" Breaking off, she took a deep, shuddering breath. \"I am Rahema Arnon, my Lady. How may we serve you?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The merchants seemed to brighten a little on learning that their visitors had come for grain and other things that they could supply, oil for lamps and cooking, beans and needles and horseshoe nails, cloth and candles and a dozen things more that the camp needed. At least, they grew a little less fearful. Any ordinary merchant hearing the list Berelain gave would have been hard-pressed not to smile greedily, but this lot...\n\nMistress Arnon shouted for the innkeeper to bring wine-\"the best wine; quickly, now; quickly\"-but when along-nosed woman stuck her head hesitantly into the common room, Mistress Arnon had to rush over and catch her soiled sleeve to keep her from vanishing again. The fellow in the food-stained coat called for someone named Speral to bring the sample jars, but after shouting three times with no response, he gave a nervous laugh and darted into aback room to return a moment later, his arms around three large cylindrical wooden containers that he sat on the table, still laughing nervously. The others wore a collection of twitching smiles as they bowed and curtsied Berelain to a seat at the head of the oval table, greasy-faced men and women scratching at themselves without appearing to notice what they were doing. Perrin tucked his gauntlets behind his belt and stood against a painted wall, watching.\n\nThey had agreed to leave the bargaining to Berelain. She was willing to admit, reluctantly, that he knew more of horseflesh than she, but she had negotiated treaties covering the sale of years' worth of the oilfish harvest. Annoura had smiled thinly at the suggestion that a jumped-upcountry lad might take a hand. She did not call him that-she could'my Lord\" him as smoothly as Masuri or Seonid-yet it was clear she thought somethings clearly above his ability. She was not smiling now, standing behind Berelain and studying the merchants as if to memorize their faces."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The innkeeper brought wine, in pewter cups that had last seen a polishing cloth weeks ago if not months, but Perrin only peered into his and swirled it in the cup. Mistress Vadere, the innkeeper, had dirt under her fingernails and embedded in her knuckles like part of her skin. He noticed that Gallenne, standing with his back to the opposite wall and one hand on his sword hilt, only held his cup, too, and Berelain never touched hers. Kireyin sniffed at his, then drank deeply and called for Mistress Vadere to bring him a pitcher.\n\n\"Thin stuff, to be called your best,\" he told the woman through his nose, and looking down it, \"but it might wash away the stink.\" She stared at him blankly, then fetched a tall pewter pitcher to his table without saying a word. Kireyin apparently took her silence for respect.\n\nMaster Crossin, the fellow in the food-stained coat, unscrewed the tops of the wooden containers and spilled out hulled samples of the grain they had to offer in piles on the table, yellow millet and brown oats, the barley only a little darker brown. There would have been no rain before the harvest. \"The finest quality, as you can see,\" he said.\n\n\"Yes, the finest.\" The smile slid off Mistress Arnon's face, and she jerked it back. \"We sell only the finest.\"\n\nFor people touting their wares as the finest, they did not seem to bargain very hard. Perrin had watched men and women back home selling the wool clip and the tabac to merchants down from Baerlon, and they always disparaged the buyers' offers, sometimes complaining the merchants were trying to beggar them when the price was twice what it had been the year before or even suggesting they might wait till next year to sell at all. It was a dance as intricate as any at a feastday."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I suppose we might lower the price further for such a large quantity,\" a balding man told Berelain, scratching at his gray-streaked beard. It was cut short, and greasy enough to cling close to his chin. Perrin wanted to scratch his own beard just watching the fellow.\n\n\"It's been a hard winter,\" around-faced woman muttered. Only two of the other merchants bothered to frown at her.\n\nPerrin set his winecup down on a nearby table and walked over to the gathering in the middle of the room. Annoura gave him one sharp, warning glance, but several of the merchants looked at him curiously. And cautiously. Gallenne had made his introductions allover again, but these folk were not entirely clear where Mayene was, exactly, or how powerful, and the Two Rivers only meant good tabac, to them. Two Rivers tabac was known everywhere. If not for the presence of an Aes Sedai, his eyes might have set them running. Everyone fell silent as Perrin scooped up a handful of millet, the tiny spheres smooth and vivid yellow on his palm. This grain was the first clean thing he had seen in the town. Letting the grain spill back onto the table, he picked up the lid of one of the containers. The threads cut into the wood were sharp and unworn. The lid would fit tightly. Mistress Arnon's eyes slid away from his, and she licked her lips.\n\n\"I want to seethe grain in the warehouses,\" he said. Half the people around the table twitched.\n\nMistress Arnon drew herself up, blustering. \"We don't sell what we don't have. You can watch our laborers load every sack on your carts, if you wish to spend hours in the cold.\"\n\n\"I was about to suggest a visit to a warehouse,\" Berelain put in. Rising, she drew her red gloves from behind her belt and began tugging them on. \"I would never buy grain without seeing the warehouse.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Mistress Arnon sagged."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The bald-headed man put his head down on the table. No one said anything, though.\n\nThe dispirited merchants did not bother to fetch their cloaks before leading them into the street. The breeze had picked up to a wind, cold as only a late winter wind could be, when people were already thinking ahead to spring, but they did not seem to notice. The hunch of their shoulders had nothing to do with cold.\n\n\"Can we go now, Lord Perrin?\" Flann asked anxiously when Perrin and the others appeared. \"This place makes me want a bath.\" Annoura gave him a frown in passing that made him flinch like one of the merchants. Flann tried a placating smile on her, but it was a sickly effort, and too late for anything but her back.\n\n\"As soon as I can arrange it,\" Perrin said. The merchants were already scurrying down the street, heads down and not looking at anyone. Berelain and Annoura managed to follow without appearing to rush, gliding along, one as composed as the other, two fine ladies out fora stroll and never mind the filth underfoot, or the stink in the air, or the dirty people who started at the sight of them and sometimes all but ran away as fast as they could. Gallenne had finally donned his helmet, and openly held his sword hilt with both hands, ready to draw. Kireyin was carrying his helmet on his hip, his other hand occupied with his winecup. Contemptuously eyeing the grimy-faced folk who hurried by, he sniffed at the wine as if it were a pomander to fight off the stench of the town.\n\nThe warehouses were located on a stone-paved street barely wider than a wagon, between the town's two walls. The smell was better there, close to the river, but the windblown street was empty except for Perrin and the others. There was not even astray dog to be seen. Dogs disappeared when a town grew hungry, but why would a town with enough grain to sell be hungry? Perrin pointed to a two-story warehouse chosen at random, no different from any other, a windowless stone building with a wide pair of wooden doors held shut by a wooden bar that could have done fora ceiling beam at the Golden Barge."},{"from":"human","value":"The merchants suddenly recalled that they had forgotten to bring men to lift the bars."},{"from":"gpt","value":"They offered to go back for them. The Lady Berelain and Annoura Sedai could rest in front of the fire at the Golden Barge while workmen were fetched. They were sure Mistress Vadere would lay afire. Their tongues went still when Perrin placed his hand beneath the thick beam and shoved it up out of the wooden brackets. The thing was heavy, but he backed up with it to give him room to turn and toss it down on the street with a crash. The merchants stared. This might have been the first time they had ever seen a man in a silk coat do anything that could be called work. Kireyin rolled his eyes and took another sniff at his wine.\n\n\"Lanterns,\" Mistress Arnon said weakly. \"We'll need lanterns, or torches. If...\"\n\nA ball of light appeared floating above Annoura's hand, glowing bright enough in the gray morning to cast everyone in faint shadows on the paving and the stonewalls. Some of the merchants put hands up to shield their eyes. After a moment, Master Crossin tugged one of the doors open by an iron ring.\n\nThe smell inside was the familiar sharp scent of barley, almost strong enough to overcome the stench of the town, and something more. Small dim shapes slunk away into the shadows ahead of Annoura's light. He could have seen better without it, or at least deeper into the darkness. The glowing ball cast a large pool of light, and walled off what lay beyond. He smelled cat, closer to feral than not. And rat, too. A sudden squeal in the black depths of the warehouse, suddenly cutoff, spoke of cat meeting rat. There were always rats ingrain barns, and cats to hunt them. It was comforting, and normal. Almost enough to soothe his uneasiness. Almost. He smelled something else, a smell he should know. A fierce yowl deep in the warehouse turned to rising cries of pain that died abruptly. Apparently the rats of So Habor sometimes hunted back. Perrin's hackles stirred again, but surely there was nothing here the Dark One would want to spy on. Most rats were just rats."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was no need to go very far in. Coarse sacks filled the darkness, in high slant-sided stacks on low wooden platforms to keep the sacks off the stone floor. Rows and rows of stacks piled nearly to the ceiling, and likely the same on the floor above. If not, this building still held enough grain to feed his people for weeks. Walking to the nearest stack, he drove his belt knife into a pale brown sack and sliced down through the tough jute fibers. A flood of barleycorns spilled out. And, clear in the glow of Annoura's brilliant light, wriggling black specks. Weevils, almost as many as there were barleycorns. Their scent was sharper than that of the barley. Weevils. He wished the hair on his neck would stop trying to rise. The cold should have been enough to kill weevils.\n\nThat one sack was proof, and his nose knew the smell of weevils, now, but he moved to another stack, then another, and another, each time slicing open one sack. Each released a spill of pale brown barley and black weevils.\n\nThe merchants were standing huddled together in the doorway, daylight behind them, but Annoura's light cast their faces in sharp relief. Worried faces. Despairing faces.\n\n\"We would be most happy to winnow each sack we sell,\" Mistress Arnon said unsteadily. \"For only a slight additional-\"\n\n\"For half the last price I offered,\" Berelain cut in sharply. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she moved her skirts clear of the weevils scuttling among the grain on the floor. \"You will never get all of them.\"\n\n\"And no millet,\" Perrin said grimly. His men needed food, and so did the soldiers, but the millet grains were hardly bigger than the weevils. Winnow as they would, he would bring back weevils and millet in equal weight. \"We'll take extra beans instead. But they get winnowed, too.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Suddenly someone shrieked outside in the street. Not a cat or a rat, but a man in terror. Perrin did not even realize he had drawn his axe until he found the haft in his hand as he pushed through the merchants in the doorway. They huddled closer together, licking their lips and not even trying to see who had screamed.\n\nKireyin was backed up against the wall of a warehouse across the way, his shining helmet with the white plume lying on the pavement beside his winecup. The man's sword was half out of the scabbard, but he seemed frozen, staring with bulging eyes at the wall of the building Perrin had just come out of. Perrin touched his arm, and he jumped.\n\n\"There was a man,\" the Ghealdanin said uncertainly. \"He was just there. He looked at me, and...\" Kireyin scrubbed a handover his face. Despite the cold, sweat glistened on his forehead. \"He walked through the wall. He did. You must believe me.\" Someone moaned; one of the merchants, Perrin thought.\n\n\"I saw the man, too,\" Seonid said behind him, and it was his turn to give a start. His nose was useless in this place!\n\nGiving the wall Kireyin had indicated a last glance, the Aes Sedai stepped away from it with a palpable unwillingness. Her Warders were tall men, towering over her, but they stayed only far enough away to gain room to draw their swords. Though what the grim-eyed Warders were to fight if Seonid was serious, Perrin could not imagine.\n\n\"I find it difficult to lie, Lord Perrin,\" Seonid said dryly when he expressed doubt, but her tone quickly became as serious as her face, and her eyes were so intent that they alone began to make Perrin feel uneasy. \"The dead are walking in So Habor. Lord Cowlin fled the town for fear of his wife's spirit. It seems there was doubt as to how she died. Hardly a manor woman in the town has not seen someone dead, and a good many have seen more than one. Some say people have died from the touch of someone dead. I cannot verify that, but people have died of fright, and others because of it. No one goes out at night in So Habor, or walks into a room unannounced. People strikeout at shadows and surprises with whatever is to hand, and sometimes they have found a husband, wife or neighbor dead at their feet. This is not hysteria or a tale to frighten children, Lord Perrin. I have never heard of the like, but it is real. You must leave one of us hereto do what we can.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Perrin shook his head slowly."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He could not afford to lose an Aes Sedai if he was to free Faile. Mistress Arnon began to weep even before he said, \"So Habor will have to face its dead alone.\"\n\nBut fear of the dead only explained so much. Maybe people were too frightened to think of washing, but it seemed unlikely that fear would take everyone that way. They just did not seem to care anymore. And weevils thriving in winter, in freezing cold? There was worse wrong in So Habor than spirits walking, and every instinct told him to leave at a dead run, without looking back. He purely wished that he could.\n\nChapter 27\n\nWhat Must Be Done\n\nThe winnowing took place on the snowy eastern riverbank, where there was nothing to cut the sharp north wind. Men and women from the town hauled sacks across the bridges in four-horse wagons and one-horse carts even barrows pushed by hand. Normally buyers brought their own wagons to the warehouses, or at worst the grain and dried beans only had to be carried as far as the wharf, but Perrin had no intention of sending his cart drivers into So Habor. Or anyone else, for that matter. Whatever was wrong in that town might be catching. Anyway, the drivers were uneasy enough as it was, frowning at the dirty townsfolk, people who never spoke, but laughed nervously when they accidentally met someone's eye. The grimy-faced merchants overseeing the work were no better. In the drivers\" native Cairhien, merchants were clean, respectable people, at least outwardly, who very seldom twitched just because someone moved at the corner of their vision. Between merchants with a tendency to peer suspiciously at anyone they did not know, and townsfolk who dragged their feet recrossing the bridges, clearly reluctant to go back inside their own walls, the cart drivers were right on edge. They gathered in little clusters, pale, dark-clad men and women, gripping the hilts of their belt knives and peering at the taller locals as if at murderous madmen."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perrin rode about slowly, watching the winnowing, examining the row of carts that stretched up the rise and out of sight waiting to be loaded, or the town's wagons and carts and barrows rolling across the bridges. He made sure he was in plain view. He was not sure why the sight of him pretending to be unconcerned should settle anyone else's nerves, yet it seemed to. Enough that no one started running, at least, though they continued to look askance at the people of So Habor. They kept their distance, too, and just as well. Let the notion that some of those folk might not be alive get into the Cairhienin's heads, and half would whip up their carthorses to flee then and there. Most of the rest might not wait much past dark. That sort of tale could twist anyone's head, come night. The wan sun, nearly hidden by gray overcast, still sat less than halfway to its noonday peak, yet increasingly it was obvious they would have to be there through the night. Maybe more than one. His jaw knotted with the effort of not grinding his teeth, and even Neald began to avoid his scowls. He did not snap at anyone. He just wanted to.\n\nIt was an arduous process, the winnowing. Every last sack had to be opened and emptied onto large flat wicker baskets, each of which took two people to toss the grain or beans. The cold wind carried away weevils in a shower of black flecks, and men and women with woven two-handed fans added to the gusts. A swift current swept away everything that was blown into the river, but soon the snow on the riverbank was trampled underfoot and the gray slush layered with insects dead or dying from the cold, and a liberal coating of oats and barley speckled with red beans. There was always anew layer to replace what feet mashed into the snow. What was left on the baskets seemed cleaner, though, if not entirely clean when it was poured back into the coarse jute bags, which had been turned inside out and beaten fiercely with sticks by children to shakeout vermin. The refilled sacks went into the Cairhienin's carts as soon as the tops were tied, but the piles of empty bags grew at a prodigious rate."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was leaning on the pommel of Stayer's saddle, trying to calculate whether it was taking two whole cartloads from the warehouses to fill one of his carts with grain, when Berelain brought her white mare up beside him, holding her scarlet cloak close against the wind with one red-gloved hand. Annoura reined in a few paces away, her ageless face smooth and unreadable. The Aes Sedai appeared to be giving them privacy, yet she was close enough to hear anything above whispers even without any tricks of the Power. Smooth face or no, her beak of a nose gave her a predatory look today. Her beaded braids seemed some strange eagle's lowered crest.\n\n\"You cannot save everyone,\" Berelain said calmly. Away from the stink of the town, her scent was sharp with urgency, and razor-edged with anger. \"Sometimes, you must choose. So Habor is Lord Cowlin's duty. He had no right to abandon his people.\" Not angry with him, then.\n\nPerrin frowned. Did she think he felt guilty? Balanced against Faile's life, the troubles of So Habor could not budge the scales a hair. But he turned his bay so he was looking at the gray town walls across the river, not the hollow-eyed children piling up empty sacks. A man did what he could. What he had to. \"Does Annoura have an opinion on what's happening here?\" he growled. Quietly, but somehow he had no doubt the Aes Sedai heard.\n\n\"I've little idea what Annoura thinks,\" Berelain replied, making no effort to lower her voice. She not only did not care who overheard, she wanted to be heard. \"She is not as forthcoming as she once was. As I once thought she was. It is up to her to mend what she has torn.\" Without looking at the Aes Sedai, she turned and rode away."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Annoura remained behind, eyes unblinking on Perrin's face. \"You are ta'veren, yes, but you are still only a thread in the Pattern, as am I. In the end, even the Dragon Reborn is just a thread to be woven into the Pattern. Not even a ta'veren thread chooses how it will be woven.\"\n\n\"Those threads are people,\" Perrin said wearily. \"Sometimes maybe people don't want to be woven into the Pattern without any say.\"\n\n\"And you think this makes a difference?\" Not waiting on an answer, she lifted her reins and heeled her fine-ankled brown mare after Berelain in a gallop that fanned her cloak behind her.\n\nShe was not the only Aes Sedai who wanted words with Perrin.\n\n\"No,\" he told Seonid firmly after listening to her, patting Stayer's neck. It was the rider wanted soothing, though. He wanted to be away from So Habor. \"I said no, and I mean no.\"\n\nShe sat her saddle stiffly, a pale little woman carved of ice. Except that her eyes were dark coals burning, and she reeked of affronted fury barely in check. Seonid was mild as milk-water with the Wise Ones, but he was not a Wise One. Behind her, Alharra's dark face was a stone, gray streaking his curly black hairlike frost. Wynter's face was red above his curled mustaches. They had to accept what passed between their Aes Sedai and the Wise Ones, but Perrin was not... The wind whipped their Warder cloaks about, leaving their hands free for swords if need be. Rippling in the wind, the cloaks shifted in shades of gray and brown, blue and white. It was easier on the stomach than seeing them make parts of a man disappear. Some easier."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"If I have to, I'll send Edarra to bring you back,\" he warned.\n\nHer face stayed cold, her eyes hot, yet a quiver ran through her, swaying the small white gem hanging on her forehead. Not from fear of what the Wise Ones would do to her if she had to be brought back, just from the same offense at Perrin that made her scent a hooked thorn. He was growing accustomed to offending Aes Sedai. Not a habit a wise man got into, but there seemed noway out of it.\n\n\"What about you?\" he asked Masuri. \"Do you want to stay in So Habor as well?\"\n\nThe slim woman was known for speaking straight to the point, direct as a Green for all she was Brown, but she said calmly, \"Would you not send Edarra after me, too? There are many ways to serve, and we cannot always pick the ways we would wish.\" Which, come to think, might be to the point, in away. He still had no idea why she visited Masema in secret. Did she suspect that he knew? Masuri's face was a bland mask. Kirklin wore a bored expression, now they were out of So Habor. He managed to seem slumped while sitting his horse erect, without a worry in the world or a thought in his head. A man who believed that of Kirklin would return the next day to buy a second pig in a poke."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The townsfolk worked mechanically as the sun rose higher, like people who wanted to lose themselves in the task at hand and feared the return of memories when they stopped. Perrin decided So Habor was making him fanciful. Still, he thought he was right. The air beyond the walls still looked too dim, as though a shading cloud hungover the town.\n\nAt noon, the cart drivers cleared patches of snow on the slope rising from the river to make small fires and brew weak tea with leaves brewing their third pot, or maybe fourth. There had been no tea to be had in the town. Some of the drivers looked at the bridges as if thinking to enter So Habor and see what they could find to eat. A glance at the dirt-caked people working the winnowing baskets sent them back to dig out their small bags of oatmeal and ground acorn. At least they knew that mix was clean. A few eyed the sacks already loaded on the carts, but the beans needed to be soaked and the grain run through the large handrnills that had been left back in the camp, and that was after the cooks picked out as many more weevils as they thought men could not stomach eating.\n\nPerrin had no appetite, not for the cleanest bread, but he was drinking what passed for tea from a battered tin cup when Latian found him. The Cairhienin did not actually come to him. Instead, the short man in the striped dark coat rode slowly past the small fire where Perrin was standing, then reined in with a frown a little upslope. Dismounting, Latian lifted his gelding's near forehoof and frowned at it. Of course, he did lookup twice to see whether Perrin was coming.\n\nWith a sigh, Perrin returned the dented cup to the blocky little woman he had borrowed it from, a graying cart driver who spread her dark skirts in a curtsy. And grinned and shook her head at Latian. Likely, she could sneak ten times as well as the fellow. Neald, squatting by the fire with his hands wrapped around another tin cup, laughed out loud so hard he had to wipe a tear from his eye. Maybe he was beginning to go crazy. Light, but this place gave a man cheerful thoughts."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Latian straightened long enough to make Perrin a leg and say, \"I see you, my Lord,\" then ducked back down to snatch up the foreleg again like a fool. You did not grab at a horse's legs that way unless you wanted kicking. But then, Perrin expected nothing but foolishness, really. First there was Latian's playing at being Aiel, with his shoulder-longhair tied off in a tail at the nape of his neck in weak imitation of how Aiel cut theirs, and now the man was playing at being a spy. Perrin rested a hand on the gelding's neck to soothe the animal after all that snatching and put an interested look on his face as he peered at a hoof that had absolutely nothing wrong with it. Except fora nick in the shoe where the iron might break in a few days if it was not replaced. His hands itched for farrier's tools. It seemed years since he had changed a horse's shoes, or worked a forge.\n\n\"Master Balwer sends word, my Lord,\" Latian said softly, head down. \"His friend is traveling to sell his wares, but is expected back tomorrow or the next day. He said to ask whether it will be all right if we catch up to you then.\" Peering under the horse's belly at the winnowers down by the river, he added, \"Though it hardly looks as if you will be away before.\"\n\nPerrin scowled down at the winnowing. He scowled at the line of carts waiting their turn to be loaded, at the half dozen or so that already had their canvas covers lashed down. One of those held the first of the leather for patching boots and candles and such. No oil, though. The lamp oil in So Habor smelled as rancid as the cooking oil. What if Gaul and the Maidens brought word of Faile? An actual sighting, perhaps? He would give anything to talk to someone who had seen her, could tell him she was unharmed. What if the Shaido began to move suddenly? \"Tell Balwer not to wait too long,\" he growled. \"As for me, I'll be away inside the hour.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\\nChapter: 5\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Jondyn and Get and Hu had caught up to the fleeing inhabitants of Maiden, but the only useful thing they had gotten was this map, and making anyone pause long enough to provide that had been a chore.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Those strong enough to fight were dead or wearing gai'shain white for the Shaido; those who remained to flee were the old and the very young, the sick and the lame. According to Jondyn, the thought that someone might force them to return and fight the Shaido had quickened their steps north toward Andor and safety. The map was a puzzle, with its maze of streets and the lady's fortress and the great cistern in the northeast corner. It tantalized him with possibilities. But they were possibilities only if he found a solution to the greater puzzle that was not shown on the map, the huge mass of Shaido surrounding the walled town, not to mention four or five hundred Shaido Wise Ones who could channel. So the map went back into his sleeve, and he continued to pace.\\n\\nThe red-striped tent itself made him chafe as much as the map, and so did the furnishings, the gilt-edged chairs that folded for storage and the mosaic-topped table that did not, the stand-mirror and the mirrored washstand and even the brass-bound chests standing in a row along an outer wall. It was barely light outside, and all twelve of the lamps were lit, mirrors sparkling. The braziers that had held off the night's freezing cold still contained a few embers. He had even had Faile's two silk hangings, worked with lines of birds and flowers, brought out and hung from the roof poles. He had let Lamgwin trim his beard and shave his cheeks and neck; he had washed and donned clean clothes. He had had the tent setup as if Faile were going to return any moment from a ride. All so everyone would look at him and see a bloody lord, look at him and feel confident. And every bit of it reminded him that Faile was not out riding. Tugging off one of his gauntlets, he felt in his coat pocket and ran his fingers along the rawhide cord tucked in there. Thirty-two knots, now. He did not need reminding of that, but sometimes he lay awake a whole night in the bedding that did not have Faile in it, counting those knots. Somehow, they had become a connection to her. Anyway, wakefulness was better than nightmares.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"If you don't sit down, you are going to be too tired to ride to So Habor even with Neald's help,\\\" Berelain said, sounding faintly amused. \\\"Just watching you is exhausting me.\\\"\\n\\nHe managed not to glare at her. Ina dark blue silk riding dress, a wide golden necklace studded with firedrops tight around her neck and the narrow crown of Mayene holding a golden hawk in flight above her brows, the First of Mayene was seated atop her crimson cloak on one of the folding chairs with her hands folded around red gloves in her lap. She looked as composed as an Aes Sedai, and she smelled... patient. He did not understand why she had stopped smelling as if he were a fat lamb caught in brambles for her meal, but he almost felt grateful to her. It was good to have someone he could talk to about missing Faile. She listened, and smelled of sympathy.\\n\\n\\\"I want to be here if... when Gaul and the Maidens bring in some prisoners.\\\" The slip made him grimace as much as the delay. It was as if he doubted. Sooner or later they would capture some of the Shaido, yet apparently that was no easy matter. Taking prisoners did no good unless they could be brought away, and the Shaido were only careless compared to other Aiel. Sulin had been patient, too, explaining it to him. It was getting so hard for him to be patient, though. \\\"What's keeping Arganda?\\\" he growled.\\n\\nAs if the Ghealdanin's name had summoned him at last, Arganda pushed through the entry flaps, his face like stone and his eyes sunken. He looked as though he slept as little as Perrin. The short man wore his silvery breastplate, but no helmet. He had not shaved yet this morning, and graying stubble grizzled his chin. Dangling from one gauntleted hand, a fat leather purse clinked as he set it on the table alongside two already there. \\\"From the Queen's strongbox,\\\" he said sourly. He had said little the last ten days that was not sour. \\\"Enough to cover our share and more. I had to break open the lock and put three men to guard the chest. It's a temptation to the best of them, with the lock broken.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Good, good,\\\" Perrin said, trying not to sound too impatient.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He did not care whether Arganda had to set a hundred men guarding his queen's strongbox. His own purse was the smallest of the three, and he had gleaned every bit of gold or silver he could find to make it up. Slinging his cloak around his shoulders, he picked up the purses and brushed past the man out into the gray morning.\\n\\nTo his disgust, the camp had taken a more permanent air, though it was not by design, and there was nothing he could do about it. Many of the Two Rivers men slept under tents now, pale brown patched canvas rather than striped red like his, but big enough for eight or ten men each, with their ill-assorted polearms stacked at the front, and the others had turned their temporary brush shelters into sturdy little huts of woven evergreen branches. The tents and huts made at best meandering rows, not at all like the rigid lines seen among the Ghealdanin and Mayeners, yet it still looked a little like a village, with paths and lanes through the snow trampled down to bare, frozen earth. A neat stone fire-ring surrounded each of the cookfires, where clusters of men stood cloaked and hooded against the cold, waiting for their breakfast.\\n\\nIt was what was in those black iron cookpots that had Perrin moving this morning. With so many men hunting, game was growing thin on the ground, and everything else was running out. They were down to searching for squirrels' hoards of acorns to grind for stretching the oatmeal, and this late in the winter, what they found were old and dried out at best. The sour mixture filled the belly after a fashion, but you had to be hungry to get it down. Most of the faces Perrin could see were watching the cookpots eagerly. The last of the carts were rattling though a gap made in the ring of sharpened stakes around the camp, the Cairhienin drivers swathed to their ears and hunched on their seats like dark sacks of wool. Everything the carts had held was stacked in the center of the camp. Empty, they lurched in the ruts left by the carts ahead, a single file disappearing into the surrounding forest.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Perrin's appearance with Berelain and Arganda at his heels caused astir, although not among the hungry Two Rivers men.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Oh, a few made cautious nods in his direction-one or two fools gave rough bows!-but most still tried not to look at him when Berelain was in the vicinity. Idiots. Stonebrained idiots! There were plenty of other people, though, gathered a little way from the red-striped tent, crowding into the lanes between the other tents. An unarmored Mayener soldier in a gray coat came running with Berelain's white mare, bowing and bending to hold her stirrup. Annoura was already upon a sleek mare almost as dark as Berelain's mount was pale. Thin beaded braids hanging down her chest from the cowl of her cloak, the Aes Sedai barely seemed to notice the woman she was supposed to advise. Back stiff, she peered fixedly toward the low Aiel tents, where nothing moved but the thin wavering lines of smoke rising from the smoke holes. One-eyed Gallenne, in his red helmet and breastplate and eyepatch, made up for the Taraboner sister's inattention, though. As soon as Berelain appeared, he barked an order that stiffened fifty of the Winged Guards to statues, long, red-streamered steel-tipped lances upright at their sides, and when she mounted, Gallenne snapped another command that put them on their horses so smoothly they seemed to move as one.\\n\\nArganda directed a frown toward the Aiel tents, frowned at the Mayeners, then stalked over to whereas many Ghealdanin lancers waited, in shining armor and conical green helmets, and spoke softly to the fellow who would be commanding them, a lean man named Kireyin who Perrin suspected was nobly born from the haughty gaze visible behind the face-bars of his silvered helmet. Arganda was short enough that Kireyin had to bend to listen to what he had to say, and the necessity frosted the taller man's face even more. One of the men behind Kireyin was carrying a staff with a red banner bearing the three six-pointed Silver Stars of Ghealdan instead of a green-streamered lance, and one of the Winged Guards carried Mayene's Golden Hawk on blue.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Aram was there, too, though off to one side and not ready to ride. Wrapped in his putrid green cloak, sword hilt rising behind his shoulder, he shared his jealous scowls between the Mayeners and the Ghealdanin. When he saw Perrin, the man's scowl turned sullen, and he hurried off, blundering through the Two Rivers men waiting for their breakfast. He did not pause to offer apologies when he bumped someone. Aram had grown increasingly touchy, snapping and sneering at everyone but Perrin as the days passed and they sat and waited. Yesterday, he had almost come to blows with a pair of Ghealdanin over something none of them could quite recall once they were separated, except that Aram said the Ghealdanin had no respect and they said he had a badmouth. That was why the former Tinker was staying behind this morning. Things were likely to be touchy enough in So Habor without Aram starting a fight when Perrin was not looking.\\n\\n\\\"Keep an eye on Aram,\\\" he said quietly when Dannil brought up his bay. \\\"And keep a close eye on Arganda,\\\" he added, stuffing the purses into his saddlebags and buckling the flaps down tight. The weight of Berelain's contribution balanced his and Arganda's together very nicely. Well, she had cause to be generous. Her men were as hungry as anyone else. \\\"Arganda looks a man ready to do something stupid, tome.\\\" Stayer frisked a little and tossed his head as Perrin took the reins, but the stallion settled quickly under a firm, gentle hand.\\n\\nDannil rubbed his tusk-like mustaches with a cold-reddened knuckle and eyed Arganda sideways, then exhaled heavily in a mist. \\\"I'll watch him, Lord Perrin,\\\" he muttered, giving his cloak a hitch, \\\"but no matter what you said about me being in charge, as soon as you're out of sight, he won't listen to a thing I say.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Unfortunately, that was true.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perrin would rather have taken Arganda with him and left Gallenne here, but neither had been willing to accept that. The Ghealdanin did accept that men and horses would begin starving soon unless food and fodder were found somewhere, but he could not make himself spend a day farther from his queen than he already was. In someways, he seemed even more frantic than Perrin, or maybe just more ready to give into it. Left to himself, Arganda would have been edging a little nearer the Shaido everyday until he was right under their noses. Perrin was ready to die to free Faile. Arganda just seemed ready to die.\\n\\n\\\"Do what you canto keep him from doing anything stupid, Dannil.\\\" After a moment, he added, \\\"As long as it doesn't come to blows.\\\" There was only so far he could expect Dannil to restrain the fellow, after all. There were three Ghealdanin for every Two Rivers man, and Faile would never be freed if it came to them killing each other. Perrin very nearly rested his head on Stayer's flank. Light, but he was tired, and he could not see anyplace ahead of him anywhere.\\n\\nA slow clop of hooves announced the arrival of Masuri and Seonid, with their three Warders riding close behind wrapped in cloaks that made most of each man vanish, along with part of his horse. Both Aes Sedai wore shimmering silk, and a heavy gold necklace, layers of thick strands, showed under the edge of Masuri's dark cloak. A small white jewel dangled onto Seonid's forehead from a fine golden chain fastened in her hair. Annoura relaxed, settling more easily in her saddle. Back among the Aiel tents, the Wise Ones stood in a line watching, six tall women with their heads wrapped in dark shawls. The people of So Habor might be about as welcoming to Aiel as the people of Maiden would have been, but Perrin had not been sure the Wise Ones would let either sister come alone. They had been the last reason for waiting. The sun was a red-gold rim on the treetops.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The sooner there, the sooner back,\\\" he said, climbing into the bay's saddle. Ashe rode through the gap that had been made to let the carts out, Two Rivers men were already beginning to replace the missing stakes. No one lacked for wariness with Masema's people nearby.\\n\\nIt was a hundred paces to the treeline, but his eye caught movement, someone on a horse slipping away into the deeper shadows beneath the towering trees. One of Masema's watchers, no doubt, racing to tell the Prophet that Perrin and Berelain had left the camp. No matter how fast he rode, though, he could not be in time. If Masema wanted Berelain or Perrin dead, as seemed likely, he would have to wait on another opportunity.\\n\\nGallenne was not about to take any chances, though. No one had seen hide nor toenails of Santes or Gendar, Berelain's two thief-catchers, since the day they failed to return from Masema's camp, and to Gallenne that was assure a message as their heads in a sack. He had his lancers spread in a sharp-eyed ring around Berelain before they reached the trees. And around Perrin, too, but that was only incidental. Given his wishes, Gallenne would have brought all nine hundred or so of his Winged Guards, or better yet, in his view, talked Berelain out of going. Perrin had tried that, as well, with no better luck. The woman had away of listening, then doing exactly as she wished. Faile was like that, too. Sometimes a man just had to live with it. Most of the time, since there was nothing else to do.\\n\\nThe huge trees and stone outcrops sticking out of the snow broke up the formation, of course, but it was still a colorful sight even in the dim light of the forest, red streamers floating on light airs in slanted beams of sunlight, red-armored riders vanishing momentarily behind massive oaks and leatherleafs. The three Aes Sedai rode behind Perrin and Berelain, followed by their Warders, all watching the woods around them, and then the man with Berelain's banner. Kireyin and the banner of Ghealdan came a little behind, his men dressed in neat, shining lines, or as near as they could manage. The forest's openness was a deception, and ill suited to neat lines and bright banners, but add in embroidered silks and gems and a crown and Warders in those color-shifting cloaks, and it was a most impressive sight. Perrin could have laughed, though without much mirth.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Berelain seemed to sense his thoughts. \\\"When you go to buy a sack of flour,\\\" she said, \\\"wear plain wool so the seller thinks you can't afford to pay anymore than you must. When you're after flour by the wagonload, wear jewels so she thinks you can afford to comeback for all she can lay hands on.\\\"\\n\\nPerrin snorted a laugh in spite of himself. It sounded very much like something Master Luhhan had told him, once, with a nudge in the ribs to say it was a joke and a look in his eye that said it was a little more. Dress poor when you want a small favor, and fine when you want a large one. He was very glad Berelain no longer smelled like a hunting wolf. At least that took one worry off his mind.\\n\\nThey soon caught up to the tail end of the carts, a line that was no longer moving by the time they reached the Traveling ground. Axework and sweat had removed the trees sheared off by gateways and made a little clearing, but it was crowded even before Gallenne spread his ring of lancers around it facing outward. Pager Neald was there already, a foppish Murandian with his mustache waxed to points, on a dapple gelding. His coat would do for anyone who had not seen an Asha'man before; the only other one he had was black as well, and at least he had no collar pins to mark him out. The snow was not deep, but the twenty Two Rivers men led by Wil al'Seen were on their horses, too, rather than standing and waiting for their feet to freeze in their boots. They looked a harder lot than the fellows who had left the Two Rivers with him, longbows slung across their backs, bristling quivers and swords of various descriptions at their belts. Perrin hoped he could send them home soon, or better, take them home.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Most were balancing a polearm over their saddles, but Tod al'Caar and Flann Barstere carried banners, Perrin's own Red Wolf-head and the Red Eagle of Manetheren. Tod's heavy jaw was set stubbornly, and Flann, a tall skinny fellow from up to Watch Hill, looked sullen. Likely he had not wanted the job. Maybe Tod had not, either. Wil gave Perrin one of those open, innocent looks that fooled so many girls back home-Wil liked too much embroidery on his coat at feastdays, and he purely loved riding ahead of those banners, probably in the hope some woman would think they were his-but Perrin let it pass. He had not expected the other three people in the clearing anymore than he had the banners.\\n\\nHolding his cloak around him as if the mild breeze were a gale, Balwer clumsily heeled his blunt-nosed roan forward to meet Perrin. Two of Faile's hangers-on trailed after him with defiant expressions. Medore's blue eyes looked odd in her dark Tairen face, but then, her coat, with its puffy green-striped sleeves, looked odd on her bosomy frame. The daughter of a High Lord, she was every inch a noblewoman, and men's clothing just did not suit her. Latian, Cairhienin and pale in a coat almost as dark as Neald's, though marked with four slashes of red and blue across the chest, was not much taller than she, and the way he sniffled with a cold and rubbed at his sharp nose made him look much less competent. Neither wore a sword, another surprise.\\n\\n\\\"My Lord; my Lady First,\\\" Balwer said in that dry voice, ducking a bow in his saddle, a sparrow bobbing on a branch. His eyes flickered toward the Aes Sedai behind them, but that was the only sign he gave that he was aware of the sisters. \\\"My Lord, I recalled that I have an acquaintance in this So Habor. A cutler who travels with his wares, but he maybe at home, and I've not seen him in several years.\\\" This was the first time he had ever mentioned having a friend anywhere, and a town buried in the north of Altara seemed a peculiar place for it, but Perrin nodded. He suspected there was more to this friend than Balwer was letting on. He was beginning to suspect there was more to Balwer than the man let on.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And your companions, Master Balwer?\\\" Berelain's face stayed smooth inside her fur-lined cowl, but she smelled amused. She knew very well that Faile had used her young followers as spies and was sure that Perrin made the same use of them.\\n\\n\\\"They wanted an outing, my Lady First,\\\" the bony little man replied blandly. \\\"I will vouch for them, my Lord. They've promised to cause no trouble, and they may learn something.\\\" He smelled amused, too-a musty smell, of course, coming from him-though with a touch of irritation. Balwer knew she knew, which did not please him, but she never made open reference to the fact, which did. There definitely was more to Balwer than he let on. The man must have his reasons for taking them along. He had managed to take up all of Faile's young followers one way and another, and had them eavesdropping and watching among the Ghealdanin and the Mayeners and even the Aiel. According to him, what your friends said and did could be as interesting as what your enemies planned, and that was when you were sure they were your friends. Of course, Berelain knew that her people were being spied on. And Balwer knew she knew that, too. And she knew that he... It was all too sophisticated fora country blacksmith.\\n\\n\\\"We're wasting time,\\\" Perrin said. \\\"Open the gateway, Neald.\\\"\\n\\nThe Asha'man grinned at him and stroked his waxed mustaches-Neald grinned too much since the Shaido were found; maybe he was eager to come to grips with them-he grinned and gestured grandly with one hand. \\\"As you command,\\\" he said in a cheerful voice, and the familiar silvery slash of light appeared, widening into a hole in the air.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Without waiting for anyone else, Perrin rode through into a snow-covered field, surrounded by a low stonewall, in rolling country that seemed almost treeless compared with the forest he had left behind, just a few miles from So Habor unless Neald had made a substantial error. If he had, Perrin thought he might pull those fool mustaches right off the man's face. How could the fellow be cheerful?\\n\\nSoon, though, he was riding west beneath a gray cloudy sky, along a snowy road with the high-wheeled carts trundling along in a line after him and early-morning shadows stretching ahead. Stayer tugged at the reins, wanting to run, but Perrin held him to a steady walk, no faster than the carthorses could manage. Gallenne's Mayeners had to cross fields beside the road to maintain their ring around him and Berelain, and that meant getting past the low walls of rough stone that divided field from field. Some had gates from one farmer's property to the next, probably to allow sharing plow-teams, and others they jumped flamboyantly with the streamers on their lances flying, risking their animal's legs and their necks. Perrin cared the less about their necks, in truth.\\n\\nWil and the two fools carrying the Wolfhead and the Red Eagle joined the Mayener bannerman behind the Aes Sedai and Warders, but the other Two Rivers men strung themselves outflanking the line of carts. There were far too many carts for fewer than twenty men to guard, yet the cart drivers would feel easier seeing them. Not that anyone expected brigands, or Shaido for that matter, but no one felt comfortable outside the protection of the camp. In any case, here they would be able to see any threat well before it reached them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The low rolling hills did not really allow a very long view, but it was farm country, with sturdy thatch-roofed stone houses and barns scattered among the fields, and nothing of wildness about it anywhere. Even most of the small thickets clinging to the slopes were coppiced for firewood. But it struck Perrin suddenly that the snow on the road ahead of him was not fresh; yet the only tracks were those made by Gallenne's foreriders. No one moved around any of those dark houses and barns; no smoke rose from any of the thick chimneys. The countryside seemed absolutely still and absolutely empty. The hair on the back of his neck stirred, trying to stand.\\n\\nAn exclamation from one of the Aes Sedai made him look over his shoulder, and he followed Masuri's pointing finger north to a shape flying through the air. It might have been taken fora large bat at first glance, sweeping eastward on long ribbed wings, a strange bat with along neck and along thin tail trailing behind. Gallenne barked an oath and pressed his looking glass to his eye. Perrin could see it well enough unaided, and even make out the figure of a human being clinging to the creature's back, riding it like a horse.\\n\\n\\\"Seanchan,\\\" Berelain breathed, both her voice and the smell of her worried.\\n\\nPerrin twisted in his saddle to watch the thing's flight until the glare of the sunrise made him turn away. \\\"Nothing to do with us,\\\" he said. If Neald had made a mistake, he would strangle the man.\\n\\nChapter 26\\n\\nIn So Habor\\n\\nAs it happened, Neald, who had had to remain to hold the gateway open till Kireyin and the Ghealdanin were through, had placed the hole in the air very close to where he aimed. He and Kireyin caught up at a gallop just as Perrin topped arise and drew rein with the town of So Habor in front of him, on the other side of a small river crossed by a pair of arching timber bridges. Perrin was no soldier, but he knew right away why Masema had left this place alone. Hard against the river, the town had two massive stonewalls dotted with towers around it, the inner rising taller than the outer. A pair of barges were tied to along wharf that ran along the river wall from bridge to bridge, yet the wide bridge gates, iron-strapped and closed tight, seemed to be the only openings in that expanse of rough gray stone, and battlements topped the whole length of it. Built to hold off greedy neighboring nobles, So Habor would have had little fear of the Prophet's rabble even if they came by thousands. Anyone wanting to break into this town would need siege engines and patience, and Masema was more comfortable terrorizing villages and towns without walls or defenses.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Well, it's glad I am to see people on the walls over there,\\\" Neald said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I was beginning to think everyone in this country was dead and buried.\\\" He sounded only half joking, and his grin looked forced.\\n\\n\\\"As long as they're alive enough to sell grain,\\\" Kireyin murmured in his nasal, bored voice. Unbuckling his silvery, white-plumed helmet, he lifted it down to the tall pommel of his saddle. His eyes swept past Perrin and paused briefly on Berelain before he twisted around to address the Aes Sedai in the same weary tone. \\\"Are we going to sit here, or go down?\\\" Berelain arched an eyebrow at him, a dangerous look, as a man with any brains would see. Kireyin did not see.\\n\\nPerrin's hackles were still trying to stand, the more so since seeing the town. Maybe it was just the part of him that was wolf, disliking walls. But he did not think so. The people atop the walls pointed toward them, and some held looking glasses. Those, at least, would be able to make out the banners clearly. Everyone would be able to seethe soldiers, with the streamers on their lances floating on a morning breeze. And the first few carts of the line that stretched down the road out of their sight. Maybe everyone from the farms was crowded into the town. \\\"We didn't come hereto sit,\\\" he said.\\n\\nBerelain and Annoura between them had laid out how to approach So Habor. The local lord or lady had surely heard of Shaido depredations not many miles to the north of them, and they might have heard of the Prophet's presence in Altara, too. Either thing was enough to make anyone wary; together, they might be enough to make people loose arrows and wait till after to ask who they had shot. In any case, it was highly unlikely they would welcome outland soldiers through their gates at the moment. The lancers remained spread along the rise, a show that these visitors possessed some armed might even if they chose not to employ it. Not that So Habor would be overly impressed by a hundred men, but the burnished armor of the Ghealdanin and the red armor of the Winged Guards said the visitors were not wandering tricksters. The Two Rivers men would impress no one until they used their bows, so they remained back with the carts, to holdup the cart drivers\\\" spirits. It was all an elaborate bit of nonsense, fluff and feathers, but Perrin was a country blacksmith no matter who called him lord. The First of Mayene and an Aes Sedai should know what they were about in a thing like this.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gallenne led the way down to the river at a slow walk, bright crimson helmet resting on his saddle, his back straight. Perrin and Berelain rode a little way behind, with Seonid between them and Masuri and Annoura to either side, the Aes Sedai with their hoods thrown back so anyone on those walls who could recognize an Aes Sedai face would have the opportunity to see three. Aes Sedai were welcomed most places, even where people really would rather not. At their backs came all four bannermen, with the Warders spaced among them in their eye-wrenching cloaks. And Kireyin with his shining helmet balanced on his thigh, sour-mouthed at being relegated to riding with the Warders and now and then glaring coldly down his nose at Balwer, who trailed at the rear with his two companions. No one had told Balwer he could come, yet no one had said he could not. He bobbed a bow whenever the nobleman looked at him, then went back to studying the town walls ahead.\\n\\nPerrin could not shake his uneasiness as they drew nearer the town. The horses' hooves clattered hollowly on the southernmost bridge, a wide structure that rose high enough above the swift-flowing river to let a barge like those tied to the wharf pass easily underneath on sweeps. Neither of the broad bluff-bowed craft had any provision for stepping a mast. One of those barges had settled deep in the water, slanting against taut mooring ropes, and the other somehow looked abandoned, too. A rank, sour smell in the air made him rub at his nose. No one else seemed to notice.\\n\\nNear the foot of the bridge, Gallenne drew up. The closed gates, covered with black iron straps afoot wide, would have forced a pause anyway. \\\"We have heard of the troubles plaguing this land,\\\" he bellowed at the men atop the wall, managing formality at the top of his lungs, \\\"but we are merely passing through, and we come for trade, not trouble; to buy grain and other needful things, not to fight. I have the honor to announce Berelain sur Paendrag Paeron, First of Mayene, Blessed of the Light, Defender of the Waves, High Seat of House Paeron, come to speak with the lord or lady of this land. I have the honor to announce Perrin t'Bashere Aybara...\\\" He tossed in Lord of the Two Rivers for Perrin, and several other titles that Perrin had no more right to and had never heard before, then went on for the Aes Sedai, giving each the full honorific and adding her Ajah, as well. It was a very impressive recital. When he fell silent, there was... silence.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"In the crenelations above, dirty-faced men exchanged bleak looks and fierce whispers, shifting crossbows and polearms nervously. Only a few wore helmets or any sort of armor. Most were in rough coats, but on one man Perrin thought he saw what might have been silk under a layer of grime. It was hard to tell, with so much caked dirt. Even his ears could not make out what they were saying.\\n\\n\\\"How do we know you're alive?\\\" a hoarse voice shouted down at last.\\n\\nBerelain blinked in surprise, but no one laughed. It was fool talk, yet Perrin thought the hair on the back of his neck really was standing stiff. Something was very wrong, here. The Aes Sedai seemed not to sense it. Then again, Aes Sedai could hide anything behind those smooth masks of cool serenity. The beads in Annoura's thin braids clicked faintly as she shook her head. Masuri ran an icy gaze along the men on the wall.\\n\\n\\\"If I must prove I am alive, you will regret it,\\\" Seonid announced loudly in crisp Cairhienin accents, a little more heated than her face suggested. \\\"If you continue to point that crossbow at me, you will regret it even more.\\\" Several of the men hastily raised their crossbows to point at the sky. Not all, though.\\n\\nMore whispers rustled along the top of the wall, but someone must have recognized Aes Sedai. At last, the gates squealed open on massive rusty hinges. A gagging stench swept out of the town, the stink Perrin had been smelling, only stronger. Old dirt and old sweat, decaying middens and chamber pots too long unemptied. Perrin's ears tried to lie back. Gallenne half-lifted his red helmet as if to replace it on his head before urging his dun through the gates. Perrin booted Stayer to follow, easing his axe in its belt loop.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Just inside the gate, a filthy man in a torn coat poked Perrin's leg with a finger, then darted back when Stayer snapped at him. The fellow had been fat, once, but his coat sagged and his skin hung loose. \\\"Just wanted to be sure,\\\" he muttered, scratching his side absently. \\\"My Lord,\\\" he added, a tick late. His eyes seemed to focus on Perrin's face for the first time, and his scratching fingers froze. Golden yellow eyes were not a common sight, after all.\\n\\n\\\"Do you see many dead men walking?\\\" Perrin asked wryly, trying to make a joke of it, as he patted the bay's neck. A trained war-horse wanted to be rewarded for protecting his rider.\\n\\nThe fellow flinched as if the horse had bared teeth at him again; his mouth twitched into a rictus smile, and he edged sideways. Until he bumped solidly into Berelain's mare. Gallenne was right behind her, still looking ready to don his helmet, his one eye trying to watch six ways at once.\\n\\n\\\"Where can I find your lord or lady?\\\" she demanded impatiently. Mayene was a small nation, but Berelain was unaccustomed to being ignored. \\\"Everyone else seems to have gone mute, but I heard you use your tongue. Well, man? Speak up.\\\"\\n\\nThe fellow stared up at her, licking his lips. \\\"Lord Cowlin... Lord Cowlin is... away. My Lady.\\\" His eyes darted toward Perrin, then flickered away. \\\"The grain merchants... They're who you want. They can always be found at the Golden Barge. That way.\\\" He thrust out a hand pointing vaguely deeper into the town, then suddenly scrambled away, looking back over his shoulder at them as though fearful of pursuit.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I think we should find somewhere else,\\\" Perrin said. That fellow had been afraid of more than yellow eyes. This place felt... askew.\\n\\n\\\"We are already here, and there is nowhere else,\\\" Berelain replied in a very practical voice. In all that stink, he could not catch her scent; he would have to go by what he heard and saw, and her face was calm enough for an Aes Sedai. \\\"I've been in towns that smelled worse than this, Perrin. I'm sure I have. And if this Lord Cowlin is gone, it won't be the first time I've dealt with merchants. You don't really believe they've seen the dead walking, do you?\\\" What was a man to say to that without sounding a pure wool head?\\n\\nIn any case, the others were already crowding through the gates, though not in any neat array, now. Wynter and Alharra heeled Seonid like mismatched guard dogs, the one fair, the other dark, and both ready to rip out throats at the blink of an eye. They certainly had the feel of So Habor. Kirklin, riding beside Masuri, looked unwilling to wait for that eye to blink; his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Kireyin had a hand to his nose, and a glare in his eye that said someone was going to pay for making him smell this. Medore and Latian looked ill, too, but Balwer merely peered about, tilting his head, then drew the pair of them off into a narrow side street leading north. As Berelain said, they were there already.\\n\\nThe colorful banners looked decidedly out of place as Perrin rode through the cramped winding streets of the town. Some of the streets were actually quite wide for the size of So Habor, but they felt close, as if the stone buildings on either side somehow loomed higher than their two or three stories and were about to topple on his head, to boot. Imagination made the streets seem dim, too. It had to be imagination. The sky was not that gray. People filled the dirty stone paving, but not enough to account for all the farms in the area being abandoned, and everyone scurried, heads down. Not hurrying toward something; hurrying away. No one looked at anyone else. With a river practically on their doorsteps, they had forgotten how to wash, too. He did not see a face without a coating of grime or a garment that did not look to have been worn fora week, and hard work in muck with it. The stink only worsened the deeper into the town they rode. He supposed you could get used to anything, in time. Worst of all was the quiet, though. Villages were quiet sometimes, if not so still as the woods, but a town always held a faint murmur, the sound of shopkeepers bargaining and people going about their lives. So Habor did not even whisper. It barely seemed to breathe.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Getting better directions was difficult, since most people darted away if spoken to, but eventually they dismounted in front of a prosperous-appearing inn, three stories of neatly dressed gray stone under a slate roof, with a sign hanging out front announcing the Golden Barge. The sign even had a touch of gilt on the lettering, and on the grain mounded high in the barge and uncovered as it never would be for shipping. No grooms appeared from the stableyard beside the inn, so the bannermen had to serve as horse holders, a task that did not make them happy. Tod put so much attention into peering at the flow of dirty people that scurried by and fondling the hilt of his short-sword that Stayer very nearly got a couple of his fingers when he took the stallion's reins. The Mayener and the Ghealdanin seemed to be wishing they had lances rather than banners. Flann just looked wild-eyed. In spite of the morning sun, the light did seem... shadowy. Going inside did not make things any better.\\n\\nAt first glance, the common room bore out the inn's prosperity, with polished round tables and proper chairs instead of benches, standing beneath a high, stout-beamed ceiling. The walls were painted with fields of barley and oats and millet, ripening under a bright sun, and a colorfully painted clock stood on the carved mantel above a wide fireplace of white stone. The fireplace was cold, though, the air nearly as icy as outside. The clock had rundown and the polish dulled. Dust lay on everything. The only people in the room were six men and five women huddling over their drinks around an oval table, larger than the rest, that stood in the middle of the floor.\\n\\nOne of the men leaped to his feet with an oath, face paling underneath the dirt, when Perrin and the others entered. A plump woman with lank greasy hair shoved her pewter cup to her mouth and tried to gulp so fast that wine spilled over her chin. Maybe it was his eyes. Maybe.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What happened in this town?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Annoura said firmly, tossing back her cloak as though afire blazed on the hearth. The calm gaze she ran across the people at the table froze everyone of them. Abruptly Perrin realized that neither Masuri nor Seonid had followed him inside. He doubted very much that they were waiting in the street with the horses. What they and their Warders were doing was any man's guess.\\n\\nThe man who had jumped up tugged at his coat collar with a finger. The coat had been fine blue wool once, with a row of gilded buttons to his neck, but he appeared to have been spilling food down the front of it for sometime. Maybe more than had gone into him. He was another whose skin hung slack. \\\"H-happened, Aes Sedai?\\\" he stammered.\\n\\n\\\"Be quiet, Mycal!\\\" a haggard woman said quickly. Her dark dress was embroidered on the high neck and along the sleeves, but dirt made the colors uncertain. Her eyes were sunken pits. \\\"What makes you think something happened, Aes Sedai?\\\"\\n\\nAnnoura would have continued, but Berelain stepped in as the Aes Sedai opened her mouth again. \\\"We are looking for the grain merchants.\\\" Annoura's expression never changed, but her mouth snapped shut with an audible click.\\n\\nLong looks passed between the people around the table. The haggard woman studied Annoura fora moment, quickly passing onto Berelain and obviously taking in the silks and firedrops. And the diadem. She spread her skirts in a curtsy. \\\"We are the merchant's guild of So Habor, my Lady. What's left of-\\\" Breaking off, she took a deep, shuddering breath. \\\"I am Rahema Arnon, my Lady. How may we serve you?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The merchants seemed to brighten a little on learning that their visitors had come for grain and other things that they could supply, oil for lamps and cooking, beans and needles and horseshoe nails, cloth and candles and a dozen things more that the camp needed. At least, they grew a little less fearful. Any ordinary merchant hearing the list Berelain gave would have been hard-pressed not to smile greedily, but this lot...\\n\\nMistress Arnon shouted for the innkeeper to bring wine-\\\"the best wine; quickly, now; quickly\\\"-but when along-nosed woman stuck her head hesitantly into the common room, Mistress Arnon had to rush over and catch her soiled sleeve to keep her from vanishing again. The fellow in the food-stained coat called for someone named Speral to bring the sample jars, but after shouting three times with no response, he gave a nervous laugh and darted into aback room to return a moment later, his arms around three large cylindrical wooden containers that he sat on the table, still laughing nervously. The others wore a collection of twitching smiles as they bowed and curtsied Berelain to a seat at the head of the oval table, greasy-faced men and women scratching at themselves without appearing to notice what they were doing. Perrin tucked his gauntlets behind his belt and stood against a painted wall, watching.\\n\\nThey had agreed to leave the bargaining to Berelain. She was willing to admit, reluctantly, that he knew more of horseflesh than she, but she had negotiated treaties covering the sale of years' worth of the oilfish harvest. Annoura had smiled thinly at the suggestion that a jumped-upcountry lad might take a hand. She did not call him that-she could'my Lord\\\" him as smoothly as Masuri or Seonid-yet it was clear she thought somethings clearly above his ability. She was not smiling now, standing behind Berelain and studying the merchants as if to memorize their faces.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The innkeeper brought wine, in pewter cups that had last seen a polishing cloth weeks ago if not months, but Perrin only peered into his and swirled it in the cup. Mistress Vadere, the innkeeper, had dirt under her fingernails and embedded in her knuckles like part of her skin. He noticed that Gallenne, standing with his back to the opposite wall and one hand on his sword hilt, only held his cup, too, and Berelain never touched hers. Kireyin sniffed at his, then drank deeply and called for Mistress Vadere to bring him a pitcher.\\n\\n\\\"Thin stuff, to be called your best,\\\" he told the woman through his nose, and looking down it, \\\"but it might wash away the stink.\\\" She stared at him blankly, then fetched a tall pewter pitcher to his table without saying a word. Kireyin apparently took her silence for respect.\\n\\nMaster Crossin, the fellow in the food-stained coat, unscrewed the tops of the wooden containers and spilled out hulled samples of the grain they had to offer in piles on the table, yellow millet and brown oats, the barley only a little darker brown. There would have been no rain before the harvest. \\\"The finest quality, as you can see,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, the finest.\\\" The smile slid off Mistress Arnon's face, and she jerked it back. \\\"We sell only the finest.\\\"\\n\\nFor people touting their wares as the finest, they did not seem to bargain very hard. Perrin had watched men and women back home selling the wool clip and the tabac to merchants down from Baerlon, and they always disparaged the buyers' offers, sometimes complaining the merchants were trying to beggar them when the price was twice what it had been the year before or even suggesting they might wait till next year to sell at all. It was a dance as intricate as any at a feastday.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I suppose we might lower the price further for such a large quantity,\\\" a balding man told Berelain, scratching at his gray-streaked beard. It was cut short, and greasy enough to cling close to his chin. Perrin wanted to scratch his own beard just watching the fellow.\\n\\n\\\"It's been a hard winter,\\\" around-faced woman muttered. Only two of the other merchants bothered to frown at her.\\n\\nPerrin set his winecup down on a nearby table and walked over to the gathering in the middle of the room. Annoura gave him one sharp, warning glance, but several of the merchants looked at him curiously. And cautiously. Gallenne had made his introductions allover again, but these folk were not entirely clear where Mayene was, exactly, or how powerful, and the Two Rivers only meant good tabac, to them. Two Rivers tabac was known everywhere. If not for the presence of an Aes Sedai, his eyes might have set them running. Everyone fell silent as Perrin scooped up a handful of millet, the tiny spheres smooth and vivid yellow on his palm. This grain was the first clean thing he had seen in the town. Letting the grain spill back onto the table, he picked up the lid of one of the containers. The threads cut into the wood were sharp and unworn. The lid would fit tightly. Mistress Arnon's eyes slid away from his, and she licked her lips.\\n\\n\\\"I want to seethe grain in the warehouses,\\\" he said. Half the people around the table twitched.\\n\\nMistress Arnon drew herself up, blustering. \\\"We don't sell what we don't have. You can watch our laborers load every sack on your carts, if you wish to spend hours in the cold.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was about to suggest a visit to a warehouse,\\\" Berelain put in. Rising, she drew her red gloves from behind her belt and began tugging them on. \\\"I would never buy grain without seeing the warehouse.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Mistress Arnon sagged.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The bald-headed man put his head down on the table. No one said anything, though.\\n\\nThe dispirited merchants did not bother to fetch their cloaks before leading them into the street. The breeze had picked up to a wind, cold as only a late winter wind could be, when people were already thinking ahead to spring, but they did not seem to notice. The hunch of their shoulders had nothing to do with cold.\\n\\n\\\"Can we go now, Lord Perrin?\\\" Flann asked anxiously when Perrin and the others appeared. \\\"This place makes me want a bath.\\\" Annoura gave him a frown in passing that made him flinch like one of the merchants. Flann tried a placating smile on her, but it was a sickly effort, and too late for anything but her back.\\n\\n\\\"As soon as I can arrange it,\\\" Perrin said. The merchants were already scurrying down the street, heads down and not looking at anyone. Berelain and Annoura managed to follow without appearing to rush, gliding along, one as composed as the other, two fine ladies out fora stroll and never mind the filth underfoot, or the stink in the air, or the dirty people who started at the sight of them and sometimes all but ran away as fast as they could. Gallenne had finally donned his helmet, and openly held his sword hilt with both hands, ready to draw. Kireyin was carrying his helmet on his hip, his other hand occupied with his winecup. Contemptuously eyeing the grimy-faced folk who hurried by, he sniffed at the wine as if it were a pomander to fight off the stench of the town.\\n\\nThe warehouses were located on a stone-paved street barely wider than a wagon, between the town's two walls. The smell was better there, close to the river, but the windblown street was empty except for Perrin and the others. There was not even astray dog to be seen. Dogs disappeared when a town grew hungry, but why would a town with enough grain to sell be hungry? Perrin pointed to a two-story warehouse chosen at random, no different from any other, a windowless stone building with a wide pair of wooden doors held shut by a wooden bar that could have done fora ceiling beam at the Golden Barge.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The merchants suddenly recalled that they had forgotten to bring men to lift the bars.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They offered to go back for them. The Lady Berelain and Annoura Sedai could rest in front of the fire at the Golden Barge while workmen were fetched. They were sure Mistress Vadere would lay afire. Their tongues went still when Perrin placed his hand beneath the thick beam and shoved it up out of the wooden brackets. The thing was heavy, but he backed up with it to give him room to turn and toss it down on the street with a crash. The merchants stared. This might have been the first time they had ever seen a man in a silk coat do anything that could be called work. Kireyin rolled his eyes and took another sniff at his wine.\\n\\n\\\"Lanterns,\\\" Mistress Arnon said weakly. \\\"We'll need lanterns, or torches. If...\\\"\\n\\nA ball of light appeared floating above Annoura's hand, glowing bright enough in the gray morning to cast everyone in faint shadows on the paving and the stonewalls. Some of the merchants put hands up to shield their eyes. After a moment, Master Crossin tugged one of the doors open by an iron ring.\\n\\nThe smell inside was the familiar sharp scent of barley, almost strong enough to overcome the stench of the town, and something more. Small dim shapes slunk away into the shadows ahead of Annoura's light. He could have seen better without it, or at least deeper into the darkness. The glowing ball cast a large pool of light, and walled off what lay beyond. He smelled cat, closer to feral than not. And rat, too. A sudden squeal in the black depths of the warehouse, suddenly cutoff, spoke of cat meeting rat. There were always rats ingrain barns, and cats to hunt them. It was comforting, and normal. Almost enough to soothe his uneasiness. Almost. He smelled something else, a smell he should know. A fierce yowl deep in the warehouse turned to rising cries of pain that died abruptly. Apparently the rats of So Habor sometimes hunted back. Perrin's hackles stirred again, but surely there was nothing here the Dark One would want to spy on. Most rats were just rats.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was no need to go very far in. Coarse sacks filled the darkness, in high slant-sided stacks on low wooden platforms to keep the sacks off the stone floor. Rows and rows of stacks piled nearly to the ceiling, and likely the same on the floor above. If not, this building still held enough grain to feed his people for weeks. Walking to the nearest stack, he drove his belt knife into a pale brown sack and sliced down through the tough jute fibers. A flood of barleycorns spilled out. And, clear in the glow of Annoura's brilliant light, wriggling black specks. Weevils, almost as many as there were barleycorns. Their scent was sharper than that of the barley. Weevils. He wished the hair on his neck would stop trying to rise. The cold should have been enough to kill weevils.\\n\\nThat one sack was proof, and his nose knew the smell of weevils, now, but he moved to another stack, then another, and another, each time slicing open one sack. Each released a spill of pale brown barley and black weevils.\\n\\nThe merchants were standing huddled together in the doorway, daylight behind them, but Annoura's light cast their faces in sharp relief. Worried faces. Despairing faces.\\n\\n\\\"We would be most happy to winnow each sack we sell,\\\" Mistress Arnon said unsteadily. \\\"For only a slight additional-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For half the last price I offered,\\\" Berelain cut in sharply. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she moved her skirts clear of the weevils scuttling among the grain on the floor. \\\"You will never get all of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And no millet,\\\" Perrin said grimly. His men needed food, and so did the soldiers, but the millet grains were hardly bigger than the weevils. Winnow as they would, he would bring back weevils and millet in equal weight. \\\"We'll take extra beans instead. But they get winnowed, too.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Suddenly someone shrieked outside in the street. Not a cat or a rat, but a man in terror. Perrin did not even realize he had drawn his axe until he found the haft in his hand as he pushed through the merchants in the doorway. They huddled closer together, licking their lips and not even trying to see who had screamed.\\n\\nKireyin was backed up against the wall of a warehouse across the way, his shining helmet with the white plume lying on the pavement beside his winecup. The man's sword was half out of the scabbard, but he seemed frozen, staring with bulging eyes at the wall of the building Perrin had just come out of. Perrin touched his arm, and he jumped.\\n\\n\\\"There was a man,\\\" the Ghealdanin said uncertainly. \\\"He was just there. He looked at me, and...\\\" Kireyin scrubbed a handover his face. Despite the cold, sweat glistened on his forehead. \\\"He walked through the wall. He did. You must believe me.\\\" Someone moaned; one of the merchants, Perrin thought.\\n\\n\\\"I saw the man, too,\\\" Seonid said behind him, and it was his turn to give a start. His nose was useless in this place!\\n\\nGiving the wall Kireyin had indicated a last glance, the Aes Sedai stepped away from it with a palpable unwillingness. Her Warders were tall men, towering over her, but they stayed only far enough away to gain room to draw their swords. Though what the grim-eyed Warders were to fight if Seonid was serious, Perrin could not imagine.\\n\\n\\\"I find it difficult to lie, Lord Perrin,\\\" Seonid said dryly when he expressed doubt, but her tone quickly became as serious as her face, and her eyes were so intent that they alone began to make Perrin feel uneasy. \\\"The dead are walking in So Habor. Lord Cowlin fled the town for fear of his wife's spirit. It seems there was doubt as to how she died. Hardly a manor woman in the town has not seen someone dead, and a good many have seen more than one. Some say people have died from the touch of someone dead. I cannot verify that, but people have died of fright, and others because of it. No one goes out at night in So Habor, or walks into a room unannounced. People strikeout at shadows and surprises with whatever is to hand, and sometimes they have found a husband, wife or neighbor dead at their feet. This is not hysteria or a tale to frighten children, Lord Perrin. I have never heard of the like, but it is real. You must leave one of us hereto do what we can.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Perrin shook his head slowly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He could not afford to lose an Aes Sedai if he was to free Faile. Mistress Arnon began to weep even before he said, \\\"So Habor will have to face its dead alone.\\\"\\n\\nBut fear of the dead only explained so much. Maybe people were too frightened to think of washing, but it seemed unlikely that fear would take everyone that way. They just did not seem to care anymore. And weevils thriving in winter, in freezing cold? There was worse wrong in So Habor than spirits walking, and every instinct told him to leave at a dead run, without looking back. He purely wished that he could.\\n\\nChapter 27\\n\\nWhat Must Be Done\\n\\nThe winnowing took place on the snowy eastern riverbank, where there was nothing to cut the sharp north wind. Men and women from the town hauled sacks across the bridges in four-horse wagons and one-horse carts even barrows pushed by hand. Normally buyers brought their own wagons to the warehouses, or at worst the grain and dried beans only had to be carried as far as the wharf, but Perrin had no intention of sending his cart drivers into So Habor. Or anyone else, for that matter. Whatever was wrong in that town might be catching. Anyway, the drivers were uneasy enough as it was, frowning at the dirty townsfolk, people who never spoke, but laughed nervously when they accidentally met someone's eye. The grimy-faced merchants overseeing the work were no better. In the drivers\\\" native Cairhien, merchants were clean, respectable people, at least outwardly, who very seldom twitched just because someone moved at the corner of their vision. Between merchants with a tendency to peer suspiciously at anyone they did not know, and townsfolk who dragged their feet recrossing the bridges, clearly reluctant to go back inside their own walls, the cart drivers were right on edge. They gathered in little clusters, pale, dark-clad men and women, gripping the hilts of their belt knives and peering at the taller locals as if at murderous madmen.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perrin rode about slowly, watching the winnowing, examining the row of carts that stretched up the rise and out of sight waiting to be loaded, or the town's wagons and carts and barrows rolling across the bridges. He made sure he was in plain view. He was not sure why the sight of him pretending to be unconcerned should settle anyone else's nerves, yet it seemed to. Enough that no one started running, at least, though they continued to look askance at the people of So Habor. They kept their distance, too, and just as well. Let the notion that some of those folk might not be alive get into the Cairhienin's heads, and half would whip up their carthorses to flee then and there. Most of the rest might not wait much past dark. That sort of tale could twist anyone's head, come night. The wan sun, nearly hidden by gray overcast, still sat less than halfway to its noonday peak, yet increasingly it was obvious they would have to be there through the night. Maybe more than one. His jaw knotted with the effort of not grinding his teeth, and even Neald began to avoid his scowls. He did not snap at anyone. He just wanted to.\\n\\nIt was an arduous process, the winnowing. Every last sack had to be opened and emptied onto large flat wicker baskets, each of which took two people to toss the grain or beans. The cold wind carried away weevils in a shower of black flecks, and men and women with woven two-handed fans added to the gusts. A swift current swept away everything that was blown into the river, but soon the snow on the riverbank was trampled underfoot and the gray slush layered with insects dead or dying from the cold, and a liberal coating of oats and barley speckled with red beans. There was always anew layer to replace what feet mashed into the snow. What was left on the baskets seemed cleaner, though, if not entirely clean when it was poured back into the coarse jute bags, which had been turned inside out and beaten fiercely with sticks by children to shakeout vermin. The refilled sacks went into the Cairhienin's carts as soon as the tops were tied, but the piles of empty bags grew at a prodigious rate.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was leaning on the pommel of Stayer's saddle, trying to calculate whether it was taking two whole cartloads from the warehouses to fill one of his carts with grain, when Berelain brought her white mare up beside him, holding her scarlet cloak close against the wind with one red-gloved hand. Annoura reined in a few paces away, her ageless face smooth and unreadable. The Aes Sedai appeared to be giving them privacy, yet she was close enough to hear anything above whispers even without any tricks of the Power. Smooth face or no, her beak of a nose gave her a predatory look today. Her beaded braids seemed some strange eagle's lowered crest.\\n\\n\\\"You cannot save everyone,\\\" Berelain said calmly. Away from the stink of the town, her scent was sharp with urgency, and razor-edged with anger. \\\"Sometimes, you must choose. So Habor is Lord Cowlin's duty. He had no right to abandon his people.\\\" Not angry with him, then.\\n\\nPerrin frowned. Did she think he felt guilty? Balanced against Faile's life, the troubles of So Habor could not budge the scales a hair. But he turned his bay so he was looking at the gray town walls across the river, not the hollow-eyed children piling up empty sacks. A man did what he could. What he had to. \\\"Does Annoura have an opinion on what's happening here?\\\" he growled. Quietly, but somehow he had no doubt the Aes Sedai heard.\\n\\n\\\"I've little idea what Annoura thinks,\\\" Berelain replied, making no effort to lower her voice. She not only did not care who overheard, she wanted to be heard. \\\"She is not as forthcoming as she once was. As I once thought she was. It is up to her to mend what she has torn.\\\" Without looking at the Aes Sedai, she turned and rode away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Annoura remained behind, eyes unblinking on Perrin's face. \\\"You are ta'veren, yes, but you are still only a thread in the Pattern, as am I. In the end, even the Dragon Reborn is just a thread to be woven into the Pattern. Not even a ta'veren thread chooses how it will be woven.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Those threads are people,\\\" Perrin said wearily. \\\"Sometimes maybe people don't want to be woven into the Pattern without any say.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And you think this makes a difference?\\\" Not waiting on an answer, she lifted her reins and heeled her fine-ankled brown mare after Berelain in a gallop that fanned her cloak behind her.\\n\\nShe was not the only Aes Sedai who wanted words with Perrin.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" he told Seonid firmly after listening to her, patting Stayer's neck. It was the rider wanted soothing, though. He wanted to be away from So Habor. \\\"I said no, and I mean no.\\\"\\n\\nShe sat her saddle stiffly, a pale little woman carved of ice. Except that her eyes were dark coals burning, and she reeked of affronted fury barely in check. Seonid was mild as milk-water with the Wise Ones, but he was not a Wise One. Behind her, Alharra's dark face was a stone, gray streaking his curly black hairlike frost. Wynter's face was red above his curled mustaches. They had to accept what passed between their Aes Sedai and the Wise Ones, but Perrin was not... The wind whipped their Warder cloaks about, leaving their hands free for swords if need be. Rippling in the wind, the cloaks shifted in shades of gray and brown, blue and white. It was easier on the stomach than seeing them make parts of a man disappear. Some easier.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"If I have to, I'll send Edarra to bring you back,\\\" he warned.\\n\\nHer face stayed cold, her eyes hot, yet a quiver ran through her, swaying the small white gem hanging on her forehead. Not from fear of what the Wise Ones would do to her if she had to be brought back, just from the same offense at Perrin that made her scent a hooked thorn. He was growing accustomed to offending Aes Sedai. Not a habit a wise man got into, but there seemed noway out of it.\\n\\n\\\"What about you?\\\" he asked Masuri. \\\"Do you want to stay in So Habor as well?\\\"\\n\\nThe slim woman was known for speaking straight to the point, direct as a Green for all she was Brown, but she said calmly, \\\"Would you not send Edarra after me, too? There are many ways to serve, and we cannot always pick the ways we would wish.\\\" Which, come to think, might be to the point, in away. He still had no idea why she visited Masema in secret. Did she suspect that he knew? Masuri's face was a bland mask. Kirklin wore a bored expression, now they were out of So Habor. He managed to seem slumped while sitting his horse erect, without a worry in the world or a thought in his head. A man who believed that of Kirklin would return the next day to buy a second pig in a poke.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The townsfolk worked mechanically as the sun rose higher, like people who wanted to lose themselves in the task at hand and feared the return of memories when they stopped. Perrin decided So Habor was making him fanciful. Still, he thought he was right. The air beyond the walls still looked too dim, as though a shading cloud hungover the town.\\n\\nAt noon, the cart drivers cleared patches of snow on the slope rising from the river to make small fires and brew weak tea with leaves brewing their third pot, or maybe fourth. There had been no tea to be had in the town. Some of the drivers looked at the bridges as if thinking to enter So Habor and see what they could find to eat. A glance at the dirt-caked people working the winnowing baskets sent them back to dig out their small bags of oatmeal and ground acorn. At least they knew that mix was clean. A few eyed the sacks already loaded on the carts, but the beans needed to be soaked and the grain run through the large handrnills that had been left back in the camp, and that was after the cooks picked out as many more weevils as they thought men could not stomach eating.\\n\\nPerrin had no appetite, not for the cleanest bread, but he was drinking what passed for tea from a battered tin cup when Latian found him. The Cairhienin did not actually come to him. Instead, the short man in the striped dark coat rode slowly past the small fire where Perrin was standing, then reined in with a frown a little upslope. Dismounting, Latian lifted his gelding's near forehoof and frowned at it. Of course, he did lookup twice to see whether Perrin was coming.\\n\\nWith a sigh, Perrin returned the dented cup to the blocky little woman he had borrowed it from, a graying cart driver who spread her dark skirts in a curtsy. And grinned and shook her head at Latian. Likely, she could sneak ten times as well as the fellow. Neald, squatting by the fire with his hands wrapped around another tin cup, laughed out loud so hard he had to wipe a tear from his eye. Maybe he was beginning to go crazy. Light, but this place gave a man cheerful thoughts.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Latian straightened long enough to make Perrin a leg and say, \\\"I see you, my Lord,\\\" then ducked back down to snatch up the foreleg again like a fool. You did not grab at a horse's legs that way unless you wanted kicking. But then, Perrin expected nothing but foolishness, really. First there was Latian's playing at being Aiel, with his shoulder-longhair tied off in a tail at the nape of his neck in weak imitation of how Aiel cut theirs, and now the man was playing at being a spy. Perrin rested a hand on the gelding's neck to soothe the animal after all that snatching and put an interested look on his face as he peered at a hoof that had absolutely nothing wrong with it. Except fora nick in the shoe where the iron might break in a few days if it was not replaced. His hands itched for farrier's tools. It seemed years since he had changed a horse's shoes, or worked a forge.\\n\\n\\\"Master Balwer sends word, my Lord,\\\" Latian said softly, head down. \\\"His friend is traveling to sell his wares, but is expected back tomorrow or the next day. He said to ask whether it will be all right if we catch up to you then.\\\" Peering under the horse's belly at the winnowers down by the river, he added, \\\"Though it hardly looks as if you will be away before.\\\"\\n\\nPerrin scowled down at the winnowing. He scowled at the line of carts waiting their turn to be loaded, at the half dozen or so that already had their canvas covers lashed down. One of those held the first of the leather for patching boots and candles and such. No oil, though. The lamp oil in So Habor smelled as rancid as the cooking oil. What if Gaul and the Maidens brought word of Faile? An actual sighting, perhaps? He would give anything to talk to someone who had seen her, could tell him she was unharmed. What if the Shaido began to move suddenly? \\\"Tell Balwer not to wait too long,\\\" he growled. \\\"As for me, I'll be away inside the hour.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2385,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 6"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egeanin dropped to her face, and Mat bit back a startled oath when she kissed the floor. \"Please,\" she said hoarsely, \"I beg leave to withdraw.\"\n\n\"You will go, Leilwin,\" Selucia said, cold as a queen speaking to a chickenthief, \"and you will not let me see your face again unless it is covered by a shea dancer's veil.\"\n\nEgeanin scrambled backward on hands and knees and all but tumbled out the door, so fast that Mat was left gaping.\n\nWith an effort, he managed to regain his smile. There seemed little point in staying, but a man could make a graceful exit. \"Well, I suppose-\"\n\nTuon wriggled her fingers again, still not looking at him, and Selucia cut him short. \"The High Lady is weary, Toy. You have her permission to go.\"\n\n\"Look, my name is Mat,\" he said. \"An easy name. A simple name. Mat.\" Tuon might as well have been a porcelain doll in truth for all the response she made.\n\nSetalle set down her embroidery, though, and rose with one hand resting lightly on the hilt of the curved dagger stuck behind her belt. \"Young man, if you think you're going to lounge about till you get to see us readying for bed, you're sadly mistaken.\" She smiled saying it, but she did have her hand on her knife, and she was Ebou Dari enough to stick a man on a whim. Tuon remained an unmoving doll, a queen on her throne somehow mistakenly dressed in ill-fitting clothes. Mat left.\n\nEgeanin was leaning on one hand against the side of the wagon, her head hanging. Her other hand was gripping the necklace around her throat. Harnan moved, a little way off in the darkness, just to show he was still there. A wise man, to keep clear of Egeanin just then. Mat was too irritated for wisdom."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What was that about?\" he demanded. \"You don't have to goon your knees to Tuon anymore. And Selucia? She's a bloody lady's maid! I don't know anybody who'd jump for his queen the way you jumped for her.\"\n\nEgeanin's hard face was shadowed, but her voice was haggard. \"The High Lady is... who she is. Selucia is her so'jhin. No one of the low Blood would dare meet her so'jhin's eyes, and maybe not the High Blood, either.\" The clasp broke with a metallic snap as she jerked the necklace free. \"But then, I'm not of any Blood, now.\" Rearing back, she put her whole body into throwing the necklace as far into the night as she could.\n\nMat opened his mouth. He could have bought a dozen prime horses with what he paid for that thing and had coin left. He closed it again without saying a word. He might not always be wise, but he was wise enough to know when a woman really might try to stick a knife in him. He knew another thing, as well. If Egeanin behaved this way around Tuon and Selucia, then he had better make sure the sul'dam were kept clear. The Light only knew what they would do if Tuon started wiggling her fingers.\n\nThat left him with a job of work to do. Well, he hated work, but those old memories had his head stuffed full of battles. He hated battle, too-a man could get killed dead!-but it was better than work. Strategy and tactics. Learn the ground, learn your enemy, and if you could not win one way, you found another.\n\nThe next night he returned to the purple wagon, alone, and once Olver had finished his lesson in stones from Tuon, Mat inveigled his way into a game. At first, sitting on the floor across the board from the dark little woman, he was not sure whether to win or lose. Some women liked to win every time, but the man had to make her work for it. Some liked the man to win, or at least more often than he lost. Neither made any sense to him-he liked to win, and the easier, the better-but that was how it was. While he was dithering, Tuon took matters out of his hands. Halfway through the game, he realized she had him in a trap he could not get out of. Her white stones were cutting off his black everywhere. It was a clean and resounding win for her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You don't play very well, Toy,\" she said mockingly. Despite the tone, her big, liquid eyes considered him coolly, weighing and measuring. A man could drown in eyes like that.\n\nHe smiled and made his goodbyes before there could be any thought of kicking him out. Strategy. Think to the future. Do the unexpected. The next night, he brought a small red paper flower made by one of the show's seamstresses. And presented it to a startled Selucia. Setalle's eyebrows rose, and even Tuon seemed taken aback. Tactics. Put your opponent off balance. Come to think, women and battles were not that different. Both wrapped a man in fog and could him kill him without trying. If he was careless.\n\nEvery night he visited the purple wagon fora game of stones under Setalle and Selucia's watchful eyes, and he concentrated on the crosshatched board. Tuon was very good, and it was all too easy to find himself watching the way she placed her stones, with her fingers bent back in a curiously graceful way. She was used to having fingernails an inch long and taking care not to break them. Her eyes were a danger, too. You needed a clear head in stones or battle, and her gaze seemed to reach inside his skull. He buckled down to the game, though, and managed to win four of the next seven, with one draw. Tuon was satisfied when she won and determined when she lost, with none of the temper tantrums he had feared, no scathing comments aside from insisting on calling him Toy, not very much of that icy regal hauteur, as long as they were playing anyway. She purely enjoyed the game, laughing exultantly when she pulled him into a trap, laughing in delight when he managed a clever placement to escape. She seemed a different woman once she lost herself in the stones board."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A flower sewn from blue linen followed the paper blossom, and two days later, a pink silk bloom that spread out as wide as a woman's palm. Both handed to Selucia. Her blue eyes increasingly set in a suspicious frown when they rested on him, but Tuon told her she could keep the flowers, and she stored them away carefully, folded in a linen cloth. He let three days pass without a present, then brought a little cluster of red silk rosebuds, complete with short stems and glistening leaves that looked as real as nature, only more perfect. He had asked the seamstress to make it on the day he bought that first paper flower.\n\nSelucia took a step, reaching to accept the rosebuds with a curl to her lip, but he sat down and put the flowers beside the board, a little toward Tuon. He said nothing, just left it lying there. She never so much as glanced at it. Dipping into the small leather bags that held the stones, he plucked one from each and shuffled them between his hands till even he was unsure which was where, then offered his closed fists. Tuon hesitated a moment, studying his face with no expression, then tapped his left hand. He opened it to display the glistening white stone.\n\n\"I've changed my mind, Toy,\" she murmured, placing the white stone carefully on the intersection of two lines near the center of the board. \"You play very well.\"\n\nMat blinked. Could she know what he was up to? Selucia was standing at Tuon's back, seemingly absorbed in the almost empty board. Setaile turned a page in her book and shifted a little to get a better light. Of course not. She was talking about stones. If she even suspected his real game, she would toss him out on his ear. Any woman would. It had to be the stones."},{"from":"human","value":"That was the night they played to a draw, with each of them controlling half the board in irregular pools and patches."},{"from":"gpt","value":"In truth, she won a victory.\n\n\"I have kept my word, Toy,\" she drawled as he was replacing the stones in the bags. \"No attempts to escape, no attempts at betrayal. This is confining.\" She gestured around at the interior of the wagon. \"I wish to take walks. After dark will do. You may accompany me.\" Her eyes touched the cluster of rosebuds, then rose to his face. \"To make sure I don't runaway.\"\n\nSetaile marked her place with a slim finger and looked at him. Selucia stood behind Tuon and looked at him. The woman had kept her word, mad as that seemed. Walks after dark, with most of the showfolk already in their beds, would do no harm, not with him thereto make sure. So why did he feel that he was losing control of the situation?\n\nTuon agreed to go cloaked and hooded, which was something of a relief. The black hair was growing back in on her shaved scalp, but so far it was little more than long fuzz, and unlike Selucia, who very likely slept in her headscarf, Tuon had shown no inclination to cover her head. A child-sized woman with hair shorter than any man not going bald would have been remarked even in the night. Setalle and Selucia always followed at a little distance in the darkness, the lady's maid to keep a protective eye on her mistress and Setalle to keep an eye on the maid. At least, he thought that was how it was. Sometimes it seemed they were both watching him. The two of them were awfully friendly for guard and prisoner. He had overheard Setalle cautioning Selucia that he was a rogue with women, a fine thing for her to be saying! And Selucia had calmly replied that her lady would break his arms if he showed any disrespect, just as if they were not prisoners at all."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He thought to use these walks to learn a little more about Tuon-she did not talk much over a stones board-but she had away of ignoring what he asked or deflecting the subject, usually to him.\n\n\"The Two Rivers is all forests and farms,\" he said as they strolled along the main street of the show. Clouds hid the moon, and the colorful wagons were indistinguishable dark shapes, the performers'platforms lining the street merely shadows. \"Everybody grows tabac and raises sheep. My father breeds cows, too, and trades horses, but mostly, it's tabac and sheep from one end to the other.\"\n\n\"Your father trades horses,\" Tuon murmured. \"And what do you do, Toy?\"\n\nHe glanced over his shoulder at the two women ghosting along ten paces back. Setalle might not be close enough to hear, if he kept his voice down, but he decided to be honest. Besides, the show was dead quiet in the darkness. She might hear, and she knew what he had been doing in Ebou Dar. \"I'm a gambler,\" he said.\n\n\"My father called himself a gambler,\" Tuon said softly. \"He died of a bad wager.\"\n\nAnd how were you supposed to find out what that meant?\n\nAnother night, walking along a row of animal cages, each one built to fill an entire wagon, he said, \"What do you do for fun, Tuon? Just because you enjoy it. Aside from playing stones.\" He could almost feel Selucia bristling at his use of her name from thirty feet away, but Tuon did not seem to mind. He thought she did not.\n\n\"I train horses and damane,\" she said, peering into a cage that held a sleeping lion. The animal was only a large shadow lying on the straw behind the thick bars. \"Does he really have a black mane? There are no lions with black manes in all of Seanchan.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She trained damane? For fun? Light! \"Horses? What kind of horses?\" It might be warhorses, if she trained bloody damane. For fun.\n\n\"Mistress Anan tells me you're a scoundrel, Toy.\" Her voice was cool, not cold. Composed. She turned toward him, face hidden in the shadows of her cowl. \"How many women have you kissed?\" The lion woke up and coughed, a deep sound guaranteed to raise the hair on anyone's head. Tuon did not even flinch.\n\n\"Looks like rain's coming again,\" he said weakly. \"Selucia will have my hide if I get you back soaked.\" He heard her laugh softly. What had he said that was funny?\n\nThere was a price to pay, of course. Maybe things were going his way and maybe not, but when you thought they were, there was always a price.\n\n\"Bunch of chattering magpies,\" he complained to Egeanin. The afternoon sat on the horizon, a red-gold ball half hidden by clouds, casting the show in long shadows. There was no rain, for once, and in spite of the cold they were sitting hunched beneath the green wagon they shared, playing stones in plain sight of anyone who walked by. A good many did, men hurrying about some last-minute chore, children snatching the final chance to roll hoops through the mud puddles and toss balls before night fell. Women holding their skirts up glanced at the wagon in passing, and even when they were hooded, Mat knew what their expressions were. Hardly a woman in the show would speak to Mat Cauthon. Irritably, he rattled the black stones he held gathered in his left hand. \"They'll get their gold when we reach Lugard. That's all they ought to care about. They shouldn't be poking their noses into my business.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You can hardly blame them,\" Egeanin drawled, studying the board. \"You and I are supposed to be fleeing lovers, but you spend more time with... her... than with me.\" She still had trouble not calling Tuon High Lady. \"You behave like a man courting.\" She reached to place her stone, then stopped with her hand above the board. \"You can't think she'll complete the ceremony, can you? You can't be that big a fool.\"\n\n\"What ceremony? What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"You named her your wife three times that night in Ebou Dar,\" she said slowly. \"You really don't know? A woman says three times that a man is her husband, and he says three times she's his wife, and they're married. There are blessings involved, usually, but it's saying it in front of witnesses that makes it a marriage. You really didn't know?\"\n\nMat laughed, and shrugged his shoulders, feeling the knife hanging behind his neck. A good knife gave a man a feeling of comfort. But his laugh was hoarse. \"But she didn't say anything.\" He had bloody well been stuffing a gag in her mouth at the time! \"So whatever I said, it doesn't mean anything.\" But he knew what Egeanin was going to say. Sure as water was wet, he knew. He had been told who he was going to marry.\n\n\"With the Blood, it's a little different. Sometimes a noble from one end of the Empire marries a noble from the other. An arranged marriage. The Imperial family never has any other kind. They may not want to wait until they can be together, so one acknowledges the marriage where she is, and the other where he is. As long as they both speak in front of witnesses, inside a year and a day, the marriage is legal. You truly didn't know?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sure was sure, but the stones still spilled from his hand onto the board, bouncing everywhere. The bloody girl knew. Maybe she thought this whole thing was an adventure, or a game. Maybe she thought being kidnapped was as much fun as training horses or bloody damane! But he knew he was a trout waiting for her to set the hook.\n\nHe stayed away from the purple wagon for two days. There was no use running-he already had the bloody hook in his mouth, and he had put it there himself-but he did not have to swallow the flaming thing. Only, he knew it was just a matter of when she decided to jerk the line tight.\n\nAs slowly as the show moved, eventually they reached the ferry across the Eldar, running from Alkindar on the west bank to Coramen on the east, tidy little walled towns of tile-roofed stone buildings with half a dozen stone docks each. The sun was climbing high, hardly a cloud crossed the sky, and those white as new-washed wool. No rain today, maybe. It was an important crossing, with trading ships from upriver tied to some of the docks and big barge-like ferries crawling from one town to the other on long sweeps. The Seanchan apparently thought so, too. They had military camps outside both towns, and from the stonewalls beginning to rise around the camps and the stone structures going up inside, they had no intention of leaving soon.\n\nMat crossed over with the first wagons, riding Pips. The brown gelding looked ordinary enough to an undiscerning eye; it would not seem out of place for him to be ridden by a fellow in a rough woolen coat with a woolen cap pulled down over his ears against the cold. He was not actually considering making a run for the hilly wooded ridge country behind Coramen. Thinking about it, but not really considering. She was going to set the hook whether he ran or not. So he sat Pips at the end of one of the stone ferry landings, watching the show crossover and trundle away through the town. There were Seanchan on the landings, a squad of beefy men in segmented armor painted blue and burnt gold under a lean young officer with one thin blue plume on his odd-looking helmet. They seemed to be there just to keep order, but the officer checked Luca's horse warrant, and Luca inquired whether the noble lord might know of ground outside the town suitable for his show to perform. Mat could have wept. He could see soldiers wearing striped armor in the street behind him, wandering in and out of shops and taverns. A raken swooped down out of the sky on long, ribbed wings, alighting outside one of the camps across the river. Three or four of the snake-necked creatures were already on the ground. There had to be hundreds of soldiers in those camps. Maybe a thousand. And Luca was going to put on his show."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then one of the ferries hit the rope-padded bumpers at the end of the landing, and the ramp came down to let the windowless purple wagon rumble off onto the stones. Setalle was driving. Selucia sat on one side of her, peering out from the hood of a faded red cloak. On the other side, swathed in a dark cloak so not an inch of her showed, was Tuon.\n\nMat thought his eyes were going to fallout of his head. If his heart did not pound its way out of his chest first. The dice had started up in his head, that rattling feel of dice rolling across a table. They were going to come up the Dark One's eyes, this time; he just knew it.\n\nThere was nothing to do except fall in beside the purple wagon, though, riding along as though life were wonderful, riding along the wide main street through criers for shops and hawkers selling things from trays. And Seanchan soldiers. They were not marching information now, and they eyed the brightly painted wagons with interest. Riding along and waiting for Tuon to shout. She had given her word, but a prisoner would say anything to get the shackles loosened. All she had to do was raise her voice, and summon a thousand Seanchan soldiers for rescue. The dice bounced and spun in Mat's head. Riding along, waiting for the Dark One's eyes.\n\nTuon never spoke a word. She peeked curiously past the edge of her deep cowl, curiously and cautiously, but she kept her face hidden, and even her hands, all wrapped in that dark cloak and even huddling against Setalle like a child seeking the protection of her mother in a strange crowd. Never a word until they had passed the gates of Coramen and were rumbling toward the base of the ridge that rose behind the town, where Luca was already gathering the show's wagons. That was when Mat really knew there was no escape for him. She was going to set the hook all right. She was just biding her bloody time."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He made sure all the Seanchan stayed in their wagons that night, and the Aes Sedai, too. Nobody had seen any sul'dam or damane that Mat knew, but the Aes Sedai did not argue for once. Tuon did not argue, either. She made a demand that sent Setalle's eyebrows almost to her hairline. It was phrased as a request, in away, a reminder of a promise he had made, but he knew a demand when a woman made one. Well, a man had to trust the woman he was going to marry. He told her he had to think on it, just so she would not start imagining she could have anything she wanted out of him. He thought on it all the day that Luca put on his show, thinking and sweating while as many Seanchan as not came to gape at the performers. He thought on it while the wagons wound eastward through the hills, moving slower than ever, but he knew what answer he had to give.\n\nOn the third day after leaving the river, they reached the salt town of Jurador, and he told Tuon that he would. She smiled at him, and the dice in his head stopped dead. He would always remember that. She smiled, and then the dice stopped. A man could weep!\n\nChapter 29\n\nSomething Flickers\n\nThis do be madness,\" Domon rumbled from where he stood with his arms folded as if blocking the way out of the wagon. Maybe he was. His jaw was thrust forward belligerently, sticking out a beard that was trimmed short but still longer than the hair on his head, and he was working his hands like a man thinking of making fists, or grappling with something. A wide man, Domon, and not as fat as he looked on first glance. Mat wanted to avoid fists or grappling, if he could."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He finished tying the black silk scarf around his neck, hiding his scar, and tucked the long ends into his coat. The chance that there was anyone in Jurador who knew about a man in Ebou Dar wearing a black scarf... Well, the odds seemed good even discounting his luck. Of course, there was always his being ta'veren to be factored in, but if that was going to bring him face-to-face with Suroth or a fistful of servants from the Tarasin Palace, he could stay in bed with a blanket wrapped around his head, and it still would happen. Sometimes, you just had to trust to luck. The trouble was, when he woke this morning, the dice had again been tumbling in his head. They were bouncing off the inside of his skull still.\n\n\"I promised,\" he said. It was good to be back indecent clothes.\n\nThe coat was a fine green wool, well cut and hanging almost to his knees and the turned-down tops of his boots. There was no embroidery-maybe it could do with a little-but he had a touch of lace at his cuffs. And a good silk shirt. He wished he had a mirror. A man needed to look his best on a day like this. Picking up his cloak from the bed, he swung it across his shoulders. Not a gaudy thing like Luca's. Dark gray, nearly as dark as night. Only the lining was red. His cloak pin was simple silver knots no larger than his thumbs.\n\n\"She gave her word, Bayle,\" Egeanin said. \"Her word. She will not break that, ever.\" Egeanin sounded absolutely convinced. More convinced than Mat was, anyway. But sometimes a man had to take a chance. Even if he was wagering his neck. He had promised. And he did have his luck."},{"from":"human","value":"\"It still be madness,\" Domon grumbled."},{"from":"gpt","value":"But he moved grudgingly away from the door when Mat settled his broad-brimmed black hat on his head. Well, when Egeanin motioned him aside with a quick jerk of her head, anyway. He kept his glower, though.\n\nShe followed Mat out of the wagon, scowling herself and fiddling with her long black wig. Maybe she still felt uneasy with it, or maybe it fit differently now that she had close to a month's growth of her own hair underneath. Not enough to go about bareheaded yet, in any case. Not till there was at least another hundred miles between them and Ebou Dar. Maybe it would not be safe until they crossed the Damona Mountains into Murandy.\n\nThe sky was clear, the sun just cresting the horizon, invisible yet behind the show's canvas wall, and the morning was warm only compared to a snowstorm. Not the crispness of a late-winter morning in the Two Rivers, but a chill that slowly bored deep and put a faint mist in your breath. The showfolk were scurrying about like ants in a kicked anthill, filling the air with shouted demands to know who had moved those juggling rings or borrowed that pair of red-spangled breeches or shifted this performing platform. It looked and sounded like the start of a riot, yet there was no real anger in any of the voices. They shouted and waved arms all the time, but it never came to blows when there was a show in the offing, and somehow every performer would be in place and ready before the first patrons were let in. They might be slow packing up for the road, but performing meant money, and they could move fast enough for that.\n\n\"You really do think you can marry her,\" Egeanin muttered, striding along at his side, kicking her worn brown woolen skirts. There was nothing dainty about Egeanin. She had along stride, and she kept up easily. Dress or no dress, she seemed to need a sword on her hip. \"There's no other explanation for this. Bayle is right. You are mad!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mat grinned. \"The question is, does she mean to marry me? The strangest people marry, sometimes.\" When you knew you were going to hang, the only thing to do was grin at the noose. So he grinned and left her standing therewith a scowl on her hard face. He thought she was growling curses under her breath, though he did not understand why. She was not the one who had to marry the last person on earth she wanted to. A noblewoman, all cool reserve and her nose in the air, when he liked barmaids with ready smiles and willing eyes. The heir to a throne, and not just any throne; the Crystal Throne, the Imperial Throne of Seanchan. A woman who spun his head like atop and left him wondering whether he held her captive or she held him. When fate gripped you by the throat, there was nothing to do but grin.\n\nHe kept a jaunty pace till he was insight of the windowless purple wagon, and then he missed a step. A cluster of acrobats, four limber men who called themselves the Chavana brothers though it was plain as their noses they came from different countries, not just different mothers, rushed out of a green wagon nearby, shouting and gesturing wildly atone another. They spared a glance for the purple wagon and another for Mat, but they were too engrossed in their argument, and trotting too fast, for more. Gorderan was leaning against one of the purple wheels, scratching his head and frowning at the two women who stood at the foot of the wagon's wooden steps. Two women. Both swathed in dark cloaks, faces concealed, yet there was no mistaking the flowered headscarf hanging out of the taller woman's cowl. Well. He should have know Tuon would want her maid along. Noblewomen never went anywhere without a maid. Beta penny or beta crown, in the end it all came down to a toss of the dice just the same. They had had their chance to betray him. Still, he was betting on a woman making the same choice twice running. On two women doing it. What fool would make odds on that? But he had to toss the dice. Except, they were already rolling."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He met Selucia's cold blue stare with a smile and swept off his hat to make an elegant leg to Tuon. Not too showy, with just a small flourish of his cloak. \"Are you ready to go shopping?\" He very nearly called her'my Lady,\" but until she was willing to say his name...\n\n\"I have been ready for an hour, Toy,\" Tuon drawled coolly. Casually lifting an edge of his cloak, she glanced at the red silk lining and eyed his coat before letting the cloak fall. \"Lace suits you. Perhaps I will have lace added to your robes if I make you a cupbearer.\"\n\nHis smile slipped for an instant. Could she still make him da'covale if she married him? He would have to ask Egeanin. Light, why did women never make it easy?\n\n\"Do you want me to come along, my Lord?\" Gorderan asked slowly, not quite looking at the women now. He tucked his thumbs behind his belt and did not quite look at Mat, either. \"Just to carry, maybe?\"\n\nTuon did not say a word. She just stood there looking up at Mat, waiting, big eyes getting cooler by the second. The dice bounced and rattled in his head. Well, he only hesitated a heartbeat before jerking his head to send the Redarm away. Maybe two heartbeats. He had to trust his luck. Trust her word. Trust is the sound of death. He stepped on that thought hard. This was no song, and no old memory could guide him. The dice inside his skull kept spinning.\n\nWith a slight bow, he offered his arm, which Tuon examined as if she had never seen an arm before, pursing those full lips. Then she gathered her cloak and set off with Selucia gliding at her heels, leaving him to hurry after them. No, women never did make it easy."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Despite the early hour, two burly fellows with cudgels were already guarding the entrance, and a third with a clear glass pitcher to take the coins and dump them through a slot in the iron-strapped box on the ground. Each of the three looked too clumsy to palm a copper without falling on his face, but Luca took no chances. Twenty or thirty people were already waiting inside the heavy ropes that led to the big blue banner naming Lucas show, and unfortunately, Latelle was there, too, stern-faced in a dress sewn with crimson spangles and a cloak sewn with blue. Lucas wife trained bears. Mat thought the bears did their tricks for fear she might bite them.\n\n\"I have everything in hand,\" he told her. \"Believe me, there's nothing to worry about.\" He might as well have spared his breath.\n\nLatelle ignored him, frowning worriedly at Tuon and Selucia. She and her husband were the only two showfolk who knew who they were. There had seemed no reason to tell either about this morning's jaunt. Luca, at least, would have had kittens. The stare Latelle shifted to Mat was not worried, just stone hard. \"Remember,\" she said quietly, \"if you send us to the gallows, you send yourself.\" Then she sniffed and went back to studying the people waiting to get in. Latelle was even better than Luca at judging the weight of a purse before the drawstrings were undone. She was also ten times tougher than her husband. The dice tumbled on. Whatever had set them spinning, he had not yet reached the fateful point. The deciding point.\n\n\"She is a good wife for Master Luca,\" Tuon murmured when they had gone a little way.\n\nMat looked at her sideways, and resettled his hat on his head. There had been no mockery in her tone. Did she hate Luca that much? Or was she saying what sort of wife she would be? Or...? Burn him, he could go as crazy as Domon thought he was, trying to puzzle this woman out. She had to be the reason for the feel of dice in his head. What was she going to do?"},{"from":"human","value":"It was a short walkaway from the rising sun to the town, along a hard-packed road through hills that were treeless here, but people dotted the road the way windmills and salt pans dotted the hills."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Staring straight ahead, they moved so purposefully they seemed not to see anyone in front of them. Mat dodged around-faced man who nearly walked right into him, which made him have to jump away from a white-haired old fellow making a good speed on spindly legs. That put him in front of a plump girl who would have run up the front of him if he had not jumped again.\n\n\"Are you practicing a dance, Toy?\" Tuon said, peering up at him over a slim shoulder. Her breath made a faint white mist in front of her cowl. \"It isn't very graceful.\"\n\nHe opened his mouth, just to point out how crowded the road was, and suddenly he realized he could no longer see anyone beyond her and Selucia. The people who had been there were just gone, the road empty as far as he could see before it made a bend. Slowly, he turned his head. There was no one between him and the show, either, just the folk waiting inline, and that looked no longer than before. Beyond the show, the road wound into the hills toward a distant forest, empty. Not a soul insight. He pressed fingers against his chest, feeling the foxhead medallion through his coat. Just apiece of silver on a rawhide cord. He wished it felt cold as ice. Tuon arched an eyebrow. Selucia's stare named him fool.\n\n\"I can't buy you a dress standing here,\" he said. That was the point of this expedition, his promise to find Tuon something better than dresses that hung on her and made her look a child in a grownup's clothing. At least, he was pretty sure he had promised that, and she was perfectly certain. The needlework of the show's seamstresses met with Tuon's approval, but not the cloth they had available. Performers'costumes glittered with spangles and beads and bright colors, but the cloth was usually whatever could be found cheaply. Those who had better kept it and used it till it wore out. Jurador made its money from salt, though, and salt made a great deal of money. The town's shops should offer any sort of material a woman could wish."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was no finger-wiggling, this time. Tuon shared a look with Selucia. The taller woman shook her head, awry, rueful twist to her mouth. Tuon shook her head. And they gathered their cloaks and started toward the town's iron-studded gates. Women! He hurried to catch up again. They were his prisoners, after all. They were. Their shadows stretched out long in front of them. Had any of those people cast shadows before they vanished? He could not recall any of them breathing a mist, either. It hardly seemed to matter. They were gone, and he was not going to think about where they had come from or where they had gone. Probably something to do with being ta'veren. He was going to put it out of his head. He was. The dice rattling away left room for nothing else.\n\nThe gate guards seemed incurious about strangers, or at least about a man and two women afoot. Hard-faced fellows in white-painted breastplates and conical helmets with what looked like horsetails for crests, they ran impassive eyes over the cloaked women, lingering suspiciously a moment on Mat for some reason, and then returned to leaning on their halberds and staring blankly at the road. They were local men, most likely, in any case not Seanchan. The salt merchants and the local lady, Aethelaine, who apparently said whatever the salt merchants told her to, had sworn the Oaths of Return without hesitation and offered to pay a salt tax before they were asked. No doubt the Seanchan would get around to installing some sort of official here eventually, just to keep an eye on everything, but for the moment, they had more important uses for their soldiers. Mat had sent Thom and Juilin both to make sure there were no Seanchan in Jurador before agreeing to this excursion. A fool could trip over his own luck if he was not careful."},{"from":"human","value":"It was a prosperous, busy town, Jurador, with stonepaved streets, most of them wide and all lined with stone buildings roofed in reddish tiles."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Houses and inns rubbed shoulders with stables and taverns, in a noisy jumble with a blacksmith's clanging hammer on an anvil here and the racketing of a rugweaver's looms there, and everywhere, it seemed, coopers hammering bands on tight barrels for transporting salt. Hawkers cried pins and ribbons, meat pies and roasted nuts from trays, or winter-wrinkled turnips and sorry plums from barrows. On every street men and women stood guard over the display goods on narrow tables in front of their shops and bellowed lists of what was offered within.\n\nPicking out the salt merchants'houses was easy, though, three stories of stone rather than two, covering eight times as much ground as any others, each with a columned walk overlooking the street and shielded by white wrought-iron screens between the columns. The lower windows on most houses had those screens, though not always painted. That much was reminiscent of Ebou Dar, but little else was, beyond the olive complexions of the people. There were no deep necklines exposing cleavage here, no skirts sewn up to display colored petticoats. The women wore embroidered dresses with high necks right up to their chins, a little embroidery for the common folk, a great deal for the richer, who wore cloaks embroidered top to bottom and sheer veils hanging over their faces from combs of gold-work or carved ivory stuck into dark, coiled braids. The men's short coats were worked almost as thickly, in colors just as bright, and rich or poor, most men wore along belt knife with a blade a little less curved than those in Ebou Dar. Rich or poor, the fellows did have a tendency to fondle their knife hilts as if expecting a fight, so maybe that was the same."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Lady Aethelaine's palace appeared no different from the outside than the salt merchants\" mansions, but it was located on the town's main square, a wide expanse of polished stone where abroad round marble fountain sprayed water into the air. People filled their buckets and big pottery water jars from pipes spilling into stone basins at the corners of other squares, though. The big fountain putout a smell of brine. It was a symbol of Jurador's wealth, pumped from the same source as the salt wells in the surrounding hills. Mat got to see a good deal of the town before the sun climbed even halfway to its noon peak.\n\nEvery time Tuon and Selucia spotted a shop with silks displayed out front, they stopped at the long narrow table to feel bolts of cloth and whisper with their heads together, waving off the attentions of the watchful shopkeeper. Those kept a very watchful eye, until they realized Mat was with the two women. In their stout woolens, well worn and badly fitting, they did not look customers for silk. Mat, with one side of his cloak thrown back to expose the lining, did. Whenever he tried to show an interest, though-women said they wanted you to show an interest!-whenever he got close enough to hear what they were saying, the women fell silent and looked at him, cool dark eyes and cool blue staring out of their deep cowls, until he fell back a step or two. Then Selucia would bend her head to Tuon's, and they would go back to murmuring and fingering silk, red silk, blue silk, green silk, smooth shimmering silk and brocaded silk. Jurador was a very wealthy town. Luckily, he had tucked a fat purse of gold into his coat pocket. None of it seemed to be right, though.\n\nInevitably, Tuon shook her head, and the pair of them glided away into the crowd with Mat hurrying to keep up as far as the next shop showing silks. The dice continued to bounce off the inside of his skull."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They were not the only ones from the show who had come into the town. He spotted Aludra, her face framed by beaded braids, walking through the crowd with a gray-haired man who had to be a salt merchant from the amount of bright embroidery covering his silk coat in flowers and hummingbirds. What would the Illuminator want with a salt merchant? Whatever she was saying to him, his pleased smile had added a few creases to his face, and he was nodding.\n\nTuon shook her head, and the two women glided toward the next shop, ignoring the shopkeeper's deep bows. Well, most of those were directed at Mat. Maybe the skinny fool thought he wanted to buy silk for himself. Not that he would have passed up anew silk coat or three, but who could think about coats when he was waiting for those bloody dice to stop? Just a little embroidery, on the sleeves and shoulders.\n\nThom went by clutching his bronze-colored cloak around him, knuckling his long white mustaches and yawning as if he had spent the night awake. He might have. The gleeman had not taken to drink again, but Lopin and Nerim complained about him remaining awake till all hours, burning a lamp so he could read and re-read his precious letter. What could be so fascinating in a letter from a dead woman? A dead woman. Light, maybe those people on the road...! No; he was not going to think about that at all.\n\nTuon plucked one fold of silk and let it drop as she turned away without trying another. Selucia gave the stout shopkeeper such a stare before following that the woman started back in affront. Mat offered her a smile. Affronted shopkeepers could lead to town guards asking questions, and who could say where that might lead? He knew he could smile most women into feeling soothed. The round-faced woman sniffed at him and bent to smoothing the bolt of silk as tenderly as tucking in a babe. Most women, he thought sourly."},{"from":"human","value":"Down the street, a woman in a plain cloak let her hood fallback, and Mat's breath caught in his throat."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Edesina lifted her cowl again, but she took no hurry with it, and the damage was done anyway, an Aes Sedai's ageless face displayed for anyone who knew what they were seeing. No one in the street gave a sign that they had noticed anything, but he could not see every face. Was anyone thinking of a reward? There might be no Seanchan in Jurador at the moment, but they did pass through.\n\nEdesina glided around a corner, and two dark-cloaked shapes followed her. Two. Had the sul'dam left only one of their number in the camp to watch two Aes Sedai? Or maybe Joline or Teslyn was somewhere close by, and he had missed seeing her. He craned his neck, searching the throng for another plain cloak, but everyone he saw had at least a little embroidery.\n\nAbruptly, it hit him like a stone between the eyes. Every cloak he could see had at least a little embroidery. Where were bloody Tuon and bloody Selucia? Were the dice spinning faster?\n\nBreathing hard, he went upon his toes, but the street was a river of embroidered cloaks, embroidered coats and dresses. It did not mean they were trying to escape. Tuon had given her word; she had passed up a perfect chance for betrayal. But all either woman had to do was say three words, and anyone who heard them likely would recognize a Seanchan accent. That might be sufficient to set the hounds on his trail. There were two shops ahead that seemed to be offering cloth, one on either side of the street. Neither with a pair of dark-cloaked women at the tables out front. They could have turned a corner easily enough, but he had to trust to luck. His luck was especially good when the game was random. Bloody women probably thought it was a bloody game. Burn him, let his luck run good."},{"from":"human","value":"Closing his eyes, he spun in a circle in the middle of the street and took a step."},{"from":"gpt","value":"At random. He bumped into someone solid, hard enough to make them both grunt. A bulky fellow with a small mouth and a little poorly done scrollwork on the shoulders of his rough coat stood glaring at him when he opened his eyes, glaring and fingering the hilt of his curved knife. Mat did not care. He was facing straight atone of the two shops. Pulling his hat down tight, he ran. The dice were rolling faster.\n\nDivided shelves stuffed with bolts of cloth lined the walls of the shop from floor to ceiling, and more stood stacked on long tables out in the floor. The shopkeeper was a scrawny woman with a large mole on her chin, her assistant slim and pretty and angry-eyed. He dashed inside just in time to hear the shopkeeper say, \"For the last time, if you won't tell me what you're here for, I'm going to send Nelsa for the guards.\" Tuon and Selucia, faces still hidden in their hoods, were walking slowly along one wall full of cloth, stopping to touch a bolt but neither paying the shopkeeper any heed.\n\n\"They're with me,\" Mat said breathlessly. Tugging the purse from his pocket, he tossed it on the nearest clear table. The heavy clink it made landing put a wide smile on the shopkeeper's narrow face. \"Give them whatever they want,\" he told her. And to Tuon, he added firmly, \"If you're going to buy anything, it's going to be here. I've had all the exercise I care for this morning.\"\n\nHe would have had the words back as soon as they left his mouth, if he could. Speak to a woman that way, and she flared in your face like one of Aludra's firesticks, every time. But Tuon's big eyes looked up at him from the shelter of her hood. And her full mouth curved slightly in a smile. It was a secret smile, for herself, not him. The Light only knew what it meant. He hated it when women did that. At least the dice had not stopped. That had to be a good sign, right?"},{"from":"human","value":"Tuon had no need of words to make her choices, silently pointing out bolt after bolt and measuring with her small dark hands how much the shopkeeper was to cutoff with her shears."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The woman did the work herself instead of delegating it to her assistant, and well she might, considering. Red silk in several shades went under those long sharp scissors, and green silk in a few shades, and more varieties of blue silk than Mat knew existed. Tuon chose out some fine linen in several thicknesses, and lengths of bright wool-she consulted Selucia over those in muffled whispers-but mostly it was silk. He got back much less of his purse than he had expected.\n\nOnce all that cloth had been folded and neatly tied, then bundled into a larger length of coarse linen-at no extra charge, thank you very much-it made a mound as fat as a peddler's pack. It did not surprise him at all to learn that he was expected to carry the thing across his shoulders, with his hat dangling in one hand. Dress your best, buy a woman silk, and she still found away to make you work! Maybe she was making him pay for speaking firmly.\n\nHe earned plenty of stares from gaping fools as he made his way out of the town behind the two women. They glided along smug as cats full of cream. Even cloaked and hooded, their backs said it all. The sun was still well short of midday, but the line of people waiting to get into the show stretched down the road almost to the town. Most gaped and pointed as if he were a painted fool. One of the big horse handlers guarding the coin box gave a gap-toothed smirk and opened his mouth, but Mat returned him a level look, and the fellow decided to put his eyes back on the coins going from townsfolk to glass pitcher to box. Mat thought he had never been so relieved to be inside Luca's show.\n\nBefore he and the two women had gotten three steps inside the entrance, Juilin came running up, fora wonder without Thera or his redcap. The thief-catcher's face could have been carved from ancient oak. Eyeing the people flowing past them into the show, he pitched his voice low. Low and urgent. \"I was coming to find you. It's Egeanin; she's been... hurt. Come quickly.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The man's tone said enough, but worse, Mat realized the dice in his head were drumming, now. He flung the pack of cloth at the horse handlers with a hasty injunction to guard it as close as the coin-box or he would set the women on them, but he did not wait to see whether they took him seriously. Juilin darted back the way he had come at a run, and Mat ran after him, along the wide main street of the show where noisy gawking crowds were watching the four bare-chested Chavana brothers stand on one another's shoulders, and contortionists in filmy trousers and glittering vests sit on their own heads, and a slack-rope walker in spangled blue breeches climbing along wooden ladder to begin her performance. Short of the slack-rope walker, Juilin dodged into one of the narrower streets, where laundry hung from lines between the tents and wagons, performers sat on stools and wagon steps waiting to goon, and show children ran playing with balls and hoops. Mat knew where they were headed, now, but the thief-catcher ran too fast to overtake.\n\nAhead, he saw his green wagon. Latelle was peering underneath, and Luca, in one of his bright red cloaks, was waving a pair of jugglers to move along. The two women, in baggy trousers and with faces painted white like a noble's fools, took a good look under the wagon before they obeyed. Ashe came closer, he could see what they had they been staring at. Coatless, Domon was sitting on the ground under the edge of the wagon, cradling a limp Egeanin in his arms. Her eyes were closed, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner her mouth. Her wig hung askew. That stood out, for some reason. She always fussed so to keep that wig straight. The dice beat like thunder."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"This could be disaster,\" Luca growled, splitting his glower between Mat and Juilin. It was an angry glower, though, not frightened. \"You may have brought me to disaster!\" He shooed away a gaggle of wide-eyed children, and growled at a plump woman in skirts that glittering with silvery spangles. Miyora made leopards do tricks that even Latelle would not try, but she merely tossed her head before gliding off. No one took Luca as seriously as he took himself.\n\nThe man gave a start when Tuon and Selucia hurried up, and looked on the point of telling them to go, too, before he thought better of it. In fact, he began to frown thoughtfully. And worriedly. It seemed his wife had not told him about Mat and the women leaving the show, and it was clear they had been somewhere. The blue-eyed woman had the huge bundle of cloth on her back now, with her arms doubled behind her, though she stood straight despite the bulk. You would think a lady's maid was used to carrying things, but her face was a picture of frustrated irritation. Latelle eyed her up and down, then sneered at Mat as if he were the reason the woman was thrusting her considerable bosom out. Luca's wife was very good at sneering, yet Tuon's stern expression made Latelle nearly look mild. A judge peered out of her cowl, a judge ready to pass sentence.\n\nFor the moment, Mat did not care what the women thought.\n\nThose bloody dice. Tossing his cloak back, he went to one knee and touched fingers to Egeanin's throat. Her pulse beat weakly, thin and fluttering.\n\n\"What happened?\" he asked. \"Have you sent for one of the sisters?\" Moving Egeanin might be enough to kill her, but there might be time for Healing, if the Aes Sedai were quick. He was not about to say that name aloud, though, with people walking by, pausing for curious stares before Luca or Latelle hurried them on. Everyone moved quicker for her than for him. Latelle herself was the only one who really jumped for Luca."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Renna!\" Domon spat the name. Despite his short cap of hair and that Illianer beard that left his upper lip bare, he did not look ridiculous, now. He looked afraid and murderous, a dangerous combination. \"I did see her stab Egeanin in the back and run. If I could have reached her, I would have broken her neck, but my hand be all that's holding Egeanin's blood in. Where be that bloody Aes Sedai?\" he snarled. So much for being careful with his tongue.\n\n\"I be right here, Bayle Domon,\" Teslyn announced coldly, rushing up with Thera, who took one horrified look at Tuon and Selucia and latched onto Juilin's arm with a squeak, eyes on the ground. The way she began trembling, she might be there herself in a minute.\n\nThe hard-eyed Aes Sedai made a face as if she had a mouthful of briars when she saw what lay in front of her, or maybe where it lay, but she swiftly crouched underneath the wagon beside Domon and clasped Egeanin's head in her bony hands. \"Joline do be better at this than I,\" she muttered, halt under her breath, \"but I maybe able-\"\n\nThe silver foxhead went cold against Mat's chest, and Egeanin jerked so violently that her wig fell off, nearly pulling herself out of Domon's grasp as her eyes popped open wide. The convulsion lasted only long enough for her to sit halfway up with a frozen gasp; then she slumped back against Domon's chest, panting, and the medallion became just apiece of worked silver again. He was almost accustomed to that. He hated being accustomed to that.\n\nTeslyn slumped, too, on the point of falling over until Domon shifted his grip on Egeanin to steady the Aes Sedai with one hand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Thank you,\" Teslyn said after a moment, the words sounding dragged from her. \"But I need no help.\" She used the side of the wagon to help her rise, though, her cold Aes Sedai gaze daring anyone to comment. \"The blade did slide on a rib and so did miss her heart. All she does need now be rest and food.\"\n\nShe had not delayed to grab a cloak, Mat realized. In one direction along the narrow street, a clutch of women in spangled cloaks was watching from in front of a green-striped tent, their gazes intent and focused. In the other, half a dozen men and women in white-striped coats and tight breeches, acrobats who performed on horseback, darted looks toward Teslyn between putting their heads together to whisper. Too late to worry about someone recognizing an Aes Sedai's face. Too late to worry that one of them knew Healing when he saw it done. The dice battered at the inside of Mat's head. They had not stopped; the game was not played out, yet.\n\n\"Who's looking for her, Juilin?\" he asked. \"Juilin?\"\n\nThe thief-catcher gave over glaring at Tuon and Selucia and murmuring to Thera, though he continued to pat the trembling woman. \"Vanin and the Redarms, Lopin and Nerim. Olver, too. He was away before I could catch him. But in this...\" He stopped soothing Thera long enough to gesture toward the main street. The babble of voices was clearly audible even at this distance. \"All she needs is to lay hands on one of those fancy cloaks, and she can slip outwith the first folk to leave. If we try stopping every woman with her hood up, or even try looking inside, we'll have a riot on our hands. These people are touchy.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Disaster,\" Luca moaned, wrapping his cloak around himself tightly. Latelle put an arm around him. It must have been like being comforted by a leopard, but in any case, Luca did not look much comforted.\n\n\"Burn me, why?\" Mat growled. \"Renna was always ready to lick my bloody wrist! I thought if anybody went over the edge...!\" He did not even glance at Thera, but Juilin still scowled at him darkly.\n\nDomon had stood up with Egeanin in his arms. She struggled feebly at first-Egeanin was not a woman to let herself be carried about like a doll-but eventually she seemed to realize that if she did make her own feet, she would fall over. She sagged against the Illianer's chest with a resentful glower. Domon would learn; even when a woman needed help, if she did not want it, she made you pay forgiving it. \"I'm the only one who knew her secret,\" she drawled in a weak voice. \"The only one who might give it away, at least. She may have thought it would be safe to go home, with me dead.\"\n\n\"What secret?\" Mat asked.\n\nThe woman hesitated, for some reason, frowning at Domon's chest. Finally she sighed. \"Renna was leashed, once. So were Bethamin and Seta. They can channel. Or maybe learn to; I don't know. But the a'dam worked on those three. Maybe it works on any sul'dam.\" Mat whistled through his teeth. Now, that would be a kick in the head for the Seanchan.\n\nLuca and his wife exchanged puzzled glances, plainly not understanding a word. Teslyn's mouth hung open, Aes Sedai serenity washed away in shock. Selucia made an angry sound, though, blue eyes blazing, and dropped the bundle of cloth from her back as she took a step toward Domon. A quick flash of Tuon's fingers stopped her in her tracks, though it was a quivering halt. Tuon's face was a dark mask, unreadable. She did not like what she had heard, though. Come to think, she had said she trained damane. Oh, burn him, on top of everything else, he was going to marry a woman who could channel?"},{"from":"human","value":"The sound of horses' hooves announced Harnan and the other three Redarms coming along the narrow way between the tents and wagons at a quick trot."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Their swords were belted on under their cloaks, Metwyn with a dagger almost as long as a short-sword to boot, and Gorderan had his heavy crossbow hanging at his saddle, already drawn and latched. The crank at his belt would take a full minute to pullback the thick cord, but this way, all he need do was place a bolt. Harnan carried a double-curve horsebow, with a bristling quiver at his hip. Fergin was leading Pips.\n\nHarnan did not bother dismounting. Eyeing Tuon and Selucia suspiciously, and Luca and Latelle with almost as much doubt, he leaned down from his saddle, the crude hawk tattoo sharp on his cheek. \"Renna stole a horse, my Lord,\" he said quietly. \" Rode down one of the horse handlers at the entrance getting out. Vanin's following her. He says she could reach Coramen sometime tonight.\n\nThat's the way she headed. She's moving a lot faster than the wagons did. But she's riding bareback; we can catch her, with luck.\" He sounded as if that luck were a matter of fact. The men of the Band trusted Mat Cauthon's luck more than he did himself.\n\nThere did not seem to be any choices, really. The dice were still pounding in his head. There was still a chance they might fall his way. A small chance. Mat Cauthon's luck. \"Get your people on the road as fast as they can pack up, Luca,\" he said, stepping up onto Pips. \"Leave the wall and anything else you can't get onto the wagons fast. Just go.\"\n\n\"Are you crazy?\" Luca spluttered. \"If I try to chase those people out, I will have a riot! And they'll want their coin back!\" Light, the man would think of money with his neck stretched on the headsman's block."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Think what you'll have if a thousand Seanchan find you here tomorrow.\" Mat's voice was as cold as he could make it. If he failed, the Seanchan would run Luca's showdown in short order however fast they flogged their horses. Luca knew it, too, from the twist of his mouth, as if he had just bitten a rotting plum. Mat made himself ignore the man. The dice were drumming hard, but they had not stopped yet. \"Juilin, leave all the gold for Luca except one good purse.\" Maybe the man could bribe his way clear, once the Seanchan saw he did not have their Daughter of the Nine bloody Moons. \"Gather everybody and ride out as soon as you can. Once you're out of sight of the town, take to the forest. I'll find you.\"\n\n\"Everybody?\" Sheltering Thera with his body, Juilin jerked his head toward Tuon and Selucia. \"Leave those two in Jurador, and the Seanchan might stop with getting them back. It might slow them down, at least. You keep saying you're going to turn them loose sooner or later.\"\n\nMat met Tuon's eyes. Big dark liquid eyes, in a smooth expressionless face. She had pushed her hood back a little, so he could see her face clearly. If he left her behind, then she could not say the words, or if she did, he would be too far way for the words to matter. If he left her behind, he would never learn why she smiled those mysterious smiles, or what lay behind the mystery. Light, he was a fool! Pips danced a few impatient steps.\n\n\"Everybody,\" he said. Did Tuon nod slightly, as if to herself? Why would she nod? \"Let's ride,\" he told Harnan."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They had to walk their horses through the crowds to get out of the show, but as soon as they reached the road, Mat put Pips to a gallop, cloak streaming behind and head down to keep his hat from blowing off. It was not apace you could keep a horse at for long. The road wound around hills and crossed ridges, occasionally cutting through where the rise was not too high. They splashed across ankle-deep streams and thundered over low wooden bridges crossing deeper water. Trees began to appear on the slopes again, pine and leatherleaf showing green among the winter-bare branches of the others. Farms clung to some of the hills, low tile-roofed stone houses and taller barns, and now and then a hamlet of eight or ten houses.\n\nA few miles from the show, Mat spotted a wide man ahead of them, sitting his saddle like a sack of suet. The horse was a leggy dun, eating ground at a steady trot. It figured that a horse thief had an eye fora good animal. Catching the sound of their hooves, Vanin looked back, but he only slowed to a walk. That was bad.\n\nWhen Mat slowed Pips beside the dun, Vanin spat. \"Best wager we got is we find her horse run to death, so I can track her afoot from there,\" he muttered. \"She's pushing harder than I figured, with her bareback. If we push, we can maybe catch her by sunset. If her horse don't founder or die, that's about the time she'll make Coramen.\"\n\nMat tipped back his head to glance at the sun, almost straight overhead. It was along way to cover in less than half a day. If he turned back, he could be a good distance the other side of Jurador by sunset, in company with Thom and Juilin and the others. With Tuon. With the Seanchan knowing to hunt Mat Cauthon. The man who had kidnapped the Daughter of the Nine Moons could not own enough luck to get off with being made da'covale. And sometime tomorrow or the next day, they would plant Luca on an impaling stake. Luca and Latelle, Petra and Clarine and the rest. A thicket of impaling stakes. The dice rattled and bounced in his head."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We can make it,\" he said. There was no other choice.\n\nVanin spat.\n\nThere was only one way to cover a great deal of ground quickly, on a horse, if you meant to be on alive horse at the end. They walked the animals for half a mile, then trotted half a mile. The same at a canter, then a run, and it was back to a walk. The sun began to slide downward, and the dice spun. Around sparsely forested hills and over tree-topped ridges. Streams that could be crossed in three strides, barely wetting the horses' hooves, and streams thirty paces across with flat bridges of wood or sometimes stone. The sun sank lower and lower, and the dice spun faster and faster. Almost back to the Elbar, and no sign of Renna except scuffs on the hard dirt of the road that Vanin pointed to as if they were painted signs.\n\n\"Getting close, now,\" the fat man muttered. He did not sound happy, though.\n\nThen they rounded a hill, and there was another low bridge ahead. Beyond, the road twisted north to cross the next ridge through a saddle. The sun, sitting atop the ridge, blazed in their eyes. Coramen lay on the other side of that ridge. Pulling his hat low for shade, Mat searched the road fora woman, for anyone, mounted or afoot, and his heart sank.\n\nVanin cursed and pointed.\n\nA lathered bay was laboring its way up the slope on the other side of the river, a woman frantically kicking its flanks, urging it to climb. Renna had been too anxious to reach the Seanchan to stick with the road. She was maybe two hundred paces from them, and she might as well have been miles. Her mount was on the point of collapsing, but she could get down and run within sight of the garrisons before they could reach her. All she had to do was reach the crest, another fifty feet."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"My Lord?\" Harnan said. He had an arrow nocked and his bow half raised. Gorderan held the heavy crossbow to his shoulder, a thick pointed bolt in place.\n\nMat felt something flicker and die inside him. He did not know what. Something. The dice rolled like thunder. \"Shoot,\" he said.\n\nHe wanted to close his eyes. The crossbow snapped; the bolt made a black streak through the air. Renna slammed forward when it hither back. She had almost managed to push herself erect against the bay's neck when Harnan's arrow took her.\n\nSlowly, she toppled from the horse, sliding down the slope, rolling, bouncing off saplings, tumbling faster and faster until she splashed into the stream. Fora moment, she floated facedown against the bank, and then the current caught her and pulled her away, skirts billowing upon the water. Slowly she drifted toward the Elbar. Maybe, eventually, she would reach the sea. And that made three. It hardly seemed to matter that the dice had stopped. That made three. Never again, he thought as Renna floated out of sight around a bend. If I die for it, never again.\n\nThey did not press, riding back eastward. There was no point, and Mat felt too bone-weary. They did not stop, though, except to breathe and water the horses. No one wanted to talk.\n\nIt was the small hours of the night when they reached Jurador, the town a dark mass with the gates shut tight. Clouds covered the moon. Surprisingly, the canvas walls of Luca's show were still in place just beyond the town. With a pair of bulky men wrapped in blankets snoring aware beneath the big banner as they guarded the entrance. Even from the road, in the dark, it was plain that wagons and tents filled the space behind the wall."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"At least I can tell Luca he doesn't have to run after all,\" Mat said wearily, turning Pips toward the banner. \"Maybe he'll give us a place to sleep a few hours.\" For all the gold he had left, Luca should give them his own wagon, but knowing the man, Mat had hopes for clean straw somewhere. Tomorrow, he would set out to find Thom and the others. And Tuon. Tomorrow, when he had rested.\n\nA greater shock waited inside Luca's huge wagon. It truly was roomy inside, at least fora wagon, with a narrow table sitting in the middle and space to walk around it. Table, cupboards and shelves all were polished till they glowed. Tuon was sitting in a gilded chair-Luca would have a chair, and gilded, when everybody else made do with stools!-with Selucia standing at her back. A beaming Luca was watching Latelle offer Tuon a plate of steaming pastries, which the dark little woman was examining as if she would actually eat something that Luca's wife had cooked.\n\nTuon showed no surprise at all at Mat walking into the wagon. \"Is she captured, or dead?\" she said, picking up a pastry with her fingers curved in that curiously graceful way.\n\n\"Dead,\" he said flatly. \"Luca, what in the Light-\"\n\n\"I forbid it, Toy!\" Tuon snapped, pointing a finger at him sharply. \"I forbid you to mourn a traitor!\" Her voice softened, slightly, but it remained firm. \"She earned death by betraying the Empire, and she would have betrayed you as easily. She was trying to betray you. What you did was justice, and I name it so.\" Her tone said that if she named a thing, then it was well and truly named."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Keep the narrative going for the author.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\\nChapter: 6\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egeanin dropped to her face, and Mat bit back a startled oath when she kissed the floor. \\\"Please,\\\" she said hoarsely, \\\"I beg leave to withdraw.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You will go, Leilwin,\\\" Selucia said, cold as a queen speaking to a chickenthief, \\\"and you will not let me see your face again unless it is covered by a shea dancer's veil.\\\"\\n\\nEgeanin scrambled backward on hands and knees and all but tumbled out the door, so fast that Mat was left gaping.\\n\\nWith an effort, he managed to regain his smile. There seemed little point in staying, but a man could make a graceful exit. \\\"Well, I suppose-\\\"\\n\\nTuon wriggled her fingers again, still not looking at him, and Selucia cut him short. \\\"The High Lady is weary, Toy. You have her permission to go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Look, my name is Mat,\\\" he said. \\\"An easy name. A simple name. Mat.\\\" Tuon might as well have been a porcelain doll in truth for all the response she made.\\n\\nSetalle set down her embroidery, though, and rose with one hand resting lightly on the hilt of the curved dagger stuck behind her belt. \\\"Young man, if you think you're going to lounge about till you get to see us readying for bed, you're sadly mistaken.\\\" She smiled saying it, but she did have her hand on her knife, and she was Ebou Dari enough to stick a man on a whim. Tuon remained an unmoving doll, a queen on her throne somehow mistakenly dressed in ill-fitting clothes. Mat left.\\n\\nEgeanin was leaning on one hand against the side of the wagon, her head hanging. Her other hand was gripping the necklace around her throat. Harnan moved, a little way off in the darkness, just to show he was still there. A wise man, to keep clear of Egeanin just then. Mat was too irritated for wisdom.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What was that about?\\\" he demanded. \\\"You don't have to goon your knees to Tuon anymore. And Selucia? She's a bloody lady's maid! I don't know anybody who'd jump for his queen the way you jumped for her.\\\"\\n\\nEgeanin's hard face was shadowed, but her voice was haggard. \\\"The High Lady is... who she is. Selucia is her so'jhin. No one of the low Blood would dare meet her so'jhin's eyes, and maybe not the High Blood, either.\\\" The clasp broke with a metallic snap as she jerked the necklace free. \\\"But then, I'm not of any Blood, now.\\\" Rearing back, she put her whole body into throwing the necklace as far into the night as she could.\\n\\nMat opened his mouth. He could have bought a dozen prime horses with what he paid for that thing and had coin left. He closed it again without saying a word. He might not always be wise, but he was wise enough to know when a woman really might try to stick a knife in him. He knew another thing, as well. If Egeanin behaved this way around Tuon and Selucia, then he had better make sure the sul'dam were kept clear. The Light only knew what they would do if Tuon started wiggling her fingers.\\n\\nThat left him with a job of work to do. Well, he hated work, but those old memories had his head stuffed full of battles. He hated battle, too-a man could get killed dead!-but it was better than work. Strategy and tactics. Learn the ground, learn your enemy, and if you could not win one way, you found another.\\n\\nThe next night he returned to the purple wagon, alone, and once Olver had finished his lesson in stones from Tuon, Mat inveigled his way into a game. At first, sitting on the floor across the board from the dark little woman, he was not sure whether to win or lose. Some women liked to win every time, but the man had to make her work for it. Some liked the man to win, or at least more often than he lost. Neither made any sense to him-he liked to win, and the easier, the better-but that was how it was. While he was dithering, Tuon took matters out of his hands. Halfway through the game, he realized she had him in a trap he could not get out of. Her white stones were cutting off his black everywhere. It was a clean and resounding win for her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You don't play very well, Toy,\\\" she said mockingly. Despite the tone, her big, liquid eyes considered him coolly, weighing and measuring. A man could drown in eyes like that.\\n\\nHe smiled and made his goodbyes before there could be any thought of kicking him out. Strategy. Think to the future. Do the unexpected. The next night, he brought a small red paper flower made by one of the show's seamstresses. And presented it to a startled Selucia. Setalle's eyebrows rose, and even Tuon seemed taken aback. Tactics. Put your opponent off balance. Come to think, women and battles were not that different. Both wrapped a man in fog and could him kill him without trying. If he was careless.\\n\\nEvery night he visited the purple wagon fora game of stones under Setalle and Selucia's watchful eyes, and he concentrated on the crosshatched board. Tuon was very good, and it was all too easy to find himself watching the way she placed her stones, with her fingers bent back in a curiously graceful way. She was used to having fingernails an inch long and taking care not to break them. Her eyes were a danger, too. You needed a clear head in stones or battle, and her gaze seemed to reach inside his skull. He buckled down to the game, though, and managed to win four of the next seven, with one draw. Tuon was satisfied when she won and determined when she lost, with none of the temper tantrums he had feared, no scathing comments aside from insisting on calling him Toy, not very much of that icy regal hauteur, as long as they were playing anyway. She purely enjoyed the game, laughing exultantly when she pulled him into a trap, laughing in delight when he managed a clever placement to escape. She seemed a different woman once she lost herself in the stones board.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A flower sewn from blue linen followed the paper blossom, and two days later, a pink silk bloom that spread out as wide as a woman's palm. Both handed to Selucia. Her blue eyes increasingly set in a suspicious frown when they rested on him, but Tuon told her she could keep the flowers, and she stored them away carefully, folded in a linen cloth. He let three days pass without a present, then brought a little cluster of red silk rosebuds, complete with short stems and glistening leaves that looked as real as nature, only more perfect. He had asked the seamstress to make it on the day he bought that first paper flower.\\n\\nSelucia took a step, reaching to accept the rosebuds with a curl to her lip, but he sat down and put the flowers beside the board, a little toward Tuon. He said nothing, just left it lying there. She never so much as glanced at it. Dipping into the small leather bags that held the stones, he plucked one from each and shuffled them between his hands till even he was unsure which was where, then offered his closed fists. Tuon hesitated a moment, studying his face with no expression, then tapped his left hand. He opened it to display the glistening white stone.\\n\\n\\\"I've changed my mind, Toy,\\\" she murmured, placing the white stone carefully on the intersection of two lines near the center of the board. \\\"You play very well.\\\"\\n\\nMat blinked. Could she know what he was up to? Selucia was standing at Tuon's back, seemingly absorbed in the almost empty board. Setaile turned a page in her book and shifted a little to get a better light. Of course not. She was talking about stones. If she even suspected his real game, she would toss him out on his ear. Any woman would. It had to be the stones.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"That was the night they played to a draw, with each of them controlling half the board in irregular pools and patches.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"In truth, she won a victory.\\n\\n\\\"I have kept my word, Toy,\\\" she drawled as he was replacing the stones in the bags. \\\"No attempts to escape, no attempts at betrayal. This is confining.\\\" She gestured around at the interior of the wagon. \\\"I wish to take walks. After dark will do. You may accompany me.\\\" Her eyes touched the cluster of rosebuds, then rose to his face. \\\"To make sure I don't runaway.\\\"\\n\\nSetaile marked her place with a slim finger and looked at him. Selucia stood behind Tuon and looked at him. The woman had kept her word, mad as that seemed. Walks after dark, with most of the showfolk already in their beds, would do no harm, not with him thereto make sure. So why did he feel that he was losing control of the situation?\\n\\nTuon agreed to go cloaked and hooded, which was something of a relief. The black hair was growing back in on her shaved scalp, but so far it was little more than long fuzz, and unlike Selucia, who very likely slept in her headscarf, Tuon had shown no inclination to cover her head. A child-sized woman with hair shorter than any man not going bald would have been remarked even in the night. Setalle and Selucia always followed at a little distance in the darkness, the lady's maid to keep a protective eye on her mistress and Setalle to keep an eye on the maid. At least, he thought that was how it was. Sometimes it seemed they were both watching him. The two of them were awfully friendly for guard and prisoner. He had overheard Setalle cautioning Selucia that he was a rogue with women, a fine thing for her to be saying! And Selucia had calmly replied that her lady would break his arms if he showed any disrespect, just as if they were not prisoners at all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He thought to use these walks to learn a little more about Tuon-she did not talk much over a stones board-but she had away of ignoring what he asked or deflecting the subject, usually to him.\\n\\n\\\"The Two Rivers is all forests and farms,\\\" he said as they strolled along the main street of the show. Clouds hid the moon, and the colorful wagons were indistinguishable dark shapes, the performers'platforms lining the street merely shadows. \\\"Everybody grows tabac and raises sheep. My father breeds cows, too, and trades horses, but mostly, it's tabac and sheep from one end to the other.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your father trades horses,\\\" Tuon murmured. \\\"And what do you do, Toy?\\\"\\n\\nHe glanced over his shoulder at the two women ghosting along ten paces back. Setalle might not be close enough to hear, if he kept his voice down, but he decided to be honest. Besides, the show was dead quiet in the darkness. She might hear, and she knew what he had been doing in Ebou Dar. \\\"I'm a gambler,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"My father called himself a gambler,\\\" Tuon said softly. \\\"He died of a bad wager.\\\"\\n\\nAnd how were you supposed to find out what that meant?\\n\\nAnother night, walking along a row of animal cages, each one built to fill an entire wagon, he said, \\\"What do you do for fun, Tuon? Just because you enjoy it. Aside from playing stones.\\\" He could almost feel Selucia bristling at his use of her name from thirty feet away, but Tuon did not seem to mind. He thought she did not.\\n\\n\\\"I train horses and damane,\\\" she said, peering into a cage that held a sleeping lion. The animal was only a large shadow lying on the straw behind the thick bars. \\\"Does he really have a black mane? There are no lions with black manes in all of Seanchan.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She trained damane? For fun? Light! \\\"Horses? What kind of horses?\\\" It might be warhorses, if she trained bloody damane. For fun.\\n\\n\\\"Mistress Anan tells me you're a scoundrel, Toy.\\\" Her voice was cool, not cold. Composed. She turned toward him, face hidden in the shadows of her cowl. \\\"How many women have you kissed?\\\" The lion woke up and coughed, a deep sound guaranteed to raise the hair on anyone's head. Tuon did not even flinch.\\n\\n\\\"Looks like rain's coming again,\\\" he said weakly. \\\"Selucia will have my hide if I get you back soaked.\\\" He heard her laugh softly. What had he said that was funny?\\n\\nThere was a price to pay, of course. Maybe things were going his way and maybe not, but when you thought they were, there was always a price.\\n\\n\\\"Bunch of chattering magpies,\\\" he complained to Egeanin. The afternoon sat on the horizon, a red-gold ball half hidden by clouds, casting the show in long shadows. There was no rain, for once, and in spite of the cold they were sitting hunched beneath the green wagon they shared, playing stones in plain sight of anyone who walked by. A good many did, men hurrying about some last-minute chore, children snatching the final chance to roll hoops through the mud puddles and toss balls before night fell. Women holding their skirts up glanced at the wagon in passing, and even when they were hooded, Mat knew what their expressions were. Hardly a woman in the show would speak to Mat Cauthon. Irritably, he rattled the black stones he held gathered in his left hand. \\\"They'll get their gold when we reach Lugard. That's all they ought to care about. They shouldn't be poking their noses into my business.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You can hardly blame them,\\\" Egeanin drawled, studying the board. \\\"You and I are supposed to be fleeing lovers, but you spend more time with... her... than with me.\\\" She still had trouble not calling Tuon High Lady. \\\"You behave like a man courting.\\\" She reached to place her stone, then stopped with her hand above the board. \\\"You can't think she'll complete the ceremony, can you? You can't be that big a fool.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What ceremony? What are you talking about?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You named her your wife three times that night in Ebou Dar,\\\" she said slowly. \\\"You really don't know? A woman says three times that a man is her husband, and he says three times she's his wife, and they're married. There are blessings involved, usually, but it's saying it in front of witnesses that makes it a marriage. You really didn't know?\\\"\\n\\nMat laughed, and shrugged his shoulders, feeling the knife hanging behind his neck. A good knife gave a man a feeling of comfort. But his laugh was hoarse. \\\"But she didn't say anything.\\\" He had bloody well been stuffing a gag in her mouth at the time! \\\"So whatever I said, it doesn't mean anything.\\\" But he knew what Egeanin was going to say. Sure as water was wet, he knew. He had been told who he was going to marry.\\n\\n\\\"With the Blood, it's a little different. Sometimes a noble from one end of the Empire marries a noble from the other. An arranged marriage. The Imperial family never has any other kind. They may not want to wait until they can be together, so one acknowledges the marriage where she is, and the other where he is. As long as they both speak in front of witnesses, inside a year and a day, the marriage is legal. You truly didn't know?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sure was sure, but the stones still spilled from his hand onto the board, bouncing everywhere. The bloody girl knew. Maybe she thought this whole thing was an adventure, or a game. Maybe she thought being kidnapped was as much fun as training horses or bloody damane! But he knew he was a trout waiting for her to set the hook.\\n\\nHe stayed away from the purple wagon for two days. There was no use running-he already had the bloody hook in his mouth, and he had put it there himself-but he did not have to swallow the flaming thing. Only, he knew it was just a matter of when she decided to jerk the line tight.\\n\\nAs slowly as the show moved, eventually they reached the ferry across the Eldar, running from Alkindar on the west bank to Coramen on the east, tidy little walled towns of tile-roofed stone buildings with half a dozen stone docks each. The sun was climbing high, hardly a cloud crossed the sky, and those white as new-washed wool. No rain today, maybe. It was an important crossing, with trading ships from upriver tied to some of the docks and big barge-like ferries crawling from one town to the other on long sweeps. The Seanchan apparently thought so, too. They had military camps outside both towns, and from the stonewalls beginning to rise around the camps and the stone structures going up inside, they had no intention of leaving soon.\\n\\nMat crossed over with the first wagons, riding Pips. The brown gelding looked ordinary enough to an undiscerning eye; it would not seem out of place for him to be ridden by a fellow in a rough woolen coat with a woolen cap pulled down over his ears against the cold. He was not actually considering making a run for the hilly wooded ridge country behind Coramen. Thinking about it, but not really considering. She was going to set the hook whether he ran or not. So he sat Pips at the end of one of the stone ferry landings, watching the show crossover and trundle away through the town. There were Seanchan on the landings, a squad of beefy men in segmented armor painted blue and burnt gold under a lean young officer with one thin blue plume on his odd-looking helmet. They seemed to be there just to keep order, but the officer checked Luca's horse warrant, and Luca inquired whether the noble lord might know of ground outside the town suitable for his show to perform. Mat could have wept. He could see soldiers wearing striped armor in the street behind him, wandering in and out of shops and taverns. A raken swooped down out of the sky on long, ribbed wings, alighting outside one of the camps across the river. Three or four of the snake-necked creatures were already on the ground. There had to be hundreds of soldiers in those camps. Maybe a thousand. And Luca was going to put on his show.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then one of the ferries hit the rope-padded bumpers at the end of the landing, and the ramp came down to let the windowless purple wagon rumble off onto the stones. Setalle was driving. Selucia sat on one side of her, peering out from the hood of a faded red cloak. On the other side, swathed in a dark cloak so not an inch of her showed, was Tuon.\\n\\nMat thought his eyes were going to fallout of his head. If his heart did not pound its way out of his chest first. The dice had started up in his head, that rattling feel of dice rolling across a table. They were going to come up the Dark One's eyes, this time; he just knew it.\\n\\nThere was nothing to do except fall in beside the purple wagon, though, riding along as though life were wonderful, riding along the wide main street through criers for shops and hawkers selling things from trays. And Seanchan soldiers. They were not marching information now, and they eyed the brightly painted wagons with interest. Riding along and waiting for Tuon to shout. She had given her word, but a prisoner would say anything to get the shackles loosened. All she had to do was raise her voice, and summon a thousand Seanchan soldiers for rescue. The dice bounced and spun in Mat's head. Riding along, waiting for the Dark One's eyes.\\n\\nTuon never spoke a word. She peeked curiously past the edge of her deep cowl, curiously and cautiously, but she kept her face hidden, and even her hands, all wrapped in that dark cloak and even huddling against Setalle like a child seeking the protection of her mother in a strange crowd. Never a word until they had passed the gates of Coramen and were rumbling toward the base of the ridge that rose behind the town, where Luca was already gathering the show's wagons. That was when Mat really knew there was no escape for him. She was going to set the hook all right. She was just biding her bloody time.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He made sure all the Seanchan stayed in their wagons that night, and the Aes Sedai, too. Nobody had seen any sul'dam or damane that Mat knew, but the Aes Sedai did not argue for once. Tuon did not argue, either. She made a demand that sent Setalle's eyebrows almost to her hairline. It was phrased as a request, in away, a reminder of a promise he had made, but he knew a demand when a woman made one. Well, a man had to trust the woman he was going to marry. He told her he had to think on it, just so she would not start imagining she could have anything she wanted out of him. He thought on it all the day that Luca put on his show, thinking and sweating while as many Seanchan as not came to gape at the performers. He thought on it while the wagons wound eastward through the hills, moving slower than ever, but he knew what answer he had to give.\\n\\nOn the third day after leaving the river, they reached the salt town of Jurador, and he told Tuon that he would. She smiled at him, and the dice in his head stopped dead. He would always remember that. She smiled, and then the dice stopped. A man could weep!\\n\\nChapter 29\\n\\nSomething Flickers\\n\\nThis do be madness,\\\" Domon rumbled from where he stood with his arms folded as if blocking the way out of the wagon. Maybe he was. His jaw was thrust forward belligerently, sticking out a beard that was trimmed short but still longer than the hair on his head, and he was working his hands like a man thinking of making fists, or grappling with something. A wide man, Domon, and not as fat as he looked on first glance. Mat wanted to avoid fists or grappling, if he could.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He finished tying the black silk scarf around his neck, hiding his scar, and tucked the long ends into his coat. The chance that there was anyone in Jurador who knew about a man in Ebou Dar wearing a black scarf... Well, the odds seemed good even discounting his luck. Of course, there was always his being ta'veren to be factored in, but if that was going to bring him face-to-face with Suroth or a fistful of servants from the Tarasin Palace, he could stay in bed with a blanket wrapped around his head, and it still would happen. Sometimes, you just had to trust to luck. The trouble was, when he woke this morning, the dice had again been tumbling in his head. They were bouncing off the inside of his skull still.\\n\\n\\\"I promised,\\\" he said. It was good to be back indecent clothes.\\n\\nThe coat was a fine green wool, well cut and hanging almost to his knees and the turned-down tops of his boots. There was no embroidery-maybe it could do with a little-but he had a touch of lace at his cuffs. And a good silk shirt. He wished he had a mirror. A man needed to look his best on a day like this. Picking up his cloak from the bed, he swung it across his shoulders. Not a gaudy thing like Luca's. Dark gray, nearly as dark as night. Only the lining was red. His cloak pin was simple silver knots no larger than his thumbs.\\n\\n\\\"She gave her word, Bayle,\\\" Egeanin said. \\\"Her word. She will not break that, ever.\\\" Egeanin sounded absolutely convinced. More convinced than Mat was, anyway. But sometimes a man had to take a chance. Even if he was wagering his neck. He had promised. And he did have his luck.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It still be madness,\\\" Domon grumbled.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But he moved grudgingly away from the door when Mat settled his broad-brimmed black hat on his head. Well, when Egeanin motioned him aside with a quick jerk of her head, anyway. He kept his glower, though.\\n\\nShe followed Mat out of the wagon, scowling herself and fiddling with her long black wig. Maybe she still felt uneasy with it, or maybe it fit differently now that she had close to a month's growth of her own hair underneath. Not enough to go about bareheaded yet, in any case. Not till there was at least another hundred miles between them and Ebou Dar. Maybe it would not be safe until they crossed the Damona Mountains into Murandy.\\n\\nThe sky was clear, the sun just cresting the horizon, invisible yet behind the show's canvas wall, and the morning was warm only compared to a snowstorm. Not the crispness of a late-winter morning in the Two Rivers, but a chill that slowly bored deep and put a faint mist in your breath. The showfolk were scurrying about like ants in a kicked anthill, filling the air with shouted demands to know who had moved those juggling rings or borrowed that pair of red-spangled breeches or shifted this performing platform. It looked and sounded like the start of a riot, yet there was no real anger in any of the voices. They shouted and waved arms all the time, but it never came to blows when there was a show in the offing, and somehow every performer would be in place and ready before the first patrons were let in. They might be slow packing up for the road, but performing meant money, and they could move fast enough for that.\\n\\n\\\"You really do think you can marry her,\\\" Egeanin muttered, striding along at his side, kicking her worn brown woolen skirts. There was nothing dainty about Egeanin. She had along stride, and she kept up easily. Dress or no dress, she seemed to need a sword on her hip. \\\"There's no other explanation for this. Bayle is right. You are mad!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mat grinned. \\\"The question is, does she mean to marry me? The strangest people marry, sometimes.\\\" When you knew you were going to hang, the only thing to do was grin at the noose. So he grinned and left her standing therewith a scowl on her hard face. He thought she was growling curses under her breath, though he did not understand why. She was not the one who had to marry the last person on earth she wanted to. A noblewoman, all cool reserve and her nose in the air, when he liked barmaids with ready smiles and willing eyes. The heir to a throne, and not just any throne; the Crystal Throne, the Imperial Throne of Seanchan. A woman who spun his head like atop and left him wondering whether he held her captive or she held him. When fate gripped you by the throat, there was nothing to do but grin.\\n\\nHe kept a jaunty pace till he was insight of the windowless purple wagon, and then he missed a step. A cluster of acrobats, four limber men who called themselves the Chavana brothers though it was plain as their noses they came from different countries, not just different mothers, rushed out of a green wagon nearby, shouting and gesturing wildly atone another. They spared a glance for the purple wagon and another for Mat, but they were too engrossed in their argument, and trotting too fast, for more. Gorderan was leaning against one of the purple wheels, scratching his head and frowning at the two women who stood at the foot of the wagon's wooden steps. Two women. Both swathed in dark cloaks, faces concealed, yet there was no mistaking the flowered headscarf hanging out of the taller woman's cowl. Well. He should have know Tuon would want her maid along. Noblewomen never went anywhere without a maid. Beta penny or beta crown, in the end it all came down to a toss of the dice just the same. They had had their chance to betray him. Still, he was betting on a woman making the same choice twice running. On two women doing it. What fool would make odds on that? But he had to toss the dice. Except, they were already rolling.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He met Selucia's cold blue stare with a smile and swept off his hat to make an elegant leg to Tuon. Not too showy, with just a small flourish of his cloak. \\\"Are you ready to go shopping?\\\" He very nearly called her'my Lady,\\\" but until she was willing to say his name...\\n\\n\\\"I have been ready for an hour, Toy,\\\" Tuon drawled coolly. Casually lifting an edge of his cloak, she glanced at the red silk lining and eyed his coat before letting the cloak fall. \\\"Lace suits you. Perhaps I will have lace added to your robes if I make you a cupbearer.\\\"\\n\\nHis smile slipped for an instant. Could she still make him da'covale if she married him? He would have to ask Egeanin. Light, why did women never make it easy?\\n\\n\\\"Do you want me to come along, my Lord?\\\" Gorderan asked slowly, not quite looking at the women now. He tucked his thumbs behind his belt and did not quite look at Mat, either. \\\"Just to carry, maybe?\\\"\\n\\nTuon did not say a word. She just stood there looking up at Mat, waiting, big eyes getting cooler by the second. The dice bounced and rattled in his head. Well, he only hesitated a heartbeat before jerking his head to send the Redarm away. Maybe two heartbeats. He had to trust his luck. Trust her word. Trust is the sound of death. He stepped on that thought hard. This was no song, and no old memory could guide him. The dice inside his skull kept spinning.\\n\\nWith a slight bow, he offered his arm, which Tuon examined as if she had never seen an arm before, pursing those full lips. Then she gathered her cloak and set off with Selucia gliding at her heels, leaving him to hurry after them. No, women never did make it easy.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Despite the early hour, two burly fellows with cudgels were already guarding the entrance, and a third with a clear glass pitcher to take the coins and dump them through a slot in the iron-strapped box on the ground. Each of the three looked too clumsy to palm a copper without falling on his face, but Luca took no chances. Twenty or thirty people were already waiting inside the heavy ropes that led to the big blue banner naming Lucas show, and unfortunately, Latelle was there, too, stern-faced in a dress sewn with crimson spangles and a cloak sewn with blue. Lucas wife trained bears. Mat thought the bears did their tricks for fear she might bite them.\\n\\n\\\"I have everything in hand,\\\" he told her. \\\"Believe me, there's nothing to worry about.\\\" He might as well have spared his breath.\\n\\nLatelle ignored him, frowning worriedly at Tuon and Selucia. She and her husband were the only two showfolk who knew who they were. There had seemed no reason to tell either about this morning's jaunt. Luca, at least, would have had kittens. The stare Latelle shifted to Mat was not worried, just stone hard. \\\"Remember,\\\" she said quietly, \\\"if you send us to the gallows, you send yourself.\\\" Then she sniffed and went back to studying the people waiting to get in. Latelle was even better than Luca at judging the weight of a purse before the drawstrings were undone. She was also ten times tougher than her husband. The dice tumbled on. Whatever had set them spinning, he had not yet reached the fateful point. The deciding point.\\n\\n\\\"She is a good wife for Master Luca,\\\" Tuon murmured when they had gone a little way.\\n\\nMat looked at her sideways, and resettled his hat on his head. There had been no mockery in her tone. Did she hate Luca that much? Or was she saying what sort of wife she would be? Or...? Burn him, he could go as crazy as Domon thought he was, trying to puzzle this woman out. She had to be the reason for the feel of dice in his head. What was she going to do?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"It was a short walkaway from the rising sun to the town, along a hard-packed road through hills that were treeless here, but people dotted the road the way windmills and salt pans dotted the hills.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Staring straight ahead, they moved so purposefully they seemed not to see anyone in front of them. Mat dodged around-faced man who nearly walked right into him, which made him have to jump away from a white-haired old fellow making a good speed on spindly legs. That put him in front of a plump girl who would have run up the front of him if he had not jumped again.\\n\\n\\\"Are you practicing a dance, Toy?\\\" Tuon said, peering up at him over a slim shoulder. Her breath made a faint white mist in front of her cowl. \\\"It isn't very graceful.\\\"\\n\\nHe opened his mouth, just to point out how crowded the road was, and suddenly he realized he could no longer see anyone beyond her and Selucia. The people who had been there were just gone, the road empty as far as he could see before it made a bend. Slowly, he turned his head. There was no one between him and the show, either, just the folk waiting inline, and that looked no longer than before. Beyond the show, the road wound into the hills toward a distant forest, empty. Not a soul insight. He pressed fingers against his chest, feeling the foxhead medallion through his coat. Just apiece of silver on a rawhide cord. He wished it felt cold as ice. Tuon arched an eyebrow. Selucia's stare named him fool.\\n\\n\\\"I can't buy you a dress standing here,\\\" he said. That was the point of this expedition, his promise to find Tuon something better than dresses that hung on her and made her look a child in a grownup's clothing. At least, he was pretty sure he had promised that, and she was perfectly certain. The needlework of the show's seamstresses met with Tuon's approval, but not the cloth they had available. Performers'costumes glittered with spangles and beads and bright colors, but the cloth was usually whatever could be found cheaply. Those who had better kept it and used it till it wore out. Jurador made its money from salt, though, and salt made a great deal of money. The town's shops should offer any sort of material a woman could wish.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was no finger-wiggling, this time. Tuon shared a look with Selucia. The taller woman shook her head, awry, rueful twist to her mouth. Tuon shook her head. And they gathered their cloaks and started toward the town's iron-studded gates. Women! He hurried to catch up again. They were his prisoners, after all. They were. Their shadows stretched out long in front of them. Had any of those people cast shadows before they vanished? He could not recall any of them breathing a mist, either. It hardly seemed to matter. They were gone, and he was not going to think about where they had come from or where they had gone. Probably something to do with being ta'veren. He was going to put it out of his head. He was. The dice rattling away left room for nothing else.\\n\\nThe gate guards seemed incurious about strangers, or at least about a man and two women afoot. Hard-faced fellows in white-painted breastplates and conical helmets with what looked like horsetails for crests, they ran impassive eyes over the cloaked women, lingering suspiciously a moment on Mat for some reason, and then returned to leaning on their halberds and staring blankly at the road. They were local men, most likely, in any case not Seanchan. The salt merchants and the local lady, Aethelaine, who apparently said whatever the salt merchants told her to, had sworn the Oaths of Return without hesitation and offered to pay a salt tax before they were asked. No doubt the Seanchan would get around to installing some sort of official here eventually, just to keep an eye on everything, but for the moment, they had more important uses for their soldiers. Mat had sent Thom and Juilin both to make sure there were no Seanchan in Jurador before agreeing to this excursion. A fool could trip over his own luck if he was not careful.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"It was a prosperous, busy town, Jurador, with stonepaved streets, most of them wide and all lined with stone buildings roofed in reddish tiles.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Houses and inns rubbed shoulders with stables and taverns, in a noisy jumble with a blacksmith's clanging hammer on an anvil here and the racketing of a rugweaver's looms there, and everywhere, it seemed, coopers hammering bands on tight barrels for transporting salt. Hawkers cried pins and ribbons, meat pies and roasted nuts from trays, or winter-wrinkled turnips and sorry plums from barrows. On every street men and women stood guard over the display goods on narrow tables in front of their shops and bellowed lists of what was offered within.\\n\\nPicking out the salt merchants'houses was easy, though, three stories of stone rather than two, covering eight times as much ground as any others, each with a columned walk overlooking the street and shielded by white wrought-iron screens between the columns. The lower windows on most houses had those screens, though not always painted. That much was reminiscent of Ebou Dar, but little else was, beyond the olive complexions of the people. There were no deep necklines exposing cleavage here, no skirts sewn up to display colored petticoats. The women wore embroidered dresses with high necks right up to their chins, a little embroidery for the common folk, a great deal for the richer, who wore cloaks embroidered top to bottom and sheer veils hanging over their faces from combs of gold-work or carved ivory stuck into dark, coiled braids. The men's short coats were worked almost as thickly, in colors just as bright, and rich or poor, most men wore along belt knife with a blade a little less curved than those in Ebou Dar. Rich or poor, the fellows did have a tendency to fondle their knife hilts as if expecting a fight, so maybe that was the same.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Lady Aethelaine's palace appeared no different from the outside than the salt merchants\\\" mansions, but it was located on the town's main square, a wide expanse of polished stone where abroad round marble fountain sprayed water into the air. People filled their buckets and big pottery water jars from pipes spilling into stone basins at the corners of other squares, though. The big fountain putout a smell of brine. It was a symbol of Jurador's wealth, pumped from the same source as the salt wells in the surrounding hills. Mat got to see a good deal of the town before the sun climbed even halfway to its noon peak.\\n\\nEvery time Tuon and Selucia spotted a shop with silks displayed out front, they stopped at the long narrow table to feel bolts of cloth and whisper with their heads together, waving off the attentions of the watchful shopkeeper. Those kept a very watchful eye, until they realized Mat was with the two women. In their stout woolens, well worn and badly fitting, they did not look customers for silk. Mat, with one side of his cloak thrown back to expose the lining, did. Whenever he tried to show an interest, though-women said they wanted you to show an interest!-whenever he got close enough to hear what they were saying, the women fell silent and looked at him, cool dark eyes and cool blue staring out of their deep cowls, until he fell back a step or two. Then Selucia would bend her head to Tuon's, and they would go back to murmuring and fingering silk, red silk, blue silk, green silk, smooth shimmering silk and brocaded silk. Jurador was a very wealthy town. Luckily, he had tucked a fat purse of gold into his coat pocket. None of it seemed to be right, though.\\n\\nInevitably, Tuon shook her head, and the pair of them glided away into the crowd with Mat hurrying to keep up as far as the next shop showing silks. The dice continued to bounce off the inside of his skull.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They were not the only ones from the show who had come into the town. He spotted Aludra, her face framed by beaded braids, walking through the crowd with a gray-haired man who had to be a salt merchant from the amount of bright embroidery covering his silk coat in flowers and hummingbirds. What would the Illuminator want with a salt merchant? Whatever she was saying to him, his pleased smile had added a few creases to his face, and he was nodding.\\n\\nTuon shook her head, and the two women glided toward the next shop, ignoring the shopkeeper's deep bows. Well, most of those were directed at Mat. Maybe the skinny fool thought he wanted to buy silk for himself. Not that he would have passed up anew silk coat or three, but who could think about coats when he was waiting for those bloody dice to stop? Just a little embroidery, on the sleeves and shoulders.\\n\\nThom went by clutching his bronze-colored cloak around him, knuckling his long white mustaches and yawning as if he had spent the night awake. He might have. The gleeman had not taken to drink again, but Lopin and Nerim complained about him remaining awake till all hours, burning a lamp so he could read and re-read his precious letter. What could be so fascinating in a letter from a dead woman? A dead woman. Light, maybe those people on the road...! No; he was not going to think about that at all.\\n\\nTuon plucked one fold of silk and let it drop as she turned away without trying another. Selucia gave the stout shopkeeper such a stare before following that the woman started back in affront. Mat offered her a smile. Affronted shopkeepers could lead to town guards asking questions, and who could say where that might lead? He knew he could smile most women into feeling soothed. The round-faced woman sniffed at him and bent to smoothing the bolt of silk as tenderly as tucking in a babe. Most women, he thought sourly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Down the street, a woman in a plain cloak let her hood fallback, and Mat's breath caught in his throat.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Edesina lifted her cowl again, but she took no hurry with it, and the damage was done anyway, an Aes Sedai's ageless face displayed for anyone who knew what they were seeing. No one in the street gave a sign that they had noticed anything, but he could not see every face. Was anyone thinking of a reward? There might be no Seanchan in Jurador at the moment, but they did pass through.\\n\\nEdesina glided around a corner, and two dark-cloaked shapes followed her. Two. Had the sul'dam left only one of their number in the camp to watch two Aes Sedai? Or maybe Joline or Teslyn was somewhere close by, and he had missed seeing her. He craned his neck, searching the throng for another plain cloak, but everyone he saw had at least a little embroidery.\\n\\nAbruptly, it hit him like a stone between the eyes. Every cloak he could see had at least a little embroidery. Where were bloody Tuon and bloody Selucia? Were the dice spinning faster?\\n\\nBreathing hard, he went upon his toes, but the street was a river of embroidered cloaks, embroidered coats and dresses. It did not mean they were trying to escape. Tuon had given her word; she had passed up a perfect chance for betrayal. But all either woman had to do was say three words, and anyone who heard them likely would recognize a Seanchan accent. That might be sufficient to set the hounds on his trail. There were two shops ahead that seemed to be offering cloth, one on either side of the street. Neither with a pair of dark-cloaked women at the tables out front. They could have turned a corner easily enough, but he had to trust to luck. His luck was especially good when the game was random. Bloody women probably thought it was a bloody game. Burn him, let his luck run good.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Closing his eyes, he spun in a circle in the middle of the street and took a step.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"At random. He bumped into someone solid, hard enough to make them both grunt. A bulky fellow with a small mouth and a little poorly done scrollwork on the shoulders of his rough coat stood glaring at him when he opened his eyes, glaring and fingering the hilt of his curved knife. Mat did not care. He was facing straight atone of the two shops. Pulling his hat down tight, he ran. The dice were rolling faster.\\n\\nDivided shelves stuffed with bolts of cloth lined the walls of the shop from floor to ceiling, and more stood stacked on long tables out in the floor. The shopkeeper was a scrawny woman with a large mole on her chin, her assistant slim and pretty and angry-eyed. He dashed inside just in time to hear the shopkeeper say, \\\"For the last time, if you won't tell me what you're here for, I'm going to send Nelsa for the guards.\\\" Tuon and Selucia, faces still hidden in their hoods, were walking slowly along one wall full of cloth, stopping to touch a bolt but neither paying the shopkeeper any heed.\\n\\n\\\"They're with me,\\\" Mat said breathlessly. Tugging the purse from his pocket, he tossed it on the nearest clear table. The heavy clink it made landing put a wide smile on the shopkeeper's narrow face. \\\"Give them whatever they want,\\\" he told her. And to Tuon, he added firmly, \\\"If you're going to buy anything, it's going to be here. I've had all the exercise I care for this morning.\\\"\\n\\nHe would have had the words back as soon as they left his mouth, if he could. Speak to a woman that way, and she flared in your face like one of Aludra's firesticks, every time. But Tuon's big eyes looked up at him from the shelter of her hood. And her full mouth curved slightly in a smile. It was a secret smile, for herself, not him. The Light only knew what it meant. He hated it when women did that. At least the dice had not stopped. That had to be a good sign, right?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Tuon had no need of words to make her choices, silently pointing out bolt after bolt and measuring with her small dark hands how much the shopkeeper was to cutoff with her shears.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The woman did the work herself instead of delegating it to her assistant, and well she might, considering. Red silk in several shades went under those long sharp scissors, and green silk in a few shades, and more varieties of blue silk than Mat knew existed. Tuon chose out some fine linen in several thicknesses, and lengths of bright wool-she consulted Selucia over those in muffled whispers-but mostly it was silk. He got back much less of his purse than he had expected.\\n\\nOnce all that cloth had been folded and neatly tied, then bundled into a larger length of coarse linen-at no extra charge, thank you very much-it made a mound as fat as a peddler's pack. It did not surprise him at all to learn that he was expected to carry the thing across his shoulders, with his hat dangling in one hand. Dress your best, buy a woman silk, and she still found away to make you work! Maybe she was making him pay for speaking firmly.\\n\\nHe earned plenty of stares from gaping fools as he made his way out of the town behind the two women. They glided along smug as cats full of cream. Even cloaked and hooded, their backs said it all. The sun was still well short of midday, but the line of people waiting to get into the show stretched down the road almost to the town. Most gaped and pointed as if he were a painted fool. One of the big horse handlers guarding the coin box gave a gap-toothed smirk and opened his mouth, but Mat returned him a level look, and the fellow decided to put his eyes back on the coins going from townsfolk to glass pitcher to box. Mat thought he had never been so relieved to be inside Luca's show.\\n\\nBefore he and the two women had gotten three steps inside the entrance, Juilin came running up, fora wonder without Thera or his redcap. The thief-catcher's face could have been carved from ancient oak. Eyeing the people flowing past them into the show, he pitched his voice low. Low and urgent. \\\"I was coming to find you. It's Egeanin; she's been... hurt. Come quickly.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The man's tone said enough, but worse, Mat realized the dice in his head were drumming, now. He flung the pack of cloth at the horse handlers with a hasty injunction to guard it as close as the coin-box or he would set the women on them, but he did not wait to see whether they took him seriously. Juilin darted back the way he had come at a run, and Mat ran after him, along the wide main street of the show where noisy gawking crowds were watching the four bare-chested Chavana brothers stand on one another's shoulders, and contortionists in filmy trousers and glittering vests sit on their own heads, and a slack-rope walker in spangled blue breeches climbing along wooden ladder to begin her performance. Short of the slack-rope walker, Juilin dodged into one of the narrower streets, where laundry hung from lines between the tents and wagons, performers sat on stools and wagon steps waiting to goon, and show children ran playing with balls and hoops. Mat knew where they were headed, now, but the thief-catcher ran too fast to overtake.\\n\\nAhead, he saw his green wagon. Latelle was peering underneath, and Luca, in one of his bright red cloaks, was waving a pair of jugglers to move along. The two women, in baggy trousers and with faces painted white like a noble's fools, took a good look under the wagon before they obeyed. Ashe came closer, he could see what they had they been staring at. Coatless, Domon was sitting on the ground under the edge of the wagon, cradling a limp Egeanin in his arms. Her eyes were closed, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner her mouth. Her wig hung askew. That stood out, for some reason. She always fussed so to keep that wig straight. The dice beat like thunder.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"This could be disaster,\\\" Luca growled, splitting his glower between Mat and Juilin. It was an angry glower, though, not frightened. \\\"You may have brought me to disaster!\\\" He shooed away a gaggle of wide-eyed children, and growled at a plump woman in skirts that glittering with silvery spangles. Miyora made leopards do tricks that even Latelle would not try, but she merely tossed her head before gliding off. No one took Luca as seriously as he took himself.\\n\\nThe man gave a start when Tuon and Selucia hurried up, and looked on the point of telling them to go, too, before he thought better of it. In fact, he began to frown thoughtfully. And worriedly. It seemed his wife had not told him about Mat and the women leaving the show, and it was clear they had been somewhere. The blue-eyed woman had the huge bundle of cloth on her back now, with her arms doubled behind her, though she stood straight despite the bulk. You would think a lady's maid was used to carrying things, but her face was a picture of frustrated irritation. Latelle eyed her up and down, then sneered at Mat as if he were the reason the woman was thrusting her considerable bosom out. Luca's wife was very good at sneering, yet Tuon's stern expression made Latelle nearly look mild. A judge peered out of her cowl, a judge ready to pass sentence.\\n\\nFor the moment, Mat did not care what the women thought.\\n\\nThose bloody dice. Tossing his cloak back, he went to one knee and touched fingers to Egeanin's throat. Her pulse beat weakly, thin and fluttering.\\n\\n\\\"What happened?\\\" he asked. \\\"Have you sent for one of the sisters?\\\" Moving Egeanin might be enough to kill her, but there might be time for Healing, if the Aes Sedai were quick. He was not about to say that name aloud, though, with people walking by, pausing for curious stares before Luca or Latelle hurried them on. Everyone moved quicker for her than for him. Latelle herself was the only one who really jumped for Luca.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Renna!\\\" Domon spat the name. Despite his short cap of hair and that Illianer beard that left his upper lip bare, he did not look ridiculous, now. He looked afraid and murderous, a dangerous combination. \\\"I did see her stab Egeanin in the back and run. If I could have reached her, I would have broken her neck, but my hand be all that's holding Egeanin's blood in. Where be that bloody Aes Sedai?\\\" he snarled. So much for being careful with his tongue.\\n\\n\\\"I be right here, Bayle Domon,\\\" Teslyn announced coldly, rushing up with Thera, who took one horrified look at Tuon and Selucia and latched onto Juilin's arm with a squeak, eyes on the ground. The way she began trembling, she might be there herself in a minute.\\n\\nThe hard-eyed Aes Sedai made a face as if she had a mouthful of briars when she saw what lay in front of her, or maybe where it lay, but she swiftly crouched underneath the wagon beside Domon and clasped Egeanin's head in her bony hands. \\\"Joline do be better at this than I,\\\" she muttered, halt under her breath, \\\"but I maybe able-\\\"\\n\\nThe silver foxhead went cold against Mat's chest, and Egeanin jerked so violently that her wig fell off, nearly pulling herself out of Domon's grasp as her eyes popped open wide. The convulsion lasted only long enough for her to sit halfway up with a frozen gasp; then she slumped back against Domon's chest, panting, and the medallion became just apiece of worked silver again. He was almost accustomed to that. He hated being accustomed to that.\\n\\nTeslyn slumped, too, on the point of falling over until Domon shifted his grip on Egeanin to steady the Aes Sedai with one hand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Thank you,\\\" Teslyn said after a moment, the words sounding dragged from her. \\\"But I need no help.\\\" She used the side of the wagon to help her rise, though, her cold Aes Sedai gaze daring anyone to comment. \\\"The blade did slide on a rib and so did miss her heart. All she does need now be rest and food.\\\"\\n\\nShe had not delayed to grab a cloak, Mat realized. In one direction along the narrow street, a clutch of women in spangled cloaks was watching from in front of a green-striped tent, their gazes intent and focused. In the other, half a dozen men and women in white-striped coats and tight breeches, acrobats who performed on horseback, darted looks toward Teslyn between putting their heads together to whisper. Too late to worry about someone recognizing an Aes Sedai's face. Too late to worry that one of them knew Healing when he saw it done. The dice battered at the inside of Mat's head. They had not stopped; the game was not played out, yet.\\n\\n\\\"Who's looking for her, Juilin?\\\" he asked. \\\"Juilin?\\\"\\n\\nThe thief-catcher gave over glaring at Tuon and Selucia and murmuring to Thera, though he continued to pat the trembling woman. \\\"Vanin and the Redarms, Lopin and Nerim. Olver, too. He was away before I could catch him. But in this...\\\" He stopped soothing Thera long enough to gesture toward the main street. The babble of voices was clearly audible even at this distance. \\\"All she needs is to lay hands on one of those fancy cloaks, and she can slip outwith the first folk to leave. If we try stopping every woman with her hood up, or even try looking inside, we'll have a riot on our hands. These people are touchy.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Disaster,\\\" Luca moaned, wrapping his cloak around himself tightly. Latelle put an arm around him. It must have been like being comforted by a leopard, but in any case, Luca did not look much comforted.\\n\\n\\\"Burn me, why?\\\" Mat growled. \\\"Renna was always ready to lick my bloody wrist! I thought if anybody went over the edge...!\\\" He did not even glance at Thera, but Juilin still scowled at him darkly.\\n\\nDomon had stood up with Egeanin in his arms. She struggled feebly at first-Egeanin was not a woman to let herself be carried about like a doll-but eventually she seemed to realize that if she did make her own feet, she would fall over. She sagged against the Illianer's chest with a resentful glower. Domon would learn; even when a woman needed help, if she did not want it, she made you pay forgiving it. \\\"I'm the only one who knew her secret,\\\" she drawled in a weak voice. \\\"The only one who might give it away, at least. She may have thought it would be safe to go home, with me dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What secret?\\\" Mat asked.\\n\\nThe woman hesitated, for some reason, frowning at Domon's chest. Finally she sighed. \\\"Renna was leashed, once. So were Bethamin and Seta. They can channel. Or maybe learn to; I don't know. But the a'dam worked on those three. Maybe it works on any sul'dam.\\\" Mat whistled through his teeth. Now, that would be a kick in the head for the Seanchan.\\n\\nLuca and his wife exchanged puzzled glances, plainly not understanding a word. Teslyn's mouth hung open, Aes Sedai serenity washed away in shock. Selucia made an angry sound, though, blue eyes blazing, and dropped the bundle of cloth from her back as she took a step toward Domon. A quick flash of Tuon's fingers stopped her in her tracks, though it was a quivering halt. Tuon's face was a dark mask, unreadable. She did not like what she had heard, though. Come to think, she had said she trained damane. Oh, burn him, on top of everything else, he was going to marry a woman who could channel?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The sound of horses' hooves announced Harnan and the other three Redarms coming along the narrow way between the tents and wagons at a quick trot.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Their swords were belted on under their cloaks, Metwyn with a dagger almost as long as a short-sword to boot, and Gorderan had his heavy crossbow hanging at his saddle, already drawn and latched. The crank at his belt would take a full minute to pullback the thick cord, but this way, all he need do was place a bolt. Harnan carried a double-curve horsebow, with a bristling quiver at his hip. Fergin was leading Pips.\\n\\nHarnan did not bother dismounting. Eyeing Tuon and Selucia suspiciously, and Luca and Latelle with almost as much doubt, he leaned down from his saddle, the crude hawk tattoo sharp on his cheek. \\\"Renna stole a horse, my Lord,\\\" he said quietly. \\\" Rode down one of the horse handlers at the entrance getting out. Vanin's following her. He says she could reach Coramen sometime tonight.\\n\\nThat's the way she headed. She's moving a lot faster than the wagons did. But she's riding bareback; we can catch her, with luck.\\\" He sounded as if that luck were a matter of fact. The men of the Band trusted Mat Cauthon's luck more than he did himself.\\n\\nThere did not seem to be any choices, really. The dice were still pounding in his head. There was still a chance they might fall his way. A small chance. Mat Cauthon's luck. \\\"Get your people on the road as fast as they can pack up, Luca,\\\" he said, stepping up onto Pips. \\\"Leave the wall and anything else you can't get onto the wagons fast. Just go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you crazy?\\\" Luca spluttered. \\\"If I try to chase those people out, I will have a riot! And they'll want their coin back!\\\" Light, the man would think of money with his neck stretched on the headsman's block.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Think what you'll have if a thousand Seanchan find you here tomorrow.\\\" Mat's voice was as cold as he could make it. If he failed, the Seanchan would run Luca's showdown in short order however fast they flogged their horses. Luca knew it, too, from the twist of his mouth, as if he had just bitten a rotting plum. Mat made himself ignore the man. The dice were drumming hard, but they had not stopped yet. \\\"Juilin, leave all the gold for Luca except one good purse.\\\" Maybe the man could bribe his way clear, once the Seanchan saw he did not have their Daughter of the Nine bloody Moons. \\\"Gather everybody and ride out as soon as you can. Once you're out of sight of the town, take to the forest. I'll find you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Everybody?\\\" Sheltering Thera with his body, Juilin jerked his head toward Tuon and Selucia. \\\"Leave those two in Jurador, and the Seanchan might stop with getting them back. It might slow them down, at least. You keep saying you're going to turn them loose sooner or later.\\\"\\n\\nMat met Tuon's eyes. Big dark liquid eyes, in a smooth expressionless face. She had pushed her hood back a little, so he could see her face clearly. If he left her behind, then she could not say the words, or if she did, he would be too far way for the words to matter. If he left her behind, he would never learn why she smiled those mysterious smiles, or what lay behind the mystery. Light, he was a fool! Pips danced a few impatient steps.\\n\\n\\\"Everybody,\\\" he said. Did Tuon nod slightly, as if to herself? Why would she nod? \\\"Let's ride,\\\" he told Harnan.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They had to walk their horses through the crowds to get out of the show, but as soon as they reached the road, Mat put Pips to a gallop, cloak streaming behind and head down to keep his hat from blowing off. It was not apace you could keep a horse at for long. The road wound around hills and crossed ridges, occasionally cutting through where the rise was not too high. They splashed across ankle-deep streams and thundered over low wooden bridges crossing deeper water. Trees began to appear on the slopes again, pine and leatherleaf showing green among the winter-bare branches of the others. Farms clung to some of the hills, low tile-roofed stone houses and taller barns, and now and then a hamlet of eight or ten houses.\\n\\nA few miles from the show, Mat spotted a wide man ahead of them, sitting his saddle like a sack of suet. The horse was a leggy dun, eating ground at a steady trot. It figured that a horse thief had an eye fora good animal. Catching the sound of their hooves, Vanin looked back, but he only slowed to a walk. That was bad.\\n\\nWhen Mat slowed Pips beside the dun, Vanin spat. \\\"Best wager we got is we find her horse run to death, so I can track her afoot from there,\\\" he muttered. \\\"She's pushing harder than I figured, with her bareback. If we push, we can maybe catch her by sunset. If her horse don't founder or die, that's about the time she'll make Coramen.\\\"\\n\\nMat tipped back his head to glance at the sun, almost straight overhead. It was along way to cover in less than half a day. If he turned back, he could be a good distance the other side of Jurador by sunset, in company with Thom and Juilin and the others. With Tuon. With the Seanchan knowing to hunt Mat Cauthon. The man who had kidnapped the Daughter of the Nine Moons could not own enough luck to get off with being made da'covale. And sometime tomorrow or the next day, they would plant Luca on an impaling stake. Luca and Latelle, Petra and Clarine and the rest. A thicket of impaling stakes. The dice rattled and bounced in his head.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We can make it,\\\" he said. There was no other choice.\\n\\nVanin spat.\\n\\nThere was only one way to cover a great deal of ground quickly, on a horse, if you meant to be on alive horse at the end. They walked the animals for half a mile, then trotted half a mile. The same at a canter, then a run, and it was back to a walk. The sun began to slide downward, and the dice spun. Around sparsely forested hills and over tree-topped ridges. Streams that could be crossed in three strides, barely wetting the horses' hooves, and streams thirty paces across with flat bridges of wood or sometimes stone. The sun sank lower and lower, and the dice spun faster and faster. Almost back to the Elbar, and no sign of Renna except scuffs on the hard dirt of the road that Vanin pointed to as if they were painted signs.\\n\\n\\\"Getting close, now,\\\" the fat man muttered. He did not sound happy, though.\\n\\nThen they rounded a hill, and there was another low bridge ahead. Beyond, the road twisted north to cross the next ridge through a saddle. The sun, sitting atop the ridge, blazed in their eyes. Coramen lay on the other side of that ridge. Pulling his hat low for shade, Mat searched the road fora woman, for anyone, mounted or afoot, and his heart sank.\\n\\nVanin cursed and pointed.\\n\\nA lathered bay was laboring its way up the slope on the other side of the river, a woman frantically kicking its flanks, urging it to climb. Renna had been too anxious to reach the Seanchan to stick with the road. She was maybe two hundred paces from them, and she might as well have been miles. Her mount was on the point of collapsing, but she could get down and run within sight of the garrisons before they could reach her. All she had to do was reach the crest, another fifty feet.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"My Lord?\\\" Harnan said. He had an arrow nocked and his bow half raised. Gorderan held the heavy crossbow to his shoulder, a thick pointed bolt in place.\\n\\nMat felt something flicker and die inside him. He did not know what. Something. The dice rolled like thunder. \\\"Shoot,\\\" he said.\\n\\nHe wanted to close his eyes. The crossbow snapped; the bolt made a black streak through the air. Renna slammed forward when it hither back. She had almost managed to push herself erect against the bay's neck when Harnan's arrow took her.\\n\\nSlowly, she toppled from the horse, sliding down the slope, rolling, bouncing off saplings, tumbling faster and faster until she splashed into the stream. Fora moment, she floated facedown against the bank, and then the current caught her and pulled her away, skirts billowing upon the water. Slowly she drifted toward the Elbar. Maybe, eventually, she would reach the sea. And that made three. It hardly seemed to matter that the dice had stopped. That made three. Never again, he thought as Renna floated out of sight around a bend. If I die for it, never again.\\n\\nThey did not press, riding back eastward. There was no point, and Mat felt too bone-weary. They did not stop, though, except to breathe and water the horses. No one wanted to talk.\\n\\nIt was the small hours of the night when they reached Jurador, the town a dark mass with the gates shut tight. Clouds covered the moon. Surprisingly, the canvas walls of Luca's show were still in place just beyond the town. With a pair of bulky men wrapped in blankets snoring aware beneath the big banner as they guarded the entrance. Even from the road, in the dark, it was plain that wagons and tents filled the space behind the wall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"At least I can tell Luca he doesn't have to run after all,\\\" Mat said wearily, turning Pips toward the banner. \\\"Maybe he'll give us a place to sleep a few hours.\\\" For all the gold he had left, Luca should give them his own wagon, but knowing the man, Mat had hopes for clean straw somewhere. Tomorrow, he would set out to find Thom and the others. And Tuon. Tomorrow, when he had rested.\\n\\nA greater shock waited inside Luca's huge wagon. It truly was roomy inside, at least fora wagon, with a narrow table sitting in the middle and space to walk around it. Table, cupboards and shelves all were polished till they glowed. Tuon was sitting in a gilded chair-Luca would have a chair, and gilded, when everybody else made do with stools!-with Selucia standing at her back. A beaming Luca was watching Latelle offer Tuon a plate of steaming pastries, which the dark little woman was examining as if she would actually eat something that Luca's wife had cooked.\\n\\nTuon showed no surprise at all at Mat walking into the wagon. \\\"Is she captured, or dead?\\\" she said, picking up a pastry with her fingers curved in that curiously graceful way.\\n\\n\\\"Dead,\\\" he said flatly. \\\"Luca, what in the Light-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I forbid it, Toy!\\\" Tuon snapped, pointing a finger at him sharply. \\\"I forbid you to mourn a traitor!\\\" Her voice softened, slightly, but it remained firm. \\\"She earned death by betraying the Empire, and she would have betrayed you as easily. She was trying to betray you. What you did was justice, and I name it so.\\\" Her tone said that if she named a thing, then it was well and truly named.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2386,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 7"},{"from":"human","value":"As the tall wall of Northharbor loomed in front of the boat, the oarsmen backed water so the bow just missed kissing the wall beside the harbor entrance."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egwene almost putout a hand to fend off from the pale stone before the boat could bump into the wall. That thump would surely have been heard by the soldiers on guard. The oars made only a small gurgling noise as they sweptback, though, and the boat stopped where she could have touched the massive iron chain across the harbor, its huge links giving off their own faint gleam from the grease coating them.\n\nThere was no need for touching, though. No need for waiting, either. Embracing saidar, she was barely aware of the thrill of life filling her before she had the weaves in place. Earth, Fire and Air surrounding the chain; Earth and Fire touching it. The black iron flashed to white across the whole width of the harbor mouth.\n\nShe had just time to realize that someone had embraced the Source not faraway, above heron the wall, then something struck the boat, struck her, and she was aware of cold water enveloping her, filling her nose, her mouth. Darkness.\n\nEgwene felt hardness beneath her. She heard women's voices. Excited voices.\n\n\"Do you know who this is?\"\n\n\"Well, well. We certainly got better than we bargained for tonight.\"\n\nSomething was pressed to her mouth, and warmth trickled in, tasting faintly of mint. She swallowed convulsively, suddenly aware of how cold she was, shivering. Her eyes flickered open. And fastened on the face of the woman holding her head and the cup. Lanterns held by soldiers crowding around gave light enough for her to make out the face clearly. An ageless face. She was inside Northharbor.\n\n\"That's it, girl,\" the Aes Sedai said encouragingly. \"Drink it all down. A strong dose, for now.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egwene tried to push the cup away, tried to embrace saidar, but she could feel herself sliding back down into darkness. They had been waiting for her. She had been betrayed. But by whom?\n\nEpilogue\n\nAn Answer\n\nRand stared out of the window at the steady rain falling out of a gray sky. Another storm down out of the Spine of the World. The Dragonwall. He thought spring must becoming soon. Spring always came, eventually. Earlier herein Tear than back home, it should be, though there seemed little sign of it. Lightning forked silver-blue across the sky, and long moments passed before the peal of thunder. Distant lightning. The wounds in his side ached. Light, the herons branded into his palms ached, after all this time.\n\nSometimes, pain is all that lets you know you're alive. Lews Therin whispered, but Rand ignored the voice in his head.\n\nThe door creaked open behind him, and he looked over his shoulder at the man who came into the sitting room. Bashere was wearing a short, gray silk coat, a rich shimmering coat, and he had the baton of the Marshal-General of Saldaea, an ivory rod tipped with a golden wolf's head, tucked behind his belt next to his scabbarded sword. His turned-down boots had been waxed till they shone. Rand tried not to let his relief show. They had been gone long enough.\n\n\"Well?\" he said.\n\n\"The Seanchan are amenable,\" Bashere replied. \"Crazy as loons, but amenable. They require a meeting with you in person, though. The Marshal-General of Saldaea isn't the Dragon Reborn.\"\n\n\"With this Lady Suroth?\"\n\nBashere shook his head. \"Apparently a member of their royal family has arrived. Suroth wants you to meet someone called the Daughter of the Nine Moons.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Thunder rolled again for distant lightning.\n\nWe rode on the winds of the rising storm,\n\nWe ran to the sounds of the thunder.\n\nWe danced among the lightning bolts,\n\nand tore the world asunder.\n\n-Anonymous fragment of a poem believed\n\nwritten near the end of the previous Age,\n\nknown by some as the Third Age.\n\nSometimes attributed to the Dragon\n\nReborn.\n\nThe End\n\nof the Tenth Book of\n\nThe Wheel of Time\n\nGlossary"}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Keep the narrative going for the author.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\\nChapter: 7\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"As the tall wall of Northharbor loomed in front of the boat, the oarsmen backed water so the bow just missed kissing the wall beside the harbor entrance.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene almost putout a hand to fend off from the pale stone before the boat could bump into the wall. That thump would surely have been heard by the soldiers on guard. The oars made only a small gurgling noise as they sweptback, though, and the boat stopped where she could have touched the massive iron chain across the harbor, its huge links giving off their own faint gleam from the grease coating them.\\n\\nThere was no need for touching, though. No need for waiting, either. Embracing saidar, she was barely aware of the thrill of life filling her before she had the weaves in place. Earth, Fire and Air surrounding the chain; Earth and Fire touching it. The black iron flashed to white across the whole width of the harbor mouth.\\n\\nShe had just time to realize that someone had embraced the Source not faraway, above heron the wall, then something struck the boat, struck her, and she was aware of cold water enveloping her, filling her nose, her mouth. Darkness.\\n\\nEgwene felt hardness beneath her. She heard women's voices. Excited voices.\\n\\n\\\"Do you know who this is?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, well. We certainly got better than we bargained for tonight.\\\"\\n\\nSomething was pressed to her mouth, and warmth trickled in, tasting faintly of mint. She swallowed convulsively, suddenly aware of how cold she was, shivering. Her eyes flickered open. And fastened on the face of the woman holding her head and the cup. Lanterns held by soldiers crowding around gave light enough for her to make out the face clearly. An ageless face. She was inside Northharbor.\\n\\n\\\"That's it, girl,\\\" the Aes Sedai said encouragingly. \\\"Drink it all down. A strong dose, for now.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene tried to push the cup away, tried to embrace saidar, but she could feel herself sliding back down into darkness. They had been waiting for her. She had been betrayed. But by whom?\\n\\nEpilogue\\n\\nAn Answer\\n\\nRand stared out of the window at the steady rain falling out of a gray sky. Another storm down out of the Spine of the World. The Dragonwall. He thought spring must becoming soon. Spring always came, eventually. Earlier herein Tear than back home, it should be, though there seemed little sign of it. Lightning forked silver-blue across the sky, and long moments passed before the peal of thunder. Distant lightning. The wounds in his side ached. Light, the herons branded into his palms ached, after all this time.\\n\\nSometimes, pain is all that lets you know you're alive. Lews Therin whispered, but Rand ignored the voice in his head.\\n\\nThe door creaked open behind him, and he looked over his shoulder at the man who came into the sitting room. Bashere was wearing a short, gray silk coat, a rich shimmering coat, and he had the baton of the Marshal-General of Saldaea, an ivory rod tipped with a golden wolf's head, tucked behind his belt next to his scabbarded sword. His turned-down boots had been waxed till they shone. Rand tried not to let his relief show. They had been gone long enough.\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"The Seanchan are amenable,\\\" Bashere replied. \\\"Crazy as loons, but amenable. They require a meeting with you in person, though. The Marshal-General of Saldaea isn't the Dragon Reborn.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"With this Lady Suroth?\\\"\\n\\nBashere shook his head. \\\"Apparently a member of their royal family has arrived. Suroth wants you to meet someone called the Daughter of the Nine Moons.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Thunder rolled again for distant lightning.\\n\\nWe rode on the winds of the rising storm,\\n\\nWe ran to the sounds of the thunder.\\n\\nWe danced among the lightning bolts,\\n\\nand tore the world asunder.\\n\\n-Anonymous fragment of a poem believed\\n\\nwritten near the end of the previous Age,\\n\\nknown by some as the Third Age.\\n\\nSometimes attributed to the Dragon\\n\\nReborn.\\n\\nThe End\\n\\nof the Tenth Book of\\n\\nThe Wheel of Time\\n\\nGlossary\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2387,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conspiracy\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: The Crown Conspiracy\nChapter: 8"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And that's when he got through to Pickering?\"\n\n\"Oh, no,\" Braga said. \"I actually managed to catch him. A patrol picked him up at The Silver Pitcher Inn.\"\n\n\"Then I don't understand. Why isn't he here?\"\n\n\"Because my patrol never came back. An advance rider brought the news Alric was captured, but the rest of them disappeared. I investigated and heard some amazing rumors. According to my reports, two men traveling with the prince organized the locals and staged an ambush on the men bringing Alric in.\"\n\n\"Do you know who these two men were who came to Alric's aid?\"\n\n\"I have no names, but the prince called them his Royal Protectors. I'm certain, however, they're the same two thieves I setup to take the blame for Amrath's death. Somehow, the prince has managed to retain their services. He must have offered them riches, perhaps even land and title. The boy is more clever than I thought. But no matter, I have made adequate arrangements for him and his friends. I've been bolstering the ranks of the Melengar army for the last several weeks with mercenaries loyal to my money. Amrath never knew. One of the perks of being the Lord Chancellor is not having to get the royal seal on all orders.\"\n\nThere was another knock at the door, and the servant once again entered. \"The Earl of Chadwick is hereto see you, my lord.\"\n\n\"Archibald Ballentyne? What is he doing here? Get rid of him.\"\n\n\"No, wait,\" the bishop intervened. \"I asked the earl to come. Please send him in.\" The servant bowed and left, closing the door behind him.\n\n\"I wished you had discussed this with me,\" Braga said. \"Forgive me, your grace, but I have too much going on today to entertain a visit from a neighboring noble.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes, yes. I know you are quite busy, but the Church has its own matters to attend to. As you well know, you're not the only kingdom we administer to. The Earl of Chadwick possesses a certain interest to us. He is young, ambitious, and easily impressed by success. It will do him good to see firsthand just what kinds of things are possible with the right friends. Besides, having anally on your southern border has benefits for you as well.\"\n\n\"Are you suggesting I try and sway him away from King Ethelred?\"\n\n\"Ethelred is a good Imperialist, I admit, but there can be only one Emperor. There's no reason it couldn't be you, assuming you continue to prove yourself worthy. Ballentyne has many assets that could help in that endeavor.\"\n\n\"I'm not even king yet and you're talking Emperor?\"\n\n\"The Church hasn't lasted for three thousand years by not thinking ahead. Ah, here he is. Come in, come in, Archibald.\" Archibald Ballentyne entered, brushing the snow from his cloak and stomping his feet. \"Toss your cloak aside and come to the fire. Warm up, lad. The carriage ride must have been a cold one.\"\n\nArchibald crossed the room and kissed the ring of the still seated bishop, \"Good morning, your grace,\" he said, then turned and bowed graciously to the archduke. \"My lord.\"\n\nHe swept off his cloak and shook it out carefully. Perplexed, he looked around. \"Your servant left before taking my cloak.\"\n\n\"Just throw it anywhere,\" Braga instructed.\n\nThe earl looked at him aghast. \"This is imported damask with gold thread embroideries.\" Just then, the servant reentered with a large comfortable chair. \"Ah, there you are. Here take this, and, for Maribor's sake, don't hang it from a peg.\" He passed his cloak to the servant, who bowed and left."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Brandy?\" Braga asked.\n\n\"Oh, good lord, yes,\" Archibald replied. Braga handed him a glass, the bottom of which was filled with a smoky amber liquid.\n\n\"I appreciate your coming, Archibald,\" the bishop said. \"I'm afraid we won't have much time to talk just now, there is quite a bit of turmoil in Melengar today. But as I was telling Braga, I thought it might be beneficial for the three of us to have a quick chat.\"\n\n\"I'm always at your service, of course, your grace. I appreciate any opportunity to meet with you and the new King of Melengar,\" Archibald said nonchalantly. Saldur and Braga exchanged looks. \"Oh, come now, it can hardly be a secret. You are the archduke and Lord Chancellor. With King Amrath and the prince dead, if you execute Arista, you'll wear the crown. It's really rather nicely done. I commend you. Murder in broad daylight, right before the nobles-they'll cheer you on as you steal their crown.\"\n\nBraga stiffened. \"Are you accusing me of-\"\n\n\"Of course not,\" the earl stopped him. \"I accuse no one. What care do I have for the affairs of Melengar? My liege is Ethelred of Warric. What happens in your kingdom is none of my affair. I was merely offering my sincere congratulations,\" he raised his glass and nodded at the bishop, \"to both of you.\"\n\n\"Do you have a name for this game, Ballentyne?\" Braga asked tentatively as both he and Saldur watched the young earl closely.\n\nArchibald smiled again. \"My dear gentlemen, I am playing no game. I'm being truthful when I say I am simply in awe. All the more because of my own recent failure. You see, I tried a gamble myself, to increase my station, only it was less than successful.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Braga became quite amused with this primly dressed earl. He understood what the bishop saw in him and he was curious now. \"I'm very sorry to hear you suffered difficulties. Exactly what were you attempting?\"\n\n\"Well, I acquired some letters and tried to blackmail the Marquis of Glouston into marrying his daughter tome so I could obtain his Rilan Valley. I had the messages locked in my safe in my private tower and was prepared to present them to Victor in person. Everything was perfect, but... poof.\" Archibald made an exploding gesture with his fingers. \"The letters vanished. Like a magic trick.\"\n\n\"What happened to them?\" Saldur asked.\n\n\"They were stolen. Thieves sawed a hole in the roof of my tower and, in just a matter of minutes, slipped in and snatched them from underneath my very nose.\"\n\n\"Impressive,\" Saldur judged.\n\n\"Depressing is what it was. They made me look like a fool.\"\n\n\"Did you catch the thieves?\" Braga asked.\n\nArchibald shook his head. \"Sadly no, but I finally figured out who they are. It took me days to reason it out. I did not tell anyone I possessed those letters. So, the only ones who could have taken them are the same thieves which I hired in the first place. Cunning devils. They call themselves Riyria. I'm not sure why they stole them, perhaps they planned to charge me twice. I won't give them the satisfaction of course. I'll hire someone else to intercept the next set from the Winds Abbey.\"\n\n\"So, the letters you had were correspondences between the Marquis of Glouston and the Nationalists?\" Saldur asked.\n\nArchibald looked at the bishop surprised. \"That's an amazing guess, your grace. You are very close. No, they were love letters between his daughter and her Nationalist lover Gaunt. I planned to have Alenda marry me instead to spare Victor the embarrassment of his daughter being involved with a commoner.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Saldur chuckled.\n\n\"Have I said something funny?\"\n\n\"You had more in your hands than you knew,\" Saldur informed him. \"Those weren't love letters. Those were coded messages from Victor Lanaklin carried by Alenda to Gaunt. The Marquis of Glouston is a traitor to his kingdom and the Imperial cause. With that treasure you could have had all of Glouston and Victor's head as a wedding gift.\"\n\nArchibald stood silent and then swallowed the rest of his brandy in one mouthful.\n\n\"But you won't be able to obtain additional letters. There will be no more meetings at the Winds Abbey. Regrettably, I was forced to ask the archduke hereto teach the monks a lesson for hosting such meetings. The abbey was burned along with the monks.\"\n\n\"You killed your fellow shepherds of Maribor's flock?\" Archibald asked Saldur.\n\n\"When Maribor sent Novron to us it was as a warrior to destroy our enemies. Our god is not squeamish at the sight of spilled blood, and it is often necessary to prune weak branches to keep the tree strong. Killing the monks was a necessity, but I did spare one, the son of Lanaklin so he could return home and let his father know the deaths were on his hands. We can't have Monarchists and Nationalists allying themselves can we?\" Saldur smiled at him. The elderly cleric took another sip of his drink, the moment passed and once more Braga observed the persona of the saintly grandfather returned.\n\n\"So, you were after Glouston, Archibald?\" Braga said, refilling the earl's glass. \"Perhaps I misjudged you. Tell me, my dear earl, were you more upset you lost the land or Alenda?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Archibald waved his hand in the air as if he was shooing a fly. \"She was merely an added benefit. It's the land I wanted.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Braga glanced at Saldur, who smiled and nodded. \"You may still get it.\" Braga resumed speaking to the earl. \"With me on the throne of Melengar, I will want a strong Imperialist ally guarding my southern border with Warric.\"\n\n\"King Ethelred would call that treason.\"\n\n\"And what would you call it?\"\n\nArchibald smiled and drummed his fingernails on the beautiful cut-crystal of the royal brandy glass, making it ring with a pleasant song. \"Opportunity.\"\n\nBraga sat back down and stretched out his feet to the fire. \"If I help you obtain the marchland from Lanaklin, and you throw your allegiance tome, Melengar will replace Warric as the strongest kingdom in Avryn. Similarly, Greater Chadwick will be its most powerful province.\"\n\n\"That's assuming Ethelred doesn't declare war,\" Archibald warned. \"Kings often frown upon losing a quarter of their realm, and Ethelred is not the type to take such an action without retaliation. He enjoys fighting. What's more, he's good at it. He has the best army in Avryn now.\"\n\n\"True,\" Braga said, \"but he has no able general to command it. He doesn't have anyone near the talent of your Sir Breckton. That man is gifted when it comes to leading men. If you broke with Warric, could you count on his loyalty to you?\"\n\n\"Breckton's loyalty tome is unwavering. His father, Lord Belstrad, is a chivalrous knight of archaic dimensions. He beat those values into his sons. Neither Breckton nor his brother-what's his name, the younger Belstrad boy who went to sea-Wesley, would dishonor themselves by opposing a man they have sworn their allegiance to. I do admit, however, their honor can bean inconvenience. I remember once a servant dropped my new fustian hat in the mud, and when I commanded Breckton to cutoff the clumsy oaf's hand in punishment, he refused. Breckton went on for twenty minutes explaining the code of chivalry tome. Oh yes, my lord, he is indeed loyal to House Ballentyne, but I would rather have a less loyal man who simply obeys without question. It is entirely possible that should I break with Warric, Breckton might refuse to fight at all, but I'm certain he would not oppose me. Personally, I would be more concerned with Ethelred himself. He is a fine commander in his own right.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"True,\" Braga acknowledged, \"but so am I."},{"from":"gpt","value":"I would welcome him engaging me personally. I already have a standing veteran army and a number of mercenaries at the ready. I will be able to muster superior numbers should that prove necessary. The result will be that he would lose all of Warric, and that could provide me the keys to the rest of Avryn and, perhaps, all of Apeladorn.\"\n\nThis time Archibald chuckled. \"My, but I do appreciate your ability to think big. I can see there would be many advantages to my joining with you. Do you really have your sights on the title of Emperor?\"\n\n\"Why not? If I am poised to conquer, the Patriarch will be eager to throw his allegiance tome just as the Church did with Glenmorgan. If I promise certain rights to the Church, he may even declare me the heir. Then no one will stand against me. In any case, this is for another day. We are getting ahead of ourselves.\" Braga turned his attention toward the bishop. \"I want to thank you, your grace, for arranging this meeting. It was very educational. But now it is nearly midmorning, and I think it is time to get Arista's trial underway. I would, however, like to invite you to stay, Archibald. As it turns out, I think I maybe able to offer you a gift to show you my commitment to you as a newfound friend of Melengar.\"\n\n\"I'm flattered, my lord. I'd welcome the opportunity to spend time with you, and I'm sure whatever gift you may have will be a generous one.\"\n\n\"You mentioned the thieves who spoiled your move against Victor Lanaklin called themselves Riyria?\"\n\n\"Yes, I did. Why do you ask?\"\n\n\"Well, it appears we share a common interest in these two rogues. They have also been a rather painful thorn in my own side. As you already discovered, they pay no respect to people who hire them and are willing to turn against their employers. I, too, hired them fora task and now find them working against me. I have reason to believe they maybe coming here today, and I have set plans in motion to capture them. If they do indeed make an appearance, I will try them along with Arista. It is quite possible all three will be burning at the stake by early evening.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You are, indeed, most generous, my lord,\" Archibald replied, with a nod of his head and a smile on his lips.\n\n\"I thought you might enjoy that. You mentioned when you arrived that Alric is dead and that is indeed the notion I've been circulating. Unfortunately, it is not so... that is not yet. Arista actually arranged for those thieves to smuggle Alric out of this castle on the night of Amrath's death. I believe he has hired them and they will attempt to save her. Evidence indicates they used the sewers to exit the castle so I've taken extra precautions there. The grate in the kitchen has been sealed, and Wylin, the castle's master-at-arms, waits with his best men hidden to close the river grate behind them. I even failed to post guards near thereto make it more enticing. With luck, the fool of a prince might actually play the boyish hero and come with them. If he does-checkmate!\"\n\nArchibald nodded with obvious pleasure. \"You really are very impressive.\"\n\nBraga raised his glass in tribute. \"Tome.\"\n\n\"To you,\" Archibald drank to Braga's health.\n\nThere was aloud pounding on the door. \"Come!\" Braga called irritated.\n\n\"Lord Chancellor!\" One of Braga's hired soldiers burst into the room. His cheeks and nose were red, his armor dripping wet. On his head and shoulders a small bit of snow remained.\n\n\"Yes? What is it?\"\n\n\"The wall guard reports footprints in the snow leading to the river near the sewers, my lord.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" Braga replied draining his glass. \"Take eight men and support Wylin from the river. I don't want them escaping. Remember, if the prince is with them, kill him on sight. Don't let Wylin stop you. Either way, I want the thieves alive. Lock them in the dungeons and gag them as before. I will use them as further incriminating evidence against Arista and burn the whole lot together.\" The soldier bowed and left hurriedly."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Now, gentlemen, as I was saying, let's join the magistrate and the other nobles."},{"from":"gpt","value":"I'm anxious to get this trial underway.\" They all stood and, walking three abreast, they exited the large double doors as one.\n\nThe morning sun magnified by the snow entered the river grate as a stark white light. The wintry radiance splintered along the glistening subway ceiling, revealing ancient stone caked in mildew and moss. The light reflected off the frozen sweat of the sewer walls, bouncing back and forth until at last it scattered into the all-consuming darkness. In the gloom, the soldiers waited, crouching and cold. Their feet were ankle-deep in filthy cold water, which streamed between their legs running from the castle drains to the river. For the better part of four hours, they lingered in silence, but now they could hear the sound of footsteps approaching. The sloshing of the dirty water echoed off the sewer walls, and the distant movement of shadows played upon the stone.\n\nWith a motion of his hand, Wylin ordered his troop to hold their position and maintain their silence. He wanted to be certain the rearguard was in place, and his prey was insight before he made his move. There were many avenues in the sewers where two men could run and hide in the dark. He did not want to be chasing the rats through amaze of tunnels. Not only was it unpleasant down there, but Wylin knew the archduke wanted the thieves for the morning festivities and would not be pleased with along delay.\n\nSoon they came into view. Two men, one tall and broad, the other shorter and slimmer, each dressed in warm winter cloaks with hoods pulled high rounded the corner slowly, pausing from time to time to look about.\n\n\"Remind me to compliment His Majesty on the quality of his sewers,\" one of them mentioned in a mocking tone."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"At least the slime is warmer than the river,\" the other replied.\n\n\"Yeah, too bad this is happening on the coldest day of the year. Why couldn't it be the middle of summer?\"\n\n\"That would be warmer for sure, but could you imagine the smell?\"\n\n\"Speaking of smell, do you think we're getting close to the kitchen yet?\"\n\n\"You're the one leading; I can't see a thing inhere.\"\n\nWylin waved his arm. \"Move in, now! Take them!\"\n\nThe castle guard rushed from their positions in an adjoining tunnel and charged the two men. From behind, more soldiers raced forward, blocking any retreat. The troops encircled the two, swords drawn and shields at the ready.\n\n\"Careful,\" Wylin said, \"the archduke says they are full of surprises.\"\n\n\"I'll show you surprises,\" one of the soldiers from the rear said and stepping forward struck the tall one with the pommel of his sword dropping him to the ground. Another used his shield and the second man fell unconscious.\n\nWylin sighed and glared at his ranks then shrugged. \"I was planning on letting them walk, but this works too. Chain \"em, gag'em, and drag \"em to the dungeons. And for Maribor's sake, get their heads up before they drown. Braga wants them alive.\" The soldiers nodded and went to work.\n\n\"This hearing of the High Court of Melengar has been assembled in good order to review allegations made against the Princess Arista Essendon by the Lord Chancellor, the Archduke of Melengar, Percy Braga.\" The strong voice of the chief magistrate boomed across the chamber. \"Princess Arista stands duly accused of treason against the crown, the murder of her father and brother, and the practicing of witchcraft.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The largest room in the castle, the Court of Melengar had a cathedral ceiling, stained-glass windows, and walls rimmed in emblems and shields of the noble houses of the kingdom. Bench seats and balconies were overflowing with spectators. The nobles and the city's affluent merchants pressed into seethe royal trial of the princess. Outside, many common people had been gathering since dawn and waited in the snow as runners reported the proceedings. A wall of armor-clad soldiers held them at bay.\n\nThe court itself was a boxed set of bleachers composed of tiered armchairs where the ranking nobles of the kingdom sat. Several of the seats were vacant, but enough had arrived to serve Braga's purpose. Still frosty with the morning chill, most of the court wore fur wraps as they waited for the fire in the great hearth to warm the room. At the front of the court stood the empty throne, its vacancy looming like an ominous specter before the court. Its presence was a stark reminder of the gravity and scope of the trial. The verdict could decide who would sit there next and control the reins of the kingdom.\n\n\"This judicial court, comprised of men of good standing and sound wisdom, will now hear the allegations and the evidence. May Maribor grant them wisdom.\"\n\nThe chief magistrate took his seat and a heavyset man with a short beard wreathing his small mouth stood up. He was dressed inexpensive looking robes that flowed behind him as he paced before the jury, eyeing each man carefully.\n\n\"Lords of the Court,\" the lawyer said addressing the bleachers with a dramatic sweep of his arm. \"Your noble personages have by now learned that our good king Amrath was murdered seven days past in this very castle. You may also be aware Prince Alric is missing, presumed abducted and murdered. But how could such things as these happen within a king's own castle walls? A king might be murdered, a prince might be abducted, but both in the same night one after the other? How is this possible?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The crowd quieted as they struggled to hear.\n\n\"How is it possible that two killers slipped inside the castle unnoticed, stabbed the king to death, and, despite being caught and locked in the dungeon, were able to escape? This in itself is incredible, because the cell in which they were locked was heavily guarded by skilled soldiers. Not only were they imprisoned, they were also chained by their wrists and ankles to the wall. But what is beyond amazing, what is beyond belief, is that after managing their miraculous escape, the two did not flee! No, indeed! Informed while in captivity that they would be drawn and quartered at dawn-a most painful and gruesome death to be certain-for their most heinous crime, these two killers remained in a castle filled with hundreds of soldiers ready to thrust them back into their cell. Rather than flee for their lives, instead they sought out the prince, the most heavily guarded and high-profile personage in the castle, and kidnapped him! I ask you again, how is this possible? Were the castle guards asleep? Were they so totally incompetent as to let the killers of the king walkout? Or could it be that the assassins had help?\n\n\"Could a guard have done this? A foreign spy? Even a trusted baron or earl? No! None of them would have the authority to enter the dungeon to seethe killers of the king much less free them. Nay, gracious lords, no person in the castle that night had the authority to enter those jails so easily, save one-Princess Arista! Being the daughter of the victim, who could deny her the right to spit in the faces of the men who murdered her father so brutally? Only she wasn't thereto defile the killers, she came to help them finish the job she started!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The crowd murmured.\n\n\"This is an outrage!\" an elderly man protested from the bleachers. \"To accuse the poor girl of her father's death, you should be ashamed! Where is she? Why is she not present to dispute these claims?\"\n\n\"Lord Valin,\" the lawyer addressed him, \"we are honored to have you with us today. This court will call the princess forth shortly. She is not here for the presenting of facts as it is a tedious and unpleasant matter, and this court does not want the princess to endure it. Likewise, those called to testify can speak freely, without the presence of their future queen, should she be found innocent. And there are still other, more unpleasant reasons of which I will elaborate upon in due time.\"\n\nThis did not appear to change Lord Valin's mood, but he made no further protest and sat back down.\n\n\"The court of Melengar calls Reuben Hilfred to testify.\"\n\nThe lawyer paused as the big soldier still dressed in ring mail and the tabard of the falcon stood before the court. His stance was proud and straight, but his expression was anything but pleased.\n\n\"Hilfred,\" the lawyer addressed him,\"what is your position here at Essendon Castle?\"\n\n\"I am personal bodyguard to Princess Arista,\" he told the court in aloud clear voice.\n\n\"Tell us Reuben, what is your rank?\"\n\n\"I am sergeant-at-arms.\"\n\n\"That's a fairly high rank, isn't it?\"\n\n\"It is a respected position.\"\n\n\"How did you attain this rank?\"\n\n\"I was singled out for some reason.\"\n\n\"For some reason? For some reason?\" the lawyer repeated, laughing gaily. \"Is it not true you were recommended for promotion by Captain Wylin for your years of consistent and unwavering loyalty to the crown? Moreover, is it not true that the king himself appointed you to be his daughter's personal bodyguard after you risked your life and saved Arista from the fire that killed the queen mother? Were you not also presented with a commendation for bravery by the king? Are not all these things true?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"I sense in you a reluctance to be here, Reuben. Am I correct?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"It is because you are loyal to your princess, and you do not wish to be apart of anything which might harm her. That is an admirable quality. Still, you are also an honorable man, and as such, you must speak truthfully in your testimony before this court. So tell us, Reuben, what happened the night the king was murdered?\"\n\nHilfred shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other and then took a breath and spoke. \"It was late, and the princess was asleep in her bed. I was on post at the tower stairs when the king was found. Captain Wylin ordered me to check on Princess Arista. Before I reached her door, she came out, startled by the noise.\"\n\n\"How was she dressed?\" the lawyer asked.\n\n\"Ina gown, I am not sure which.\"\n\n\"But she was dressed? Was she not? Not in a robe or nightclothes?\"\n\n\"Yes, she was dressed.\"\n\n\"You've spent years guarding Arista. Have you ever known her to sleep in her gowns?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Never?\"\n\n\"Never.\"\n\n\"But I assume you've no doubt stood outside her door when she went to dress for meals or to change after traveling. Does she have servants to help her dress?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"How many?\"\n\n\"Three.\"\n\n\"And how long is the fastest you recall her dressing?\"\n\n\"I am not certain.\"\n\n\"Make a guess, the court will not hold you to the exact time.\"\n\n\"Perhaps twenty minutes.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Twenty minutes with three servants. That is actually quite fast considering all the ties and toggles that require lacing for most ladies'clothing. Now how long would you say it was between the discovery of the king's body and the time the princess came out of her room?\"\n\nHilfred hesitated.\n\n\"How long?\" the lawyer persisted.\n\n\"Perhaps ten minutes.\"\n\n\"Ten minutes, you say? And when she came out of her room, how many servants were with her?\"\n\n\"None, that I saw.\"\n\n\"Amazing! The princess woke up unexpectedly in the dark and managed to dress herself fully in a lavish gown in ten minutes without the help of a single servant!\"\n\nThe lawyer paced the floor, his head down in thought, a finger tapping his lips. He paused with his back to Hilfred. Then, as if a sudden thought occurred to him, he spun abruptly.\n\n\"Tell us, how did she take the news of the king's death?\"\n\n\"She was shocked.\"\n\n\"Did she weep?\"\n\n\"I am sure she did.\"\n\n\"But did you see her?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Then what happened?\"\n\n\"She went to Prince Alric's chambers to find him and was surprised he wasn't there. She then-\"\n\n\"Please stop there just a minute. She went to Alric's chambers? She learns her father is murdered and her first inclination is to go to her brother's room? Did you not find it odd she didn't immediately rush to her father's side? After all, no one suggested any harm had come to Alric, had they?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"What happened next?\"\n\n\"She went to view her father's body, and Alric arrived.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"After the prince sentenced the prisoners to death, what did the princess do?\"\n\n\"I don't understand what you mean,\" Hilfred replied.\n\n\"Is it true she went to visit them?\" the lawyer questioned.\n\n\"Yes, she did.\"\n\n\"And were you with her?\"\n\n\"I was asked to wait outside the cell.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Has she often asked you to wait outside when speaking with people?\"\n\n\"Sometimes.\"\n\n\"Often?\"\n\n\"Not often.\"\n\n\"Then what happened?\"\n\n\"She called for monks to give last rights to the murderers.\"\n\n\"She called for monks?\" the lawyer repeated with a clear note of skepticism in his voice. \"Her father is murdered and she is concerned about the murderers' souls? Why did she call for two monks? Was one not sufficient to do the job for both? For that matter, why not call the castle priest?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"And did she also order the murderers unchained?\"\n\n\"Yes, to be able to kneel.\"\n\n\"And when the monks entered the cell did you go with them?\"\n\n\"No, again she asked me to remain outside.\"\n\n\"So, the monks could enter, but not her trusted bodyguard? Not even when the known killers of her father were unchained and free? Then what?\"\n\n\"She came out of the cell. She wanted me to stay behind and escort the monks to the kitchen after they were done giving last rites.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"She didn't say.\"\n\n\"Did you ask?\"\n\n\"No, sir. As a man-at-arms, it is not my place to question the orders from a member of the royal family.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I see, but were you pleased with these orders?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I was fearful more assassins might be in the castle, and I didn't wish the princess to be out of my sight.\"\n\n\"In point of fact, wasn't Captain Wylin in the process of searching the castle for additional threats, and didn't he make everyone aware he felt the castle was unsafe?\"\n\n\"He did.\"\n\n\"Did the princess explain to you where she was going so you could find her after performing your duty to the monks?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I see. And how do you know the two you escorted to the kitchens were the monks? Did you see their faces?\"\n\n\"Their hoods were up.\"\n\n\"Did they have their hoods up when they entered the cell?\"\n\nHilfred thought a moment and then shook his head. \"I don't think so.\"\n\n\"So, on a night when her father is killed, she orders her personal bodyguard to leave her unprotected and to escort two monks down to the empty kitchens-two monks who decided suddenly to pull their hoods up inside the castle, hiding their faces? And what about the murderers' possessions? Where were they?\"\n\n\"They were in the custody of the cell warden.\"\n\n\"And what did she say to the warden concerning them?\"\n\n\"She told him she was going to have the monks take them for the poor.\"\n\n\"And did they take them?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThe lawyer softened his address. \"Reuben, you don't strike meas a fool. Fools don't rise to the rank and position you have achieved. When you heard the killers escaped, and the monks were found chained in their place, did it cross your mind that maybe the princess had arranged it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I assumed the killers attacked the monks after the princess left the cell.\"\n\n\"You didn't answer my question,\" the lawyer said. \"I asked if it crossed your mind?\"\n\nReuben said nothing.\n\n\"Did it?\"\n\n\"Perhaps, but only briefly.\"\n\n\"Let us turn our attention to more recent events. Were you present during the conversation between Arista and her uncle in his study?\"\n\n\"Yes, but I was asked to wait outside.\"\n\n\"To wait just outside the door correct?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Therefore could you hear what transpired inside?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Is it true the princess entered the archduke's office, where he was diligently working at locating the prince, and informed him that Prince Alric was clearly dead and that no search was needed? That he would make a better use of his time...\" he paused here and turned to face the nobles, \"... to begin preparations for her coronation as our queen!\"\n\nThere was a decidedly unpleasant murmur from the crowd, and a few of the court whispered and nodded to one another.\n\n\"I don't remember her using those words.\"\n\n\"Did she, or did she not, indicate the archduke should stop looking for Alric?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And did she threaten the archduke, insinuating she would soon hold her coronation, and once she was queen, he might find he was no longer the Lord Chancellor?\"\n\n\"I believe she did say something to that effect, but she was angry-\"\n\n\"That will be all, sergeant-at-arms; that's all I asked. You can step down.\" Hilfred began to leave the witness box when the lawyer spoke again. \"Oh, I'm sorry... just one last thing. Have you ever seen or heard the princess cry over the loss of her father or brother?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"She is a very private woman.\"\n\n\"Yes or no?\"\n\nHilfred hesitated. \"No, I haven't.\"\n\n\"I am prepared to call the cell warden to corroborate the testimony of Hilfred if the court feels his account of the events is not truthful,\" the lawyer told the magistrates.\n\nThey conferred in whispers, and then the chief magistrate replied, \"That won't be necessary; the word of the sergeant-at-arms Hilfred is recognized as honorable and we will not question it here. You may proceed.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you areas perplexed as I was,\" the lawyer said, addressing the bleachers in a sympathetic voice. \"Many of you know her. How could this sweet girl attack her own father and brother? Was it just to gain a throne? It's not like her, is it? I ask you to bear with me. The reason should become quite clear in a moment. The court calls Bishop Saldur to testify.\"\n\nEyes from the gallery swept the room looking for the cleric as the old man slowly stood up from his seat and approached the witness box.\n\n\"Your grace, you have been in this castle on many occasions. You know the royal family extremely well. Can you shed some light on her highness' motivations?\"\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" Bishop Saldur spoke to the court and judges in his familiar warm and humble tone, \"I have watched over the royal family for years and this recent tragedy is heartbreaking and dreadful. The accusation the archduke brings against the princess is painful to my ears for I feel almost like a grandfather to the poor girl. However, I cannot hide the truth, which is-she is dangerous.\"\n\nThis brought around of whispers between the spectators.\n\n\"I can assure each of you she is no longer the sweet innocent child whom I used to hold in my arms. I have seen her, spoken to her, watched her in her grief-or rather the lack of grief-for her father and brother. I can tell you truly her lust for knowledge and power has caused her to fall into the arms of evil.\" The bishop paused, dropping his head into his hands and shaking it. He looked up with a remorse-filled face and said, \"It is the result of what happens when a woman is educated and in Arista's case, introduced to the wicked powers of black magic.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was a collective gasp issued from the crowd.\n\n\"Against my advice, King Amrath allowed her to attend the university where she studied sorcery. She opened herself up to the forces of darkness, and it created in her a craving for power. Education planted an evil seed in her, and it flowered into the horrible deaths of her father and her brother. She is no longer a princess of the realm, but a witch. This is evident by the fact she hasn't wept for her father. You see, as a learned bishop of the Church, I know-witches cannot cry.\"\n\nThe crowd gasped again. From somewhere in the gallery, Braga heard a man say, \"I knew it!\"\n\nThe lawyer called Countess Amril to the court, and she testified that two years earlier Arista had hexed her when she told the handsome squire Davens that the princess fancied him. Amril went onto describe how she suffered horribly for days of sickness and boils as a result.\n\nNext, the lawyer called the monks, who like Countess Amril, were eager to relate how they had been ill-used by the princess. They told how she had insisted the thieves be unchained despite their assurance it was not necessary and explained they were attacked the moment she left the room.\n\nThe crowd's reaction grew louder, and even Lord Valin looked troubled.\n\nPercy Braga observed the audience with satisfaction from his seat at the rear of the magistrates. The faces of the gentry were filling with anger. He had successfully coaxed the spark into aflame and the flame would soon be ablaze.\n\nIn the crowd, he spotted Wylin moving in the wings toward him.\n\n\"We have them, my lord,\" Wylin reported in a whisper. \"They are gagged and locked in the dungeon. A little banged up by two of my overzealous men, but alive.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Excellent, and has there been any movement on the roads? Has there been any indication nobles loyal to the traitor Arista may attack?\"\n\n\"I don't know, sir. I came directly from the sewers.\"\n\n\"Very well, get to the gate and sound the horn if you see anything. I'm concerned there maybe an assault from Pickering of Drondil Fields. Oh, and if you see that wretched little dwarf, tell him it is time to bring the princess down.\"\n\n\"Of course, your lordship.\" Wylin pulled a small parchment rolled into a tube from his tabard. \"I was passed this on my way in. It just arrived via messenger addressed to you.\" Braga took the missive from Wylin and the master-at-arms left with a bow.\n\nBraga grinned at the ease of it all. He wondered if the princess in her distant tower prison could sense her coming death. Her own beloved citizens would soon be begging-nay demanding-her execution. He had yet to present the storeroom administrator who would attest to the stolen dagger that was later found in Arista's possession. And then of course, there were now the thieves. He would hold them until the last and drag them out to the floor gagged and chained. The mere sight of them was likely to start a riot. He would have Wylin explain how he apprehended them trying to save the princess. The magistrates would have no choice but to rule against Arista and grant him the throne.\n\nHe would still have to deal with the possibility of Alric attacking, but that could not be helped now. He was certain he would defeat Alric. Several of the more disgruntled eastern lords already agreed to join him the moment he was crowned king. Once the trial was complete and Arista dead, he planned to hold the coronation. By tomorrow, he would marshal the kingdom. Alric would cease to be a prince and become a fugitive."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The court calls storage clerk Kline Druess,\" the lawyer was saying, \"who was in charge of keeping the knife used to kill the king.\"\n\nMore damning evidence, Braga thought as he unrolled the scroll that Wylin had presented him. It had no seal, no emblem of nobility, only a simple string tie. He read the message, which was as simple as its package."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The archduke crumpled the note in his fist and glared around at the numerous faces in the crowd wondering if whoever wrote it was watching him. His heart began beating faster, and he stood up slowly trying not to draw attention to himself.\n\nThe lawyer caught sight of his movement and gave him a curious look. Braga dismissed his concern with a slight wave of his hand. He left the court, forcing himself to walk slowly and calmly. The moment he passed out through the chamber doors, and out of sight of the crowd, he trotted through the castle halls, his cape whipping behind him. In his fist, he held onto the note, crushing it.\n\nIt wasn't possible, he thought, it couldn't be! Hearing footfalls approaching rapidly from behind, he stopped and spun, drawing his sword.\n\n\"Is there a problem, Braga?\" Archibald Ballentyne inquired. He held his hands up defensively before the point of the archduke's blade. Braga silently threw the crumpled note at him and resumed his march toward the dungeon.\n\n\"It's those thieves, those damned thieves,\" the Earl of Chadwick called out as he ran after Braga. \"They're demons! Magicians! Evil mages! They are like smoke, appearing and disappearing at will.\"\n\nArchibald caught up with Braga and they descended the stairs to the detention block where the door guard dodged aside just in time to avoid the archduke. After trying the door and finding it locked, Braga hammered on it. The warden promptly left his desk and brought his keys for the red-faced archduke.\n\n\"My lord, I-\"\n\n\"Open the cell to the prisoners Wylin's men just brought in. Do it now!\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\" Fumbling with his great ring of keys, the warden moved quickly to the cell hall. Two castle guards stood watch to either side of a door and promptly stepped aside at his approach."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Have you two been here since the prisoners were brought in?\" Braga asked the guards.\n\n\"Aye, my lord,\" the guard on the left replied. \"Captain Wylin ordered us to stand guard and to allow absolutely no admittance to anyone except him or you.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" he said. Then, to the warden, he added, \"Open it.\"\n\nThe warden unlocked the door and entered the cell. Inside, Braga saw two men chained to the wall, stripped to their waist with gags in their mouths. They were not the same men he saw the night of the king's murder.\n\n\"Remove the gags,\" Braga ordered the warden. \"Who are you? What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"M-m-my name's Bendent, your lordship, I'm just a street sweeper from Dock Street-honest-we weren't doing nothing wrong!\"\n\n\"What were you two doing in the sewers under this castle?\"\n\n\"Hunting rats, sir,\" the other one said.\n\n\"Rats?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, honest, we was. We was told there was a big event herein the castle this morning and the castle kitchen was complaining about rats climbing up from the sewers. \"Cause of the cold, you see, sir. We was told we'd get paid a silver tenet for every rat we done killed and brought out-only...\"\n\n\"Only what?\"\n\n\"Only we never seen no rats, your lordship.\"\n\n\"Before we found any, we were knocked out by soldiers and brought here.\"\n\n\"See? What did I tell you?\" Archibald told Braga. \"They took her already. They stole her right from under your nose just like they took my letters!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"They couldn't have. There's noway to getup to Arista's tower. It is too high, and it can't be climbed.\"\n\n\"I'm telling you, Braga, these men are skilled. They scaled my Gray Tower well enough, and it is one of the tallest there is.\"\n\n\"Trust me, Archibald. Arista's tower can't be climbed.\"\n\n\"But they did it,\" Ballentyne insisted. \"I didn't think it was possible when they did it tome either, not until I opened the safe and my prize was gone. Now your prize is gone, and what will you do with that crowd out there when you have no princess to burn!\"\n\n\"It's just not possible,\" Braga repeated, pushing Ballentyne out of his way. \"You two,\" he said to the guards still standing outside the cell as he walked out, \"come with me and bring one of those gags. It's time the princess came down for her court appearance!\"\n\nBraga led them through the castle and up six flights of stairs to the residence level. The hallway here was empty. All of the servants were gathered with the others, listening to the proceedings of the trial.\n\nThey passed the royal chapel and continued up the hallway to the next door. \"Magnus!\" Braga shouted, throwing the door open. Inside a dwarf with a braided brown beard and abroad flat nose lay on abed. He was dressed in a blue leather vest, large black boots, and a bright orange puffed sleeved shirt that made his arms appear huge.\n\n\"Is it time?\" the dwarf asked. Hopping off the bed, he yawned and rubbed his eyes.\n\n\"Is there any chance someone could have gotten up in her tower and stolen Arista out of there?\" Braga asked urgently."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"None whatsoever,\" the dwarf said with atone of total confidence. Braga looked back and forth between Ballentyne and the dwarf, scowling.\n\n\"I have to know for certain. Besides, she needs to comedown for the burning anyway and I must get back to the trial. Archibald, go get Wylin, my master-at-arms; he's stationed at the castle gate. Tell him to come to the royal residence wing and provide assistance guarding the princess. I need tight security on this girl. Do you understand me, tight!\" Braga now turned his attention to the dwarf. \"You'll have to fetch her. Take these guards with you, one of them has a gag. Make sure they use it before bringing her down.\" To the guards the archduke added, \"The princess has been corrupted by dark magic; she's a witch and can play tricks with your mind, so don't let her talk to you. Get her and bring her to the court.\" The guards nodded and the dwarf led them down the hallway in the direction of the tower.\n\n\"I'll do as you say, Percy, but I'm sure she is already gone,\" Archibald insisted. \"These bastards are incredible. They're like ghosts, and they have no fear at all. They work right under your nose, steal you blind, and then have the audacity to send you a note telling you what they have done!\"\n\nBraga paused in thought. \"Yes, why did they do that?\" he asked himself. \"If they took her, why let me know? And if they didn't, they must have suspected I would immediately check to...\" He glanced over his shoulder in the direction the dwarf had gone. \"Get Wylin up here, now!\" he shouted at the earl and shoved him on his way.\n\nBraga ran up the hallway, following the dwarf and the two guards. They were just entering the north corridor, which led directly to the tower when he caught up to them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Stop where you are!\"\n\nThe dwarf turned around, with a puzzled expression on his face. The guards responded differently. The larger of the two pivoted, drawing his sword, and moved to block the archduke's passage.\n\n\"Time to move, Royce,\" Hadrian said, casting off his helm. The standard issue sword of the Melengar guard felt heavy and awkward in his grip.\n\nRoyce removed his helm as well, as he moved past the dwarf, running quickly down the hall.\n\n\"Stop him, you fool!\" Braga ordered the dwarf, but he was too slow to react. The thief was already far down the hall and the small dwarf ran after him. Braga drew his own sword and turned his attention to Hadrian.\n\n\"Do you know who I am? I know we met in the dungeon recently when you were hanging in chains, but are you aware of my reputation? I am Archduke Percy Braga, Lord Chancellor of Melengar, and more importantly, the winner of the title of Grand Circuit Tournament Swords Master, for the last five years in a row. Do you have any titles? Any ribbons won? Any awards bestowed? Are there trophies shelved for your handling of a sword? I have bested the best in Avryn, even the famous Pickering and his magic rapier.\"\n\n\"The way I heard it, he didn't have his sword the day you two dueled.\"\n\nBraga laughed. \"That sword story is just that-a story. He uses it as an excuse to account for his losses or when he is afraid of an opponent. His sword is just a common rapier with a fancy hilt.\"\n\nBraga moved in and swiped at Hadrian in a savagely fast attack that drove him backward. He struck again and Hadrian had to leap backwards to avoid being slashed across the chest."},{"from":"human","value":"\"You're fast."},{"from":"gpt","value":"That's good, it will make this more interesting. You see, Mister Thief, I'm sure you have the situation here all wrong. You maybe under the impression that you are holding meat bay while your friend races to the rescue of the damsel in distress. How noble fora commoner like yourself. You must entertain dreams of being a knight to be so idealistic.\" Braga lunged, dipped, and slashed. Hadrian fell back again, and once more, Braga smiled and laughed at him. \"The truth is, you are not holding meat all. I am holding you.\"\n\nThe archduke feinted left and then short-stroked toward Hadrian's body. He dodged the attack, but it put him off balance and off guard. Although Braga's stroke missed, it allowed him the opportunity to punch the hilt of his sword hard into Hadrian's face, throwing him back against the corridor wall. His lip began to bleed. Immediately, Braga lashed out again, but Hadrian had moved, and the archduke's sword sparked across the stonewall.\n\n\"That looked like it hurt.\"\n\n\"I've had worse,\" Hadrian said. He was panting slightly, his voiceless confident.\n\n\"I must admit, you two have been quite impressive. Your reputation is certainly well earned. It was very clever of you two, slipping in the sewers behind those rat catchers, using them as a decoy. It was also intelligent of you to send that note causing me to direct you right to the princess, but your genius ended there. You see, I can kill you whenever I want, but I want you alive. I need at least one person to execute. The mob will insist on that. Ina few moments, Wylin and a dozen guards will come up here, and you will betaken to the stake. Meanwhile, your friend, whom you are sure is rescuing Arista, will be the instrument of her death and his as well. You could run and warn him, but oh-that's right-you are keeping meat bay, aren't you?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Braga grinned evilly and attacked again.\n\nRoyce reached a door at the end of the hall and was not surprised to find it locked. He pulled his tools from his belt. The lock was traditional, and he had no trouble picking it. The door swung open, but immediately Royce knew something was wrong. He felt, more than heard, a click as the door pulled back. His instincts told him something was not right. He looked up the spiral stairs that disappeared around the circle of the tower. Nothing looked amiss, but years of experience told him otherwise.\n\nHe tentatively put afoot on the first step and nothing happened. He moved to the second, and the third, inching his way up. Listening for any telltale sounds, he searched for wires, levers, or loose tiles. Everything appeared safe. Behind him down the hallway, he could hear the faint sounds of swordplay as Hadrian entertained the archduke. He needed to hurry.\n\nHe moved up five more steps. There were small windows, no more than three feet tall and only afoot wide, just enough to allow light to pass through, but nothing else. The brilliant wintry sun revealed the staircase in a colorless brilliance. Weight, rather than mortar, held the smooth stonewalls together. The steps were likewise made of solid blocks of stone also fitted with amazing artisanship so that a sheet of parchment could not slip between the cracks.\n\nRoyce moved up to the sixth step, and as he shifted his weight to the higher stone block, the tower shook. In reaction, he instinctively started to step back and then it happened. The previous five steps collapsed. They broke and fell out of sight into an abyss below him. Royce shifted his weight forward again just in time to avoid falling to his death and took another off balance step upward. The moment he did, the previous step broke away and fell. The tower rumbled again."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your first mistake was picking the lock,\" Magnus told him.\n\nRoyce could hear the dwarf's voice from the doorway below. When he turned, he could seethe dwarf standing just outside the door in the castle corridor. He stood there, spinning a door key tied to a string around his index finger, winding and unwinding it. He absently stroked the hair of his beard.\n\n\"If you open the door without using the key, it engages the trap,\" Magnus explained with a grin.\n\nThe dwarf began to pace slowly before the open door like a professor addressing a class. \"You can't jump the hole you made to get back here. It's already too far. And, in case you are wondering, the bottom is along way down. You started climbing this tower on the sixth floor of the castle, and the base of the tower extends to the bedrock below the foundation. I also added plenty of jagged rocks at the bottom, just for fun.\"\n\n\"You made this?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"Of course, well-not the tower, it was here already. I spent the last half-year hollowing it out like a stone-eating termite.\" He grinned and flashed his eyes. \"There's very little stone left in it. All those very solid looking blocks of rock you see are parchment-thin. I left just the right amount of structure in place. The inside looks like a spiderweb made of stone rather than thread. Tiny strands of rock in a latticework of a classic crystalline matrix-strong enough to hold the tower up, but extremely fragile if the right thread is broken.\"\n\n\"And I take it each time I take a step up, the previous one will fall?\"\n\nThe dwarf's grin widened. \"Beautiful, isn't it? You can't go down, but if you go up, you get into an even worse state. The steps work as a horizontal support for the vertical planes. Without the steps to steady the structure, it will twist on itself and fall. Before you reach the top, the entire tower will collapse once enough supports fall away. Don't let my talk about hollow walls put you too much at ease. It is still stone, and the full weight of this tower remains immense. It will very easily crush you, and the lady at the top, should the fall and the sharp rocks at the bottom not manage to do the job. You've already weakened the structure to where it might fall on its own now. I can hear it with the blowing of the wind-the tiny little cracks and pops-all stone makes sounds as it grows, shrinks, twists, or erodes-it's a language I understand very well. It tells me stories of the past and of the future, and right now, this tower is singing.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I hate dwarves,\" Royce muttered."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The water pitcher and basin hit the floor and shattered. The crash jolted Arista, who sat on her bed, disoriented and confused. The room was shaking. All summer the tower had felt strange, but nothing like this. She held her breath-waiting. Nothing happened. The tower stopped moving.\n\nTentatively, she slipped off the bed, crept gingerly toward the windows and looked out. She saw nothing to explain the tremor. Outside the world was blanketed white by afresh layer of snow that was still falling. Is that it? She looked up at the tower's eaves. Is it the snow, sliding off the roof? It did not seem likely... it also did not matter. How much time do I have left?\n\nShe looked down. The crowd still circled the front gate of the castle. There must have been more than a hundred people there, all pressing for news of her trial. Around the perimeter of the castle, three times the usual number of guards patrolled in full armor. Her uncle was not taking any chances. Perhaps he thought the people of the city might rise up against him rather than see their princess burned? She knew better. No one cared if she lived or died. While she knew all the lords, earls and barons by name, and had sat down with them for dozen of meals, she knew they were not her friends. She did not have friends. Braga was right; she spent too much time in her tower. No one really knew her. She lived a solitary life, but this was the first time she ever really felt alone.\n\nShe had spent all night trying to determine exactly what words she would use when brought before the court. In the end, she concluded there was little she could door say. She could accuse Braga of the murder of her father, but she had no proof. He was the one with all the evidence on his side. After all, she had released the two thieves, and she was responsible for Alric's disappearance. And what good did that do?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"What was I thinking?\n\nShe handed her brother over to two unknown thugs. Alric personally explained his intent to torture them to death, and she left him to their mercy! What were the odds of his survival? What was a promise to thieves? She felt sick whenever she imagined them laughing at her expense as they drowned poor Alric in the river. Now they were likely halfway to Calis or Delgos, taking turns wearing the royal signet ring of Melengar. When the scouts had returned with Alric's robe, she was certain he was dead, and yet, why was there nobody?\n\nIs it possible Alric still lives?\n\nNo, she reasoned, it was far more likely Braga kept Alric's corpse hidden. Revealing it before her trial would allow her to make a bid for the throne. Once the trial was over, once she was found guilty and burned, he would miraculously reveal its discovery. It was very possible Braga had Alric's body locked away in one of the rooms below her, or somewhere in the vault.\n\nIt was all her fault. If she had not interfered, perhaps Alric might have taken charge and discovered Braga's treachery. Perhaps he could have saved both of them. Perhaps she was nothing more than a foolish girl after all. At least her death would put an end to the questions and the guilt consuming her. She closed her eyes and once more felt the unsteadiness of the world around her.\n\nThe Galilin host was now a full five hundred strong as it marched through the wintry landscape. Sixty knights dressed in full armor carried lances adorned with long forked banners. They snapped like serpents'tongues in the numbing wind. Myron had overheard Alric, when they were back at Drondil fields, arguing with the other nobles, about marching too soon. Apparently, they were still missing the strength of several lords, and leaving when they did was a risk. Pickering finally agreed to Alric's demands and convinced the others once Barons Himbolt and Rendon arrived, bringing another score of knights. To Myron, the force was impressive at any size."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"At the head of the line rode Prince Alric, Myron, Count Pickering and his two eldest sons, as well as the land-titled nobles. Following them were the knights who rode together in rows four abreast. An entourage of squires, pages, and footmen traveled behind them. Farther back were the ranks of the common men-at-arms: strong, stocky brutes dressed in chain and steel with bullet-shaped helms, plate metal shin guards, and metal shank boots. Each was equipped with a kite shield, a short, broad-blade sword, and along spear. Next inline were the archers in leather jerkins and woolen cloaks that hid their quivers. They marched holding their un-strung bows as though they were mere walking sticks. At the rear came the artisans, smiths, surgeons, and cooks, pulling wagons that hauled the army's supplies.\n\nMyron felt foolish. After hours on the road, he was still having trouble keeping his horse from veering to the left into Fanen's gelding. He was starting to get the hang of the stirrups, but he still had much to learn. The front toe guard, which prevented his feet from resting on the soles, frustrated him. The Pickering boys took him under their wing and explained how only the ball of the foot was to rest on the stirrup brace. This provided better control and prevented afoot from catching in the event of a fall. They also told him how tight stirrups helped to hold his knees to the horse's sides. All of Pickering's horses were leg trained and could be controlled by the feet, thighs, and knees. They were taught this way so that knights could fight with one hand on a lance or sword and the other on a shield. Myron was working on this technique now, squeezing his thighs, trying to persuade the horse to steer right, but it was no use. The more he used his left knee, the more his right knee also squeezed to compensate. The result was confusion on the part of the animal, and it wandered over and brushed against Fanen's mount once again."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You need to be more firm,\" Fanen told him. \"Show her who's in charge.\"\n\n\"She already knows-she is,\" Myron replied pathetically. \"I think I should just stick with the reins. It's not like I will be wielding a sword and shield in the coming battle.\"\n\n\"You never know,\" Fanen said. \"Monks of old used to fight a lot, and Alric said you helped save his life by killing one of those mercenaries who attacked you. So you're one ahead of me there. I've never actually killed a man.\"\n\nMyron frowned and dropped his gaze. \"I wish he hadn't told anyone about that.\"\n\n\"Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Slaying a villain in the service of your king is the stuff of legends and what heroes are made of.\"\n\n\"It didn't feel very heroic. It made me sick. I don't even know why I... no, that's a lie. I really have to stop doing that.\"\n\n\"Doing what?\"\n\n\"Lying. The abbot told me once that lying was a betrayal to one's self. It's evidence of self-loathing. You see, when you are so ashamed of your actions, thoughts, or intentions, you lie to hide it rather than accept yourself for who you really are. The idea of how others see you becomes more important than the reality of you. It's like when a man would rather die than bethought of as a coward. His life is not as important to him as his reputation. In the end, who is the braver? The man who dies rather than bethought of as a coward or the man who lives willing to face who he really is?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, you lost me there,\" Fanen said with a quizzical look."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It doesn't matter, besides, the prince asked me along strictly as a chronicler of events, not as a warrior. I think he wants me to record what happens today in a book.\"\n\n\"Well, if you do, please leave out the way Denek threw a fit at not being allowed to come. It will reflect badly on our family.\"\n\nEverything they passed was new to Myron. He had seen snow, of course, but only in the courtyard and cloister at the abbey. He never saw how it settled on a forest or glittered on the edges of rivers and streams. They were traveling through populated country now, passing village after village; each one larger than the one before. Myron could only stare in fascination at the many different types of buildings, animals, and people he saw along the way. Each time they came into a town, the villagers came out to stare at them. They scurried out of their homes aroused by the ominous thrump, thrump, thrump of the soldiers marching. Some summoned the courage to ask where they were going, but the men said nothing under strict orders to maintain silence.\n\nChildren ran to the edge of the road where parents quickly pulled them back. Myron had never seen a child before, at least not since he had been one. It was not uncommon fora boy to be sent to the abbey at tenor twelve but rarely, if ever, before the age of eight. The smallest of the children fascinated Myron, and he watched them in amazement. They were like short drunk people, loud and usually dirty, but all were surprisingly cute and looked at him in much the same way that he looked at them. They would wave, and Myron could not help but wave back, although he assumed it was not very soldierly to do so.\n\nThe war host moved surprisingly fast. The foot soldiers, responding in unison to orders, alternated between periods of double-time marching with a more relaxed stride, which was only slightly slower. Each of them wore a grim face without a smile among them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"For hours, they marched. No one interfered with them. There were no advance formations lying in ambush, no challenges along the road. To Myron, the trip felt more like an exciting parade than the preparation for an ominous battle. Finally, he saw his first glimpse of Melengar in the distance. Fanen pointed out the great bell tower of Mares Cathedral and the tall spires of Essendon Castle, where no standard flew.\n\nA vanguard rode up and reported a strong force entrenched around the city. The nobles ordered their regiments to form ranks. Flags relayed messages, archers strung their bows, and the army transformed themselves into blocks of men. In long lines of three across, they moved as one. The archers were summoned forward and moved ahead just behind the foot soldiers.\n\nOrdered to the rear, Myron and Fanen rode with the cooks to watch and listen. From his new vantage point, Myron noticed part of the army had broken away from the mainline and was moving to the right side of the city. When the ranks of men reached the rise, which left them visible to the castle walls, a great horn sounded in the distance.\n\nOne of their own answered the castle horn, and the Galilin archers released a barrage of arrows upon the defenders. The shafts flew and appeared to hang briefly in the air like a dark cloud. As they fell, Myron could hear the distant cries of men. He watched with anticipation as the mounted knights broke into three groups. One stayed on the road, while the other two took up flanking positions on either side. The mainline increased their pace to a brisk walk.\n\nWhen they heard the horn, Mason Grumon and Dixon Taft led their mob up Wayward Street, effectively emptying the Lower Quarter. It was the sign Royce and Hadrian told them to wait for; it was the signal to attack."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conspiracy\\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\\nTitle: The Crown Conspiracy\\nChapter: 8\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And that's when he got through to Pickering?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, no,\\\" Braga said. \\\"I actually managed to catch him. A patrol picked him up at The Silver Pitcher Inn.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then I don't understand. Why isn't he here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because my patrol never came back. An advance rider brought the news Alric was captured, but the rest of them disappeared. I investigated and heard some amazing rumors. According to my reports, two men traveling with the prince organized the locals and staged an ambush on the men bringing Alric in.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do you know who these two men were who came to Alric's aid?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have no names, but the prince called them his Royal Protectors. I'm certain, however, they're the same two thieves I setup to take the blame for Amrath's death. Somehow, the prince has managed to retain their services. He must have offered them riches, perhaps even land and title. The boy is more clever than I thought. But no matter, I have made adequate arrangements for him and his friends. I've been bolstering the ranks of the Melengar army for the last several weeks with mercenaries loyal to my money. Amrath never knew. One of the perks of being the Lord Chancellor is not having to get the royal seal on all orders.\\\"\\n\\nThere was another knock at the door, and the servant once again entered. \\\"The Earl of Chadwick is hereto see you, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Archibald Ballentyne? What is he doing here? Get rid of him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, wait,\\\" the bishop intervened. \\\"I asked the earl to come. Please send him in.\\\" The servant bowed and left, closing the door behind him.\\n\\n\\\"I wished you had discussed this with me,\\\" Braga said. \\\"Forgive me, your grace, but I have too much going on today to entertain a visit from a neighboring noble.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes, yes. I know you are quite busy, but the Church has its own matters to attend to. As you well know, you're not the only kingdom we administer to. The Earl of Chadwick possesses a certain interest to us. He is young, ambitious, and easily impressed by success. It will do him good to see firsthand just what kinds of things are possible with the right friends. Besides, having anally on your southern border has benefits for you as well.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you suggesting I try and sway him away from King Ethelred?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ethelred is a good Imperialist, I admit, but there can be only one Emperor. There's no reason it couldn't be you, assuming you continue to prove yourself worthy. Ballentyne has many assets that could help in that endeavor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not even king yet and you're talking Emperor?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Church hasn't lasted for three thousand years by not thinking ahead. Ah, here he is. Come in, come in, Archibald.\\\" Archibald Ballentyne entered, brushing the snow from his cloak and stomping his feet. \\\"Toss your cloak aside and come to the fire. Warm up, lad. The carriage ride must have been a cold one.\\\"\\n\\nArchibald crossed the room and kissed the ring of the still seated bishop, \\\"Good morning, your grace,\\\" he said, then turned and bowed graciously to the archduke. \\\"My lord.\\\"\\n\\nHe swept off his cloak and shook it out carefully. Perplexed, he looked around. \\\"Your servant left before taking my cloak.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just throw it anywhere,\\\" Braga instructed.\\n\\nThe earl looked at him aghast. \\\"This is imported damask with gold thread embroideries.\\\" Just then, the servant reentered with a large comfortable chair. \\\"Ah, there you are. Here take this, and, for Maribor's sake, don't hang it from a peg.\\\" He passed his cloak to the servant, who bowed and left.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Brandy?\\\" Braga asked.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, good lord, yes,\\\" Archibald replied. Braga handed him a glass, the bottom of which was filled with a smoky amber liquid.\\n\\n\\\"I appreciate your coming, Archibald,\\\" the bishop said. \\\"I'm afraid we won't have much time to talk just now, there is quite a bit of turmoil in Melengar today. But as I was telling Braga, I thought it might be beneficial for the three of us to have a quick chat.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm always at your service, of course, your grace. I appreciate any opportunity to meet with you and the new King of Melengar,\\\" Archibald said nonchalantly. Saldur and Braga exchanged looks. \\\"Oh, come now, it can hardly be a secret. You are the archduke and Lord Chancellor. With King Amrath and the prince dead, if you execute Arista, you'll wear the crown. It's really rather nicely done. I commend you. Murder in broad daylight, right before the nobles-they'll cheer you on as you steal their crown.\\\"\\n\\nBraga stiffened. \\\"Are you accusing me of-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course not,\\\" the earl stopped him. \\\"I accuse no one. What care do I have for the affairs of Melengar? My liege is Ethelred of Warric. What happens in your kingdom is none of my affair. I was merely offering my sincere congratulations,\\\" he raised his glass and nodded at the bishop, \\\"to both of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do you have a name for this game, Ballentyne?\\\" Braga asked tentatively as both he and Saldur watched the young earl closely.\\n\\nArchibald smiled again. \\\"My dear gentlemen, I am playing no game. I'm being truthful when I say I am simply in awe. All the more because of my own recent failure. You see, I tried a gamble myself, to increase my station, only it was less than successful.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Braga became quite amused with this primly dressed earl. He understood what the bishop saw in him and he was curious now. \\\"I'm very sorry to hear you suffered difficulties. Exactly what were you attempting?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, I acquired some letters and tried to blackmail the Marquis of Glouston into marrying his daughter tome so I could obtain his Rilan Valley. I had the messages locked in my safe in my private tower and was prepared to present them to Victor in person. Everything was perfect, but... poof.\\\" Archibald made an exploding gesture with his fingers. \\\"The letters vanished. Like a magic trick.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What happened to them?\\\" Saldur asked.\\n\\n\\\"They were stolen. Thieves sawed a hole in the roof of my tower and, in just a matter of minutes, slipped in and snatched them from underneath my very nose.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Impressive,\\\" Saldur judged.\\n\\n\\\"Depressing is what it was. They made me look like a fool.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did you catch the thieves?\\\" Braga asked.\\n\\nArchibald shook his head. \\\"Sadly no, but I finally figured out who they are. It took me days to reason it out. I did not tell anyone I possessed those letters. So, the only ones who could have taken them are the same thieves which I hired in the first place. Cunning devils. They call themselves Riyria. I'm not sure why they stole them, perhaps they planned to charge me twice. I won't give them the satisfaction of course. I'll hire someone else to intercept the next set from the Winds Abbey.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, the letters you had were correspondences between the Marquis of Glouston and the Nationalists?\\\" Saldur asked.\\n\\nArchibald looked at the bishop surprised. \\\"That's an amazing guess, your grace. You are very close. No, they were love letters between his daughter and her Nationalist lover Gaunt. I planned to have Alenda marry me instead to spare Victor the embarrassment of his daughter being involved with a commoner.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Saldur chuckled.\\n\\n\\\"Have I said something funny?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You had more in your hands than you knew,\\\" Saldur informed him. \\\"Those weren't love letters. Those were coded messages from Victor Lanaklin carried by Alenda to Gaunt. The Marquis of Glouston is a traitor to his kingdom and the Imperial cause. With that treasure you could have had all of Glouston and Victor's head as a wedding gift.\\\"\\n\\nArchibald stood silent and then swallowed the rest of his brandy in one mouthful.\\n\\n\\\"But you won't be able to obtain additional letters. There will be no more meetings at the Winds Abbey. Regrettably, I was forced to ask the archduke hereto teach the monks a lesson for hosting such meetings. The abbey was burned along with the monks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You killed your fellow shepherds of Maribor's flock?\\\" Archibald asked Saldur.\\n\\n\\\"When Maribor sent Novron to us it was as a warrior to destroy our enemies. Our god is not squeamish at the sight of spilled blood, and it is often necessary to prune weak branches to keep the tree strong. Killing the monks was a necessity, but I did spare one, the son of Lanaklin so he could return home and let his father know the deaths were on his hands. We can't have Monarchists and Nationalists allying themselves can we?\\\" Saldur smiled at him. The elderly cleric took another sip of his drink, the moment passed and once more Braga observed the persona of the saintly grandfather returned.\\n\\n\\\"So, you were after Glouston, Archibald?\\\" Braga said, refilling the earl's glass. \\\"Perhaps I misjudged you. Tell me, my dear earl, were you more upset you lost the land or Alenda?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Archibald waved his hand in the air as if he was shooing a fly. \\\"She was merely an added benefit. It's the land I wanted.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see.\\\" Braga glanced at Saldur, who smiled and nodded. \\\"You may still get it.\\\" Braga resumed speaking to the earl. \\\"With me on the throne of Melengar, I will want a strong Imperialist ally guarding my southern border with Warric.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"King Ethelred would call that treason.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And what would you call it?\\\"\\n\\nArchibald smiled and drummed his fingernails on the beautiful cut-crystal of the royal brandy glass, making it ring with a pleasant song. \\\"Opportunity.\\\"\\n\\nBraga sat back down and stretched out his feet to the fire. \\\"If I help you obtain the marchland from Lanaklin, and you throw your allegiance tome, Melengar will replace Warric as the strongest kingdom in Avryn. Similarly, Greater Chadwick will be its most powerful province.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's assuming Ethelred doesn't declare war,\\\" Archibald warned. \\\"Kings often frown upon losing a quarter of their realm, and Ethelred is not the type to take such an action without retaliation. He enjoys fighting. What's more, he's good at it. He has the best army in Avryn now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"True,\\\" Braga said, \\\"but he has no able general to command it. He doesn't have anyone near the talent of your Sir Breckton. That man is gifted when it comes to leading men. If you broke with Warric, could you count on his loyalty to you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Breckton's loyalty tome is unwavering. His father, Lord Belstrad, is a chivalrous knight of archaic dimensions. He beat those values into his sons. Neither Breckton nor his brother-what's his name, the younger Belstrad boy who went to sea-Wesley, would dishonor themselves by opposing a man they have sworn their allegiance to. I do admit, however, their honor can bean inconvenience. I remember once a servant dropped my new fustian hat in the mud, and when I commanded Breckton to cutoff the clumsy oaf's hand in punishment, he refused. Breckton went on for twenty minutes explaining the code of chivalry tome. Oh yes, my lord, he is indeed loyal to House Ballentyne, but I would rather have a less loyal man who simply obeys without question. It is entirely possible that should I break with Warric, Breckton might refuse to fight at all, but I'm certain he would not oppose me. Personally, I would be more concerned with Ethelred himself. He is a fine commander in his own right.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"True,\\\" Braga acknowledged, \\\"but so am I.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I would welcome him engaging me personally. I already have a standing veteran army and a number of mercenaries at the ready. I will be able to muster superior numbers should that prove necessary. The result will be that he would lose all of Warric, and that could provide me the keys to the rest of Avryn and, perhaps, all of Apeladorn.\\\"\\n\\nThis time Archibald chuckled. \\\"My, but I do appreciate your ability to think big. I can see there would be many advantages to my joining with you. Do you really have your sights on the title of Emperor?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why not? If I am poised to conquer, the Patriarch will be eager to throw his allegiance tome just as the Church did with Glenmorgan. If I promise certain rights to the Church, he may even declare me the heir. Then no one will stand against me. In any case, this is for another day. We are getting ahead of ourselves.\\\" Braga turned his attention toward the bishop. \\\"I want to thank you, your grace, for arranging this meeting. It was very educational. But now it is nearly midmorning, and I think it is time to get Arista's trial underway. I would, however, like to invite you to stay, Archibald. As it turns out, I think I maybe able to offer you a gift to show you my commitment to you as a newfound friend of Melengar.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm flattered, my lord. I'd welcome the opportunity to spend time with you, and I'm sure whatever gift you may have will be a generous one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You mentioned the thieves who spoiled your move against Victor Lanaklin called themselves Riyria?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, I did. Why do you ask?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, it appears we share a common interest in these two rogues. They have also been a rather painful thorn in my own side. As you already discovered, they pay no respect to people who hire them and are willing to turn against their employers. I, too, hired them fora task and now find them working against me. I have reason to believe they maybe coming here today, and I have set plans in motion to capture them. If they do indeed make an appearance, I will try them along with Arista. It is quite possible all three will be burning at the stake by early evening.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You are, indeed, most generous, my lord,\\\" Archibald replied, with a nod of his head and a smile on his lips.\\n\\n\\\"I thought you might enjoy that. You mentioned when you arrived that Alric is dead and that is indeed the notion I've been circulating. Unfortunately, it is not so... that is not yet. Arista actually arranged for those thieves to smuggle Alric out of this castle on the night of Amrath's death. I believe he has hired them and they will attempt to save her. Evidence indicates they used the sewers to exit the castle so I've taken extra precautions there. The grate in the kitchen has been sealed, and Wylin, the castle's master-at-arms, waits with his best men hidden to close the river grate behind them. I even failed to post guards near thereto make it more enticing. With luck, the fool of a prince might actually play the boyish hero and come with them. If he does-checkmate!\\\"\\n\\nArchibald nodded with obvious pleasure. \\\"You really are very impressive.\\\"\\n\\nBraga raised his glass in tribute. \\\"Tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To you,\\\" Archibald drank to Braga's health.\\n\\nThere was aloud pounding on the door. \\\"Come!\\\" Braga called irritated.\\n\\n\\\"Lord Chancellor!\\\" One of Braga's hired soldiers burst into the room. His cheeks and nose were red, his armor dripping wet. On his head and shoulders a small bit of snow remained.\\n\\n\\\"Yes? What is it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The wall guard reports footprints in the snow leading to the river near the sewers, my lord.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Excellent,\\\" Braga replied draining his glass. \\\"Take eight men and support Wylin from the river. I don't want them escaping. Remember, if the prince is with them, kill him on sight. Don't let Wylin stop you. Either way, I want the thieves alive. Lock them in the dungeons and gag them as before. I will use them as further incriminating evidence against Arista and burn the whole lot together.\\\" The soldier bowed and left hurriedly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Now, gentlemen, as I was saying, let's join the magistrate and the other nobles.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I'm anxious to get this trial underway.\\\" They all stood and, walking three abreast, they exited the large double doors as one.\\n\\nThe morning sun magnified by the snow entered the river grate as a stark white light. The wintry radiance splintered along the glistening subway ceiling, revealing ancient stone caked in mildew and moss. The light reflected off the frozen sweat of the sewer walls, bouncing back and forth until at last it scattered into the all-consuming darkness. In the gloom, the soldiers waited, crouching and cold. Their feet were ankle-deep in filthy cold water, which streamed between their legs running from the castle drains to the river. For the better part of four hours, they lingered in silence, but now they could hear the sound of footsteps approaching. The sloshing of the dirty water echoed off the sewer walls, and the distant movement of shadows played upon the stone.\\n\\nWith a motion of his hand, Wylin ordered his troop to hold their position and maintain their silence. He wanted to be certain the rearguard was in place, and his prey was insight before he made his move. There were many avenues in the sewers where two men could run and hide in the dark. He did not want to be chasing the rats through amaze of tunnels. Not only was it unpleasant down there, but Wylin knew the archduke wanted the thieves for the morning festivities and would not be pleased with along delay.\\n\\nSoon they came into view. Two men, one tall and broad, the other shorter and slimmer, each dressed in warm winter cloaks with hoods pulled high rounded the corner slowly, pausing from time to time to look about.\\n\\n\\\"Remind me to compliment His Majesty on the quality of his sewers,\\\" one of them mentioned in a mocking tone.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"At least the slime is warmer than the river,\\\" the other replied.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah, too bad this is happening on the coldest day of the year. Why couldn't it be the middle of summer?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That would be warmer for sure, but could you imagine the smell?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Speaking of smell, do you think we're getting close to the kitchen yet?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're the one leading; I can't see a thing inhere.\\\"\\n\\nWylin waved his arm. \\\"Move in, now! Take them!\\\"\\n\\nThe castle guard rushed from their positions in an adjoining tunnel and charged the two men. From behind, more soldiers raced forward, blocking any retreat. The troops encircled the two, swords drawn and shields at the ready.\\n\\n\\\"Careful,\\\" Wylin said, \\\"the archduke says they are full of surprises.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll show you surprises,\\\" one of the soldiers from the rear said and stepping forward struck the tall one with the pommel of his sword dropping him to the ground. Another used his shield and the second man fell unconscious.\\n\\nWylin sighed and glared at his ranks then shrugged. \\\"I was planning on letting them walk, but this works too. Chain \\\"em, gag'em, and drag \\\"em to the dungeons. And for Maribor's sake, get their heads up before they drown. Braga wants them alive.\\\" The soldiers nodded and went to work.\\n\\n\\\"This hearing of the High Court of Melengar has been assembled in good order to review allegations made against the Princess Arista Essendon by the Lord Chancellor, the Archduke of Melengar, Percy Braga.\\\" The strong voice of the chief magistrate boomed across the chamber. \\\"Princess Arista stands duly accused of treason against the crown, the murder of her father and brother, and the practicing of witchcraft.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The largest room in the castle, the Court of Melengar had a cathedral ceiling, stained-glass windows, and walls rimmed in emblems and shields of the noble houses of the kingdom. Bench seats and balconies were overflowing with spectators. The nobles and the city's affluent merchants pressed into seethe royal trial of the princess. Outside, many common people had been gathering since dawn and waited in the snow as runners reported the proceedings. A wall of armor-clad soldiers held them at bay.\\n\\nThe court itself was a boxed set of bleachers composed of tiered armchairs where the ranking nobles of the kingdom sat. Several of the seats were vacant, but enough had arrived to serve Braga's purpose. Still frosty with the morning chill, most of the court wore fur wraps as they waited for the fire in the great hearth to warm the room. At the front of the court stood the empty throne, its vacancy looming like an ominous specter before the court. Its presence was a stark reminder of the gravity and scope of the trial. The verdict could decide who would sit there next and control the reins of the kingdom.\\n\\n\\\"This judicial court, comprised of men of good standing and sound wisdom, will now hear the allegations and the evidence. May Maribor grant them wisdom.\\\"\\n\\nThe chief magistrate took his seat and a heavyset man with a short beard wreathing his small mouth stood up. He was dressed inexpensive looking robes that flowed behind him as he paced before the jury, eyeing each man carefully.\\n\\n\\\"Lords of the Court,\\\" the lawyer said addressing the bleachers with a dramatic sweep of his arm. \\\"Your noble personages have by now learned that our good king Amrath was murdered seven days past in this very castle. You may also be aware Prince Alric is missing, presumed abducted and murdered. But how could such things as these happen within a king's own castle walls? A king might be murdered, a prince might be abducted, but both in the same night one after the other? How is this possible?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The crowd quieted as they struggled to hear.\\n\\n\\\"How is it possible that two killers slipped inside the castle unnoticed, stabbed the king to death, and, despite being caught and locked in the dungeon, were able to escape? This in itself is incredible, because the cell in which they were locked was heavily guarded by skilled soldiers. Not only were they imprisoned, they were also chained by their wrists and ankles to the wall. But what is beyond amazing, what is beyond belief, is that after managing their miraculous escape, the two did not flee! No, indeed! Informed while in captivity that they would be drawn and quartered at dawn-a most painful and gruesome death to be certain-for their most heinous crime, these two killers remained in a castle filled with hundreds of soldiers ready to thrust them back into their cell. Rather than flee for their lives, instead they sought out the prince, the most heavily guarded and high-profile personage in the castle, and kidnapped him! I ask you again, how is this possible? Were the castle guards asleep? Were they so totally incompetent as to let the killers of the king walkout? Or could it be that the assassins had help?\\n\\n\\\"Could a guard have done this? A foreign spy? Even a trusted baron or earl? No! None of them would have the authority to enter the dungeon to seethe killers of the king much less free them. Nay, gracious lords, no person in the castle that night had the authority to enter those jails so easily, save one-Princess Arista! Being the daughter of the victim, who could deny her the right to spit in the faces of the men who murdered her father so brutally? Only she wasn't thereto defile the killers, she came to help them finish the job she started!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The crowd murmured.\\n\\n\\\"This is an outrage!\\\" an elderly man protested from the bleachers. \\\"To accuse the poor girl of her father's death, you should be ashamed! Where is she? Why is she not present to dispute these claims?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lord Valin,\\\" the lawyer addressed him, \\\"we are honored to have you with us today. This court will call the princess forth shortly. She is not here for the presenting of facts as it is a tedious and unpleasant matter, and this court does not want the princess to endure it. Likewise, those called to testify can speak freely, without the presence of their future queen, should she be found innocent. And there are still other, more unpleasant reasons of which I will elaborate upon in due time.\\\"\\n\\nThis did not appear to change Lord Valin's mood, but he made no further protest and sat back down.\\n\\n\\\"The court of Melengar calls Reuben Hilfred to testify.\\\"\\n\\nThe lawyer paused as the big soldier still dressed in ring mail and the tabard of the falcon stood before the court. His stance was proud and straight, but his expression was anything but pleased.\\n\\n\\\"Hilfred,\\\" the lawyer addressed him,\\\"what is your position here at Essendon Castle?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am personal bodyguard to Princess Arista,\\\" he told the court in aloud clear voice.\\n\\n\\\"Tell us Reuben, what is your rank?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am sergeant-at-arms.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's a fairly high rank, isn't it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is a respected position.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How did you attain this rank?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was singled out for some reason.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For some reason? For some reason?\\\" the lawyer repeated, laughing gaily. \\\"Is it not true you were recommended for promotion by Captain Wylin for your years of consistent and unwavering loyalty to the crown? Moreover, is it not true that the king himself appointed you to be his daughter's personal bodyguard after you risked your life and saved Arista from the fire that killed the queen mother? Were you not also presented with a commendation for bravery by the king? Are not all these things true?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes, sir.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I sense in you a reluctance to be here, Reuben. Am I correct?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sir.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is because you are loyal to your princess, and you do not wish to be apart of anything which might harm her. That is an admirable quality. Still, you are also an honorable man, and as such, you must speak truthfully in your testimony before this court. So tell us, Reuben, what happened the night the king was murdered?\\\"\\n\\nHilfred shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other and then took a breath and spoke. \\\"It was late, and the princess was asleep in her bed. I was on post at the tower stairs when the king was found. Captain Wylin ordered me to check on Princess Arista. Before I reached her door, she came out, startled by the noise.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How was she dressed?\\\" the lawyer asked.\\n\\n\\\"Ina gown, I am not sure which.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But she was dressed? Was she not? Not in a robe or nightclothes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, she was dressed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You've spent years guarding Arista. Have you ever known her to sleep in her gowns?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Never?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Never.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But I assume you've no doubt stood outside her door when she went to dress for meals or to change after traveling. Does she have servants to help her dress?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How many?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Three.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And how long is the fastest you recall her dressing?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am not certain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Make a guess, the court will not hold you to the exact time.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps twenty minutes.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Twenty minutes with three servants. That is actually quite fast considering all the ties and toggles that require lacing for most ladies'clothing. Now how long would you say it was between the discovery of the king's body and the time the princess came out of her room?\\\"\\n\\nHilfred hesitated.\\n\\n\\\"How long?\\\" the lawyer persisted.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps ten minutes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ten minutes, you say? And when she came out of her room, how many servants were with her?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"None, that I saw.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Amazing! The princess woke up unexpectedly in the dark and managed to dress herself fully in a lavish gown in ten minutes without the help of a single servant!\\\"\\n\\nThe lawyer paced the floor, his head down in thought, a finger tapping his lips. He paused with his back to Hilfred. Then, as if a sudden thought occurred to him, he spun abruptly.\\n\\n\\\"Tell us, how did she take the news of the king's death?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She was shocked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did she weep?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am sure she did.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But did you see her?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then what happened?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She went to Prince Alric's chambers to find him and was surprised he wasn't there. She then-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Please stop there just a minute. She went to Alric's chambers? She learns her father is murdered and her first inclination is to go to her brother's room? Did you not find it odd she didn't immediately rush to her father's side? After all, no one suggested any harm had come to Alric, had they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What happened next?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She went to view her father's body, and Alric arrived.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"After the prince sentenced the prisoners to death, what did the princess do?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't understand what you mean,\\\" Hilfred replied.\\n\\n\\\"Is it true she went to visit them?\\\" the lawyer questioned.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, she did.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And were you with her?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was asked to wait outside the cell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Has she often asked you to wait outside when speaking with people?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sometimes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Often?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not often.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then what happened?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She called for monks to give last rights to the murderers.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She called for monks?\\\" the lawyer repeated with a clear note of skepticism in his voice. \\\"Her father is murdered and she is concerned about the murderers' souls? Why did she call for two monks? Was one not sufficient to do the job for both? For that matter, why not call the castle priest?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And did she also order the murderers unchained?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, to be able to kneel.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And when the monks entered the cell did you go with them?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, again she asked me to remain outside.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, the monks could enter, but not her trusted bodyguard? Not even when the known killers of her father were unchained and free? Then what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She came out of the cell. She wanted me to stay behind and escort the monks to the kitchen after they were done giving last rites.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She didn't say.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did you ask?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, sir. As a man-at-arms, it is not my place to question the orders from a member of the royal family.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I see, but were you pleased with these orders?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was fearful more assassins might be in the castle, and I didn't wish the princess to be out of my sight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In point of fact, wasn't Captain Wylin in the process of searching the castle for additional threats, and didn't he make everyone aware he felt the castle was unsafe?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He did.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did the princess explain to you where she was going so you could find her after performing your duty to the monks?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see. And how do you know the two you escorted to the kitchens were the monks? Did you see their faces?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Their hoods were up.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did they have their hoods up when they entered the cell?\\\"\\n\\nHilfred thought a moment and then shook his head. \\\"I don't think so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, on a night when her father is killed, she orders her personal bodyguard to leave her unprotected and to escort two monks down to the empty kitchens-two monks who decided suddenly to pull their hoods up inside the castle, hiding their faces? And what about the murderers' possessions? Where were they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They were in the custody of the cell warden.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And what did she say to the warden concerning them?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She told him she was going to have the monks take them for the poor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And did they take them?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThe lawyer softened his address. \\\"Reuben, you don't strike meas a fool. Fools don't rise to the rank and position you have achieved. When you heard the killers escaped, and the monks were found chained in their place, did it cross your mind that maybe the princess had arranged it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I assumed the killers attacked the monks after the princess left the cell.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You didn't answer my question,\\\" the lawyer said. \\\"I asked if it crossed your mind?\\\"\\n\\nReuben said nothing.\\n\\n\\\"Did it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps, but only briefly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let us turn our attention to more recent events. Were you present during the conversation between Arista and her uncle in his study?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, but I was asked to wait outside.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To wait just outside the door correct?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Therefore could you hear what transpired inside?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is it true the princess entered the archduke's office, where he was diligently working at locating the prince, and informed him that Prince Alric was clearly dead and that no search was needed? That he would make a better use of his time...\\\" he paused here and turned to face the nobles, \\\"... to begin preparations for her coronation as our queen!\\\"\\n\\nThere was a decidedly unpleasant murmur from the crowd, and a few of the court whispered and nodded to one another.\\n\\n\\\"I don't remember her using those words.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did she, or did she not, indicate the archduke should stop looking for Alric?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And did she threaten the archduke, insinuating she would soon hold her coronation, and once she was queen, he might find he was no longer the Lord Chancellor?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I believe she did say something to that effect, but she was angry-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That will be all, sergeant-at-arms; that's all I asked. You can step down.\\\" Hilfred began to leave the witness box when the lawyer spoke again. \\\"Oh, I'm sorry... just one last thing. Have you ever seen or heard the princess cry over the loss of her father or brother?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She is a very private woman.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes or no?\\\"\\n\\nHilfred hesitated. \\\"No, I haven't.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am prepared to call the cell warden to corroborate the testimony of Hilfred if the court feels his account of the events is not truthful,\\\" the lawyer told the magistrates.\\n\\nThey conferred in whispers, and then the chief magistrate replied, \\\"That won't be necessary; the word of the sergeant-at-arms Hilfred is recognized as honorable and we will not question it here. You may proceed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm sure you areas perplexed as I was,\\\" the lawyer said, addressing the bleachers in a sympathetic voice. \\\"Many of you know her. How could this sweet girl attack her own father and brother? Was it just to gain a throne? It's not like her, is it? I ask you to bear with me. The reason should become quite clear in a moment. The court calls Bishop Saldur to testify.\\\"\\n\\nEyes from the gallery swept the room looking for the cleric as the old man slowly stood up from his seat and approached the witness box.\\n\\n\\\"Your grace, you have been in this castle on many occasions. You know the royal family extremely well. Can you shed some light on her highness' motivations?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gentlemen,\\\" Bishop Saldur spoke to the court and judges in his familiar warm and humble tone, \\\"I have watched over the royal family for years and this recent tragedy is heartbreaking and dreadful. The accusation the archduke brings against the princess is painful to my ears for I feel almost like a grandfather to the poor girl. However, I cannot hide the truth, which is-she is dangerous.\\\"\\n\\nThis brought around of whispers between the spectators.\\n\\n\\\"I can assure each of you she is no longer the sweet innocent child whom I used to hold in my arms. I have seen her, spoken to her, watched her in her grief-or rather the lack of grief-for her father and brother. I can tell you truly her lust for knowledge and power has caused her to fall into the arms of evil.\\\" The bishop paused, dropping his head into his hands and shaking it. He looked up with a remorse-filled face and said, \\\"It is the result of what happens when a woman is educated and in Arista's case, introduced to the wicked powers of black magic.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was a collective gasp issued from the crowd.\\n\\n\\\"Against my advice, King Amrath allowed her to attend the university where she studied sorcery. She opened herself up to the forces of darkness, and it created in her a craving for power. Education planted an evil seed in her, and it flowered into the horrible deaths of her father and her brother. She is no longer a princess of the realm, but a witch. This is evident by the fact she hasn't wept for her father. You see, as a learned bishop of the Church, I know-witches cannot cry.\\\"\\n\\nThe crowd gasped again. From somewhere in the gallery, Braga heard a man say, \\\"I knew it!\\\"\\n\\nThe lawyer called Countess Amril to the court, and she testified that two years earlier Arista had hexed her when she told the handsome squire Davens that the princess fancied him. Amril went onto describe how she suffered horribly for days of sickness and boils as a result.\\n\\nNext, the lawyer called the monks, who like Countess Amril, were eager to relate how they had been ill-used by the princess. They told how she had insisted the thieves be unchained despite their assurance it was not necessary and explained they were attacked the moment she left the room.\\n\\nThe crowd's reaction grew louder, and even Lord Valin looked troubled.\\n\\nPercy Braga observed the audience with satisfaction from his seat at the rear of the magistrates. The faces of the gentry were filling with anger. He had successfully coaxed the spark into aflame and the flame would soon be ablaze.\\n\\nIn the crowd, he spotted Wylin moving in the wings toward him.\\n\\n\\\"We have them, my lord,\\\" Wylin reported in a whisper. \\\"They are gagged and locked in the dungeon. A little banged up by two of my overzealous men, but alive.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Excellent, and has there been any movement on the roads? Has there been any indication nobles loyal to the traitor Arista may attack?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't know, sir. I came directly from the sewers.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well, get to the gate and sound the horn if you see anything. I'm concerned there maybe an assault from Pickering of Drondil Fields. Oh, and if you see that wretched little dwarf, tell him it is time to bring the princess down.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course, your lordship.\\\" Wylin pulled a small parchment rolled into a tube from his tabard. \\\"I was passed this on my way in. It just arrived via messenger addressed to you.\\\" Braga took the missive from Wylin and the master-at-arms left with a bow.\\n\\nBraga grinned at the ease of it all. He wondered if the princess in her distant tower prison could sense her coming death. Her own beloved citizens would soon be begging-nay demanding-her execution. He had yet to present the storeroom administrator who would attest to the stolen dagger that was later found in Arista's possession. And then of course, there were now the thieves. He would hold them until the last and drag them out to the floor gagged and chained. The mere sight of them was likely to start a riot. He would have Wylin explain how he apprehended them trying to save the princess. The magistrates would have no choice but to rule against Arista and grant him the throne.\\n\\nHe would still have to deal with the possibility of Alric attacking, but that could not be helped now. He was certain he would defeat Alric. Several of the more disgruntled eastern lords already agreed to join him the moment he was crowned king. Once the trial was complete and Arista dead, he planned to hold the coronation. By tomorrow, he would marshal the kingdom. Alric would cease to be a prince and become a fugitive.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The court calls storage clerk Kline Druess,\\\" the lawyer was saying, \\\"who was in charge of keeping the knife used to kill the king.\\\"\\n\\nMore damning evidence, Braga thought as he unrolled the scroll that Wylin had presented him. It had no seal, no emblem of nobility, only a simple string tie. He read the message, which was as simple as its package.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The archduke crumpled the note in his fist and glared around at the numerous faces in the crowd wondering if whoever wrote it was watching him. His heart began beating faster, and he stood up slowly trying not to draw attention to himself.\\n\\nThe lawyer caught sight of his movement and gave him a curious look. Braga dismissed his concern with a slight wave of his hand. He left the court, forcing himself to walk slowly and calmly. The moment he passed out through the chamber doors, and out of sight of the crowd, he trotted through the castle halls, his cape whipping behind him. In his fist, he held onto the note, crushing it.\\n\\nIt wasn't possible, he thought, it couldn't be! Hearing footfalls approaching rapidly from behind, he stopped and spun, drawing his sword.\\n\\n\\\"Is there a problem, Braga?\\\" Archibald Ballentyne inquired. He held his hands up defensively before the point of the archduke's blade. Braga silently threw the crumpled note at him and resumed his march toward the dungeon.\\n\\n\\\"It's those thieves, those damned thieves,\\\" the Earl of Chadwick called out as he ran after Braga. \\\"They're demons! Magicians! Evil mages! They are like smoke, appearing and disappearing at will.\\\"\\n\\nArchibald caught up with Braga and they descended the stairs to the detention block where the door guard dodged aside just in time to avoid the archduke. After trying the door and finding it locked, Braga hammered on it. The warden promptly left his desk and brought his keys for the red-faced archduke.\\n\\n\\\"My lord, I-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Open the cell to the prisoners Wylin's men just brought in. Do it now!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, my lord.\\\" Fumbling with his great ring of keys, the warden moved quickly to the cell hall. Two castle guards stood watch to either side of a door and promptly stepped aside at his approach.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Have you two been here since the prisoners were brought in?\\\" Braga asked the guards.\\n\\n\\\"Aye, my lord,\\\" the guard on the left replied. \\\"Captain Wylin ordered us to stand guard and to allow absolutely no admittance to anyone except him or you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very good,\\\" he said. Then, to the warden, he added, \\\"Open it.\\\"\\n\\nThe warden unlocked the door and entered the cell. Inside, Braga saw two men chained to the wall, stripped to their waist with gags in their mouths. They were not the same men he saw the night of the king's murder.\\n\\n\\\"Remove the gags,\\\" Braga ordered the warden. \\\"Who are you? What are you doing here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"M-m-my name's Bendent, your lordship, I'm just a street sweeper from Dock Street-honest-we weren't doing nothing wrong!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What were you two doing in the sewers under this castle?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hunting rats, sir,\\\" the other one said.\\n\\n\\\"Rats?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sir, honest, we was. We was told there was a big event herein the castle this morning and the castle kitchen was complaining about rats climbing up from the sewers. \\\"Cause of the cold, you see, sir. We was told we'd get paid a silver tenet for every rat we done killed and brought out-only...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Only what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Only we never seen no rats, your lordship.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Before we found any, we were knocked out by soldiers and brought here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"See? What did I tell you?\\\" Archibald told Braga. \\\"They took her already. They stole her right from under your nose just like they took my letters!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They couldn't have. There's noway to getup to Arista's tower. It is too high, and it can't be climbed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm telling you, Braga, these men are skilled. They scaled my Gray Tower well enough, and it is one of the tallest there is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Trust me, Archibald. Arista's tower can't be climbed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But they did it,\\\" Ballentyne insisted. \\\"I didn't think it was possible when they did it tome either, not until I opened the safe and my prize was gone. Now your prize is gone, and what will you do with that crowd out there when you have no princess to burn!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's just not possible,\\\" Braga repeated, pushing Ballentyne out of his way. \\\"You two,\\\" he said to the guards still standing outside the cell as he walked out, \\\"come with me and bring one of those gags. It's time the princess came down for her court appearance!\\\"\\n\\nBraga led them through the castle and up six flights of stairs to the residence level. The hallway here was empty. All of the servants were gathered with the others, listening to the proceedings of the trial.\\n\\nThey passed the royal chapel and continued up the hallway to the next door. \\\"Magnus!\\\" Braga shouted, throwing the door open. Inside a dwarf with a braided brown beard and abroad flat nose lay on abed. He was dressed in a blue leather vest, large black boots, and a bright orange puffed sleeved shirt that made his arms appear huge.\\n\\n\\\"Is it time?\\\" the dwarf asked. Hopping off the bed, he yawned and rubbed his eyes.\\n\\n\\\"Is there any chance someone could have gotten up in her tower and stolen Arista out of there?\\\" Braga asked urgently.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"None whatsoever,\\\" the dwarf said with atone of total confidence. Braga looked back and forth between Ballentyne and the dwarf, scowling.\\n\\n\\\"I have to know for certain. Besides, she needs to comedown for the burning anyway and I must get back to the trial. Archibald, go get Wylin, my master-at-arms; he's stationed at the castle gate. Tell him to come to the royal residence wing and provide assistance guarding the princess. I need tight security on this girl. Do you understand me, tight!\\\" Braga now turned his attention to the dwarf. \\\"You'll have to fetch her. Take these guards with you, one of them has a gag. Make sure they use it before bringing her down.\\\" To the guards the archduke added, \\\"The princess has been corrupted by dark magic; she's a witch and can play tricks with your mind, so don't let her talk to you. Get her and bring her to the court.\\\" The guards nodded and the dwarf led them down the hallway in the direction of the tower.\\n\\n\\\"I'll do as you say, Percy, but I'm sure she is already gone,\\\" Archibald insisted. \\\"These bastards are incredible. They're like ghosts, and they have no fear at all. They work right under your nose, steal you blind, and then have the audacity to send you a note telling you what they have done!\\\"\\n\\nBraga paused in thought. \\\"Yes, why did they do that?\\\" he asked himself. \\\"If they took her, why let me know? And if they didn't, they must have suspected I would immediately check to...\\\" He glanced over his shoulder in the direction the dwarf had gone. \\\"Get Wylin up here, now!\\\" he shouted at the earl and shoved him on his way.\\n\\nBraga ran up the hallway, following the dwarf and the two guards. They were just entering the north corridor, which led directly to the tower when he caught up to them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Stop where you are!\\\"\\n\\nThe dwarf turned around, with a puzzled expression on his face. The guards responded differently. The larger of the two pivoted, drawing his sword, and moved to block the archduke's passage.\\n\\n\\\"Time to move, Royce,\\\" Hadrian said, casting off his helm. The standard issue sword of the Melengar guard felt heavy and awkward in his grip.\\n\\nRoyce removed his helm as well, as he moved past the dwarf, running quickly down the hall.\\n\\n\\\"Stop him, you fool!\\\" Braga ordered the dwarf, but he was too slow to react. The thief was already far down the hall and the small dwarf ran after him. Braga drew his own sword and turned his attention to Hadrian.\\n\\n\\\"Do you know who I am? I know we met in the dungeon recently when you were hanging in chains, but are you aware of my reputation? I am Archduke Percy Braga, Lord Chancellor of Melengar, and more importantly, the winner of the title of Grand Circuit Tournament Swords Master, for the last five years in a row. Do you have any titles? Any ribbons won? Any awards bestowed? Are there trophies shelved for your handling of a sword? I have bested the best in Avryn, even the famous Pickering and his magic rapier.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The way I heard it, he didn't have his sword the day you two dueled.\\\"\\n\\nBraga laughed. \\\"That sword story is just that-a story. He uses it as an excuse to account for his losses or when he is afraid of an opponent. His sword is just a common rapier with a fancy hilt.\\\"\\n\\nBraga moved in and swiped at Hadrian in a savagely fast attack that drove him backward. He struck again and Hadrian had to leap backwards to avoid being slashed across the chest.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You're fast.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"That's good, it will make this more interesting. You see, Mister Thief, I'm sure you have the situation here all wrong. You maybe under the impression that you are holding meat bay while your friend races to the rescue of the damsel in distress. How noble fora commoner like yourself. You must entertain dreams of being a knight to be so idealistic.\\\" Braga lunged, dipped, and slashed. Hadrian fell back again, and once more, Braga smiled and laughed at him. \\\"The truth is, you are not holding meat all. I am holding you.\\\"\\n\\nThe archduke feinted left and then short-stroked toward Hadrian's body. He dodged the attack, but it put him off balance and off guard. Although Braga's stroke missed, it allowed him the opportunity to punch the hilt of his sword hard into Hadrian's face, throwing him back against the corridor wall. His lip began to bleed. Immediately, Braga lashed out again, but Hadrian had moved, and the archduke's sword sparked across the stonewall.\\n\\n\\\"That looked like it hurt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've had worse,\\\" Hadrian said. He was panting slightly, his voiceless confident.\\n\\n\\\"I must admit, you two have been quite impressive. Your reputation is certainly well earned. It was very clever of you two, slipping in the sewers behind those rat catchers, using them as a decoy. It was also intelligent of you to send that note causing me to direct you right to the princess, but your genius ended there. You see, I can kill you whenever I want, but I want you alive. I need at least one person to execute. The mob will insist on that. Ina few moments, Wylin and a dozen guards will come up here, and you will betaken to the stake. Meanwhile, your friend, whom you are sure is rescuing Arista, will be the instrument of her death and his as well. You could run and warn him, but oh-that's right-you are keeping meat bay, aren't you?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Braga grinned evilly and attacked again.\\n\\nRoyce reached a door at the end of the hall and was not surprised to find it locked. He pulled his tools from his belt. The lock was traditional, and he had no trouble picking it. The door swung open, but immediately Royce knew something was wrong. He felt, more than heard, a click as the door pulled back. His instincts told him something was not right. He looked up the spiral stairs that disappeared around the circle of the tower. Nothing looked amiss, but years of experience told him otherwise.\\n\\nHe tentatively put afoot on the first step and nothing happened. He moved to the second, and the third, inching his way up. Listening for any telltale sounds, he searched for wires, levers, or loose tiles. Everything appeared safe. Behind him down the hallway, he could hear the faint sounds of swordplay as Hadrian entertained the archduke. He needed to hurry.\\n\\nHe moved up five more steps. There were small windows, no more than three feet tall and only afoot wide, just enough to allow light to pass through, but nothing else. The brilliant wintry sun revealed the staircase in a colorless brilliance. Weight, rather than mortar, held the smooth stonewalls together. The steps were likewise made of solid blocks of stone also fitted with amazing artisanship so that a sheet of parchment could not slip between the cracks.\\n\\nRoyce moved up to the sixth step, and as he shifted his weight to the higher stone block, the tower shook. In reaction, he instinctively started to step back and then it happened. The previous five steps collapsed. They broke and fell out of sight into an abyss below him. Royce shifted his weight forward again just in time to avoid falling to his death and took another off balance step upward. The moment he did, the previous step broke away and fell. The tower rumbled again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your first mistake was picking the lock,\\\" Magnus told him.\\n\\nRoyce could hear the dwarf's voice from the doorway below. When he turned, he could seethe dwarf standing just outside the door in the castle corridor. He stood there, spinning a door key tied to a string around his index finger, winding and unwinding it. He absently stroked the hair of his beard.\\n\\n\\\"If you open the door without using the key, it engages the trap,\\\" Magnus explained with a grin.\\n\\nThe dwarf began to pace slowly before the open door like a professor addressing a class. \\\"You can't jump the hole you made to get back here. It's already too far. And, in case you are wondering, the bottom is along way down. You started climbing this tower on the sixth floor of the castle, and the base of the tower extends to the bedrock below the foundation. I also added plenty of jagged rocks at the bottom, just for fun.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You made this?\\\" Royce asked.\\n\\n\\\"Of course, well-not the tower, it was here already. I spent the last half-year hollowing it out like a stone-eating termite.\\\" He grinned and flashed his eyes. \\\"There's very little stone left in it. All those very solid looking blocks of rock you see are parchment-thin. I left just the right amount of structure in place. The inside looks like a spiderweb made of stone rather than thread. Tiny strands of rock in a latticework of a classic crystalline matrix-strong enough to hold the tower up, but extremely fragile if the right thread is broken.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And I take it each time I take a step up, the previous one will fall?\\\"\\n\\nThe dwarf's grin widened. \\\"Beautiful, isn't it? You can't go down, but if you go up, you get into an even worse state. The steps work as a horizontal support for the vertical planes. Without the steps to steady the structure, it will twist on itself and fall. Before you reach the top, the entire tower will collapse once enough supports fall away. Don't let my talk about hollow walls put you too much at ease. It is still stone, and the full weight of this tower remains immense. It will very easily crush you, and the lady at the top, should the fall and the sharp rocks at the bottom not manage to do the job. You've already weakened the structure to where it might fall on its own now. I can hear it with the blowing of the wind-the tiny little cracks and pops-all stone makes sounds as it grows, shrinks, twists, or erodes-it's a language I understand very well. It tells me stories of the past and of the future, and right now, this tower is singing.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I hate dwarves,\\\" Royce muttered.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The water pitcher and basin hit the floor and shattered. The crash jolted Arista, who sat on her bed, disoriented and confused. The room was shaking. All summer the tower had felt strange, but nothing like this. She held her breath-waiting. Nothing happened. The tower stopped moving.\\n\\nTentatively, she slipped off the bed, crept gingerly toward the windows and looked out. She saw nothing to explain the tremor. Outside the world was blanketed white by afresh layer of snow that was still falling. Is that it? She looked up at the tower's eaves. Is it the snow, sliding off the roof? It did not seem likely... it also did not matter. How much time do I have left?\\n\\nShe looked down. The crowd still circled the front gate of the castle. There must have been more than a hundred people there, all pressing for news of her trial. Around the perimeter of the castle, three times the usual number of guards patrolled in full armor. Her uncle was not taking any chances. Perhaps he thought the people of the city might rise up against him rather than see their princess burned? She knew better. No one cared if she lived or died. While she knew all the lords, earls and barons by name, and had sat down with them for dozen of meals, she knew they were not her friends. She did not have friends. Braga was right; she spent too much time in her tower. No one really knew her. She lived a solitary life, but this was the first time she ever really felt alone.\\n\\nShe had spent all night trying to determine exactly what words she would use when brought before the court. In the end, she concluded there was little she could door say. She could accuse Braga of the murder of her father, but she had no proof. He was the one with all the evidence on his side. After all, she had released the two thieves, and she was responsible for Alric's disappearance. And what good did that do?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"What was I thinking?\\n\\nShe handed her brother over to two unknown thugs. Alric personally explained his intent to torture them to death, and she left him to their mercy! What were the odds of his survival? What was a promise to thieves? She felt sick whenever she imagined them laughing at her expense as they drowned poor Alric in the river. Now they were likely halfway to Calis or Delgos, taking turns wearing the royal signet ring of Melengar. When the scouts had returned with Alric's robe, she was certain he was dead, and yet, why was there nobody?\\n\\nIs it possible Alric still lives?\\n\\nNo, she reasoned, it was far more likely Braga kept Alric's corpse hidden. Revealing it before her trial would allow her to make a bid for the throne. Once the trial was over, once she was found guilty and burned, he would miraculously reveal its discovery. It was very possible Braga had Alric's body locked away in one of the rooms below her, or somewhere in the vault.\\n\\nIt was all her fault. If she had not interfered, perhaps Alric might have taken charge and discovered Braga's treachery. Perhaps he could have saved both of them. Perhaps she was nothing more than a foolish girl after all. At least her death would put an end to the questions and the guilt consuming her. She closed her eyes and once more felt the unsteadiness of the world around her.\\n\\nThe Galilin host was now a full five hundred strong as it marched through the wintry landscape. Sixty knights dressed in full armor carried lances adorned with long forked banners. They snapped like serpents'tongues in the numbing wind. Myron had overheard Alric, when they were back at Drondil fields, arguing with the other nobles, about marching too soon. Apparently, they were still missing the strength of several lords, and leaving when they did was a risk. Pickering finally agreed to Alric's demands and convinced the others once Barons Himbolt and Rendon arrived, bringing another score of knights. To Myron, the force was impressive at any size.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"At the head of the line rode Prince Alric, Myron, Count Pickering and his two eldest sons, as well as the land-titled nobles. Following them were the knights who rode together in rows four abreast. An entourage of squires, pages, and footmen traveled behind them. Farther back were the ranks of the common men-at-arms: strong, stocky brutes dressed in chain and steel with bullet-shaped helms, plate metal shin guards, and metal shank boots. Each was equipped with a kite shield, a short, broad-blade sword, and along spear. Next inline were the archers in leather jerkins and woolen cloaks that hid their quivers. They marched holding their un-strung bows as though they were mere walking sticks. At the rear came the artisans, smiths, surgeons, and cooks, pulling wagons that hauled the army's supplies.\\n\\nMyron felt foolish. After hours on the road, he was still having trouble keeping his horse from veering to the left into Fanen's gelding. He was starting to get the hang of the stirrups, but he still had much to learn. The front toe guard, which prevented his feet from resting on the soles, frustrated him. The Pickering boys took him under their wing and explained how only the ball of the foot was to rest on the stirrup brace. This provided better control and prevented afoot from catching in the event of a fall. They also told him how tight stirrups helped to hold his knees to the horse's sides. All of Pickering's horses were leg trained and could be controlled by the feet, thighs, and knees. They were taught this way so that knights could fight with one hand on a lance or sword and the other on a shield. Myron was working on this technique now, squeezing his thighs, trying to persuade the horse to steer right, but it was no use. The more he used his left knee, the more his right knee also squeezed to compensate. The result was confusion on the part of the animal, and it wandered over and brushed against Fanen's mount once again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You need to be more firm,\\\" Fanen told him. \\\"Show her who's in charge.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She already knows-she is,\\\" Myron replied pathetically. \\\"I think I should just stick with the reins. It's not like I will be wielding a sword and shield in the coming battle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You never know,\\\" Fanen said. \\\"Monks of old used to fight a lot, and Alric said you helped save his life by killing one of those mercenaries who attacked you. So you're one ahead of me there. I've never actually killed a man.\\\"\\n\\nMyron frowned and dropped his gaze. \\\"I wish he hadn't told anyone about that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Slaying a villain in the service of your king is the stuff of legends and what heroes are made of.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It didn't feel very heroic. It made me sick. I don't even know why I... no, that's a lie. I really have to stop doing that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Doing what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lying. The abbot told me once that lying was a betrayal to one's self. It's evidence of self-loathing. You see, when you are so ashamed of your actions, thoughts, or intentions, you lie to hide it rather than accept yourself for who you really are. The idea of how others see you becomes more important than the reality of you. It's like when a man would rather die than bethought of as a coward. His life is not as important to him as his reputation. In the end, who is the braver? The man who dies rather than bethought of as a coward or the man who lives willing to face who he really is?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm sorry, you lost me there,\\\" Fanen said with a quizzical look.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It doesn't matter, besides, the prince asked me along strictly as a chronicler of events, not as a warrior. I think he wants me to record what happens today in a book.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, if you do, please leave out the way Denek threw a fit at not being allowed to come. It will reflect badly on our family.\\\"\\n\\nEverything they passed was new to Myron. He had seen snow, of course, but only in the courtyard and cloister at the abbey. He never saw how it settled on a forest or glittered on the edges of rivers and streams. They were traveling through populated country now, passing village after village; each one larger than the one before. Myron could only stare in fascination at the many different types of buildings, animals, and people he saw along the way. Each time they came into a town, the villagers came out to stare at them. They scurried out of their homes aroused by the ominous thrump, thrump, thrump of the soldiers marching. Some summoned the courage to ask where they were going, but the men said nothing under strict orders to maintain silence.\\n\\nChildren ran to the edge of the road where parents quickly pulled them back. Myron had never seen a child before, at least not since he had been one. It was not uncommon fora boy to be sent to the abbey at tenor twelve but rarely, if ever, before the age of eight. The smallest of the children fascinated Myron, and he watched them in amazement. They were like short drunk people, loud and usually dirty, but all were surprisingly cute and looked at him in much the same way that he looked at them. They would wave, and Myron could not help but wave back, although he assumed it was not very soldierly to do so.\\n\\nThe war host moved surprisingly fast. The foot soldiers, responding in unison to orders, alternated between periods of double-time marching with a more relaxed stride, which was only slightly slower. Each of them wore a grim face without a smile among them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"For hours, they marched. No one interfered with them. There were no advance formations lying in ambush, no challenges along the road. To Myron, the trip felt more like an exciting parade than the preparation for an ominous battle. Finally, he saw his first glimpse of Melengar in the distance. Fanen pointed out the great bell tower of Mares Cathedral and the tall spires of Essendon Castle, where no standard flew.\\n\\nA vanguard rode up and reported a strong force entrenched around the city. The nobles ordered their regiments to form ranks. Flags relayed messages, archers strung their bows, and the army transformed themselves into blocks of men. In long lines of three across, they moved as one. The archers were summoned forward and moved ahead just behind the foot soldiers.\\n\\nOrdered to the rear, Myron and Fanen rode with the cooks to watch and listen. From his new vantage point, Myron noticed part of the army had broken away from the mainline and was moving to the right side of the city. When the ranks of men reached the rise, which left them visible to the castle walls, a great horn sounded in the distance.\\n\\nOne of their own answered the castle horn, and the Galilin archers released a barrage of arrows upon the defenders. The shafts flew and appeared to hang briefly in the air like a dark cloud. As they fell, Myron could hear the distant cries of men. He watched with anticipation as the mounted knights broke into three groups. One stayed on the road, while the other two took up flanking positions on either side. The mainline increased their pace to a brisk walk.\\n\\nWhen they heard the horn, Mason Grumon and Dixon Taft led their mob up Wayward Street, effectively emptying the Lower Quarter. It was the sign Royce and Hadrian told them to wait for; it was the signal to attack.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2388,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conspiracy\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: The Crown Conspiracy\nChapter: 10"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"For hours, they marched. No one interfered with them. There were no advance formations lying in ambush, no challenges along the road. To Myron, the trip felt more like an exciting parade than the preparation for an ominous battle. Finally, he saw his first glimpse of Melengar in the distance. Fanen pointed out the great bell tower of Mares Cathedral and the tall spires of Essendon Castle, where no standard flew.\n\nA vanguard rode up and reported a strong force entrenched around the city. The nobles ordered their regiments to form ranks. Flags relayed messages, archers strung their bows, and the army transformed themselves into blocks of men. In long lines of three across, they moved as one. The archers were summoned forward and moved ahead just behind the foot soldiers.\n\nOrdered to the rear, Myron and Fanen rode with the cooks to watch and listen. From his new vantage point, Myron noticed part of the army had broken away from the mainline and was moving to the right side of the city. When the ranks of men reached the rise, which left them visible to the castle walls, a great horn sounded in the distance.\n\nOne of their own answered the castle horn, and the Galilin archers released a barrage of arrows upon the defenders. The shafts flew and appeared to hang briefly in the air like a dark cloud. As they fell, Myron could hear the distant cries of men. He watched with anticipation as the mounted knights broke into three groups. One stayed on the road, while the other two took up flanking positions on either side. The mainline increased their pace to a brisk walk.\n\nWhen they heard the horn, Mason Grumon and Dixon Taft led their mob up Wayward Street, effectively emptying the Lower Quarter. It was the sign Royce and Hadrian told them to wait for; it was the signal to attack."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ever since the two thieves woke them in the middle of the night, they spent their time organizing the resistance in the Lower Quarter of Medford. They spread news of Amrath's assassination by the archduke, of the innocence of the princess, and of the return of the prince. Those not moved by loyalty or justice were enticed by the chance to strike back at their betters. It was not difficult to convince the poor and the destitute to take up arms against the soldiery who policed them. In addition, there were those hoping fora possibility to do a little looting, or perhaps receive some reward from the crown if they prevailed.\n\nThey armed themselves with pitchforks, axes, and clubs. Makeshift armor was constructed by strapping whatever thin metal they could find under their clothing. Inmost cases, this meant commandeering a baking sheet from their wives. They had the numbers, but they looked apathetic lot. Gwen had roused the Artisan Quarter, which provided not only strong workers but a few swords, bows, and bits of armor. With the city guards ordered to the perimeter and most of the Gentry Quarter at the trial, there was no one to stop them from openly organizing.\n\nWith Dixon at his side, Mason marched at the head of the commoner procession, his smithing hammer in one hand and a rough-hewn shield he had beaten together that morning in the other. Years of frustration and resentment steamed to the surface as the smith strode forward. Anger born from the life he had been denied overwhelmed him. When he could not pay the taxes on his late father's shop, it had been the city sheriff and his guards who came. When he refused to leave, they had beaten him unconscious and thrown him into the gutter of Wayward Street. Mason blamed the guards for most of his life's misfortunes. The beating had weakened his shoulders, and for years afterward, wielding his hammer was so painful he could only work a few hours each day. This, and his gambling habit, kept him in poverty. Of course, he never really considered the gambling to be the real problem; it was the guards who were responsible. It did not matter to him that the soldiers and the sheriff who beat him were no longer with the guard. Today was his chance to fightback, to repay in kind for the pain he had endured."},{"from":"human","value":"Neither he nor Dixon were warriors or athletic, but they were large men with broad chests and thick necks, and the crowd followed behind them as if the citizens of the Lower Quarter were plowing the city with a pair of yoked oxen."},{"from":"gpt","value":"They turned onto Wayward Street and marched unchallenged into the Gentry Quarter. Compared to the Lower Quarter, it was like another world. The streets were paved with decorative tile work and lined with metal horse hitches. Along the avenue, enclosed streetlamps and covered sewers accentuated the care taken for the comfort of the privileged few. Marking the center of the Gentry Quarter was a large spacious square. The great Essendon Fountain, with its statue of Tolin on a rearing horse above the pluming water, was its main landmark. Across from it, Mares Cathedral rose. In its towers high above, bells chimed loudly. They passed the fine three-story stone and brick houses with their iron fences and decorative gates. That the stables here looked better than the house Mason lived in was not lost on him. The trip through the square only added fuel to the fire that was sweeping across the city.\n\nWhen they reached Main Street, they saw the enemy.\n\nThe sound of the horn brought Arista to the window once more. What she saw amazed her. In the distance, at the edge of her sight, she could see banners rising above the naked trees. Count Pickering was coming, and he was not alone. There were a score of flags comprising most of the western provinces. Pickering was marching on Medford with an army.\n\nIs it on my account? She pondered the question and concluded the answer was no. Of all the nobles, she knew the Pickerings the best, but she doubted he marched for her. News of Alric's death must have reached him, and he was challenging Braga for the crown. Most likely, he had given no thought at all to her plight. Count Pickering merely saw his opportunity and he was reaching for it. The fact that the princess might still live was only a technicality. No one wanted a woman as their ruler. If he won, he would force her abdication of the throne in favor of himself, or perhaps Mauvin. She would be sent away. She might not be locked up, but she would never be truly free. At least if he won, Braga would never sit on the throne of Melengar-but, would Pickering win? She was no tactician and certainly not a general; still even she could see that the forces marching on the road lacked the numbers fora castle siege. Braga had his forces well entrenched. Looking at the courtyard below, she suddenly realized the attack was distracting everyone. If only she could manage to escape."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perhaps, this time it will be different.\n\nShe rushed to her door and with a tap of her necklace, unlocked it. She grabbed the latch and pushed. As usual, the door refused to budge. \"Damn that dwarf,\" she said aloud to herself. She pushed violently against the door, throwing her entire weight, such that it was, against it. The door did not give way.\n\nThere was another rumble, and her room shook once more. Dust fell from the rafters. What is going on? She staggered as the tower swayed like a ship at sea. She did not know what else to do. Terrified and bewildered, she returned to the illusionary safety of her bed. She sat there, hugging her knees, hardly breathing, her eyes darting at the slightest sound. The end was coming. One way or another, she was certain the end was coming soon.\n\nThe prince was new to combat and unsure what to expect. He had hoped that merely assembling a massive force would cause the city's defenders to surrender. The reality was altogether different. When they reached Medford, they found trenches built outside the walls filled with spearmen. His archers had launched three flights of arrows but still the defenders remained steadfast. Using shields, they fended off much of the barrage and sustained little noticeable damage.\n\nWho are they? Alric wondered. Are my own soldiers standing between me and my home? What lies has Braga spread among the guards? Or are they these all hired men? Did my gold pay for those lines of pointed steel?\n\nAlric sat on one of Pickering's horses draped with a caparison hastily adorned with rough sewn images of the Melengar falcon. The animal was as restless as its rider, shuffling its hooves and snorting great clouds of frosty fog. Alric held the reins with his right hand, his left holding his woolen cloak tight about his neck. His eyes rose above the heads of the spearmen to look on the city of his birth. The walls and towers of Medford appeared faint and dream-like through the falling snow. The vision slowly faded into white as an eerie silence muffled the world."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your Majesty,\" Count Pickering spoke, breaking the stillness.\n\n\"Another flight?\" Alric proposed.\n\n\"Arrows will not conquer your city.\"\n\nAlric nodded solemnly. \"The knights then, send in the knights to break the line.\"\n\n\"Marshal!\" the count shouted. \"Order the knights to break the line!\"\n\nGallant men in shining armor spurred their steeds and charged forward with banners dancing overhead. A whirlwind of snow launched into the sky by their passing obscured them from view. They vanished from sight, but still Alric listened to the thunder of their hooves.\n\nThe clash was dreadful. Alric felt it as much as heard it. Metal shrieked, men cried out, and until that moment Alric never knew it was possible for horses to scream. When the cloud of snow settled, the prince could at last seethe bloody spectacle. Spears braced in the dirt pierced the breast of man and mount. Horses collapsed, throwing the knights to the ground where they lay, like turtles struggling to right themselves. Spearmen drew forth short swords and thrust downward, punching their sharp points into eye slits and the armor gaps at the armpit or groin.\n\n\"This is not going as well as I hoped,\" Alric complained.\n\n\"Battle rarely ever does, Your Majesty,\" Count Pickering assured him. \"But this is a large part of what being king means. Your knights are dying. Are you going to leave them to their fate?\"\n\n\"Should I send in the foot soldiers?\"\n\n\"If I were you, I certainly would. You need to break a hole in that wall, and you'd better do so before your men decide you're incompetent and vanish into the forests around them.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Marshal!\" Alric shouted. \"Marshal Garret, order the foot soldiers to engage immediately!\"\n\n\"Yes, sire!\"\n\nA horn sounded and the men roared forward into battle. Alric watched as steel cut through flesh. The footmen fared better than the knights, but the defensive position of the city soldiers took atoll. Alric could hardly bear to watch. Never before had he seen such a sight-there was so much blood. The white snow was gone; it was stained pink and, in some desperate places, had pooled to a dark red. Littering the grounds were body parts-arms lay severed, heads split open, and legs chopped off. The wall of men blended in a whirling mass of flesh, dirt, blood, and an endless cacophony of screams.\n\n\"I can't believe this is happening,\" Alric said, sounding and feeling sick. \"This is my city. These are my people. My men!\" He turned to Count Pickering. \"I am killing my own men!\" He was shaking now and tears filled his eyes, his face red. Hearing the shrieks and cries, he squeezed the pommel of his saddle until his hands hurt. He felt helpless.\n\nI am king now.\n\nHe did not feel like a king. He felt like he did on the road near The Silver Pitcher when those men held him face down in the dirt. The tears were now streaming down his cheeks.\n\n\"Alric! Stop it!\" Pickering snapped at him. \"You mustn't let the men see you crying!\"\n\nFury flared in Alric, and he spun on the count. \"No? No? Look at them! They are dying for me. They are dying on my order! I say they do have aright to see their king! They all have aright to see their king!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Alric wiped the tears from his cheeks and gathered his reins. \"I'm tired of this. I'm tired of having my face put in the dirt! I won't stand it. I'm tired of being helpless. That's my city, built by my ancestors! If my people chose to fight, then, by Maribor, I want them to know it is me they fight!\"\n\nThe prince put on his helm, drew his father's large sword and spurred his horse forward, not at the trench but at the castle gate itself.\n\n\"Alric, no!\" Pickering shouted after him.\n\nMason rushed forward and drove his hammer through the helmet of the first guard he saw. Grinning with delight at his good fortune, he gathered the man's sword and looked up.\n\nThe mob had reached the main gate of the city. The great four-towered barbican of gray stone rose above them like a monstrous beast. It swarmed with soldiers shocked at the sight of the city rising against them. Surprise and the accompanying panic bought the mob time to clear the streets and reach the gatehouse. Mason heard Dixon shout, \"For Prince Alric!\" but the prince was the last thing on the smith's mind.\n\nMason picked out his next target-a tall guard absorbed in a swinging match with a street sweeper from Artisan Row. Mason stabbed the guard in the armpit and listened to him scream as he twisted the blade. The street sweeper grinned at the smith and Mason grinned back.\n\nHe had only killed two men but already Mason was slick with blood. His tunic felt heavy as it stuck to the skin of his chest and he could not tell if it was sweat or tears of blood dripping down his face. The grin he had shown to the sweeper remained on his face, glued to his lips by the thrill and elation. This was freedom! This was living! His heart thundered and his head swam as if he were drunk."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mason swung his sword again, this time at a man already down on one knee. His swing was so strong the blade cut halfway through his victim's neck. He kicked the dead man aside and cried aloud in his victory. He spoke no words; words were valueless at such a moment. He shouted the fury that pounded in his heart. He was a man again, a man of strength, a man to be feared!\n\nA horn sounded and Mason looked up once more. A captain of the castle guard was on the ramparts shouting orders, rallying his troops. They responded to the call and fell back into ranks struggling to defend the gate even as the mob closed in.\n\nMason stepped through the muddy, blood-soaked ground, which was now slick beneath his feet. He looked about and picked anew target. A castle guard with his back to the smith was in the process of retreating to the sound of his captain's voice. The smith aimed at the guard's neck, attempting to cleave off his head. His inexperience with a sword caused him to aim too high and the blade glanced off the man's helmet ringing it loudly. He raised the sword for another blow when the man unexpectedly turned around.\n\nMason felt a sharp, burning pain in his stomach. In an instant, all the strength and fury drained from him. He let go his sword. He saw, rather than felt, himself drop to his knees. He looked down at the source of the pain and watched the soldier withdraw a sword from his stomach. Mason could not believe what he was seeing. How could all that steel have been inside me?\n\nThe smith felt a warm wetness on his hands as he instinctively pressed them to his wound. Trying as best he could to contain his organs that were spilling out, the blood flowed through a gash at least afoot wide. He no longer felt his legs and lay helpless when, to his horror, he saw the soldier swing again, this time at his head."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Alric charged the castle barbican. Immediately, Count Pickering, Mauvin, and Marshal Garret led the reserve knights in behind him. Arrows rained down from the parapets above the great gates. One deflected off Alric's visor, and another struck deep into the horn of his saddle. One hit Sir Sinclair's horse in the flank, causing it to rear unexpectedly, but the knight remained mounted. Countless more struck the ground harmlessly. The enraged prince rode directly to the gate and standing up in his stirrups shouted, \"I am Prince Alric Brendon Essendon! Open this gate in the name of your king!\"\n\nAlric was not certain anyone heard him as he stood there, his sword raised high over his head. Furthermore, having heard him, there was no reason to believe another arrow would not whistle down and end his life. Behind the prince, the remaining knights fanned out around him as the marshal attempted to build a wall around his monarch.\n\nA second arrow did not fly, but neither did the gate open.\n\n\"Alric,\" Count Pickering shouted, \"you must fallback!\"\n\n\"I am Prince Alric Essendon! Open the gate now!\" He demanded again, and this time he removed his helm and threw it aside backing his horse into full view of the ramparts.\n\nAlric and the others waited. Count Pickering and Mauvin stared at the prince in terror and tried to persuade him to come away from the gate. Nothing happened for several tense moments as the prince and his bodyguards sat outside waiting, staring up at the parapets. From inside they heard the sounds of fighting.\n\nA shout came from atop the walls of the city. \"The prince! Open the gate! Let him in! It's the prince!\" More shouts, a scream, and then suddenly the massive gate split open, and the great doors pulled back. Inside was amass of confusion as uniformed guards fought a horde of citizens dressed up like tinkers wearing makeshift armor or stolen helms."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Alric did not pause. He spurred his mount and drove into the crowd. Mauvin, Count Pickering, Sir Ecton, and Marshal Garret struggled to form a personal defense for their king, but there was little need. At the sight of him, the defenders laid down their weapons. Word that the prince was alive spread, and those who saw him charging toward the castle, brandishing his father's sword roared with cheers.\n\nRoyce heard the horn wail as he stood trapped on the steps of the tower. \"Sounds like a fight outside,\" Magnus mentioned. \"I wonder who will win?\" The dwarf scratched his beard. \"For that matter, I wonder who is fighting?\"\n\n\"You don't take much interest in your employer's business, do you?\" Royce said studying the walls. When he tried to tap a spike into a seam, it broke like an eggshell. The dwarf was telling the truth about that.\n\n\"Only if it is necessary for the job. By the way, I wouldn't do that again. You were lucky you didn't hit a binding thread.\"\n\nRoyce cursed under his breath. \"If you want to be helpful, why not just tell me how to getup and back?\"\n\n\"Who said I was trying to be helpful?\" The dwarf grinned at him wickedly. \"I just spent half a year on this project. I don't want you to topple the whole thing in the first few minutes. I want to savor the moment.\"\n\n\"Are all dwarves this morbid?\"\n\n\"Think of it as having built a sandcastle and wanting the pleasure of seeing it fall to a wave. I am on the edge of my toes waiting to see exactly how and when it will finally collapse. Will it be a misstep, a loss of balance, or something amazing and unexpected?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Royce drew his dagger and held it by the blade for the dwarf to see. \"Are you aware I could put this through your throat where you stand?\"\n\nIt was a false threat, as he would not dare throwaway such a vital tool at this moment. Still he expected a reaction of fear, or at least a mocking laugh. Instead, the dwarf did neither. He glared at the dagger his eyes wide.\n\n\"Where did you get that blade?\"\n\nRoyce rolled his eyes in disbelief. \"I'm a little busy here. If you don't mind.\" He resumed his study of the steps. He observed the way they curved up and around the central trunk of the tower, how the steps above formed the ceiling to the ones below. He looked up ahead and then behind him.\n\n\"The step I am on doesn't collapse if I am on it,\" Royce said to himself, but loud enough for the dwarf to hear. \"It only falls if I step on the next one.\"\n\n\"Yes, quite ingenious, isn't it. As you might imagine, I'm quite proud of my work. I originally designed it to bean instrument of Arista's death. Braga hired me to set it up to look like an accident. A decrepit old tower in the royal residence collapses, and the poor princess is crushed in the process. Unfortunately, after Alric escaped, he changed his mind and decided to have her executed instead. I thought I would never get to seethe fruits of all my hard work, but then you came along. How nice of you.\"\n\n\"All traps have weaknesses,\" Royce said. He looked ahead at the steps and smiled suddenly. Crouching he leapt forward not one, but two steps. The step in the middle slipped from its position and fell, but the original step he started from remained. \"With no following step,\" Royce observed, \"that step is now secure from breaking, isn't it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Very clever,\" the dwarf replied, clearly disappointed.\n\nRoyce continued to leap two steps at a time until he moved around the circle out of sight of the dwarf. Ashe did, Magnus shouted, \"It'll do you no good. The gap at the bottom is much too far for you to jump. You are still trapped!\"\n\nArista was still crouched on her bed when she heard someone outside her door. It was probably that dreadful little dwarf or Braga himself coming to take her to the trial. She could hear a scraping and an occasional thud. She remembered too late that she had not resealed the door with her gemlock. As she moved toward the door, it swung open. To her surprise, it was neither Braga nor the dwarf. Instead, therein the doorway was one of the thieves from the dungeon.\n\n\"Princess,\" was all Royce said entering with a respectful though brief nod in her direction. He quickly moved passed her and seemed to be looking for something, his eyes roamed over the walls and ceiling of her bedroom.\n\n\"You? What are you doing here? Is Alric alive?\"\n\n\"Alric's fine,\" Royce said as he moved about the room. He looked out the windows and examined the material of the drapes. \"Well, that's not going to work.\"\n\n\"Why are you here? How... did you get here? Did you see Esrahaddon? What did he say to Alric?\"\n\n\"I'm a bit busy just now, Your Highness.\"\n\n\"Busy? Doing what?\"\n\n\"Saving you, but I'll admit, I'm not doing very well at the moment.\" Without asking permission, Royce opened her wardrobe and began sifting through her clothes. Then he rifled through her dresser drawers."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What do you want with my clothes?\"\n\n\"I'm trying to figure away out of here. I suspect this tower is going to collapse in a few minutes, and if we don't get out soon, we'll die.\"\n\n\"I see,\" she said simply. \"Why can't we just go down the stairs?\" She got up and crept to the doorway. \"Sweet Maribor!\" she cried as she saw every other step missing.\n\n\"We can leap those but the last six or seven steps at the bottom are totally gone. It's too far to jump to the corridor. I was hoping maybe we could jump out the window to the moat, but that looks like instant death.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" was all she could utter. A scream was growing in her and she covered her mouth with her hand, holding it back. \"You're right. You're not doing very well.\"\n\nRoyce looked under her bed and then stood up. \"Wait a minute, you're a sorceress, aren't you? Esrahaddon taught you magic. Can you get us down? Levitate us, or turn us into birds or something?\"\n\nArista smiled awkwardly. \"I was never able to learn much from Esrahaddon and certainly not self-levitation.\"\n\n\"Can you levitate aboard or stone we could jump to?\"\n\nArista shook her head.\n\n\"And the bird thing?\"\n\n\"Even if I could, which I can't, we'd stay birds because I couldn't turn us back after changing now could I?\"\n\n\"So, magic is out,\" Royce said and began pulling the feather stuffed mattress off Arista's bed revealing the rope net beneath it. \"Okay, then help me untie your bed.\"\n\n\"The rope isn't long enough to reach the bottom of the tower,\" Arista told him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It doesn't have to be,\" he replied, pulling the rope through the holes in the bed frame.\n\nThe tower shuddered, and dust cascaded from the rafters. Arista held her breath fora moment, her heart pounding in anticipation of a sudden plummet, but the tower steadied itself once more.\n\n\"Clearly we are running out of time.\" Royce coiled the length of rope over his shoulder and headed toward the door.\n\nArista paused only a moment to look back at the dressing table and the brushes her father gave her and then moved to what remained of the stairs.\n\n\"You're going to have to jump down. The steps that are still there should be very sturdy and it should be easier than jumping up. Just be sure you don't over jump, but if you do, I'll try to catch you.\" With that, he sprang down two steps so gracefully that she felt embarrassed for her own lack of confidence.\n\nArista stood on the landing and rocked back and forth, focusing on the first step. She leapt and landed on it a little too far forward. Waving her arms madly, she teetered on the edge struggling desperately against falling. Royce held out his hands ready to catch her, but she regained her balance. Shaking slightly she took a deep breath.\n\n\"Don't over jump!\" he reminded her.\n\nNo kidding, she thought to herself. As if I haven't learned that lesson already.\n\nThe second jump was easier, and the third better still. Soon she developed a rhythm and moved down the steps at a brisk pace following Royce, who almost danced his way down. They were nearly to the bottom when Royce stopped.\n\n\"Keep going,\" he told her. \"Stop when you reach the last step and wait there.\""},{"from":"human","value":"She nodded as he pulled the rope from around his shoulder and began tying it to the step he stood on."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arista continued to jump her way down, reminding herself not to be overconfident. When she saw the open expanse at the bottom, her remaining confidence fled. The gaping hole falling away into darkness was enough to shake her back into terror.\n\n\"Well, well, princess!\" the dwarf called to her. He stood in the open doorway of the corridor grinning, showing a mouth full of yellowed teeth. \"I really didn't expect to see you again. Where's the thief? Did he fall to his death?\"\n\n\"You disgusting little beast!\" she cried at him.\n\nThe tower shifted once more. Its shuttering caused Arista to stagger a bit on the step and her heart to pound in fear. Clouds of dust and bits of rock rained down, clattering off the walls and steps. Arista cowered, covering her head with her arms until the shaking stopped and the debris settled.\n\n\"This old tower, she's almost ready to fall,\" the dwarf told her with a manic glee in his voice. \"Such a pity to be so close to safety and yet still so very far. If only you were a frog you might leap it. As it is, you still don't have away out.\"\n\nA coil of rope fell from the heights above. Suspended by a stair, the rope dangled midway between the princess and the dwarf. Along the slender line, Royce descended like a spider. When he reached a point level with Arista, he stopped and began to swing.\n\n\"Now that is impressive!\" the dwarf exclaimed and nodded showing his approval.\n\nRoyce swung onto the step next to Arista and tied the rope around his own waist. \"All we have to do is swing across. Just hang onto me.\"\n\nThe princess gladly threw her arms around the thief's shoulders and squeezed tight, as much out of fear as for safety."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You might have actually made it,\" the dwarf said, \"and for that you have my respect, but you must understand I have a reputation to uphold. I can't have someone walking around boasting they escaped one of my traps.\" Then without warning, he abruptly closed the door, sealing them in.\n\nHadrian heard the wail of a horn as he faced Braga in the corridor of the royal residence. \"I think it will be quite sometime until Wylin and the castle guards arrive,\" he taunted the archduke. \"I suspect the master-at-arms has more on his mind than responding to the demands of an earl from Warric to report to the royal residence when his castle is being stormed.\"\n\n\"Mores the pity for you as I no longer have the luxury of keeping you alive,\" Braga said as he lunged once more.\n\nHe swiped at Hadrian with lightning fast cuts. Hadrian danced away from Braga retreating farther and farther down the hall. The archduke showed perfect form, his weight centered on his back foot while only the toe of his front foot touched the ground, his back straight, his sword arm outstretched, and his other arm raised in an elegant bent L. Even the fingers of his freehand were elegantly posed as if they were holding up an invisible wineglass. His long black hair, peppered with lines of gray, cascaded down to his shoulders, and not a trace of perspiration was on his brow.\n\nHadrian in contrast acted clumsy and unsure. The Melengar sword was far inferior to any of his own blades. The tip wavered as he tried to hold it steady with both hands. He inched backward working to keep a distance between them.\n\nThe archduke lunged again. Hadrian parried and then dove past Braga, barely avoiding a return slice, which nicked a wall sconce. He took the opportunity to rundown the hallway and slipped into the chapel. \"Are we playing hide-and-seek now?\" Braga goaded."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Braga entered and crossed swiftly to the altar where Hadrian stood. When the archduke swung at him, Hadrian stepped back, ducked a swiping stroke, and then leapt clear of a slash. Braga's attacks glanced off the statue of Novron and Maribor, taking part of the god's first three fingers off. Hadrian now stood before the wooden lectern, keeping his eyes on the archduke while he awaited the next attack.\n\n\"It's so poetic of you to choose to die in the same room as the king,\" Braga said. He swung right, and Hadrian glanced the stroke aside. Braga pivoted on his back foot and swung his sword overhead in a powerful, downward stroke. Expecting this attack, counting on it, Hadrian dove and slid across the polished marble floor on his stomach in the direction of the chapel door.\n\nHadrian got to his feet and turned in time to see Braga's stroke had sliced into the vertical grain of the lectern. His swing had been so forceful that the blade was now wedged in the wood and the archduke struggled to free it. Taking advantage of his distraction, Hadrian ran to the door, slipped out, and closed it behind him. Driving his sword into the jam, he wedged it shut.\n\n\"That should hold you fora while,\" Hadrian said to himself, pausing to catch his breath.\n\n\"That little worm!\" Arista spat through clenched teeth at the closed door.\n\nThe tower shuddered again, and this time larger pieces fell. One block of stone plummeted down, taking out a step only a few feet from them. Both shattered on impact and fell into the abyss of the tower's foundation. With the loss of those blocks, the tower came free and began to twist and topple.\n\n\"Hang on!\" Royce shouted as he pushed off the step. The two flew across the gap to the door. He grabbed hold of the large iron door ring, and they each found footholds on the ledge of the door jam."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He locked it,\" Royce informed her. He looped one arm through the door ring and removed his lock-picking tools from his belt. With his freehand, he worked the lock. A deep, resonating thunder shook the castle, and suddenly the rope tied to Royce went slack. The thief dropped his tools and pulled out his dagger. He cut the rope around his waist just as the stone slab attached to it passed them heading down. The rest of the tower was collapsing now.\n\nRoyce drove his dagger deep into the wooden door for another handhold as the tower fell around them. Walls hollowed out by the dwarf, splintered into shards, which burst and flew in all directions. Rocks and stone pummeled them as Royce and Arista cowered under the scant protection of the narrow stone arch of the doorframe.\n\nA fist-size stone struck Arista's back. She lost her tenuous foothold, and screamed as she fell. In an instant, Royce grabbed her. Grasping blindly, he caught the back of her dress and a substantial amount of hair. \"I can't hold you!\" he shouted.\n\nHe felt her sliding down his body, the back of her dress tearing. Royce gave up his own toehold, hanging by his arm hooked through the door ring, so that he could wrap his legs around her. The princess' fingers clawed his body frantically and finally finding his belt, she latched on.\n\nRoyce was temporarily blinded by a cloud of dust and powdered stone. When it settled, he found they were dangling in the brilliant sunlight on what was now an exterior wall of the castle's keep. The debris of the tower fell into the moat, making a pile of broken rocks seventy feet below. The crowd of trial watchers screamed and gasped pointing up at them. \"It's the princess!\" A voice shouted."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Can you reach the ledge?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"No! If I try, I'll fall. I can't-\"\n\nRoyce felt her slipping again and tried to tighten his leg hold on her, but he knew it would not be enough.\n\n\"Oh no! My fingers-I'm slipping!\"\n\nRoyce's arm, crooked in the ring, was wrenching his shoulder badly. His other hand, which gripped Arista's dress and hair, was slowing losing hold. She was sliding down once again; soon he would lose her altogether. Royce felt a tug on his arm. The door opened, and a strong hand reached out and grabbed Arista.\n\n\"I've got you,\" Hadrian told her as he hauled the princess up. Then he pulled the door open wide, dragging Royce into the hallway with it.\n\nThey lay on the floor exhausted and covered in bits of rock. Royce got to his feet and dusted off his clothes. \"I thought I felt it unlock,\" he said, getting up and retrieving his dagger from the face of the door.\n\nHadrian stood in the threshold of the doorway looking out at the clearing blue sky. \"Well, Royce, I love what you've done with the place.\"\n\n\"Where's the dwarf?\" Royce asked looking around.\n\n\"I didn't see him.\"\n\n\"And Braga? You didn't kill him, did you?\"\n\n\"No. I locked him in the chapel, but it won't hold. Which reminds me, could I borrow your sword? You're not going to use it anyway.\"\n\nRoyce handed him the falchion sword that had been part of his castle guard disguise. Hadrian took the weapon, slipped it from its sheath, and weighed it in his hand. \"I tell you, these swords are terrible. They are heavy and have all the balance of a drunken three-legged dog trying to take a piss.\" He then looked at Arista and added, \"Oh, excuse me... Your Highness. How are you doing, Princess?\""},{"from":"human","value":"Arista got to her feet."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Much better now.\"\n\n\"For the record, we're even, right?\" Royce asked her. \"You saved us from prison and a horrible death, and now we've saved you.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" she agreed, wiping the dust from her torn dress. \"But I would like to point out my rescue of you was far less death defying.\" She ran a hand through her disheveled hair. \"That really hurt you know.\"\n\n\"Falling would have hurt more.\"\n\nAloud bang echoed from down the hall.\n\n\"Gotta go,\" Hadrian told them, \"his lordship is loose.\"\n\n\"Be careful,\" Arista shouted after him, \"he's a renowned swordsman!\"\n\n\"I'm really tired of hearing that,\" Hadrian grumbled as he started backup the hall. He had not gone far when Braga rounded the corner coming toward them.\n\n\"So, you got her out!\" Braga bellowed. \"I'll just have to kill her myself then.\"\n\n\"You'll have to get by me first I'm afraid,\" Hadrian told him.\n\n\"That won't be a problem.\"\n\nThe archduke charged Hadrian, swinging at him in a fury. He hammered stroke after stroke on the fighter in a rage. Hadrian fought to deflect the fierce blows, which fell so fast they whistled in the air. The look on Braga's reddening face was one of hatred as he continued to pummel Hadrian.\n\n\"Braga!\" Alric shouted from the far end of the hall.\n\nThe archduke spun, panting for air.\n\nHadrian saw the prince standing at the far end of the corridor. He was dressed in plate armor and a white tabard marred by a spattering of blood. Alric's hand rested on the hilt of his sheathed sword, and at his side were the Pickerings and Sir Ecton, each with a grim and dangerous look upon his face."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Put down your weapon,\" the prince ordered in a powerful voice. \"It's over. This is my kingdom!\"\n\n\"You filthy little creature!\" he cursed at the prince. He turned his attention away from Hadrian and began walking toward the prince. Hadrian did not follow. Instead, he joined Royce and Arista to watch.\n\n\"Did you think I was after your precious little kingdom?\" Braga bellowed. \"Is that what you think? I was trying to save the world, you fools! Can't you see it? Look at him!\" The archduke pointed at the prince. \"Look at the little maggot prince!\" he turned and pointed back at Arista. \"And her, too! Just like their father; they aren't human!\" Braga, his face still red from the fight, continued down the corridor toward Alric. \"You would have filth rule you all, but not me. Not while there is breath in this body!\"\n\nBraga charged forward raising his sword as he moved. When he came within reach of Alric, he brought it down toward the prince. Before Alric could react, the attack was deflected. An elegant rapier caught Braga's blade mid-stroke. Count Pickering held Braga's sword in the air, and Sir Ecton pulled the prince out of harm's way.\n\n\"You have your sword, I see. So there will be no excuse for you this time, dear count.\"\n\n\"There will be no need for one. You area traitor to the crown and in memory of my friend Amrath, I will end this.\"\n\nBlades flashed. Pickering was as much a master of fencing as Braga, and the two moved elegantly, their swords appearing as extensions of their bodies. Reaching for their swords, Mauvin and Fanen started forward, but Ecton stopped them. \"This is your father's fight.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Pickering and Braga fought to kill. Sword strokes swept faster than the eye could follow, their deadly blades whistling a song to each other, crashing in chorus. The incredibly lustrous blade of Pickering's rapier caught the faint light in the corridor and glowed as it streaked through the air like a wand of light. It flashed and sparked when steel met steel.\n\nBraga lunged, nicked Pickering's side, and sweeping back, cut him shallowly across the chest. Pickering barely blocked a second stab with a sweeping parry, which allowed him an overhead stroke. Braga raised his sword to block, but Pickering ignored the defense. Instead he swung down with force and speed, streaking light from his sword.\n\nHadrian instinctually cringed. The high, overpowered stroke would leave Pickering vulnerable, open to a fatal riposte by Braga. Then the metal of the swords clashed. A brilliant spark flared as incredibly, Pickering's blade sheered Braga's sword in two. The count's stroke continued unabated into the archduke's throat. The Lord Chancellor collapsed to the floor, his head rolling afoot farther away.\n\nMauvin and Fanen rushed to their father's side, beaming with obvious pride and relief. Alric ran down the hall where his sister stood between the two thieves. \"Arista!\" he shouted as he threw his arms around her. Thank Maribor you're all right!\"\n\n\"You aren't angry with me?\" she asked, pulling away from him with surprise in her voice.\n\nAlric shook his head. \"I owe you my life,\" he said hugging her again, \"and as for you two-\" he began, looking at Royce and Hadrian. \"Alric,\" Arista interrupted, \"it was not their fault. They didn't kill father, and they didn't want to kidnap you. It was my doing. I was the one who forced them. They didn't do anything. I was-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Oh, you are quite wrong there, my dear sister. They did a great deal.\" Alric smiled and placed a hand on Hadrian's shoulder. \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"You're not going to charge us for the tower I hope,\" Hadrian said. \"But if you are, it was Royce's fault and should come out of his share.\"\n\nAlric chuckled.\n\n\"My fault?\" Royce growled. \"Find that little bearded menace and take your payment out of his stubby little hide.\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Arista replied, looking confused. \"You wanted them executed.\"\n\n\"You must be mistaken, dear sister. These two fine men are the Royal Protectors of Essendon, and it appears they have done a fine job today.\"\n\n\"Your lordship,\" Marshal Garret appeared in the hall and approached the count, glancing only briefly at the dead body of Braga. \"The castle has been secured and the mercenaries are slain or have fled. It would appear the castle guard is still loyal to the House of Essendon. The nobles are anxious to hear about the state of affairs and are waiting in the court.\"\n\n\"Good,\" the count replied. \"Tell them His Majesty will address them soon. Oh, and send someone to clean this mess up, will you?\" The marshal bowed and left.\n\nAlric and his sister walked hand-in-hand down the corridor toward the others. Hadrian and Royce followed behind them. \"Even now it is hard for me to believe him capable of such treachery,\" Alric said, looking down at Braga's body. A large puddle of blood stretched across the floor of the hallway. Arista lifted the hem of her dress as she passed by to avoid staining it.\n\n\"What was all that ranting about us not being human?\" Arista asked."},{"from":"human","value":"\"He was clearly insane,\" Bishop Saldur said, approaching with Archibald Ballentyne in tow."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Although he had never met the bishop in person, Hadrian knew who he was. Saldur greeted the prince and princess with a warm smile and fatherly expression. \"It is so good to see you, Alric,\" he said, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. \"And my dear Arista, no one is more pleased than I about your innocence. I must beg your forgiveness, my dear, as I was misled by your uncle. He planted seeds of doubts in my mind. I should have followed my heart and realized you could not possibly have done the things he accused you of.\" He gently kissed heron one cheek and then the other.\n\nThe bishop looked down at the blood-soaked body at their feet. \"I fear the guilt of killing the king was too much for the poor man, and in the end, he lost his mind completely. Perhaps he was certain you were dead, Alric, and seeing you in the hallway he took you fora ghost or a demon back from the grave to haunt him.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Alric said skeptically, \"well, at least it's over now.\"\n\n\"What about the dwarf?\" Arista asked.\n\n\"Dwarf?\" Alric replied. \"How do you know about the dwarf?\"\n\n\"He was the one who set the trap in the tower. He nearly killed Royce and me. Does anyone know where he has gotten to? He was just here.\"\n\n\"He's responsible for far more than that. Mauvin run and tell the marshal to organize a search immediately,\" Alric instructed.\n\n\"Right away,\" Mauvin nodded and ran off.\n\n\"I, too, am pleased you are all right, Your Highness,\" Archibald told the prince. \"I was told you were dead.\"\n\n\"And were you hereto pay your respects to my memory?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I was hereby invitation.\"\n\n\"Who invited you?\" Alric asked and looked at the slain corpse of Braga. \"Him? What dealings does an Imperialist earl of Warric and a traitorous archduke have in Melengar?\"\n\n\"It was a cordial visit, I assure you.\"\n\nAlric glared at the earl. \"Get out of my kingdom before I have you seized as a conspirator.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't dare,\" Archibald returned. \"I am a vassal of King Ethelred. Seize me or even treat me roughly and you risk war-a struggle Melengar can ill afford, particularly now with an inexperienced boy at the helm.\"\n\nAlric drew his sword, and Archibald took two steps back. \"Escort the earl out before I forget Melengar has a treaty of peace with Warric.\"\n\n\"Times are changing, Your Highness,\" Archibald called to the prince as guards led him away. \"The New Empire is coming, and there is no place for an archaic monarchy in the new order.\"\n\n\"Is there noway I can throw him in the dungeon, even fora few days?\" Alric asked Pickering. \"Can I try him as a spy perhaps?\"\n\nBefore Pickering could reply, the Bishop Saldur spoke. \"The earl is quite right, Your Highness, any hostile act made against Ballentyne would be considered by King Ethelred to bean act of war against Chadwick. Just consider how you would respond if Count Pickering here were hanged in Aquesta. You wouldn't stand for it anymore than he would. Besides, the earl is all bluster. He is young and merely trying to sound important. Forgive him his youth. Have you not made errors in judgment as well?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Perhaps,\" Alric muttered."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Still, I can't help but suspect that snake is up to no good. I just wish there was someway I could teach him a lesson.\"\n\n\"Your Highness?\" Hadrian said, stopping him. \"If you don't mind, Royce and I have friends in the city we'd like to check on.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, of course, go right ahead,\" Alric responded. \"But there is the matter of payment. You've done me a great service,\" he said, looking fondly at his sister. \"I intend to honor my word. You can name your price.\"\n\n\"If it is all right, we'll get back to you on that,\" Royce said.\n\n\"I understand,\" the prince said, revealing a hint of concern, \"But I do hope you will be reasonable in your request and not bankrupt the kingdom.\"\n\n\"You should address the court,\" Pickering told Alric.\n\nAlric nodded and he, Arista, and Mauvin disappeared down the stairs. Pickering lingered behind with the two thieves.\n\n\"I think there's a chance that boy will actually make a decent king,\" he mentioned once the prince was too faraway to hear. \"I had my doubts in the past, but he seems to have changed. He is more serious, more confident.\"\n\n\"So, the sword is magic after all.\" Hadrian motioned toward the rapier.\n\n\"Hmm?\" Pickering looked down at the sword he wore at his side and grinned. \"Oh, well, let's just say it gives mean edge in a battle. That reminds me, why were you letting Braga beat you?\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I saw you fighting when we first came up. Your stance was defensive, your strokes all parries and blocks. You never once attacked.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"I was frightened,\" Hadrian lied."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Braga won so many awards and tournament competitions, and I haven't won any.\"\n\nPickering looked puzzled. \"But not being noble born, you aren't allowed to enter a tournament.\"\n\nHadrian pursed his lips and nodded. \"Now that you mention it, I suppose you're right. You'd best see to your wounds, your lordship. You're bleeding on your nice tunic.\"\n\nPickering glanced down and looked surprised to seethe slice Braga gave him across the chest. \"Oh, yes, well, it doesn't matter. The tunic is ruined from the cut anyway, and the bleeding seems to have stopped.\"\n\nMauvin returned and trotted over to them. He stood next to his father, his arm around his waist. \"I have soldiers looking for the dwarf, but so far no luck.\" Despite the bad news, Mauvin was smiling broadly.\n\n\"What are you grinning at?\" his father asked.\n\n\"I knew you could best him. I did doubt it fora time, but deep down, I knew.\"\n\nThe count nodded and a thoughtful expression came over his face. He looked at Hadrian. \"After so many years of doubt, it was fortuitous I had the opportunity and good fortune to defeat Braga, particularly with my sons watching.\"\n\nHadrian nodded and smiled. \"That's true.\"\n\nThere was a pause as Pickering studied his face and then he placed a hand on Hadrian's shoulder. \"To be quite honest, I for one am very pleased you're not noble Mr. Hadrian Blackwater, quite pleased indeed.\"\n\n\"Are you coming, your lordship?\" Sir Ecton called, and the count and his sons headed off.\n\n\"You didn't really hold back on Braga so Pickering could kill him, did you?\" Royce asked after the two were left alone in the hallway."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Of course not. I held him off because it's death fora commoner to kill a noble.\"\n\n\"That's what I thought.\" Royce sounded relieved. \"Fora minute, I thought you'd gone from jumping on the good-deed wagon to leading the whole wagon train.\"\n\n\"Sure the gentry appear all nice and friendly, but if I'd killed him, even though they wanted him dead anyway, you can be sure they wouldn't be patting me on the back saying good job. No, it's best to avoid killing nobles.\"\n\n\"At least not where there are witnesses,\" Royce said with a grin.\n\nAs they headed out of the castle, they heard Alric's voice echoing\"... was a traitor to the crown and responsible for the murder of my father. He attempted to murder me and to execute my sister. Yet, due to the wisdom of the princess and the heroism of others, I am standing here before you.\"\n\nThis was followed by a roar of applause and cheers."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sixty-eight people had died, and over two hundred bore wounds from what became known as the Battle of Medford. The timely attack by the citizenry at the gate precipitated the prince's entrance into the city, and arguably saved his life. Once news spread through the city of Alric's return, all resistance ended. This restored peace but not order. For several hours after the battle, roving gangs took the opportunity to loot shops and storehouses, mostly along the riverfront. A shoemaker died defending his cobbler shop, and a weaver was badly beaten. In addition to the general thieving, the sheriff, his two deputies, and a moneylender were murdered. Many believed there were those who took advantage of the chaos to settle old scores. The killers were never identified, and no one bothered to look for the looters. In the end, no one was even arrested; it was enough that the violence was over.\n\nMost of the snow that had fallen the day of the battle had melted over the next few days, leaving only dirty patches hiding in the shadows. Still for the most part, the weather remained decidedly cold. Autumn was officially finished, and winter had arrived. In the freezing winds, a silent crowd stood outside the royal crypt for hours as they removed Amrath's body for the official state funeral. Many others were buried that same day. The funerals provided a cleansing of the entire city's grief, followed by a weeklong period of mourning.\n\nAmong the dead was Wylin, the master-at-arms of Castle Essendon. He fell while directing the defenses at the castle gate. It was never determined if Wylin had been a traitor or had merely been deceived by the archduke's lies. Alric gave him the benefit of the doubt and granted him burial with full honors. Although Mason Grumon died, Dixon Taft, manager of The Rose and Thorn, survived the battle with only the loss of his left arm just above the elbow. He might have died, along with many others, except for the efforts of Gwen DeLancy and her girls. Prostitutes, it turned out, made excellent nurses. The maimed and wounded who lacked family to care for them filled Medford House for weeks. When word of this reached the castle, food, supplies, and linens were sent."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"News spread throughout Melengar of Alric's heroic charge on the fortified gates. How he survived the hail of arrows, only to bravely fling off his helm and dare them a second time-it made for great barroom stories. Few thought much of the son of Amrath prior to the battle, but now he became a heroin the eyes of many. A somewhat lesser known tale gained popularity a few days later as it, too, circulated through the city's taverns. This outlandish yarn described how two criminals, falsely accused of the king's murder, had escaped a tortuous death by abducting the prince. The story grew with each telling, and soon these same thieves were said to have gone on a rollicking trip through the countryside with the prince, returning just in time to save the princess from the tower seconds before it collapsed. Some even claimed to have helped save the prince from a roadside execution while others insisted they personally saw the princess and one of the criminals dangling from the side of the castle after the collapse of the tower.\n\nDespite extensive searches, the dwarf whose hand actually killed the king escaped. Alric posted a reward notice offering one hundred gold tenents on every crossroad sign and on the door of every tavern and church in the realm. Patrols rode the length of every road searching barns, storehouses, mills, and even under the spans of bridges, yet he was not found.\n\nFollowing the week of mourning, work began on repairing the castle. Crews cleared away the debris, and architects estimated at least a year to rebuild the lost tower. Though the falcon flag flew above the castle, the city saw little of Prince Alric. He remained sequestered within the halls of power buried under hundreds of obligations. Count Pickering, acting as a counselor, remained in the castle along with his sons. He assisted the young prince in his efforts to assume his father's role."},{"from":"human","value":"One month to the day after the burial of King Amrath, the prince's coronation took place."},{"from":"gpt","value":"By that time, the snows returned and the city was white once more. Everyone came to the ceremony, yet, only a fraction could fit inside the expansive Mares Cathedral where the coronation took place. The majority only caught a brief glimpse of their new monarch when he rode in an open carriage back to the castle or as he stood on the open balcony while trumpets blared.\n\nIt was a full day of celebration with minstrels and street performers hired to entertain the citizenry. The castle even provided free ale and rows upon rows of tables filled with all manner of food. In the evening, which came sooner with the shortening of the days, people crammed into the local taverns and inns that were full of out of town visitors. The locals retold the stories of the Battle of Medford and the now famous legend of Prince Alric and the Thieves. These stories were still popular and showed no sign of going out of fashion. The day was long and eventually even the lights in the public houses winked out.\n\nOne of the few buildings still burning a candle was in the Artisan Quarter. It was originally a haberdashery, but the previous owner, Lester Furl, had died in the battle the month before. Some said the plumed hat he wore that day caught the attention of an axe. Since then, the wooden sign of the ornate cavalier hat still hung above the door, but no hats were for sale in the window. Even late into the night, the light was always on; however, no one was ever seen entering or exiting the shop. A small man in a simple robe greeted those nosy enough to knock. Behind him, visitors saw a room filled with the dried, hairless skins of animals. Most soaked in tubs or were stretched out on frames. There were pumice stones, needles and thread, and folded sheets of vellum piled neatly along the walls. The room also contained three desks with upright tops over which large sheets of parchment lay with carefully written text. Bottles of ink rested on shelves and in open drawers. The man was always polite, and when asked what he sold in his shop, he would reply, \"Nothing.\" He simply wrote books. Because few people could read, most inquiries ended there."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The fact was, there were very few books in the shop.\n\nMyron Lanaklin sat alone in the store. He had written half a page of Grigoles Treatise on Imperial Common Law and then just stopped. The room was cold and silent. He stood up, walked to the shop window, and looked out at the dark, snowy street. Ina city with more people than he saw in his lifetime, he felt utterly alone. A month had passed, but he had only finished half of his first book. He found himself spending most of his time just sitting. In the silence, he imagined he could hear the sound of his brothers speaking the evening vespers.\n\nHe avoided sleep because of the nightmares. They had started the third night he slept in the shop. They were terrible. Visions of flames and sounds of pleading coming from his own mouth as the voices of his family died in the inferno. Every night they died again, and everyday he awoke on the cold floor of the tiny room in a world more silent and isolated than the abbey had ever been. He missed his home and the mornings he spent with Renian.\n\nAlric made good on his promise. The new king of Melengar provided him the shop rent-free and all the materials needed for making his books. Never was there a mention of cost. Alric endeavored to support the literary sciences in his realm starting with Myron as his little pet project. Myron should have been happy, but he felt more lost each day. Although he had more food than ever before, and no abbot to restrict his diet, he ate little. His appetite dwindled along with his desire to write.\n\nWhen he had first arrived at the shop, he felt obligated to replace the books, but as the days slipped by, he sat alone and confused. How could he replace the books? They were not missing. No shelf lay bare, no library stood wanting. What would he do if he ever completed the project? What would he do with the books? What would become of them? What would become of him? They had no home, and neither did he."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Myron sat down on the wooden floor in the corner, pulling his legs to his chest and rested his head against the wall. \"Why did I have to be the one who lived?\" he muttered to the empty room. \"Why did I have to be left behind? Why is it I'm cursed with an indelible memory, so that I can recall every face, every scream, every cry?\"\n\nAs usual, Myron wept. There was no one to see, so he let the tears run unchecked down his cheeks. He cried thereon the floor in the flickering candlelight and soon fell asleep.\n\nThe knock on the door startled him. He stood up. It was still night. He could not have been asleep long; the candle still burned. Myron moved to the door and opening it a crack, peered out. On the stoop outside, two men in heavy winter cloaks stood waiting.\n\n\"Myron? Are you going to let us in or leave us to freeze?\"\n\n\"Hadrian? Royce!\" Myron exclaimed as he threw open the door. He embraced Hadrian immediately and then turned to Royce and paused, deciding a handshake would suit him better.\n\n\"So it's been awhile,\" Hadrian said, shaking the snow off his boots. \"How many books have you finished?\"\n\nMyron looked sheepish. \"I've had a little trouble adjusting, but I will get them done. Isn't this place wonderful?\" he said trying to sound sincere. \"It was very generous of His Majesty to provide all this for me. I have enough vellum to last years and ink! Well, don't get me started. As Finiless wrote,\"More could not begotten though the world be emptied to the breath of time. '\"\n\n\"So you like it here?\" Hadrian asked."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Oh, I love it, yes."},{"from":"gpt","value":"I really couldn't ask for anything more.\" A look exchanged between the two thieves, the meaning of which Myron could not discern. \"Can I get either of you something, tea perhaps? The king is very good tome. I even have honey to sweeten it.\"\n\n\"Tea would be nice,\" Royce said, and Myron moved to the counter to fetch a pot.\n\n\"So what are you two doing out so late?\" Myron asked then laughed at himself. \"Oh, never mind, I guess this isn't late for you. I suppose you work nights.\"\n\n\"Something like that,\" Hadrian said. \"We just got back from a trip to Chadwick. We are heading back to The Rose and Thorn but wanted to stop by hereon the way and deliver the news.\"\n\n\"News? What kind of news?\"\n\n\"Well I thought it might be good news, but now I'm not so sure.\"\n\n\"Why's that?\" the monk asked, pouring water into the pot.\n\n\"Well, it would mean leaving here.\"\n\n\"It would?\" Myron turned suddenly, spilling the water.\n\n\"Well, yes, but I suppose if you're really attached to this place we could-\"\n\n\"Togo where?\" Myron asked anxiously, setting down the pitcher forgetting the tea.\n\n\"Well,\" Hadrian began, \"Alric offered us whatever we wanted as payment for saving Arista, but seeing as how Arista saved our life first, it didn't seem right asking for money, or land, or anything personal like that. We got to thinking just how much was lost when the Winds Abbey was destroyed. Not just the books mind you, but the safe haven for those lost in the wilderness. So we asked the king to rebuild the abbey just like it was.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Are... are you serious?\" Myron stammered. \"And did he say yes?\"\n\n\"To be honest, he sounded relieved,\" Royce said. \"I think he felt as if there was a dagger dangling over his head fora month. I suppose he was afraid we'd ask for something ridiculous like his firstborn or the crown jewels.\"\n\n\"We might have, if we hadn't already stolen them,\" Hadrian chuckled, and Myron was not sure if he was joking or not.\n\n\"But if you really like this place,\" Hadrian, said whirling his finger in the air, \"I suppose we-\"\n\n\"No! No... I mean, I think you are right. The abbey should be rebuilt for the sake of the kingdom.\"\n\n\"Glad you feel that way because we need you to help the builders design it. I am assuming you could draw a few floor plans and maybe some sketches?\"\n\n\"Certainly, down to the finest detail.\"\n\nHadrian chuckled. \"I bet you can. I can see you're going to drive the royal architect to drink.\"\n\n\"Who will be the abbot? Has Alric contacted the Dibben Monastery already?\"\n\n\"He sent out a messenger this morning as one of his first acts asking. You're going to have a few guest monks trickling in over the winter, and this spring all of you will have a great deal of work to do.\"\n\nMyron was grinning widely.\n\n\"About that tea?\" Royce inquired.\n\n\"Oh yes, sorry.\" He returned to pouring water into the pot. Stopping once more, he turned back to the thieves and his grin faded.\n\n\"I would so much love to return to my home and see it rise again. But...\" Myron paused."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Won't the Imperialists simply comeback? If they hear the abbey is there again... I don't think I could...\"\n\n\"Relax, Myron,\" Hadrian said, \"that's not going to happen.\"\n\n\"But how can you be sure?\"\n\n\"Trust me, the Imperialists won't advocate another foray into Melengar,\" Royce assured the monk. The smile on the thief's face made Myron think of a cat, and he was happy not to be a mouse.\n\nIn the hours before dawn, the Lower Quarter was quiet. Dampened by the snow, the only sound came from the muffled hoof falls of mounts as they moved slowly up the alley to The Rose and Thorn.\n\n\"Do you need any of the money?\" Royce asked Hadrian.\n\n\"I have enough. Deposit the rest with Gwen. What does that come to now?\"\n\n\"Well, we're in pretty good shape. We have our share of the fifteen gold tenents for returning Alenda's letters, and the twenty from Ballentyne for stealing them in the first place, plus DeWitt's one hundred, and Alric's one hundred. You know, one day we're going to have to find DeWitt-and thank him for that job.\" Royce grinned.\n\n\"Do you think it was fair asking for the money along with the abbey?\" Hadrian asked. \"I have to admit the guy was starting to grow on me, and I hate to think we took advantage of him.\"\n\n\"The hundred was forgoing into Gutaria with him,\" Royce reminded him. \"The abbey was for saving his sister. We didn't ask for anything Alric didn't agree to in advance. And he did say anything so we could easily have asked for land and noble rank.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Why didn't we?\"\n\n\"Oh? So you would like to be the Count Blackwater, would you?\"\n\n\"It might have been nice,\" Hadrian said sitting up straighter in his saddle, \"and you could be the infamous Marquis Melborn.\"\n\n\"Why infamous?\"\n\n\"Would you prefer notorious? Nefarious perhaps?\"\n\n\"What's wrong with beloved?\"\n\nNeither could hold a straight face at the thought.\n\n\"Come to think of it, we failed to bill the good king for saving him from Trumbul. Do you think-\"\n\n\"It's too late, Royce,\" Hadrian told him.\n\nRoyce sighed, disappointed. \"So, I think he wasn't too putout all things considered. Besides we are thieves, remember? Anyway, the bottom line is, we won't be starving this winter.\"\n\n\"Yes, we've been good little squirrels, haven't we?\" Hadrian said.\n\n\"Maybe this spring we can start that fishing enterprise you wanted.\"\n\n\"I thought you wanted the winery?\"\n\nRoyce shrugged.\n\n\"Well, you keep thinking. I'm going to go wake up Emerald and let her know I'm back. It's too cold to sleep alone tonight.\"\n\nRoyce passed the tavern and dismounted at Medford House. For sometime, he stood, just staring at the top window while his feet grew colder and colder in the snow.\n\n\"You are going to come up, aren't you?\" Gwen asked from the doorway. She was still dressed and as pretty as ever. \"Isn't it awfully cold out there?\"\n\nRoyce smiled at her. \"You waited up.\"\n\n\"You said you'd becoming back tonight.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conspiracy\\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\\nTitle: The Crown Conspiracy\\nChapter: 10\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"For hours, they marched. No one interfered with them. There were no advance formations lying in ambush, no challenges along the road. To Myron, the trip felt more like an exciting parade than the preparation for an ominous battle. Finally, he saw his first glimpse of Melengar in the distance. Fanen pointed out the great bell tower of Mares Cathedral and the tall spires of Essendon Castle, where no standard flew.\\n\\nA vanguard rode up and reported a strong force entrenched around the city. The nobles ordered their regiments to form ranks. Flags relayed messages, archers strung their bows, and the army transformed themselves into blocks of men. In long lines of three across, they moved as one. The archers were summoned forward and moved ahead just behind the foot soldiers.\\n\\nOrdered to the rear, Myron and Fanen rode with the cooks to watch and listen. From his new vantage point, Myron noticed part of the army had broken away from the mainline and was moving to the right side of the city. When the ranks of men reached the rise, which left them visible to the castle walls, a great horn sounded in the distance.\\n\\nOne of their own answered the castle horn, and the Galilin archers released a barrage of arrows upon the defenders. The shafts flew and appeared to hang briefly in the air like a dark cloud. As they fell, Myron could hear the distant cries of men. He watched with anticipation as the mounted knights broke into three groups. One stayed on the road, while the other two took up flanking positions on either side. The mainline increased their pace to a brisk walk.\\n\\nWhen they heard the horn, Mason Grumon and Dixon Taft led their mob up Wayward Street, effectively emptying the Lower Quarter. It was the sign Royce and Hadrian told them to wait for; it was the signal to attack.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ever since the two thieves woke them in the middle of the night, they spent their time organizing the resistance in the Lower Quarter of Medford. They spread news of Amrath's assassination by the archduke, of the innocence of the princess, and of the return of the prince. Those not moved by loyalty or justice were enticed by the chance to strike back at their betters. It was not difficult to convince the poor and the destitute to take up arms against the soldiery who policed them. In addition, there were those hoping fora possibility to do a little looting, or perhaps receive some reward from the crown if they prevailed.\\n\\nThey armed themselves with pitchforks, axes, and clubs. Makeshift armor was constructed by strapping whatever thin metal they could find under their clothing. Inmost cases, this meant commandeering a baking sheet from their wives. They had the numbers, but they looked apathetic lot. Gwen had roused the Artisan Quarter, which provided not only strong workers but a few swords, bows, and bits of armor. With the city guards ordered to the perimeter and most of the Gentry Quarter at the trial, there was no one to stop them from openly organizing.\\n\\nWith Dixon at his side, Mason marched at the head of the commoner procession, his smithing hammer in one hand and a rough-hewn shield he had beaten together that morning in the other. Years of frustration and resentment steamed to the surface as the smith strode forward. Anger born from the life he had been denied overwhelmed him. When he could not pay the taxes on his late father's shop, it had been the city sheriff and his guards who came. When he refused to leave, they had beaten him unconscious and thrown him into the gutter of Wayward Street. Mason blamed the guards for most of his life's misfortunes. The beating had weakened his shoulders, and for years afterward, wielding his hammer was so painful he could only work a few hours each day. This, and his gambling habit, kept him in poverty. Of course, he never really considered the gambling to be the real problem; it was the guards who were responsible. It did not matter to him that the soldiers and the sheriff who beat him were no longer with the guard. Today was his chance to fightback, to repay in kind for the pain he had endured.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Neither he nor Dixon were warriors or athletic, but they were large men with broad chests and thick necks, and the crowd followed behind them as if the citizens of the Lower Quarter were plowing the city with a pair of yoked oxen.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They turned onto Wayward Street and marched unchallenged into the Gentry Quarter. Compared to the Lower Quarter, it was like another world. The streets were paved with decorative tile work and lined with metal horse hitches. Along the avenue, enclosed streetlamps and covered sewers accentuated the care taken for the comfort of the privileged few. Marking the center of the Gentry Quarter was a large spacious square. The great Essendon Fountain, with its statue of Tolin on a rearing horse above the pluming water, was its main landmark. Across from it, Mares Cathedral rose. In its towers high above, bells chimed loudly. They passed the fine three-story stone and brick houses with their iron fences and decorative gates. That the stables here looked better than the house Mason lived in was not lost on him. The trip through the square only added fuel to the fire that was sweeping across the city.\\n\\nWhen they reached Main Street, they saw the enemy.\\n\\nThe sound of the horn brought Arista to the window once more. What she saw amazed her. In the distance, at the edge of her sight, she could see banners rising above the naked trees. Count Pickering was coming, and he was not alone. There were a score of flags comprising most of the western provinces. Pickering was marching on Medford with an army.\\n\\nIs it on my account? She pondered the question and concluded the answer was no. Of all the nobles, she knew the Pickerings the best, but she doubted he marched for her. News of Alric's death must have reached him, and he was challenging Braga for the crown. Most likely, he had given no thought at all to her plight. Count Pickering merely saw his opportunity and he was reaching for it. The fact that the princess might still live was only a technicality. No one wanted a woman as their ruler. If he won, he would force her abdication of the throne in favor of himself, or perhaps Mauvin. She would be sent away. She might not be locked up, but she would never be truly free. At least if he won, Braga would never sit on the throne of Melengar-but, would Pickering win? She was no tactician and certainly not a general; still even she could see that the forces marching on the road lacked the numbers fora castle siege. Braga had his forces well entrenched. Looking at the courtyard below, she suddenly realized the attack was distracting everyone. If only she could manage to escape.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perhaps, this time it will be different.\\n\\nShe rushed to her door and with a tap of her necklace, unlocked it. She grabbed the latch and pushed. As usual, the door refused to budge. \\\"Damn that dwarf,\\\" she said aloud to herself. She pushed violently against the door, throwing her entire weight, such that it was, against it. The door did not give way.\\n\\nThere was another rumble, and her room shook once more. Dust fell from the rafters. What is going on? She staggered as the tower swayed like a ship at sea. She did not know what else to do. Terrified and bewildered, she returned to the illusionary safety of her bed. She sat there, hugging her knees, hardly breathing, her eyes darting at the slightest sound. The end was coming. One way or another, she was certain the end was coming soon.\\n\\nThe prince was new to combat and unsure what to expect. He had hoped that merely assembling a massive force would cause the city's defenders to surrender. The reality was altogether different. When they reached Medford, they found trenches built outside the walls filled with spearmen. His archers had launched three flights of arrows but still the defenders remained steadfast. Using shields, they fended off much of the barrage and sustained little noticeable damage.\\n\\nWho are they? Alric wondered. Are my own soldiers standing between me and my home? What lies has Braga spread among the guards? Or are they these all hired men? Did my gold pay for those lines of pointed steel?\\n\\nAlric sat on one of Pickering's horses draped with a caparison hastily adorned with rough sewn images of the Melengar falcon. The animal was as restless as its rider, shuffling its hooves and snorting great clouds of frosty fog. Alric held the reins with his right hand, his left holding his woolen cloak tight about his neck. His eyes rose above the heads of the spearmen to look on the city of his birth. The walls and towers of Medford appeared faint and dream-like through the falling snow. The vision slowly faded into white as an eerie silence muffled the world.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your Majesty,\\\" Count Pickering spoke, breaking the stillness.\\n\\n\\\"Another flight?\\\" Alric proposed.\\n\\n\\\"Arrows will not conquer your city.\\\"\\n\\nAlric nodded solemnly. \\\"The knights then, send in the knights to break the line.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Marshal!\\\" the count shouted. \\\"Order the knights to break the line!\\\"\\n\\nGallant men in shining armor spurred their steeds and charged forward with banners dancing overhead. A whirlwind of snow launched into the sky by their passing obscured them from view. They vanished from sight, but still Alric listened to the thunder of their hooves.\\n\\nThe clash was dreadful. Alric felt it as much as heard it. Metal shrieked, men cried out, and until that moment Alric never knew it was possible for horses to scream. When the cloud of snow settled, the prince could at last seethe bloody spectacle. Spears braced in the dirt pierced the breast of man and mount. Horses collapsed, throwing the knights to the ground where they lay, like turtles struggling to right themselves. Spearmen drew forth short swords and thrust downward, punching their sharp points into eye slits and the armor gaps at the armpit or groin.\\n\\n\\\"This is not going as well as I hoped,\\\" Alric complained.\\n\\n\\\"Battle rarely ever does, Your Majesty,\\\" Count Pickering assured him. \\\"But this is a large part of what being king means. Your knights are dying. Are you going to leave them to their fate?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Should I send in the foot soldiers?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If I were you, I certainly would. You need to break a hole in that wall, and you'd better do so before your men decide you're incompetent and vanish into the forests around them.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Marshal!\\\" Alric shouted. \\\"Marshal Garret, order the foot soldiers to engage immediately!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sire!\\\"\\n\\nA horn sounded and the men roared forward into battle. Alric watched as steel cut through flesh. The footmen fared better than the knights, but the defensive position of the city soldiers took atoll. Alric could hardly bear to watch. Never before had he seen such a sight-there was so much blood. The white snow was gone; it was stained pink and, in some desperate places, had pooled to a dark red. Littering the grounds were body parts-arms lay severed, heads split open, and legs chopped off. The wall of men blended in a whirling mass of flesh, dirt, blood, and an endless cacophony of screams.\\n\\n\\\"I can't believe this is happening,\\\" Alric said, sounding and feeling sick. \\\"This is my city. These are my people. My men!\\\" He turned to Count Pickering. \\\"I am killing my own men!\\\" He was shaking now and tears filled his eyes, his face red. Hearing the shrieks and cries, he squeezed the pommel of his saddle until his hands hurt. He felt helpless.\\n\\nI am king now.\\n\\nHe did not feel like a king. He felt like he did on the road near The Silver Pitcher when those men held him face down in the dirt. The tears were now streaming down his cheeks.\\n\\n\\\"Alric! Stop it!\\\" Pickering snapped at him. \\\"You mustn't let the men see you crying!\\\"\\n\\nFury flared in Alric, and he spun on the count. \\\"No? No? Look at them! They are dying for me. They are dying on my order! I say they do have aright to see their king! They all have aright to see their king!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Alric wiped the tears from his cheeks and gathered his reins. \\\"I'm tired of this. I'm tired of having my face put in the dirt! I won't stand it. I'm tired of being helpless. That's my city, built by my ancestors! If my people chose to fight, then, by Maribor, I want them to know it is me they fight!\\\"\\n\\nThe prince put on his helm, drew his father's large sword and spurred his horse forward, not at the trench but at the castle gate itself.\\n\\n\\\"Alric, no!\\\" Pickering shouted after him.\\n\\nMason rushed forward and drove his hammer through the helmet of the first guard he saw. Grinning with delight at his good fortune, he gathered the man's sword and looked up.\\n\\nThe mob had reached the main gate of the city. The great four-towered barbican of gray stone rose above them like a monstrous beast. It swarmed with soldiers shocked at the sight of the city rising against them. Surprise and the accompanying panic bought the mob time to clear the streets and reach the gatehouse. Mason heard Dixon shout, \\\"For Prince Alric!\\\" but the prince was the last thing on the smith's mind.\\n\\nMason picked out his next target-a tall guard absorbed in a swinging match with a street sweeper from Artisan Row. Mason stabbed the guard in the armpit and listened to him scream as he twisted the blade. The street sweeper grinned at the smith and Mason grinned back.\\n\\nHe had only killed two men but already Mason was slick with blood. His tunic felt heavy as it stuck to the skin of his chest and he could not tell if it was sweat or tears of blood dripping down his face. The grin he had shown to the sweeper remained on his face, glued to his lips by the thrill and elation. This was freedom! This was living! His heart thundered and his head swam as if he were drunk.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mason swung his sword again, this time at a man already down on one knee. His swing was so strong the blade cut halfway through his victim's neck. He kicked the dead man aside and cried aloud in his victory. He spoke no words; words were valueless at such a moment. He shouted the fury that pounded in his heart. He was a man again, a man of strength, a man to be feared!\\n\\nA horn sounded and Mason looked up once more. A captain of the castle guard was on the ramparts shouting orders, rallying his troops. They responded to the call and fell back into ranks struggling to defend the gate even as the mob closed in.\\n\\nMason stepped through the muddy, blood-soaked ground, which was now slick beneath his feet. He looked about and picked anew target. A castle guard with his back to the smith was in the process of retreating to the sound of his captain's voice. The smith aimed at the guard's neck, attempting to cleave off his head. His inexperience with a sword caused him to aim too high and the blade glanced off the man's helmet ringing it loudly. He raised the sword for another blow when the man unexpectedly turned around.\\n\\nMason felt a sharp, burning pain in his stomach. In an instant, all the strength and fury drained from him. He let go his sword. He saw, rather than felt, himself drop to his knees. He looked down at the source of the pain and watched the soldier withdraw a sword from his stomach. Mason could not believe what he was seeing. How could all that steel have been inside me?\\n\\nThe smith felt a warm wetness on his hands as he instinctively pressed them to his wound. Trying as best he could to contain his organs that were spilling out, the blood flowed through a gash at least afoot wide. He no longer felt his legs and lay helpless when, to his horror, he saw the soldier swing again, this time at his head.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Alric charged the castle barbican. Immediately, Count Pickering, Mauvin, and Marshal Garret led the reserve knights in behind him. Arrows rained down from the parapets above the great gates. One deflected off Alric's visor, and another struck deep into the horn of his saddle. One hit Sir Sinclair's horse in the flank, causing it to rear unexpectedly, but the knight remained mounted. Countless more struck the ground harmlessly. The enraged prince rode directly to the gate and standing up in his stirrups shouted, \\\"I am Prince Alric Brendon Essendon! Open this gate in the name of your king!\\\"\\n\\nAlric was not certain anyone heard him as he stood there, his sword raised high over his head. Furthermore, having heard him, there was no reason to believe another arrow would not whistle down and end his life. Behind the prince, the remaining knights fanned out around him as the marshal attempted to build a wall around his monarch.\\n\\nA second arrow did not fly, but neither did the gate open.\\n\\n\\\"Alric,\\\" Count Pickering shouted, \\\"you must fallback!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am Prince Alric Essendon! Open the gate now!\\\" He demanded again, and this time he removed his helm and threw it aside backing his horse into full view of the ramparts.\\n\\nAlric and the others waited. Count Pickering and Mauvin stared at the prince in terror and tried to persuade him to come away from the gate. Nothing happened for several tense moments as the prince and his bodyguards sat outside waiting, staring up at the parapets. From inside they heard the sounds of fighting.\\n\\nA shout came from atop the walls of the city. \\\"The prince! Open the gate! Let him in! It's the prince!\\\" More shouts, a scream, and then suddenly the massive gate split open, and the great doors pulled back. Inside was amass of confusion as uniformed guards fought a horde of citizens dressed up like tinkers wearing makeshift armor or stolen helms.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Alric did not pause. He spurred his mount and drove into the crowd. Mauvin, Count Pickering, Sir Ecton, and Marshal Garret struggled to form a personal defense for their king, but there was little need. At the sight of him, the defenders laid down their weapons. Word that the prince was alive spread, and those who saw him charging toward the castle, brandishing his father's sword roared with cheers.\\n\\nRoyce heard the horn wail as he stood trapped on the steps of the tower. \\\"Sounds like a fight outside,\\\" Magnus mentioned. \\\"I wonder who will win?\\\" The dwarf scratched his beard. \\\"For that matter, I wonder who is fighting?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You don't take much interest in your employer's business, do you?\\\" Royce said studying the walls. When he tried to tap a spike into a seam, it broke like an eggshell. The dwarf was telling the truth about that.\\n\\n\\\"Only if it is necessary for the job. By the way, I wouldn't do that again. You were lucky you didn't hit a binding thread.\\\"\\n\\nRoyce cursed under his breath. \\\"If you want to be helpful, why not just tell me how to getup and back?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who said I was trying to be helpful?\\\" The dwarf grinned at him wickedly. \\\"I just spent half a year on this project. I don't want you to topple the whole thing in the first few minutes. I want to savor the moment.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are all dwarves this morbid?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Think of it as having built a sandcastle and wanting the pleasure of seeing it fall to a wave. I am on the edge of my toes waiting to see exactly how and when it will finally collapse. Will it be a misstep, a loss of balance, or something amazing and unexpected?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Royce drew his dagger and held it by the blade for the dwarf to see. \\\"Are you aware I could put this through your throat where you stand?\\\"\\n\\nIt was a false threat, as he would not dare throwaway such a vital tool at this moment. Still he expected a reaction of fear, or at least a mocking laugh. Instead, the dwarf did neither. He glared at the dagger his eyes wide.\\n\\n\\\"Where did you get that blade?\\\"\\n\\nRoyce rolled his eyes in disbelief. \\\"I'm a little busy here. If you don't mind.\\\" He resumed his study of the steps. He observed the way they curved up and around the central trunk of the tower, how the steps above formed the ceiling to the ones below. He looked up ahead and then behind him.\\n\\n\\\"The step I am on doesn't collapse if I am on it,\\\" Royce said to himself, but loud enough for the dwarf to hear. \\\"It only falls if I step on the next one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, quite ingenious, isn't it. As you might imagine, I'm quite proud of my work. I originally designed it to bean instrument of Arista's death. Braga hired me to set it up to look like an accident. A decrepit old tower in the royal residence collapses, and the poor princess is crushed in the process. Unfortunately, after Alric escaped, he changed his mind and decided to have her executed instead. I thought I would never get to seethe fruits of all my hard work, but then you came along. How nice of you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All traps have weaknesses,\\\" Royce said. He looked ahead at the steps and smiled suddenly. Crouching he leapt forward not one, but two steps. The step in the middle slipped from its position and fell, but the original step he started from remained. \\\"With no following step,\\\" Royce observed, \\\"that step is now secure from breaking, isn't it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Very clever,\\\" the dwarf replied, clearly disappointed.\\n\\nRoyce continued to leap two steps at a time until he moved around the circle out of sight of the dwarf. Ashe did, Magnus shouted, \\\"It'll do you no good. The gap at the bottom is much too far for you to jump. You are still trapped!\\\"\\n\\nArista was still crouched on her bed when she heard someone outside her door. It was probably that dreadful little dwarf or Braga himself coming to take her to the trial. She could hear a scraping and an occasional thud. She remembered too late that she had not resealed the door with her gemlock. As she moved toward the door, it swung open. To her surprise, it was neither Braga nor the dwarf. Instead, therein the doorway was one of the thieves from the dungeon.\\n\\n\\\"Princess,\\\" was all Royce said entering with a respectful though brief nod in her direction. He quickly moved passed her and seemed to be looking for something, his eyes roamed over the walls and ceiling of her bedroom.\\n\\n\\\"You? What are you doing here? Is Alric alive?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Alric's fine,\\\" Royce said as he moved about the room. He looked out the windows and examined the material of the drapes. \\\"Well, that's not going to work.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why are you here? How... did you get here? Did you see Esrahaddon? What did he say to Alric?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm a bit busy just now, Your Highness.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Busy? Doing what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Saving you, but I'll admit, I'm not doing very well at the moment.\\\" Without asking permission, Royce opened her wardrobe and began sifting through her clothes. Then he rifled through her dresser drawers.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What do you want with my clothes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm trying to figure away out of here. I suspect this tower is going to collapse in a few minutes, and if we don't get out soon, we'll die.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see,\\\" she said simply. \\\"Why can't we just go down the stairs?\\\" She got up and crept to the doorway. \\\"Sweet Maribor!\\\" she cried as she saw every other step missing.\\n\\n\\\"We can leap those but the last six or seven steps at the bottom are totally gone. It's too far to jump to the corridor. I was hoping maybe we could jump out the window to the moat, but that looks like instant death.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh,\\\" was all she could utter. A scream was growing in her and she covered her mouth with her hand, holding it back. \\\"You're right. You're not doing very well.\\\"\\n\\nRoyce looked under her bed and then stood up. \\\"Wait a minute, you're a sorceress, aren't you? Esrahaddon taught you magic. Can you get us down? Levitate us, or turn us into birds or something?\\\"\\n\\nArista smiled awkwardly. \\\"I was never able to learn much from Esrahaddon and certainly not self-levitation.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can you levitate aboard or stone we could jump to?\\\"\\n\\nArista shook her head.\\n\\n\\\"And the bird thing?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Even if I could, which I can't, we'd stay birds because I couldn't turn us back after changing now could I?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, magic is out,\\\" Royce said and began pulling the feather stuffed mattress off Arista's bed revealing the rope net beneath it. \\\"Okay, then help me untie your bed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The rope isn't long enough to reach the bottom of the tower,\\\" Arista told him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It doesn't have to be,\\\" he replied, pulling the rope through the holes in the bed frame.\\n\\nThe tower shuddered, and dust cascaded from the rafters. Arista held her breath fora moment, her heart pounding in anticipation of a sudden plummet, but the tower steadied itself once more.\\n\\n\\\"Clearly we are running out of time.\\\" Royce coiled the length of rope over his shoulder and headed toward the door.\\n\\nArista paused only a moment to look back at the dressing table and the brushes her father gave her and then moved to what remained of the stairs.\\n\\n\\\"You're going to have to jump down. The steps that are still there should be very sturdy and it should be easier than jumping up. Just be sure you don't over jump, but if you do, I'll try to catch you.\\\" With that, he sprang down two steps so gracefully that she felt embarrassed for her own lack of confidence.\\n\\nArista stood on the landing and rocked back and forth, focusing on the first step. She leapt and landed on it a little too far forward. Waving her arms madly, she teetered on the edge struggling desperately against falling. Royce held out his hands ready to catch her, but she regained her balance. Shaking slightly she took a deep breath.\\n\\n\\\"Don't over jump!\\\" he reminded her.\\n\\nNo kidding, she thought to herself. As if I haven't learned that lesson already.\\n\\nThe second jump was easier, and the third better still. Soon she developed a rhythm and moved down the steps at a brisk pace following Royce, who almost danced his way down. They were nearly to the bottom when Royce stopped.\\n\\n\\\"Keep going,\\\" he told her. \\\"Stop when you reach the last step and wait there.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"She nodded as he pulled the rope from around his shoulder and began tying it to the step he stood on.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arista continued to jump her way down, reminding herself not to be overconfident. When she saw the open expanse at the bottom, her remaining confidence fled. The gaping hole falling away into darkness was enough to shake her back into terror.\\n\\n\\\"Well, well, princess!\\\" the dwarf called to her. He stood in the open doorway of the corridor grinning, showing a mouth full of yellowed teeth. \\\"I really didn't expect to see you again. Where's the thief? Did he fall to his death?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You disgusting little beast!\\\" she cried at him.\\n\\nThe tower shifted once more. Its shuttering caused Arista to stagger a bit on the step and her heart to pound in fear. Clouds of dust and bits of rock rained down, clattering off the walls and steps. Arista cowered, covering her head with her arms until the shaking stopped and the debris settled.\\n\\n\\\"This old tower, she's almost ready to fall,\\\" the dwarf told her with a manic glee in his voice. \\\"Such a pity to be so close to safety and yet still so very far. If only you were a frog you might leap it. As it is, you still don't have away out.\\\"\\n\\nA coil of rope fell from the heights above. Suspended by a stair, the rope dangled midway between the princess and the dwarf. Along the slender line, Royce descended like a spider. When he reached a point level with Arista, he stopped and began to swing.\\n\\n\\\"Now that is impressive!\\\" the dwarf exclaimed and nodded showing his approval.\\n\\nRoyce swung onto the step next to Arista and tied the rope around his own waist. \\\"All we have to do is swing across. Just hang onto me.\\\"\\n\\nThe princess gladly threw her arms around the thief's shoulders and squeezed tight, as much out of fear as for safety.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You might have actually made it,\\\" the dwarf said, \\\"and for that you have my respect, but you must understand I have a reputation to uphold. I can't have someone walking around boasting they escaped one of my traps.\\\" Then without warning, he abruptly closed the door, sealing them in.\\n\\nHadrian heard the wail of a horn as he faced Braga in the corridor of the royal residence. \\\"I think it will be quite sometime until Wylin and the castle guards arrive,\\\" he taunted the archduke. \\\"I suspect the master-at-arms has more on his mind than responding to the demands of an earl from Warric to report to the royal residence when his castle is being stormed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Mores the pity for you as I no longer have the luxury of keeping you alive,\\\" Braga said as he lunged once more.\\n\\nHe swiped at Hadrian with lightning fast cuts. Hadrian danced away from Braga retreating farther and farther down the hall. The archduke showed perfect form, his weight centered on his back foot while only the toe of his front foot touched the ground, his back straight, his sword arm outstretched, and his other arm raised in an elegant bent L. Even the fingers of his freehand were elegantly posed as if they were holding up an invisible wineglass. His long black hair, peppered with lines of gray, cascaded down to his shoulders, and not a trace of perspiration was on his brow.\\n\\nHadrian in contrast acted clumsy and unsure. The Melengar sword was far inferior to any of his own blades. The tip wavered as he tried to hold it steady with both hands. He inched backward working to keep a distance between them.\\n\\nThe archduke lunged again. Hadrian parried and then dove past Braga, barely avoiding a return slice, which nicked a wall sconce. He took the opportunity to rundown the hallway and slipped into the chapel. \\\"Are we playing hide-and-seek now?\\\" Braga goaded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Braga entered and crossed swiftly to the altar where Hadrian stood. When the archduke swung at him, Hadrian stepped back, ducked a swiping stroke, and then leapt clear of a slash. Braga's attacks glanced off the statue of Novron and Maribor, taking part of the god's first three fingers off. Hadrian now stood before the wooden lectern, keeping his eyes on the archduke while he awaited the next attack.\\n\\n\\\"It's so poetic of you to choose to die in the same room as the king,\\\" Braga said. He swung right, and Hadrian glanced the stroke aside. Braga pivoted on his back foot and swung his sword overhead in a powerful, downward stroke. Expecting this attack, counting on it, Hadrian dove and slid across the polished marble floor on his stomach in the direction of the chapel door.\\n\\nHadrian got to his feet and turned in time to see Braga's stroke had sliced into the vertical grain of the lectern. His swing had been so forceful that the blade was now wedged in the wood and the archduke struggled to free it. Taking advantage of his distraction, Hadrian ran to the door, slipped out, and closed it behind him. Driving his sword into the jam, he wedged it shut.\\n\\n\\\"That should hold you fora while,\\\" Hadrian said to himself, pausing to catch his breath.\\n\\n\\\"That little worm!\\\" Arista spat through clenched teeth at the closed door.\\n\\nThe tower shuddered again, and this time larger pieces fell. One block of stone plummeted down, taking out a step only a few feet from them. Both shattered on impact and fell into the abyss of the tower's foundation. With the loss of those blocks, the tower came free and began to twist and topple.\\n\\n\\\"Hang on!\\\" Royce shouted as he pushed off the step. The two flew across the gap to the door. He grabbed hold of the large iron door ring, and they each found footholds on the ledge of the door jam.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He locked it,\\\" Royce informed her. He looped one arm through the door ring and removed his lock-picking tools from his belt. With his freehand, he worked the lock. A deep, resonating thunder shook the castle, and suddenly the rope tied to Royce went slack. The thief dropped his tools and pulled out his dagger. He cut the rope around his waist just as the stone slab attached to it passed them heading down. The rest of the tower was collapsing now.\\n\\nRoyce drove his dagger deep into the wooden door for another handhold as the tower fell around them. Walls hollowed out by the dwarf, splintered into shards, which burst and flew in all directions. Rocks and stone pummeled them as Royce and Arista cowered under the scant protection of the narrow stone arch of the doorframe.\\n\\nA fist-size stone struck Arista's back. She lost her tenuous foothold, and screamed as she fell. In an instant, Royce grabbed her. Grasping blindly, he caught the back of her dress and a substantial amount of hair. \\\"I can't hold you!\\\" he shouted.\\n\\nHe felt her sliding down his body, the back of her dress tearing. Royce gave up his own toehold, hanging by his arm hooked through the door ring, so that he could wrap his legs around her. The princess' fingers clawed his body frantically and finally finding his belt, she latched on.\\n\\nRoyce was temporarily blinded by a cloud of dust and powdered stone. When it settled, he found they were dangling in the brilliant sunlight on what was now an exterior wall of the castle's keep. The debris of the tower fell into the moat, making a pile of broken rocks seventy feet below. The crowd of trial watchers screamed and gasped pointing up at them. \\\"It's the princess!\\\" A voice shouted.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Can you reach the ledge?\\\" Royce asked.\\n\\n\\\"No! If I try, I'll fall. I can't-\\\"\\n\\nRoyce felt her slipping again and tried to tighten his leg hold on her, but he knew it would not be enough.\\n\\n\\\"Oh no! My fingers-I'm slipping!\\\"\\n\\nRoyce's arm, crooked in the ring, was wrenching his shoulder badly. His other hand, which gripped Arista's dress and hair, was slowing losing hold. She was sliding down once again; soon he would lose her altogether. Royce felt a tug on his arm. The door opened, and a strong hand reached out and grabbed Arista.\\n\\n\\\"I've got you,\\\" Hadrian told her as he hauled the princess up. Then he pulled the door open wide, dragging Royce into the hallway with it.\\n\\nThey lay on the floor exhausted and covered in bits of rock. Royce got to his feet and dusted off his clothes. \\\"I thought I felt it unlock,\\\" he said, getting up and retrieving his dagger from the face of the door.\\n\\nHadrian stood in the threshold of the doorway looking out at the clearing blue sky. \\\"Well, Royce, I love what you've done with the place.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where's the dwarf?\\\" Royce asked looking around.\\n\\n\\\"I didn't see him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And Braga? You didn't kill him, did you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I locked him in the chapel, but it won't hold. Which reminds me, could I borrow your sword? You're not going to use it anyway.\\\"\\n\\nRoyce handed him the falchion sword that had been part of his castle guard disguise. Hadrian took the weapon, slipped it from its sheath, and weighed it in his hand. \\\"I tell you, these swords are terrible. They are heavy and have all the balance of a drunken three-legged dog trying to take a piss.\\\" He then looked at Arista and added, \\\"Oh, excuse me... Your Highness. How are you doing, Princess?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Arista got to her feet.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Much better now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For the record, we're even, right?\\\" Royce asked her. \\\"You saved us from prison and a horrible death, and now we've saved you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fine,\\\" she agreed, wiping the dust from her torn dress. \\\"But I would like to point out my rescue of you was far less death defying.\\\" She ran a hand through her disheveled hair. \\\"That really hurt you know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Falling would have hurt more.\\\"\\n\\nAloud bang echoed from down the hall.\\n\\n\\\"Gotta go,\\\" Hadrian told them, \\\"his lordship is loose.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be careful,\\\" Arista shouted after him, \\\"he's a renowned swordsman!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm really tired of hearing that,\\\" Hadrian grumbled as he started backup the hall. He had not gone far when Braga rounded the corner coming toward them.\\n\\n\\\"So, you got her out!\\\" Braga bellowed. \\\"I'll just have to kill her myself then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You'll have to get by me first I'm afraid,\\\" Hadrian told him.\\n\\n\\\"That won't be a problem.\\\"\\n\\nThe archduke charged Hadrian, swinging at him in a fury. He hammered stroke after stroke on the fighter in a rage. Hadrian fought to deflect the fierce blows, which fell so fast they whistled in the air. The look on Braga's reddening face was one of hatred as he continued to pummel Hadrian.\\n\\n\\\"Braga!\\\" Alric shouted from the far end of the hall.\\n\\nThe archduke spun, panting for air.\\n\\nHadrian saw the prince standing at the far end of the corridor. He was dressed in plate armor and a white tabard marred by a spattering of blood. Alric's hand rested on the hilt of his sheathed sword, and at his side were the Pickerings and Sir Ecton, each with a grim and dangerous look upon his face.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Put down your weapon,\\\" the prince ordered in a powerful voice. \\\"It's over. This is my kingdom!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You filthy little creature!\\\" he cursed at the prince. He turned his attention away from Hadrian and began walking toward the prince. Hadrian did not follow. Instead, he joined Royce and Arista to watch.\\n\\n\\\"Did you think I was after your precious little kingdom?\\\" Braga bellowed. \\\"Is that what you think? I was trying to save the world, you fools! Can't you see it? Look at him!\\\" The archduke pointed at the prince. \\\"Look at the little maggot prince!\\\" he turned and pointed back at Arista. \\\"And her, too! Just like their father; they aren't human!\\\" Braga, his face still red from the fight, continued down the corridor toward Alric. \\\"You would have filth rule you all, but not me. Not while there is breath in this body!\\\"\\n\\nBraga charged forward raising his sword as he moved. When he came within reach of Alric, he brought it down toward the prince. Before Alric could react, the attack was deflected. An elegant rapier caught Braga's blade mid-stroke. Count Pickering held Braga's sword in the air, and Sir Ecton pulled the prince out of harm's way.\\n\\n\\\"You have your sword, I see. So there will be no excuse for you this time, dear count.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There will be no need for one. You area traitor to the crown and in memory of my friend Amrath, I will end this.\\\"\\n\\nBlades flashed. Pickering was as much a master of fencing as Braga, and the two moved elegantly, their swords appearing as extensions of their bodies. Reaching for their swords, Mauvin and Fanen started forward, but Ecton stopped them. \\\"This is your father's fight.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Pickering and Braga fought to kill. Sword strokes swept faster than the eye could follow, their deadly blades whistling a song to each other, crashing in chorus. The incredibly lustrous blade of Pickering's rapier caught the faint light in the corridor and glowed as it streaked through the air like a wand of light. It flashed and sparked when steel met steel.\\n\\nBraga lunged, nicked Pickering's side, and sweeping back, cut him shallowly across the chest. Pickering barely blocked a second stab with a sweeping parry, which allowed him an overhead stroke. Braga raised his sword to block, but Pickering ignored the defense. Instead he swung down with force and speed, streaking light from his sword.\\n\\nHadrian instinctually cringed. The high, overpowered stroke would leave Pickering vulnerable, open to a fatal riposte by Braga. Then the metal of the swords clashed. A brilliant spark flared as incredibly, Pickering's blade sheered Braga's sword in two. The count's stroke continued unabated into the archduke's throat. The Lord Chancellor collapsed to the floor, his head rolling afoot farther away.\\n\\nMauvin and Fanen rushed to their father's side, beaming with obvious pride and relief. Alric ran down the hall where his sister stood between the two thieves. \\\"Arista!\\\" he shouted as he threw his arms around her. Thank Maribor you're all right!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You aren't angry with me?\\\" she asked, pulling away from him with surprise in her voice.\\n\\nAlric shook his head. \\\"I owe you my life,\\\" he said hugging her again, \\\"and as for you two-\\\" he began, looking at Royce and Hadrian. \\\"Alric,\\\" Arista interrupted, \\\"it was not their fault. They didn't kill father, and they didn't want to kidnap you. It was my doing. I was the one who forced them. They didn't do anything. I was-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Oh, you are quite wrong there, my dear sister. They did a great deal.\\\" Alric smiled and placed a hand on Hadrian's shoulder. \\\"Thank you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're not going to charge us for the tower I hope,\\\" Hadrian said. \\\"But if you are, it was Royce's fault and should come out of his share.\\\"\\n\\nAlric chuckled.\\n\\n\\\"My fault?\\\" Royce growled. \\\"Find that little bearded menace and take your payment out of his stubby little hide.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't understand,\\\" Arista replied, looking confused. \\\"You wanted them executed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You must be mistaken, dear sister. These two fine men are the Royal Protectors of Essendon, and it appears they have done a fine job today.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your lordship,\\\" Marshal Garret appeared in the hall and approached the count, glancing only briefly at the dead body of Braga. \\\"The castle has been secured and the mercenaries are slain or have fled. It would appear the castle guard is still loyal to the House of Essendon. The nobles are anxious to hear about the state of affairs and are waiting in the court.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good,\\\" the count replied. \\\"Tell them His Majesty will address them soon. Oh, and send someone to clean this mess up, will you?\\\" The marshal bowed and left.\\n\\nAlric and his sister walked hand-in-hand down the corridor toward the others. Hadrian and Royce followed behind them. \\\"Even now it is hard for me to believe him capable of such treachery,\\\" Alric said, looking down at Braga's body. A large puddle of blood stretched across the floor of the hallway. Arista lifted the hem of her dress as she passed by to avoid staining it.\\n\\n\\\"What was all that ranting about us not being human?\\\" Arista asked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He was clearly insane,\\\" Bishop Saldur said, approaching with Archibald Ballentyne in tow.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Although he had never met the bishop in person, Hadrian knew who he was. Saldur greeted the prince and princess with a warm smile and fatherly expression. \\\"It is so good to see you, Alric,\\\" he said, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. \\\"And my dear Arista, no one is more pleased than I about your innocence. I must beg your forgiveness, my dear, as I was misled by your uncle. He planted seeds of doubts in my mind. I should have followed my heart and realized you could not possibly have done the things he accused you of.\\\" He gently kissed heron one cheek and then the other.\\n\\nThe bishop looked down at the blood-soaked body at their feet. \\\"I fear the guilt of killing the king was too much for the poor man, and in the end, he lost his mind completely. Perhaps he was certain you were dead, Alric, and seeing you in the hallway he took you fora ghost or a demon back from the grave to haunt him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps,\\\" Alric said skeptically, \\\"well, at least it's over now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What about the dwarf?\\\" Arista asked.\\n\\n\\\"Dwarf?\\\" Alric replied. \\\"How do you know about the dwarf?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He was the one who set the trap in the tower. He nearly killed Royce and me. Does anyone know where he has gotten to? He was just here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He's responsible for far more than that. Mauvin run and tell the marshal to organize a search immediately,\\\" Alric instructed.\\n\\n\\\"Right away,\\\" Mauvin nodded and ran off.\\n\\n\\\"I, too, am pleased you are all right, Your Highness,\\\" Archibald told the prince. \\\"I was told you were dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And were you hereto pay your respects to my memory?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I was hereby invitation.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who invited you?\\\" Alric asked and looked at the slain corpse of Braga. \\\"Him? What dealings does an Imperialist earl of Warric and a traitorous archduke have in Melengar?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was a cordial visit, I assure you.\\\"\\n\\nAlric glared at the earl. \\\"Get out of my kingdom before I have you seized as a conspirator.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You wouldn't dare,\\\" Archibald returned. \\\"I am a vassal of King Ethelred. Seize me or even treat me roughly and you risk war-a struggle Melengar can ill afford, particularly now with an inexperienced boy at the helm.\\\"\\n\\nAlric drew his sword, and Archibald took two steps back. \\\"Escort the earl out before I forget Melengar has a treaty of peace with Warric.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Times are changing, Your Highness,\\\" Archibald called to the prince as guards led him away. \\\"The New Empire is coming, and there is no place for an archaic monarchy in the new order.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is there noway I can throw him in the dungeon, even fora few days?\\\" Alric asked Pickering. \\\"Can I try him as a spy perhaps?\\\"\\n\\nBefore Pickering could reply, the Bishop Saldur spoke. \\\"The earl is quite right, Your Highness, any hostile act made against Ballentyne would be considered by King Ethelred to bean act of war against Chadwick. Just consider how you would respond if Count Pickering here were hanged in Aquesta. You wouldn't stand for it anymore than he would. Besides, the earl is all bluster. He is young and merely trying to sound important. Forgive him his youth. Have you not made errors in judgment as well?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Perhaps,\\\" Alric muttered.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Still, I can't help but suspect that snake is up to no good. I just wish there was someway I could teach him a lesson.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your Highness?\\\" Hadrian said, stopping him. \\\"If you don't mind, Royce and I have friends in the city we'd like to check on.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, yes, of course, go right ahead,\\\" Alric responded. \\\"But there is the matter of payment. You've done me a great service,\\\" he said, looking fondly at his sister. \\\"I intend to honor my word. You can name your price.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If it is all right, we'll get back to you on that,\\\" Royce said.\\n\\n\\\"I understand,\\\" the prince said, revealing a hint of concern, \\\"But I do hope you will be reasonable in your request and not bankrupt the kingdom.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should address the court,\\\" Pickering told Alric.\\n\\nAlric nodded and he, Arista, and Mauvin disappeared down the stairs. Pickering lingered behind with the two thieves.\\n\\n\\\"I think there's a chance that boy will actually make a decent king,\\\" he mentioned once the prince was too faraway to hear. \\\"I had my doubts in the past, but he seems to have changed. He is more serious, more confident.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, the sword is magic after all.\\\" Hadrian motioned toward the rapier.\\n\\n\\\"Hmm?\\\" Pickering looked down at the sword he wore at his side and grinned. \\\"Oh, well, let's just say it gives mean edge in a battle. That reminds me, why were you letting Braga beat you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What do you mean?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I saw you fighting when we first came up. Your stance was defensive, your strokes all parries and blocks. You never once attacked.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I was frightened,\\\" Hadrian lied.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Braga won so many awards and tournament competitions, and I haven't won any.\\\"\\n\\nPickering looked puzzled. \\\"But not being noble born, you aren't allowed to enter a tournament.\\\"\\n\\nHadrian pursed his lips and nodded. \\\"Now that you mention it, I suppose you're right. You'd best see to your wounds, your lordship. You're bleeding on your nice tunic.\\\"\\n\\nPickering glanced down and looked surprised to seethe slice Braga gave him across the chest. \\\"Oh, yes, well, it doesn't matter. The tunic is ruined from the cut anyway, and the bleeding seems to have stopped.\\\"\\n\\nMauvin returned and trotted over to them. He stood next to his father, his arm around his waist. \\\"I have soldiers looking for the dwarf, but so far no luck.\\\" Despite the bad news, Mauvin was smiling broadly.\\n\\n\\\"What are you grinning at?\\\" his father asked.\\n\\n\\\"I knew you could best him. I did doubt it fora time, but deep down, I knew.\\\"\\n\\nThe count nodded and a thoughtful expression came over his face. He looked at Hadrian. \\\"After so many years of doubt, it was fortuitous I had the opportunity and good fortune to defeat Braga, particularly with my sons watching.\\\"\\n\\nHadrian nodded and smiled. \\\"That's true.\\\"\\n\\nThere was a pause as Pickering studied his face and then he placed a hand on Hadrian's shoulder. \\\"To be quite honest, I for one am very pleased you're not noble Mr. Hadrian Blackwater, quite pleased indeed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you coming, your lordship?\\\" Sir Ecton called, and the count and his sons headed off.\\n\\n\\\"You didn't really hold back on Braga so Pickering could kill him, did you?\\\" Royce asked after the two were left alone in the hallway.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Of course not. I held him off because it's death fora commoner to kill a noble.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's what I thought.\\\" Royce sounded relieved. \\\"Fora minute, I thought you'd gone from jumping on the good-deed wagon to leading the whole wagon train.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sure the gentry appear all nice and friendly, but if I'd killed him, even though they wanted him dead anyway, you can be sure they wouldn't be patting me on the back saying good job. No, it's best to avoid killing nobles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At least not where there are witnesses,\\\" Royce said with a grin.\\n\\nAs they headed out of the castle, they heard Alric's voice echoing\\\"... was a traitor to the crown and responsible for the murder of my father. He attempted to murder me and to execute my sister. Yet, due to the wisdom of the princess and the heroism of others, I am standing here before you.\\\"\\n\\nThis was followed by a roar of applause and cheers.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sixty-eight people had died, and over two hundred bore wounds from what became known as the Battle of Medford. The timely attack by the citizenry at the gate precipitated the prince's entrance into the city, and arguably saved his life. Once news spread through the city of Alric's return, all resistance ended. This restored peace but not order. For several hours after the battle, roving gangs took the opportunity to loot shops and storehouses, mostly along the riverfront. A shoemaker died defending his cobbler shop, and a weaver was badly beaten. In addition to the general thieving, the sheriff, his two deputies, and a moneylender were murdered. Many believed there were those who took advantage of the chaos to settle old scores. The killers were never identified, and no one bothered to look for the looters. In the end, no one was even arrested; it was enough that the violence was over.\\n\\nMost of the snow that had fallen the day of the battle had melted over the next few days, leaving only dirty patches hiding in the shadows. Still for the most part, the weather remained decidedly cold. Autumn was officially finished, and winter had arrived. In the freezing winds, a silent crowd stood outside the royal crypt for hours as they removed Amrath's body for the official state funeral. Many others were buried that same day. The funerals provided a cleansing of the entire city's grief, followed by a weeklong period of mourning.\\n\\nAmong the dead was Wylin, the master-at-arms of Castle Essendon. He fell while directing the defenses at the castle gate. It was never determined if Wylin had been a traitor or had merely been deceived by the archduke's lies. Alric gave him the benefit of the doubt and granted him burial with full honors. Although Mason Grumon died, Dixon Taft, manager of The Rose and Thorn, survived the battle with only the loss of his left arm just above the elbow. He might have died, along with many others, except for the efforts of Gwen DeLancy and her girls. Prostitutes, it turned out, made excellent nurses. The maimed and wounded who lacked family to care for them filled Medford House for weeks. When word of this reached the castle, food, supplies, and linens were sent.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"News spread throughout Melengar of Alric's heroic charge on the fortified gates. How he survived the hail of arrows, only to bravely fling off his helm and dare them a second time-it made for great barroom stories. Few thought much of the son of Amrath prior to the battle, but now he became a heroin the eyes of many. A somewhat lesser known tale gained popularity a few days later as it, too, circulated through the city's taverns. This outlandish yarn described how two criminals, falsely accused of the king's murder, had escaped a tortuous death by abducting the prince. The story grew with each telling, and soon these same thieves were said to have gone on a rollicking trip through the countryside with the prince, returning just in time to save the princess from the tower seconds before it collapsed. Some even claimed to have helped save the prince from a roadside execution while others insisted they personally saw the princess and one of the criminals dangling from the side of the castle after the collapse of the tower.\\n\\nDespite extensive searches, the dwarf whose hand actually killed the king escaped. Alric posted a reward notice offering one hundred gold tenents on every crossroad sign and on the door of every tavern and church in the realm. Patrols rode the length of every road searching barns, storehouses, mills, and even under the spans of bridges, yet he was not found.\\n\\nFollowing the week of mourning, work began on repairing the castle. Crews cleared away the debris, and architects estimated at least a year to rebuild the lost tower. Though the falcon flag flew above the castle, the city saw little of Prince Alric. He remained sequestered within the halls of power buried under hundreds of obligations. Count Pickering, acting as a counselor, remained in the castle along with his sons. He assisted the young prince in his efforts to assume his father's role.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"One month to the day after the burial of King Amrath, the prince's coronation took place.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"By that time, the snows returned and the city was white once more. Everyone came to the ceremony, yet, only a fraction could fit inside the expansive Mares Cathedral where the coronation took place. The majority only caught a brief glimpse of their new monarch when he rode in an open carriage back to the castle or as he stood on the open balcony while trumpets blared.\\n\\nIt was a full day of celebration with minstrels and street performers hired to entertain the citizenry. The castle even provided free ale and rows upon rows of tables filled with all manner of food. In the evening, which came sooner with the shortening of the days, people crammed into the local taverns and inns that were full of out of town visitors. The locals retold the stories of the Battle of Medford and the now famous legend of Prince Alric and the Thieves. These stories were still popular and showed no sign of going out of fashion. The day was long and eventually even the lights in the public houses winked out.\\n\\nOne of the few buildings still burning a candle was in the Artisan Quarter. It was originally a haberdashery, but the previous owner, Lester Furl, had died in the battle the month before. Some said the plumed hat he wore that day caught the attention of an axe. Since then, the wooden sign of the ornate cavalier hat still hung above the door, but no hats were for sale in the window. Even late into the night, the light was always on; however, no one was ever seen entering or exiting the shop. A small man in a simple robe greeted those nosy enough to knock. Behind him, visitors saw a room filled with the dried, hairless skins of animals. Most soaked in tubs or were stretched out on frames. There were pumice stones, needles and thread, and folded sheets of vellum piled neatly along the walls. The room also contained three desks with upright tops over which large sheets of parchment lay with carefully written text. Bottles of ink rested on shelves and in open drawers. The man was always polite, and when asked what he sold in his shop, he would reply, \\\"Nothing.\\\" He simply wrote books. Because few people could read, most inquiries ended there.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The fact was, there were very few books in the shop.\\n\\nMyron Lanaklin sat alone in the store. He had written half a page of Grigoles Treatise on Imperial Common Law and then just stopped. The room was cold and silent. He stood up, walked to the shop window, and looked out at the dark, snowy street. Ina city with more people than he saw in his lifetime, he felt utterly alone. A month had passed, but he had only finished half of his first book. He found himself spending most of his time just sitting. In the silence, he imagined he could hear the sound of his brothers speaking the evening vespers.\\n\\nHe avoided sleep because of the nightmares. They had started the third night he slept in the shop. They were terrible. Visions of flames and sounds of pleading coming from his own mouth as the voices of his family died in the inferno. Every night they died again, and everyday he awoke on the cold floor of the tiny room in a world more silent and isolated than the abbey had ever been. He missed his home and the mornings he spent with Renian.\\n\\nAlric made good on his promise. The new king of Melengar provided him the shop rent-free and all the materials needed for making his books. Never was there a mention of cost. Alric endeavored to support the literary sciences in his realm starting with Myron as his little pet project. Myron should have been happy, but he felt more lost each day. Although he had more food than ever before, and no abbot to restrict his diet, he ate little. His appetite dwindled along with his desire to write.\\n\\nWhen he had first arrived at the shop, he felt obligated to replace the books, but as the days slipped by, he sat alone and confused. How could he replace the books? They were not missing. No shelf lay bare, no library stood wanting. What would he do if he ever completed the project? What would he do with the books? What would become of them? What would become of him? They had no home, and neither did he.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Myron sat down on the wooden floor in the corner, pulling his legs to his chest and rested his head against the wall. \\\"Why did I have to be the one who lived?\\\" he muttered to the empty room. \\\"Why did I have to be left behind? Why is it I'm cursed with an indelible memory, so that I can recall every face, every scream, every cry?\\\"\\n\\nAs usual, Myron wept. There was no one to see, so he let the tears run unchecked down his cheeks. He cried thereon the floor in the flickering candlelight and soon fell asleep.\\n\\nThe knock on the door startled him. He stood up. It was still night. He could not have been asleep long; the candle still burned. Myron moved to the door and opening it a crack, peered out. On the stoop outside, two men in heavy winter cloaks stood waiting.\\n\\n\\\"Myron? Are you going to let us in or leave us to freeze?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hadrian? Royce!\\\" Myron exclaimed as he threw open the door. He embraced Hadrian immediately and then turned to Royce and paused, deciding a handshake would suit him better.\\n\\n\\\"So it's been awhile,\\\" Hadrian said, shaking the snow off his boots. \\\"How many books have you finished?\\\"\\n\\nMyron looked sheepish. \\\"I've had a little trouble adjusting, but I will get them done. Isn't this place wonderful?\\\" he said trying to sound sincere. \\\"It was very generous of His Majesty to provide all this for me. I have enough vellum to last years and ink! Well, don't get me started. As Finiless wrote,\\\"More could not begotten though the world be emptied to the breath of time. '\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So you like it here?\\\" Hadrian asked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Oh, I love it, yes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I really couldn't ask for anything more.\\\" A look exchanged between the two thieves, the meaning of which Myron could not discern. \\\"Can I get either of you something, tea perhaps? The king is very good tome. I even have honey to sweeten it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tea would be nice,\\\" Royce said, and Myron moved to the counter to fetch a pot.\\n\\n\\\"So what are you two doing out so late?\\\" Myron asked then laughed at himself. \\\"Oh, never mind, I guess this isn't late for you. I suppose you work nights.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Something like that,\\\" Hadrian said. \\\"We just got back from a trip to Chadwick. We are heading back to The Rose and Thorn but wanted to stop by hereon the way and deliver the news.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"News? What kind of news?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well I thought it might be good news, but now I'm not so sure.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why's that?\\\" the monk asked, pouring water into the pot.\\n\\n\\\"Well, it would mean leaving here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It would?\\\" Myron turned suddenly, spilling the water.\\n\\n\\\"Well, yes, but I suppose if you're really attached to this place we could-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Togo where?\\\" Myron asked anxiously, setting down the pitcher forgetting the tea.\\n\\n\\\"Well,\\\" Hadrian began, \\\"Alric offered us whatever we wanted as payment for saving Arista, but seeing as how Arista saved our life first, it didn't seem right asking for money, or land, or anything personal like that. We got to thinking just how much was lost when the Winds Abbey was destroyed. Not just the books mind you, but the safe haven for those lost in the wilderness. So we asked the king to rebuild the abbey just like it was.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Are... are you serious?\\\" Myron stammered. \\\"And did he say yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To be honest, he sounded relieved,\\\" Royce said. \\\"I think he felt as if there was a dagger dangling over his head fora month. I suppose he was afraid we'd ask for something ridiculous like his firstborn or the crown jewels.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We might have, if we hadn't already stolen them,\\\" Hadrian chuckled, and Myron was not sure if he was joking or not.\\n\\n\\\"But if you really like this place,\\\" Hadrian, said whirling his finger in the air, \\\"I suppose we-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No! No... I mean, I think you are right. The abbey should be rebuilt for the sake of the kingdom.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Glad you feel that way because we need you to help the builders design it. I am assuming you could draw a few floor plans and maybe some sketches?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Certainly, down to the finest detail.\\\"\\n\\nHadrian chuckled. \\\"I bet you can. I can see you're going to drive the royal architect to drink.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who will be the abbot? Has Alric contacted the Dibben Monastery already?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He sent out a messenger this morning as one of his first acts asking. You're going to have a few guest monks trickling in over the winter, and this spring all of you will have a great deal of work to do.\\\"\\n\\nMyron was grinning widely.\\n\\n\\\"About that tea?\\\" Royce inquired.\\n\\n\\\"Oh yes, sorry.\\\" He returned to pouring water into the pot. Stopping once more, he turned back to the thieves and his grin faded.\\n\\n\\\"I would so much love to return to my home and see it rise again. But...\\\" Myron paused.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What is it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Won't the Imperialists simply comeback? If they hear the abbey is there again... I don't think I could...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Relax, Myron,\\\" Hadrian said, \\\"that's not going to happen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But how can you be sure?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Trust me, the Imperialists won't advocate another foray into Melengar,\\\" Royce assured the monk. The smile on the thief's face made Myron think of a cat, and he was happy not to be a mouse.\\n\\nIn the hours before dawn, the Lower Quarter was quiet. Dampened by the snow, the only sound came from the muffled hoof falls of mounts as they moved slowly up the alley to The Rose and Thorn.\\n\\n\\\"Do you need any of the money?\\\" Royce asked Hadrian.\\n\\n\\\"I have enough. Deposit the rest with Gwen. What does that come to now?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, we're in pretty good shape. We have our share of the fifteen gold tenents for returning Alenda's letters, and the twenty from Ballentyne for stealing them in the first place, plus DeWitt's one hundred, and Alric's one hundred. You know, one day we're going to have to find DeWitt-and thank him for that job.\\\" Royce grinned.\\n\\n\\\"Do you think it was fair asking for the money along with the abbey?\\\" Hadrian asked. \\\"I have to admit the guy was starting to grow on me, and I hate to think we took advantage of him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The hundred was forgoing into Gutaria with him,\\\" Royce reminded him. \\\"The abbey was for saving his sister. We didn't ask for anything Alric didn't agree to in advance. And he did say anything so we could easily have asked for land and noble rank.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Why didn't we?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh? So you would like to be the Count Blackwater, would you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It might have been nice,\\\" Hadrian said sitting up straighter in his saddle, \\\"and you could be the infamous Marquis Melborn.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why infamous?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Would you prefer notorious? Nefarious perhaps?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What's wrong with beloved?\\\"\\n\\nNeither could hold a straight face at the thought.\\n\\n\\\"Come to think of it, we failed to bill the good king for saving him from Trumbul. Do you think-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's too late, Royce,\\\" Hadrian told him.\\n\\nRoyce sighed, disappointed. \\\"So, I think he wasn't too putout all things considered. Besides we are thieves, remember? Anyway, the bottom line is, we won't be starving this winter.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, we've been good little squirrels, haven't we?\\\" Hadrian said.\\n\\n\\\"Maybe this spring we can start that fishing enterprise you wanted.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I thought you wanted the winery?\\\"\\n\\nRoyce shrugged.\\n\\n\\\"Well, you keep thinking. I'm going to go wake up Emerald and let her know I'm back. It's too cold to sleep alone tonight.\\\"\\n\\nRoyce passed the tavern and dismounted at Medford House. For sometime, he stood, just staring at the top window while his feet grew colder and colder in the snow.\\n\\n\\\"You are going to come up, aren't you?\\\" Gwen asked from the doorway. She was still dressed and as pretty as ever. \\\"Isn't it awfully cold out there?\\\"\\n\\nRoyce smiled at her. \\\"You waited up.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You said you'd becoming back tonight.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2389,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conspiracy\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: The Crown Conspiracy\nChapter: 11"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Why didn't we?\"\n\n\"Oh? So you would like to be the Count Blackwater, would you?\"\n\n\"It might have been nice,\" Hadrian said sitting up straighter in his saddle, \"and you could be the infamous Marquis Melborn.\"\n\n\"Why infamous?\"\n\n\"Would you prefer notorious? Nefarious perhaps?\"\n\n\"What's wrong with beloved?\"\n\nNeither could hold a straight face at the thought.\n\n\"Come to think of it, we failed to bill the good king for saving him from Trumbul. Do you think-\"\n\n\"It's too late, Royce,\" Hadrian told him.\n\nRoyce sighed, disappointed. \"So, I think he wasn't too putout all things considered. Besides we are thieves, remember? Anyway, the bottom line is, we won't be starving this winter.\"\n\n\"Yes, we've been good little squirrels, haven't we?\" Hadrian said.\n\n\"Maybe this spring we can start that fishing enterprise you wanted.\"\n\n\"I thought you wanted the winery?\"\n\nRoyce shrugged.\n\n\"Well, you keep thinking. I'm going to go wake up Emerald and let her know I'm back. It's too cold to sleep alone tonight.\"\n\nRoyce passed the tavern and dismounted at Medford House. For sometime, he stood, just staring at the top window while his feet grew colder and colder in the snow.\n\n\"You are going to come up, aren't you?\" Gwen asked from the doorway. She was still dressed and as pretty as ever. \"Isn't it awfully cold out there?\"\n\nRoyce smiled at her. \"You waited up.\"\n\n\"You said you'd becoming back tonight.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Royce pulled his saddlebag off his horse and carried it up the steps."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I have another deposit to make.\"\n\n\"Is that why you were standing in the snow for so long? You were trying to decide whether or not to trust me with your money?\"\n\nHer words stung him. \"No!\"\n\n\"Then why were you standing there so long?\"\n\nRoyce hesitated. \"Would you prefer me if I were a fisherman, or perhaps a winemaker?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"I prefer you as you are.\"\n\nRoyce took her hand. \"Gwen, you have to understand. It never ends well for someone like me. You'd be better off with a nice farmer or rich merchant. Someone you can raise children with, someone you can grow old with, someone who will stay at home and not leave you alone and wondering.\"\n\nShe kissed him.\n\n\"What was that for?\"\n\n\"I'm a prostitute, Royce. There aren't many men who consider themselves unworthy of me. I prefer you just as you are and just as you will be. If I did have the power to change you, the only change I would make would be to convince you of that.\"\n\nHe put his arms around her, and she pulled him close. \"I missed you,\" she whispered.\n\nArchibald Ballentyne awoke with a start.\n\nHe had fallen asleep in the Gray Tower of Ballentyne Castle. The fire had burned out, and the room was growing cold. It was also dark, but the dim glow of the faint orange embers in the hearth gave a little light. There was an odd and unpleasant odor in the air, and he felt the weight of something large and round on his lap. He could not make it out in the darkness. It seemed like a melon wrapped in linen. He stood up and set the object in his chair. He moved aside the brass screen and, taking two logs from the stack nearby, placed them on top of the hot coals. He prodded the embers with a poker, blew on them, and coaxed the fire back to life. Ashe did, the room filled with light once more."},{"from":"human","value":"He set the poker back to its stand, replaced the screen, and dusted his hands off."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ashe turned around, he looked at the chair he had been sleeping in and immediately pin-wheeled backward in horror.\n\nThereon his seat was the head of the former Archduke of Melengar. The cloth, which was covering it, had partially fallen away revealing a large portion of what had once been Braga's face. The eyes were rolled back leaving white and milky orbs in their sockets. The yellowed skin, stretched and leathery, was shriveled. A host of some kind of worms moved in the gaping mouth, slithering in a heaving mass which made it almost appear as if Braga's tongue was trying to speak.\n\nArchibald's stomach twisted in knots. Too frightened to scream, he looked around the room for intruders. Ashe did, he saw writing on the wall. Painted in what appeared to be blood, in letters afoot tall, were the words:"}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conspiracy\\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\\nTitle: The Crown Conspiracy\\nChapter: 11\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Why didn't we?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh? So you would like to be the Count Blackwater, would you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It might have been nice,\\\" Hadrian said sitting up straighter in his saddle, \\\"and you could be the infamous Marquis Melborn.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why infamous?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Would you prefer notorious? Nefarious perhaps?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What's wrong with beloved?\\\"\\n\\nNeither could hold a straight face at the thought.\\n\\n\\\"Come to think of it, we failed to bill the good king for saving him from Trumbul. Do you think-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's too late, Royce,\\\" Hadrian told him.\\n\\nRoyce sighed, disappointed. \\\"So, I think he wasn't too putout all things considered. Besides we are thieves, remember? Anyway, the bottom line is, we won't be starving this winter.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, we've been good little squirrels, haven't we?\\\" Hadrian said.\\n\\n\\\"Maybe this spring we can start that fishing enterprise you wanted.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I thought you wanted the winery?\\\"\\n\\nRoyce shrugged.\\n\\n\\\"Well, you keep thinking. I'm going to go wake up Emerald and let her know I'm back. It's too cold to sleep alone tonight.\\\"\\n\\nRoyce passed the tavern and dismounted at Medford House. For sometime, he stood, just staring at the top window while his feet grew colder and colder in the snow.\\n\\n\\\"You are going to come up, aren't you?\\\" Gwen asked from the doorway. She was still dressed and as pretty as ever. \\\"Isn't it awfully cold out there?\\\"\\n\\nRoyce smiled at her. \\\"You waited up.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You said you'd becoming back tonight.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Royce pulled his saddlebag off his horse and carried it up the steps.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I have another deposit to make.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is that why you were standing in the snow for so long? You were trying to decide whether or not to trust me with your money?\\\"\\n\\nHer words stung him. \\\"No!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then why were you standing there so long?\\\"\\n\\nRoyce hesitated. \\\"Would you prefer me if I were a fisherman, or perhaps a winemaker?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" she said, \\\"I prefer you as you are.\\\"\\n\\nRoyce took her hand. \\\"Gwen, you have to understand. It never ends well for someone like me. You'd be better off with a nice farmer or rich merchant. Someone you can raise children with, someone you can grow old with, someone who will stay at home and not leave you alone and wondering.\\\"\\n\\nShe kissed him.\\n\\n\\\"What was that for?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm a prostitute, Royce. There aren't many men who consider themselves unworthy of me. I prefer you just as you are and just as you will be. If I did have the power to change you, the only change I would make would be to convince you of that.\\\"\\n\\nHe put his arms around her, and she pulled him close. \\\"I missed you,\\\" she whispered.\\n\\nArchibald Ballentyne awoke with a start.\\n\\nHe had fallen asleep in the Gray Tower of Ballentyne Castle. The fire had burned out, and the room was growing cold. It was also dark, but the dim glow of the faint orange embers in the hearth gave a little light. There was an odd and unpleasant odor in the air, and he felt the weight of something large and round on his lap. He could not make it out in the darkness. It seemed like a melon wrapped in linen. He stood up and set the object in his chair. He moved aside the brass screen and, taking two logs from the stack nearby, placed them on top of the hot coals. He prodded the embers with a poker, blew on them, and coaxed the fire back to life. Ashe did, the room filled with light once more.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He set the poker back to its stand, replaced the screen, and dusted his hands off.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ashe turned around, he looked at the chair he had been sleeping in and immediately pin-wheeled backward in horror.\\n\\nThereon his seat was the head of the former Archduke of Melengar. The cloth, which was covering it, had partially fallen away revealing a large portion of what had once been Braga's face. The eyes were rolled back leaving white and milky orbs in their sockets. The yellowed skin, stretched and leathery, was shriveled. A host of some kind of worms moved in the gaping mouth, slithering in a heaving mass which made it almost appear as if Braga's tongue was trying to speak.\\n\\nArchibald's stomach twisted in knots. Too frightened to scream, he looked around the room for intruders. Ashe did, he saw writing on the wall. Painted in what appeared to be blood, in letters afoot tall, were the words:\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2390,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, urban fantasy, wizards\nAuthor: Jim Butcher\nTitle: Death Masks\nChapter: 17"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Why would you say that?\" I asked.\n\n\"I've had a pro hitter following me ever since I landed yesterday. The itch between my shoulder blades got annoying.\"\n\nI glanced around. \"Is he here now?\"\n\nThomas's eyes glittered. \"No. I introduced him to my sisters,\"\n\nThe White Court were the most human of the vampires and in someways the weakest. They fed on psychic energies, on pure life force rather than on blood. Most often, they would seduce those they fed upon, drawing life from them through physical contact during the act. If a couple of Thomas's sisters had met the hired gun tailing Thomas, the assassin probably wasn't going to be a problem to anyone. Ever. My eye twitched.\n\n\"The gunman was probably Ortega's,\" I said. \"He hired some goons to takeout people I knew if I didn't agree to this duel.\"\n\n\"That explains it, then,\" Thomas said. \"Ortega really doesn't like me much. Must be the unsavory company I've kept in the past.\"\n\n\"Gee, thanks. How the hell did you end up his second?\"\n\n\"It's my father's idea of a joke,\" Thomas said. \" Ortega asked him to be his second.\n\nShow of solidarity between the Red and White Courts. Instead, Daddy dearest found the most annoying and insulting member of the family he possibly could to stand in.\"\n\n\"You,\" I said.\n\n\"C'est moi,\" Thomas confirmed with a little bow. \"One would almost think Father was trying to get me killed.\"\n\nI felt one side of my mouth tug up into a smile. \"Nice father figure. Him and Bill Cosby. How's Justine?\"\n\nThomas grimaced. \"She's in Aruba is how she is. Which is where I was until one of pappa Raith's goons dragged me backup here.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What did you two decide on for the duel?\"\n\nThomas shook his head. \"Can't tell you. Shiro is supposed to do that. I mean, technically I'm at war with you.\"\n\nI grimaced and stared after Ortega's vanished car. \"Yeah.\"\n\nThomas was quiet fora second, then said, \"He means to kill you.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"He's dangerous, Harry. Smart. My father is afraid of him.\"\n\n\"I could like him,\" I said. \" It's sort of refreshing to have someone trying to kill me right to my face, instead of throwing me a bunch of curveballs and shooting me in the back.\n\nIt's almost nice to have a fair fight.\"\n\n\"Sure. Theoretically.\"\n\n\"Theoretically?\"\n\nThomas shrugged. \"Ortega's been alive for about six hundred years. It isn't something you do by playing nice.\"\n\n\"From what I've heard, the Archive will object to any monkey business.\"\n\n\"It's only cheating if he gets caught.\"\n\nI frowned at him and said, \"Are you saying someone is planning to avoid getting caught?\"\n\nThomas put his hands in his jacket pockets. \"I'm not saying anything. I wouldn't mind seeing you kick his ass, but I'm sure as hell not going to do something that would attract attention tome.\"\n\n\"You intend to participate without being involved. That's clever.\"\n\nThomas rolled his eyes. \"I won't throw a banana peel under you. But don't expect any help from me, either. I'm just making sure it's a fair fight and then I'm back at my beach house.\" He drew car keys from his pocket and headed for the parking lot. \"Good luck.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Thomas,\" I said to his back."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Thanks for the heads-up.\"\n\nHe paused.\n\nI asked, \"Why do it?\"\n\nThe vampire glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. \"Life would be unbearably dull if we had answers to all our questions.\" He walked out to a white sports car and slipped into it. A second later, loud, screaming metal music started from the car's stereo, the engine roared, and Thomas drove off.\n\nI checked my watch. Ten more minutes until Susan arrived. Shiro emerged from McAnnally's and put on his glasses. Once he spotted me, he walked over and took the glasses off again. \"Ortega refused to cancel the duel?\"\n\n\"He made mean offer I couldn't excuse,\" I said.\n\nShiro grunted. \"Duel is wills. Tomorrow, just after sundown. Wrigley Field.\"\n\n\"A stadium? Why don't we put it on pay-per-view while we're at it.\" I glowered at the street and checked my watch again. \"I'm meeting someone in a minute. I'll give you the keys to my car. I can pick it up from Michael's tomorrow.\"\n\n\"No need,\" Shiro said. \"Mac called me a cab.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" I pocketed my keys.\n\nShiro stood quietly fora moment, lips pursed thoughtfully, before he said, \"Ortega means to kill you.\"\n\n\"Yes. Yes, he does,\" I said. I managed not to grind my teeth as I said it. \"Everyone is saying that like I didn't know it already.\"\n\n\"But you do not know how.\" I frowned and looked down at Shiro. His shaved head gleamed under a nearby streetlight. \"The war is not your fault.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I know that,\" I said, but my voice lacked conviction.\n\n\"No,\" Shiro said. \"It truly is not your fault.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"The Red Court has been quietly building its resources for years,\" he said. \"How else were they ready to start their attacks in Europe only days after you defeated Bianca?\"\n\nI frowned at him.\n\nShiro drew a cigar from inside his jacket and bit off the end. He spat it to one side.\n\n\"You were not the cause of the war. You were merely the excuse. The Reds would have attacked when they were ready.\"\n\n\"No,\" I said. \"That's not how it is. I mean, damn near everyone I've spoken to on the Council-\"\n\nShiro snorted. He struck a match and puffed on the cigar a few times while he lit it.\n\n\"The Council. Arrogant. As if nothing significant could happen unless a wizard did it.\"\n\nFor someone who wasn't on the White Council, Shiro seemed to have its general attitude pretty well surrounded. \"If the Red Court wanted a war, why is Ortega trying to stop it?\"\n\n\"Premature,\" Shiro said. \"Needed more time to be completely prepared. The advantage of surprise is gone. He wishes to strike once and be certain it is a lethal stroke.\"\n\nI watched the little old man fora minute. \"Everyone's got advice tonight. Why are you giving it?\"\n\n\"Because in someways you are every bit as arrogant as the Council, though you do not realize it. You blame yourself for what happened to Susan. You want to blame yourself for more.\"\n\n\"So what if I do?\"\n\nShiro turned me and faced me squarely. I avoided meeting his eyes. \"Duels area test of fire. They are fought in the will. The heart. If you do not find your balance, Ortega will not need to kill you. You will do so for him.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I guess you were a psychoanalyst before you were a sword-swinging vigilante against evil.\"\n\nShiro puffed on the cheroot. \"Either way, been alive longer than you. See more than you.\"\n\n\"Like what?\"\n\n\"Like this vampire warlord. How he manipulates you. He is not what he seems to be.\"\n\n\"Really? I've never seen that one before,\" I said. \"Someone not what they appear to be. However will I adjust.\"\n\nShiro shrugged. \"He is centuries old. He is not from the same world. The world Ortega lived in was savage. Brutal. Men like him destroyed entire civilizations for gold and glory. And for hundreds of years since then, he has fought rival vampires, demons, and enemies of his kind. If he approaches you through formal, civilized channels, it is because he thinks it is the best way to kill you. Regardless of what happens in the duel, he intends to see you dead by any means necessary. Maybe before. Maybe after. But dead.\"\n\nShiro didn't put any particular emphasis on the words. He didn't need to. They were enough to scare me without any added dramatics. I glowered at his cigar and said, \"Those things will kill you.\"\n\nThe old man smiled again. \"Not tonight.\"\n\n\"I'd think a good Christian boy wouldn't be puffing down the cigars.\"\n\n\"Technicality,\" Shiro said.\n\n\"The cigars?\"\n\n\"My Christianity,\" Shiro said. \"When I was a boy, I liked Elvis. Had a chance to see him in concert when we moved to California. It was a big revival meeting. There was Elvis and then a speaker and my English was not so good. He invited people backstage to meet the king. Thought he meant Elvis, so I go backstage.\" He sighed. \"Found out later I had become a Baptist.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I barked out a laugh. \"You're kidding.\"\n\n\"No. But it was done, so I tried not to be too bad at being Baptist.\" He rested a hand on the handle of his sword. \"Then came into this. Made the whole thing more simple. I serve.\"\n\n\"Serve who?\"\n\n\"Heaven. Or the divine in nature. The memory of my fathers past. My fellowman.\n\nMyself. All pieces of the same thing. Do you know the story of the blind men and the elephant?\"\n\n\"Have you heard the one about the bear that walks into a bar?\" I responded.\n\n\"I think that is a no,\" Shiro said. \"Three blind men were shown an elephant. They touched it with their hands to determine what the creature was. The first man felt the trunk, and claimed that an elephant was like a snake. The second man touched its leg and claimed that an elephant was like a tree. The third man touched its tail, and claimed that the elephant was like a slender rope.\"\n\nI nodded. \"Oh. I get it. All of them were right. All of them were wrong. They couldn't get the whole picture.\"\n\nShiro nodded. \"Precisely. I am just another blind man. I do not get the whole picture of what transpires in all places. I am blind and limited. I would be a fool to think myself wise. And so, not knowing what the universe means, I can only try to be responsible with the knowledge, the strength, and the time given tome. I must be true to my heart.\"\n\n\"Sometimes that isn't good enough,\" I said.\n\nHe tilted his head and looked up at me. \"How do you know?\"\n\nA cab swerved in from the street and rattled to a stop. Shiro stepped over to it and nodded tome. \"Will beat Michael's if you need me. Be watchful.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I nodded at him. \"Thank you.\"\n\nShiro said, \"Thank me after.\" Then he got into the cab and left.\n\nMac closed up shop a minute later, and put on a dark fedora on his way out. He nodded at me on the way to his Trans Am, and said nothing. I found a shadowy spot to linger in as Mac left, and kept an eye on the street. I'd hate for someone to drive by and shoot me with a plain old gun. Embarrassing.\n\nAlong, dark limo pulled into the parking lot. A uniformed driver got out and opened the door nearest tome. A pair of long, honey-brown legs slid out of the limo on top of black stiletto heels. Susan glided out of the car, managing grace despite the shoes, which probably qualified her for superhuman status all by itself. A sleeveless sheath of shimmering black cloth clung to her, an evening gown slit high on one side. Dark gloves covered her arms to the elbow, and her hair had been done up in a pile on top of her head, held in place with a couple of gleaming black chopsticks.\n\nMy tongue dropped out of my mouth and flopped onto my shoes. Well, not literally, but if I'd been a cartoon my eyeballs would have been about six feet long.\n\nSusan had read my face and apparently enjoyed my reaction. \"How much, good-looking?\"\n\nI looked down at my rumpled clothing. \"I think I'm a tad underdressed.\"\n\n\"One tuxedo, coming up,\" Susan said.\n\nThe driver opened the trunk and drew out a hanger covered with a dry-cleaning bag.\n\nWhen he turned around with it, I realized that the driver was Martin. All he'd done to disguise himself was don an archetypical uniform and I hadn't even recognized him until second glance. I guess sometimes it's handy to be bland."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Is it my size?\" I asked, taking the tux when Martin passed it tome.\n\n\"I had to guess,\" Susan said, lowering her eyelids in a sultry expression. \"But it wasn't like I didn't know my way around.\"\n\nMartin's face might have flickered with disapproval. My heart sped up a bit. \"All right then,\" I said. \"Let's get moving. I'll dress on the way.\"\n\n\"Do I get to look?\" Susan asked.\n\n\"It'll cost you extra,\" I said. Martin opened the door for Susan and I slid in after her.\n\nI filled her in on what I'd found out about the Shroud and those after it. \"I should be able to find the thing if we get close.\"\n\n\"You think there will be anymore of these Denarians there?\"\n\n\"Probably,\" I said. \" If anything gets ugly, we'll take the best part of valor, pronto.\n\nThese guys play hardball.\"\n\nSusan nodded agreement. \"Sounds like the thieves aren't exactly shy about waving guns, either.\"\n\n\"And we'll have Marcone around too. Whither he goeth, there too goeth armed thugs and homicide investigations.\"\n\nSusan smiled. It was anew expression tome-a small, quiet, fierce little smile that showed her teeth. It looked natural on her. \"You're all about fun, aren't you, Harry?\"\n\n\"I am the Bruce Lee of fun,\" I concurred. \"Give me some space here.\"\n\nSusan slid over as far as she could to give me room to climb into the tux. I tried not to mar it too badly in the limited space. Susan glanced at me with a faint frown."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What?\" I asked her.\n\n\"You're wrinkling it.\"\n\n\"This isn't as easy as I'm making it look,\" I responded.\n\n\"If you weren't staring at my legs, maybe it wouldn't be such a challenge.\"\n\n\"I wasn't staring,\" I lied.\n\nSusan smiled at meas the car cruised through downtown and I did my best to dress like Roger Moore. Her expression became thoughtful after a moment, and she said, \"Hey.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"What happened to your leather coat?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The downtown Marriott was huge, brilliantly lit, and busy as an anthill. Several blue-and-whites were parked nearby, and a couple of officers were helping to direct traffic in front of the hotel. I could see maybe twenty limos on the street and pulling through the archway in front of the hotel doors, and everyone of them looked bigger and nicer than ours. Valets rushed around to park the cars of guests who had driven themselves. There were a dozen men in red jackets standing around with bored expressions that some might mistake for inattention. Hotel security.\n\nMartin pulled up to the entryway and said, \"I'll wait for you out here.\" He passed a palm-sized cellphone to Susan. She slipped it into a black clutch. \"If you get into trouble, speed-dial one.\"\n\nAt that point, a valet opened the door on my side, and I slipped out of the car. My rental tux felt a little awkward. The shoes were long enough for me but they were an inch and a half too wide. I shrugged my jacket into place, straightened the cummerbund, and offered a hand to Susan. She slid out of the car with a brilliant smile, and straightened my tie.\n\n\"Smile,\" she said quietly. \"Everyone here is worried about image. If you walk in scowling like that we won't blend in.\"\n\nI smiled in what I thought was a camouflaging manner. Susan regarded the expression critically, nodded, and slipped her arm through mine. We walked in under the cover our smiles provided. One of the security guards stopped us inside the door, and Susan presented the tickets to him. He waved us through.\n\n\"First thing to do is find some stairs,\" I said from behind my smile. \"The loading docks will be near the kitchens, and they're below us. That's where they'll be bringing in the art stuff.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Susan held her course toward the stairs."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Not yet,\" she said. \"If we snoop around the second we get in the door someone is likely to notice. We should mingle until the auction is running. People will be distracted then.\"\n\n\"If we wait, the whole thing could go down while we hobnob.\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Susan said. \"But odds are that Anna Valmont and the buyer are both thinking the same thing.\"\n\n\"When does the auction start?\"\n\n\"Eleven.\"\n\n\"Assuming the note means that the sale is at eleven forty-five, that doesn't give us much time to look around. This place is huge.\"\n\nWe got onto an escalator and Susan arched an eyebrow at me. \"Do you have any better ideas?\"\n\n\"Not yet,\" I said. I caught a glimpse of myself in a polished brass column. I didn't look half-bad. There's a reason the tux has weathered a century virtually unchanged. You don't fix what isn't broken. Tuxedos make anyone look good, and I was a living testament to it. \"Think they will have anything to eat? I'm starving.\"\n\n\"Just keep the shirt clean,\" Susan muttered.\n\n\"No problem. I can wipe my fingers on the cummerbund.\"\n\n\"I can't take you anywhere,\" Susan said. She leaned a little against me, and it felt nice. I felt nice, generally speaking. I cleaned up pretty well, it would seem, and I had a lovely woman-no, I had Susan on my arm, looking lovely. It was a small silver lining compared to the troubled clouds I'd been floundering through, but it was something, and it lasted all the way up the escalator. I take the good moments wherever I can get them.\n\nWe followed the flow of formally dressed men and women up another escalator or three to a cavernous ballroom. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and tables laden with expensive-looking snacks and ice sculptures all but overflowed onto the floor. A group of musicians played on the far side of the ballroom. They didn't seem to be stretching themselves with some relaxed and classy jazz. Couples who also weren't stretching themselves danced together on a floor the size of a basketball court."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The room wasn't crammed with people, but there were a couple of hundred there already, and more coming in behind us. Polite but insincere chatter rilled the space, accompanied by equally insincere smiles and laughter. There were a number of city officials whom I recognized in the immediate area, plus a couple of professional musicians and at least one motion-picture actor.\n\nA waiter in a white jacket offered us a tray of champagne glasses, and I promptly appropriated a pair of them, passing the first to Susan. She lifted the glass to her mouth but didn't drink. The champagne smelled good. I took a sip, and it tasted good. I'm not a terribly impressive drinker, so I stopped after the first sip. Chugging down champagne on an empty stomach would probably prove inconvenient if it turned out I needed to do any quick thinking. Or quick leaving. Or quick anything.\n\nSusan said hello to an older couple, and stopped for introductions. I kept my duck blind of a smile in place, and mouthed appropriately polite phrases in the right spots. My cheeks had already started hurting. We repeated that for half an hour or so, while the band played a bunch of low-key dance music. Susan knew a lot of people. She'd been a reporter in Chicago for five or six years before she'd had to leave town, but she had evidently managed to ingratiate herself to more people than I would have guessed. You go, Susan.\n\n\"Food,\" I said, after a stooped older man kissed Susan's cheek and walked away.\n\n\"Feed me, Seymour.\"\n\n\"It's always the brain stem with you,\" she murmured. But she guided us over to the refreshment tables so that I could pickup a tiny sandwich. I didn't wolf the thing down in one bite, which was just as well, since it had a toothpick through it to hold it together. But the sandwich didn't last long."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"At least chew with your mouth closed,\" Susan said.\n\nI took a second sandwich. \"Can't help it. I got all kinds of joie de vivre, baby.\"\n\n\"And smile.\"\n\n\"Chew and smile? At the same time? Do I look like Jackie Chan?\"\n\nShe had a retort but it died after a syllable. I felt her hand tighten on my arm. I briefly debated wolfing the second sandwich, just to get it out of the way, but I took the more sophisticated option instead. I put it in my jacket pocket for later, and turned to follow Susan's gaze.\n\nI looked just in time to meet the gaze of Gentleman Johnny Marcone. He was a man of slightly above average height and unassuming build. He had handsome but unremarkable features. Central casting would have placed him as the genial next-door neighbor. He didn't have the usual boater's tan, it being February and all, but the crow's-feet at the corners of his pale green eyes remained. He looked a lot like the fictional public image he projected-that of a normal, respectable businessman, an American tale of middle class made good.\n\nThat said, Marcone scared me more than any single human being I'd ever met. I'd seen him produce a knife from his sleeve faster than a hyperstrong psychotic could swing a tire iron at him. He'd thrown another knife through a rope while spinning in circles as he hung upside down in the dark, later the same night. Marcone may have been human, but he wasn't normal. He'd taken control of Chicago's organized crime during a free-for-all gang war, and he'd run it ever since despite the efforts of both everyday and supernatural threats.\n\nHe'd done it by being deadlier than anything that came after him. Of all the people in the room, Marcone was the only one I could see who wasn't wearing a fake smile. It didn't look like he was particularly troubled by the fact, either."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Mister Dresden,\" he said. \"And Miss Rodriguez, I believe. I didn't realize you were an art collector.\"\n\n\"I am the foremost collector of velvet Elvii in the city of Chicago,\" I said at once.\n\n\"Elvii?\" Marcone inquired.\n\n\"The plural could be Elvises, I guess,\" I said. \"But if I say that too often, I start muttering to myself and calling things \"my precious,\" so I usually go with the Latin plural.\"\n\nMarcone did smile that time. It was a cool expression. Tigers with full stomachs wear smiles like Marcone's when they're watching baby deer play. \"Ah. I hope you can find something to suit your tastes tonight.\"\n\n\"I'm easy,\" I said. \"Any old rag will do.\"\n\nMarcone narrowed his eyes. There was a short, pointed silence while he met my gaze. He could do that. I'd gotten into a soulgaze with him in the past. It was one of the reasons he scared me. \"In that case, I would advise you to exercise caution in your acquisitions.\"\n\n\"Cautious, that's me,\" I said. \"You sure you wouldn't rather make this simple?\"\n\n\"In deference to your limitations, I almost would,\" Marcone said. \"But I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what you're talking about.\"\n\nI felt my eyes narrow and I took a step forward. Susan's hand pressed against my arm, silently urging restraint. I lowered my voice to something between Marcone and myself. \"Tell you what. Let's start with one of your monkeys trying to punch my ticket in a parking garage. From there, we can move along to the part where I come up with a suitable reply.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I didn't expect what happened next.\n\nMarcone blinked.\n\nIt wasn't a huge giveaway. At a card table, only a couple of the players would have seen it. But I was right in his face, and I knew him and I saw it. My words startled Marcone, and for half a second it showed. He covered it, bringing out a businessman's smile that was a lot better than my fake smile, and clapped a hand gently to my arm. \"Don't try me in public, Dresden. You can't afford to do it. I can't afford to let you.\"\n\nA shadow fell over Marcone, and I looked up to see Hendricks hulk into view behind him. Hendricks was still huge, still redheaded, still looked vaguely like a defensive lineman a little too awkward to make it from college to pro ball. His tux was nicer than mine. I wondered if he was wearing body armor under it again.\n\nCujo Hendricks had a date. He had a blond date. He had a gorgeous, leggy, blue-eyed, elegant, tall, Nordic angel of a date. She was wearing a white gown, and silver flashed at her throat, on each wrist, and on one ankle. I'd seen bikinis in issues of Sports Illustrated that might have felt too plain to be worn by Hendricks's date.\n\nShe spoke, and her voice was a throaty purr. \"Mister Marcone. Is there a problem?\"\n\nMarcone arched an eyebrow. \"Is there, Mister Dresden?\"\n\nI probably would have said something stupid, but Susan's nails dug into my forearm through my jacket. \"No trouble,\" Susan said. \"I don't believe we've met.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the blonde, with a faint roll of her eyes. \"We haven't.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Mister Dresden, Miss Rodriguez, I believe you both know Mister Hendricks. And this is Miss Gard.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" I said. \"She's an employee, I take it?\"\n\nMiss Gard smiled. Professional smiles all around tonight, it would seem. \"I'm from the Monoc Foundation,\" she said. \"I'm a consultant.\"\n\n\"Regarding what, one wonders,\" said Susan. She definitely had the sharpest smile of those present.\n\n\"Security,\" Gard said, unruffled. She focused on me. \"I help make sure that thieves, spies, and poor wandering spirits don't windup allover the lawn.\"\n\nAnd I got it. Whoever Miss Gard was, it seemed fairly likely that she was responsible for the wards that had torn Bob up so badly. My head of righteous fury died out, replaced by caution. Marcone had been concerned about my talents. He'd started taking steps to balance things, and Marcone wasn't one to show his hand early, which meant that he was already prepared for trouble of one kind or another with me. He was ready to fight me.\n\nMarcone read my features and said, \"Neither one of us wants any unpleasantness, Dresden.\" His eyes became flat and hard. \"If you want to talk, call my office tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest you search for your classic renditions of Elvis elsewhere.\"\n\n\"I'll take it under advisement,\" I answered. Marcone shook his head and walked away to do his own mingling, which seemed to consist mainly of shaking hands, and nodding in the appropriate spots. Hendricks and the Amazonian Gard shadowed Marcone, never faraway.\n\n\"What a charmer you are,\" Susan murmured.\n\nI grunted."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Such diplomacy.\"\n\n\"Me and Kissinger.\" I scowled after Marcone and said, \"I don't like this.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because he's up to something. He setup magical defenses around his house.\"\n\n\"Like he was expecting trouble,\" Susan said.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"You think he's the buyer for the Shroud?\"\n\n\"Would make a lot of sense,\" I said. \" He's got enough contacts and money to do it.\n\nThe buy is apparently going down here at his gala.\"I scanned the room as I spoke.\" He doesn't do anything without planning it out to his advantage. He's probably got friends in hotel security. It would give him all kinds of freedom to meet Valmont where no one was watching.\"\n\nI spotted Marcone as he found a spot near a wall and lifted a tiny cellphone to his ear. He spoke into it, his eyes hard, and he had the look of a man who wasn't listening, only giving orders. I tried to Listen in on what he was saying, but between the band, the ballroom, and the chatter of voices I wasn't able to make anything out.\n\n\"But why?\" Susan asked. \"He's got the means and the resources but what reason would he have to buy the Shroud?\"\n\n\"Hell if I know.\"\n\nSusan nodded. \"He certainly isn't happy to see you here.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Something unsettled him, gave him a nasty surprise. Did you see his face?\"\n\nSusan shook her head. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"A reaction, during the conversation. I'm sure I saw it. He got caught flat-footed when I was talking to him, and he didn't like it.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You rattled him?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" I said.\n\n\"Enough to push him into moving early?\" Susan's dark eyes had also picked out Marcone, who snapped the cellphone closed and headed for one of the service doors with Gard and Hendricks behind him. Marcone paused to speak to a red-jacketed security guard and glanced in our direction.\n\n\"Looks like we'd better get moving,\" I said. \"I need a minute to use the spell on this thread sample and lead us to the Shroud.\"\n\n\"Why haven't you done that already?\"\n\n\"Limited range,\" I said. \"And the spell won't last long. We need to be close.\"\n\n\"How close?\" Susan asked.\n\n\"Maybe a hundred feet.\"\n\nMarcone left the room, and the security guard lifted his radio to his mouth.\n\n\"Crap,\" I said.\n\n\"Relax,\" Susan said, though her own voice sounded tight. \"These are the upper crust of Chicago. The security guards won't want to make a scene.\"\n\n\"Right,\" I said, and started for the door.\n\n\"Slowly,\" Susan said, her smile in place again. \"Don't rush.\"\n\nI tried not to rush, despite the security guard closing in behind us. I saw red jackets moving in my peripheral vision as well. We kept up the slow, graceful walk of people wandering around a party, and Susan smiled enough for both of us. We got as far as the doors before another red jacket appeared in the doors in front of us, cutting us off.\n\nI recognized the man-the gunman outside the television studio, the one who had nearly ventilated Father Vincent and me in the parking garage. His eyes widened in recognition and his hand moved toward his jacket, where a gun would be inside a shoulder holster. The body language was clear: Come along quietly or get shot."},{"from":"human","value":"I looked around us, but other than the partygoers, the dance floor, and the other security guards, nothing really seemed to present itself as an option."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then the band struck up something a little faster with a syncopated Latin beat, and several of the younger couples who hadn't been dancing previously moved out onto the floor.\n\n\"Come on,\" I said, and guided Susan with me.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" she asked.\n\n\"Buying sometime to get across the room to those other doors,\" I said. I turned to her, put one hand on her waist and took her other hand in mine, and led off onto the dance floor with an uncomplicated two-step. \"Just follow.\"\n\nI looked back to her to see her mouth open in shock. \"You told me you couldn't dance.\"\n\n\"Not like in clubs and stuff,\" I said. She followed me well enough to let me do a little dip and step into a restrained hustle. \"I don't do so well with rock and roll. Ballroom is something else.\"\n\nSusan laughed, her dark eyes shining, even as she watched the crowd around us for more red jackets. \"Between this and the tux, you're threatening to become classy. Where did you learn?\"\n\nI kept us moving down the dance floor, rolling Susan out to the length of our arms and then drawing her in again. \"When I first came to Chicago, I had a bunch of jobs until I hooked up with Nick Christian at Ragged Angel Investigations. One of them was as a dance partner with a senior-citizen organization.\"\n\n\"You learned from little old ladies?\"\n\n\"Tough to tango with someone with lumbago,\" I said. \"It requires great skill.\" I spun Susan again, this time bringing her back tome with her back to my chest, one hand still on her hip with the other holding her arm out. There was a subtle electricity in touching her, her waist slender and supple under my hand. Her hair smelled of cinnamon, and her dress left quite a bit of her back naked to view. It was distracting as hell, and when she glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes were growing heated. She felt it too."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I swallowed. Focus, Harry. \"See those doors behind the food tables?\"\n\nSusan nodded.\n\nI checked over my shoulder. The security guards had been slowed down by the press of the crowd, and we had beaten them to the other side of the room. \"That's where we're going. We need to ditch these guys and find Valmont before Marcone gets to her.\"\n\n\"Won't security just follow us through the kitchen?\"\n\n\"Not if Vanilla Martin diverts their attention before we leave the floor.\"\n\nSusan's eyes glittered and she kept dancing with me, drawing the tiny cellphone from her clutch. \"You have a devious mind.\"\n\n\"Call me crazy but I'd rather not have Marcone's goons walk us out.\" A little luck came our way, and the band moved to a somewhat slower number. Susan was able to stay closer tome, half concealing her cellphone. I heard the phone dialing numbers, and I tried to still my thoughts and feelings. It hadn't worked for long at the Larry Fowler studio, but if I could rein in my emotions, Susan should at least be able to make a call.\n\nIt worked. She spoke quietly into the phone for all of three or four seconds, then clicked it closed and put it away. \"Two minutes,\" she said.\n\nDamn. Martin was good. I could pick out a couple of security guards at the main doors. Marcone's dark-haired hitter was closer. He had trouble making his way politely through the crowd, and we had managed to gain a small lead on him as we danced.\n\n\"Do we have a signal or anything?\"\n\n\"I think we wait for something distracting to happen,\" Susan said.\n\n\"Like what?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The sudden shriek of braking tires cut through the band music. There was aloud crunch, and the sound of plate glass breaking, along with shrieks from the hotel lobby below. The band stopped in confusion, and people crowded toward the exit to see what was happening.\n\n\"Like that,\" Susan said. We had to swim upstream, so to speak, but it didn't look like anyone was bothering to look at us. I caught a glimpse of Marcone's hitter, heading out toward the ruckus. The ass had his gun in his hand, despite any possible field of fire he might have picked being filled with rich and influential socialites. At least he was holding the weapon low and against his leg.\n\nThe staff were just as interested in the disturbance as anyone else, and we were able to duck back into the service hallway without comment from anyone. Susan took a quick look around and said, \"Elevator?\"\n\n\"Stairs if they have them. If someone shoots at us on stairs, we can scream and flail around a lot more.\" I spotted afire alarm diagram on the wall and traced my finger over it.\n\n\"Here, down the hall and left.\"\n\nSusan stepped out of her shoes while I did that. It left her a lot shorter, but her feet were silent on the utilitarian carpet. We went down the hall, found the stairs, and started down them. We went down three flights, which put us at ground level again, I guessed. I opened the door from the stairwell and took a look around. A dingy little elevator opened, and a couple of guys in the food-stained white of kitchen hands went walking down the hallway, peering ahead and chattering. I heard a siren or two wailing outside.\n\n\"I'll say this for Martin,\" I muttered. \"When he distracts, he distracts.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He has a strong work ethic,\" Susan agreed.\n\n\"Keep an eye out,\" I said, and stepped back from the door. Susan's gaze flicked around the stairwell and over the hallway while I stepped back to kneel on the ground, drawing out what I would need for my seeking spell.\n\nI pulled out a black Magic Marker and drew a smooth circle on the tiled landing, all the way around me. The marker squealed as I did, and as I closed the circle I willed it shut.\n\nA gentle barrier, something I couldn't see but could easily feel closed around me, screening out disruptive forces so that I could work my spell.\n\n\"Is that a permanent marker?\" Susan asked.\n\n\"Thus do I strike a blow for anarchy whenever the mood takes me,\" I muttered.\n\n\"Just a minute.\" I took out the sample from Father Vincent and a windup plastic duck.\n\nWhich isn't as goofy as it sounds. Stay with me.\n\nI touched the thread to the duck's bill, then wound the duck up. I muttered a low chant, mostly nonsense syllables, and focused on what I wanted. I set the duck down on the floor, but instead of beginning to waddle, it instead waited, completely still. I had to use a rubber band to attach the tiny thread to the duck's bill. It was too short to tie on. I focused, brushing aside any thoughts besides those I needed for the spell, and let the gathered magic go with a whispered, \"Seek, seek, seek.\"\n\nThe power poured out of me, leaving me a bit short of breath. The little yellow duck quivered and then lurched into motion, spinning about in an aimless circle. I nodded once, reached out a hand, and with an effort of will to support the gesture, I broke the circle. The screen vanished as quickly as it had arrived, and the little yellow duck quacked and marched toward the door."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I glanced up at Susan. Her dark and lovely eyes watched the duck with what could charitably be termed extreme skepticism.\n\nI scowled at her. \"Don't say it.\"\n\n\"I didn't say anything.\"\n\n\"Well, don't.\"\n\nShe fought down a smile. \"I won't.\"\n\nI opened the door. The duck waddled out into the hallway, quacked, and turned to the left. I stepped out, picked the duck up, and said, \"It's close. Let's move. We just check the duck at intersections.\"\n\n\"Does the duck know about stairs?\"\n\n\"More or less. Come on; I don't know how long the spell will last.\"\n\nI led the way. I'm not the world's mightiest athlete, but I exercise a bit, I have really long legs, and I can walk faster than some run. The duck led us down a pair of long hallways to a door with an EMPLOYEES ONLY sign on it.\n\nI opened the door, peeked in, and reported in a whisper, \"Big laundry room.\"\n\nFootsteps sounded behind us, coming down another hallway. Susan looked at me with wide eyes. I pushed into the room, Susan close behind me. I closed the door almost all the way, holding it from closing completely so that the lock wouldn't click and give us away.\n\nThe footsteps came closer, a couple sets of them, and two shapes went quickly by, passing close to the cracked doorway.\n\n\"Hendricks and Gard,\" I murmured to Susan.\n\n\"How do you know?\" she whispered back.\n\n\"Smelled the blonde's perfume.\" I counted silently to ten and opened the door, looking out. The hallway was clear. I closed the door and turned on the lights. The room was fairly large, with several commercial washing machines ranked against one wall. A bank of dryers faced them on the opposite side of the room, and in between were several long counters that held stacks and stacks of folded white sheets and towels. I put the duck on the floor, and it waddled off down the row of counters. \"This is how they had it hidden on the yacht. Concealed among laundry.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And those professional-thief types tend to be so predictable?\" Susan asked.\n\nI frowned and put the duck on the floor. \"Watch the door.\"\n\nThe duck waddled at once over to the far side of the room, and bumped into some hanging laundry. I pulled the hanging sheets to one side, and found a large ventilation grate behind them. I knelt down, running my fingers and eyes over the edges of the grate, and found a pair of holes where screws had been. A quick tug on the grate had it off the wall, revealing a vent maybe three feet square. I stuck my head in and found a ventilation shaft running between the walls. The duck waddled in and took a determined right.\n\n\"Air duct,\" I said. I twisted out of the tuxedo jacket and absently ripped off the tie from around my neck. I stepped out of the clumsy shoes and rolled up my shirtsleeves, baring my shield bracelet to view. \"Be right back.\"\n\n\"Harry,\" Susan began, her voice worried.\n\n\"I saw Alien. I'm not Tom Skerritt.\" I winked at Susan, picked up the duck, and entered the air duct, moving as quietly as I could.\n\nEvidently, it was very quiet. The duct ran straight, grates opening into utility rooms every fifteen or twenty feet. I had gone past three of the grates when I heard voices.\n\n\"This isn't according to the deal,\" came Marcone's voice. It had the scratchy edges of a radio transmission to it.\n\nAnna Valmont's smooth British accent answered it from the other side of the next grate. \"Neither was an early rendezvous. I don't like it when a buyer changes the plan.\"\n\nA radio clicked. Marcone's voice came through it, smooth and calm. \"I assure you that I have no interest in breaking faith with your organization. It isn't good business.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"When I have confirmation of the transfer of funds, you'll get the article. Not a second before.\"\n\n\"My factor in Zurich-\"\n\n\"Do you think I'm an idiot? This job has already cost us more than any of us bargained for. Clear off the bloody radio and contact me when you have something worth saying or I'll destroy the bloody thing and leave.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" Marcone said. There was tension in his voice. \"You can't-\"\n\n\"Can't I?\" Valmont answered. \"Don't fuck with me, Yank. And add another million to the bill for telling me my job. I'm calling off the deal if the money isn't therein ten minutes. Out.\"\n\nI came up to the grate and found it sitting not quite squarely in its frame. Valmont must have entered the hotel and moved around through the air shafts. I peered out through the grate. Valmont had setup in a storage room of some kind. The only light in the room was a dim green shimmer that rose up from what must have been a palmtop computer.\n\nValmont muttered something to herself beneath her breath, her eyes on the screen. She was wearing a lot of tight-fitting black clothing and a black baseball cap. She wasn't wearing my coat, dammit, but I guess I couldn't have expected to find everything wrapped up in a nice package.\n\nI checked the duck, setting it down facing toward me. It immediately walked in a little circle and pointed toward Anna Valmont.\n\nThe thief paced the room like a restless cat, eyes on the palmtop. My eyes adjusted to the dimness over the course of a few minutes of waiting, and I saw that Valmont was pacing back and forth around a tube with a carrying strap. The tube wasn't more than five or six feet from me."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I watched Valmont pace until her expression and steps froze, eyes locking hard on the palmtop. \"Great Jupiter's balls,\" she said quietly. \"He paid it.\"\n\nNow or never. I put my hands on the grate and pushed it as gently as I could. It slid soundlessly from the wall and I set it to one side. Valmont was focused entirely on her little computer. If the prospect of payment distracted Valmont fora moment more, I'd be able to slip away with the Shroud, which would be very James Bond of me. Hopefully the tuxedo would help outwith that. I needed only a few seconds to creep out, nip the Shroud, and get back into the vents.\n\nI almost died when Valmont's radio crackled again and Marcone's voice said,\n\n\"There. As agreed, plus your additional fee. Will that be sufficient?\"\n\n\"Quite. You will find your merchandise in a storage closet in the basement.\"\n\nMarcone's voice gained an edge. \"Please be more specific.\"\n\nI slipped out of the vents, thinking silent thoughts. Along stretch put my fingertips on the tube's carrying strap.\n\n\"If you wish,\" Valmont replied. \" The article is in a locked room, in a courier's tube.\n\nThe tube itself is outfitted with an incendiary. A radio transmitter in my possession has the capacity to disarm or to trigger the device. Once I am safely on my way from the city, I will disarm the device and notify you via telephone. Until that time, I suggest you do not try to open it.\"\n\nI jerked my fingers away from the tube.\n\n\"Again you have altered our agreement,\" Marcone said. He said it in a voice as smooth and cold as the inside wall of a refrigerator."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It does seem to be a seller's market.\"\n\n\"There are very few people able to speak about taking advantage of me.\"\n\nValmont let out a quiet, bitter little laugh. \"Come, now. This is nothing more than an entirely reasonable piece of insurance,\" Valmont said. \"Be a good boy and your precious cloth is in no danger. Attempt to betray me, and you'll have nothing.\"\n\n\"And if the authorities find you on their own?\" Marcone asked.\n\n\"You'll need a broom and a dustpan when you come for the article. I should think you would be wise to do whatever you canto clear the path for me.\" She turned the radio off.\n\nI bit my lip, thinking furiously. Even if I took the Shroud now, Marcone would be upset when he didn't get his hands on it. If he didn't have Valmont killed, he'd at least tip off the police to her. Valmont, in turn, would destroy the Shroud. If I took it, I would have to move fast to get the Shroud away from the device. I couldn't count on simply blowing the device outwith magic. It was as likely to malfunction and explode as it was to just go dead.\n\nI would need the transmitter too, and there was only one way to get it.\n\nI stepped up behind Valmont and pressed the bill of the plastic duck against her spine. \"Don't move,\" I said. \"I'll shoot.\"\n\nShe stiffened. \"Dresden?\"\n\n\"Let me see your hands,\" I said. She held them up, the green light of the palmtop showing columns of numbers. \"Where's the transmitter?\"\n\n\"What transmitter?\"\n\nI pushed the duck against her a little harder. \" I've had along day too, Miss Valmont."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The one you just told Marcone about.\"\n\nShe let out a small sound of discomfort. \"If you take it, Marcone will kill me.\"\n\n\"Yeah, he takes his image seriously. You'd be smart to come with me and get protection from the authorities. Now where is the transmitter?\"\n\nHer shoulders slumped and she bowed her head forward fora moment. I felt a twinge of guilt. She had planned on being herewith friends. They'd been killed. She was a young woman, alone in a strange land, and regardless of what happened, she wasn't likely to come out of this situation ahead of the game. And here I was holding a duck to her back.\n\nI felt like a bully.\n\n\"My left jacket pocket,\" Valmont said, her tone quiet. I reminded myself that I was a professional and reached into her pocket to get the transmitter.\n\nShe clobbered me.\n\nOne second, I was holding the duck to her back and reaching into her pocket. The next, I was falling to the ground with a bruise shaped like one of her elbows forming on my jaw. The light from the palmtop clicked out. A small red-tinted flashlight came on, and Valmont kicked the duck out of my hand. The beam of the flashlight followed the duck fora silent second, and then she laughed.\n\n\"A duck,\" she said. She dipped a hand into her pocket and came outwith a small silver semiautomatic. \"I was fairly certain you wouldn't shoot, but that goes a step beyond ridiculous.\"\n\nI've got to get a concealed-carry permit. \"You won't shoot either,\" I said, and started to getup. \"So you might as well put the gun d-\"\n\nShe pointed the gun at my leg and pulled the trigger. Pain flashed through my leg and I let out an involuntary shout. I grabbed at my thigh as the red flashlight settled on me."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I pawed at my leg. I had a couple of smallish cuts, but I hadn't been shot. The bullet had hit the concrete floor next tome and gouged a bite out of the concrete. A flying chip or two must have cut my leg.\n\n\"Terribly sorry,\" Valmont said. \"Were you saying something?\"\n\n\"Nothing important,\" I responded.\n\n\"Ah,\" Valmont said. \"Well, it would be bad etiquette to leave a corpse here for my buyer to cleanup, so it seems as though I'll be hand-delivering to Marcone after all. We can't have you running off with what everyone is so excited over.\"\n\n\"Marcone is the least of your worries,\" I said.\n\n\"No, actually, he's quite prominent among them.\"\n\n\"Marcone isn't going to sprout horns and claws and start tearing you apart,\" I said.\n\n\"Or at least, I don't think he is. There's another group after that Shroud. Like the thing from the ship this morning.\"\n\nI couldn't see her face from the other end of the red flashlight, but her voice sounded a little shaky. \"What was it?\"\n\n\"A demon.\"\n\n\"Areal demon?\" There was a strained tone in her voice, as though she couldn't decide whether to laugh or sob. I'd heard it before. \"You expect me to believe it was a literal demon?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"And you're some sort of angel, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Hell, no,\" I said. \"I'm just working for them. Sort of. Look, I know people who can protect you from those things. People who won't hurt you. They'll help.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I don't need help,\" Valmont said. \"They're dead, they're both dead. Gaston, Francisca. My friends. Whoever these people, these things are, they can't hurt meany more.\"\n\nThe locked door of the storeroom screamed as something tore it off its hinges and out into the hall. The hallway lights poured in through the gap in a blinding flood, and I had to shield my eyes against them fora second.\n\nI could see dim shapes, shadows in front of the light. One was lean and crouched, with shadowy tendrils of razor-edged hair slithering around it in a writhing cloud. One was sinuous and strong-looking, like a man who had traded its legs in on the scaled body of an enormous snake. Between them stood a shape that looked human, like a man in an overcoat, his hands in his pockets-but the shadows the shape cast writhed and boiled madly, making the lights flicker and swim in a nauseating fashion.\n\n\"Cannot hurt you anymore,\" said the central shape in a quietly amused, male voice.\n\n\"No matter how many times I hear that one, it's always afresh challenge.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"My eyes adjusted enough to make out some details. The demonic female with the Joan Jett hair, two sets of eyes, a glowing sigil, and vicious claws was the same Denarian who had attacked at the harbor that morning. The second demonic being was covered in dark grey scales flecked with bits of rust red. From shoulders to waist, he looked more or less human. From the neck up and the waist down, he looked like some kind of flattened serpent. No legs. Coils slithered out behind him, scales rasping over the floor. He too had the double pair of eyes, one set golden and serpentine, the other, inside the first, glowing faintly blue-green, matching the pulsing symbol of the same light that seemed to dance in the gleam of the scales of the snake's head.\n\nOne little, two little, three little Denarians, or so I judged the last of them. Of the three, he was the only one that looked human. He wore a tan trench coat, casually open. His clothes were tailor-fit to him and looked expensive. A slender grey tie hung loosely around his throat. He was a man of medium height and build, with short, dark hair streaked through with an off-center blaze of silver. His expression was mild, amused, and his dark eyes were half-closed and sleepy-looking. He spoke English with a faint British accent. \" Well, well.\n\nWhat have we here? Our bold thief and her-\"\n\nI got the impression that he would have been glad to begin one of those trademark bantering conversations all the urbane bad guys seem to be such big fans of, but before he could finish the sentence Anna Valmont turned with her little pistol and shot him three times in the chest. I saw him jerk and twist. Blood abruptly stained his shirt and coat. She'd hit the heart or an artery."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The man blinked and stared at Valmont in shock, as more red spread over his shirt.\n\nHe opened his coat a bit, and looked down at the spreading scarlet. I noted that the tie he wore wasn't a tie, as such. It looked like apiece of old grey rope, and though he wore it as apparent ornamentation, it was tied in a hangman's noose.\n\n\"I do not appreciate being interrupted,\" the man said in a sharp and ugly tone. \"I hadn't even gotten around to the introductions. There are proprieties to observe, young woman.\"\n\nA girl after my own heart, Anna Valmont had a quick reply. She shot him some more.\n\nHe wasn't five feet away. The blond thief aimed for the center of mass and didn't miss him once. The man folded his arms as bullets hit him, tearing new wounds that bled freely. He rolled his eyes after the fourth shot, and made a rolling'move this along\" gesture with his left hand until Valmont's gun clicked empty, the slide open.\n\n\"Where was I,\" he said.\n\n\"Proprieties,\" purred the feminine demon with the wild hair. The word came out a little mangled, due to the heavy canines that dimpled her lips as she spoke. \"Proprieties, Father.\"\n\n\"There seems little point,\" the man said. \"Thief, you have stolen something I have an interest in. Give it tome at once and you are free to go your own way. Refuse me, and I will become annoyed with you.\"\n\nAnna Valmont's upper lip had beaded with sweat, and she looked from her empty gun to the man in the trench coat with wide, wild eyes, frozen in confusion and obvious terror."},{"from":"human","value":"The gunshots would bring people running."},{"from":"gpt","value":"I needed to buy a little time. I leaned up, fished a hand into Valmont's jacket pocket, and drew out a small box of black plastic that looked vaguely like a remote control to a VCR. I held up the transmitter, put my thumb on it as if I knew what I was doing, and said to the man in the trench coat, \"Hey, Bogart. You and the wonder twins back off or the bedsheet gets it.\"\n\nThe man lifted his eyebrows. \"Excuse me?\"\n\nI waggled the remote. \"Click. Boom. No more Shroud.\"\n\nThe snakeman hissed, body twisting in restless, lithe motion, and the demon-girl parted her lips in a snarl. The man between them stared at me fora moment, his eyes flat and empty, before he said, \"You're bluffing.\"\n\n\"Like the bedsheet matters tome,\" I said.\n\nThe man stared at me without moving. But his shadow did. It writhed and undulated, and the motion made me feel vaguely carsick. His eyes went from me to Valmont to the courier's message tube on the floor. \"A remote detonator, I take it. You do realize you are standing next to the device?\"\n\nI realized it. I had no idea how big the incendiary was. But that was all right, since I had no idea which button to push to set it off, either. \"Yup.\"\n\n\"You would kill yourself rather than surrender the Shroud?\"\n\n\"Rather than letting you kill me.\"\n\n\"Who said I would kill anyone?\"\n\nI glared at him and at the demon-girl and said, \"Francisca Garcia mentioned it.\"\n\nThe man's shadow boiled but he watched me with flat, calculating eyes. \"Perhaps we can reach an arrangement.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Which would be?\"\n\nHe drew a heavy-caliber handgun from his pocket and pointed it at Anna Valmont.\n\n\"Give me the remote and I won't kill this young woman.\"\n\n\"The demon groupie headman uses a gun? You've got to be kidding me,\" I said.\n\n\"Call me Nicodemus.\" He glanced at the revolver. \"Trendy, I know, but one can only watch so many dismemberments before they become predictable.\" He pointed the gun at the terror-stricken Valmont and said, \"Shall I count to three?\"\n\nI threw on a puppet's Transylvanian accent. \"Count as high as you vant, but you von't get one, one detonator, ah, ah, ah.\"\n\n\"One,\" Nicodemus said.\n\n\"Do you expect me to hand it over on reflex or something?\"\n\n\"You've done such things repeatedly when there was a woman in danger, Harry Dresden. Two.\"\n\nThis Nicodemus knew me. And he'd picked a pressure tactic that wasn't going to take long, however it turned out, so he knew I was stalling for time. Crap. I wasn't going to be able to bluff him. \"Hold on,\" I said.\n\nHe thumbed back the hammer of the revolver and aimed at Valmont's head. \"Thr-\"\n\nSo much for cleverness. \"All right,\" I snapped, and I tossed the remote to him underhand. \"Here you go.\"\n\nNicodemus lowered the gun, turning to catch the remote in his left hand. I waited until his eyes flicked from Valmont to the remote.\n\nAnd then I pulled up every bit of power I could muster in that instant, hurled my right hand forward, and snarled, \"Fuego!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fire rose up from the floor in a wave as wide as the doorway and rolled forward in a surge of superheated air. It expanded as it lashed out, and slammed into Nicodemus's bloodied chest. The force of it threw him back across the hallway and into the wall on the opposite side. He didn't quite go through the wall, but only because there must have been a stud lined up with his spine. The drywall crumpled in from his shoulders to his hips, and his head snapped back in a whiplash of impact. It almost seemed that his shadow was thrown back with him, slapping wetly against the wall around him like blobs of tar.\n\nThe snakeman moved with blinding speed, slithering to one side of the blast. The demon-girl shrieked, and her bladed tresses gathered together in an effort to shield her as the fire and concussion threw her back and away from the door.\n\nThe heat was unbearable, an oven-hot flash that sucked the air from my lungs.\n\nBackwash from the explosion drove me back across the floor, rolling until I hit the wall myself. I cowered and shielded my face as the scarlet flames went out, replaced with a sudden cloud of ugly black smoke. My ears rang, and I couldn't hear anything but the hammering of my own heart.\n\nThe fire spell had been something I wouldn't have done if I'd had an option. That's why I had made a blasting rod. Down-and-dirty fast magic was difficult, dangerous, and likely to run out of control. The blasting rod helped me focus that kind of magic, contain it.\n\nIt helped me avoid explosions that left heat burns on my lungs.\n\nI fumbled around in the blinding smoke, unable to breathe and unable to see. I found a feminine wrist with one hand, followed it up to a shoulder, and found Anna Valmont. I hauled on her with one hand, found the courier's tube with the other, and crawled for the ventilation duct, hauling them both behind me."},{"from":"human","value":"There was air in the ventilation shaft, and Valmont coughed and stirred as I dragged her into it."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Enough of the storage room had caught on fire that I had light enough to see.\n\nOne of Valmont's eyebrows was gone, and one side of her face was red and blistered. I screamed, \"Move!\" at her as loudly as I could. Her eyes blinked with dull comprehension as I pushed her past me and toward the opening in the laundry room, and she started moving stiffly in front of me.\n\nValmont didn't crawl as quickly as I wanted her to, but then she wasn't the one closest to the fire and the monsters. My heart hammered in my ears and the shaft felt oppressively small. I knew that the demonic forms of the Denarians were tougher than either me or Anna Valmont. Unless I'd gotten lethally lucky, they'd recover from the blast, and it wouldn't belong before they came after us. If we couldn't shake them or get into a car, and fast, they'd catch us, plain and simple. I shoved at Valmont, growing more frantic as my imagination turned up images of whipping tendrils cutting my legs to shreds, or venomous serpent fangs sinking into my calves as scaled hands dragged me backward by my ankles.\n\nValmont tumbled out of the air shaft and into the laundry room. I followed her closely enough to make me think of a program I'd seen about howler monkey mating habits. My ears were starting to get their act together, and I heard the high, buzzing ring of afire alarm in the hallway outside.\n\n\"Harry?\" Susan said. She looked between Valmont and me and helped the woman to her feet. \"What's happening?\"\n\nI got to my feet and choked out, \"We need to begone. Right now.\"\n\nSusan nodded at me, and then shoved me. Hard. I went stumbling sideways and into the wall of drying machines, slamming my shoulder and head. I looked back to seethe demon-girl's hair pureeing its way out of the vents, and then the rest of the Denarian came out, scales, claws and all, rolling to all fours with dizzying grace."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fast as the Denarian was, Susan was faster. The demon-girl came up with those rich lips split into a snarl, and Susan drove her heel right into them. She kicked hard enough that something crunched, and the demon-girl screamed in surprise and pain.\n\n\"Susan!\" I shouted. \"Look-\"\n\nI was going to say'out\" but there wasn't time. Half a dozen bunches of tendrils drove at Susan like spears.\n\nSusan dodged them. All of them. She had to fling herself across the room to the washing machines to do it, and the Denarian regained her balance and pursued. More blades drove toward Susan, but she ducked to one side, one hand ripping open the door to one of the washing machines. Susan slammed the door down on the demon-girl's hair, and without missing a beat kicked the Denarian's reverse-jointed knee in sideways.\n\nThe demon-girl shrieked in pain, struggling. I knew she was strong enough to pull free of the washing machine before long, but for the moment she was trapped. Susan reached up and tore a fold-down ironing board from where it was mounted on a nearby wall. Then she spun around and slammed it edge-on into the Denarian. Susan hither three times, in the wounded leg, the small of the back, and the back of the neck. The Denarian shrieked at the first two blows and then collapsed into a limp heap at the third.\n\nSusan stared down at the demon-girl fora moment, dark eyes hard and hot. The ironing board's metal frame was now bent and twisted from the force of the blows Susan had dealt with it. Susan took a deep breath and then tossed the ironing board to one side, straightened her hair with one hand, and commented, \"Bitch.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Wow,\" I said.\n\n\"Are you all right, Harry?\" Susan asked. She wasn't looking at me.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I said. \"Wow.\"\n\nSusan walked over to the counter, where she'd left her clutch. She opened it, got the phone, and said, \"I'll have Martin pick us up at the exit.\"\n\nI shook myself into motion and helped draw Anna Valmont to her feet. \"What exit?\"\n\nSusan pointed wordlessly at afire-escape diagram on the wall, still not looking at me. She spoke maybe a dozen quiet words into the phone and then folded it shut. \"He's coming. They're evacuating the hotel. We'll need to-\"\n\nI felt a surge of magical energies. The air around Susan grew darker and then coalesced into a cloud of shadows. Within a heartbeat, the cloud deepened, then solidified into a writhing tangle of snakes of all sizes and colors wrapped all around Susan. The air suddenly filled with the sound of hissing and buzzing rattles. I saw the snakes begin to strike, fangs flashing. Susan let out a scream.\n\nI turned to the doorway and saw the snakeman Denarian standing in it. One not-quite-human hand was held out toward Susan. His serpent mouth was rolling out hissing sounds, and I could feel the thrumming tension in the air between the Denarian's outstretched hand and Susan.\n\nRage flooded over me, and I barely stopped myself from throwing out another blast of raw spellfire at the snakeman. With that much rage behind it, I'd probably have killed everyone in the room. Instead, I reached out to the air in the hallway beyond the Denarian and pulled it all toward him, the words, \"Ventas servitas!\" thundering off my lips."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\\nTags: fantasy, urban fantasy, wizards\\nAuthor: Jim Butcher\\nTitle: Death Masks\\nChapter: 17\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Why would you say that?\\\" I asked.\\n\\n\\\"I've had a pro hitter following me ever since I landed yesterday. The itch between my shoulder blades got annoying.\\\"\\n\\nI glanced around. \\\"Is he here now?\\\"\\n\\nThomas's eyes glittered. \\\"No. I introduced him to my sisters,\\\"\\n\\nThe White Court were the most human of the vampires and in someways the weakest. They fed on psychic energies, on pure life force rather than on blood. Most often, they would seduce those they fed upon, drawing life from them through physical contact during the act. If a couple of Thomas's sisters had met the hired gun tailing Thomas, the assassin probably wasn't going to be a problem to anyone. Ever. My eye twitched.\\n\\n\\\"The gunman was probably Ortega's,\\\" I said. \\\"He hired some goons to takeout people I knew if I didn't agree to this duel.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That explains it, then,\\\" Thomas said. \\\"Ortega really doesn't like me much. Must be the unsavory company I've kept in the past.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gee, thanks. How the hell did you end up his second?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's my father's idea of a joke,\\\" Thomas said. \\\" Ortega asked him to be his second.\\n\\nShow of solidarity between the Red and White Courts. Instead, Daddy dearest found the most annoying and insulting member of the family he possibly could to stand in.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You,\\\" I said.\\n\\n\\\"C'est moi,\\\" Thomas confirmed with a little bow. \\\"One would almost think Father was trying to get me killed.\\\"\\n\\nI felt one side of my mouth tug up into a smile. \\\"Nice father figure. Him and Bill Cosby. How's Justine?\\\"\\n\\nThomas grimaced. \\\"She's in Aruba is how she is. Which is where I was until one of pappa Raith's goons dragged me backup here.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What did you two decide on for the duel?\\\"\\n\\nThomas shook his head. \\\"Can't tell you. Shiro is supposed to do that. I mean, technically I'm at war with you.\\\"\\n\\nI grimaced and stared after Ortega's vanished car. \\\"Yeah.\\\"\\n\\nThomas was quiet fora second, then said, \\\"He means to kill you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He's dangerous, Harry. Smart. My father is afraid of him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I could like him,\\\" I said. \\\" It's sort of refreshing to have someone trying to kill me right to my face, instead of throwing me a bunch of curveballs and shooting me in the back.\\n\\nIt's almost nice to have a fair fight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sure. Theoretically.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Theoretically?\\\"\\n\\nThomas shrugged. \\\"Ortega's been alive for about six hundred years. It isn't something you do by playing nice.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"From what I've heard, the Archive will object to any monkey business.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's only cheating if he gets caught.\\\"\\n\\nI frowned at him and said, \\\"Are you saying someone is planning to avoid getting caught?\\\"\\n\\nThomas put his hands in his jacket pockets. \\\"I'm not saying anything. I wouldn't mind seeing you kick his ass, but I'm sure as hell not going to do something that would attract attention tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You intend to participate without being involved. That's clever.\\\"\\n\\nThomas rolled his eyes. \\\"I won't throw a banana peel under you. But don't expect any help from me, either. I'm just making sure it's a fair fight and then I'm back at my beach house.\\\" He drew car keys from his pocket and headed for the parking lot. \\\"Good luck.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Thomas,\\\" I said to his back.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Thanks for the heads-up.\\\"\\n\\nHe paused.\\n\\nI asked, \\\"Why do it?\\\"\\n\\nThe vampire glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. \\\"Life would be unbearably dull if we had answers to all our questions.\\\" He walked out to a white sports car and slipped into it. A second later, loud, screaming metal music started from the car's stereo, the engine roared, and Thomas drove off.\\n\\nI checked my watch. Ten more minutes until Susan arrived. Shiro emerged from McAnnally's and put on his glasses. Once he spotted me, he walked over and took the glasses off again. \\\"Ortega refused to cancel the duel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He made mean offer I couldn't excuse,\\\" I said.\\n\\nShiro grunted. \\\"Duel is wills. Tomorrow, just after sundown. Wrigley Field.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A stadium? Why don't we put it on pay-per-view while we're at it.\\\" I glowered at the street and checked my watch again. \\\"I'm meeting someone in a minute. I'll give you the keys to my car. I can pick it up from Michael's tomorrow.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No need,\\\" Shiro said. \\\"Mac called me a cab.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Okay.\\\" I pocketed my keys.\\n\\nShiro stood quietly fora moment, lips pursed thoughtfully, before he said, \\\"Ortega means to kill you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Yes, he does,\\\" I said. I managed not to grind my teeth as I said it. \\\"Everyone is saying that like I didn't know it already.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But you do not know how.\\\" I frowned and looked down at Shiro. His shaved head gleamed under a nearby streetlight. \\\"The war is not your fault.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I know that,\\\" I said, but my voice lacked conviction.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Shiro said. \\\"It truly is not your fault.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What do you mean?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Red Court has been quietly building its resources for years,\\\" he said. \\\"How else were they ready to start their attacks in Europe only days after you defeated Bianca?\\\"\\n\\nI frowned at him.\\n\\nShiro drew a cigar from inside his jacket and bit off the end. He spat it to one side.\\n\\n\\\"You were not the cause of the war. You were merely the excuse. The Reds would have attacked when they were ready.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" I said. \\\"That's not how it is. I mean, damn near everyone I've spoken to on the Council-\\\"\\n\\nShiro snorted. He struck a match and puffed on the cigar a few times while he lit it.\\n\\n\\\"The Council. Arrogant. As if nothing significant could happen unless a wizard did it.\\\"\\n\\nFor someone who wasn't on the White Council, Shiro seemed to have its general attitude pretty well surrounded. \\\"If the Red Court wanted a war, why is Ortega trying to stop it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Premature,\\\" Shiro said. \\\"Needed more time to be completely prepared. The advantage of surprise is gone. He wishes to strike once and be certain it is a lethal stroke.\\\"\\n\\nI watched the little old man fora minute. \\\"Everyone's got advice tonight. Why are you giving it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because in someways you are every bit as arrogant as the Council, though you do not realize it. You blame yourself for what happened to Susan. You want to blame yourself for more.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So what if I do?\\\"\\n\\nShiro turned me and faced me squarely. I avoided meeting his eyes. \\\"Duels area test of fire. They are fought in the will. The heart. If you do not find your balance, Ortega will not need to kill you. You will do so for him.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I guess you were a psychoanalyst before you were a sword-swinging vigilante against evil.\\\"\\n\\nShiro puffed on the cheroot. \\\"Either way, been alive longer than you. See more than you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Like what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Like this vampire warlord. How he manipulates you. He is not what he seems to be.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Really? I've never seen that one before,\\\" I said. \\\"Someone not what they appear to be. However will I adjust.\\\"\\n\\nShiro shrugged. \\\"He is centuries old. He is not from the same world. The world Ortega lived in was savage. Brutal. Men like him destroyed entire civilizations for gold and glory. And for hundreds of years since then, he has fought rival vampires, demons, and enemies of his kind. If he approaches you through formal, civilized channels, it is because he thinks it is the best way to kill you. Regardless of what happens in the duel, he intends to see you dead by any means necessary. Maybe before. Maybe after. But dead.\\\"\\n\\nShiro didn't put any particular emphasis on the words. He didn't need to. They were enough to scare me without any added dramatics. I glowered at his cigar and said, \\\"Those things will kill you.\\\"\\n\\nThe old man smiled again. \\\"Not tonight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'd think a good Christian boy wouldn't be puffing down the cigars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Technicality,\\\" Shiro said.\\n\\n\\\"The cigars?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My Christianity,\\\" Shiro said. \\\"When I was a boy, I liked Elvis. Had a chance to see him in concert when we moved to California. It was a big revival meeting. There was Elvis and then a speaker and my English was not so good. He invited people backstage to meet the king. Thought he meant Elvis, so I go backstage.\\\" He sighed. \\\"Found out later I had become a Baptist.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I barked out a laugh. \\\"You're kidding.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. But it was done, so I tried not to be too bad at being Baptist.\\\" He rested a hand on the handle of his sword. \\\"Then came into this. Made the whole thing more simple. I serve.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Serve who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Heaven. Or the divine in nature. The memory of my fathers past. My fellowman.\\n\\nMyself. All pieces of the same thing. Do you know the story of the blind men and the elephant?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Have you heard the one about the bear that walks into a bar?\\\" I responded.\\n\\n\\\"I think that is a no,\\\" Shiro said. \\\"Three blind men were shown an elephant. They touched it with their hands to determine what the creature was. The first man felt the trunk, and claimed that an elephant was like a snake. The second man touched its leg and claimed that an elephant was like a tree. The third man touched its tail, and claimed that the elephant was like a slender rope.\\\"\\n\\nI nodded. \\\"Oh. I get it. All of them were right. All of them were wrong. They couldn't get the whole picture.\\\"\\n\\nShiro nodded. \\\"Precisely. I am just another blind man. I do not get the whole picture of what transpires in all places. I am blind and limited. I would be a fool to think myself wise. And so, not knowing what the universe means, I can only try to be responsible with the knowledge, the strength, and the time given tome. I must be true to my heart.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sometimes that isn't good enough,\\\" I said.\\n\\nHe tilted his head and looked up at me. \\\"How do you know?\\\"\\n\\nA cab swerved in from the street and rattled to a stop. Shiro stepped over to it and nodded tome. \\\"Will beat Michael's if you need me. Be watchful.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I nodded at him. \\\"Thank you.\\\"\\n\\nShiro said, \\\"Thank me after.\\\" Then he got into the cab and left.\\n\\nMac closed up shop a minute later, and put on a dark fedora on his way out. He nodded at me on the way to his Trans Am, and said nothing. I found a shadowy spot to linger in as Mac left, and kept an eye on the street. I'd hate for someone to drive by and shoot me with a plain old gun. Embarrassing.\\n\\nAlong, dark limo pulled into the parking lot. A uniformed driver got out and opened the door nearest tome. A pair of long, honey-brown legs slid out of the limo on top of black stiletto heels. Susan glided out of the car, managing grace despite the shoes, which probably qualified her for superhuman status all by itself. A sleeveless sheath of shimmering black cloth clung to her, an evening gown slit high on one side. Dark gloves covered her arms to the elbow, and her hair had been done up in a pile on top of her head, held in place with a couple of gleaming black chopsticks.\\n\\nMy tongue dropped out of my mouth and flopped onto my shoes. Well, not literally, but if I'd been a cartoon my eyeballs would have been about six feet long.\\n\\nSusan had read my face and apparently enjoyed my reaction. \\\"How much, good-looking?\\\"\\n\\nI looked down at my rumpled clothing. \\\"I think I'm a tad underdressed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One tuxedo, coming up,\\\" Susan said.\\n\\nThe driver opened the trunk and drew out a hanger covered with a dry-cleaning bag.\\n\\nWhen he turned around with it, I realized that the driver was Martin. All he'd done to disguise himself was don an archetypical uniform and I hadn't even recognized him until second glance. I guess sometimes it's handy to be bland.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Is it my size?\\\" I asked, taking the tux when Martin passed it tome.\\n\\n\\\"I had to guess,\\\" Susan said, lowering her eyelids in a sultry expression. \\\"But it wasn't like I didn't know my way around.\\\"\\n\\nMartin's face might have flickered with disapproval. My heart sped up a bit. \\\"All right then,\\\" I said. \\\"Let's get moving. I'll dress on the way.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do I get to look?\\\" Susan asked.\\n\\n\\\"It'll cost you extra,\\\" I said. Martin opened the door for Susan and I slid in after her.\\n\\nI filled her in on what I'd found out about the Shroud and those after it. \\\"I should be able to find the thing if we get close.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You think there will be anymore of these Denarians there?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Probably,\\\" I said. \\\" If anything gets ugly, we'll take the best part of valor, pronto.\\n\\nThese guys play hardball.\\\"\\n\\nSusan nodded agreement. \\\"Sounds like the thieves aren't exactly shy about waving guns, either.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And we'll have Marcone around too. Whither he goeth, there too goeth armed thugs and homicide investigations.\\\"\\n\\nSusan smiled. It was anew expression tome-a small, quiet, fierce little smile that showed her teeth. It looked natural on her. \\\"You're all about fun, aren't you, Harry?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am the Bruce Lee of fun,\\\" I concurred. \\\"Give me some space here.\\\"\\n\\nSusan slid over as far as she could to give me room to climb into the tux. I tried not to mar it too badly in the limited space. Susan glanced at me with a faint frown.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What?\\\" I asked her.\\n\\n\\\"You're wrinkling it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This isn't as easy as I'm making it look,\\\" I responded.\\n\\n\\\"If you weren't staring at my legs, maybe it wouldn't be such a challenge.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I wasn't staring,\\\" I lied.\\n\\nSusan smiled at meas the car cruised through downtown and I did my best to dress like Roger Moore. Her expression became thoughtful after a moment, and she said, \\\"Hey.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What happened to your leather coat?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The downtown Marriott was huge, brilliantly lit, and busy as an anthill. Several blue-and-whites were parked nearby, and a couple of officers were helping to direct traffic in front of the hotel. I could see maybe twenty limos on the street and pulling through the archway in front of the hotel doors, and everyone of them looked bigger and nicer than ours. Valets rushed around to park the cars of guests who had driven themselves. There were a dozen men in red jackets standing around with bored expressions that some might mistake for inattention. Hotel security.\\n\\nMartin pulled up to the entryway and said, \\\"I'll wait for you out here.\\\" He passed a palm-sized cellphone to Susan. She slipped it into a black clutch. \\\"If you get into trouble, speed-dial one.\\\"\\n\\nAt that point, a valet opened the door on my side, and I slipped out of the car. My rental tux felt a little awkward. The shoes were long enough for me but they were an inch and a half too wide. I shrugged my jacket into place, straightened the cummerbund, and offered a hand to Susan. She slid out of the car with a brilliant smile, and straightened my tie.\\n\\n\\\"Smile,\\\" she said quietly. \\\"Everyone here is worried about image. If you walk in scowling like that we won't blend in.\\\"\\n\\nI smiled in what I thought was a camouflaging manner. Susan regarded the expression critically, nodded, and slipped her arm through mine. We walked in under the cover our smiles provided. One of the security guards stopped us inside the door, and Susan presented the tickets to him. He waved us through.\\n\\n\\\"First thing to do is find some stairs,\\\" I said from behind my smile. \\\"The loading docks will be near the kitchens, and they're below us. That's where they'll be bringing in the art stuff.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Susan held her course toward the stairs.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Not yet,\\\" she said. \\\"If we snoop around the second we get in the door someone is likely to notice. We should mingle until the auction is running. People will be distracted then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If we wait, the whole thing could go down while we hobnob.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe,\\\" Susan said. \\\"But odds are that Anna Valmont and the buyer are both thinking the same thing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"When does the auction start?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Eleven.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Assuming the note means that the sale is at eleven forty-five, that doesn't give us much time to look around. This place is huge.\\\"\\n\\nWe got onto an escalator and Susan arched an eyebrow at me. \\\"Do you have any better ideas?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not yet,\\\" I said. I caught a glimpse of myself in a polished brass column. I didn't look half-bad. There's a reason the tux has weathered a century virtually unchanged. You don't fix what isn't broken. Tuxedos make anyone look good, and I was a living testament to it. \\\"Think they will have anything to eat? I'm starving.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just keep the shirt clean,\\\" Susan muttered.\\n\\n\\\"No problem. I can wipe my fingers on the cummerbund.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can't take you anywhere,\\\" Susan said. She leaned a little against me, and it felt nice. I felt nice, generally speaking. I cleaned up pretty well, it would seem, and I had a lovely woman-no, I had Susan on my arm, looking lovely. It was a small silver lining compared to the troubled clouds I'd been floundering through, but it was something, and it lasted all the way up the escalator. I take the good moments wherever I can get them.\\n\\nWe followed the flow of formally dressed men and women up another escalator or three to a cavernous ballroom. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and tables laden with expensive-looking snacks and ice sculptures all but overflowed onto the floor. A group of musicians played on the far side of the ballroom. They didn't seem to be stretching themselves with some relaxed and classy jazz. Couples who also weren't stretching themselves danced together on a floor the size of a basketball court.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The room wasn't crammed with people, but there were a couple of hundred there already, and more coming in behind us. Polite but insincere chatter rilled the space, accompanied by equally insincere smiles and laughter. There were a number of city officials whom I recognized in the immediate area, plus a couple of professional musicians and at least one motion-picture actor.\\n\\nA waiter in a white jacket offered us a tray of champagne glasses, and I promptly appropriated a pair of them, passing the first to Susan. She lifted the glass to her mouth but didn't drink. The champagne smelled good. I took a sip, and it tasted good. I'm not a terribly impressive drinker, so I stopped after the first sip. Chugging down champagne on an empty stomach would probably prove inconvenient if it turned out I needed to do any quick thinking. Or quick leaving. Or quick anything.\\n\\nSusan said hello to an older couple, and stopped for introductions. I kept my duck blind of a smile in place, and mouthed appropriately polite phrases in the right spots. My cheeks had already started hurting. We repeated that for half an hour or so, while the band played a bunch of low-key dance music. Susan knew a lot of people. She'd been a reporter in Chicago for five or six years before she'd had to leave town, but she had evidently managed to ingratiate herself to more people than I would have guessed. You go, Susan.\\n\\n\\\"Food,\\\" I said, after a stooped older man kissed Susan's cheek and walked away.\\n\\n\\\"Feed me, Seymour.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's always the brain stem with you,\\\" she murmured. But she guided us over to the refreshment tables so that I could pickup a tiny sandwich. I didn't wolf the thing down in one bite, which was just as well, since it had a toothpick through it to hold it together. But the sandwich didn't last long.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"At least chew with your mouth closed,\\\" Susan said.\\n\\nI took a second sandwich. \\\"Can't help it. I got all kinds of joie de vivre, baby.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And smile.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Chew and smile? At the same time? Do I look like Jackie Chan?\\\"\\n\\nShe had a retort but it died after a syllable. I felt her hand tighten on my arm. I briefly debated wolfing the second sandwich, just to get it out of the way, but I took the more sophisticated option instead. I put it in my jacket pocket for later, and turned to follow Susan's gaze.\\n\\nI looked just in time to meet the gaze of Gentleman Johnny Marcone. He was a man of slightly above average height and unassuming build. He had handsome but unremarkable features. Central casting would have placed him as the genial next-door neighbor. He didn't have the usual boater's tan, it being February and all, but the crow's-feet at the corners of his pale green eyes remained. He looked a lot like the fictional public image he projected-that of a normal, respectable businessman, an American tale of middle class made good.\\n\\nThat said, Marcone scared me more than any single human being I'd ever met. I'd seen him produce a knife from his sleeve faster than a hyperstrong psychotic could swing a tire iron at him. He'd thrown another knife through a rope while spinning in circles as he hung upside down in the dark, later the same night. Marcone may have been human, but he wasn't normal. He'd taken control of Chicago's organized crime during a free-for-all gang war, and he'd run it ever since despite the efforts of both everyday and supernatural threats.\\n\\nHe'd done it by being deadlier than anything that came after him. Of all the people in the room, Marcone was the only one I could see who wasn't wearing a fake smile. It didn't look like he was particularly troubled by the fact, either.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Mister Dresden,\\\" he said. \\\"And Miss Rodriguez, I believe. I didn't realize you were an art collector.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am the foremost collector of velvet Elvii in the city of Chicago,\\\" I said at once.\\n\\n\\\"Elvii?\\\" Marcone inquired.\\n\\n\\\"The plural could be Elvises, I guess,\\\" I said. \\\"But if I say that too often, I start muttering to myself and calling things \\\"my precious,\\\" so I usually go with the Latin plural.\\\"\\n\\nMarcone did smile that time. It was a cool expression. Tigers with full stomachs wear smiles like Marcone's when they're watching baby deer play. \\\"Ah. I hope you can find something to suit your tastes tonight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm easy,\\\" I said. \\\"Any old rag will do.\\\"\\n\\nMarcone narrowed his eyes. There was a short, pointed silence while he met my gaze. He could do that. I'd gotten into a soulgaze with him in the past. It was one of the reasons he scared me. \\\"In that case, I would advise you to exercise caution in your acquisitions.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Cautious, that's me,\\\" I said. \\\"You sure you wouldn't rather make this simple?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In deference to your limitations, I almost would,\\\" Marcone said. \\\"But I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what you're talking about.\\\"\\n\\nI felt my eyes narrow and I took a step forward. Susan's hand pressed against my arm, silently urging restraint. I lowered my voice to something between Marcone and myself. \\\"Tell you what. Let's start with one of your monkeys trying to punch my ticket in a parking garage. From there, we can move along to the part where I come up with a suitable reply.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I didn't expect what happened next.\\n\\nMarcone blinked.\\n\\nIt wasn't a huge giveaway. At a card table, only a couple of the players would have seen it. But I was right in his face, and I knew him and I saw it. My words startled Marcone, and for half a second it showed. He covered it, bringing out a businessman's smile that was a lot better than my fake smile, and clapped a hand gently to my arm. \\\"Don't try me in public, Dresden. You can't afford to do it. I can't afford to let you.\\\"\\n\\nA shadow fell over Marcone, and I looked up to see Hendricks hulk into view behind him. Hendricks was still huge, still redheaded, still looked vaguely like a defensive lineman a little too awkward to make it from college to pro ball. His tux was nicer than mine. I wondered if he was wearing body armor under it again.\\n\\nCujo Hendricks had a date. He had a blond date. He had a gorgeous, leggy, blue-eyed, elegant, tall, Nordic angel of a date. She was wearing a white gown, and silver flashed at her throat, on each wrist, and on one ankle. I'd seen bikinis in issues of Sports Illustrated that might have felt too plain to be worn by Hendricks's date.\\n\\nShe spoke, and her voice was a throaty purr. \\\"Mister Marcone. Is there a problem?\\\"\\n\\nMarcone arched an eyebrow. \\\"Is there, Mister Dresden?\\\"\\n\\nI probably would have said something stupid, but Susan's nails dug into my forearm through my jacket. \\\"No trouble,\\\" Susan said. \\\"I don't believe we've met.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" said the blonde, with a faint roll of her eyes. \\\"We haven't.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Mister Dresden, Miss Rodriguez, I believe you both know Mister Hendricks. And this is Miss Gard.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" I said. \\\"She's an employee, I take it?\\\"\\n\\nMiss Gard smiled. Professional smiles all around tonight, it would seem. \\\"I'm from the Monoc Foundation,\\\" she said. \\\"I'm a consultant.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Regarding what, one wonders,\\\" said Susan. She definitely had the sharpest smile of those present.\\n\\n\\\"Security,\\\" Gard said, unruffled. She focused on me. \\\"I help make sure that thieves, spies, and poor wandering spirits don't windup allover the lawn.\\\"\\n\\nAnd I got it. Whoever Miss Gard was, it seemed fairly likely that she was responsible for the wards that had torn Bob up so badly. My head of righteous fury died out, replaced by caution. Marcone had been concerned about my talents. He'd started taking steps to balance things, and Marcone wasn't one to show his hand early, which meant that he was already prepared for trouble of one kind or another with me. He was ready to fight me.\\n\\nMarcone read my features and said, \\\"Neither one of us wants any unpleasantness, Dresden.\\\" His eyes became flat and hard. \\\"If you want to talk, call my office tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest you search for your classic renditions of Elvis elsewhere.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll take it under advisement,\\\" I answered. Marcone shook his head and walked away to do his own mingling, which seemed to consist mainly of shaking hands, and nodding in the appropriate spots. Hendricks and the Amazonian Gard shadowed Marcone, never faraway.\\n\\n\\\"What a charmer you are,\\\" Susan murmured.\\n\\nI grunted.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Such diplomacy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Me and Kissinger.\\\" I scowled after Marcone and said, \\\"I don't like this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why not?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because he's up to something. He setup magical defenses around his house.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Like he was expecting trouble,\\\" Susan said.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You think he's the buyer for the Shroud?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Would make a lot of sense,\\\" I said. \\\" He's got enough contacts and money to do it.\\n\\nThe buy is apparently going down here at his gala.\\\"I scanned the room as I spoke.\\\" He doesn't do anything without planning it out to his advantage. He's probably got friends in hotel security. It would give him all kinds of freedom to meet Valmont where no one was watching.\\\"\\n\\nI spotted Marcone as he found a spot near a wall and lifted a tiny cellphone to his ear. He spoke into it, his eyes hard, and he had the look of a man who wasn't listening, only giving orders. I tried to Listen in on what he was saying, but between the band, the ballroom, and the chatter of voices I wasn't able to make anything out.\\n\\n\\\"But why?\\\" Susan asked. \\\"He's got the means and the resources but what reason would he have to buy the Shroud?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hell if I know.\\\"\\n\\nSusan nodded. \\\"He certainly isn't happy to see you here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah. Something unsettled him, gave him a nasty surprise. Did you see his face?\\\"\\n\\nSusan shook her head. \\\"What do you mean?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A reaction, during the conversation. I'm sure I saw it. He got caught flat-footed when I was talking to him, and he didn't like it.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You rattled him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe,\\\" I said.\\n\\n\\\"Enough to push him into moving early?\\\" Susan's dark eyes had also picked out Marcone, who snapped the cellphone closed and headed for one of the service doors with Gard and Hendricks behind him. Marcone paused to speak to a red-jacketed security guard and glanced in our direction.\\n\\n\\\"Looks like we'd better get moving,\\\" I said. \\\"I need a minute to use the spell on this thread sample and lead us to the Shroud.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why haven't you done that already?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Limited range,\\\" I said. \\\"And the spell won't last long. We need to be close.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How close?\\\" Susan asked.\\n\\n\\\"Maybe a hundred feet.\\\"\\n\\nMarcone left the room, and the security guard lifted his radio to his mouth.\\n\\n\\\"Crap,\\\" I said.\\n\\n\\\"Relax,\\\" Susan said, though her own voice sounded tight. \\\"These are the upper crust of Chicago. The security guards won't want to make a scene.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Right,\\\" I said, and started for the door.\\n\\n\\\"Slowly,\\\" Susan said, her smile in place again. \\\"Don't rush.\\\"\\n\\nI tried not to rush, despite the security guard closing in behind us. I saw red jackets moving in my peripheral vision as well. We kept up the slow, graceful walk of people wandering around a party, and Susan smiled enough for both of us. We got as far as the doors before another red jacket appeared in the doors in front of us, cutting us off.\\n\\nI recognized the man-the gunman outside the television studio, the one who had nearly ventilated Father Vincent and me in the parking garage. His eyes widened in recognition and his hand moved toward his jacket, where a gun would be inside a shoulder holster. The body language was clear: Come along quietly or get shot.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"I looked around us, but other than the partygoers, the dance floor, and the other security guards, nothing really seemed to present itself as an option.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then the band struck up something a little faster with a syncopated Latin beat, and several of the younger couples who hadn't been dancing previously moved out onto the floor.\\n\\n\\\"Come on,\\\" I said, and guided Susan with me.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing?\\\" she asked.\\n\\n\\\"Buying sometime to get across the room to those other doors,\\\" I said. I turned to her, put one hand on her waist and took her other hand in mine, and led off onto the dance floor with an uncomplicated two-step. \\\"Just follow.\\\"\\n\\nI looked back to her to see her mouth open in shock. \\\"You told me you couldn't dance.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not like in clubs and stuff,\\\" I said. She followed me well enough to let me do a little dip and step into a restrained hustle. \\\"I don't do so well with rock and roll. Ballroom is something else.\\\"\\n\\nSusan laughed, her dark eyes shining, even as she watched the crowd around us for more red jackets. \\\"Between this and the tux, you're threatening to become classy. Where did you learn?\\\"\\n\\nI kept us moving down the dance floor, rolling Susan out to the length of our arms and then drawing her in again. \\\"When I first came to Chicago, I had a bunch of jobs until I hooked up with Nick Christian at Ragged Angel Investigations. One of them was as a dance partner with a senior-citizen organization.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You learned from little old ladies?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tough to tango with someone with lumbago,\\\" I said. \\\"It requires great skill.\\\" I spun Susan again, this time bringing her back tome with her back to my chest, one hand still on her hip with the other holding her arm out. There was a subtle electricity in touching her, her waist slender and supple under my hand. Her hair smelled of cinnamon, and her dress left quite a bit of her back naked to view. It was distracting as hell, and when she glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes were growing heated. She felt it too.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I swallowed. Focus, Harry. \\\"See those doors behind the food tables?\\\"\\n\\nSusan nodded.\\n\\nI checked over my shoulder. The security guards had been slowed down by the press of the crowd, and we had beaten them to the other side of the room. \\\"That's where we're going. We need to ditch these guys and find Valmont before Marcone gets to her.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Won't security just follow us through the kitchen?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not if Vanilla Martin diverts their attention before we leave the floor.\\\"\\n\\nSusan's eyes glittered and she kept dancing with me, drawing the tiny cellphone from her clutch. \\\"You have a devious mind.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Call me crazy but I'd rather not have Marcone's goons walk us out.\\\" A little luck came our way, and the band moved to a somewhat slower number. Susan was able to stay closer tome, half concealing her cellphone. I heard the phone dialing numbers, and I tried to still my thoughts and feelings. It hadn't worked for long at the Larry Fowler studio, but if I could rein in my emotions, Susan should at least be able to make a call.\\n\\nIt worked. She spoke quietly into the phone for all of three or four seconds, then clicked it closed and put it away. \\\"Two minutes,\\\" she said.\\n\\nDamn. Martin was good. I could pick out a couple of security guards at the main doors. Marcone's dark-haired hitter was closer. He had trouble making his way politely through the crowd, and we had managed to gain a small lead on him as we danced.\\n\\n\\\"Do we have a signal or anything?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I think we wait for something distracting to happen,\\\" Susan said.\\n\\n\\\"Like what?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The sudden shriek of braking tires cut through the band music. There was aloud crunch, and the sound of plate glass breaking, along with shrieks from the hotel lobby below. The band stopped in confusion, and people crowded toward the exit to see what was happening.\\n\\n\\\"Like that,\\\" Susan said. We had to swim upstream, so to speak, but it didn't look like anyone was bothering to look at us. I caught a glimpse of Marcone's hitter, heading out toward the ruckus. The ass had his gun in his hand, despite any possible field of fire he might have picked being filled with rich and influential socialites. At least he was holding the weapon low and against his leg.\\n\\nThe staff were just as interested in the disturbance as anyone else, and we were able to duck back into the service hallway without comment from anyone. Susan took a quick look around and said, \\\"Elevator?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Stairs if they have them. If someone shoots at us on stairs, we can scream and flail around a lot more.\\\" I spotted afire alarm diagram on the wall and traced my finger over it.\\n\\n\\\"Here, down the hall and left.\\\"\\n\\nSusan stepped out of her shoes while I did that. It left her a lot shorter, but her feet were silent on the utilitarian carpet. We went down the hall, found the stairs, and started down them. We went down three flights, which put us at ground level again, I guessed. I opened the door from the stairwell and took a look around. A dingy little elevator opened, and a couple of guys in the food-stained white of kitchen hands went walking down the hallway, peering ahead and chattering. I heard a siren or two wailing outside.\\n\\n\\\"I'll say this for Martin,\\\" I muttered. \\\"When he distracts, he distracts.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He has a strong work ethic,\\\" Susan agreed.\\n\\n\\\"Keep an eye out,\\\" I said, and stepped back from the door. Susan's gaze flicked around the stairwell and over the hallway while I stepped back to kneel on the ground, drawing out what I would need for my seeking spell.\\n\\nI pulled out a black Magic Marker and drew a smooth circle on the tiled landing, all the way around me. The marker squealed as I did, and as I closed the circle I willed it shut.\\n\\nA gentle barrier, something I couldn't see but could easily feel closed around me, screening out disruptive forces so that I could work my spell.\\n\\n\\\"Is that a permanent marker?\\\" Susan asked.\\n\\n\\\"Thus do I strike a blow for anarchy whenever the mood takes me,\\\" I muttered.\\n\\n\\\"Just a minute.\\\" I took out the sample from Father Vincent and a windup plastic duck.\\n\\nWhich isn't as goofy as it sounds. Stay with me.\\n\\nI touched the thread to the duck's bill, then wound the duck up. I muttered a low chant, mostly nonsense syllables, and focused on what I wanted. I set the duck down on the floor, but instead of beginning to waddle, it instead waited, completely still. I had to use a rubber band to attach the tiny thread to the duck's bill. It was too short to tie on. I focused, brushing aside any thoughts besides those I needed for the spell, and let the gathered magic go with a whispered, \\\"Seek, seek, seek.\\\"\\n\\nThe power poured out of me, leaving me a bit short of breath. The little yellow duck quivered and then lurched into motion, spinning about in an aimless circle. I nodded once, reached out a hand, and with an effort of will to support the gesture, I broke the circle. The screen vanished as quickly as it had arrived, and the little yellow duck quacked and marched toward the door.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I glanced up at Susan. Her dark and lovely eyes watched the duck with what could charitably be termed extreme skepticism.\\n\\nI scowled at her. \\\"Don't say it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I didn't say anything.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, don't.\\\"\\n\\nShe fought down a smile. \\\"I won't.\\\"\\n\\nI opened the door. The duck waddled out into the hallway, quacked, and turned to the left. I stepped out, picked the duck up, and said, \\\"It's close. Let's move. We just check the duck at intersections.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Does the duck know about stairs?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"More or less. Come on; I don't know how long the spell will last.\\\"\\n\\nI led the way. I'm not the world's mightiest athlete, but I exercise a bit, I have really long legs, and I can walk faster than some run. The duck led us down a pair of long hallways to a door with an EMPLOYEES ONLY sign on it.\\n\\nI opened the door, peeked in, and reported in a whisper, \\\"Big laundry room.\\\"\\n\\nFootsteps sounded behind us, coming down another hallway. Susan looked at me with wide eyes. I pushed into the room, Susan close behind me. I closed the door almost all the way, holding it from closing completely so that the lock wouldn't click and give us away.\\n\\nThe footsteps came closer, a couple sets of them, and two shapes went quickly by, passing close to the cracked doorway.\\n\\n\\\"Hendricks and Gard,\\\" I murmured to Susan.\\n\\n\\\"How do you know?\\\" she whispered back.\\n\\n\\\"Smelled the blonde's perfume.\\\" I counted silently to ten and opened the door, looking out. The hallway was clear. I closed the door and turned on the lights. The room was fairly large, with several commercial washing machines ranked against one wall. A bank of dryers faced them on the opposite side of the room, and in between were several long counters that held stacks and stacks of folded white sheets and towels. I put the duck on the floor, and it waddled off down the row of counters. \\\"This is how they had it hidden on the yacht. Concealed among laundry.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And those professional-thief types tend to be so predictable?\\\" Susan asked.\\n\\nI frowned and put the duck on the floor. \\\"Watch the door.\\\"\\n\\nThe duck waddled at once over to the far side of the room, and bumped into some hanging laundry. I pulled the hanging sheets to one side, and found a large ventilation grate behind them. I knelt down, running my fingers and eyes over the edges of the grate, and found a pair of holes where screws had been. A quick tug on the grate had it off the wall, revealing a vent maybe three feet square. I stuck my head in and found a ventilation shaft running between the walls. The duck waddled in and took a determined right.\\n\\n\\\"Air duct,\\\" I said. I twisted out of the tuxedo jacket and absently ripped off the tie from around my neck. I stepped out of the clumsy shoes and rolled up my shirtsleeves, baring my shield bracelet to view. \\\"Be right back.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Harry,\\\" Susan began, her voice worried.\\n\\n\\\"I saw Alien. I'm not Tom Skerritt.\\\" I winked at Susan, picked up the duck, and entered the air duct, moving as quietly as I could.\\n\\nEvidently, it was very quiet. The duct ran straight, grates opening into utility rooms every fifteen or twenty feet. I had gone past three of the grates when I heard voices.\\n\\n\\\"This isn't according to the deal,\\\" came Marcone's voice. It had the scratchy edges of a radio transmission to it.\\n\\nAnna Valmont's smooth British accent answered it from the other side of the next grate. \\\"Neither was an early rendezvous. I don't like it when a buyer changes the plan.\\\"\\n\\nA radio clicked. Marcone's voice came through it, smooth and calm. \\\"I assure you that I have no interest in breaking faith with your organization. It isn't good business.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"When I have confirmation of the transfer of funds, you'll get the article. Not a second before.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My factor in Zurich-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do you think I'm an idiot? This job has already cost us more than any of us bargained for. Clear off the bloody radio and contact me when you have something worth saying or I'll destroy the bloody thing and leave.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Wait,\\\" Marcone said. There was tension in his voice. \\\"You can't-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can't I?\\\" Valmont answered. \\\"Don't fuck with me, Yank. And add another million to the bill for telling me my job. I'm calling off the deal if the money isn't therein ten minutes. Out.\\\"\\n\\nI came up to the grate and found it sitting not quite squarely in its frame. Valmont must have entered the hotel and moved around through the air shafts. I peered out through the grate. Valmont had setup in a storage room of some kind. The only light in the room was a dim green shimmer that rose up from what must have been a palmtop computer.\\n\\nValmont muttered something to herself beneath her breath, her eyes on the screen. She was wearing a lot of tight-fitting black clothing and a black baseball cap. She wasn't wearing my coat, dammit, but I guess I couldn't have expected to find everything wrapped up in a nice package.\\n\\nI checked the duck, setting it down facing toward me. It immediately walked in a little circle and pointed toward Anna Valmont.\\n\\nThe thief paced the room like a restless cat, eyes on the palmtop. My eyes adjusted to the dimness over the course of a few minutes of waiting, and I saw that Valmont was pacing back and forth around a tube with a carrying strap. The tube wasn't more than five or six feet from me.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I watched Valmont pace until her expression and steps froze, eyes locking hard on the palmtop. \\\"Great Jupiter's balls,\\\" she said quietly. \\\"He paid it.\\\"\\n\\nNow or never. I put my hands on the grate and pushed it as gently as I could. It slid soundlessly from the wall and I set it to one side. Valmont was focused entirely on her little computer. If the prospect of payment distracted Valmont fora moment more, I'd be able to slip away with the Shroud, which would be very James Bond of me. Hopefully the tuxedo would help outwith that. I needed only a few seconds to creep out, nip the Shroud, and get back into the vents.\\n\\nI almost died when Valmont's radio crackled again and Marcone's voice said,\\n\\n\\\"There. As agreed, plus your additional fee. Will that be sufficient?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Quite. You will find your merchandise in a storage closet in the basement.\\\"\\n\\nMarcone's voice gained an edge. \\\"Please be more specific.\\\"\\n\\nI slipped out of the vents, thinking silent thoughts. Along stretch put my fingertips on the tube's carrying strap.\\n\\n\\\"If you wish,\\\" Valmont replied. \\\" The article is in a locked room, in a courier's tube.\\n\\nThe tube itself is outfitted with an incendiary. A radio transmitter in my possession has the capacity to disarm or to trigger the device. Once I am safely on my way from the city, I will disarm the device and notify you via telephone. Until that time, I suggest you do not try to open it.\\\"\\n\\nI jerked my fingers away from the tube.\\n\\n\\\"Again you have altered our agreement,\\\" Marcone said. He said it in a voice as smooth and cold as the inside wall of a refrigerator.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It does seem to be a seller's market.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There are very few people able to speak about taking advantage of me.\\\"\\n\\nValmont let out a quiet, bitter little laugh. \\\"Come, now. This is nothing more than an entirely reasonable piece of insurance,\\\" Valmont said. \\\"Be a good boy and your precious cloth is in no danger. Attempt to betray me, and you'll have nothing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And if the authorities find you on their own?\\\" Marcone asked.\\n\\n\\\"You'll need a broom and a dustpan when you come for the article. I should think you would be wise to do whatever you canto clear the path for me.\\\" She turned the radio off.\\n\\nI bit my lip, thinking furiously. Even if I took the Shroud now, Marcone would be upset when he didn't get his hands on it. If he didn't have Valmont killed, he'd at least tip off the police to her. Valmont, in turn, would destroy the Shroud. If I took it, I would have to move fast to get the Shroud away from the device. I couldn't count on simply blowing the device outwith magic. It was as likely to malfunction and explode as it was to just go dead.\\n\\nI would need the transmitter too, and there was only one way to get it.\\n\\nI stepped up behind Valmont and pressed the bill of the plastic duck against her spine. \\\"Don't move,\\\" I said. \\\"I'll shoot.\\\"\\n\\nShe stiffened. \\\"Dresden?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let me see your hands,\\\" I said. She held them up, the green light of the palmtop showing columns of numbers. \\\"Where's the transmitter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What transmitter?\\\"\\n\\nI pushed the duck against her a little harder. \\\" I've had along day too, Miss Valmont.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The one you just told Marcone about.\\\"\\n\\nShe let out a small sound of discomfort. \\\"If you take it, Marcone will kill me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah, he takes his image seriously. You'd be smart to come with me and get protection from the authorities. Now where is the transmitter?\\\"\\n\\nHer shoulders slumped and she bowed her head forward fora moment. I felt a twinge of guilt. She had planned on being herewith friends. They'd been killed. She was a young woman, alone in a strange land, and regardless of what happened, she wasn't likely to come out of this situation ahead of the game. And here I was holding a duck to her back.\\n\\nI felt like a bully.\\n\\n\\\"My left jacket pocket,\\\" Valmont said, her tone quiet. I reminded myself that I was a professional and reached into her pocket to get the transmitter.\\n\\nShe clobbered me.\\n\\nOne second, I was holding the duck to her back and reaching into her pocket. The next, I was falling to the ground with a bruise shaped like one of her elbows forming on my jaw. The light from the palmtop clicked out. A small red-tinted flashlight came on, and Valmont kicked the duck out of my hand. The beam of the flashlight followed the duck fora silent second, and then she laughed.\\n\\n\\\"A duck,\\\" she said. She dipped a hand into her pocket and came outwith a small silver semiautomatic. \\\"I was fairly certain you wouldn't shoot, but that goes a step beyond ridiculous.\\\"\\n\\nI've got to get a concealed-carry permit. \\\"You won't shoot either,\\\" I said, and started to getup. \\\"So you might as well put the gun d-\\\"\\n\\nShe pointed the gun at my leg and pulled the trigger. Pain flashed through my leg and I let out an involuntary shout. I grabbed at my thigh as the red flashlight settled on me.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I pawed at my leg. I had a couple of smallish cuts, but I hadn't been shot. The bullet had hit the concrete floor next tome and gouged a bite out of the concrete. A flying chip or two must have cut my leg.\\n\\n\\\"Terribly sorry,\\\" Valmont said. \\\"Were you saying something?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nothing important,\\\" I responded.\\n\\n\\\"Ah,\\\" Valmont said. \\\"Well, it would be bad etiquette to leave a corpse here for my buyer to cleanup, so it seems as though I'll be hand-delivering to Marcone after all. We can't have you running off with what everyone is so excited over.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Marcone is the least of your worries,\\\" I said.\\n\\n\\\"No, actually, he's quite prominent among them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Marcone isn't going to sprout horns and claws and start tearing you apart,\\\" I said.\\n\\n\\\"Or at least, I don't think he is. There's another group after that Shroud. Like the thing from the ship this morning.\\\"\\n\\nI couldn't see her face from the other end of the red flashlight, but her voice sounded a little shaky. \\\"What was it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A demon.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Areal demon?\\\" There was a strained tone in her voice, as though she couldn't decide whether to laugh or sob. I'd heard it before. \\\"You expect me to believe it was a literal demon?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And you're some sort of angel, I suppose.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hell, no,\\\" I said. \\\"I'm just working for them. Sort of. Look, I know people who can protect you from those things. People who won't hurt you. They'll help.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I don't need help,\\\" Valmont said. \\\"They're dead, they're both dead. Gaston, Francisca. My friends. Whoever these people, these things are, they can't hurt meany more.\\\"\\n\\nThe locked door of the storeroom screamed as something tore it off its hinges and out into the hall. The hallway lights poured in through the gap in a blinding flood, and I had to shield my eyes against them fora second.\\n\\nI could see dim shapes, shadows in front of the light. One was lean and crouched, with shadowy tendrils of razor-edged hair slithering around it in a writhing cloud. One was sinuous and strong-looking, like a man who had traded its legs in on the scaled body of an enormous snake. Between them stood a shape that looked human, like a man in an overcoat, his hands in his pockets-but the shadows the shape cast writhed and boiled madly, making the lights flicker and swim in a nauseating fashion.\\n\\n\\\"Cannot hurt you anymore,\\\" said the central shape in a quietly amused, male voice.\\n\\n\\\"No matter how many times I hear that one, it's always afresh challenge.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"My eyes adjusted enough to make out some details. The demonic female with the Joan Jett hair, two sets of eyes, a glowing sigil, and vicious claws was the same Denarian who had attacked at the harbor that morning. The second demonic being was covered in dark grey scales flecked with bits of rust red. From shoulders to waist, he looked more or less human. From the neck up and the waist down, he looked like some kind of flattened serpent. No legs. Coils slithered out behind him, scales rasping over the floor. He too had the double pair of eyes, one set golden and serpentine, the other, inside the first, glowing faintly blue-green, matching the pulsing symbol of the same light that seemed to dance in the gleam of the scales of the snake's head.\\n\\nOne little, two little, three little Denarians, or so I judged the last of them. Of the three, he was the only one that looked human. He wore a tan trench coat, casually open. His clothes were tailor-fit to him and looked expensive. A slender grey tie hung loosely around his throat. He was a man of medium height and build, with short, dark hair streaked through with an off-center blaze of silver. His expression was mild, amused, and his dark eyes were half-closed and sleepy-looking. He spoke English with a faint British accent. \\\" Well, well.\\n\\nWhat have we here? Our bold thief and her-\\\"\\n\\nI got the impression that he would have been glad to begin one of those trademark bantering conversations all the urbane bad guys seem to be such big fans of, but before he could finish the sentence Anna Valmont turned with her little pistol and shot him three times in the chest. I saw him jerk and twist. Blood abruptly stained his shirt and coat. She'd hit the heart or an artery.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The man blinked and stared at Valmont in shock, as more red spread over his shirt.\\n\\nHe opened his coat a bit, and looked down at the spreading scarlet. I noted that the tie he wore wasn't a tie, as such. It looked like apiece of old grey rope, and though he wore it as apparent ornamentation, it was tied in a hangman's noose.\\n\\n\\\"I do not appreciate being interrupted,\\\" the man said in a sharp and ugly tone. \\\"I hadn't even gotten around to the introductions. There are proprieties to observe, young woman.\\\"\\n\\nA girl after my own heart, Anna Valmont had a quick reply. She shot him some more.\\n\\nHe wasn't five feet away. The blond thief aimed for the center of mass and didn't miss him once. The man folded his arms as bullets hit him, tearing new wounds that bled freely. He rolled his eyes after the fourth shot, and made a rolling'move this along\\\" gesture with his left hand until Valmont's gun clicked empty, the slide open.\\n\\n\\\"Where was I,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"Proprieties,\\\" purred the feminine demon with the wild hair. The word came out a little mangled, due to the heavy canines that dimpled her lips as she spoke. \\\"Proprieties, Father.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There seems little point,\\\" the man said. \\\"Thief, you have stolen something I have an interest in. Give it tome at once and you are free to go your own way. Refuse me, and I will become annoyed with you.\\\"\\n\\nAnna Valmont's upper lip had beaded with sweat, and she looked from her empty gun to the man in the trench coat with wide, wild eyes, frozen in confusion and obvious terror.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The gunshots would bring people running.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I needed to buy a little time. I leaned up, fished a hand into Valmont's jacket pocket, and drew out a small box of black plastic that looked vaguely like a remote control to a VCR. I held up the transmitter, put my thumb on it as if I knew what I was doing, and said to the man in the trench coat, \\\"Hey, Bogart. You and the wonder twins back off or the bedsheet gets it.\\\"\\n\\nThe man lifted his eyebrows. \\\"Excuse me?\\\"\\n\\nI waggled the remote. \\\"Click. Boom. No more Shroud.\\\"\\n\\nThe snakeman hissed, body twisting in restless, lithe motion, and the demon-girl parted her lips in a snarl. The man between them stared at me fora moment, his eyes flat and empty, before he said, \\\"You're bluffing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Like the bedsheet matters tome,\\\" I said.\\n\\nThe man stared at me without moving. But his shadow did. It writhed and undulated, and the motion made me feel vaguely carsick. His eyes went from me to Valmont to the courier's message tube on the floor. \\\"A remote detonator, I take it. You do realize you are standing next to the device?\\\"\\n\\nI realized it. I had no idea how big the incendiary was. But that was all right, since I had no idea which button to push to set it off, either. \\\"Yup.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You would kill yourself rather than surrender the Shroud?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rather than letting you kill me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who said I would kill anyone?\\\"\\n\\nI glared at him and at the demon-girl and said, \\\"Francisca Garcia mentioned it.\\\"\\n\\nThe man's shadow boiled but he watched me with flat, calculating eyes. \\\"Perhaps we can reach an arrangement.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Which would be?\\\"\\n\\nHe drew a heavy-caliber handgun from his pocket and pointed it at Anna Valmont.\\n\\n\\\"Give me the remote and I won't kill this young woman.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The demon groupie headman uses a gun? You've got to be kidding me,\\\" I said.\\n\\n\\\"Call me Nicodemus.\\\" He glanced at the revolver. \\\"Trendy, I know, but one can only watch so many dismemberments before they become predictable.\\\" He pointed the gun at the terror-stricken Valmont and said, \\\"Shall I count to three?\\\"\\n\\nI threw on a puppet's Transylvanian accent. \\\"Count as high as you vant, but you von't get one, one detonator, ah, ah, ah.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One,\\\" Nicodemus said.\\n\\n\\\"Do you expect me to hand it over on reflex or something?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You've done such things repeatedly when there was a woman in danger, Harry Dresden. Two.\\\"\\n\\nThis Nicodemus knew me. And he'd picked a pressure tactic that wasn't going to take long, however it turned out, so he knew I was stalling for time. Crap. I wasn't going to be able to bluff him. \\\"Hold on,\\\" I said.\\n\\nHe thumbed back the hammer of the revolver and aimed at Valmont's head. \\\"Thr-\\\"\\n\\nSo much for cleverness. \\\"All right,\\\" I snapped, and I tossed the remote to him underhand. \\\"Here you go.\\\"\\n\\nNicodemus lowered the gun, turning to catch the remote in his left hand. I waited until his eyes flicked from Valmont to the remote.\\n\\nAnd then I pulled up every bit of power I could muster in that instant, hurled my right hand forward, and snarled, \\\"Fuego!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fire rose up from the floor in a wave as wide as the doorway and rolled forward in a surge of superheated air. It expanded as it lashed out, and slammed into Nicodemus's bloodied chest. The force of it threw him back across the hallway and into the wall on the opposite side. He didn't quite go through the wall, but only because there must have been a stud lined up with his spine. The drywall crumpled in from his shoulders to his hips, and his head snapped back in a whiplash of impact. It almost seemed that his shadow was thrown back with him, slapping wetly against the wall around him like blobs of tar.\\n\\nThe snakeman moved with blinding speed, slithering to one side of the blast. The demon-girl shrieked, and her bladed tresses gathered together in an effort to shield her as the fire and concussion threw her back and away from the door.\\n\\nThe heat was unbearable, an oven-hot flash that sucked the air from my lungs.\\n\\nBackwash from the explosion drove me back across the floor, rolling until I hit the wall myself. I cowered and shielded my face as the scarlet flames went out, replaced with a sudden cloud of ugly black smoke. My ears rang, and I couldn't hear anything but the hammering of my own heart.\\n\\nThe fire spell had been something I wouldn't have done if I'd had an option. That's why I had made a blasting rod. Down-and-dirty fast magic was difficult, dangerous, and likely to run out of control. The blasting rod helped me focus that kind of magic, contain it.\\n\\nIt helped me avoid explosions that left heat burns on my lungs.\\n\\nI fumbled around in the blinding smoke, unable to breathe and unable to see. I found a feminine wrist with one hand, followed it up to a shoulder, and found Anna Valmont. I hauled on her with one hand, found the courier's tube with the other, and crawled for the ventilation duct, hauling them both behind me.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"There was air in the ventilation shaft, and Valmont coughed and stirred as I dragged her into it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Enough of the storage room had caught on fire that I had light enough to see.\\n\\nOne of Valmont's eyebrows was gone, and one side of her face was red and blistered. I screamed, \\\"Move!\\\" at her as loudly as I could. Her eyes blinked with dull comprehension as I pushed her past me and toward the opening in the laundry room, and she started moving stiffly in front of me.\\n\\nValmont didn't crawl as quickly as I wanted her to, but then she wasn't the one closest to the fire and the monsters. My heart hammered in my ears and the shaft felt oppressively small. I knew that the demonic forms of the Denarians were tougher than either me or Anna Valmont. Unless I'd gotten lethally lucky, they'd recover from the blast, and it wouldn't belong before they came after us. If we couldn't shake them or get into a car, and fast, they'd catch us, plain and simple. I shoved at Valmont, growing more frantic as my imagination turned up images of whipping tendrils cutting my legs to shreds, or venomous serpent fangs sinking into my calves as scaled hands dragged me backward by my ankles.\\n\\nValmont tumbled out of the air shaft and into the laundry room. I followed her closely enough to make me think of a program I'd seen about howler monkey mating habits. My ears were starting to get their act together, and I heard the high, buzzing ring of afire alarm in the hallway outside.\\n\\n\\\"Harry?\\\" Susan said. She looked between Valmont and me and helped the woman to her feet. \\\"What's happening?\\\"\\n\\nI got to my feet and choked out, \\\"We need to begone. Right now.\\\"\\n\\nSusan nodded at me, and then shoved me. Hard. I went stumbling sideways and into the wall of drying machines, slamming my shoulder and head. I looked back to seethe demon-girl's hair pureeing its way out of the vents, and then the rest of the Denarian came out, scales, claws and all, rolling to all fours with dizzying grace.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fast as the Denarian was, Susan was faster. The demon-girl came up with those rich lips split into a snarl, and Susan drove her heel right into them. She kicked hard enough that something crunched, and the demon-girl screamed in surprise and pain.\\n\\n\\\"Susan!\\\" I shouted. \\\"Look-\\\"\\n\\nI was going to say'out\\\" but there wasn't time. Half a dozen bunches of tendrils drove at Susan like spears.\\n\\nSusan dodged them. All of them. She had to fling herself across the room to the washing machines to do it, and the Denarian regained her balance and pursued. More blades drove toward Susan, but she ducked to one side, one hand ripping open the door to one of the washing machines. Susan slammed the door down on the demon-girl's hair, and without missing a beat kicked the Denarian's reverse-jointed knee in sideways.\\n\\nThe demon-girl shrieked in pain, struggling. I knew she was strong enough to pull free of the washing machine before long, but for the moment she was trapped. Susan reached up and tore a fold-down ironing board from where it was mounted on a nearby wall. Then she spun around and slammed it edge-on into the Denarian. Susan hither three times, in the wounded leg, the small of the back, and the back of the neck. The Denarian shrieked at the first two blows and then collapsed into a limp heap at the third.\\n\\nSusan stared down at the demon-girl fora moment, dark eyes hard and hot. The ironing board's metal frame was now bent and twisted from the force of the blows Susan had dealt with it. Susan took a deep breath and then tossed the ironing board to one side, straightened her hair with one hand, and commented, \\\"Bitch.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Wow,\\\" I said.\\n\\n\\\"Are you all right, Harry?\\\" Susan asked. She wasn't looking at me.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah,\\\" I said. \\\"Wow.\\\"\\n\\nSusan walked over to the counter, where she'd left her clutch. She opened it, got the phone, and said, \\\"I'll have Martin pick us up at the exit.\\\"\\n\\nI shook myself into motion and helped draw Anna Valmont to her feet. \\\"What exit?\\\"\\n\\nSusan pointed wordlessly at afire-escape diagram on the wall, still not looking at me. She spoke maybe a dozen quiet words into the phone and then folded it shut. \\\"He's coming. They're evacuating the hotel. We'll need to-\\\"\\n\\nI felt a surge of magical energies. The air around Susan grew darker and then coalesced into a cloud of shadows. Within a heartbeat, the cloud deepened, then solidified into a writhing tangle of snakes of all sizes and colors wrapped all around Susan. The air suddenly filled with the sound of hissing and buzzing rattles. I saw the snakes begin to strike, fangs flashing. Susan let out a scream.\\n\\nI turned to the doorway and saw the snakeman Denarian standing in it. One not-quite-human hand was held out toward Susan. His serpent mouth was rolling out hissing sounds, and I could feel the thrumming tension in the air between the Denarian's outstretched hand and Susan.\\n\\nRage flooded over me, and I barely stopped myself from throwing out another blast of raw spellfire at the snakeman. With that much rage behind it, I'd probably have killed everyone in the room. Instead, I reached out to the air in the hallway beyond the Denarian and pulled it all toward him, the words, \\\"Ventas servitas!\\\" thundering off my lips.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2391,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, urban fantasy, wizards\nAuthor: Jim Butcher\nTitle: Death Masks\nChapter: 32"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Combined with her emaciated appearance, I was guessing she was in a coma, whoever she was.\n\nMarcone drew up a chair beside the bed. He pulled out a teddy bear and slipped it into the crook of the girl's arm. He got out a book. Then he started reading to her, out loud.\n\nHe sat there reading to her for an hour, before he slipped a bookmark into place and put the book back into the backpack.\n\nThen he reached into the pack and pulled out the Shroud. He peeled down the outermost blanket on her bed, and carefully laid the Shroud over the girl, folding its ends in a bit to keep it from spilling out. Then he covered it up with the blanket and sat down in the chair again, his head bowed. I hadn't ever pictured John Marcone praying. But I saw him forming the word please, over and over.\n\nHe waited for another hour. Then, his face sunken and tired, he rose and kissed the girl on the head. He put the teddy bear back into the backpack, got up, and left the room.\n\nI went to his car and sat down on the hood.\n\nMarcone stopped in his tracks and stared at me when he saw me. I just sat there. He padded warily over to his car and said, voice quiet, \"How did you find me?\"\n\n\"Wasn't easy,\" I said.\n\n\"Is anyone else with you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nI saw the wheels spinning in his head. I saw him panic a little. I saw him consider killing me. I saw him force himself to slowdown and decide against any rash action. He nodded once, and said, \"What do you want?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The Shroud.\"\n\n\"No,\" he said. There was a hint of frustration to his voice. \"I just got it here.\"\n\n\"I saw,\" I said. \"Who is the girl?\"\n\nHis eyes went flat, and he said nothing.\n\n\"Okay, Marcone,\" I said. \"You can give me the Shroud or you can explain it to the police when they come out hereto search this place.\"\n\n\"You can't,\" he said, his voice quiet. \"You can't do that to her. She'd be in danger.\"\n\nMy eyes widened. \"She's yours?\"\n\n\"I'll kill you,\" he said in that same soft voice. \"If you so much as breathe in her direction, I'll kill you, Dresden. Myself.\"\n\nI believed him.\n\n\"What's wrong with her?\" I asked.\n\n\"Persistent vegetative state,\" he said. \"Coma.\"\n\n\"You wanted it to heal her,\" I said quietly. \"That's why you had it stolen.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I don't think it works like that,\" I said. \"It isn't as simple as plugging in alight.\"\n\n\"But it might work,\" he said.\n\nI shrugged. \"Maybe.\"\n\n\"I'll take it,\" he said. \"It's all I have.\"\n\nI looked back toward the window and was quiet fora minute. I made up my mind and said, \"Three days.\"\n\nHe frowned. \"What?\"\n\n\"Three days,\" I said. \"Three's a magic number. And supposedly that's how long Christ was wrapped in it. In three days, three sunrises, you should know whether it's going to help or not.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And then?\"\n\n\"Then the Shroud is returned in a plain brown wrapper to Father Forthill at Saint Mary of the Angels,\" I said. \"No note. No nothing. Just returned.\"\n\n\"And if I don't, you'll expose her.\"\n\nI shook my head and stood up. \"No. I won't do that. I'll take it up with you.\"\n\nHe stared at me fora long moment before his expression softened. \"All right.\"\n\nI left him there.\n\nWhen I'd first met Marcone, he'd tricked me into a soulgaze. Though I hadn't known the specifics, I knew then that he had a secret-one that gave him the incredible amount of will and inner strength needed to run one of the nation's largest criminal empires. He had something that drove him to be remorseless, practical, deadly.\n\nNow I knew what that secret was.\n\nMarcone was still a black hat. The pain and suffering of the criminal state he ruled accounted for an untold amount of human misery. Maybe he'd been doing it fora noble reason. I could understand that. But it didn't change anything. Marcone's good intentions could have paved anew lane on the road to hell. But dammit, I couldn't hate him anymore.\n\nI couldn't hate him because I wasn't sure that I wouldn't have made the same choice in his place.\n\nHate was simpler, but the world ain't a simple place. It would have been easier to hate Marcone.\n\nI just couldn't do it.\n\n---\n\nSanya satin a recliner, his expression puzzled, blinking at the phone. \"Again,\" he said.\n\nMolly sat cross-legged on the couch near him with a phone book in her lap and my shopping list she'd picked up in the tree house laid flat over one half of it. Her expression was serious, but her eyes were sparkling as she drew a red line through another entry in the phone book. \"How strange,\" she said, and read off another number."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sanya started dialing. \"Hello?\" he said a moment later. \"Hello, sir. Could you please tell me if you have Prince Albert in a can-\" He blinked again, mystified, and reported to Molly, \"They hung up again.\"\n\n\"Weird,\" Molly said, and winked at me.\n\nI left before I started choking on the laugh I had to hold back, and went out into the front yard. Little Harry was thereby himself, playing in the grass insight of his sister, inside.\n\n\"Heya, kid,\" I said. \" You shouldn't be out here all by yourself. People will accuse you of being a reclusive madman. Next thing you know, you'll be wandering around saying,\n\n\"Woahse-bud.\" \"\n\nI heard a clinking sound. Something shining landed in the grass by little Harry, and he immediately pushed himself to his feet, wobbled, then headed for it.\n\nI panicked abruptly and lunged out ahead of him, slapping my hand down over a polished silver coin before the child could squat down to pick it up. I felt a prickling jolt shoot up my arm, and had the sudden, intangible impression that someone nearby was waking up from a nap and stretching.\n\nI looked up to see a car on the street, driver-side window rolled down.\n\nNicodemus sat at the wheel, relaxed and smiling. \"Be seeing you, Dresden.\"\n\nHe drove away. I took my shaking hand from the coin.\n\nLasciel's blackened sigil lay before my eyes. I heard a door open, and on pure instinct palmed the coin and slipped it in my pocket. I looked back to find Sanya frowning and looking up and down the street. His nostrils flared a few times, and he paced over to stand near me. He sniffed a few more times and then peered down at the baby. \"Aha,\" he rumbled. \"Someone is stinky.\" He swooped the kid up in his arms, making him squeal and laugh. \"You mind if I steal your playmate fora minute, Harry?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Go ahead,\" I said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I need to get going anyway.\"\n\nSanya nodded and grinned at me, offering his hand. I shook it. \"It has been a pleasure to work with you,\" Sanya said. \"Perhaps we will see each other again.\"\n\nThe coin felt cool and heavy in my pocket. \"Yeah. Maybe so.\"\n\nI left the cookout without saying good-bye, and headed home. I heard something the whole time, something whispering almost inaudibly. I drowned it outwith loud and off-key singing, and got to work.\n\nTen hours later, I put down the excavating pick and glowered at the two-foot hole I had chipped in my lab's concrete floor. The whispering in my head had segued into\n\n\"Sympathy for the Devil\" by the Stones.\n\n\"Harry,\" whispered a gentle voice.\n\nI dropped the coin into the hole. I slipped a steel ring about three inches across around it. I muttered to myself and willed energy into the ring. The whispering abruptly cutoff.\n\nI dumped two buckets of cement into the hole and smoothed it until it was level with the rest of my floor. After that, I hurried out of the lab and shut the door behind me.\n\nMister came over to demand attention. I settled on the couch, and he jumped up to sprawl on his back over my legs. I petted him and stared at Shiro's cane, resting in the corner.\n\n\"He said that I must live in a world of greys. To trust my heart.\" I rubbed Mister's favorite spot, behind his right ear, and he purred in approval. Mister, at least for the moment, agreed that my heart was in the right place. But it's possible he wasn't being objective."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"After awhile, I picked up Shiro's cane and stared down at the smooth old wood.\n\nFidelacchius's power whispered against my fingertips. There was a single Japanese character carved into the sheath. When I asked Bob, he told me that it read, simply, Faith.\n\nIt isn't good to hold on too hard to the past. You can't spend your whole life looking back. Not even when you can't see what lies ahead. All you can do is keep on keeping on, and try to believe that tomorrow will be what it should be-even if it isn't what you expected.\n\nI took Susan's picture down. I put the postcards in a brown envelope. I picked up the jewel box that held the dinky engagement ring I'd offered her, and that she'd turned down.\n\nThen I put them all away in my closet.\n\nI laid the old man's cane on my fireplace mantel.\n\nMaybe somethings just aren't meant to go together. Things like oil and water.\n\nOrange juice and toothpaste.\n\nMe and Susan.\n\nBut tomorrow was another day."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\\nTags: fantasy, urban fantasy, wizards\\nAuthor: Jim Butcher\\nTitle: Death Masks\\nChapter: 32\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Combined with her emaciated appearance, I was guessing she was in a coma, whoever she was.\\n\\nMarcone drew up a chair beside the bed. He pulled out a teddy bear and slipped it into the crook of the girl's arm. He got out a book. Then he started reading to her, out loud.\\n\\nHe sat there reading to her for an hour, before he slipped a bookmark into place and put the book back into the backpack.\\n\\nThen he reached into the pack and pulled out the Shroud. He peeled down the outermost blanket on her bed, and carefully laid the Shroud over the girl, folding its ends in a bit to keep it from spilling out. Then he covered it up with the blanket and sat down in the chair again, his head bowed. I hadn't ever pictured John Marcone praying. But I saw him forming the word please, over and over.\\n\\nHe waited for another hour. Then, his face sunken and tired, he rose and kissed the girl on the head. He put the teddy bear back into the backpack, got up, and left the room.\\n\\nI went to his car and sat down on the hood.\\n\\nMarcone stopped in his tracks and stared at me when he saw me. I just sat there. He padded warily over to his car and said, voice quiet, \\\"How did you find me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Wasn't easy,\\\" I said.\\n\\n\\\"Is anyone else with you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\nI saw the wheels spinning in his head. I saw him panic a little. I saw him consider killing me. I saw him force himself to slowdown and decide against any rash action. He nodded once, and said, \\\"What do you want?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Shroud.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" he said. There was a hint of frustration to his voice. \\\"I just got it here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I saw,\\\" I said. \\\"Who is the girl?\\\"\\n\\nHis eyes went flat, and he said nothing.\\n\\n\\\"Okay, Marcone,\\\" I said. \\\"You can give me the Shroud or you can explain it to the police when they come out hereto search this place.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You can't,\\\" he said, his voice quiet. \\\"You can't do that to her. She'd be in danger.\\\"\\n\\nMy eyes widened. \\\"She's yours?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll kill you,\\\" he said in that same soft voice. \\\"If you so much as breathe in her direction, I'll kill you, Dresden. Myself.\\\"\\n\\nI believed him.\\n\\n\\\"What's wrong with her?\\\" I asked.\\n\\n\\\"Persistent vegetative state,\\\" he said. \\\"Coma.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You wanted it to heal her,\\\" I said quietly. \\\"That's why you had it stolen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't think it works like that,\\\" I said. \\\"It isn't as simple as plugging in alight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But it might work,\\\" he said.\\n\\nI shrugged. \\\"Maybe.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll take it,\\\" he said. \\\"It's all I have.\\\"\\n\\nI looked back toward the window and was quiet fora minute. I made up my mind and said, \\\"Three days.\\\"\\n\\nHe frowned. \\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Three days,\\\" I said. \\\"Three's a magic number. And supposedly that's how long Christ was wrapped in it. In three days, three sunrises, you should know whether it's going to help or not.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then the Shroud is returned in a plain brown wrapper to Father Forthill at Saint Mary of the Angels,\\\" I said. \\\"No note. No nothing. Just returned.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And if I don't, you'll expose her.\\\"\\n\\nI shook my head and stood up. \\\"No. I won't do that. I'll take it up with you.\\\"\\n\\nHe stared at me fora long moment before his expression softened. \\\"All right.\\\"\\n\\nI left him there.\\n\\nWhen I'd first met Marcone, he'd tricked me into a soulgaze. Though I hadn't known the specifics, I knew then that he had a secret-one that gave him the incredible amount of will and inner strength needed to run one of the nation's largest criminal empires. He had something that drove him to be remorseless, practical, deadly.\\n\\nNow I knew what that secret was.\\n\\nMarcone was still a black hat. The pain and suffering of the criminal state he ruled accounted for an untold amount of human misery. Maybe he'd been doing it fora noble reason. I could understand that. But it didn't change anything. Marcone's good intentions could have paved anew lane on the road to hell. But dammit, I couldn't hate him anymore.\\n\\nI couldn't hate him because I wasn't sure that I wouldn't have made the same choice in his place.\\n\\nHate was simpler, but the world ain't a simple place. It would have been easier to hate Marcone.\\n\\nI just couldn't do it.\\n\\n---\\n\\nSanya satin a recliner, his expression puzzled, blinking at the phone. \\\"Again,\\\" he said.\\n\\nMolly sat cross-legged on the couch near him with a phone book in her lap and my shopping list she'd picked up in the tree house laid flat over one half of it. Her expression was serious, but her eyes were sparkling as she drew a red line through another entry in the phone book. \\\"How strange,\\\" she said, and read off another number.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sanya started dialing. \\\"Hello?\\\" he said a moment later. \\\"Hello, sir. Could you please tell me if you have Prince Albert in a can-\\\" He blinked again, mystified, and reported to Molly, \\\"They hung up again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Weird,\\\" Molly said, and winked at me.\\n\\nI left before I started choking on the laugh I had to hold back, and went out into the front yard. Little Harry was thereby himself, playing in the grass insight of his sister, inside.\\n\\n\\\"Heya, kid,\\\" I said. \\\" You shouldn't be out here all by yourself. People will accuse you of being a reclusive madman. Next thing you know, you'll be wandering around saying,\\n\\n\\\"Woahse-bud.\\\" \\\"\\n\\nI heard a clinking sound. Something shining landed in the grass by little Harry, and he immediately pushed himself to his feet, wobbled, then headed for it.\\n\\nI panicked abruptly and lunged out ahead of him, slapping my hand down over a polished silver coin before the child could squat down to pick it up. I felt a prickling jolt shoot up my arm, and had the sudden, intangible impression that someone nearby was waking up from a nap and stretching.\\n\\nI looked up to see a car on the street, driver-side window rolled down.\\n\\nNicodemus sat at the wheel, relaxed and smiling. \\\"Be seeing you, Dresden.\\\"\\n\\nHe drove away. I took my shaking hand from the coin.\\n\\nLasciel's blackened sigil lay before my eyes. I heard a door open, and on pure instinct palmed the coin and slipped it in my pocket. I looked back to find Sanya frowning and looking up and down the street. His nostrils flared a few times, and he paced over to stand near me. He sniffed a few more times and then peered down at the baby. \\\"Aha,\\\" he rumbled. \\\"Someone is stinky.\\\" He swooped the kid up in his arms, making him squeal and laugh. \\\"You mind if I steal your playmate fora minute, Harry?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Go ahead,\\\" I said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I need to get going anyway.\\\"\\n\\nSanya nodded and grinned at me, offering his hand. I shook it. \\\"It has been a pleasure to work with you,\\\" Sanya said. \\\"Perhaps we will see each other again.\\\"\\n\\nThe coin felt cool and heavy in my pocket. \\\"Yeah. Maybe so.\\\"\\n\\nI left the cookout without saying good-bye, and headed home. I heard something the whole time, something whispering almost inaudibly. I drowned it outwith loud and off-key singing, and got to work.\\n\\nTen hours later, I put down the excavating pick and glowered at the two-foot hole I had chipped in my lab's concrete floor. The whispering in my head had segued into\\n\\n\\\"Sympathy for the Devil\\\" by the Stones.\\n\\n\\\"Harry,\\\" whispered a gentle voice.\\n\\nI dropped the coin into the hole. I slipped a steel ring about three inches across around it. I muttered to myself and willed energy into the ring. The whispering abruptly cutoff.\\n\\nI dumped two buckets of cement into the hole and smoothed it until it was level with the rest of my floor. After that, I hurried out of the lab and shut the door behind me.\\n\\nMister came over to demand attention. I settled on the couch, and he jumped up to sprawl on his back over my legs. I petted him and stared at Shiro's cane, resting in the corner.\\n\\n\\\"He said that I must live in a world of greys. To trust my heart.\\\" I rubbed Mister's favorite spot, behind his right ear, and he purred in approval. Mister, at least for the moment, agreed that my heart was in the right place. But it's possible he wasn't being objective.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"After awhile, I picked up Shiro's cane and stared down at the smooth old wood.\\n\\nFidelacchius's power whispered against my fingertips. There was a single Japanese character carved into the sheath. When I asked Bob, he told me that it read, simply, Faith.\\n\\nIt isn't good to hold on too hard to the past. You can't spend your whole life looking back. Not even when you can't see what lies ahead. All you can do is keep on keeping on, and try to believe that tomorrow will be what it should be-even if it isn't what you expected.\\n\\nI took Susan's picture down. I put the postcards in a brown envelope. I picked up the jewel box that held the dinky engagement ring I'd offered her, and that she'd turned down.\\n\\nThen I put them all away in my closet.\\n\\nI laid the old man's cane on my fireplace mantel.\\n\\nMaybe somethings just aren't meant to go together. Things like oil and water.\\n\\nOrange juice and toothpaste.\\n\\nMe and Susan.\\n\\nBut tomorrow was another day.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2392,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\nChapter: 43"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He laid a hand on the wolf's back, and as he did, Hopper started forward. He let himself be led. The fur under his hand was thick and shaggy. It felt real.\n\nThe fog began to thicken, until only his hand told him Hopper was still there, until a glance down did not even show him his own chest. Just gray mist. He might as well have been wrapped in new-sheared wool for all he could see. It struck him that he had heard nothing, either. Not even the sound of his own footsteps. He wiggled his toes, and was relieved to feel the boots on his feet.\n\nThe gray became darker, and he and the wolf walked through pitch-blackness. He could not see his hand when he touched his nose. He could not see his nose, for that matter. He tried closing his eyes fora moment, and could not tell any difference. There was still no sound. His hand felt the rough hair of Hopper's back, but he was not sure he could feel anything under his boots.\n\nSuddenly Hopper stopped, forcing him to halt, too. He looked around... and snapped his eyes shut. He could tell a difference, now. And feel something, too, a queasy twisting of his stomach. He made himself open his eyes and look down.\n\nWhat he saw could not have been there, not unless he and Hopper were standing in midair. He could see nothing of the wolf or himself, as if neither had bodies at all-that thought nearly tied his stomach into knots-but below him, as clear as if lit by a thousand lamps, stretched avast array of mirrors, seemingly hanging in blackness though as level as if they stood on avast floor. They stretched as far as he could see in every direction, but right beneath his feet, there was a clear space. And people in it. Suddenly he could hear their voices as well as if he had been standing among them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Great Lord,\" one of the men muttered, \"where is this place?\" He looked around once, flinching at his image cast back at him many thousandfold, and held his eyes forward after that. The others huddled around him seemed even more afraid. \"I was asleep in Tar Valon, Great Lord. I am asleep in Tar Valon! Where is this place? Have I gone mad?\"\n\nSome of the men around him wore ornate coats full of embroidery, others plainer garb, while some seemed to be naked, or in their smallclothes.\n\n\"I, too, sleep,\" a naked man nearly screamed. \"In Tear. I remember lying down with my wife!\"\n\n\"And I do sleep in Illian,\" a man in red and gold said, sounding shaken. \"I know that I do sleep, but that cannot be. I know that I do dream, but that does be impossible. Where does this be, Great Lord? Are you really come tome?\"\n\nThe dark-haired man who faced them was garbed in black, with silver lace at his throat and wrists. Now and again he put a hand to his chest, as if it hurt him. There was light everywhere down there, coming from nowhere, but this man below Perrin seemed cloaked in shadow. Darkness rolled around him, caressed him.\n\n\"Silence!\" The black-clothed man did not speak loudly, but he had no need to. For the space of that word, he had raised his head; his eyes and mouth were holes boring into a raging forge-fire, all flame and fiery glow.\n\nPerrin knew him, then. Ba'alzamon. He was staring down at Ba'alzamon himself. Fear struck through him like hammered spikes. He would have run, but he could not feel his feet."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hopper shifted. He felt the thick fur under his hand and gripped it hard. Something real. Something more real, he hoped, than what he saw. But he knew that both were real.\n\nThe men huddling together cowered.\n\n\"You have been given tasks,\" Ba'alzamon said. \"Some of these tasks you have carried out. At others, you have failed.\" Now and again his eyes and mouth vanished inflame again, and the mirrors flashed with reflected fire. \"Those who have been marked for death must die. Those who have been marked for taking must bow tome. To fail the Great Lord of the Dark cannot be forgiven.\" Fire shone through his eyes, and the darkness around him roiled and spun. \"You.\" His finger pointed out the man who had spoken of Tar Valon, a fellow dressed like a merchant, in plainly cut clothes of the finest cloth. The others shied away from him as if he had blackbile fever, leaving him to cower alone. \"You allowed the boy to escape Tar Valon.\"\n\nThe man screamed, and began to quiver like a file struck against an anvil. He seemed to become less solid, and his scream thinned with him.\n\n\"You all dream,\" Ba'alzamon said, \"but what happens in this dream is real.\" The shrieking man was only a bundle of mist shaped like a man, his scream far distant, and then even the mist was gone. \"I fear he will never wake.\" He laughed, and his mouth roared flame. \"The rest of you will not fail me again. Begone! Wake, and obey!\" The other men vanished.\n\nFora moment Ba'alzamon stood alone, then suddenly there was a woman with him, clad all in white and silver.\n\nShock hit Perrin. He could never forget a woman so beautiful. She was the woman from his dream, the one who had urged him to glory."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"An ornate silver throne appeared behind her, and she sat, carefully arranging her silken skirts. \"You make free use of my domain,\" she said.\n\n\"Your domain?\" Ba'alzamon said. \"You claim it yours, then? Do you no longer serve the Great Lord of the Dark?\" The darkness around him thickened for an instant, seemed to boil.\n\n\"I serve,\" she said quickly. \"I have served the Lord of the Twilight long. Long did I lie imprisoned for my service, in an endless, dreamless sleep. Only Gray Men and Myrddraal are denied dreams. Even Trollocs can dream. Dreams were always mine, to use and walk. Now I am free again, and I will use what is mine.\"\n\n\"What is yours,\" Ba'alzamon said. The blackness swirling'round him seemed mirthful. \"You always thought yourself greater than you were, Lanfear.\"\n\nThe name cut at Perrin like a newly honed knife. One of the Forsaken had been in his dreams. Moiraine had been right. Some of them were free.\n\nThe woman in white was on her feet, the throne gone. \"I am as great as I am. What have your plans come to? Three thousand years and more of whispering in ears and pulling the strings of throned puppets like an Aes Sedai!\" Her voice invested the name with all scorn. \"Three thousand years, and yet Lews Therin walks the world again, and these Aes Sedai all but have him leashed. Can you control him? Can you turn him? He was mine before ever that straw-haired chit Ilyena saw him! He will be mine again!\"\n\n\"Do you serve yourself now, Lanfear?\" Ba'alzamon's voice was soft, but flame raged continuously in his eyes and mouth. \"Have you abandoned your oaths to the Great Lord of the Dark?\" For an instant the darkness nearly obliterated him, only the glowing fires showing through. \"They are not so easily broken as the oaths to the Light you forsook, proclaiming your new master in the very Hall of the Servants. Your master claims you forever, Lanfear. Will you serve, or do you choose an eternity of pain, of endless dying without release?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I serve.\" Despite her words, she stood tall and defiant. \"I serve the Great Lord of the Dark and none other. Forever!\"\n\nThe vast array of mirror began to vanish as if black waves rolled in over it, ever closer to the center. The tide rolled over Ba'alzamon and Lanfear. There was only blackness.\n\nPerrin felt Hopper move, and he was more than glad to follow, guided only by the feel of fur under his hand. It was not until he was moving that he realized he could. He tried to puzzle out what he had seen, without any success. Ba'alzamon and Lanfear. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. For some reason, Lanfear frightened him more than Ba'alzamon did. Perhaps because she had been in his dreams in the mountains. Light! One of the Forsaken in my dreams! Light! And unless he had missed something, she had defied the Dark One. He had been told and taught that the Shadow could have no power over you if you denied it; but how could a Darkfriend-not just a Darkfriend; one of the Forsaken!-defy the Shadow? I must be mad, like Simion's brother. These dreams have driven me mad!\n\nSlowly the blackness became fog again, and the fog gradually thinned until he walked out of it with Hopper onto a grassy hillside bright with daylight. Birds began to sing from a thicket at the foot of the hill. He looked back. A hilly plain dotted with clumps of trees stretched to the horizon. There was no sign of fog anywhere. The big, grizzled wolf stood watching him.\n\n\"What was that?\" he demanded, struggling in his mind to turn the question to thoughts the wolf could understand. \"Why did you show it tome? What was it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"Emotions and images flooded his thoughts, and his mind put words to them."},{"from":"gpt","value":"What you must see. Be careful, Young Bull. This place is dangerous. Be wary as a cub hunting porcupine. That came as something closer to Small Thorny Back, but his mind named the animal the way he knew it as a man. You are too young, too new.\n\n\"Was it real?\"\n\nAll is real, what is seen, and what is not seen. That seemed to be all the answer Hopper was going to give.\n\n\"Hopper, how are you here? I saw you die. I felt you die!\"\n\nAll are here. All brothers and sisters that are, all that were, all that will be. Perrin knew that wolves did not smile, not the way humans did, but for an instant he had the impression that Hopper was grinning. Here, I soar like the eagle. The wolf gathered himself and leaped, up into the air. Up and up it carried him, until he dwindled to a speck in the sky, and a last thought came. To soar.\n\nPerrin stared after him with his mouth hanging open. He did it. His eyes burned suddenly, and he cleared his throat and scrubbed at his nose. I will be crying like a girl, next. Without thinking, he looked around to see if anyone had seen him, and that quickly everything changed.\n\nHe was standing on arise, with shadowy, indistinct dips and swells all around him. They seemed to fade into the distance too soon. Rand stood below him. Rand, and a ragged circle of Myrddraal and men and women his eyes seemed to slide right past. Dogs howled somewhere in the distance, and Perrin knew they were hunting something. Myrddraal scent and the stink of burned sulphur filled the air. Perrin's hackles rose."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The circle of Myrddraal and people came closer to Rand, all walking as if asleep. And Rand began to kill them. Balls of fire flew from his hands and consumed two. Lightning flashed from above to shrivel others. Bars of light like white-hot steel flew from his fists to more. And the survivors continued to walk slowly closer, as if none of them saw what was happening. One by one they died, until none were left, and Rand sank down on his knees, panting. Perrin was not sure whether he was laughing or crying; it seemed to be some of each.\n\nShapes appeared over the rises, more people coming, more Myrddraal, all intent on Rand.\n\nPerrin cupped his hands to his mouth. \"Rand! Rand, there are more coming!\"\n\nRand looked up at him from his crouch, snarling, sweat slicking his face.\n\n\"Rand, they're-!\"\n\n\"Burn you!\" Rand howled.\n\nLight burned Perrin's eyes, and pain seared everything.\n\nGroaning, he rolled into a ball on the narrow bed, the light still burning behind his eyelids. His chest hurt. He raised a hand to it and winced when he felt a burn under his shirt, a spot no bigger than a silver penny.\n\nBit by bit he forced his knotted muscles to let him straighten his legs and lie flat in the dark cabin. Moiraine. I have to tell Moiraine this time. Just have to wait till the pain goes away.\n\nBut as the pain began to fade, exhaustion took him. He barely had a thought that he must getup before sleep pulled him down again.\n\nWhen he opened his eyes again, he lay staring at the beams overhead. Light at the top and bottom of the door told him morning had come. He put a hand to his chest to convince himself he had imagined it, imagined it so well that he had actually felt a burn...."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"His fingers found the burn. I didn't imagine it, then. He had dim memories of a few other dreams, fading even as he recalled them. Ordinary dreams. He even felt as if he had had a good night's sleep. And could use another one right now. But it meant he could sleep. As long as there are no wolves around, anyway.\n\nHe remembered making a decision in that brief waking after the dream with Hopper, and after a moment he decided it had been a good one.\n\nIt took knocking on five doors and being cursed at twice-the inhabitants of two cabins had gone on deck-before he found Moiraine. She was fully dressed, but sitting on one of the narrow beds cross-legged, reading in her book of notes by lantern light. Back near the beginning, he saw, notes that must have been made even before she had come to Emond's Field. Lan's things were neatly placed on the other bed.\n\n\"I had a dream,\" he told her, and proceeded to tell her of it. All of it. He even pulled up his shirt to show her the small circle on his chest, red, with wavy red lines radiating from it. He had kept things from her before, and he suspected he would again, but this might be too important to hold back. The pin was the smallest part of a pair of scissors, and the easiest made, but without it, the scissors cut no cloth. When he was done, he stood there waiting.\n\nShe had watched him without expression, except that those dark eyes had examined every word as it came out of his mouth, weighed it, measured it, held it up to the light. Now she sat the same way, only it was he who was examined, weighed, and held up to the light.\n\n\"Well, is it important?\" he demanded finally. \"I think it was one of those wolf dreams you told me about-I'm sure it was; it must have been!-but that doesn't make what I saw real. Only, you said maybe some of the Forsaken are free, and he called her Lanfear, and.... Is it important, or am I standing here making a fool out of myself?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"There are women,\" she said slowly, \"who would do their best to gentle you if they heard what I just did.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"His lungs seemed to freeze; he could not breathe. \"I am not accusing you of being able to channel,\" she went on, and the ice inside him melted, \"or even of being able to learn. An attempt at gentling would not harm you, beyond the rough treatment the Red Ajah would give you before they realized their error. Such men are so rare, even the Reds with all their hunting have not found more than three in the last ten years. Before the outbreak of false Dragons, at least. What I am trying to make clear to you is that I do not think you will suddenly begin wielding the Power. You do not have to be afraid of that.\"\n\n\"Well, thank you very much for that,\" he said bitterly. \"You did not have to scare me to death just so you could tell me there was no need to be frightened!\"\n\n\"Oh, you do have reason to be frightened. Or at least careful, as the wolf suggested. Red sisters, or others, might kill you before they discovered there was nothing to gentle in you.\"\n\n\"Light! Light burn me!\" He stared at her with a frown. \"You're trying to lead me around by the nose, Moiraine, but I am no calf, and there's no ring in my nose. The Red Ajah or any other would not think of gentling unless there was something real in what I dreamed. Does it mean the Forsaken are loose?\"\n\n\"I told you before that they might be. Some of them. Your... dreams are nothing I expected, Perrin. Dreamers have written of wolves, but I did not expect this.\"\n\n\"Well, I think it was real. I think I saw something that really happened, something I wasn't supposed to see.\" What you must see. \"I think Lanfear is loose at the very least. What are you going to do?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I am going to Illian. And then I will go to Tear, and hope to reach it before Rand. We had need to leave Remen too quickly for Lan to learn whether he crossed the river or went down it. We should know before we reach Illian, though. We will find sign if he has gone this way.\" She glanced at her book as if she wanted to resume her reading.\n\n\"Is that all you are going to do? With Lanfear loose, and the Light alone knows how many of the others?\"\n\n\"Do not question me,\" she said coldly. \"You do not know which questions to ask, and you would comprehend less than half the answers if I gave them. Which I will not.\"\n\nHe shifted his feet under her gaze until it became clear she would say no more on the matter. His shirt rubbed painfully at the burn on his chest. It did not seem a bad hurt-Not for being struck by lightning it doesn't!-but how he had come by it was another matter. \"Uh.... Will you Heal this?\"\n\n\"Are you no longer uneasy about the One Power being used on you, then, Perrin? No, I will not Heal it. It is not serious, and it will remind you of the need to be careful.\" Careful about pressing her, he knew, as well as about dreams or letting others know of them. \"If there is nothing else, Perrin?\"\n\nHe started for the door, then stopped. \"There is one thing. If you knew a woman's name was Zarine, would you think it meant anything about her?\"\n\n\"Why under the Light do you ask this question?\"\n\n\"A girl,\" he said awkwardly. \"A young woman. I met her last night. She's one of the other passengers.\" He would let her discover for herself that Zarine knew she was Aes Sedai. And seemed to think following them would lead her to the Horn of Valere. He would not keep back anything he thought was important, but if Moiraine could be secretive, so could he."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Zarine. It is a Saldaean name. No woman would name her daughter that unless she expected her to be a great beauty. And a heartbreaker. One to lie on cushions in palaces, surrounded by servants and suitors.\" She smiled, briefly but with great amusement. \"Perhaps you have another reason to be careful, Perrin, if there is a Zarine as a passenger with us.\"\n\n\"I intend to be careful,\" he told her. At least he knew why Zarine did not like her name. Hardly fitting fora Hunter of the Horn. As long as she doesn't call herself'falcon.\"\n\nWhen he went on deck, Lan was there, looking over Mandarb. And Zarine was sitting on a coil of rope near the railing, sharpening one of her knives and watching him. The big, triangular sails were set and taut, and the Snow Goose flew downriver.\n\nZarine's eyes followed Perrin as he walked by her to stand in the bow. The water curled to either side of the prow like earth turning around a good plow. He wondered about dreams and Aielmen, Min's viewings and falcons. His chest hurt. Life had never been as tangled as this.\n\nRand sat up out of his exhausted sleep, gasping, the cloak he had used as a blanket falling away. His side ached, the old wound from Falme throbbing. His fire had burned down to coals with only a few wavering flames, but it was still enough to make the shadows move. That was Perrin. It was! It was him, not a dream. Somehow. I almost killed him! Light, I have to be careful!\n\nShivering, he picked up a length of oak branch and started to shove it into the coals. The trees were scattered in these Murandian hills, still close to the Manetherendrelle, but he had found just enough fallen branches for his fire, the wood just old enough to be properly cured but not rotten. Before the wood touched the coals, he stopped. There were horses coming, tenor a dozen of them, walking slowly. I have to be careful. I cannot make another mistake."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The horses swung toward his failing fire, entered the dim light, and stopped. The shadows obscured their riders, but most seemed to be rough-faced men wearing round helmets and long leather jerkins sewn allover with metal discs like fish scales. One was a woman with graying hair and a no-nonsense look on her face. Her dark dress was plain wool, but the finest weave, and adorned with a silver pin in the shape of a lion. A merchant, she seemed to him; he had seen her sort among those who came to buy tabac and wool in the Two Rivers. A merchant and her guards.\n\nI have to be careful, he thought as he stood. No mistakes.\n\n\"You have chosen a good campsite, young man,\" she said. \"I have often used it on my way to Remen. There is a small spring nearby. I trust you have no objection to my sharing it?\" Her guards were already dismounting, hitching at their sword belts and loosening saddle girths.\n\n\"None,\" Rand told her. Careful. Two steps brought him close enough, and he leaped into the air, spinning-Thistledown Floats on the Whirlwind-heron-mark blade carved from fire coming into his hands to take her head off before surprise could even form on her face. She was the most dangerous.\n\nHe alighted as the woman's head rolled from the crupper of her horse. The guards yelled and clawed for their swords, screamed as they realized his blade burned. He danced among them in the forms Lan had taught him, and knew he could have killed all ten with ordinary steel, but the blade he wielded was part of him. The last man fell, and it had been so like practicing the forms that he had already begun the sheathing called Folding the Fan before he remembered he wore no scabbard and this blade would have turned it to ash at a touch if he had."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Letting the sword vanish, he turned to examine the horses. Most had runaway, but some not far, and the woman's tall gelding stood with rolling eyes, whickering uneasily. Her headless corpse, lying on the ground, had maintained its grip on the reins, and held the animal's head down.\n\nRand pulled them free, pausing only to gather his few belongings before swinging into the saddle. I have to be careful, he thought as he looked over the dead. No mistakes.\n\nThe Power still filled him, the flow from saidin sweeter than honey, ranker than rotted meat. Abruptly he channeled-not really understanding what it was he did, or how, only that it seemed right; and it worked, lifting the corpses. He set them in a line, facing him, kneeling, faces in the dirt. For those who had faces left. Kneeling to him.\n\n\"If I am the Dragon Reborn,\" he told them, \"that is the way it is supposed to be, isn't it?\" Letting goof saidin was hard, but he did it. If I hold it too much, how will I keep the madness away? He laughed bitterly. Or is it too late for that?\n\nFrowning, he peered at the line. He had been sure there were only ten men, but eleven men knelt in that line, one of them without armor of any sort but with a dagger still gripped in his hand.\n\n\"You chose the wrong company,\" Rand told that man.\n\nWheeling the gelding, he dug in his heels and set the animal to a dead gallop into the night. It was along way to Tear, yet, but he meant to get thereby the straightest way, if he had to kill horses or steal them. I will put an end to it. The taunting. The baiting. I will end it! Callandor. It called to him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egwene returned a graceful nod to the respectful bow of the ship's crewman who padded past her, barefoot, on his way to pull a rope that already seemed taut, possibly shifting a trifle the way one of the big square sails set. Ashe trotted back toward where the round-faced captain stood by the tillerman, he bowed again, and she nodded once more before returning her attentions to the forested Cairhien shore, separated from the Blue Crane by less than twenty spans of water.\n\nA village was sliding past, or what had been a village once. Half the houses were only smoldering piles of rubble with chimneys sticking starkly out of the ruins. On the other houses, doors swung with the wind, and pieces of furniture, bits of clothing and house ware littered the dirt street, tumbled about as if thrown. Nothing living moved in the village except for one half-starved dog that ignored the passing ship as it trotted out of sight behind the toppled walls of what appeared to have been an inn. She could never see such a sight without a queasiness settling in her belly, but she tried to maintain the dispassionate serenity she thought an Aes Sedai might have. It did not help much. Beyond the village, a thick plume of smoke was rising into the sky. Three or four miles off, she estimated.\n\nThis was not the first such plume of smoke she had seen since the Erinin began to flow along the border of Cairhien, nor the first such village. At least this time there were nobodies insight. Captain Ellisor sometimes had to sail close to the Cairhienin shore because of mudflats-he said they shifted in this part of the river-but however close he came, she had not seen a single living person."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The village and the smoke plume slipped away behind the ship, but already another column of smoke was coming into view ahead, further from the river. The forest was thinning, ash and leatherleaf and black elder giving way to willow and whitewood and wateroak, and some she did not recognize.\n\nThe wind caught her cloak, but she let it stream, feeling the cold cleanness of the air, feeling the freedom of wearing brown instead of any sort of white, though it had not been her first choice. Yet dress and cloak were of the best wool, well cut and well sewn.\n\nAnother sailor trotted by, bowing as he went. She vowed to learn at least some of what it was they were doing; she did not like feeling ignorant. Wearing her Great Serpent ring on her right handmade fora good deal of bowing with a captain and crew born mainly in Tar Valon.\n\nShe had won that argument with Nynaeve, though Nynaeve had been sure she herself was the only one of the three of them old enough for people to believe she was Aes Sedai. But Nynaeve had been wrong. Egwene was ready to admit that both she and Elayne had received startled looks on boarding the Blue Crane that afternoon at Southharbor, and Captain Ellisor's eyebrows had climbed almost to where his hair would have begun had he had any, but he had been all smiles and bows.\n\n\"An honor, Aes Sedai. Three Aes Sedai to travel on my vessel? An honor indeed. I promise you a quick journey as far as you wish. And no trouble with Cairhienin brigands. I no longer put in on that side of the river. Unless you wish it, of course, Aes Sedai. Andoran soldiers do hold a few towns on the Cairhienin side. An honor, Aes Sedai.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"His eyebrows had shot up again when they asked for just one cabin among them-not even Nynaeve wanted to be alone at night if she did not have to be. Each could have a cabin to herself at no extra charge, he told them; he had no other passengers, his cargo was aboard, and if Aes Sedai had urgent business downriver, he would not wait even an hour for anyone else who might want passage. They said again that one cabin would be sufficient.\n\nHe was startled, and it had been plain from his face that he did not understand, but Chin Ellisor, born and bred in Tar Valon, was not one to question Aes Sedai once they made their intentions clear. If two of them seemed very young, well, some Aes Sedai were young.\n\nThe abandoned ruins vanished behind Egwene. The column of smoke drew closer, and there was a hint of another much further still from the riverbank. The forest was turning to low, grassy hills dotted with thickets. Trees that made flowers in the spring had them, tiny white blossoms on snowberry and bright red sugarberry. One tree she did not know was covered in round white flowers bigger than her two hands together. Occasionally a climbing wild-rose put swaths of yellow or white through branches thick with the green of leaves and the red of new growth. It was all too sharp a contrast to the ashes and rubble to be entirely pleasant.\n\nEgwene wished she had an Aes Sedai to question herself right then. One she could trust. Brushing her pouch with her fingers, she could barely feel the twisted stone ring of the ter'angreal inside.\n\nShe had tried it every night but two since leaving Tar Valon, and it had not worked the same way twice. Oh, she always found herself in Tel'aran'rhiod, but the only thing she saw that might have been any use was the Heart of the Stone again, each time without Silvie to tell her things. There was certainly nothing about the Black Ajah."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Her own dreams, without the ter'angreal, had been filled with images that seemed almost like glimpses of the Unseen World. Rand holding a sword that blazed like the sun, till she could hardly see that it was a sword, could hardly make out that it was him at all. Rand threatened in a dozen ways, none of them the least bit real. In one dream he had been on a huge stones board, the black and white stones as big as boulders, and him dodging the monstrous hands that moved them and seemed to try to crush him under them. It could have meant something. It very probably did, but beyond the fact that Rand was in danger from someone, or two someones-she thought that much was clear-beyond that, she simply did not know. I cannot help him, now. I have my own duty. I don't even know where he is, except that it is probably five hundred leagues from here.\n\nShe had dreamed of Perrin with a wolf, and with a falcon, and a hawk-and the falcon and the hawk fighting-of Perrin running from someone deadly, and Perrin stepping willingly over the edge of a towering cliff while saying, \"It must be done. I must learn to fly before I reach the bottom.\" There had been one dream of an Aiel, and she thought that had to do with Perrin, too, but she was not sure. And a dream of Min, springing a steel trap but somehow walking through it without so much as seeing it. There had been dreams of Mat, too. Of Mat with dice spinning 'round him-she felt she knew where that one came from-of Mat being followed by a man who was not there-she still did not understand that; there was a man following, or maybe more than one, but in someway there was no one there-of Mat riding desperately toward something unseen in the distance that he had to reach, and Mat with a woman who seemed to be tossing fireworks about. An Illuminator, she assumed, but that made no more sense than anything else."},{"from":"human","value":"She had had so many dreams that she was beginning to doubt them all."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Maybe it had to do with using the ter'angreal so often, or maybe with just carrying it. Maybe she was finally learning what a Dreamer did. Frantic dreams, hectic dreams. Men and women breaking out of a cage, then putting on crowns. A woman playing with puppets, and another dream where the strings on puppets led to the hands of larger puppets, and their strings led to still greater puppets, on and on until the last strings vanished into unimaginable heights. Kings dying, queens weeping, battles raging. Whitecloaks ravaging the Two Rivers. She had even dreamed of the Seanchan again. More than once. Those she shut away in a dark corner; she would not let herself think of them. Her mother and father, every night.\n\nShe was certain what that meant, at least, or thought she was. It means I'm off hunting the Black Ajah, and I do not know what my dreams mean or how to make the fool ter'angreal do what it should, and I'm frightened, and.... And homesick. For an instant she thought how good it would be to have her mother send her up to bed knowing everything would be better in the morning. Only mother can't solve my problems for me anymore, and father can't promise to chase away monsters and make me believe it. I have to do it myself now.\n\nHow far in the past all that was, now. She did not want it back, not really, but it had been a warm time, and it seemed so long ago. It would be wonderful just to see them again, to hear their voices. When I wear this ring on the finger I choose by right.\n\nShe had finally let Nynaeve and Elayne each try sleeping one night with the stone ring-surprised at how reluctant she had been to let it out of her own hands-and they had awakened to speak of what was surely Tel'aran'rhiod, but neither had seen more than a glimpse of the Heart of the Stone, nothing that was of any use."},{"from":"human","value":"The thick column of smoke now lay abreast of the Blue Crane."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perhaps five or six miles from the river, she thought. The other was only a smudge on the horizon. It could almost have been a cloud, but she was sure it was not. Small thickets grew tight along the riverbank in some places, and between them the grass came right down to the water except where an undercut bank had fallen in.\n\nElayne came on deck and joined her at the rail, the wind whipping her dark cloak as well. She wore sturdy wool, too. That had been one argument Nynaeve won. Their clothes. Egwene had maintained that Aes Sedai always wore the best, even when they traveled-she had been thinking of the silks she wore in Tel'aran'rhiod-but Nynaeve pointed out that even with as much gold as the Amyrlin had left in the back of her wardrobe, and it was a fat purse, they still had no idea how much things would cost downriver. The servants said Mat had been right about the civil war in Cairhien, and what it had done to prices. To Egwene's surprise, Elayne had pointed out that Brown sisters wore wool more often than silk. Elayne had been so eager to be away from the kitchen, Egwene thought, she would have worn rags.\n\nI wonder how Mat is doing? No doubt trying to dice with the captain for whatever ship he's traveling on.\n\n\"Terrible,\" Elayne murmured. \"It is so terrible.\"\n\n\"What is?\" Egwene said absently. I hope he isn't showing that paper we gave him around too freely.\n\nElayne gave her a startled look, and then a frown. \"That!\" She gestured toward the distant smoke. \"How can you ignore it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"I can ignore it because I do not want to think of what the people are going through, because I cannot do anything about it, and because we have to reach Tear."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Because what we're hunting is in Tear.\" She was surprised at her own vehemence. I can't do anything about it. And the Black Ajah is in Tear.\n\nThe more she thought of it, the more certain she became that they would have to find away into the Heart of the Stone. Perhaps no one but the High Lords of Tear were allowed into it, but she was becoming convinced that the key to springing the Black Ajah's trap and thwarting them lay in the Heart of the Stone.\n\n\"I know all of that, Egwene, but it does not stop me feeling for the Cairhienin.\"\n\n\"I have heard lectures about the wars Andor fought with Cairhien,\" Egwene said dryly. \"Bennae Sedai says you and Cairhien have fought more often than any two nations except Tear and Illian.\"\n\nThe other woman gave her a sidelong look. Elayne had never gotten used to Egwene's refusal to admit she was Andoran herself. At least, lines on maps said the Two Rivers was part of Andor, and Elayne believed the maps.\n\n\"We have fought wars against them, Egwene, but since the damage they suffered in the Aiel War, Andor has sold them nearly as much grain as Tear has. The trade has stopped, now. With every Cairhienin House fighting every other for the Sun Throne, who would buy the grain, or see it distributed to the people? If the fighting is as bad as what we've seen on the banks.... Well. You cannot feed a people for twenty years and feel nothing for them when they must be starving.\"\n\n\"A Gray Man,\" Egwene said, and Elayne jumped, trying to look in every direction at once. The glow of saidar surrounded her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Where?\"\n\nEgwene took a slower look around the decks, but to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. Captain Ellisor still stood in the stern, by the shirtless man holding the long tiller. Another sailor was up in the very bow, scanning the waters ahead for signs of submerged mudbanks, and two more padded about the deck, now and again adjusting a rope to the sails. The rest of the crew were all below. One of the pair stopped to check the lashings on the rowboat tied upside down on the deck; she waited for him to goon before speaking.\n\n\"Fool!\" she muttered softly. \"Me, Elayne, not you, so don't glower at me like that.\" She continued in a whisper. \"A Gray Man is after Mat, Elayne. That must be what that dream meant, but I never saw it. I am a fool!\"\n\nThe glow around Elayne vanished. \"Do not be so hard on yourself,\" she whispered back. \"Perhaps it does mean that, but I did not see it, and neither did Nynaeve.\" She paused; red-gold curls swung as she shook her head. \"But it doesn't make sense, Egwene. Why would a Gray Man be after Mat? There is nothing in my letter to my mother that could harm us in the slightest.\"\n\n\"I do not know why.\" Egwene frowned. \"There has to be a reason. I am sure that is what that dream means.\"\n\n\"Even if you are right, Egwene, there is nothing you can do about it.\"\n\n\"I know that,\" Egwene said bitterly. She did not even know whether he was ahead of them or behind. Ahead, she suspected; Mat would have left without any delay. \"Either way,\" she muttered to herself, \"it does no good. I finally know what one of my dreams means, and it doesn't help a hemstitch worth!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"But if you know one meaning,\" Elayne told her, \"perhaps now you will know others. If we sit down and talk them over, perhaps-\"\n\nThe Blue Crane gave a shuddering lurch, throwing Elayne to the deck and Egwene on top of her. When Egwene struggled to her feet, the shoreline no longer slid by. The vessel had halted, with the bow raised and the deck canted to one side. The sails flapped noisily in the wind.\n\nChin Ellisor pushed himself to his feet and ran for the bow, leaving the tillerman to rise on his own. \"You blind worm of a farmer!\" he roared toward the man in the bow, who was clinging to the rail to keep from falling the rest of the way over. \"You dirt-grubbing get of a goat! Haven't you been on the river long enough yet to recognize how the water ruffles over a mudflat?\" He seized the man on the rail by the shoulders and pulled him back onto the deck, but only to shove him out of the way so he could peer down over the bow himself. \"If you've put a hole in my hull, I will use your guts for caulking!\"\n\nThe other crewmen were clambering to their feet, now, and more came scrambling up from below. They all ran to cluster around the captain.\n\nNynaeve appeared at the head of the ladder that led down to the passenger cabins, still straightening her skirts. With a sharp tug at her braid, she frowned at the knot of men in the bow, then strode to Egwene and Elayne. \"He ran us onto something, did he? After all his talk of knowing the river as well as he knows his wife. The woman probably never receives as much as a smile from him.\" She jerked the thick braid again and went forward, pushing her way through the sailors to reach the captain. They were all intent on the water below."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was no point in joining her. He will have us off faster if he's left to it. Nynaeve was probably telling him how to do the work. Elayne seemed to feel the same way, from the rueful shake of the head she gave as she watched the captain and crewmen all turn their attention respectfully from whatever was under the bow to Nynaeve.\n\nA ripple of agitation ran through the men, and grew stronger. Fora moment the captain's hands could be seen, waving in protest over the other men's heads, and then Nynaeve was striding away from them-they made way, bowing now-with Ellisor hurrying beside her and mopping his round face with a large red handkerchief. His anxious voice became audible as they drew near.\n\n\"... a good fifteen miles to the next village on the Andor side, Aes Sedai, and at least five or six miles downriver on the Cairhien side! Andoran soldiers hold it, it is true, but they do not hold the miles from hereto there!\" He wiped at his face as if he were dripping sweat.\n\n\"A sunken ship,\" Nynaeve told the the other two women. \"The work of river brigands, the captain thinks. He means to try backing off it with the sweeps, but he does not seem to think that will work.\"\n\n\"We were running fast when we hit, Aes Sedai. I wanted to make good speed for you.\" Ellisor rubbed even harder at his face. He was afraid the Aes Sedai would blame him, Egwene realized. \"We are stuck hard. But I do not think we are taking water, Aes Sedai. There is no need to worry. Another ship will be along. Two sets of sweeps will surely get us free. There is no need for you to be put ashore, Aes Sedai. I do swear it, by the Light.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You were thinking of leaving the ship?\" Egwene asked. \"Do you think that is wise?\"\n\n\"Of course, it's-!\" Nynaeve stopped and frowned at her. Egwene returned the frown with a level stare. Nynaeve went on in a calmer tone, if still a tight one. \"The captain says it maybe an hour before another ship comes along. One with enough sweeps to make a difference. Ora day. Or two, maybe. I do not think we can afford to waste a day or two waiting. We can be in this village-what did you call it, Captain? Jurene?-we can walk to Jurene in two hours or less. If Captain Ellisor frees his vessel as quickly as he hopes, we can reboard then. He says he will stop to see if we are there. If he does not get free, though, we can take ship from Jurene. We may even find a vessel waiting. The captain says traders do stop there, because of the Andoran soldiers.\" She drew a deep breath, but her voice grew tighter. \"Have I explained my reasoning fully enough? Do you need more?\"\n\n\"It is clear tome,\" Elayne put in quickly before Egwene could speak. \"And it sounds a good idea. You think it is a good idea, too, don't you, Egwene?\"\n\nEgwene gave a grudging nod. \"I suppose it is.\"\n\n\"But, Aes Sedai,\" Ellisor protested, \"at least go to the Andor bank. The war, Aes Sedai. Brigands, and every sort of ruffian, and the soldiers not much better. The very wreck under our bow shows the sort of men they are.\"\n\n\"We have not seen a living soul on the Cairhien side,\" Nynaeve said, \"and in any case, we are far from defenseless, Captain. And I will not walk fifteen miles when I can walk six.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Of course, Aes Sedai.\" Ellisor really was sweating, now. \"I did not mean to suggest.... Of course you are not defenseless, Aes Sedai. I did not mean to suggest it.\" He wiped his face furiously, but it still glistened.\n\nNynaeve opened her mouth, glanced at Egwene, and seemed to change what she had intended to say. \"I am going below for my things,\" she told the air halfway between Egwene and Elayne, then turned on Ellisor. \"Captain, make your rowboat ready.\" He bowed and scurried away even before she turned for the hatch, and was shouting for men to put the boat over the side before she was below.\n\n\"If one of you says \"up,\"\" Elayne murmured, \"the other says \"down.\" If you do not stop it, we may not reach Tear.\"\n\n\"We will reach Tear,\" Egwene said. \"And sooner once Nynaeve realizes she is not the Wisdom any longer. We are all\"-she did not say Accepted; there were two many men hurrying about-\"on the same level, now.\" Elayne sighed.\n\nIn short order the rowboat had ferried them ashore, and they were standing on the bank with walking staffs in hand, their belongings in bundles on their backs, and hung about them in pouches and scripts. Rolling grassland and scattered copses surrounded them, though the hills were forested a few miles in from the river. The sweeps on the Blue Crane were cutting up froth, but failing to budge the vessel. Egwene turned and started south without another glance. And before Nynaeve could take the lead.\n\nWhen the others caught up to her, Elayne gave her a reproving look. Nynaeve walked staring straight ahead. Elayne told Nynaeve what Egwene had said about Mat and a Gray Man, but the older woman listened in silence and only said, \"He'll have to look after himself,\" without pausing in her stride. After a time, the Daughter-Heir gave up trying to make the other two talk, and they all walked in silence."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Clumps of trees close along the riverbank soon hid the Blue Crane, thick growths of wateroak and willow. They did not go through the copses, small as they were, for anything at all might be hiding in the shadows under their branches. A few low bushes grew scattered between the thickets here close to the river, but they were too sparse to hide a child much less a brigand, and they were widely spaced.\n\n\"If we do see brigands,\" Egwene announced, \"I am going to defend myself. There is no Amyrlin looking over our shoulders here.\"\n\nNynaeve's mouth thinned. \"If need be,\" she told the air in front of her, \"we can frighten off any brigands the way we did those Whitecloaks. If we can find no other way.\"\n\n\"I wish you would not talk of brigands,\" Elayne said. \"I would like to reach this village without-\"\n\nA figure in brown and gray rose from behind a bush standing by itself almost in front of them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egwene embraced saidar before the scream was well out of her mouth, and she saw the glow around Elayne, too. For an instant she wondered if Ellisor had heard their screams and would send help; the Blue Crane could not be more than a mile upriver. Then she was dismissing the need for help, already weaving flows of Air and Fire into lightning. She could almost still hear their yelling.\n\nNynaeve was simply standing therewith her arms crossed beneath her breasts and a firm expression on her face, but Egwene was not sure whether that was because she was not angry enough to touch the True Source, or because she had already seen what Egwene was just now seeing. The person facing them was a woman no older than Egwene herself, if somewhat taller.\n\nShe did not let goof saidar. Men were sometimes silly enough to think a woman was harmless merely because she was a woman; Egwene had no such illusions. Ina corner of her mind she noted that Elayne was no longer surrounded by the glow. The Daughter-Heir must still harbor foolish notions. She was never a Seanchan prisoner.\n\nEgwene did not think many men would be stupid enough to think the woman in front of them was not dangerous, even though her hands were empty and she wore no visible weapon. Blue-green eyes and reddish haircut short except fora narrow tail that hung to her shoulders; soft, laced knee-boots and close-fitting coat and breeches all in the shades of earth and rock. Such coloring and clothing had been described to her once; this woman was Aiel.\n\nLooking at her, Egwene felt a sudden odd affinity for the woman. She could not understand it. She looks like Rand's cousin, that's why. Yet even that feeling-almost of kinship-could not stifle her curiosity. What under the Light are Aiel doing here? They never leave the Waste; not since the Aiel War. She had heard all of her life how deadly Aiel were-these Maidens of the Spear no less than the members of the male warrior societies-but she felt no particular fear and, indeed, some irritation at having been afraid. With saidar feeding the One Power into her, she had no need to fear anyone. Except maybe a fully trained sister, she admitted. But certainly not one woman, even if she is Aiel."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"My name is Aviendha,\" the Aiel woman said, \"of the Nine Valleys sept of the Taardad Aiel.\" Her face was as flat and expressionless as her voice. \"I am Far Dareis Mai, a Maiden of the Spear.\" She paused a moment, studying them. \"You have not the look in your faces, but we saw the rings. In your lands, you have women much like our Wise Ones, the women called Aes Sedai. Are you women of the White Tower, or not?\"\n\nFora moment Egwene did feel unease. We? She looked around them carefully, but saw no one behind any bush within twenty paces.\n\nIf there were others, they had to be in the next thicket, more than two hundred paces ahead, or in the last one, twice that distance behind. Too far to threaten. Unless they have bows. But they would have to be good with them. Back home, in the competitions at Bel Tine and Sunday, only the best bowmen shot at any distance much beyond two hundred paces.\n\nBut she still felt better knowing she could hurl a lightning bolt at anyone who tried such a shot.\n\n\"We are women of the White Tower,\" Nynaeve said calmly. She was very obvious in not looking around for other Aiel. Even Elayne was peering about. \"Whether you would consider any of us wise is another matter,\" Nynaeve went on. \"What do you want of us?\"\n\nAviendha smiled. She was really quite lovely, Egwene realized; the grim expression had masked it. \"You talk as the Wise Ones do. To the point, and small suffering of fools.\" Her smile faded, but her voice remained calm. \"One of us lies gravely hurt, perhaps dying. The Wise Ones often heal those who would surely die without them, and I have heard Aes Sedai can do more. Will you aid her?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egwene almost shook her head in confusion. A friend of hers is dying? She sounds as if she is asking if we'll lend her a cup of barley flour!\n\n\"I will help her if I can,\" Nynaeve said slowly. \"I cannot make promises, Aviendha. She may die despite anything I can do.\"\n\n\"Death comes for us all,\" the Aiel said. \"We can only choose how to face it when it comes. I will take you to her.\"\n\nTwo women in Aiel garb stood up no more than ten paces away, one out of a little fold in the ground that Egwene would not have supposed could hide a dog, and the other in grass that reached only halfway to her knees. They lowered their black veils as they stood-that gave her another jolt; she was sure Elayne had told her the Aiel only hid their faces when they might have to do killing-and settled the cloth that had wrapped their heads about their shoulders. One had the same reddish hair as Aviendha, with gray eyes, the other dark blue eyes and hairlike fire. Neither was any older than Egwene or Elayne, and both looked ready to use the short spears in their hands.\n\nThe woman with fiery hair handed Aviendha weapons; along, heavy-bladed knife to belt at her waist, and a bristling quiver for the other side; a dark, curved bow that had the dull shine of horn, in a case to fasten on her back; and four short spears with long points to grip in her left hand along with a small, round hide buckler. Aviendha wore them as naturally as a woman in Emond's Field would wear a scarf, just as her companions did. \"Come,\" she said, and started for the thicket they had already passed."},{"from":"human","value":"Egwene finally released saidar."},{"from":"gpt","value":"She suspected all three of the Aiel could stab her with those spears before she could do anything about it, if that was what they wanted, but though they were wary, she did not think they would. And what if Nynaeve can't Heal their friend? I wish she would ask before she makes these decisions that involve all of us!\n\nAs they headed for the trees, the Aiel scanned the land around them as if they expected the empty landscape to hold enemies as adept at hiding as themselves. Aviendha strode ahead, and Nynaeve kept up with her.\n\n\"I am Elayne of House Trakand,\" Egwene's friend said as if making conversation, \"Daughter-Heir to Morgase, Queen of Andor.\"\n\nEgwene stumbled. Light, is she mad? I know Andor fought them in the Aiel War. It might be twenty years, but they say Aiel have long memories.\n\nBut the flame-haired Aiel closest to her only said, \"I am Bain, of the Black Rock sept of the Shaarad Aiel.\"\n\n\"I am Chiad,\" the shorter, blonder woman on her other side said, \"of the Stones River sept of the Goshien Aiel.\"\n\nBain and Chiad glanced at Egwene; their expressions did not change, but she had the feeling they thought she was showing bad manners.\n\n\"I am Egwene al'Vere,\" she told them. They seemed to expect more, so she added, \"Daughter of Marin al'Vere, of Emond's Field, in the Two Rivers.\" That seemed to satisfy them, in away, but she would have bet they understood it no more than she did all these septs and clans. It must mean families, in someway."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You are first-sisters?\" Bain seemed to betaking in all three of them.\n\nEgwene thought they must mean sisters as it was used for Aes Sedai, and said'Yes,\" just as Elayne said'No.\"\n\nChiad and Bain exchanged a very quick look that suggested they were talking to women who might not be completely whole in their minds.\n\n\"First-sister,\" Elayne told Egwene as if she were lecturing, \"means women who have the same mother. Second-sister means their mothers are sisters.\" She turned her words to the Aiel. \"We neither of us know a great deal of your people. I ask you to excuse our ignorance. I sometimes think of Egwene as a first-sister, but we are not blood kin.\"\n\n\"Then why do you not speak the words before your Wise Ones?\" Chiad asked. \"Bain and I became first-sisters.\"\n\nEgwene blinked. \"How can you become first-sisters? Either you have the same mother, or you do not. I do not mean to offend. Most of what I know about the Maidens of the Spear comes from the little Elayne has told me. I know you fight in battle and don't care for men, but no more than that.\" Elayne nodded; the way she had described the Maidens to Egwene had sounded much like across between female Warders and the Red Ajah.\n\nThat look flashed back across the Aiel's faces, as if they were not certain how much sense Egwene and Elayne had.\n\n\"We do not care for men?\" Chiad murmured as if puzzled.\n\nBain knotted her brow in thought. \"What you say comes near truth, yet misses it completely. When we wed the spear, we pledge to be bound to no manor child. Some do give up the spear, fora manor a child\"-her expression said she herself did not understand this-\"but once given up, the spear cannot betaken back.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Or if she is chosen to go to Rhuidean,\" Chiad put in. \"A Wise One cannot be wedded to the spear.\"\n\nBain looked at her as if she had announced the sky was blue, or that rain fell from clouds. The glance she gave Egwene and Elayne said perhaps they did not know these things. \"Yes, that is true. Though some try to struggle against it.\"\n\n\"Yes, they do.\" Chiad sounded as though she and Bain were sharing something between them.\n\n\"But I have gone far from the trail of my explanation,\" Bain went on. \"The Maidens do not dance the spears with one another even when our clans do, but the Shaarad Aiel and the Goshien Aiel have held blood feud between them over four hundred years, so Chiad and I felt our wedding pledge was not enough. We went to speak the words before the Wise Ones of our clans-she risking her life in my hold, and I in hers-to bond us as first-sisters. As is proper for first-sisters who are Maidens, we guard each other's backs, and neither will let a man come to her without the other. I would not say we do not care for men.\" Chiad nodded, with just the hint of a smile. \"Have I made the truth clear to you, Egwene?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Egwene said faintly. She glanced at Elayne and saw the bewilderment in her blue eyes she knew must be in her own. Not Red Ajah. Green, maybe. Across between Warders and Green Ajah, and I do not understand another thing out of that. \"The truth is quite clear tome, now, Bain. Thank you.\"\n\n\"If the two of you feel you are first-sisters,\" Chiad said, \"you should go to your Wise Ones and speak the words. But you are Wise Ones, though young. I do not know how it would be done in that case.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egwene did not know whether to laugh or blush. She kept having an image of her and Elayne sharing the same man. No, that is only for first-sisters who are Maidens of the Spear. Isn't it? Elayne did have spots of color in her cheeks, and Egwene was sure she was thinking of Rand. But we do not share him, Elayne. We can neither of us have him.\n\nElayne cleared her throat. \"I do not think there is a need for that, Chiad. Egwene and I already guard each other's backs.\"\n\n\"How can that be?\" Chiad asked slowly. \"You are not wedded to the spear. And you are Wise Ones. Who would lift a hand against a Wise One? This confuses me. What need have you for guarding of backs?\"\n\nEgwene was spared having to come up with an answer by their arrival at the copse. There were two more Aiel under the trees, deep into the thicket, but next to the river. Jolien, of the Salt Flat sept of the Nakai Aiel, a blue-eyed woman with red-gold hair nearly the color of Elayne's, was watching over Dailin, of Aviendha's sept and clan. Sweat matted Dailin's hair, making it a darker red, and she only opened her gray eyes once, when they first came near, then closed them again. Her coat and shirt lay beside her, and red stained the bandages wrapped around her middle.\n\n\"She took a sword,\" Aviendha said. \"Some of those fools that the oath-breaking treekillers call soldiers thought we were another handful of the bandits who infest this land. We had to kill them to convince them otherwise, but Dailin.... Can you heal her, Aes Sedai?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Nynaeve went to her knees beside the injured woman and lifted the bandages enough to peer under them. She winced at what she saw. \"Have you moved her since she was hurt? There is scabbing, but it has been broken.\"\n\n\"She wanted to die near water,\" Aviendha said. She glanced once at the river, then quickly away again. Egwene thought she might have shivered, too.\n\n\"Fools!\" Nynaeve began rummaging in her pouch of herbs. \"You could have killed her moving her with an injury like that. She wanted to die near water!\" she said disgustedly. \"Just because you carry weapons like men doesn't mean you have to think like them.\" She pulled a deep wooden cup out of the bag and pushed it at Chiad. \"Fill that. I need water to mix these so she can drink them.\"\n\nChiad and Bain stepped to the river's edge and returned together. Their faces never changed, but Egwene thought they had almost expected the river to reach up and grab them.\n\n\"If we had not brought her hereto the... river, Aes Sedai,\" Aviendha said, \"we would never have found you, and she would have died anyway.\"\n\nNynaeve snorted and began sifting powdered herbs into the cup of water, muttering to herself. \"Corenroot helps make blood, and dogwort for knitting flesh, and healall, of course, and....\" Her mutters trailed off into whispers too low to hear. Aviendha was frowning at her.\n\n\"The Wise Ones use herbs, Aes Sedai, but I had not heard that Aes Sedai used them.\"\n\n\"I use what I use!\" Nynaeve snapped and went back to sorting through her powders and whispering to herself."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"She truly does sound like a Wise One,\" Chiad told Bain softly, and the other woman gave a tight nod.\n\nDailin was the only Aiel without her weapons in hand, and they all looked ready to use them in a heartbeat. Nynaeve surely isn't soothing anyone, Egwene thought. Get them talking about something. Anything. Nobody feels like fighting if they're talking of something peaceful.\n\n\"Do not be offended,\" she said carefully, \"but I notice you are all uneasy about the river. It does not grow violent unless there is a storm. You could swim in it if you wanted, though the current is strong away from the banks.\" Elayne shook her head.\n\nThe Aiel looked blank; Aviendha said, \"I saw a man-a Shienaran-do this swimming... once.\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Egwene said. \"I know there isn't much water in the Waste, but you said you were \"Stones River sept,\" Jolien. Surely you have swum in the Stones River?\" Elayne looked at her as if she were mad.\n\n\"Swim,\" Jolien said awkwardly. \"It means... to get in the water? All that water? With nothing to hold onto.\" She shuddered. \"Aes Sedai, before I crossed the Dragonwall, I had never seen flowing water I could not step across. The Stones River.... Some claim it had water in it once, but that is only boasting. There are only the stones. The oldest records of the Wise Ones and the clan chief say there was never anything but stones since the first day our sept broke off from the High Plain sept and claimed that land. Swim!\" She gripped her spears as if to fight the very word. Chiad and Bain moved apace further from the riverbank."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egwene sighed. And colored when she met Elayne's eye. Well, I am not a Daughter-Heir, to know all these things. I will learn them, though. As she looked around at the Aiel women, she realized that far from soothing them, she had put them even more on edge. If they try anything, I will hold them with Air. She had no idea whether she could seize four people at once, but she opened herself to saidar, wove the flows in Air and held them ready. The Power pulsed in her with eagerness to be used. No glow surrounded Elayne, and she wondered why. Elayne looked right at her and shook her head.\n\n\"I would never harm an Aes Sedai,\" Aviendha said abruptly. \"I would have you know that. Whether Dailin lives or dies, it makes no difference in that. I would never use this\"-she lifted one short spear a trifle-\"against any woman. And you are Aes Sedai.\" Egwene had the sudden feeling that the woman was trying to soothe them.\n\n\"I knew that,\" Elayne said, as if talking to Aviendha, but her eyes told Egwene the words were for her. \"No one knows much of your people, but I was taught that Aiel never harm women unless they are-what did you call it?-wedded to the spear.\"\n\nBain seemed to think Elayne was failing to see truth clearly again. \"That is not exactly the way of it, Elayne. If a woman not wedded came at me with weapons, I would drub her until she knew better of it. A man.... A man might think a woman of your lands was wedded if she bore weapons; I do not know. Men can be strange.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Of course,\" Elayne said. \"But so long as we do not attack you with weapons, you will not try to harm us.\" All four Aiel looked shocked, and she gave Egwene a quick significant look.\n\nEgwene held onto saidar anyway. Just because Elayne had been taught something did not mean it was true, even if the Aiel said the same thing. And saidar felt... good in her.\n\nNynaeve lifted up Dailin's head and began pouring her mixture into the woman's mouth. \"Drink,\" she said firmly. \"I know it tastes bad, but drink it all.\" Dailin swallowed, choked, and swallowed again.\n\n\"Not even then, Aes Sedai,\" Aviendha told Elayne. She kept her eyes on Dailin and Nynaeve, though. \"It is said that once, before the Breaking of the World, we served the Aes Sedai, though no story says how. We failed in that service. Perhaps that is the sin that sent us to the Three-fold Land; I do not know. No one knows what the sin was, except maybe the Wise Ones, or the clan chiefs, and they do not say. It is said if we fail the Aes Sedai again, they will destroy us.\"\n\n\"Drink it all,\" Nynaeve muttered. \"Swords! Swords and muscles and no brains!\"\n\n\"We are not going to destroy you,\" Elayne said firmly, and Aviendha nodded.\n\n\"As you say, Aes Sedai. But the old stories are all clear on one point. We must never fight Aes Sedai. If you bring your lightnings and your balefire against me, I will dance with them, but I will not harm you.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\\nChapter: 43\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He laid a hand on the wolf's back, and as he did, Hopper started forward. He let himself be led. The fur under his hand was thick and shaggy. It felt real.\\n\\nThe fog began to thicken, until only his hand told him Hopper was still there, until a glance down did not even show him his own chest. Just gray mist. He might as well have been wrapped in new-sheared wool for all he could see. It struck him that he had heard nothing, either. Not even the sound of his own footsteps. He wiggled his toes, and was relieved to feel the boots on his feet.\\n\\nThe gray became darker, and he and the wolf walked through pitch-blackness. He could not see his hand when he touched his nose. He could not see his nose, for that matter. He tried closing his eyes fora moment, and could not tell any difference. There was still no sound. His hand felt the rough hair of Hopper's back, but he was not sure he could feel anything under his boots.\\n\\nSuddenly Hopper stopped, forcing him to halt, too. He looked around... and snapped his eyes shut. He could tell a difference, now. And feel something, too, a queasy twisting of his stomach. He made himself open his eyes and look down.\\n\\nWhat he saw could not have been there, not unless he and Hopper were standing in midair. He could see nothing of the wolf or himself, as if neither had bodies at all-that thought nearly tied his stomach into knots-but below him, as clear as if lit by a thousand lamps, stretched avast array of mirrors, seemingly hanging in blackness though as level as if they stood on avast floor. They stretched as far as he could see in every direction, but right beneath his feet, there was a clear space. And people in it. Suddenly he could hear their voices as well as if he had been standing among them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Great Lord,\\\" one of the men muttered, \\\"where is this place?\\\" He looked around once, flinching at his image cast back at him many thousandfold, and held his eyes forward after that. The others huddled around him seemed even more afraid. \\\"I was asleep in Tar Valon, Great Lord. I am asleep in Tar Valon! Where is this place? Have I gone mad?\\\"\\n\\nSome of the men around him wore ornate coats full of embroidery, others plainer garb, while some seemed to be naked, or in their smallclothes.\\n\\n\\\"I, too, sleep,\\\" a naked man nearly screamed. \\\"In Tear. I remember lying down with my wife!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And I do sleep in Illian,\\\" a man in red and gold said, sounding shaken. \\\"I know that I do sleep, but that cannot be. I know that I do dream, but that does be impossible. Where does this be, Great Lord? Are you really come tome?\\\"\\n\\nThe dark-haired man who faced them was garbed in black, with silver lace at his throat and wrists. Now and again he put a hand to his chest, as if it hurt him. There was light everywhere down there, coming from nowhere, but this man below Perrin seemed cloaked in shadow. Darkness rolled around him, caressed him.\\n\\n\\\"Silence!\\\" The black-clothed man did not speak loudly, but he had no need to. For the space of that word, he had raised his head; his eyes and mouth were holes boring into a raging forge-fire, all flame and fiery glow.\\n\\nPerrin knew him, then. Ba'alzamon. He was staring down at Ba'alzamon himself. Fear struck through him like hammered spikes. He would have run, but he could not feel his feet.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hopper shifted. He felt the thick fur under his hand and gripped it hard. Something real. Something more real, he hoped, than what he saw. But he knew that both were real.\\n\\nThe men huddling together cowered.\\n\\n\\\"You have been given tasks,\\\" Ba'alzamon said. \\\"Some of these tasks you have carried out. At others, you have failed.\\\" Now and again his eyes and mouth vanished inflame again, and the mirrors flashed with reflected fire. \\\"Those who have been marked for death must die. Those who have been marked for taking must bow tome. To fail the Great Lord of the Dark cannot be forgiven.\\\" Fire shone through his eyes, and the darkness around him roiled and spun. \\\"You.\\\" His finger pointed out the man who had spoken of Tar Valon, a fellow dressed like a merchant, in plainly cut clothes of the finest cloth. The others shied away from him as if he had blackbile fever, leaving him to cower alone. \\\"You allowed the boy to escape Tar Valon.\\\"\\n\\nThe man screamed, and began to quiver like a file struck against an anvil. He seemed to become less solid, and his scream thinned with him.\\n\\n\\\"You all dream,\\\" Ba'alzamon said, \\\"but what happens in this dream is real.\\\" The shrieking man was only a bundle of mist shaped like a man, his scream far distant, and then even the mist was gone. \\\"I fear he will never wake.\\\" He laughed, and his mouth roared flame. \\\"The rest of you will not fail me again. Begone! Wake, and obey!\\\" The other men vanished.\\n\\nFora moment Ba'alzamon stood alone, then suddenly there was a woman with him, clad all in white and silver.\\n\\nShock hit Perrin. He could never forget a woman so beautiful. She was the woman from his dream, the one who had urged him to glory.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"An ornate silver throne appeared behind her, and she sat, carefully arranging her silken skirts. \\\"You make free use of my domain,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"Your domain?\\\" Ba'alzamon said. \\\"You claim it yours, then? Do you no longer serve the Great Lord of the Dark?\\\" The darkness around him thickened for an instant, seemed to boil.\\n\\n\\\"I serve,\\\" she said quickly. \\\"I have served the Lord of the Twilight long. Long did I lie imprisoned for my service, in an endless, dreamless sleep. Only Gray Men and Myrddraal are denied dreams. Even Trollocs can dream. Dreams were always mine, to use and walk. Now I am free again, and I will use what is mine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is yours,\\\" Ba'alzamon said. The blackness swirling'round him seemed mirthful. \\\"You always thought yourself greater than you were, Lanfear.\\\"\\n\\nThe name cut at Perrin like a newly honed knife. One of the Forsaken had been in his dreams. Moiraine had been right. Some of them were free.\\n\\nThe woman in white was on her feet, the throne gone. \\\"I am as great as I am. What have your plans come to? Three thousand years and more of whispering in ears and pulling the strings of throned puppets like an Aes Sedai!\\\" Her voice invested the name with all scorn. \\\"Three thousand years, and yet Lews Therin walks the world again, and these Aes Sedai all but have him leashed. Can you control him? Can you turn him? He was mine before ever that straw-haired chit Ilyena saw him! He will be mine again!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do you serve yourself now, Lanfear?\\\" Ba'alzamon's voice was soft, but flame raged continuously in his eyes and mouth. \\\"Have you abandoned your oaths to the Great Lord of the Dark?\\\" For an instant the darkness nearly obliterated him, only the glowing fires showing through. \\\"They are not so easily broken as the oaths to the Light you forsook, proclaiming your new master in the very Hall of the Servants. Your master claims you forever, Lanfear. Will you serve, or do you choose an eternity of pain, of endless dying without release?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I serve.\\\" Despite her words, she stood tall and defiant. \\\"I serve the Great Lord of the Dark and none other. Forever!\\\"\\n\\nThe vast array of mirror began to vanish as if black waves rolled in over it, ever closer to the center. The tide rolled over Ba'alzamon and Lanfear. There was only blackness.\\n\\nPerrin felt Hopper move, and he was more than glad to follow, guided only by the feel of fur under his hand. It was not until he was moving that he realized he could. He tried to puzzle out what he had seen, without any success. Ba'alzamon and Lanfear. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. For some reason, Lanfear frightened him more than Ba'alzamon did. Perhaps because she had been in his dreams in the mountains. Light! One of the Forsaken in my dreams! Light! And unless he had missed something, she had defied the Dark One. He had been told and taught that the Shadow could have no power over you if you denied it; but how could a Darkfriend-not just a Darkfriend; one of the Forsaken!-defy the Shadow? I must be mad, like Simion's brother. These dreams have driven me mad!\\n\\nSlowly the blackness became fog again, and the fog gradually thinned until he walked out of it with Hopper onto a grassy hillside bright with daylight. Birds began to sing from a thicket at the foot of the hill. He looked back. A hilly plain dotted with clumps of trees stretched to the horizon. There was no sign of fog anywhere. The big, grizzled wolf stood watching him.\\n\\n\\\"What was that?\\\" he demanded, struggling in his mind to turn the question to thoughts the wolf could understand. \\\"Why did you show it tome? What was it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Emotions and images flooded his thoughts, and his mind put words to them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"What you must see. Be careful, Young Bull. This place is dangerous. Be wary as a cub hunting porcupine. That came as something closer to Small Thorny Back, but his mind named the animal the way he knew it as a man. You are too young, too new.\\n\\n\\\"Was it real?\\\"\\n\\nAll is real, what is seen, and what is not seen. That seemed to be all the answer Hopper was going to give.\\n\\n\\\"Hopper, how are you here? I saw you die. I felt you die!\\\"\\n\\nAll are here. All brothers and sisters that are, all that were, all that will be. Perrin knew that wolves did not smile, not the way humans did, but for an instant he had the impression that Hopper was grinning. Here, I soar like the eagle. The wolf gathered himself and leaped, up into the air. Up and up it carried him, until he dwindled to a speck in the sky, and a last thought came. To soar.\\n\\nPerrin stared after him with his mouth hanging open. He did it. His eyes burned suddenly, and he cleared his throat and scrubbed at his nose. I will be crying like a girl, next. Without thinking, he looked around to see if anyone had seen him, and that quickly everything changed.\\n\\nHe was standing on arise, with shadowy, indistinct dips and swells all around him. They seemed to fade into the distance too soon. Rand stood below him. Rand, and a ragged circle of Myrddraal and men and women his eyes seemed to slide right past. Dogs howled somewhere in the distance, and Perrin knew they were hunting something. Myrddraal scent and the stink of burned sulphur filled the air. Perrin's hackles rose.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The circle of Myrddraal and people came closer to Rand, all walking as if asleep. And Rand began to kill them. Balls of fire flew from his hands and consumed two. Lightning flashed from above to shrivel others. Bars of light like white-hot steel flew from his fists to more. And the survivors continued to walk slowly closer, as if none of them saw what was happening. One by one they died, until none were left, and Rand sank down on his knees, panting. Perrin was not sure whether he was laughing or crying; it seemed to be some of each.\\n\\nShapes appeared over the rises, more people coming, more Myrddraal, all intent on Rand.\\n\\nPerrin cupped his hands to his mouth. \\\"Rand! Rand, there are more coming!\\\"\\n\\nRand looked up at him from his crouch, snarling, sweat slicking his face.\\n\\n\\\"Rand, they're-!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Burn you!\\\" Rand howled.\\n\\nLight burned Perrin's eyes, and pain seared everything.\\n\\nGroaning, he rolled into a ball on the narrow bed, the light still burning behind his eyelids. His chest hurt. He raised a hand to it and winced when he felt a burn under his shirt, a spot no bigger than a silver penny.\\n\\nBit by bit he forced his knotted muscles to let him straighten his legs and lie flat in the dark cabin. Moiraine. I have to tell Moiraine this time. Just have to wait till the pain goes away.\\n\\nBut as the pain began to fade, exhaustion took him. He barely had a thought that he must getup before sleep pulled him down again.\\n\\nWhen he opened his eyes again, he lay staring at the beams overhead. Light at the top and bottom of the door told him morning had come. He put a hand to his chest to convince himself he had imagined it, imagined it so well that he had actually felt a burn....\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His fingers found the burn. I didn't imagine it, then. He had dim memories of a few other dreams, fading even as he recalled them. Ordinary dreams. He even felt as if he had had a good night's sleep. And could use another one right now. But it meant he could sleep. As long as there are no wolves around, anyway.\\n\\nHe remembered making a decision in that brief waking after the dream with Hopper, and after a moment he decided it had been a good one.\\n\\nIt took knocking on five doors and being cursed at twice-the inhabitants of two cabins had gone on deck-before he found Moiraine. She was fully dressed, but sitting on one of the narrow beds cross-legged, reading in her book of notes by lantern light. Back near the beginning, he saw, notes that must have been made even before she had come to Emond's Field. Lan's things were neatly placed on the other bed.\\n\\n\\\"I had a dream,\\\" he told her, and proceeded to tell her of it. All of it. He even pulled up his shirt to show her the small circle on his chest, red, with wavy red lines radiating from it. He had kept things from her before, and he suspected he would again, but this might be too important to hold back. The pin was the smallest part of a pair of scissors, and the easiest made, but without it, the scissors cut no cloth. When he was done, he stood there waiting.\\n\\nShe had watched him without expression, except that those dark eyes had examined every word as it came out of his mouth, weighed it, measured it, held it up to the light. Now she sat the same way, only it was he who was examined, weighed, and held up to the light.\\n\\n\\\"Well, is it important?\\\" he demanded finally. \\\"I think it was one of those wolf dreams you told me about-I'm sure it was; it must have been!-but that doesn't make what I saw real. Only, you said maybe some of the Forsaken are free, and he called her Lanfear, and.... Is it important, or am I standing here making a fool out of myself?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There are women,\\\" she said slowly, \\\"who would do their best to gentle you if they heard what I just did.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His lungs seemed to freeze; he could not breathe. \\\"I am not accusing you of being able to channel,\\\" she went on, and the ice inside him melted, \\\"or even of being able to learn. An attempt at gentling would not harm you, beyond the rough treatment the Red Ajah would give you before they realized their error. Such men are so rare, even the Reds with all their hunting have not found more than three in the last ten years. Before the outbreak of false Dragons, at least. What I am trying to make clear to you is that I do not think you will suddenly begin wielding the Power. You do not have to be afraid of that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, thank you very much for that,\\\" he said bitterly. \\\"You did not have to scare me to death just so you could tell me there was no need to be frightened!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, you do have reason to be frightened. Or at least careful, as the wolf suggested. Red sisters, or others, might kill you before they discovered there was nothing to gentle in you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Light! Light burn me!\\\" He stared at her with a frown. \\\"You're trying to lead me around by the nose, Moiraine, but I am no calf, and there's no ring in my nose. The Red Ajah or any other would not think of gentling unless there was something real in what I dreamed. Does it mean the Forsaken are loose?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I told you before that they might be. Some of them. Your... dreams are nothing I expected, Perrin. Dreamers have written of wolves, but I did not expect this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, I think it was real. I think I saw something that really happened, something I wasn't supposed to see.\\\" What you must see. \\\"I think Lanfear is loose at the very least. What are you going to do?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I am going to Illian. And then I will go to Tear, and hope to reach it before Rand. We had need to leave Remen too quickly for Lan to learn whether he crossed the river or went down it. We should know before we reach Illian, though. We will find sign if he has gone this way.\\\" She glanced at her book as if she wanted to resume her reading.\\n\\n\\\"Is that all you are going to do? With Lanfear loose, and the Light alone knows how many of the others?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do not question me,\\\" she said coldly. \\\"You do not know which questions to ask, and you would comprehend less than half the answers if I gave them. Which I will not.\\\"\\n\\nHe shifted his feet under her gaze until it became clear she would say no more on the matter. His shirt rubbed painfully at the burn on his chest. It did not seem a bad hurt-Not for being struck by lightning it doesn't!-but how he had come by it was another matter. \\\"Uh.... Will you Heal this?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you no longer uneasy about the One Power being used on you, then, Perrin? No, I will not Heal it. It is not serious, and it will remind you of the need to be careful.\\\" Careful about pressing her, he knew, as well as about dreams or letting others know of them. \\\"If there is nothing else, Perrin?\\\"\\n\\nHe started for the door, then stopped. \\\"There is one thing. If you knew a woman's name was Zarine, would you think it meant anything about her?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why under the Light do you ask this question?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A girl,\\\" he said awkwardly. \\\"A young woman. I met her last night. She's one of the other passengers.\\\" He would let her discover for herself that Zarine knew she was Aes Sedai. And seemed to think following them would lead her to the Horn of Valere. He would not keep back anything he thought was important, but if Moiraine could be secretive, so could he.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Zarine. It is a Saldaean name. No woman would name her daughter that unless she expected her to be a great beauty. And a heartbreaker. One to lie on cushions in palaces, surrounded by servants and suitors.\\\" She smiled, briefly but with great amusement. \\\"Perhaps you have another reason to be careful, Perrin, if there is a Zarine as a passenger with us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I intend to be careful,\\\" he told her. At least he knew why Zarine did not like her name. Hardly fitting fora Hunter of the Horn. As long as she doesn't call herself'falcon.\\\"\\n\\nWhen he went on deck, Lan was there, looking over Mandarb. And Zarine was sitting on a coil of rope near the railing, sharpening one of her knives and watching him. The big, triangular sails were set and taut, and the Snow Goose flew downriver.\\n\\nZarine's eyes followed Perrin as he walked by her to stand in the bow. The water curled to either side of the prow like earth turning around a good plow. He wondered about dreams and Aielmen, Min's viewings and falcons. His chest hurt. Life had never been as tangled as this.\\n\\nRand sat up out of his exhausted sleep, gasping, the cloak he had used as a blanket falling away. His side ached, the old wound from Falme throbbing. His fire had burned down to coals with only a few wavering flames, but it was still enough to make the shadows move. That was Perrin. It was! It was him, not a dream. Somehow. I almost killed him! Light, I have to be careful!\\n\\nShivering, he picked up a length of oak branch and started to shove it into the coals. The trees were scattered in these Murandian hills, still close to the Manetherendrelle, but he had found just enough fallen branches for his fire, the wood just old enough to be properly cured but not rotten. Before the wood touched the coals, he stopped. There were horses coming, tenor a dozen of them, walking slowly. I have to be careful. I cannot make another mistake.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The horses swung toward his failing fire, entered the dim light, and stopped. The shadows obscured their riders, but most seemed to be rough-faced men wearing round helmets and long leather jerkins sewn allover with metal discs like fish scales. One was a woman with graying hair and a no-nonsense look on her face. Her dark dress was plain wool, but the finest weave, and adorned with a silver pin in the shape of a lion. A merchant, she seemed to him; he had seen her sort among those who came to buy tabac and wool in the Two Rivers. A merchant and her guards.\\n\\nI have to be careful, he thought as he stood. No mistakes.\\n\\n\\\"You have chosen a good campsite, young man,\\\" she said. \\\"I have often used it on my way to Remen. There is a small spring nearby. I trust you have no objection to my sharing it?\\\" Her guards were already dismounting, hitching at their sword belts and loosening saddle girths.\\n\\n\\\"None,\\\" Rand told her. Careful. Two steps brought him close enough, and he leaped into the air, spinning-Thistledown Floats on the Whirlwind-heron-mark blade carved from fire coming into his hands to take her head off before surprise could even form on her face. She was the most dangerous.\\n\\nHe alighted as the woman's head rolled from the crupper of her horse. The guards yelled and clawed for their swords, screamed as they realized his blade burned. He danced among them in the forms Lan had taught him, and knew he could have killed all ten with ordinary steel, but the blade he wielded was part of him. The last man fell, and it had been so like practicing the forms that he had already begun the sheathing called Folding the Fan before he remembered he wore no scabbard and this blade would have turned it to ash at a touch if he had.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Letting the sword vanish, he turned to examine the horses. Most had runaway, but some not far, and the woman's tall gelding stood with rolling eyes, whickering uneasily. Her headless corpse, lying on the ground, had maintained its grip on the reins, and held the animal's head down.\\n\\nRand pulled them free, pausing only to gather his few belongings before swinging into the saddle. I have to be careful, he thought as he looked over the dead. No mistakes.\\n\\nThe Power still filled him, the flow from saidin sweeter than honey, ranker than rotted meat. Abruptly he channeled-not really understanding what it was he did, or how, only that it seemed right; and it worked, lifting the corpses. He set them in a line, facing him, kneeling, faces in the dirt. For those who had faces left. Kneeling to him.\\n\\n\\\"If I am the Dragon Reborn,\\\" he told them, \\\"that is the way it is supposed to be, isn't it?\\\" Letting goof saidin was hard, but he did it. If I hold it too much, how will I keep the madness away? He laughed bitterly. Or is it too late for that?\\n\\nFrowning, he peered at the line. He had been sure there were only ten men, but eleven men knelt in that line, one of them without armor of any sort but with a dagger still gripped in his hand.\\n\\n\\\"You chose the wrong company,\\\" Rand told that man.\\n\\nWheeling the gelding, he dug in his heels and set the animal to a dead gallop into the night. It was along way to Tear, yet, but he meant to get thereby the straightest way, if he had to kill horses or steal them. I will put an end to it. The taunting. The baiting. I will end it! Callandor. It called to him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene returned a graceful nod to the respectful bow of the ship's crewman who padded past her, barefoot, on his way to pull a rope that already seemed taut, possibly shifting a trifle the way one of the big square sails set. Ashe trotted back toward where the round-faced captain stood by the tillerman, he bowed again, and she nodded once more before returning her attentions to the forested Cairhien shore, separated from the Blue Crane by less than twenty spans of water.\\n\\nA village was sliding past, or what had been a village once. Half the houses were only smoldering piles of rubble with chimneys sticking starkly out of the ruins. On the other houses, doors swung with the wind, and pieces of furniture, bits of clothing and house ware littered the dirt street, tumbled about as if thrown. Nothing living moved in the village except for one half-starved dog that ignored the passing ship as it trotted out of sight behind the toppled walls of what appeared to have been an inn. She could never see such a sight without a queasiness settling in her belly, but she tried to maintain the dispassionate serenity she thought an Aes Sedai might have. It did not help much. Beyond the village, a thick plume of smoke was rising into the sky. Three or four miles off, she estimated.\\n\\nThis was not the first such plume of smoke she had seen since the Erinin began to flow along the border of Cairhien, nor the first such village. At least this time there were nobodies insight. Captain Ellisor sometimes had to sail close to the Cairhienin shore because of mudflats-he said they shifted in this part of the river-but however close he came, she had not seen a single living person.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The village and the smoke plume slipped away behind the ship, but already another column of smoke was coming into view ahead, further from the river. The forest was thinning, ash and leatherleaf and black elder giving way to willow and whitewood and wateroak, and some she did not recognize.\\n\\nThe wind caught her cloak, but she let it stream, feeling the cold cleanness of the air, feeling the freedom of wearing brown instead of any sort of white, though it had not been her first choice. Yet dress and cloak were of the best wool, well cut and well sewn.\\n\\nAnother sailor trotted by, bowing as he went. She vowed to learn at least some of what it was they were doing; she did not like feeling ignorant. Wearing her Great Serpent ring on her right handmade fora good deal of bowing with a captain and crew born mainly in Tar Valon.\\n\\nShe had won that argument with Nynaeve, though Nynaeve had been sure she herself was the only one of the three of them old enough for people to believe she was Aes Sedai. But Nynaeve had been wrong. Egwene was ready to admit that both she and Elayne had received startled looks on boarding the Blue Crane that afternoon at Southharbor, and Captain Ellisor's eyebrows had climbed almost to where his hair would have begun had he had any, but he had been all smiles and bows.\\n\\n\\\"An honor, Aes Sedai. Three Aes Sedai to travel on my vessel? An honor indeed. I promise you a quick journey as far as you wish. And no trouble with Cairhienin brigands. I no longer put in on that side of the river. Unless you wish it, of course, Aes Sedai. Andoran soldiers do hold a few towns on the Cairhienin side. An honor, Aes Sedai.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His eyebrows had shot up again when they asked for just one cabin among them-not even Nynaeve wanted to be alone at night if she did not have to be. Each could have a cabin to herself at no extra charge, he told them; he had no other passengers, his cargo was aboard, and if Aes Sedai had urgent business downriver, he would not wait even an hour for anyone else who might want passage. They said again that one cabin would be sufficient.\\n\\nHe was startled, and it had been plain from his face that he did not understand, but Chin Ellisor, born and bred in Tar Valon, was not one to question Aes Sedai once they made their intentions clear. If two of them seemed very young, well, some Aes Sedai were young.\\n\\nThe abandoned ruins vanished behind Egwene. The column of smoke drew closer, and there was a hint of another much further still from the riverbank. The forest was turning to low, grassy hills dotted with thickets. Trees that made flowers in the spring had them, tiny white blossoms on snowberry and bright red sugarberry. One tree she did not know was covered in round white flowers bigger than her two hands together. Occasionally a climbing wild-rose put swaths of yellow or white through branches thick with the green of leaves and the red of new growth. It was all too sharp a contrast to the ashes and rubble to be entirely pleasant.\\n\\nEgwene wished she had an Aes Sedai to question herself right then. One she could trust. Brushing her pouch with her fingers, she could barely feel the twisted stone ring of the ter'angreal inside.\\n\\nShe had tried it every night but two since leaving Tar Valon, and it had not worked the same way twice. Oh, she always found herself in Tel'aran'rhiod, but the only thing she saw that might have been any use was the Heart of the Stone again, each time without Silvie to tell her things. There was certainly nothing about the Black Ajah.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Her own dreams, without the ter'angreal, had been filled with images that seemed almost like glimpses of the Unseen World. Rand holding a sword that blazed like the sun, till she could hardly see that it was a sword, could hardly make out that it was him at all. Rand threatened in a dozen ways, none of them the least bit real. In one dream he had been on a huge stones board, the black and white stones as big as boulders, and him dodging the monstrous hands that moved them and seemed to try to crush him under them. It could have meant something. It very probably did, but beyond the fact that Rand was in danger from someone, or two someones-she thought that much was clear-beyond that, she simply did not know. I cannot help him, now. I have my own duty. I don't even know where he is, except that it is probably five hundred leagues from here.\\n\\nShe had dreamed of Perrin with a wolf, and with a falcon, and a hawk-and the falcon and the hawk fighting-of Perrin running from someone deadly, and Perrin stepping willingly over the edge of a towering cliff while saying, \\\"It must be done. I must learn to fly before I reach the bottom.\\\" There had been one dream of an Aiel, and she thought that had to do with Perrin, too, but she was not sure. And a dream of Min, springing a steel trap but somehow walking through it without so much as seeing it. There had been dreams of Mat, too. Of Mat with dice spinning 'round him-she felt she knew where that one came from-of Mat being followed by a man who was not there-she still did not understand that; there was a man following, or maybe more than one, but in someway there was no one there-of Mat riding desperately toward something unseen in the distance that he had to reach, and Mat with a woman who seemed to be tossing fireworks about. An Illuminator, she assumed, but that made no more sense than anything else.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"She had had so many dreams that she was beginning to doubt them all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Maybe it had to do with using the ter'angreal so often, or maybe with just carrying it. Maybe she was finally learning what a Dreamer did. Frantic dreams, hectic dreams. Men and women breaking out of a cage, then putting on crowns. A woman playing with puppets, and another dream where the strings on puppets led to the hands of larger puppets, and their strings led to still greater puppets, on and on until the last strings vanished into unimaginable heights. Kings dying, queens weeping, battles raging. Whitecloaks ravaging the Two Rivers. She had even dreamed of the Seanchan again. More than once. Those she shut away in a dark corner; she would not let herself think of them. Her mother and father, every night.\\n\\nShe was certain what that meant, at least, or thought she was. It means I'm off hunting the Black Ajah, and I do not know what my dreams mean or how to make the fool ter'angreal do what it should, and I'm frightened, and.... And homesick. For an instant she thought how good it would be to have her mother send her up to bed knowing everything would be better in the morning. Only mother can't solve my problems for me anymore, and father can't promise to chase away monsters and make me believe it. I have to do it myself now.\\n\\nHow far in the past all that was, now. She did not want it back, not really, but it had been a warm time, and it seemed so long ago. It would be wonderful just to see them again, to hear their voices. When I wear this ring on the finger I choose by right.\\n\\nShe had finally let Nynaeve and Elayne each try sleeping one night with the stone ring-surprised at how reluctant she had been to let it out of her own hands-and they had awakened to speak of what was surely Tel'aran'rhiod, but neither had seen more than a glimpse of the Heart of the Stone, nothing that was of any use.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The thick column of smoke now lay abreast of the Blue Crane.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perhaps five or six miles from the river, she thought. The other was only a smudge on the horizon. It could almost have been a cloud, but she was sure it was not. Small thickets grew tight along the riverbank in some places, and between them the grass came right down to the water except where an undercut bank had fallen in.\\n\\nElayne came on deck and joined her at the rail, the wind whipping her dark cloak as well. She wore sturdy wool, too. That had been one argument Nynaeve won. Their clothes. Egwene had maintained that Aes Sedai always wore the best, even when they traveled-she had been thinking of the silks she wore in Tel'aran'rhiod-but Nynaeve pointed out that even with as much gold as the Amyrlin had left in the back of her wardrobe, and it was a fat purse, they still had no idea how much things would cost downriver. The servants said Mat had been right about the civil war in Cairhien, and what it had done to prices. To Egwene's surprise, Elayne had pointed out that Brown sisters wore wool more often than silk. Elayne had been so eager to be away from the kitchen, Egwene thought, she would have worn rags.\\n\\nI wonder how Mat is doing? No doubt trying to dice with the captain for whatever ship he's traveling on.\\n\\n\\\"Terrible,\\\" Elayne murmured. \\\"It is so terrible.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is?\\\" Egwene said absently. I hope he isn't showing that paper we gave him around too freely.\\n\\nElayne gave her a startled look, and then a frown. \\\"That!\\\" She gestured toward the distant smoke. \\\"How can you ignore it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I can ignore it because I do not want to think of what the people are going through, because I cannot do anything about it, and because we have to reach Tear.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Because what we're hunting is in Tear.\\\" She was surprised at her own vehemence. I can't do anything about it. And the Black Ajah is in Tear.\\n\\nThe more she thought of it, the more certain she became that they would have to find away into the Heart of the Stone. Perhaps no one but the High Lords of Tear were allowed into it, but she was becoming convinced that the key to springing the Black Ajah's trap and thwarting them lay in the Heart of the Stone.\\n\\n\\\"I know all of that, Egwene, but it does not stop me feeling for the Cairhienin.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have heard lectures about the wars Andor fought with Cairhien,\\\" Egwene said dryly. \\\"Bennae Sedai says you and Cairhien have fought more often than any two nations except Tear and Illian.\\\"\\n\\nThe other woman gave her a sidelong look. Elayne had never gotten used to Egwene's refusal to admit she was Andoran herself. At least, lines on maps said the Two Rivers was part of Andor, and Elayne believed the maps.\\n\\n\\\"We have fought wars against them, Egwene, but since the damage they suffered in the Aiel War, Andor has sold them nearly as much grain as Tear has. The trade has stopped, now. With every Cairhienin House fighting every other for the Sun Throne, who would buy the grain, or see it distributed to the people? If the fighting is as bad as what we've seen on the banks.... Well. You cannot feed a people for twenty years and feel nothing for them when they must be starving.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A Gray Man,\\\" Egwene said, and Elayne jumped, trying to look in every direction at once. The glow of saidar surrounded her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Where?\\\"\\n\\nEgwene took a slower look around the decks, but to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. Captain Ellisor still stood in the stern, by the shirtless man holding the long tiller. Another sailor was up in the very bow, scanning the waters ahead for signs of submerged mudbanks, and two more padded about the deck, now and again adjusting a rope to the sails. The rest of the crew were all below. One of the pair stopped to check the lashings on the rowboat tied upside down on the deck; she waited for him to goon before speaking.\\n\\n\\\"Fool!\\\" she muttered softly. \\\"Me, Elayne, not you, so don't glower at me like that.\\\" She continued in a whisper. \\\"A Gray Man is after Mat, Elayne. That must be what that dream meant, but I never saw it. I am a fool!\\\"\\n\\nThe glow around Elayne vanished. \\\"Do not be so hard on yourself,\\\" she whispered back. \\\"Perhaps it does mean that, but I did not see it, and neither did Nynaeve.\\\" She paused; red-gold curls swung as she shook her head. \\\"But it doesn't make sense, Egwene. Why would a Gray Man be after Mat? There is nothing in my letter to my mother that could harm us in the slightest.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not know why.\\\" Egwene frowned. \\\"There has to be a reason. I am sure that is what that dream means.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Even if you are right, Egwene, there is nothing you can do about it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know that,\\\" Egwene said bitterly. She did not even know whether he was ahead of them or behind. Ahead, she suspected; Mat would have left without any delay. \\\"Either way,\\\" she muttered to herself, \\\"it does no good. I finally know what one of my dreams means, and it doesn't help a hemstitch worth!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"But if you know one meaning,\\\" Elayne told her, \\\"perhaps now you will know others. If we sit down and talk them over, perhaps-\\\"\\n\\nThe Blue Crane gave a shuddering lurch, throwing Elayne to the deck and Egwene on top of her. When Egwene struggled to her feet, the shoreline no longer slid by. The vessel had halted, with the bow raised and the deck canted to one side. The sails flapped noisily in the wind.\\n\\nChin Ellisor pushed himself to his feet and ran for the bow, leaving the tillerman to rise on his own. \\\"You blind worm of a farmer!\\\" he roared toward the man in the bow, who was clinging to the rail to keep from falling the rest of the way over. \\\"You dirt-grubbing get of a goat! Haven't you been on the river long enough yet to recognize how the water ruffles over a mudflat?\\\" He seized the man on the rail by the shoulders and pulled him back onto the deck, but only to shove him out of the way so he could peer down over the bow himself. \\\"If you've put a hole in my hull, I will use your guts for caulking!\\\"\\n\\nThe other crewmen were clambering to their feet, now, and more came scrambling up from below. They all ran to cluster around the captain.\\n\\nNynaeve appeared at the head of the ladder that led down to the passenger cabins, still straightening her skirts. With a sharp tug at her braid, she frowned at the knot of men in the bow, then strode to Egwene and Elayne. \\\"He ran us onto something, did he? After all his talk of knowing the river as well as he knows his wife. The woman probably never receives as much as a smile from him.\\\" She jerked the thick braid again and went forward, pushing her way through the sailors to reach the captain. They were all intent on the water below.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was no point in joining her. He will have us off faster if he's left to it. Nynaeve was probably telling him how to do the work. Elayne seemed to feel the same way, from the rueful shake of the head she gave as she watched the captain and crewmen all turn their attention respectfully from whatever was under the bow to Nynaeve.\\n\\nA ripple of agitation ran through the men, and grew stronger. Fora moment the captain's hands could be seen, waving in protest over the other men's heads, and then Nynaeve was striding away from them-they made way, bowing now-with Ellisor hurrying beside her and mopping his round face with a large red handkerchief. His anxious voice became audible as they drew near.\\n\\n\\\"... a good fifteen miles to the next village on the Andor side, Aes Sedai, and at least five or six miles downriver on the Cairhien side! Andoran soldiers hold it, it is true, but they do not hold the miles from hereto there!\\\" He wiped at his face as if he were dripping sweat.\\n\\n\\\"A sunken ship,\\\" Nynaeve told the the other two women. \\\"The work of river brigands, the captain thinks. He means to try backing off it with the sweeps, but he does not seem to think that will work.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We were running fast when we hit, Aes Sedai. I wanted to make good speed for you.\\\" Ellisor rubbed even harder at his face. He was afraid the Aes Sedai would blame him, Egwene realized. \\\"We are stuck hard. But I do not think we are taking water, Aes Sedai. There is no need to worry. Another ship will be along. Two sets of sweeps will surely get us free. There is no need for you to be put ashore, Aes Sedai. I do swear it, by the Light.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You were thinking of leaving the ship?\\\" Egwene asked. \\\"Do you think that is wise?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course, it's-!\\\" Nynaeve stopped and frowned at her. Egwene returned the frown with a level stare. Nynaeve went on in a calmer tone, if still a tight one. \\\"The captain says it maybe an hour before another ship comes along. One with enough sweeps to make a difference. Ora day. Or two, maybe. I do not think we can afford to waste a day or two waiting. We can be in this village-what did you call it, Captain? Jurene?-we can walk to Jurene in two hours or less. If Captain Ellisor frees his vessel as quickly as he hopes, we can reboard then. He says he will stop to see if we are there. If he does not get free, though, we can take ship from Jurene. We may even find a vessel waiting. The captain says traders do stop there, because of the Andoran soldiers.\\\" She drew a deep breath, but her voice grew tighter. \\\"Have I explained my reasoning fully enough? Do you need more?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is clear tome,\\\" Elayne put in quickly before Egwene could speak. \\\"And it sounds a good idea. You think it is a good idea, too, don't you, Egwene?\\\"\\n\\nEgwene gave a grudging nod. \\\"I suppose it is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But, Aes Sedai,\\\" Ellisor protested, \\\"at least go to the Andor bank. The war, Aes Sedai. Brigands, and every sort of ruffian, and the soldiers not much better. The very wreck under our bow shows the sort of men they are.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We have not seen a living soul on the Cairhien side,\\\" Nynaeve said, \\\"and in any case, we are far from defenseless, Captain. And I will not walk fifteen miles when I can walk six.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Of course, Aes Sedai.\\\" Ellisor really was sweating, now. \\\"I did not mean to suggest.... Of course you are not defenseless, Aes Sedai. I did not mean to suggest it.\\\" He wiped his face furiously, but it still glistened.\\n\\nNynaeve opened her mouth, glanced at Egwene, and seemed to change what she had intended to say. \\\"I am going below for my things,\\\" she told the air halfway between Egwene and Elayne, then turned on Ellisor. \\\"Captain, make your rowboat ready.\\\" He bowed and scurried away even before she turned for the hatch, and was shouting for men to put the boat over the side before she was below.\\n\\n\\\"If one of you says \\\"up,\\\"\\\" Elayne murmured, \\\"the other says \\\"down.\\\" If you do not stop it, we may not reach Tear.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We will reach Tear,\\\" Egwene said. \\\"And sooner once Nynaeve realizes she is not the Wisdom any longer. We are all\\\"-she did not say Accepted; there were two many men hurrying about-\\\"on the same level, now.\\\" Elayne sighed.\\n\\nIn short order the rowboat had ferried them ashore, and they were standing on the bank with walking staffs in hand, their belongings in bundles on their backs, and hung about them in pouches and scripts. Rolling grassland and scattered copses surrounded them, though the hills were forested a few miles in from the river. The sweeps on the Blue Crane were cutting up froth, but failing to budge the vessel. Egwene turned and started south without another glance. And before Nynaeve could take the lead.\\n\\nWhen the others caught up to her, Elayne gave her a reproving look. Nynaeve walked staring straight ahead. Elayne told Nynaeve what Egwene had said about Mat and a Gray Man, but the older woman listened in silence and only said, \\\"He'll have to look after himself,\\\" without pausing in her stride. After a time, the Daughter-Heir gave up trying to make the other two talk, and they all walked in silence.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Clumps of trees close along the riverbank soon hid the Blue Crane, thick growths of wateroak and willow. They did not go through the copses, small as they were, for anything at all might be hiding in the shadows under their branches. A few low bushes grew scattered between the thickets here close to the river, but they were too sparse to hide a child much less a brigand, and they were widely spaced.\\n\\n\\\"If we do see brigands,\\\" Egwene announced, \\\"I am going to defend myself. There is no Amyrlin looking over our shoulders here.\\\"\\n\\nNynaeve's mouth thinned. \\\"If need be,\\\" she told the air in front of her, \\\"we can frighten off any brigands the way we did those Whitecloaks. If we can find no other way.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I wish you would not talk of brigands,\\\" Elayne said. \\\"I would like to reach this village without-\\\"\\n\\nA figure in brown and gray rose from behind a bush standing by itself almost in front of them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene embraced saidar before the scream was well out of her mouth, and she saw the glow around Elayne, too. For an instant she wondered if Ellisor had heard their screams and would send help; the Blue Crane could not be more than a mile upriver. Then she was dismissing the need for help, already weaving flows of Air and Fire into lightning. She could almost still hear their yelling.\\n\\nNynaeve was simply standing therewith her arms crossed beneath her breasts and a firm expression on her face, but Egwene was not sure whether that was because she was not angry enough to touch the True Source, or because she had already seen what Egwene was just now seeing. The person facing them was a woman no older than Egwene herself, if somewhat taller.\\n\\nShe did not let goof saidar. Men were sometimes silly enough to think a woman was harmless merely because she was a woman; Egwene had no such illusions. Ina corner of her mind she noted that Elayne was no longer surrounded by the glow. The Daughter-Heir must still harbor foolish notions. She was never a Seanchan prisoner.\\n\\nEgwene did not think many men would be stupid enough to think the woman in front of them was not dangerous, even though her hands were empty and she wore no visible weapon. Blue-green eyes and reddish haircut short except fora narrow tail that hung to her shoulders; soft, laced knee-boots and close-fitting coat and breeches all in the shades of earth and rock. Such coloring and clothing had been described to her once; this woman was Aiel.\\n\\nLooking at her, Egwene felt a sudden odd affinity for the woman. She could not understand it. She looks like Rand's cousin, that's why. Yet even that feeling-almost of kinship-could not stifle her curiosity. What under the Light are Aiel doing here? They never leave the Waste; not since the Aiel War. She had heard all of her life how deadly Aiel were-these Maidens of the Spear no less than the members of the male warrior societies-but she felt no particular fear and, indeed, some irritation at having been afraid. With saidar feeding the One Power into her, she had no need to fear anyone. Except maybe a fully trained sister, she admitted. But certainly not one woman, even if she is Aiel.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"My name is Aviendha,\\\" the Aiel woman said, \\\"of the Nine Valleys sept of the Taardad Aiel.\\\" Her face was as flat and expressionless as her voice. \\\"I am Far Dareis Mai, a Maiden of the Spear.\\\" She paused a moment, studying them. \\\"You have not the look in your faces, but we saw the rings. In your lands, you have women much like our Wise Ones, the women called Aes Sedai. Are you women of the White Tower, or not?\\\"\\n\\nFora moment Egwene did feel unease. We? She looked around them carefully, but saw no one behind any bush within twenty paces.\\n\\nIf there were others, they had to be in the next thicket, more than two hundred paces ahead, or in the last one, twice that distance behind. Too far to threaten. Unless they have bows. But they would have to be good with them. Back home, in the competitions at Bel Tine and Sunday, only the best bowmen shot at any distance much beyond two hundred paces.\\n\\nBut she still felt better knowing she could hurl a lightning bolt at anyone who tried such a shot.\\n\\n\\\"We are women of the White Tower,\\\" Nynaeve said calmly. She was very obvious in not looking around for other Aiel. Even Elayne was peering about. \\\"Whether you would consider any of us wise is another matter,\\\" Nynaeve went on. \\\"What do you want of us?\\\"\\n\\nAviendha smiled. She was really quite lovely, Egwene realized; the grim expression had masked it. \\\"You talk as the Wise Ones do. To the point, and small suffering of fools.\\\" Her smile faded, but her voice remained calm. \\\"One of us lies gravely hurt, perhaps dying. The Wise Ones often heal those who would surely die without them, and I have heard Aes Sedai can do more. Will you aid her?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene almost shook her head in confusion. A friend of hers is dying? She sounds as if she is asking if we'll lend her a cup of barley flour!\\n\\n\\\"I will help her if I can,\\\" Nynaeve said slowly. \\\"I cannot make promises, Aviendha. She may die despite anything I can do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Death comes for us all,\\\" the Aiel said. \\\"We can only choose how to face it when it comes. I will take you to her.\\\"\\n\\nTwo women in Aiel garb stood up no more than ten paces away, one out of a little fold in the ground that Egwene would not have supposed could hide a dog, and the other in grass that reached only halfway to her knees. They lowered their black veils as they stood-that gave her another jolt; she was sure Elayne had told her the Aiel only hid their faces when they might have to do killing-and settled the cloth that had wrapped their heads about their shoulders. One had the same reddish hair as Aviendha, with gray eyes, the other dark blue eyes and hairlike fire. Neither was any older than Egwene or Elayne, and both looked ready to use the short spears in their hands.\\n\\nThe woman with fiery hair handed Aviendha weapons; along, heavy-bladed knife to belt at her waist, and a bristling quiver for the other side; a dark, curved bow that had the dull shine of horn, in a case to fasten on her back; and four short spears with long points to grip in her left hand along with a small, round hide buckler. Aviendha wore them as naturally as a woman in Emond's Field would wear a scarf, just as her companions did. \\\"Come,\\\" she said, and started for the thicket they had already passed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene finally released saidar.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She suspected all three of the Aiel could stab her with those spears before she could do anything about it, if that was what they wanted, but though they were wary, she did not think they would. And what if Nynaeve can't Heal their friend? I wish she would ask before she makes these decisions that involve all of us!\\n\\nAs they headed for the trees, the Aiel scanned the land around them as if they expected the empty landscape to hold enemies as adept at hiding as themselves. Aviendha strode ahead, and Nynaeve kept up with her.\\n\\n\\\"I am Elayne of House Trakand,\\\" Egwene's friend said as if making conversation, \\\"Daughter-Heir to Morgase, Queen of Andor.\\\"\\n\\nEgwene stumbled. Light, is she mad? I know Andor fought them in the Aiel War. It might be twenty years, but they say Aiel have long memories.\\n\\nBut the flame-haired Aiel closest to her only said, \\\"I am Bain, of the Black Rock sept of the Shaarad Aiel.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am Chiad,\\\" the shorter, blonder woman on her other side said, \\\"of the Stones River sept of the Goshien Aiel.\\\"\\n\\nBain and Chiad glanced at Egwene; their expressions did not change, but she had the feeling they thought she was showing bad manners.\\n\\n\\\"I am Egwene al'Vere,\\\" she told them. They seemed to expect more, so she added, \\\"Daughter of Marin al'Vere, of Emond's Field, in the Two Rivers.\\\" That seemed to satisfy them, in away, but she would have bet they understood it no more than she did all these septs and clans. It must mean families, in someway.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You are first-sisters?\\\" Bain seemed to betaking in all three of them.\\n\\nEgwene thought they must mean sisters as it was used for Aes Sedai, and said'Yes,\\\" just as Elayne said'No.\\\"\\n\\nChiad and Bain exchanged a very quick look that suggested they were talking to women who might not be completely whole in their minds.\\n\\n\\\"First-sister,\\\" Elayne told Egwene as if she were lecturing, \\\"means women who have the same mother. Second-sister means their mothers are sisters.\\\" She turned her words to the Aiel. \\\"We neither of us know a great deal of your people. I ask you to excuse our ignorance. I sometimes think of Egwene as a first-sister, but we are not blood kin.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then why do you not speak the words before your Wise Ones?\\\" Chiad asked. \\\"Bain and I became first-sisters.\\\"\\n\\nEgwene blinked. \\\"How can you become first-sisters? Either you have the same mother, or you do not. I do not mean to offend. Most of what I know about the Maidens of the Spear comes from the little Elayne has told me. I know you fight in battle and don't care for men, but no more than that.\\\" Elayne nodded; the way she had described the Maidens to Egwene had sounded much like across between female Warders and the Red Ajah.\\n\\nThat look flashed back across the Aiel's faces, as if they were not certain how much sense Egwene and Elayne had.\\n\\n\\\"We do not care for men?\\\" Chiad murmured as if puzzled.\\n\\nBain knotted her brow in thought. \\\"What you say comes near truth, yet misses it completely. When we wed the spear, we pledge to be bound to no manor child. Some do give up the spear, fora manor a child\\\"-her expression said she herself did not understand this-\\\"but once given up, the spear cannot betaken back.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Or if she is chosen to go to Rhuidean,\\\" Chiad put in. \\\"A Wise One cannot be wedded to the spear.\\\"\\n\\nBain looked at her as if she had announced the sky was blue, or that rain fell from clouds. The glance she gave Egwene and Elayne said perhaps they did not know these things. \\\"Yes, that is true. Though some try to struggle against it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, they do.\\\" Chiad sounded as though she and Bain were sharing something between them.\\n\\n\\\"But I have gone far from the trail of my explanation,\\\" Bain went on. \\\"The Maidens do not dance the spears with one another even when our clans do, but the Shaarad Aiel and the Goshien Aiel have held blood feud between them over four hundred years, so Chiad and I felt our wedding pledge was not enough. We went to speak the words before the Wise Ones of our clans-she risking her life in my hold, and I in hers-to bond us as first-sisters. As is proper for first-sisters who are Maidens, we guard each other's backs, and neither will let a man come to her without the other. I would not say we do not care for men.\\\" Chiad nodded, with just the hint of a smile. \\\"Have I made the truth clear to you, Egwene?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Egwene said faintly. She glanced at Elayne and saw the bewilderment in her blue eyes she knew must be in her own. Not Red Ajah. Green, maybe. Across between Warders and Green Ajah, and I do not understand another thing out of that. \\\"The truth is quite clear tome, now, Bain. Thank you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If the two of you feel you are first-sisters,\\\" Chiad said, \\\"you should go to your Wise Ones and speak the words. But you are Wise Ones, though young. I do not know how it would be done in that case.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene did not know whether to laugh or blush. She kept having an image of her and Elayne sharing the same man. No, that is only for first-sisters who are Maidens of the Spear. Isn't it? Elayne did have spots of color in her cheeks, and Egwene was sure she was thinking of Rand. But we do not share him, Elayne. We can neither of us have him.\\n\\nElayne cleared her throat. \\\"I do not think there is a need for that, Chiad. Egwene and I already guard each other's backs.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How can that be?\\\" Chiad asked slowly. \\\"You are not wedded to the spear. And you are Wise Ones. Who would lift a hand against a Wise One? This confuses me. What need have you for guarding of backs?\\\"\\n\\nEgwene was spared having to come up with an answer by their arrival at the copse. There were two more Aiel under the trees, deep into the thicket, but next to the river. Jolien, of the Salt Flat sept of the Nakai Aiel, a blue-eyed woman with red-gold hair nearly the color of Elayne's, was watching over Dailin, of Aviendha's sept and clan. Sweat matted Dailin's hair, making it a darker red, and she only opened her gray eyes once, when they first came near, then closed them again. Her coat and shirt lay beside her, and red stained the bandages wrapped around her middle.\\n\\n\\\"She took a sword,\\\" Aviendha said. \\\"Some of those fools that the oath-breaking treekillers call soldiers thought we were another handful of the bandits who infest this land. We had to kill them to convince them otherwise, but Dailin.... Can you heal her, Aes Sedai?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Nynaeve went to her knees beside the injured woman and lifted the bandages enough to peer under them. She winced at what she saw. \\\"Have you moved her since she was hurt? There is scabbing, but it has been broken.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She wanted to die near water,\\\" Aviendha said. She glanced once at the river, then quickly away again. Egwene thought she might have shivered, too.\\n\\n\\\"Fools!\\\" Nynaeve began rummaging in her pouch of herbs. \\\"You could have killed her moving her with an injury like that. She wanted to die near water!\\\" she said disgustedly. \\\"Just because you carry weapons like men doesn't mean you have to think like them.\\\" She pulled a deep wooden cup out of the bag and pushed it at Chiad. \\\"Fill that. I need water to mix these so she can drink them.\\\"\\n\\nChiad and Bain stepped to the river's edge and returned together. Their faces never changed, but Egwene thought they had almost expected the river to reach up and grab them.\\n\\n\\\"If we had not brought her hereto the... river, Aes Sedai,\\\" Aviendha said, \\\"we would never have found you, and she would have died anyway.\\\"\\n\\nNynaeve snorted and began sifting powdered herbs into the cup of water, muttering to herself. \\\"Corenroot helps make blood, and dogwort for knitting flesh, and healall, of course, and....\\\" Her mutters trailed off into whispers too low to hear. Aviendha was frowning at her.\\n\\n\\\"The Wise Ones use herbs, Aes Sedai, but I had not heard that Aes Sedai used them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I use what I use!\\\" Nynaeve snapped and went back to sorting through her powders and whispering to herself.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She truly does sound like a Wise One,\\\" Chiad told Bain softly, and the other woman gave a tight nod.\\n\\nDailin was the only Aiel without her weapons in hand, and they all looked ready to use them in a heartbeat. Nynaeve surely isn't soothing anyone, Egwene thought. Get them talking about something. Anything. Nobody feels like fighting if they're talking of something peaceful.\\n\\n\\\"Do not be offended,\\\" she said carefully, \\\"but I notice you are all uneasy about the river. It does not grow violent unless there is a storm. You could swim in it if you wanted, though the current is strong away from the banks.\\\" Elayne shook her head.\\n\\nThe Aiel looked blank; Aviendha said, \\\"I saw a man-a Shienaran-do this swimming... once.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't understand,\\\" Egwene said. \\\"I know there isn't much water in the Waste, but you said you were \\\"Stones River sept,\\\" Jolien. Surely you have swum in the Stones River?\\\" Elayne looked at her as if she were mad.\\n\\n\\\"Swim,\\\" Jolien said awkwardly. \\\"It means... to get in the water? All that water? With nothing to hold onto.\\\" She shuddered. \\\"Aes Sedai, before I crossed the Dragonwall, I had never seen flowing water I could not step across. The Stones River.... Some claim it had water in it once, but that is only boasting. There are only the stones. The oldest records of the Wise Ones and the clan chief say there was never anything but stones since the first day our sept broke off from the High Plain sept and claimed that land. Swim!\\\" She gripped her spears as if to fight the very word. Chiad and Bain moved apace further from the riverbank.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene sighed. And colored when she met Elayne's eye. Well, I am not a Daughter-Heir, to know all these things. I will learn them, though. As she looked around at the Aiel women, she realized that far from soothing them, she had put them even more on edge. If they try anything, I will hold them with Air. She had no idea whether she could seize four people at once, but she opened herself to saidar, wove the flows in Air and held them ready. The Power pulsed in her with eagerness to be used. No glow surrounded Elayne, and she wondered why. Elayne looked right at her and shook her head.\\n\\n\\\"I would never harm an Aes Sedai,\\\" Aviendha said abruptly. \\\"I would have you know that. Whether Dailin lives or dies, it makes no difference in that. I would never use this\\\"-she lifted one short spear a trifle-\\\"against any woman. And you are Aes Sedai.\\\" Egwene had the sudden feeling that the woman was trying to soothe them.\\n\\n\\\"I knew that,\\\" Elayne said, as if talking to Aviendha, but her eyes told Egwene the words were for her. \\\"No one knows much of your people, but I was taught that Aiel never harm women unless they are-what did you call it?-wedded to the spear.\\\"\\n\\nBain seemed to think Elayne was failing to see truth clearly again. \\\"That is not exactly the way of it, Elayne. If a woman not wedded came at me with weapons, I would drub her until she knew better of it. A man.... A man might think a woman of your lands was wedded if she bore weapons; I do not know. Men can be strange.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Of course,\\\" Elayne said. \\\"But so long as we do not attack you with weapons, you will not try to harm us.\\\" All four Aiel looked shocked, and she gave Egwene a quick significant look.\\n\\nEgwene held onto saidar anyway. Just because Elayne had been taught something did not mean it was true, even if the Aiel said the same thing. And saidar felt... good in her.\\n\\nNynaeve lifted up Dailin's head and began pouring her mixture into the woman's mouth. \\\"Drink,\\\" she said firmly. \\\"I know it tastes bad, but drink it all.\\\" Dailin swallowed, choked, and swallowed again.\\n\\n\\\"Not even then, Aes Sedai,\\\" Aviendha told Elayne. She kept her eyes on Dailin and Nynaeve, though. \\\"It is said that once, before the Breaking of the World, we served the Aes Sedai, though no story says how. We failed in that service. Perhaps that is the sin that sent us to the Three-fold Land; I do not know. No one knows what the sin was, except maybe the Wise Ones, or the clan chiefs, and they do not say. It is said if we fail the Aes Sedai again, they will destroy us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Drink it all,\\\" Nynaeve muttered. \\\"Swords! Swords and muscles and no brains!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are not going to destroy you,\\\" Elayne said firmly, and Aviendha nodded.\\n\\n\\\"As you say, Aes Sedai. But the old stories are all clear on one point. We must never fight Aes Sedai. If you bring your lightnings and your balefire against me, I will dance with them, but I will not harm you.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2393,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\nChapter: 47"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But at the next four inns he found, the innkeeper gave him the same answer as the first; the last two almost threw him out bodily when he offered to dice fora bed. And when the owner of the fifth told him he could not give a pallet to the Queen herself-this at a place called The Good Queen-he sighed and asked, \"What about your stable, then? Surely we can bed down in the hayloft fora price.\"\n\n\"My stable is for horses,\" the round-faced man said, \"not that many are left in the city.\" He had been polishing a silver cup; now he opened one door of a shallow cupboard standing on top of a deep, drawered chest and placed it inside with others; none of them matched. A tooled-leather dice cup sat atop the chest, just beyond the arc of the cupboard's doors. \"I do not put people in thereto frighten the horses, and perhaps make off with them. Those who pay me for stabling their animals want them well tended, and I've two of my own in there, besides. There are no beds in my stable for you.\"\n\nMat eyed the dice cup thoughtfully. He pulled a gold Andoran crown out of his pocket and set it atop the chest. The next coin was a silver Tar Valon mark, then a gold one, and a gold Tairen crown. The innkeeper looked at the coins and licked his plump lips. Mat added two silver Illianer marks and another gold Andoran crown, and looked at the round-faced man. The innkeeper hesitated. Mat reached for the coins. The innkeeper's hand reached them first.\n\n\"Perhaps just the two of you would not disturb the horses too greatly.\"\n\nMat smiled at him. \"Speaking of horses, what price for those two of yours? With saddles and bridles, of course.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I will not sell my horses,\" the man said, clutching the coins to his chest.\n\nMat picked up the dice cup and rattled it. \"Twice as much again against the horses, saddles, and bridles.\" He shook his coat pocket to make the loose coins rattle, too, to show he had more to cover the wager. \"My one toss against the best of your two.\" He almost laughed as greed lit the innkeeper's entire face.\n\nWhen Mat walked into the stable, the first thing he did was check along the half-dozen stalls with horses in them fora pair of brown geldings. They were nondescript animals, but they were his. They needed currying badly, but otherwise they seemed in good condition, especially considering that all the stablemen but one had runoff. The innkeeper had been extremely disparaging of their complaints that they could no longer live on what he paid them, and he seemed to think it a crime that the one man who remained had actually had the audacity to say he was going home to bed just because he was tired from doing three men's work.\n\n\"Five sixes,\" Thom muttered behind him. The looks he cast around the stable did not seem as enthralled as they might, seeing that he had suggested it in the first place. Dust motes shone in the last light of the setting sun coming through the big doors, and the ropes used to hoist hay bales hung like vines from pulleys in the roof beams. The hayloft was dim in the gloom above. \"When he threw four sixes and a five on his second toss, he thought you'd lost for sure, and so did I. You have not been winning every toss of late.\"\n\n\"I win enough.\" Mat was just as relieved not to be winning every throw. Luck was one thing, but remembering that night still sent shivers down his back. Still, for one moment as he shook that dice cup, he had all but known what the pips would be. Ashe tossed the quarterstaff up into the loft, thunder crashed in the sky. He scrambled up the ladder, calling back to Thom. \"This was a good idea. I'd think you would be happy to be in out of the rain tonight.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Most of the hay was in bales stacked against the outer walls, but there was more than enough loose for him to make abed with his cloak over it. Thom appeared at the top of the ladder as he was pulling two loaves of bread and a wedge of green-veined cheese from his leather scrip. The innkeeper-his name was Jeral Florry-had parted with the food for merely enough coin to have bought one of those horses in more peaceful days. They ate while rain began drumming on the roof, washing the food down with water from their waterbottles-Florry had had no wine at any price-and when they were done, Thom dugout his tinderbox and thumbed his long-stemmed pipe full of tabac and settled back fora smoke.\n\nMat was lying on his back, staring at the shadowed roof and wondering if the rain would break before morning-he wanted that letter out of his hands as quickly as possible-when he heard an axle creak into the stable. Rolling to the edge of the loft, he peered down. There was enough dusk left for him to see.\n\nA slender woman was straightening from the shafts of the high-wheeled cart she had just dragged in out of the rain, pulling off her cloak and muttering to herself as she shook the wet from it. Her hair was plaited in a multitude of small braids, and her silk dress-he thought it was a pale green-was elaborately embroidered across her breasts. The dress had been fine, once, but now it was tattered and stained. She knuckled her back, still talking to herself in a low voice, and hurried to the stable doors to peer out into the rain. Just as hurriedly, she ducked out to pull the big doors shut, enclosing the stable in darkness. There was a rustling below, a clink and a slosh, and suddenly a small flare of light bloomed into a lantern in her hands. She looked around, found a hook on a stall post, hung the lantern, and went to dig under the roped canvas covering her cart."},{"from":"human","value":"\"She did that quickly,\" Thom said softly around his pipe."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"She could have set fire to the stable striking flint and steel in the dark like that.\"\n\nThe woman came outwith the end of a loaf of bread, which she gnawed as if it were hard and her hunger did not care.\n\n\"Is there any of that cheese left?\" Mat whispered. Thom shook his head.\n\nThe woman began sniffing at the air, and Mat realized she probably smelled Thom's tabac smoke. He was about to stand and announce their presence when one of the stable doors opened again.\n\nThe woman crouched, ready to run, as four men walked in out of the rain, doffing their wet cloaks to reveal pale coats with wide sleeves and embroidery across the chest, and baggy breeches embroidered down the legs. Their clothes might be fancy, but they were all big men, and their faces were grim.\n\n\"So, Aludra,\" a man in a yellow coat said, \"you did not run so fast as you thought to, eh?\" He had a strange accent, to Mat's ear.\n\n\"Tammuz,\" the woman said as if it were a curse. \"It is not enough that you cause me to be cast out of the Guild with your blundering, you great ox-brain you, but now you chase after meas well.\" She had the same odd way of speaking as the man. \"Do you think that I am glad to see you?\"\n\nThe one called Tammuz laughed. \"You area very large fool, Aludra, which I always knew. Had you merely gone away, you could have lived along life in some quiet place. But you could not forget the secrets in your head, eh? Did you believe we would not hear that you try to earn your way making what it is the right of the Guild alone to make?\" Suddenly there was a knife in his hand. \"It will be a great pleasure to cut your throat, Aludra.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mat was not even aware that he had stood up until one of the doubled ropes dangling from the ceiling was in his hands and he had launched himself out of the loft. Burn me fora bloody fool!\n\nHe only had time for that one frantic thought, and then he was plowing through the cloaked men, sending them toppling like pins in a game of bowls. The ropes slipped through his hands, and he fell, tumbling across the straw-covered floor himself, coins spilling from his pockets, to end up against a stall. When he scrambled to his feet, the four men were already rising, too. And they all had knives in their hands, now. Light-blind fool! Burn me! Burn me!\n\n\"Mat!\"\n\nHe looked up, and Thom tossed his quarterstaff down to him. He snagged it out of the air just in time to knock the blade out of Tammuz's fist and thump him a sharp crack on the side of the head. The man crumpled, but the other three were right behind, and fora hectic moment Mat had all he could do with a whirling staff to keep knife blades away from him, rapping knees and ankles and ribs until he could land a good blow on ahead. When the last man fell, he stared at them a moment, then raised his glare to the woman. \"Did you have to choose this stable to be murdered in?\"\n\nShe slipped a slim-bladed dagger back into a sheath at her belt. \"I would have helped you, but I feared that you might mistake me for one of these great buffoons if I came near with steel in my hand. And I chose this stable because the rain is wet and so am I, and no one was watching this place.\"\n\nShe was older than he had thought, at least tenor fifteen years older than he, but pretty still, with large, dark eyes and a small, full mouth that seemed on the point of a pout. Or getting ready fora kiss. He gave a small laugh and leaned on his staff. \"Well, what is done is done. I suppose you were not trying to bring us trouble.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Thom was climbing down from the loft, awkwardly because of his leg, and Aludra looked from him to Mat."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The gleeman had put his cloak back on; he seldom let anyone see him without it, especially for the first time. \"This is like a story,\" she said. \"I am rescued by a gleeman and a young hero\"-she frowned at the men sprawled on the stable floor-\"from these whose mothers were pigs!\"\n\n\"Why did they want to kill you?\" Mat asked. \"He said something about secrets.\"\n\n\"The secrets,\" Thom said in very nearly his performing voice, \"of making fireworks, unless I miss my guess. You are an Illuminator, are you not?\" He made a courtly bow with an elaborate swirl of his cloak. \"I am Thom Merrilin, a gleeman, as you have seen.\" Almost as an afterthought, he added, \"And this is Mat, a young man with a knack for finding trouble.\"\n\n\"I was an Illuminator,\" Aludra said stiffly, \"but this great pig Tammuz, he ruined a performance for the King of Cairhien, and nearly he destroyed the chapter house, too. But me, I was Mistress of the Chapter House, so it was me that the Guild held responsible.\" Her voice became defensive. \"I do not tell the secrets of the Guild, no matter what that Tammuz says, but I will not let myself starve while I can make fireworks. I am no more in the Guild, so the laws of the Guild, they do not apply tome now.\"\n\n\"Galldrian,\" Thom said, sounding almost as wooden as she had. \"Well, he is a dead king now, and he'll see no more fireworks.\"\n\n\"The Guild,\" she said, sounding tired, \"they all but blame me for this war in Cairhien, as if that one night of disaster, it made Galldrian die.\" Thom grimaced. \"It seems I can no longer remain here,\" she went on. \"Tammuz and these other oxen, they will wake soon. Perhaps this time they will tell the soldiers that I stole what I have made.\" She eyed Thom and then Mat, frowning in thought, and seemed to reach a decision. \"I must reward you, but I have no money. However, I have something that is perhaps as good as gold. Maybe better. We shall see what you think.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mat exchanged glances with Thomas she went to root under the canvas covering her cart. I'll help anyone who can pay. He thought a speculative light had appeared in Thom's blue eyes.\n\nAludra separated one bundle from a number like it, a short roll of heavy, oiled cloth almost as fat as her arms would go around. Setting it down on the straw, she undid the binding cords and unrolled the cloth across the floor. Four rows of pockets ran along the length of it, the pockets in each row larger than those in the one before. Each pocket held a wax-coated cylinder of paper just large enough for its end, trailing a dark cord, to stick out.\n\n\"Fireworks,\" Thom said. \"I knew it. Aludra, you must not do this. You can sell those for enough to live ten days or more at a good inn, and eat well everyday. Well, anywhere but herein Aringill.\"\n\nKneeling beside the long strip of oiled cloth, she sniffed at him. \"Be quiet, you old one you.\" She made it sound not unkindly. \"I am not allowed to show gratitude? You think I would give you this if I had no more for selling? Attend me closely.\"\n\nMat squatted beside her, fascinated. He had seen fireworks twice in his life. Peddlers had brought them to Emond's Field, at great expense to the Village Council. When he was ten, he had tried to cut one open to see what was inside, and had caused an uproar. Bran al'Vere, the Mayor, had cuffed him; Doral Barran, who had been the Wisdom then, had switched him; and his father had strapped him when he got home. Nobody in the village would talk to him fora month, except for Rand and Perrin, and they mostly told him what a fool he had been. He reached out to touch one of the cylinders. Aludra slapped his hand away."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Attend me first, I say!"},{"from":"gpt","value":"These smallest, they will make aloud bang, but no more.\" They were the size of his little finger. \"These next, they make a bang and a bright light. The next, they make the bang, and the light, and many sparkles. The last\"-these were fatter than his thumb-\"make all of those things, but the sparkles, they are many colors. Almost like a night-flower, but not up in the sky.\"\n\nNightflower? Mat thought.\n\n\"You must be especially careful of these. You see, the fuse, it is very long.\" She saw his blank look, and waggled one of the long, dark cords at him. \"This, this!\"\n\n\"Where you put the fire,\" he muttered. \"I know that.\" Thom made a sound in his throat and stroked his mustaches with a knuckle as if covering a smile.\n\nAludra grunted. \"Where you put the fire. Yes. Do not stay close to any of them, but these largest, you runaway from when you light the fuse. You comprehend me?\" She briskly rolled up the long cloth. \"You may sell these if you wish, or use them. Remember, you must never put this close to fire. Fire will make them all explode. So many as this at once, it could destroy a house, maybe.\" She hesitated over retying the cords, then added, \"And there is one last thing, which you may have heard. Do not cut open any of these, as some great fools do to see what is inside. Sometimes when what is inside touches air, it will explode without the need of fire. You can lose fingers, or even a hand.\"\n\n\"I've heard that,\" Mat said dryly.\n\nShe frowned at him as if wondering whether he meant to do it anyway, then finally pushed the rolled bundle toward him. \"Here. I must go now, before these sons of goats awaken.\" Glancing at the still open door, and the rain falling in the night beyond, she sighed. \"Perhaps I will find somewhere else dry. I think I will go toward Lugard, tomorrow. These pigs, they will expect me to go to Caemlyn, yes?\""},{"from":"human","value":"It was even further to Lugard than to Caemlyn, and Mat suddenly remembered that hard end of bread."},{"from":"gpt","value":"And she had said she had no money. The fireworks would buy no meals until she found someone who could afford them. She had never even looked at the gold and silver that had spilled from his pockets when he fell; it glittered and sparkled among the straw in the lantern light. Ah, Light, I cannot let her go hungry, I suppose. He scooped up as much as he could reach quickly.\n\n\"Uh... Aludra? I have plenty, you can see. I thought perhaps....\" He held out the coins toward her. \"I can always win more.\"\n\nShe paused with her cloak half around her shoulders, then smiled at Thomas she swept it the rest of the way on. \"He is young yet, eh?\"\n\n\"He is young,\" Thom agreed. \"And not half so bad as he would like to think himself. Sometimes he is not.\"\n\nMat glowered at both of them and lowered his hand.\n\nLifting the shafts of her cart, Aludra got it turned around and started for the door, giving Tammuz a kick in the ribs as she passed. He groaned groggily.\n\n\"I would like to know something, Aludra,\" Thom said. \"How did you light that lantern so quickly in the dark?\"\n\nStopping short of the door, she smiled over her shoulder at him. \"You wish me to tell you all of my secrets? I am grateful, but I am not in love. That secret, not even the Guild knows, for it is my discovery alone. I will tell you this much. When I know how to make it work properly, and work only when I want it to, sticks will make my fortune for me.\" Throwing her weight against the shafts, she pulled the cart into the rain, and the night swallowed her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Sticks?\" Mat said. He wondered if she might not be a little strange in the head.\n\nTammuz groaned again.\n\n\"Best we do the same as she, boy,\" Thom said. \"Else it's a choice between slitting four throats and maybe spending the next few days explaining ourselves to the Queen's Guards. These look the sort who'd set them onus out of spite. And they have enough to be spiteful for, I suppose.\" One of Tammuz's companions twitched as if coming to, and muttered something incomprehensible.\n\nBy the time they had gathered everything and saddled the horses, Tammuz was upon his hands and knees with his head hanging, and the others were stirring and groaning, too.\n\nSwinging into his saddle, Mat stared at the rain outside the open door, falling harder than ever. \"A bloody hero,\" he said. \"Thom, if I ever look like acting the hero again, you kick me.\"\n\n\"And what would you have done differently?\"\n\nMat scowled at him, then pulled up his hood and spread the tail of his cloak over the fat roll tied behind the high cantle of his saddle. Even with oiled cloth, a little more protection from the rain could not hurt. \"Just kick me!\" He booted his horse in the ribs and galloped into the rainy night."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As the Snow Goose moved toward the long stone docks of Illian, sails furled and propelled by its sweeps, Perrin stood near the stern watching great numbers of long-legged birds wading in the tall marsh grass that all but encircled the great harbor. He recognized the small white cranes, and could guess at their much larger blue brothers, but many of the crested birds-red-feathered or rosy, some with flat bills broader than a duck's-he did not know at all. A dozen sorts of gulls swooped and soared above the harbor itself, and a blackbird with along, sharp beak skimmed just above the water, its underbeak cutting a furrow. Ships three and four times as long as the Snow Goose lay anchored across the expanse of the harbor, waiting their turns at the docks, or for the tides to shift so they could sail beyond the long breakwater. Small fishing boats worked close to the marsh, and in the creeks winding through it, two or three men in each dragging nets on long poles swung out from either side of the boat.\n\nThe wind carried a sharp scent of salt, and did little to break the heat. The sun stood well over halfway down to the horizon, but it seemed like noon. The air felt damp; it was the only way he could think of it. Damp. His nose caught the smell of fresh fish from the boats, of old fish and mud from the marsh, and the sour stink of a large tanning yard that lay on a treeless island in the marsh grass.\n\nCaptain Adarra muttered something softly behind him, the tiller creaked, and the Snow Goose changed its course a trifle. Barefoot men at the sweeps moved as if not wanting to make a sound. Perrin did not glance at them beyond a flicker of his eye."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He peered at the tannery, instead, watching men scrape hides stretched on rows of wooden frames, and other men lift hides out of huge, sunken vats with long sticks. Sometimes they stacked the hides on barrows, wheeling them into the long, low building at the edge of the yard; sometimes the hides went back into the vats, with an addition of liquids poured from large stone crocks. They probably made more leather in a day than was made in Emond's Field in months, and he could see another tannery on another island beyond the first.\n\nIt was not that he had any real interest in ships or fishing boats or tanning yards, or even very much in the birds-though he did wonder what those pale red ones could be fishing for with their flat bills, and some of them looked good to eat unless he watched himself-but anything at all was better than watching the scene behind him on the deck of the Snow Goose. The axe at his belt was no defense against that. A stonewall wouldn't be defense enough, he thought.\n\nMoiraine had been neither pleased nor displeased to discover that Zarine-I'll not call her Faile, whatever she wants to name herself! She is no falcon!-knew she was Aes Sedai, though she had been perhaps a little upset with him for not telling her. A little upset. She called me a fool, but that was all. Then. Moiraine did not seem to care one way or another about Zarine being a Hunter of the Horn. But once she learned the girl thought they would lead her to the Horn of Valere, once she learned he had known that, too, and not told her-Zarine had been more than forthcoming about both subjects with Moiraine, to his mind-then her cold dark stare had taken on a quality that made him feel as if he had been packed in a barrel of snow in the dead of winter. The Aes Sedai said nothing, but she stared too often and too hard for any comfort."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He looked over his shoulder and quickly returned to studying the shoreline. Zarine was sitting cross-legged on the deck near the horses tethered between the masts, her bundle and dark cloak beside her, her narrow, divided skirts neatly arrayed, pretending to study the rooftops and towers of the oncoming city. Moiraine was studying Illian, too, from just ahead of the men working the sweeps, but now and then she shot a hard look at the girl from under the deep hood of her fine gray wool cloak. How can she stand wearing that? His own coat was unbuttoned and his shirt unlaced at the neck.\n\nZarine met each Aes Sedai look with a smile, but every time Moiraine turned away, she swallowed and wiped her forehead.\n\nPerrin rather admired her for managing that smile when Moiraine was watching. It was a good deal more than he could do. He had never seen the Aes Sedai truly lose her temper, but he himself was at the point of wishing she would shout, or rage, or anything but stare at him. Light, maybe not anything! Maybe the stare was bearable.\n\nLan sat further toward the bow than Moiraine-his color-shifting cloak was still in the saddlebags at his feet-outwardly absorbed in examining his sword blade, but making little effort to hide his amusement. Sometimes his lips appeared to quirk very close to a smile. Perrin was not certain; at times he thought it was only a shadow. Shadows could make a hammer seem to smile. Each woman obviously thought she was the object of that amusement, but the Warder did not appear to mind the tight-lipped frowns he received from both of them.\n\nA few days earlier Perrin had heard Moiraine ask Lan, in a voice like ice, whether he saw something to laugh at. \"I would never laugh at you, Moiraine Sedai,\" he had replied calmly, \"but if you truly intend to send me to Myrelle, I must become used to smiling. I hear that Myrelle tells her Warders jokes. Gaidin must smile at their bondholder's quips; you have often given me quips to laugh at, have you not? Perhaps you would rather I stay with you after all.\" She had given him a look that would have nailed any other man to the mast, but the Warder never blinked. Lan made cold steel seem like tin."},{"from":"human","value":"The crew had taken to padding about their work in utter silence when Moiraine and Zarine were on deck together."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Captain Adarra held his head tilted, and looked as if he were listening for something he did not want to hear. He passed his orders in whispers, instead of the shouts he had used at first. Everyone knew Moiraine was Aes Sedai, now, and everyone knew she was displeased. Perrin had let himself get into one shouting match with Zarine, and he was not sure which of them had said the words'Aes Sedai,\" but the whole crew knew. Bloody woman! He was uncertain whether he meant Moiraine or Zarine. If she is the falcon, what is the hawk supposed to be? Am I going to be stuck with two women like her? Light! No! She is not a falcon, and that is an end to it! The only good thing he could find in all this was that with an angry Aes Sedai to worry about, none of the crew looked twice at his eyes.\n\nLoial was nowhere insight, at the moment. The Ogier stayed in his stifling cabin whenever Moiraine and Zarine were topside together-working on his notes, he said. He only came on deck at night, to smoke his pipe. Perrin did not see how he could take the heat; even Moiraine and Zarine were better than being belowdecks.\n\nHe sighed and kept his eyes on Illian. The city the ship was approaching was large-as big as Cairhien or Caemlyn, the only two great cities he had ever seen-and it reared out of a huge marsh that stretched for miles like a plain of waving grass. Illian had no walls at all, but it seemed to be all towers and palaces. The buildings were all pale stone, except for some that appeared covered with white plaster, but the stone was white and gray and reddish and even faint shades of green. Rooftops of tile sparkled under the sun with a hundred different hues. The long docks held many ships, most dwarfing the Snow Goose, and bustled with the loading and unloading of cargo. There were shipyards at the far end of the city, where great ships stood in every stage from skeletons of thick wooden ribs to nearly ready to slide into the harbor."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perhaps Illian was large enough to keep wolves at bay. They surely would not hunt in those marshes. The Snow Goose had outrun the wolves that had followed him from the mountains. He reached out for them gingerly, now, and felt-nothing. A curiously empty feeling, given that it was what he wanted. His dreams had been his own-for the most part-since that first night. Moiraine had asked about them in a cold voice, and he had told the truth. Twice he had found himself in that odd sort of wolf dream, and both times Hopper had appeared, chasing him away, telling him he was too young yet, too new. What Moiraine made of that, he had no idea; she told him nothing, except to say he had best be wary.\n\n\"That's as well by me,\" he growled. He was almost becoming used to Hopper being dead but not dead, in the wolf dreams, at least. Behind him, he heard Captain Adarra scuff his boots on the deck and mutter something, startled that anyone would speak aloud.\n\nLines were hurled ashore from the ship. While they were still being made fast to stone posts along the docks, the slightly built captain leaped into motion, whispering fiercely to his crew. He had booms rigged to lift the horses onto the wharf almost as quickly as the gangplank was laid in place. Lan's black warhorse kicked and nearly broke the boom hoisting him. Loial's huge, hairy-fetlocked mount needed two.\n\n\"An honor,\" Adarra whispered to Moiraine with a bow as she stepped onto the wide plank leading to the dock. \"An honor to have served you, Aes Sedai.\" She strode ashore without looking at him, her face hidden in her deep hood."},{"from":"human","value":"Loial did not appear until everyone else was on the dock, and the horses, too."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Ogier came thumping up the gangplank trying to don his long coat while carrying his big saddlebags and striped blanketroll, and his cloak over one arm. \"I did not know we had arrived,\" he rumbled breathlessly. \"I was rereading my....\" He trailed off with a glance at Moiraine. She appeared to be absorbed in watching Lan saddle Aldieb, but the Ogier's ears flickered like a nervous cat's.\n\nHis notes, Perrin thought. One of these days I have to see what he is saying about all this. Something tickled the back of his neck, and he jumped afoot before he realized he was smelling a clean, herbal scent through the spices and tar and stinks of the docks.\n\nZarine wiggled her fingers, smiling at them. \"If I can do that with just a brush of my fingers, farmboy, I wonder how high you would jump if I-?\"\n\nHe was growing a little tired of considering looks from those dark, tilted eyes. She maybe pretty, but she looks at me the way I'd look at a tool I'd never seen before, trying to puzzle out how it was made, and what it is supposed to be used for.\n\n\"Zarine.\" Moiraine's voice was cool but unruffled.\n\n\"I am called Faile,\" Zarine said firmly, and fora moment, with her bold nose, she did look like a falcon.\n\n\"Zarine,\" Moiraine said firmly, \"it is time for our ways to part. You will find better Hunting elsewhere, and safer.\"\n\n\"I think not,\" Zarine said just as firmly. \"A Hunter must follow the trail she sees, and no Hunter would ignore the trail you four leave. And I am Faile.\" She spoiled it a bit by swallowing, but she did not blink as she met Moiraine's eyes."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Are you certain?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Moiraine said softly. \"Are you sure you will not change your mind... Falcon?\"\n\n\"I will not. There is nothing you or your stone-faced Warder can do to stop me.\" Zarine hesitated, then added slowly, as if she had decided to be entirely truthful, \"At least, there is nothing that you will do that can stop me. I know a little of Aes Sedai; I know, for all the stories, that there are things you will not do. And I do not believe stone-face would do what he must to make me give over.\"\n\n\"Are you sure enough of that to risk it?\" Lan spoke quietly, and his face did not change, but Zarine swallowed again.\n\n\"There is no need to threaten her, Lan,\" Perrin said. He was surprised to realize he was glaring at the Warder.\n\nMoiraine's glance silenced him and the Warder both. \"You believe you know what an Aes Sedai will not do, do you?\" she said more softly than before. Her smile was not pleasant. \"If you wish to go with us, this is what you must do.\" Lan's eyelids flickered in surprise; the two women stared at each other like falcon and mouse, but Zarine was not the falcon, now. \"You will swear by your Hunter's oath to do as I say, to heed me, and not to leave us. Once you know more than you should of what we do, I will not allow you to fall into the wrong hands. Know that for truth, girl. You will swear to act as one of us, and do nothing that will endanger our purpose. You will ask no questions of where we go or why: you will be satisfied with what I choose to tell you. All of this you will swear, or you will remain herein Illian. And you will not leave this marsh until I return to release you, if it takes the rest of your life. That I swear.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Zarine turned her head uneasily, watching Moiraine out of one eye. \"I may accompany you if I swear?\" The Aes Sedai nodded. \"I will be one of you, the same as Loial or stone-face. But I can ask no questions. Are they allowed to ask questions?\" Moiraine's face lost a little of its patience. Zarine stood up straighter and held her head high. \"Very well, then. I swear, by the oath I took as a Hunter. If I break one, I will have broken both. I swear it!\"\n\n\"Done,\" Moiraine said, touching the younger woman's forehead; Zarine shivered. \"Since you brought her to us, Perrin, she is your responsibility.\"\n\n\"Mine!\" he yelped.\n\n\"I am no one's responsibility but my own!\" Zarine nearly shouted.\n\nThe Aes Sedai went serenely on as if they had never opened their mouths. \"It seems you have found Min's falcon, ta'veren. I have tried to discourage her, but it appears she will perch on your shoulder whatever I do. The Pattern weaves a future for you, it seems. Yet remember this. If I must, I will snip your thread from the Pattern. And if the girl endangers what must be, you will share her fate.\"\n\n\"I did not ask for her to come along!\" Perrin protested. Moiraine calmly mounted Aldieb, adjusting her cloak over the white mare's saddle. \"I did not ask for her!\" Loial shrugged at him and silently mouthed something. No doubt a saying about the dangers of angering Aes Sedai.\n\n\"You are ta'veren?\" Zarine said disbelievingly. Her gaze ran over his sturdy country clothes and settled on his yellow eyes. \"Well, perhaps. Whatever you are, she threatens you as easily as she does me. Who is Min? What does she mean, I will perch on your shoulder?\" Her face tightened. \"If you try making me your responsibility, I will carve your ears. Do you hear me?\""},{"from":"human","value":"Grimacing, he slipped his unstrung bow under the saddle girths along Stepper's flank, and climbed into the saddle."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Restive after days on the ship, the dun lived up to his name until Perrin calmed him with a firm hand on the reins and pats to his neck.\n\n\"None of that deserves an answer,\" he growled. Min bloody told her! Burn you, Min! Burn you, too, Moiraine! And Zarine! He could never remember Rand or Mat being bullied by women on every side. Or himself, before leaving Emond's Field. Nynaeve had been the only one. And Mistress Luhhan, of course; she ran him and Master Luhhan both, everywhere but in the smithy. And Egwene had had away about her, though mostly with Rand. Mistress al'Vere, Egwene's mother, always had a smile, but things seemed to end up being done as she wanted, too. And the Women's Circle had looked over everybody's shoulder.\n\nGrumbling to himself, he reached down and took Zarine by an arm; she gave a squawk and nearly dropped her bundle as he hoisted her up behind his saddle. Those divided skirts of hers made it easy for her to straddle Stepper. \"Moiraine will have to buy you a horse,\" he muttered. \"You cannot walk the whole way.\"\n\n\"You are strong, blacksmith,\" Zarine said, rubbing her arm, \"but I am not apiece of iron.\" She shifted around, stuffing her bundle and her cloak between them. \"I can buy my own horse, if I need one. The whole way where?\"\n\nLan was already riding off the dock into the city, with Moiraine and Loial behind him. The Ogier looked back at Perrin.\n\n\"No questions, remember? And my name is Perrin, Zarine. Not \"big man,\" or \"blacksmith,\" or anything else. Perrin. Perrin Aybara.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And mine is Faile, shaggy-hair.\"\n\nWith something close to a snarl, he booted Stepper after the others. Zarine had to throw her arms around his waist to keep from being tossed over the dun's crupper. He thought she was laughing."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The hubbub of the city quickly submerged Zarine's laughter-if that was what it was-beneath all the clamor that Perrin remembered from Caemlyn and Cairhien. The sounds were different here, slower, and pitched differently, but they were the same, too. Boots and wheels and hooves on rough, uneven paving stones, cart and wagon axles squealing, music and song and laughter drifting from inns and taverns. Voices. A hum of voices like putting his head into a giant beehive. A great city, living.\n\nFrom down aside street he heard the clang of hammer on anvil, and shifted his shoulders unconsciously. He missed the hammer and tongs in his hands, the white-hot metal giving off sparks as his blows shaped it. The smithy sounds faded behind, buried under the rumble of carts and wagons, and the babble of shopkeepers and people in the streets. Under all the smells of people and horses, cooking and baking, and a hundred scents he had found peculiar to cities lay the smell of marsh and saltwater.\n\nHe was surprised the first time they came to abridge inside the city-a low arch of stone over a waterway no more than thirty paces across-but by the third such bridge, he realized that Illian was crisscrossed by as many canals as streets, with men poling laden barges as often as plying whips to move heavy wagons. Sedan chairs wove through the crowds in the streets, and occasionally the lacquered coach of some wealthy merchant or a noble, with crest or House sign painted large on the doors. Many of the men wore peculiar beards that left their upper lip bare, while the women seemed to favor hats with wide brims and attached scarves that they wound around their necks."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Once they crossed a great square, many hides in extent, surrounded by huge columns of white marble at least fifteen spans tall and two spans thick, supporting nothing but a wreath of carved olive branches at the top of each. A huge, white palace stood at either end of the square, each all columned walks and airy balconies, slender towers and purple roofs. Each reflected the other exactly, at first glance, but then Perrin realized that one was just a fraction smaller in each dimension, its towers perhaps less than apace shorter.\n\n\"The King's Palace,\" Zarine said against his back, \"and the Great Hall of the Council. It is said the first King of Illian said the Council of Nine could have any palace they wished, just as long as they did not try to build one larger than his. So the Council copied the King's palace exactly, but two feet smaller in every measurement. That has been the way of Illian ever since. The King and the Council of Nine duel with each other, and the Assemblage struggles with both, and so while they carry on their battles, the people live much as they wish, with none to look over their shoulders too much. It is not a bad way to live, if you must be tied to one city. You would also like to know, I think, blacksmith, that this is the Square of Tammaz, where I took the Hunter's Oath. I think I will end up teaching you so much, no one will notice the hay in your hair.\"\n\nPerrin held his tongue with an effort, resolving not to stare so openly again.\n\nNo one seemed to take Loial as anything much out of the ordinary. A few people looked at him twice, and some small children scampered along in their wake fora time, but it appeared that Ogier were not unknown in Illian. None of the folk seemed to notice the heat or the damp, either."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"For once, Loial did not appear pleased with the people's acceptance. His long eyebrows drooped down on his cheeks, and his ears had wilted, though Perrin was not sure that was not just the air. His own shirt clung to him with a mixture of sweat and the damp air.\n\n\"Are you afraid you'll find other Ogier here, Loial?\" he asked. He felt Zarine stir against his back and cursed his tongue. He meant to let the woman know even less than Moiraine apparently meant to tell her. That way, perhaps, she would grow bored enough to leave. If Moiraine will let her go, now. Burn me, I don't want any bloody falcon perched on my shoulder, even if she is pretty.\n\nLoial nodded. \"Our stonemasons sometimes come here.\" He spoke in a whisper not only for an Ogier, but for anyone. Even Perrin could barely hear. \"From Stedding Shangtai, I mean. It was masons from our stedding who built part of Illian-the Palace of the Assemblage, the Great Hall of the Council, some of the others-and they always send to us when repairs need to be done. Perrin, if there are Ogier here, they will make me go back to the stedding. I should have thought of it before now. This place makes me uneasy, Perrin.\" His ears shifted nervously.\n\nPerrin moved Stepper closer and reached up to pat Loial's shoulder. It was along reach, above his head. Conscious of Zarine at his back, he chose his words carefully. \"Loial, I do not believe Moiraine would let them take you. You have been with us along time, and she seems to want you with us. She will not let them take you, Loial.\" Why not? he wondered suddenly. She keeps me because she thinks I maybe important to Rand, and maybe because she doesn't want me telling what I know to anyone. Maybe that's why she wants him to stay."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Of course, she would not,\" Loial said in a slightly stronger voice, and his ears perked up. \"I am very useful, after all. She may need to travel the Ways again, and she could not without me.\" Zarine shifted against Perrin's back, and he shook his head, trying to catch Loial's eye. But Loial was not looking. He seemed to have just heard what he had said, and the tufts on his ears had fallen a little. \"I do hope it's not that, Perrin.\" The Ogier looked at the city around them, and his ears went all the way back down. \"I do not like this place, Perrin.\"\n\nMoiraine rode closer to Lan and spoke softly, but Perrin managed to catch her words. \"Something is wrong in this city.\" The Warder nodded.\n\nPerrin felt an itch between his shoulders. The Aes Sedai had sounded grim. First Loial, and now her. What don't I see? The sun shone down on the sparkling roof tiles, made reflections from pale stonewalls. Those buildings looked as if they might be cool, inside. The buildings were clean and bright, and so were the people. The people.\n\nAt first he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Men and women moving about their business, purposeful, but slower than he was used to further north. He thought it might be the heat, and the bright sun. Then he spotted a baker's lad trotting down the street with a big tray of fresh loaves balanced on his head; the young fellow wore a grimace on his face that was nearly a snarl. A woman in front of a weaver's shop looked as if she might bite the man holding up the bright-colored bolts for her inspection. A juggler on a corner ground his teeth and stared at the folk who tossed coins into the cap lying in front of him as if he hated them. Not everyone looked so, but it seemed to him that at least one face in five wore anger and hatred. And he did not think they were even aware of it."},{"from":"human","value":"\"What is the matter?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Zarine asked. \"You are tensing. It is like holding onto a rock.\"\n\n\"Something is wrong,\" he told her. \"I do not know what, but something is wrong.\" Loial nodded sadly, and murmured about how they would make him go back.\n\nThe buildings around them began to change as they rode, crossing more bridges as they crossed Illian to its other side. The pale stone was as often undressed as polished, now. The towers and palaces vanished, to be replaced by inns and warehouses. Many of the men in the streets, and some of the women, had an oddly rolling gait; they all had the bare feet he associated with sailors. The smells of pitch and hemp were strong in the air, and the scent of wood, both freshly cut and cured, with sour mud overlying both. The canals' odors changed, too, making his nose wrinkle. Chamber pots, he thought. Chamber pots and old privies. It made him feel queasy.\n\n\"The Bridge of Flowers,\" Lan announced as they crossed yet another low bridge. He inhaled deeply. \"And now we are in the Perfumed Quarter. The Illianers area poetic people.\"\n\nZarine stifled a laugh against Perrin's back.\n\nAs if he were suddenly impatient with the slow pace of Illian, the Warder led them quickly through the streets to an inn, two stories of rough, green-veined stone topped with pale green tiles. Evening was coming on, the light growing softer as the sun settled. It gave a little relief from the heat, but not much. Boys seated on mounting blocks in front of the inn hopped up to take their horses. One black-haired lad about ten asked Loial if he were an Ogier, and when Loial said he was, the boy said, \"I did think you did be,\" with a self-satisfied nod. He led Loial's big horse away, tossing the copper Loial had given him into the air and catching it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perrin frowned up at the inn sign fora moment before following the others in. A white-striped badger danced on its hind legs with a man carrying what seemed to be a silver shovel. Easing the Badger, it read. It must be some story I never heard.\n\nThe common room had sawdust on the floor, and tabac smoke filled the air. It also smelled of wine, and fish cooking in the kitchen, and a heavy, flowered perfume. The exposed beams of the high ceiling were rough-hewn and age-dark. This early in the evening, no more than a quarter of the stools and benches were filled, by men in workmen's plain coats and vests, some with the bare feet of sailors. All of them sat clustered as close as they could manage around one table where a pretty, dark-eyed girl, the wearer of the perfume, sang to the strumming of a twelve-string bittern and danced on the tabletop with swirls of her skirt. Her loose, white blouse had an extremely low neck. Perrin recognized the tune-\"The Dancing Lass\"-but the words the girl sang were different from what he knew.\n\n\"A Lugard girl, she came to town, to see what she could see. With a wink of her eye, and a smile on her lip, she snagged a boy or three, or three. With an ankle slim, and skin so pale, she caught the owner of a ship, a ship. With a soft little sigh, and a gay little laugh, she made her way so free. So free.\"\n\nShe launched into another verse, and when Perrin realized what she was singing, his face grew hot. He had thought nothing could shock him after seeing Tinker girls dance, but that had only hinted at things. This girl was singing them right out."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Zarine was nodding in time to the music and grinning. Her grin widened when she looked at him. \"Why, farmboy, I do not think I ever knew a man your age who could still blush.\"\n\nHe glared at her and barely stopped himself from saying something he knew would be stupid. This bloody woman has me jumping before I can think. Light, I'll wager she thinks I never even kissed a girl! He tried not to listen to anymore of what the girl was singing. If he could not get the red out of his face, Zarine was sure to make more of it.\n\nA flash of startlement had passed across the face of the proprietress when they entered. A large, round woman with her hair in a thick roll at the back of her neck and a smell of strong soap about her, she suppressed her surprise quickly, though, and hurried to Moiraine.\n\n\"Mistress Mari,\" she said, \"I did never think to see you here today.\" She hesitated, eyeing Perrin and Zarine, glanced once at Loial, but not in the searching way she looked at them. Her eyes actually brightened at the sight of the Ogier, but her real attention was all on'Mistress Mari.\" She lowered her voice, \"Have my pigeons no arrived safely?\" Lan, she seemed to accept as apart of Moiraine.\n\n\"I am sure they have, Nieda,\" Moiraine said. \"I have been away, but I am sure Adine has noted down everything you reported.\" She eyed the girl singing on the table with no outward disapproval, nor any other expression. \"The Badger was considerably quieter when last I was here.\"\n\n\"Aye, Mistress Mari, it did be that. But the louts have no gotten over the winter yet, it does seem. I have no had a fight in the Badger in ten years, till the tail of this winter gone.\" She nodded toward the one man not sitting near the singer, a fellow even bigger than Perrin, standing against the wall with his thick arms folded, tapping his foot to the music. \"Even Bili did have a hard timekeeping them down, so I did hire the girl to take their minds from anger. From someplace in Altara, she does come.\" She tilted her head, listening fora moment. \"A fair voice, but I did sing it better-aye, and dance better, too-when I did be her age.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perrin gaped at the thought of this huge woman capering on a table, singing that song-a bit of it came through; \"I'll wear no shift at all. At all\"-until Zarine fisted him hard in the short ribs. He grunted.\n\nNieda looked his way. \"I'll mix you some honey and sulphur, lad, for that throat. You'll no want to take a chill before the weather warms, no with a pretty girl like that one on your arm.\"\n\nMoiraine gave him a look that said he was interfering with her. \"Strange that you should suffer fights,\" she said. \"I well remember how your nephew stops such. Has something occurred to make people more irritable?\"\n\nNieda mused fora moment. \"Perhaps. It do be hard to say. The young lordlings do always comedown to the docks for the wenching and carousing they can no getaway with where the air does smell fresher. Perhaps they do come more often, now, since the hard of the winter. Perhaps. And others do snap at each other more, too. It did be a hard winter. That does make men angrier, and women as well. All that rain, and cold. Why, I did wake two mornings to find ice in my washbasin. No so hard as the last winter, of course, but that did be a winter fora thousand years. Almost enough to make me believe those travelers' tales of frozen water falling from the sky.\" She giggled to show how little she believed that. It was an odd sound from such a large woman.\n\nPerrin shook his head. She doesn't believe in snow? But if she thought this weather was cool, he could believe it of her.\n\nMoiraine bent her head in thought, her hood shadowing her face."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The girl on the table was beginning anew verse, and Perrin found himself listening in spite of himself. He had never heard of any woman doing anything remotely like what the girl was singing about, but it did sound interesting. He noticed Zarine watching him listen, and tried to pretend he had not been.\n\n\"What has occurred out of the ordinary in Illian of late?\" Moiraine said finally.\n\n\"I do suppose you could call Lord Brend's ascension to the Council of Nine unusual,\" Nieda said. \"Fortune prick me, I can no remember ever hearing his name before the winter, but he did come to the city-from somewhere near the Murandian border, it be rumored-and did be raised inside a week. It do be said he be a good man, and strongest of the Nine-they all do follow his lead, it be said, though he be newest and unknown-but sometimes I do have strange dreams of him.\"\n\nMoiraine had opened her mouth-to tell Nieda she had meant in the last few nights, Perrin was sure-but she hesitated, and instead said, \"What sort of strange dreams, Nieda?\"\n\n\"Oh, foolishness, Mistress Mari. Just foolishness. You do truly wish to hear it? Dreams of Lord Brend in strange places, and walking bridges hanging in air. All fogged, these dreams do be, but near every night they do come. Did you ever hear of such? Foolishness, Fortune prick me! Yet, it do be odd. Bili does say he does dream the same dreams. I do think he does hear my dreams and copy them. Bili do be none too bright, sometimes, I do think.\"\n\n\"You may do him an injustice,\" Moiraine breathed.\n\nPerrin stared at her dark hood. She had sounded shaken, even more shaken than when she thought anew false Dragon had risen in Ghealdan. He could not smell fear, but.... Moiraine was frightened. It was afar more terrifying thought than Moiraine angry. He could imagine her angry; he could not begin to conceive of her afraid."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"How I do maunder on,\" Nieda said, patting the rolled hair at the back of her neck. \"As if my foolish dreams do be important.\" She giggled again. A quick giggle; this was not as foolish as believing in snow. \"You do sound tired, Mistress Mari. I will show you to your rooms. And then a good meal of fresh-caught red-stripe.\"\n\nRed-stripe? A fish, he thought it must be; he could smell fish cooking.\n\n\"Rooms,\" Moiraine said. \"Yes. We will take rooms. The meal can wait. Ships. Nieda, what ships sail for Tear? Early on the morrow. I have that which I must do tonight.\" Lan glanced at her, frowning.\n\n\"For Tear, Mistress Mari?\" Nieda laughed. \"Why, none for Tear. The Nine did forbid any ship to sail for Tear a month gone now, nor any from Tear to call here, though I do think the Sea Folk pay it no mind. But there do be no Sea Folk ship in the harbor. It do be odd, that. The order of the Nine, I do mean, and the King silent on it, when he does always raise his voice if they but take a step without his lead. Or perhaps it be no that, exactly. All talk do be of war with Tear, but the boatmen and wagoneers who do carry supplies to the army do say the soldiers do all look north, to Murandy.\"\n\n\"The paths of the Shadow are tangled,\" Moiraine said in a tight voice. \"We will do what we must. The rooms, Nieda. And then we will eat that meal.\"\n\nPerrin's room was more comfortable than he expected, given the look of the rest of the Badger. The bed was wide, the mattress soft. The door was made of tilted slats, and when he opened the windows, a breeze crossed the room carrying the smells of the harbor. And something of the canals, too, but at least it was cooling. He hung his cloak on a peg along with his quiver and axe, and propped his bow in the corner. Everything else he left in the saddlebags and blanketroll. The night might not be restful."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"If Moiraine had sounded afraid before, it had been nothing to when she said that something must be done tonight. For an instant then, fear scent had steamed from her as from a woman announcing that she was going to stick her hand in a hornets' nest and crush them with her bare fingers. What in the Light is she up to? If Moiraine is frightened, I should be terrified.\n\nHe was not, he realized. Not terrified, or even frightened. He felt... excited. Ready for something to happen, almost eager. Determined. He recognized the feelings. They were what wolves felt just before they fought. Burn me, I'd rather be afraid!\n\nHe was first back down to the common except for Loial. Nieda had arranged a large table for them, with ladder-back chairs instead of benches. She had even found a chair big enough for Loial. The girl across the room was singing a song about a rich merchant who, having just lost his team of horses in an improbable way, had for some reason decided to pull his carriage himself. The men listening around her roared with laughter. The windows showed darkness coming on more quickly than he had expected; the air smelled as if it might be making up to rain.\n\n\"This inn has an Ogier room,\" Loial said as Perrin sat down. \"Apparently, every inn in Illian has one, in hopes of gaining Ogier custom when the stonemasons come. Nieda claims it is lucky, having an Ogier under the roof. I cannot think they get many. The masons always stay together when they go Outside to work. Humans are so hasty, and the Elders are always afraid tempers will flare and someone will put along handle on his axe.\" He eyed the men around the singer as if he suspected them of it. His ears were drooping again."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The rich merchant was in the process of losing his carriage, to more laughter. \"Did you find out whether any Ogier from Stedding Shangtai are in Illian?\"\n\n\"There were, but Nieda said they left during the winter. She said they had not finished their work. I do not understand it. The masons would not have left work undone unless they were not paid, and Nieda said it was not that. One morning, they were just gone, though someone saw them walking down the Maredo Causeway in the night. Perrin, I do not like this city. I do not know why, but it makes me... uneasy.\"\n\n\"Ogier,\" Moiraine said, \"are sensitive to somethings.\" She still had her face hidden, but Nieda had apparently sent someone to buy her alight cloak of dark blue linen. The fear smell was gone from her, but her voice sounded under tight control. Lan held her chair for her; his eyes looked worried.\n\nZarine was the last down, running her fingers through just-washed hair. The herbal scent was stronger around her than before. She stared at the platter Nieda placed on the table and muttered under her breath. \"I hate fish.\"\n\nThe stout woman had brought all the food on a small cart with shelves; it was dusty in places, as if it had been hastily brought out from the storeroom in Moiraine's honor. The dishes were Sea Folk porcelain, too, if chipped.\n\n\"Eat,\" Moiraine said, looking straight at Zarine. \"Remember that any meal can be your last. You chose to travel with us, so tonight you will eat fish. Tomorrow, you may die.\"\n\nPerrin did not recognize the nearly round whitefish with red stripes, but they smelled good. He lifted two onto his plate with the serving fork, and grinned at Zarine around a mouthful. They tasted good, too, lightly spiced. Eat your nasty fish, falcon, he thought. He also thought that Zarine looked as if she might bite him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Do you wish me to stop the girl singing, Mistress Mari?\" Nieda asked. She was setting bowls of peas and some sort of stiff yellow mush on the table. \"So you can eat in quiet?\"\n\nStaring at her plate, Moiraine did not seem to hear.\n\nLan listened a moment-the merchant had already lost, in succession, his carriage, his cloak, his boots, his gold, and the rest of his clothes, and was now reduced to wrestling a pig for its dinner-and shook his head. \"She will not bother us.\" He looked close to smiling fora moment, before he glanced at Moiraine. Then the worry returned to his eyes.\n\n\"What is wrong?\" Zarine said. She was ignoring the fish. \"I know something is. I have not see that much expression on you, stone-face, since I met you.\"\n\n\"No questions!\" Moiraine said sharply. \"You will know what I tell you and no more!\"\n\n\"What will you tell me?\" Zarine demanded.\n\nThe Aes Sedai smiled. \"Eat your fish.\"\n\nThe meal went on in near silence after that, except for the songs drifting across the room. There was one about a rich man whose wife and daughters made a fool of him time and again without ever deflating his self-importance, another that concerned a young woman who decided to take a walk without any clothes, and one that told of a blacksmith who managed to shoe himself instead of the horse. Zarine nearly choked laughing at that one, forgot herself enough to take a bite offish, and suddenly grimaced as if she had put mud in her mouth.\n\nI won't laugh at her, Perrin told himself. However foolish she looks, I'll show her what manners are. \"They taste good, don't they,\" he said. Zarine gave him a bitter look, and Moiraine a frown for interrupting her thoughts, and that was all the talk there was."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Nieda was clearing away the dishes and setting an array of cheeses on the table when a stink of something vile lifted the hackles on the back of Perrin's neck. It was a smell of something that should not be, and he had smelled it twice before. He peered about the common room uneasily.\n\nThe girl still sang to the knot of listeners, some men were strolling across the floor from the door, and Bili still leaned on the wall tapping his foot to the sounds of the bittern. Nieda patted her rolled hair, gave the room a quick glance, and turned to push the cart away.\n\nHe looked at his companions. Loial, unsurprisingly, had pulled a book from his coat pocket and seemed to have forgotten where he was. Zarine, absently rolling apiece of white cheese into a ball, was eyeing first Perrin, then Moiraine, then him again, while trying to pretend she was not. It was Lan and Moiraine he was really interested in, though. They could sense a Myrddraal, or a Trolloc, or any Shadowspawn, before it came closer than a few hundred paces, but the Aes Sedai was staring distantly at the table in front of her, and the Warder was cutting a chunk of yellow cheese and watching her. Yet the smell of wrongness was there, as at Jarra and the edge of Remen, and this time it was not going away. It seemed to becoming from something within the common room.\n\nHe studied the room again. Bili against the wall, some men crossing the floor, the girl singing on the table, all the laughing men sitting around her. Men crossing the floor? He frowned at them. Six men with ordinary faces, walking toward where he was sitting. Very ordinary faces. He was just starting to reinspect the men listening to the girl when suddenly it came to him that the stink of wrongness was rolling from the six. Abruptly they had daggers in their hands, as if they had realized he had seen them."},{"from":"human","value":"\"They have knives!\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"he roared, and threw the cheese platter at them.\n\nThe common erupted into confusion, men shouting, the singer screaming, Nieda shouting for Bili, everything happening at once. Lan leaped to his feet, and a ball of fire darted from Moiraine's hand, and Loial snatched up his chair like a club, and Zarine danced to one side, cursing. She had a knife in her hand, too, but Perrin was too busy to notice much of what anyone else did. Those men seemed to be looking straight at him, and his axe was hanging from a peg up in his room.\n\nSeizing a chair, he ripped off a thick chair leg that ran up to make one side of the ladder-back, hurled the rest of the chair at the men, and set about him with his long bludgeon. They were trying to reach him with their naked steel, as if Lan and the others were only obstacles in their way. It was a tight tangle where all he could manage was to knock blades away from him, and his wilder swings threatened Lan and Loial and Zarine as much as any of his six attackers. From the corner of his eye he saw Moiraine standing to one side, frustration on her face; they were all so mixed together that she could do nothing without endangering friend as well as foe. None of the knife wielders as much as glanced at her; she was not between them and Perrin.\n\nPanting, he managed to crack one of the ordinary-looking men across the head so hard that he heard bone splinter, and abruptly realized they were all down. It all seemed to him to have gone on fora quarter of a hour or more, but he saw that Bili was just halting, his large hands working as he stared at the six men sprawled dead on the floor. Bili had not even had time to reach the fight before it was done."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Lan wore a face even grimmer than usual; he began searching the bodies, thoroughly, but with a quickness that spoke of distaste. Loial still had his chair raised to swing; he gave a start and set it down with an embarrassed grin. Moiraine was staring at Perrin, and so was Zarine as she retrieved her knife from the chest of one of the dead men. That stench of wrongness was gone, as if it had died with them.\n\n\"Gray Men,\" the Aes Sedai said softly, \"and after you.\"\n\n\"Gray Men?\" Nieda laughed, both loud and nervously. \"Why, Mistress Mari, next you'll say you do believe in boggles and bugbears and Fetches, and Old Grim riding with the black dogs in the Wild Hunt.\" Some of the men who had been listening to the songs laughed, too, though they looked as uneasily at Moiraine as at the dead men. The singer stared at Moiraine, as well, her eyes wide. Perrin remembered that one ball of fire, before everything grew too jumbled. One of the Gray Men had a somewhat charred look about him, and gave off a sickly sweet burned smell.\n\nMoiraine turned from Perrin to the stout woman. \"A man may walk in the Shadow,\" the Aes Sedai said calmly, \"without being Shadowspawn.\"\n\n\"Oh, aye, Darkfriends.\" Nieda put her hands on generous hips and frowned at the corpses. Lan had finished his searching; he glanced at Moiraine and shook his head as if he had not really expected to find anything. \"More likely thieves, though I did never hear of thieves bold enough to come right into an inn. I did never have even one killing in the Badger before. Bili! Clear these out, into a canal, and put down fresh sawdust. The back way, mind. I do no want the Watch putting their long noses into the Badger.\" Bili nodded as if eager to be useful after failing to take a hand earlier. He grabbed a dead man by the belt in either hand and carried them back toward the kitchen."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\\nChapter: 47\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But at the next four inns he found, the innkeeper gave him the same answer as the first; the last two almost threw him out bodily when he offered to dice fora bed. And when the owner of the fifth told him he could not give a pallet to the Queen herself-this at a place called The Good Queen-he sighed and asked, \\\"What about your stable, then? Surely we can bed down in the hayloft fora price.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My stable is for horses,\\\" the round-faced man said, \\\"not that many are left in the city.\\\" He had been polishing a silver cup; now he opened one door of a shallow cupboard standing on top of a deep, drawered chest and placed it inside with others; none of them matched. A tooled-leather dice cup sat atop the chest, just beyond the arc of the cupboard's doors. \\\"I do not put people in thereto frighten the horses, and perhaps make off with them. Those who pay me for stabling their animals want them well tended, and I've two of my own in there, besides. There are no beds in my stable for you.\\\"\\n\\nMat eyed the dice cup thoughtfully. He pulled a gold Andoran crown out of his pocket and set it atop the chest. The next coin was a silver Tar Valon mark, then a gold one, and a gold Tairen crown. The innkeeper looked at the coins and licked his plump lips. Mat added two silver Illianer marks and another gold Andoran crown, and looked at the round-faced man. The innkeeper hesitated. Mat reached for the coins. The innkeeper's hand reached them first.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps just the two of you would not disturb the horses too greatly.\\\"\\n\\nMat smiled at him. \\\"Speaking of horses, what price for those two of yours? With saddles and bridles, of course.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I will not sell my horses,\\\" the man said, clutching the coins to his chest.\\n\\nMat picked up the dice cup and rattled it. \\\"Twice as much again against the horses, saddles, and bridles.\\\" He shook his coat pocket to make the loose coins rattle, too, to show he had more to cover the wager. \\\"My one toss against the best of your two.\\\" He almost laughed as greed lit the innkeeper's entire face.\\n\\nWhen Mat walked into the stable, the first thing he did was check along the half-dozen stalls with horses in them fora pair of brown geldings. They were nondescript animals, but they were his. They needed currying badly, but otherwise they seemed in good condition, especially considering that all the stablemen but one had runoff. The innkeeper had been extremely disparaging of their complaints that they could no longer live on what he paid them, and he seemed to think it a crime that the one man who remained had actually had the audacity to say he was going home to bed just because he was tired from doing three men's work.\\n\\n\\\"Five sixes,\\\" Thom muttered behind him. The looks he cast around the stable did not seem as enthralled as they might, seeing that he had suggested it in the first place. Dust motes shone in the last light of the setting sun coming through the big doors, and the ropes used to hoist hay bales hung like vines from pulleys in the roof beams. The hayloft was dim in the gloom above. \\\"When he threw four sixes and a five on his second toss, he thought you'd lost for sure, and so did I. You have not been winning every toss of late.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I win enough.\\\" Mat was just as relieved not to be winning every throw. Luck was one thing, but remembering that night still sent shivers down his back. Still, for one moment as he shook that dice cup, he had all but known what the pips would be. Ashe tossed the quarterstaff up into the loft, thunder crashed in the sky. He scrambled up the ladder, calling back to Thom. \\\"This was a good idea. I'd think you would be happy to be in out of the rain tonight.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Most of the hay was in bales stacked against the outer walls, but there was more than enough loose for him to make abed with his cloak over it. Thom appeared at the top of the ladder as he was pulling two loaves of bread and a wedge of green-veined cheese from his leather scrip. The innkeeper-his name was Jeral Florry-had parted with the food for merely enough coin to have bought one of those horses in more peaceful days. They ate while rain began drumming on the roof, washing the food down with water from their waterbottles-Florry had had no wine at any price-and when they were done, Thom dugout his tinderbox and thumbed his long-stemmed pipe full of tabac and settled back fora smoke.\\n\\nMat was lying on his back, staring at the shadowed roof and wondering if the rain would break before morning-he wanted that letter out of his hands as quickly as possible-when he heard an axle creak into the stable. Rolling to the edge of the loft, he peered down. There was enough dusk left for him to see.\\n\\nA slender woman was straightening from the shafts of the high-wheeled cart she had just dragged in out of the rain, pulling off her cloak and muttering to herself as she shook the wet from it. Her hair was plaited in a multitude of small braids, and her silk dress-he thought it was a pale green-was elaborately embroidered across her breasts. The dress had been fine, once, but now it was tattered and stained. She knuckled her back, still talking to herself in a low voice, and hurried to the stable doors to peer out into the rain. Just as hurriedly, she ducked out to pull the big doors shut, enclosing the stable in darkness. There was a rustling below, a clink and a slosh, and suddenly a small flare of light bloomed into a lantern in her hands. She looked around, found a hook on a stall post, hung the lantern, and went to dig under the roped canvas covering her cart.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She did that quickly,\\\" Thom said softly around his pipe.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She could have set fire to the stable striking flint and steel in the dark like that.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman came outwith the end of a loaf of bread, which she gnawed as if it were hard and her hunger did not care.\\n\\n\\\"Is there any of that cheese left?\\\" Mat whispered. Thom shook his head.\\n\\nThe woman began sniffing at the air, and Mat realized she probably smelled Thom's tabac smoke. He was about to stand and announce their presence when one of the stable doors opened again.\\n\\nThe woman crouched, ready to run, as four men walked in out of the rain, doffing their wet cloaks to reveal pale coats with wide sleeves and embroidery across the chest, and baggy breeches embroidered down the legs. Their clothes might be fancy, but they were all big men, and their faces were grim.\\n\\n\\\"So, Aludra,\\\" a man in a yellow coat said, \\\"you did not run so fast as you thought to, eh?\\\" He had a strange accent, to Mat's ear.\\n\\n\\\"Tammuz,\\\" the woman said as if it were a curse. \\\"It is not enough that you cause me to be cast out of the Guild with your blundering, you great ox-brain you, but now you chase after meas well.\\\" She had the same odd way of speaking as the man. \\\"Do you think that I am glad to see you?\\\"\\n\\nThe one called Tammuz laughed. \\\"You area very large fool, Aludra, which I always knew. Had you merely gone away, you could have lived along life in some quiet place. But you could not forget the secrets in your head, eh? Did you believe we would not hear that you try to earn your way making what it is the right of the Guild alone to make?\\\" Suddenly there was a knife in his hand. \\\"It will be a great pleasure to cut your throat, Aludra.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mat was not even aware that he had stood up until one of the doubled ropes dangling from the ceiling was in his hands and he had launched himself out of the loft. Burn me fora bloody fool!\\n\\nHe only had time for that one frantic thought, and then he was plowing through the cloaked men, sending them toppling like pins in a game of bowls. The ropes slipped through his hands, and he fell, tumbling across the straw-covered floor himself, coins spilling from his pockets, to end up against a stall. When he scrambled to his feet, the four men were already rising, too. And they all had knives in their hands, now. Light-blind fool! Burn me! Burn me!\\n\\n\\\"Mat!\\\"\\n\\nHe looked up, and Thom tossed his quarterstaff down to him. He snagged it out of the air just in time to knock the blade out of Tammuz's fist and thump him a sharp crack on the side of the head. The man crumpled, but the other three were right behind, and fora hectic moment Mat had all he could do with a whirling staff to keep knife blades away from him, rapping knees and ankles and ribs until he could land a good blow on ahead. When the last man fell, he stared at them a moment, then raised his glare to the woman. \\\"Did you have to choose this stable to be murdered in?\\\"\\n\\nShe slipped a slim-bladed dagger back into a sheath at her belt. \\\"I would have helped you, but I feared that you might mistake me for one of these great buffoons if I came near with steel in my hand. And I chose this stable because the rain is wet and so am I, and no one was watching this place.\\\"\\n\\nShe was older than he had thought, at least tenor fifteen years older than he, but pretty still, with large, dark eyes and a small, full mouth that seemed on the point of a pout. Or getting ready fora kiss. He gave a small laugh and leaned on his staff. \\\"Well, what is done is done. I suppose you were not trying to bring us trouble.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Thom was climbing down from the loft, awkwardly because of his leg, and Aludra looked from him to Mat.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The gleeman had put his cloak back on; he seldom let anyone see him without it, especially for the first time. \\\"This is like a story,\\\" she said. \\\"I am rescued by a gleeman and a young hero\\\"-she frowned at the men sprawled on the stable floor-\\\"from these whose mothers were pigs!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why did they want to kill you?\\\" Mat asked. \\\"He said something about secrets.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The secrets,\\\" Thom said in very nearly his performing voice, \\\"of making fireworks, unless I miss my guess. You are an Illuminator, are you not?\\\" He made a courtly bow with an elaborate swirl of his cloak. \\\"I am Thom Merrilin, a gleeman, as you have seen.\\\" Almost as an afterthought, he added, \\\"And this is Mat, a young man with a knack for finding trouble.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was an Illuminator,\\\" Aludra said stiffly, \\\"but this great pig Tammuz, he ruined a performance for the King of Cairhien, and nearly he destroyed the chapter house, too. But me, I was Mistress of the Chapter House, so it was me that the Guild held responsible.\\\" Her voice became defensive. \\\"I do not tell the secrets of the Guild, no matter what that Tammuz says, but I will not let myself starve while I can make fireworks. I am no more in the Guild, so the laws of the Guild, they do not apply tome now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Galldrian,\\\" Thom said, sounding almost as wooden as she had. \\\"Well, he is a dead king now, and he'll see no more fireworks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Guild,\\\" she said, sounding tired, \\\"they all but blame me for this war in Cairhien, as if that one night of disaster, it made Galldrian die.\\\" Thom grimaced. \\\"It seems I can no longer remain here,\\\" she went on. \\\"Tammuz and these other oxen, they will wake soon. Perhaps this time they will tell the soldiers that I stole what I have made.\\\" She eyed Thom and then Mat, frowning in thought, and seemed to reach a decision. \\\"I must reward you, but I have no money. However, I have something that is perhaps as good as gold. Maybe better. We shall see what you think.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mat exchanged glances with Thomas she went to root under the canvas covering her cart. I'll help anyone who can pay. He thought a speculative light had appeared in Thom's blue eyes.\\n\\nAludra separated one bundle from a number like it, a short roll of heavy, oiled cloth almost as fat as her arms would go around. Setting it down on the straw, she undid the binding cords and unrolled the cloth across the floor. Four rows of pockets ran along the length of it, the pockets in each row larger than those in the one before. Each pocket held a wax-coated cylinder of paper just large enough for its end, trailing a dark cord, to stick out.\\n\\n\\\"Fireworks,\\\" Thom said. \\\"I knew it. Aludra, you must not do this. You can sell those for enough to live ten days or more at a good inn, and eat well everyday. Well, anywhere but herein Aringill.\\\"\\n\\nKneeling beside the long strip of oiled cloth, she sniffed at him. \\\"Be quiet, you old one you.\\\" She made it sound not unkindly. \\\"I am not allowed to show gratitude? You think I would give you this if I had no more for selling? Attend me closely.\\\"\\n\\nMat squatted beside her, fascinated. He had seen fireworks twice in his life. Peddlers had brought them to Emond's Field, at great expense to the Village Council. When he was ten, he had tried to cut one open to see what was inside, and had caused an uproar. Bran al'Vere, the Mayor, had cuffed him; Doral Barran, who had been the Wisdom then, had switched him; and his father had strapped him when he got home. Nobody in the village would talk to him fora month, except for Rand and Perrin, and they mostly told him what a fool he had been. He reached out to touch one of the cylinders. Aludra slapped his hand away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Attend me first, I say!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"These smallest, they will make aloud bang, but no more.\\\" They were the size of his little finger. \\\"These next, they make a bang and a bright light. The next, they make the bang, and the light, and many sparkles. The last\\\"-these were fatter than his thumb-\\\"make all of those things, but the sparkles, they are many colors. Almost like a night-flower, but not up in the sky.\\\"\\n\\nNightflower? Mat thought.\\n\\n\\\"You must be especially careful of these. You see, the fuse, it is very long.\\\" She saw his blank look, and waggled one of the long, dark cords at him. \\\"This, this!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where you put the fire,\\\" he muttered. \\\"I know that.\\\" Thom made a sound in his throat and stroked his mustaches with a knuckle as if covering a smile.\\n\\nAludra grunted. \\\"Where you put the fire. Yes. Do not stay close to any of them, but these largest, you runaway from when you light the fuse. You comprehend me?\\\" She briskly rolled up the long cloth. \\\"You may sell these if you wish, or use them. Remember, you must never put this close to fire. Fire will make them all explode. So many as this at once, it could destroy a house, maybe.\\\" She hesitated over retying the cords, then added, \\\"And there is one last thing, which you may have heard. Do not cut open any of these, as some great fools do to see what is inside. Sometimes when what is inside touches air, it will explode without the need of fire. You can lose fingers, or even a hand.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've heard that,\\\" Mat said dryly.\\n\\nShe frowned at him as if wondering whether he meant to do it anyway, then finally pushed the rolled bundle toward him. \\\"Here. I must go now, before these sons of goats awaken.\\\" Glancing at the still open door, and the rain falling in the night beyond, she sighed. \\\"Perhaps I will find somewhere else dry. I think I will go toward Lugard, tomorrow. These pigs, they will expect me to go to Caemlyn, yes?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"It was even further to Lugard than to Caemlyn, and Mat suddenly remembered that hard end of bread.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And she had said she had no money. The fireworks would buy no meals until she found someone who could afford them. She had never even looked at the gold and silver that had spilled from his pockets when he fell; it glittered and sparkled among the straw in the lantern light. Ah, Light, I cannot let her go hungry, I suppose. He scooped up as much as he could reach quickly.\\n\\n\\\"Uh... Aludra? I have plenty, you can see. I thought perhaps....\\\" He held out the coins toward her. \\\"I can always win more.\\\"\\n\\nShe paused with her cloak half around her shoulders, then smiled at Thomas she swept it the rest of the way on. \\\"He is young yet, eh?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is young,\\\" Thom agreed. \\\"And not half so bad as he would like to think himself. Sometimes he is not.\\\"\\n\\nMat glowered at both of them and lowered his hand.\\n\\nLifting the shafts of her cart, Aludra got it turned around and started for the door, giving Tammuz a kick in the ribs as she passed. He groaned groggily.\\n\\n\\\"I would like to know something, Aludra,\\\" Thom said. \\\"How did you light that lantern so quickly in the dark?\\\"\\n\\nStopping short of the door, she smiled over her shoulder at him. \\\"You wish me to tell you all of my secrets? I am grateful, but I am not in love. That secret, not even the Guild knows, for it is my discovery alone. I will tell you this much. When I know how to make it work properly, and work only when I want it to, sticks will make my fortune for me.\\\" Throwing her weight against the shafts, she pulled the cart into the rain, and the night swallowed her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Sticks?\\\" Mat said. He wondered if she might not be a little strange in the head.\\n\\nTammuz groaned again.\\n\\n\\\"Best we do the same as she, boy,\\\" Thom said. \\\"Else it's a choice between slitting four throats and maybe spending the next few days explaining ourselves to the Queen's Guards. These look the sort who'd set them onus out of spite. And they have enough to be spiteful for, I suppose.\\\" One of Tammuz's companions twitched as if coming to, and muttered something incomprehensible.\\n\\nBy the time they had gathered everything and saddled the horses, Tammuz was upon his hands and knees with his head hanging, and the others were stirring and groaning, too.\\n\\nSwinging into his saddle, Mat stared at the rain outside the open door, falling harder than ever. \\\"A bloody hero,\\\" he said. \\\"Thom, if I ever look like acting the hero again, you kick me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And what would you have done differently?\\\"\\n\\nMat scowled at him, then pulled up his hood and spread the tail of his cloak over the fat roll tied behind the high cantle of his saddle. Even with oiled cloth, a little more protection from the rain could not hurt. \\\"Just kick me!\\\" He booted his horse in the ribs and galloped into the rainy night.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As the Snow Goose moved toward the long stone docks of Illian, sails furled and propelled by its sweeps, Perrin stood near the stern watching great numbers of long-legged birds wading in the tall marsh grass that all but encircled the great harbor. He recognized the small white cranes, and could guess at their much larger blue brothers, but many of the crested birds-red-feathered or rosy, some with flat bills broader than a duck's-he did not know at all. A dozen sorts of gulls swooped and soared above the harbor itself, and a blackbird with along, sharp beak skimmed just above the water, its underbeak cutting a furrow. Ships three and four times as long as the Snow Goose lay anchored across the expanse of the harbor, waiting their turns at the docks, or for the tides to shift so they could sail beyond the long breakwater. Small fishing boats worked close to the marsh, and in the creeks winding through it, two or three men in each dragging nets on long poles swung out from either side of the boat.\\n\\nThe wind carried a sharp scent of salt, and did little to break the heat. The sun stood well over halfway down to the horizon, but it seemed like noon. The air felt damp; it was the only way he could think of it. Damp. His nose caught the smell of fresh fish from the boats, of old fish and mud from the marsh, and the sour stink of a large tanning yard that lay on a treeless island in the marsh grass.\\n\\nCaptain Adarra muttered something softly behind him, the tiller creaked, and the Snow Goose changed its course a trifle. Barefoot men at the sweeps moved as if not wanting to make a sound. Perrin did not glance at them beyond a flicker of his eye.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He peered at the tannery, instead, watching men scrape hides stretched on rows of wooden frames, and other men lift hides out of huge, sunken vats with long sticks. Sometimes they stacked the hides on barrows, wheeling them into the long, low building at the edge of the yard; sometimes the hides went back into the vats, with an addition of liquids poured from large stone crocks. They probably made more leather in a day than was made in Emond's Field in months, and he could see another tannery on another island beyond the first.\\n\\nIt was not that he had any real interest in ships or fishing boats or tanning yards, or even very much in the birds-though he did wonder what those pale red ones could be fishing for with their flat bills, and some of them looked good to eat unless he watched himself-but anything at all was better than watching the scene behind him on the deck of the Snow Goose. The axe at his belt was no defense against that. A stonewall wouldn't be defense enough, he thought.\\n\\nMoiraine had been neither pleased nor displeased to discover that Zarine-I'll not call her Faile, whatever she wants to name herself! She is no falcon!-knew she was Aes Sedai, though she had been perhaps a little upset with him for not telling her. A little upset. She called me a fool, but that was all. Then. Moiraine did not seem to care one way or another about Zarine being a Hunter of the Horn. But once she learned the girl thought they would lead her to the Horn of Valere, once she learned he had known that, too, and not told her-Zarine had been more than forthcoming about both subjects with Moiraine, to his mind-then her cold dark stare had taken on a quality that made him feel as if he had been packed in a barrel of snow in the dead of winter. The Aes Sedai said nothing, but she stared too often and too hard for any comfort.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He looked over his shoulder and quickly returned to studying the shoreline. Zarine was sitting cross-legged on the deck near the horses tethered between the masts, her bundle and dark cloak beside her, her narrow, divided skirts neatly arrayed, pretending to study the rooftops and towers of the oncoming city. Moiraine was studying Illian, too, from just ahead of the men working the sweeps, but now and then she shot a hard look at the girl from under the deep hood of her fine gray wool cloak. How can she stand wearing that? His own coat was unbuttoned and his shirt unlaced at the neck.\\n\\nZarine met each Aes Sedai look with a smile, but every time Moiraine turned away, she swallowed and wiped her forehead.\\n\\nPerrin rather admired her for managing that smile when Moiraine was watching. It was a good deal more than he could do. He had never seen the Aes Sedai truly lose her temper, but he himself was at the point of wishing she would shout, or rage, or anything but stare at him. Light, maybe not anything! Maybe the stare was bearable.\\n\\nLan sat further toward the bow than Moiraine-his color-shifting cloak was still in the saddlebags at his feet-outwardly absorbed in examining his sword blade, but making little effort to hide his amusement. Sometimes his lips appeared to quirk very close to a smile. Perrin was not certain; at times he thought it was only a shadow. Shadows could make a hammer seem to smile. Each woman obviously thought she was the object of that amusement, but the Warder did not appear to mind the tight-lipped frowns he received from both of them.\\n\\nA few days earlier Perrin had heard Moiraine ask Lan, in a voice like ice, whether he saw something to laugh at. \\\"I would never laugh at you, Moiraine Sedai,\\\" he had replied calmly, \\\"but if you truly intend to send me to Myrelle, I must become used to smiling. I hear that Myrelle tells her Warders jokes. Gaidin must smile at their bondholder's quips; you have often given me quips to laugh at, have you not? Perhaps you would rather I stay with you after all.\\\" She had given him a look that would have nailed any other man to the mast, but the Warder never blinked. Lan made cold steel seem like tin.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The crew had taken to padding about their work in utter silence when Moiraine and Zarine were on deck together.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Captain Adarra held his head tilted, and looked as if he were listening for something he did not want to hear. He passed his orders in whispers, instead of the shouts he had used at first. Everyone knew Moiraine was Aes Sedai, now, and everyone knew she was displeased. Perrin had let himself get into one shouting match with Zarine, and he was not sure which of them had said the words'Aes Sedai,\\\" but the whole crew knew. Bloody woman! He was uncertain whether he meant Moiraine or Zarine. If she is the falcon, what is the hawk supposed to be? Am I going to be stuck with two women like her? Light! No! She is not a falcon, and that is an end to it! The only good thing he could find in all this was that with an angry Aes Sedai to worry about, none of the crew looked twice at his eyes.\\n\\nLoial was nowhere insight, at the moment. The Ogier stayed in his stifling cabin whenever Moiraine and Zarine were topside together-working on his notes, he said. He only came on deck at night, to smoke his pipe. Perrin did not see how he could take the heat; even Moiraine and Zarine were better than being belowdecks.\\n\\nHe sighed and kept his eyes on Illian. The city the ship was approaching was large-as big as Cairhien or Caemlyn, the only two great cities he had ever seen-and it reared out of a huge marsh that stretched for miles like a plain of waving grass. Illian had no walls at all, but it seemed to be all towers and palaces. The buildings were all pale stone, except for some that appeared covered with white plaster, but the stone was white and gray and reddish and even faint shades of green. Rooftops of tile sparkled under the sun with a hundred different hues. The long docks held many ships, most dwarfing the Snow Goose, and bustled with the loading and unloading of cargo. There were shipyards at the far end of the city, where great ships stood in every stage from skeletons of thick wooden ribs to nearly ready to slide into the harbor.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perhaps Illian was large enough to keep wolves at bay. They surely would not hunt in those marshes. The Snow Goose had outrun the wolves that had followed him from the mountains. He reached out for them gingerly, now, and felt-nothing. A curiously empty feeling, given that it was what he wanted. His dreams had been his own-for the most part-since that first night. Moiraine had asked about them in a cold voice, and he had told the truth. Twice he had found himself in that odd sort of wolf dream, and both times Hopper had appeared, chasing him away, telling him he was too young yet, too new. What Moiraine made of that, he had no idea; she told him nothing, except to say he had best be wary.\\n\\n\\\"That's as well by me,\\\" he growled. He was almost becoming used to Hopper being dead but not dead, in the wolf dreams, at least. Behind him, he heard Captain Adarra scuff his boots on the deck and mutter something, startled that anyone would speak aloud.\\n\\nLines were hurled ashore from the ship. While they were still being made fast to stone posts along the docks, the slightly built captain leaped into motion, whispering fiercely to his crew. He had booms rigged to lift the horses onto the wharf almost as quickly as the gangplank was laid in place. Lan's black warhorse kicked and nearly broke the boom hoisting him. Loial's huge, hairy-fetlocked mount needed two.\\n\\n\\\"An honor,\\\" Adarra whispered to Moiraine with a bow as she stepped onto the wide plank leading to the dock. \\\"An honor to have served you, Aes Sedai.\\\" She strode ashore without looking at him, her face hidden in her deep hood.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Loial did not appear until everyone else was on the dock, and the horses, too.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Ogier came thumping up the gangplank trying to don his long coat while carrying his big saddlebags and striped blanketroll, and his cloak over one arm. \\\"I did not know we had arrived,\\\" he rumbled breathlessly. \\\"I was rereading my....\\\" He trailed off with a glance at Moiraine. She appeared to be absorbed in watching Lan saddle Aldieb, but the Ogier's ears flickered like a nervous cat's.\\n\\nHis notes, Perrin thought. One of these days I have to see what he is saying about all this. Something tickled the back of his neck, and he jumped afoot before he realized he was smelling a clean, herbal scent through the spices and tar and stinks of the docks.\\n\\nZarine wiggled her fingers, smiling at them. \\\"If I can do that with just a brush of my fingers, farmboy, I wonder how high you would jump if I-?\\\"\\n\\nHe was growing a little tired of considering looks from those dark, tilted eyes. She maybe pretty, but she looks at me the way I'd look at a tool I'd never seen before, trying to puzzle out how it was made, and what it is supposed to be used for.\\n\\n\\\"Zarine.\\\" Moiraine's voice was cool but unruffled.\\n\\n\\\"I am called Faile,\\\" Zarine said firmly, and fora moment, with her bold nose, she did look like a falcon.\\n\\n\\\"Zarine,\\\" Moiraine said firmly, \\\"it is time for our ways to part. You will find better Hunting elsewhere, and safer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I think not,\\\" Zarine said just as firmly. \\\"A Hunter must follow the trail she sees, and no Hunter would ignore the trail you four leave. And I am Faile.\\\" She spoiled it a bit by swallowing, but she did not blink as she met Moiraine's eyes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Are you certain?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Moiraine said softly. \\\"Are you sure you will not change your mind... Falcon?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will not. There is nothing you or your stone-faced Warder can do to stop me.\\\" Zarine hesitated, then added slowly, as if she had decided to be entirely truthful, \\\"At least, there is nothing that you will do that can stop me. I know a little of Aes Sedai; I know, for all the stories, that there are things you will not do. And I do not believe stone-face would do what he must to make me give over.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you sure enough of that to risk it?\\\" Lan spoke quietly, and his face did not change, but Zarine swallowed again.\\n\\n\\\"There is no need to threaten her, Lan,\\\" Perrin said. He was surprised to realize he was glaring at the Warder.\\n\\nMoiraine's glance silenced him and the Warder both. \\\"You believe you know what an Aes Sedai will not do, do you?\\\" she said more softly than before. Her smile was not pleasant. \\\"If you wish to go with us, this is what you must do.\\\" Lan's eyelids flickered in surprise; the two women stared at each other like falcon and mouse, but Zarine was not the falcon, now. \\\"You will swear by your Hunter's oath to do as I say, to heed me, and not to leave us. Once you know more than you should of what we do, I will not allow you to fall into the wrong hands. Know that for truth, girl. You will swear to act as one of us, and do nothing that will endanger our purpose. You will ask no questions of where we go or why: you will be satisfied with what I choose to tell you. All of this you will swear, or you will remain herein Illian. And you will not leave this marsh until I return to release you, if it takes the rest of your life. That I swear.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Zarine turned her head uneasily, watching Moiraine out of one eye. \\\"I may accompany you if I swear?\\\" The Aes Sedai nodded. \\\"I will be one of you, the same as Loial or stone-face. But I can ask no questions. Are they allowed to ask questions?\\\" Moiraine's face lost a little of its patience. Zarine stood up straighter and held her head high. \\\"Very well, then. I swear, by the oath I took as a Hunter. If I break one, I will have broken both. I swear it!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Done,\\\" Moiraine said, touching the younger woman's forehead; Zarine shivered. \\\"Since you brought her to us, Perrin, she is your responsibility.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Mine!\\\" he yelped.\\n\\n\\\"I am no one's responsibility but my own!\\\" Zarine nearly shouted.\\n\\nThe Aes Sedai went serenely on as if they had never opened their mouths. \\\"It seems you have found Min's falcon, ta'veren. I have tried to discourage her, but it appears she will perch on your shoulder whatever I do. The Pattern weaves a future for you, it seems. Yet remember this. If I must, I will snip your thread from the Pattern. And if the girl endangers what must be, you will share her fate.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did not ask for her to come along!\\\" Perrin protested. Moiraine calmly mounted Aldieb, adjusting her cloak over the white mare's saddle. \\\"I did not ask for her!\\\" Loial shrugged at him and silently mouthed something. No doubt a saying about the dangers of angering Aes Sedai.\\n\\n\\\"You are ta'veren?\\\" Zarine said disbelievingly. Her gaze ran over his sturdy country clothes and settled on his yellow eyes. \\\"Well, perhaps. Whatever you are, she threatens you as easily as she does me. Who is Min? What does she mean, I will perch on your shoulder?\\\" Her face tightened. \\\"If you try making me your responsibility, I will carve your ears. Do you hear me?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Grimacing, he slipped his unstrung bow under the saddle girths along Stepper's flank, and climbed into the saddle.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Restive after days on the ship, the dun lived up to his name until Perrin calmed him with a firm hand on the reins and pats to his neck.\\n\\n\\\"None of that deserves an answer,\\\" he growled. Min bloody told her! Burn you, Min! Burn you, too, Moiraine! And Zarine! He could never remember Rand or Mat being bullied by women on every side. Or himself, before leaving Emond's Field. Nynaeve had been the only one. And Mistress Luhhan, of course; she ran him and Master Luhhan both, everywhere but in the smithy. And Egwene had had away about her, though mostly with Rand. Mistress al'Vere, Egwene's mother, always had a smile, but things seemed to end up being done as she wanted, too. And the Women's Circle had looked over everybody's shoulder.\\n\\nGrumbling to himself, he reached down and took Zarine by an arm; she gave a squawk and nearly dropped her bundle as he hoisted her up behind his saddle. Those divided skirts of hers made it easy for her to straddle Stepper. \\\"Moiraine will have to buy you a horse,\\\" he muttered. \\\"You cannot walk the whole way.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are strong, blacksmith,\\\" Zarine said, rubbing her arm, \\\"but I am not apiece of iron.\\\" She shifted around, stuffing her bundle and her cloak between them. \\\"I can buy my own horse, if I need one. The whole way where?\\\"\\n\\nLan was already riding off the dock into the city, with Moiraine and Loial behind him. The Ogier looked back at Perrin.\\n\\n\\\"No questions, remember? And my name is Perrin, Zarine. Not \\\"big man,\\\" or \\\"blacksmith,\\\" or anything else. Perrin. Perrin Aybara.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And mine is Faile, shaggy-hair.\\\"\\n\\nWith something close to a snarl, he booted Stepper after the others. Zarine had to throw her arms around his waist to keep from being tossed over the dun's crupper. He thought she was laughing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The hubbub of the city quickly submerged Zarine's laughter-if that was what it was-beneath all the clamor that Perrin remembered from Caemlyn and Cairhien. The sounds were different here, slower, and pitched differently, but they were the same, too. Boots and wheels and hooves on rough, uneven paving stones, cart and wagon axles squealing, music and song and laughter drifting from inns and taverns. Voices. A hum of voices like putting his head into a giant beehive. A great city, living.\\n\\nFrom down aside street he heard the clang of hammer on anvil, and shifted his shoulders unconsciously. He missed the hammer and tongs in his hands, the white-hot metal giving off sparks as his blows shaped it. The smithy sounds faded behind, buried under the rumble of carts and wagons, and the babble of shopkeepers and people in the streets. Under all the smells of people and horses, cooking and baking, and a hundred scents he had found peculiar to cities lay the smell of marsh and saltwater.\\n\\nHe was surprised the first time they came to abridge inside the city-a low arch of stone over a waterway no more than thirty paces across-but by the third such bridge, he realized that Illian was crisscrossed by as many canals as streets, with men poling laden barges as often as plying whips to move heavy wagons. Sedan chairs wove through the crowds in the streets, and occasionally the lacquered coach of some wealthy merchant or a noble, with crest or House sign painted large on the doors. Many of the men wore peculiar beards that left their upper lip bare, while the women seemed to favor hats with wide brims and attached scarves that they wound around their necks.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Once they crossed a great square, many hides in extent, surrounded by huge columns of white marble at least fifteen spans tall and two spans thick, supporting nothing but a wreath of carved olive branches at the top of each. A huge, white palace stood at either end of the square, each all columned walks and airy balconies, slender towers and purple roofs. Each reflected the other exactly, at first glance, but then Perrin realized that one was just a fraction smaller in each dimension, its towers perhaps less than apace shorter.\\n\\n\\\"The King's Palace,\\\" Zarine said against his back, \\\"and the Great Hall of the Council. It is said the first King of Illian said the Council of Nine could have any palace they wished, just as long as they did not try to build one larger than his. So the Council copied the King's palace exactly, but two feet smaller in every measurement. That has been the way of Illian ever since. The King and the Council of Nine duel with each other, and the Assemblage struggles with both, and so while they carry on their battles, the people live much as they wish, with none to look over their shoulders too much. It is not a bad way to live, if you must be tied to one city. You would also like to know, I think, blacksmith, that this is the Square of Tammaz, where I took the Hunter's Oath. I think I will end up teaching you so much, no one will notice the hay in your hair.\\\"\\n\\nPerrin held his tongue with an effort, resolving not to stare so openly again.\\n\\nNo one seemed to take Loial as anything much out of the ordinary. A few people looked at him twice, and some small children scampered along in their wake fora time, but it appeared that Ogier were not unknown in Illian. None of the folk seemed to notice the heat or the damp, either.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"For once, Loial did not appear pleased with the people's acceptance. His long eyebrows drooped down on his cheeks, and his ears had wilted, though Perrin was not sure that was not just the air. His own shirt clung to him with a mixture of sweat and the damp air.\\n\\n\\\"Are you afraid you'll find other Ogier here, Loial?\\\" he asked. He felt Zarine stir against his back and cursed his tongue. He meant to let the woman know even less than Moiraine apparently meant to tell her. That way, perhaps, she would grow bored enough to leave. If Moiraine will let her go, now. Burn me, I don't want any bloody falcon perched on my shoulder, even if she is pretty.\\n\\nLoial nodded. \\\"Our stonemasons sometimes come here.\\\" He spoke in a whisper not only for an Ogier, but for anyone. Even Perrin could barely hear. \\\"From Stedding Shangtai, I mean. It was masons from our stedding who built part of Illian-the Palace of the Assemblage, the Great Hall of the Council, some of the others-and they always send to us when repairs need to be done. Perrin, if there are Ogier here, they will make me go back to the stedding. I should have thought of it before now. This place makes me uneasy, Perrin.\\\" His ears shifted nervously.\\n\\nPerrin moved Stepper closer and reached up to pat Loial's shoulder. It was along reach, above his head. Conscious of Zarine at his back, he chose his words carefully. \\\"Loial, I do not believe Moiraine would let them take you. You have been with us along time, and she seems to want you with us. She will not let them take you, Loial.\\\" Why not? he wondered suddenly. She keeps me because she thinks I maybe important to Rand, and maybe because she doesn't want me telling what I know to anyone. Maybe that's why she wants him to stay.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Of course, she would not,\\\" Loial said in a slightly stronger voice, and his ears perked up. \\\"I am very useful, after all. She may need to travel the Ways again, and she could not without me.\\\" Zarine shifted against Perrin's back, and he shook his head, trying to catch Loial's eye. But Loial was not looking. He seemed to have just heard what he had said, and the tufts on his ears had fallen a little. \\\"I do hope it's not that, Perrin.\\\" The Ogier looked at the city around them, and his ears went all the way back down. \\\"I do not like this place, Perrin.\\\"\\n\\nMoiraine rode closer to Lan and spoke softly, but Perrin managed to catch her words. \\\"Something is wrong in this city.\\\" The Warder nodded.\\n\\nPerrin felt an itch between his shoulders. The Aes Sedai had sounded grim. First Loial, and now her. What don't I see? The sun shone down on the sparkling roof tiles, made reflections from pale stonewalls. Those buildings looked as if they might be cool, inside. The buildings were clean and bright, and so were the people. The people.\\n\\nAt first he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Men and women moving about their business, purposeful, but slower than he was used to further north. He thought it might be the heat, and the bright sun. Then he spotted a baker's lad trotting down the street with a big tray of fresh loaves balanced on his head; the young fellow wore a grimace on his face that was nearly a snarl. A woman in front of a weaver's shop looked as if she might bite the man holding up the bright-colored bolts for her inspection. A juggler on a corner ground his teeth and stared at the folk who tossed coins into the cap lying in front of him as if he hated them. Not everyone looked so, but it seemed to him that at least one face in five wore anger and hatred. And he did not think they were even aware of it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What is the matter?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Zarine asked. \\\"You are tensing. It is like holding onto a rock.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Something is wrong,\\\" he told her. \\\"I do not know what, but something is wrong.\\\" Loial nodded sadly, and murmured about how they would make him go back.\\n\\nThe buildings around them began to change as they rode, crossing more bridges as they crossed Illian to its other side. The pale stone was as often undressed as polished, now. The towers and palaces vanished, to be replaced by inns and warehouses. Many of the men in the streets, and some of the women, had an oddly rolling gait; they all had the bare feet he associated with sailors. The smells of pitch and hemp were strong in the air, and the scent of wood, both freshly cut and cured, with sour mud overlying both. The canals' odors changed, too, making his nose wrinkle. Chamber pots, he thought. Chamber pots and old privies. It made him feel queasy.\\n\\n\\\"The Bridge of Flowers,\\\" Lan announced as they crossed yet another low bridge. He inhaled deeply. \\\"And now we are in the Perfumed Quarter. The Illianers area poetic people.\\\"\\n\\nZarine stifled a laugh against Perrin's back.\\n\\nAs if he were suddenly impatient with the slow pace of Illian, the Warder led them quickly through the streets to an inn, two stories of rough, green-veined stone topped with pale green tiles. Evening was coming on, the light growing softer as the sun settled. It gave a little relief from the heat, but not much. Boys seated on mounting blocks in front of the inn hopped up to take their horses. One black-haired lad about ten asked Loial if he were an Ogier, and when Loial said he was, the boy said, \\\"I did think you did be,\\\" with a self-satisfied nod. He led Loial's big horse away, tossing the copper Loial had given him into the air and catching it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perrin frowned up at the inn sign fora moment before following the others in. A white-striped badger danced on its hind legs with a man carrying what seemed to be a silver shovel. Easing the Badger, it read. It must be some story I never heard.\\n\\nThe common room had sawdust on the floor, and tabac smoke filled the air. It also smelled of wine, and fish cooking in the kitchen, and a heavy, flowered perfume. The exposed beams of the high ceiling were rough-hewn and age-dark. This early in the evening, no more than a quarter of the stools and benches were filled, by men in workmen's plain coats and vests, some with the bare feet of sailors. All of them sat clustered as close as they could manage around one table where a pretty, dark-eyed girl, the wearer of the perfume, sang to the strumming of a twelve-string bittern and danced on the tabletop with swirls of her skirt. Her loose, white blouse had an extremely low neck. Perrin recognized the tune-\\\"The Dancing Lass\\\"-but the words the girl sang were different from what he knew.\\n\\n\\\"A Lugard girl, she came to town, to see what she could see. With a wink of her eye, and a smile on her lip, she snagged a boy or three, or three. With an ankle slim, and skin so pale, she caught the owner of a ship, a ship. With a soft little sigh, and a gay little laugh, she made her way so free. So free.\\\"\\n\\nShe launched into another verse, and when Perrin realized what she was singing, his face grew hot. He had thought nothing could shock him after seeing Tinker girls dance, but that had only hinted at things. This girl was singing them right out.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Zarine was nodding in time to the music and grinning. Her grin widened when she looked at him. \\\"Why, farmboy, I do not think I ever knew a man your age who could still blush.\\\"\\n\\nHe glared at her and barely stopped himself from saying something he knew would be stupid. This bloody woman has me jumping before I can think. Light, I'll wager she thinks I never even kissed a girl! He tried not to listen to anymore of what the girl was singing. If he could not get the red out of his face, Zarine was sure to make more of it.\\n\\nA flash of startlement had passed across the face of the proprietress when they entered. A large, round woman with her hair in a thick roll at the back of her neck and a smell of strong soap about her, she suppressed her surprise quickly, though, and hurried to Moiraine.\\n\\n\\\"Mistress Mari,\\\" she said, \\\"I did never think to see you here today.\\\" She hesitated, eyeing Perrin and Zarine, glanced once at Loial, but not in the searching way she looked at them. Her eyes actually brightened at the sight of the Ogier, but her real attention was all on'Mistress Mari.\\\" She lowered her voice, \\\"Have my pigeons no arrived safely?\\\" Lan, she seemed to accept as apart of Moiraine.\\n\\n\\\"I am sure they have, Nieda,\\\" Moiraine said. \\\"I have been away, but I am sure Adine has noted down everything you reported.\\\" She eyed the girl singing on the table with no outward disapproval, nor any other expression. \\\"The Badger was considerably quieter when last I was here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye, Mistress Mari, it did be that. But the louts have no gotten over the winter yet, it does seem. I have no had a fight in the Badger in ten years, till the tail of this winter gone.\\\" She nodded toward the one man not sitting near the singer, a fellow even bigger than Perrin, standing against the wall with his thick arms folded, tapping his foot to the music. \\\"Even Bili did have a hard timekeeping them down, so I did hire the girl to take their minds from anger. From someplace in Altara, she does come.\\\" She tilted her head, listening fora moment. \\\"A fair voice, but I did sing it better-aye, and dance better, too-when I did be her age.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perrin gaped at the thought of this huge woman capering on a table, singing that song-a bit of it came through; \\\"I'll wear no shift at all. At all\\\"-until Zarine fisted him hard in the short ribs. He grunted.\\n\\nNieda looked his way. \\\"I'll mix you some honey and sulphur, lad, for that throat. You'll no want to take a chill before the weather warms, no with a pretty girl like that one on your arm.\\\"\\n\\nMoiraine gave him a look that said he was interfering with her. \\\"Strange that you should suffer fights,\\\" she said. \\\"I well remember how your nephew stops such. Has something occurred to make people more irritable?\\\"\\n\\nNieda mused fora moment. \\\"Perhaps. It do be hard to say. The young lordlings do always comedown to the docks for the wenching and carousing they can no getaway with where the air does smell fresher. Perhaps they do come more often, now, since the hard of the winter. Perhaps. And others do snap at each other more, too. It did be a hard winter. That does make men angrier, and women as well. All that rain, and cold. Why, I did wake two mornings to find ice in my washbasin. No so hard as the last winter, of course, but that did be a winter fora thousand years. Almost enough to make me believe those travelers' tales of frozen water falling from the sky.\\\" She giggled to show how little she believed that. It was an odd sound from such a large woman.\\n\\nPerrin shook his head. She doesn't believe in snow? But if she thought this weather was cool, he could believe it of her.\\n\\nMoiraine bent her head in thought, her hood shadowing her face.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The girl on the table was beginning anew verse, and Perrin found himself listening in spite of himself. He had never heard of any woman doing anything remotely like what the girl was singing about, but it did sound interesting. He noticed Zarine watching him listen, and tried to pretend he had not been.\\n\\n\\\"What has occurred out of the ordinary in Illian of late?\\\" Moiraine said finally.\\n\\n\\\"I do suppose you could call Lord Brend's ascension to the Council of Nine unusual,\\\" Nieda said. \\\"Fortune prick me, I can no remember ever hearing his name before the winter, but he did come to the city-from somewhere near the Murandian border, it be rumored-and did be raised inside a week. It do be said he be a good man, and strongest of the Nine-they all do follow his lead, it be said, though he be newest and unknown-but sometimes I do have strange dreams of him.\\\"\\n\\nMoiraine had opened her mouth-to tell Nieda she had meant in the last few nights, Perrin was sure-but she hesitated, and instead said, \\\"What sort of strange dreams, Nieda?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, foolishness, Mistress Mari. Just foolishness. You do truly wish to hear it? Dreams of Lord Brend in strange places, and walking bridges hanging in air. All fogged, these dreams do be, but near every night they do come. Did you ever hear of such? Foolishness, Fortune prick me! Yet, it do be odd. Bili does say he does dream the same dreams. I do think he does hear my dreams and copy them. Bili do be none too bright, sometimes, I do think.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You may do him an injustice,\\\" Moiraine breathed.\\n\\nPerrin stared at her dark hood. She had sounded shaken, even more shaken than when she thought anew false Dragon had risen in Ghealdan. He could not smell fear, but.... Moiraine was frightened. It was afar more terrifying thought than Moiraine angry. He could imagine her angry; he could not begin to conceive of her afraid.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"How I do maunder on,\\\" Nieda said, patting the rolled hair at the back of her neck. \\\"As if my foolish dreams do be important.\\\" She giggled again. A quick giggle; this was not as foolish as believing in snow. \\\"You do sound tired, Mistress Mari. I will show you to your rooms. And then a good meal of fresh-caught red-stripe.\\\"\\n\\nRed-stripe? A fish, he thought it must be; he could smell fish cooking.\\n\\n\\\"Rooms,\\\" Moiraine said. \\\"Yes. We will take rooms. The meal can wait. Ships. Nieda, what ships sail for Tear? Early on the morrow. I have that which I must do tonight.\\\" Lan glanced at her, frowning.\\n\\n\\\"For Tear, Mistress Mari?\\\" Nieda laughed. \\\"Why, none for Tear. The Nine did forbid any ship to sail for Tear a month gone now, nor any from Tear to call here, though I do think the Sea Folk pay it no mind. But there do be no Sea Folk ship in the harbor. It do be odd, that. The order of the Nine, I do mean, and the King silent on it, when he does always raise his voice if they but take a step without his lead. Or perhaps it be no that, exactly. All talk do be of war with Tear, but the boatmen and wagoneers who do carry supplies to the army do say the soldiers do all look north, to Murandy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The paths of the Shadow are tangled,\\\" Moiraine said in a tight voice. \\\"We will do what we must. The rooms, Nieda. And then we will eat that meal.\\\"\\n\\nPerrin's room was more comfortable than he expected, given the look of the rest of the Badger. The bed was wide, the mattress soft. The door was made of tilted slats, and when he opened the windows, a breeze crossed the room carrying the smells of the harbor. And something of the canals, too, but at least it was cooling. He hung his cloak on a peg along with his quiver and axe, and propped his bow in the corner. Everything else he left in the saddlebags and blanketroll. The night might not be restful.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"If Moiraine had sounded afraid before, it had been nothing to when she said that something must be done tonight. For an instant then, fear scent had steamed from her as from a woman announcing that she was going to stick her hand in a hornets' nest and crush them with her bare fingers. What in the Light is she up to? If Moiraine is frightened, I should be terrified.\\n\\nHe was not, he realized. Not terrified, or even frightened. He felt... excited. Ready for something to happen, almost eager. Determined. He recognized the feelings. They were what wolves felt just before they fought. Burn me, I'd rather be afraid!\\n\\nHe was first back down to the common except for Loial. Nieda had arranged a large table for them, with ladder-back chairs instead of benches. She had even found a chair big enough for Loial. The girl across the room was singing a song about a rich merchant who, having just lost his team of horses in an improbable way, had for some reason decided to pull his carriage himself. The men listening around her roared with laughter. The windows showed darkness coming on more quickly than he had expected; the air smelled as if it might be making up to rain.\\n\\n\\\"This inn has an Ogier room,\\\" Loial said as Perrin sat down. \\\"Apparently, every inn in Illian has one, in hopes of gaining Ogier custom when the stonemasons come. Nieda claims it is lucky, having an Ogier under the roof. I cannot think they get many. The masons always stay together when they go Outside to work. Humans are so hasty, and the Elders are always afraid tempers will flare and someone will put along handle on his axe.\\\" He eyed the men around the singer as if he suspected them of it. His ears were drooping again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The rich merchant was in the process of losing his carriage, to more laughter. \\\"Did you find out whether any Ogier from Stedding Shangtai are in Illian?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There were, but Nieda said they left during the winter. She said they had not finished their work. I do not understand it. The masons would not have left work undone unless they were not paid, and Nieda said it was not that. One morning, they were just gone, though someone saw them walking down the Maredo Causeway in the night. Perrin, I do not like this city. I do not know why, but it makes me... uneasy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ogier,\\\" Moiraine said, \\\"are sensitive to somethings.\\\" She still had her face hidden, but Nieda had apparently sent someone to buy her alight cloak of dark blue linen. The fear smell was gone from her, but her voice sounded under tight control. Lan held her chair for her; his eyes looked worried.\\n\\nZarine was the last down, running her fingers through just-washed hair. The herbal scent was stronger around her than before. She stared at the platter Nieda placed on the table and muttered under her breath. \\\"I hate fish.\\\"\\n\\nThe stout woman had brought all the food on a small cart with shelves; it was dusty in places, as if it had been hastily brought out from the storeroom in Moiraine's honor. The dishes were Sea Folk porcelain, too, if chipped.\\n\\n\\\"Eat,\\\" Moiraine said, looking straight at Zarine. \\\"Remember that any meal can be your last. You chose to travel with us, so tonight you will eat fish. Tomorrow, you may die.\\\"\\n\\nPerrin did not recognize the nearly round whitefish with red stripes, but they smelled good. He lifted two onto his plate with the serving fork, and grinned at Zarine around a mouthful. They tasted good, too, lightly spiced. Eat your nasty fish, falcon, he thought. He also thought that Zarine looked as if she might bite him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Do you wish me to stop the girl singing, Mistress Mari?\\\" Nieda asked. She was setting bowls of peas and some sort of stiff yellow mush on the table. \\\"So you can eat in quiet?\\\"\\n\\nStaring at her plate, Moiraine did not seem to hear.\\n\\nLan listened a moment-the merchant had already lost, in succession, his carriage, his cloak, his boots, his gold, and the rest of his clothes, and was now reduced to wrestling a pig for its dinner-and shook his head. \\\"She will not bother us.\\\" He looked close to smiling fora moment, before he glanced at Moiraine. Then the worry returned to his eyes.\\n\\n\\\"What is wrong?\\\" Zarine said. She was ignoring the fish. \\\"I know something is. I have not see that much expression on you, stone-face, since I met you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No questions!\\\" Moiraine said sharply. \\\"You will know what I tell you and no more!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What will you tell me?\\\" Zarine demanded.\\n\\nThe Aes Sedai smiled. \\\"Eat your fish.\\\"\\n\\nThe meal went on in near silence after that, except for the songs drifting across the room. There was one about a rich man whose wife and daughters made a fool of him time and again without ever deflating his self-importance, another that concerned a young woman who decided to take a walk without any clothes, and one that told of a blacksmith who managed to shoe himself instead of the horse. Zarine nearly choked laughing at that one, forgot herself enough to take a bite offish, and suddenly grimaced as if she had put mud in her mouth.\\n\\nI won't laugh at her, Perrin told himself. However foolish she looks, I'll show her what manners are. \\\"They taste good, don't they,\\\" he said. Zarine gave him a bitter look, and Moiraine a frown for interrupting her thoughts, and that was all the talk there was.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Nieda was clearing away the dishes and setting an array of cheeses on the table when a stink of something vile lifted the hackles on the back of Perrin's neck. It was a smell of something that should not be, and he had smelled it twice before. He peered about the common room uneasily.\\n\\nThe girl still sang to the knot of listeners, some men were strolling across the floor from the door, and Bili still leaned on the wall tapping his foot to the sounds of the bittern. Nieda patted her rolled hair, gave the room a quick glance, and turned to push the cart away.\\n\\nHe looked at his companions. Loial, unsurprisingly, had pulled a book from his coat pocket and seemed to have forgotten where he was. Zarine, absently rolling apiece of white cheese into a ball, was eyeing first Perrin, then Moiraine, then him again, while trying to pretend she was not. It was Lan and Moiraine he was really interested in, though. They could sense a Myrddraal, or a Trolloc, or any Shadowspawn, before it came closer than a few hundred paces, but the Aes Sedai was staring distantly at the table in front of her, and the Warder was cutting a chunk of yellow cheese and watching her. Yet the smell of wrongness was there, as at Jarra and the edge of Remen, and this time it was not going away. It seemed to becoming from something within the common room.\\n\\nHe studied the room again. Bili against the wall, some men crossing the floor, the girl singing on the table, all the laughing men sitting around her. Men crossing the floor? He frowned at them. Six men with ordinary faces, walking toward where he was sitting. Very ordinary faces. He was just starting to reinspect the men listening to the girl when suddenly it came to him that the stink of wrongness was rolling from the six. Abruptly they had daggers in their hands, as if they had realized he had seen them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They have knives!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"he roared, and threw the cheese platter at them.\\n\\nThe common erupted into confusion, men shouting, the singer screaming, Nieda shouting for Bili, everything happening at once. Lan leaped to his feet, and a ball of fire darted from Moiraine's hand, and Loial snatched up his chair like a club, and Zarine danced to one side, cursing. She had a knife in her hand, too, but Perrin was too busy to notice much of what anyone else did. Those men seemed to be looking straight at him, and his axe was hanging from a peg up in his room.\\n\\nSeizing a chair, he ripped off a thick chair leg that ran up to make one side of the ladder-back, hurled the rest of the chair at the men, and set about him with his long bludgeon. They were trying to reach him with their naked steel, as if Lan and the others were only obstacles in their way. It was a tight tangle where all he could manage was to knock blades away from him, and his wilder swings threatened Lan and Loial and Zarine as much as any of his six attackers. From the corner of his eye he saw Moiraine standing to one side, frustration on her face; they were all so mixed together that she could do nothing without endangering friend as well as foe. None of the knife wielders as much as glanced at her; she was not between them and Perrin.\\n\\nPanting, he managed to crack one of the ordinary-looking men across the head so hard that he heard bone splinter, and abruptly realized they were all down. It all seemed to him to have gone on fora quarter of a hour or more, but he saw that Bili was just halting, his large hands working as he stared at the six men sprawled dead on the floor. Bili had not even had time to reach the fight before it was done.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Lan wore a face even grimmer than usual; he began searching the bodies, thoroughly, but with a quickness that spoke of distaste. Loial still had his chair raised to swing; he gave a start and set it down with an embarrassed grin. Moiraine was staring at Perrin, and so was Zarine as she retrieved her knife from the chest of one of the dead men. That stench of wrongness was gone, as if it had died with them.\\n\\n\\\"Gray Men,\\\" the Aes Sedai said softly, \\\"and after you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gray Men?\\\" Nieda laughed, both loud and nervously. \\\"Why, Mistress Mari, next you'll say you do believe in boggles and bugbears and Fetches, and Old Grim riding with the black dogs in the Wild Hunt.\\\" Some of the men who had been listening to the songs laughed, too, though they looked as uneasily at Moiraine as at the dead men. The singer stared at Moiraine, as well, her eyes wide. Perrin remembered that one ball of fire, before everything grew too jumbled. One of the Gray Men had a somewhat charred look about him, and gave off a sickly sweet burned smell.\\n\\nMoiraine turned from Perrin to the stout woman. \\\"A man may walk in the Shadow,\\\" the Aes Sedai said calmly, \\\"without being Shadowspawn.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, aye, Darkfriends.\\\" Nieda put her hands on generous hips and frowned at the corpses. Lan had finished his searching; he glanced at Moiraine and shook his head as if he had not really expected to find anything. \\\"More likely thieves, though I did never hear of thieves bold enough to come right into an inn. I did never have even one killing in the Badger before. Bili! Clear these out, into a canal, and put down fresh sawdust. The back way, mind. I do no want the Watch putting their long noses into the Badger.\\\" Bili nodded as if eager to be useful after failing to take a hand earlier. He grabbed a dead man by the belt in either hand and carried them back toward the kitchen.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2394,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\nChapter: 52"},{"from":"human","value":"Master Gill winced at Thom's move and took his pipe out of his mouth."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Considering who you left with, lad, and considering the way things are now, maybe it's best I remember no more than that.\"\n\n\"Aes Sedai not in such good odor now, are they?\" Mat set his things in one big armchair, the quarterstaff propped against the back, and himself in another with one leg swinging over the arm. \"The Guards at the Palace seemed to think the White Tower had stolen Elayne.\" Thom eyed the roll of fireworks uneasily, looked at his smoking pipe, and muttered to himself before going back to his study of the board.\n\n\"Hardly that,\" Gill said, \"but the whole city knows she disappeared from the Tower. Thom says she's returned, but we've heard none of that here. Perhaps Morgase knows, but everyone down to a stableboy is stepping lightly so she doesn't snap off his head. Lord Gaebril has kept her from actually sending anyone to the headsman, but I'd not say she would not do it. And he has certainly not soothed her temper toward Tar Valon. If anything, I think he has made it worse.\"\n\n\"Morgase has anew advisor,\" Thom said in a dry voice. \"Gareth Bryne did not like him, so Bryne has been retired to his estate to watch his sheep grow wool. Basel, are you going to place a stone or not?\"\n\n\"Ina moment, Thom. Ina moment. I want to set it right.\" Gill clamped his teeth around his pipestem and frowned at the board, puffing up smoke.\n\n\"So the Queen has an advisor who doesn't like Tar Valon,\" Mat said. \"Well, that explains the way the Guards acted when I said I came from there.\"\n\n\"If you told them that,\" Gill said, \"you might be lucky you escaped without any broken bones. If it was any of the new men, at least. Gaebril has replaced half the Guards in Caemlyn with men of his choosing, and that is no mean feat considering how short a time he has been here. Some say Morgase may marry him.\" He started to put a stone on the board, then took it back with a shake of his head. \"Times change. People change. Too much change for me. I suppose I am growing old.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You seem to mean us both to grow old before you place a stone,\" Thom muttered. The cat stretched and slinked across the table for him to stroke her back. \"Talking all day will not let you find a good move. Why don't you just admit defeat, Basel?\"\n\n\"I never admit defeat,\" Gill said stoutly. \"I'll beat you yet, Thom.\" He set a white stone on the intersection of two lines. \"You will see.\" Thom snorted.\n\nFrom what Mat could see of the board, he did not think Gill had much chance. \"I will just have to avoid the Guards and put Elayne's letter right into Morgase's hands.\" Especially if they're all like that fat fool. Light, I wonder if he's told them all I'm a Darkfriend?\n\n\"You did not deliver it?\" Thom barked. \"I thought you were anxious to be rid of the thing.\"\n\n\"You have a letter from the Daughter-Heir?\" Gill exclaimed. \"Thom, why did you not tell me?\"\n\n\"I am sorry, Basel,\" the gleeman muttered. He glared at Mat from under those bushy eyebrows and blew out his mustaches. \"The boy thinks someone is out to kill him over it, so I thought I'd let him say what he wanted and no more. Seems he does not care any longer.\"\n\n\"What kind of letter?\" Gill asked. \"Is she coming home? And Lord Gawyn? I hope they are. I've actually heard talk of war with Tar Valon, as if anyone could be fool enough to go to war with Aes Sedai. If you ask me, it is all one with those mad rumors we've heard about Aes Sedai supporting a false Dragon somewhere in the west, and using the Power as a weapon. Not that I can see why that would make anyone want to go to war with them; just the opposite.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Are you married to Coline?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mat asked, and Master Gill gave a start.\n\n\"The Light preserve me from that! You would think the inn washers now. If she was my wife...! What does that have to do with the Daughter-Heir's letter?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" Mat said, \"but you went on so long, I thought you must have forgotten your own questions.\" Gill made a choking sound, and Thom barked a laugh. Mat hurried on before the innkeeper could speak. \"The letter is sealed; Elayne did not tell me what it says.\" Thom was eyeing him sideways and stroking his mustaches. Does he think I'll admit we opened the thing? \"But I don't think she is coming home. She means to be Aes Sedai, if you ask me.\" He told them about his attempt to deliver the letter, smoothing over a few edges they had no need to know about.\n\n\"The new men,\" Gill said. \"That officer sounds it, at least. I'll wager on it. No better than brigands, most of them, except the ones with a sly eye. You wait until this afternoon, lad, when the Guards on the gate will have changed. Say the Daughter-Heir's name right out, and just in case the new fellow is one of Gaebril's men, too, duck your head a little. A knuckle to your forehead, and you'll have no trouble.\"\n\n\"Burn me if I will. I pull wool and scratch gravel for nobody. Not to Morgase herself. This time, I'll not go near the Guards at all.\" I would just as soon not know what word that fat fellow has spread. They stared at him as if he were mad.\n\n\"How under the Light,\" Gill said, \"do you mean to enter the Royal Palace without passing the Guards?\" His eyes widened as if he were remembering something. \"Light, you don't mean to.... Lad, you'd need the Dark One's own luck to escape with your life!\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"What are you going on about now, Basel?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mat, what fool thing do you intend to try?\"\n\n\"I am lucky, Master Gill,\" Mat said. \"You just have a good meal waiting when I comeback.\" Ashe stood, he picked up the dice cup and spun the dice out beside the stones board for luck. The calico cat leaped down, hissing at him with her back arched. The five spotted dice came to rest, each showing a single pip. The Dark One's Eyes.\n\n\"That's the best toss or the worst,\" Gill said. \"It depends on the game you are playing, doesn't it. Lad, I think you mean to play a dangerous game. Why don't you take that cup out into the common room and lose a few coppers? You look tome like a fellow who might like a little gamble. I will seethe letter gets to the Palace safely.\"\n\n\"Coline wants you to clean the drains,\" Mat told him, and turned to Thom while the innkeeper was still blinking and muttering to himself. \"It doesn't seem to make any odds whether I get an arrow in me trying to deliver that letter or a knife in my back waiting. It's six up, and a half dozen down. Just you have that meal waiting, Thom.\" He tossed a gold mark on the table in front of Gill. \"Have my things put in a room, innkeeper. If it takes more coin, you will have it. Be careful of the big roll; it frightens Thom something awful.\"\n\nAshe stalked out, he heard Gill say to Thom, \"I always thought that lad was a rascal. How does he come by gold?\"\n\nI always win, that's how, he thought grimly. I just have to win once more, and I'm done with Elayne, and that's the last of the White Tower for me. Just once more."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Even as he returned to the Inner City on foot, Mat was far from certain that what he intended would actually work. It would, if what he had been told was true, but it was the truth of that he was not sure of. He avoided the oval plaza in front of the Palace, but wandered around the sides of the huge structure and its grounds, along streets that curved with the contours of the hills. The golden domes of the Palace glittered, mockingly out of reach. He had made his way almost all the way around, nearly back to the plaza, when he saw it. A steep slope thick with low flowers, rising from the street to a whitewall of rough stone. Several leafy tree limbs stuck over the top of the wall, and he could seethe tops of others beyond, in a garden of the Royal Palace.\n\nA wall made to look like a cliff, he thought, and a garden on the other side. Maybe Rand was telling the truth.\n\nA casual look both ways showed him he had the curving street to himself for the moment. He would have to hurry; the curves did not allow him to see very far; someone could come along any moment. He scrambled up the slope on all fours, careless of how his boots ripped holes in the banks of red and white blossoms. The rough stone of the wall gave plenty of fingerholds, and ridges and knobs provided toeholds even fora man in boots.\n\nCareless of them to make it so easy, he thought as he climbed. Fora moment the climbing took him back home with Rand and Perrin, to a journey they had made beyond the Sand Hills, into the edge of the Mountains of Mist. When they returned to Emond's Field, they had all caught the fury from everyone who could lay hands on them-him worst of all; everyone assumed it had been his idea-but for three days they had climbed the cliffs, and slept under the sky, and eaten eggs filched from redcrests\" nests, and plump, gray-winged grouse fetched with an arrow, or a stone from a sling, and rabbits caught with snares, all the while laughing about how they were not afraid of the mountains'bad luck and how they might find a treasure. He had brought home an odd rock from that expedition, with the skull of a good-sized fish somehow pressed into it, and along, whitetail feather dropped by a snow eagle, and apiece of white stone as big as his hand that looked almost as if it had been carved into a man's ear. He thought it looked like an ear, even if Rand and Perrin did not, and Tam al'Thor had said it might be."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"His fingers slipped out of a shallow groove, his balance shifted and he lost the toehold under his left foot. With a gasp, he barely caught hold of the top of the wall, and pulled himself up the rest of the way. Fora moment he lay there, breathing hard. It would not have been that long a fall, but enough to break his head. Fool, letting my mind wander like that. Nearly killed myself on those cliffs that way. That was all along time ago. His mother had likely thrown all those things out already, anyway. With one last look each way to make sure no one had seen him-the curving length of street below was still empty-he dropped inside the Palace grounds.\n\nIt was a large garden, with flagstoned walks through expanses of grass among the trees, and grapevines thick on arbors over the walks. And everywhere, flowers. White blossoms covering the pear trees, and white and pink dotting the apple trees. Roses in every color, and bright golden sunburst, and purple Emond's Glory, and many he could not identify. Some he was not sure could be real. One had odd blossoms in scarlet and gold that looked almost like birds, and another seemed no different from a sunflower except that its yellow flowers were two feet and more across and stood on stalks as tall as an Ogier.\n\nBoots crunched on flagstone, and he crouched low behind a bush against the wall as two guardsmen marched past, their long, white collars hanging over their breastplates. They never glanced his way, and he grinned to himself. Luck. With just a little luck, they'll never see me till I hand the bloody thing to Morgase.\n\nHe slipped through the garden like a shadow, as if stalking rabbits, freezing by a bush or hard against a tree trunk when he heard boots. Two more pairs of soldiers strode by along the paths, the second close enough for him to have taken two steps and goosed them. As they vanished among the flowers and trees, he plucked a deep red starblaze and stuck the wavy-petaled flower in his hair with a grin. This was as much fun as stealing applecakes at Sunday, and easier. Women always kept a sharp watch on their baking; the fool soldiers never took their eyes off the flagstones."},{"from":"human","value":"It was not long before he found himself against the whitewall of the Palace itself, and began sliding along it behind a row of flowering white roses on slatted frames, searching fora door."},{"from":"gpt","value":"There were plenty of wide, arched windows just over his head, but he thought it might be a bit harder to explain being found climbing in through a window than walking down a hall. Two more soldiers appeared, and he froze; they would pass within three paces of him. He could hear voices from the window over his head, two men, just loud enough for him to make out the words.\n\n\"-on their way to Tear, Great Master.\" The man sounded frightened and obsequious.\n\n\"Let them ruin his plans, if they can.\" This voice was deeper and stronger, a man used to command. \"It will serve him right if three untrained girls can foil him. He was always a fool, and he is still a fool. Is there any word of the boy? He is the one who can destroy us all.\"\n\n\"No, Great Master. He has vanished. But, Great Master, one of the girls is Morgase's nit.\"\n\nMat half turned, then caught himself. The soldiers were coming closer; they did not appear to have seen his start through the thickly woven rose stems. Move, you fools! Get by so I can see who this man bloody is! He had lost some of the conversation.\n\n\"-has been far too impatient since regaining his freedom,\" the deep voice was saying. \"He never realized the best plans take time to mature. He wants the world in a day, and Callandor besides. The Great Lord take him! He may seize the girl and try to make some use of her. And that might strain my own plans.\"\n\n\"As you say, Great Master. Shall I order her brought out of Tear?\"\n\n\"No. The fool would take it as a move against him, if he knew. And who can say what he chooses to watch aside from the sword? See that she dies quietly, Comar. Let her death attract no notice at all.\" His laughter was a rich rumble. \"Those ignorant slatterns in their Tower will have a difficult time producing her after this disappearance. This may all be just as well. Let it be done quickly. Quickly, before he has time to take her himself.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The two soldiers were almost abreast of him; Mat tried to will their feet to move faster.\n\n\"Great Master,\" the other man said uncertainly, \"that maybe difficult. We know she is on her way to Tear, but the vessel she traveled on was found at Aringill, and all three of them had left it earlier. We do not know whether she has taken another ship, or is riding south. And it may not be easy to find her once she reaches Tear, Great Master. Perhaps if you-\"\n\n\"Are there none but fools in the world, now?\" the deep voice said harshly. \"Do you think I could move in Tear without him knowing? I do not mean to fight him, not now, not yet. Bring me the girl's head, Comar. Bring me all three heads, or you will pray for me to take yours!\"\n\n\"Yes, Great Master. It shall be as you say. Yes. Yes.\"\n\nThe soldiers crunched past, never looking to either side. Mat only waited for their backs to pass before leaping up to catch the broad stone windowsill and pull himself high enough to see through the window.\n\nHe barely noticed the fringed Tarabon carpet on the floor, worth a fat purse of silver. One of the broad, carved doors was swinging shut. A tall man, with wide shoulders and a deep chest straining the green silk of his silver-embroidered coat, was staring at the door with dark blue eyes. His black beard was close cut, with a streak of white over his chin. All in all, he looked a hard man, and one used to giving orders.\n\n\"Yes, Great Master,\" he said suddenly, and Mat almost lost his grip on the sill. He had thought this must be the man with the deep voice, but it was the cringing voice he heard. Not cringing now, but still the same. \"It shall be as you say, Great Master,\" the man said bitterly. \"I will cut the three wenches' heads off myself. As soon as I can find them!\" He strode through the door, and Mat let himself back down."},{"from":"human","value":"Fora moment he crouched there behind the rose frames."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Someone in the Palace wanted Elayne dead, and had thrown in Egwene and Nynaeve as afterthoughts. What under the Light are they doing, going to Tear? It had to be them.\n\nHe pulled the Daughter-Heir's letter out of the lining of his coat and frowned at it. Maybe, with this in his hand, Morgase would believe him. He could describe one of the men. But the time for skulking was past; the big fellow could be off to Tear before he even found Morgase, and whatever she did then, there was no guarantee it could stop him.\n\nTaking a deep breath, Mat wiggled between two of the rose frames at the cost of only a few pricks and snags from the thorns, and started down the flagstone path after the soldiers. He held Elayne's letter out in front of him so the golden lily seal was plainly visible, and went over in his mind exactly what he meant to say. When he had been sneaking about, guardsmen kept popping up like mushrooms after rain, but now he walked almost the length of the garden without seeing even one. He passed several doors. It would not be so good to enter the Palace without permission-the Guards might do nasty things first and listen after-but he was beginning to think about going through a door when it opened and a helmetless young officer with one golden knot on his shoulder strode out.\n\nThe man's hand immediately went to his sword hilt, and he had afoot of steel bared before Mat could push the letter toward him. \"Elayne, the Daughter-Heir, sends this letter to her mother, Queen Morgase, Captain.\" He held the letter so the lily seal was prominent.\n\nThe officer's dark eyes flickered to either side, as if searching for other people, without really ever leaving Mat. \"How did you come into this garden?\" He did not draw his sword further, but he did not sheath it, either. \"Elber is on the main gates. He's a fool, but he would never let anyone wander loose into the Palace.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A fat man with eyes like a rat?\" Mat cursed his tongue, but the officer gave a sharp nod; he almost smiled, too, but it did not seem to lessen his vigilance, or his suspicion. \"He grew angry when he learned I had come from Tar Valon, and he wouldn't even give me a chance to show the letter or mention the Daughter-Heir's name. He said he would arrest me if I did not go, so I climbed the wall. I promised I would deliver this to Queen Morgase herself, you see, Captain. I promised it, and I always keep my promises. You seethe seal?\"\n\n\"That bloody garden wall again,\" the officer muttered. \"It should be built three times so high.\" He eyed Mat. \"Guardsman-lieutenant, not captain. I am Guardsman-lieutenant Tallanvor. I recognize the Daughter-Heir's seal.\" His sword finally slid all the way back into the sheath. He stretched out a hand; not his sword hand. \"Give me the letter, and I will take it to the Queen. After I show you out. Some would not be so gentle at finding you walking about loose.\"\n\n\"I promised to put it in her hands myself,\" Mat said. Light, I never thought they might not let me give it to her. \"I did promise. To the Daughter-Heir.\"\n\nMat hardly realized Tallanvor's hand was moving before the officer's sword was resting against his neck. \"I will take you to the Queen, countryman,\" Tallanvor said softly. \"But know that I can take your head before you blink if you so much as think of harming her.\"\n\nMat put on his best grin. That slightly curved blade felt sharp on the side of his neck. \"I am a loyal Andorman,\" he said, \"and a faithful subject of the Queen, the Light illumine her. Why, if I had been here during the winter, I'd have followed Lord Gaebril for sure.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tallanvor gave him a tight-mouthed stare, then finally took his sword away. Mat swallowed and stopped himself from touching his throat to see if he had been cut.\n\n\"Take the flower out of your hair,\" Tallanvor said as he sheathed his blade. \"Do you think you came here courting?\"\n\nMat snatched the starblaze blossom out of his hair and followed the officer. Bloody fool, putting a flower in my hair. I have to stop playing the fool, now.\n\nIt was not so much following, really, for Tallanvor kept an eye on him even while he led the way. The result was an odd sort of procession, with the officer to one side of him and ahead, but half turned in case Mat tried anything. For his part, Mat attempted to look as innocent as a babe splashing in his bathwater.\n\nThe colorful tapestries on the walls had earned their weavers silver, and so had the rugs on the white tile floors, even herein the halls. Gold and silver stood everywhere, plates and platters, bowls and cups, on chests and low cabinets of polished wood, as fine as anything he had seen in the Tower. Servants darted everywhere, in red livery with white collars and cuffs and the White Lion of Andor on their breasts. He found himself wondering if Morgase played at dice. Wool-headed thought. Queens don't toss dice. But when I give her this letter and tell her somebody in her Palace means to kill Elayne, I'll wager she gives me a fat purse. He indulged himself in a small fancy of being made a lord; surely the man who revealed a plot to murder the Daughter-Heir could expect some such reward.\n\nTallanvor led him down so many corridors and across so many courtyards that he was beginning to wonder if he could find his way out again without help, when suddenly one of the courts had more than servants in it. A columned walk surrounded the court, with around pool in the middle with white and yellow fish swimming beneath lily pads and floating whitewater lilies. Men in colorful coats embroidered in gold or silver, women with wide dresses worked even more elaborately, stood attendance on a woman with red-gold hair who sat on the raised rim of the pool, trailing her fingers in the water and staring sadly at the fish that rose to her fingertips in hopes of food. A Great Serpent ring encircled the third finger of her left hand. A tall, dark man stood at her shoulder, the red silk of his coat almost hidden by the gold leaves and scrolls worked on it, but it was the woman who held Mat's eye."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He did not need the wreath of finely made golden roses in her hair, or the stole hanging over her dress of white slashed with red, the red length of the stole embroidered with the Lions of Andor, to know he was looking at Morgase, by the Grace of the Light, Queen of Andor, Defender of the Realm, Protector of the People, High Seat of House Trakand. She had Elayne's face and beauty, but it was what Elayne would have when she had ripened. Every other woman in the courtyard faded into the background by her very presence.\n\nI'd dance a jig with her, and steal a kiss in the moonlight, too, no matter how old she is. He shook himself. Remember exactly who she is!\n\nTallanvor went to one knee, a fist pressed to the white stone of the courtyard. \"My Queen, I bring a messenger who bears a letter from the Lady Elayne.\"\n\nMat eyed the man's posture, then contented himself with a deep bow. \"From the Daughter-Heir... uh... my Queen.\" He held out the letter as he bowed, so the golden yellow wax of the seal was visible. Once she reads it, and knows Elayne is all right, I will tell her. Morgase turned her deep blue eyes on him. Light! As soon as she's in a good mood.\n\n\"You bring a letter from my scapegrace child?\" Her voice was cold, but with an edge that spoke of heat ready to rise. \"That must mean she is alive, at least! Where is she?\"\n\n\"In Tar Valon, my Queen,\" he managed to get out. Light, wouldn't I like to see a staring match between her and the Amyrlin. On second thought, he decided he would rather not. \"At least, she was when I left.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Morgase waved a hand impatiently, and Tallanvor rose to take the letter from Mat and hand it to her. Fora moment she frowned at the lily seal, then broke it with a sharp twist of her wrists. She murmured to herself as she read, shaking her head at every other line. \"She can say no more, can she?\" she muttered. \"We shall see whether she holds to that....\" Abruptly her face brightened. \"Gaebril, she has been raised to the Accepted. Less than a year in the Tower, and raised already.\" The smile went as suddenly as it had come, and her mouth tightened. \"When I put my hands on the wretched child, she will wish she were still a novice.\"\n\nLight, Mat thought, will nothing put her in a good mood? He decided he was just going to have to say it out, but he wished she did not look as if she meant to cut someone's head off. \"My Queen, by chance I overheard-\"\n\n\"Be silent, boy,\" the dark man in the gold-encrusted coat said calmly. He was a handsome man, almost as good-looking as Galad and nearly as youthful-seeming, despite the white streaking his temples, but built on a bigger scale, with more than Rand's height and very nearly Perrin's shoulders. \"We will hear what you have to say in a moment.\" He reached over Morgase's shoulder and plucked the letter out of her hand. Her glare turned on him-Mat could see her temper heating-but the dark man laid a strong hand on her shoulder, never taking his eyes off what he was reading, and Morgase's anger melted. \"It seems she has left the Tower again,\" he said. \"On the service of the Amyrlin Seat. The woman oversteps herself again, Morgase.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mat had no trouble holding his tongue. Luck. It was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Sometimes I don't know if it's good or bad. The dark man was the owner of the deep voice, the'Great Master\" who wanted Elayne's head. She called him Gaebril. Her advisor wants to murder Elayne? Light! And Morgase was staring up at him like an adoring dog with her master's hand on her shoulder.\n\nGaebril turned nearly black eyes on Mat. The man had a forceful gaze, and a look of knowing. \"What can you tell us of this, boy?\"\n\n\"Nothing... uh... my Lord.\" Mat cleared his throat; the man's stare was worse than the Amyrlin's. \"I went to Tar Valon to see my sister. She's a novice. Else Grinwell. I'm Thom Grinwell, my Lord. The Lady Elayne learned I was meaning to see Caemlyn on my way back home-I'm from Comfrey, my Lord; a little village north of Baerlon; I'd never seen anyplace bigger than Baerlon before I went to Tar Valon-and she-the Lady Elayne, I mean-gave me that letter to bring.\" He thought Morgase had glanced at him when he said he came from north of Baerlon, but he knew there was a village called Comfrey there; he remembered hearing it mentioned.\n\nGaebril nodded, but he said, \"Do you know where Elayne was going, boy? Or on what business? Speak the truth, and you have nothing to fear. Lie, and you will be put to the question.\"\n\nMat did not have to pretend a worried frown. \"My Lord, I only saw the Daughter-Heir the once. She gave me the letter-and a gold mark!-and told me to bring it to the Queen. I know no more of what is in it than I've heard here.\" Gaebril appeared to consider it, with no sign on that dark face of whether he believed a word or not."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No, Gaebril,\" Morgase said suddenly. \"Too many have been put to the question. I can seethe need as you have shown it tome, but not for this. Not a boy who only brought a letter whose contents he does not know.\"\n\n\"As my Queen commands, so shall it be,\" the dark man said. The tone was respectful, but he touched her cheek in away that made color come to her face and her lips part as if she expected a kiss.\n\nMorgase drew an unsteady breath. \"Tell me, Thom Grinwell, did my daughter look well when you saw her?\"\n\n\"Yes, my Queen. She smiled, and laughed, and showed a saucy tongue-I mean....\"\n\nMorgase laughed softly at the look on his face. \"Do not be afraid, young man. Elayne does have a saucy tongue, far too often for her own good. I am happy she is well.\" Those blue eyes studied him deeply. \"A young man who has left his small village often finds it difficult to return to it. I think you will travel far before you see Comfrey again. Perhaps you will even return to Tar Valon. If you do, and if you see my daughter, tell her that what is said in anger is often repented. I will not remove her from the White Tower before time. Tell her that I often think of my own time there, and miss the quiet talks with Sheriam in her study. Tell her that I said that, Thom Grinwell.\"\n\nMat shrugged uncomfortably. \"Yes, my Queen. But... uh... I do not mean to go to Tar Valon again. Once in any man's life is enough. My da needs me to help work the farm. My sisters will be stuck with the milking, with me gone.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Gaebril laughed, a deep rumble of amusement."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Are you anxious then to milk cows, boy? Perhaps you should see something of the world before it changes. Here!\" He produced a purse and tossed it; Mat felt coins through the wash-leather when he caught it. \"If Elayne can give you a gold mark for carrying her letter, I will give you ten for bringing it safely. Seethe world before you go back to your cows.\"\n\n\"Yes, my Lord.\" Mat lifted the purse and managed a weak grin. \"Thank you, my Lord.\"\n\nBut the dark man had already waved him away and turned to Morgase with his fists on his hips. \"I think the time has come, Morgase, to lance that festering sore on the border of Andor. By your marriage to Taringail Damodred, you have a claim to the Sun Throne. The Queen's Guards can make that claim as strong as any. Perhaps I can even aid them, in some small way. Hear me.\"\n\nTallanvor touched Mat on the arm, and they backed away, bowing. Mat did not think anyone noticed. Gaebril was still speaking, and every lord and lady seemed to hang on his words. Morgase was frowning as she listened, yet she nodded as much as any other."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"From the small courtyard with its pool offish, Tallanvor led Mat swiftly to the great court at the front of the Palace, behind the tall, gilded gates gleaming in the sun. It would be midday, soon. Mat felt an urge to begone, a need to hurry. It was hard keeping his pace to the young officer's. Someone might wonder, if he started running, and maybe-just maybe-things had really been the way they seemed back there. Maybe Gaebril really did not suspect that he knew. Maybe. He remembered those nearly black eyes, seizing and holding like a pair of pitchfork tines through his head. Light, maybe. He forced himself to walk as if he had all the time in the world-Just a haybrain country lout staring at the rugs and the gold. Just a mudfoot who'd never think anyone might put a knife in his back-until Tallanvor let him through a sallyport in one of the gates, and followed him out.\n\nThe fat officer with the rat's eyes was still therewith the Guards, and when he saw Mathis face went red again. Before he could open his mouth, though, Tallanvor spoke. \"He has delivered a letter to the Queen from the Daughter-Heir. Be glad, Elber, that neither Morgase nor Gaebril knows you tried to keep it from them. Lord Gaebril was most interested in the Lady Elayne's missive.\"\n\nElber's face went from red to as white as his collar. He glared once at Mat, and scuttled back along the line of guardsmen, his beady eyes peering through the bars of their face-guards as if to determine whether any of them had seen his fear.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Mat told Tallanvor, and meant it. He had forgotten all about the fat man until he was staring him in the face again. \"Fare you well, Tallanvor.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He started across the oval plaza, trying not to walk too fast, and was surprised when Tallanvor walked along. Light, is he Gaebril's man, or Morgase's? He was just beginning to feel an itch between his shoulder blades, as if a knife might be about to go in-He doesn't know, burn me! Gaebril doesn't suspect I know!-when the young officer finally spoke.\n\n\"Did you spend long in Tar Valon? In the White Tower? Long enough to learn anything of it?\"\n\n\"I was only there three days,\" Mat said cautiously. He would have made the timeless-if he could have delivered the letter without admitting ever being in Tar Valon, he would have-but he did not think the man would believe he had gone all that way to see his sister and left the same day. What under the Light is he after? \"I learned what I saw in that time. Nothing of any importance. They did not guide me around and tell me things. I was only thereto see Else.\"\n\n\"You must have heard something, man. Who is Sheriam? Does talking to her in her study mean anything?\"\n\nMat shook his head vigorously to keep relief from showing on his face. \"I don't know who she is,\" he said truthfully. Perhaps he had heard Egwene, or perhaps Nynaeve, mention the name. An Aes Sedai, maybe? \"Why should it mean anything?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" Tallanvor said softly. \"There is too much I do not know. Sometimes I think she is trying to say something....\" He gave Mat a sharp look. \"Are you a loyal Andorman, Thom Grinwell?\"\n\n\"Of course I am.\" Light, if I say that much more often, I may start believing it. \"What about you? Do you serve Morgase and Gaebril loyally?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tallanvor gave him a look as hard as the dice's mercy. \"I serve Morgase, Thom Grinwell. Her, I serve to the death. Fare you well!\" He turned and strode back toward the Palace with a hand gripping his sword hilt.\n\nWatching him go, Mat muttered to himself. \"I will wager this\"-he gave Gaebril's wash-leather purse a toss-\"that Gaebril says the same.\" Whatever games they played in the Palace, he wanted no place in any of them. And he meant to make sure Egwene and the others were out of them, too. Fool women! Now I have to keep their bacon from burning instead of looking after my own! He did not start to run until the streets hid him from the Palace.\n\nWhen he came dashing into The Queen's Blessing, nothing very much had changed in the library. Thom and the innkeeper still sat over the stones board-a different game, he saw from the positions of the stones, but no better for Gill-and the calico cat was back on the table, washing herself. A tray holding their unlit pipes and the remains of a meal for two sat near the cat, and his belongings were gone from the armchair. Each man had a wine cup at his elbow.\n\n\"I will be leaving, Master Gill,\" he said. \"You can keep the coin and take a meal out of it. I'll stay long enough to eat, but then I am on the road to Tear.\"\n\n\"What is your hurry, boy?\" Thom seemed to be watching the cat more than the board. \"We only just arrived here.\"\n\n\"You delivered the Lady Elayne's letter, then?\" the innkeeper said eagerly. \"And kept your skin whole, it seems. Did you really climb over that wall like the other young man? No, that does not matter. Did the letter soothe Morgase? Do we still have to keep tiptoeing on eggs, man?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I suppose it soothed her,\" Mat said. \"I think it did.\" He hesitated a moment, bouncing Gaebril's purse on his hand. It made a clinking sound. He had not looked to see if it really held ten gold marks; the weight was about right. \"Master Gill, what can you tell me of Gaebril? Aside from the fact that he does not like Aes Sedai. You said he had not been in Caemlyn long?\"\n\n\"Why do you want to know about him?\" Thom asked. \"Basel, are you going to place a stone or not?\" The innkeeper sighed and stuck a black stone on the board, and the gleeman shook his head.\n\n\"Well, lad,\" Gill said, \"there is not much to tell. He came out of the west during the winter. Somewhere out your way, I think. Maybe it was the Two Rivers. I've heard the mountains mentioned.\"\n\n\"We have no lords in the Two Rivers,\" Mat said. \"Maybe there are some up around Baerlon. I do not know.\"\n\n\"That could be it, lad. I had never even heard of him before, but I do not keep up with the country lords. Came while Morgase was still in Tar Valon, he did, and half the city was afraid the Tower was going to make her disappear, too. The other half did not want her back. The riots started up again, the way they did last year at the tail of winter.\"\n\nMat shook his head. \"I do not care about politics, Master Gill. It's Gaebril I want to know about.\" Thom frowned at him, and began cleaning the dottle from his long-stemmed pipe with a straw.\n\n\"It is Gaebril I am telling you about, lad,\" Gill said. \"During the riots, he made himself leader of the faction supporting Morgase-got himself wounded in the fighting, I hear-and by the time she returned, he had it all suppressed. Gareth Bryne didn't like Gaebril's methods-he can be a very hard man-but Morgase was so pleased to find order restored that she named him to the post Elaida used to hold.\""},{"from":"human","value":"The innkeeper stopped."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mat waited for him to goon, but he did not. Thom thumbed his pipe full of tabac and walked over to light a spill at a small lamp kept for the purpose on the mantel above the fireplace.\n\n\"What else?\" Mat asked. \"The man has to have a reason for what he does. If he marries Morgase, would he be king when she dies? If Elayne were dead, too, I mean?\"\n\nThom choked lighting his pipe, and Gill laughed. \"Andor has a queen, lad. Always a queen. If Morgase and Elayne both died-the Light send it not so!-then Morgase's nearest female relative would take the throne. At least there's no question of who that is this time-a cousin, the Lady Dyelin-not like the Succession, after Tigraine vanished. It took two years before Morgase sat on the Lion Throne, then. Dyelin could keep Gaebril as her advisor, or marry him to cement the line-though she would not likely do that unless Morgase had had a child by him-but he would be the Prince Consort even then. No more than that. Thank the Light, Morgase is a young woman, yet. And Elayne is healthy. Light! The letter did not say she is ill, did it?\"\n\n\"She is well.\" For now, at least. \"Isn't there anything else you can tell me about him? You do not seem to like him. Why?\"\n\nThe innkeeper frowned in thought, and scratched his chin, and shook his head. \"I suppose I would not like him marrying Morgase, but I do not truly know why. He's said to be a fine man; the nobles all look to him. I do not like most of the men he's brought into the Guards. Too much has changed since he came, but I cannot lay it all at his door. There just seem to be too many people muttering in corners since he came. You would think we were all Cairhienin, the way they were before this civil war, all plotting and trying to find advantage. I keep having bad dreams since Gaebril came, and I am not the only one. Fool thing to worry about, dreams. It is probably only worry about Elayne, and what Morgase means to do concerning the White Tower, and people acting like Cairhienin. I just do not know. Why are you asking all these questions about Lord Gaebril?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Because he wants to kill Elayne,\" Mat said, \"and Egwene and Nynaeve with her.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was nothing useful in what Gill had told him that he could see. Burn me, I don't have to know why he wants them dead. I just have to stop it. Both men were staring at him again. As if he were mad. Again.\n\n\"Are you coming down sick again?\" Gill said suspiciously. \"I remember you staring crossways at everyone the last time. It's either that, or else you think this is some sort of prank. You have the look of a prankster tome. If that is it, it's a nasty one!\"\n\nMat grimaced. \"It is no bloody prank. I overheard him telling some man called Comar to cut Elayne's head off. And Egwene's and Nynaeve's while he was about it. A big man, with a white stripe in his beard.\"\n\n\"That does sound like Lord Comar,\" Gill said slowly. \"He was a fine soldier, but it is said he left the Guard over some matter of weighted dice. Not that anyone says it to his face; Comar was one of the best blades in the Guards. You really mean it, don't you?\"\n\n\"I think he does, Basel,\" Thom said. \"I very much think he does.\"\n\n\"The Light shine onus! What did Morgase say? You did tell her, didn't you? The Light burn you, you did tell her!\"\n\n\"Of course, I did,\" Mat said bitterly. \"With Gaebril standing right there, and her gazing at him like a lovesick lapdog! I said, \"I maybe a simple village man who just climbed over your wall half an hour past, but I already happen to know your trusted advisor there, the one you seem to be in love with, intends to murder your daughter.\" Light, man, she'd have cut my head off!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"She might have at that.\" Thom stared into the elaborate carvings on the bowl of his pipe and tugged one mustache. \"Her temper was ever as sudden as lightning, and twice as dangerous.\"\n\n\"You know it better than most, Thom,\" Gill said absently. Staring at nothing, he scrubbed both hands through his graying hair. \"There has to be something I can do. I haven't held a sword since the Aiel War, but.... Well, that would do no good. Get myself killed and do nothing by it. But I must do something!\"\n\n\"Rumor.\" Thom rubbed the side of his nose; he seemed to be studying the stones board and talking to himself. \"No one can keep rumors from reaching Morgase's ears, and if she hears it strongly enough, she will start to wonder. Rumor is the voice of the people, and the voice of the people often speaks truth. Morgase knows that. There is not a man alive I would back against her in the Game. Love or no love, once Morgase starts examining Gaebril closely, he'll not be able to hide as much as his childhood scars from her. And if she learns he means harm to Elayne\"-he placed a stone on the board; it seemed an odd placement at first glance, but Mat saw that in three more moves, a third of Gill's stones would be trapped-\"Lord Gaebril will have a most elaborate funeral.\"\n\n\"You and your Game of Houses,\" Gill muttered. \"Still, it might work.\" A sudden smile appeared on his face. \"I even know who to tell to start it. All I need do is mention to Gilda that I dreamed it, and in three days she'll have told serving girls in half the New City that it is a fact. She is the greatest gossip the Creator ever made.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Just be certain it cannot be traced back to you, Basel.\"\n\n\"No fear of that, Thom. Why a week ago, a man told me one of my own bad dreams as a thing he'd heard from somebody who'd had it from someone else. Gilda must have eavesdropped on me telling it to Coline, but when I asked, he gave me a string of names that led all the way to the other side of Caemlyn and vanished. Why, I actually went over there and found the last man, just out of curiosity to see how many mouths had passed it, and he claimed it was his very own dream. No fear, Thom.\"\n\nMat did not really care what they did with their rumors-no rumors would help Egwene or the others-but one thing puzzled him. \"Thom, you seem to betaking this all very calmly. I thought Morgase was the great love of your life.\"\n\nThe gleeman stared into the bowl of his pipe again. \"Mat, a very wise woman once told me that time would heal my wounds, that time smoothed everything over. I didn't believe her. Only she was right.\"\n\n\"You mean you do not love Morgase anymore.\"\n\n\"Boy, it has been fifteen years since I left Caemlyn a half step ahead of the headsman's axe, with the ink of Morgase's signature still wet on the warrant. Sitting here listening to Basel natter on\"-Gill protested, and Thom raised his voice-\"natter on, I say, about Morgase and Gaebril, and how they might marry, I realized the passion faded along time gone. Oh, I suppose I am still fond of her, perhaps I even love her a little, but it is not a grand passion anymore.\"\n\n\"And here I half thought you'd go running up to the Palace to warn her.\" He laughed, and was surprised when Thom joined him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I am not so big a fool as that, boy. Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this. Men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget. Morgase might kiss my cheek and give me a cup of wine and say how she has missed me. And then she might just let the Guards haul me off to prison and the headsman. No. Morgase is one of the most capable women I've ever known, and that is saying something. I could almost pity Gaebril once she learns what he is up to. Tear, you say? Is there any chance of you waiting until tomorrow to leave? I could use a night's sleep.\"\n\n\"I mean to be as far toward Tear as I can before nightfall.\" Mat blinked. \"Do you mean to come with me? I thought you meant to stay here.\"\n\n\"Did you not just hear me say I had decided not to have my head cutoff? Tear sounds a safer place tome than Caemlyn, and suddenly that does not seem so bad. Besides, I like those girls.\" A knife appeared in his hand and was as suddenly gone again. \"I'd not like anything to happen to them. But if you mean to reach Tear quickly, it's Aringill you want. A fast boat will have us there days sooner than horses, even if we rode them to death. And I don't say it just because my bottom has already taken on the shape of a saddle.\"\n\n\"Aringill, then. As long as it's fast.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Gill said, \"I suppose if you are leaving, lad, I had better see about getting you that meal.\" He pushed back his chair and started for the door.\n\n\"Hold this for me, Master Gill,\" Mat said, and tossed him the wash-leather purse."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What's this, lad? Coin?\"\n\n\"Stakes. Gaebril doesn't know it, but he and I have a wager.\" The cat jumped down as Mat picked up the wooden dice cup and spun the dice out on the table. Five sixes. \"And I always win.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As the Darter wallowed toward the docks of Tear, on the west bank of the River Erinin, Egwene did not see anything of the oncoming city. Slumped head down at the rail, she stared down at the waters of the Erinin rolling past the ship's fat hull, and the frontmost sweep on her side as it swung into her vision and back again, cutting white furrows in the river. It made her queasy, but she knew raising her head would only make the sickness worse. Looking at the shore would only make the slow, corkscrew motion of the Darter more apparent.\n\nThe vessel had moved in that twisting roll ever since Jurene. She did not care how it had sailed before then; she found herself wishing the Darter had sunk before reaching Jurene. She wished they had made the captain put in at Aringill so they could find another ship. She wished they had never gone near a ship. She wished a great many things, most of them just to take her mind off where she was.\n\nThe twisting was less now, under sweeps, than it had been under sail, but it had gone on too many days now for the change to make much difference to her. Her stomach seemed to be sloshing about inside her like milk in a stone jug. She gulped and tried to forget that image.\n\nThey had not done much in the way of planning on the Darter, she and Elayne and Nynaeve. Nynaeve could seldom go ten minutes without vomiting, and seeing that always made Egwene lose whatever food she had managed to get down. The increasing warmth as they went further downriver did not help. Nynaeve was below now, no doubt with Elayne holding a basin for her again.\n\nOh, Light, no! Don't think about that! Green fields. Meadows. Light, meadows do not heave like that. Hummingbirds. No, not hummingbirds! Larks. Larks singing."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Mistress Joslyn? Mistress Joslyn!\"\n\nIt took her a moment to recognize the name she had chosen to give Captain Canin, and the captain's voice. She raised her head slowly and fixed her eyes on his long face.\n\n\"We are docking, Mistress Joslyn. You've kept saying how eager you were to be ashore. Well, we're there.\" His voice did not hide his eagerness to be rid of his three passengers, two of whom did little more than sick up, as he called it, and moan all night.\n\nBarefoot, shirtless sailors were tossing lines to men on the stone dock that thrust out into the river; the dockmen seemed to be wearing long leather vests in place of shirts. The sweeps had already been drawn in, except fora pair fending the ship off from coming against the dock too hard. The flat stones of the dock were wet; the air had a feel of rain not long gone, and that was a little soothing. The twisting motion had ceased sometime since, she realized, but her stomach remembered. The sun was falling toward the west. She tried not to think of supper.\n\n\"Very good, Captain Canin,\" she said with all the dignity she could summon. He'd not sound like that if I were wearing my ring, not even if I were sick on his boots. She shuddered at the picture in her mind.\n\nHer Great Serpent ring and the twisted ring of the ter'angreal hung on a leather cord about her neck, now. The stone ring felt cool against her skin-almost enough to counteract the damp warmth of the air-but aside from that, she had found that the more she used the ter'angreal, the more she wanted to touch it, without pouch or cloth between it and her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tel'aran'rhiod still showed her little of immediate use. Sometimes there had been glimpses of Rand, or Mat, or Perrin, and more in her own dreams without the ter'angreal, but nothing of which she could make any sense. The Seanchan, who she refused to think about. Nightmares of a White-cloak putting Master Luhhan in the middle of a huge, toothed trap for bait. Why should Perrin have a falcon on his shoulder, and what was important about him choosing between that axe he wore now and a blacksmith's hammer? What did it mean that Mat was dicing with the Dark One, and why did he keep shouting, \"I am coming!\" and why did she think in the dream that he was shouting at her? And Rand. He had been sneaking through utter darkness toward Callandor, while all around him six men and five women walked, some hunting him and some ignoring him, some trying to guide him toward the shining crystal sword and some trying to stop him from reaching it, appearing not to know where he was, or only to see him in flashes. One of the men had eyes of flame, and he wanted Rand dead with a desperation she could nearly taste. She thought she knew him. Ba'alzamon. But who were the others? Rand in that dry, dusty chamber again, with those small creatures settling into his skin. Rand confronting a horde of Seanchan. Rand confronting her, and the women with her, and one of them was a Seanchan. It was all too confusing. She had to stop thinking about Rand and the others and put her mind to what was right ahead of her. What is the Black Ajah up to? Why don't I dream something about them? Light, why can't I learn to make it do what I want?\n\n\"Have the horses put ashore, Captain,\" she told Canin. \"I will tell Mistress Maryim and Mistress Caryla.\" That was Nynaeve-Maryim-and Elayne-Caryla."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I have sent a man to tell them, Mistress Joslyn. And your animals will be on the dock as soon as my men can rig a boom.\"\n\nHe sounded very pleased to be rid of them. She thought about telling him not to hurry, but rejected it immediately. The Darter's corkscrewing might have stopped, but she wanted dry land under her feet again. Now. Still, she stopped to pat Mist's nose and let the gray mare nuzzle her palm, to let Canin see she was in no great rush.\n\nNynaeve and Elayne appeared at the ladder from the cabins, laden with their bundles and saddlebags, and Elayne almost as laden with Nynaeve. When Nynaeve saw Egwene watching, she pushed herself away from the Daughter-Heir and walked unaided the rest of the way to where men were setting a narrow gangplank to the dock. Two crewmen came to fasten a wide canvas sling under Mist's belly, and Egwene hurried below for her own things. When she came backup, her mare was already on the dock and Elayne's roan dangled in the canvas sling halfway there.\n\nFora moment after her feet were on the dock, all she felt was relief. This would not pitch and roll. Then she began to look at this city whose reaching had caused them such pains.\n\nStone warehouses backed the long docks themselves, and there seemed to be a great many ships, large and small, alongside the docks or anchored in the river. Hastily she avoided looking at the ships. Tear had been built on flatland, with barely a bump. Down muddy dirt streets between the warehouses, she could see houses and inns and taverns of wood and stone. Their roofs of slate or tile had oddly sharp corners, and some rose to a point. Beyond these, she could make out a high wall of dark gray stone, and behind it the tops of towers with balconies high around them and white-domed palaces. The domes had a squared shape to them, and the tower tops looked pointed, like some of the roofs outside the wall. All in all, Tear was easily as big as Caemlyn or Tar Valon, and if not so beautiful as either, it was still one of the great cities. Yet she found it hard to look at anything but the Stone of Tear."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She had heard of it in stories, heard that it was the greatest fortress in the world and the oldest, the first built after the Breaking of the World, yet nothing had prepared her for this sight. At first she thought it was a huge, gray stone hill or a small, barren mountain covering hundreds of hides, its length stretching from the Erinin west through the wall and into the city. Even after she saw the huge banner flapping from its greatest height-three white crescent moons slanting across afield half red, half gold; a banner waving at least three hundred paces above the river, yet large enough to be clearly seen at that height-even after she made out battlements and towers, it was difficult to believe the Stone of Tear had been built rather than carved out of a mountain already there.\n\n\"Made with the Power,\" Elayne murmured. She was staring at the Stone, too. \"Flows of Earth woven to draw stone from the ground, Air to bring it from every corner of the world, and Earth and Fire to make it all in one piece, without seam or joint or mortar. Atuan Sedai says the Tower could not do it, today. Strange, given how the High Lords feel concerning the Power now.\"\n\n\"I think,\" Nynaeve said softly, eyeing the dockmen moving around them, \"that given that very thing, we should not mention certain other things aloud.\" Elayne appeared torn between indignation-she had spoken very softly-and agreement; the Daughter-Heir agreed with Nynaeve too often and too readily to suit Egwene.\n\nOnly when Nynaeve is right, she admitted to herself grudgingly. A woman who wore the ring, or was even associated with Tar Valon, would be watched here. The barefoot, leather-vested dockmen were not paying the three of them any mind as they hurried about, carrying bales or crates on their backs as often as on barrows. A strong odor offish hung in the air; the next three docks had dozens of small fishing boats clustered around them, just like those in the drawing in the Amyrlin's study. Shirtless men and barefoot women were hoisting baskets offish out of the boats, mounds of silver and bronze and green, and colors she had never suspected fish might be, such as bright red, and deep blue, and brilliant yellow, some with stripes or splotches of white and other colors."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She lowered her voice for Elayne's ear alone. \"She is right, Caryla. Remember why you are Caryla.\" She did not want Nynaeve to hear such admissions. Her face did not change when she heard, but Egwene could feel satisfaction radiating from her like heat from a cook stove.\n\nNynaeve's black stallion was just being lowered to the dock; sailors had already carried their tack off the ship and simply dumped it on the wet stones of the dock. Nynaeve glanced at the horses and opened her mouth-Egwene was sure it was to tell them to saddle their animals-then closed it again, tight-lipped, as if it had cost her an effort. She gave her braid one hard tug. Before the sling was well out of the way, Nynaeve tossed the blue-striped saddle blanket across the black's back and hoisted her high-cantled saddle atop it. She did not even look at the other two women.\n\nEgwene was not anxious to ride at that moment-the motion of a horse might be too close to the motion of the Darter for her stomach-but another look at those muddy streets convinced her. Her shoes were sturdy, but she would not enjoy having to clean mud off them, or having to hold her skirts up as she walked, either. She saddled Mist quickly and climbed onto her back, settling her skirts, before she could decide the mud might not be so bad after all. A little needlework on the Darter-Elayne had done it all, this time; the Daughter-Heir sewed a very fine stitch-had divided all their dresses nicely for riding astride.\n\nNynaeve's face paled fora moment when she swung into her saddle and the stallion decided to frisk. She kept a tight-mouthed grip on herself and a firm hand on her reins and soon had him under control. By the time they had ridden slowly past the warehouses, she could speak. \"We need to locate Liandrin and the others without them learning we are asking after them. They surely know we are coming-that someone is, at least-but I would like them not to know we are here until it is too late for them.\" She drew a deep breath. \"I confess I have not thought of anyway to do this. Yet. Do either of you have any suggestions?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A thief-taker,\" Elayne said without hesitation. Nynaeve frowned at her.\n\n\"You mean like Hurin?\" Egwene said. \"But Hurin was in the service of his king. Wouldn't any thief-taker here serve the High Lords?\"\n\nElayne nodded, and fora moment Egwene envied the Daughter-Heir her stomach. \"Yes, they would. But thief-takers are not like the Queen's Guards, or the Tairen Defenders of the Stone. They serve the ruler, but people who have been robbed sometimes pay them to retrieve what was stolen. And they also sometimes take money to find people. At least, they do in Caemlyn. I cannot think it is different herein Tear.\"\n\n\"Then we take rooms at an inn,\" Egwene said, \"and ask the innkeeper to find us a thief-taker.\"\n\n\"Not an inn,\" Nynaeve said as firmly as she guided the stallion; she never seemed to let the animal get out of her control. After a moment she moderated her tone a little. \"Liandrin, at least, knows us, and we have to assume the others do, too. They will surely be watching the inns for whoever followed the trail they sprinkled behind them. I mean to spring their trap in their faces, but not with us inside. We'll not stay at an inn.\"\n\nEgwene refused to give her the satisfaction of asking.\n\n\"Where then?\" Elayne's brow furrowed. \"If I made myself known-and could make anyone believe it, in these clothes and with no escort-we would be welcomed by most of the noble Houses, and very likely in the Stone itself-there are good relations between Caemlyn and Tear-but there would be no keeping it quiet. The entire city would know before nightfall. I cannot think of anywhere else except an inn, Nynaeve. Unless you mean to go out to a farm in the country, but we will never find them from the country.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Nynaeve glanced at Egwene. \"I will know when I see it. Let me look.\"\n\nElayne's frown swept from Nynaeve to Egwene and back again. \"\"Do not cutoff your ears because you do not like your earrings, '\" she muttered.\n\nEgwene put her attention firmly on the street they were riding along. I will be burned if I'll let her think I am even wondering!\n\nThere were not a great many people out, not compared to the streets of Tar Valon. Perhaps the thick mud in the street discouraged them. Carts and wagons lurched past, most pulled by oxen with wide horns, the carter or wagoneer walking alongside with along goad of some pale, ridged wood. No carriages or sedan chairs used these streets. The odor offish hung in the air here, too, and no few of the men who hurried past carried huge baskets full offish on their backs. The shops did not look prosperous; none displayed wares outside, and Egwene seldom saw anyone go in. The shops had signs-the tailor's needle and bolt of cloth, the cutler's knife and scissors, the weaver's loom, and the like-but the paint on most of them was peeling. The few inns had signs in as bad a state, and looked no busier. The small houses crowded between inns and shops often had tiles or slates missing from their roofs. This part of Tear, at least, was poor. And from what she saw on the faces, few of the people here cared to try any longer. They were moving, working, but most of them had given up. Few as much as glanced at three women riding where everyone else walked.\n\nThe men wore baggy breeches, usually tied at the ankle. Only a handful wore coats, long, dark garments that fit arms and chest tightly, then became looser below the waist. There were more men in low shoes than in boots, but most went barefoot in the mud. A good many wore no coat or shirt at all, and had their breeches held up by abroad sash, sometimes colored and often dirty. Some had wide, conical straw hats on their heads, and a few, cloth caps that sagged down one side of the face. The women's dresses had high necks, right up to their chins, and hems that stopped at the ankle. Many had short aprons in pale colors, sometimes two or three, each smaller than the one beneath it, and most wore the same straw hats as the men, but dyed to complement the aprons."},{"from":"human","value":"It was on a woman that she first saw how those who wore shoes dealt with the mud."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The woman had small wooden platforms tied to the soles of her shoes, lifting them two hands out of the mud; she walked along as if her feet were planted firmly on the ground. Egwene saw others wearing the platforms after that, men as well as women. Some of the women went barefoot, but not as many as the men.\n\nShe was wondering which shop might sell those platforms, when Nynaeve suddenly turned her black down an alleyway between along, narrow two-story house and a stone-walled potter's shop. Egwene exchanged glances with Elayne-the Daughter-Heir shrugged-and then they followed. Egwene did not know where Nynaeve was going or why-and she meant to have words with her about it-but she did not mean to become separated, either.\n\nThe alley suddenly let into a small yard behind the house, fenced in by the buildings around it. Nynaeve had already dismounted and tied her reins to a fig tree, where the stallion could not reach the green things sprouting in a vegetable patch that took up half the yard. Aline of stones had been laid to make a path to the backdoor. Nynaeve strode to the door and knocked.\n\n\"What is it?\" Egwene demanded in spite of herself. \"Why are we stopping here?\"\n\n\"Did you not seethe herbs in the front windows?\" Nynaeve knocked again.\n\n\"Herbs?\" Elayne said.\n\n\"A Wisdom,\" Egwene told her as she got down from her saddle and tied Mist alongside the black. Gaidin is no good name fora horse. Does she think I don't know who she means it for? \"Nynaeve has found herself a Wisdom, or Seeker, or whatever they call her here.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\\nChapter: 52\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Master Gill winced at Thom's move and took his pipe out of his mouth.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Considering who you left with, lad, and considering the way things are now, maybe it's best I remember no more than that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aes Sedai not in such good odor now, are they?\\\" Mat set his things in one big armchair, the quarterstaff propped against the back, and himself in another with one leg swinging over the arm. \\\"The Guards at the Palace seemed to think the White Tower had stolen Elayne.\\\" Thom eyed the roll of fireworks uneasily, looked at his smoking pipe, and muttered to himself before going back to his study of the board.\\n\\n\\\"Hardly that,\\\" Gill said, \\\"but the whole city knows she disappeared from the Tower. Thom says she's returned, but we've heard none of that here. Perhaps Morgase knows, but everyone down to a stableboy is stepping lightly so she doesn't snap off his head. Lord Gaebril has kept her from actually sending anyone to the headsman, but I'd not say she would not do it. And he has certainly not soothed her temper toward Tar Valon. If anything, I think he has made it worse.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Morgase has anew advisor,\\\" Thom said in a dry voice. \\\"Gareth Bryne did not like him, so Bryne has been retired to his estate to watch his sheep grow wool. Basel, are you going to place a stone or not?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ina moment, Thom. Ina moment. I want to set it right.\\\" Gill clamped his teeth around his pipestem and frowned at the board, puffing up smoke.\\n\\n\\\"So the Queen has an advisor who doesn't like Tar Valon,\\\" Mat said. \\\"Well, that explains the way the Guards acted when I said I came from there.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If you told them that,\\\" Gill said, \\\"you might be lucky you escaped without any broken bones. If it was any of the new men, at least. Gaebril has replaced half the Guards in Caemlyn with men of his choosing, and that is no mean feat considering how short a time he has been here. Some say Morgase may marry him.\\\" He started to put a stone on the board, then took it back with a shake of his head. \\\"Times change. People change. Too much change for me. I suppose I am growing old.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You seem to mean us both to grow old before you place a stone,\\\" Thom muttered. The cat stretched and slinked across the table for him to stroke her back. \\\"Talking all day will not let you find a good move. Why don't you just admit defeat, Basel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I never admit defeat,\\\" Gill said stoutly. \\\"I'll beat you yet, Thom.\\\" He set a white stone on the intersection of two lines. \\\"You will see.\\\" Thom snorted.\\n\\nFrom what Mat could see of the board, he did not think Gill had much chance. \\\"I will just have to avoid the Guards and put Elayne's letter right into Morgase's hands.\\\" Especially if they're all like that fat fool. Light, I wonder if he's told them all I'm a Darkfriend?\\n\\n\\\"You did not deliver it?\\\" Thom barked. \\\"I thought you were anxious to be rid of the thing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have a letter from the Daughter-Heir?\\\" Gill exclaimed. \\\"Thom, why did you not tell me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am sorry, Basel,\\\" the gleeman muttered. He glared at Mat from under those bushy eyebrows and blew out his mustaches. \\\"The boy thinks someone is out to kill him over it, so I thought I'd let him say what he wanted and no more. Seems he does not care any longer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What kind of letter?\\\" Gill asked. \\\"Is she coming home? And Lord Gawyn? I hope they are. I've actually heard talk of war with Tar Valon, as if anyone could be fool enough to go to war with Aes Sedai. If you ask me, it is all one with those mad rumors we've heard about Aes Sedai supporting a false Dragon somewhere in the west, and using the Power as a weapon. Not that I can see why that would make anyone want to go to war with them; just the opposite.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Are you married to Coline?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mat asked, and Master Gill gave a start.\\n\\n\\\"The Light preserve me from that! You would think the inn washers now. If she was my wife...! What does that have to do with the Daughter-Heir's letter?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nothing,\\\" Mat said, \\\"but you went on so long, I thought you must have forgotten your own questions.\\\" Gill made a choking sound, and Thom barked a laugh. Mat hurried on before the innkeeper could speak. \\\"The letter is sealed; Elayne did not tell me what it says.\\\" Thom was eyeing him sideways and stroking his mustaches. Does he think I'll admit we opened the thing? \\\"But I don't think she is coming home. She means to be Aes Sedai, if you ask me.\\\" He told them about his attempt to deliver the letter, smoothing over a few edges they had no need to know about.\\n\\n\\\"The new men,\\\" Gill said. \\\"That officer sounds it, at least. I'll wager on it. No better than brigands, most of them, except the ones with a sly eye. You wait until this afternoon, lad, when the Guards on the gate will have changed. Say the Daughter-Heir's name right out, and just in case the new fellow is one of Gaebril's men, too, duck your head a little. A knuckle to your forehead, and you'll have no trouble.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Burn me if I will. I pull wool and scratch gravel for nobody. Not to Morgase herself. This time, I'll not go near the Guards at all.\\\" I would just as soon not know what word that fat fellow has spread. They stared at him as if he were mad.\\n\\n\\\"How under the Light,\\\" Gill said, \\\"do you mean to enter the Royal Palace without passing the Guards?\\\" His eyes widened as if he were remembering something. \\\"Light, you don't mean to.... Lad, you'd need the Dark One's own luck to escape with your life!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What are you going on about now, Basel?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mat, what fool thing do you intend to try?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am lucky, Master Gill,\\\" Mat said. \\\"You just have a good meal waiting when I comeback.\\\" Ashe stood, he picked up the dice cup and spun the dice out beside the stones board for luck. The calico cat leaped down, hissing at him with her back arched. The five spotted dice came to rest, each showing a single pip. The Dark One's Eyes.\\n\\n\\\"That's the best toss or the worst,\\\" Gill said. \\\"It depends on the game you are playing, doesn't it. Lad, I think you mean to play a dangerous game. Why don't you take that cup out into the common room and lose a few coppers? You look tome like a fellow who might like a little gamble. I will seethe letter gets to the Palace safely.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Coline wants you to clean the drains,\\\" Mat told him, and turned to Thom while the innkeeper was still blinking and muttering to himself. \\\"It doesn't seem to make any odds whether I get an arrow in me trying to deliver that letter or a knife in my back waiting. It's six up, and a half dozen down. Just you have that meal waiting, Thom.\\\" He tossed a gold mark on the table in front of Gill. \\\"Have my things put in a room, innkeeper. If it takes more coin, you will have it. Be careful of the big roll; it frightens Thom something awful.\\\"\\n\\nAshe stalked out, he heard Gill say to Thom, \\\"I always thought that lad was a rascal. How does he come by gold?\\\"\\n\\nI always win, that's how, he thought grimly. I just have to win once more, and I'm done with Elayne, and that's the last of the White Tower for me. Just once more.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Even as he returned to the Inner City on foot, Mat was far from certain that what he intended would actually work. It would, if what he had been told was true, but it was the truth of that he was not sure of. He avoided the oval plaza in front of the Palace, but wandered around the sides of the huge structure and its grounds, along streets that curved with the contours of the hills. The golden domes of the Palace glittered, mockingly out of reach. He had made his way almost all the way around, nearly back to the plaza, when he saw it. A steep slope thick with low flowers, rising from the street to a whitewall of rough stone. Several leafy tree limbs stuck over the top of the wall, and he could seethe tops of others beyond, in a garden of the Royal Palace.\\n\\nA wall made to look like a cliff, he thought, and a garden on the other side. Maybe Rand was telling the truth.\\n\\nA casual look both ways showed him he had the curving street to himself for the moment. He would have to hurry; the curves did not allow him to see very far; someone could come along any moment. He scrambled up the slope on all fours, careless of how his boots ripped holes in the banks of red and white blossoms. The rough stone of the wall gave plenty of fingerholds, and ridges and knobs provided toeholds even fora man in boots.\\n\\nCareless of them to make it so easy, he thought as he climbed. Fora moment the climbing took him back home with Rand and Perrin, to a journey they had made beyond the Sand Hills, into the edge of the Mountains of Mist. When they returned to Emond's Field, they had all caught the fury from everyone who could lay hands on them-him worst of all; everyone assumed it had been his idea-but for three days they had climbed the cliffs, and slept under the sky, and eaten eggs filched from redcrests\\\" nests, and plump, gray-winged grouse fetched with an arrow, or a stone from a sling, and rabbits caught with snares, all the while laughing about how they were not afraid of the mountains'bad luck and how they might find a treasure. He had brought home an odd rock from that expedition, with the skull of a good-sized fish somehow pressed into it, and along, whitetail feather dropped by a snow eagle, and apiece of white stone as big as his hand that looked almost as if it had been carved into a man's ear. He thought it looked like an ear, even if Rand and Perrin did not, and Tam al'Thor had said it might be.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His fingers slipped out of a shallow groove, his balance shifted and he lost the toehold under his left foot. With a gasp, he barely caught hold of the top of the wall, and pulled himself up the rest of the way. Fora moment he lay there, breathing hard. It would not have been that long a fall, but enough to break his head. Fool, letting my mind wander like that. Nearly killed myself on those cliffs that way. That was all along time ago. His mother had likely thrown all those things out already, anyway. With one last look each way to make sure no one had seen him-the curving length of street below was still empty-he dropped inside the Palace grounds.\\n\\nIt was a large garden, with flagstoned walks through expanses of grass among the trees, and grapevines thick on arbors over the walks. And everywhere, flowers. White blossoms covering the pear trees, and white and pink dotting the apple trees. Roses in every color, and bright golden sunburst, and purple Emond's Glory, and many he could not identify. Some he was not sure could be real. One had odd blossoms in scarlet and gold that looked almost like birds, and another seemed no different from a sunflower except that its yellow flowers were two feet and more across and stood on stalks as tall as an Ogier.\\n\\nBoots crunched on flagstone, and he crouched low behind a bush against the wall as two guardsmen marched past, their long, white collars hanging over their breastplates. They never glanced his way, and he grinned to himself. Luck. With just a little luck, they'll never see me till I hand the bloody thing to Morgase.\\n\\nHe slipped through the garden like a shadow, as if stalking rabbits, freezing by a bush or hard against a tree trunk when he heard boots. Two more pairs of soldiers strode by along the paths, the second close enough for him to have taken two steps and goosed them. As they vanished among the flowers and trees, he plucked a deep red starblaze and stuck the wavy-petaled flower in his hair with a grin. This was as much fun as stealing applecakes at Sunday, and easier. Women always kept a sharp watch on their baking; the fool soldiers never took their eyes off the flagstones.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"It was not long before he found himself against the whitewall of the Palace itself, and began sliding along it behind a row of flowering white roses on slatted frames, searching fora door.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There were plenty of wide, arched windows just over his head, but he thought it might be a bit harder to explain being found climbing in through a window than walking down a hall. Two more soldiers appeared, and he froze; they would pass within three paces of him. He could hear voices from the window over his head, two men, just loud enough for him to make out the words.\\n\\n\\\"-on their way to Tear, Great Master.\\\" The man sounded frightened and obsequious.\\n\\n\\\"Let them ruin his plans, if they can.\\\" This voice was deeper and stronger, a man used to command. \\\"It will serve him right if three untrained girls can foil him. He was always a fool, and he is still a fool. Is there any word of the boy? He is the one who can destroy us all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, Great Master. He has vanished. But, Great Master, one of the girls is Morgase's nit.\\\"\\n\\nMat half turned, then caught himself. The soldiers were coming closer; they did not appear to have seen his start through the thickly woven rose stems. Move, you fools! Get by so I can see who this man bloody is! He had lost some of the conversation.\\n\\n\\\"-has been far too impatient since regaining his freedom,\\\" the deep voice was saying. \\\"He never realized the best plans take time to mature. He wants the world in a day, and Callandor besides. The Great Lord take him! He may seize the girl and try to make some use of her. And that might strain my own plans.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you say, Great Master. Shall I order her brought out of Tear?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. The fool would take it as a move against him, if he knew. And who can say what he chooses to watch aside from the sword? See that she dies quietly, Comar. Let her death attract no notice at all.\\\" His laughter was a rich rumble. \\\"Those ignorant slatterns in their Tower will have a difficult time producing her after this disappearance. This may all be just as well. Let it be done quickly. Quickly, before he has time to take her himself.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The two soldiers were almost abreast of him; Mat tried to will their feet to move faster.\\n\\n\\\"Great Master,\\\" the other man said uncertainly, \\\"that maybe difficult. We know she is on her way to Tear, but the vessel she traveled on was found at Aringill, and all three of them had left it earlier. We do not know whether she has taken another ship, or is riding south. And it may not be easy to find her once she reaches Tear, Great Master. Perhaps if you-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are there none but fools in the world, now?\\\" the deep voice said harshly. \\\"Do you think I could move in Tear without him knowing? I do not mean to fight him, not now, not yet. Bring me the girl's head, Comar. Bring me all three heads, or you will pray for me to take yours!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Great Master. It shall be as you say. Yes. Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThe soldiers crunched past, never looking to either side. Mat only waited for their backs to pass before leaping up to catch the broad stone windowsill and pull himself high enough to see through the window.\\n\\nHe barely noticed the fringed Tarabon carpet on the floor, worth a fat purse of silver. One of the broad, carved doors was swinging shut. A tall man, with wide shoulders and a deep chest straining the green silk of his silver-embroidered coat, was staring at the door with dark blue eyes. His black beard was close cut, with a streak of white over his chin. All in all, he looked a hard man, and one used to giving orders.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Great Master,\\\" he said suddenly, and Mat almost lost his grip on the sill. He had thought this must be the man with the deep voice, but it was the cringing voice he heard. Not cringing now, but still the same. \\\"It shall be as you say, Great Master,\\\" the man said bitterly. \\\"I will cut the three wenches' heads off myself. As soon as I can find them!\\\" He strode through the door, and Mat let himself back down.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Fora moment he crouched there behind the rose frames.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Someone in the Palace wanted Elayne dead, and had thrown in Egwene and Nynaeve as afterthoughts. What under the Light are they doing, going to Tear? It had to be them.\\n\\nHe pulled the Daughter-Heir's letter out of the lining of his coat and frowned at it. Maybe, with this in his hand, Morgase would believe him. He could describe one of the men. But the time for skulking was past; the big fellow could be off to Tear before he even found Morgase, and whatever she did then, there was no guarantee it could stop him.\\n\\nTaking a deep breath, Mat wiggled between two of the rose frames at the cost of only a few pricks and snags from the thorns, and started down the flagstone path after the soldiers. He held Elayne's letter out in front of him so the golden lily seal was plainly visible, and went over in his mind exactly what he meant to say. When he had been sneaking about, guardsmen kept popping up like mushrooms after rain, but now he walked almost the length of the garden without seeing even one. He passed several doors. It would not be so good to enter the Palace without permission-the Guards might do nasty things first and listen after-but he was beginning to think about going through a door when it opened and a helmetless young officer with one golden knot on his shoulder strode out.\\n\\nThe man's hand immediately went to his sword hilt, and he had afoot of steel bared before Mat could push the letter toward him. \\\"Elayne, the Daughter-Heir, sends this letter to her mother, Queen Morgase, Captain.\\\" He held the letter so the lily seal was prominent.\\n\\nThe officer's dark eyes flickered to either side, as if searching for other people, without really ever leaving Mat. \\\"How did you come into this garden?\\\" He did not draw his sword further, but he did not sheath it, either. \\\"Elber is on the main gates. He's a fool, but he would never let anyone wander loose into the Palace.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A fat man with eyes like a rat?\\\" Mat cursed his tongue, but the officer gave a sharp nod; he almost smiled, too, but it did not seem to lessen his vigilance, or his suspicion. \\\"He grew angry when he learned I had come from Tar Valon, and he wouldn't even give me a chance to show the letter or mention the Daughter-Heir's name. He said he would arrest me if I did not go, so I climbed the wall. I promised I would deliver this to Queen Morgase herself, you see, Captain. I promised it, and I always keep my promises. You seethe seal?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That bloody garden wall again,\\\" the officer muttered. \\\"It should be built three times so high.\\\" He eyed Mat. \\\"Guardsman-lieutenant, not captain. I am Guardsman-lieutenant Tallanvor. I recognize the Daughter-Heir's seal.\\\" His sword finally slid all the way back into the sheath. He stretched out a hand; not his sword hand. \\\"Give me the letter, and I will take it to the Queen. After I show you out. Some would not be so gentle at finding you walking about loose.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I promised to put it in her hands myself,\\\" Mat said. Light, I never thought they might not let me give it to her. \\\"I did promise. To the Daughter-Heir.\\\"\\n\\nMat hardly realized Tallanvor's hand was moving before the officer's sword was resting against his neck. \\\"I will take you to the Queen, countryman,\\\" Tallanvor said softly. \\\"But know that I can take your head before you blink if you so much as think of harming her.\\\"\\n\\nMat put on his best grin. That slightly curved blade felt sharp on the side of his neck. \\\"I am a loyal Andorman,\\\" he said, \\\"and a faithful subject of the Queen, the Light illumine her. Why, if I had been here during the winter, I'd have followed Lord Gaebril for sure.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tallanvor gave him a tight-mouthed stare, then finally took his sword away. Mat swallowed and stopped himself from touching his throat to see if he had been cut.\\n\\n\\\"Take the flower out of your hair,\\\" Tallanvor said as he sheathed his blade. \\\"Do you think you came here courting?\\\"\\n\\nMat snatched the starblaze blossom out of his hair and followed the officer. Bloody fool, putting a flower in my hair. I have to stop playing the fool, now.\\n\\nIt was not so much following, really, for Tallanvor kept an eye on him even while he led the way. The result was an odd sort of procession, with the officer to one side of him and ahead, but half turned in case Mat tried anything. For his part, Mat attempted to look as innocent as a babe splashing in his bathwater.\\n\\nThe colorful tapestries on the walls had earned their weavers silver, and so had the rugs on the white tile floors, even herein the halls. Gold and silver stood everywhere, plates and platters, bowls and cups, on chests and low cabinets of polished wood, as fine as anything he had seen in the Tower. Servants darted everywhere, in red livery with white collars and cuffs and the White Lion of Andor on their breasts. He found himself wondering if Morgase played at dice. Wool-headed thought. Queens don't toss dice. But when I give her this letter and tell her somebody in her Palace means to kill Elayne, I'll wager she gives me a fat purse. He indulged himself in a small fancy of being made a lord; surely the man who revealed a plot to murder the Daughter-Heir could expect some such reward.\\n\\nTallanvor led him down so many corridors and across so many courtyards that he was beginning to wonder if he could find his way out again without help, when suddenly one of the courts had more than servants in it. A columned walk surrounded the court, with around pool in the middle with white and yellow fish swimming beneath lily pads and floating whitewater lilies. Men in colorful coats embroidered in gold or silver, women with wide dresses worked even more elaborately, stood attendance on a woman with red-gold hair who sat on the raised rim of the pool, trailing her fingers in the water and staring sadly at the fish that rose to her fingertips in hopes of food. A Great Serpent ring encircled the third finger of her left hand. A tall, dark man stood at her shoulder, the red silk of his coat almost hidden by the gold leaves and scrolls worked on it, but it was the woman who held Mat's eye.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He did not need the wreath of finely made golden roses in her hair, or the stole hanging over her dress of white slashed with red, the red length of the stole embroidered with the Lions of Andor, to know he was looking at Morgase, by the Grace of the Light, Queen of Andor, Defender of the Realm, Protector of the People, High Seat of House Trakand. She had Elayne's face and beauty, but it was what Elayne would have when she had ripened. Every other woman in the courtyard faded into the background by her very presence.\\n\\nI'd dance a jig with her, and steal a kiss in the moonlight, too, no matter how old she is. He shook himself. Remember exactly who she is!\\n\\nTallanvor went to one knee, a fist pressed to the white stone of the courtyard. \\\"My Queen, I bring a messenger who bears a letter from the Lady Elayne.\\\"\\n\\nMat eyed the man's posture, then contented himself with a deep bow. \\\"From the Daughter-Heir... uh... my Queen.\\\" He held out the letter as he bowed, so the golden yellow wax of the seal was visible. Once she reads it, and knows Elayne is all right, I will tell her. Morgase turned her deep blue eyes on him. Light! As soon as she's in a good mood.\\n\\n\\\"You bring a letter from my scapegrace child?\\\" Her voice was cold, but with an edge that spoke of heat ready to rise. \\\"That must mean she is alive, at least! Where is she?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In Tar Valon, my Queen,\\\" he managed to get out. Light, wouldn't I like to see a staring match between her and the Amyrlin. On second thought, he decided he would rather not. \\\"At least, she was when I left.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Morgase waved a hand impatiently, and Tallanvor rose to take the letter from Mat and hand it to her. Fora moment she frowned at the lily seal, then broke it with a sharp twist of her wrists. She murmured to herself as she read, shaking her head at every other line. \\\"She can say no more, can she?\\\" she muttered. \\\"We shall see whether she holds to that....\\\" Abruptly her face brightened. \\\"Gaebril, she has been raised to the Accepted. Less than a year in the Tower, and raised already.\\\" The smile went as suddenly as it had come, and her mouth tightened. \\\"When I put my hands on the wretched child, she will wish she were still a novice.\\\"\\n\\nLight, Mat thought, will nothing put her in a good mood? He decided he was just going to have to say it out, but he wished she did not look as if she meant to cut someone's head off. \\\"My Queen, by chance I overheard-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be silent, boy,\\\" the dark man in the gold-encrusted coat said calmly. He was a handsome man, almost as good-looking as Galad and nearly as youthful-seeming, despite the white streaking his temples, but built on a bigger scale, with more than Rand's height and very nearly Perrin's shoulders. \\\"We will hear what you have to say in a moment.\\\" He reached over Morgase's shoulder and plucked the letter out of her hand. Her glare turned on him-Mat could see her temper heating-but the dark man laid a strong hand on her shoulder, never taking his eyes off what he was reading, and Morgase's anger melted. \\\"It seems she has left the Tower again,\\\" he said. \\\"On the service of the Amyrlin Seat. The woman oversteps herself again, Morgase.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mat had no trouble holding his tongue. Luck. It was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Sometimes I don't know if it's good or bad. The dark man was the owner of the deep voice, the'Great Master\\\" who wanted Elayne's head. She called him Gaebril. Her advisor wants to murder Elayne? Light! And Morgase was staring up at him like an adoring dog with her master's hand on her shoulder.\\n\\nGaebril turned nearly black eyes on Mat. The man had a forceful gaze, and a look of knowing. \\\"What can you tell us of this, boy?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nothing... uh... my Lord.\\\" Mat cleared his throat; the man's stare was worse than the Amyrlin's. \\\"I went to Tar Valon to see my sister. She's a novice. Else Grinwell. I'm Thom Grinwell, my Lord. The Lady Elayne learned I was meaning to see Caemlyn on my way back home-I'm from Comfrey, my Lord; a little village north of Baerlon; I'd never seen anyplace bigger than Baerlon before I went to Tar Valon-and she-the Lady Elayne, I mean-gave me that letter to bring.\\\" He thought Morgase had glanced at him when he said he came from north of Baerlon, but he knew there was a village called Comfrey there; he remembered hearing it mentioned.\\n\\nGaebril nodded, but he said, \\\"Do you know where Elayne was going, boy? Or on what business? Speak the truth, and you have nothing to fear. Lie, and you will be put to the question.\\\"\\n\\nMat did not have to pretend a worried frown. \\\"My Lord, I only saw the Daughter-Heir the once. She gave me the letter-and a gold mark!-and told me to bring it to the Queen. I know no more of what is in it than I've heard here.\\\" Gaebril appeared to consider it, with no sign on that dark face of whether he believed a word or not.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No, Gaebril,\\\" Morgase said suddenly. \\\"Too many have been put to the question. I can seethe need as you have shown it tome, but not for this. Not a boy who only brought a letter whose contents he does not know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As my Queen commands, so shall it be,\\\" the dark man said. The tone was respectful, but he touched her cheek in away that made color come to her face and her lips part as if she expected a kiss.\\n\\nMorgase drew an unsteady breath. \\\"Tell me, Thom Grinwell, did my daughter look well when you saw her?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, my Queen. She smiled, and laughed, and showed a saucy tongue-I mean....\\\"\\n\\nMorgase laughed softly at the look on his face. \\\"Do not be afraid, young man. Elayne does have a saucy tongue, far too often for her own good. I am happy she is well.\\\" Those blue eyes studied him deeply. \\\"A young man who has left his small village often finds it difficult to return to it. I think you will travel far before you see Comfrey again. Perhaps you will even return to Tar Valon. If you do, and if you see my daughter, tell her that what is said in anger is often repented. I will not remove her from the White Tower before time. Tell her that I often think of my own time there, and miss the quiet talks with Sheriam in her study. Tell her that I said that, Thom Grinwell.\\\"\\n\\nMat shrugged uncomfortably. \\\"Yes, my Queen. But... uh... I do not mean to go to Tar Valon again. Once in any man's life is enough. My da needs me to help work the farm. My sisters will be stuck with the milking, with me gone.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Gaebril laughed, a deep rumble of amusement.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Are you anxious then to milk cows, boy? Perhaps you should see something of the world before it changes. Here!\\\" He produced a purse and tossed it; Mat felt coins through the wash-leather when he caught it. \\\"If Elayne can give you a gold mark for carrying her letter, I will give you ten for bringing it safely. Seethe world before you go back to your cows.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, my Lord.\\\" Mat lifted the purse and managed a weak grin. \\\"Thank you, my Lord.\\\"\\n\\nBut the dark man had already waved him away and turned to Morgase with his fists on his hips. \\\"I think the time has come, Morgase, to lance that festering sore on the border of Andor. By your marriage to Taringail Damodred, you have a claim to the Sun Throne. The Queen's Guards can make that claim as strong as any. Perhaps I can even aid them, in some small way. Hear me.\\\"\\n\\nTallanvor touched Mat on the arm, and they backed away, bowing. Mat did not think anyone noticed. Gaebril was still speaking, and every lord and lady seemed to hang on his words. Morgase was frowning as she listened, yet she nodded as much as any other.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"From the small courtyard with its pool offish, Tallanvor led Mat swiftly to the great court at the front of the Palace, behind the tall, gilded gates gleaming in the sun. It would be midday, soon. Mat felt an urge to begone, a need to hurry. It was hard keeping his pace to the young officer's. Someone might wonder, if he started running, and maybe-just maybe-things had really been the way they seemed back there. Maybe Gaebril really did not suspect that he knew. Maybe. He remembered those nearly black eyes, seizing and holding like a pair of pitchfork tines through his head. Light, maybe. He forced himself to walk as if he had all the time in the world-Just a haybrain country lout staring at the rugs and the gold. Just a mudfoot who'd never think anyone might put a knife in his back-until Tallanvor let him through a sallyport in one of the gates, and followed him out.\\n\\nThe fat officer with the rat's eyes was still therewith the Guards, and when he saw Mathis face went red again. Before he could open his mouth, though, Tallanvor spoke. \\\"He has delivered a letter to the Queen from the Daughter-Heir. Be glad, Elber, that neither Morgase nor Gaebril knows you tried to keep it from them. Lord Gaebril was most interested in the Lady Elayne's missive.\\\"\\n\\nElber's face went from red to as white as his collar. He glared once at Mat, and scuttled back along the line of guardsmen, his beady eyes peering through the bars of their face-guards as if to determine whether any of them had seen his fear.\\n\\n\\\"Thank you,\\\" Mat told Tallanvor, and meant it. He had forgotten all about the fat man until he was staring him in the face again. \\\"Fare you well, Tallanvor.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He started across the oval plaza, trying not to walk too fast, and was surprised when Tallanvor walked along. Light, is he Gaebril's man, or Morgase's? He was just beginning to feel an itch between his shoulder blades, as if a knife might be about to go in-He doesn't know, burn me! Gaebril doesn't suspect I know!-when the young officer finally spoke.\\n\\n\\\"Did you spend long in Tar Valon? In the White Tower? Long enough to learn anything of it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was only there three days,\\\" Mat said cautiously. He would have made the timeless-if he could have delivered the letter without admitting ever being in Tar Valon, he would have-but he did not think the man would believe he had gone all that way to see his sister and left the same day. What under the Light is he after? \\\"I learned what I saw in that time. Nothing of any importance. They did not guide me around and tell me things. I was only thereto see Else.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You must have heard something, man. Who is Sheriam? Does talking to her in her study mean anything?\\\"\\n\\nMat shook his head vigorously to keep relief from showing on his face. \\\"I don't know who she is,\\\" he said truthfully. Perhaps he had heard Egwene, or perhaps Nynaeve, mention the name. An Aes Sedai, maybe? \\\"Why should it mean anything?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not know,\\\" Tallanvor said softly. \\\"There is too much I do not know. Sometimes I think she is trying to say something....\\\" He gave Mat a sharp look. \\\"Are you a loyal Andorman, Thom Grinwell?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course I am.\\\" Light, if I say that much more often, I may start believing it. \\\"What about you? Do you serve Morgase and Gaebril loyally?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tallanvor gave him a look as hard as the dice's mercy. \\\"I serve Morgase, Thom Grinwell. Her, I serve to the death. Fare you well!\\\" He turned and strode back toward the Palace with a hand gripping his sword hilt.\\n\\nWatching him go, Mat muttered to himself. \\\"I will wager this\\\"-he gave Gaebril's wash-leather purse a toss-\\\"that Gaebril says the same.\\\" Whatever games they played in the Palace, he wanted no place in any of them. And he meant to make sure Egwene and the others were out of them, too. Fool women! Now I have to keep their bacon from burning instead of looking after my own! He did not start to run until the streets hid him from the Palace.\\n\\nWhen he came dashing into The Queen's Blessing, nothing very much had changed in the library. Thom and the innkeeper still sat over the stones board-a different game, he saw from the positions of the stones, but no better for Gill-and the calico cat was back on the table, washing herself. A tray holding their unlit pipes and the remains of a meal for two sat near the cat, and his belongings were gone from the armchair. Each man had a wine cup at his elbow.\\n\\n\\\"I will be leaving, Master Gill,\\\" he said. \\\"You can keep the coin and take a meal out of it. I'll stay long enough to eat, but then I am on the road to Tear.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is your hurry, boy?\\\" Thom seemed to be watching the cat more than the board. \\\"We only just arrived here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You delivered the Lady Elayne's letter, then?\\\" the innkeeper said eagerly. \\\"And kept your skin whole, it seems. Did you really climb over that wall like the other young man? No, that does not matter. Did the letter soothe Morgase? Do we still have to keep tiptoeing on eggs, man?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I suppose it soothed her,\\\" Mat said. \\\"I think it did.\\\" He hesitated a moment, bouncing Gaebril's purse on his hand. It made a clinking sound. He had not looked to see if it really held ten gold marks; the weight was about right. \\\"Master Gill, what can you tell me of Gaebril? Aside from the fact that he does not like Aes Sedai. You said he had not been in Caemlyn long?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why do you want to know about him?\\\" Thom asked. \\\"Basel, are you going to place a stone or not?\\\" The innkeeper sighed and stuck a black stone on the board, and the gleeman shook his head.\\n\\n\\\"Well, lad,\\\" Gill said, \\\"there is not much to tell. He came out of the west during the winter. Somewhere out your way, I think. Maybe it was the Two Rivers. I've heard the mountains mentioned.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We have no lords in the Two Rivers,\\\" Mat said. \\\"Maybe there are some up around Baerlon. I do not know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That could be it, lad. I had never even heard of him before, but I do not keep up with the country lords. Came while Morgase was still in Tar Valon, he did, and half the city was afraid the Tower was going to make her disappear, too. The other half did not want her back. The riots started up again, the way they did last year at the tail of winter.\\\"\\n\\nMat shook his head. \\\"I do not care about politics, Master Gill. It's Gaebril I want to know about.\\\" Thom frowned at him, and began cleaning the dottle from his long-stemmed pipe with a straw.\\n\\n\\\"It is Gaebril I am telling you about, lad,\\\" Gill said. \\\"During the riots, he made himself leader of the faction supporting Morgase-got himself wounded in the fighting, I hear-and by the time she returned, he had it all suppressed. Gareth Bryne didn't like Gaebril's methods-he can be a very hard man-but Morgase was so pleased to find order restored that she named him to the post Elaida used to hold.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The innkeeper stopped.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mat waited for him to goon, but he did not. Thom thumbed his pipe full of tabac and walked over to light a spill at a small lamp kept for the purpose on the mantel above the fireplace.\\n\\n\\\"What else?\\\" Mat asked. \\\"The man has to have a reason for what he does. If he marries Morgase, would he be king when she dies? If Elayne were dead, too, I mean?\\\"\\n\\nThom choked lighting his pipe, and Gill laughed. \\\"Andor has a queen, lad. Always a queen. If Morgase and Elayne both died-the Light send it not so!-then Morgase's nearest female relative would take the throne. At least there's no question of who that is this time-a cousin, the Lady Dyelin-not like the Succession, after Tigraine vanished. It took two years before Morgase sat on the Lion Throne, then. Dyelin could keep Gaebril as her advisor, or marry him to cement the line-though she would not likely do that unless Morgase had had a child by him-but he would be the Prince Consort even then. No more than that. Thank the Light, Morgase is a young woman, yet. And Elayne is healthy. Light! The letter did not say she is ill, did it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She is well.\\\" For now, at least. \\\"Isn't there anything else you can tell me about him? You do not seem to like him. Why?\\\"\\n\\nThe innkeeper frowned in thought, and scratched his chin, and shook his head. \\\"I suppose I would not like him marrying Morgase, but I do not truly know why. He's said to be a fine man; the nobles all look to him. I do not like most of the men he's brought into the Guards. Too much has changed since he came, but I cannot lay it all at his door. There just seem to be too many people muttering in corners since he came. You would think we were all Cairhienin, the way they were before this civil war, all plotting and trying to find advantage. I keep having bad dreams since Gaebril came, and I am not the only one. Fool thing to worry about, dreams. It is probably only worry about Elayne, and what Morgase means to do concerning the White Tower, and people acting like Cairhienin. I just do not know. Why are you asking all these questions about Lord Gaebril?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Because he wants to kill Elayne,\\\" Mat said, \\\"and Egwene and Nynaeve with her.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was nothing useful in what Gill had told him that he could see. Burn me, I don't have to know why he wants them dead. I just have to stop it. Both men were staring at him again. As if he were mad. Again.\\n\\n\\\"Are you coming down sick again?\\\" Gill said suspiciously. \\\"I remember you staring crossways at everyone the last time. It's either that, or else you think this is some sort of prank. You have the look of a prankster tome. If that is it, it's a nasty one!\\\"\\n\\nMat grimaced. \\\"It is no bloody prank. I overheard him telling some man called Comar to cut Elayne's head off. And Egwene's and Nynaeve's while he was about it. A big man, with a white stripe in his beard.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That does sound like Lord Comar,\\\" Gill said slowly. \\\"He was a fine soldier, but it is said he left the Guard over some matter of weighted dice. Not that anyone says it to his face; Comar was one of the best blades in the Guards. You really mean it, don't you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I think he does, Basel,\\\" Thom said. \\\"I very much think he does.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Light shine onus! What did Morgase say? You did tell her, didn't you? The Light burn you, you did tell her!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course, I did,\\\" Mat said bitterly. \\\"With Gaebril standing right there, and her gazing at him like a lovesick lapdog! I said, \\\"I maybe a simple village man who just climbed over your wall half an hour past, but I already happen to know your trusted advisor there, the one you seem to be in love with, intends to murder your daughter.\\\" Light, man, she'd have cut my head off!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She might have at that.\\\" Thom stared into the elaborate carvings on the bowl of his pipe and tugged one mustache. \\\"Her temper was ever as sudden as lightning, and twice as dangerous.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You know it better than most, Thom,\\\" Gill said absently. Staring at nothing, he scrubbed both hands through his graying hair. \\\"There has to be something I can do. I haven't held a sword since the Aiel War, but.... Well, that would do no good. Get myself killed and do nothing by it. But I must do something!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rumor.\\\" Thom rubbed the side of his nose; he seemed to be studying the stones board and talking to himself. \\\"No one can keep rumors from reaching Morgase's ears, and if she hears it strongly enough, she will start to wonder. Rumor is the voice of the people, and the voice of the people often speaks truth. Morgase knows that. There is not a man alive I would back against her in the Game. Love or no love, once Morgase starts examining Gaebril closely, he'll not be able to hide as much as his childhood scars from her. And if she learns he means harm to Elayne\\\"-he placed a stone on the board; it seemed an odd placement at first glance, but Mat saw that in three more moves, a third of Gill's stones would be trapped-\\\"Lord Gaebril will have a most elaborate funeral.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You and your Game of Houses,\\\" Gill muttered. \\\"Still, it might work.\\\" A sudden smile appeared on his face. \\\"I even know who to tell to start it. All I need do is mention to Gilda that I dreamed it, and in three days she'll have told serving girls in half the New City that it is a fact. She is the greatest gossip the Creator ever made.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Just be certain it cannot be traced back to you, Basel.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No fear of that, Thom. Why a week ago, a man told me one of my own bad dreams as a thing he'd heard from somebody who'd had it from someone else. Gilda must have eavesdropped on me telling it to Coline, but when I asked, he gave me a string of names that led all the way to the other side of Caemlyn and vanished. Why, I actually went over there and found the last man, just out of curiosity to see how many mouths had passed it, and he claimed it was his very own dream. No fear, Thom.\\\"\\n\\nMat did not really care what they did with their rumors-no rumors would help Egwene or the others-but one thing puzzled him. \\\"Thom, you seem to betaking this all very calmly. I thought Morgase was the great love of your life.\\\"\\n\\nThe gleeman stared into the bowl of his pipe again. \\\"Mat, a very wise woman once told me that time would heal my wounds, that time smoothed everything over. I didn't believe her. Only she was right.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You mean you do not love Morgase anymore.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Boy, it has been fifteen years since I left Caemlyn a half step ahead of the headsman's axe, with the ink of Morgase's signature still wet on the warrant. Sitting here listening to Basel natter on\\\"-Gill protested, and Thom raised his voice-\\\"natter on, I say, about Morgase and Gaebril, and how they might marry, I realized the passion faded along time gone. Oh, I suppose I am still fond of her, perhaps I even love her a little, but it is not a grand passion anymore.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And here I half thought you'd go running up to the Palace to warn her.\\\" He laughed, and was surprised when Thom joined him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I am not so big a fool as that, boy. Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this. Men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget. Morgase might kiss my cheek and give me a cup of wine and say how she has missed me. And then she might just let the Guards haul me off to prison and the headsman. No. Morgase is one of the most capable women I've ever known, and that is saying something. I could almost pity Gaebril once she learns what he is up to. Tear, you say? Is there any chance of you waiting until tomorrow to leave? I could use a night's sleep.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I mean to be as far toward Tear as I can before nightfall.\\\" Mat blinked. \\\"Do you mean to come with me? I thought you meant to stay here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did you not just hear me say I had decided not to have my head cutoff? Tear sounds a safer place tome than Caemlyn, and suddenly that does not seem so bad. Besides, I like those girls.\\\" A knife appeared in his hand and was as suddenly gone again. \\\"I'd not like anything to happen to them. But if you mean to reach Tear quickly, it's Aringill you want. A fast boat will have us there days sooner than horses, even if we rode them to death. And I don't say it just because my bottom has already taken on the shape of a saddle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aringill, then. As long as it's fast.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well,\\\" Gill said, \\\"I suppose if you are leaving, lad, I had better see about getting you that meal.\\\" He pushed back his chair and started for the door.\\n\\n\\\"Hold this for me, Master Gill,\\\" Mat said, and tossed him the wash-leather purse.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What's this, lad? Coin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Stakes. Gaebril doesn't know it, but he and I have a wager.\\\" The cat jumped down as Mat picked up the wooden dice cup and spun the dice out on the table. Five sixes. \\\"And I always win.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As the Darter wallowed toward the docks of Tear, on the west bank of the River Erinin, Egwene did not see anything of the oncoming city. Slumped head down at the rail, she stared down at the waters of the Erinin rolling past the ship's fat hull, and the frontmost sweep on her side as it swung into her vision and back again, cutting white furrows in the river. It made her queasy, but she knew raising her head would only make the sickness worse. Looking at the shore would only make the slow, corkscrew motion of the Darter more apparent.\\n\\nThe vessel had moved in that twisting roll ever since Jurene. She did not care how it had sailed before then; she found herself wishing the Darter had sunk before reaching Jurene. She wished they had made the captain put in at Aringill so they could find another ship. She wished they had never gone near a ship. She wished a great many things, most of them just to take her mind off where she was.\\n\\nThe twisting was less now, under sweeps, than it had been under sail, but it had gone on too many days now for the change to make much difference to her. Her stomach seemed to be sloshing about inside her like milk in a stone jug. She gulped and tried to forget that image.\\n\\nThey had not done much in the way of planning on the Darter, she and Elayne and Nynaeve. Nynaeve could seldom go ten minutes without vomiting, and seeing that always made Egwene lose whatever food she had managed to get down. The increasing warmth as they went further downriver did not help. Nynaeve was below now, no doubt with Elayne holding a basin for her again.\\n\\nOh, Light, no! Don't think about that! Green fields. Meadows. Light, meadows do not heave like that. Hummingbirds. No, not hummingbirds! Larks. Larks singing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Mistress Joslyn? Mistress Joslyn!\\\"\\n\\nIt took her a moment to recognize the name she had chosen to give Captain Canin, and the captain's voice. She raised her head slowly and fixed her eyes on his long face.\\n\\n\\\"We are docking, Mistress Joslyn. You've kept saying how eager you were to be ashore. Well, we're there.\\\" His voice did not hide his eagerness to be rid of his three passengers, two of whom did little more than sick up, as he called it, and moan all night.\\n\\nBarefoot, shirtless sailors were tossing lines to men on the stone dock that thrust out into the river; the dockmen seemed to be wearing long leather vests in place of shirts. The sweeps had already been drawn in, except fora pair fending the ship off from coming against the dock too hard. The flat stones of the dock were wet; the air had a feel of rain not long gone, and that was a little soothing. The twisting motion had ceased sometime since, she realized, but her stomach remembered. The sun was falling toward the west. She tried not to think of supper.\\n\\n\\\"Very good, Captain Canin,\\\" she said with all the dignity she could summon. He'd not sound like that if I were wearing my ring, not even if I were sick on his boots. She shuddered at the picture in her mind.\\n\\nHer Great Serpent ring and the twisted ring of the ter'angreal hung on a leather cord about her neck, now. The stone ring felt cool against her skin-almost enough to counteract the damp warmth of the air-but aside from that, she had found that the more she used the ter'angreal, the more she wanted to touch it, without pouch or cloth between it and her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tel'aran'rhiod still showed her little of immediate use. Sometimes there had been glimpses of Rand, or Mat, or Perrin, and more in her own dreams without the ter'angreal, but nothing of which she could make any sense. The Seanchan, who she refused to think about. Nightmares of a White-cloak putting Master Luhhan in the middle of a huge, toothed trap for bait. Why should Perrin have a falcon on his shoulder, and what was important about him choosing between that axe he wore now and a blacksmith's hammer? What did it mean that Mat was dicing with the Dark One, and why did he keep shouting, \\\"I am coming!\\\" and why did she think in the dream that he was shouting at her? And Rand. He had been sneaking through utter darkness toward Callandor, while all around him six men and five women walked, some hunting him and some ignoring him, some trying to guide him toward the shining crystal sword and some trying to stop him from reaching it, appearing not to know where he was, or only to see him in flashes. One of the men had eyes of flame, and he wanted Rand dead with a desperation she could nearly taste. She thought she knew him. Ba'alzamon. But who were the others? Rand in that dry, dusty chamber again, with those small creatures settling into his skin. Rand confronting a horde of Seanchan. Rand confronting her, and the women with her, and one of them was a Seanchan. It was all too confusing. She had to stop thinking about Rand and the others and put her mind to what was right ahead of her. What is the Black Ajah up to? Why don't I dream something about them? Light, why can't I learn to make it do what I want?\\n\\n\\\"Have the horses put ashore, Captain,\\\" she told Canin. \\\"I will tell Mistress Maryim and Mistress Caryla.\\\" That was Nynaeve-Maryim-and Elayne-Caryla.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I have sent a man to tell them, Mistress Joslyn. And your animals will be on the dock as soon as my men can rig a boom.\\\"\\n\\nHe sounded very pleased to be rid of them. She thought about telling him not to hurry, but rejected it immediately. The Darter's corkscrewing might have stopped, but she wanted dry land under her feet again. Now. Still, she stopped to pat Mist's nose and let the gray mare nuzzle her palm, to let Canin see she was in no great rush.\\n\\nNynaeve and Elayne appeared at the ladder from the cabins, laden with their bundles and saddlebags, and Elayne almost as laden with Nynaeve. When Nynaeve saw Egwene watching, she pushed herself away from the Daughter-Heir and walked unaided the rest of the way to where men were setting a narrow gangplank to the dock. Two crewmen came to fasten a wide canvas sling under Mist's belly, and Egwene hurried below for her own things. When she came backup, her mare was already on the dock and Elayne's roan dangled in the canvas sling halfway there.\\n\\nFora moment after her feet were on the dock, all she felt was relief. This would not pitch and roll. Then she began to look at this city whose reaching had caused them such pains.\\n\\nStone warehouses backed the long docks themselves, and there seemed to be a great many ships, large and small, alongside the docks or anchored in the river. Hastily she avoided looking at the ships. Tear had been built on flatland, with barely a bump. Down muddy dirt streets between the warehouses, she could see houses and inns and taverns of wood and stone. Their roofs of slate or tile had oddly sharp corners, and some rose to a point. Beyond these, she could make out a high wall of dark gray stone, and behind it the tops of towers with balconies high around them and white-domed palaces. The domes had a squared shape to them, and the tower tops looked pointed, like some of the roofs outside the wall. All in all, Tear was easily as big as Caemlyn or Tar Valon, and if not so beautiful as either, it was still one of the great cities. Yet she found it hard to look at anything but the Stone of Tear.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She had heard of it in stories, heard that it was the greatest fortress in the world and the oldest, the first built after the Breaking of the World, yet nothing had prepared her for this sight. At first she thought it was a huge, gray stone hill or a small, barren mountain covering hundreds of hides, its length stretching from the Erinin west through the wall and into the city. Even after she saw the huge banner flapping from its greatest height-three white crescent moons slanting across afield half red, half gold; a banner waving at least three hundred paces above the river, yet large enough to be clearly seen at that height-even after she made out battlements and towers, it was difficult to believe the Stone of Tear had been built rather than carved out of a mountain already there.\\n\\n\\\"Made with the Power,\\\" Elayne murmured. She was staring at the Stone, too. \\\"Flows of Earth woven to draw stone from the ground, Air to bring it from every corner of the world, and Earth and Fire to make it all in one piece, without seam or joint or mortar. Atuan Sedai says the Tower could not do it, today. Strange, given how the High Lords feel concerning the Power now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I think,\\\" Nynaeve said softly, eyeing the dockmen moving around them, \\\"that given that very thing, we should not mention certain other things aloud.\\\" Elayne appeared torn between indignation-she had spoken very softly-and agreement; the Daughter-Heir agreed with Nynaeve too often and too readily to suit Egwene.\\n\\nOnly when Nynaeve is right, she admitted to herself grudgingly. A woman who wore the ring, or was even associated with Tar Valon, would be watched here. The barefoot, leather-vested dockmen were not paying the three of them any mind as they hurried about, carrying bales or crates on their backs as often as on barrows. A strong odor offish hung in the air; the next three docks had dozens of small fishing boats clustered around them, just like those in the drawing in the Amyrlin's study. Shirtless men and barefoot women were hoisting baskets offish out of the boats, mounds of silver and bronze and green, and colors she had never suspected fish might be, such as bright red, and deep blue, and brilliant yellow, some with stripes or splotches of white and other colors.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She lowered her voice for Elayne's ear alone. \\\"She is right, Caryla. Remember why you are Caryla.\\\" She did not want Nynaeve to hear such admissions. Her face did not change when she heard, but Egwene could feel satisfaction radiating from her like heat from a cook stove.\\n\\nNynaeve's black stallion was just being lowered to the dock; sailors had already carried their tack off the ship and simply dumped it on the wet stones of the dock. Nynaeve glanced at the horses and opened her mouth-Egwene was sure it was to tell them to saddle their animals-then closed it again, tight-lipped, as if it had cost her an effort. She gave her braid one hard tug. Before the sling was well out of the way, Nynaeve tossed the blue-striped saddle blanket across the black's back and hoisted her high-cantled saddle atop it. She did not even look at the other two women.\\n\\nEgwene was not anxious to ride at that moment-the motion of a horse might be too close to the motion of the Darter for her stomach-but another look at those muddy streets convinced her. Her shoes were sturdy, but she would not enjoy having to clean mud off them, or having to hold her skirts up as she walked, either. She saddled Mist quickly and climbed onto her back, settling her skirts, before she could decide the mud might not be so bad after all. A little needlework on the Darter-Elayne had done it all, this time; the Daughter-Heir sewed a very fine stitch-had divided all their dresses nicely for riding astride.\\n\\nNynaeve's face paled fora moment when she swung into her saddle and the stallion decided to frisk. She kept a tight-mouthed grip on herself and a firm hand on her reins and soon had him under control. By the time they had ridden slowly past the warehouses, she could speak. \\\"We need to locate Liandrin and the others without them learning we are asking after them. They surely know we are coming-that someone is, at least-but I would like them not to know we are here until it is too late for them.\\\" She drew a deep breath. \\\"I confess I have not thought of anyway to do this. Yet. Do either of you have any suggestions?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A thief-taker,\\\" Elayne said without hesitation. Nynaeve frowned at her.\\n\\n\\\"You mean like Hurin?\\\" Egwene said. \\\"But Hurin was in the service of his king. Wouldn't any thief-taker here serve the High Lords?\\\"\\n\\nElayne nodded, and fora moment Egwene envied the Daughter-Heir her stomach. \\\"Yes, they would. But thief-takers are not like the Queen's Guards, or the Tairen Defenders of the Stone. They serve the ruler, but people who have been robbed sometimes pay them to retrieve what was stolen. And they also sometimes take money to find people. At least, they do in Caemlyn. I cannot think it is different herein Tear.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then we take rooms at an inn,\\\" Egwene said, \\\"and ask the innkeeper to find us a thief-taker.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not an inn,\\\" Nynaeve said as firmly as she guided the stallion; she never seemed to let the animal get out of her control. After a moment she moderated her tone a little. \\\"Liandrin, at least, knows us, and we have to assume the others do, too. They will surely be watching the inns for whoever followed the trail they sprinkled behind them. I mean to spring their trap in their faces, but not with us inside. We'll not stay at an inn.\\\"\\n\\nEgwene refused to give her the satisfaction of asking.\\n\\n\\\"Where then?\\\" Elayne's brow furrowed. \\\"If I made myself known-and could make anyone believe it, in these clothes and with no escort-we would be welcomed by most of the noble Houses, and very likely in the Stone itself-there are good relations between Caemlyn and Tear-but there would be no keeping it quiet. The entire city would know before nightfall. I cannot think of anywhere else except an inn, Nynaeve. Unless you mean to go out to a farm in the country, but we will never find them from the country.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Nynaeve glanced at Egwene. \\\"I will know when I see it. Let me look.\\\"\\n\\nElayne's frown swept from Nynaeve to Egwene and back again. \\\"\\\"Do not cutoff your ears because you do not like your earrings, '\\\" she muttered.\\n\\nEgwene put her attention firmly on the street they were riding along. I will be burned if I'll let her think I am even wondering!\\n\\nThere were not a great many people out, not compared to the streets of Tar Valon. Perhaps the thick mud in the street discouraged them. Carts and wagons lurched past, most pulled by oxen with wide horns, the carter or wagoneer walking alongside with along goad of some pale, ridged wood. No carriages or sedan chairs used these streets. The odor offish hung in the air here, too, and no few of the men who hurried past carried huge baskets full offish on their backs. The shops did not look prosperous; none displayed wares outside, and Egwene seldom saw anyone go in. The shops had signs-the tailor's needle and bolt of cloth, the cutler's knife and scissors, the weaver's loom, and the like-but the paint on most of them was peeling. The few inns had signs in as bad a state, and looked no busier. The small houses crowded between inns and shops often had tiles or slates missing from their roofs. This part of Tear, at least, was poor. And from what she saw on the faces, few of the people here cared to try any longer. They were moving, working, but most of them had given up. Few as much as glanced at three women riding where everyone else walked.\\n\\nThe men wore baggy breeches, usually tied at the ankle. Only a handful wore coats, long, dark garments that fit arms and chest tightly, then became looser below the waist. There were more men in low shoes than in boots, but most went barefoot in the mud. A good many wore no coat or shirt at all, and had their breeches held up by abroad sash, sometimes colored and often dirty. Some had wide, conical straw hats on their heads, and a few, cloth caps that sagged down one side of the face. The women's dresses had high necks, right up to their chins, and hems that stopped at the ankle. Many had short aprons in pale colors, sometimes two or three, each smaller than the one beneath it, and most wore the same straw hats as the men, but dyed to complement the aprons.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"It was on a woman that she first saw how those who wore shoes dealt with the mud.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The woman had small wooden platforms tied to the soles of her shoes, lifting them two hands out of the mud; she walked along as if her feet were planted firmly on the ground. Egwene saw others wearing the platforms after that, men as well as women. Some of the women went barefoot, but not as many as the men.\\n\\nShe was wondering which shop might sell those platforms, when Nynaeve suddenly turned her black down an alleyway between along, narrow two-story house and a stone-walled potter's shop. Egwene exchanged glances with Elayne-the Daughter-Heir shrugged-and then they followed. Egwene did not know where Nynaeve was going or why-and she meant to have words with her about it-but she did not mean to become separated, either.\\n\\nThe alley suddenly let into a small yard behind the house, fenced in by the buildings around it. Nynaeve had already dismounted and tied her reins to a fig tree, where the stallion could not reach the green things sprouting in a vegetable patch that took up half the yard. Aline of stones had been laid to make a path to the backdoor. Nynaeve strode to the door and knocked.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Egwene demanded in spite of herself. \\\"Why are we stopping here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did you not seethe herbs in the front windows?\\\" Nynaeve knocked again.\\n\\n\\\"Herbs?\\\" Elayne said.\\n\\n\\\"A Wisdom,\\\" Egwene told her as she got down from her saddle and tied Mist alongside the black. Gaidin is no good name fora horse. Does she think I don't know who she means it for? \\\"Nynaeve has found herself a Wisdom, or Seeker, or whatever they call her here.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2395,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Continue the tale as the plot helper for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\nChapter: 57"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perrin glanced around; none of the dockmen shuttling cargo about seemed to have heard. He was sure he would have smelled fear if they had. He bit back the sharp remark that hung on the end of his tongue. She had a quicker tongue, and a sharper.\n\n\"I wish you did not sound so eager,\" Loial rumbled. \"You seem to think it will all be as easy as Illian, Faile.\"\n\n\"Easy?\" Zarine muttered. \"Easy! Loial, we were nearly killed twice in one night. Illian was enough fora Hunter's song in itself. What makes you call it easy?\"\n\nPerrin grimaced. He wished Loial had not decided to call Zarine by that name she had chosen; it was a constant reminder that Moiraine thought she was Min's falcon. And it did nothing to stop Perrin wondering if she was the beautiful woman Min had warned him against, too. At least I've not run up against the hawk. Ora Tuatha'an with a sword! Now that would the strangest of all, or I am a wool merchant!\n\n\"Stop asking questions, Zarine,\" he said as he swung up into Stepper's saddle. \"You will find out why we are here when Moiraine decides to tell you.\" He tried not to look at the Stone.\n\nShe turned those dark, tilted eyes on him. \"I do not think you know why, blacksmith. I think that is why you will not tell me, because you cannot. Admit it, farmboy.\"\n\nWith a small sigh, he rode off the docks after Moiraine and Lan. Zarine did not dig at Loial in that cutting way when the Ogier refused to answer her questions. He thought she must be trying to browbeat him into using that name. He would not."},{"from":"human","value":"Moiraine had tied the oiled cloak behind her saddle, atop the innocuous-looking bundle that held the Dragon banner, and despite the heat had donned the blue linen cloak from Illian."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Its deep, wide hood hid her face. Her Great Serpent ring was on a cord around her neck. Tear, she had said, did not forbid the presence of Aes Sedai, only channeling, but the Defenders of the Stone kept a close eye on any woman who wore the ring. She did not want to be watched on this visit to Tear.\n\nLan had stuffed his color-shifting cloak into his saddlebags two days earlier, when it had become apparent that whoever had sent the Darkhounds-Sammael, Perrin thought with a shiver, and tried not to think of the name at all-whoever had sent them had not sent anymore pursuit. The Warder had made no concessions to the heat of Illian, and he made none to the lesser heat of Tear. His gray-green coat was buttoned up all the way.\n\nPerrin wore his coat half undone, and the neck of his shirt untied. Tear might be a little cooler than Illian, but it was still as hot as summer in the Two Rivers, and as always after rain, the dampness of the air made the heat seem worse. His axe belt hung looped around the tall pommel of his saddle. It was handy there, if he needed it, and he felt better not wearing it.\n\nHe was surprised at the mud in the first streets they rode along. Only villages and smaller towns had dirt streets, that he had seen, and Tear was one of the great cities. But the people did not seem to mind, many going barefoot. A woman walking on little wooden platforms caught his attention fora time, and he wondered why they did not all wear them. Those baggy breeches on the men looked as if they might be cooler than the snug ones he wore, but he was sure he would feel a fool if he tried them. He made a picture in his head of himself wearing those breeches and one of those round straw hats, and chuckled at it."},{"from":"human","value":"\"What do you find funny, Perrin?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Loial asked. His ears were drooping till their tufts were hidden in his hair, and he looked at the people in the street worriedly. \"These folk look... defeated, Perrin. They did not look this way when I was here last. Even people who let their grove be cut down do not deserve to look like this.\"\n\nAs Perrin began to study faces instead of just looking at everything at once, he saw that Loial was right. Something had gone out of too many of those faces. Hope, maybe. Curiosity. They barely glanced at the party riding by, except to get out of the way of the horses. The Ogier, mounted on an animal as big as a draft horse, might as well have been Lan, or Perrin.\n\nThe streets changed, gaining wide stone paving, after they passed inside the gates of the high, gray city wall, past the hard, dark eyes of soldiers in breastplates over redcoats with wide sleeves ending in narrow white cuffs, and rimmed, round helmets with a ridge over the top. Instead of the baggy breeches other men wore, theirs were tight, and tucked into knee-high boots. The soldiers frowned at Lan's sword and fingered their own, stared sharply at Perrin's axe and his bow, but in away, despite their frowns and sharp looks, there was something beaten in their faces, too, as if nothing were really worth the effort any longer.\n\nThe buildings were larger and taller inside the walls, though most were made no differently from those outside. The roofs looked a bit odd to Perrin, especially those that came to points, but he had seen so many different kinds of roof since leaving home that he only wondered what kind of nails they used with their tiles. In some places, the people did not use nails on their roof tiles at all."},{"from":"human","value":"Palaces and great buildings stood among the smaller and more ordinary, seemingly placed haphazardly; a structure of towers and squarish, white domes, surrounded on all sides by wide streets, might have shops and inns and houses on the other sides of those streets."},{"from":"gpt","value":"A huge hall fronted by squared columns of marble four paces on aside, with fifty steps to climb to reach bronze doors five spans high, had a bakery one side and a tailor on the other.\n\nMore men wore coats and breeches like the soldiers'here, though in brighter colors and without armor, and some even wore swords. None of them went barefoot, not even those in baggy breeches. The women's dresses were often longer, their necklines lower to bare shoulders and even bosom, the cloth as likely to be silk as wool. The Sea Folk traded a good deal of silk through Tear. As many sedan chairs and carriages drawn by teams of horses moved through the streets as ox-carts and wagons. Yet too many of the faces had that same look of having given up.\n\nThe inn Lan chose, the Star, had a weaver's shop on one side and a smithy on the other, with narrow alleyways between. The smithy was of undressed gray stone, the weaver's and the inn of wood, though the Star stood four stories tall and had small windows in its roof as well. The rattle of looms was hard-pressed to compete with the clang of the smith's hammer. They handed their horses over to stablemen, to betaken around back, and went inside the inn. There were fish smells from the kitchen, baking and perhaps stewing, and the scent of roast mutton. The men in the common room all wore the tight coats and loose breeches; Perrin did not think richer men-somehow he was sure the men in colorful coats with puffy sleeves and the bare-shouldered women in bright silk were all rich, or nobles-those folk would not put up with the noise. Perhaps that was why Lan had chosen it.\n\n\"How are we supposed to sleep with this racketing?\" Zarine muttered."},{"from":"human","value":"\"No questions?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"he said with a smile. Fora moment he thought she was going to stick out her tongue at him.\n\nThe innkeeper was around-faced, balding man in along, deep blue coat and those loose breeches, who bowed overhands clasped across his stout belly. His face had that look, a weary resignation. \"The Light shine on you, mistresses, and welcome,\" he sighed. \"The Light shine on you, masters, and welcome.\" He gave a small start at Perrin's yellow eyes, then passed wearily onto Loial. \"The Light shine on you, friend Ogier, and welcome. It is a year or more since I have seen one of your kind in Tear. Some work or other at the Stone. They stayed in the Stone, of course, but I saw them in the street one day.\" He finished with another sigh, seemingly unable to summon any curiosity as to why another Ogier had come to Tear, or why any of them had come, for that matter.\n\nThe balding man, whose name was Jurah Haret, showed them to their rooms himself. Apparently Moiraine's silk dress and the way she kept her face hidden, taken with Lan's hard face and sword, made them a lady and her guard in his eyes, and so worthy of his personal attention. Perrin he obviously took as some kind of retainer, and Zarine he was plainly unsure of-to her visible disgust-and Loial was, after all, an Ogier. He called men to push beds together for Loial, and offered Moiraine a private room for her meals if she wished. She accepted graciously.\n\nThey kept together through it all, making a small procession through the upper halls until Haret bowed and sighed his way out of their presence, leaving them all where they had begun, outside Moiraine's room. The walls were white plaster, and Loial's head brushed the hall ceiling."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Odious fellow,\" Zarine muttered, brushing furiously at the dust on her narrow skirts with both hands. \"I believe he took me for your handmaid, Aes Sedai. I will not stand for that!\"\n\n\"Watch your tongue,\" Lan said softly. \"If you use that name where folk can hear, you will regret it, girl.\" She looked as if she were going to argue, but his icy blue eyes stilled her tongue this time, if it did not cool her glare.\n\nMoiraine ignored them. Staring off at nothing, she worked her cloak in her hands almost as if wiping them. Unaware what she was doing, in Perrin's opinion.\n\n\"How do we go about finding Rand?\" he asked, but she did not appear to hear him. \"Moiraine?\"\n\n\"Remain close to the inn,\" she said after a moment. \"Tear can be a dangerous city for those who do not know its ways. The Pattern can be torn, here.\" That last was soft, as if to herself. Ina stronger voice she said, \"Lan, let us see what we can discover without attracting attention. The rest of you, stay close to the inn!\"\n\n\"\"Stay close to the inn,\"\" Zarine mimicked as the Aes Sedai and the Warder disappeared down the stairs. But she said it quietly enough that they would not hear. \"This Rand. He is the one you called the....\" If she looked like a falcon right then, it was a very uneasy falcon. \"And we are in Tear, where the Heart of the Stone holds.... And the Prophecies say.... The Light burn me, ta'veren, is this a story I want to be in?\"\n\n\"It is not a story, Zarine.\" Fora moment Perrin felt almost as hopeless as the innkeeper had sounded. \"The Wheel weaves us into the Pattern. You chose to tangle your thread with ours; it's too late to untangle it, now.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Light!\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"she growled. \"Now you sound like her!\"\n\nHe left her therewith Loial and went to put his things in his room-it had a low bed, comfortable but small, as city people seemed to think befitted a servant, a washstand, a stool, and a few pegs on the cracked plaster wall-and when he came out, they were both gone. The ring of hammer on anvil called to him.\n\nSo much in Tear looked odd that it was a relief to walk into the smithy. The ground floor was all one large room with no back wall except for two long doors that stood open on a yard for shoeing horses and oxen, complete with an ox sling. Hammers stood in their stands, tongs of various kinds and sizes hung on the exposed joists of the walls, buttresses and hoof knives and other farrier's tools lay neatly arranged on wooden benches with chisels and beak irons and swages and all the implements of the blacksmith's craft. Bins held lengths of iron and steel in various thicknesses. Five grinding wheels of different roughness stood about the hard dirt floor, six anvils, and three stone-sided forges with their bellows, though only one held glowing coals. Quenching barrels stood ready to hand.\n\nThe smith was plying his hammer on yellow-hot iron gripped in heavy tongs. He wore baggy breeches and had pale blue eyes, but the long leather vest over his bare chest and apron were not much different from those Perrin and Master Luhhan had worn back in Emond's Field, and his thick arms and shoulders spoke of years working metal. His dark hair had almost the same amount of gray that Perrin remembered in Master Luhhan's. More vests and aprons hung on the wall, as if the man had apprentices, but they were not in evidence now. The forge-fire smelled like home. The hot iron smelled like home."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The smith turned to thrust the piece he was working back into the coals, and Perrin stepped over to work the bellows for him. The man glanced at him, but said nothing. Perrin pulled the bellows handle up and down with slow, steady, even strokes, keeping the coals at the right heat. The smith went back to working the hot iron, on the rounded horn of the anvil, this time. Perrin thought he might be making a barrel scrape. The hammer rang with sharp, quick blows.\n\nThe man spoke without looking up from his work. \"Apprentice?\" was all he said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Perrin replied just as simply.\n\nThe smith worked on fora time. It was a barrel scrape, for cleaning the insides of wooden barrels. Now and again he eyed Perrin consideringly. Setting his hammer down, just fora moment, the smith picked up a short length of thick, square stock and pushed it into Perrin's hand, then picked up his hammer again and resumed work. \"See what you can do with that,\" he said.\n\nWithout even thinking about it, Perrin stepped over to an anvil on the other side of the forge and tapped the stock against its edge. It made a nice ring. The steel had not been left long enough in the slowfurnace to pickup a great deal of carbon from the coal. He pushed it into the hot coals for almost its entire length, tasted the two water barrels to see which had been salted-the third was olive oil-then took off his coat and shirt and chose a leather vest that would fit his chest. Most of these Tairen fellows were not as large as he, but he found one that would do. Finding an apron was easier.\n\nWhen he turned around, he saw the smith, still with his head down over his work, nodding and smiling to himself. But just because he knew his way around a smithy did not mean he had any skill at smithing. That was yet to be shown."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When he came back to the anvil with two hammers, a set of long-handled flat-tongs, and a sharp-topped hardy, the steel bar had heated to a dark red except fora small bit of what he had left out of the coals. He worked the bellows, watching the color of the metal lighten, until it reached a yellow just short of white. Then he pulled it outwith the tongs, laid it on the anvil, and picked up the heavier of the two hammers. About ten pounds, he estimated, and with a longer handle than most people, who did not know metalworking, thought was necessary. He held it near the end; hot metal gave off sparks, sometimes, and he had seen the scars on the hands of the smith from up at Roundhill, a careless fellow.\n\nHe did not want to make anything elaborate or fancy. Simple things seemed best at the moment. He began by rounding the edges of the bar, then hammered the middle out into abroad blade, almost as thick as the original at the butt, but a good hand and a half long. From time to time he returned the metal to the coals, to keep it at the pale yellow, and after a time he shifted to the lighter hammer, half the weight of the first. The piece beyond the blade, he thinned down, then bent it over the anvil horn in a curve down beside the blade. A wooden handle could be fixed onto that, eventually. Setting the sharp-chisel hardy in the anvil's hardy-hole, he laid the glowing metal atop it. One sharp blow of the hammer cutoff the tool he had made. Or almost made. It would be a chamfer knife, for smoothing and leveling the tops of barrel staves after they were hopped together, among other things. When he was done. The other man's barrel scrape had made him think of it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As soon as he had made the hot-cut, he tossed the glowing metal into the salted quenching barrel. Unsalted gave a harder quench, for the hardest metal, while the oil gave the softest, for good knives. And swords, he had heard, but he had never had any part in making anything like that.\n\nWhen the metal had cooled enough, to a dull gray, he removed it from the water and took it to the grinding wheels. A little slow work with the footpedals ground a polish onto the blade. Carefully, he heated the blade portion again. This time the colors deepened, to straw, to bronze. When the bronze color began to run up the blade in waves, he set it aside to cool. The final edge could be sharpened then. Quenching again would destroy the tempering he had just done.\n\n\"Avery neat bit of work,\" the smith said. \"No wasted motion. You looking for work? My apprentices just walked away, all three of them, the worthless fools, and I've plenty you could do.\"\n\nPerrin shook his head. \"I do not know how long I will be in Tear. I'd like to work a little longer, if you do not mind. It has been along time, and I miss it. Maybe I could do some of the work your apprentices would have done.\"\n\nThe smith snorted loudly. \"You're a deal better than any of those louts, moping around and staring, muttering about their nightmares. As if everyone doesn't have nightmares, sometimes. Yes, you can work here, as long as you want. Light, I've orders fora dozen drawknives and three cooper's adzes, and a carpenter down the street needs a mortise hammer, and.... Too much to list it. Start with the drawknives, and we will see how far we get before night.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perrin lost himself in the work, fora time forgetting everything but the heat of the metal, the ring of his hammer, and the smell of the forge, but there came a time when he looked up and found the smith-Dermid Ajala, he had said his name was-taking off his vest, and the shoeing yard dark. All the light came from the forge and a pair of lamps. And Zarine was sitting on an anvil by one of the cold forges, watching him.\n\n\"So you really area blacksmith, blacksmith,\" she said.\n\n\"He is that, mistress,\" Ajala said. \"Apprentice, he says, but the work he did today amounts to his master's piece as far as I am concerned. Fine stroking, and better than steady.\" Perrin shifted his feet at the compliments, and the smith grinned at him. Zarine stared at both of them with alack of comprehension.\n\nPerrin went to replace the vest and apron on their peg, but once he had them off, he was suddenly conscious of Zarine's eyes on his back. It was if she were touching him; fora moment, the herbal scent of her seemed overwhelming. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head, stuffed it raggedly into his breeches, and jerked on his coat. When he turned around, Zarine wore one of those small, secretive smiles that had always made him nervous.\n\n\"Is this what you mean to do, then?\" she asked. \"Did you come all this way to be a blacksmith again?\" Ajala paused in the act of pulling the yard doors closed and listened.\n\nPerrin picked up the heavy hammer he had used, a ten-pound head with a handle as long as his forearm. It felt good in his hands. It felt right. The smith had glanced at his eyes once and never even blinked; it was the work that was important, the skill with metal, not the color of a man's eyes. \"No,\" he said sadly. \"One day, I hope. But not yet.\" He started to hang the hammer back on the wall."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Take it.\" Ajala cleared his throat. \"I do not usually giveaway good hammers, but.... The work you've done today is worth more than the price of that hammer by far, and maybe it will help you to that'one day. \"Man, if I have ever seen anyone made to hold a smith's hammer, it is you. So take it. Keep it.\"\n\nPerrin closed his hand around the haft. It did feel right. \"Thank you,\" he said. \"I cannot say what this means tome.\"\n\n\"Just remember the \"one day,\" man. Just you remember it.\"\n\nAs they left, Zarine looked up at him and said, \"Do you have any idea how strange men are, blacksmith? No. I did not think you did.\" She darted ahead, leaving him holding the hammer in one hand and scratching his head with the other.\n\nNo one in the common room looked at him twice, a golden-eyed man carrying a smith's hammer. He went up to his room, remembering for once to light a tallow candle. His quiver and the axe hung from the same peg on the plaster wall. He hefted the axe in one hand, the hammer in the other. By weight of metal, the axe, with its half-moon blade and thick spike, was a good five or six pounds lighter than the hammer, but it felt ten times heavier. Replacing the axe in the loop on its belt, he set the hammer on the floor beneath the peg, handle against the wall. Axe haft and hammer haft almost touched, two pieces of wood equally thick. Two pieces of metal, near enough the same weight. Fora longtime he sat on the stool staring at them. He was still staring when Lan put his head into the room."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Come, blacksmith. We have things to talk over.\"\n\n\"I am a blacksmith,\" Perrin said, and the Warder frowned at him.\n\n\"Don't go winter-crazy on me now, blacksmith. If you cannot carry your weight any longer, you may drag us all down the mountain.\"\n\n\"I'll carry my weight,\" Perrin growled. \"I will do what has to be done. What do you want?\"\n\n\"You, blacksmith. Don't you listen? Come on, farmboy.\"\n\nThat name that Zarine so often called him pulled him to his feet angrily, now, but Lan was already turning away. Perrin hurried into the hall and followed him toward the front of the inn, meaning to tell the Warder he had had enough of this'blacksmith\" and'farmboy,\" his name was Perrin Aybara. The Warder ducked into the inn's only private dining room, overlooking the street.\n\nPerrin followed him. \"Now listen, Warder, I-\"\n\n\"You listen, Perrin,\" Moiraine said. \"Be quiet and listen.\" Her face was smooth, but her eyes looked as grim as her voice sounded.\n\nPerrin had not realized anyone was in the room except for himself and the Warder, standing with one arm upon the mantel of the unlit fireplace. Moiraine sat at the table in the middle of the floor, a simple piece, of black oak. None of the other chairs with their high, carved backs were occupied. Zarine was leaning against the wall at the other end of the room from Lan, scowling, and Loial had chosen to sit on the floor since none of the chairs really fit him.\n\n\"I'm glad you decided to join us, farmboy,\" Zarine said sarcastically. \"Moiraine would not say anything till you came. She just looks at us as if she is deciding which of us is going to die. I-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Be quiet,\" Moiraine told her sharply. \"One of the Forsaken is in Tear. The High Lord Samon is Be'lal.\" Perrin shivered.\n\nLoial squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. \"I could have remained in the stedding. I would probably have been very happy, married, whoever my mother chose. She is a fine woman, my mother, and she would not give me to a bad wife.\" His ears seemed to have hidden themselves completely in his shaggy hair.\n\n\"You can go back to Stedding Shangtai,\" Moiraine said. \"Leave now, if you wish. I will not stop you.\"\n\nLoial opened one eye. \"I can go?\"\n\n\"If you wish,\" she said.\n\n\"Oh.\" He opened the other eye, and scratched his cheek with blunt fingers the size of sausages. \"I suppose.... I suppose... if I have a choice... that I will stay with all of you. I have taken a great many notes, but not nearly enough to complete my book, and I would not like to leave Perrin, and Rand-\"\n\nMoiraine cut him off in a cold voice. \"Good, Loial. I am glad that you are staying. I will be glad to use any knowledge you have. But until this is done, I have no time to listen to your complaints!\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" Zarine said in an unsteady voice, \"that there is no chance of me leaving?\" She looked at Moiraine, and shivered. \"I thought not. Blacksmith, if I live through this, I will make you pay.\"\n\nPerrin stared at her. Me! The fool woman thinks it my fault? Did I ask her to come? He opened his mouth, saw the look in Moiraine's eyes, and closed it again quickly. After a moment he said, \"Is he after Rand? To stop him, or kill him?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I think not,\" she said quietly. Her voice was like cold steel. \"I fear he means to let Rand enter the Heart of the Stone and take Callandor, then take it away from him. I fear he means to kill the Dragon Reborn with the very weapon that is meant to herald him.\"\n\n\"Do we run again?\" Zarine said. \"Like Illian? I never thought to run, but I never thought to find the Forsaken when I took the Hunter's oath.\"\n\n\"This time,\" Moiraine said, \"we do not run. We dare not run. Worlds and time rest on Rand, on the Dragon Reborn. This time, we fight.\"\n\nPerrin took a chair uneasily. \"Moiraine, you are saying a lot of things right out that you told us we must not even think about. You do have this room warded against listening, don't you?\" When she shook her head, he gripped the edge of the table hard enough to make the dark oak creak.\n\n\"I do not speak of a Myrddraal, Perrin. No one knows the strength of the Forsaken, except that Ishamael and Lanfear were the strongest, but the weakest of them could sense any warding I might set from a mile or more away. And rip all of us to shreds in seconds. Possibly without stirring from where he stood.\"\n\n\"You're saying he can tie you in knots,\" Perrin muttered. \"Light! What are we supposed to do? How can we do anything?\"\n\n\"Even the Forsaken cannot stand up to balefire,\" she said. He wondered if that was what she had used on the Darkhounds; it still made him uneasy, what he had seen, and what she had said then. \"I have learned things in the last year, Perrin. I am... more dangerous than when I came to Emond's Field. If I can come close enough to Be'lal, I can destroy him. But if he sees me first, he can destroy us all, long before I have a chance.\" She turned her attention to Loial. \"What can you tell me of Be'lal?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perrin blinked in confusion. Loial?\n\n\"Why are you asking him?\" Zarine burst out angrily. \"First you tell the blacksmith you mean us to fight one of the Forsaken!-who can kill us all before we can even think!-and now you ask Loial about him?\" Loial murmured urgently, that name she used-\"Faile! Faile!\"-but she did not even slow. \"I thought Aes Sedai knew everything. Light, at least I am smart enough not to say I will fight someone unless I know everything I can of him! You....\" She trailed off under Moiraine's stare, muttering.\n\n\"Ogier,\" the Aes Sedai said coolly, \"have long memories, girl. It has been well over a hundred generations since the Breaking for humans, but less than thirty for Ogier. We still learn things from their stories that we did not know. Now tell me, Loial. What do you know of Be'lal. And briefly, for once. I want your long memory, not your long wind.\"\n\nLoial cleared his throat, a sound much like firewood tumbling down a chute. \"Be'lal.\" His ears flickered out of his hairlike hummingbird wings, then snapped down again. \"I do not know what can be in the stories about him you do not already know. He is not much mentioned, except in the razing of the Hall of the Servants just before Lews Therin Kinslayer and the Hundred Companions sealed him up with the Dark One. Jalanda son of Aried son of Coiam wrote that he was called the Envious, that he forsook the Light because he envied Lews Therin, and that he envied Ishamael and Lanfear, too. In A Study of the War of the Shadow, Moilin daughter of Hamada daughter of Juendan called Be'lal the Netweaver, but I do not know why. She mentioned him playing a game of stones with Lews Therin and winning, and that he always boasted of it.\" He glanced at Moiraine and rumbled, \"I am trying to be brief. I do not know anything important about him. Several writers say Be'lal and Sammael were both leaders in the fight against the Dark One before they forsook the Light, and both were masters of the sword. That is truly all I know. He maybe mentioned in other books, other stories, but I have not read them. Be'lal is just not spoken of very often. I am sorry I could not tell you anything useful.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Perhaps you have,\" Moiraine told him. \"I did not know of the name, the Netweaver. Or that he envied the Dragon as well as his companions in the Shadow. That strengthens my belief that he wants Callandor. That must be the reason he has chosen to make himself a High Lord of Tear. And the Netweaver-a name fora schemer, a patient and cunning planner. You have done well, Loial.\" Fora moment the Ogier's wide mouth curved up in a pleased smile, but then it curved down again.\n\n\"I will not pretend I am not afraid,\" Zarine said suddenly. \"Only a fool would not be afraid of the Forsaken. But I swore I would be one of you, and I will. That is all that I wanted to say.\"\n\nPerrin shook his head. She must be crazy. I could wish I were not one of this party. I could wish I were back homeworking Master Luhhan's forge. Aloud, he said, \"If he is inside the Stone, if he is waiting therefor Rand, we must go inside to reach him. How do we do that? Everyone keeps saying no one enters the Stone without the permission of the High Lords, and looking at it, I don't see anyway but through the gates.\"\n\n\"You do not go in,\" Lan said. \"Moiraine and I will be the only ones to enter. The more who go, the harder it will be. Whatever way in I find, I cannot believe it will be easy even for only two.\"\n\n\"Gaidin,\" Moiraine began in a firm voice, but the Warder cut her off with one just as firm.\n\n\"We go together, Moiraine. I will not stand aside this time.\" After a moment she nodded. Perrin thought he saw Lan relax. \"The rest of you had better get some sleep,\" the Warder went on. \"I have to be out studying the Stone.\" He paused. \"There is a thing that your news drove out of my head, Moiraine. A small thing, and I cannot see what it might mean. There are Aiel in Tear.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Aiel!\" Loial exclaimed. \"Impossible! The entire city would be in a panic if one Aiel came through the gates.\"\n\n\"I did not say they were walking the streets, Ogier. The rooftops and chimneys of the city make as good hiding as the Waste. I saw no less than three, though apparently no one else in Tear has seen any of them. And if I saw three, you can be sure there are many times that I did not see.\"\n\n\"It means nothing tome,\" Moiraine said slowly. \"Perrin, why are you frowning in that way?\"\n\nHe had not known that he was frowning. \"I was thinking about that Aiel in Remen. He said that when the Stone falls, the Aiel will leave the Three-fold Land. That's the Waste, isn't it? He said it was a prophecy.\"\n\n\"I have read every word of the Prophecies of the Dragon,\" Moiraine said softly, \"in every translation, and there is no mention of the Aiel. We stagger blindly while Be'lal weaves his nets, and the Wheel weaves the Pattern around us. But are the Aiel the Wheel's weaving, or Be'lal's? Lan, you must find me the way into the Stone quickly. Us. Find us away in quickly.\"\n\n\"As you command, Aes Sedai,\" he said, but his tone was more warm than formal. He vanished through the door. Moiraine frowned at the table, eyes clouded in thought.\n\nZarine came over to look down at Perrin, her head tilted to one side. \"And what are you going to do, blacksmith? It seems they mean us to wait and watch while they go adventuring. Not that I will complain.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He doubted that last. \"First,\" he told her, \"I am going to have something to eat. And then I am going to think about a hammer.\" And try to puzzle out how I feel about you. Falcon."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"From the corner of her eye, Nynaeve thought she glimpsed a tall man with reddish hair, in a swirling brown cloak, well down the sunlit street, but as she turned to peer from under the wide brim of the blue straw hat Ailhuin had given her, an ox-drawn wagon was already lumbering between them. When it lurched on, the man was nowhere to be seen. She was almost certain that had been a wooden flute case on his back, and his clothes were certainly not Tairen. It couldn't be Rand. Just because I keep dreaming about him does not mean he is going to come all the way from Almoth Plain.\n\nOne of the barefoot men hurrying past, with the sickle-shaped tails of a dozen large fish sticking up from the basket on his back, suddenly tripped, catapulting silver-scaled fish over his head as he fell. He landed on hands and knees in the mud, staring at the fish that had come out of his basket. Everyone of the long, sleek shapes stood upright, stuck nose down in the mud, forming a neat circle. Even a few passersby gaped at that. Slowly the man got to his feet, apparently unaware of the mud on him. Unslinging his basket, he began gathering the fish back into it, shaking his head and muttering to himself.\n\nNynaeve blinked, but her business was with this cow-faced brigand, facing her in the doorway of his shop with bloody cuts of meat hanging from hooks behind him. She gave her braid a tug and fixed the fellow with her eye.\n\n\"Very well,\" she said sharply, \"I will take it, but if this is what you charge for so poor a cut, you'll not have more business from me.\""},{"from":"human","value":"He shrugged placidly as he took her coins, then wrapped the fatty mutton roast in a cloth she produced from the basket on her arm."},{"from":"gpt","value":"She glared at him as she put the wrapped meat into the basket, but that did not affect him.\n\nShe whirled to stalk away-and nearly fell. She was still not used to these clogs; they kept sticking in the mud, and she could not see how the folk who wore them managed. She hoped this sunshine dried the ground soon, but she had a feeling that the mud was more or less permanent in the Maule.\n\nStepping gingerly, she started back toward Ailhuin's house, muttering under her breath. The prices were outrageous for everything, the quality inevitably poor, and almost no one seemed to care, not the people buying or those selling. It was a relief to pass a woman shouting at a shopkeeper, waving a bruised reddish-yellow fruit-Nynaeve did not know what; they had a good many fruits and vegetables she had never heard of, here-in each hand and calling for everyone to see what refuse the man sold, but the shopkeeper only stared at her wearily, not even bothering to argue back.\n\nThere was some excuse for the prices, she knew-Elayne had explained all about the grain being eaten by rats in the granaries because no one in Cairhien could buy, and how big the Cairhienin grain trade had become since the Aiel War-but nothing excused the way everyone seemed ready to lie down and die. She had seen hail ruin food crops in the Two Rivers, and grasshoppers eat them and blacktongue kill the sheep and redspot wither the tabac so there was nothing to sell when the merchants came down from Baerlon. She could remember two years in a row when there had been little to eat except turnip soup and old barley, and hunters had been lucky to bring home a scrawny rabbit, but Two Rivers folk picked themselves up when they were knocked down and went back to work. These people had had only one bad year, and their fisheries and their other trade seemed to be flourishing. She had no patience with them. The trouble was, she knew she should have a little patience. They were odd people with odd ways, and things she took for cringing, they seemed to see as a matter of course, even Ailhuin and Sandar. She should be able to summon up just a little patience."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"If for them, why not for Egwene? She put that aside. The child behaved wretchedly, snapping at the most obvious suggestions, objecting to the most sensible things. Even when it was plain what they should do, Egwene wanted to be convinced. Nynaeve was not used to having to convince people, especially not people she had changed swaddling clothes for. The fact that she was only a matter of seven years older than Egwene was of no account.\n\nIt is all those bad dreams, she told herself. I cannot understand what they mean, and now Elayne and I are having them, too, and I do not know what that means either, and Sandar won't say anything except that he is still looking, and I am so frustrated I... I could just spit! She jerked her braid so hard it hurt. At least she had been able to convince Egwene not to use the ter'angreal again, to put the thing back in her pouch instead of wearing it next to her skin always. If the Black Ajah was in Tel'aran'rhiod.... She did not want to think about that possibility. We will find them!\n\n\"I will bring them down,\" she muttered. \"Trying to sell me like a sheep! Hunting me like an animal! I am the hunter this time, not the rabbit! That Moiraine! If she had never come to Emond's Field, I could have taught Egwene enough. And Rand.... I could have... I could have done something.\" That she knew neither was true did not help; it made it worse. She hated Moiraine almost as much as she hated Liandrin and the Black Ajah, maybe as much as she hated the Seanchan.\n\nShe rounded a corner, and Juilin Sandar had to leap out of her way to keep from being trampled. Even used to them as he was, he nearly tripped over his own clogs, only his staff saving him from falling on his face in the mud. That pale, ridged wood was called bamboo, she had learned, and it was stronger than it looked."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Mistress-uh-Mistress Maryim,\" Sandar said, regaining his balance. \"I was... looking for you.\" He flashed her a nervous smile. \"Are you angry? Why are you frowning at me that way?\"\n\nShe smoothed her forehead. \"I was not frowning at you, Master Sandar. The butcher.... It does not matter. Why are you looking for me?\" Her breath caught. \"Have you found them?\"\n\nHe looked around as if he suspected the passersby of trying to listen. \"Yes. Yes, you must comeback with me. The others are waiting. The others. And Mother Guenna.\"\n\n\"Why are you so nervous? You did not let them discover your interest?\" she said sharply. \"What has frightened you?\"\n\n\"No! No, mistress. I-I did not reveal myself.\" His eyes darted again, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a breathy, urgent whisper. \"These women you seek, they are in the Stone! Guests of a High Lord! The High Lord Samon! Why did you call them thieves? The High Lord Samon!\" he almost squeaked. There was sweat on his face.\n\nInside the Stone! With a High Lord! Light, how do we reach them now? She suppressed her impatience with an effort. \"Be easy,\" she said soothingly. \"Beat ease, Master Sandar. We can explain everything to your satisfaction.\" I hope we can. Light, if he goes running to the Stone to tell this High Lord we are searching for them.... \"Come with me to Mother Guenna's house. Joslyn, Caryla, and I will explain it all to you. Truly. Come.\"\n\nHe gave a short, uneasy nod, and walked alongside her, keeping his pace to what she could manage with the clogs. He looked as if he wanted to run."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"At the Wise Woman's house, she hurried around to the back. No one ever used the front door, that she had seen, not even Mother Guenna herself. The horses were tied to a bamboo hitching rail, now-well away from Ailhuin's new figs as well as her vegetables-with their saddles and bridles stored inside. For once she did not stop to pat Gaidin's nose and tell him he was a good boy, and more sensible than his namesake. Sandar halted to scrape mud from his clogs with the butt of his staff, but she hurried inside.\n\nAilhuin Guenna was sitting in one of her high-backed chairs pulled out into the room, her arms at her sides. The gray-haired woman's eyes were bulging with anger and fear, and she struggled furiously without moving a muscle. Nynaeve did not need to sense the subtle weaving of Air to know what had happened. Light, they've found us! Burn you, Sandar!\n\nRage flooded her, washed away the walls inside that usually kept her from the Power, and as the basket fell from her hands, she was a white blossom on a blackthorn bush, opening to embrace saidar, opening.... It was as if she had run into another wall, a wall of clear glass; she could feel the True Source, but the wall stopped everything except the ache to be filled with the One Power.\n\nThe basket hit the floor, and as it bounced, the door behind her opened and Liandrin stepped in, followed by a black-haired woman with a white streak above her left ear. They wore long, colorful silk dresses cut to bare their shoulders, and the glow of saidar surrounded them.\n\nLiandrin smoothed her red dress and smiled with that pouting rosebud mouth. Her doll's face was filled with amusement. \"You see, do you not, wilder,\" she began, \"you have no-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Nynaeve hither in the mouth as hard as she could. Light, I have to getaway. She backhanded Rianna so hard the black-haired woman fell on her silk-covered rump with a grunt. They must have the others, but if I can make it out the door, if I can get far enough away they can't shield me, I can do something. She pushed Liandrin hard, shoving her away from the door. Just let me escape their shielding, and I'll....\n\nBlows hither from every side, like fists and sticks, pummeling her. Neither Liandrin, blood trickling from a corner of her now-grim mouth, nor Rianna, her hair as disarrayed as her green dress, lifted a hand. Nynaeve could feel the flows of Air weaving about her as well as she could feel the blows themselves. She still struggled to reach the door, but she realized that she was on her knees, now, and the unseen blows would not stop, invisible sticks and fists striking at her back and her stomach, her head and her hips, her shoulders, her breasts, her legs, her head. Groaning, she fell onto her side and curled into a ball, trying to protect herself. Oh, Light, I tried. Egwene! Elayne! I tried! I will not cry out! Burn you, you can beat me to death, but I won't cry!\n\nThe blows stopped, but Nynaeve could not stop quivering. She felt bruised and battered from crown to toe.\n\nLiandrin crouched beside her, arms around her knees, silk rustling against silk. She had wiped the blood away from her mouth. Her dark eyes were hard, and there was no amusement on her face now. \"Perhaps you are too stupid to know when you are defeated, wilder. You fought almost as wildly as that other foolish girl, that Egwene. She almost went mad. You must all learn to submit. You will learn to submit.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Nynaeve shivered and reached for saidar again. It was not that she had any real hope, but she had to do something. Forcing through her pain, she reached out... and struck that invisible shield. Liandrin did have amusement back in her eyes, now, the grim mirth of a nasty child who pulls the wings off flies.\n\n\"We have no use for this one, at least,\" Rianna said, standing beside Ailhuin. \"I will stop her heart.\" Ailhuin's eyes nearly came out of her head.\n\n\"No!\" Liandrin's short, honey-colored braids swung as her head snapped around. \"Always you kill too quickly, and only the Great Lord can make use of the dead.\" She smiled at the woman held to the chair by invisible bonds. \"You saw the soldiers who came with us, old woman. You know who waits for us in the Stone. The High Lord Samon, he will not be pleased if you speak of what happened inside your house today. If you hold your tongue, you will live, perhaps to serve him again one day. If you speak, you will serve only the Great Lord of the Dark, from beyond the grave. Which do you choose?\"\n\nSuddenly Ailhuin could move her head. She shook her gray curls, working her mouth. \"I.... I will hold my tongue,\" she said dejectedly, then gave Nynaeve an embarrassed, shamed look. \"If I speak, what goodwill it do? A High Lord could have my head by raising an eyebrow. What good can I do you, girl? What good?\"\n\n\"It is all right,\" Nynaeve said wearily. Who could she tell? All she could do is die. \"I know you would help if you could.\" Rianna threw back her head and laughed. Ailhuin slumped, released completely, but she only sat there, staring at her hands in her lap."},{"from":"human","value":"Between them, Liandrin and Rianna pulled Nynaeve to her feet and pushed her toward the front of the house."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You give us any trouble,\" the black-haired woman said in a hard voice, \"and I will make you peel off your own skin and dance in your bones.\"\n\nNynaeve almost laughed. What trouble could I give? She was shielded from the True Source. Her bruises ached so much she could barely stand. Anything she might do, they could handle like a child's tantrum. But my bruises will heal, burn you, and you'll make a slip yet! And when you do....\n\nThere were others in the front room of the house. Two big soldiers in rimmed, round helmets and shiny breastplates over those puffy-sleeved redcoats. The two men had sweat on their faces, and their dark eyes rolled as if they were as afraid as she. Amico Nagoyin was there, slender and pretty with her long neck and pale skin, looking as innocent as a girl gathering flowers. Joiya Byir had a friendly face despite that smooth-cheeked calm of a woman who had worked long with the Power, almost a grandmother's face in its welcoming appearance, though her age had put no touch of gray in her dark hair, anymore than it had wrinkled her skin. Her gray eyes looked more like those of the stepmother in the stories, the one who murdered the children of her husband's first wife. Both women shone with the Power.\n\nElayne stood between the two Black sisters, with a bruised eye and a swollen cheek and a split lip, one sleeve of her dress torn halfway off. \"I am sorry, Nynaeve,\" she said thickly, as if her jaw hurt. \"We never saw them until it was too late.\"\n\nEgwene lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, her face swollen with bruises, almost unrecognizable. As Nynaeve and her escort came in, one of the big soldiers hoisted Egwene over his shoulder. She dangled there as limply as a half-empty barley sack."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What did you do to her?\" Nynaeve demanded. \"Burn you, what-!\" Something unseen struck her across the mouth hard enough to make her eyes go blank fora moment.\n\n\"Now, now,\" Joiya Byir said with a smile that her eyes belied. \"I will not stand for demands, or bad language.\" She sounded like a grandmother, too. \"You speak when you are spoken to.\"\n\n\"I told you the girl, she would not stop fighting, yes?\" Liandrin said. \"Let it be a lesson to you. If you try to cause any trouble, you will be treated no more gently.\"\n\nNynaeve ached to do something for Egwene, but she let herself be pushed out into the street. She made them push her; it was a small way of fighting back, refusing to cooperate, but it was all she had at the moment.\n\nThere were few people in the muddy street, as if everyone had decided it was much better to be somewhere else, and those few scurried by on the other side without a glance at the shiny, black-lacquered coach standing behind a team of six matched whites with tall white plumes on their bridles. A coachman dressed like the soldiers, but without armor or sword, sat on the seat, and another opened the door as they appeared from the house. Before he did, Nynaeve saw the sigil painted there. A silver-gauntleted fist clutching jagged lightning bolts.\n\nShe supposed it was High Lord Samon's sign-A Darkfriend, he must be, if he deals with the Black Ajah. The Light burn him!-but she was more interested in the man who dropped to his knees in the mud at their appearance. \"Burn you, Sandar, why-?\" She jumped as something that felt like a stick of wood struck her across the shoulders."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Joiya Byir smiled chidingly and waggled a finger. \"You will be respectful, child. Or you might lose that tongue.\"\n\nLiandrin laughed. Tangling a hand in Sandar's black hair, she wrenched his head back. He stared up at her with the eyes of a faithful hound-or of a cur expecting a kick. \"Do not be too hard on this man.\" She even made'man\" sound like'dog.\" \"He had to be... persuaded... to serve. But I am very good at persuading, no?\" She laughed again.\n\nSandar turned a confused stare on Nynaeve. \"I had to do it, Mistress Maryim. I... had to.\" Liandrin twisted his hair, and his eyes went back to her, the anxious hound's once more.\n\nLight! Nynaeve thought. What did they do to him? What are they going to do to us?\n\nShe and Elayne were bundled roughly into the coach, with Egwene slumped between them, her head lolling, and Liandrin and Rianna climbed in and took the seat facing forward. The glow of saidar still surrounded them. Where the others went, Nynaeve did not much care at that moment. She wanted to reach Egwene, to touch her, to comfort her hurts, but she could not move a muscle below her neck except to writhe. Flows of Air bound the three of them like layers of tightly wrapped blankets. The coach lurched into motion, swaying hard in the mud despite its leather springs.\n\n\"If you have hurt her....\" Light, I can see they've hurt her. Why don't I say what I mean? But it was almost as hard to force the words out as it would have been to lift a hand. \"If you have killed her, I won't rest till you are all hunted down like wild dogs.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Rianna glared, but Liandrin only sniffed. \"Do not be a complete fool, wilder. You are wanted alive. Dead bait will catch nothing.\"\n\nBait? For what? For who? \"You are the fool, Liandrin! Do you think we are here alone? Only three of us, and not even full Aes Sedai? We are bait, Liandrin. And you have walked into the trap like a fat grouse.\"\n\n\"Do not tell her that!\" Elayne said sharply, and Nynaeve blinked before she realized Elayne was helping her fabrication. \"If you let your anger get the best of you, you will tell them what they must not hear. They must take us inside the Stone. They must-\"\n\n\"Be quiet!\" Nynaeve snapped. \"You are letting your tongue runaway with you!\" Elayne managed to look abashed behind her bruises. Let them chew on that, Nynaeve thought.\n\nBut Liandrin only smiled. \"Once your time as bait is done, you will tell us everything. You will want to. They say you will be very strong one day, but I will make sure you will always obey me, even before the Great Master Be'lal works his plans for you. He is sending for Myrddraal. Thirteen of them.\" Those rosebud lips laughed the final words.\n\nNynaeve felt her stomach twist. One of the Forsaken! Her brain numbed with shock. The Dark One and all the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, bound by the Creator in the moment of creation. But the catechism did not help; she knew too well how much of it was false. Then the rest of it came home to her. Thirteen Myrddraal. And thirteen sisters of the Black Ajah. She heard Elayne screaming before she realized she was screaming herself, jerking uselessly in those invisible bonds of Air. It was impossible to say which was louder, their despairing screams, or the laughter from Liandrin and Rianna."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Slumped on the stool in the gleeman's room, Mat grimaced as Thom coughed again. How are we going to keep looking if he's so bloody sick he can't walk? He was ashamed as soon as he thought it. Thom had been as assiduous in searching as he had, pushing himself day and night, when he had to know he was coming down sick. Mat had been so absorbed in his hunt that he had paid too little attention to Thom's coughing. The change from constant rain to steamy heat had not helped it.\n\n\"Come on, Thom,\" he said. \"Lopar says there's a Wise Woman not far. That is what they calla Wisdom here-a Wise Woman. Wouldn't Nynaeve like that!\"\n\n\"I do not need... any foul-tasting... concoctions... poured down my throat, boy.\" Thom stuffed a fist through his mustaches in a vain attempt to stop his hacking. \"You go ahead looking. Just give me... a few hours... on my bed... and I'll join you.\" The wracking wheezes doubled him over till his head was almost on his knees.\n\n\"So I am supposed to do all the work while you take your ease?\" Mat said lightly. \"How can I find anything without you? You learn most of what we hear.\" That was not exactly true; men talked as freely over dice as they did while buying a gleeman a cup of wine. More freely than they did with a gleeman hacking so hard they feared contagion. But he was beginning to think that Thom's cough was not going to go away by itself. If the old goat dies on me, who will I play stones with? he told himself roughly. \"Anyway, your bloody coughing keeps me awake even in the next room.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Ignoring the white-haired man's protests, he pulled Thom to his feet."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was shocked at how much of the gleeman's weight he had to support. Despite the damp heat, Thom insisted on his patch-covered cloak. Mat had his own coat unbuttoned completely and all three ties of his shirt undone, but he let the old goat have his way. No one in the common room even looked up as he half carried Thom out into the muggy afternoon.\n\nThe innkeeper had given simple directions, but when they reached the gate, and faced the mud of the Maule, Mat almost turned back to ask after another Wise Woman. There had to be more than one in a city this size. Thom's wheezing decided him. With a grimace Mat stepped off into the mud, half carrying the gleeman.\n\nHe had thought from the directions that they must have passed the Wise Woman's house on their way up from the dock that first night, and when he saw the long, narrow house with bunches of herbs hanging in the windows, right next to a potter's shop, he remembered it. Lopar had said something about going to the backdoor, but he had had enough of mud.\n\nAnd the stink offish, he thought, frowning at the barefoot men squelching by with their baskets on their backs. There were tracks of horses in the street, too, just beginning to be obliterated by feet and ox-carts. Horses pulling a wagon, or maybe a carriage. He had seen nothing but oxen drawing carts or wagons either one in Tear-the nobles and the merchants were proud of their fine stock, and never let one be put to anything like work-but he had not seen any carriages since leaving the walled city, either.\n\nDismissing horses and wheel tracks from his mind, he took Thom to the front door and knocked. After a time he knocked again. Then again."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was on the point of giving up and returning to The White Crescent despite Thom coughing on his shoulder when he heard shuffling footsteps inside.\n\nThe door opened barely more than a crack, and a stout, gray-haired woman peered out. \"What do you want?\" she asked in a tired voice.\n\nMat put on his best grin. Light, but I am getting sick myself at all these people who sound like there's no bloody hope. \"Mother Guenna? My name is Mat Cauthon. Cavan Lopar told me you might do something for my friend's cough. I can pay well.\"\n\nShe studied them a moment, seemed to listen to Thom's wheezes, then sighed. \"I suppose I can still do that, at least. You might as well come in.\" She swung the door open and was already plodding toward the back of the house before Mat moved.\n\nHer accent sounded so much like the Amyrlin's that he shivered, but he followed, all but carrying Thom.\n\n\"I don't... need this,\" the gleeman wheezed. \"Bloody mixtures... always taste like... dung!\"\n\n\"Shut up, Thom.\"\n\nLeading them all the way to the kitchen, the stout woman rummaged in one of the cupboards, taking out small stone pots and packets of herbs while muttering to herself.\n\nMat sat Thom down in one of the high-backed chairs, and glanced through the nearest window. There were three good horses tied outback; he was surprised the Wise Woman had more than one, or any for that matter. He had not seen anyone in Tear riding except nobles and the wealthy, and these animals looked as if they had cost more than a little silver. Horses again. I don't care about bloody horses now!"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mother Guenna brewed some sort of strong tea with a rank smell and forced it down Thom's throat, holding his nose when he tried to complain. Mat decided she had less fat on her than he had thought, from the way she held the gleeman's head steady in the crook of one arm while she poured the black liquid into him no matter how hard he tried to stop her.\n\nWhen she took the cup away, Thom coughed and scrubbed at his mouth with equal vigor. \"Gaaah! Woman... I don't know... whether you... mean to drown me... or kill me... with the taste! You ought... to be a bloody... blacksmith!\"\n\n\"You will take the same twice a day till that hacking is gone,\" she said firmly. \"And I have a salve that you'll rub on your chest every night.\" Some of the weariness left her voice as she confronted the gleeman, fists on her broad hips. \"That salve stinks as bad as this tea tastes, but you will rub it on-thoroughly!-or I'll drag you upstairs like a scrawny carp in a net and tie you to abed with that cloak of yours! I never had a gleeman come tome before, and I'll not let the first one that does cough himself to death.\"\n\nThom glowered and blew out his mustaches with a cough, but he seemed to take her threat seriously. At least, he did not say anything, but he looked as if he meant to throw her tea and her salve right back at her.\n\nThe more this Mother Guenna talked, the more she sounded like the Amyrlin to Mat. From the sour look on Thom's face, and the steady stare on hers, he decided he had better smooth matters over a little before the gleeman refused to take her medicines. And she decided to make him. \"I knew a woman once who talked like you,\" he said. \"All fish and nets and things. Sounded like you, too. The same accent, I mean. I suppose she's Tairen.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Perhaps.\" The gray-haired woman suddenly sounded tired again, and she kept staring at the floor. \"I knew some girls with the sound of your speech on their tongues, too. Two of them had it, anyway.\" She sighed heavily.\n\nMat felt his scalp prickle. My luck can't be this good. But he would not beta copper on two other women with Two Rivers accents just happening to be in Tear. \"Three girls? Young women? Named Egwene, and Nynaeve, and Elayne? That one has hairlike the sun, and blue eyes.\"\n\nShe frowned at him. \"Those were not the names they gave,\" she said slowly, \"yet I suspected they did not give me their true names. But they had their reasons, I thought. One of them was a pretty girl with bright blue eyes and red-gold hair to her shoulders.\" She described Nynaeve with her braid to her waist and Egwene with her big, dark eyes and ready smile, too. Three pretty women as different from one another as they could be. \"I see they are the ones you know,\" she finished. \"I am sorry, boy.\"\n\n\"Why are you sorry? I have been trying to find them for days!\" Light, I walked right past this place the first night! Right past them! I wanted random. What could be more random than where a ship docks on a rainy night, and where you happen to look in a bloody lightning flash? Burn me! Burn me! \"Tell me where they are, Mother Guenna.\"\n\nThe gray-haired woman stared wearily at the stove where her spouted kettle was steaming. Her mouth worked, but she said nothing.\n\n\"Where are they?\" Mat demanded. \"It is important! They are in danger if I don't find them.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You do not understand,\" she said softly. \"You are an outlander. The High Lords....\"\n\n\"I do not care about any-\" Mat blinked, and looked at Thom. The gleeman seemed to be frowning, but he was coughing so hard, Mat could not be sure. \"What do the High Lords have to do with my friends?\"\n\n\"You just do not-\"\n\n\"Don't tell me I do not understand! I will pay for the information!\"\n\nMother Guenna glared at him. \"I do not take money for...!\" She grimaced fiercely. \"You ask me to tell you things I have been told not to speak of. Do you know what will happen tome if I do and you breathe my name? I will lose my tongue, to begin. Then I will lose other parts before the High Lords have what is left of me hung up to scream its last hours as a reminder to others to obey. And it will do those young women no good, not my telling or my dying!\"\n\n\"I promise I will never mention your name to anyone. I swear it.\" And I'll keep that oath, old woman, if you only tell me where they bloody are! \"Please? They are in danger.\"\n\nShe studied him fora longtime; before she was done he had the feeling she knew every detail of him. \"On that oath, I will tell you. I... liked them. But you can do nothing. You are too late, Matrim Cauthon. Too late by nearly three hours. They have been taken to the Stone. The High Lord Samon sent for them.\" She shook her head in worried puzzlement. \"He sent... women who... could channel. I hold nothing against Aes Sedai myself, but that is against the law. The law the High Lords made. If they break every other law, they would not break that one. Why would a High Lord send Aes Sedai on his errands? Why would he want those girls at all?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mat almost burst out laughing. \"Aes Sedai? Mother Guenna, you had my heart in my throat, and maybe my liver, too. If Aes Sedai came for them, there is nothing to worry about. All three of them are going to be Aes Sedai themselves. Not that I like it much, but that's what they-\" His grin faded at the heavy way she shook her head.\n\n\"Boy, those girls fought like lionfish in a net. Whether they mean to be Aes Sedai or not, those who took them treated them like bilge pumpings. Friends do not give bruises like that.\"\n\nHe felt his face twisting. Aes Sedai hurt them? What in the Light? The bloody Stone. It makes the Palace in Caemlyn look like walking into a barnyard! Burn me! I stood right out therein the rain and stared at this house! Burn me fora bloody Light-blinded fool!\n\n\"If you break your hand,\" Mother Guenna said, \"I will splint and poultice it, but if you damage my wall, I will strip your hide like a redfish!\"\n\nHe blinked, then looked at his fist, at scraped knuckles. He did not even remember punching the wall.\n\nThe broad woman took his hand in a strong grip, but the fingers she used to probe were surprisingly gentle. \"Nothing broken,\" she grunted after awhile. Her eyes were just as gentle as she studied his face. \"It seems you care for them. One of them, at least, I suppose it is. I am sorry, Mat Cauthon.\"\n\n\"Don't be,\" he told her. \"At least I know where they are, now. All I have to do is get them out.\" He fished out his last two Andoran gold crowns and pressed them into her hand. \"For Thom's medicines, and for letting me know about the girls.\" On impulse, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and a grin. \"And that's for me.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Continue the tale as the plot helper for the writer.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\\nChapter: 57\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perrin glanced around; none of the dockmen shuttling cargo about seemed to have heard. He was sure he would have smelled fear if they had. He bit back the sharp remark that hung on the end of his tongue. She had a quicker tongue, and a sharper.\\n\\n\\\"I wish you did not sound so eager,\\\" Loial rumbled. \\\"You seem to think it will all be as easy as Illian, Faile.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Easy?\\\" Zarine muttered. \\\"Easy! Loial, we were nearly killed twice in one night. Illian was enough fora Hunter's song in itself. What makes you call it easy?\\\"\\n\\nPerrin grimaced. He wished Loial had not decided to call Zarine by that name she had chosen; it was a constant reminder that Moiraine thought she was Min's falcon. And it did nothing to stop Perrin wondering if she was the beautiful woman Min had warned him against, too. At least I've not run up against the hawk. Ora Tuatha'an with a sword! Now that would the strangest of all, or I am a wool merchant!\\n\\n\\\"Stop asking questions, Zarine,\\\" he said as he swung up into Stepper's saddle. \\\"You will find out why we are here when Moiraine decides to tell you.\\\" He tried not to look at the Stone.\\n\\nShe turned those dark, tilted eyes on him. \\\"I do not think you know why, blacksmith. I think that is why you will not tell me, because you cannot. Admit it, farmboy.\\\"\\n\\nWith a small sigh, he rode off the docks after Moiraine and Lan. Zarine did not dig at Loial in that cutting way when the Ogier refused to answer her questions. He thought she must be trying to browbeat him into using that name. He would not.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Moiraine had tied the oiled cloak behind her saddle, atop the innocuous-looking bundle that held the Dragon banner, and despite the heat had donned the blue linen cloak from Illian.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Its deep, wide hood hid her face. Her Great Serpent ring was on a cord around her neck. Tear, she had said, did not forbid the presence of Aes Sedai, only channeling, but the Defenders of the Stone kept a close eye on any woman who wore the ring. She did not want to be watched on this visit to Tear.\\n\\nLan had stuffed his color-shifting cloak into his saddlebags two days earlier, when it had become apparent that whoever had sent the Darkhounds-Sammael, Perrin thought with a shiver, and tried not to think of the name at all-whoever had sent them had not sent anymore pursuit. The Warder had made no concessions to the heat of Illian, and he made none to the lesser heat of Tear. His gray-green coat was buttoned up all the way.\\n\\nPerrin wore his coat half undone, and the neck of his shirt untied. Tear might be a little cooler than Illian, but it was still as hot as summer in the Two Rivers, and as always after rain, the dampness of the air made the heat seem worse. His axe belt hung looped around the tall pommel of his saddle. It was handy there, if he needed it, and he felt better not wearing it.\\n\\nHe was surprised at the mud in the first streets they rode along. Only villages and smaller towns had dirt streets, that he had seen, and Tear was one of the great cities. But the people did not seem to mind, many going barefoot. A woman walking on little wooden platforms caught his attention fora time, and he wondered why they did not all wear them. Those baggy breeches on the men looked as if they might be cooler than the snug ones he wore, but he was sure he would feel a fool if he tried them. He made a picture in his head of himself wearing those breeches and one of those round straw hats, and chuckled at it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What do you find funny, Perrin?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Loial asked. His ears were drooping till their tufts were hidden in his hair, and he looked at the people in the street worriedly. \\\"These folk look... defeated, Perrin. They did not look this way when I was here last. Even people who let their grove be cut down do not deserve to look like this.\\\"\\n\\nAs Perrin began to study faces instead of just looking at everything at once, he saw that Loial was right. Something had gone out of too many of those faces. Hope, maybe. Curiosity. They barely glanced at the party riding by, except to get out of the way of the horses. The Ogier, mounted on an animal as big as a draft horse, might as well have been Lan, or Perrin.\\n\\nThe streets changed, gaining wide stone paving, after they passed inside the gates of the high, gray city wall, past the hard, dark eyes of soldiers in breastplates over redcoats with wide sleeves ending in narrow white cuffs, and rimmed, round helmets with a ridge over the top. Instead of the baggy breeches other men wore, theirs were tight, and tucked into knee-high boots. The soldiers frowned at Lan's sword and fingered their own, stared sharply at Perrin's axe and his bow, but in away, despite their frowns and sharp looks, there was something beaten in their faces, too, as if nothing were really worth the effort any longer.\\n\\nThe buildings were larger and taller inside the walls, though most were made no differently from those outside. The roofs looked a bit odd to Perrin, especially those that came to points, but he had seen so many different kinds of roof since leaving home that he only wondered what kind of nails they used with their tiles. In some places, the people did not use nails on their roof tiles at all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Palaces and great buildings stood among the smaller and more ordinary, seemingly placed haphazardly; a structure of towers and squarish, white domes, surrounded on all sides by wide streets, might have shops and inns and houses on the other sides of those streets.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A huge hall fronted by squared columns of marble four paces on aside, with fifty steps to climb to reach bronze doors five spans high, had a bakery one side and a tailor on the other.\\n\\nMore men wore coats and breeches like the soldiers'here, though in brighter colors and without armor, and some even wore swords. None of them went barefoot, not even those in baggy breeches. The women's dresses were often longer, their necklines lower to bare shoulders and even bosom, the cloth as likely to be silk as wool. The Sea Folk traded a good deal of silk through Tear. As many sedan chairs and carriages drawn by teams of horses moved through the streets as ox-carts and wagons. Yet too many of the faces had that same look of having given up.\\n\\nThe inn Lan chose, the Star, had a weaver's shop on one side and a smithy on the other, with narrow alleyways between. The smithy was of undressed gray stone, the weaver's and the inn of wood, though the Star stood four stories tall and had small windows in its roof as well. The rattle of looms was hard-pressed to compete with the clang of the smith's hammer. They handed their horses over to stablemen, to betaken around back, and went inside the inn. There were fish smells from the kitchen, baking and perhaps stewing, and the scent of roast mutton. The men in the common room all wore the tight coats and loose breeches; Perrin did not think richer men-somehow he was sure the men in colorful coats with puffy sleeves and the bare-shouldered women in bright silk were all rich, or nobles-those folk would not put up with the noise. Perhaps that was why Lan had chosen it.\\n\\n\\\"How are we supposed to sleep with this racketing?\\\" Zarine muttered.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No questions?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"he said with a smile. Fora moment he thought she was going to stick out her tongue at him.\\n\\nThe innkeeper was around-faced, balding man in along, deep blue coat and those loose breeches, who bowed overhands clasped across his stout belly. His face had that look, a weary resignation. \\\"The Light shine on you, mistresses, and welcome,\\\" he sighed. \\\"The Light shine on you, masters, and welcome.\\\" He gave a small start at Perrin's yellow eyes, then passed wearily onto Loial. \\\"The Light shine on you, friend Ogier, and welcome. It is a year or more since I have seen one of your kind in Tear. Some work or other at the Stone. They stayed in the Stone, of course, but I saw them in the street one day.\\\" He finished with another sigh, seemingly unable to summon any curiosity as to why another Ogier had come to Tear, or why any of them had come, for that matter.\\n\\nThe balding man, whose name was Jurah Haret, showed them to their rooms himself. Apparently Moiraine's silk dress and the way she kept her face hidden, taken with Lan's hard face and sword, made them a lady and her guard in his eyes, and so worthy of his personal attention. Perrin he obviously took as some kind of retainer, and Zarine he was plainly unsure of-to her visible disgust-and Loial was, after all, an Ogier. He called men to push beds together for Loial, and offered Moiraine a private room for her meals if she wished. She accepted graciously.\\n\\nThey kept together through it all, making a small procession through the upper halls until Haret bowed and sighed his way out of their presence, leaving them all where they had begun, outside Moiraine's room. The walls were white plaster, and Loial's head brushed the hall ceiling.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Odious fellow,\\\" Zarine muttered, brushing furiously at the dust on her narrow skirts with both hands. \\\"I believe he took me for your handmaid, Aes Sedai. I will not stand for that!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Watch your tongue,\\\" Lan said softly. \\\"If you use that name where folk can hear, you will regret it, girl.\\\" She looked as if she were going to argue, but his icy blue eyes stilled her tongue this time, if it did not cool her glare.\\n\\nMoiraine ignored them. Staring off at nothing, she worked her cloak in her hands almost as if wiping them. Unaware what she was doing, in Perrin's opinion.\\n\\n\\\"How do we go about finding Rand?\\\" he asked, but she did not appear to hear him. \\\"Moiraine?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Remain close to the inn,\\\" she said after a moment. \\\"Tear can be a dangerous city for those who do not know its ways. The Pattern can be torn, here.\\\" That last was soft, as if to herself. Ina stronger voice she said, \\\"Lan, let us see what we can discover without attracting attention. The rest of you, stay close to the inn!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\\\"Stay close to the inn,\\\"\\\" Zarine mimicked as the Aes Sedai and the Warder disappeared down the stairs. But she said it quietly enough that they would not hear. \\\"This Rand. He is the one you called the....\\\" If she looked like a falcon right then, it was a very uneasy falcon. \\\"And we are in Tear, where the Heart of the Stone holds.... And the Prophecies say.... The Light burn me, ta'veren, is this a story I want to be in?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is not a story, Zarine.\\\" Fora moment Perrin felt almost as hopeless as the innkeeper had sounded. \\\"The Wheel weaves us into the Pattern. You chose to tangle your thread with ours; it's too late to untangle it, now.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Light!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"she growled. \\\"Now you sound like her!\\\"\\n\\nHe left her therewith Loial and went to put his things in his room-it had a low bed, comfortable but small, as city people seemed to think befitted a servant, a washstand, a stool, and a few pegs on the cracked plaster wall-and when he came out, they were both gone. The ring of hammer on anvil called to him.\\n\\nSo much in Tear looked odd that it was a relief to walk into the smithy. The ground floor was all one large room with no back wall except for two long doors that stood open on a yard for shoeing horses and oxen, complete with an ox sling. Hammers stood in their stands, tongs of various kinds and sizes hung on the exposed joists of the walls, buttresses and hoof knives and other farrier's tools lay neatly arranged on wooden benches with chisels and beak irons and swages and all the implements of the blacksmith's craft. Bins held lengths of iron and steel in various thicknesses. Five grinding wheels of different roughness stood about the hard dirt floor, six anvils, and three stone-sided forges with their bellows, though only one held glowing coals. Quenching barrels stood ready to hand.\\n\\nThe smith was plying his hammer on yellow-hot iron gripped in heavy tongs. He wore baggy breeches and had pale blue eyes, but the long leather vest over his bare chest and apron were not much different from those Perrin and Master Luhhan had worn back in Emond's Field, and his thick arms and shoulders spoke of years working metal. His dark hair had almost the same amount of gray that Perrin remembered in Master Luhhan's. More vests and aprons hung on the wall, as if the man had apprentices, but they were not in evidence now. The forge-fire smelled like home. The hot iron smelled like home.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The smith turned to thrust the piece he was working back into the coals, and Perrin stepped over to work the bellows for him. The man glanced at him, but said nothing. Perrin pulled the bellows handle up and down with slow, steady, even strokes, keeping the coals at the right heat. The smith went back to working the hot iron, on the rounded horn of the anvil, this time. Perrin thought he might be making a barrel scrape. The hammer rang with sharp, quick blows.\\n\\nThe man spoke without looking up from his work. \\\"Apprentice?\\\" was all he said.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Perrin replied just as simply.\\n\\nThe smith worked on fora time. It was a barrel scrape, for cleaning the insides of wooden barrels. Now and again he eyed Perrin consideringly. Setting his hammer down, just fora moment, the smith picked up a short length of thick, square stock and pushed it into Perrin's hand, then picked up his hammer again and resumed work. \\\"See what you can do with that,\\\" he said.\\n\\nWithout even thinking about it, Perrin stepped over to an anvil on the other side of the forge and tapped the stock against its edge. It made a nice ring. The steel had not been left long enough in the slowfurnace to pickup a great deal of carbon from the coal. He pushed it into the hot coals for almost its entire length, tasted the two water barrels to see which had been salted-the third was olive oil-then took off his coat and shirt and chose a leather vest that would fit his chest. Most of these Tairen fellows were not as large as he, but he found one that would do. Finding an apron was easier.\\n\\nWhen he turned around, he saw the smith, still with his head down over his work, nodding and smiling to himself. But just because he knew his way around a smithy did not mean he had any skill at smithing. That was yet to be shown.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When he came back to the anvil with two hammers, a set of long-handled flat-tongs, and a sharp-topped hardy, the steel bar had heated to a dark red except fora small bit of what he had left out of the coals. He worked the bellows, watching the color of the metal lighten, until it reached a yellow just short of white. Then he pulled it outwith the tongs, laid it on the anvil, and picked up the heavier of the two hammers. About ten pounds, he estimated, and with a longer handle than most people, who did not know metalworking, thought was necessary. He held it near the end; hot metal gave off sparks, sometimes, and he had seen the scars on the hands of the smith from up at Roundhill, a careless fellow.\\n\\nHe did not want to make anything elaborate or fancy. Simple things seemed best at the moment. He began by rounding the edges of the bar, then hammered the middle out into abroad blade, almost as thick as the original at the butt, but a good hand and a half long. From time to time he returned the metal to the coals, to keep it at the pale yellow, and after a time he shifted to the lighter hammer, half the weight of the first. The piece beyond the blade, he thinned down, then bent it over the anvil horn in a curve down beside the blade. A wooden handle could be fixed onto that, eventually. Setting the sharp-chisel hardy in the anvil's hardy-hole, he laid the glowing metal atop it. One sharp blow of the hammer cutoff the tool he had made. Or almost made. It would be a chamfer knife, for smoothing and leveling the tops of barrel staves after they were hopped together, among other things. When he was done. The other man's barrel scrape had made him think of it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As soon as he had made the hot-cut, he tossed the glowing metal into the salted quenching barrel. Unsalted gave a harder quench, for the hardest metal, while the oil gave the softest, for good knives. And swords, he had heard, but he had never had any part in making anything like that.\\n\\nWhen the metal had cooled enough, to a dull gray, he removed it from the water and took it to the grinding wheels. A little slow work with the footpedals ground a polish onto the blade. Carefully, he heated the blade portion again. This time the colors deepened, to straw, to bronze. When the bronze color began to run up the blade in waves, he set it aside to cool. The final edge could be sharpened then. Quenching again would destroy the tempering he had just done.\\n\\n\\\"Avery neat bit of work,\\\" the smith said. \\\"No wasted motion. You looking for work? My apprentices just walked away, all three of them, the worthless fools, and I've plenty you could do.\\\"\\n\\nPerrin shook his head. \\\"I do not know how long I will be in Tear. I'd like to work a little longer, if you do not mind. It has been along time, and I miss it. Maybe I could do some of the work your apprentices would have done.\\\"\\n\\nThe smith snorted loudly. \\\"You're a deal better than any of those louts, moping around and staring, muttering about their nightmares. As if everyone doesn't have nightmares, sometimes. Yes, you can work here, as long as you want. Light, I've orders fora dozen drawknives and three cooper's adzes, and a carpenter down the street needs a mortise hammer, and.... Too much to list it. Start with the drawknives, and we will see how far we get before night.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perrin lost himself in the work, fora time forgetting everything but the heat of the metal, the ring of his hammer, and the smell of the forge, but there came a time when he looked up and found the smith-Dermid Ajala, he had said his name was-taking off his vest, and the shoeing yard dark. All the light came from the forge and a pair of lamps. And Zarine was sitting on an anvil by one of the cold forges, watching him.\\n\\n\\\"So you really area blacksmith, blacksmith,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"He is that, mistress,\\\" Ajala said. \\\"Apprentice, he says, but the work he did today amounts to his master's piece as far as I am concerned. Fine stroking, and better than steady.\\\" Perrin shifted his feet at the compliments, and the smith grinned at him. Zarine stared at both of them with alack of comprehension.\\n\\nPerrin went to replace the vest and apron on their peg, but once he had them off, he was suddenly conscious of Zarine's eyes on his back. It was if she were touching him; fora moment, the herbal scent of her seemed overwhelming. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head, stuffed it raggedly into his breeches, and jerked on his coat. When he turned around, Zarine wore one of those small, secretive smiles that had always made him nervous.\\n\\n\\\"Is this what you mean to do, then?\\\" she asked. \\\"Did you come all this way to be a blacksmith again?\\\" Ajala paused in the act of pulling the yard doors closed and listened.\\n\\nPerrin picked up the heavy hammer he had used, a ten-pound head with a handle as long as his forearm. It felt good in his hands. It felt right. The smith had glanced at his eyes once and never even blinked; it was the work that was important, the skill with metal, not the color of a man's eyes. \\\"No,\\\" he said sadly. \\\"One day, I hope. But not yet.\\\" He started to hang the hammer back on the wall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Take it.\\\" Ajala cleared his throat. \\\"I do not usually giveaway good hammers, but.... The work you've done today is worth more than the price of that hammer by far, and maybe it will help you to that'one day. \\\"Man, if I have ever seen anyone made to hold a smith's hammer, it is you. So take it. Keep it.\\\"\\n\\nPerrin closed his hand around the haft. It did feel right. \\\"Thank you,\\\" he said. \\\"I cannot say what this means tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just remember the \\\"one day,\\\" man. Just you remember it.\\\"\\n\\nAs they left, Zarine looked up at him and said, \\\"Do you have any idea how strange men are, blacksmith? No. I did not think you did.\\\" She darted ahead, leaving him holding the hammer in one hand and scratching his head with the other.\\n\\nNo one in the common room looked at him twice, a golden-eyed man carrying a smith's hammer. He went up to his room, remembering for once to light a tallow candle. His quiver and the axe hung from the same peg on the plaster wall. He hefted the axe in one hand, the hammer in the other. By weight of metal, the axe, with its half-moon blade and thick spike, was a good five or six pounds lighter than the hammer, but it felt ten times heavier. Replacing the axe in the loop on its belt, he set the hammer on the floor beneath the peg, handle against the wall. Axe haft and hammer haft almost touched, two pieces of wood equally thick. Two pieces of metal, near enough the same weight. Fora longtime he sat on the stool staring at them. He was still staring when Lan put his head into the room.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Come, blacksmith. We have things to talk over.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am a blacksmith,\\\" Perrin said, and the Warder frowned at him.\\n\\n\\\"Don't go winter-crazy on me now, blacksmith. If you cannot carry your weight any longer, you may drag us all down the mountain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll carry my weight,\\\" Perrin growled. \\\"I will do what has to be done. What do you want?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You, blacksmith. Don't you listen? Come on, farmboy.\\\"\\n\\nThat name that Zarine so often called him pulled him to his feet angrily, now, but Lan was already turning away. Perrin hurried into the hall and followed him toward the front of the inn, meaning to tell the Warder he had had enough of this'blacksmith\\\" and'farmboy,\\\" his name was Perrin Aybara. The Warder ducked into the inn's only private dining room, overlooking the street.\\n\\nPerrin followed him. \\\"Now listen, Warder, I-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You listen, Perrin,\\\" Moiraine said. \\\"Be quiet and listen.\\\" Her face was smooth, but her eyes looked as grim as her voice sounded.\\n\\nPerrin had not realized anyone was in the room except for himself and the Warder, standing with one arm upon the mantel of the unlit fireplace. Moiraine sat at the table in the middle of the floor, a simple piece, of black oak. None of the other chairs with their high, carved backs were occupied. Zarine was leaning against the wall at the other end of the room from Lan, scowling, and Loial had chosen to sit on the floor since none of the chairs really fit him.\\n\\n\\\"I'm glad you decided to join us, farmboy,\\\" Zarine said sarcastically. \\\"Moiraine would not say anything till you came. She just looks at us as if she is deciding which of us is going to die. I-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Be quiet,\\\" Moiraine told her sharply. \\\"One of the Forsaken is in Tear. The High Lord Samon is Be'lal.\\\" Perrin shivered.\\n\\nLoial squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. \\\"I could have remained in the stedding. I would probably have been very happy, married, whoever my mother chose. She is a fine woman, my mother, and she would not give me to a bad wife.\\\" His ears seemed to have hidden themselves completely in his shaggy hair.\\n\\n\\\"You can go back to Stedding Shangtai,\\\" Moiraine said. \\\"Leave now, if you wish. I will not stop you.\\\"\\n\\nLoial opened one eye. \\\"I can go?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If you wish,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"Oh.\\\" He opened the other eye, and scratched his cheek with blunt fingers the size of sausages. \\\"I suppose.... I suppose... if I have a choice... that I will stay with all of you. I have taken a great many notes, but not nearly enough to complete my book, and I would not like to leave Perrin, and Rand-\\\"\\n\\nMoiraine cut him off in a cold voice. \\\"Good, Loial. I am glad that you are staying. I will be glad to use any knowledge you have. But until this is done, I have no time to listen to your complaints!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suppose,\\\" Zarine said in an unsteady voice, \\\"that there is no chance of me leaving?\\\" She looked at Moiraine, and shivered. \\\"I thought not. Blacksmith, if I live through this, I will make you pay.\\\"\\n\\nPerrin stared at her. Me! The fool woman thinks it my fault? Did I ask her to come? He opened his mouth, saw the look in Moiraine's eyes, and closed it again quickly. After a moment he said, \\\"Is he after Rand? To stop him, or kill him?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I think not,\\\" she said quietly. Her voice was like cold steel. \\\"I fear he means to let Rand enter the Heart of the Stone and take Callandor, then take it away from him. I fear he means to kill the Dragon Reborn with the very weapon that is meant to herald him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do we run again?\\\" Zarine said. \\\"Like Illian? I never thought to run, but I never thought to find the Forsaken when I took the Hunter's oath.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This time,\\\" Moiraine said, \\\"we do not run. We dare not run. Worlds and time rest on Rand, on the Dragon Reborn. This time, we fight.\\\"\\n\\nPerrin took a chair uneasily. \\\"Moiraine, you are saying a lot of things right out that you told us we must not even think about. You do have this room warded against listening, don't you?\\\" When she shook her head, he gripped the edge of the table hard enough to make the dark oak creak.\\n\\n\\\"I do not speak of a Myrddraal, Perrin. No one knows the strength of the Forsaken, except that Ishamael and Lanfear were the strongest, but the weakest of them could sense any warding I might set from a mile or more away. And rip all of us to shreds in seconds. Possibly without stirring from where he stood.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're saying he can tie you in knots,\\\" Perrin muttered. \\\"Light! What are we supposed to do? How can we do anything?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Even the Forsaken cannot stand up to balefire,\\\" she said. He wondered if that was what she had used on the Darkhounds; it still made him uneasy, what he had seen, and what she had said then. \\\"I have learned things in the last year, Perrin. I am... more dangerous than when I came to Emond's Field. If I can come close enough to Be'lal, I can destroy him. But if he sees me first, he can destroy us all, long before I have a chance.\\\" She turned her attention to Loial. \\\"What can you tell me of Be'lal?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perrin blinked in confusion. Loial?\\n\\n\\\"Why are you asking him?\\\" Zarine burst out angrily. \\\"First you tell the blacksmith you mean us to fight one of the Forsaken!-who can kill us all before we can even think!-and now you ask Loial about him?\\\" Loial murmured urgently, that name she used-\\\"Faile! Faile!\\\"-but she did not even slow. \\\"I thought Aes Sedai knew everything. Light, at least I am smart enough not to say I will fight someone unless I know everything I can of him! You....\\\" She trailed off under Moiraine's stare, muttering.\\n\\n\\\"Ogier,\\\" the Aes Sedai said coolly, \\\"have long memories, girl. It has been well over a hundred generations since the Breaking for humans, but less than thirty for Ogier. We still learn things from their stories that we did not know. Now tell me, Loial. What do you know of Be'lal. And briefly, for once. I want your long memory, not your long wind.\\\"\\n\\nLoial cleared his throat, a sound much like firewood tumbling down a chute. \\\"Be'lal.\\\" His ears flickered out of his hairlike hummingbird wings, then snapped down again. \\\"I do not know what can be in the stories about him you do not already know. He is not much mentioned, except in the razing of the Hall of the Servants just before Lews Therin Kinslayer and the Hundred Companions sealed him up with the Dark One. Jalanda son of Aried son of Coiam wrote that he was called the Envious, that he forsook the Light because he envied Lews Therin, and that he envied Ishamael and Lanfear, too. In A Study of the War of the Shadow, Moilin daughter of Hamada daughter of Juendan called Be'lal the Netweaver, but I do not know why. She mentioned him playing a game of stones with Lews Therin and winning, and that he always boasted of it.\\\" He glanced at Moiraine and rumbled, \\\"I am trying to be brief. I do not know anything important about him. Several writers say Be'lal and Sammael were both leaders in the fight against the Dark One before they forsook the Light, and both were masters of the sword. That is truly all I know. He maybe mentioned in other books, other stories, but I have not read them. Be'lal is just not spoken of very often. I am sorry I could not tell you anything useful.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Perhaps you have,\\\" Moiraine told him. \\\"I did not know of the name, the Netweaver. Or that he envied the Dragon as well as his companions in the Shadow. That strengthens my belief that he wants Callandor. That must be the reason he has chosen to make himself a High Lord of Tear. And the Netweaver-a name fora schemer, a patient and cunning planner. You have done well, Loial.\\\" Fora moment the Ogier's wide mouth curved up in a pleased smile, but then it curved down again.\\n\\n\\\"I will not pretend I am not afraid,\\\" Zarine said suddenly. \\\"Only a fool would not be afraid of the Forsaken. But I swore I would be one of you, and I will. That is all that I wanted to say.\\\"\\n\\nPerrin shook his head. She must be crazy. I could wish I were not one of this party. I could wish I were back homeworking Master Luhhan's forge. Aloud, he said, \\\"If he is inside the Stone, if he is waiting therefor Rand, we must go inside to reach him. How do we do that? Everyone keeps saying no one enters the Stone without the permission of the High Lords, and looking at it, I don't see anyway but through the gates.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do not go in,\\\" Lan said. \\\"Moiraine and I will be the only ones to enter. The more who go, the harder it will be. Whatever way in I find, I cannot believe it will be easy even for only two.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gaidin,\\\" Moiraine began in a firm voice, but the Warder cut her off with one just as firm.\\n\\n\\\"We go together, Moiraine. I will not stand aside this time.\\\" After a moment she nodded. Perrin thought he saw Lan relax. \\\"The rest of you had better get some sleep,\\\" the Warder went on. \\\"I have to be out studying the Stone.\\\" He paused. \\\"There is a thing that your news drove out of my head, Moiraine. A small thing, and I cannot see what it might mean. There are Aiel in Tear.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Aiel!\\\" Loial exclaimed. \\\"Impossible! The entire city would be in a panic if one Aiel came through the gates.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did not say they were walking the streets, Ogier. The rooftops and chimneys of the city make as good hiding as the Waste. I saw no less than three, though apparently no one else in Tear has seen any of them. And if I saw three, you can be sure there are many times that I did not see.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It means nothing tome,\\\" Moiraine said slowly. \\\"Perrin, why are you frowning in that way?\\\"\\n\\nHe had not known that he was frowning. \\\"I was thinking about that Aiel in Remen. He said that when the Stone falls, the Aiel will leave the Three-fold Land. That's the Waste, isn't it? He said it was a prophecy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have read every word of the Prophecies of the Dragon,\\\" Moiraine said softly, \\\"in every translation, and there is no mention of the Aiel. We stagger blindly while Be'lal weaves his nets, and the Wheel weaves the Pattern around us. But are the Aiel the Wheel's weaving, or Be'lal's? Lan, you must find me the way into the Stone quickly. Us. Find us away in quickly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As you command, Aes Sedai,\\\" he said, but his tone was more warm than formal. He vanished through the door. Moiraine frowned at the table, eyes clouded in thought.\\n\\nZarine came over to look down at Perrin, her head tilted to one side. \\\"And what are you going to do, blacksmith? It seems they mean us to wait and watch while they go adventuring. Not that I will complain.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He doubted that last. \\\"First,\\\" he told her, \\\"I am going to have something to eat. And then I am going to think about a hammer.\\\" And try to puzzle out how I feel about you. Falcon.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"From the corner of her eye, Nynaeve thought she glimpsed a tall man with reddish hair, in a swirling brown cloak, well down the sunlit street, but as she turned to peer from under the wide brim of the blue straw hat Ailhuin had given her, an ox-drawn wagon was already lumbering between them. When it lurched on, the man was nowhere to be seen. She was almost certain that had been a wooden flute case on his back, and his clothes were certainly not Tairen. It couldn't be Rand. Just because I keep dreaming about him does not mean he is going to come all the way from Almoth Plain.\\n\\nOne of the barefoot men hurrying past, with the sickle-shaped tails of a dozen large fish sticking up from the basket on his back, suddenly tripped, catapulting silver-scaled fish over his head as he fell. He landed on hands and knees in the mud, staring at the fish that had come out of his basket. Everyone of the long, sleek shapes stood upright, stuck nose down in the mud, forming a neat circle. Even a few passersby gaped at that. Slowly the man got to his feet, apparently unaware of the mud on him. Unslinging his basket, he began gathering the fish back into it, shaking his head and muttering to himself.\\n\\nNynaeve blinked, but her business was with this cow-faced brigand, facing her in the doorway of his shop with bloody cuts of meat hanging from hooks behind him. She gave her braid a tug and fixed the fellow with her eye.\\n\\n\\\"Very well,\\\" she said sharply, \\\"I will take it, but if this is what you charge for so poor a cut, you'll not have more business from me.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He shrugged placidly as he took her coins, then wrapped the fatty mutton roast in a cloth she produced from the basket on her arm.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She glared at him as she put the wrapped meat into the basket, but that did not affect him.\\n\\nShe whirled to stalk away-and nearly fell. She was still not used to these clogs; they kept sticking in the mud, and she could not see how the folk who wore them managed. She hoped this sunshine dried the ground soon, but she had a feeling that the mud was more or less permanent in the Maule.\\n\\nStepping gingerly, she started back toward Ailhuin's house, muttering under her breath. The prices were outrageous for everything, the quality inevitably poor, and almost no one seemed to care, not the people buying or those selling. It was a relief to pass a woman shouting at a shopkeeper, waving a bruised reddish-yellow fruit-Nynaeve did not know what; they had a good many fruits and vegetables she had never heard of, here-in each hand and calling for everyone to see what refuse the man sold, but the shopkeeper only stared at her wearily, not even bothering to argue back.\\n\\nThere was some excuse for the prices, she knew-Elayne had explained all about the grain being eaten by rats in the granaries because no one in Cairhien could buy, and how big the Cairhienin grain trade had become since the Aiel War-but nothing excused the way everyone seemed ready to lie down and die. She had seen hail ruin food crops in the Two Rivers, and grasshoppers eat them and blacktongue kill the sheep and redspot wither the tabac so there was nothing to sell when the merchants came down from Baerlon. She could remember two years in a row when there had been little to eat except turnip soup and old barley, and hunters had been lucky to bring home a scrawny rabbit, but Two Rivers folk picked themselves up when they were knocked down and went back to work. These people had had only one bad year, and their fisheries and their other trade seemed to be flourishing. She had no patience with them. The trouble was, she knew she should have a little patience. They were odd people with odd ways, and things she took for cringing, they seemed to see as a matter of course, even Ailhuin and Sandar. She should be able to summon up just a little patience.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"If for them, why not for Egwene? She put that aside. The child behaved wretchedly, snapping at the most obvious suggestions, objecting to the most sensible things. Even when it was plain what they should do, Egwene wanted to be convinced. Nynaeve was not used to having to convince people, especially not people she had changed swaddling clothes for. The fact that she was only a matter of seven years older than Egwene was of no account.\\n\\nIt is all those bad dreams, she told herself. I cannot understand what they mean, and now Elayne and I are having them, too, and I do not know what that means either, and Sandar won't say anything except that he is still looking, and I am so frustrated I... I could just spit! She jerked her braid so hard it hurt. At least she had been able to convince Egwene not to use the ter'angreal again, to put the thing back in her pouch instead of wearing it next to her skin always. If the Black Ajah was in Tel'aran'rhiod.... She did not want to think about that possibility. We will find them!\\n\\n\\\"I will bring them down,\\\" she muttered. \\\"Trying to sell me like a sheep! Hunting me like an animal! I am the hunter this time, not the rabbit! That Moiraine! If she had never come to Emond's Field, I could have taught Egwene enough. And Rand.... I could have... I could have done something.\\\" That she knew neither was true did not help; it made it worse. She hated Moiraine almost as much as she hated Liandrin and the Black Ajah, maybe as much as she hated the Seanchan.\\n\\nShe rounded a corner, and Juilin Sandar had to leap out of her way to keep from being trampled. Even used to them as he was, he nearly tripped over his own clogs, only his staff saving him from falling on his face in the mud. That pale, ridged wood was called bamboo, she had learned, and it was stronger than it looked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Mistress-uh-Mistress Maryim,\\\" Sandar said, regaining his balance. \\\"I was... looking for you.\\\" He flashed her a nervous smile. \\\"Are you angry? Why are you frowning at me that way?\\\"\\n\\nShe smoothed her forehead. \\\"I was not frowning at you, Master Sandar. The butcher.... It does not matter. Why are you looking for me?\\\" Her breath caught. \\\"Have you found them?\\\"\\n\\nHe looked around as if he suspected the passersby of trying to listen. \\\"Yes. Yes, you must comeback with me. The others are waiting. The others. And Mother Guenna.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why are you so nervous? You did not let them discover your interest?\\\" she said sharply. \\\"What has frightened you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No! No, mistress. I-I did not reveal myself.\\\" His eyes darted again, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a breathy, urgent whisper. \\\"These women you seek, they are in the Stone! Guests of a High Lord! The High Lord Samon! Why did you call them thieves? The High Lord Samon!\\\" he almost squeaked. There was sweat on his face.\\n\\nInside the Stone! With a High Lord! Light, how do we reach them now? She suppressed her impatience with an effort. \\\"Be easy,\\\" she said soothingly. \\\"Beat ease, Master Sandar. We can explain everything to your satisfaction.\\\" I hope we can. Light, if he goes running to the Stone to tell this High Lord we are searching for them.... \\\"Come with me to Mother Guenna's house. Joslyn, Caryla, and I will explain it all to you. Truly. Come.\\\"\\n\\nHe gave a short, uneasy nod, and walked alongside her, keeping his pace to what she could manage with the clogs. He looked as if he wanted to run.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"At the Wise Woman's house, she hurried around to the back. No one ever used the front door, that she had seen, not even Mother Guenna herself. The horses were tied to a bamboo hitching rail, now-well away from Ailhuin's new figs as well as her vegetables-with their saddles and bridles stored inside. For once she did not stop to pat Gaidin's nose and tell him he was a good boy, and more sensible than his namesake. Sandar halted to scrape mud from his clogs with the butt of his staff, but she hurried inside.\\n\\nAilhuin Guenna was sitting in one of her high-backed chairs pulled out into the room, her arms at her sides. The gray-haired woman's eyes were bulging with anger and fear, and she struggled furiously without moving a muscle. Nynaeve did not need to sense the subtle weaving of Air to know what had happened. Light, they've found us! Burn you, Sandar!\\n\\nRage flooded her, washed away the walls inside that usually kept her from the Power, and as the basket fell from her hands, she was a white blossom on a blackthorn bush, opening to embrace saidar, opening.... It was as if she had run into another wall, a wall of clear glass; she could feel the True Source, but the wall stopped everything except the ache to be filled with the One Power.\\n\\nThe basket hit the floor, and as it bounced, the door behind her opened and Liandrin stepped in, followed by a black-haired woman with a white streak above her left ear. They wore long, colorful silk dresses cut to bare their shoulders, and the glow of saidar surrounded them.\\n\\nLiandrin smoothed her red dress and smiled with that pouting rosebud mouth. Her doll's face was filled with amusement. \\\"You see, do you not, wilder,\\\" she began, \\\"you have no-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Nynaeve hither in the mouth as hard as she could. Light, I have to getaway. She backhanded Rianna so hard the black-haired woman fell on her silk-covered rump with a grunt. They must have the others, but if I can make it out the door, if I can get far enough away they can't shield me, I can do something. She pushed Liandrin hard, shoving her away from the door. Just let me escape their shielding, and I'll....\\n\\nBlows hither from every side, like fists and sticks, pummeling her. Neither Liandrin, blood trickling from a corner of her now-grim mouth, nor Rianna, her hair as disarrayed as her green dress, lifted a hand. Nynaeve could feel the flows of Air weaving about her as well as she could feel the blows themselves. She still struggled to reach the door, but she realized that she was on her knees, now, and the unseen blows would not stop, invisible sticks and fists striking at her back and her stomach, her head and her hips, her shoulders, her breasts, her legs, her head. Groaning, she fell onto her side and curled into a ball, trying to protect herself. Oh, Light, I tried. Egwene! Elayne! I tried! I will not cry out! Burn you, you can beat me to death, but I won't cry!\\n\\nThe blows stopped, but Nynaeve could not stop quivering. She felt bruised and battered from crown to toe.\\n\\nLiandrin crouched beside her, arms around her knees, silk rustling against silk. She had wiped the blood away from her mouth. Her dark eyes were hard, and there was no amusement on her face now. \\\"Perhaps you are too stupid to know when you are defeated, wilder. You fought almost as wildly as that other foolish girl, that Egwene. She almost went mad. You must all learn to submit. You will learn to submit.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Nynaeve shivered and reached for saidar again. It was not that she had any real hope, but she had to do something. Forcing through her pain, she reached out... and struck that invisible shield. Liandrin did have amusement back in her eyes, now, the grim mirth of a nasty child who pulls the wings off flies.\\n\\n\\\"We have no use for this one, at least,\\\" Rianna said, standing beside Ailhuin. \\\"I will stop her heart.\\\" Ailhuin's eyes nearly came out of her head.\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\" Liandrin's short, honey-colored braids swung as her head snapped around. \\\"Always you kill too quickly, and only the Great Lord can make use of the dead.\\\" She smiled at the woman held to the chair by invisible bonds. \\\"You saw the soldiers who came with us, old woman. You know who waits for us in the Stone. The High Lord Samon, he will not be pleased if you speak of what happened inside your house today. If you hold your tongue, you will live, perhaps to serve him again one day. If you speak, you will serve only the Great Lord of the Dark, from beyond the grave. Which do you choose?\\\"\\n\\nSuddenly Ailhuin could move her head. She shook her gray curls, working her mouth. \\\"I.... I will hold my tongue,\\\" she said dejectedly, then gave Nynaeve an embarrassed, shamed look. \\\"If I speak, what goodwill it do? A High Lord could have my head by raising an eyebrow. What good can I do you, girl? What good?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is all right,\\\" Nynaeve said wearily. Who could she tell? All she could do is die. \\\"I know you would help if you could.\\\" Rianna threw back her head and laughed. Ailhuin slumped, released completely, but she only sat there, staring at her hands in her lap.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Between them, Liandrin and Rianna pulled Nynaeve to her feet and pushed her toward the front of the house.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You give us any trouble,\\\" the black-haired woman said in a hard voice, \\\"and I will make you peel off your own skin and dance in your bones.\\\"\\n\\nNynaeve almost laughed. What trouble could I give? She was shielded from the True Source. Her bruises ached so much she could barely stand. Anything she might do, they could handle like a child's tantrum. But my bruises will heal, burn you, and you'll make a slip yet! And when you do....\\n\\nThere were others in the front room of the house. Two big soldiers in rimmed, round helmets and shiny breastplates over those puffy-sleeved redcoats. The two men had sweat on their faces, and their dark eyes rolled as if they were as afraid as she. Amico Nagoyin was there, slender and pretty with her long neck and pale skin, looking as innocent as a girl gathering flowers. Joiya Byir had a friendly face despite that smooth-cheeked calm of a woman who had worked long with the Power, almost a grandmother's face in its welcoming appearance, though her age had put no touch of gray in her dark hair, anymore than it had wrinkled her skin. Her gray eyes looked more like those of the stepmother in the stories, the one who murdered the children of her husband's first wife. Both women shone with the Power.\\n\\nElayne stood between the two Black sisters, with a bruised eye and a swollen cheek and a split lip, one sleeve of her dress torn halfway off. \\\"I am sorry, Nynaeve,\\\" she said thickly, as if her jaw hurt. \\\"We never saw them until it was too late.\\\"\\n\\nEgwene lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, her face swollen with bruises, almost unrecognizable. As Nynaeve and her escort came in, one of the big soldiers hoisted Egwene over his shoulder. She dangled there as limply as a half-empty barley sack.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What did you do to her?\\\" Nynaeve demanded. \\\"Burn you, what-!\\\" Something unseen struck her across the mouth hard enough to make her eyes go blank fora moment.\\n\\n\\\"Now, now,\\\" Joiya Byir said with a smile that her eyes belied. \\\"I will not stand for demands, or bad language.\\\" She sounded like a grandmother, too. \\\"You speak when you are spoken to.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I told you the girl, she would not stop fighting, yes?\\\" Liandrin said. \\\"Let it be a lesson to you. If you try to cause any trouble, you will be treated no more gently.\\\"\\n\\nNynaeve ached to do something for Egwene, but she let herself be pushed out into the street. She made them push her; it was a small way of fighting back, refusing to cooperate, but it was all she had at the moment.\\n\\nThere were few people in the muddy street, as if everyone had decided it was much better to be somewhere else, and those few scurried by on the other side without a glance at the shiny, black-lacquered coach standing behind a team of six matched whites with tall white plumes on their bridles. A coachman dressed like the soldiers, but without armor or sword, sat on the seat, and another opened the door as they appeared from the house. Before he did, Nynaeve saw the sigil painted there. A silver-gauntleted fist clutching jagged lightning bolts.\\n\\nShe supposed it was High Lord Samon's sign-A Darkfriend, he must be, if he deals with the Black Ajah. The Light burn him!-but she was more interested in the man who dropped to his knees in the mud at their appearance. \\\"Burn you, Sandar, why-?\\\" She jumped as something that felt like a stick of wood struck her across the shoulders.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Joiya Byir smiled chidingly and waggled a finger. \\\"You will be respectful, child. Or you might lose that tongue.\\\"\\n\\nLiandrin laughed. Tangling a hand in Sandar's black hair, she wrenched his head back. He stared up at her with the eyes of a faithful hound-or of a cur expecting a kick. \\\"Do not be too hard on this man.\\\" She even made'man\\\" sound like'dog.\\\" \\\"He had to be... persuaded... to serve. But I am very good at persuading, no?\\\" She laughed again.\\n\\nSandar turned a confused stare on Nynaeve. \\\"I had to do it, Mistress Maryim. I... had to.\\\" Liandrin twisted his hair, and his eyes went back to her, the anxious hound's once more.\\n\\nLight! Nynaeve thought. What did they do to him? What are they going to do to us?\\n\\nShe and Elayne were bundled roughly into the coach, with Egwene slumped between them, her head lolling, and Liandrin and Rianna climbed in and took the seat facing forward. The glow of saidar still surrounded them. Where the others went, Nynaeve did not much care at that moment. She wanted to reach Egwene, to touch her, to comfort her hurts, but she could not move a muscle below her neck except to writhe. Flows of Air bound the three of them like layers of tightly wrapped blankets. The coach lurched into motion, swaying hard in the mud despite its leather springs.\\n\\n\\\"If you have hurt her....\\\" Light, I can see they've hurt her. Why don't I say what I mean? But it was almost as hard to force the words out as it would have been to lift a hand. \\\"If you have killed her, I won't rest till you are all hunted down like wild dogs.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Rianna glared, but Liandrin only sniffed. \\\"Do not be a complete fool, wilder. You are wanted alive. Dead bait will catch nothing.\\\"\\n\\nBait? For what? For who? \\\"You are the fool, Liandrin! Do you think we are here alone? Only three of us, and not even full Aes Sedai? We are bait, Liandrin. And you have walked into the trap like a fat grouse.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do not tell her that!\\\" Elayne said sharply, and Nynaeve blinked before she realized Elayne was helping her fabrication. \\\"If you let your anger get the best of you, you will tell them what they must not hear. They must take us inside the Stone. They must-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be quiet!\\\" Nynaeve snapped. \\\"You are letting your tongue runaway with you!\\\" Elayne managed to look abashed behind her bruises. Let them chew on that, Nynaeve thought.\\n\\nBut Liandrin only smiled. \\\"Once your time as bait is done, you will tell us everything. You will want to. They say you will be very strong one day, but I will make sure you will always obey me, even before the Great Master Be'lal works his plans for you. He is sending for Myrddraal. Thirteen of them.\\\" Those rosebud lips laughed the final words.\\n\\nNynaeve felt her stomach twist. One of the Forsaken! Her brain numbed with shock. The Dark One and all the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, bound by the Creator in the moment of creation. But the catechism did not help; she knew too well how much of it was false. Then the rest of it came home to her. Thirteen Myrddraal. And thirteen sisters of the Black Ajah. She heard Elayne screaming before she realized she was screaming herself, jerking uselessly in those invisible bonds of Air. It was impossible to say which was louder, their despairing screams, or the laughter from Liandrin and Rianna.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Slumped on the stool in the gleeman's room, Mat grimaced as Thom coughed again. How are we going to keep looking if he's so bloody sick he can't walk? He was ashamed as soon as he thought it. Thom had been as assiduous in searching as he had, pushing himself day and night, when he had to know he was coming down sick. Mat had been so absorbed in his hunt that he had paid too little attention to Thom's coughing. The change from constant rain to steamy heat had not helped it.\\n\\n\\\"Come on, Thom,\\\" he said. \\\"Lopar says there's a Wise Woman not far. That is what they calla Wisdom here-a Wise Woman. Wouldn't Nynaeve like that!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not need... any foul-tasting... concoctions... poured down my throat, boy.\\\" Thom stuffed a fist through his mustaches in a vain attempt to stop his hacking. \\\"You go ahead looking. Just give me... a few hours... on my bed... and I'll join you.\\\" The wracking wheezes doubled him over till his head was almost on his knees.\\n\\n\\\"So I am supposed to do all the work while you take your ease?\\\" Mat said lightly. \\\"How can I find anything without you? You learn most of what we hear.\\\" That was not exactly true; men talked as freely over dice as they did while buying a gleeman a cup of wine. More freely than they did with a gleeman hacking so hard they feared contagion. But he was beginning to think that Thom's cough was not going to go away by itself. If the old goat dies on me, who will I play stones with? he told himself roughly. \\\"Anyway, your bloody coughing keeps me awake even in the next room.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Ignoring the white-haired man's protests, he pulled Thom to his feet.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was shocked at how much of the gleeman's weight he had to support. Despite the damp heat, Thom insisted on his patch-covered cloak. Mat had his own coat unbuttoned completely and all three ties of his shirt undone, but he let the old goat have his way. No one in the common room even looked up as he half carried Thom out into the muggy afternoon.\\n\\nThe innkeeper had given simple directions, but when they reached the gate, and faced the mud of the Maule, Mat almost turned back to ask after another Wise Woman. There had to be more than one in a city this size. Thom's wheezing decided him. With a grimace Mat stepped off into the mud, half carrying the gleeman.\\n\\nHe had thought from the directions that they must have passed the Wise Woman's house on their way up from the dock that first night, and when he saw the long, narrow house with bunches of herbs hanging in the windows, right next to a potter's shop, he remembered it. Lopar had said something about going to the backdoor, but he had had enough of mud.\\n\\nAnd the stink offish, he thought, frowning at the barefoot men squelching by with their baskets on their backs. There were tracks of horses in the street, too, just beginning to be obliterated by feet and ox-carts. Horses pulling a wagon, or maybe a carriage. He had seen nothing but oxen drawing carts or wagons either one in Tear-the nobles and the merchants were proud of their fine stock, and never let one be put to anything like work-but he had not seen any carriages since leaving the walled city, either.\\n\\nDismissing horses and wheel tracks from his mind, he took Thom to the front door and knocked. After a time he knocked again. Then again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was on the point of giving up and returning to The White Crescent despite Thom coughing on his shoulder when he heard shuffling footsteps inside.\\n\\nThe door opened barely more than a crack, and a stout, gray-haired woman peered out. \\\"What do you want?\\\" she asked in a tired voice.\\n\\nMat put on his best grin. Light, but I am getting sick myself at all these people who sound like there's no bloody hope. \\\"Mother Guenna? My name is Mat Cauthon. Cavan Lopar told me you might do something for my friend's cough. I can pay well.\\\"\\n\\nShe studied them a moment, seemed to listen to Thom's wheezes, then sighed. \\\"I suppose I can still do that, at least. You might as well come in.\\\" She swung the door open and was already plodding toward the back of the house before Mat moved.\\n\\nHer accent sounded so much like the Amyrlin's that he shivered, but he followed, all but carrying Thom.\\n\\n\\\"I don't... need this,\\\" the gleeman wheezed. \\\"Bloody mixtures... always taste like... dung!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Shut up, Thom.\\\"\\n\\nLeading them all the way to the kitchen, the stout woman rummaged in one of the cupboards, taking out small stone pots and packets of herbs while muttering to herself.\\n\\nMat sat Thom down in one of the high-backed chairs, and glanced through the nearest window. There were three good horses tied outback; he was surprised the Wise Woman had more than one, or any for that matter. He had not seen anyone in Tear riding except nobles and the wealthy, and these animals looked as if they had cost more than a little silver. Horses again. I don't care about bloody horses now!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mother Guenna brewed some sort of strong tea with a rank smell and forced it down Thom's throat, holding his nose when he tried to complain. Mat decided she had less fat on her than he had thought, from the way she held the gleeman's head steady in the crook of one arm while she poured the black liquid into him no matter how hard he tried to stop her.\\n\\nWhen she took the cup away, Thom coughed and scrubbed at his mouth with equal vigor. \\\"Gaaah! Woman... I don't know... whether you... mean to drown me... or kill me... with the taste! You ought... to be a bloody... blacksmith!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You will take the same twice a day till that hacking is gone,\\\" she said firmly. \\\"And I have a salve that you'll rub on your chest every night.\\\" Some of the weariness left her voice as she confronted the gleeman, fists on her broad hips. \\\"That salve stinks as bad as this tea tastes, but you will rub it on-thoroughly!-or I'll drag you upstairs like a scrawny carp in a net and tie you to abed with that cloak of yours! I never had a gleeman come tome before, and I'll not let the first one that does cough himself to death.\\\"\\n\\nThom glowered and blew out his mustaches with a cough, but he seemed to take her threat seriously. At least, he did not say anything, but he looked as if he meant to throw her tea and her salve right back at her.\\n\\nThe more this Mother Guenna talked, the more she sounded like the Amyrlin to Mat. From the sour look on Thom's face, and the steady stare on hers, he decided he had better smooth matters over a little before the gleeman refused to take her medicines. And she decided to make him. \\\"I knew a woman once who talked like you,\\\" he said. \\\"All fish and nets and things. Sounded like you, too. The same accent, I mean. I suppose she's Tairen.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Perhaps.\\\" The gray-haired woman suddenly sounded tired again, and she kept staring at the floor. \\\"I knew some girls with the sound of your speech on their tongues, too. Two of them had it, anyway.\\\" She sighed heavily.\\n\\nMat felt his scalp prickle. My luck can't be this good. But he would not beta copper on two other women with Two Rivers accents just happening to be in Tear. \\\"Three girls? Young women? Named Egwene, and Nynaeve, and Elayne? That one has hairlike the sun, and blue eyes.\\\"\\n\\nShe frowned at him. \\\"Those were not the names they gave,\\\" she said slowly, \\\"yet I suspected they did not give me their true names. But they had their reasons, I thought. One of them was a pretty girl with bright blue eyes and red-gold hair to her shoulders.\\\" She described Nynaeve with her braid to her waist and Egwene with her big, dark eyes and ready smile, too. Three pretty women as different from one another as they could be. \\\"I see they are the ones you know,\\\" she finished. \\\"I am sorry, boy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why are you sorry? I have been trying to find them for days!\\\" Light, I walked right past this place the first night! Right past them! I wanted random. What could be more random than where a ship docks on a rainy night, and where you happen to look in a bloody lightning flash? Burn me! Burn me! \\\"Tell me where they are, Mother Guenna.\\\"\\n\\nThe gray-haired woman stared wearily at the stove where her spouted kettle was steaming. Her mouth worked, but she said nothing.\\n\\n\\\"Where are they?\\\" Mat demanded. \\\"It is important! They are in danger if I don't find them.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You do not understand,\\\" she said softly. \\\"You are an outlander. The High Lords....\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not care about any-\\\" Mat blinked, and looked at Thom. The gleeman seemed to be frowning, but he was coughing so hard, Mat could not be sure. \\\"What do the High Lords have to do with my friends?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You just do not-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't tell me I do not understand! I will pay for the information!\\\"\\n\\nMother Guenna glared at him. \\\"I do not take money for...!\\\" She grimaced fiercely. \\\"You ask me to tell you things I have been told not to speak of. Do you know what will happen tome if I do and you breathe my name? I will lose my tongue, to begin. Then I will lose other parts before the High Lords have what is left of me hung up to scream its last hours as a reminder to others to obey. And it will do those young women no good, not my telling or my dying!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I promise I will never mention your name to anyone. I swear it.\\\" And I'll keep that oath, old woman, if you only tell me where they bloody are! \\\"Please? They are in danger.\\\"\\n\\nShe studied him fora longtime; before she was done he had the feeling she knew every detail of him. \\\"On that oath, I will tell you. I... liked them. But you can do nothing. You are too late, Matrim Cauthon. Too late by nearly three hours. They have been taken to the Stone. The High Lord Samon sent for them.\\\" She shook her head in worried puzzlement. \\\"He sent... women who... could channel. I hold nothing against Aes Sedai myself, but that is against the law. The law the High Lords made. If they break every other law, they would not break that one. Why would a High Lord send Aes Sedai on his errands? Why would he want those girls at all?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mat almost burst out laughing. \\\"Aes Sedai? Mother Guenna, you had my heart in my throat, and maybe my liver, too. If Aes Sedai came for them, there is nothing to worry about. All three of them are going to be Aes Sedai themselves. Not that I like it much, but that's what they-\\\" His grin faded at the heavy way she shook her head.\\n\\n\\\"Boy, those girls fought like lionfish in a net. Whether they mean to be Aes Sedai or not, those who took them treated them like bilge pumpings. Friends do not give bruises like that.\\\"\\n\\nHe felt his face twisting. Aes Sedai hurt them? What in the Light? The bloody Stone. It makes the Palace in Caemlyn look like walking into a barnyard! Burn me! I stood right out therein the rain and stared at this house! Burn me fora bloody Light-blinded fool!\\n\\n\\\"If you break your hand,\\\" Mother Guenna said, \\\"I will splint and poultice it, but if you damage my wall, I will strip your hide like a redfish!\\\"\\n\\nHe blinked, then looked at his fist, at scraped knuckles. He did not even remember punching the wall.\\n\\nThe broad woman took his hand in a strong grip, but the fingers she used to probe were surprisingly gentle. \\\"Nothing broken,\\\" she grunted after awhile. Her eyes were just as gentle as she studied his face. \\\"It seems you care for them. One of them, at least, I suppose it is. I am sorry, Mat Cauthon.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't be,\\\" he told her. \\\"At least I know where they are, now. All I have to do is get them out.\\\" He fished out his last two Andoran gold crowns and pressed them into her hand. \\\"For Thom's medicines, and for letting me know about the girls.\\\" On impulse, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and a grin. \\\"And that's for me.\\\"\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2396,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\nChapter: 62"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Rand entered the chamber slowly, walking among the great polished redstone columns he remembered from his dreams. Silence filled the shadows, yet something called to him. And something flashed ahead, a momentary light throwing back shadow, a beacon. He stepped out beneath a great dome, and saw what he sought. Callandor, hanging hilt down in midair, waiting for no hand but that of the Dragon Reborn. As it revolved, it broke what little light there was into splinters, and now and then it flared as if with alight of its own. Calling him. Waiting for him.\n\nIf I am the Dragon Reborn. If I am not just some half-madman cursed with the ability to channel, a puppet dancing for Moiraine and the White Tower.\n\n\"Take it, Lews Therin. Take it, Kinslayer.\"\n\nHe spun to face the voice. The tall man with close-cropped white hair who stepped from the shadows among the columns was familiar to him. Rand had no idea who he was, this fellow in a red silk coat with black stripes down its puffy sleeves and black breeches tucked into elaborately silver-worked boots. He did not know the man, but he had seen him in his dreams. \"You put them in a cage,\" he said. \"Egwene, and Nynaeve, and Elayne. In my dreams. You kept putting them in a cage, and hurting them.\"\n\nThe man made a dismissive gesture of his hand. \"They are less than nothing. Perhaps one day, when they have been trained, but not now. I confess surprise that you cared enough to make them useful. But you were ever a fool, ever ready to follow your heart before power. You came too soon, Lews Therin. Now you must do what you are not yet ready for, or else die. Die, knowing you have left these women you care for in my hands.\" He seemed to be waiting for something, expectant. \"I mean to use them more, Kinslayer. They will serve me, serve my power. And that will hurt them far more than anything they have suffered before.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Behind Rand, Callandor flashed, throwing one pulse of warmth against his back. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"You do not remember me, do you?\" The white-haired man laughed suddenly. \"I do not remember you, either, looking this way. A country lad with a flute case on his back. Did Ishamael speak the truth? He was ever one to lie when it gained him an inch or a second. Do you remember nothing, Lews Therin?\"\n\n\"A name!\" Rand demanded. \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Call me Be'lal.\" The Forsaken scowled when Rand did not react to the name. \"Take it!\" Be'lal snapped, throwing a hand toward the sword behind Rand. \"Once we rode to war side by side, and for that I give you a chance. A bare chance, but a chance to save yourself, a chance to save those three I mean to make my pets. Take the sword, countryman. Perhaps it will be enough to help you survive me.\"\n\nRand laughed. \"Do you believe you can frighten me so easily, Forsaken? Ba'alzamon himself has hunted me. Do you think I will cower now for you? Grovel before a Forsaken when I have denied the Dark One to his face?\"\n\n\"Is that what you think?\" Be'lal said softly. \"Truly, you know nothing.\" Suddenly there was a sword in his hands, a sword with a blade carved from black fire. \"Take it! Take Callandor! Three thousand years, while I lay imprisoned, it has waited there. For you. One of the most powerful sa'angreal we ever made. Take it, and defend yourself, if you can!\"\n\nHe moved toward Rand as if to drive him back toward Callandor, but Rand raised his own hands-saidin filled him; sweet rushing flow of the Power; stomach-wrenching vileness of the taint-and he held a sword wrought from red flame, a sword with a heron-mark on its fiery blade. He stepped into the forms Lan had taught him till he flowed from one to the next as if in a dance. Parting the Silk. Water Flows Downhill. Wind and Rain. Blade of black fire met blade of red in showers of sparks, roars like white-hot metal shattering."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Rand came back smoothly into a guard stance, trying not to let his sudden uncertainty show. A heron stood on the black blade, too, a bird so dark as to be nearly invisible. Once he had faced a man with a heron-mark blade of steel, and barely survived. He knew that he himself had no real right to the blademaster's mark; it had been on the sword his father had given him, and when he thought of a sword in his hands, he thought of that sword. Once he had embraced death, as the Warder had taught, but this time, he knew, his death would be final. Be'lal was better than he with the sword. Stronger. Faster. A true blademaster.\n\nThe Forsaken laughed, amused, swinging his blade in quick flourishes to either side of him; the black fire roared as if swift passage through the air quickened it. \"You were a greater swordsman, once, Lews Therin,\" he said mockingly. \"Do you remember when we took that tame sport called swords and learned to kill with it, as the old volumes said men once had? Do you remember even one of those desperate battles, even one of our dire defeats? Of course not. You remember nothing, do you? This time you have not learned enough. This time, Lews Therin, I will kill you.\" Be'lal's mockery deepened. \"Perhaps if you take Callandor, you might extend your life a little longer. A little longer.\"\n\nHe came forward slowly, almost as if to give Rand time to do just that, turn and race to Callandor, to the Sword That Cannot Be Touched, to take it. But the doubts were still strong in Rand. Callandor could only be touched by the Dragon Reborn. He had allowed them to proclaim him so fora hundred reasons that seemed to leave him no choice at the time. But was he truly the Dragon Reborn? If he raced to touch Callandor in truth, not in a dream, would his hand meet an invisible wall while Be'lal cut him down from behind?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He met the Forsaken with the sword he knew, the blade of fire wrought with saidin. And was driven back. The Falling Leaf met Watered Silk. The Cat Dances on the Wall met the Boar Rushes Downhill. The River Undercuts the Bank nearly lost him his head, and he had to throw himself inelegantly to one side with black flame brushing his hair, rolling to his feet to confront the Stone Falls From the Mountain. Methodically, deliberately, Be'lal drove him back in a spiral that slowly tightened on Callandor.\n\nShouts echoed among the columns, screams, the clash of steel, but Rand barely heard. He and Be'lal were no longer alone in the Heart of the Stone. Men in breastplates and rimmed helmets fought with swords against shadowy, veiled shapes that darted among the columns with short spears stabbing. Some of the soldiers formed a rank; arrows flashing out of the dimness took them in the throat, the face, and they died in their line. Rand hardly noticed the fighting, even when men fell dead within paces of him. His own fight was too desperate; it took all of his concentration. Wet warmth trickled down his side. The old wound was breaking open.\n\nHe stumbled suddenly, not seeing the dead man at his feet until he was lying on his back atop his flute case on the stone floor.\n\nBe'lal raised his blade of black fire, snarling. \"Take it! Take Callandor and defend yourself! Take it, or I will kill you now! If you will not take it, I will slay you!\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\nEven Be'lal gave a start at the command in that woman's voice. The Forsaken stepped back out of the arc of Rand's sword and turned his head to frown at Moiraine as she came striding through the battle, her eyes fixed on him, ignoring the screaming deaths around her. \"I thought you were neatly out of the way, woman. No matter. You are only an annoyance. A stinging fly. A biteme. I will cage you with the others, and teach you to serve the Shadow with your puny powers,\" he finished with a contemptuous laugh, and raised his freehand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Moiraine had not stopped or slowed while he spoke. She was no more than thirty paces from him when he moved his hand, and she raised both of hers as well.\n\nThere was an instant of surprise on the Forsaken's face, and he had time to scream'No!\" Then a bar of white fire hotter than the sun shot from the Aes Sedai's hands, a glaring rod that banished all shadows. Before it, Be'lal became a shape of shimmering motes, specks dancing in the light for less than a heartbeat, flecks consumed before his cry faded.\n\nThere was silence in the chamber as that bar of light vanished, silence except for the moans of the wounded. The fighting had stopped dead, veiled men and men in breastplates alike standing as if stunned.\n\n\"He was right concerning one thing,\" Moiraine said, as coolly serene as if she were standing in a meadow. \"You must take Callandor. He meant to slay you for it, but it is your birthright. Better by far that you knew more before your handheld that hilt, yet you have come to the point now, and there is no further time for learning. Take it, Rand.\"\n\nWhips of black lightning curled around her; she screamed as they lifted her, hurled her to slide along the floor like a sack until she came up against one of the columns.\n\nRand stared up at where the lightning had come from. There was a deeper shadow up there, near the top of the columns, a blackness that made all other shadows look like noonday, and from it, two eyes of fire stared back at him.\n\nSlowly the shadow descended, resolving into Ba'alzamon, clothed in dead black, like a Myrddraal's black. Yet even that was not so dark as the shadow that clung to him. He hung in the air, two spans above the floor, glaring at Rand with a rage as fierce as his eyes. \"Twice in this life I have offered you the chance to serve me living.\" Flames leaped in his mouth as he spoke, and every word roared like a furnace. \"Twice you have refused, and wounded me. Now you will serve the Lord of the Grave in death. Die, Lews Therin Kinslayer. Die, Rand al'Thor. It is time for you to die! I take your soul!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As Ba'alzamon put forth his hand, Rand pushed himself up, threw himself desperately toward Callandor, still glittering and flashing in midair. He did not know whether he could reach it, or touch it if he did, but he was sure it was his only chance.\n\nBa'alzamon's blow struck him as he leapt, struck inside him, a ripping and crumpling, tearing something loose, trying to pull apart of him away. Rand screamed. He felt as if he were collapsing like an empty sack, as if he were being turned inside out. The pain in his side, the wound taken at Falme, was almost welcome, something to hang onto, a reminder of life. His hand closed convulsively. On Callandor 's hilt.\n\nThe One Power surged through him, a torrent greater than he could believe, from saidin into the sword. The crystal blade shone brighter than even Moiraine's fire had. It was impossible to look at, impossible any longer to see that it was a sword, only that light blazed in his fist. He fought the flow, wrestled with the implacable tide that threatened to carry him, all that was really him, into the sword with it. Fora heartbeat that took centuries he hung, wavering, balanced on the brink of being scoured away like sand before a flash flood. With infinite slowness the balance firmed. It was still as though he stood barefoot on a razor's edge above a bottomless drop, yet something told him this was the best that could be expected. To channel this much of the Power, he must dance on that sharpness as he had danced the forms of the sword.\n\nHe turned to face Ba'alzamon. The tearing within him had ceased as soon as his hand touched Callandor. Only an instant had passed, yet it seemed to have lasted forever. \"You will not take my soul,\" he shouted. \"This time, I mean to finish it once and for all! I mean to finish it now!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ba'alzamon fled, man and shadow vanishing.\n\nFora moment Rand stared, frowning. There had been a sense of-folding-as Ba'alzamon left. A twisting, as if Ba'alzamon had in someway bent what was. Ignoring the men staring at him, ignoring Moiraine crumpled at the column base, Rand reached out, through Callandor, and twisted reality to make a door to somewhere else. He did not know to where, except that it was where Ba'alzamon had gone.\n\n\"I am the hunter now,\" he said, and stepped through.\n\nThe stone shook under Egwene's feet. The Stone shook; it rang. She caught her balance and stopped, listening. There was no more sound, no other tremor. Whatever had happened, it was over. She hurried on. A door of iron bars stood in her way, with a lock as big as her head. She channeled Earth before she reached it, and when she pushed against the bars, the lock tore in half.\n\nShe walked quickly across the chamber beyond it, trying not to look at the things hanging on the walls. Whips andiron pincers were the most innocuous. With a small shudder she pushed open a smaller iron gate and entered a corridor lined with rough wooden doors, rush torches burning at intervals in iron brackets; she felt almost as much relief at leaving those things behind as she did at finding what she sought. But which cell?\n\nThe wooden doors opened easily. Some were unlocked, and the locks on the others lasted no longer than that larger lock had earlier. But every cell was empty. Of course. No one would dream themselves in this place. Any prisoner who managed to reach Tel'aran'rhiod would dream of a pleasanter place.\n\nFora moment she felt something close to despair. She had wanted to believe that finding the right cell would make a difference. Even finding it could be impossible, though. This first corridor stretched on and on, and others joined it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Suddenly she saw something flicker just ahead of her. A shape even less substantial than Joiya Byir had been. It had been a woman, though. She was sure of that. A woman seated on a bench beside one of the cell doors. The image flickered into being again, and was gone. There was no mistaking that slender neck and the pale, innocent-appearing face with its eyelids fluttering on the edge of sleep. Amico Nagoyin was drifting toward sleep, dreaming of her guard duties. And apparently toying drowsily with one of the stolen ter'angreal. Egwene could understand that; it had been a great effort to stop using the one Verin had given her, even fora few days.\n\nShe knew it was possible to cut a woman off from the True Source even if she had already embraced saidar, but severing a weave already established had to be much harder than damming the flow before it began. She set the patterns of the weaving, readied them, making the threads of Spirit much stronger, this time, thicker and heavier, a denser weave with a cutting edge like a knife.\n\nThe wavering shape of the Darkfriend appeared again, and Egwene struck outwith the flows of Air and Spirit. For an instant something seemed to resist the weaving of Spirit, and she forced it with all of her might. It slid into place.\n\nAmico Nagoyin screamed. It was a thin sound, barely heard, as faint as she herself was, and she seemed almost like a shadow of what Joiya Byir had been. Yet the bonds woven of Air held her; she did not vanish again. Terror twisted the Darkfriend's lovely face; she seemed to be babbling, but her shouts were whispers too soft for Egwene to understand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tying and setting the weaves around the Black sister, Egwene turned her attentions to the cell door. Impatiently, she let Earth flood into the iron lock. It fell away in black dust, in a mist that dissolved completely before it struck the floor. She swung open the door, and was not surprised to find the cell empty except for one burning rush torch.\n\nBut Amico is bound, and the door is open.\n\nFora moment she thought of what to do next. Then she stepped out of the dream...\n\n... and woke to all her bruises and aches and thirst, to the wall of the cell against her back, staring at the tightly shut cell door. Of course. What happens to living things there is real when they wake. What I did to stone or iron or wood has no effect in the waking world.\n\nNynaeve and Elayne were still kneeling beside her.\n\n\"Whoever is out there,\" Nynaeve said, \"screamed a few moments ago, but nothing else has happened. Did you find away out?\"\n\n\"We should be able to walkout,\" Egwene said. \"Help me to my feet, and I will get rid of the lock. Amico will not trouble us. That scream washer.\"\n\nElayne shook her head. \"I have been trying to embrace saidar ever since you left. It is different, now, but I am still cutoff.\"\n\nEgwene formed the emptiness inside her, became the rosebud opening to saidar. The invisible wall was still there. It shimmered now. There were moments when she almost thought she could feel the True Source beginning to fill her with the Power. Almost. The shield wavered in and out of existence too fast for her to detect. It might as well have still been solid."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She stared at the other two women. \"I bound her. I shielded her. She is a living thing, not lifeless iron. She must be shielded still.\"\n\n\"Something has happened to the shield set onus,\" Elayne said, \"but Amico is still managing to hold it.\"\n\nEgwene let her head sag back against the wall. \"I will have to try again.\"\n\n\"Are you strong enough?\" Elayne grimaced. \"To be blunt, you sound even weaker than you did before. This try took something out of you, Egwene.\"\n\n\"I am strong enough there.\" She did feel more weary, less strong, but it was their only chance that she could see. She said as much, and their faces said they agreed with her, however reluctantly.\n\n\"Can you go to sleep again so soon?\" Nynaeve asked finally.\n\n\"Sing tome.\" Egwene managed a smile. \"Like when I was a little girl. Please?\" Holding Nynaeve's hand with one of hers, the stone ring clasped in the other, she closed her eyes and tried to find sleep in the wordless humming tune.\n\nThe wide door of iron bars stood open, and the room beyond seemed empty of life, but Mat entered cautiously. Sandar was still out in the hall, trying to peer both ways at once, certain that a High Lord, or maybe a hundred Defenders or so, would appear at any moment.\n\nThere were no men in the room now-and by the looks of the half-eaten meals on along table, they had left hurriedly; no doubt because of the fighting above-and from the looks of the things on the walls, he was just as glad he did not have to meet any of them. Whips indifferent sizes and lengths, different thicknesses, with different numbers of tails. Pincers, and tongs, and clamps, andirons. Things that looked like metal boots, and gauntlets, and helmets, with great screws allover them as if to tighten them down. Things he could not even begin to guess the use of. If he had met the men who used these things, he thought he would surely have checked that they were dead before he walked away."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Sandar!\" he hissed. \"Are you going to stay out there all bloody night!\" He hurried to the inner door-barred like the outer, but smaller-without waiting for an answer, and went through.\n\nThe hall beyond was lined by rough wooden doors, and lit by the same rush torches as the room he had just left. No more than twenty paces from him, a woman sat on a bench beside one of the doors, leaning back against the wall in a curiously stiff fashion. She turned her head slowly toward him at the sound of his boots grating on the stone. A pretty young woman. He wondered why she did not move more than her head, and why even that moved as if she were half-asleep.\n\nWas she a prisoner? Out in the hall? But nobody with a face like that could be one of the people who uses the things on those walls. She did look almost asleep, with her eyes only partly open. And the suffering on that lovely face surely made her one of the tortured, not a torturer.\n\n\"Stop!\" Sandar shouted behind him. \"She is Aes Sedai! She is one of those who took the women you seek!\"\n\nMat froze in the middle of a step, staring at the woman. He remembered Moiraine hurling balls of fire. He wondered if he could deflect a ball of fire with his quarterstaff. He wondered if his luck extended to outrunning Aes Sedai.\n\n\"Help me,\" she said faintly. Her eyes still looked nearly asleep, but the pleading in her voice was fully awake. \"Help me. Please!\"\n\nMat blinked. She still had not moved a muscle below her neck. Cautiously, he stepped closer, waving to Sandar to stop his groaning about her being Aes Sedai. She moved her head to follow him. No more than that."},{"from":"human","value":"A large iron key hung at her belt."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fora moment he hesitated. Aes Sedai, Sandar said. Why doesn't she move? Swallowing, he eased the key free as carefully as if he were trying to take apiece of meat from a wolf's jaws. She rolled her eyes toward the door beside her and made a sound like a cat that had just seen a huge dog come snarling into the room and knew there was noway out.\n\nHe did not understand it, but as long as she did not try to stop him opening that door, he did not care why she just sat there like a stuffed scarecrow. On the other hand, he wondered if there was something on the other side worth being afraid of. If she is one of those who took Egwene and the others, it stands to reason she's guarding them. Tears leaked from the woman's eyes. Only she looks like it's a bloody Halfman in there. But there was only one way to find out. Propping his staff against the wall, he turned the key in the lock and flung open the door, ready to run if need be.\n\nNynaeve and Elayne were kneeling on the floor with Egwene apparently asleep between them. He gasped at the sight of Egwene's swollen face, and changed his mind about her sleeping. The other two women turned toward him as he opened the door-they were almost as battered as Egwene; Burn me! Burn me!-looked at him, and gaped.\n\n\"Matrim Cauthon,\" Nynaeve said, sounding shocked, \"what under the Light are you doing here?\"\n\n\"I came to bloody rescue you,\" he said. \"Burn me if I expected to be greeted as if I had come to steal a pie. You can tell me why you look as if you'd been fighting bears later, if you want. If Egwene cannot walk, I'll carry heron my back. There are Aiel allover the Stone, or near enough, and either they are killing the bloody Defenders or the bloody Defenders are killing them, but whichever way it is, we had better get out of here while we bloody well can. If we can!\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Mind your language,\" Nynaeve told him, and Elayne gave him one of those disapproving stares women were so good at."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Neither one seemed to have her full attention in it, though. They began shaking Egwene as if she were not covered with more bruises than he had ever seen in his life.\n\nEgwene's eyelids fluttered open, and she groaned. \"Why did you wake me? I must understand it. If I loose the bonds on her, she will wake and I'll never catch her again. But if I do not, she cannot go all the way to sleep, and-\" Her eyes fell on him and widened. \"Matrim Cauthon, what under the Light are you doing here?\"\n\n\"You tell her,\" he told Nynaeve. \"I am too busy trying to rescue you to watch my langu-\" They were all staring beyond him, glaring as if they wished they had knives in their hands.\n\nHe spun, but all he saw was Juilin Sandar, looking as if he had swallowed a rotten plum whole.\n\n\"They have cause,\" he told Mat. \"I.... I betrayed them. But I had to.\" That was addressed past Mat to the women. \"The one with many honey-colored braids spoke tome, and I.... I had to do it.\" Fora long moment the three continued to stare.\n\n\"Liandrin has vile tricks, Master Sandar,\" Nynaeve said finally. \"Perhaps you are not entirely to blame. We can apportion guilt later.\"\n\n\"If that is all cleared up,\" Mat said, \"could we go now?\" It was as clear as mud to him, but he was more interested in leaving right then.\n\nThe three women limped after him into the hall, but they stopped around the woman on the bench. She rolled her eyes at them and whimpered. \"Please. I will comeback to the Light. I will swear to obey you. With the Oath Rodin my hands I will swear. Please do not-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Mat jumped as Nynaeve suddenly reared back and swung a fist, knocking the woman completely off the bench. She lay there, her eyes closed all the way finally, but even lying on her side she was still inexactly the same position she had been in on the bench.\n\n\"It is gone,\" Elayne said excitedly.\n\nEgwene bent to rummage in the unconscious woman's pouch, transferring something Mat could not make out to her own. \"Yes. It feels wonderful. Something changed about her when you hither, Nynaeve. I do not know what, but I felt it.\"\n\nElayne nodded. \"I felt it, too.\"\n\n\"I would like to change every last thing about her,\" Nynaeve said grimly. She took Egwene's head in her hands; Egwene rose onto her toes, gasping. When Nynaeve took her hands away to put them on Elayne, Egwene's bruises were gone. Elayne's vanished as quickly.\n\n\"Blood and bloody ashes!\" Mat growled. \"What do you mean hitting a woman who was just sitting there? I don't think she could even move!\" They all three turned to look at him, and he made a strangled sound as the air seemed to turn to thick jelly around him. He lifted into the air, until his boots dangled a good pace above the floor. Oh, burn me, the Power! Here I was afraid that Aes Sedai would use the bloody Power on me, and now the bloody women I'm rescuing do it! Burn me!\n\n\"You do not understand anything, Matrim Cauthon,\" Egwene said in a tight voice.\n\n\"Until you do understand,\" Nynaeve said in an even tighter, \"I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Elayne contented herself with a glare that made him think of his mother going out to cut a switch.\n\nFor some reason he found himself giving them the grin that had so often sent his mother after that switch. Burn me, if they can do this, I don't see how anybody ever locked them in that cell in the first place! \"What I understand is that I got you out of something you couldn't get yourselves out of, and you all have as much gratitude as a bloody Taren Ferryman with a toothache!\"\n\n\"You are right,\" Nynaeve said, and his boots suddenly hit the floor so hard his teeth jarred. But he could move again. \"As much as it pains me to say it, Mat, you are right.\"\n\nHe was tempted to answer something sarcastic, but there was barely enough apology in her voice as it was. \"Now can we go? With the fighting going on, Sandar thinks he and I can take you out by a small gate near the river.\"\n\n\"I am not leaving just yet, Mat,\" Nynaeve said. \"I mean to find Liandrin and skin her,\" Egwene said, sounding almost as if she meant it literally.\n\n\"All I want to do,\" Elayne said, \"is pound Joiya Byir till she squeals, but I will settle for any of them.\"\n\n\"Are you all deaf?\" he growled. \"There is a battle going on out there! I came hereto rescue you, and I mean to rescue you.\" Egwene patted his cheek as she walked by him, and so did Elayne. Nynaeve merely sniffed. He stared after them with his mouth hanging open. \"Why didn't you say something?\" he growled at the thief-catcher."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I saw what speaking earned you,\" Sandar said simply. \"I am no fool.\"\n\n\"Well, I am not staying in the middle of a battle!\" he shouted at the women. They were just disappearing through the small, barred door. \"I am leaving, do you hear?\" They did not even look back. Probably get themselves killed out there! Somebody will stick a sword in them while they're looking the other way! With a snarl, he put his quarterstaff across his shoulder and started after. \"Are you going to stand there?\" he called to the thief-catcher. \"I did not come this far to let them die now!\"\n\nSandar caught up to him in the room with the whips. The three women were already gone, but Mat had a feeling they would not be too hard to find. Just find the men bloody hanging in midair! Bloody women! He quickened his pace to a trot.\n\nPerrin strode down the halls of the Stone grimly, searching for some sign of Faile. He had rescued her twice more, now, breaking her out of an iron cage once, much like the one that had held the Aiel in Remen, and once breaking open a steel chest with a falcon worked on its side. Both times she had melted into air after saying his name. Hopper trotted by his side, sniffing the air. As sharp as Perrin's nose was, the wolf's was sharper; it had been Hopper who led them to the chest.\n\nPerrin wondered whether he was ever going to free her in truth. There had not been any sign in along time, it seemed. The halls of the Stone were empty, lamps burning, tapestries and weapons hanging on the walls, but nothing moved except himself and Hopper. Except I think that was Rand. It had only been a glimpse, a man running as if chasing someone. It could not be him. It couldn't, but I think it was."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hopper quickened his steps suddenly, heading for another set of tall doors, these clad in bronze. Perrin tried to match the pace, stumbled, and fell to his knees, throwing out a hand to catch himself short of dropping on his face. Weakness washed through him as if all his muscles had gone to water. Even after the feeling receded, it took some of his strength with it. It was an effort to struggle to his feet. Hopper had turned to look at him.\n\nYou are here too strongly, Young Bull. The flesh weakens. You do not care to hold onto it enough. Soon flesh and dream will die together.\n\n\"Find her,\" Perrin said. \"That is all I ask. Find Faile.\"\n\nYellow eyes met yellow eyes. The wolf turned and trotted to the doors. Beyond here, Young Bull.\n\nPerrin reached the doors and pushed. They did not budge. There seemed to be noway to open them, no handles, nothing to grip. There was a tiny pattern worked into the metal, so fine his eyes almost did not see it. Falcons. Thousands of tiny falcons.\n\nShe has to be here. I do not think I can last much longer. With a shout, he swung his hammer against the bronze. It rang like a great gong. Again he struck, and the peal deepened. A third blow, and the bronze doors shattered like glass.\n\nWithin, a hundred paces from the broken doors, a circle of light surrounded a falcon chained to a perch. Darkness filled all the rest of that vast chamber, darkness and faint rustlings as of hundreds of wings.\n\nHe took a step into the room, and a falcon stooped out of the murk, talons scoring his face as it passed. He threw an arm across his eyes-talons tore at his forearm-and staggered toward the perch. Again and again the birds came, falcons diving, striking him, tearing him, but he lumbered on with blood pouring down his arms and shoulders, that one arm protecting the eyes he had fixed on the falcon on the perch. He had lost the hammer; he did not know where, but he knew that if he went back to search, he would die before he found it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ashe reached the perch, the slicing talons drove him to his knees. He peered up under his arm at the falcon on the perch, and she stared back with dark, unblinking eyes. The chain that held her leg was fastened to the perch with a tiny lock shaped like a hedgehog. He seized the chain with both hands, careless of the other falcons that now became a whirlwind of cutting talons around him, and with his last strength snapped it. Pain and the falcons brought darkness.\n\nHe opened his eyes to stinging agony, as if his face and arms and shoulders had been sliced with a thousand knives. It did not matter. Faile was kneeling over him, those dark, tilted eyes filled with worry, wiping his face with a cloth already soaked in his blood.\n\n\"My poor Perrin,\" she said softly. \"My poor blacksmith. You are hurt so badly.\"\n\nWith an effort that cost more pain, he turned his head. This was the private dining room in the Star, and near one leg of the table lay a wooden carving of a hedgehog, broken in half. \"Faile,\" he whispered to her. \"My falcon.\"\n\nRand was still in the Heart of the Stone, but it was different. There were no men fighting here, no dead men, no one at all but himself. Abruptly the sound of a great gong rang through the Stone, then again, and the very stones beneath his feet resonated. A third time the booming came, but cutoff abruptly, as if the gong had shattered. All was still.\n\nWhere is this place? he wondered. More important, where is Ba'alzamon?\n\nAs if to answer him, a blazing shaft like the one Moiraine had made shot out of the shadows among the columns, straight toward his chest. His wrist twisted the sword instinctively; it was instinct as much as anything else that made him loose flows from saidin into Callandor, a flood of the Power that made the sword blaze brighter even than that bar streaking at him. His uncertain balance between existence and destruction wavered. Surely that torrent would consume him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The shaft of light struck the blade of Callandor-and parted on its edge, forking to stream past on either side. He felt his coat singe from its near passage, smelled the wool beginning to burn. Behind him, the two prongs of frozen fire, of liquid light, struck huge redstone columns; where they struck, stone ceased to exist, and the burning bars bored through to other columns, severing those instantaneously as well. The Heart of the Stone rumbled as columns fell and shattered in clouds of dust, sprays of stone fragments. What fell into the light, however, simply-was not, anymore.\n\nA snarl of rage came from the shadows, and the blazing shaft of pure white heat vanished.\n\nRand swung Callandor as if he were striking at something in front of him. The white light obscuring the blade extended, blazed ahead, and sheared through the redstone column that hid the snarl. The polished stone sliced like silk. The severed column trembled; part of it tore loose and dropped from the ceiling, smashing into huge, jagged chunks on the floor. As the rumbling faded, he heard beyond it the sound of boots on stone. Running.\n\nCallandor at the ready, Rand hurried after Ba'alzamon.\n\nThe tall archway leading out of the Heart collapsed as he reached it, the entire wall falling in clouds of dust and rock as if to bury him, but he threw the Power at it, and all became dust floating in the air. He ran on. He was not sure what he had done, or how, but he had no time to think on it. He ran after Ba'alzamon's retreating footsteps, echoing down the halls of the Stone.\n\nMyrddraal and Trollocs leaped out of thin air, huge bestial shapes and eyeless faces distorted with a rage to kill, in hundreds, so they jammed the hall before him and behind, scythe like swords and blades of deadly black steel seeking his blood. Without knowing how, he turned them to vapor that parted before him-and vanished. The air around him suddenly became choking soot, clogging his nostrils, shutting off breath, but he made it fresh air again, a cool mist. Flames leaped from the floor beneath his feet, spurted from the walls, the ceiling, furious jets that flashed tapestries and rugs, tables and chests to wisps of ash, flung ornaments and lamps ahead of them as drops of molten, burning gold; he smashed the fires flat, hardened them into a red glaze on the rock."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The stones around him faded almost to mist; the Stone faded. Reality trembled; he could feel it unraveling, feel himself unraveling. He was being pushed out of the here, into some other place where nothing existed at all. Callandor blazed in his hands like the sun till he thought it would melt. He thought he himself would melt from the surge of the One Power through him, the flood that he somehow directed into sealing up the hole that had opened around him, into holding himself on the side of existence. The Stone became solid again.\n\nHe could not even begin to imagine what it was that he did. The One Power raged inside him till he barely knew himself, till he barely was himself, till what was himself almost did not exist. His precarious stability teetered. To either side lay the endless fall, obliteration by the Power that coursed through him into the sword. Only in the dance along the razor's sharp edge was there even an uncertain safety. Callandor shone in his fist until it seemed he carried the sun. Dimly within him, fluttering like a candle flame in a storm, was the surety that holding Callandor, he could do anything. Anything.\n\nThrough endless corridors he ran, dancing along the razor, chasing the one who would slay him, the one he must slay. There could be no other end, this time. This time one of them must die! That Ba'alzamon knew it as well was clear. Always he fled, always staying ahead of sight so that only the sounds of his flight drew Rand on, but even fleeing he turned this Stone of Tear that was not the Stone of Tear against Rand, and Rand fought back with instinct and guesses and chance, fought and ran down that knife edge in perfect balance with the Power, the tool and weapon that would consume him utterly if he faltered."},{"from":"human","value":"Water filled the halls from top to bottom, thick and black as the bottom of the sea, choking off breath."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He made it air again, unknowingly, and ran on, and suddenly the air gained weight until it seemed every inch of his skin supported a mountain, squeezing in from all directions. In the instant before he was crushed to nothingness he chose tides out of the flood of Power raging through him-he did not know how or which or why; it was too fast for thought or knowing-and the pressure vanished. He pursued Ba'alzamon, and the very air was abruptly solid rock encasing him, then molten stone, then nothing at all to fill his lungs. The ground beneath his boots pulled at him as if every pound suddenly weighed a thousand, then all weight vanished so that a step left him spinning in midair. Unseen maws gaped to rip his mind from his body, to tearaway his soul. He sprang each trap and ran on; what Ba'alzamon twisted to destroy him, he made right without being aware of how. Vaguely he knew that in someway he had brought things back into natural balance, forced them into line with his own dance down that impossibly thin divide between existence and nothingness, but that knowledge was distant. All his awareness lay in the pursuit, the hunt, the death that must end it.\n\nAnd then he was in the Heart of the Stone again, stalking through the rubbled gap that had been a wall. Some of the columns hung like broken teeth, now. And Ba'alzamon backed away from him, eyes burning, shadow cloaking him. Black lines like steel wires seemed to runoff from Ba'alzamon into the darkness mounding around him, vanishing into unimaginable heights and distances within that blackness.\n\n\"I will not be undone!\" Ba'alzamon cried. His mouth was fire; his shriek echoed among the columns. \"I cannot be defeated! Aid me!\" Some of the darkness shrouding him drifted into his hands, formed into a ball so black it seemed to soak up even the light of Callandor. Sudden triumph blazed in the flames of his eyes."},{"from":"human","value":"\"You are destroyed!\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Rand shouted. Callandor spun in his hands. Its light roiled the darkness, severed the steel-black lines around Ba'alzamon, and Ba'alzamon convulsed. As if there were two of him he seemed to dwindle and grow larger at the same time. \"You are undone!\" Rand plunged the shining blade into Ba'alzamon's chest.\n\nBa'alzamon screamed, and the fires of his face flared wildly. \"Fool!\" he howled. \"The Great Lord of the Dark can never be defeated!\"\n\nRand pulled Callandor \"s blade free as Ba'alzamon's body sagged and began to fall, the shadow around him vanishing.\n\nAnd suddenly Rand was in another Heart of the Stone, surrounded by columns still whole, and fighting men screaming and dying, veiled men and men in breastplates and helmets. Moiraine still lay crumpled at the base of a redstone column. And at Rand's feet lay the body of a man, sprawled on its back with a hole burned through the chest. He might have been a handsome man in his middle years, except that where his eyes and mouth should have been were only pits from which rose tendrils of black smoke.\n\nI have done it, he thought. I have killed Ba'alzamon, killed Shai'tan! I have won the Last Battle! Light, I AM the Dragon Reborn! The breaker of nations, the Breaker of the World. No! I will END the breaking, end the killing! I will MAKE it end!\n\nHe raised Callandor above his head. Silver lightning crackled from the blade, jagged streaks arching toward the great dome above. \"Stop!\" he shouted. The fighting ceased; men stared at him in wonder, over black veils, from beneath the rims of round helmets. \"I am Rand al'Thor!\" he called, so his voice rang through the chamber. \"I am the Dragon Reborn!\" Callandor shone in his grasp."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"One by one, veiled men and helmeted, they knelt to him, crying, \"The Dragon is Reborn! The Dragon is Reborn!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Throughout the city of Tear people woke with the dawn, speaking of the dreams they had had, dreams of the Dragon battling Ba'alzamon in the Heart of the Stone, and when their eyes rose to the great fortress of the Stone, they beheld a banner waving from its greatest height. Across afield of white flowed a sinuous form like a great serpent scaled in scarlet and gold, but with a golden lion's mane and four legs, each tipped with five golden claws. Men came, stunned and frightened, from the Stone to speak in hushed tones of what had happened in the night, and men and women thronged the streets, weeping as they shouted the fulfillment of Prophecy.\n\n\"The Dragon!\" they shouted. \"Al'Thor! The Dragon! Al'Thor!\"\n\nPeering through an arrowslit high on the side of the Stone, Mat shook his head as he listened to the chorus rising out of the city in waves. Well, maybe he is. He was still having a hard enough time coming to grips with Rand really being there.\n\nEveryone in the Stone seemed to agree with the people below, or if they did not, they were not letting on. He had seen Rand just once since the night before, striding along a hall with Callandor in his hand, surrounded by a dozen veiled Aiel and trailing a cloud of Tairens, a knot of Defenders of the Stone and most of the few surviving High Lords. The High Lords, at least, seemed to think Rand would need them to help him rule the world; the Aiel kept everyone back with sharp looks, though, and spears if need be. They surely believed Rand was the Dragon, though they called him He Who Comes With the Dawn. There were nearly two hundred Aiel in the Stone. They had lost a third of their numbers in the fight, but they had killed or captured ten times as many Defenders."},{"from":"human","value":"Ashe turned from the arrowslit, his eyes brushed across Rhuarc."},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was a tall stand atone end of the room, carved and polished upright wheels of some pale, dark-striped wood with shelves slung between them so all of the shelves would stay flat as the wheels were revolved. Each shelf held a large book, bound in gold, covers set with sparkling gems. The Aiel had one of the books open and was reading. Some sort of essays, Mat thought. Who would have thought an Aiel would read books? Who'd have thought an Aiel could bloody read?\n\nRhuarc glanced in his direction, all cold blue eyes and level stare. Mat looked away hastily, before the Aiel could read his thoughts on his face. At least he is not veiled, thank the Light! Burn me, that Aviendha nearly took my head off when I asked her if she could do any dances without spears. Bain and Chiad presented another problem. They were certainly pretty and more than friendly, but he could not manage to talk to one without the other. The male Aiel seemed to think his efforts to get one of them alone were funny, and for that matter, so did Bain and Chiad. Women are odd, but Aiel women make odd seem normal!\n\nThe great table in the middle of the room, ornately carved and gilded on edges and thick legs, had been meant for gatherings of the High Lords. Moiraine satin one of the throne like chairs, with the Crescent Banner of Tear worked into its towering back in gilt and polished carnelian and pearlshell. Egwene, Nynaeve, and Elayne sat close by her.\n\n\"I still cannot believe Perrin is herein Tear,\" Nynaeve was saying. \"Are you sure he is all right?\"\n\nMat shook his head. He would have expected Perrin to have been up in the Stone last night; the blacksmith had always been braver than anyone with good sense."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He was well when I left him.\" Moiraine's voice was serene. \"Whether he still is, I do not know. His... companion is in some considerable danger, and he may have put himself into it, also.\"\n\n\"His companion?\" Egwene said sharply. \"Wha-Who is Perrin's companion?\"\n\n\"What sort of danger?\" Nynaeve demanded.\n\n\"Nothing that need concern you,\" the Aes Sedai said calmly. \"I will go and see to her as I may, shortly. I have delayed only to show you this, which I found among the ter'angreal and other things of the Power the High Lords collected over the years.\" She took something from her pouch and laid it on the table before her. It was a disc the size of a man's hand, seemingly made of two teardrops fitted together, one black as pitch, the other white as snow.\n\nMat seemed to remember seeing others like it. Ancient, like this one, but broken, where this was whole. Three of them, he had seen; not all together, but all in pieces. But that could not be; he remembered that they were made of cuendillar, unbreakable by any power, even the One Power.\n\n\"One of the seven seals Lews Therin Kinslayer and the Hundred Companions put on the Dark One's prison when they resealed it,\" Elayne said, nodding as if confirming her own memory.\n\n\"More precisely,\" Moiraine told her, \"a focus point for one of the seals. But in essence, you are correct. During the Breaking of the World they were scattered and hidden for safety; since the Trolloc Wars they have been lost in truth.\" She sniffed. \"I begin to sound like Verin.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Egwene shook her head. \"I suppose I should have expected to find that here. Twice before Rand faced Ba'alzamon, and both times at least one of the seals was present.\"\n\n\"And this time unbroken,\" Nynaeve said. \"For the first time, the seal is unbroken. As if that mattered, now.\"\n\n\"You think it does not?\" Moiraine's voice was dangerous in its quiet, and the other women frowned at her.\n\nMat rolled his eyes. They kept talking about unimportant things. He did not much like standing not twenty feet from that disc now that he knew what it was, no matter the value of cuendillar, but.... \"Your pardon?\" he said.\n\nThey all turned to stare at him as if he were interrupting something important. Burn me! Break them out of a prison cell, save their lives half a dozen times between them before the night is done, and they glower as hard as the bloody Aes Sedai! Well, they did not thank me then, either, did they? You'd have thought I was sticking my nose in where it wasn't wanted then, too, instead of keeping some bloody Defender from putting a sword through one of them. Aloud, he said mildly, \"You do not mind if I ask a question, do you? You have all been talking this Aes Sedai... uh... business, and no one has bothered to tell me anything.\"\n\n\"Mat?\" Nynaeve said warningly, tugging her braid, but Moiraine said, in a calm only just touched with impatience, \"What is it that you wish to know?\"\n\n\"I want to know how all of this can be.\" He meant to keep his tone soft, but despite himself he picked up intensity as he went along. \"The Stone of Tear has fallen! The Prophecies said that would never happen till the People of the Dragon came. Does that mean we are the bloody People of the Dragon? You, me, Lan, and a few hundred bloody Aiel?\" He had seen the Warder during the night; there had not seemed to be much edge between Lan and the Aiel as to who was the more deadly. As Rhuarc straightened to stare at him, he hastily added, \"Uh, sorry, Rhuarc. Slip of the tongue.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Perhaps,\" Moiraine said slowly. \"I came to stop Be'lal from killing Rand. I did not expect to seethe Stone of Tear fall. Perhaps we are. Prophecies are fulfilled as they are meant to be, not as we think they should be.\"\n\nBe'lal. Mat shivered. He had heard that name last night, and he did not like it anymore in daylight. If he had known one of the Forsaken was loose-and inside the Stone-he would never have gone near the place. He glanced at Egwene, and Nynaeve, and Elayne. Well, I'd have come in like a bloody mouse, anyway, not thumping people left and right! Sandar had gone scurrying out of the Stone at daybreak; to take the news to Mother Guenna, he claimed, but Mat thought it was just to escape those stares from the three women, who looked as if they had not yet quite decided what to do about him.\n\nRhuarc cleared his throat. \"When a man wishes to become a clan chief, he must go to Rhuidean, in the lands of the Jenn Aiel, the clan that is not.\" He spoke slowly and frowned often at the red-fringed silk carpet under his soft boots, a man trying to explain what he did not want to explain at all. \"Women who wish to become Wise Ones also make this journey, but their marking, if they are marked, is kept secret among themselves. The men who are chosen at Rhuidean, those who survive, return marked on the left arm. So.\"\n\nHe pushed back the sleeves of his coat and shirt together to reveal his left forearm, the skin much paler than that of his hands and face. Etched into the skin as if part of it, wrapped twice around, marched the same gold-and-scarlet form as rippled on the banner above the Stone."},{"from":"human","value":"The Aiel let his sleeve fall with a sigh."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It is a name not spoken except among the clan chiefs and the Wise Ones. We are....\" He cleared his throat again, unable to say it here.\n\n\"The Aiel are the People of the Dragon.\" Moiraine spoke quietly, but she sounded as close to startlement as Mat could remember ever hearing her. \"That I did not know.\"\n\n\"Then it really is all done,\" Mat said, \"just as the Prophecies said. We can all goon our way with no more worries.\" The Amyrlin won't need me to blow that bloody Horn now!\n\n\"How can you say that?\" Egwene demanded. \"Don't you understand the Forsaken are loose?\"\n\n\"Not to mention the Black Ajah,\" Nynaeve added grimly. \"We took only Amico and Joiya here. Eleven escaped-and I would like to know how!-and the Light alone knows how many others there are we do not know.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Elayne said in atone just as hard. \"I may not be up to facing one of the Forsaken, but I mean to take pieces out of Liandrin's hide!\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Mat said smoothly. \"Of course.\" Are they crazy? They want to chase after the Black Ajah and the Forsaken? \"I only meant the hardest part is done. The Stone has fallen to the People of the Dragon, Rand has Callandor, and Shai'tan is dead.\" Moiraine's stare was so hard that he thought the Stone shook fora moment.\n\n\"Be quiet, you fool!\" the Aes Sedai said in a voice like a knife. \"Do you want to call his attention to you, naming the Dark One?\"\n\n\"But he's dead!\" Mat protested. \"Rand killed him. I saw the body!\" And a fine stink that was, too. I never thought anything could rot that fast."},{"from":"human","value":"\"You saw \"the body,\"\" Moiraine said with a twist to her mouth."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A man's body. Not the Dark One, Mat.\"\n\nHe looked at Egwene and the other two women; they appeared as confused as he. Rhuarc looked to bethinking of a battle he had thought was won and now learned had not even been fought. \"Then who was it?\" Mat demanded. \"Moiraine, my memory has holes big enough fora wagon and team, but I remember Ba'alzamon being in my dreams. I remember! Burn me, I do not see how I can ever forget! And I recognized what was left of that face.\"\n\n\"You recognized Ba'alzamon,\" Moiraine said. \"Or rather, the man who called himself Ba'alzamon. The Dark One yet lives, imprisoned at Shayol Ghul, and the Shadow yet lies across the Pattern.\"\n\n\"The Light illumine and protect us,\" Elayne murmured in a faint voice. \"I thought.... I thought the Forsaken were the worst we had to worry about, now.\"\n\n\"Are you sure, Moiraine?\" Nynaeve said. \"Rand was certain-is certain-that he killed the Dark One. You seem to be saying Ba'alzamon was not the Dark One at all. I don't understand! How can you be so sure? And if he was not the Dark One, who was he?\"\n\n\"I can be sure for the simplest of reasons, Nynaeve. However fast decay took it, that was a man's body. Can you believe that if the Dark One were killed he would leave a human body? The man Rand killed was a man. Perhaps he was the first of the Forsaken freed, or perhaps he was never entirely bound. We may never know which.\"\n\n\"I... may know who he was.\" Egwene paused with an uncertain frown. \"At least, I may have a clue. Verin showed me a page from an old book that mentioned Ba'alzamon and Ishamael together. It was almost High Chant and very nearly incomprehensible, but I remember something about'a name hidden behind a name. \"Maybe Ba'alzamon was Ishamael.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Perhaps,\" Moiraine said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Perhaps it was Ishamael. But if it was, at least nine of the thirteen still live. Lanfear, and Sammael, and Ravhin, and.... Paah! Even knowing that some of those nine at least are free is not the most important thing.\" She laid a hand atop the black-and-white disc on the table. \"Three of the seals are broken. Only four still hold. Only those four seals stand between the Dark One and the world, and it maybe that even with those whole he can touch the world after a fashion. Whatever battle we won here-battle or skirmish-it is far from the last.\"\n\nMat watched their faces firm-Egwene's and Nynaeve's and Elayne's; slowly, reluctantly, but determinedly, too-and shook his head. Bloody women! They're all ready to goon with this, goon chasing the Black Ajah, trying to fight the Forsaken and the bloody Dark One. Well, they needn't think I am going to come pull them out of the soup pot again. They just needn't think it, that's all!\n\nOne of the tall, paired doors pushed open while he was trying to think of something to say, and a tall young woman of regal bearing entered the room, wearing a coronet with a golden hawk in flight above her brows. Her black hair swept to pale shoulders, and her dress of the finest red silk left those shoulders bare, along with a considerable expanse of what Mat noted as an admirable bosom. Fora moment she studied Rhuarc interestedly with large, dark eyes; then she turned them on the women at the table, coolly imperious. Mat she appeared to ignore completely.\n\n\"I am not used to being given messages to carry,\" she announced, flourishing a folded parchment in one slim hand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And who are you, child?\" Moiraine asked.\n\nThe young woman drew herself up even more, which Mat would have thought was impossible. \"I am Berelain, First of Mayene.\" She tossed the parchment down on the table in front of Moiraine with a haughty gesture and turned back to the door.\n\n\"A moment, child,\" Moiraine said, unfolding the parchment. \"Who gave this to you? And why did you bring it, if you are so unused to carrying messages?\"\n\n\"I... do not know.\" Berelain stood facing the door; she sounded puzzled. \"She was... impressive.\" She gave herself a shake and seemed to recover her opinion of herself. Fora moment she studied Rhuarc with a small smile. \"You are the leader of these Aielmen? Your fighting disturbed my sleep. Perhaps I will ask you to dine with me. One day quite soon.\" She looked over her shoulder at Moiraine. \"I am told the Dragon Reborn has taken the Stone. Inform the Lord Dragon that the First of Mayene will dine with him tonight.\" And she marched out of the room; Mat could think of no other way to describe that stately, one-woman procession.\n\n\"I would like to have her in the Tower as novice.\" Egwene and Elayne said it almost like echoes, then shared a tight smile.\n\n\"Listen to this,\" Moiraine said. \"\"Lews Therin was mine, he is mine, and he will be mine, forever. I give him into your charge, to keep for me until I come.\" It is signed \"Lanfear.\"\" The Aes Sedai turned that cool gaze on Mat. \"And you thought it was done? You are ta'veren, Mat, a thread more crucial to the Pattern than most, and the sounder of the Horn of Valere. Nothing is done for you, yet.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They were all looking at him. Nynaeve sadly, Egwene as though she had never seen him before, Elayne as if she expected him to change into someone else. Rhuarc had a certain respect in his eyes, though Mat would just as soon have done without it, all things considered.\n\n\"Well, of course,\" he told them. Burn me! \"I understand.\" I wonder how soon Thom will befit to travel? Time to run. Maybe Perrin will come with us. \"You can count on me.\"\n\nFrom outside, the cries still rose, unceasing. \"The Dragon! Al'Thor! The Dragon! Al'Thor! The Dragon! Al'Thor! The Dragon!\"\n\nAnd it was written that no hand but his should wield the Sword held in the Stone, but he did draw it out, like fire in his hand, and his glory did burn the world. Thus did it begin. Thus do we sing his Rebirth. Thus do we sing the beginning.\n\n-from Do'in Toldara te, Songs of the Last Age, Quarto Nine: The Legend of the Dragon. Composed by Boanne, Songmistress at Taralan, the Fourth Age."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Keep the narrative going for the author.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\\nChapter: 62\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Rand entered the chamber slowly, walking among the great polished redstone columns he remembered from his dreams. Silence filled the shadows, yet something called to him. And something flashed ahead, a momentary light throwing back shadow, a beacon. He stepped out beneath a great dome, and saw what he sought. Callandor, hanging hilt down in midair, waiting for no hand but that of the Dragon Reborn. As it revolved, it broke what little light there was into splinters, and now and then it flared as if with alight of its own. Calling him. Waiting for him.\\n\\nIf I am the Dragon Reborn. If I am not just some half-madman cursed with the ability to channel, a puppet dancing for Moiraine and the White Tower.\\n\\n\\\"Take it, Lews Therin. Take it, Kinslayer.\\\"\\n\\nHe spun to face the voice. The tall man with close-cropped white hair who stepped from the shadows among the columns was familiar to him. Rand had no idea who he was, this fellow in a red silk coat with black stripes down its puffy sleeves and black breeches tucked into elaborately silver-worked boots. He did not know the man, but he had seen him in his dreams. \\\"You put them in a cage,\\\" he said. \\\"Egwene, and Nynaeve, and Elayne. In my dreams. You kept putting them in a cage, and hurting them.\\\"\\n\\nThe man made a dismissive gesture of his hand. \\\"They are less than nothing. Perhaps one day, when they have been trained, but not now. I confess surprise that you cared enough to make them useful. But you were ever a fool, ever ready to follow your heart before power. You came too soon, Lews Therin. Now you must do what you are not yet ready for, or else die. Die, knowing you have left these women you care for in my hands.\\\" He seemed to be waiting for something, expectant. \\\"I mean to use them more, Kinslayer. They will serve me, serve my power. And that will hurt them far more than anything they have suffered before.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Behind Rand, Callandor flashed, throwing one pulse of warmth against his back. \\\"Who are you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do not remember me, do you?\\\" The white-haired man laughed suddenly. \\\"I do not remember you, either, looking this way. A country lad with a flute case on his back. Did Ishamael speak the truth? He was ever one to lie when it gained him an inch or a second. Do you remember nothing, Lews Therin?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A name!\\\" Rand demanded. \\\"What is your name?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Call me Be'lal.\\\" The Forsaken scowled when Rand did not react to the name. \\\"Take it!\\\" Be'lal snapped, throwing a hand toward the sword behind Rand. \\\"Once we rode to war side by side, and for that I give you a chance. A bare chance, but a chance to save yourself, a chance to save those three I mean to make my pets. Take the sword, countryman. Perhaps it will be enough to help you survive me.\\\"\\n\\nRand laughed. \\\"Do you believe you can frighten me so easily, Forsaken? Ba'alzamon himself has hunted me. Do you think I will cower now for you? Grovel before a Forsaken when I have denied the Dark One to his face?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is that what you think?\\\" Be'lal said softly. \\\"Truly, you know nothing.\\\" Suddenly there was a sword in his hands, a sword with a blade carved from black fire. \\\"Take it! Take Callandor! Three thousand years, while I lay imprisoned, it has waited there. For you. One of the most powerful sa'angreal we ever made. Take it, and defend yourself, if you can!\\\"\\n\\nHe moved toward Rand as if to drive him back toward Callandor, but Rand raised his own hands-saidin filled him; sweet rushing flow of the Power; stomach-wrenching vileness of the taint-and he held a sword wrought from red flame, a sword with a heron-mark on its fiery blade. He stepped into the forms Lan had taught him till he flowed from one to the next as if in a dance. Parting the Silk. Water Flows Downhill. Wind and Rain. Blade of black fire met blade of red in showers of sparks, roars like white-hot metal shattering.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Rand came back smoothly into a guard stance, trying not to let his sudden uncertainty show. A heron stood on the black blade, too, a bird so dark as to be nearly invisible. Once he had faced a man with a heron-mark blade of steel, and barely survived. He knew that he himself had no real right to the blademaster's mark; it had been on the sword his father had given him, and when he thought of a sword in his hands, he thought of that sword. Once he had embraced death, as the Warder had taught, but this time, he knew, his death would be final. Be'lal was better than he with the sword. Stronger. Faster. A true blademaster.\\n\\nThe Forsaken laughed, amused, swinging his blade in quick flourishes to either side of him; the black fire roared as if swift passage through the air quickened it. \\\"You were a greater swordsman, once, Lews Therin,\\\" he said mockingly. \\\"Do you remember when we took that tame sport called swords and learned to kill with it, as the old volumes said men once had? Do you remember even one of those desperate battles, even one of our dire defeats? Of course not. You remember nothing, do you? This time you have not learned enough. This time, Lews Therin, I will kill you.\\\" Be'lal's mockery deepened. \\\"Perhaps if you take Callandor, you might extend your life a little longer. A little longer.\\\"\\n\\nHe came forward slowly, almost as if to give Rand time to do just that, turn and race to Callandor, to the Sword That Cannot Be Touched, to take it. But the doubts were still strong in Rand. Callandor could only be touched by the Dragon Reborn. He had allowed them to proclaim him so fora hundred reasons that seemed to leave him no choice at the time. But was he truly the Dragon Reborn? If he raced to touch Callandor in truth, not in a dream, would his hand meet an invisible wall while Be'lal cut him down from behind?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He met the Forsaken with the sword he knew, the blade of fire wrought with saidin. And was driven back. The Falling Leaf met Watered Silk. The Cat Dances on the Wall met the Boar Rushes Downhill. The River Undercuts the Bank nearly lost him his head, and he had to throw himself inelegantly to one side with black flame brushing his hair, rolling to his feet to confront the Stone Falls From the Mountain. Methodically, deliberately, Be'lal drove him back in a spiral that slowly tightened on Callandor.\\n\\nShouts echoed among the columns, screams, the clash of steel, but Rand barely heard. He and Be'lal were no longer alone in the Heart of the Stone. Men in breastplates and rimmed helmets fought with swords against shadowy, veiled shapes that darted among the columns with short spears stabbing. Some of the soldiers formed a rank; arrows flashing out of the dimness took them in the throat, the face, and they died in their line. Rand hardly noticed the fighting, even when men fell dead within paces of him. His own fight was too desperate; it took all of his concentration. Wet warmth trickled down his side. The old wound was breaking open.\\n\\nHe stumbled suddenly, not seeing the dead man at his feet until he was lying on his back atop his flute case on the stone floor.\\n\\nBe'lal raised his blade of black fire, snarling. \\\"Take it! Take Callandor and defend yourself! Take it, or I will kill you now! If you will not take it, I will slay you!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\"\\n\\nEven Be'lal gave a start at the command in that woman's voice. The Forsaken stepped back out of the arc of Rand's sword and turned his head to frown at Moiraine as she came striding through the battle, her eyes fixed on him, ignoring the screaming deaths around her. \\\"I thought you were neatly out of the way, woman. No matter. You are only an annoyance. A stinging fly. A biteme. I will cage you with the others, and teach you to serve the Shadow with your puny powers,\\\" he finished with a contemptuous laugh, and raised his freehand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Moiraine had not stopped or slowed while he spoke. She was no more than thirty paces from him when he moved his hand, and she raised both of hers as well.\\n\\nThere was an instant of surprise on the Forsaken's face, and he had time to scream'No!\\\" Then a bar of white fire hotter than the sun shot from the Aes Sedai's hands, a glaring rod that banished all shadows. Before it, Be'lal became a shape of shimmering motes, specks dancing in the light for less than a heartbeat, flecks consumed before his cry faded.\\n\\nThere was silence in the chamber as that bar of light vanished, silence except for the moans of the wounded. The fighting had stopped dead, veiled men and men in breastplates alike standing as if stunned.\\n\\n\\\"He was right concerning one thing,\\\" Moiraine said, as coolly serene as if she were standing in a meadow. \\\"You must take Callandor. He meant to slay you for it, but it is your birthright. Better by far that you knew more before your handheld that hilt, yet you have come to the point now, and there is no further time for learning. Take it, Rand.\\\"\\n\\nWhips of black lightning curled around her; she screamed as they lifted her, hurled her to slide along the floor like a sack until she came up against one of the columns.\\n\\nRand stared up at where the lightning had come from. There was a deeper shadow up there, near the top of the columns, a blackness that made all other shadows look like noonday, and from it, two eyes of fire stared back at him.\\n\\nSlowly the shadow descended, resolving into Ba'alzamon, clothed in dead black, like a Myrddraal's black. Yet even that was not so dark as the shadow that clung to him. He hung in the air, two spans above the floor, glaring at Rand with a rage as fierce as his eyes. \\\"Twice in this life I have offered you the chance to serve me living.\\\" Flames leaped in his mouth as he spoke, and every word roared like a furnace. \\\"Twice you have refused, and wounded me. Now you will serve the Lord of the Grave in death. Die, Lews Therin Kinslayer. Die, Rand al'Thor. It is time for you to die! I take your soul!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As Ba'alzamon put forth his hand, Rand pushed himself up, threw himself desperately toward Callandor, still glittering and flashing in midair. He did not know whether he could reach it, or touch it if he did, but he was sure it was his only chance.\\n\\nBa'alzamon's blow struck him as he leapt, struck inside him, a ripping and crumpling, tearing something loose, trying to pull apart of him away. Rand screamed. He felt as if he were collapsing like an empty sack, as if he were being turned inside out. The pain in his side, the wound taken at Falme, was almost welcome, something to hang onto, a reminder of life. His hand closed convulsively. On Callandor 's hilt.\\n\\nThe One Power surged through him, a torrent greater than he could believe, from saidin into the sword. The crystal blade shone brighter than even Moiraine's fire had. It was impossible to look at, impossible any longer to see that it was a sword, only that light blazed in his fist. He fought the flow, wrestled with the implacable tide that threatened to carry him, all that was really him, into the sword with it. Fora heartbeat that took centuries he hung, wavering, balanced on the brink of being scoured away like sand before a flash flood. With infinite slowness the balance firmed. It was still as though he stood barefoot on a razor's edge above a bottomless drop, yet something told him this was the best that could be expected. To channel this much of the Power, he must dance on that sharpness as he had danced the forms of the sword.\\n\\nHe turned to face Ba'alzamon. The tearing within him had ceased as soon as his hand touched Callandor. Only an instant had passed, yet it seemed to have lasted forever. \\\"You will not take my soul,\\\" he shouted. \\\"This time, I mean to finish it once and for all! I mean to finish it now!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ba'alzamon fled, man and shadow vanishing.\\n\\nFora moment Rand stared, frowning. There had been a sense of-folding-as Ba'alzamon left. A twisting, as if Ba'alzamon had in someway bent what was. Ignoring the men staring at him, ignoring Moiraine crumpled at the column base, Rand reached out, through Callandor, and twisted reality to make a door to somewhere else. He did not know to where, except that it was where Ba'alzamon had gone.\\n\\n\\\"I am the hunter now,\\\" he said, and stepped through.\\n\\nThe stone shook under Egwene's feet. The Stone shook; it rang. She caught her balance and stopped, listening. There was no more sound, no other tremor. Whatever had happened, it was over. She hurried on. A door of iron bars stood in her way, with a lock as big as her head. She channeled Earth before she reached it, and when she pushed against the bars, the lock tore in half.\\n\\nShe walked quickly across the chamber beyond it, trying not to look at the things hanging on the walls. Whips andiron pincers were the most innocuous. With a small shudder she pushed open a smaller iron gate and entered a corridor lined with rough wooden doors, rush torches burning at intervals in iron brackets; she felt almost as much relief at leaving those things behind as she did at finding what she sought. But which cell?\\n\\nThe wooden doors opened easily. Some were unlocked, and the locks on the others lasted no longer than that larger lock had earlier. But every cell was empty. Of course. No one would dream themselves in this place. Any prisoner who managed to reach Tel'aran'rhiod would dream of a pleasanter place.\\n\\nFora moment she felt something close to despair. She had wanted to believe that finding the right cell would make a difference. Even finding it could be impossible, though. This first corridor stretched on and on, and others joined it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Suddenly she saw something flicker just ahead of her. A shape even less substantial than Joiya Byir had been. It had been a woman, though. She was sure of that. A woman seated on a bench beside one of the cell doors. The image flickered into being again, and was gone. There was no mistaking that slender neck and the pale, innocent-appearing face with its eyelids fluttering on the edge of sleep. Amico Nagoyin was drifting toward sleep, dreaming of her guard duties. And apparently toying drowsily with one of the stolen ter'angreal. Egwene could understand that; it had been a great effort to stop using the one Verin had given her, even fora few days.\\n\\nShe knew it was possible to cut a woman off from the True Source even if she had already embraced saidar, but severing a weave already established had to be much harder than damming the flow before it began. She set the patterns of the weaving, readied them, making the threads of Spirit much stronger, this time, thicker and heavier, a denser weave with a cutting edge like a knife.\\n\\nThe wavering shape of the Darkfriend appeared again, and Egwene struck outwith the flows of Air and Spirit. For an instant something seemed to resist the weaving of Spirit, and she forced it with all of her might. It slid into place.\\n\\nAmico Nagoyin screamed. It was a thin sound, barely heard, as faint as she herself was, and she seemed almost like a shadow of what Joiya Byir had been. Yet the bonds woven of Air held her; she did not vanish again. Terror twisted the Darkfriend's lovely face; she seemed to be babbling, but her shouts were whispers too soft for Egwene to understand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tying and setting the weaves around the Black sister, Egwene turned her attentions to the cell door. Impatiently, she let Earth flood into the iron lock. It fell away in black dust, in a mist that dissolved completely before it struck the floor. She swung open the door, and was not surprised to find the cell empty except for one burning rush torch.\\n\\nBut Amico is bound, and the door is open.\\n\\nFora moment she thought of what to do next. Then she stepped out of the dream...\\n\\n... and woke to all her bruises and aches and thirst, to the wall of the cell against her back, staring at the tightly shut cell door. Of course. What happens to living things there is real when they wake. What I did to stone or iron or wood has no effect in the waking world.\\n\\nNynaeve and Elayne were still kneeling beside her.\\n\\n\\\"Whoever is out there,\\\" Nynaeve said, \\\"screamed a few moments ago, but nothing else has happened. Did you find away out?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We should be able to walkout,\\\" Egwene said. \\\"Help me to my feet, and I will get rid of the lock. Amico will not trouble us. That scream washer.\\\"\\n\\nElayne shook her head. \\\"I have been trying to embrace saidar ever since you left. It is different, now, but I am still cutoff.\\\"\\n\\nEgwene formed the emptiness inside her, became the rosebud opening to saidar. The invisible wall was still there. It shimmered now. There were moments when she almost thought she could feel the True Source beginning to fill her with the Power. Almost. The shield wavered in and out of existence too fast for her to detect. It might as well have still been solid.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She stared at the other two women. \\\"I bound her. I shielded her. She is a living thing, not lifeless iron. She must be shielded still.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Something has happened to the shield set onus,\\\" Elayne said, \\\"but Amico is still managing to hold it.\\\"\\n\\nEgwene let her head sag back against the wall. \\\"I will have to try again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you strong enough?\\\" Elayne grimaced. \\\"To be blunt, you sound even weaker than you did before. This try took something out of you, Egwene.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am strong enough there.\\\" She did feel more weary, less strong, but it was their only chance that she could see. She said as much, and their faces said they agreed with her, however reluctantly.\\n\\n\\\"Can you go to sleep again so soon?\\\" Nynaeve asked finally.\\n\\n\\\"Sing tome.\\\" Egwene managed a smile. \\\"Like when I was a little girl. Please?\\\" Holding Nynaeve's hand with one of hers, the stone ring clasped in the other, she closed her eyes and tried to find sleep in the wordless humming tune.\\n\\nThe wide door of iron bars stood open, and the room beyond seemed empty of life, but Mat entered cautiously. Sandar was still out in the hall, trying to peer both ways at once, certain that a High Lord, or maybe a hundred Defenders or so, would appear at any moment.\\n\\nThere were no men in the room now-and by the looks of the half-eaten meals on along table, they had left hurriedly; no doubt because of the fighting above-and from the looks of the things on the walls, he was just as glad he did not have to meet any of them. Whips indifferent sizes and lengths, different thicknesses, with different numbers of tails. Pincers, and tongs, and clamps, andirons. Things that looked like metal boots, and gauntlets, and helmets, with great screws allover them as if to tighten them down. Things he could not even begin to guess the use of. If he had met the men who used these things, he thought he would surely have checked that they were dead before he walked away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Sandar!\\\" he hissed. \\\"Are you going to stay out there all bloody night!\\\" He hurried to the inner door-barred like the outer, but smaller-without waiting for an answer, and went through.\\n\\nThe hall beyond was lined by rough wooden doors, and lit by the same rush torches as the room he had just left. No more than twenty paces from him, a woman sat on a bench beside one of the doors, leaning back against the wall in a curiously stiff fashion. She turned her head slowly toward him at the sound of his boots grating on the stone. A pretty young woman. He wondered why she did not move more than her head, and why even that moved as if she were half-asleep.\\n\\nWas she a prisoner? Out in the hall? But nobody with a face like that could be one of the people who uses the things on those walls. She did look almost asleep, with her eyes only partly open. And the suffering on that lovely face surely made her one of the tortured, not a torturer.\\n\\n\\\"Stop!\\\" Sandar shouted behind him. \\\"She is Aes Sedai! She is one of those who took the women you seek!\\\"\\n\\nMat froze in the middle of a step, staring at the woman. He remembered Moiraine hurling balls of fire. He wondered if he could deflect a ball of fire with his quarterstaff. He wondered if his luck extended to outrunning Aes Sedai.\\n\\n\\\"Help me,\\\" she said faintly. Her eyes still looked nearly asleep, but the pleading in her voice was fully awake. \\\"Help me. Please!\\\"\\n\\nMat blinked. She still had not moved a muscle below her neck. Cautiously, he stepped closer, waving to Sandar to stop his groaning about her being Aes Sedai. She moved her head to follow him. No more than that.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"A large iron key hung at her belt.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fora moment he hesitated. Aes Sedai, Sandar said. Why doesn't she move? Swallowing, he eased the key free as carefully as if he were trying to take apiece of meat from a wolf's jaws. She rolled her eyes toward the door beside her and made a sound like a cat that had just seen a huge dog come snarling into the room and knew there was noway out.\\n\\nHe did not understand it, but as long as she did not try to stop him opening that door, he did not care why she just sat there like a stuffed scarecrow. On the other hand, he wondered if there was something on the other side worth being afraid of. If she is one of those who took Egwene and the others, it stands to reason she's guarding them. Tears leaked from the woman's eyes. Only she looks like it's a bloody Halfman in there. But there was only one way to find out. Propping his staff against the wall, he turned the key in the lock and flung open the door, ready to run if need be.\\n\\nNynaeve and Elayne were kneeling on the floor with Egwene apparently asleep between them. He gasped at the sight of Egwene's swollen face, and changed his mind about her sleeping. The other two women turned toward him as he opened the door-they were almost as battered as Egwene; Burn me! Burn me!-looked at him, and gaped.\\n\\n\\\"Matrim Cauthon,\\\" Nynaeve said, sounding shocked, \\\"what under the Light are you doing here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I came to bloody rescue you,\\\" he said. \\\"Burn me if I expected to be greeted as if I had come to steal a pie. You can tell me why you look as if you'd been fighting bears later, if you want. If Egwene cannot walk, I'll carry heron my back. There are Aiel allover the Stone, or near enough, and either they are killing the bloody Defenders or the bloody Defenders are killing them, but whichever way it is, we had better get out of here while we bloody well can. If we can!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Mind your language,\\\" Nynaeve told him, and Elayne gave him one of those disapproving stares women were so good at.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Neither one seemed to have her full attention in it, though. They began shaking Egwene as if she were not covered with more bruises than he had ever seen in his life.\\n\\nEgwene's eyelids fluttered open, and she groaned. \\\"Why did you wake me? I must understand it. If I loose the bonds on her, she will wake and I'll never catch her again. But if I do not, she cannot go all the way to sleep, and-\\\" Her eyes fell on him and widened. \\\"Matrim Cauthon, what under the Light are you doing here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You tell her,\\\" he told Nynaeve. \\\"I am too busy trying to rescue you to watch my langu-\\\" They were all staring beyond him, glaring as if they wished they had knives in their hands.\\n\\nHe spun, but all he saw was Juilin Sandar, looking as if he had swallowed a rotten plum whole.\\n\\n\\\"They have cause,\\\" he told Mat. \\\"I.... I betrayed them. But I had to.\\\" That was addressed past Mat to the women. \\\"The one with many honey-colored braids spoke tome, and I.... I had to do it.\\\" Fora long moment the three continued to stare.\\n\\n\\\"Liandrin has vile tricks, Master Sandar,\\\" Nynaeve said finally. \\\"Perhaps you are not entirely to blame. We can apportion guilt later.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If that is all cleared up,\\\" Mat said, \\\"could we go now?\\\" It was as clear as mud to him, but he was more interested in leaving right then.\\n\\nThe three women limped after him into the hall, but they stopped around the woman on the bench. She rolled her eyes at them and whimpered. \\\"Please. I will comeback to the Light. I will swear to obey you. With the Oath Rodin my hands I will swear. Please do not-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Mat jumped as Nynaeve suddenly reared back and swung a fist, knocking the woman completely off the bench. She lay there, her eyes closed all the way finally, but even lying on her side she was still inexactly the same position she had been in on the bench.\\n\\n\\\"It is gone,\\\" Elayne said excitedly.\\n\\nEgwene bent to rummage in the unconscious woman's pouch, transferring something Mat could not make out to her own. \\\"Yes. It feels wonderful. Something changed about her when you hither, Nynaeve. I do not know what, but I felt it.\\\"\\n\\nElayne nodded. \\\"I felt it, too.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would like to change every last thing about her,\\\" Nynaeve said grimly. She took Egwene's head in her hands; Egwene rose onto her toes, gasping. When Nynaeve took her hands away to put them on Elayne, Egwene's bruises were gone. Elayne's vanished as quickly.\\n\\n\\\"Blood and bloody ashes!\\\" Mat growled. \\\"What do you mean hitting a woman who was just sitting there? I don't think she could even move!\\\" They all three turned to look at him, and he made a strangled sound as the air seemed to turn to thick jelly around him. He lifted into the air, until his boots dangled a good pace above the floor. Oh, burn me, the Power! Here I was afraid that Aes Sedai would use the bloody Power on me, and now the bloody women I'm rescuing do it! Burn me!\\n\\n\\\"You do not understand anything, Matrim Cauthon,\\\" Egwene said in a tight voice.\\n\\n\\\"Until you do understand,\\\" Nynaeve said in an even tighter, \\\"I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Elayne contented herself with a glare that made him think of his mother going out to cut a switch.\\n\\nFor some reason he found himself giving them the grin that had so often sent his mother after that switch. Burn me, if they can do this, I don't see how anybody ever locked them in that cell in the first place! \\\"What I understand is that I got you out of something you couldn't get yourselves out of, and you all have as much gratitude as a bloody Taren Ferryman with a toothache!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are right,\\\" Nynaeve said, and his boots suddenly hit the floor so hard his teeth jarred. But he could move again. \\\"As much as it pains me to say it, Mat, you are right.\\\"\\n\\nHe was tempted to answer something sarcastic, but there was barely enough apology in her voice as it was. \\\"Now can we go? With the fighting going on, Sandar thinks he and I can take you out by a small gate near the river.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am not leaving just yet, Mat,\\\" Nynaeve said. \\\"I mean to find Liandrin and skin her,\\\" Egwene said, sounding almost as if she meant it literally.\\n\\n\\\"All I want to do,\\\" Elayne said, \\\"is pound Joiya Byir till she squeals, but I will settle for any of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you all deaf?\\\" he growled. \\\"There is a battle going on out there! I came hereto rescue you, and I mean to rescue you.\\\" Egwene patted his cheek as she walked by him, and so did Elayne. Nynaeve merely sniffed. He stared after them with his mouth hanging open. \\\"Why didn't you say something?\\\" he growled at the thief-catcher.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I saw what speaking earned you,\\\" Sandar said simply. \\\"I am no fool.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, I am not staying in the middle of a battle!\\\" he shouted at the women. They were just disappearing through the small, barred door. \\\"I am leaving, do you hear?\\\" They did not even look back. Probably get themselves killed out there! Somebody will stick a sword in them while they're looking the other way! With a snarl, he put his quarterstaff across his shoulder and started after. \\\"Are you going to stand there?\\\" he called to the thief-catcher. \\\"I did not come this far to let them die now!\\\"\\n\\nSandar caught up to him in the room with the whips. The three women were already gone, but Mat had a feeling they would not be too hard to find. Just find the men bloody hanging in midair! Bloody women! He quickened his pace to a trot.\\n\\nPerrin strode down the halls of the Stone grimly, searching for some sign of Faile. He had rescued her twice more, now, breaking her out of an iron cage once, much like the one that had held the Aiel in Remen, and once breaking open a steel chest with a falcon worked on its side. Both times she had melted into air after saying his name. Hopper trotted by his side, sniffing the air. As sharp as Perrin's nose was, the wolf's was sharper; it had been Hopper who led them to the chest.\\n\\nPerrin wondered whether he was ever going to free her in truth. There had not been any sign in along time, it seemed. The halls of the Stone were empty, lamps burning, tapestries and weapons hanging on the walls, but nothing moved except himself and Hopper. Except I think that was Rand. It had only been a glimpse, a man running as if chasing someone. It could not be him. It couldn't, but I think it was.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hopper quickened his steps suddenly, heading for another set of tall doors, these clad in bronze. Perrin tried to match the pace, stumbled, and fell to his knees, throwing out a hand to catch himself short of dropping on his face. Weakness washed through him as if all his muscles had gone to water. Even after the feeling receded, it took some of his strength with it. It was an effort to struggle to his feet. Hopper had turned to look at him.\\n\\nYou are here too strongly, Young Bull. The flesh weakens. You do not care to hold onto it enough. Soon flesh and dream will die together.\\n\\n\\\"Find her,\\\" Perrin said. \\\"That is all I ask. Find Faile.\\\"\\n\\nYellow eyes met yellow eyes. The wolf turned and trotted to the doors. Beyond here, Young Bull.\\n\\nPerrin reached the doors and pushed. They did not budge. There seemed to be noway to open them, no handles, nothing to grip. There was a tiny pattern worked into the metal, so fine his eyes almost did not see it. Falcons. Thousands of tiny falcons.\\n\\nShe has to be here. I do not think I can last much longer. With a shout, he swung his hammer against the bronze. It rang like a great gong. Again he struck, and the peal deepened. A third blow, and the bronze doors shattered like glass.\\n\\nWithin, a hundred paces from the broken doors, a circle of light surrounded a falcon chained to a perch. Darkness filled all the rest of that vast chamber, darkness and faint rustlings as of hundreds of wings.\\n\\nHe took a step into the room, and a falcon stooped out of the murk, talons scoring his face as it passed. He threw an arm across his eyes-talons tore at his forearm-and staggered toward the perch. Again and again the birds came, falcons diving, striking him, tearing him, but he lumbered on with blood pouring down his arms and shoulders, that one arm protecting the eyes he had fixed on the falcon on the perch. He had lost the hammer; he did not know where, but he knew that if he went back to search, he would die before he found it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ashe reached the perch, the slicing talons drove him to his knees. He peered up under his arm at the falcon on the perch, and she stared back with dark, unblinking eyes. The chain that held her leg was fastened to the perch with a tiny lock shaped like a hedgehog. He seized the chain with both hands, careless of the other falcons that now became a whirlwind of cutting talons around him, and with his last strength snapped it. Pain and the falcons brought darkness.\\n\\nHe opened his eyes to stinging agony, as if his face and arms and shoulders had been sliced with a thousand knives. It did not matter. Faile was kneeling over him, those dark, tilted eyes filled with worry, wiping his face with a cloth already soaked in his blood.\\n\\n\\\"My poor Perrin,\\\" she said softly. \\\"My poor blacksmith. You are hurt so badly.\\\"\\n\\nWith an effort that cost more pain, he turned his head. This was the private dining room in the Star, and near one leg of the table lay a wooden carving of a hedgehog, broken in half. \\\"Faile,\\\" he whispered to her. \\\"My falcon.\\\"\\n\\nRand was still in the Heart of the Stone, but it was different. There were no men fighting here, no dead men, no one at all but himself. Abruptly the sound of a great gong rang through the Stone, then again, and the very stones beneath his feet resonated. A third time the booming came, but cutoff abruptly, as if the gong had shattered. All was still.\\n\\nWhere is this place? he wondered. More important, where is Ba'alzamon?\\n\\nAs if to answer him, a blazing shaft like the one Moiraine had made shot out of the shadows among the columns, straight toward his chest. His wrist twisted the sword instinctively; it was instinct as much as anything else that made him loose flows from saidin into Callandor, a flood of the Power that made the sword blaze brighter even than that bar streaking at him. His uncertain balance between existence and destruction wavered. Surely that torrent would consume him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The shaft of light struck the blade of Callandor-and parted on its edge, forking to stream past on either side. He felt his coat singe from its near passage, smelled the wool beginning to burn. Behind him, the two prongs of frozen fire, of liquid light, struck huge redstone columns; where they struck, stone ceased to exist, and the burning bars bored through to other columns, severing those instantaneously as well. The Heart of the Stone rumbled as columns fell and shattered in clouds of dust, sprays of stone fragments. What fell into the light, however, simply-was not, anymore.\\n\\nA snarl of rage came from the shadows, and the blazing shaft of pure white heat vanished.\\n\\nRand swung Callandor as if he were striking at something in front of him. The white light obscuring the blade extended, blazed ahead, and sheared through the redstone column that hid the snarl. The polished stone sliced like silk. The severed column trembled; part of it tore loose and dropped from the ceiling, smashing into huge, jagged chunks on the floor. As the rumbling faded, he heard beyond it the sound of boots on stone. Running.\\n\\nCallandor at the ready, Rand hurried after Ba'alzamon.\\n\\nThe tall archway leading out of the Heart collapsed as he reached it, the entire wall falling in clouds of dust and rock as if to bury him, but he threw the Power at it, and all became dust floating in the air. He ran on. He was not sure what he had done, or how, but he had no time to think on it. He ran after Ba'alzamon's retreating footsteps, echoing down the halls of the Stone.\\n\\nMyrddraal and Trollocs leaped out of thin air, huge bestial shapes and eyeless faces distorted with a rage to kill, in hundreds, so they jammed the hall before him and behind, scythe like swords and blades of deadly black steel seeking his blood. Without knowing how, he turned them to vapor that parted before him-and vanished. The air around him suddenly became choking soot, clogging his nostrils, shutting off breath, but he made it fresh air again, a cool mist. Flames leaped from the floor beneath his feet, spurted from the walls, the ceiling, furious jets that flashed tapestries and rugs, tables and chests to wisps of ash, flung ornaments and lamps ahead of them as drops of molten, burning gold; he smashed the fires flat, hardened them into a red glaze on the rock.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The stones around him faded almost to mist; the Stone faded. Reality trembled; he could feel it unraveling, feel himself unraveling. He was being pushed out of the here, into some other place where nothing existed at all. Callandor blazed in his hands like the sun till he thought it would melt. He thought he himself would melt from the surge of the One Power through him, the flood that he somehow directed into sealing up the hole that had opened around him, into holding himself on the side of existence. The Stone became solid again.\\n\\nHe could not even begin to imagine what it was that he did. The One Power raged inside him till he barely knew himself, till he barely was himself, till what was himself almost did not exist. His precarious stability teetered. To either side lay the endless fall, obliteration by the Power that coursed through him into the sword. Only in the dance along the razor's sharp edge was there even an uncertain safety. Callandor shone in his fist until it seemed he carried the sun. Dimly within him, fluttering like a candle flame in a storm, was the surety that holding Callandor, he could do anything. Anything.\\n\\nThrough endless corridors he ran, dancing along the razor, chasing the one who would slay him, the one he must slay. There could be no other end, this time. This time one of them must die! That Ba'alzamon knew it as well was clear. Always he fled, always staying ahead of sight so that only the sounds of his flight drew Rand on, but even fleeing he turned this Stone of Tear that was not the Stone of Tear against Rand, and Rand fought back with instinct and guesses and chance, fought and ran down that knife edge in perfect balance with the Power, the tool and weapon that would consume him utterly if he faltered.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Water filled the halls from top to bottom, thick and black as the bottom of the sea, choking off breath.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He made it air again, unknowingly, and ran on, and suddenly the air gained weight until it seemed every inch of his skin supported a mountain, squeezing in from all directions. In the instant before he was crushed to nothingness he chose tides out of the flood of Power raging through him-he did not know how or which or why; it was too fast for thought or knowing-and the pressure vanished. He pursued Ba'alzamon, and the very air was abruptly solid rock encasing him, then molten stone, then nothing at all to fill his lungs. The ground beneath his boots pulled at him as if every pound suddenly weighed a thousand, then all weight vanished so that a step left him spinning in midair. Unseen maws gaped to rip his mind from his body, to tearaway his soul. He sprang each trap and ran on; what Ba'alzamon twisted to destroy him, he made right without being aware of how. Vaguely he knew that in someway he had brought things back into natural balance, forced them into line with his own dance down that impossibly thin divide between existence and nothingness, but that knowledge was distant. All his awareness lay in the pursuit, the hunt, the death that must end it.\\n\\nAnd then he was in the Heart of the Stone again, stalking through the rubbled gap that had been a wall. Some of the columns hung like broken teeth, now. And Ba'alzamon backed away from him, eyes burning, shadow cloaking him. Black lines like steel wires seemed to runoff from Ba'alzamon into the darkness mounding around him, vanishing into unimaginable heights and distances within that blackness.\\n\\n\\\"I will not be undone!\\\" Ba'alzamon cried. His mouth was fire; his shriek echoed among the columns. \\\"I cannot be defeated! Aid me!\\\" Some of the darkness shrouding him drifted into his hands, formed into a ball so black it seemed to soak up even the light of Callandor. Sudden triumph blazed in the flames of his eyes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You are destroyed!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Rand shouted. Callandor spun in his hands. Its light roiled the darkness, severed the steel-black lines around Ba'alzamon, and Ba'alzamon convulsed. As if there were two of him he seemed to dwindle and grow larger at the same time. \\\"You are undone!\\\" Rand plunged the shining blade into Ba'alzamon's chest.\\n\\nBa'alzamon screamed, and the fires of his face flared wildly. \\\"Fool!\\\" he howled. \\\"The Great Lord of the Dark can never be defeated!\\\"\\n\\nRand pulled Callandor \\\"s blade free as Ba'alzamon's body sagged and began to fall, the shadow around him vanishing.\\n\\nAnd suddenly Rand was in another Heart of the Stone, surrounded by columns still whole, and fighting men screaming and dying, veiled men and men in breastplates and helmets. Moiraine still lay crumpled at the base of a redstone column. And at Rand's feet lay the body of a man, sprawled on its back with a hole burned through the chest. He might have been a handsome man in his middle years, except that where his eyes and mouth should have been were only pits from which rose tendrils of black smoke.\\n\\nI have done it, he thought. I have killed Ba'alzamon, killed Shai'tan! I have won the Last Battle! Light, I AM the Dragon Reborn! The breaker of nations, the Breaker of the World. No! I will END the breaking, end the killing! I will MAKE it end!\\n\\nHe raised Callandor above his head. Silver lightning crackled from the blade, jagged streaks arching toward the great dome above. \\\"Stop!\\\" he shouted. The fighting ceased; men stared at him in wonder, over black veils, from beneath the rims of round helmets. \\\"I am Rand al'Thor!\\\" he called, so his voice rang through the chamber. \\\"I am the Dragon Reborn!\\\" Callandor shone in his grasp.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"One by one, veiled men and helmeted, they knelt to him, crying, \\\"The Dragon is Reborn! The Dragon is Reborn!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Throughout the city of Tear people woke with the dawn, speaking of the dreams they had had, dreams of the Dragon battling Ba'alzamon in the Heart of the Stone, and when their eyes rose to the great fortress of the Stone, they beheld a banner waving from its greatest height. Across afield of white flowed a sinuous form like a great serpent scaled in scarlet and gold, but with a golden lion's mane and four legs, each tipped with five golden claws. Men came, stunned and frightened, from the Stone to speak in hushed tones of what had happened in the night, and men and women thronged the streets, weeping as they shouted the fulfillment of Prophecy.\\n\\n\\\"The Dragon!\\\" they shouted. \\\"Al'Thor! The Dragon! Al'Thor!\\\"\\n\\nPeering through an arrowslit high on the side of the Stone, Mat shook his head as he listened to the chorus rising out of the city in waves. Well, maybe he is. He was still having a hard enough time coming to grips with Rand really being there.\\n\\nEveryone in the Stone seemed to agree with the people below, or if they did not, they were not letting on. He had seen Rand just once since the night before, striding along a hall with Callandor in his hand, surrounded by a dozen veiled Aiel and trailing a cloud of Tairens, a knot of Defenders of the Stone and most of the few surviving High Lords. The High Lords, at least, seemed to think Rand would need them to help him rule the world; the Aiel kept everyone back with sharp looks, though, and spears if need be. They surely believed Rand was the Dragon, though they called him He Who Comes With the Dawn. There were nearly two hundred Aiel in the Stone. They had lost a third of their numbers in the fight, but they had killed or captured ten times as many Defenders.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Ashe turned from the arrowslit, his eyes brushed across Rhuarc.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was a tall stand atone end of the room, carved and polished upright wheels of some pale, dark-striped wood with shelves slung between them so all of the shelves would stay flat as the wheels were revolved. Each shelf held a large book, bound in gold, covers set with sparkling gems. The Aiel had one of the books open and was reading. Some sort of essays, Mat thought. Who would have thought an Aiel would read books? Who'd have thought an Aiel could bloody read?\\n\\nRhuarc glanced in his direction, all cold blue eyes and level stare. Mat looked away hastily, before the Aiel could read his thoughts on his face. At least he is not veiled, thank the Light! Burn me, that Aviendha nearly took my head off when I asked her if she could do any dances without spears. Bain and Chiad presented another problem. They were certainly pretty and more than friendly, but he could not manage to talk to one without the other. The male Aiel seemed to think his efforts to get one of them alone were funny, and for that matter, so did Bain and Chiad. Women are odd, but Aiel women make odd seem normal!\\n\\nThe great table in the middle of the room, ornately carved and gilded on edges and thick legs, had been meant for gatherings of the High Lords. Moiraine satin one of the throne like chairs, with the Crescent Banner of Tear worked into its towering back in gilt and polished carnelian and pearlshell. Egwene, Nynaeve, and Elayne sat close by her.\\n\\n\\\"I still cannot believe Perrin is herein Tear,\\\" Nynaeve was saying. \\\"Are you sure he is all right?\\\"\\n\\nMat shook his head. He would have expected Perrin to have been up in the Stone last night; the blacksmith had always been braver than anyone with good sense.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He was well when I left him.\\\" Moiraine's voice was serene. \\\"Whether he still is, I do not know. His... companion is in some considerable danger, and he may have put himself into it, also.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"His companion?\\\" Egwene said sharply. \\\"Wha-Who is Perrin's companion?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What sort of danger?\\\" Nynaeve demanded.\\n\\n\\\"Nothing that need concern you,\\\" the Aes Sedai said calmly. \\\"I will go and see to her as I may, shortly. I have delayed only to show you this, which I found among the ter'angreal and other things of the Power the High Lords collected over the years.\\\" She took something from her pouch and laid it on the table before her. It was a disc the size of a man's hand, seemingly made of two teardrops fitted together, one black as pitch, the other white as snow.\\n\\nMat seemed to remember seeing others like it. Ancient, like this one, but broken, where this was whole. Three of them, he had seen; not all together, but all in pieces. But that could not be; he remembered that they were made of cuendillar, unbreakable by any power, even the One Power.\\n\\n\\\"One of the seven seals Lews Therin Kinslayer and the Hundred Companions put on the Dark One's prison when they resealed it,\\\" Elayne said, nodding as if confirming her own memory.\\n\\n\\\"More precisely,\\\" Moiraine told her, \\\"a focus point for one of the seals. But in essence, you are correct. During the Breaking of the World they were scattered and hidden for safety; since the Trolloc Wars they have been lost in truth.\\\" She sniffed. \\\"I begin to sound like Verin.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Egwene shook her head. \\\"I suppose I should have expected to find that here. Twice before Rand faced Ba'alzamon, and both times at least one of the seals was present.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And this time unbroken,\\\" Nynaeve said. \\\"For the first time, the seal is unbroken. As if that mattered, now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You think it does not?\\\" Moiraine's voice was dangerous in its quiet, and the other women frowned at her.\\n\\nMat rolled his eyes. They kept talking about unimportant things. He did not much like standing not twenty feet from that disc now that he knew what it was, no matter the value of cuendillar, but.... \\\"Your pardon?\\\" he said.\\n\\nThey all turned to stare at him as if he were interrupting something important. Burn me! Break them out of a prison cell, save their lives half a dozen times between them before the night is done, and they glower as hard as the bloody Aes Sedai! Well, they did not thank me then, either, did they? You'd have thought I was sticking my nose in where it wasn't wanted then, too, instead of keeping some bloody Defender from putting a sword through one of them. Aloud, he said mildly, \\\"You do not mind if I ask a question, do you? You have all been talking this Aes Sedai... uh... business, and no one has bothered to tell me anything.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Mat?\\\" Nynaeve said warningly, tugging her braid, but Moiraine said, in a calm only just touched with impatience, \\\"What is it that you wish to know?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to know how all of this can be.\\\" He meant to keep his tone soft, but despite himself he picked up intensity as he went along. \\\"The Stone of Tear has fallen! The Prophecies said that would never happen till the People of the Dragon came. Does that mean we are the bloody People of the Dragon? You, me, Lan, and a few hundred bloody Aiel?\\\" He had seen the Warder during the night; there had not seemed to be much edge between Lan and the Aiel as to who was the more deadly. As Rhuarc straightened to stare at him, he hastily added, \\\"Uh, sorry, Rhuarc. Slip of the tongue.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Perhaps,\\\" Moiraine said slowly. \\\"I came to stop Be'lal from killing Rand. I did not expect to seethe Stone of Tear fall. Perhaps we are. Prophecies are fulfilled as they are meant to be, not as we think they should be.\\\"\\n\\nBe'lal. Mat shivered. He had heard that name last night, and he did not like it anymore in daylight. If he had known one of the Forsaken was loose-and inside the Stone-he would never have gone near the place. He glanced at Egwene, and Nynaeve, and Elayne. Well, I'd have come in like a bloody mouse, anyway, not thumping people left and right! Sandar had gone scurrying out of the Stone at daybreak; to take the news to Mother Guenna, he claimed, but Mat thought it was just to escape those stares from the three women, who looked as if they had not yet quite decided what to do about him.\\n\\nRhuarc cleared his throat. \\\"When a man wishes to become a clan chief, he must go to Rhuidean, in the lands of the Jenn Aiel, the clan that is not.\\\" He spoke slowly and frowned often at the red-fringed silk carpet under his soft boots, a man trying to explain what he did not want to explain at all. \\\"Women who wish to become Wise Ones also make this journey, but their marking, if they are marked, is kept secret among themselves. The men who are chosen at Rhuidean, those who survive, return marked on the left arm. So.\\\"\\n\\nHe pushed back the sleeves of his coat and shirt together to reveal his left forearm, the skin much paler than that of his hands and face. Etched into the skin as if part of it, wrapped twice around, marched the same gold-and-scarlet form as rippled on the banner above the Stone.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The Aiel let his sleeve fall with a sigh.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It is a name not spoken except among the clan chiefs and the Wise Ones. We are....\\\" He cleared his throat again, unable to say it here.\\n\\n\\\"The Aiel are the People of the Dragon.\\\" Moiraine spoke quietly, but she sounded as close to startlement as Mat could remember ever hearing her. \\\"That I did not know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then it really is all done,\\\" Mat said, \\\"just as the Prophecies said. We can all goon our way with no more worries.\\\" The Amyrlin won't need me to blow that bloody Horn now!\\n\\n\\\"How can you say that?\\\" Egwene demanded. \\\"Don't you understand the Forsaken are loose?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not to mention the Black Ajah,\\\" Nynaeve added grimly. \\\"We took only Amico and Joiya here. Eleven escaped-and I would like to know how!-and the Light alone knows how many others there are we do not know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Elayne said in atone just as hard. \\\"I may not be up to facing one of the Forsaken, but I mean to take pieces out of Liandrin's hide!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course,\\\" Mat said smoothly. \\\"Of course.\\\" Are they crazy? They want to chase after the Black Ajah and the Forsaken? \\\"I only meant the hardest part is done. The Stone has fallen to the People of the Dragon, Rand has Callandor, and Shai'tan is dead.\\\" Moiraine's stare was so hard that he thought the Stone shook fora moment.\\n\\n\\\"Be quiet, you fool!\\\" the Aes Sedai said in a voice like a knife. \\\"Do you want to call his attention to you, naming the Dark One?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But he's dead!\\\" Mat protested. \\\"Rand killed him. I saw the body!\\\" And a fine stink that was, too. I never thought anything could rot that fast.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You saw \\\"the body,\\\"\\\" Moiraine said with a twist to her mouth.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A man's body. Not the Dark One, Mat.\\\"\\n\\nHe looked at Egwene and the other two women; they appeared as confused as he. Rhuarc looked to bethinking of a battle he had thought was won and now learned had not even been fought. \\\"Then who was it?\\\" Mat demanded. \\\"Moiraine, my memory has holes big enough fora wagon and team, but I remember Ba'alzamon being in my dreams. I remember! Burn me, I do not see how I can ever forget! And I recognized what was left of that face.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You recognized Ba'alzamon,\\\" Moiraine said. \\\"Or rather, the man who called himself Ba'alzamon. The Dark One yet lives, imprisoned at Shayol Ghul, and the Shadow yet lies across the Pattern.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Light illumine and protect us,\\\" Elayne murmured in a faint voice. \\\"I thought.... I thought the Forsaken were the worst we had to worry about, now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you sure, Moiraine?\\\" Nynaeve said. \\\"Rand was certain-is certain-that he killed the Dark One. You seem to be saying Ba'alzamon was not the Dark One at all. I don't understand! How can you be so sure? And if he was not the Dark One, who was he?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can be sure for the simplest of reasons, Nynaeve. However fast decay took it, that was a man's body. Can you believe that if the Dark One were killed he would leave a human body? The man Rand killed was a man. Perhaps he was the first of the Forsaken freed, or perhaps he was never entirely bound. We may never know which.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... may know who he was.\\\" Egwene paused with an uncertain frown. \\\"At least, I may have a clue. Verin showed me a page from an old book that mentioned Ba'alzamon and Ishamael together. It was almost High Chant and very nearly incomprehensible, but I remember something about'a name hidden behind a name. \\\"Maybe Ba'alzamon was Ishamael.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Perhaps,\\\" Moiraine said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Perhaps it was Ishamael. But if it was, at least nine of the thirteen still live. Lanfear, and Sammael, and Ravhin, and.... Paah! Even knowing that some of those nine at least are free is not the most important thing.\\\" She laid a hand atop the black-and-white disc on the table. \\\"Three of the seals are broken. Only four still hold. Only those four seals stand between the Dark One and the world, and it maybe that even with those whole he can touch the world after a fashion. Whatever battle we won here-battle or skirmish-it is far from the last.\\\"\\n\\nMat watched their faces firm-Egwene's and Nynaeve's and Elayne's; slowly, reluctantly, but determinedly, too-and shook his head. Bloody women! They're all ready to goon with this, goon chasing the Black Ajah, trying to fight the Forsaken and the bloody Dark One. Well, they needn't think I am going to come pull them out of the soup pot again. They just needn't think it, that's all!\\n\\nOne of the tall, paired doors pushed open while he was trying to think of something to say, and a tall young woman of regal bearing entered the room, wearing a coronet with a golden hawk in flight above her brows. Her black hair swept to pale shoulders, and her dress of the finest red silk left those shoulders bare, along with a considerable expanse of what Mat noted as an admirable bosom. Fora moment she studied Rhuarc interestedly with large, dark eyes; then she turned them on the women at the table, coolly imperious. Mat she appeared to ignore completely.\\n\\n\\\"I am not used to being given messages to carry,\\\" she announced, flourishing a folded parchment in one slim hand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And who are you, child?\\\" Moiraine asked.\\n\\nThe young woman drew herself up even more, which Mat would have thought was impossible. \\\"I am Berelain, First of Mayene.\\\" She tossed the parchment down on the table in front of Moiraine with a haughty gesture and turned back to the door.\\n\\n\\\"A moment, child,\\\" Moiraine said, unfolding the parchment. \\\"Who gave this to you? And why did you bring it, if you are so unused to carrying messages?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I... do not know.\\\" Berelain stood facing the door; she sounded puzzled. \\\"She was... impressive.\\\" She gave herself a shake and seemed to recover her opinion of herself. Fora moment she studied Rhuarc with a small smile. \\\"You are the leader of these Aielmen? Your fighting disturbed my sleep. Perhaps I will ask you to dine with me. One day quite soon.\\\" She looked over her shoulder at Moiraine. \\\"I am told the Dragon Reborn has taken the Stone. Inform the Lord Dragon that the First of Mayene will dine with him tonight.\\\" And she marched out of the room; Mat could think of no other way to describe that stately, one-woman procession.\\n\\n\\\"I would like to have her in the Tower as novice.\\\" Egwene and Elayne said it almost like echoes, then shared a tight smile.\\n\\n\\\"Listen to this,\\\" Moiraine said. \\\"\\\"Lews Therin was mine, he is mine, and he will be mine, forever. I give him into your charge, to keep for me until I come.\\\" It is signed \\\"Lanfear.\\\"\\\" The Aes Sedai turned that cool gaze on Mat. \\\"And you thought it was done? You are ta'veren, Mat, a thread more crucial to the Pattern than most, and the sounder of the Horn of Valere. Nothing is done for you, yet.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They were all looking at him. Nynaeve sadly, Egwene as though she had never seen him before, Elayne as if she expected him to change into someone else. Rhuarc had a certain respect in his eyes, though Mat would just as soon have done without it, all things considered.\\n\\n\\\"Well, of course,\\\" he told them. Burn me! \\\"I understand.\\\" I wonder how soon Thom will befit to travel? Time to run. Maybe Perrin will come with us. \\\"You can count on me.\\\"\\n\\nFrom outside, the cries still rose, unceasing. \\\"The Dragon! Al'Thor! The Dragon! Al'Thor! The Dragon! Al'Thor! The Dragon!\\\"\\n\\nAnd it was written that no hand but his should wield the Sword held in the Stone, but he did draw it out, like fire in his hand, and his glory did burn the world. Thus did it begin. Thus do we sing his Rebirth. Thus do we sing the beginning.\\n\\n-from Do'in Toldara te, Songs of the Last Age, Quarto Nine: The Legend of the Dragon. Composed by Boanne, Songmistress at Taralan, the Fourth Age.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2397,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Help the writer, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, dragons\nAuthor: Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman\nTitle: Dragons of Autumn Twilight\nChapter: 26"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Raistlin reached out his thin hands to take the pouch from her.\n\nFewmaster Toede stared at it greedily, wondering what was in it. He would find out, but not in front of all these goblins.\n\nFinally there was only one person left who had not obeyed the command. Sturm stood unmoving, his face pale, his eyes glittering feverishly. He held his father's ancient, two-handed sword tightly. Suddenly Sturm turned, shocked to feel Raistlin's burning fingers on his arm.\n\n\"I will insure its safety,\" the mage whispered.\n\n\"How?\" the knight asked, withdrawing from Raistlin's touch as from a poisonous snake.\n\n\"I do not explain my ways to you,\" Raistlin hissed. \"Trust me or not, as you choose.\"\n\nSturm hesitated.\n\n\"This is ridiculous!\" shrieked Toede. \"Kill the knight! Kill them if they cause more trouble. I'm losing sleep!\"\n\n\"Very well!\" Sturm said in a strangled voice. Walking over, he reverently laid the sword down on the pile of weapons. Its ancient silver scabbard, decorated with the kingfisher and rose, gleamed in the light.\n\n\"Ah, truly a beautiful weapon,\" Toede said. He had a sudden vision of himself walking into audience with Lord Verminaard, the sword of a Solamnic knight hanging at his side. \"Perhaps I should take that into custody myself. Bring it-\"\n\nBefore he could finish, Raistlin stepped forward swiftly and knelt beside the pile of weapons. A bright flash of light sprang from the mage's hand. Raistlin closed his eyes and began to murmur strange words, holding his outstretched hands above the weapons and packs."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Stop him!\" yelled Toede. But none dared.\n\nFinally Raistlin ceased speaking and his head slumped forward. His brother hurried to help.\n\nRaistlin stood. \"Know this!\" the mage said, his golden eyes staring around the common room. \"I have cast a spell upon our belongings. Anyone who touches them will be slowly devoured by the great worm, Catyrpelius, who will rise from the Abyss and suck the blood from your veins until you are nothing more than a dried husk.\"\n\n\"The great worm Catyrpelius!\" breathed Tasselehoff, his eyes shining. \"That's incredible. I've never heard of-\"\n\nTanis clapped his handover the kender's mouth.\n\nThe goblins backed away from the pile of weapons which seemed to almost glow with a green aura.\n\n\"Get those weapons, somebody!\" ordered Toede in a rage.\n\n\"You get 'em,\" muttered a goblin.\n\nNo one moved. Toede was at a loss. Although he was not particularly imaginative, a vivid picture of the great worm, Catyrpelius, reared up in his mind. \"Very well,\" he muttered, \"take the prisoners away! Load them into the cages. And bring those weapons, too, or you'll wish that worm what's-its-name was sucking your blood!\" Toede stomped off angrily.\n\nThe goblins began to shove their prisoners toward the door, prodding them in the back with their swords. None, however, touched Raistlin.\n\n\"That's a wonderful spell, Raist,\" Caramon said in a low voice. \"How effective is it? Could it-\"\n\n\"It's about as effective as your wit!\" Raistlin whispered and held up his right hand. As Caramon saw the tell-tale black marks of flashpowder, he smiled grimly in sudden understanding."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tanis was the last to leave the Inn. He cast a final look around. A single light swung from the ceiling. Tables were overturned, chairs broken. The beams of the ceiling were blackened from the fires, in some cases burned through completely. The windows were covered with greasy black soot.\n\n\"I almost wish I had died before I saw this.\"\n\nThe last thing he heard as he left were two hobgoblin captains arguing heatedly about who was going to move the enchanted weapons."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The slave caravan.\n\nA strange old magician.\n\nThe companions spent a chill, sleepless night, penned up in an iron-barred cage on wheels in the Solace Town Square. Three cages were chained to one of the posts driven into the ground around the clearing. The wooden posts were black from flame and heat, the bases scorched and splintered. No living thing grew in the clearing, even the rocks were black and melted.\n\nWhen day dawned, they could see other prisoners in the other cages. The last slave caravan leaving Solace for Pax Tharkas, it was to be personally led by the Fewmaster himself, Toede having decided to take this opportunity to impress Lord Verminaard who was in residence at Pax Tharkas.\n\nCaramon tried once, during the cover of night, to bend the bars of the cage and had to give up.\n\nA cold mist arose in the early morning hours, hiding the ravaged town from the companions. Tanis glanced over at Goldmoon and Riverwind. Now I understand them, Tanis thought. Now I know the cold emptiness inside that hurts worse than any swordthrust. My home is gone.\n\nHe glanced over at Gilthanas, huddled in a corner. The elf had spoken to no one that night, excusing himself by begging that his head hurt and he was tired. But Tanis, who had kept watch all through the night, saw that Gilthanas did not sleep or even make a pretence of sleeping. He gnawed his lower lip and stared out into the darkness. The sight reminded Tanis that he had-if he chose to claim it-another place he could call home: Qualinesti.\n\nNo, Tanis thought, leaning against the bars, Qualinesti was never home. It was simply a place I lived...."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fewmaster Toede emerged from the mist, rubbing his fat hands together and grinning widely as he regarded the slave caravan with pride. There maybe a promotion here. A fine catch, considering pickings were drying up in this burned-out shell of a town. Lord Verminaard should be pleased, especially with this last batch. That large warrior, particularly-an excellent specimen. He could probably do the work of three men in the mines. The tall barbarian would do nicely, too. Probably have to kill the knight, though-the Solamnics were notoriously uncooperative. But Lord Verminaard will certainly enjoy the two females-very different, but both lovely. Toede himself had always been attracted to the red-haired barmaid, with her alluring green eyes, the low-cut white blouse purposefully revealing just enough of her lightly-freckled skin to tantalize a man with thoughts of what lay beyond.\n\nThe Fewmaster's reveries were interrupted by the sound of clashing steel and hoarse shouts floating eerily through the mist. The shouts grew louder and louder. Soon almost everyone in the slave caravan was awake and peering through the fog, trying to see.\n\nToede cast an uneasy glance at the prisoners and wished he'd kept a few more guards handy. The goblins, seeing the prisoners stir, jumped to their feet and trained their bows and arrows on the wagons.\n\n\"What is this?\" Toede grumbled aloud. \"Can't those fools even take one prisoner without all this turmoil?\"\n\nSuddenly a cry bellowed above the noise. It was the cry of a man in torment and pain, but whose rage surpassed all else.\n\nGilthanas stood up, his face pale.\n\n\"I know that voice,\" he said. \"Theros Ironfeld. I feared this. He's been helping elves escape ever since the slaughter. This Lord Verminaard has sworn to exterminate the elves\"-Gilthanas watched Tanis's reaction-\"or didn't you know?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"No!\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tanis said, shocked. \"I didn't know. How could I?\"\n\nGilthanas fell silent, studying Tanis for long moments. \"Forgive me,\" he said at last. \"It appears I have misjudged you. I thought perhaps that was why you had grown the beard.\"\n\n\"Never!\" Tanis leaped up. \"How dare you accuse me-\"\n\n\"Tanis,\" cautioned Sturm.\n\nThe half-elf turned to seethe goblin guards crowding foward, their arrows trained at his heart. Raising his hands, he stepped back to his place just as a squadron of hobgoblins dragged a tall, powerfully built man into sight.\n\n\"I heard Theros had been betrayed,\" Gilthanas said softly. \"I returned to warn him. But for him, I never would have escaped Solace alive. I was supposed to meet him in the Inn last night. When he did not come, I was afraid-\"\n\nFewmaster Toede threw open the door to the companions' cage, yelling and gesturing for the hobgoblins to hurry their prisoner forward. The goblins kept the other prisoners covered while the hobgoblins threw Theros into the cage.\n\nFewmaster Toede slammed the door shut quickly. \"That's it!\" he yelled. \"Hitch up the beasts. We're moving out.\"\n\nSquads of goblins drove huge elk into the clearing and began hitching them to wagons. Their yelling and the confusion registered only in the back of Tanis's mind. For the moment, his shocked attention was on the smith.\n\nTheros Ironfeld lay unconscious on the straw-covered floor of the cage. Where his strong right arm should have been was a mangled stump. His arm had been hacked off, apparently by some blunt weapon, just below the shoulder. Blood poured from the terrible wound and pooled on the floor of the cage."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Let that be a lesson to all those who help elves!\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Fewmaster peered in the cage, his red pig eyes squinching in their pouches of fat. \"He won't be forging anything ever again-unless it be anew arm! I, eh-\" A huge elk lumbered into the Fewmaster, forcing him to scramble for his life.\n\nToede turned on the creature leading the elk. \"Sestun You oaf!\" Toede knocked the smaller creature to the ground.\n\nTasslehoff stared down at the creature, thinking it was a very short goblin. Then he saw it was a gully dwarf dressed in a goblin's armor. The gully dwarf picked himself up, shoved his oversized helm back, and glared after the Fewmaster, who was waddling up to the front of the caravan. Scowling, the gully dwarf began kicking mud in his direction. This apparently relieved his soul, for he soon quit and returned to prodding the slow elk into line.\n\n\"My faithful friend,\" Gilthanas murmured, bending over Theros and taking the smith's strong, black hand in his. \"You have paid for your loyalty with your life.\"\n\nTheros looked at him with vacant eyes, clearly not hearing the elf's voice. Gilthanas tried to stanch the dreadful wound, but blood continued to pump onto the floor of the cart. The smithy's life was emptying before their eyes.\n\n\"No,\" said Goldmoon, coming to kneel beside the smith. \"He need not die. I am a healer.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" Gilthanas said impatiently, \"there exists no healer on Krynn who could help this man. He has lost more blood than the dwarf has in his whole body! His lifeboat is so faint I can barely feel it. The kindest thing to do islet him die in peace without any of your barbarian rituals!\""},{"from":"human","value":"Goldmoon ignored him."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Placing her hand upon Theros's forehead, she closed her eyes.\n\n\"Mishakal,\" she prayed, \"beloved goddess of healing, grace this man with your blessing. If his destiny be not fulfilled, heal him, that he may live and serve the cause of truth.\"\n\nGilthanas began to remonstrate once more, reaching out to pull Goldmoon away. Then he stopped and stared in amazement. Blood ceased to drain from the smith's wound and, even as the elf watched, the flesh began to close over it. Warmth returned to the smith's dusky black skin, his breathing grew peaceful and easy, and he appeared to drift into a healthful, relaxed sleep. There were gasps and murmurs of astonishment from the other prisoners in the nearby cages. Tanis glanced around fearfully to see if any of the goblins or draconians had noticed, but apparently they were all preoccupied with hitching the recalcitrant elk to the wagons. Gilthanas subsided back into his corner, his eyes on Goldmoon, his expression thoughtful.\n\n\"Tasslehoff, pileup some of that straw,\" Tanis instructed.\n\n\"Caramon, you and Sturm help me move him to a corner.\"\n\n\"Here.\" Riverwind offered his cloak. \"Take this to cover him from the chill.\"\n\nGoldmoon made certain Theros was comfortable, then returned to her place beside Riverwind. Her face radiated a peace and calm serenity that made it seem as if the reptilian creatures on the outside of the cage were the true prisoners.\n\nIt was nearly noon before the caravan got underway. Goblins came by and threw some food into the cages, hunks of meat and bread. No one, not even Caramon, could eat the rancid, stinking meat and they threw it back out. But they devoured the bread hungrily, having eaten nothing since last nightfall. Soon Toede had everything in order and, riding by on his shaggy pony, gave the orders to move out. The gully dwarf, Sestun, trotted after Toede. Seeing the hunk of meat lying in the mud and filth outside the cage, the gully dwarf stopped, grabbed it eagerly, and crammed it into his mouth."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Each wheeled cage was pulled by four elk. Two hobgoblins sat high on crude wooden platforms, one holding the reins of the elk, the other a whip and a sword. Toede took his place at the front of the line, followed by about fifty draconians dressed in armor and heavily armed. Another troop of about twice as many hobgoblins fell into line behind the cages.\n\nAfter a great deal of confusion and swearing, the caravan finally lurched forward. Some of the remaining residents of Solace stared at them as they drove off. If they knew anyone among the prisoners, they made no sound or gesture of farewell. The faces, both inside and outside the cages, were the faces of those who no longer can feel pain. Like Tika, they had vowed never to cry again.\n\nThe caravan traveled south from Solace, down the old road through Gateway Pass. The hobgoblins and draconians grumbled about traveling in the heat of the day, but they cheered up, and moved faster once they marched into the shade of the Pass's high canyon walls. Although the prisoners were chilled in the canyon, they had their own reasons for being grateful-they no longer had to look upon their ravaged homeland.\n\nIt was evening by the time they left the canyon's winding roads and reached Gateway. The prisoners strained against the bars for some glimpse of the thriving market town. But now only two low stonewalls, melted and blackened, marked where the town might have once stood. No living creature stirred. The prisoners sank back in misery.\n\nOnce more out in the open country, the draconians announced their preference for traveling by night, out of the sun's light. Consequently, the caravan made only brief stops until dawn. Sleep was impossible in the filthy cages jolting and jouncing over every rut in the road. The prisoners suffered from thirst and hunger. Those who managed to gag down the food the draconians tossed them soon vomited it backup. They were given only small cups of water two or three times a day."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Goldmoon remained near the injured smithy. Although Theros Ironfeld was no longer at the point of death, he was still very ill. He developed a high fever and, in his delirium, he raved about the sacking of Solace. Theros spoke of draconians whose bodies, when dead, turned into pools of acid, burning the flesh of their victims; and of draconians whose bones exploded after death, destroying everything within a wide radius. Tanis listened to the smith relive horror after horror until he felt sick. For the first time, Tanis realized the enormity of the situation. How could they hope to fight dragons whose breath could kill, whose magic exceeded that of all but the most powerful magic-users who had ever lived? How could they defeat vast armies of these draconians when even the corpses of the creatures had the power to kill?\n\nAll we have, Tanis thought bitterly, are the Disks of Mishakal-and what good are they? He had examined the Disks during their journey from Xak Tsaroth to Solace. He had been able to read little of what was written, however. Although Goldmoon had been able to understand those words that pertained to the healing arts, she could decipher little more.\n\n\"All will be made clear to the leader of the people,\" she said with steadfast faith. \"My calling now is to find him.\"\n\nTanis wished he could share her faith, but as they traveled through the ravaged countryside, he began to doubt that any leader could defeat the might of this Lord Verminaard.\n\nThese doubts merely compounded the half-elf's other problems. Raistlin, bereft of his medicine, coughed until he was nearly in as bad a state as Theros, and Goldmoon had two patients on her hands. Fortunately, Tika helped the Plainswoman tend the mage. Tika, whose father had been a magician of sorts, held anyone who could work magic in awe."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"In fact, it was Tika's father who inadvertently introduced Raistlin to his calling. Raistlin's father took the twin boys and his stepdaughter, Kitiara, to the local Summer's End festival where the children watched the Wonderful Waylan perform his illusions. Eight-year-old Caramon was soon bored and readily agreed to accompany his teenage half-sister to the event that attracted her-the swordplay. Raistlin, thin and frail even then, had no use for such active sports. He spent the entire day watching Waylan the Illusionist. When the family returned home that evening, Raistlin astounded them by being able to duplicate flawlessly every trick. The next day, his father took the boy to study with one of the great masters of the magic arts.\n\nTika had always admired Raistlin and she had been impressed by the stories she heard about his mysterious journey to the fabled Towers of High Sorcery. Now she helped care for the mage out of respect and her own innate need to help those weaker than herself. She also tended him (she admitted privately to herself) because her deeds won a smile of gratitude and approval from Raistlin's handsome twin brother.\n\nTanis wasn't certain which to worry about most-the worsening condition of the mage or the growing romance between the older, experienced soldier and the young and-Tanis believed, despite gossip to the contrary-inexperienced, vulnerable barmaid.\n\nHe had another problem as well. Sturm, humiliated at being taken prisoner and hauled through the countryside like an animal to slaughter, lapsed into a deep depression from which Tanis thought he might never escape. Sturm either sat all day, staring out between the bars, or-perhaps worse-he lapsed into periods of deep sleep from which he could not be wakened.\n\nFinally Tanis had to cope with his own inner turmoil, physically manifested by the elf sitting in the comer of the cage."},{"from":"human","value":"Every time he looked at Gilthanas, Tanis's memories of his home in Qualinesti haunted him."},{"from":"gpt","value":"As they neared his homeland, the memories he had thought long buried and forgotten crept into his mind, their touch every bit as chilling as the touch of the undead in Darken Wood.\n\nGilthanas, childhood friend-more than friend, brother.\n\nRaised in the same household and close to the same age, the two had played and fought and laughed together. When Gilthanas's little sister grew old enough, the boys allowed the captivating blonde child to join them. One of the threesome's greatest delights was teasing the older brother, Porthios, a strong and serious youth who took on the responsibilities and sorrows of his people at an early age. Gilthanas, Laurana, and Porthios were the children of the Speaker of the Suns, the ruler of the elves of Qualinesti, a position Porthios would inherit at his father's death.\n\nSome in the elven kingdom thought it odd that the Speaker would take into his house the bastard son of his dead brother's wife after she had been raped by a human warrior. She had died of grief only months after the birth of her half-breed child. But the Speaker, who had strong views on responsibility, took in the child without hesitation. It was only in later years, as he watched with growing unease the developing relationship between his beloved daughter and the bastard half-elf, that he began to regret his decision. The situation confused Tanis as well. Being half-human, the young man acquired a maturity the slower developing elf maid could not understand. Tanis saw the unhappiness their union must bring down upon the family he loved. He also was beset by the inner turmoil that would torment him in later life: the constant battle between the elvish and the human within him. At the age of eighty-about twenty inhuman years-Tanis left Qualinost. The Speaker was not sorry to see Tanis leave. He tried to hide his feelings from the young half-elf, but both of them knew it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gilthanas had not been so tactful. He and Tanis had exchanged bitter words over Laurana. It was years before the sting of those words faded, and Tanis wondered if he had ever truly forgotten or forgiven. Clearly, Gilthanas had done neither.\n\nThe journey for these two was very long. Tanis made a few attempts at desultory conversation and became immediately aware that Gilthanas had changed. The young elflord had always been open and honest, fun-loving and light-hearted. He did not envy his older brother the responsibilities inherent in his role as heir to the throne. Gilthanas was a scholar, a dabbler in the magic arts, though he never took them as seriously as Raistlin. He was an excellent warrior, though he disliked fighting, as do all elves. He was deeply devoted to his family, especially his sister. But now he sat silent and moody, an unusual characteristic in elves. The only time he showed any interest in anything was when Caramon had begun plotting an escape. Gilthanas told him sharply to forget it, he would ruin everything. When pressed to elaborate, the elf fell silent, muttering only something about'overwhelming odds.\"\n\nBy sunrise of the third day, the draconian army was flagging from the night's long march and looking forward to a rest. The companions had spent another sleepless night and looked forward to nothing but another chill and dismal day. But the cages suddenly rolled to a stop. Tanis glanced up, puzzled at the change in routine. The other prisoners roused themselves and looked out the cage bars. They saw an old man, dressed in long robes that once might have been white and a battered, pointed hat. He appeared to be talking to a tree.\n\n\"I say, did you hear me?\" The old man shook a worn walking stick at the oak. \"I said move and I meant it! I was sitting on that rock\"-he pointed to a boulder-\"enjoying the rising sun on my old bones when you had the nerve to cast a shadow over it and chill me! Move this instant, I say!\""},{"from":"human","value":"The tree did not respond."},{"from":"gpt","value":"It also did not move.\n\n\"I won't take anymore of your insolence!\" The old man began to beat on the tree with his stick. \"Move or I'll-I'll-\"\n\n\"Someone shut that looney in a cage!\" Fewmaster Toede shouted, galloping back from the front of the caravan.\n\n\"Get your hands off me!\" the old man shrieked at the draconians who ran up and accosted him. He beat on them feebly with his staff until they took it away from him. \"Arrest the tree!\" he insisted. \"Obstructing sunlight! That's the charge!\"\n\nThe draconians threw the old man roughly into the companions' cage. Tripping over his robes, he fell to the floor.\n\n\"Are you all right. Old One?\" Riverwind asked as he assisted the old man to a seat.\n\nGoldmoon left Theros's side. \"Yes, Old One,\" she said softly. \"Are you hurt? I am a cleric of-\"\n\n\"Mishakal!\" he said, peering at the amulet around her neck. \"How very interesting. My, my.\" He stared at her in astonishment. \"You don't look three hundred years old!\"\n\nGoldmoon blinked, uncertain how to react. \"How did you know? Did you recognize-? I'm not three hundred-\" She was growing confused.\n\n\"Of course, you're not. I'm sorry, my dear.\" The old man patted her hand. \"Never bring up a lady's age in public. Forgive me. It won't happen again. Our little secret,\" he said in a piercing whisper. Tas and Tika started to giggle. The old man looked around. \"Kind of you to stop and offer me a lift. The road to Qualinost is long.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"We're not going to Qualinost,\" Gilthanas said sharply."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We're prisoners, going to the slave mines of Pax Tharkas.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" the old man glanced around vaguely. \"Is there another group due by here soon, then? I could have sworn this was the one.\"\n\n\"What is your name. Old One,\" Tika asked.\n\n\"My name?\" The old man hesitated, frowning. \"Fizban? Yes, that's it. Fizban.\"\n\n\"Fizban!\" Tasslehoff repeated as the cage lurched to a start again. \"That's not a name!\"\n\n\"Isn't it?\" the old man asked wistfully. \"That's too bad. I was rather fond of it.\"\n\n\"I think it's a splendid name,\" Tika said, glaring at Tas. The kender subsided into a corner, his eyes on the pouches slung over the old man's shoulder.\n\nSuddenly Raistlin began to cough and they all turned their attention to him. His coughing spasms had been growing worse and worse. He was exhausted and in obvious pain; his skin burned to the touch. Goldmoon was unable to help him. Whatever was burning the mage up inside, the cleric could not heal. Caramon knelt beside him, wiping away the bloody saliva that flecked his brother's lips.\n\n\"He's got to have that stuff he drinks!\" Caramon looked up in anguish. \"I've never seen him this bad. If they won't listen to reason\"-the big man scowled-\"I'll break their heads! I don't care how many there are!\"\n\n\"We'll talk to them when we stop for the night,\" Tanis promised, though he could guess the Fewmaster's answer.\n\n\"Excuse me,\" the old man said. \"May I?\" Fizban sat down beside Raistlin. He laid his hand on the mage's head and sternly spoke a few words. Caramon, listening closely, heard'Fistandan...\" and'not the time...\" Certainly it wasn't a healing prayer, such as Goldmoon had tried, but the big man saw that his brother responded! The response was astonishing, however. Raistlin's eyes fluttered and opened. He looked up at the old man with a wild expression of terror and grasped Fizban's wrist in his thin, frail hand. For an instant it seemed Raistlin knew the old man, then Fizban passed his handover the mage's eyes. The look of terror subsided, replaced by confusion."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Hullo,\" Fizban beamed at him. \"Name's-uh-Fizban.\" He shot astern glance at Tasslehoff, daring the kender to laugh.\n\n\"You are... magi!\" Raistlin whispered. His cough was gone.\n\n\"Why, yes, I suppose I am.\"\n\n\"I am magi!\" Raistlin said, struggling to sit up.\n\n\"No kidding!\" Fizban seemed immensely tickled. \"Small world, Krynn. I'll have to teach you a few of my spells. I have one... a fireball... let's see, how did that go?\"\n\nThe old man rambled on long past the time the caravan stopped at the rising of the sun."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Rescue.\n\nFizban's magic.\n\nRaistlin suffered in body, Sturm suffered in mind, but perhaps the one who experienced the keenest suffering during the companions' four-day imprisonment was Tasslehoff.\n\nThe cruelest form of torture one can inflict on a kender is to lock him up. Of course, it is also widely believed that the crudest form of torture one can inflict on any other species is to lock them up with a kender. After three days of Tasslehoff s incessant chatter, pranks, and practical jokes, the companions would have willingly traded the kender fora peaceful hour of being stretched on the rack-at least that's what Flint said.\n\nFinally, after even Goldmoon lost her temper and nearly slapped him, Tanis sent Tasslehoff to the back of the cart. His legs hanging over the edge, the kender pressed his face against the iron bars and thought he would die of misery. He had never been so bored in his entire life.\n\nThings got interesting with the discovery of Fizban, but the old man's amusement value wore thin when Tanis made Tas return the old magician's pouches. And so, driven to the point of desperation, Tasslehoff latched onto anew diversion.\n\nSestun, the gully dwarf.\n\nThe companions generally regarded Sestun with amused pity. The gully dwarf was the object of Toede's ridicule and mistreatment. He ran the Fewmaster's errands all nightlong, carrying messages from Toede at the front of the caravan to the hobgoblin captain at the rear, lugging food up to the Fewmaster from the supply cart; feeding and watering the Fewmaster's pony, and any other nasty jobs the Fewmaster could devise. Toede knocked him flat at least three times a day, the draconians tormented him, and the hobgoblins stole his food. Even the elk kicked at him whenever he trotted past. The gully dwarf bore it all with such a grimly defiant spirit that it won him the sympathy of the companions."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sestun began to stay near the companions when not busy. Tanis, eager for information about Pax Tharkas, asked him about his homeland and how he came to work for the Fewmaster. The story took over a day for Sestun to relate and another day for the companions to piece together, since he started in the middle and plunged headlong into the beginning.\n\nWhat it amounted to, eventually, wasn't much help. Sestun was among a large group of gully dwarves living in the hills around Pax Tharkas when Lord Verminaard and his draconians captured the iron mines which he needed to make steel weapons for his troops.\n\n\"Big fire-all day, all night. Bad smell.\" Sestun wrinkled his nose. \"Pound rock. All day, all night. I get good job in kitchen\"-his face brightened a moment-\"fix hot soup. Very hot.\" His face fell. \"Spill soup. Hot soup heat up armor real fast. Lord Verminaard sleep on back for week.\" He sighed. \"I go with Fewmaster. Me volunteer.\"\n\n\"Maybe we can shut the mines down,\" Caramon suggested.\n\n\"That's a thought,\" Tanis mused. \"How many draconians does Lord Verminaard have guarding the mines?\"\n\n\"Two!\" Sestun said, holding up ten grubby fingers.\n\nTanis sighed, remembering where they had heard that before.\n\nSestun looked at him hopefully. \"There be only two dragons, too.\"\n\n\"Two dragons!\" Tanis said incredulously.\n\n\"Not more than two.\"\n\nCaramon groaned and settled back. The warrior had been giving dragon fighting serious thought ever since Xak Tsaroth. He and Sturm had reviewed every tale about Huma, the only known dragon fighter the knight could remember. Unfortunately, no one had ever taken the legends of Huma seriously before (except the Solamnic Knights, for which they were ridiculed), so much of Huma's tale had been distorted by time or forgotten."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A knight of truth and power, who called down the gods themselves and forged the mighty Dragonlance,\" Caramon murmured now, glancing at Sturm, who lay asleep on the straw-covered floor of their prison.\n\n\"Dragonlance?\" muttered Fizban, waking with a snort. \"Dragonlance? Who said anything about the Dragonlance?\"\n\n\"My brother,\" Raistlin whispered, smiling bitterly. \"Quoting the Canticle. It seems he and the knight have taken a fancy to children's stories that have come to haunt them.\"\n\n\"Good story, Huma and the Dragonlance,\" said the old man, stroking his beard.\n\n\"Story-that's all it is.\" Caramon yawned and scratched his chest. \"Who knows if it's real or if the Dragonlance was real or if even Huma was real.\"\n\n\"We know the dragons are real,\" Raistlin murmured.\n\n\"Huma was real,\" Fizban said softly. \"And so was the Dragonlance.\" The old man's face grew sad.\n\n\"Was it?\" Caramon sat up. \"Can you describe it?\"\n\n\"Of course!\" Fizban sniffed disdainfully.\n\nEveryone was listening now. Fizban was, in fact, a bit disconcerted by his audience.\n\n\"It was a weapon similiar to-no, it wasn't. Actually it was-no, it wasn't that either. It was closer to... almost a... rather it was, sort of a-lance, that's it! A lance!\" He nodded earnestly. \"And it was quite good against dragons.\"\n\n\"I'm taking a nap,\" Caramon grumbled.\n\nTanis smiled and shook his head. Sitting back against the bars, he wearily closed his eyes. Soon everyone except Raistlin and Tasslehoff fell into a fitful sleep. The kender, wide awake and bored, looked at Raistlin hopefully. Sometimes, if Raistlin was in a good mood, he would tell stories about magic-users of old. But the mage, wrapped in his red robes, was staring curiously at Fizban. The old man sat on a bench, snoring gently, his head bobbing up and down as the cart jounced over the road. Raistlin's golden eyes narrowed to gleaming slits as though he had been struck by anew and disturbing thought. After a moment, he pulled his hood up over his head and leaned back, his face lost in the shadows."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tasslehoff sighed. Then, glancing around, he saw Sestun walking near the cage. The kender brightened. Here, he knew, was an appreciative audience for his stories.\n\nTasslehoff, calling him over, began to relate one of his own personal favorites. The two moons sank. The prisoners slept. The hobgoblins trailed along behind, half-asleep, talking about making camp soon. Fewmaster Toede rode up ahead, dreaming about promotion. Behind the Fewmaster, the draconians muttered among themselves in their harsh language, casting baleful glances at Toede when he wasn't looking.\n\nTasslehoff sat, swinging his legs over the side of the cage, talking to Sestun.\" The kender noticed without seeming to that Gilthanaswas only pretending to sleep. Tas saw the elf's eyes open and glance quickly around when he thought no one was watching. This intrigued Tas immensely. It seemed almost as if Gilthanas was watching or waiting for something. The kender lost the thread of his story.\n\n\"And so I... uh... grabbed a rock from my pouch, threw it and-thunk-hit the wizard right on the head,\" Tas finished hurriedly. \"The demon grabbed the wizard by the foot and dragged him down into the depths of the Abyss.\"\n\n\"But first demon thank you,\" prompted Sestun who had heard this story-with variations-twice before. \"You forgot.\"\n\n\"Did I?\" Tas asked, keeping an eye on Gilthanas. \"Well, yes, the demon thanked me and took away the magic ring he'd given me. If it wasn't dark, you could seethe outline the ring burned on my finger.\"\n\n\"Sun uping. Morning soon. I see then,\" the gully dwarf said eagerly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was still dark, but a faint light in the east hinted that soon the sun would be rising on the fourth day of their journey.\n\nSuddenly Tas heard a bird call in the woods. Several answered it. What odd-sounding birds, Tas thought. Never heard their like before. But then he'd never been this far south before. He knew where they were from one of his many maps.\n\nThey had passed over the only bridge across the White-rage River and were heading south toward Pax Tharkas, which was marked on the kender's map as the site of the famed Thadarkan iron mines. The land began to rise, and thick forests of aspens appeared to the west. The draconians and hobgoblins kept eyeing the forests and their pace picked up. Concealed within these woods was Qualinesti, the ancient elvenhome.\n\nAnother bird called, much nearer now. Then the hair rose on Tasslehoff's neck as the same bird call sounded from right behind him. The kender turned to see Gilthanas on his feet, his fingers to his lips, an eerie whistle splitting the air.\n\n\"Tanis!\" Tas yelled, but the half-elf was already awake. So was everyone in the cart.\n\nFizban sat up, yawned, and glanced around. \"Oh, good,\" he said mildly, \"the elves are here.\"\n\n\"What elves-where?\" Tanis sat up.\n\nThere was a sudden whirring sound like a covey of quail taking flight. A cry rang out from the supply wagon in front of them, then there was a splintering sound as the wagon, now driverless, lurched into a rut and tipped over. The driver of their cage wagon pulled sharply on the reins, stopping the elk before they ran into the wrecked supply wagon. The cage tipped precariously, sending the prisoners sprawling. The driver got the elk going again and guided them around the wreckage."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Suddenly the driver of the cage screamed and clutched at his neck where the companions saw the feathered shaft of an arrow silhouetted against the dimly lit morning sky. The driver's body tumbled from the seat. The other guard stood up, sword raised, then he, too, toppled forward with an arrow in his chest. The elk, reeling the reins go slack, slowed until the cage rolled to a halt. Cries and screams echoed up and down the caravan as arrows whizzed through the air.\n\nThe companions fell for cover face first on the floor of the cage.\n\n\"What is it? What's going on?\" Tanis asked Gilthanas.\n\nBut the elf, ignoring him, peered through the dawn gloom into the forest. \"Porthios!\" he called.\n\n\"Tanis, what's happening?\" Sturm sat up, speaking his first words in four days.\n\n\"Porthios is Gilthanas's brother. I take it this is a rescue,\" Tanis said. An arrow zipped past and lodged in the wooden side of the cart, narrowly missing the knight.\n\n\"It won't be much of a rescue if we end up dead!\" Sturm dropped to the floor. \"I thought elves were expert marksmen!\"\n\n\"Keep low.\" Gilthanas ordered. \"The arrows are only to cover our escape. This is a strike-and-run raid. My people are not capable of attacking a large body directly. We must be ready to run for the woods.\"\n\n\"And how do we get out of these cages?\" Sturm demanded.\n\n\"We cannot do everything for you!\" Gilthanas replied coldly. \"There are magic-users-\"\n\n\"I cannot work without my spell components!\" Raistlin hissed from beneath a bench. \"Keep down. Old One,\" he said to Fizban who, head raised, was looking around with interest."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Perhaps I can help,\" the old magician said, his eyes brightening. \"Now, let me think-\"\n\n\"What in the name of the Abyss is going on?\" roared a voice out of the darkness. Fewmaster Toede appeared, galloping on his pony. \"Why have we stopped?\"\n\n\"We under attack!\" Sestun cried, crawling out from under the cage where he'd taken cover.\n\n\"Attack? BIyxtshok! Get this cart moving!\" Toede shouted. An arrow thunked into the Fewmaster's saddle. Toede's red eyes flew open and he stared fearfully into the woods. \"We're under attack! Elves! Trying to free the prisoners!\"\"\n\n\"Driver and guard dead!\" Sestun shouted, flattening himself against the cage as another arrow just missed him. \"What me do?\"\n\nAn arrow zipped over Toede's head. Ducking, he had to clutch his pony's neck to keep himself from falling off. \"I'll get another driver,\" he said hastily. \"You stay here. Guard these prisoners with your life! I'll hold you responsible if they escape.\"\n\nThe Fewmaster stuck his spurs into his pony and the fear crazed animal leaped forward. \"My guard! Hobgoblins! Tome!\" the Fewmaster yelled as he galloped to the rear of the line.\n\nHis shouts echoed back. \"Hundreds of elves! We're surrounded. Charge to the north! I must report this to Lord Verminaard.\" Toede reined in at the sight of a draconian captain. \"You draconians tend to the prisoners!\" He spurred his horse on, still shouting, and one hundred hobgoblins charged after their valiant leader away from the battle. Soon, they were completely out of sight."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Well, that takes care of the hobgoblins,\" Sturm said, his face relaxing in a smile. \"Now all we have left to worry about is fifty or so draconians. I don't suppose, by the way, that there are hundreds of elves out there?\"\n\nGilthanas shook his head. \"More like twenty.\"\n\nTika, lying flat on the floor, cautiously raised her head and looked south. In the pale morning light, she could seethe hulking forms of the draconians about a mile ahead, leaping into the cover on either side of the road as the elven archers moved down to fire into their ranks. She touched Tanis's arm, pointing.\n\n\"We've got to get out of this cage,\" Tanis said, looking back. \"The draconians won't bother taking us to Pax Tharkas now that the Fewmaster's gone. They'll just butcher us in these cages. Caramon?\"\n\n\"I'll try,\" the fighter rumbled. He stood and gripped the bars of the cage in his huge hands. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to force the bars apart. His face reddened, the muscles in his arms bunched, the knuckles on his big hands turned white. It was useless. Gasping for breath, Caramon flattened himself on the floor.\n\n\"Sestun!\" Tasslehoff cried. \"Your axe! Break the lock!\"\n\nThe gully dwarf's eyes opened wide. He stared at the companions, then he glanced down the trail the Fewmaster had taken. His face twisted in an agony of indecision.\n\n\"Sestun-\" Tasslehoff began. An arrow zinged past the kender. The draconians behind them were moving forward, firing into the cages. Tas flattened himself on the floor. \"Sestun,\" he began again, \"help free us and you can come with us!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A look of firm resolve hardened Sestun's features. He reached for his axe, which he wore strapped onto his back. The companions watched in nailbiting frustration as Sestun felt all around his shoulders for the axe, which was located squarely in the middle of his back. Finally, one hand discovered the handle and he pulled the axe out. The blade glinted in the gray light of dawn.\n\nFlint saw it and groaned. \"That axe is older than I am! It must date back to the Cataclysm! He probably couldn't cut through a kender's brain, let alone that lock!\"\n\n\"Hush!\" Tanis instructed, although his own hopes sank at the sight of the gully dwarf's weapon. It wasn't even a battle-axe, just a small, battered, rusty woodcutting axe the gully dwarf had apparently picked up somewhere, thinking it was a weapon. Sestun tucked the axe between his knees and spat on his hands.\n\nArrows thunked and clattered around the bars of the cage. One struck Caramon's shield. Another pinned Tika's blouse to the side of the cage, grazing her arm. Tika couldn't remember being more terrified in her life-not even the night dragons struck Solace. She wanted to scream, she wanted Caramon to put his arm around her. But Caramon didn't dare move.\n\nTika caught sight of Goldmoon, shielding the injured Theros with her body, her face pale but calm. Tika pressed her lips together and drew a deep breath. Grimly she yanked the arrow out of the wood and tossed it to the floor, ignoring the stinging pain in her arm. Looking south, she saw that the draconians, momentarily confused by the sudden attack and the disappearance of Toede, were organized now, on their feet and running toward the cages. Their arrows filled the air. Their chest armor gleamed in the dim gray light of morning, so did the bright steel of their longswords, which they carried clamped in their jaws as they ran."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Draconians, closing in,\" she reported to Tanis, trying to keep her voice from shaking.\n\n\"Hurry, Sestun!\" Tanis shouted.\n\nThe gully dwarf gripped the axe, swung it with all his might, and missed the lock, striking the iron bars a blow that nearly jarred the axe from his hands. Shrugging apologetically, he swung again. This time he struck the lock.\n\n\"He didn't even dent it,\" Sturm reported.\n\n\"Tanis,\" Tika quavered, pointing. Several draconians were within ten feet of them, pinned down fora few moments by the elven archers, but all hope of rescue seemed lost.\n\nSestun struck the lock again.\n\n\"He chipped it,\" Sturm said in exasperation. \"At this rate we'll be out in about three days! What are those elves doing, anyway? Why don't they quit skulking about and attack!\"\n\n\"We don't have enough men to attack a force this size!\" Gilthanas returned angrily, crouching next to the knight. \"They'll get to us when they can! We are at the front of the line. See, others are escaping.\"\n\nThe elf pointed to the two wagons behind them. The elves had broken the locks and the prisoners were dashing madly for the woods as the elves covered them, darting out from the trees to let fly their deadly barrage of arrows. But once the prisoners were safe, the elves retreated into the trees.\n\nThe draconians had no intention of going into the elven woods after them. Their eyes were on the last prison cage and the wagon containing the prisoners' possessions. The companions could hear the shouts of the draconian captains. The meaning was clear: \"Kill the prisoners. Divide the spoils.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Everyone could see that the draconians would reach them long before the elves did."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tanis swore in frustration. Everything seemed futile. He felt a stirring at his side. The old magician, Fizban, was getting to his feet.\n\n\"No, Old One!\" Raistlin grasped at Fizban's robes. \"Keep undercover!\"\n\nAn arrow zipped through the air and stuck in the old man's bent and battered hat. Fizban, muttering to himself, did not seem to notice. He presented a wonderful target in the gray light. Draconian arrows flew around him like wasps, and seemed to have as little effect, although he did appear mildly annoyed when one stuck into a pouch he happened to have his hand in at the moment.\n\n\"Get down!\" Caramon roared. \"You're drawing their fire!\"\n\nFizban did kneel down fora moment, but it was only to talk to Raistlin. \"Say there, my boy,\" he said as an arrow flew past right where he'd been standing. \"Have you got a bit of bat guano on you? I'm out.\"\n\n\"No, Old One,\" Raistlin whispered frantically. \"Get down!\"\n\n\"No? Pity. Well, I guess I'll have towing it.\" The old magician stood up, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and rolled up the sleeves of his robes. He shut his eyes, pointed at the cage door, and began to mumble strange words.\n\n\"What spell is he casting?\" Tanis asked Raistlin. \"Can you understand?\"\n\nThe young mage listened intently, his brow furrowed. Suddenly Raistlin's eyes opened wide. \"NO!\" he shrieked, trying to pull on the old magician's robe to break his concentration. But it was too late. Fizban said the final word and pointed his finger at the lock on the backdoor of the cage."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Take cover!\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Raistlin threw himself beneath a bench. Sestun, seeing the old magician point at the cage door-and at him on the other side of it-fell flat on his face. Three draconians, reaching the cage door, their weapons dripping with their saliva, skidded to a halt, staring up in alarm.\n\n\"What is it?\" Tanis yelled.\n\n\"Fireball!\" Raistlin gasped and at that momenta gigantic ball of yellow-orange fire shot from the old magician's fingertips and struck the cage door with an explosive boom. Tanis buried his face in his hands as flames billowed and crackled around him. A wave of heat washed over him, searing his lungs. He heard the draconians scream in pain and smelled burning reptile flesh. Then smoke flew down his throat.\n\n\"The floor's on fire!\" Caramon yelled.\n\nTanis opened his eyes and staggered to his feet. He expected to seethe old magician nothing but a mound of black ash like the bodies of the draconians lying behind the wagon. But Fizban stood staring at the iron door, stroking his singed beard in dismay. The door was still shut.\n\n\"That really should have worked,\" he said.\n\n\"What about the lock?\" Tanis yelled, trying to see through the smoke. The iron bars of the cell door already glowed red hot.\n\n\"It didn't budge!\" Sturm shouted. He tried to approach the cage door to kick it open, but the heat radiating from the bars made it impossible. \"The lock maybe hot enough to break!\" He choked in the smoke.\n\n\"Sestun!\" Tasslehoff's shrill voice rose above the crackling flames. \"Try again! Hurry!\"\n\nThe gully dwarf staggered to his feet, swung the axe, missed, swung again, and hit the lock. The superheated metal shattered, the lock gave way, and the cage door swung open."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Tanis, help us!\" Goldmoon cried as she and Riverwind struggled to pull the injured Theros from his smoking pallet.\n\n\"Sturm, the others!\" Tanis yelled, then coughed in the smoke. He staggered to the front of the wagon, as the rest jumped out, Sturm grabbing hold of Fizban, who was still staring sadly at the door.\n\n\"Come on. Old One!\" he yelled, his gentle actions belying his harsh words as he took Fizban's arm. Caramon, Raistlin, and Tika caught Fizban as he jumped from the flaming wreckage.\n\nTanis and Riverwind lifted Theros by the shoulders and dragged him out, Goldmoon stumbled after them. She and Sturm jumped from the cart just as the ceiling collapsed.\n\n\"Caramon! Get our weapons from the supply wagon!\" Tanis shouted. \"Go with him, Sturm. Flint and Tasslehoff, get the packs. Raistlin-\"\n\n\"I will-get my pack,\" the mage said, choking in the smoke. \"And my staff. No one else may touch them.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Tanis said, thinking quickly. \"Gilthanas-\"\n\n\"I am not yours to order around, Tanthalas,\" the elf snapped and ran off into the woods without looking back.\n\nBefore Tanis could answer, Sturm and Caramon ran back. mCaramon's knuckles were split and bleeding. There had been two draconians looting the supply wagon.\n\n\"Get moving!\" Sturm shouted. \"More coming! Where's your elf friend?\" he asked Tanis suspiciously.\n\n\"He's gone ahead into the woods,\" Tanis said. \"Just remember, he and his people saved us.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Did they?\" Sturm said, his eyes narrow. \"It seems that between the elves and the old man, we came closer to getting killed than with just about anything short of the dragon!\"\n\nAt that moment, six draconians rushed out from the smoke, skidding to a halt at the sight of the warriors.\n\n\"Run for the woods!\" Tanis yelled, bending down to help Riverwind lift Theros. They carried the smith to cover while Caramon and Sturm stood, side by side, covering their retreat.\n\nBoth noticed immediately that the creatures they faced were unlike the draconians they had fought before. Their armor and coloring were different, and they carried bows and longswords, the latter dripping with some sort of awful icor. Both men remembered stories about draconians that turned to acid and those whose bones exploded.\n\nCaramon charged forward, bellowing like an enraged animal, his sword slashing in an arc. Two draconians fell beforemthey knew what was attacking. Sturm saluted the other four with his sword and swept off the head of one in the return stroke. He jumped at the others, but they stopped just out of his range, grinning, apparently waiting for something.\n\nSturm and Caramon watched uneasily, wondering what was going on. Then they knew. The bodies of the slain draconians near them began to melt into the road. The flesh boiled and ran like lard in a skillet. A yellowish vapor formed over them, mixing with the thinning smoke from the smoldering cage. Both men gagged as the yellow vapor rose around them. They grew dizzy and knew they were being poisoned.\n\n\"Come on! Get back!\" Tanis yelled from the woods.\n\nThe two stumbled back, fleeing through a rainstorm of arrows as a force of forty or fifty draconians swept around the cage, screeching in anger. The draconians started after them, then fell back when a clear voice called out, \"Hai! Ulsain!\" and ten elves, led by Gilthanas, ran from the woods."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Quen talas uvenelei!\" Gilthanas shouted. Caramon and Sturm staggered past him, the elves covering their retreat, then the elves fell back.\n\n\"Follow me,\" Gilthanas told the companions, switching to High Common. At a sign from Gilthanas, four of the elven warriors picked up Theros and carried him into the woods.\n\nTanis looked back at the cage. The draconians had come to a halt, eyeing the woods warily.\n\n\"Hurry!\" Gilthanas urged. \"My men will cover you.\"\n\nElven voices rose out of the woods, taunting the approaching draconians, trying to lure them into arrow range. The companions looked at each other hesitantly.\n\n\"I do not want to enter Elvenwood,\" Riverwind said harshly.\n\n\"It is all right,\" Tanis said, putting his hand on Riverwind's arm. \"You have my pledge.\" Riverwind stared at him fora moment, then plunged into the woods, the others walking by his side. Last to come were Caramon and Raistlin, helping Fizban. The old man glanced back at the cage, now nothing more than a pile of ashes and twisted iron.\n\n\"Wonderful spell. And did anyone say a word of thanks?\" he asked wistfully.\n\nThe elves led them swiftly through the wilderness. Without their guidance, the party would have been hopelessly lost. Behind them, the sounds of battle turned half-hearted.\n\n\"The draconians know better than to follow us into the woods,\" Gilthanas said, smiling grimly. Tanis, seeing armed elven warriors hidden among the leaves of the trees, had little fear of pursuit. Soon all sounds of fighting were lost.\n\nA thick carpeting of dead leaves covered the ground. Bare tree limbs creaked in the chill wind of early morning. After spending days riding cramped in the cage, the companions moved slowly and stiffly, glad for the exercise that warmed their blood. Gilthanas led them into a wide glade as the morning sunlit the woods with a pale light."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The glade was crowded with freed prisoners. Tasslehoff glanced eagerly around the group, then shook his head sadly.\n\n\"I wonder what happened to Sestun,\" he said to Tanis. \"I thought I saw him runoff.\"\n\n\"Don't worry.\" The half-elf patted him on the shoulder. \"He'll be all right. The elves have no love for gully dwarves, but they wouldn't kill him.\"\n\nTasslehoff shook his head. It wasn't the elves he was worried about.\n\nEntering the clearing, the companions saw an unusually tall and powerfully built elf speaking to the group of refugees. His voice was cold, his demeanor serious and stern.\n\n\"You are free to go, if any are free to go in this land. We have heard rumors that the lands south of Pax Tharkas are not under the control of the Dragon Highlord. I suggest, therefore, that you head southeast. Move as far and as fast as you can this day. We have food and supplies for your journey, all that we can spare. We can do little else for you.\"\n\nThe refugees from Solace, stunned by their sudden freedom, stared around bleakly and helplessly. They had been farmers on the outskirts of Solace, forced to watch while their homes burned and their crops were stolen to feed the Dragon Highlord's army. Most of them had never been farther from Solace than Haven. Dragons and elves were creatures of legend. Now children's stories had come to haunt them.\n\nGoldmoon's clear blue eyes glinted. She knew how they felt. \"How can you be so cruel?\" she called out angrily to the tall elf. \"Look at these people. They have never been out of Solace in their lives and you tell them calmly to walk through a land overrun by enemy forces-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What would you have me do, human?\" the elf interrupted her. \"Lead them south myself? It is enough that we have freed them. My people have their own problems. I cannot be concerned with those of humans.\" He shifted his eyes to the group of refugees. \"I warn you. Time is wasting. Be on your way!\"\n\nGoldmoon turned to Tanis, seeking support, but he just shook his head, his face dark and shadowed.\n\nOne of the men, giving the elves a haggard glance, stumbled off on the trail that meandered south through the wilderness. The other men shouldered crude weapons, women caught up their children, and the families straggled off.\n\nGoldmoon strode forward to confront the elf. \"How can you care so little for-\"\n\n\"For humans?\" The elf stared at her coldly. \"It was humans who brought the Cataclysm upon us. They were the ones who sought the gods, demanding in their pride the power that was granted Huma in humility. It was humans who caused the gods to turn their faces from us-\"\n\n\"They haven't!\" Goldmoon shouted. \"The gods, are among us!\"\n\nPorthios's eyes flared with anger. He started to turn away when Gilthanas stepped up to his brother and spoke to him swiftly in the elven language.\n\n\"What do they say?\" Riverwind asked Tanis suspiciously.\n\n\"Gilthanas is telling how Goldmoon healed Theros,\" Tanis said slowly. It had been many, many years since he had heard or spoken more than a few words in the elven tongue. He had forgotten how beautiful the language was, so beautiful it seemed to cut his soul and leave him wounded and bleeding inside. He watched as Porthios's eyes widened in disbelief."},{"from":"human","value":"Then Gilthanas pointed at Tanis."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Both the brothers turned to face him, their expressive elven features hardening. Riverwind flicked a glance at Tanis, saw the half-elf standing pale but composed under this scrutiny.\n\n\"You return to the land of your birth, do you not?\" Riverwind asked. \"It does not seem you are welcome.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Tanis said grimly, aware of what the Plainsman was thinking. He knew Riverwind was not prying into personal affairs out of curiosity. In many ways, they were in more danger now than they had been with the Fewmaster.\n\n\"They will take us to Qualinost,\" Tanis said slowly, the words apparently causing him deep pain. \"I have not been therefor many years. As Flint will tell you, I was not forced out, but few were sorry to see me leave. As you once said tome, Riverwind-to humans I am half-elven. To elves, I was half-man.\"\n\n\"Then let us leave and travel south with the others,\" Riverwind said.\n\n\"You would never get out of here alive,\" Flint murmured.\n\nTanis nodded. \"Look around,\" he said.\n\nRiverwind glanced around him and saw the elven warriors moving like shadows among the trees, their brown clothing blending in with the wilderness that was their home. As the two elves ended their conversation, Porthios turned his gaze from Tanis back to Goldmoon.\n\n\"I have heard strange tales from my brother that bear investigation. I extend to you, therefore, what the elves have extended to no humans in years-our hospitality. You will be our honored guests. Please follow me.\"\n\nPorthios gestured. Nearly two dozen elven warriors emerged from the woods, surrounding the companions.\n\n\"Honored prisoners is more like it. This is going to be rough on you, my lad,\" Flint said to Tanis in a low, gentle voice."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I know, old friend.\" Tanis rested his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. \"I know.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Speaker of the Suns.\n\nI have never imagined such beauty existed,\" Goldmoon said softly. The day's march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost.\n\nFour slender spires rose from the city's corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Grafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city's only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.\n\nThe buildings of Qualinost enhanced nature, rather than concealing it. The houses and shops were carved from rose-colored quartz. Tall and slender as aspen trees, they vaulted upward in impossible spirals from quartz-lined avenues. In the center stood a great tower of burnished gold, catching the sun-light and throwing it back in whirling, sparkling patterns that gave the tower life. Looking down upon the city, it seemed that peace and beauty unchanged from ages past must dwell in Qualinost, if it dwelled anywhere in Krynn.\n\n\"Rest here,\" Gilthanas told them, leaving them in a grove of aspen trees. \"The journey has been long, and for that I apologize. I know you are weary and you hunger-\"\n\nCaramon looked up hopefully.\n\n\"But I must beg your indulgence a few moments longer.\n\nPlease excuse me.\" Gilthanas bowed, then walked to standby his brother. Sighing, Caramon began rummaging through his pack for the fifth time, hoping perhaps he had overlooked a morsel. Raistlin read his spellbook, his lips repeating the difficult words, trying to grasp their meaning, to find the correct inflection and phrasing that would make his blood burn and so tell him the spell was his at last."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The others looked around, marveling at the beauty of the city beneath them and the aura of ancient tranquility that layover it. Even Riverwind seemed touched; his face softened and he held Goldmoon close. Fora brief instant, their cares and their sorrows eased and they found comfort in each other's nearness. Tika sat apart, watching them wistfully. Tasslehoff was trying to map their way from Gateway into Qualinost, although Tanis had told him four times that the way was secret and the elves would never permit him to carry off a map. The old magician, Fizban, was asleep. Sturm and Flint watched Tanis in concern-Flint because he alone had any idea of what the half-elf was suffering; Sturm because he knew what it was like returning to a home that didn't want you.\n\nThe knight laid his hand on Tanis's arm. \"Coming home isn't easy, my friend, is it?\" he asked.\n\n\"No,\" Tanis answered softly. \"I thought I had left this behind long ago, but now I know I never truly left at all. Qualinesti is part of me, no matter how much I want to deny it.\"\n\n\"Hush-Gilthanas,\" Flint warned.\n\nThe elf came over to Tanis. \"Runners were sent ahead and now they have returned,\" he said in elven. \"My father has asked to see you-all of you-at once, in the Tower of the Sun. I can-not permit time for refreshment. In this we seem crude and impolite-\"\n\n\"Gilthanas,\" Tanis interrupted in Common. \"My friends and I have been through unimagined peril. We have traveled roads where-literally-the dead walked. We won't faint from hunger\"-he glanced at Caramon-\"some of us won't, at any rate.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The warrior, hearing Tanis, sighed and tightened his belt.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Gilthanas said stiffly. \"I am glad you understand. Now, please follow as swiftly as you can.\"\n\nThe companions gathered their things hastily and woke Fizban. Rising to his feet, he fell over a tree root. \"Big lummox!\" he snapped, striking it with his staff. \"There-did you see it? Tried to trip me!\" he said to Raistlin.\n\nThe mage slipped his precious book back into its pouch. \"Yes, Old One.\" Raistlin smiled, assisting Fizban to his feet. The old magician leaned on the young one's shoulder as they walked after the others. Tanis watched them, wondering. The old magician was obviously a dotard. Yet Tanis remembered Raistlin's look of stark terror when he woke and found Fizban leaning over him. What had the mage seen? What did he know about this old man? Tanis reminded himself to ask. Now, however, he had other, more pressing matters on his mind. Walking forward, he caught up with the elf.\n\n\"Tell me, Gilthanas,\" Tanis said in elven, the unfamiliar words haltingly coming back to him. \"What's going on? I have aright to know.\"\n\n\"Have you?\" Gilthanas asked harshly, glancing at Tanis from the corners of his almond-shaped eyes. \"Do you care what happens to elves anymore? You can barely speak our language!\"\n\n\"Of course, I care,\" Tanis said angrily. \"You are my people too!\"\n\n\"Then why do you flaunt your human heritage?\" Gilthanas gestured to Tanis's bearded face. \"I would think you would be ashamed-\" He stopped, biting his lip, his face flushing."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Help the writer, keep the story going.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, dragons\\nAuthor: Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman\\nTitle: Dragons of Autumn Twilight\\nChapter: 26\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Raistlin reached out his thin hands to take the pouch from her.\\n\\nFewmaster Toede stared at it greedily, wondering what was in it. He would find out, but not in front of all these goblins.\\n\\nFinally there was only one person left who had not obeyed the command. Sturm stood unmoving, his face pale, his eyes glittering feverishly. He held his father's ancient, two-handed sword tightly. Suddenly Sturm turned, shocked to feel Raistlin's burning fingers on his arm.\\n\\n\\\"I will insure its safety,\\\" the mage whispered.\\n\\n\\\"How?\\\" the knight asked, withdrawing from Raistlin's touch as from a poisonous snake.\\n\\n\\\"I do not explain my ways to you,\\\" Raistlin hissed. \\\"Trust me or not, as you choose.\\\"\\n\\nSturm hesitated.\\n\\n\\\"This is ridiculous!\\\" shrieked Toede. \\\"Kill the knight! Kill them if they cause more trouble. I'm losing sleep!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well!\\\" Sturm said in a strangled voice. Walking over, he reverently laid the sword down on the pile of weapons. Its ancient silver scabbard, decorated with the kingfisher and rose, gleamed in the light.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, truly a beautiful weapon,\\\" Toede said. He had a sudden vision of himself walking into audience with Lord Verminaard, the sword of a Solamnic knight hanging at his side. \\\"Perhaps I should take that into custody myself. Bring it-\\\"\\n\\nBefore he could finish, Raistlin stepped forward swiftly and knelt beside the pile of weapons. A bright flash of light sprang from the mage's hand. Raistlin closed his eyes and began to murmur strange words, holding his outstretched hands above the weapons and packs.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Stop him!\\\" yelled Toede. But none dared.\\n\\nFinally Raistlin ceased speaking and his head slumped forward. His brother hurried to help.\\n\\nRaistlin stood. \\\"Know this!\\\" the mage said, his golden eyes staring around the common room. \\\"I have cast a spell upon our belongings. Anyone who touches them will be slowly devoured by the great worm, Catyrpelius, who will rise from the Abyss and suck the blood from your veins until you are nothing more than a dried husk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The great worm Catyrpelius!\\\" breathed Tasselehoff, his eyes shining. \\\"That's incredible. I've never heard of-\\\"\\n\\nTanis clapped his handover the kender's mouth.\\n\\nThe goblins backed away from the pile of weapons which seemed to almost glow with a green aura.\\n\\n\\\"Get those weapons, somebody!\\\" ordered Toede in a rage.\\n\\n\\\"You get 'em,\\\" muttered a goblin.\\n\\nNo one moved. Toede was at a loss. Although he was not particularly imaginative, a vivid picture of the great worm, Catyrpelius, reared up in his mind. \\\"Very well,\\\" he muttered, \\\"take the prisoners away! Load them into the cages. And bring those weapons, too, or you'll wish that worm what's-its-name was sucking your blood!\\\" Toede stomped off angrily.\\n\\nThe goblins began to shove their prisoners toward the door, prodding them in the back with their swords. None, however, touched Raistlin.\\n\\n\\\"That's a wonderful spell, Raist,\\\" Caramon said in a low voice. \\\"How effective is it? Could it-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's about as effective as your wit!\\\" Raistlin whispered and held up his right hand. As Caramon saw the tell-tale black marks of flashpowder, he smiled grimly in sudden understanding.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tanis was the last to leave the Inn. He cast a final look around. A single light swung from the ceiling. Tables were overturned, chairs broken. The beams of the ceiling were blackened from the fires, in some cases burned through completely. The windows were covered with greasy black soot.\\n\\n\\\"I almost wish I had died before I saw this.\\\"\\n\\nThe last thing he heard as he left were two hobgoblin captains arguing heatedly about who was going to move the enchanted weapons.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The slave caravan.\\n\\nA strange old magician.\\n\\nThe companions spent a chill, sleepless night, penned up in an iron-barred cage on wheels in the Solace Town Square. Three cages were chained to one of the posts driven into the ground around the clearing. The wooden posts were black from flame and heat, the bases scorched and splintered. No living thing grew in the clearing, even the rocks were black and melted.\\n\\nWhen day dawned, they could see other prisoners in the other cages. The last slave caravan leaving Solace for Pax Tharkas, it was to be personally led by the Fewmaster himself, Toede having decided to take this opportunity to impress Lord Verminaard who was in residence at Pax Tharkas.\\n\\nCaramon tried once, during the cover of night, to bend the bars of the cage and had to give up.\\n\\nA cold mist arose in the early morning hours, hiding the ravaged town from the companions. Tanis glanced over at Goldmoon and Riverwind. Now I understand them, Tanis thought. Now I know the cold emptiness inside that hurts worse than any swordthrust. My home is gone.\\n\\nHe glanced over at Gilthanas, huddled in a corner. The elf had spoken to no one that night, excusing himself by begging that his head hurt and he was tired. But Tanis, who had kept watch all through the night, saw that Gilthanas did not sleep or even make a pretence of sleeping. He gnawed his lower lip and stared out into the darkness. The sight reminded Tanis that he had-if he chose to claim it-another place he could call home: Qualinesti.\\n\\nNo, Tanis thought, leaning against the bars, Qualinesti was never home. It was simply a place I lived....\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fewmaster Toede emerged from the mist, rubbing his fat hands together and grinning widely as he regarded the slave caravan with pride. There maybe a promotion here. A fine catch, considering pickings were drying up in this burned-out shell of a town. Lord Verminaard should be pleased, especially with this last batch. That large warrior, particularly-an excellent specimen. He could probably do the work of three men in the mines. The tall barbarian would do nicely, too. Probably have to kill the knight, though-the Solamnics were notoriously uncooperative. But Lord Verminaard will certainly enjoy the two females-very different, but both lovely. Toede himself had always been attracted to the red-haired barmaid, with her alluring green eyes, the low-cut white blouse purposefully revealing just enough of her lightly-freckled skin to tantalize a man with thoughts of what lay beyond.\\n\\nThe Fewmaster's reveries were interrupted by the sound of clashing steel and hoarse shouts floating eerily through the mist. The shouts grew louder and louder. Soon almost everyone in the slave caravan was awake and peering through the fog, trying to see.\\n\\nToede cast an uneasy glance at the prisoners and wished he'd kept a few more guards handy. The goblins, seeing the prisoners stir, jumped to their feet and trained their bows and arrows on the wagons.\\n\\n\\\"What is this?\\\" Toede grumbled aloud. \\\"Can't those fools even take one prisoner without all this turmoil?\\\"\\n\\nSuddenly a cry bellowed above the noise. It was the cry of a man in torment and pain, but whose rage surpassed all else.\\n\\nGilthanas stood up, his face pale.\\n\\n\\\"I know that voice,\\\" he said. \\\"Theros Ironfeld. I feared this. He's been helping elves escape ever since the slaughter. This Lord Verminaard has sworn to exterminate the elves\\\"-Gilthanas watched Tanis's reaction-\\\"or didn't you know?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tanis said, shocked. \\\"I didn't know. How could I?\\\"\\n\\nGilthanas fell silent, studying Tanis for long moments. \\\"Forgive me,\\\" he said at last. \\\"It appears I have misjudged you. I thought perhaps that was why you had grown the beard.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Never!\\\" Tanis leaped up. \\\"How dare you accuse me-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tanis,\\\" cautioned Sturm.\\n\\nThe half-elf turned to seethe goblin guards crowding foward, their arrows trained at his heart. Raising his hands, he stepped back to his place just as a squadron of hobgoblins dragged a tall, powerfully built man into sight.\\n\\n\\\"I heard Theros had been betrayed,\\\" Gilthanas said softly. \\\"I returned to warn him. But for him, I never would have escaped Solace alive. I was supposed to meet him in the Inn last night. When he did not come, I was afraid-\\\"\\n\\nFewmaster Toede threw open the door to the companions' cage, yelling and gesturing for the hobgoblins to hurry their prisoner forward. The goblins kept the other prisoners covered while the hobgoblins threw Theros into the cage.\\n\\nFewmaster Toede slammed the door shut quickly. \\\"That's it!\\\" he yelled. \\\"Hitch up the beasts. We're moving out.\\\"\\n\\nSquads of goblins drove huge elk into the clearing and began hitching them to wagons. Their yelling and the confusion registered only in the back of Tanis's mind. For the moment, his shocked attention was on the smith.\\n\\nTheros Ironfeld lay unconscious on the straw-covered floor of the cage. Where his strong right arm should have been was a mangled stump. His arm had been hacked off, apparently by some blunt weapon, just below the shoulder. Blood poured from the terrible wound and pooled on the floor of the cage.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Let that be a lesson to all those who help elves!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Fewmaster peered in the cage, his red pig eyes squinching in their pouches of fat. \\\"He won't be forging anything ever again-unless it be anew arm! I, eh-\\\" A huge elk lumbered into the Fewmaster, forcing him to scramble for his life.\\n\\nToede turned on the creature leading the elk. \\\"Sestun You oaf!\\\" Toede knocked the smaller creature to the ground.\\n\\nTasslehoff stared down at the creature, thinking it was a very short goblin. Then he saw it was a gully dwarf dressed in a goblin's armor. The gully dwarf picked himself up, shoved his oversized helm back, and glared after the Fewmaster, who was waddling up to the front of the caravan. Scowling, the gully dwarf began kicking mud in his direction. This apparently relieved his soul, for he soon quit and returned to prodding the slow elk into line.\\n\\n\\\"My faithful friend,\\\" Gilthanas murmured, bending over Theros and taking the smith's strong, black hand in his. \\\"You have paid for your loyalty with your life.\\\"\\n\\nTheros looked at him with vacant eyes, clearly not hearing the elf's voice. Gilthanas tried to stanch the dreadful wound, but blood continued to pump onto the floor of the cart. The smithy's life was emptying before their eyes.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" said Goldmoon, coming to kneel beside the smith. \\\"He need not die. I am a healer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lady,\\\" Gilthanas said impatiently, \\\"there exists no healer on Krynn who could help this man. He has lost more blood than the dwarf has in his whole body! His lifeboat is so faint I can barely feel it. The kindest thing to do islet him die in peace without any of your barbarian rituals!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Goldmoon ignored him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Placing her hand upon Theros's forehead, she closed her eyes.\\n\\n\\\"Mishakal,\\\" she prayed, \\\"beloved goddess of healing, grace this man with your blessing. If his destiny be not fulfilled, heal him, that he may live and serve the cause of truth.\\\"\\n\\nGilthanas began to remonstrate once more, reaching out to pull Goldmoon away. Then he stopped and stared in amazement. Blood ceased to drain from the smith's wound and, even as the elf watched, the flesh began to close over it. Warmth returned to the smith's dusky black skin, his breathing grew peaceful and easy, and he appeared to drift into a healthful, relaxed sleep. There were gasps and murmurs of astonishment from the other prisoners in the nearby cages. Tanis glanced around fearfully to see if any of the goblins or draconians had noticed, but apparently they were all preoccupied with hitching the recalcitrant elk to the wagons. Gilthanas subsided back into his corner, his eyes on Goldmoon, his expression thoughtful.\\n\\n\\\"Tasslehoff, pileup some of that straw,\\\" Tanis instructed.\\n\\n\\\"Caramon, you and Sturm help me move him to a corner.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Here.\\\" Riverwind offered his cloak. \\\"Take this to cover him from the chill.\\\"\\n\\nGoldmoon made certain Theros was comfortable, then returned to her place beside Riverwind. Her face radiated a peace and calm serenity that made it seem as if the reptilian creatures on the outside of the cage were the true prisoners.\\n\\nIt was nearly noon before the caravan got underway. Goblins came by and threw some food into the cages, hunks of meat and bread. No one, not even Caramon, could eat the rancid, stinking meat and they threw it back out. But they devoured the bread hungrily, having eaten nothing since last nightfall. Soon Toede had everything in order and, riding by on his shaggy pony, gave the orders to move out. The gully dwarf, Sestun, trotted after Toede. Seeing the hunk of meat lying in the mud and filth outside the cage, the gully dwarf stopped, grabbed it eagerly, and crammed it into his mouth.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Each wheeled cage was pulled by four elk. Two hobgoblins sat high on crude wooden platforms, one holding the reins of the elk, the other a whip and a sword. Toede took his place at the front of the line, followed by about fifty draconians dressed in armor and heavily armed. Another troop of about twice as many hobgoblins fell into line behind the cages.\\n\\nAfter a great deal of confusion and swearing, the caravan finally lurched forward. Some of the remaining residents of Solace stared at them as they drove off. If they knew anyone among the prisoners, they made no sound or gesture of farewell. The faces, both inside and outside the cages, were the faces of those who no longer can feel pain. Like Tika, they had vowed never to cry again.\\n\\nThe caravan traveled south from Solace, down the old road through Gateway Pass. The hobgoblins and draconians grumbled about traveling in the heat of the day, but they cheered up, and moved faster once they marched into the shade of the Pass's high canyon walls. Although the prisoners were chilled in the canyon, they had their own reasons for being grateful-they no longer had to look upon their ravaged homeland.\\n\\nIt was evening by the time they left the canyon's winding roads and reached Gateway. The prisoners strained against the bars for some glimpse of the thriving market town. But now only two low stonewalls, melted and blackened, marked where the town might have once stood. No living creature stirred. The prisoners sank back in misery.\\n\\nOnce more out in the open country, the draconians announced their preference for traveling by night, out of the sun's light. Consequently, the caravan made only brief stops until dawn. Sleep was impossible in the filthy cages jolting and jouncing over every rut in the road. The prisoners suffered from thirst and hunger. Those who managed to gag down the food the draconians tossed them soon vomited it backup. They were given only small cups of water two or three times a day.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Goldmoon remained near the injured smithy. Although Theros Ironfeld was no longer at the point of death, he was still very ill. He developed a high fever and, in his delirium, he raved about the sacking of Solace. Theros spoke of draconians whose bodies, when dead, turned into pools of acid, burning the flesh of their victims; and of draconians whose bones exploded after death, destroying everything within a wide radius. Tanis listened to the smith relive horror after horror until he felt sick. For the first time, Tanis realized the enormity of the situation. How could they hope to fight dragons whose breath could kill, whose magic exceeded that of all but the most powerful magic-users who had ever lived? How could they defeat vast armies of these draconians when even the corpses of the creatures had the power to kill?\\n\\nAll we have, Tanis thought bitterly, are the Disks of Mishakal-and what good are they? He had examined the Disks during their journey from Xak Tsaroth to Solace. He had been able to read little of what was written, however. Although Goldmoon had been able to understand those words that pertained to the healing arts, she could decipher little more.\\n\\n\\\"All will be made clear to the leader of the people,\\\" she said with steadfast faith. \\\"My calling now is to find him.\\\"\\n\\nTanis wished he could share her faith, but as they traveled through the ravaged countryside, he began to doubt that any leader could defeat the might of this Lord Verminaard.\\n\\nThese doubts merely compounded the half-elf's other problems. Raistlin, bereft of his medicine, coughed until he was nearly in as bad a state as Theros, and Goldmoon had two patients on her hands. Fortunately, Tika helped the Plainswoman tend the mage. Tika, whose father had been a magician of sorts, held anyone who could work magic in awe.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"In fact, it was Tika's father who inadvertently introduced Raistlin to his calling. Raistlin's father took the twin boys and his stepdaughter, Kitiara, to the local Summer's End festival where the children watched the Wonderful Waylan perform his illusions. Eight-year-old Caramon was soon bored and readily agreed to accompany his teenage half-sister to the event that attracted her-the swordplay. Raistlin, thin and frail even then, had no use for such active sports. He spent the entire day watching Waylan the Illusionist. When the family returned home that evening, Raistlin astounded them by being able to duplicate flawlessly every trick. The next day, his father took the boy to study with one of the great masters of the magic arts.\\n\\nTika had always admired Raistlin and she had been impressed by the stories she heard about his mysterious journey to the fabled Towers of High Sorcery. Now she helped care for the mage out of respect and her own innate need to help those weaker than herself. She also tended him (she admitted privately to herself) because her deeds won a smile of gratitude and approval from Raistlin's handsome twin brother.\\n\\nTanis wasn't certain which to worry about most-the worsening condition of the mage or the growing romance between the older, experienced soldier and the young and-Tanis believed, despite gossip to the contrary-inexperienced, vulnerable barmaid.\\n\\nHe had another problem as well. Sturm, humiliated at being taken prisoner and hauled through the countryside like an animal to slaughter, lapsed into a deep depression from which Tanis thought he might never escape. Sturm either sat all day, staring out between the bars, or-perhaps worse-he lapsed into periods of deep sleep from which he could not be wakened.\\n\\nFinally Tanis had to cope with his own inner turmoil, physically manifested by the elf sitting in the comer of the cage.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Every time he looked at Gilthanas, Tanis's memories of his home in Qualinesti haunted him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As they neared his homeland, the memories he had thought long buried and forgotten crept into his mind, their touch every bit as chilling as the touch of the undead in Darken Wood.\\n\\nGilthanas, childhood friend-more than friend, brother.\\n\\nRaised in the same household and close to the same age, the two had played and fought and laughed together. When Gilthanas's little sister grew old enough, the boys allowed the captivating blonde child to join them. One of the threesome's greatest delights was teasing the older brother, Porthios, a strong and serious youth who took on the responsibilities and sorrows of his people at an early age. Gilthanas, Laurana, and Porthios were the children of the Speaker of the Suns, the ruler of the elves of Qualinesti, a position Porthios would inherit at his father's death.\\n\\nSome in the elven kingdom thought it odd that the Speaker would take into his house the bastard son of his dead brother's wife after she had been raped by a human warrior. She had died of grief only months after the birth of her half-breed child. But the Speaker, who had strong views on responsibility, took in the child without hesitation. It was only in later years, as he watched with growing unease the developing relationship between his beloved daughter and the bastard half-elf, that he began to regret his decision. The situation confused Tanis as well. Being half-human, the young man acquired a maturity the slower developing elf maid could not understand. Tanis saw the unhappiness their union must bring down upon the family he loved. He also was beset by the inner turmoil that would torment him in later life: the constant battle between the elvish and the human within him. At the age of eighty-about twenty inhuman years-Tanis left Qualinost. The Speaker was not sorry to see Tanis leave. He tried to hide his feelings from the young half-elf, but both of them knew it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gilthanas had not been so tactful. He and Tanis had exchanged bitter words over Laurana. It was years before the sting of those words faded, and Tanis wondered if he had ever truly forgotten or forgiven. Clearly, Gilthanas had done neither.\\n\\nThe journey for these two was very long. Tanis made a few attempts at desultory conversation and became immediately aware that Gilthanas had changed. The young elflord had always been open and honest, fun-loving and light-hearted. He did not envy his older brother the responsibilities inherent in his role as heir to the throne. Gilthanas was a scholar, a dabbler in the magic arts, though he never took them as seriously as Raistlin. He was an excellent warrior, though he disliked fighting, as do all elves. He was deeply devoted to his family, especially his sister. But now he sat silent and moody, an unusual characteristic in elves. The only time he showed any interest in anything was when Caramon had begun plotting an escape. Gilthanas told him sharply to forget it, he would ruin everything. When pressed to elaborate, the elf fell silent, muttering only something about'overwhelming odds.\\\"\\n\\nBy sunrise of the third day, the draconian army was flagging from the night's long march and looking forward to a rest. The companions had spent another sleepless night and looked forward to nothing but another chill and dismal day. But the cages suddenly rolled to a stop. Tanis glanced up, puzzled at the change in routine. The other prisoners roused themselves and looked out the cage bars. They saw an old man, dressed in long robes that once might have been white and a battered, pointed hat. He appeared to be talking to a tree.\\n\\n\\\"I say, did you hear me?\\\" The old man shook a worn walking stick at the oak. \\\"I said move and I meant it! I was sitting on that rock\\\"-he pointed to a boulder-\\\"enjoying the rising sun on my old bones when you had the nerve to cast a shadow over it and chill me! Move this instant, I say!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The tree did not respond.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It also did not move.\\n\\n\\\"I won't take anymore of your insolence!\\\" The old man began to beat on the tree with his stick. \\\"Move or I'll-I'll-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Someone shut that looney in a cage!\\\" Fewmaster Toede shouted, galloping back from the front of the caravan.\\n\\n\\\"Get your hands off me!\\\" the old man shrieked at the draconians who ran up and accosted him. He beat on them feebly with his staff until they took it away from him. \\\"Arrest the tree!\\\" he insisted. \\\"Obstructing sunlight! That's the charge!\\\"\\n\\nThe draconians threw the old man roughly into the companions' cage. Tripping over his robes, he fell to the floor.\\n\\n\\\"Are you all right. Old One?\\\" Riverwind asked as he assisted the old man to a seat.\\n\\nGoldmoon left Theros's side. \\\"Yes, Old One,\\\" she said softly. \\\"Are you hurt? I am a cleric of-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Mishakal!\\\" he said, peering at the amulet around her neck. \\\"How very interesting. My, my.\\\" He stared at her in astonishment. \\\"You don't look three hundred years old!\\\"\\n\\nGoldmoon blinked, uncertain how to react. \\\"How did you know? Did you recognize-? I'm not three hundred-\\\" She was growing confused.\\n\\n\\\"Of course, you're not. I'm sorry, my dear.\\\" The old man patted her hand. \\\"Never bring up a lady's age in public. Forgive me. It won't happen again. Our little secret,\\\" he said in a piercing whisper. Tas and Tika started to giggle. The old man looked around. \\\"Kind of you to stop and offer me a lift. The road to Qualinost is long.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We're not going to Qualinost,\\\" Gilthanas said sharply.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We're prisoners, going to the slave mines of Pax Tharkas.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh?\\\" the old man glanced around vaguely. \\\"Is there another group due by here soon, then? I could have sworn this was the one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is your name. Old One,\\\" Tika asked.\\n\\n\\\"My name?\\\" The old man hesitated, frowning. \\\"Fizban? Yes, that's it. Fizban.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fizban!\\\" Tasslehoff repeated as the cage lurched to a start again. \\\"That's not a name!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Isn't it?\\\" the old man asked wistfully. \\\"That's too bad. I was rather fond of it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I think it's a splendid name,\\\" Tika said, glaring at Tas. The kender subsided into a corner, his eyes on the pouches slung over the old man's shoulder.\\n\\nSuddenly Raistlin began to cough and they all turned their attention to him. His coughing spasms had been growing worse and worse. He was exhausted and in obvious pain; his skin burned to the touch. Goldmoon was unable to help him. Whatever was burning the mage up inside, the cleric could not heal. Caramon knelt beside him, wiping away the bloody saliva that flecked his brother's lips.\\n\\n\\\"He's got to have that stuff he drinks!\\\" Caramon looked up in anguish. \\\"I've never seen him this bad. If they won't listen to reason\\\"-the big man scowled-\\\"I'll break their heads! I don't care how many there are!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We'll talk to them when we stop for the night,\\\" Tanis promised, though he could guess the Fewmaster's answer.\\n\\n\\\"Excuse me,\\\" the old man said. \\\"May I?\\\" Fizban sat down beside Raistlin. He laid his hand on the mage's head and sternly spoke a few words. Caramon, listening closely, heard'Fistandan...\\\" and'not the time...\\\" Certainly it wasn't a healing prayer, such as Goldmoon had tried, but the big man saw that his brother responded! The response was astonishing, however. Raistlin's eyes fluttered and opened. He looked up at the old man with a wild expression of terror and grasped Fizban's wrist in his thin, frail hand. For an instant it seemed Raistlin knew the old man, then Fizban passed his handover the mage's eyes. The look of terror subsided, replaced by confusion.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Hullo,\\\" Fizban beamed at him. \\\"Name's-uh-Fizban.\\\" He shot astern glance at Tasslehoff, daring the kender to laugh.\\n\\n\\\"You are... magi!\\\" Raistlin whispered. His cough was gone.\\n\\n\\\"Why, yes, I suppose I am.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am magi!\\\" Raistlin said, struggling to sit up.\\n\\n\\\"No kidding!\\\" Fizban seemed immensely tickled. \\\"Small world, Krynn. I'll have to teach you a few of my spells. I have one... a fireball... let's see, how did that go?\\\"\\n\\nThe old man rambled on long past the time the caravan stopped at the rising of the sun.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Rescue.\\n\\nFizban's magic.\\n\\nRaistlin suffered in body, Sturm suffered in mind, but perhaps the one who experienced the keenest suffering during the companions' four-day imprisonment was Tasslehoff.\\n\\nThe cruelest form of torture one can inflict on a kender is to lock him up. Of course, it is also widely believed that the crudest form of torture one can inflict on any other species is to lock them up with a kender. After three days of Tasslehoff s incessant chatter, pranks, and practical jokes, the companions would have willingly traded the kender fora peaceful hour of being stretched on the rack-at least that's what Flint said.\\n\\nFinally, after even Goldmoon lost her temper and nearly slapped him, Tanis sent Tasslehoff to the back of the cart. His legs hanging over the edge, the kender pressed his face against the iron bars and thought he would die of misery. He had never been so bored in his entire life.\\n\\nThings got interesting with the discovery of Fizban, but the old man's amusement value wore thin when Tanis made Tas return the old magician's pouches. And so, driven to the point of desperation, Tasslehoff latched onto anew diversion.\\n\\nSestun, the gully dwarf.\\n\\nThe companions generally regarded Sestun with amused pity. The gully dwarf was the object of Toede's ridicule and mistreatment. He ran the Fewmaster's errands all nightlong, carrying messages from Toede at the front of the caravan to the hobgoblin captain at the rear, lugging food up to the Fewmaster from the supply cart; feeding and watering the Fewmaster's pony, and any other nasty jobs the Fewmaster could devise. Toede knocked him flat at least three times a day, the draconians tormented him, and the hobgoblins stole his food. Even the elk kicked at him whenever he trotted past. The gully dwarf bore it all with such a grimly defiant spirit that it won him the sympathy of the companions.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sestun began to stay near the companions when not busy. Tanis, eager for information about Pax Tharkas, asked him about his homeland and how he came to work for the Fewmaster. The story took over a day for Sestun to relate and another day for the companions to piece together, since he started in the middle and plunged headlong into the beginning.\\n\\nWhat it amounted to, eventually, wasn't much help. Sestun was among a large group of gully dwarves living in the hills around Pax Tharkas when Lord Verminaard and his draconians captured the iron mines which he needed to make steel weapons for his troops.\\n\\n\\\"Big fire-all day, all night. Bad smell.\\\" Sestun wrinkled his nose. \\\"Pound rock. All day, all night. I get good job in kitchen\\\"-his face brightened a moment-\\\"fix hot soup. Very hot.\\\" His face fell. \\\"Spill soup. Hot soup heat up armor real fast. Lord Verminaard sleep on back for week.\\\" He sighed. \\\"I go with Fewmaster. Me volunteer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe we can shut the mines down,\\\" Caramon suggested.\\n\\n\\\"That's a thought,\\\" Tanis mused. \\\"How many draconians does Lord Verminaard have guarding the mines?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Two!\\\" Sestun said, holding up ten grubby fingers.\\n\\nTanis sighed, remembering where they had heard that before.\\n\\nSestun looked at him hopefully. \\\"There be only two dragons, too.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Two dragons!\\\" Tanis said incredulously.\\n\\n\\\"Not more than two.\\\"\\n\\nCaramon groaned and settled back. The warrior had been giving dragon fighting serious thought ever since Xak Tsaroth. He and Sturm had reviewed every tale about Huma, the only known dragon fighter the knight could remember. Unfortunately, no one had ever taken the legends of Huma seriously before (except the Solamnic Knights, for which they were ridiculed), so much of Huma's tale had been distorted by time or forgotten.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A knight of truth and power, who called down the gods themselves and forged the mighty Dragonlance,\\\" Caramon murmured now, glancing at Sturm, who lay asleep on the straw-covered floor of their prison.\\n\\n\\\"Dragonlance?\\\" muttered Fizban, waking with a snort. \\\"Dragonlance? Who said anything about the Dragonlance?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My brother,\\\" Raistlin whispered, smiling bitterly. \\\"Quoting the Canticle. It seems he and the knight have taken a fancy to children's stories that have come to haunt them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good story, Huma and the Dragonlance,\\\" said the old man, stroking his beard.\\n\\n\\\"Story-that's all it is.\\\" Caramon yawned and scratched his chest. \\\"Who knows if it's real or if the Dragonlance was real or if even Huma was real.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We know the dragons are real,\\\" Raistlin murmured.\\n\\n\\\"Huma was real,\\\" Fizban said softly. \\\"And so was the Dragonlance.\\\" The old man's face grew sad.\\n\\n\\\"Was it?\\\" Caramon sat up. \\\"Can you describe it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course!\\\" Fizban sniffed disdainfully.\\n\\nEveryone was listening now. Fizban was, in fact, a bit disconcerted by his audience.\\n\\n\\\"It was a weapon similiar to-no, it wasn't. Actually it was-no, it wasn't that either. It was closer to... almost a... rather it was, sort of a-lance, that's it! A lance!\\\" He nodded earnestly. \\\"And it was quite good against dragons.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm taking a nap,\\\" Caramon grumbled.\\n\\nTanis smiled and shook his head. Sitting back against the bars, he wearily closed his eyes. Soon everyone except Raistlin and Tasslehoff fell into a fitful sleep. The kender, wide awake and bored, looked at Raistlin hopefully. Sometimes, if Raistlin was in a good mood, he would tell stories about magic-users of old. But the mage, wrapped in his red robes, was staring curiously at Fizban. The old man sat on a bench, snoring gently, his head bobbing up and down as the cart jounced over the road. Raistlin's golden eyes narrowed to gleaming slits as though he had been struck by anew and disturbing thought. After a moment, he pulled his hood up over his head and leaned back, his face lost in the shadows.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tasslehoff sighed. Then, glancing around, he saw Sestun walking near the cage. The kender brightened. Here, he knew, was an appreciative audience for his stories.\\n\\nTasslehoff, calling him over, began to relate one of his own personal favorites. The two moons sank. The prisoners slept. The hobgoblins trailed along behind, half-asleep, talking about making camp soon. Fewmaster Toede rode up ahead, dreaming about promotion. Behind the Fewmaster, the draconians muttered among themselves in their harsh language, casting baleful glances at Toede when he wasn't looking.\\n\\nTasslehoff sat, swinging his legs over the side of the cage, talking to Sestun.\\\" The kender noticed without seeming to that Gilthanaswas only pretending to sleep. Tas saw the elf's eyes open and glance quickly around when he thought no one was watching. This intrigued Tas immensely. It seemed almost as if Gilthanas was watching or waiting for something. The kender lost the thread of his story.\\n\\n\\\"And so I... uh... grabbed a rock from my pouch, threw it and-thunk-hit the wizard right on the head,\\\" Tas finished hurriedly. \\\"The demon grabbed the wizard by the foot and dragged him down into the depths of the Abyss.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But first demon thank you,\\\" prompted Sestun who had heard this story-with variations-twice before. \\\"You forgot.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did I?\\\" Tas asked, keeping an eye on Gilthanas. \\\"Well, yes, the demon thanked me and took away the magic ring he'd given me. If it wasn't dark, you could seethe outline the ring burned on my finger.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sun uping. Morning soon. I see then,\\\" the gully dwarf said eagerly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was still dark, but a faint light in the east hinted that soon the sun would be rising on the fourth day of their journey.\\n\\nSuddenly Tas heard a bird call in the woods. Several answered it. What odd-sounding birds, Tas thought. Never heard their like before. But then he'd never been this far south before. He knew where they were from one of his many maps.\\n\\nThey had passed over the only bridge across the White-rage River and were heading south toward Pax Tharkas, which was marked on the kender's map as the site of the famed Thadarkan iron mines. The land began to rise, and thick forests of aspens appeared to the west. The draconians and hobgoblins kept eyeing the forests and their pace picked up. Concealed within these woods was Qualinesti, the ancient elvenhome.\\n\\nAnother bird called, much nearer now. Then the hair rose on Tasslehoff's neck as the same bird call sounded from right behind him. The kender turned to see Gilthanas on his feet, his fingers to his lips, an eerie whistle splitting the air.\\n\\n\\\"Tanis!\\\" Tas yelled, but the half-elf was already awake. So was everyone in the cart.\\n\\nFizban sat up, yawned, and glanced around. \\\"Oh, good,\\\" he said mildly, \\\"the elves are here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What elves-where?\\\" Tanis sat up.\\n\\nThere was a sudden whirring sound like a covey of quail taking flight. A cry rang out from the supply wagon in front of them, then there was a splintering sound as the wagon, now driverless, lurched into a rut and tipped over. The driver of their cage wagon pulled sharply on the reins, stopping the elk before they ran into the wrecked supply wagon. The cage tipped precariously, sending the prisoners sprawling. The driver got the elk going again and guided them around the wreckage.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Suddenly the driver of the cage screamed and clutched at his neck where the companions saw the feathered shaft of an arrow silhouetted against the dimly lit morning sky. The driver's body tumbled from the seat. The other guard stood up, sword raised, then he, too, toppled forward with an arrow in his chest. The elk, reeling the reins go slack, slowed until the cage rolled to a halt. Cries and screams echoed up and down the caravan as arrows whizzed through the air.\\n\\nThe companions fell for cover face first on the floor of the cage.\\n\\n\\\"What is it? What's going on?\\\" Tanis asked Gilthanas.\\n\\nBut the elf, ignoring him, peered through the dawn gloom into the forest. \\\"Porthios!\\\" he called.\\n\\n\\\"Tanis, what's happening?\\\" Sturm sat up, speaking his first words in four days.\\n\\n\\\"Porthios is Gilthanas's brother. I take it this is a rescue,\\\" Tanis said. An arrow zipped past and lodged in the wooden side of the cart, narrowly missing the knight.\\n\\n\\\"It won't be much of a rescue if we end up dead!\\\" Sturm dropped to the floor. \\\"I thought elves were expert marksmen!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Keep low.\\\" Gilthanas ordered. \\\"The arrows are only to cover our escape. This is a strike-and-run raid. My people are not capable of attacking a large body directly. We must be ready to run for the woods.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And how do we get out of these cages?\\\" Sturm demanded.\\n\\n\\\"We cannot do everything for you!\\\" Gilthanas replied coldly. \\\"There are magic-users-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I cannot work without my spell components!\\\" Raistlin hissed from beneath a bench. \\\"Keep down. Old One,\\\" he said to Fizban who, head raised, was looking around with interest.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Perhaps I can help,\\\" the old magician said, his eyes brightening. \\\"Now, let me think-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What in the name of the Abyss is going on?\\\" roared a voice out of the darkness. Fewmaster Toede appeared, galloping on his pony. \\\"Why have we stopped?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We under attack!\\\" Sestun cried, crawling out from under the cage where he'd taken cover.\\n\\n\\\"Attack? BIyxtshok! Get this cart moving!\\\" Toede shouted. An arrow thunked into the Fewmaster's saddle. Toede's red eyes flew open and he stared fearfully into the woods. \\\"We're under attack! Elves! Trying to free the prisoners!\\\"\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Driver and guard dead!\\\" Sestun shouted, flattening himself against the cage as another arrow just missed him. \\\"What me do?\\\"\\n\\nAn arrow zipped over Toede's head. Ducking, he had to clutch his pony's neck to keep himself from falling off. \\\"I'll get another driver,\\\" he said hastily. \\\"You stay here. Guard these prisoners with your life! I'll hold you responsible if they escape.\\\"\\n\\nThe Fewmaster stuck his spurs into his pony and the fear crazed animal leaped forward. \\\"My guard! Hobgoblins! Tome!\\\" the Fewmaster yelled as he galloped to the rear of the line.\\n\\nHis shouts echoed back. \\\"Hundreds of elves! We're surrounded. Charge to the north! I must report this to Lord Verminaard.\\\" Toede reined in at the sight of a draconian captain. \\\"You draconians tend to the prisoners!\\\" He spurred his horse on, still shouting, and one hundred hobgoblins charged after their valiant leader away from the battle. Soon, they were completely out of sight.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Well, that takes care of the hobgoblins,\\\" Sturm said, his face relaxing in a smile. \\\"Now all we have left to worry about is fifty or so draconians. I don't suppose, by the way, that there are hundreds of elves out there?\\\"\\n\\nGilthanas shook his head. \\\"More like twenty.\\\"\\n\\nTika, lying flat on the floor, cautiously raised her head and looked south. In the pale morning light, she could seethe hulking forms of the draconians about a mile ahead, leaping into the cover on either side of the road as the elven archers moved down to fire into their ranks. She touched Tanis's arm, pointing.\\n\\n\\\"We've got to get out of this cage,\\\" Tanis said, looking back. \\\"The draconians won't bother taking us to Pax Tharkas now that the Fewmaster's gone. They'll just butcher us in these cages. Caramon?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll try,\\\" the fighter rumbled. He stood and gripped the bars of the cage in his huge hands. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to force the bars apart. His face reddened, the muscles in his arms bunched, the knuckles on his big hands turned white. It was useless. Gasping for breath, Caramon flattened himself on the floor.\\n\\n\\\"Sestun!\\\" Tasslehoff cried. \\\"Your axe! Break the lock!\\\"\\n\\nThe gully dwarf's eyes opened wide. He stared at the companions, then he glanced down the trail the Fewmaster had taken. His face twisted in an agony of indecision.\\n\\n\\\"Sestun-\\\" Tasslehoff began. An arrow zinged past the kender. The draconians behind them were moving forward, firing into the cages. Tas flattened himself on the floor. \\\"Sestun,\\\" he began again, \\\"help free us and you can come with us!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A look of firm resolve hardened Sestun's features. He reached for his axe, which he wore strapped onto his back. The companions watched in nailbiting frustration as Sestun felt all around his shoulders for the axe, which was located squarely in the middle of his back. Finally, one hand discovered the handle and he pulled the axe out. The blade glinted in the gray light of dawn.\\n\\nFlint saw it and groaned. \\\"That axe is older than I am! It must date back to the Cataclysm! He probably couldn't cut through a kender's brain, let alone that lock!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hush!\\\" Tanis instructed, although his own hopes sank at the sight of the gully dwarf's weapon. It wasn't even a battle-axe, just a small, battered, rusty woodcutting axe the gully dwarf had apparently picked up somewhere, thinking it was a weapon. Sestun tucked the axe between his knees and spat on his hands.\\n\\nArrows thunked and clattered around the bars of the cage. One struck Caramon's shield. Another pinned Tika's blouse to the side of the cage, grazing her arm. Tika couldn't remember being more terrified in her life-not even the night dragons struck Solace. She wanted to scream, she wanted Caramon to put his arm around her. But Caramon didn't dare move.\\n\\nTika caught sight of Goldmoon, shielding the injured Theros with her body, her face pale but calm. Tika pressed her lips together and drew a deep breath. Grimly she yanked the arrow out of the wood and tossed it to the floor, ignoring the stinging pain in her arm. Looking south, she saw that the draconians, momentarily confused by the sudden attack and the disappearance of Toede, were organized now, on their feet and running toward the cages. Their arrows filled the air. Their chest armor gleamed in the dim gray light of morning, so did the bright steel of their longswords, which they carried clamped in their jaws as they ran.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Draconians, closing in,\\\" she reported to Tanis, trying to keep her voice from shaking.\\n\\n\\\"Hurry, Sestun!\\\" Tanis shouted.\\n\\nThe gully dwarf gripped the axe, swung it with all his might, and missed the lock, striking the iron bars a blow that nearly jarred the axe from his hands. Shrugging apologetically, he swung again. This time he struck the lock.\\n\\n\\\"He didn't even dent it,\\\" Sturm reported.\\n\\n\\\"Tanis,\\\" Tika quavered, pointing. Several draconians were within ten feet of them, pinned down fora few moments by the elven archers, but all hope of rescue seemed lost.\\n\\nSestun struck the lock again.\\n\\n\\\"He chipped it,\\\" Sturm said in exasperation. \\\"At this rate we'll be out in about three days! What are those elves doing, anyway? Why don't they quit skulking about and attack!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We don't have enough men to attack a force this size!\\\" Gilthanas returned angrily, crouching next to the knight. \\\"They'll get to us when they can! We are at the front of the line. See, others are escaping.\\\"\\n\\nThe elf pointed to the two wagons behind them. The elves had broken the locks and the prisoners were dashing madly for the woods as the elves covered them, darting out from the trees to let fly their deadly barrage of arrows. But once the prisoners were safe, the elves retreated into the trees.\\n\\nThe draconians had no intention of going into the elven woods after them. Their eyes were on the last prison cage and the wagon containing the prisoners' possessions. The companions could hear the shouts of the draconian captains. The meaning was clear: \\\"Kill the prisoners. Divide the spoils.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Everyone could see that the draconians would reach them long before the elves did.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tanis swore in frustration. Everything seemed futile. He felt a stirring at his side. The old magician, Fizban, was getting to his feet.\\n\\n\\\"No, Old One!\\\" Raistlin grasped at Fizban's robes. \\\"Keep undercover!\\\"\\n\\nAn arrow zipped through the air and stuck in the old man's bent and battered hat. Fizban, muttering to himself, did not seem to notice. He presented a wonderful target in the gray light. Draconian arrows flew around him like wasps, and seemed to have as little effect, although he did appear mildly annoyed when one stuck into a pouch he happened to have his hand in at the moment.\\n\\n\\\"Get down!\\\" Caramon roared. \\\"You're drawing their fire!\\\"\\n\\nFizban did kneel down fora moment, but it was only to talk to Raistlin. \\\"Say there, my boy,\\\" he said as an arrow flew past right where he'd been standing. \\\"Have you got a bit of bat guano on you? I'm out.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, Old One,\\\" Raistlin whispered frantically. \\\"Get down!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No? Pity. Well, I guess I'll have towing it.\\\" The old magician stood up, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and rolled up the sleeves of his robes. He shut his eyes, pointed at the cage door, and began to mumble strange words.\\n\\n\\\"What spell is he casting?\\\" Tanis asked Raistlin. \\\"Can you understand?\\\"\\n\\nThe young mage listened intently, his brow furrowed. Suddenly Raistlin's eyes opened wide. \\\"NO!\\\" he shrieked, trying to pull on the old magician's robe to break his concentration. But it was too late. Fizban said the final word and pointed his finger at the lock on the backdoor of the cage.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Take cover!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Raistlin threw himself beneath a bench. Sestun, seeing the old magician point at the cage door-and at him on the other side of it-fell flat on his face. Three draconians, reaching the cage door, their weapons dripping with their saliva, skidded to a halt, staring up in alarm.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Tanis yelled.\\n\\n\\\"Fireball!\\\" Raistlin gasped and at that momenta gigantic ball of yellow-orange fire shot from the old magician's fingertips and struck the cage door with an explosive boom. Tanis buried his face in his hands as flames billowed and crackled around him. A wave of heat washed over him, searing his lungs. He heard the draconians scream in pain and smelled burning reptile flesh. Then smoke flew down his throat.\\n\\n\\\"The floor's on fire!\\\" Caramon yelled.\\n\\nTanis opened his eyes and staggered to his feet. He expected to seethe old magician nothing but a mound of black ash like the bodies of the draconians lying behind the wagon. But Fizban stood staring at the iron door, stroking his singed beard in dismay. The door was still shut.\\n\\n\\\"That really should have worked,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"What about the lock?\\\" Tanis yelled, trying to see through the smoke. The iron bars of the cell door already glowed red hot.\\n\\n\\\"It didn't budge!\\\" Sturm shouted. He tried to approach the cage door to kick it open, but the heat radiating from the bars made it impossible. \\\"The lock maybe hot enough to break!\\\" He choked in the smoke.\\n\\n\\\"Sestun!\\\" Tasslehoff's shrill voice rose above the crackling flames. \\\"Try again! Hurry!\\\"\\n\\nThe gully dwarf staggered to his feet, swung the axe, missed, swung again, and hit the lock. The superheated metal shattered, the lock gave way, and the cage door swung open.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Tanis, help us!\\\" Goldmoon cried as she and Riverwind struggled to pull the injured Theros from his smoking pallet.\\n\\n\\\"Sturm, the others!\\\" Tanis yelled, then coughed in the smoke. He staggered to the front of the wagon, as the rest jumped out, Sturm grabbing hold of Fizban, who was still staring sadly at the door.\\n\\n\\\"Come on. Old One!\\\" he yelled, his gentle actions belying his harsh words as he took Fizban's arm. Caramon, Raistlin, and Tika caught Fizban as he jumped from the flaming wreckage.\\n\\nTanis and Riverwind lifted Theros by the shoulders and dragged him out, Goldmoon stumbled after them. She and Sturm jumped from the cart just as the ceiling collapsed.\\n\\n\\\"Caramon! Get our weapons from the supply wagon!\\\" Tanis shouted. \\\"Go with him, Sturm. Flint and Tasslehoff, get the packs. Raistlin-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will-get my pack,\\\" the mage said, choking in the smoke. \\\"And my staff. No one else may touch them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All right,\\\" Tanis said, thinking quickly. \\\"Gilthanas-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am not yours to order around, Tanthalas,\\\" the elf snapped and ran off into the woods without looking back.\\n\\nBefore Tanis could answer, Sturm and Caramon ran back. mCaramon's knuckles were split and bleeding. There had been two draconians looting the supply wagon.\\n\\n\\\"Get moving!\\\" Sturm shouted. \\\"More coming! Where's your elf friend?\\\" he asked Tanis suspiciously.\\n\\n\\\"He's gone ahead into the woods,\\\" Tanis said. \\\"Just remember, he and his people saved us.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Did they?\\\" Sturm said, his eyes narrow. \\\"It seems that between the elves and the old man, we came closer to getting killed than with just about anything short of the dragon!\\\"\\n\\nAt that moment, six draconians rushed out from the smoke, skidding to a halt at the sight of the warriors.\\n\\n\\\"Run for the woods!\\\" Tanis yelled, bending down to help Riverwind lift Theros. They carried the smith to cover while Caramon and Sturm stood, side by side, covering their retreat.\\n\\nBoth noticed immediately that the creatures they faced were unlike the draconians they had fought before. Their armor and coloring were different, and they carried bows and longswords, the latter dripping with some sort of awful icor. Both men remembered stories about draconians that turned to acid and those whose bones exploded.\\n\\nCaramon charged forward, bellowing like an enraged animal, his sword slashing in an arc. Two draconians fell beforemthey knew what was attacking. Sturm saluted the other four with his sword and swept off the head of one in the return stroke. He jumped at the others, but they stopped just out of his range, grinning, apparently waiting for something.\\n\\nSturm and Caramon watched uneasily, wondering what was going on. Then they knew. The bodies of the slain draconians near them began to melt into the road. The flesh boiled and ran like lard in a skillet. A yellowish vapor formed over them, mixing with the thinning smoke from the smoldering cage. Both men gagged as the yellow vapor rose around them. They grew dizzy and knew they were being poisoned.\\n\\n\\\"Come on! Get back!\\\" Tanis yelled from the woods.\\n\\nThe two stumbled back, fleeing through a rainstorm of arrows as a force of forty or fifty draconians swept around the cage, screeching in anger. The draconians started after them, then fell back when a clear voice called out, \\\"Hai! Ulsain!\\\" and ten elves, led by Gilthanas, ran from the woods.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Quen talas uvenelei!\\\" Gilthanas shouted. Caramon and Sturm staggered past him, the elves covering their retreat, then the elves fell back.\\n\\n\\\"Follow me,\\\" Gilthanas told the companions, switching to High Common. At a sign from Gilthanas, four of the elven warriors picked up Theros and carried him into the woods.\\n\\nTanis looked back at the cage. The draconians had come to a halt, eyeing the woods warily.\\n\\n\\\"Hurry!\\\" Gilthanas urged. \\\"My men will cover you.\\\"\\n\\nElven voices rose out of the woods, taunting the approaching draconians, trying to lure them into arrow range. The companions looked at each other hesitantly.\\n\\n\\\"I do not want to enter Elvenwood,\\\" Riverwind said harshly.\\n\\n\\\"It is all right,\\\" Tanis said, putting his hand on Riverwind's arm. \\\"You have my pledge.\\\" Riverwind stared at him fora moment, then plunged into the woods, the others walking by his side. Last to come were Caramon and Raistlin, helping Fizban. The old man glanced back at the cage, now nothing more than a pile of ashes and twisted iron.\\n\\n\\\"Wonderful spell. And did anyone say a word of thanks?\\\" he asked wistfully.\\n\\nThe elves led them swiftly through the wilderness. Without their guidance, the party would have been hopelessly lost. Behind them, the sounds of battle turned half-hearted.\\n\\n\\\"The draconians know better than to follow us into the woods,\\\" Gilthanas said, smiling grimly. Tanis, seeing armed elven warriors hidden among the leaves of the trees, had little fear of pursuit. Soon all sounds of fighting were lost.\\n\\nA thick carpeting of dead leaves covered the ground. Bare tree limbs creaked in the chill wind of early morning. After spending days riding cramped in the cage, the companions moved slowly and stiffly, glad for the exercise that warmed their blood. Gilthanas led them into a wide glade as the morning sunlit the woods with a pale light.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The glade was crowded with freed prisoners. Tasslehoff glanced eagerly around the group, then shook his head sadly.\\n\\n\\\"I wonder what happened to Sestun,\\\" he said to Tanis. \\\"I thought I saw him runoff.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't worry.\\\" The half-elf patted him on the shoulder. \\\"He'll be all right. The elves have no love for gully dwarves, but they wouldn't kill him.\\\"\\n\\nTasslehoff shook his head. It wasn't the elves he was worried about.\\n\\nEntering the clearing, the companions saw an unusually tall and powerfully built elf speaking to the group of refugees. His voice was cold, his demeanor serious and stern.\\n\\n\\\"You are free to go, if any are free to go in this land. We have heard rumors that the lands south of Pax Tharkas are not under the control of the Dragon Highlord. I suggest, therefore, that you head southeast. Move as far and as fast as you can this day. We have food and supplies for your journey, all that we can spare. We can do little else for you.\\\"\\n\\nThe refugees from Solace, stunned by their sudden freedom, stared around bleakly and helplessly. They had been farmers on the outskirts of Solace, forced to watch while their homes burned and their crops were stolen to feed the Dragon Highlord's army. Most of them had never been farther from Solace than Haven. Dragons and elves were creatures of legend. Now children's stories had come to haunt them.\\n\\nGoldmoon's clear blue eyes glinted. She knew how they felt. \\\"How can you be so cruel?\\\" she called out angrily to the tall elf. \\\"Look at these people. They have never been out of Solace in their lives and you tell them calmly to walk through a land overrun by enemy forces-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What would you have me do, human?\\\" the elf interrupted her. \\\"Lead them south myself? It is enough that we have freed them. My people have their own problems. I cannot be concerned with those of humans.\\\" He shifted his eyes to the group of refugees. \\\"I warn you. Time is wasting. Be on your way!\\\"\\n\\nGoldmoon turned to Tanis, seeking support, but he just shook his head, his face dark and shadowed.\\n\\nOne of the men, giving the elves a haggard glance, stumbled off on the trail that meandered south through the wilderness. The other men shouldered crude weapons, women caught up their children, and the families straggled off.\\n\\nGoldmoon strode forward to confront the elf. \\\"How can you care so little for-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For humans?\\\" The elf stared at her coldly. \\\"It was humans who brought the Cataclysm upon us. They were the ones who sought the gods, demanding in their pride the power that was granted Huma in humility. It was humans who caused the gods to turn their faces from us-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They haven't!\\\" Goldmoon shouted. \\\"The gods, are among us!\\\"\\n\\nPorthios's eyes flared with anger. He started to turn away when Gilthanas stepped up to his brother and spoke to him swiftly in the elven language.\\n\\n\\\"What do they say?\\\" Riverwind asked Tanis suspiciously.\\n\\n\\\"Gilthanas is telling how Goldmoon healed Theros,\\\" Tanis said slowly. It had been many, many years since he had heard or spoken more than a few words in the elven tongue. He had forgotten how beautiful the language was, so beautiful it seemed to cut his soul and leave him wounded and bleeding inside. He watched as Porthios's eyes widened in disbelief.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Then Gilthanas pointed at Tanis.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Both the brothers turned to face him, their expressive elven features hardening. Riverwind flicked a glance at Tanis, saw the half-elf standing pale but composed under this scrutiny.\\n\\n\\\"You return to the land of your birth, do you not?\\\" Riverwind asked. \\\"It does not seem you are welcome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Tanis said grimly, aware of what the Plainsman was thinking. He knew Riverwind was not prying into personal affairs out of curiosity. In many ways, they were in more danger now than they had been with the Fewmaster.\\n\\n\\\"They will take us to Qualinost,\\\" Tanis said slowly, the words apparently causing him deep pain. \\\"I have not been therefor many years. As Flint will tell you, I was not forced out, but few were sorry to see me leave. As you once said tome, Riverwind-to humans I am half-elven. To elves, I was half-man.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then let us leave and travel south with the others,\\\" Riverwind said.\\n\\n\\\"You would never get out of here alive,\\\" Flint murmured.\\n\\nTanis nodded. \\\"Look around,\\\" he said.\\n\\nRiverwind glanced around him and saw the elven warriors moving like shadows among the trees, their brown clothing blending in with the wilderness that was their home. As the two elves ended their conversation, Porthios turned his gaze from Tanis back to Goldmoon.\\n\\n\\\"I have heard strange tales from my brother that bear investigation. I extend to you, therefore, what the elves have extended to no humans in years-our hospitality. You will be our honored guests. Please follow me.\\\"\\n\\nPorthios gestured. Nearly two dozen elven warriors emerged from the woods, surrounding the companions.\\n\\n\\\"Honored prisoners is more like it. This is going to be rough on you, my lad,\\\" Flint said to Tanis in a low, gentle voice.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I know, old friend.\\\" Tanis rested his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. \\\"I know.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Speaker of the Suns.\\n\\nI have never imagined such beauty existed,\\\" Goldmoon said softly. The day's march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost.\\n\\nFour slender spires rose from the city's corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Grafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city's only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.\\n\\nThe buildings of Qualinost enhanced nature, rather than concealing it. The houses and shops were carved from rose-colored quartz. Tall and slender as aspen trees, they vaulted upward in impossible spirals from quartz-lined avenues. In the center stood a great tower of burnished gold, catching the sun-light and throwing it back in whirling, sparkling patterns that gave the tower life. Looking down upon the city, it seemed that peace and beauty unchanged from ages past must dwell in Qualinost, if it dwelled anywhere in Krynn.\\n\\n\\\"Rest here,\\\" Gilthanas told them, leaving them in a grove of aspen trees. \\\"The journey has been long, and for that I apologize. I know you are weary and you hunger-\\\"\\n\\nCaramon looked up hopefully.\\n\\n\\\"But I must beg your indulgence a few moments longer.\\n\\nPlease excuse me.\\\" Gilthanas bowed, then walked to standby his brother. Sighing, Caramon began rummaging through his pack for the fifth time, hoping perhaps he had overlooked a morsel. Raistlin read his spellbook, his lips repeating the difficult words, trying to grasp their meaning, to find the correct inflection and phrasing that would make his blood burn and so tell him the spell was his at last.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The others looked around, marveling at the beauty of the city beneath them and the aura of ancient tranquility that layover it. Even Riverwind seemed touched; his face softened and he held Goldmoon close. Fora brief instant, their cares and their sorrows eased and they found comfort in each other's nearness. Tika sat apart, watching them wistfully. Tasslehoff was trying to map their way from Gateway into Qualinost, although Tanis had told him four times that the way was secret and the elves would never permit him to carry off a map. The old magician, Fizban, was asleep. Sturm and Flint watched Tanis in concern-Flint because he alone had any idea of what the half-elf was suffering; Sturm because he knew what it was like returning to a home that didn't want you.\\n\\nThe knight laid his hand on Tanis's arm. \\\"Coming home isn't easy, my friend, is it?\\\" he asked.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Tanis answered softly. \\\"I thought I had left this behind long ago, but now I know I never truly left at all. Qualinesti is part of me, no matter how much I want to deny it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hush-Gilthanas,\\\" Flint warned.\\n\\nThe elf came over to Tanis. \\\"Runners were sent ahead and now they have returned,\\\" he said in elven. \\\"My father has asked to see you-all of you-at once, in the Tower of the Sun. I can-not permit time for refreshment. In this we seem crude and impolite-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gilthanas,\\\" Tanis interrupted in Common. \\\"My friends and I have been through unimagined peril. We have traveled roads where-literally-the dead walked. We won't faint from hunger\\\"-he glanced at Caramon-\\\"some of us won't, at any rate.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The warrior, hearing Tanis, sighed and tightened his belt.\\n\\n\\\"Thank you,\\\" Gilthanas said stiffly. \\\"I am glad you understand. Now, please follow as swiftly as you can.\\\"\\n\\nThe companions gathered their things hastily and woke Fizban. Rising to his feet, he fell over a tree root. \\\"Big lummox!\\\" he snapped, striking it with his staff. \\\"There-did you see it? Tried to trip me!\\\" he said to Raistlin.\\n\\nThe mage slipped his precious book back into its pouch. \\\"Yes, Old One.\\\" Raistlin smiled, assisting Fizban to his feet. The old magician leaned on the young one's shoulder as they walked after the others. Tanis watched them, wondering. The old magician was obviously a dotard. Yet Tanis remembered Raistlin's look of stark terror when he woke and found Fizban leaning over him. What had the mage seen? What did he know about this old man? Tanis reminded himself to ask. Now, however, he had other, more pressing matters on his mind. Walking forward, he caught up with the elf.\\n\\n\\\"Tell me, Gilthanas,\\\" Tanis said in elven, the unfamiliar words haltingly coming back to him. \\\"What's going on? I have aright to know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Have you?\\\" Gilthanas asked harshly, glancing at Tanis from the corners of his almond-shaped eyes. \\\"Do you care what happens to elves anymore? You can barely speak our language!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course, I care,\\\" Tanis said angrily. \\\"You are my people too!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then why do you flaunt your human heritage?\\\" Gilthanas gestured to Tanis's bearded face. \\\"I would think you would be ashamed-\\\" He stopped, biting his lip, his face flushing.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2398,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, dragons\nAuthor: Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman\nTitle: Dragons of Autumn Twilight\nChapter: 37"},{"from":"human","value":"\"Don't even squeak!\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Flint said, whirling around to face them, a knife flashing in his hand.\n\nThe gully dwarves cowered against the wall, shaking their heads frantically, the pots clattering.\n\nThe companions reached the top of the stairs and stopped.\n\n\"We cross this hall to the door-\" Maritta pointed. \"Oh, no!\" She grasped Tanis's arm. \"There's a guard at the door. It's never guarded!\"\n\n\"Hush, it could be coincidence,\" Tanis said reassuringly, although he knew it wasn't. \"Just keep on as we planned.\" Maritta nodded fearfully and walked across the hall.\n\n\"Guards!\" Tanis turned to Sturm. \"Be ready. Remember-quick and deadly. No noise!\"\n\nAccording to Gilthanas's map, the playroom was separated from the children's sleeping quarters by two rooms. The first was a storeroom which Maritta reported was lined with shelves containing toys and clothing and other items. A tunnel ran through this room to the second-the room that housed the dragon, Flamestrike.\n\n\"Poor thing,\" Maritta had said when discussing the plan with Tanis. \"She is as much a prisoner as we are. The Dragon Highlord never allows her out. I think they're afraid she'll wander off. They've even built a tunnel through the storeroom, too small for her to fit through. Not that she wants to get out, but I think she might like to watch the children play.\"\n\nTanis regarded Maritta dubiously, wondering if they might encounter a dragon very different from the mad, feeble creature she described.\n\nBeyond the dragon's lair was the room where the children slept. This was the room they would have to enter, to wake the children and lead them outdoors. The playroom connected directly with the courtyard through a huge door locked with a great oaken beam."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"More to keep the dragon in than us,\" Maritta stated.\n\nIt must be just about dawning, Tanis thought, as they emerged from the stairwell and turned toward the playroom. The torchlight cast their shadows ahead of them. Pax Tharkas was quiet, deathly quiet. Too quiet-fora fortress preparing for war. Four draconian guards stood huddled together talking at the doorway to the playroom. Their conversation broke off as they saw the women approach.\n\nGoldmoon and Maritta walked in front, Goldmoon's hoodwas drawn back, her hair glimmering in the torchlight. Directly behind Goldmoon came Riverwind. Bent over a staff, the Plainsman was practically walking on his knees. Caramon and Raistlin followed, the mage staying close to his brother, then Eben and Gilthanas. All the traitors together, as Raistlin had sarcastically observed. Flint brought up the rear, turning occasionally to glower at the panic-stricken gully dwarves.\n\n\"You're early this morning,\" a draconian growled.\n\nThe women clustered like chickens in a half-circle around the guards and stood, waiting patiently to be allowed inside.\n\n\"It smells of thunder,\" Maritta said sharply. \"I want the children to have their exercise before the storm hits. And what are you doing here? This door is never guarded. You'll frighten the children.\"\n\nOne of the draconians made some comment in their harsh language and two of the others grinned, showing rows of pointed teeth. The spokesman only snarled.\n\n\"Lord Verminaard's command. He and Ember are gone this morning to finish the elves. We're ordered to search you before you enter.\" The draconian's eyes fastened onto Goldmoon hungrily. \"That's going to be a pleasure, I'd say.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"For you maybe,\" muttered another guard, staring at Sturm in disgust. \"I've never seen an uglier female in my life than ugh-\" The creature slumped over, a dagger thrust deep into its ribs. The other three draconians died within seconds. Caramon wrapped his hands around the neck of one. Eben hit his in the stomach and Flint lobbed off its head with an axe as it fell. Tanis stabbed the leader through the heart with his sword. He started to let goof the weapon, expecting it to remain stuck in the creature's stony corpse. To his amazement, his new sword slid out of the stone carcass as easily as if it had been nothing more than goblin flesh.\n\nHe had no time to ponder this strange occurrence. The gully dwarves, catching sight of the flash of steel, dropped their pots and ran wildly down the corridor.\n\n\"Never mind them!\" Tanis snapped at Flint. \"Into the playroom. Hurry!\" Stepping over the bodies, he flung the door open.\n\n\"If anyone finds these bodies, it'll be allover,\" Caramon said.\n\n\"It was over before we began!\" Sturm muttered angrily. \"We've been betrayed, so it's just a matter of time.\"\n\n\"Keep moving!\" Tanis said sharply, shutting the door behind them.\n\n\"Be very quiet,\" Maritta whispered. \"Flamestrike generally sleeps soundly. If she does waken, act like women. She'll never recognize you. She's blind in one eye.\"\n\nThe chill dawn light filtered in through tiny windows high above the floor, shining on a grim, cheerless playroom. A few well-used toys lay scattered about. There was no furniture. Caramon walked over to inspect the huge wooden beam barring the double doors that led to the courtyard outside."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I can manage,\" he said. The big man appeared to lift the beam effortlessly, then set it against the wall and shoved on the door. \"Not locked from the outside,\" he reported. \"I guess they didn't expect us to get this far.\"\n\nOr perhaps Lord Verminaard wants us out there, Tanis thought. He wondered if what the draconian said was true. Had the Dragon Highlord and the dragon really gone? Or were they-angrily he wrenched his mind back. It doesn't matter, he told himself. We have no choice. We must goon.\n\n\"Flint, stay here,\" he said. \"If anyone comes, warn us first, then fight.\"\n\nFlint nodded and took a position just inside the door leading to the corridor, first opening it a crack to see. The draconian bodies had turned to dust on the floor.\n\nMaritta took a torch from the wall. Lighting it, she led the companions through a dark archway into the tunnel leading to the dragon's lair.\n\n\"Fizban! Your hat!\" Tas risked whispering.\n\nToo late. The old magician made a grab for it but missed.\n\n\"Spies!\" yelled Verminaard in a rage, pointing up to the balcony. \"Capture them. Ember! I want them alive!\"\n\nAlive? the dragon repeated to himself. No, that could not be! Pyros recalled the strange sound he had heard last night and he knew without a doubt that these spies had overheard him talking about the Green Gemstone Man! Only a privileged few knew that dread secret, the great secret, the secret that would conquer the world for the Queen of Darkness. These spies must die, and the secret die with them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Pyros spread his wings and launched himself into the air, using his powerful back legs to propel himself from the floor with tremendous speed.\n\nThis is it! thought Tasslehoff. Now we've done it. There's no escape this time.\n\nJust as he resigned himself to being cooked by a dragon, he heard the magician shout a single word of command and a thick, unnatural darkness almost knocked the kender over.\n\n\"Run!\" panted Fizban, grabbing the kenders hand and dragging Tas to his feet.\n\n\"Sestun-\"\n\n\"I've got him! Run!\"\n\nTasslehoff ran. They flew out the door and into the gallery, then he had no idea where he was going. He just kept hold of the old man and ran. Behind him he could hear the sound of the dragon whooshing up out of his lair and he heard the dragon's voice.\n\n\"So you area magic-user, are you, spy?\" Pyros shouted. \"We can't have you running around in the dark. You might get lost. Let me light your way!\"\n\nTasslehoff heard a great intake of breath into a giant body, then flames crackled and burned around him. The darkness vanished, driven away by the fire's flaring light, but, to his amazement, Tas wasn't touched by the flame. He looked at Fizban-hatless-running next to him. They were in the gallery still, heading for the double doors.\n\nThe kender twisted his head. Behind him loomed the dragon, more horrible than anything he had imagined, more terrifying than the black dragon in Xak Tsaroth, The dragon breathed on them again and once more Tas was enveloped by flame. The paintings on the walls blazed, furniture burned, curtains flared like torches, smoke filled the room. But none of it touched him and Sestun and Fizban. Tasslehoff looked at the mage in admiration, truly impressed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"How long can you keep this up?\" he shouted to Fizban as they wheeled around a corner, the double bronze doors insight.\n\nThe old man's eyes were wide and staring. \"I have no idea!\" he gasped. \"I didn't know I could do it at all!\"\n\nAnother blast of flame exploded around them. This time, Tasslehoff felt the heat and glanced at Fizban in alarm. The mage nodded. \"I'm losing it!\" he cried.\n\n\"Hang on,\" Tasslehoff panted. \"We're almost to the door! He can't get through it.\"\n\nThe three pushed through the bronze double doors that led from the gallery back into the hallway just as Fizban's magic spell wore off. Before them was the secret door, still open, that led to the Mechanism Room. Tasslehoff flung the bronze doors shut and stopped a moment to. catch his breath.\n\nBut just as he was about to say, \"We made it!\" one of the dragon's huge clawed feet broke through the stonewall, right above the kender's head!\n\nSestun, giving a shriek, headed for the stairs.\n\n\"No!\" Tasslehoff grabbed him. \"That leads to Verminaard's quarters!\"\n\n\"Back to the Mechanism Room!\" Fizban cried. They dashed through the secret door just as the stonewall gave way with a tremendous crash. But they could not shut the door.\n\n\"I have a lotto learn about dragons, apparently,\" Tas muttered. \"I wonder if there are any good books on the subject-\"\n\n\"So I have run you rats into your hole and now you are trapped,\" boomed Pyros's voice from outside. \"You have nowhere to go and stonewalls do not stop me.\""},{"from":"human","value":"There was a terrible grinding and grating sound."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The walls of the Mechanism Room trembled, then began to crack.\n\n\"It was a nice try,\" Tas said ruefully. \"That last spell was a doozy. Almost worth getting killed by a dragon to see.\"\n\n\"Killed!\" Fizban seemed to wake up. \"By a dragon? I should say not! I've never been so insulted. There must be away out-\" His eyes began to gleam. \"Down the chain!\"\n\n\"The chain?\" repeated Tas, thinking he must have misunderstood, what with the walls cracking around him and the dragon roaring and all.\n\n\"We'll crawl down the chain! Come on!\" Cackling with delight, the old mage turned and ran down the tunnel.\n\nSestun looked dubiously at Tasslehoff, but just then the dragon's huge claw appeared through the wall. The kender and the gully dwarf turned and ran after the old magician. By the time they reached the great wheel, Fizban had already crawled along the chain leading from the tunnel and reached the first tree-trunk tooth of the wheel itself. Tucking his robes up around his thighs, he dropped down from the tooth onto the first rung of the huge chain. The kender and gully dwarf swung onto the chain after him. Tas was just beginning to think they might get out of this alive after all, especially if the dark elf at the bottom of the chain had taken the day off, when Pyros burst suddenly into the shaft where the great chain hung.\n\nSections of the stone tunnel caved in around them, falling to the ground with a hollow booming thud. The walls shuddered, and the chain started to tremble. Above them hovered the dragon. He did not speak but simply stared at them with his red eyes. Then he drew in a huge breath that seemed to suck in the air of the whole valley. Tas started instinctively to close his eyes, then opened them wide. He'd never seen a dragon breathe fire and he wasn't going to miss seeing it now-especially as it would probably be his last chance."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Flames billowed out from the dragon's nose and mouth. The blast from the heat alone nearly knocked Tasslehoff off the chain. But, once again, the fire burned all around him and did not touch him. Fizban cackled with delight.\n\n\"Quite clever, old man,\" said the dragon angrily. \"But I, too, am a magic-user and I feel you weakening. I hope your cleverness amuses you-all the way down!\"\n\nFlames flared out again, but this time the dragon's fire was not aimed at the trembling figures clinging to the chain. The flames struck the chain itself and the iron links began to glow red hot at the first touch of the dragonfire. Pyros breathed again and the links burned white hot. The dragon breathed a third time. The links melted. The massive chain gave a great shudder and broke, plunging into the darkness below.\n\nPyros watched it as it plummeted down. Then, satisfied that the spies would not live to tell their tale, he flew back to his lair where he could hear Verminaard shouting for him.\n\nIn the darkness left behind by the dragon, the great cogwheel-free of the chain that had held it in place for centuries-gave a groan and began to turn."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Matafleur.\n\nThe magic sword. White feathers.\n\nThe light from Maritta's torch illuminated a large, barren windowless room. There was no furniture. The only objects in the chill, stone chamber were a huge basin of water, a bucket filled with what smelled like rotted meat, and a dragon.\n\nTanis caught his breath. He had thought the black dragon in Xak Tsaroth formidable. He was truly awed at the massive size of this red dragon. Her lair was enormous, probably over one hundred feet in diameter, and the dragon stretched the length of it, the tip of her long tail lying against the far wall. Fora moment the companions stood stunned, with ghastly visions of the giant head rising up and searing them with the burning flame breathed by the red dragons, the flames that had destroyed Solace.\n\nMaritta did not appear worried, however. She advanced steadily into the room and, after a moment's hesitation, the companions hurried after her. As they drew closer to the creature, they could see that Maritta had been right-the dragon was clearly in pitiful condition. The great head that lay on the cold stone floor was lined and wrinkled with age, the brilliant redskin grayish and mottled. She breathed noisily through her mouth, her jaws parted to reveal the once sword-sharp teeth, now yellowed and broken. Long scars ran along her sides; her leathery wings were dry and cracked.\n\nNow Tanis could understand Maritta's attitude. Clearly, the dragon had been ill-used, and he caught himself feeling pity, relaxing his guard. He realized how dangerous this was when the dragon-awakened by the torchlight-stirred in her sleep. Her talons were as sharp and her fire as destructive as any other red dragon in Krynn, Tanis reminded himself sharply."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The dragon's eyes opened, slits of glistening red in the torchlight. The companions halted, hands on their weapons.\n\n\"Is it time for breakfast already, Maritta?\" Matafleur (Flamestrike being her name to common mortals) said in a sleepy, husky voice.\n\n\"Yes, we're just a bit early today, dearie,\" Maritta said soothingly. \"But there's a storm brewing and I want the children to have their exercise before it breaks. Go back to sleep. I'll see they don't wake you on their way out.\"\n\n\"I don't mind.\" The dragon yawned and opened her eyes a bit farther. Now Tanis could see that one of them had a milky covering; she was blind in that eye.\n\n\"I hope we don't have to fight her, Tanis,\" Sturm whispered. \"It'd be like fighting someone's grandmother.\"\n\nTanis forced his expression to harden. \"She's a deadly grandmother, Sturm. Just remember that.\"\n\n\"The little ones had a restful night,\" the dragon murmured, apparently drifting off to sleep again. \"See that they don't get wet if it does storm, Maritta. Especially little Erik. He had a cold last week.\" Her eyes closed.\n\nTurning, Maritta beckoned the others on, putting her finger to her lips. Sturm and Tanis came last, their weapons and armor muffled by numerous cloaks and skirts. Tanis was about thirty feet from the dragon's head when the noise started.\n\nAt first he thought it was his imagination, that his nervousness was making him hear a buzzing sound in his head. But the sound grew louder and louder and Sturm turned, staring at him in alarm. The buzzing sound increased until it was like a thousand swarming locusts. Now the others were looking back, too-all of them staring at him! Tanis looked at his friends helplessly, an almost comic look of confusion on his face."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The dragon snorted and stirred in irritation, shaking her head as though the noise hurt her ears.\n\nSuddenly Raistlin broke from the group and ran back to Tanis. \"The sword!\" he hissed. He grabbed the half-elf's cloak and threw it back to reveal the blade.\n\nTanis stared down at the sword in its antique scabbard. The mage was right. The blade hummed as if in the highest state of alarm. Now that Raistlin called his attention to it, the half-elf could actually feel the vibrations.\n\n\"Magic,\" the mage said softly, studying it with interest.\n\n\"Can you stop it?\" yelled Tanis over the weird noise.\n\n\"No,\" said Raistlin. \"I remember now. This is Wyrmslayer, the famed magical sword of Kith-Kanan. It is reacting to the presence of the dragon.\"\n\n\"This is an abysmal time to remember!\" Tanis said in fury.\n\n\"Ora very convenient time,\" snarled Sturm.\n\nThe dragon slowly raised her head, her eyes blinking, a thin stream of smoke drifting from a nostril. She focused her bleary red eyes on Tanis, pain and irritation in her gaze.\n\n\"Who have you brought, Maritta?\" Matafleur's voice was filled with menace. \"I hear a sound I have not heard in centuries, I smell the foul smell of steel! These are not the women! These are warriors!\"\n\n\"Don't hurt her!\" Maritta wailed.\n\n\"I may not have any choice!\" Tanis said viciously, drawing Wyrmslayer from its sheath. \"Riverwind and Goldmoon, get Maritta out of here!\" The blade began to shine with a brilliant white light as the buzzing grew louder and angrier. Matafleur shrank back. The light of the sword pierced her good eye painfully; the terrible sound went through her head like a spear."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Whimpering, she huddled away from Tanis.\n\n\"Run, get the children!\" Tanis yelled, realizing that they didn't need to fight-at least not yet. Holding the shining sword high in the air, he moved forward cautiously, driving the pitiful dragon back against the wall.\n\nMaritta, after one fearful glance at Tanis, led Goldmoon to-the children's room. About one hundred children were wide-eyed with alarm over the strange sounds outside their chamber.\n\nTheir faces relaxed at the sight of Maritta and Goldmoon and a few of the littler ones actually giggled when Caramon came rushing in, his skirts flapping around his armored legs. But at the sight of warriors and their drawn weapons, the children sobered immediately.\n\n\"What is it, Maritta?\" asked the oldest girl. \"What's happening? Is it fighting again?\"\n\n\"We hope there'll be no fighting, dear one,\" Maritta said softly. \"But I'll not lie to you-it may come to that. Now I want you to gather your things, particularly your warm cloaks, and come with us. The older of you carry the wee ones, as you do when we go outdoors for exercise.\"\n\nSturm expected confusion and wailing and demands for explanations. But the children quickly did as they were told, wrapping themselves in warm clothing and helping to dress the younger ones. They were quiet and calm, if a bit pale. These were children of war, Sturm remembered.\n\n\"I want you to move very swiftly through the dragon's lair and out into the playroom. When we get there, the big man\"-Sturm gestured to Caramon-\"will lead you out into the courtyard. Your mothers are waiting for you there. When you get outside, look immediately for your mother and go to her. Does everyone understand?\" He glanced dubiously at the smaller children, but the girl at the front of the line nodded."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We understand, sir,\" she said.\n\n\"All right,\" Sturm turned. \"Caramon?\"\n\nThe warrior, flushing in embarrassment as one hundred pairs of eyes turned to look at him, led the way back into the dragon's lair. Goldmoon scooped up a toddler in her arms, Maritta picked up another one. The older boys and girls carried little ones on their backs. They hurried out the door in orderly fashion, without saying a word until they saw Tanis, the gleaming sword, and the terrified dragon.\n\n\"Hey, you! Don't hurt our dragon!\" one little boy yelled. Leaving his place inline, the child ran up to Tanis, his fists raised, his face twisted into a snarl.\n\n\"Dougl!\" cried the oldest girl, shocked. \"Get back inline this instant!\" But some of the children were crying now.\n\nTanis, the sword still raised-knowing that this was the only thing keeping the dragon at bay-shouted, \"Get them out of here!\"\n\n\"Children, please!\" Chieftain's Daughter, her voice stern and commanding, brought order to the chaos. \"Tanis will not hurt the dragon if he does not have to. He is a gentleman. You must leave now. Your mothers need you.\"\n\nThere was an edge of fear in Goldmoon's voice, a feeling of urgency that influenced even the youngest child. They got back into line quickly.\n\n\"Goodbye, Flamestrike,\" several of the children called out, wistfully, waving their hands as they followed Caramon. Dougl gave Tanis one final threatening glance, then he returned to line, wiping his eyes with grubby fists.\n\n\"No!\" shrieked Matafleur in a heartbroken voice. \"No! Don't fight my children. Please! It is me you want! Fight me! Don't harm my children!\" Tanis realized the dragon was back in her past, reliving whatever terrible event had deprived her of her children, Sturm stayed near Tanis. \"She's going to kill you when the children are out of danger, you know.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes,\" said Tanis grimly. Already the dragon's eyes-even the bad eye-were flaring red. Saliva dripped from the great, gaping mouth, and her talons scratched the floor.\n\n\"Not my children!\" she said with rage.\n\n\"I'm with you-\" Sturm began, drawing his sword.\n\n\"Leave us, knight,\" Raistlin whispered softly from the shadows. \"\"Your weapon is useless. I will stay with Tanis\" The half-elf glanced at the mage in astonishment. Raistlin's strange, golden eyes met his, knowing what he was thinking do I trust him? Raistlin gave him no help, almost as if he were goading him to refusal.\n\n\"Get out,\" Tanis said to Sturm. What?\"he yelled.\" Are you crazy? You're trusting this-\"\n\n\"Get out!\" Tanis repeated. At that moment, he heard Flint yelling loudly. \"Go, Sturm, they need you out there!\"\n\nThe knight stood a moment, irresolute, but he could not in honor ignore a direct order from one he considered his commander. Casting a baleful glance at Raistlin, Sturm turned on his heel and entered the tunnel.\n\n\"There is little magic I can work against a red dragon,\" Raistlin whispered swiftly.\n\n\"Can you buy us time?\" Tanis asked.\n\nRaistlin smiled the smile of one who knows death is so near it is past fearing. \"I can,\" he whispered. \"Move back near the tunnel. When you hear me start to speak, run.\"\n\nTanis began backing up, still holding the sword high. But the dragon no longer feared its magic. She knew only that her children were gone and she must kill those responsible. She lunged directly at the warrior with the sword as he began to run toward the tunnel. Then darkness descended upon her, a darkness so deep Matafleur thought fora horrible moment she had lost the sight of the other eye. She heard whispered words of magic and knew the robed human had cast a spell."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'll burn them!\" she howled, sniffing the smell of steel through the tunnel. \"They will not escape!\" But just as she sucked in a great breath, she heard another sound-the sound of her children. \"No,\" she realized in frustration. \"I dare not. My children! I might harm my children...\" Her head drooped down on the cold stone floor. Tanis and Raistlin ran down the tunnel, the half-elf dragging the weakened mage with him. Behind them they heard a pitiful, heartbroken moan. \"Not my children! Please, fight me! Don't hurt my children!\"\n\nTanis emerged from the tunnel into the playroom, blinking in the bright light as Caramon swung the huge doors open to the rising sun. The children raced out the door into the courtyard. Through the door, Tanis could see Tika and Laurana, standing with their swords drawn, looking their way anxsiously. A draconian lay crumbling on the floor of the playroom, Flints battle-axe stuck in its back.\n\n\"Outside, all of you!\" Tanis shouted. Flint, retrieving his battle-axe, joined the half-elf as the last to leave the playroom. As they did so, they heard a terrifying roar, the roar of a dragon, but a very different dragon than the pitiful Matafleur. Pyros had discovered the spies. The stonewalls began to tremble-the dragon was rising from his lair.\n\n\"Ember!\" Tanis swore bitterly. \"He hasn't gone!\"\n\nThe dwarf shook his head. \"I'll bet my beard,\" he said gloomily, \"that Tasslehoff's involved.\"\n\nThe broken chain plummeted to the stone floor of the Chain Room in the Sla-Mori, three little figures falling with it."},{"from":"human","value":"Tasslehoff, clinging uselessly to the chain, tumbled through the darkness and thought, this is how it feels to die."},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was an interesting sensation and he was sorry he couldn't experience it longer. Above him, he could hear Sestun shrieking in terror. Below, he heard the old mage muttering to himself, probably trying one last spell. Then Fizban raised his voice: \"Pveatherf-\" The word was cutoff with a scream. There was the sound of a bone-crushing thud as the old magician crashed to the floor. Tasslehoff grieved, even though he knew he was next. The stone floor was approaching. Within a very few seconds he too would be dead....\n\nThen it was snowing.\n\nAt least that was what the kender thought. Then he realized with a shock that he was surrounded by millions and millions of feathers-like an explosion of chickens! He sank into a deep, vast pile of white feathers, Sestun tumbling in after him.\n\n\"Poor Fizban,\" Tas said, blinking tears from his eyes as he floundered in an ocean of white chicken feathers. \"His last spell must have been featherfall like Raistlin uses. Wouldn't you know it? He just got the feathers.\"\n\nAbove him, the cogwheel turned faster and faster, the freed chain rushing through it as if rejoicing in its release from bondge. Outdoors in the courtyard chaos reigned.\n\n\"Over here!\" Tanis yelled, bursting out of the door, knowing they were doomed but refusing to give in. The companions gathered around him, weapons drawn, looking at him anxiously.\n\n\"Run to the mines! Run for shelter! Verminaard and the red dragon didn't leave. It is a trap. They'll be onus any moment.\"\n\nThe others, their faces grim, nodded. All of them knew it was hopeless-they must cover about two hundred yards of flat, wide-open surface to reach safety."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They tried to herd the women and children along as swiftly as possible, but not very successfully. All the mothers and children needed to be sorted out. Then Tanis, looking over at the mines, swore aloud in added frustration.\n\nThe men of the mines, seeing their families free, quickly overpowered the guards and began running toward the courtyard! That wasn't the plan! What was Elistan thinking about? Within moments there would be eight hundred frantic people milling around out in the open without a scrap of shelter! He had to get them to head back south to the mountains.\n\n\"Where's Eben?\" he called to Sturm.\n\n\"Last I saw him, he was running for the mines. I couldn't figure out why-\"\n\nThe knight and half-elf gasped in sudden realization.\n\n\"Of course,\" said Tanis softly his voice lost in the commotion'It all fits.\"\n\nAs Eben ran for the mines, his one thought was to obey Pyros's command. Somehow, in the midst of this furor, he had to find the Green Gemstone Man. He knew what Verminaard and Pyros were going to do to these poor wretches. Eben felt amoment's pity-he was not, after all, cruel and vicious. He had amply seen, long ago, which side was bound to win, and he-determined, for once, to be on a winning side.\n\nWhen his family's fortune was wiped out, Eben was left with only one thing to sell-himself. He was intelligent, handy with a sword, and as loyal as money could buy. It was on a journey to north, looking for possible buyers, that Eben met Vermiaard. Eben had been impressed with Verminaard's power and had wormed his way into the evil cleric's favor. But more importantly, he had managed to make himself useful to Pyros. The dragon found Eben charming, intelligent, resourceful, and-after a few tests-trustworthy."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Eben was sent home to Gateway just before the dragonarmies struck. He conveniently'escaped\" and started his resistance group. Stumbling upon Gilthanas's party of elves the first time they tried to sneak into Pax Tharkas was a stroke of luck that further improved Eben's relationship with both Pyros and Verminaard. When the cleric actually fell into Eben's hands, he couldn't believe his luck. It must go to show how much the Dark Queen favored him, he supposed.\n\nHe prayed that the Dark Queen continue to favor him. Finding the Green Gemstone Man in this confusion was going to take divine intervention. Hundreds of men were milling about uncertainly. Eben saw a chance to do Verminaard another favor. \"Tanis wants you men to meet in the courtyard,\" he cried. \"Join your families.\"\n\n\"No! That isn't the plan!\" Elistan cried, trying to stop them. But he was too late. The men, seeing their families free, surged forward. Several hundred gully dwarves added to the confusion, rushing gleefully out of the mines to join the fun, thinking, perhaps, it was a holiday.\n\nEben scanned the crowd anxiously for the Green Gemstone Man, then dedded to look inside the prison cells. Sure enough, he found the man sitting alone, staring vaguely around the empty cell. Eben swiftly knelt beside him, racking his brain to come up with the man's name. It was something odd, old-fashioned....\n\n\"Berem,\" Eben said after a moment. \"Berem?\"\n\nThe man looked up, interest lighting his face for the first time in many weeks. He was not, as Toede had assumed, deaf and dumb. He was, instead, a man obsessed, totally absorbed in his own secret quest. He was human, however, and the sound of a human voice speaking his name was inordinately comforting."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Berem,\" said Eben again, licking his lips nervously. Now that he had him, he wasn't sure what to do with him. He knew the first thing those poor wretches outside would do when the dragon struck would be to head for the safety of the mines. He had to get Berem out of here before Tanis caught them. But where? He could take the man inside Pax Tharkas as Pyros had ordered, but Eben didn't like that idea. Verminaard would certainly find them and, his suspicions aroused, would ask questions Eben couldn't answer.\n\nNo, there was only one place Eben could take him and be safe-outside the walls of Pax Tharkas. They could lie low in the wilderness until the confusion died, then sneak back inside the fortress at night. His decision made, Eben took Berem's arm and helped the man rise to his feet.\n\n\"There's going to be fighting,\"he said.\" I'm going to take you away, keep you safe until it is over. I am your friend. Do you understand?\"\n\nThe man regarded him with a look of penetrating wisdom and intelligence. It was not the ageless look of the elves but of a human who has lived in torment for countless years. Berem gave a small sigh and nodded.\n\nVerminaard strode from his chamber in a fury, yanking at his leather, armored gloves. A draconian trotted behind, carrying the Highlord's mace, Nightbringer. Other draconians milled around, acting on the orders Verminaard gave as he stepped into the corridor, returning to Pyros's lair.\n\n\"No, you fools, don't recall the army! This will take but a moment of my time. Qualinesti will be inflames by nightfall."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ember!\" he shouted, throwing open the doors that led to the dragon's lair. He stepped out onto the ledge. Peering upward toward the balcony he could see smoke and flame and, in the distance, hear the dragon's roar.\n\n\"Ember!\" There was no answer. \"How long does it take to capture a handful of spies?\" he demanded furiously. Turning, he nearly fell over a draconian captain.\n\n\"Will you be using the dragonsaddle, my lord?\"\n\n\"No, there isn't time. Besides, I use that only for combat and there will no one to fight out there, simply a few hundred slaves to burn.\"\n\n\"But the slaves have overcome the guards at the mine and are rejoining their families in the courtyard.\"\n\n\"How strong are your forces?\"\n\n\"Not nearly strong enough, my lord,\" the draconian captain said, its eyes glinting. The captain had never thought it wise to deplete the garrison. \"We are forty or fifty, perhaps, to over three hundred men and an equal number of women. The women will undoubtedly fight alongside the men, your lordship, and if they never get organized and escape into the mountains-\"\n\n\"Bah! Ember!\" Verminaard called. He heard, in another part of the fortress, a heavy, metallic thud. Then he heard another sound, the great wheel-unused in centuries-creaking with protest at being forced into labor. Verminaard was wondering what these odd sounds portended, when Pyros flew down into his lair.\n\nThe Dragon Highlord ran to the ledge as Pyros dropped past him. Verminaard climbed swiftly and skillfully onto the dragon's back. Though separated by mutual distrust, the two fought well together. Their hatred for the petty races they strove to conquer, combined with their desire for power, joined them in a bond much stronger than either cared to admit."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Fly!\" Verminaard roared, and Pyros rose into the air.\n\n\"It is useless, my friend,\" Tanis said quietly to Sturm, laying his hand on the knight's shoulder as Sturm frantically called for order. \"You're only wasting your breath. Save it for fighting.\"\n\n\"There'll be no fighting.\" Sturm coughed, hoarse from shouting. \"We'll die, trapped like rats. Why won't these fools listen?\"\n\nHe and Tanis stood at the northern end of the courtyard, about twenty feet from the front gates of Pax Tharkas. Looking south, they could seethe mountains and hope. Behind them were the great gates of the fortress that would, at any moment, open to admit the vast draconian army, and within these walls, somewhere, were Verminaard and the red dragon.\n\nIn vain, Elistan sought to calm the people and urge them to move southwards. But the men insisted on finding their womenfolk, the women on finding their children. A few families, together again, were starting to move south, but too late and too slowly.\n\nThen, like a blood-red, flaming comet, Pyros soared from the fortress of Pax Tharkas, his wings sleek, held close to his sides. His huge tail trailed behind him. His taloned forefeet were curled close to his body as he gained speed in the air. Upon his back rode the Dragon Highlord, the gilded horns of the hideous dragonmask glinting in the morning sun. Verminaard held onto the dragon's spiny mane with both hands as they flared into the sunlit sky, bringing night's shadows to the courtyard below.\n\nThe dragonfear spread over the people. Unable to scream or run, they could only cower before the fearful apparition, arms around each other, knowing death was inevitable."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"At Verminaard's command, Pyros settled on one of the fortress towers. Verminaard stared out from behind the homed dragonmask, silent, furious.\n\nTanis, watching in helpless frustration, felt Sturm grip his arm. \"Look!\" The knight pointed north, toward the gates.\n\nTanis reluctantly Ipwered his gaze from the Dragon Highlord and saw two figures running toward the gates of the fortress.\n\n\"Eben!\" he cried in disbelief. \"But who's that with him?\"\n\n\"He won't escape!\" Sturm shouted. Before Tanis could stop him, the knight ran after the two. As Tanis followed, he saw a flash of red out of the comer of his eye-Raistlin and his twin.\n\n\"I, too, have a score to settle with this man,\" the mage hissed. The three caught up with Sturm just as the knight gripped Eben by the collar and hurled him to the ground.\n\n\"Traitor!\"Sturm yelled loudly.\"Though I die this day, I'll send you to the Abyss first\" He drew his sword and jerked Eben's head back. Suddenly Eben's companion whirled around, came back, and caught hold of Sturm's swordarm.\n\nSturm gasped. His hand loosened its grip on Eben as the knight stared, amazed at the sight before him.\n\nThe man's shirt had been torn open in his wild flight from the mines. Impaled in the man's flesh, in the center of his chest, was a brilliant green jewel! Sunlight flashed on the gem that was as big around as a man's fist, causing it to gleam with a bright and terrible light-an unholy light.\n\n\"I have never seen nor heard of magic like this!\" Raistlin whispered in awe as he and the others stopped, stunned, beside Sturm."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Seeing their wide eyes focused on his body, Berem instinctively pulled his shirt over his chest. Then, loosening his hold on Sturm's arm, he turned and ran for the gates. Eben scrambled to his feet and stumbled after him.\n\nSturm leaped forward, but Tanis stopped him.\n\n\"No,\" he said. \"It's too late. We have others to think of.\"\n\n\"Tanis, look!\" Caramon shouted, pointing above the huge gates.\n\nA section of the stonewall of the fortress above the massive front gates began to open, forming a huge, widening crack. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, the massive granite boulders began to fall from the crack, smashing to the ground with such force that the flagstone cracked and great clouds of dust rose into the air. Above the roar could be dimly heard the sound of the massive chains releasing the mechanism.\n\nThe boulders began to fall just as Eben and Berem arrived at the gates. Eben shrieked in terror, instinctively and pitifully raised his arm to shield his head. The man next to him glanced up and-it seemed-gave a small sigh. Then both were buried under tons of cascading rock as the ancient defense mechanism sealed shut the gates of Pax Tharkas.\n\n\"This is your final act of defiance!\" Verminaard roared. His speech had been interrupted by the fall of the rocks, an act that only enraged him more. \"I offered you a chance to work to further the glory of my Queen. I cared for you and your families. But you are stubborn and foolish. You will pay with your lives!\" The Dragon Highlord raised Nightbringer high in the air. \"I will destroy the men. I will destroy the women! I will destroy the children!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"At a touch of the Dragon Highlord's hand, Pyros spread his huge wings and leaped high into the air. The dragon drew in a deep breath, preparing to swoop down upon the mass of people who wailed in terror in the wide-open courtyard and incinerate them with his fiery breath.\n\nBut the dragon's deadly dive was stopped.\n\nSweeping up into the sky from the pile of rubble made when she crashed out of the fortress, Matafleur flew straight at Pyros.\n\nThe ancient dragon had sunk deeper into her madness. Once more she relived the nightmare of losing her children. She could seethe knights upon the silver and golden dragons, the wicked dragonlances gleaming in the sunshine. In vain she pleaded with her children not to join the hopeless fight, in vain she sought to convince them the war was at an end. They were young and would not listen. They flew off, leaving her weeping in her lair. As she watched in her mind's eye the bloody, final battle, as she saw her children die upon the dragonlances, she heard Verminaard's voice.\n\n\"I will destroy the children!\"\n\nAnd, as she had done so many centuries before, Matafleur flew out to defend them.\n\nPyros, stunned by the unexpected attack, swerved just in time to avoid the broken, yet still lethal teeth of the old dragon aiming for his unprotected flanks. Matafleur hit him a glancing blow, tearing painfully into one of the heavy muscles that drove the giant wings. Rolling in the air, Pyros lashed out at the passing Matafleur with a wicked, taloned forefoot, tearing a gash in the female dragon's soft underbelly.\n\nIn her madness, Matafleur did not even feel the pain, but the force of the larger and younger male dragon's blow knocked her backwards in the air."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The rollover manuever had been an instinctive defensive action on the part of the male dragon. He had been able to gain both altitude and time to plan his attack. He had, however, forgotten his rider. Verminaard-riding without the dragonsaddle he used in battle-lost his grip on the dragon's neck and fell to the courtyard below. It was not along drop and he landed uninjured, only bruised and momentarily shaken.\n\nMost of the people around him fled in terror when they saw him rise to his feet, but-glancing around swiftly-he noticed that there were four, near the northern end of the courtyard, who did not flee. He turned to face those four.\n\nThe appearance of Matafleur and her sudden attack on Pyros jolted the captive people out of their state of panic. This, combined with the fall of Verminaard into their midst, like the fall of some horrifying god, accomplished what Elistan and the others had not. The people were shaken out of their fear, sense returned, and they began fleeing south, toward the safety of the mountains. At this sight, the draconian captain sent his forces pouring into the crowd. He detailed another messenger, a wyvem, to fly from the fortress to recall the army.\n\nThe draconians surged into the refugees, but, if they hoped to cause a panic, they failed. The people had suffered enough. They had allowed their freedom to betaken away once, in return for the promise of peace and safety. Now they understood that there could be no peace as long as these monsters roamed Krynn. The people of Solace and Gateway-men, women, and children-fought back using every pitiful weapon they could grab-rocks, stones, their own bare hands, teeth, and nails.\n\nThe companions became separated in the crowd. Laurana was cutoff from everyone. Gilthanas had tried to stay near her, but he was carried off in the mob. The elfmaiden, more frightened than she believed possible and longing to hide, fell back against the wall of the fortress, her sword in her hand. As she watched the raging battle in horror, a man fell to the ground in front her, clutching his stomach, his fingers red with his own blood. His eyes fixed in death, seeming to stare at her, as his blood formed a pool at her feet. Laurana stared at the blood in horrid fascination, then she heard a sound in front of her. Shaking, she looked up-directly into the hideous, reptilian face of the man's killer."},{"from":"human","value":"The draconian, seeing an apparently terror-stricken elven female before him, figured on an easy kill."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Licking its blood-stained sword with its long tongue, the creature jumped over the body of his victim and lunged for Laurana.\n\nClutching her sword, her throat aching with terror, Laurana reacted out of sheer defensive instinct. She stabbed blindly, jabbing upward. The draconian was caught totally offguard. Laurana plunged her weapon into the draconian's body, feeling the sharp elven blade penetrate both armor and flesh, hearing bone splinter and the creature's last gurgling scream. It turned to stone, yanking the sword from her hand. But Laurana, thinking with a cold detachment that amazed her, knew from hearing the warriors talk that if she waited a moment, the stone body would turn to dust, releasing her weapon.\n\nThe sounds of battle raged around her, the screams, the death cries, the thuds and groans, the clash of steel-but she heard none of it.\n\nShe waited calmly until she saw the body crumble. Then she reached down and, sifting the dust aside with her hand, she grasped the hilt of her sword and lifted it into the air. Sunlight flashed on the blood-stained blade, her enemy lay dead at her feet. She looked around but could not see Tanis. She could not see any of the others. For all she knew, they might be dead. For all she knew, she might herself be dead within the next moment.\n\nLaurana lifted her eyes to the sun-drenched blue sky. The world she might soon be leaving seemed newly made-every object, every stone, every leaf stood out in painful clarity. A warm fragrant southern breeze sprang up, driving back the storm clouds that hungover her homeland to the north. Laurana's spirit, released from its prison of fear, soared higher than the clouds, and her sword flashed in the morning sun."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Dragon Highlord.\n\nMatafleur's children.\n\nVerminaard studied the four men as they approached him. These were not slaves, he realized. Then he recognized them as the ones who traveled with the golden-haired cleric. These, then, were the ones who had defeated Onyx in Xak Tsaroth, escaped the slave caravan, and broken into Pax Tharkas. He felt as if he knew them-the knight from that broken land of past glories; a half-elf trying to pass himself off as human; a deformed, sickly magician; and the mage's twin-a human giant whose brain was probably as thick as his arms.\n\nIt will bean interesting fight, he thought. He almost welcomed hand-to-hand combat-it had been along time. He was growing bored with commanding armies from the back of a dragon. Thinking of Ember, he glanced into the sky, wondering if he might be able to summon aid.\n\nBut it appeared that the red dragon was having his own problems. Matafleur had been fighting battles when Pyros was still in the egg; what she lacked in strength, she made up for in guile and cunning. The air crackled with flames, dragonblood dropped down like red rain.\n\nShrugging, Verminaard looked back at the four approaching him warily. He could hear the magic-user reminding his companions that Verminaard was a cleric of the Queen of Darkness and-as such-could call upon her aid. Verminaard knew from his spies that this magic-user, though young, was imbued with a strange power and considered very dangerous.\n\nThe four did not speak. There was no need for talk among these men, nor was there need for talk between enemies. Respect, grudging as it maybe, was apparent on both sides. As for the battlerage, that was unnecessary. This would be fought coolly. The major victor would be death."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And so the four came forward, spreading to outflank him since he had nothing to set his back against. Crouching low, Verminaard swung Nightbringer in an arc, keeping them back, forming his plans. He must even the odds quickly. Gripping Nightbringer in his right hand, the evil cleric sprang forward from his crouched stance with all the strength in his powerful legs. His sudden move took his opponents by surprise. He did not raise his mace. All he needed now was his deadly touch. Landing on his feet in front of Raistlin, he reached out and grasped the magic-user by the shoulder, whispering a swift prayer to his Dark Queen.\n\nRaistlin screamed. His body pierced by unseen, unholy weapons, he sank to the ground in agony. Caramon gave a great, bellowing roar and sprang at Verminaard, but the cleric was prepared. He swung the mace, Nightbringer, and struck the warrior a glancing blow. \"Midnight,\" Verminaard whispered, and Caramon's bellow changed to a shout of panic as the spellbound mace blinded him.\n\n\"I can't see! Tanis, help me!\" the big warrior cried, stumbling about. Verminaard, laughing grimly, struck him a solid blow to the head. Caramon went down like a felled ox.\n\nOut of the corner of his eye, Verminaard saw the half-elf leap for him, a two-handed sword of ancient elvish design in his hands. Verminaard whirled, blocking Tanis's sword with Nightbringer's massive, oaken handle. Fora moment, the two combatants were locked together, but Verminaard's greater strength won out and he hurled Tanis to the ground.\n\nThe Solamnic knight raised his sword in salute-a costly mistake. It gave Verminaard time to remove a small iron needle from a hidden pocket. Raising it, he called once more upon the Queen of Darkness to defend her cleric. Sturm, striding forward, suddenly felt his body grow heavier and heavier until he could walk no more."},{"from":"human","value":"Tanis, lying on the ground, felt an unseen hand press down on him."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He couldn't move. He couldn't turn his head. His tongue was too thick to speak. He could hear Raistlin's screams choke off in pain. He could hear Verminaard laugh and shout a hymn of praise to the Dark Queen. Tanis could only watch in despair as the Dragon Highlord, mace raised, walked toward Sturm, preparing to end the knight's life.\n\n\"Baravais, Kbaras! \"Verminaard said in Solamnic. He lifted the mace in a gruesome mockery of the knight's salute, then aimed for the knight's head, knowing that this death would be the most torturous possible fora knight-dying at the mercy of the enemy.\n\nSuddenly a hand caught Verminaard's wrist. In astonishment, he stared at the hand, the hand of a female. He felt a power to match his own, a holiness to match his unholiness. At her touch, Verminaard's concentration wavered, his prayers to his Dark Queen faltered.\n\nAnd then it was that the Dark Queen herself looked up to find a radiant god, dressed in white and shining armor, appear on the horizon of her plans. She was not ready to fight this god, she had not expected his return, and so she fled to rethink her options and restructure her battle, seeing-for the first time-the possibility of defeat. The Queen of Darkness withdrew and left her cleric to his fate.\n\nSturm felt the spell leave his body, his muscles his own to command once more. He saw Venninaard turn his fury on Goldmoon, striking at her savagely. The knight lunged forward, seeing Tanis rise, the elven sword flashing in the sun-light.\n\nBoth men ran toward Goldmoon, but Riverwind was there before them. Thrusting her out of the way, the Plainsman received on his swordarm the blow of the cleric's mace that had been intended to crush Goldmoon's head. Riverwind heard the cleric shout'Midnight!\" and his vision was obscured by the same unholy darkness that had overtaken Caramon."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But the Que-shu warrior, expecting this, did not panic. Riverwind could still hear his enemy. Resolutely ignoring the pain of his injury, he transferred the sword to his left hand and stabbed in the direction of his enemy's harsh breathing. The blade, turned aside by the Dragon Highlord's powerful armor, was jarred from Riverwind's hand. Riverwind fumbled for his dagger, though he knew it was hopeless, that death was certain.\n\nAt that moment, Verminaard realized he was alone, bereft of spiritual help. He felt the cold, skeletal hand of despair clutch at him and he called to his Dark Queen. But she had turned away, absorbed in her own struggle.\n\nVerminaard began to sweat beneath the dragonmask. He cursed it as the helm seemed to stifle him; he couldn't catch his breath. Too late he realized its unsuitableness for hand-to-hand combat-the mask blocked his peripheral vision. He saw the tall Plainsman, blind and wounded, before him-he could kill him at his leisure. But there were two other fighters near. The knight and the half-elf had been freed of the unholy spell he had cast on them and they were coming closer. He could hear them.\n\nCatching a glimpse of movement, he turned quickly and saw the half-elf running toward him, the elvish blade glistening. But where was the knight? Verminaard turned and backed up, swinging his mace to keep them at bay, while with his freehand, he struggled to rip the dragonhelm from his head.\n\nToo late. Just as Verminaard's hand closed over the visor, the magic blade of Kith-Kanan pierced his armor and slid into his back. The Dragon Highlord screamed and whirled in rage, only to seethe Solamnic knight appear in his blood-dimmed vision. The ancient blade of Sturm's fathers plunged into his bowels. Verminaard feel to his knees. Still he struggled to remove the helm-he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. He felt another sword thrust, then darkness overtook him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"High overhead, a dying Matafleur-weakened by loss of blood and many wounds-heard the voices of her children crying to her. She was confused and disoriented: Pyros seemed to be attacking from every direction at once. Then the big red dragon was before her, against the wall of the mountain. Matafleur saw her chance. She would save her children.\n\nPyros breathed a great blast of flame directly into the face of the ancient red dragon. He watched in satisfaction as the head withered, the eyes melted.\n\nBut Matafleur ignored the flames that seared her eyes, forever ending her vision, and flew straight at Pyros.\n\nThe big male dragon, his mind clouded by fury and pain and thinking he had finished his enemy, was taken by surprise. Even as he breathed again his deadly fire, he realized with horror the position he was in-he had allowed Matafleur to manuever him between herself and the sheer face of the mountain. He had nowhere to go, no room to turn.\n\nMatafleur soared into him with all the force of her once-powerful body, striking him like a spear hurled by the gods.\n\nBoth dragons slammed against the mountain. The peak trembled and split apart as the face of the mountain exploded inflames.\n\nIn later years when the Death of Flamestrike was legend, there were those who claimed to have heard a dragon's voice fade away like smoke on an autumn wind, whispering:\n\n\"My children...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The last day of autumn dawned clear and bright. The air was warm-touched by the fragrant wind from the south, which had blown steadily ever since the refugees fled Pax Tharkas, taking with them only what they could scrounge from the fortress as they fled the wrath of the dragonarmies.\n\nIt had taken long days for the draconian army to scale the walls of Pax Tharkas, its gates blocked by boulders, its towers defended by gully dwarves. Led by Sestun, the gully dwarves stood on top of the walls throwing rocks, dead rats, and occasionally each other down on the frustrated draconians. This allowed the refugees time to escape into the mountains where, although they skirmished with small forces of draconians, they were not seriously threatened.\n\nFlint volunteered to lead a party of men through the mountains, searching fora place where the people could spend the winter. These mountains were familiar to Flint since the hill dwarves'homeland was not far to the south. Flint's party discovered a valley nestled between vast, craggy peaks whose treacherous passes were choked with snow in the winter. The passes could be easily held against the might of the dragonarmies and there were caves where they could hide from the fury of the dragons.\n\nFollowing a dangerous path, the refugees fled into the mountains and entered the valley. An avalanche soon blocked the route behind them and destroyed all trace of their passing. It would be months before the draconians discovered them.\n\nThe valley, far below the mountain peaks, was warm and sheltered from the harsh winter winds and snows. The woods were filled with game. Clear streams flowed from the mountains. The people mourned their dead, rejoiced in their deliverance, built shelters, and celebrated a wedding."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"On the last day of autumn, as the sunset behind the mountains, kindling their snow-capped peaks with flame the color of dying dragons, Riverwind and Goldmoon were married.\n\nWhen the two came to Elistan to ask him to preside over their exchange of vows, he had been deeply honored and had asked them to explain the ways of their people to him. Both of them replied steadily that their people were dead. The Que-shu were gone, their ways were no more.\n\n\"This will be our ceremony,\" Riverwind said. \"The beginning of something new, not the continuation of that which has passed away.\"\n\n\"Though we will honor the memory of our people in our hearts,\" Goldmoon added softly, \"we must look forward, not behind. We will honor the past by taking from it the good and the sorrowful that have made us what we are. But the past shall rule us no longer.\"\n\nElistan, therefore, studied the Disks of Mishakal to find what the ancient gods taught about marriage. He asked Goldmoon and Riverwind to write their own vows, searching their hearts for the true meaning of their love-for these vows would bespoken before the gods and last beyond death.\n\nOne custom of the Que-shu the couple kept. This was that the bridegift and the groomgift could not be purchased. This symbol of love must be made by the hand of the beloved. The gifts would be exchanged with the saying of the vows.\n\nAs the sun's rays spread across the sky, Elistan took his place on the top of a gentle rise. The people gathered in silence at the foot of the hill. From the east came Tika and Laurana, bearing torches. Behind them walked Goldmoon, Chieftain's Daughter. Her hair fell down around her shoulders in streams of molten gold, mingled with silver. Her head was crowned with autumn leaves. She wore the simple fringed doeskin tunic she had worn through their adventures. The medallion of Mishakal glittered at her throat. She carried her bridegift wrapped in a cloth as fine as cobweb, for the beloved one's eyes must be the first to see it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tika walked before her in solemn, misty-eyed wonder, the young girl's heart filled with dreams of her own, beginning to think that this great mystery shared by men and women might not be the terrifying experience she had feared, but something sweet and beautiful.\n\nLaurana, next to Tika, held her torch high, brightening the day's dying light. The people murmured at Goldmoon's beauty; they fell silent when Laurana passed. Goldmoon was human, her beauty the beauty of the trees and mountains and skies. Laurana's beauty was elvish, otherworldly, mysterious.\n\nThe two women brought the bride to Elistan, then they turned, looking to the west, waiting for the groom.\n\nAblaze of torches lit Riverwind's way. Tanis and Sturm, their solemn faces wistful and gentle, led. Riverwind came behind, towering over the others, his face stern as always. But a radiant joy, brighter than the torches, lit his eyes. His black hair was crowned with autumn leaves, his groomgift covered by one of Tasslehoff's hankerchiefs. Behind him walked Flint and the kender. Caramon and Raistlin came last, the mage bearing the lighted-crystal Staff of Magius instead of a torch.\n\nThe men brought the groom to Elistan, then stepped back to join the women. Tika found herself standing next to Caramon. Reaching out timidly, she touched his hand. Smiling down at her gently, he clasped her little hand in his big one.\n\nAs Elistan looked at Riverwind and Goldmoon, he thought of the terrible grief and fear and danger they had faced, the harshness of their lives. Did their future hold anything different? Fora moment he was overcome and could not speak. The two, seeing Elistan's emotion and, perhaps, understanding his sorrow, reached out to him reassuringly. Elistan drew them close to him, whispering words for them alone."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It was your love and your faith in each other that brought hope to the world. Each of you was willing to sacrifice your life for this promise of hope, each has saved the life of the other. The sun shines now, but already its rays are dimming and night is ahead. It is the same for you, my friends. You will walk through much darkness before morning. But your love will be as a torch to light the way.\"\n\nElistan then stepped back and began to speak to all assembled. His voice, husky to begin with, grew stronger and stronger as he felt the peace of the gods surround him and confirm their blessings on this couple.\n\n\"The left hand is the hand of the heart,\" he said, placing Goldmoon's left hand in Riverwind's left hand and holding his own left handover them. \"We join left hands that the love in the hearts of this man and this woman may combine to form something greater as two streams join together to form a mighty river. The river flows through the land, branching off into tributaries, exploring new ways, yet ever drawn to the eternal sea. Receive their love, Paladine-greatest of the gods; bless it and grant them peace at least in the hearts, if there is no peace in this shattered land.\"\n\nIn the blessed silence, husbands and wives put their arms around each other. Friends drew close, children quieted and crept near their parents. Hearts filled with mourning were comforted. Peace was granted.\n\n\"Pledge your vows, one to another,\" Elistan said, \"and exchange the gifts of your hands and hearts.\"\n\nGoldmoon looked into Riverwind's eyes and began to speak softly.\n\nWars have settled on the North\n\nand dragons ride the skies,\n\n\"Now is the time for wisdom,\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"say the wise and the nearly wise.\n\n\"Herein the heart of battle,\n\nthe time to be brave is at hand.\n\nNow most things are larger than\n\nthe promise of woman to man.\"\n\nBut you and I, through burning plains,\n\nthrough darkness of the earth,\n\naffirm this world, its people,\n\nthe heavens that gave them birth,\n\nthe breath that passes between us,\n\nthis altar where we stand,\n\nand all those things made larger by\n\nthe promise of woman to man.\n\nThen Riverwind spoke:\n\nNow in the belly of winter,\n\nwhen ground and sky are gray,\n\nherein the heart of sleeping snow,\n\nnow is the time to say\n\nyes to the sprouting vallenwood\n\nin the green countryside,\n\nfor these things are far larger than\n\na man's word to his bride.\n\nThrough these promises we keep,\n\nforged in the yawning night,\n\nproved in the presence of heroes\n\nand the prospect of spring light,\n\nthe children will see moons and stars\n\nwhere now the dragons ride,\n\nand humble things made large by\n\na man's word to his bride.\n\nWhen the vows were spoken, they exchanged gifts. Goldmoon shyly handed her present to Riverwind. He unwrapped it with hands that trembled. It was a ring plaited of her own hair, bound with bands of silver and of gold as fine as the hair the surrounded. Goldmoon had given Flint her mother's jewelry; the dwarf's old hands had not lost their touch."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"In the wreckage of Solace, Riverwind had found a vallenwood branch spared by the dragon's fire and had carried it in his pack. Now that branch made Riverwind's gift to Goldmoon-a ring, perfectly smooth and plain. When polished, the wood of the tree was a rich gold color, marked by streaks and whorls of softest brown. Goldmoon, holding it, remembered the first night she had seen the great vallenwoods, the night they had stumbled-weary and frightened-into Solace, bearing the blue crystal staff. She began to cry softly and wiped her eyes with Tas's handkerchief.\n\n\"Bless the gifts, Paladine,\" Elistan said, \"these symbols of love and sacrifice. Grant that during times of deepest darkness, these two may look upon these gifts and see their path lighted by love. Great and shining god, god of human and elf, god of kender and dwarf, give your blessing to these, your children. May the love they plant in their hearts today be nourished by their souls and grow into a tree of life, providing shelter and protection to all who seek refuge beneath its spreading boughs. With the joining of hands, the exchanging of vows, the giving of gifts, you two-Riverwind, grandson of Wanderer, and Goldmoon, Chieftain's Daughter-become one-in your hearts, in the sight of men, in the eyes of the gods.\"\n\nRiverwind took his ring from Goldmoon and placed it upon her slender finger. Goldmoon took herring from Riverwind. He knelt before her-as would have been the custom of the Que-shu. But Goldmoon shook her head.\n\n\"Rise, warrior,\" she said, smiling through her tears.\n\n\"Is that a command?\" he asked softly."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, dragons\\nAuthor: Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman\\nTitle: Dragons of Autumn Twilight\\nChapter: 37\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Don't even squeak!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Flint said, whirling around to face them, a knife flashing in his hand.\\n\\nThe gully dwarves cowered against the wall, shaking their heads frantically, the pots clattering.\\n\\nThe companions reached the top of the stairs and stopped.\\n\\n\\\"We cross this hall to the door-\\\" Maritta pointed. \\\"Oh, no!\\\" She grasped Tanis's arm. \\\"There's a guard at the door. It's never guarded!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hush, it could be coincidence,\\\" Tanis said reassuringly, although he knew it wasn't. \\\"Just keep on as we planned.\\\" Maritta nodded fearfully and walked across the hall.\\n\\n\\\"Guards!\\\" Tanis turned to Sturm. \\\"Be ready. Remember-quick and deadly. No noise!\\\"\\n\\nAccording to Gilthanas's map, the playroom was separated from the children's sleeping quarters by two rooms. The first was a storeroom which Maritta reported was lined with shelves containing toys and clothing and other items. A tunnel ran through this room to the second-the room that housed the dragon, Flamestrike.\\n\\n\\\"Poor thing,\\\" Maritta had said when discussing the plan with Tanis. \\\"She is as much a prisoner as we are. The Dragon Highlord never allows her out. I think they're afraid she'll wander off. They've even built a tunnel through the storeroom, too small for her to fit through. Not that she wants to get out, but I think she might like to watch the children play.\\\"\\n\\nTanis regarded Maritta dubiously, wondering if they might encounter a dragon very different from the mad, feeble creature she described.\\n\\nBeyond the dragon's lair was the room where the children slept. This was the room they would have to enter, to wake the children and lead them outdoors. The playroom connected directly with the courtyard through a huge door locked with a great oaken beam.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"More to keep the dragon in than us,\\\" Maritta stated.\\n\\nIt must be just about dawning, Tanis thought, as they emerged from the stairwell and turned toward the playroom. The torchlight cast their shadows ahead of them. Pax Tharkas was quiet, deathly quiet. Too quiet-fora fortress preparing for war. Four draconian guards stood huddled together talking at the doorway to the playroom. Their conversation broke off as they saw the women approach.\\n\\nGoldmoon and Maritta walked in front, Goldmoon's hoodwas drawn back, her hair glimmering in the torchlight. Directly behind Goldmoon came Riverwind. Bent over a staff, the Plainsman was practically walking on his knees. Caramon and Raistlin followed, the mage staying close to his brother, then Eben and Gilthanas. All the traitors together, as Raistlin had sarcastically observed. Flint brought up the rear, turning occasionally to glower at the panic-stricken gully dwarves.\\n\\n\\\"You're early this morning,\\\" a draconian growled.\\n\\nThe women clustered like chickens in a half-circle around the guards and stood, waiting patiently to be allowed inside.\\n\\n\\\"It smells of thunder,\\\" Maritta said sharply. \\\"I want the children to have their exercise before the storm hits. And what are you doing here? This door is never guarded. You'll frighten the children.\\\"\\n\\nOne of the draconians made some comment in their harsh language and two of the others grinned, showing rows of pointed teeth. The spokesman only snarled.\\n\\n\\\"Lord Verminaard's command. He and Ember are gone this morning to finish the elves. We're ordered to search you before you enter.\\\" The draconian's eyes fastened onto Goldmoon hungrily. \\\"That's going to be a pleasure, I'd say.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"For you maybe,\\\" muttered another guard, staring at Sturm in disgust. \\\"I've never seen an uglier female in my life than ugh-\\\" The creature slumped over, a dagger thrust deep into its ribs. The other three draconians died within seconds. Caramon wrapped his hands around the neck of one. Eben hit his in the stomach and Flint lobbed off its head with an axe as it fell. Tanis stabbed the leader through the heart with his sword. He started to let goof the weapon, expecting it to remain stuck in the creature's stony corpse. To his amazement, his new sword slid out of the stone carcass as easily as if it had been nothing more than goblin flesh.\\n\\nHe had no time to ponder this strange occurrence. The gully dwarves, catching sight of the flash of steel, dropped their pots and ran wildly down the corridor.\\n\\n\\\"Never mind them!\\\" Tanis snapped at Flint. \\\"Into the playroom. Hurry!\\\" Stepping over the bodies, he flung the door open.\\n\\n\\\"If anyone finds these bodies, it'll be allover,\\\" Caramon said.\\n\\n\\\"It was over before we began!\\\" Sturm muttered angrily. \\\"We've been betrayed, so it's just a matter of time.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Keep moving!\\\" Tanis said sharply, shutting the door behind them.\\n\\n\\\"Be very quiet,\\\" Maritta whispered. \\\"Flamestrike generally sleeps soundly. If she does waken, act like women. She'll never recognize you. She's blind in one eye.\\\"\\n\\nThe chill dawn light filtered in through tiny windows high above the floor, shining on a grim, cheerless playroom. A few well-used toys lay scattered about. There was no furniture. Caramon walked over to inspect the huge wooden beam barring the double doors that led to the courtyard outside.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I can manage,\\\" he said. The big man appeared to lift the beam effortlessly, then set it against the wall and shoved on the door. \\\"Not locked from the outside,\\\" he reported. \\\"I guess they didn't expect us to get this far.\\\"\\n\\nOr perhaps Lord Verminaard wants us out there, Tanis thought. He wondered if what the draconian said was true. Had the Dragon Highlord and the dragon really gone? Or were they-angrily he wrenched his mind back. It doesn't matter, he told himself. We have no choice. We must goon.\\n\\n\\\"Flint, stay here,\\\" he said. \\\"If anyone comes, warn us first, then fight.\\\"\\n\\nFlint nodded and took a position just inside the door leading to the corridor, first opening it a crack to see. The draconian bodies had turned to dust on the floor.\\n\\nMaritta took a torch from the wall. Lighting it, she led the companions through a dark archway into the tunnel leading to the dragon's lair.\\n\\n\\\"Fizban! Your hat!\\\" Tas risked whispering.\\n\\nToo late. The old magician made a grab for it but missed.\\n\\n\\\"Spies!\\\" yelled Verminaard in a rage, pointing up to the balcony. \\\"Capture them. Ember! I want them alive!\\\"\\n\\nAlive? the dragon repeated to himself. No, that could not be! Pyros recalled the strange sound he had heard last night and he knew without a doubt that these spies had overheard him talking about the Green Gemstone Man! Only a privileged few knew that dread secret, the great secret, the secret that would conquer the world for the Queen of Darkness. These spies must die, and the secret die with them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Pyros spread his wings and launched himself into the air, using his powerful back legs to propel himself from the floor with tremendous speed.\\n\\nThis is it! thought Tasslehoff. Now we've done it. There's no escape this time.\\n\\nJust as he resigned himself to being cooked by a dragon, he heard the magician shout a single word of command and a thick, unnatural darkness almost knocked the kender over.\\n\\n\\\"Run!\\\" panted Fizban, grabbing the kenders hand and dragging Tas to his feet.\\n\\n\\\"Sestun-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've got him! Run!\\\"\\n\\nTasslehoff ran. They flew out the door and into the gallery, then he had no idea where he was going. He just kept hold of the old man and ran. Behind him he could hear the sound of the dragon whooshing up out of his lair and he heard the dragon's voice.\\n\\n\\\"So you area magic-user, are you, spy?\\\" Pyros shouted. \\\"We can't have you running around in the dark. You might get lost. Let me light your way!\\\"\\n\\nTasslehoff heard a great intake of breath into a giant body, then flames crackled and burned around him. The darkness vanished, driven away by the fire's flaring light, but, to his amazement, Tas wasn't touched by the flame. He looked at Fizban-hatless-running next to him. They were in the gallery still, heading for the double doors.\\n\\nThe kender twisted his head. Behind him loomed the dragon, more horrible than anything he had imagined, more terrifying than the black dragon in Xak Tsaroth, The dragon breathed on them again and once more Tas was enveloped by flame. The paintings on the walls blazed, furniture burned, curtains flared like torches, smoke filled the room. But none of it touched him and Sestun and Fizban. Tasslehoff looked at the mage in admiration, truly impressed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"How long can you keep this up?\\\" he shouted to Fizban as they wheeled around a corner, the double bronze doors insight.\\n\\nThe old man's eyes were wide and staring. \\\"I have no idea!\\\" he gasped. \\\"I didn't know I could do it at all!\\\"\\n\\nAnother blast of flame exploded around them. This time, Tasslehoff felt the heat and glanced at Fizban in alarm. The mage nodded. \\\"I'm losing it!\\\" he cried.\\n\\n\\\"Hang on,\\\" Tasslehoff panted. \\\"We're almost to the door! He can't get through it.\\\"\\n\\nThe three pushed through the bronze double doors that led from the gallery back into the hallway just as Fizban's magic spell wore off. Before them was the secret door, still open, that led to the Mechanism Room. Tasslehoff flung the bronze doors shut and stopped a moment to. catch his breath.\\n\\nBut just as he was about to say, \\\"We made it!\\\" one of the dragon's huge clawed feet broke through the stonewall, right above the kender's head!\\n\\nSestun, giving a shriek, headed for the stairs.\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\" Tasslehoff grabbed him. \\\"That leads to Verminaard's quarters!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Back to the Mechanism Room!\\\" Fizban cried. They dashed through the secret door just as the stonewall gave way with a tremendous crash. But they could not shut the door.\\n\\n\\\"I have a lotto learn about dragons, apparently,\\\" Tas muttered. \\\"I wonder if there are any good books on the subject-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So I have run you rats into your hole and now you are trapped,\\\" boomed Pyros's voice from outside. \\\"You have nowhere to go and stonewalls do not stop me.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"There was a terrible grinding and grating sound.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The walls of the Mechanism Room trembled, then began to crack.\\n\\n\\\"It was a nice try,\\\" Tas said ruefully. \\\"That last spell was a doozy. Almost worth getting killed by a dragon to see.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Killed!\\\" Fizban seemed to wake up. \\\"By a dragon? I should say not! I've never been so insulted. There must be away out-\\\" His eyes began to gleam. \\\"Down the chain!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The chain?\\\" repeated Tas, thinking he must have misunderstood, what with the walls cracking around him and the dragon roaring and all.\\n\\n\\\"We'll crawl down the chain! Come on!\\\" Cackling with delight, the old mage turned and ran down the tunnel.\\n\\nSestun looked dubiously at Tasslehoff, but just then the dragon's huge claw appeared through the wall. The kender and the gully dwarf turned and ran after the old magician. By the time they reached the great wheel, Fizban had already crawled along the chain leading from the tunnel and reached the first tree-trunk tooth of the wheel itself. Tucking his robes up around his thighs, he dropped down from the tooth onto the first rung of the huge chain. The kender and gully dwarf swung onto the chain after him. Tas was just beginning to think they might get out of this alive after all, especially if the dark elf at the bottom of the chain had taken the day off, when Pyros burst suddenly into the shaft where the great chain hung.\\n\\nSections of the stone tunnel caved in around them, falling to the ground with a hollow booming thud. The walls shuddered, and the chain started to tremble. Above them hovered the dragon. He did not speak but simply stared at them with his red eyes. Then he drew in a huge breath that seemed to suck in the air of the whole valley. Tas started instinctively to close his eyes, then opened them wide. He'd never seen a dragon breathe fire and he wasn't going to miss seeing it now-especially as it would probably be his last chance.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Flames billowed out from the dragon's nose and mouth. The blast from the heat alone nearly knocked Tasslehoff off the chain. But, once again, the fire burned all around him and did not touch him. Fizban cackled with delight.\\n\\n\\\"Quite clever, old man,\\\" said the dragon angrily. \\\"But I, too, am a magic-user and I feel you weakening. I hope your cleverness amuses you-all the way down!\\\"\\n\\nFlames flared out again, but this time the dragon's fire was not aimed at the trembling figures clinging to the chain. The flames struck the chain itself and the iron links began to glow red hot at the first touch of the dragonfire. Pyros breathed again and the links burned white hot. The dragon breathed a third time. The links melted. The massive chain gave a great shudder and broke, plunging into the darkness below.\\n\\nPyros watched it as it plummeted down. Then, satisfied that the spies would not live to tell their tale, he flew back to his lair where he could hear Verminaard shouting for him.\\n\\nIn the darkness left behind by the dragon, the great cogwheel-free of the chain that had held it in place for centuries-gave a groan and began to turn.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Matafleur.\\n\\nThe magic sword. White feathers.\\n\\nThe light from Maritta's torch illuminated a large, barren windowless room. There was no furniture. The only objects in the chill, stone chamber were a huge basin of water, a bucket filled with what smelled like rotted meat, and a dragon.\\n\\nTanis caught his breath. He had thought the black dragon in Xak Tsaroth formidable. He was truly awed at the massive size of this red dragon. Her lair was enormous, probably over one hundred feet in diameter, and the dragon stretched the length of it, the tip of her long tail lying against the far wall. Fora moment the companions stood stunned, with ghastly visions of the giant head rising up and searing them with the burning flame breathed by the red dragons, the flames that had destroyed Solace.\\n\\nMaritta did not appear worried, however. She advanced steadily into the room and, after a moment's hesitation, the companions hurried after her. As they drew closer to the creature, they could see that Maritta had been right-the dragon was clearly in pitiful condition. The great head that lay on the cold stone floor was lined and wrinkled with age, the brilliant redskin grayish and mottled. She breathed noisily through her mouth, her jaws parted to reveal the once sword-sharp teeth, now yellowed and broken. Long scars ran along her sides; her leathery wings were dry and cracked.\\n\\nNow Tanis could understand Maritta's attitude. Clearly, the dragon had been ill-used, and he caught himself feeling pity, relaxing his guard. He realized how dangerous this was when the dragon-awakened by the torchlight-stirred in her sleep. Her talons were as sharp and her fire as destructive as any other red dragon in Krynn, Tanis reminded himself sharply.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The dragon's eyes opened, slits of glistening red in the torchlight. The companions halted, hands on their weapons.\\n\\n\\\"Is it time for breakfast already, Maritta?\\\" Matafleur (Flamestrike being her name to common mortals) said in a sleepy, husky voice.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, we're just a bit early today, dearie,\\\" Maritta said soothingly. \\\"But there's a storm brewing and I want the children to have their exercise before it breaks. Go back to sleep. I'll see they don't wake you on their way out.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't mind.\\\" The dragon yawned and opened her eyes a bit farther. Now Tanis could see that one of them had a milky covering; she was blind in that eye.\\n\\n\\\"I hope we don't have to fight her, Tanis,\\\" Sturm whispered. \\\"It'd be like fighting someone's grandmother.\\\"\\n\\nTanis forced his expression to harden. \\\"She's a deadly grandmother, Sturm. Just remember that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The little ones had a restful night,\\\" the dragon murmured, apparently drifting off to sleep again. \\\"See that they don't get wet if it does storm, Maritta. Especially little Erik. He had a cold last week.\\\" Her eyes closed.\\n\\nTurning, Maritta beckoned the others on, putting her finger to her lips. Sturm and Tanis came last, their weapons and armor muffled by numerous cloaks and skirts. Tanis was about thirty feet from the dragon's head when the noise started.\\n\\nAt first he thought it was his imagination, that his nervousness was making him hear a buzzing sound in his head. But the sound grew louder and louder and Sturm turned, staring at him in alarm. The buzzing sound increased until it was like a thousand swarming locusts. Now the others were looking back, too-all of them staring at him! Tanis looked at his friends helplessly, an almost comic look of confusion on his face.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The dragon snorted and stirred in irritation, shaking her head as though the noise hurt her ears.\\n\\nSuddenly Raistlin broke from the group and ran back to Tanis. \\\"The sword!\\\" he hissed. He grabbed the half-elf's cloak and threw it back to reveal the blade.\\n\\nTanis stared down at the sword in its antique scabbard. The mage was right. The blade hummed as if in the highest state of alarm. Now that Raistlin called his attention to it, the half-elf could actually feel the vibrations.\\n\\n\\\"Magic,\\\" the mage said softly, studying it with interest.\\n\\n\\\"Can you stop it?\\\" yelled Tanis over the weird noise.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" said Raistlin. \\\"I remember now. This is Wyrmslayer, the famed magical sword of Kith-Kanan. It is reacting to the presence of the dragon.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is an abysmal time to remember!\\\" Tanis said in fury.\\n\\n\\\"Ora very convenient time,\\\" snarled Sturm.\\n\\nThe dragon slowly raised her head, her eyes blinking, a thin stream of smoke drifting from a nostril. She focused her bleary red eyes on Tanis, pain and irritation in her gaze.\\n\\n\\\"Who have you brought, Maritta?\\\" Matafleur's voice was filled with menace. \\\"I hear a sound I have not heard in centuries, I smell the foul smell of steel! These are not the women! These are warriors!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't hurt her!\\\" Maritta wailed.\\n\\n\\\"I may not have any choice!\\\" Tanis said viciously, drawing Wyrmslayer from its sheath. \\\"Riverwind and Goldmoon, get Maritta out of here!\\\" The blade began to shine with a brilliant white light as the buzzing grew louder and angrier. Matafleur shrank back. The light of the sword pierced her good eye painfully; the terrible sound went through her head like a spear.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Whimpering, she huddled away from Tanis.\\n\\n\\\"Run, get the children!\\\" Tanis yelled, realizing that they didn't need to fight-at least not yet. Holding the shining sword high in the air, he moved forward cautiously, driving the pitiful dragon back against the wall.\\n\\nMaritta, after one fearful glance at Tanis, led Goldmoon to-the children's room. About one hundred children were wide-eyed with alarm over the strange sounds outside their chamber.\\n\\nTheir faces relaxed at the sight of Maritta and Goldmoon and a few of the littler ones actually giggled when Caramon came rushing in, his skirts flapping around his armored legs. But at the sight of warriors and their drawn weapons, the children sobered immediately.\\n\\n\\\"What is it, Maritta?\\\" asked the oldest girl. \\\"What's happening? Is it fighting again?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We hope there'll be no fighting, dear one,\\\" Maritta said softly. \\\"But I'll not lie to you-it may come to that. Now I want you to gather your things, particularly your warm cloaks, and come with us. The older of you carry the wee ones, as you do when we go outdoors for exercise.\\\"\\n\\nSturm expected confusion and wailing and demands for explanations. But the children quickly did as they were told, wrapping themselves in warm clothing and helping to dress the younger ones. They were quiet and calm, if a bit pale. These were children of war, Sturm remembered.\\n\\n\\\"I want you to move very swiftly through the dragon's lair and out into the playroom. When we get there, the big man\\\"-Sturm gestured to Caramon-\\\"will lead you out into the courtyard. Your mothers are waiting for you there. When you get outside, look immediately for your mother and go to her. Does everyone understand?\\\" He glanced dubiously at the smaller children, but the girl at the front of the line nodded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We understand, sir,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"All right,\\\" Sturm turned. \\\"Caramon?\\\"\\n\\nThe warrior, flushing in embarrassment as one hundred pairs of eyes turned to look at him, led the way back into the dragon's lair. Goldmoon scooped up a toddler in her arms, Maritta picked up another one. The older boys and girls carried little ones on their backs. They hurried out the door in orderly fashion, without saying a word until they saw Tanis, the gleaming sword, and the terrified dragon.\\n\\n\\\"Hey, you! Don't hurt our dragon!\\\" one little boy yelled. Leaving his place inline, the child ran up to Tanis, his fists raised, his face twisted into a snarl.\\n\\n\\\"Dougl!\\\" cried the oldest girl, shocked. \\\"Get back inline this instant!\\\" But some of the children were crying now.\\n\\nTanis, the sword still raised-knowing that this was the only thing keeping the dragon at bay-shouted, \\\"Get them out of here!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Children, please!\\\" Chieftain's Daughter, her voice stern and commanding, brought order to the chaos. \\\"Tanis will not hurt the dragon if he does not have to. He is a gentleman. You must leave now. Your mothers need you.\\\"\\n\\nThere was an edge of fear in Goldmoon's voice, a feeling of urgency that influenced even the youngest child. They got back into line quickly.\\n\\n\\\"Goodbye, Flamestrike,\\\" several of the children called out, wistfully, waving their hands as they followed Caramon. Dougl gave Tanis one final threatening glance, then he returned to line, wiping his eyes with grubby fists.\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\" shrieked Matafleur in a heartbroken voice. \\\"No! Don't fight my children. Please! It is me you want! Fight me! Don't harm my children!\\\" Tanis realized the dragon was back in her past, reliving whatever terrible event had deprived her of her children, Sturm stayed near Tanis. \\\"She's going to kill you when the children are out of danger, you know.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes,\\\" said Tanis grimly. Already the dragon's eyes-even the bad eye-were flaring red. Saliva dripped from the great, gaping mouth, and her talons scratched the floor.\\n\\n\\\"Not my children!\\\" she said with rage.\\n\\n\\\"I'm with you-\\\" Sturm began, drawing his sword.\\n\\n\\\"Leave us, knight,\\\" Raistlin whispered softly from the shadows. \\\"\\\"Your weapon is useless. I will stay with Tanis\\\" The half-elf glanced at the mage in astonishment. Raistlin's strange, golden eyes met his, knowing what he was thinking do I trust him? Raistlin gave him no help, almost as if he were goading him to refusal.\\n\\n\\\"Get out,\\\" Tanis said to Sturm. What?\\\"he yelled.\\\" Are you crazy? You're trusting this-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Get out!\\\" Tanis repeated. At that moment, he heard Flint yelling loudly. \\\"Go, Sturm, they need you out there!\\\"\\n\\nThe knight stood a moment, irresolute, but he could not in honor ignore a direct order from one he considered his commander. Casting a baleful glance at Raistlin, Sturm turned on his heel and entered the tunnel.\\n\\n\\\"There is little magic I can work against a red dragon,\\\" Raistlin whispered swiftly.\\n\\n\\\"Can you buy us time?\\\" Tanis asked.\\n\\nRaistlin smiled the smile of one who knows death is so near it is past fearing. \\\"I can,\\\" he whispered. \\\"Move back near the tunnel. When you hear me start to speak, run.\\\"\\n\\nTanis began backing up, still holding the sword high. But the dragon no longer feared its magic. She knew only that her children were gone and she must kill those responsible. She lunged directly at the warrior with the sword as he began to run toward the tunnel. Then darkness descended upon her, a darkness so deep Matafleur thought fora horrible moment she had lost the sight of the other eye. She heard whispered words of magic and knew the robed human had cast a spell.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'll burn them!\\\" she howled, sniffing the smell of steel through the tunnel. \\\"They will not escape!\\\" But just as she sucked in a great breath, she heard another sound-the sound of her children. \\\"No,\\\" she realized in frustration. \\\"I dare not. My children! I might harm my children...\\\" Her head drooped down on the cold stone floor. Tanis and Raistlin ran down the tunnel, the half-elf dragging the weakened mage with him. Behind them they heard a pitiful, heartbroken moan. \\\"Not my children! Please, fight me! Don't hurt my children!\\\"\\n\\nTanis emerged from the tunnel into the playroom, blinking in the bright light as Caramon swung the huge doors open to the rising sun. The children raced out the door into the courtyard. Through the door, Tanis could see Tika and Laurana, standing with their swords drawn, looking their way anxsiously. A draconian lay crumbling on the floor of the playroom, Flints battle-axe stuck in its back.\\n\\n\\\"Outside, all of you!\\\" Tanis shouted. Flint, retrieving his battle-axe, joined the half-elf as the last to leave the playroom. As they did so, they heard a terrifying roar, the roar of a dragon, but a very different dragon than the pitiful Matafleur. Pyros had discovered the spies. The stonewalls began to tremble-the dragon was rising from his lair.\\n\\n\\\"Ember!\\\" Tanis swore bitterly. \\\"He hasn't gone!\\\"\\n\\nThe dwarf shook his head. \\\"I'll bet my beard,\\\" he said gloomily, \\\"that Tasslehoff's involved.\\\"\\n\\nThe broken chain plummeted to the stone floor of the Chain Room in the Sla-Mori, three little figures falling with it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Tasslehoff, clinging uselessly to the chain, tumbled through the darkness and thought, this is how it feels to die.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was an interesting sensation and he was sorry he couldn't experience it longer. Above him, he could hear Sestun shrieking in terror. Below, he heard the old mage muttering to himself, probably trying one last spell. Then Fizban raised his voice: \\\"Pveatherf-\\\" The word was cutoff with a scream. There was the sound of a bone-crushing thud as the old magician crashed to the floor. Tasslehoff grieved, even though he knew he was next. The stone floor was approaching. Within a very few seconds he too would be dead....\\n\\nThen it was snowing.\\n\\nAt least that was what the kender thought. Then he realized with a shock that he was surrounded by millions and millions of feathers-like an explosion of chickens! He sank into a deep, vast pile of white feathers, Sestun tumbling in after him.\\n\\n\\\"Poor Fizban,\\\" Tas said, blinking tears from his eyes as he floundered in an ocean of white chicken feathers. \\\"His last spell must have been featherfall like Raistlin uses. Wouldn't you know it? He just got the feathers.\\\"\\n\\nAbove him, the cogwheel turned faster and faster, the freed chain rushing through it as if rejoicing in its release from bondge. Outdoors in the courtyard chaos reigned.\\n\\n\\\"Over here!\\\" Tanis yelled, bursting out of the door, knowing they were doomed but refusing to give in. The companions gathered around him, weapons drawn, looking at him anxiously.\\n\\n\\\"Run to the mines! Run for shelter! Verminaard and the red dragon didn't leave. It is a trap. They'll be onus any moment.\\\"\\n\\nThe others, their faces grim, nodded. All of them knew it was hopeless-they must cover about two hundred yards of flat, wide-open surface to reach safety.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They tried to herd the women and children along as swiftly as possible, but not very successfully. All the mothers and children needed to be sorted out. Then Tanis, looking over at the mines, swore aloud in added frustration.\\n\\nThe men of the mines, seeing their families free, quickly overpowered the guards and began running toward the courtyard! That wasn't the plan! What was Elistan thinking about? Within moments there would be eight hundred frantic people milling around out in the open without a scrap of shelter! He had to get them to head back south to the mountains.\\n\\n\\\"Where's Eben?\\\" he called to Sturm.\\n\\n\\\"Last I saw him, he was running for the mines. I couldn't figure out why-\\\"\\n\\nThe knight and half-elf gasped in sudden realization.\\n\\n\\\"Of course,\\\" said Tanis softly his voice lost in the commotion'It all fits.\\\"\\n\\nAs Eben ran for the mines, his one thought was to obey Pyros's command. Somehow, in the midst of this furor, he had to find the Green Gemstone Man. He knew what Verminaard and Pyros were going to do to these poor wretches. Eben felt amoment's pity-he was not, after all, cruel and vicious. He had amply seen, long ago, which side was bound to win, and he-determined, for once, to be on a winning side.\\n\\nWhen his family's fortune was wiped out, Eben was left with only one thing to sell-himself. He was intelligent, handy with a sword, and as loyal as money could buy. It was on a journey to north, looking for possible buyers, that Eben met Vermiaard. Eben had been impressed with Verminaard's power and had wormed his way into the evil cleric's favor. But more importantly, he had managed to make himself useful to Pyros. The dragon found Eben charming, intelligent, resourceful, and-after a few tests-trustworthy.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Eben was sent home to Gateway just before the dragonarmies struck. He conveniently'escaped\\\" and started his resistance group. Stumbling upon Gilthanas's party of elves the first time they tried to sneak into Pax Tharkas was a stroke of luck that further improved Eben's relationship with both Pyros and Verminaard. When the cleric actually fell into Eben's hands, he couldn't believe his luck. It must go to show how much the Dark Queen favored him, he supposed.\\n\\nHe prayed that the Dark Queen continue to favor him. Finding the Green Gemstone Man in this confusion was going to take divine intervention. Hundreds of men were milling about uncertainly. Eben saw a chance to do Verminaard another favor. \\\"Tanis wants you men to meet in the courtyard,\\\" he cried. \\\"Join your families.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No! That isn't the plan!\\\" Elistan cried, trying to stop them. But he was too late. The men, seeing their families free, surged forward. Several hundred gully dwarves added to the confusion, rushing gleefully out of the mines to join the fun, thinking, perhaps, it was a holiday.\\n\\nEben scanned the crowd anxiously for the Green Gemstone Man, then dedded to look inside the prison cells. Sure enough, he found the man sitting alone, staring vaguely around the empty cell. Eben swiftly knelt beside him, racking his brain to come up with the man's name. It was something odd, old-fashioned....\\n\\n\\\"Berem,\\\" Eben said after a moment. \\\"Berem?\\\"\\n\\nThe man looked up, interest lighting his face for the first time in many weeks. He was not, as Toede had assumed, deaf and dumb. He was, instead, a man obsessed, totally absorbed in his own secret quest. He was human, however, and the sound of a human voice speaking his name was inordinately comforting.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Berem,\\\" said Eben again, licking his lips nervously. Now that he had him, he wasn't sure what to do with him. He knew the first thing those poor wretches outside would do when the dragon struck would be to head for the safety of the mines. He had to get Berem out of here before Tanis caught them. But where? He could take the man inside Pax Tharkas as Pyros had ordered, but Eben didn't like that idea. Verminaard would certainly find them and, his suspicions aroused, would ask questions Eben couldn't answer.\\n\\nNo, there was only one place Eben could take him and be safe-outside the walls of Pax Tharkas. They could lie low in the wilderness until the confusion died, then sneak back inside the fortress at night. His decision made, Eben took Berem's arm and helped the man rise to his feet.\\n\\n\\\"There's going to be fighting,\\\"he said.\\\" I'm going to take you away, keep you safe until it is over. I am your friend. Do you understand?\\\"\\n\\nThe man regarded him with a look of penetrating wisdom and intelligence. It was not the ageless look of the elves but of a human who has lived in torment for countless years. Berem gave a small sigh and nodded.\\n\\nVerminaard strode from his chamber in a fury, yanking at his leather, armored gloves. A draconian trotted behind, carrying the Highlord's mace, Nightbringer. Other draconians milled around, acting on the orders Verminaard gave as he stepped into the corridor, returning to Pyros's lair.\\n\\n\\\"No, you fools, don't recall the army! This will take but a moment of my time. Qualinesti will be inflames by nightfall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ember!\\\" he shouted, throwing open the doors that led to the dragon's lair. He stepped out onto the ledge. Peering upward toward the balcony he could see smoke and flame and, in the distance, hear the dragon's roar.\\n\\n\\\"Ember!\\\" There was no answer. \\\"How long does it take to capture a handful of spies?\\\" he demanded furiously. Turning, he nearly fell over a draconian captain.\\n\\n\\\"Will you be using the dragonsaddle, my lord?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, there isn't time. Besides, I use that only for combat and there will no one to fight out there, simply a few hundred slaves to burn.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But the slaves have overcome the guards at the mine and are rejoining their families in the courtyard.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How strong are your forces?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not nearly strong enough, my lord,\\\" the draconian captain said, its eyes glinting. The captain had never thought it wise to deplete the garrison. \\\"We are forty or fifty, perhaps, to over three hundred men and an equal number of women. The women will undoubtedly fight alongside the men, your lordship, and if they never get organized and escape into the mountains-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bah! Ember!\\\" Verminaard called. He heard, in another part of the fortress, a heavy, metallic thud. Then he heard another sound, the great wheel-unused in centuries-creaking with protest at being forced into labor. Verminaard was wondering what these odd sounds portended, when Pyros flew down into his lair.\\n\\nThe Dragon Highlord ran to the ledge as Pyros dropped past him. Verminaard climbed swiftly and skillfully onto the dragon's back. Though separated by mutual distrust, the two fought well together. Their hatred for the petty races they strove to conquer, combined with their desire for power, joined them in a bond much stronger than either cared to admit.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Fly!\\\" Verminaard roared, and Pyros rose into the air.\\n\\n\\\"It is useless, my friend,\\\" Tanis said quietly to Sturm, laying his hand on the knight's shoulder as Sturm frantically called for order. \\\"You're only wasting your breath. Save it for fighting.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There'll be no fighting.\\\" Sturm coughed, hoarse from shouting. \\\"We'll die, trapped like rats. Why won't these fools listen?\\\"\\n\\nHe and Tanis stood at the northern end of the courtyard, about twenty feet from the front gates of Pax Tharkas. Looking south, they could seethe mountains and hope. Behind them were the great gates of the fortress that would, at any moment, open to admit the vast draconian army, and within these walls, somewhere, were Verminaard and the red dragon.\\n\\nIn vain, Elistan sought to calm the people and urge them to move southwards. But the men insisted on finding their womenfolk, the women on finding their children. A few families, together again, were starting to move south, but too late and too slowly.\\n\\nThen, like a blood-red, flaming comet, Pyros soared from the fortress of Pax Tharkas, his wings sleek, held close to his sides. His huge tail trailed behind him. His taloned forefeet were curled close to his body as he gained speed in the air. Upon his back rode the Dragon Highlord, the gilded horns of the hideous dragonmask glinting in the morning sun. Verminaard held onto the dragon's spiny mane with both hands as they flared into the sunlit sky, bringing night's shadows to the courtyard below.\\n\\nThe dragonfear spread over the people. Unable to scream or run, they could only cower before the fearful apparition, arms around each other, knowing death was inevitable.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"At Verminaard's command, Pyros settled on one of the fortress towers. Verminaard stared out from behind the homed dragonmask, silent, furious.\\n\\nTanis, watching in helpless frustration, felt Sturm grip his arm. \\\"Look!\\\" The knight pointed north, toward the gates.\\n\\nTanis reluctantly Ipwered his gaze from the Dragon Highlord and saw two figures running toward the gates of the fortress.\\n\\n\\\"Eben!\\\" he cried in disbelief. \\\"But who's that with him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He won't escape!\\\" Sturm shouted. Before Tanis could stop him, the knight ran after the two. As Tanis followed, he saw a flash of red out of the comer of his eye-Raistlin and his twin.\\n\\n\\\"I, too, have a score to settle with this man,\\\" the mage hissed. The three caught up with Sturm just as the knight gripped Eben by the collar and hurled him to the ground.\\n\\n\\\"Traitor!\\\"Sturm yelled loudly.\\\"Though I die this day, I'll send you to the Abyss first\\\" He drew his sword and jerked Eben's head back. Suddenly Eben's companion whirled around, came back, and caught hold of Sturm's swordarm.\\n\\nSturm gasped. His hand loosened its grip on Eben as the knight stared, amazed at the sight before him.\\n\\nThe man's shirt had been torn open in his wild flight from the mines. Impaled in the man's flesh, in the center of his chest, was a brilliant green jewel! Sunlight flashed on the gem that was as big around as a man's fist, causing it to gleam with a bright and terrible light-an unholy light.\\n\\n\\\"I have never seen nor heard of magic like this!\\\" Raistlin whispered in awe as he and the others stopped, stunned, beside Sturm.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Seeing their wide eyes focused on his body, Berem instinctively pulled his shirt over his chest. Then, loosening his hold on Sturm's arm, he turned and ran for the gates. Eben scrambled to his feet and stumbled after him.\\n\\nSturm leaped forward, but Tanis stopped him.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" he said. \\\"It's too late. We have others to think of.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tanis, look!\\\" Caramon shouted, pointing above the huge gates.\\n\\nA section of the stonewall of the fortress above the massive front gates began to open, forming a huge, widening crack. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, the massive granite boulders began to fall from the crack, smashing to the ground with such force that the flagstone cracked and great clouds of dust rose into the air. Above the roar could be dimly heard the sound of the massive chains releasing the mechanism.\\n\\nThe boulders began to fall just as Eben and Berem arrived at the gates. Eben shrieked in terror, instinctively and pitifully raised his arm to shield his head. The man next to him glanced up and-it seemed-gave a small sigh. Then both were buried under tons of cascading rock as the ancient defense mechanism sealed shut the gates of Pax Tharkas.\\n\\n\\\"This is your final act of defiance!\\\" Verminaard roared. His speech had been interrupted by the fall of the rocks, an act that only enraged him more. \\\"I offered you a chance to work to further the glory of my Queen. I cared for you and your families. But you are stubborn and foolish. You will pay with your lives!\\\" The Dragon Highlord raised Nightbringer high in the air. \\\"I will destroy the men. I will destroy the women! I will destroy the children!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"At a touch of the Dragon Highlord's hand, Pyros spread his huge wings and leaped high into the air. The dragon drew in a deep breath, preparing to swoop down upon the mass of people who wailed in terror in the wide-open courtyard and incinerate them with his fiery breath.\\n\\nBut the dragon's deadly dive was stopped.\\n\\nSweeping up into the sky from the pile of rubble made when she crashed out of the fortress, Matafleur flew straight at Pyros.\\n\\nThe ancient dragon had sunk deeper into her madness. Once more she relived the nightmare of losing her children. She could seethe knights upon the silver and golden dragons, the wicked dragonlances gleaming in the sunshine. In vain she pleaded with her children not to join the hopeless fight, in vain she sought to convince them the war was at an end. They were young and would not listen. They flew off, leaving her weeping in her lair. As she watched in her mind's eye the bloody, final battle, as she saw her children die upon the dragonlances, she heard Verminaard's voice.\\n\\n\\\"I will destroy the children!\\\"\\n\\nAnd, as she had done so many centuries before, Matafleur flew out to defend them.\\n\\nPyros, stunned by the unexpected attack, swerved just in time to avoid the broken, yet still lethal teeth of the old dragon aiming for his unprotected flanks. Matafleur hit him a glancing blow, tearing painfully into one of the heavy muscles that drove the giant wings. Rolling in the air, Pyros lashed out at the passing Matafleur with a wicked, taloned forefoot, tearing a gash in the female dragon's soft underbelly.\\n\\nIn her madness, Matafleur did not even feel the pain, but the force of the larger and younger male dragon's blow knocked her backwards in the air.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The rollover manuever had been an instinctive defensive action on the part of the male dragon. He had been able to gain both altitude and time to plan his attack. He had, however, forgotten his rider. Verminaard-riding without the dragonsaddle he used in battle-lost his grip on the dragon's neck and fell to the courtyard below. It was not along drop and he landed uninjured, only bruised and momentarily shaken.\\n\\nMost of the people around him fled in terror when they saw him rise to his feet, but-glancing around swiftly-he noticed that there were four, near the northern end of the courtyard, who did not flee. He turned to face those four.\\n\\nThe appearance of Matafleur and her sudden attack on Pyros jolted the captive people out of their state of panic. This, combined with the fall of Verminaard into their midst, like the fall of some horrifying god, accomplished what Elistan and the others had not. The people were shaken out of their fear, sense returned, and they began fleeing south, toward the safety of the mountains. At this sight, the draconian captain sent his forces pouring into the crowd. He detailed another messenger, a wyvem, to fly from the fortress to recall the army.\\n\\nThe draconians surged into the refugees, but, if they hoped to cause a panic, they failed. The people had suffered enough. They had allowed their freedom to betaken away once, in return for the promise of peace and safety. Now they understood that there could be no peace as long as these monsters roamed Krynn. The people of Solace and Gateway-men, women, and children-fought back using every pitiful weapon they could grab-rocks, stones, their own bare hands, teeth, and nails.\\n\\nThe companions became separated in the crowd. Laurana was cutoff from everyone. Gilthanas had tried to stay near her, but he was carried off in the mob. The elfmaiden, more frightened than she believed possible and longing to hide, fell back against the wall of the fortress, her sword in her hand. As she watched the raging battle in horror, a man fell to the ground in front her, clutching his stomach, his fingers red with his own blood. His eyes fixed in death, seeming to stare at her, as his blood formed a pool at her feet. Laurana stared at the blood in horrid fascination, then she heard a sound in front of her. Shaking, she looked up-directly into the hideous, reptilian face of the man's killer.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The draconian, seeing an apparently terror-stricken elven female before him, figured on an easy kill.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Licking its blood-stained sword with its long tongue, the creature jumped over the body of his victim and lunged for Laurana.\\n\\nClutching her sword, her throat aching with terror, Laurana reacted out of sheer defensive instinct. She stabbed blindly, jabbing upward. The draconian was caught totally offguard. Laurana plunged her weapon into the draconian's body, feeling the sharp elven blade penetrate both armor and flesh, hearing bone splinter and the creature's last gurgling scream. It turned to stone, yanking the sword from her hand. But Laurana, thinking with a cold detachment that amazed her, knew from hearing the warriors talk that if she waited a moment, the stone body would turn to dust, releasing her weapon.\\n\\nThe sounds of battle raged around her, the screams, the death cries, the thuds and groans, the clash of steel-but she heard none of it.\\n\\nShe waited calmly until she saw the body crumble. Then she reached down and, sifting the dust aside with her hand, she grasped the hilt of her sword and lifted it into the air. Sunlight flashed on the blood-stained blade, her enemy lay dead at her feet. She looked around but could not see Tanis. She could not see any of the others. For all she knew, they might be dead. For all she knew, she might herself be dead within the next moment.\\n\\nLaurana lifted her eyes to the sun-drenched blue sky. The world she might soon be leaving seemed newly made-every object, every stone, every leaf stood out in painful clarity. A warm fragrant southern breeze sprang up, driving back the storm clouds that hungover her homeland to the north. Laurana's spirit, released from its prison of fear, soared higher than the clouds, and her sword flashed in the morning sun.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Dragon Highlord.\\n\\nMatafleur's children.\\n\\nVerminaard studied the four men as they approached him. These were not slaves, he realized. Then he recognized them as the ones who traveled with the golden-haired cleric. These, then, were the ones who had defeated Onyx in Xak Tsaroth, escaped the slave caravan, and broken into Pax Tharkas. He felt as if he knew them-the knight from that broken land of past glories; a half-elf trying to pass himself off as human; a deformed, sickly magician; and the mage's twin-a human giant whose brain was probably as thick as his arms.\\n\\nIt will bean interesting fight, he thought. He almost welcomed hand-to-hand combat-it had been along time. He was growing bored with commanding armies from the back of a dragon. Thinking of Ember, he glanced into the sky, wondering if he might be able to summon aid.\\n\\nBut it appeared that the red dragon was having his own problems. Matafleur had been fighting battles when Pyros was still in the egg; what she lacked in strength, she made up for in guile and cunning. The air crackled with flames, dragonblood dropped down like red rain.\\n\\nShrugging, Verminaard looked back at the four approaching him warily. He could hear the magic-user reminding his companions that Verminaard was a cleric of the Queen of Darkness and-as such-could call upon her aid. Verminaard knew from his spies that this magic-user, though young, was imbued with a strange power and considered very dangerous.\\n\\nThe four did not speak. There was no need for talk among these men, nor was there need for talk between enemies. Respect, grudging as it maybe, was apparent on both sides. As for the battlerage, that was unnecessary. This would be fought coolly. The major victor would be death.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And so the four came forward, spreading to outflank him since he had nothing to set his back against. Crouching low, Verminaard swung Nightbringer in an arc, keeping them back, forming his plans. He must even the odds quickly. Gripping Nightbringer in his right hand, the evil cleric sprang forward from his crouched stance with all the strength in his powerful legs. His sudden move took his opponents by surprise. He did not raise his mace. All he needed now was his deadly touch. Landing on his feet in front of Raistlin, he reached out and grasped the magic-user by the shoulder, whispering a swift prayer to his Dark Queen.\\n\\nRaistlin screamed. His body pierced by unseen, unholy weapons, he sank to the ground in agony. Caramon gave a great, bellowing roar and sprang at Verminaard, but the cleric was prepared. He swung the mace, Nightbringer, and struck the warrior a glancing blow. \\\"Midnight,\\\" Verminaard whispered, and Caramon's bellow changed to a shout of panic as the spellbound mace blinded him.\\n\\n\\\"I can't see! Tanis, help me!\\\" the big warrior cried, stumbling about. Verminaard, laughing grimly, struck him a solid blow to the head. Caramon went down like a felled ox.\\n\\nOut of the corner of his eye, Verminaard saw the half-elf leap for him, a two-handed sword of ancient elvish design in his hands. Verminaard whirled, blocking Tanis's sword with Nightbringer's massive, oaken handle. Fora moment, the two combatants were locked together, but Verminaard's greater strength won out and he hurled Tanis to the ground.\\n\\nThe Solamnic knight raised his sword in salute-a costly mistake. It gave Verminaard time to remove a small iron needle from a hidden pocket. Raising it, he called once more upon the Queen of Darkness to defend her cleric. Sturm, striding forward, suddenly felt his body grow heavier and heavier until he could walk no more.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Tanis, lying on the ground, felt an unseen hand press down on him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He couldn't move. He couldn't turn his head. His tongue was too thick to speak. He could hear Raistlin's screams choke off in pain. He could hear Verminaard laugh and shout a hymn of praise to the Dark Queen. Tanis could only watch in despair as the Dragon Highlord, mace raised, walked toward Sturm, preparing to end the knight's life.\\n\\n\\\"Baravais, Kbaras! \\\"Verminaard said in Solamnic. He lifted the mace in a gruesome mockery of the knight's salute, then aimed for the knight's head, knowing that this death would be the most torturous possible fora knight-dying at the mercy of the enemy.\\n\\nSuddenly a hand caught Verminaard's wrist. In astonishment, he stared at the hand, the hand of a female. He felt a power to match his own, a holiness to match his unholiness. At her touch, Verminaard's concentration wavered, his prayers to his Dark Queen faltered.\\n\\nAnd then it was that the Dark Queen herself looked up to find a radiant god, dressed in white and shining armor, appear on the horizon of her plans. She was not ready to fight this god, she had not expected his return, and so she fled to rethink her options and restructure her battle, seeing-for the first time-the possibility of defeat. The Queen of Darkness withdrew and left her cleric to his fate.\\n\\nSturm felt the spell leave his body, his muscles his own to command once more. He saw Venninaard turn his fury on Goldmoon, striking at her savagely. The knight lunged forward, seeing Tanis rise, the elven sword flashing in the sun-light.\\n\\nBoth men ran toward Goldmoon, but Riverwind was there before them. Thrusting her out of the way, the Plainsman received on his swordarm the blow of the cleric's mace that had been intended to crush Goldmoon's head. Riverwind heard the cleric shout'Midnight!\\\" and his vision was obscured by the same unholy darkness that had overtaken Caramon.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But the Que-shu warrior, expecting this, did not panic. Riverwind could still hear his enemy. Resolutely ignoring the pain of his injury, he transferred the sword to his left hand and stabbed in the direction of his enemy's harsh breathing. The blade, turned aside by the Dragon Highlord's powerful armor, was jarred from Riverwind's hand. Riverwind fumbled for his dagger, though he knew it was hopeless, that death was certain.\\n\\nAt that moment, Verminaard realized he was alone, bereft of spiritual help. He felt the cold, skeletal hand of despair clutch at him and he called to his Dark Queen. But she had turned away, absorbed in her own struggle.\\n\\nVerminaard began to sweat beneath the dragonmask. He cursed it as the helm seemed to stifle him; he couldn't catch his breath. Too late he realized its unsuitableness for hand-to-hand combat-the mask blocked his peripheral vision. He saw the tall Plainsman, blind and wounded, before him-he could kill him at his leisure. But there were two other fighters near. The knight and the half-elf had been freed of the unholy spell he had cast on them and they were coming closer. He could hear them.\\n\\nCatching a glimpse of movement, he turned quickly and saw the half-elf running toward him, the elvish blade glistening. But where was the knight? Verminaard turned and backed up, swinging his mace to keep them at bay, while with his freehand, he struggled to rip the dragonhelm from his head.\\n\\nToo late. Just as Verminaard's hand closed over the visor, the magic blade of Kith-Kanan pierced his armor and slid into his back. The Dragon Highlord screamed and whirled in rage, only to seethe Solamnic knight appear in his blood-dimmed vision. The ancient blade of Sturm's fathers plunged into his bowels. Verminaard feel to his knees. Still he struggled to remove the helm-he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. He felt another sword thrust, then darkness overtook him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"High overhead, a dying Matafleur-weakened by loss of blood and many wounds-heard the voices of her children crying to her. She was confused and disoriented: Pyros seemed to be attacking from every direction at once. Then the big red dragon was before her, against the wall of the mountain. Matafleur saw her chance. She would save her children.\\n\\nPyros breathed a great blast of flame directly into the face of the ancient red dragon. He watched in satisfaction as the head withered, the eyes melted.\\n\\nBut Matafleur ignored the flames that seared her eyes, forever ending her vision, and flew straight at Pyros.\\n\\nThe big male dragon, his mind clouded by fury and pain and thinking he had finished his enemy, was taken by surprise. Even as he breathed again his deadly fire, he realized with horror the position he was in-he had allowed Matafleur to manuever him between herself and the sheer face of the mountain. He had nowhere to go, no room to turn.\\n\\nMatafleur soared into him with all the force of her once-powerful body, striking him like a spear hurled by the gods.\\n\\nBoth dragons slammed against the mountain. The peak trembled and split apart as the face of the mountain exploded inflames.\\n\\nIn later years when the Death of Flamestrike was legend, there were those who claimed to have heard a dragon's voice fade away like smoke on an autumn wind, whispering:\\n\\n\\\"My children...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The last day of autumn dawned clear and bright. The air was warm-touched by the fragrant wind from the south, which had blown steadily ever since the refugees fled Pax Tharkas, taking with them only what they could scrounge from the fortress as they fled the wrath of the dragonarmies.\\n\\nIt had taken long days for the draconian army to scale the walls of Pax Tharkas, its gates blocked by boulders, its towers defended by gully dwarves. Led by Sestun, the gully dwarves stood on top of the walls throwing rocks, dead rats, and occasionally each other down on the frustrated draconians. This allowed the refugees time to escape into the mountains where, although they skirmished with small forces of draconians, they were not seriously threatened.\\n\\nFlint volunteered to lead a party of men through the mountains, searching fora place where the people could spend the winter. These mountains were familiar to Flint since the hill dwarves'homeland was not far to the south. Flint's party discovered a valley nestled between vast, craggy peaks whose treacherous passes were choked with snow in the winter. The passes could be easily held against the might of the dragonarmies and there were caves where they could hide from the fury of the dragons.\\n\\nFollowing a dangerous path, the refugees fled into the mountains and entered the valley. An avalanche soon blocked the route behind them and destroyed all trace of their passing. It would be months before the draconians discovered them.\\n\\nThe valley, far below the mountain peaks, was warm and sheltered from the harsh winter winds and snows. The woods were filled with game. Clear streams flowed from the mountains. The people mourned their dead, rejoiced in their deliverance, built shelters, and celebrated a wedding.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"On the last day of autumn, as the sunset behind the mountains, kindling their snow-capped peaks with flame the color of dying dragons, Riverwind and Goldmoon were married.\\n\\nWhen the two came to Elistan to ask him to preside over their exchange of vows, he had been deeply honored and had asked them to explain the ways of their people to him. Both of them replied steadily that their people were dead. The Que-shu were gone, their ways were no more.\\n\\n\\\"This will be our ceremony,\\\" Riverwind said. \\\"The beginning of something new, not the continuation of that which has passed away.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Though we will honor the memory of our people in our hearts,\\\" Goldmoon added softly, \\\"we must look forward, not behind. We will honor the past by taking from it the good and the sorrowful that have made us what we are. But the past shall rule us no longer.\\\"\\n\\nElistan, therefore, studied the Disks of Mishakal to find what the ancient gods taught about marriage. He asked Goldmoon and Riverwind to write their own vows, searching their hearts for the true meaning of their love-for these vows would bespoken before the gods and last beyond death.\\n\\nOne custom of the Que-shu the couple kept. This was that the bridegift and the groomgift could not be purchased. This symbol of love must be made by the hand of the beloved. The gifts would be exchanged with the saying of the vows.\\n\\nAs the sun's rays spread across the sky, Elistan took his place on the top of a gentle rise. The people gathered in silence at the foot of the hill. From the east came Tika and Laurana, bearing torches. Behind them walked Goldmoon, Chieftain's Daughter. Her hair fell down around her shoulders in streams of molten gold, mingled with silver. Her head was crowned with autumn leaves. She wore the simple fringed doeskin tunic she had worn through their adventures. The medallion of Mishakal glittered at her throat. She carried her bridegift wrapped in a cloth as fine as cobweb, for the beloved one's eyes must be the first to see it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tika walked before her in solemn, misty-eyed wonder, the young girl's heart filled with dreams of her own, beginning to think that this great mystery shared by men and women might not be the terrifying experience she had feared, but something sweet and beautiful.\\n\\nLaurana, next to Tika, held her torch high, brightening the day's dying light. The people murmured at Goldmoon's beauty; they fell silent when Laurana passed. Goldmoon was human, her beauty the beauty of the trees and mountains and skies. Laurana's beauty was elvish, otherworldly, mysterious.\\n\\nThe two women brought the bride to Elistan, then they turned, looking to the west, waiting for the groom.\\n\\nAblaze of torches lit Riverwind's way. Tanis and Sturm, their solemn faces wistful and gentle, led. Riverwind came behind, towering over the others, his face stern as always. But a radiant joy, brighter than the torches, lit his eyes. His black hair was crowned with autumn leaves, his groomgift covered by one of Tasslehoff's hankerchiefs. Behind him walked Flint and the kender. Caramon and Raistlin came last, the mage bearing the lighted-crystal Staff of Magius instead of a torch.\\n\\nThe men brought the groom to Elistan, then stepped back to join the women. Tika found herself standing next to Caramon. Reaching out timidly, she touched his hand. Smiling down at her gently, he clasped her little hand in his big one.\\n\\nAs Elistan looked at Riverwind and Goldmoon, he thought of the terrible grief and fear and danger they had faced, the harshness of their lives. Did their future hold anything different? Fora moment he was overcome and could not speak. The two, seeing Elistan's emotion and, perhaps, understanding his sorrow, reached out to him reassuringly. Elistan drew them close to him, whispering words for them alone.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It was your love and your faith in each other that brought hope to the world. Each of you was willing to sacrifice your life for this promise of hope, each has saved the life of the other. The sun shines now, but already its rays are dimming and night is ahead. It is the same for you, my friends. You will walk through much darkness before morning. But your love will be as a torch to light the way.\\\"\\n\\nElistan then stepped back and began to speak to all assembled. His voice, husky to begin with, grew stronger and stronger as he felt the peace of the gods surround him and confirm their blessings on this couple.\\n\\n\\\"The left hand is the hand of the heart,\\\" he said, placing Goldmoon's left hand in Riverwind's left hand and holding his own left handover them. \\\"We join left hands that the love in the hearts of this man and this woman may combine to form something greater as two streams join together to form a mighty river. The river flows through the land, branching off into tributaries, exploring new ways, yet ever drawn to the eternal sea. Receive their love, Paladine-greatest of the gods; bless it and grant them peace at least in the hearts, if there is no peace in this shattered land.\\\"\\n\\nIn the blessed silence, husbands and wives put their arms around each other. Friends drew close, children quieted and crept near their parents. Hearts filled with mourning were comforted. Peace was granted.\\n\\n\\\"Pledge your vows, one to another,\\\" Elistan said, \\\"and exchange the gifts of your hands and hearts.\\\"\\n\\nGoldmoon looked into Riverwind's eyes and began to speak softly.\\n\\nWars have settled on the North\\n\\nand dragons ride the skies,\\n\\n\\\"Now is the time for wisdom,\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"say the wise and the nearly wise.\\n\\n\\\"Herein the heart of battle,\\n\\nthe time to be brave is at hand.\\n\\nNow most things are larger than\\n\\nthe promise of woman to man.\\\"\\n\\nBut you and I, through burning plains,\\n\\nthrough darkness of the earth,\\n\\naffirm this world, its people,\\n\\nthe heavens that gave them birth,\\n\\nthe breath that passes between us,\\n\\nthis altar where we stand,\\n\\nand all those things made larger by\\n\\nthe promise of woman to man.\\n\\nThen Riverwind spoke:\\n\\nNow in the belly of winter,\\n\\nwhen ground and sky are gray,\\n\\nherein the heart of sleeping snow,\\n\\nnow is the time to say\\n\\nyes to the sprouting vallenwood\\n\\nin the green countryside,\\n\\nfor these things are far larger than\\n\\na man's word to his bride.\\n\\nThrough these promises we keep,\\n\\nforged in the yawning night,\\n\\nproved in the presence of heroes\\n\\nand the prospect of spring light,\\n\\nthe children will see moons and stars\\n\\nwhere now the dragons ride,\\n\\nand humble things made large by\\n\\na man's word to his bride.\\n\\nWhen the vows were spoken, they exchanged gifts. Goldmoon shyly handed her present to Riverwind. He unwrapped it with hands that trembled. It was a ring plaited of her own hair, bound with bands of silver and of gold as fine as the hair the surrounded. Goldmoon had given Flint her mother's jewelry; the dwarf's old hands had not lost their touch.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"In the wreckage of Solace, Riverwind had found a vallenwood branch spared by the dragon's fire and had carried it in his pack. Now that branch made Riverwind's gift to Goldmoon-a ring, perfectly smooth and plain. When polished, the wood of the tree was a rich gold color, marked by streaks and whorls of softest brown. Goldmoon, holding it, remembered the first night she had seen the great vallenwoods, the night they had stumbled-weary and frightened-into Solace, bearing the blue crystal staff. She began to cry softly and wiped her eyes with Tas's handkerchief.\\n\\n\\\"Bless the gifts, Paladine,\\\" Elistan said, \\\"these symbols of love and sacrifice. Grant that during times of deepest darkness, these two may look upon these gifts and see their path lighted by love. Great and shining god, god of human and elf, god of kender and dwarf, give your blessing to these, your children. May the love they plant in their hearts today be nourished by their souls and grow into a tree of life, providing shelter and protection to all who seek refuge beneath its spreading boughs. With the joining of hands, the exchanging of vows, the giving of gifts, you two-Riverwind, grandson of Wanderer, and Goldmoon, Chieftain's Daughter-become one-in your hearts, in the sight of men, in the eyes of the gods.\\\"\\n\\nRiverwind took his ring from Goldmoon and placed it upon her slender finger. Goldmoon took herring from Riverwind. He knelt before her-as would have been the custom of the Que-shu. But Goldmoon shook her head.\\n\\n\\\"Rise, warrior,\\\" she said, smiling through her tears.\\n\\n\\\"Is that a command?\\\" he asked softly.\"\n }\n]"}}},{"rowIdx":2399,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, dragons\nAuthor: Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman\nTitle: Dragons of Autumn Twilight\nChapter: 40"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"In the wreckage of Solace, Riverwind had found a vallenwood branch spared by the dragon's fire and had carried it in his pack. Now that branch made Riverwind's gift to Goldmoon-a ring, perfectly smooth and plain. When polished, the wood of the tree was a rich gold color, marked by streaks and whorls of softest brown. Goldmoon, holding it, remembered the first night she had seen the great vallenwoods, the night they had stumbled-weary and frightened-into Solace, bearing the blue crystal staff. She began to cry softly and wiped her eyes with Tas's handkerchief.\n\n\"Bless the gifts, Paladine,\" Elistan said, \"these symbols of love and sacrifice. Grant that during times of deepest darkness, these two may look upon these gifts and see their path lighted by love. Great and shining god, god of human and elf, god of kender and dwarf, give your blessing to these, your children. May the love they plant in their hearts today be nourished by their souls and grow into a tree of life, providing shelter and protection to all who seek refuge beneath its spreading boughs. With the joining of hands, the exchanging of vows, the giving of gifts, you two-Riverwind, grandson of Wanderer, and Goldmoon, Chieftain's Daughter-become one-in your hearts, in the sight of men, in the eyes of the gods.\"\n\nRiverwind took his ring from Goldmoon and placed it upon her slender finger. Goldmoon took herring from Riverwind. He knelt before her-as would have been the custom of the Que-shu. But Goldmoon shook her head.\n\n\"Rise, warrior,\" she said, smiling through her tears.\n\n\"Is that a command?\" he asked softly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It is the last command of Chieftain's Daughter,\" she whispered.\n\nRiverwind stood up. Goldmoon placed the golden ring on his finger. Then Riverwind took her in his arms. She put her arms around him. Their lips met, their bodies melded together, their spirits joined. The people gave a great shout and torches flared. The sun sank behind the mountains, leaving the sky bathed in a pearl-like hue of purples and soft reds, which soon deepened into the sapphire of night.\n\nThe bride and groom were carried down the hill by the cheering throng and feasting and merriment began. Huge tables, carved from the pine trees of the forest, were setup on the grass. The children, freed at last from the awe of the ceremony, ran and shouted, playing at dragonslaying. Tonight care and worry were far from their minds. Men broached the huge casks of ale and wine they had salvaged in Pax Tharkas and began drinking salutes to the bride and groom. Women brought in huge plates of food-game and fruits and vegetables gathered in the forest and taken from the stores in Pax Tharkas.\n\n\"Get out of my way, don't crowd me,\" Caramon grumbled as he sat down at the table. The companions, laughing, moved over to give the big man room. Maritta and two other women came forward and placed a huge platter of deer meat before the big warrior.\n\n\"Real food,\" sighed the warrior.\n\n\"Hey,\" roared Flint, stabbing at apiece of sizzling meat on Caramon's plate with his fork, \"you gonna eat that?\"\n\nCaramon promptly and silently-without missing a bite-emptied a flagon of ale over the dwarf's head."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tanis and Sturm sat side by side, talking quietly. Tanis's eyes strayed to Laurana occasionally. She sat at a different table talking animatedly with Elistan. Tanis, thinking how lovely she looked tonight, realized how changed she was from the willful, lovesick girl who had followed him from Qualinesti. He told himself he liked the change in her. But he caught himself wondering just what she and Elistan found so interesting.\n\nSturm touched his arm. Tanis started. He had lost track of the conversation. Flushing, he began to apologize when he saw the look on Sturm's face.\n\n\"What is it?\" Tanis said in alarm, half-rising.\n\n\"Hush, don't move!\" Sturm ordered. \"Just look-over there-sitting off to himself.\"\n\nTanis looked where Sturm gestured, puzzled, then he saw the man-sitting alone, hunched over his food, eating it absently as if he didn't really taste it. Whenever anyone approached, the man shrank back, eyeing him nervously until he passed. Suddenly, perhaps sensing Tanis's eyes on him, he raised his head and stared directly at them. The half-elf gasped and dropped his fork.\n\n\"But that's impossible!\" he said in a strangled voice. \"We saw him die! With Eben! No one could have survived-\"\n\n\"Then I was right,\" Sturm said grimly. \"You recognize him, too. I thought I was going mad. Let's go talk to him.\"\n\nBut when they looked again, he was gone. Swiftly, they searched the crowd, but it was impossible to find him now.\n\nAs the silver moon and the red rose in the sky, the married couples formed a ring around the bride and groom and began singing wedding songs. Unmarried couples danced in pairs outside the circle while the children leaped and shouted and reveled in staying up past their bedtime. Bonfires burned brightly, voices and music filled the night air, the silver moon and the red rose to light the sky. Goldmoon and Riverwind stood, their arms around each other, their eyes shining brighter than the moons or the blazing fire."},{"from":"human","value":"Tanis lingered on the outskirts, watching his friends."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Laurana and Gilthanas performed an ancient elvish dance of grace and beauty, singing together a hymn of joy. Sturm and Elistan fell into conversation about their plans to travel south in search of the legendary seaport city of Tarsis the Beautiful, where they hoped to find ships to carry the people from this wartorn land. Tika, tired of watching Caramon eat, teased Flint until the dwarf finally agreed to dance with her, blushing bright red beneath his beard.\n\nWhere was Raistlin? Tanis wondered. The half-elf recalled seeing him at the banquet. The mage ate little and drank his herbal mixture. He had seemed unusually pale and quiet. Tanis decided to go in search of him. The company of the dark-souled, cynical mage seemed more suited to him tonight than music and laughter.\n\nTanis wandered into the moonlit darkness, knowing somehow he was headed in the right direction. He found Raistlin sitting on the stump of an old tree whose lightning-shattered, blackened remains lay scattered over the ground. The half-elf sat down next to the silent mage.\n\nA small shadow settled among the trees behind the half-elf. Finally, Tas would hear what these two discussed!\n\nRaistlin's strange eyes stared into the southlands, barely visible between a gap in the tall mountains. The wind still blew from the south, but it was beginning to veer again. The temperature was falling. Tanis felt Raistlin's frail body shiver. Looking at him in the moonlight, Tanis was startled to seethe mage's resemblance to his half-sister, Kitiara. It was a fleeting impression and gone almost as soon as it came, but it brought the woman to Tanis's mind, adding to his feelings of unrest and disquiet. He restlessly tossed apiece of bark back and forth, from hand to hand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What do you see to the south?\" Tanis asked abruptly.\n\nRaistlin glanced at him. \"What do I ever see with these eyes of mine, Half-Elf?\" the mage whispered bitterly. \"I see death, death and destruction. I see war.\" He gestured up above. \"The constellations have not returned. The Queen of Darkness is not defeated.\"\n\n\"We may not have won the war,\" Tanis began, \"but surely we have won a major battle-\"\n\nRaistlin coughed and shook his head sadly.\n\n\"Do you see no hope?\"\n\n\"Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it.\"\n\n\"Are you saying we should just give up?\" Tanis asked, irritably tossing the bark away.\n\n\"I'm saying we should remove the carrot and walk forward with our eyes open,\" Raistlin answered. Coughing, he drew his robes more closely around him. \"How will you fight the dragons, Tanis? For there will be more! More than you can imagine! And where now is Huma? Where now is the Dragonlance? No, Half-Elf. Do not talk tome of hope.\"\n\nTanis did not answer, nor did the mage speak again. Both sat silently, one continuing to stare south, the other glancing up into the great voids in the glittering, starlit sky.\n\nTasslehoff sank back into the soft grass beneath the pine trees. \"No hope!\" the kender repeated bleakly, sorry he had followed the half-elf. \"I don't believe it,\" he said, but his eyes went to Tanis, staring at the stars. Tanis believes it, the kender realized, and the thought filled him with dread."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ever since the death of the old magician, an unnoticed change had come over the kender. Tasslehoff began to consider that this adventure was in earnest, that it had a purpose for which people gave their lives. He wondered why he was involved and thought perhaps he had given the answer to Fizban-the small things he was meant to do were important, somehow, in the big scheme of things.\n\nBut until now it had never occurred to the kender that all this might be for nothing, that it might not make any difference, that they might suffer and lose people they loved like Fizban, and the dragons would still win in the end.\n\n\"Still,\" the kender said softly, \"we have to keep trying and hoping. That's what's important-the trying and the hoping. Maybe that's most important of all.\"\n\nSomething floated gently down from the sky, brushing past the kender's nose. Tas reached out and caught it in his hand.\n\nIt was a small, white chicken feather."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The'Song of Huma\" was the last-and many consider the greatest-work of the elven bard, Quivalen Soth. Only fragments of the work remained following the Cataclysm. It is said that those who study it diligently willl find hints to the future o the turning world.\n\nSONG OF HUMA\n\nOut of the village, out of the thatched and clutching shires,\n\nOut of the grave and furrow, furrow and grave,\n\nWhere his sword first tried\n\nThe last cruel dances of childhood, and awoke to the shires\n\nForever retreating, his greatness a marshfire,\n\nThe banked flight of the Kingfisher always above him,\n\nNow Huma walked upon Roses,\n\nIn the level Light of the Rose.\n\nAnd troubled by Dragons, he turned to the end of the land,\n\nTo the fringe of all sense and senses,\n\nTo the Wilderness, where Paladine bade him to turn,\n\nAnd therein the loud tunnel of knives\n\nHe grew in unblemished violence, in yearning,\n\nStunned into himself by a deafening gauntlet of voices.\n\nIt was there and then that the White Stag found him,\n\nAt the end of a journey planned from the shores of Creation,\n\nAnd all time staggered at the forest edge\n\nWhere Huma, haunted and starving,\n\nDrew his bow, thanking the gods for their bounty and keeping,\n\nThen saw, in the ranged wood,\n\nIn the first silence, the dazed heart's symbol,\n\nThe rack of antlers resplendent.\n\nHe lowered the bow and the world resumed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then Huma followed the Stag, its tangle of antlers receding\n\nAs a memory of young light, as the talons of birds ascending.\n\nThe Mountain crouched before them. Nothing would change now,\n\nThe three moons stopped in the sky,\n\nAnd the long night tumbled in shadows.\n\nIt was morning when they reached the grove,\n\nThe lap of the mountain, where the Stag departed,\n\nNor did Huma follow, knowing the end of this journey\n\nWas nothing but green and the promise of green that endured\n\nIn the eyes of the woman before him.\n\nAnd holy the days he drew near her, holy the air\n\nThat carried his words of endearment, his forgotten songs,\n\nAnd the rapt moons knelt on the Great Mountain.\n\nStill, she eluded him, bright and retreating as marshfire,\n\nNameless and lovely, more lovely because she was nameless,\n\nAs they learned that the world, the dazzling shelves of the air,\n\nThe Wilderness itself\n\nWere plain and diminished things to the heart's thicket.\n\nAt the end of the days, she told him her secret.\n\nFor she was not of woman, nor was she mortal,\n\nBut daughter and heiress from a line of Dragons.\n\nFor Huma the sky turned indifferent, cluttered by moons,\n\nThe brief life of the grass mocked him, mocked his fathers,\n\nAnd the thorned light bristled on the gliding Mountain.\n\nBut nameless she tendered a hope not in her keeping,\n\nThat Paladine only might answer, that through his enduring wisdom"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She might step from forever, and therein her silver arms\n\nThe promise of the grove might rise and flourish.\n\nFor that wisdom Huma prayed, and the Stag returned,\n\nAnd east, through the desolate fields, through ash,\n\nThrough cinders and blood, the harvest of dragons,\n\nTraveled Huma, cradled by dreams of the Silver Dragon,\n\nThe Stag perpetual, a signal before him.\n\nAt last the eventual harbor, a temple so far to the east\n\nThat it lay where the east was ending.\n\nThere Paladine appeared\n\nIna pool of stars and glory, announcing\n\nThat of all choices, one most terrible had fallen to Huma.\n\nFor Paladine knew that the heart is a nest of yearnings,\n\nThat we can travel forever toward light, becoming\n\nWhat we can never be.\n\nFor the bride of Huma could step into the devouring sun,\n\nTogether they would return to the thatched shires\n\nAnd leave behind the secret of the Lance, the world\n\nUnpeopled in darkness, wed to the dragons.\n\nOr Huma could take on the Dragonlance, cleansing all Krynn\n\nOf death and invasion, of the green paths of his love.\n\nThe hardest of choices, and Huma remembered\n\nHow the Wilderness cloistered and baptized his first thoughts\n\nBeneath the sheltering sun, and now\n\nAs the black moon wheeled and pivoted, drawing the air\n\nAnd the substance from Krynn, from the things of Krynn,\n\nFrom the grove, from the Mountain, from the abandoned shires,"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He would sleep, he would send it all away,\n\nFor the choosing was all of the pain, and the choices\n\nWere heat on the hand when the arm has been severed.\n\nBut she came to him, weeping and luminous,\n\nIna landscape of dreams, where he saw\n\nThe world collapse and renew on the glint of the Lance.\n\nIn her farewell lay collapse and renewal.\n\nThrough his doomed veins the horizon burst.\n\nHe took up the Dragonlance, he took up the story,\n\nThe pale heat rushed through his rising arm\n\nAnd the sun and the three moons, waiting for wonders,\n\nHung in the sky together.\n\nTo the West Huma rode, to the High Clerist's Tower\n\nOn the back of the Silver Dragon,\n\nAnd the path of their flight crossed over a desolate country\n\nWhere the dead walked only, mouthing the names of dragons.\n\nAnd the men in the Tower, surrounded and riddled by dragons,\n\nBy the cries of the dying, the roar in the ravenous air,\n\nAwaited the unspeakable silence,\n\nAwaited far worse, in fear that the crash of the senses\n\nWould end in a moment of nothing\n\nWhere the mind lies down with its losses and darkness.\n\nBut the winding of Huma's horn in the distance\n\nDanced on the battlements. All of Solamnia lifted\n\nIts face to the eastern sky, and the dragons\n\nWheeled to the highest air, believing\n\nSome terrible change had come.\n\nFrom out of their tumult of wings, out of the chaos of dragons,"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Out of the heart of nothing, the Mother of Night,\n\nAswirl in a blankness of colors,\n\nSwooped to the East, into the stare of the sun\n\nAnd the sky collapsed into silver and blankness.\n\nOn the ground Huma lay, at his side a woman,\n\nHer silver skin broken, the promise of green\n\nReleased from the gifts of her eyes. She whispered her name\n\nAs the Queen of Darkness banked in the sky above Huma.\n\nShe descended, the Mother of Night,\n\nAnd from the loft of the battlements, men saw shadows\n\nBoil on the colorless dive of her wings:\n\nA hovel of thatch and rushes, the heart of a Wilderness,\n\nA lost silver light spattered in terrible crimson,\n\nAnd then from the center of shadows\n\nCame a depth in which darkness itself was aglimmer,\n\nDenying all air, all light, all shadows.\n\nAnd thrusting his lance into emptiness,\n\nHuma fell to the sweetness of death, into abiding sunlight.\n\nThrough the Lance, through the dear might and brotherhood\n\nOf those who must walk to the end of the breath and the senses,\n\nHe banished the dragons back to the core of nothing,\n\nAnd the long lands blossomed in balance and music.\n\nStunned in new freedom, stunned by the brightness and colors,\n\nBy the harped blessing of the holy winds,\n\nThe Knights carried Huma, they carried the Dragonlance\n\nTo the grove in the lap of the Mountain.\n\nWhen they returned to the grove in pilgrimage, in homage,"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Lance, the armor, the Dragonbane himself\n\nHad vanished to the days eye.\n\nBut the night of the full moons red and silver\n\nShines down on the hills, on the forms of a man and a woman\n\nShimmering steel and silver, silver and steel,\n\nAbove the village, over the thatched and nurturing shires."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, dragons\\nAuthor: Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman\\nTitle: Dragons of Autumn Twilight\\nChapter: 40\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"In the wreckage of Solace, Riverwind had found a vallenwood branch spared by the dragon's fire and had carried it in his pack. Now that branch made Riverwind's gift to Goldmoon-a ring, perfectly smooth and plain. When polished, the wood of the tree was a rich gold color, marked by streaks and whorls of softest brown. Goldmoon, holding it, remembered the first night she had seen the great vallenwoods, the night they had stumbled-weary and frightened-into Solace, bearing the blue crystal staff. She began to cry softly and wiped her eyes with Tas's handkerchief.\\n\\n\\\"Bless the gifts, Paladine,\\\" Elistan said, \\\"these symbols of love and sacrifice. Grant that during times of deepest darkness, these two may look upon these gifts and see their path lighted by love. Great and shining god, god of human and elf, god of kender and dwarf, give your blessing to these, your children. May the love they plant in their hearts today be nourished by their souls and grow into a tree of life, providing shelter and protection to all who seek refuge beneath its spreading boughs. With the joining of hands, the exchanging of vows, the giving of gifts, you two-Riverwind, grandson of Wanderer, and Goldmoon, Chieftain's Daughter-become one-in your hearts, in the sight of men, in the eyes of the gods.\\\"\\n\\nRiverwind took his ring from Goldmoon and placed it upon her slender finger. Goldmoon took herring from Riverwind. He knelt before her-as would have been the custom of the Que-shu. But Goldmoon shook her head.\\n\\n\\\"Rise, warrior,\\\" she said, smiling through her tears.\\n\\n\\\"Is that a command?\\\" he asked softly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It is the last command of Chieftain's Daughter,\\\" she whispered.\\n\\nRiverwind stood up. Goldmoon placed the golden ring on his finger. Then Riverwind took her in his arms. She put her arms around him. Their lips met, their bodies melded together, their spirits joined. The people gave a great shout and torches flared. The sun sank behind the mountains, leaving the sky bathed in a pearl-like hue of purples and soft reds, which soon deepened into the sapphire of night.\\n\\nThe bride and groom were carried down the hill by the cheering throng and feasting and merriment began. Huge tables, carved from the pine trees of the forest, were setup on the grass. The children, freed at last from the awe of the ceremony, ran and shouted, playing at dragonslaying. Tonight care and worry were far from their minds. Men broached the huge casks of ale and wine they had salvaged in Pax Tharkas and began drinking salutes to the bride and groom. Women brought in huge plates of food-game and fruits and vegetables gathered in the forest and taken from the stores in Pax Tharkas.\\n\\n\\\"Get out of my way, don't crowd me,\\\" Caramon grumbled as he sat down at the table. The companions, laughing, moved over to give the big man room. Maritta and two other women came forward and placed a huge platter of deer meat before the big warrior.\\n\\n\\\"Real food,\\\" sighed the warrior.\\n\\n\\\"Hey,\\\" roared Flint, stabbing at apiece of sizzling meat on Caramon's plate with his fork, \\\"you gonna eat that?\\\"\\n\\nCaramon promptly and silently-without missing a bite-emptied a flagon of ale over the dwarf's head.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tanis and Sturm sat side by side, talking quietly. Tanis's eyes strayed to Laurana occasionally. She sat at a different table talking animatedly with Elistan. Tanis, thinking how lovely she looked tonight, realized how changed she was from the willful, lovesick girl who had followed him from Qualinesti. He told himself he liked the change in her. But he caught himself wondering just what she and Elistan found so interesting.\\n\\nSturm touched his arm. Tanis started. He had lost track of the conversation. Flushing, he began to apologize when he saw the look on Sturm's face.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Tanis said in alarm, half-rising.\\n\\n\\\"Hush, don't move!\\\" Sturm ordered. \\\"Just look-over there-sitting off to himself.\\\"\\n\\nTanis looked where Sturm gestured, puzzled, then he saw the man-sitting alone, hunched over his food, eating it absently as if he didn't really taste it. Whenever anyone approached, the man shrank back, eyeing him nervously until he passed. Suddenly, perhaps sensing Tanis's eyes on him, he raised his head and stared directly at them. The half-elf gasped and dropped his fork.\\n\\n\\\"But that's impossible!\\\" he said in a strangled voice. \\\"We saw him die! With Eben! No one could have survived-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then I was right,\\\" Sturm said grimly. \\\"You recognize him, too. I thought I was going mad. Let's go talk to him.\\\"\\n\\nBut when they looked again, he was gone. Swiftly, they searched the crowd, but it was impossible to find him now.\\n\\nAs the silver moon and the red rose in the sky, the married couples formed a ring around the bride and groom and began singing wedding songs. Unmarried couples danced in pairs outside the circle while the children leaped and shouted and reveled in staying up past their bedtime. Bonfires burned brightly, voices and music filled the night air, the silver moon and the red rose to light the sky. Goldmoon and Riverwind stood, their arms around each other, their eyes shining brighter than the moons or the blazing fire.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Tanis lingered on the outskirts, watching his friends.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Laurana and Gilthanas performed an ancient elvish dance of grace and beauty, singing together a hymn of joy. Sturm and Elistan fell into conversation about their plans to travel south in search of the legendary seaport city of Tarsis the Beautiful, where they hoped to find ships to carry the people from this wartorn land. Tika, tired of watching Caramon eat, teased Flint until the dwarf finally agreed to dance with her, blushing bright red beneath his beard.\\n\\nWhere was Raistlin? Tanis wondered. The half-elf recalled seeing him at the banquet. The mage ate little and drank his herbal mixture. He had seemed unusually pale and quiet. Tanis decided to go in search of him. The company of the dark-souled, cynical mage seemed more suited to him tonight than music and laughter.\\n\\nTanis wandered into the moonlit darkness, knowing somehow he was headed in the right direction. He found Raistlin sitting on the stump of an old tree whose lightning-shattered, blackened remains lay scattered over the ground. The half-elf sat down next to the silent mage.\\n\\nA small shadow settled among the trees behind the half-elf. Finally, Tas would hear what these two discussed!\\n\\nRaistlin's strange eyes stared into the southlands, barely visible between a gap in the tall mountains. The wind still blew from the south, but it was beginning to veer again. The temperature was falling. Tanis felt Raistlin's frail body shiver. Looking at him in the moonlight, Tanis was startled to seethe mage's resemblance to his half-sister, Kitiara. It was a fleeting impression and gone almost as soon as it came, but it brought the woman to Tanis's mind, adding to his feelings of unrest and disquiet. He restlessly tossed apiece of bark back and forth, from hand to hand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What do you see to the south?\\\" Tanis asked abruptly.\\n\\nRaistlin glanced at him. \\\"What do I ever see with these eyes of mine, Half-Elf?\\\" the mage whispered bitterly. \\\"I see death, death and destruction. I see war.\\\" He gestured up above. \\\"The constellations have not returned. The Queen of Darkness is not defeated.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We may not have won the war,\\\" Tanis began, \\\"but surely we have won a major battle-\\\"\\n\\nRaistlin coughed and shook his head sadly.\\n\\n\\\"Do you see no hope?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you saying we should just give up?\\\" Tanis asked, irritably tossing the bark away.\\n\\n\\\"I'm saying we should remove the carrot and walk forward with our eyes open,\\\" Raistlin answered. Coughing, he drew his robes more closely around him. \\\"How will you fight the dragons, Tanis? For there will be more! More than you can imagine! And where now is Huma? Where now is the Dragonlance? No, Half-Elf. Do not talk tome of hope.\\\"\\n\\nTanis did not answer, nor did the mage speak again. Both sat silently, one continuing to stare south, the other glancing up into the great voids in the glittering, starlit sky.\\n\\nTasslehoff sank back into the soft grass beneath the pine trees. \\\"No hope!\\\" the kender repeated bleakly, sorry he had followed the half-elf. \\\"I don't believe it,\\\" he said, but his eyes went to Tanis, staring at the stars. Tanis believes it, the kender realized, and the thought filled him with dread.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ever since the death of the old magician, an unnoticed change had come over the kender. Tasslehoff began to consider that this adventure was in earnest, that it had a purpose for which people gave their lives. He wondered why he was involved and thought perhaps he had given the answer to Fizban-the small things he was meant to do were important, somehow, in the big scheme of things.\\n\\nBut until now it had never occurred to the kender that all this might be for nothing, that it might not make any difference, that they might suffer and lose people they loved like Fizban, and the dragons would still win in the end.\\n\\n\\\"Still,\\\" the kender said softly, \\\"we have to keep trying and hoping. That's what's important-the trying and the hoping. Maybe that's most important of all.\\\"\\n\\nSomething floated gently down from the sky, brushing past the kender's nose. Tas reached out and caught it in his hand.\\n\\nIt was a small, white chicken feather.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The'Song of Huma\\\" was the last-and many consider the greatest-work of the elven bard, Quivalen Soth. Only fragments of the work remained following the Cataclysm. It is said that those who study it diligently willl find hints to the future o the turning world.\\n\\nSONG OF HUMA\\n\\nOut of the village, out of the thatched and clutching shires,\\n\\nOut of the grave and furrow, furrow and grave,\\n\\nWhere his sword first tried\\n\\nThe last cruel dances of childhood, and awoke to the shires\\n\\nForever retreating, his greatness a marshfire,\\n\\nThe banked flight of the Kingfisher always above him,\\n\\nNow Huma walked upon Roses,\\n\\nIn the level Light of the Rose.\\n\\nAnd troubled by Dragons, he turned to the end of the land,\\n\\nTo the fringe of all sense and senses,\\n\\nTo the Wilderness, where Paladine bade him to turn,\\n\\nAnd therein the loud tunnel of knives\\n\\nHe grew in unblemished violence, in yearning,\\n\\nStunned into himself by a deafening gauntlet of voices.\\n\\nIt was there and then that the White Stag found him,\\n\\nAt the end of a journey planned from the shores of Creation,\\n\\nAnd all time staggered at the forest edge\\n\\nWhere Huma, haunted and starving,\\n\\nDrew his bow, thanking the gods for their bounty and keeping,\\n\\nThen saw, in the ranged wood,\\n\\nIn the first silence, the dazed heart's symbol,\\n\\nThe rack of antlers resplendent.\\n\\nHe lowered the bow and the world resumed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then Huma followed the Stag, its tangle of antlers receding\\n\\nAs a memory of young light, as the talons of birds ascending.\\n\\nThe Mountain crouched before them. Nothing would change now,\\n\\nThe three moons stopped in the sky,\\n\\nAnd the long night tumbled in shadows.\\n\\nIt was morning when they reached the grove,\\n\\nThe lap of the mountain, where the Stag departed,\\n\\nNor did Huma follow, knowing the end of this journey\\n\\nWas nothing but green and the promise of green that endured\\n\\nIn the eyes of the woman before him.\\n\\nAnd holy the days he drew near her, holy the air\\n\\nThat carried his words of endearment, his forgotten songs,\\n\\nAnd the rapt moons knelt on the Great Mountain.\\n\\nStill, she eluded him, bright and retreating as marshfire,\\n\\nNameless and lovely, more lovely because she was nameless,\\n\\nAs they learned that the world, the dazzling shelves of the air,\\n\\nThe Wilderness itself\\n\\nWere plain and diminished things to the heart's thicket.\\n\\nAt the end of the days, she told him her secret.\\n\\nFor she was not of woman, nor was she mortal,\\n\\nBut daughter and heiress from a line of Dragons.\\n\\nFor Huma the sky turned indifferent, cluttered by moons,\\n\\nThe brief life of the grass mocked him, mocked his fathers,\\n\\nAnd the thorned light bristled on the gliding Mountain.\\n\\nBut nameless she tendered a hope not in her keeping,\\n\\nThat Paladine only might answer, that through his enduring wisdom\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She might step from forever, and therein her silver arms\\n\\nThe promise of the grove might rise and flourish.\\n\\nFor that wisdom Huma prayed, and the Stag returned,\\n\\nAnd east, through the desolate fields, through ash,\\n\\nThrough cinders and blood, the harvest of dragons,\\n\\nTraveled Huma, cradled by dreams of the Silver Dragon,\\n\\nThe Stag perpetual, a signal before him.\\n\\nAt last the eventual harbor, a temple so far to the east\\n\\nThat it lay where the east was ending.\\n\\nThere Paladine appeared\\n\\nIna pool of stars and glory, announcing\\n\\nThat of all choices, one most terrible had fallen to Huma.\\n\\nFor Paladine knew that the heart is a nest of yearnings,\\n\\nThat we can travel forever toward light, becoming\\n\\nWhat we can never be.\\n\\nFor the bride of Huma could step into the devouring sun,\\n\\nTogether they would return to the thatched shires\\n\\nAnd leave behind the secret of the Lance, the world\\n\\nUnpeopled in darkness, wed to the dragons.\\n\\nOr Huma could take on the Dragonlance, cleansing all Krynn\\n\\nOf death and invasion, of the green paths of his love.\\n\\nThe hardest of choices, and Huma remembered\\n\\nHow the Wilderness cloistered and baptized his first thoughts\\n\\nBeneath the sheltering sun, and now\\n\\nAs the black moon wheeled and pivoted, drawing the air\\n\\nAnd the substance from Krynn, from the things of Krynn,\\n\\nFrom the grove, from the Mountain, from the abandoned shires,\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He would sleep, he would send it all away,\\n\\nFor the choosing was all of the pain, and the choices\\n\\nWere heat on the hand when the arm has been severed.\\n\\nBut she came to him, weeping and luminous,\\n\\nIna landscape of dreams, where he saw\\n\\nThe world collapse and renew on the glint of the Lance.\\n\\nIn her farewell lay collapse and renewal.\\n\\nThrough his doomed veins the horizon burst.\\n\\nHe took up the Dragonlance, he took up the story,\\n\\nThe pale heat rushed through his rising arm\\n\\nAnd the sun and the three moons, waiting for wonders,\\n\\nHung in the sky together.\\n\\nTo the West Huma rode, to the High Clerist's Tower\\n\\nOn the back of the Silver Dragon,\\n\\nAnd the path of their flight crossed over a desolate country\\n\\nWhere the dead walked only, mouthing the names of dragons.\\n\\nAnd the men in the Tower, surrounded and riddled by dragons,\\n\\nBy the cries of the dying, the roar in the ravenous air,\\n\\nAwaited the unspeakable silence,\\n\\nAwaited far worse, in fear that the crash of the senses\\n\\nWould end in a moment of nothing\\n\\nWhere the mind lies down with its losses and darkness.\\n\\nBut the winding of Huma's horn in the distance\\n\\nDanced on the battlements. All of Solamnia lifted\\n\\nIts face to the eastern sky, and the dragons\\n\\nWheeled to the highest air, believing\\n\\nSome terrible change had come.\\n\\nFrom out of their tumult of wings, out of the chaos of dragons,\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Out of the heart of nothing, the Mother of Night,\\n\\nAswirl in a blankness of colors,\\n\\nSwooped to the East, into the stare of the sun\\n\\nAnd the sky collapsed into silver and blankness.\\n\\nOn the ground Huma lay, at his side a woman,\\n\\nHer silver skin broken, the promise of green\\n\\nReleased from the gifts of her eyes. She whispered her name\\n\\nAs the Queen of Darkness banked in the sky above Huma.\\n\\nShe descended, the Mother of Night,\\n\\nAnd from the loft of the battlements, men saw shadows\\n\\nBoil on the colorless dive of her wings:\\n\\nA hovel of thatch and rushes, the heart of a Wilderness,\\n\\nA lost silver light spattered in terrible crimson,\\n\\nAnd then from the center of shadows\\n\\nCame a depth in which darkness itself was aglimmer,\\n\\nDenying all air, all light, all shadows.\\n\\nAnd thrusting his lance into emptiness,\\n\\nHuma fell to the sweetness of death, into abiding sunlight.\\n\\nThrough the Lance, through the dear might and brotherhood\\n\\nOf those who must walk to the end of the breath and the senses,\\n\\nHe banished the dragons back to the core of nothing,\\n\\nAnd the long lands blossomed in balance and music.\\n\\nStunned in new freedom, stunned by the brightness and colors,\\n\\nBy the harped blessing of the holy winds,\\n\\nThe Knights carried Huma, they carried the Dragonlance\\n\\nTo the grove in the lap of the Mountain.\\n\\nWhen they returned to the grove in pilgrimage, in homage,\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Lance, the armor, the Dragonbane himself\\n\\nHad vanished to the days eye.\\n\\nBut the night of the full moons red and silver\\n\\nShines down on the hills, on the forms of a man and a woman\\n\\nShimmering steel and silver, silver and steel,\\n\\nAbove the village, over the thatched and nurturing shires.\"\n }\n]"}}}],"truncated":false,"partial":false},"paginationData":{"pageIndex":23,"numItemsPerPage":100,"numTotalItems":2863,"offset":2300,"length":100}},"jwt":"eyJhbGciOiJFZERTQSJ9.eyJyZWFkIjp0cnVlLCJwZXJtaXNzaW9ucyI6eyJyZXBvLmNvbnRlbnQucmVhZCI6dHJ1ZX0sImlhdCI6MTc1NzkxNDM4OCwic3ViIjoiL2RhdGFzZXRzL0RlbHRhLVZlY3Rvci9Pcmlvbi1QcmF4aXMtQ28tV3JpdGVyIiwiZXhwIjoxNzU3OTE3OTg4LCJpc3MiOiJodHRwczovL2h1Z2dpbmdmYWNlLmNvIn0.-_vYkYIlDeCC2SHCf-96z59CTFgLZyggYu9syRFWVhInlWfrzSIBib_kaSRIPlOMbj9xpaQx2MELsSona7VHCg","displayUrls":true},"discussionsStats":{"closed":1,"open":0,"total":1},"fullWidth":true,"hasGatedAccess":true,"hasFullAccess":true,"isEmbedded":false,"savedQueries":{"community":[],"user":[]}}">
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"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 41"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv had known how loyal Garidas was to Israfil, and if she had known, then Balur likely did, as well.\n\n\"This is shocking news,\" Byrne said, no emotion showing on her face. \"I was concerned that all was not well at Drassil.\"\n\n\"Aye, it is, which is why I have taken it upon myself to bring you the news myself. There is more you should know.\"\n\n\"Goon,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"I have been named the new Lord Protector.\"\n\n\"My congratulations,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"And one of my first acts has been to revoke the Lore against inter-relations between Ben-Elim and humankind. Riv, step forth,\" Kol called.\n\nThe Ben-Elim about Riv parted and Riv stepped forwards. She felt the courtyard go silent, thousands of eyes upon her. She hated it, hated being this focal point of ideology and belief. But she was not one to bow her head and walk meekly, so she stood straight and tall and strode to stand beside Kol. Her eyes she kept fixed on Byrne, and when Riv reached Kol's side she snapped her wings open, made them beat, once, slowly, then furled them back in again.\n\nThe silence lengthened.\n\n\"Clearly, we need to talk,\" Byrne said.\n\nRiv followed Kol into a high-vaulted room, afire-pit roaring, a table beyond it surrounded with high-backed chairs. Byrne led them to the table, gesturing for Kol and Riv to sit.\n\nBalur and Ethlinn entered the room, the other giant with the crow upon his shoulder following them. They all took seats around the table, silent while Byrne poured warm mead for them all."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Byrne offered a cup to Riv.\n\n\"To warm your bones. It must be cold so high in the sky.\"\n\n\"It is,\" Riv said, surprised at Byrne's words. She had not expected... kindness. \"My thanks,\" she added.\n\n\"What is your name, child?\" Byrne said.\n\n\"Her name is Riv,\" Balur said. Riv met Balur's eye, preparing herself for his disapproval or disgust, as she had done many times in the last moon. She was relieved to find an intrigued curiosity instead. \"Riv belongs to the White-Wings, she has the making of a fine warrior,\" the giant rumbled.\n\nRiv blinked at that, stunned at Balur's words. She had not thought fora moment that he had ever noticed heron the weapons-field. But more than that, it felt fine to not be defined by her wings, for once, but instead by her skill.\n\n\"I'm a White-Wing no more,\" Riv said wryly. \"These don't fit so well in the shield wall.\" She gave her wings a pulse.\n\nBalur cracked a smile at that. \"No, I imagine not. The shield wall is not the only way to fight, though. Come see me on the field and we'll see what else you can do.\"\n\nRiv grinned at the honour.\n\nByrne moved on, poured her own cup and sat at the table.\n\n\"Israfil is dead, then,\" she said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Kol answered. He told them his version of events, much as he had the day Riv had watched him in the Great Hall at Drassil, using his oratory flair and charm. It did not seem to work so well on Byrne, Ethlinn and Balur as it had on the crowds at Drassil, though. They listened, asked questions, but at no point did Riv think they were ever swept up in Kol's rhetoric and glamour."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then he spoke of Riv, explaining how he could not make the decision to execute her for the sins of those that had begotten her.\n\n\"I could not punish Riv, an innocent, for the sins of her father,\" Kol said. \"I could not do it. And as I thought of the reasons behind that, I realized that it is time for things to change. That we Ben-Elim cannot be so rigid on all things. There must be compromise, a moving forward together. So, I am anew Lord Protector, with anew vision.\"\n\nByrne just leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled as she listened to Kol speak of his vision fora new world and anew relationship between Ben-Elim and mankind.\n\nWhen he had finished, a silence settled. Byrne spoke first.\n\n\"I welcome your new-found open-mindedness,\" she said, something shifting across her face, behind her eyes. \"It is long overdue. As you well know, things are different here from life in Drassil, and Elyon's Lore has never been as... central to how we live our lives, or rigorously adhered to. We live our lives by Truth and Courage. Love and loyalty, friendship and honour are our guiding lights.\"\n\nRiv liked the ring of that, though by Kol's face he was not impressed that Byrne so easily dismissed the Lore of Elyon.\n\n\"But I, too, have news that you should hear, and I think it will affect both of our worlds significantly.\" She paused a moment, studying Kol. \"We have found Gulla.\"\n\n\"What?\" Kol said, leaning forwards in his chair. The enigmatic, warm-hearted statesman of a few moments ago was gone, replaced with a cold hatred.\n\n\"Where is he?\" Kol snarled."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Desolation,\" Balur One-Eye said.\n\nKol snapped his fingers. \"You are mustering fora campaign,\" he said. \"I saw all of the signs on our flight in. More warriors in Dun Seren than there have been fora hundred years, the forge fires burning, grain barns filling.\"\n\n\"We are,\" Byrne agreed.\n\n\"I should have been told.\" Kol scowled. \"You cannot march without the Ben-Elim. The Kadoshim are my ancient foe. Gulla is my ancient foe.\" He leaned back in his chair, a tremor running through him as he tried to master his emotions. \"You should have sent word. How long have you known?\"\n\n\"Hints and rumours a little over a moon ago. It was only confirmed yesterday.\"\n\n\"You have been mustering longer than one day,\" Kol said.\n\n\"Better to be ready than dead,\" the scruffy-looking crow croaked.\n\n\"Exactly, Craf,\" Byrne said, the hint of a smile ghosting her lips. \"And I could not send word-all of my crows are scouting the Desolation. They will be back soon, and I planned on sending word then. Although we have heard nothing from Drassil, even though events that you describe as momentous have happened there. Israfil's death, three moons ago?\"\n\n\"About that,\" Riv said, nodding.\n\n\"And yet you did not think to send us word,\" Byrne said quietly.\n\n\"I will send word to Drassil of Gulla's discovery now,\" Kol said, ignoring Byrne. \"We will march out together, once my White-Wings are here.\"\n\n\"We will march when I decide,\" Byrne said. \"It will takeover a moon for your White-Wings to march here from Drassil, and that maybe too late.\" She shrugged. \"I would welcome your White-Wings against our common foe, and we are mustering now, waiting for word from my scouts, so by all means send word if you wish, but know this: I will not hold back if the need to ride out before they arrive is necessary.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know that it is new to you, but remember, I am the Lord Protector, now,\" Kol said, a dangerous note in his voice.\n\n\"I do not answer to you,\" Byrne said fiercely. \"Lord Protector or no, it means nothing tome. The Order of the Bright Star is your ally, not your subject.\"\n\nKol stood up, leaned his fists on the table, staring at Byrne, white wings rippling behind him.\n\n\"You areas stiff-necked as your kin and founder of this Order, Corban,\" he said. \"I knew your Corban, when the Day of Wrath was finished, saw him as my kin healed his wounds. He contributed little to our victory that day and was evermore a thorn in our flesh than a help against the Kadoshim. And they are my enemy. The Great War is our war. You and your kind are little more than witnesses to that.\"\n\nByrne was on her feet, then, her face pale, lips a thin line.\n\n\"Tell that to the names on our Stone of Heroes,\" she said bitterly. \"The thousands who have fought and bled and died against the Kadoshim. Because you and your kin schemed to bring them here. And if you ever talk about my great-uncle like that again-\"\n\n\"You did not even know Corban,\" Kol said, a wave of his hand. \"All you have is your inflated tales and your nostalgic sense of blood-ties.\"\n\n\"I knew him,\" Ethlinn said firmly. She did not stand, but her voice carried an authority that turned Kol's and Byrne's heads. \"And you lie when you say he did little. He turned the battle. He and his sister. Without them, Asroth would never have been chained, and the portal would still be open.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Pfah.\" Kol spat.\n\n\"But more than that,\" Ethlinn said, \"I knew him and am proud to say that he called me friend. You would do well not to speak ill of Corban the Bright Star, not in my hearing, and especially not when you are seated here, in these halls.\"\n\n\"Craf knew Corban, too. Corban good man. Corban best of friends,\" the crow squawked. He looked at Kol with a beady eye. \"Kol rude.\"\n\nI have seen it all. A Ben-Elim admonished by a talking crow, thought Riv.\n\nKol stared along moment at Ethlinn and then shifted his gaze to Byrne. He took a deep breath and sat down.\n\n\"My apologies, if I have offended you,\" he said. \"For over a hundred years we Ben-Elim have been allied to your Order, have worked together with you to defeat our mutual enemy. I confess to feeling wounded that you have not told me sooner of your information about Gulla. And now this talk of marching without us.\" He waved a hand. \"We Ben-Elim have been good to you.\"\n\nByrne did not sit, but some of the tension leaked from her shoulders.\n\n\"You have had along journey and must be tired,\" she said. \"Rooms have been prepared for you. We shall talk more on the morrow, but for now, eat, rest, sleep.\" And she walked away, her boots a soft slap on the flagstoned floor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha stood on the lakeshore, Morn and a few score of her Red Right Hand standing beside her, watching as teams of harnessed auroch dragged three huge cages on wains onto the piers that stood above the water of Starstone Lake. Timber posts and boards creaked under the strain as the wains rolled out over the lake, coming to a halt beside three fat-bellied ships moored and bobbing on the swell.\n\nOrders were shouted, acolytes attaching straps and hooks, levers and pulleys, and then teams of men were using harbour cranes to winch the cages into the air. With a squeal of iron and wood, the cages were swung over the boats and lowered into the hulls of the moored vessels. Gunil manned one winch himself, stripped to the waist and sweating as he wound the pulley and treadmill.\n\n\"Farewell, my lovelies,\" Fritha breathed, blowing a kiss to the cacophony of howls and growls that reverberated from the cages. Hundreds of her Ferals were contained within those cages, the ones she had determined were beyond obedience to her in the coming conflict.\n\nBut Gulla found a use for all of her creations, even the disobedient ones.\n\nCrews of acolytes manned the boats, tightening leather straps about the cages and attaching them to an array of iron hooks sunk deep into timber decks.\n\nFritha looked to her left, where the prow of a ship emerged from one of the boat sheds, a sleeker vessel than the ones the Ferals had been loaded upon. A spume of water exploded into the air as the ship's prow cut into the lake, and Fritha saw more boats emerging from a row of boat sheds along the lakeshore, seven, eight, ten, more of them, all shallow-draughted, oars appearing and dipping into the water, rowing slowly towards the piers."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gulla strode from the mine towards her, his wings folded and arched like a great cloak. Behind him a shadow-swarm followed, like a dark cloud, a multitude of shambling Revenants marching, their limbs strangely stiff and jerking, their skin pale and stretched, many of them gnashing their too-many teeth as they walked.\n\nGulla snapped a command and one of the Revenants peeled away from Gulla's side-Ulf, coming to stand close to Fritha. He did not look at her.\n\nGulla and his dark host passed Fritha in unsettling silence as they moved from the piers into the boats like a dark mist, filling the vessels with shadow.\n\nGulla took to flight, his wings snapping wide, rising high above the lake, and then he was gliding down to Fritha, alighting before her and Morn.\n\nGunil stomped his way back along a pier to join them.\n\n\"Farewell, my daughter,\" Gulla said, reaching down and cupping Morn's face in his hands. He leaned forwards and kissed her brow.\n\nShe is consumed by the need to avenge her brother still.\n\nMorn had begged to remain with Fritha once she had been told of the plan, knowing that Drem was sure to be found with the Order of the Bright Star.\n\n\"I will avenge your son,\" Morn said.\n\nGulla turned to Fritha.\n\n\"Ulf is yours to command,\" Gulla said to her.\n\nShe looked at Ulf, unsure that he even heard Gulla's words, giving no sign that he had. She seriously doubted that he would acknowledge her existence, let alone follow her orders."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"Give Ulf an order,\" Gulla said.\n\nFritha shrugged. \"Tear out your left eye,\" she said to the grey-skinned Revenant.\n\nWithout hesitation Ulf lifted a hand up to his face, a taloned finger reaching for his eyeball.\n\nFritha opened her mouth to yell Stop, but it was too late. With a sucking pop Ulf's eyeball flopped onto his cheek. He grabbed it in his fist and tore it free of its socket, then held it out on the flat of his palm for Fritha. She felt revulsion and shock, but also a thrill at such unwavering loyalty.\n\nThat is the loyalty I want.\n\n\"Much rests on your victory,\" Gulla said to her. Fritha knew what was left unsaid.\n\nDo not fail.\n\n\"I will see you on Midsummer's Day,\" she said to Gulla.\n\nHe flashed a smile at her, not as charming as it had once been now that his mouth was filled with jagged rows of needle-sharp teeth.\n\n\"Gunil, watch over Fritha and my daughter, and let no harm come to Ulf.\"\n\nGunil grunted a nod.\n\n\"Victory or death,\" Gulla said to Fritha, and then he was leaping into the air, his wings driving him higher, into a climbing spiral, then swooping and dropping low over his ships.\n\n\"WE ARE FOR WAR,\" he bellowed, his crew of acolytes answering with a cheer. Then Gulla's small fleet of Ferals and Revenants set sail. Fritha watched as they rowed east, sails unfurling as they headed towards the Grinding Sea."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"With me,\" Fritha said and turned on her heel, crunching up the slope towards the mine.\n\nFritha marched through the tunnels, her followers gathering behind her, until she had over three hundred men in her wake. She strode into the clearing before the caves, saw all that she had ordered had been done, an array of cages set about her great table.\n\nShe turned to face her followers.\n\n\"Two days and we march. This is the beginning of the end for the Ben-Elim,\" she called out. A rippling cheer.\n\n\"The beginning of our vengeance, when we shall make the world ours, and take what we are owed. Freedom and glory, vengeance and gold,\" she cried, louder, which received a louder cheer.\n\nOf those, vengeance and gold are the sharpest spurs.\n\n\"Two days,\" she repeated. \"Until then, train hard, fight easy,\" she said, dismissing them.\n\nFritha turned to look at the table.\n\nThe white wyrm sat coiled in its cage, watching her with a malignant eye. On the other side of the table her draig's cage had been placed, wooden bars exchanged for iron, and far bigger than the one Gunil had originally made, as the beast continued to grow in shocking spurts. It was already the size of a small pony.\n\nFritha dug a bucket into a barrel offish guts, meat and offal and poured it into the cage. The draig began to eat with an abundance of repulsive slapping, tearing and slurping noises.\n\n\"Are you hungry, Flick?\" Fritha said, waving the bucket close to the crow's cage, digging her hand in and showing him a pile offish guts."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Flick glared up at her."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was hunched at the bottom of his cage, one wing hanging limp, feathers torn and bloody. Fritha felt a brief wave of sympathy for the creature, and a flicker of respect for how long the crow had held out against their questions.\n\nThis is war, and he has served my enemy, she reminded herself.\n\nFlick looked at the pile of guts in Fritha's palm, but he said nothing.\n\n\"You're a brave bird,\" Fritha said and dropped the contents into his cage.\n\nA last supper for you, she thought.\n\n\"Arn, do it now,\" Fritha called, and the warrior strode to the cages set in the cliff face, accompanied by four others. They entered a cage and emerged with one of the Bonefells'great bats, a chain about one of its claws. It was a bull-sire, its wingspan far wider than Morn's. They dragged the beast from the cage by a chain, hanging on as it lifted into the air and tried to fly for freedom, then jabbing with spears to keep it from attacking them.\n\nThey laboured across the clearing to the table. Arn swung the chain, dragging the bat down, his two comrades grabbing at its wings, and then they were slamming it onto the table, pulling its wings wide, hammering iron nails into it, pinning it to the timber. The bat screeched and hissed, head twisting frantically, jaws snapping in a frenzy.\n\nFritha nodded to herself.\n\n\"Gunil,\" she commanded, and the giant slid the bolts on the draig's cage. The draig's muzzle came up, red tongue flickering, and then it was scuttling out of the cage, a shocking display of speed for so much bulk. It stood in the open ground, head swaying from side to side. Fritha stepped in front of it, still holding her bucket."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come tome, Wrath,\" she said gently.\n\nThe draig's eyes fixed on her and it became perfectly still, then burst into motion, talons on its bowed legs raking the ground as it exploded towards her. It skidded to a halt, circling her and rubbing itself against her legs like an excited puppy. She reached out and patted its head, as high as her waist, now, and scratched its scaly neck.\n\nLeaning down, she rested her head against its muzzle, felt its teeth pressing into her cheek.\n\n\"I will make you magnificent,\" she whispered to the draig, \"your name and renown will live on forever.\" Then she drew a razored knife from her belt and plunged it into the draig's neck.\n\nA jet of dark arterial blood, the draig shuddering, as Fritha threw herself out of the reach of its snapping jaws.\n\n\"Gunil, now,\" Fritha cried, and the giant stepped forwards, squatting and putting his arms beneath the belly of the draig as it began to slump, its strength failing as it bled out. Gunil heaved, veins bulging, legs straining, wobbling as he tried to stand with the draig.\n\n\"Help him,\" Fritha shouted, a handful of her Red Right Hand running to Gunil's aid, taking the weight of the draig's tail, lifting, and with a great heave the dying beast was placed next to the pinned bat.\n\nFritha sped to the table, excitement jolting through her, and she reached for her tools, picking up a serrated-edged knife and a hammer.\n\n\"Morn, bring me the crow,\" she said, and Morn opened Flick's cage, reaching in. Flick flapped away to the rear of the cage, fear giving him strength, but he could not evade Morn's grasping hand and it closed about the big bird, dragging him out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bad people, bad people,\" Flick squawked as he pecked at Morn's hand.\n\n\"No, not bad people,\" Fritha said, \"but sometimes dark deeds must be done to accomplish great ends. I am sorry, Flick, you are brave and wise, but you have something I need.\" She held up her knife and the bird squawked in fear.\n\n\"Your bloodline.\"\n\nFritha drew the knife blade across her forearm, flesh parting and blood welling, though it was hard to differentiate her blood from the gore that coated her. But she knew her blood was joining that on the table, pooling and seeping into the concoction of her new creation.\n\n\"Reiptílí, bás sciatháin, guth éan, ar cheann,\" Fritha chanted, her arms drenched in blood to her elbows. \"Reiptílí, bás sciatháin, guth éan, ar cheann,\" she breathed again, and again as she hunched over the mound of flesh spread upon her table.\n\nThen she stepped back.\n\nBody parts were scattered on the ground, parts of bat, crow and draig intermingled. Fritha's off-cuts.\n\nUpon the table lay a huge mound of flesh and bone, still as death.\n\nFritha sucked in a deep shuddering breath.\n\nShe raised her arms.\n\n\"Anáil agus beo,\" she yelled with all the strength of her lungs and stepped forwards, slamming her clenched fists onto the lifeless form on the table, her blow rippling through it.\n\nA silence settled on the clearing as she and those around her watched.\n\nA gasping tremor shifted through the thing before her, its chest rising and falling."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A thrill of excitement, the greatest, most wonderful feeling Fritha had ever known swept through her. The creature on the table raised its head.\n\nHer draig, transformed.\n\nMade new.\n\nIt rolled, flopped to the ground, and slowly took its weight upon its bowed legs.\n\n\"Wrath,\" Fritha said, hoping.\n\nWill he still love me, or will he remember our last moment, my knife across his throat? My blood is mixed with his now-that should bind him tome deeper than all things, should override any resentment of that one, fleeting moment of pain.\n\nIts head weaved, side to side, then its small dark eyes filled with anew intelligence. They fixed upon her, and Fritha smiled.\n\nThe draig spread its wings wide, a ripple of muscle, testing its new limbs. A hesitant beat of air, then harder, and the draig's bulk shifted, its chest and forelegs lifting a handspan from the ground.\n\nWith a scraping growl its head swivelled, regarding its wings.\n\n\"Wrath,\" Fritha said, taking a step towards the creature.\n\nIt regarded her fora long, timeless moment, then took an unsteady step towards her. It opened its jaws wide, saliva dripping.\n\n\"Wrath hungry,\" the draig croaked."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda passed sharkskin over the bow, sanding off the rough edges of glue and sinew. It was the full dark before dawn beyond the forge's doors, but Bleda knew that time was precious, and he could not leave this unfinished.\n\nHe put the sharkskin down, then ran his hand across the bow, slowly, feeling all the layers of maple, horn and sinew that had gone into fashioning it. In the centre of the bow's grip he felt the sliver of stallion bone he had placed there, to give a stallion's speed and strength to every arrow loosed.\n\n\"It will be a thing of beauty,\" Mirim whispered, her eyes gleaming.\n\nHe looked at his guards and allowed himself a smile, both as a symbol of his trust in them, and because he wanted to smile. It was how he felt, an enormous sense of satisfaction welling inside him.\n\nTuld, Mirim and Ruga all smiled back at him, their joy at seeing and playing apart in the making of a Sirak bow shining in their eyes.\n\n\"The box,\" Bleda said, and Tuld lifted a box made of oak and lined with felt. Bleda lifted his bow, tied and knotted still in extreme reflex, and he placed it in the box. They all stood and looked at it, then Tuld placed the lid on and buckled tight the leather straps.\n\n\"Good.\" Bleda nodded.\n\n\"Now, let us make ready for war.\"\n\nThey returned to Bleda's chambers, the first grey of dawn creeping into the air around them, and Bleda found Erdene and Ellac waiting for him. Ellac held a chest in his arms.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" his mother asked him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Something I had to do,\" Bleda said."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She looked at him but did not ask more.\n\n\"We are riding to war,\" Erdene said without any preamble, \"so you should look like a Sirak prince.\"\n\nEllac opened the box, revealing a surcoat of lamellar armour, soft leather with a thousand iron plates painstakingly stitched into overlapping lines. Bleda hissed out a breath.\n\n\"It was your brother Altan's,\" Erdene said, \"and your father's before that.\" She looked him up and down. \"You are bigger than them, I think, but it should still fit.\"\n\nTuld lifted out the surcoat, each iron plate gleaming and rippling in the light from the window like the scales of a fish.\n\n\"And there is something else,\" Erdene said, looking into the box. A curved sword, the leather hilt wound with silver, horse-heads carved into the cross-guard. A laminated scabbard, again dressed in silver.\n\n\"My father's sword,\" Bleda whispered.\n\n\"I will leave you to dress,\" Erdene said. \"We leave before the second bell.\" And then she was striding away.\n\nBleda stood therein something of a daze, and his guards moved around him, helping him dress in woollen breeches and deer-hide boots, under-tunics of linen and wool, then his grey deel, and over it all his surcoat of lamellar plate. It was heavy, an unfamiliar weight on his shoulders, but the sleeves ended above his elbows, leaving his arms unhindered for bow work. Once a belt was cinched tight about his waist, the weight upon his shoulders lessened, and then his new sword was strapped across his back. He tested the draw, Tuld adjusting the scabbard strap so that it did not snag the blade. A vambrace was slid onto his left forearm and tied tight, a rearing horse carved into the leather, and then his weapons-belt was buckled around his waist, with his bow-case and quiver upon it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda stood there when they were finished.\n\nI feel like a god of war.\n\nEllac stood back, arms folded across his chest, and grunted his approval.\n\n\"Two more things you should know about your coat,\" Ellac said. He tapped a plate on the bottom row of iron plates on the right leg. \"One plate, here, has been sharpened.\"\n\nBleda looked at him, raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"In case you're in a tight spot and need it.\" Ellac shrugged, then reached forwards, fumbled at the left half-sleeve with his stump and hand, muttered a curse.\n\n\"Help me,\" he said. \"See, here,\" he pointed to a row of the small, scale-like iron plates.\n\n\"What?\" Bleda said, then realized that the stitching on them was different. They had been sewn as a row, rather than each one individually attached to the leather coat beneath, forming a flap over the sleeve that could be lifted.\n\n\"Look beneath it,\" Ellac said.\n\nBleda lifted the iron plates and saw a hidden pocket, something protruding from it. He gripped it and pulled, revealing a needle-thin knife, the blade long and razor sharp.\n\n\"Justin case,\" Ellac said, not managing to keep the twitch of a smile from his lips.\n\nBleda slid the knife back into its hidden pocket.\n\n\"Lead us out,\" Ellac said.\n\nBleda strode from the room, feeling the extra weight in each step, along a corridor and down the spiral stairwell to the common room. He came to an abrupt halt on the last step. Gathered before him were his honour guard. Ninety Sirak warriors, men and women, clothed for battle. They let out a shout of acclaim as he appeared, and Bleda felt a swell of emotion."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You men and women are pledged tome, to fight for me, protect me, to give your lives for me,\" he said. \"But I am pledged to you, too. Oath-bound to respect your duty, to honour your faithfulness. I swear to you all, I will not let you down.\"\n\nHe saw them straighten at his words, and as one they dropped to one knee before him.\n\n\"Come,\" Bleda said, trying to hide the tremor of emotion in his voice. \"Let us make our Clan proud.\"\n\nAnother shout and then they were parting before him and he was striding out into the street. Their mounts were all there, tethered and waiting at wooden rails. With practised ease Bleda vaulted onto the back of his horse, the new weight making no difference. It was something he had done for as long as he could remember. His honour guard mounted and then with a clatter of hooves they were trotting along the flagstoned streets of Drassil.\n\nThe courtyard was heaving with activity. Erdene, Queen of the Sirak, already therewith five hundred riders about her. She saw Bleda and nodded to him, a glint of pride in her eyes making Bleda's chest swell.\n\nAnd then more riders were cantering into the courtyard, Uldin in his war gear at the head of his warriors, another four or five hundred bows, hawk banners snapping above them, and Jin at his side. She was dressed in a leather jerkin over along coat of mail that was split to cover both legs, still allowing her to ride. Her eyes sought out Bleda and she nodded to him, raising a fist.\n\nShe feels it, too, Bleda thought. There was an excitement flooding through him, and a faint fear as well, at the memory of the Kadoshim and their Feral beast-men. But right now, surrounded by the might of his Clan, he felt invincible."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Shadows skimmed over the courtyard and Bleda looked up, seeing rank upon rank of Ben-Elim take to the sky, hundreds of them, more, sunlight glinting upon steel and bright feathers. A handful of them swept down towards the courtyard, swooping low, Hadran alighting above the gate arch and facing them.\n\n\"Onwards,\" he cried, \"death to the Kadoshim.\" And he was leaping back into the air, great beats of his wings lifting him higher. Horns blasted out, the gates of Drassil opened, and then Erdene led the Sirak out, Bleda riding at her side, a wave of horseflesh thundering through the gate tower and out onto the field of cairns beyond Drassil's walls.\n\nTowards the Kadoshim."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv beat her wings and flew. She climbed high, brushing the clouds, and then checked her wings, hovering as she watched the sun claw its way over the eastern rim of the world.\n\nA few days had passed since she had arrived at Dun Seren. She'd been desperate to spend time in the weapons-field, to watch and see how her White-Wings surpassed these warriors of the Order of the Bright Star, but Kol had kept her by his side whilst he debated with Byrne about the best way to deal with the threat of Gulla and the Kadoshim. Riv had found it hard to concentrate, her mind dwelling on the first meeting between Kol and Byrne. It was troubling her, and she had decided that taking to the skies was the answer.\n\nSo much of what I have been raised to believe, so much of what I've considered the truth, is now just quicksand, sinking and shifting beneath my feet. All my life I've thought the Ben-Elim to be the heroes who saved us from the Kadoshim, but what Byrne and Ethlinn said... about the Ben-Elim scheming to bring the Kadoshim into this world, about Corban saving mankind from the Kadoshim, not the Ben-Elim. Is that the truth? Or is it as twisted and warped aversion as Kol's?\n\nHorn blasts brought her out of her reverie. Gazing around from her vantage point, she looked for some explanation for the horns blowing. Dun Seren spilt down a gentle hill, buildings lined in tiers within the inner wall. Beyond it were a snarl of wharves, barns, boathouses, piers and the river Vold, wide and languid in its last few leagues to the sea. A forest of masts sat upon the river, bobbing at their docks. A stone-arched bridge crossed the river, beyond it open plains, a road leading north. In the distance a smudge on the land hinted at a town."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "There were figures on the bridge, twenty or thirty. Riv saw giants striding amongst them, the flitting movement of wolven-hounds, a mix of riders and wains.\n\nA white crow flew above them.\n\nRiv heard the hissing of air that heralded the beating of wings and looked around to see Kol flying towards her, a handful of Ben-Elim with him.\n\n\"Another pleasant meeting with stiff-necked Byrne,\" he said with a roll of his eyes as he drew level with her. \"She left because of these horns. What's happening?\"\n\nRiv pointed to the group. They had crossed the bridge and were making their way around a fork in the road that wound around Dun Seren's hill towards the gate tower and keep.\n\n\"Let's go and see what all the fuss is about,\" Kol said, and they turned in the air and winged their way to the courtyard before the keep.\n\nCrowds were gathering there, Byrne already waiting on the steps, Ethlinn at her side. Kol flew and landed beside her. Riv alighted further down the steps, and to the side.\n\nThe group from the bridge arrived, the white crow circling above them, calling out in afar-too-human voice, proclaiming the return of Dun Seren's huntsmen. Three men in hunting leathers passed through the gates, three wolven-hounds loping around them. Behind the riders rolled two wains filled with the injured. Men, women, children. An old, grey-haired woman drove the first wain, a dark-haired warrior with a hawk nose and the bright star on his chest the second one. Two riders rode beside him, a young red-haired man and astern, dour-faced woman. The red-haired man was smiling at everyone in the crowd, especially the women."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Last of all strode two giants, Riv recognizing one of them as Alcyon, who had spent much of his time in the service of Ethlinn at Drassil.\n\nThe white crow spiralled down from the sky, wings spreading, and it alighted upon the shoulder of Byrne.\n\n\"Rab brought them home,\" the white crow squawked, \"told Keld and Stepor whereto go.\"\n\n\"Well done, Rab,\" Byrne said, scratching the crow's chest.\n\n\"And Rab watch over Drem ben Olin, like Byrne ask. Drem brave, fight twisted men, save Utul.\"\n\nRiv saw Kol look at the white crow, eyes narrowing, thoughtful.\n\nThe three men leading the party dismounted, stablehands running forwards to take their horses. All were dressed as huntsmen, all bearing various cuts and bruises, evidence of recent action. Two of them were dark-haired, the third one older, with iron in his beard. This one strode forward, up the steps to Byrne.\n\n\"My lady,\" he said, dipping his head. \"We found them, though they were under attack when we reached them.\"\n\n\"You have saved lives, Keld,\" Byrne said, \"risked your own.\" She nodded at the huntsman. \"Now, is there more news from the north? What of Dalga-\"\n\n\"Drem?\" Kol interrupted suddenly. \"I know that name. Drem.\" He rolled it around his tongue, as if stirring up old memories. \"Olin?\" Then his head snapped round to Byrne. \"Olin, husband of Neve?\" Byrne returned his stare, said nothing.\n\nKol turned and marched down the steps, stopped a dozen paces from the two huntsmen. \"It cannot be you,\" Kol said to one of them, a slim man with a thick black beard. \"You are too old.\" Kol turned his eyes to the other."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "This man was younger, only a stubbled beard on his chin. He was tall and broad at the shoulder, though he had a wiry musculature, not thick, like Vald's. His dark hair was tied back at the nape, loose strands hanging across his face. A sword and axe hung at his waist, and the biggest knife Riv had ever seen. At first glance she mistook it for one of the White-Wing's short-swords.\n\nHe was covered in a lattice of cuts and bruises, looked as if he'd seen some recent action, wherever he'd come from.\n\n\"You are Drem ben Olin, son of Olin and Neve, warriors of the Bright Star?\" Kol said.\n\nThe man was silent a moment, looking at the ground. Riv saw a hand move to his neck, fingers probing, as if searching fora pulse.\n\n\"Course he's Drem, Olin's boy,\" the old lady driving the wain said. \"A fine man, Olin, may his soul rest in peace. What of it?\"\n\nKol stood before Drem, prodded his shoulder with one finger, and Drem met Kol's eye. They were roughly of a height, which was unusual as Ben-Elim were taller than most men.\n\n\"I came here for you over fifteen years ago, because your mother murdered my friend. You are my ward, Drem ben Olin, the blood price for the unlawful slaying of Galzur of the Ben-Elim.\" He put a hand on Drem's shoulder.\n\n\"Getaway from him,\" Byrne said flatly behind Kol. She was striding down the steps.\n\nBen-Elim were suddenly in the air, those close to Kol stepping up behind their leader, some hovering over the courtyard."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Drem reached up and gripped Kol's wrist, slowly and forcefully lifting Kol's hand from his shoulder.\n\n\"I am no one's ward,\" Drem said. \"I am a freeman.\"\n\n\"You have never been free,\" Kol said, \"and you are coming with me.\"\n\n\"You'll have to fight me first,\" a voice cried out, the red-haired warrior urging his horse forwards.\n\n\"And me,\" Keld the huntsman called, striding back down the stairs.\n\nKol looked at them all contemptuously.\n\n\"I'll fight you all if you wish. I would have gone to war over this fifteen years ago, and I shall do the same now.\"\n\n\"You won't have to fight any of them,\" Byrne said, striding down to stand beside Kol. \"Stand down,\" she ordered her warriors. They met her gaze at first, then slowly stepped away.\n\nShe needs the Ben-Elim in the war against Gulla and the Kadoshim, said as much the other night. It is the wise choice, to give up one man.\n\n\"The only one you need fight to claim Drem is me,\" Byrne said calmly.\n\nA silence settled over the courtyard.\n\n\"Don't be a fool,\" Kol said with a snort of derision. \"We are allies, you need me in the coming war. Give up the boy.\"\n\n\"Kol of the Ben-Elim,\" Byrne called out loudly, \"I challenge you to the Court of Swords.\"\n\n\"You would ruin everything for him? Risk the coming war?\"\n\nByrne reached over her back, gripped the hilt of her sword and with a hiss drew it. \"Accept the challenge or forfeit your claim,\" she told him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kol stared at Byrne, his wings twitching, then snorted.\n\n\"Have it your way.\" He drew his sword. \"I accept.\"\n\nRiv could not believe what she was hearing. People crowded forwards, moving fora better view, but Riv flexed her wings and took to the air, and suddenly she had the best view of all. Other Ben-Elim circled above her, their expressions tense, hands on their weapons, but there was nothing they could do. Kol had flown herewith only a score of warriors.\n\nKol strode forwards, his blade held contemptuously low.\n\nKol must surely win, Riv thought. I have seen him fight, have fought him myself. He is too fast, too cunning. Would be nice to see him put on his arse, though.\n\nByrne stood as still as stone, feet set, her sword held high in a two-handed grip.\n\nKol paced one way and then the other, his sword-tip grating on stone, eyes fixed on Byrne. Then he moved. A sudden lunge, a pulse of his wings adding to his speed.\n\nA clang, echoing off the stone courtyard and statues.\n\nKol staggered away, off balance.\n\nByrne looked at him, resumed her stance.\n\nKol said something low, for only Byrne to hear as he strode to one side of her, then the other, his sword higher now, and he lunged again. Byrne sidestepped easily, chopping down as Kol stepped out of his lunge, cutting at her ribs. There was a crack of steel as their blades met and then both of them were fluid movement. Kola swirling whirlwind, using his wings for speed, to check and turn, to leap and flyover Byrne, striking down at her, seemingly faster than human eyes could process; even Riv with her enhanced sight was finding it difficult to follow."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It must be impossible for these others to see what is happening.\n\nByrne parried and countered, all of her moves small, economical, always judging Kol's attacks perfectly, most of them hissing past her by little more than the width of a finger. And then Riv noticed something.\n\nByrne was smiling.\n\nNot contemptuously, as Riv had seen Kol smile at her during sparring, not to elicit a response, as some kind of tactic. Byrne was smiling because she was in her element and loving it.\n\nThe battle joy.\n\nRiv had felt it course through her before, and perhaps that was why she recognized it now in Byrne.\n\nAnother storm of blows, Byrne stepping and moving, never wasting her energy, parrying Kol's blurred attacks with impossible precision, almost as if she knew where the Ben-Elim's blade was going to be before he moved. A blistering combination from Kolas he swept in again, Byrne obscured from Riv's view fora dozen heartbeats.\n\nKol stepped away, his blade red.\n\nBlood dripped from Byrne's cheek.\n\nGasps and mutters around the courtyard.\n\nKol smiled coldly.\n\nByrne's eyes flickered to the statues in the courtyard, of Corban and Storm. Riv saw her lips move.\n\nAnd then Kol was moving again, leaping over her, twisting in the air, his sword a glittering arc, Byrne ducking, bunching her legs and leaping, stabbing at him.\n\nThere was a yell, blood and feathers sprinkling the ground and Kol was suddenly crashing to the stones. He slammed to the ground, a red wound across his shoulder, rolled on the cobbles as Byrne dropped, too, found her balance and came at him. His wings beat hard, powering him upright, but Byrne was already there, a flurry of chops, Kol parrying wildly, still off balance. His wings beat frantically, lifting his feet from the ground."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Byrne ducked a wild swing, crashed into him, grabbed onto Kol's leather jerkin and they were both rising into the air."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Byrne headbutted Kol, once, twice and he was reeling in the air, falling back to the ground.\n\nByrne still held onto Kolas they hit the stones, then her pommel was crunching into Kol's head. His legs buckled and he was on his back, Byrne standing over him, one boot on his chest, her sword at his throat.\n\nRiv stared, open-mouthed, part of her tempted to whoop in triumph.\n\nA silence stretched, only Kol's ragged breaths heard.\n\n\"Do you yield?\" Byrne asked.\n\nKol glared up at her. His hand searched for his sword hilt.\n\nByrne flicked her wrist and blood was leaking down Kol's neck.\n\n\"Do you yield?\" Byrne snarled. \"I will not ask you a third time.\"\n\n\"I yield,\" Kol grunted.\n\nByrne stood there along, lingering moment, still in the grip of the battle joy.\n\nShe's going to kill him!\n\nByrne blew out a deep breath, something shifting in the set of her shoulders.\n\n\"Then the matter is settled. Let us put it behind us,\" Byrne said, taking her sword-tip from Kol's throat. She offered him her hand instead.\n\nKol looked up at her, then took her grip and climbed to his feet.\n\nThe crowd erupted in cheering.\n\nRiv swept down out of a dive and landed in an open space before the weapons-field. A large stone dominated the clearing, twice as tall as Riv, and as wide as her with her wings spread.\n\nIt was the day after Kol and Byrne's duel, soon after dawn. A constant stream of people were walking past her, making their way into the weapons-field."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Finally, I will get to see Dun Seren's weapons-field and judge how they would fare against Drassil's White-Wings. I hope they don't all fight like Byrne.\n\nThough I like her style.\n\nRiv had risen early after a restless night. She'd thought after Kol's public defeat that he would have left Dun Seren immediately, but to his credit he had stayed. He told Riv later that night that he and Byrne had to agree on their tactics for the attack on Gulla, that there was nothing more important than that, even his pride. She had felt a brief moment of respect for him then.\n\nA solitary figure was standing before the stone, staring at it. She knew him immediately. Drem, the man the duel had been over. His hand was reaching out, fingertips brushing the rock. Riv stepped closer, wondering what he was staring at. He started a little when he realized she was there, one hand going to his eye, rubbing it.\n\nIs he crying?\n\nThen she realized what Drem was looking at.\n\nNames were carved into the stone, lit like gold as the rising sunbathed them in rosy light. Hundreds of names. A thousand. Maybe more.\n\nThis is the Stone of Heroes that Byrne spoke of.\n\nShe read the first names carved into the stone, high and faded by time and weather, but still clear.\n\n\"Garisan ben Tukul,\" she whispered. \"Brina ap Fyrn.\"\n\n\"Gar and Brina,\" Drem said.\n\n\"What?\" She frowned.\n\n\"They are Gar and Brina. Corban's two greatest friends, the people he dedicated Dun Seren and the Order of the Bright Star to. Brina was a healer, Gar a warrior.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ah,\" Riv said, though she had never heard the two names before. \"I thought I had learned all that needed to be known of our history,\" she muttered, \"but it seems I was mistaken.\"\n\nDrem snorted a laugh. \"I can relate to that,\" he said. He was serious-faced, almost a childlike innocence to the set of his features.\n\n\"Come on, Drem,\" a voice called out, and they both turned to see a red-haired man, abroad grin on his face. It was one of the warriors who had tried to fight for Drem yesterday. \"Let's see how many new bruises we can earn today.\"\n\nDrem looked at Riv and touched his temple.\n\n\"I love Cullen like a brother,\" he said. \"But he's totally mad. He doesn't just like fighting, which is bad enough-he likes getting hit.\" He shook his head and walked off, following the red-haired warrior into the weapons-field.\n\nRiv turned back to the stone, marvelling at the names. She looked where Drem had been standing and saw where he had reached out to, where he had touched the stone.\n\nTwo new names, freshly carved, dust still remaining from the stonemason's chiselling.\n\n\"Sig ap Tyr,\" she whispered. \"Olin ben Adros.\"\n\nStone crunched behind Riv, a tremor in the ground, and she turned to see Balur One-Eye striding past her, other giants with him. Alcyon was there, his hair shaven to stubble, apart from a thick wedge down the middle of his head, bound into a warrior braid that hung down his back. There were other giants about them that she didn't recognize, including the one who had been in the first meeting with Byrne. Craf was not upon his shoulder now."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come, lassie, and raise a sweat with us on this cold morning,\" Balur said, blowing on his big slabs of hands. He didn't have to ask Riv twice. She followed them into the field.\n\nBalur and a handful of giants stomped to a rack, full of all manner of weapons, some giant-size, some human. Riv saw that some of the other giants, Alcyon included, were joining most of the people in the field and gathering into a central square, forming loose columns. She saw Byrne standing at its head, the cut on her cheek from her duel a thin scabbed line. A dark-skinned woman stood beside her. As Riv watched, Byrne and the other woman drew their swords, Byrne holding hers two-handed over her head, just as she had begun the duel yesterday.\n\n\"Stooping falcon,\" Byrne cried, and like a wave breaking, those gathered before her drew their blades and raised them in a mirror image of Byrne. Something about the sight of it stirred Riv's blood.\n\n\"What are they doing?\" Riv asked.\n\n\"The sword dance,\" Balur said, hefting a wooden war-hammer.\n\nByrne called out something else, and over a thousand blades flashed in the morning sun.\n\n\"I like it,\" Riv said, feeling a grin split her face.\n\n\"It's a Jehar tradition,\" Balur said. \"Gar taught it to Corban, so it's fitting that it starts each day at Dun Seren.\"\n\n\"Does it work?\" Riv asked, wondering if it would aid her swordcraft, or whether it just appeared to be impressive. She recognized variations of movements she'd learned during her training, but they had never been linked like this, forms and positions held until muscles burned. She could see sweat steaming as it dripped from noses, muscles quivering."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Gar was one of the few that gave me more bruises than I gave him,\" Balur said. \"Though I only knew him a few years.\" He paused, his craggy face softening a moment, lost in some distant memory. \"Yes, lass, I'd wager the sword dance works.\"\n\n\"Why aren't you doing it, then?\" she asked him.\n\n\"Because I'm an old man set in my ways. I was two thousand years old when I first saw the sword dance. And, besides, this is my weapon.\" He hefted his wooden war-hammer. \"It's not made for their forms, but it still gets the job done. Speaking of which,\" he said, \"choose your weapon.\" He walked out into the sparring ground, turned and waited for her, tapping the shaft of his hammer in his fist.\n\nRiv ran a hand across the wooden weapons in the racks, eventually settling on two short-swords that most resembled her White-Wing blade. She was used to fighting with sword and shield, but she knew she needed to adapt.\n\nShe grinned approaching Balur, spinning the blades in lazy circles. Her wings twitched in excited anticipation.\n\nI am sparring with Balur One-Eye. Not all is bad with the world.\n\nAnd then she was surging at him.\n\nThe rest became a blur for Riv, a glorious release of tension as she wove in and out of Balur's strikes and swings, hammer-head, butt and shaft all used as weapons by the wily giant.\n\nTwo thousand years! Two thousand years of weapons skill and learning. It's no wonder he's hard to kill.\n\nAnd he was. As big a target as the giant was, as slow as she thought he would be, Riv struggled to touch her blades to any part of him. And she was not just using her feet, her wings lifted her from the ground over sweeps of his war-hammer, pulsing to give her speed as she drove at his chest, swirling her around and over Balur. Their blades clashed a thousand times, Riv deflecting Balur's strikes and sweeps, never taking the brunt of his blows, knowing that would shatter her bones, instead nudging, pushing, deflecting his attacks, attempting to push Balur off balance. Try as she might, she could not get close to him. A score of times the tips of her blades grazed his leather and fur jerkin, but no closer."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her only consolation was that he couldn't touch his hammer to her, either, and to Riv's thinking, that was one of her greatest achievements.\n\nThey parted, both panting, chests heaving, sweat streaming from them, steaming in the cold air.\n\nRiv became aware of a crowd around them, and the sound of cheering. Amongst those watching was Kol, both his eyes swollen and bruised purple. His Ben-Elim were about him.\n\nBalur smiled at her.\n\n\"You've learned to use them quickly enough,\" the giant said, nodding at her wings.\n\nShe beamed in return. It felt good to be treated as normal. As a warrior who just happened to have wings. She was more grateful to Balur for that than he would ever know.\n\nA warrior stepped out of the crowd, the red-haired man she had seen earlier.\n\n\"Now you've warmed up, One-Eye, are you ready fora lesson or two?\"\n\n\"Ha, you cheeky pup.\" Balur grinned. Sparring obviously lifted his usual dour mood. He hefted his war-hammer.\n\nRiv stepped back out of the ring, allowing the newcomer to face Balur. He had a wooden practice sword in one hand, a wooden knife in the other.\n\n\"Go easy on him, Cullen,\" a voice called out, Alcyon the giant, Riv realized. \"Poor Balur is getting old.\"\n\n\"Shall I let him win?\" Cullen called back, smiling as he advanced.\n\n\"Don't break Cullen's bones,\" someone else called out, the slim-built huntsman from yesterday with the dark hair and a tangle of black beard. Drem was standing with him and the older huntsman, who had fingers missing from one hand."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Another with two weapons against my one,\" Balur commented, before he had finished his sentence moving in a blur, hammer swinging around his head, sweeping low. Cullen leaped over it and darted forwards, sword slashing, but somehow Balur was swaying out of the blade's reach, pivoting on his foot and bringing his hammer around again, forcing Cullen to jump away. He stumbled, controlled it and dropped into a roll, Balur striding after him.\n\nAs Riv watched, her respect for the red-haired warrior grew. At first, she had thought him a braggart who would end upon his arse quickly enough. Riv had seen Balur teach that lesson a hundred times. But this warrior was skilled, there was no doubt about that, balanced and light on his feet, and adder-fast. But so was Balur. The giant was like a wall, his defence almost impenetrable, his war-hammer seeming light as feathers in his fists, Balur using it as much like a staff as a hammer.\n\nIn time they separated, both breathing heavily.\n\n\"Are you holding back?\" Cullen frowned.\n\nBalur just shrugged.\n\n\"Because I have been,\" Cullen said gleefully, springing back in at Balur.\n\nThey set at each other again, becoming a blur, time marked by the clack of their wooden weapons meeting.\n\nRiv looked away, taking in the weapons-field around her.\n\nThe thud of shields coming together drew her eyes. It was a shield wall, sure enough, but not what she had expected. Where the White-Wings used rectangular shields, the warriors of the Order had big round shields on their arms.\n\nThere are gaps because of those shields, spaces that can be exploited in the curves, especially the lower legs. Not like the White-Wings' wall of shields, which is all but impenetrable."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "She felt a smug sense of pride at that, a mark for the White-Wings in the tally of who were the greater warriors.\n\nThen she heard a shouted command, saw the wall of shields open up into loose order, the second row stepping past the first, and they all had their hands raised over their heads, spinning something.\n\nWhat is that?\n\nThen they released, a score of nets rising up into the air, peaking and dropping, weighted balls giving them shape.\n\nNets. They are throwing weighted nets.\n\nRiv knew immediately what it was for.\n\nA winged foe. They are for the Kadoshim. Why have we never trained with these, when our whole purpose is to fight the Kadoshim? A cynical voice whispered in her ear. Because those nets would be just as effective on Ben-Elim as they would Kadoshim.\n\nA mark for the Order in her tally.\n\nRiv remembered her conversation with Bleda on the weapons-field at Drassil.\n\nHe is right. We need ranged weapons to fight the Kadoshim, or any winged enemy. I need a Sirak bow.\n\nElsewhere Riv saw warriors training on horseback, dark-haired men and women with white stars emblazoned upon dark leather cuirasses. She felt her breath catch in her chest as she watched them stabbing and chopping at targets with spear and sword, as well as practising the running mount, which amazed her. Riv trained with horses, considered herself an excellent rider, but the running mount was a specialized manoeuvre that was rarely practised amongst the White-Wings. Here it seemed to be part of their standard training.\n\nAnother mark for the Order in my tally.\n\nFurther away there was a pack of wolven-hounds chasing a giant wrapped in thick-padded wool and leather. A huntsman was whistling and shouting commands and the wolven-hounds were circling the giant, nipping at him, herding him, another whistle and then they were all leaping, bringing the giant down, the huntsman running forwards, calling them off."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "There is much the same here as Drassil, but there are other things, too, more diverse. I think we would win the war of shields, but these other disciplines...\n\nA grunt and a thud, cheers and shouts around Riv drew her back to Balur and Cullen.\n\nThe red-haired warrior was on his back, Balur standing over him, the butt of his war-hammer on Cullen's chest.\n\nCullen slashed at Balur's ankles with his sword, just missing.\n\nBalur leaned on his war-hammer, just enough, Cullen wheezing out a flood of air, gasping.\n\nHorns sounded, from the eastern wall. Heads turned to look.\n\nBalur took his war-hammer from Cullen's chest.\n\n\"Ha, you're lucky the horns saved you, One-Eye,\" Cullen said, trying to rise from the ground, grimacing and failing, but Balur was already walking away, following the sound of the horns.\n\nAlcyon the giant stepped close and offered Cullen his hand.\n\n\"He tricked me,\" Cullen complained of Balur as Alcyon heaved him upright.\n\n\"Aye,\" Alcyon said with a grin, \"and in battle, you would be dead and Balur alive. Tricks are part of fighting, remember?\" Alcyon leaned close to Cullen, wagging a thick finger at him. \"There's no complaining when you're dead.\"\n\n\"I thought Balur always fought with honour,\" Cullen muttered.\n\n\"Ach, the young are always too trusting,\" Alcyon said. \"That's why you die quicker. Us old men; well, we are old fora reason.\"\n\nBeside Riv, Drem nodded, grunting, as if he'd heard those words before."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv saw fingers pointing skyward, and anew Ben-Elim was high in the sky above them, spiralling down to the weapons-field. He saw Kol and alighted before him, dropping to one knee.\n\n\"Rise,\" Kol said, \"and tell me your news.\"\n\n\"There is a warband of Kadoshim on the eastern road, moving towards Drassil,\" the Ben-Elim said. \"They command men and Feral beasts and other things.\"\n\nMutters rippled through the crowd in the field.\n\nKol looked at Byrne. \"I must leave immediately,\" he said. \"Delay your march into the Desolation until you hear from me.\"\n\n\"What measures has Hadran taken?\" Kol asked the Ben-Elim messenger.\n\n\"He was mustering the White-Wings as I left and was sending out the Sirak. They are mounted and will move faster than the White-Wings.\"\n\nKol nodded.\n\nThe Sirak? Has Bleda gone to war? Riv felt a worm of worry uncoil in her belly.\n\n\"With me,\" Kol yelled and leaped into the air, wings beating, lifting him higher. His Ben-Elim followed, Riv lingering a moment, looking around the courtyard. She realized that she liked it here, felt some kind of kinship with those she had met. She looked up, at Kol.\n\nBut that is my father up there, no matter what else he maybe, and he is flying to war, which is what I've been trained for, all my life.\n\nShe bent her knees and leaped, her dappled wings snapping open and powering her skywards. Soon she had caught up with Kol and they set their faces to the east, flying to war."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Fritha stood before the bed where Elise still lay. The linen sheets were sweat-stained, her face pale, the skin pallid and stretched, looking as if it would tear with a touch. Her eyes fluttered open, sensing Fritha's presence.\n\nArn stood at Fritha's shoulder.\n\n\"There must be more,\" he said. Fritha could hear the heartbreak and desperation in his voice. \"Something else you can do.\"\n\n\"I have done all I know to heal her,\" Fritha said. \"Her lungs have recovered, but the bones in her back and legs are shattered. She is broken, Arn; she will never walk again.\" It hurt Fritha to say it, hurt her more to look at Elise's fractured, twisted frame. Elise had been a good friend to Fritha. More than a friend, closer than kin, saving Fritha from the dark abyss that she was plunging into when Arn and Elise had found her.\n\nBut the truth was the truth.\n\n\"Please,\" Arn said. He reached out, his fingers brushing his daughter's cheek.\n\n\"There is only one thing left that I can do,\" Fritha said into the silence. \"I can make her new...\"\n\nArn froze, his fingers still on Elise's cheek.\n\n\"But, she would no longer be Elise,\" he said.\n\n\"She would, but better, stronger,\" Fritha said. \"This is not my decision. Or yours. Ask Elise what she would want.\"\n\nArn stared at Fritha, then he leaned close to his daughter and whispered in her ear. It seemed to Fritha that he spoke to Elise fora very long while. Then Arn straightened.\n\nThey stood together, watching Elise."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "A tear fell from Elise's eye and rolled down her cheek. Then she nodded, a whisper escaping her lips.\n\n\"Death smiles at us all,\" Elise breathed.\n\n\"All that we can do is smile back,\" Fritha and Arn whispered in response.\n\n\"Do it,\" Elise said, little more than a sigh.\n\n\"Gunil,\" Fritha called, turning on her heel and striding out into daylight, \"carry Elise to my table.\"\n\nFritha sat on the end of her cot, her head in her hands. She blew out along breath and rubbed her stubbled head.\n\nIt is done. All is ready now. All the years of despair, of hatred, planning, preparations, the blood, sweat and tears, all coming down to this. The Great War is upon me. I must rise to the challenge.\n\nShe shifted her weight and leaned forwards, reaching underneath her cot and grabbing an iron handle. Her chest slid out, old nails scraping on timber, and fora while she just sat and stared at it. Finally, she unbolted it, paused to look at her hands. She had scrubbed them after Elise's surgery, scrubbed her friend's blood from her hands and arms, but there were still dark rims beneath her nails.\n\nBlood always leaves a stain.\n\nA knock on her door, but she didn't answer, too lost in the tangled weave of memories that her chest evoked. The door creaked open, footsteps, the rustle of leathery wings and Morn was standing before her.\n\n\"All is ready,\" the half-breed said. She looked from Fritha to the chest. \"Are you?\"\n\nAm I ready?\n\nFritha sucked in a deep breath and threw open the lid of the chest. Inside was a short-sword, scabbarded in worn leather. It was wrapped in a weapons-belt. Fritha reached in and lifted the sword out, the grip smooth and cool, familiar as an old friend. She lay the sword to one side and looked at what lay beneath it in the chest."
}
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[
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"value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 45"
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "A tear fell from Elise's eye and rolled down her cheek. Then she nodded, a whisper escaping her lips.\n\n\"Death smiles at us all,\" Elise breathed.\n\n\"All that we can do is smile back,\" Fritha and Arn whispered in response.\n\n\"Do it,\" Elise said, little more than a sigh.\n\n\"Gunil,\" Fritha called, turning on her heel and striding out into daylight, \"carry Elise to my table.\"\n\nFritha sat on the end of her cot, her head in her hands. She blew out along breath and rubbed her stubbled head.\n\nIt is done. All is ready now. All the years of despair, of hatred, planning, preparations, the blood, sweat and tears, all coming down to this. The Great War is upon me. I must rise to the challenge.\n\nShe shifted her weight and leaned forwards, reaching underneath her cot and grabbing an iron handle. Her chest slid out, old nails scraping on timber, and fora while she just sat and stared at it. Finally, she unbolted it, paused to look at her hands. She had scrubbed them after Elise's surgery, scrubbed her friend's blood from her hands and arms, but there were still dark rims beneath her nails.\n\nBlood always leaves a stain.\n\nA knock on her door, but she didn't answer, too lost in the tangled weave of memories that her chest evoked. The door creaked open, footsteps, the rustle of leathery wings and Morn was standing before her.\n\n\"All is ready,\" the half-breed said. She looked from Fritha to the chest. \"Are you?\"\n\nAm I ready?\n\nFritha sucked in a deep breath and threw open the lid of the chest. Inside was a short-sword, scabbarded in worn leather. It was wrapped in a weapons-belt. Fritha reached in and lifted the sword out, the grip smooth and cool, familiar as an old friend. She lay the sword to one side and looked at what lay beneath it in the chest."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A battered cuirass, a pair of white wings embossed upon its breast.\n\nMemories flooded through her, a surge like the dam gates opening. Of training in Drassil's weapons-field, a nostalgic glow to the memories, of feeling accepted, whole, complete. Of passing her warrior trial and swearing the oath; obedience to Elyon and his Lore, obedience to the Ben-Elim, swearing to mete out destruction upon the Kadoshim and all enemies of the Faithful. And all the while she had felt his eyes upon her, his beautiful, beautiful eyes. Soon after, he had come to her, whispered soft, flattering words, a gentle caress, in time leading to a kiss, and then, more. And finally...\n\nHer hand went to her belly as she remembered the fleeting sensation of life growing within her. Her baby. Her beautiful baby. And he had wanted her to kill it.\n\nTears blurred her eyes, then, running down her face to mix with blood that was not her own.\n\n\"It is fitting,\" Morn said, \"that the warrior the Ben-Elim created will help to tear them down. Their hypocrisy and lies will come to an end soon.\"\n\n\"I hate them,\" Fritha breathed.\n\n\"They deserve to be hated,\" Morn said, \"but why do you hate them so?\"\n\nA silence, Fritha's mind filled with images. Blood and tears.\n\n\"They told me to kill my baby,\" Fritha whispered, \"said that I was privileged above all people to taste the love of a Ben-Elim, but that the world could not know. That the evidence must be destroyed, like a page ripped from a book and cast on the fire. I was a young, besotted fool, in love with the image of the Ben-Elim, with what I thought they were, but I found out at their heart they are rotten.\""
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"value": "Morn dropped to a knee, put a hand on Fritha's.\n\n\"The past is gone,\" she said, her voice deep, like gravel.\n\n\"No, it is never gone. It is always here,\" Fritha said, tapping her temple, hard. \"And here.\" A prod to her chest.\n\n\"He told me to kill her,\" Fritha said. \"Told me to ask the other White-Wings in their cabal what to do. I was instructed to go to a cabin deep in Forn Forest, to give birth to my baby, and then to murder her. To bury her beneath a pile of stones and walkaway as if she'd never existed.\"\n\nShe looked at Morn, felt more tears blur her eyes.\n\n\"I was not the first. It never entered my mind, but there were so many graves there, dug by infatuated, enamoured young women. You must understand, in that world, to be raised as a White-Wing, the Ben-Elim were like gods to us. Beautiful and wise, saviour, judge and jury all rolled into one. To be noticed was the greatest of honours.\" Her hand brushed her belly. \"She would have been like you, a half-breed, but still beautiful. Her life meant something.\" She reached out a hand and cupped Morn's cheek. The half-breed blinked at that, a stiffness in her shoulders, but she did not pull away. Fritha looked at Morn's wings. \"The Kadoshim raise their half-breed children, love them. Why could the Ben-Elim not do the same?\"\n\n\"Their pride and arrogance,\" Morn spat. \"They think they are superior to all others, that we are just food for worms, insignificant pawns in their grand plans.\""
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"value": "Fritha nodded, Morn's words stirring a thousand memories.\n\n\"What did you do?\" Morn asked her.\n\n\"Iran. I told my mam and da, and they helped me. They ran with me, fast and far. Away from Drassil and the Ben-Elim, to start anew life.\" She closed her eyes, could not stop the flood of memories, or the tears.\n\n\"And then?\" Morn prompted her.\n\n\"Fora while it worked,\" Fritha sighed. \"Anew life, and it was good, a hundred leagues from Drassil on the border of Ardain. I had my baby, my beautiful Anja.\" She smiled through her tears. \"And then one day I returned home from market to seethe flames. Iran, but I already knew, inhere-\" she jabbed a finger at her gut-\"that I was too late.\" She chewed her lip, not trusting her voice. A deep, shuddering breath.\n\n\"Our home had been razed by the Ben-Elim, gone-just the timber frame smouldering when I arrived. I found my mam's body was a scorched ruin in the flames. My da I discovered outside, unburned, but a sword had hacked through his ribs and opened a lung. In his arms was Anja, my baby girl, blood on her lips.\" She felt her grief like a rock of ice in her belly, turning her veins cold.\n\n\"That was where Arn and Elise found me,\" she continued. \"They were brigands living rough in the Darkwood, victims of Ben-Elim Lore, Arn's wife hung from a tree for her supposed crimes.\" Fritha snorted. \"They cared for me, brought me back from the brink, and turned my grief into a cold, relentless hatred.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hatred is not so bad,\" Morn said, a twist of her lips. \"Hatred keeps you strong.\"\n\n\"It does,\" Fritha agreed.\n\nI hate them, the Ben-Elim. Hate them all, and all those whoso blindly follow them. But most of all, I hate him.\n\nShe could remember his handsome features, blond hair and a scar through his face that somehow seemed to make him more beautiful, not less.\n\n\"Better revenge than grief,\" Morn said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Fritha agreed. \"I no longer believe in prayer, Morn, but if I did, there would only ever be one thing I would pray for. That I would be the one to put my sword through Kol of the Ben-Elim's heart. Oh, how I hate him.\"\n\n\"That is good, Priestess. I will help you, as you will help me in my vengeance for my brother, Ulfang.\" Morn turned her handover, showed blue veins rigid on her palm. With one sharp-taloned finger she drew a cut across the vein. Held it out to Fritha.\n\nFritha drew her short-sword from her scabbard and tested the edge with her thumb. It was still sharp, a red line, a droplet of blood. She put the blade to her palm and drew her blade across it, blood welling. The pain felt good, a reminder of the life she had clung to. She stood and let the blood pool in her fist, then reached out and gripped Morn's offered hand, their blood mingling.\n\nTheir mixed blood dripped down onto her cuirass, a red stain upon the white wings.\n\n\"O neamhchiontacht bán íon, fola dorcha le haghaidh díoltas,\" Fritha muttered, scrubbing their blood into the cracked white leather, seeing the stain spread, seeping through the leather like ink through parchment. The wings that were white became a dark, deep red."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is good,\" Morn said, a smile cracking the flat plains of her face.\n\nFritha stood, and Morn helped her buckle the cuirass about her torso, holding the back-plate in place, Fritha buckling the chest-plate to it. Then Fritha wrapped her weapons-belt around her waist, added a sheathed knife and an axe ring. She stood there, then, feeling like the warrior she had once been.\n\nShe cuffed the tears from her face and nodded to Morn.\n\n\"My thanks,\" she said, sweeping up her bearskin cloak from her bed and wrapping it around her shoulders, fastening the brooch-pin.\n\n\"Come, then, Priestess, and let us change the world,\" Morn said, and together they walked out into the bright sunlight.\n\nGunil was waiting for her, sitting upon Claw with his war-hammer slung across his back. Behind him Fritha's Red Right Hand were gathered, all mounted on shaggy-haired horses, winter-hardened for the north. There were close to five hundred men and women before her. They were a mixture of those she had drawn about her since that fateful day when Arn and Elise had found her, when she had joined the resistance against the Ben-Elim, and the acolytes that had recently arrived at the mine.\n\nIt has been along, hard road, but it has led me here. I now stand at the head of a fearsome warband.\n\n\"Release my Ferals,\" Fritha said to Gunil. With a command, his bear lumbered into motion, turning and shambling towards the mine caves.\n\n\"WRATH,\" Fritha bellowed, and there was an answering roar, the sound of earth scraping and a tremor in the ground as the draig scuttled around a corner, its new wings flapping, lifting it from the ground by a handspan or two, then dropping back to the earth."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He will learn, Fritha thought.\n\nHorses whinnied and stamped as the draig drew close. Shouted commands rang out from riders to calm their mounts.\n\n\"Food?\" Wrath growled as he reached her, saliva dripping from along tooth.\n\n\"Soon,\" Fritha said. \"We are going to battle, Wrath, where we will slay enough for you to feast on for half a year.\"\n\n\"Feast, good,\" Wrath rumbled.\n\nArn walked out before her, leading two horses by the reins. He held Fritha's mount steady for her as she swung into the saddle, then handed her along spear.\n\n\"Elise?\" Fritha said.\n\n\"She is... shy,\" he said, \"still becoming acquainted with her new form. She will join us soon.\"\n\n\"Good.\" Fritha nodded. She raised her spear into the air.\n\n\"Better revenge than grief,\" she cried out, knowing that Morn's words had struck a chord in her heart, and for that reason they would stir the blood of all of her Red Right Hand.\n\n\"Better revenge than grief,\" they called back to her, Arn snarling the words, and then Fritha touched her heels to her horse and they were moving out. Fritha put her fingers to her lips, whistling high and keening.\n\n\"LIOM,\" she cried out in the Old Tongue, answering howls and barks echoing from behind her. Before she had reached the gates of the mine there was a swarm of Ferals sweeping around her flanks, like two great snarling wings. Over four hundred beast-men, beast-women and beast-children ran and loped through the streets and buildings of the mine, a wave of fur and muscle and teeth. Horses were wide-eyed, some rearing at the proximity of the Ferals."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "They will calm when we are in the open, I will send my babies wider, into the woods and shadowed places.\n\nThey reached the gate. Something moved in the shadows, a deeper darkness, and then Elise was emerging, but not Elise. A creature of coil and fang, Elise's head, arms, torso, but the rest of her was the giant wyrm, slithering into the daylight on muscled coils. She wore an iron cap upon her head and a coat of chainmail upon her torso. Blood dripped down the scales of her coils, masking what Fritha knew was a raw, ragged scar where her flesh met and merged with the wyrm's scales. She had a sword strapped across her back and spear in her fist. The sight of her made Fritha's heart swell.\n\n\"You are glorious,\" Fritha said to her and Elise replied with a hesitant, fanged smile.\n\nThey swept through the gates of the mine, Fritha at the head of her hybrid army, and onto the road that circled the northern rim of Starstone Lake and led to Kergard.\n\nNot that there is anything left of Kergard.\n\nFigures moved amongst the trees.\n\nUlf stepped out, pale and gaunt, dark pools for eyes, and behind him flowed amass of bodies, pale, grey-skinned creatures with distended jaws and rows of razored teeth. Hundreds of them, more like a thousand, and Fritha had seen that more joined Ulf everyday, trickling in from the Desolation, alone or in small groups, swelling his ranks.\n\nAn army of Revenants, and it is still growing.\n\nHis blood has swept the Desolation and turned all within it, those he has bitten himself in turn taking his strain of infection to any that they drink from. His influence spreads like the ripples from a rock thrown into a pool."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha smiled at the genius of her own creation.\n\nUlf and his warband followed Fritha, keeping to the fringes of the forest, seeming to drag the shadow out from the woodland and drape it around them like a ragged cloak.\n\n\"TO WAR,\" Fritha cried, the momentous joy of it all sweeping through her, and at her side Wrath scuttled forwards and spread his wings, beating them. A moment's weightlessness and then he was lifting from the ground. He hovered before Fritha a moment, then gave more powerful strokes and climbed higher, began to move in ever-widening circles above her, like a bairn learning to swim. He opened his jaws and let out a thunderous roar.\n\nFritha grinned, riding at the head of her mongrel army, Gunil upon Claw atone shoulder, Elise slithering upon her sinuous coils at the other, Morn and Wrath sweeping in looping circles above them. Behind her the land seethed with warriors and Ferals and Revenants.\n\nAnd Fritha set her head towards Dun Seren.\n\nWe're coming for you, Order of the Bright Star. Time to learn what happens to those allied to the Ben-Elim."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem knocked on Byrne's door.\n\n\"Enter,\" Byrne called, and Drem opened the door and walked into Byrne's sparsely furnished chamber. She stood by a tall window, the shutters thrown wide, night spilling into the room. Drem walked forwards a few paces, shuffled to a stop. He still felt ashamed that Byrne had fought for him against Kol, the Ben-Elim. Not that he would have stood a chance against the winged warrior-that had been blatantly obvious from the first few moments of the duel.\n\nBut it still felt wrong, that someone else had done his fighting for him.\n\nByrne turned, the cut on her cheek from Kol's sword freshly stitched and scabbed. Another reminder of his shame.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"What for?\" Drem frowned.\n\n\"Forgiving me the absolute joy of putting Kol on his arse.\" She smiled, the stern high captain gone fora few moments. \"I have wanted to do that fora very longtime.\"\n\nDrem shook his head, remembering how he had been wracked with the fear of losing Byrne, of someone else close to him dying. \"I thought he was going to kill you.\"\n\n\"Kol? That bag of hot wind?\" Byrne shook her head, saw Drem's expression and walked to him.\n\n\"That duel has been along time coming. It should have happened fifteen years ago. Olin begged me for the honour, but I forbade him. He said Neve would want it that way, that she would not want so much damage to come from her one moment of anger. But I feared you would be left an orphan. Olin was good, but not as good as me.\" She said it matter-of-factly, no pride or arrogance in the statement. \"If I had challenged Kol then, when he came for you all those years ago, then Olin would have been shamed. In hindsight, I wish I had still done it. Olin's shame would have been better than losing you all these years, and Olin would not be dead.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He did what he felt he had to do, to protect me and the Order,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Oh, I know that.\" Byrne sighed. \"The fault was mine. But all is so much simpler when you look back on it.\" She poured two cups from a jug, gave one to Drem. Spiced mead. Drem enjoyed the honey in his throat and the warmth filling his belly.\n\n\"So, the Desolation,\" Byrne said. \"Keld has reported back tome on what happened. And Rab. He had a good view.\"\n\nByrne looked Drem in the eye, held his gaze.\n\n\"You did well. Utul tells me he is in your debt. You saved his life.\"\n\nDrem just shrugged, not sure what to say.\n\n\"Moments like that, when you act when there is no room for thought, they show the truth of a person,\" Byrne said.\n\nDrem remained silent.\n\n\"But you left Dun Seren, volunteered to go back to the Desolation. Do you regret coming here?\"\n\n\"No!\" Drem said in a rush. \"I, it is... I do find it hard here. So many people, and walls everywhere.\" He shrugged. \"I've lived in the Desolation for most of my life, in the company of one man, little else but trees, ice and sky for company.\" He shrugged again.\n\nByrne nodded, thinking over his words.\n\n\"So, it is adjusting to this place, to us,\" she said. \"It is not that you wish you had not come, or that now you've seen us you wish to leave? Better a hard truth than a kind lie.\"\n\nDrem liked that, because that was exactly how he felt."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He drew in a deep breath, thinking hard on it, because Byrne's honesty deserved it.\n\n\"I want to be here,\" Drem said. \"I have not been here long, but as strange as it seems, it feels like home. Not the walls and towers, but because of... you. And Keld and Cullen. They are good men, and dear tome.\" He blew out along breath, felt he'd come close to expressing how he felt.\n\nByrne gazed at him awhile longer. Then nodded.\n\n\"Good,\" she said. \"Now that I have found you, I would not lose you again. I say that as your kin, but also as the high captain of this Order, because I see in you the makings of a fine warrior. We know that you can handle yourself in a fight. Keld and Cullen have told me in detail of the journey here from Kergard. And I've seen you put Cullen on his arse, which isn't the easiest of things to do.\" Byrne smiled fondly. \"And Keld tells me you areas skilled as any of our huntsmen, more than most. Keld does not make high praise of anyone. Except Sig. So, I am hoping that you will stay, will join us, will take the Oath.\"\n\n\"The Oath?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Aye. When those who have undergone the training have passed their warrior trials here, they take an oath and join the Order. Pledging their lives to our cause. To protect those who cannot protect themselves, to fight the Kadoshim or any other evil that threatens the people of the Banished Lands.\"\n\nDrem liked the sound of that. All his life he had lived with no direction or goal, other than to hunt and survive. It had not entered his mind, not seemed necessary at the time. His life had felt fulfilled, happy in the presence of his father. Now, though, so much had changed. He felt as if stones had been removed from his eyes and that he saw the world clearly for the first time."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "And it was not a safe place.\n\nGulla, Ferals, Revenants. I cannot turn my back on the evil they do, will continue to do. Walking away is cowardice, allowing others to stand against it.\n\n\"I would like to take the Oath,\" Drem said. He frowned. \"Though I have already made one of my own.\"\n\n\"And what oath is that?\" Byrne said.\n\n\"To kill Asroth.\"\n\nByrne blinked at that, then chuckled. \"You are Neve and Olin's blood, and no denying. They would be so proud of you,\" Byrne said.\n\nI hope so.\n\n\"I think the two oaths are linked, so there would be no conflict therefor you,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"That's what I was thinking,\" Drem said. He drew his seax, running a finger along the blade, smooth and pitted steel now, no sign of the runes Keld had revealed with his word of power.\n\n\"Do I need the Starstone Sword to kill Asroth, or will my seax do the job? My father forged this, and Keld showed me runes that he had carved into the blade.\"\n\nByrne took the seax, turning it in her hand.\n\n\"It is heavy,\" she remarked. Hefted it, testing its balance. \"A fine blade, well weighted. But Asroth is encased in starstone metal. To cut that you would need a blade forged from starstone.\" She handed it back to him. \"You have Olin's sword, too.\"\n\n\"I need to learn to use it. I feel more comfortable with this,\" Drem said as he sheathed his seax."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Olin's blade will be rune-marked as well."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rare weapons.\"\n\n\"Doesn't every warrior of the Order have a rune-marked blade?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"No.\" Byrne shook her head. \"Only those who have learned of the earth power. And there are not many that do that.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nByrne studied Drem for long moments.\n\n\"I am usually a good judge of character,\" she said, turning on her heel and walking away. \"Come with me.\"\n\nDrem followed and they moved into an adjoining room. Byrne placed her hand against a stonewall and whispered something. There was a pulse of light, aglow leaving her fingertips and rippling through the stone, like veins, and then the outline of a door was visible. Byrne pulled it open and disappeared inside.\n\n\"Come on,\" her voice echoed back out to him.\n\nDrem stepped into a stairwell, flickering torches in sconces on the walls. Wide steps spiralled downwards.\n\n\"It is a great responsibility, the earth power,\" Byrne said to him as he hurried to catch up with her. \"I do not choose lightly who I will give that power to.\"\n\nDrem remembered Cullen complaining that he was not considered responsible enough yet to learn the earth power.\n\n\"You pick who learns, then?\" Drem asked, gazing around him as they wound deeper and deeper.\n\n\"The high captain of the Order chooses, yes,\" Byrne said. \"Since Corban and Cywen, that has been the way, here.\"\n\nDrem nodded, thinking about that.\n\nThe staircase opened out onto a tunnel, wide and high, Byrne leading Drem on. It continued to slope downwards.\n\n\"What is this place?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"A few things, but above all, a bolthole,\" Byrne said. \"There area number of entrances throughout Dun Seren that lead here. Corban planned for it. I have read in our secret histories that there are tunnels like this in the fortress where Corban grew up, Dun Carreg, far to the west. Maybe it reminded him of home.\" She looked and smiled at him. \"It is away of escape, if Dun Seren ever fell to attack. Eventually it leads to the river, though we will not go anywhere near as far.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "The tunnel spilt into a chamber, torches burning, sending shadows dancing. The ceiling was too high for the torchlight to penetrate.\n\nIn the middle of the chamber was a stone pedestal, a wide table and a dozen timber chairs. Byrne strode up to the pedestal and placed her hand on a thick, leather-bound book. She blew dust from it.\n\n\"This book was handed down to us from Brina, one of the two people the Order was dedicated to. It was written by giants, thousands of years ago.\"\n\n\"What's in it?\" Drem asked, his voice echoing around the chamber.\n\n\"History, to begin with. And then, the earth magic. There is much knowledge inhere, and power.\" Byrne stroked it.\n\n\"Why do you keep it down here?\" Drem asked, gazing around the shadow-wreathed chamber.\n\n\"Because it is dangerous, and precious, and this is the safest place in Dun Seren. Down here rock walls are not the only guardian of this book.\"\n\nDrem looked around again, staring into the shadows.\n\n\"You are quite safe, while you are with me,\" Byrne said at Drem's searching looks. \"The earth power is just a tool,\" she continued, \"like a sword, or a plough. It can be used to save life, or to take it. Used for great good, or for great evil.\"\n\n\"Why are you telling me this, showing me this place?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Because sometimes it is better to see a thing than to hear about it, Drem ben Olin, my sister's son. And because I see in you the potential for greatness. You do not crave power, or renown. You shun violence, and yet you will do what you must, for your friends, or to protect the innocent. One day, I would hope to bring you down here and teach you from this book.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Drem stared between Byrne and the book, the leather cracked with age, the parchments within yellowed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He thought of his mam and da, of Gulla and Fritha, Sig and Keld and Cullen. The memory of Hildith falling into his arms in the Desolation just a few days ago, and how he had comforted her, telling her she was safe now.\n\nBut is she? Will she ever be? Not that she is defenceless, the tough old goat, but what is happening in this world, it is wrong, an injustice, and I am being offered a chance to help. To make a difference, or if not a difference, at least the chance to stand against it.\n\n\"Drem, will you stay with me, learn the art of Kill and Cure, and stand with us against the darkness?\"\n\n\"I will,\" Drem breathed, not a moment's hesitation.\n\nByrne looked into his eyes and nodded.\n\n\"Then pledge it tome. Not the Oath. That is for another time, for your sword-brothers and sisters to hear, for you to declare to the world. But pledge tome, now, as kin, that you will stand with me, and fight the darkness until your last breath.\"\n\n\"I swear it,\" Drem whispered.\n\nByrne drew a knife from her belt and sliced it across her forearm. Blood welled. She offered the knife to Drem.\n\n\"Then seal it in blood,\" she said.\n\nHe took the knife, looked at the bloodied blade, then pulled the sleeve of his woollen tunic up and cut a red line along his arm.\n\nHe offered his arm to Byrne and she grasped it in the warrior grip, blood on their forearms mingling.\n\nWhen it was done, Byrne stepped away.\n\n\"We should go,\" she said and returned to the tunnel that led back to her chamber."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem looked at his arm, a sense of weight upon him. He knew deep in his bones that he had committed to something for life, and it felt... good. He rolled down his sleeve, blood seeping into the linen, and followed Byrne. Ashe strode across the chamber he felt something above him, a turbulence in the air. He stopped and stared up, searching the shadows, but could see nothing, no sign of movement.\n\n\"What is it?\" Byrne called back to him.\n\n\"I thought I felt something?\" Drem said.\n\n\"There are strange draughts down here,\" Byrne said, \"from vents in the rock, or seeping up from the river.\"\n\nDrem grunted and walked on. Ashe did so something floated down from above, landing just in front of his feet.\n\nA feather.\n\nHe knelt and picked it up.\n\nIt was a dark brown, speckled with white.\n\nNot a crow, then, and besides, it is far too big.\n\nHe looked up again.\n\nAn eagle, or hawk? One of the guardians that Byrne spoke of?\n\nHe tucked the feather in his belt and hurried after Byrne."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Bleda heard the call to halt trickling down from the front of their column and reined in. He was riding rearguard today, the fifth day since they had set out from Drassil.\n\nWhere are they? he thought.\n\nThe sun was dipping into the west, a red glow above the trees of Forn. They were upon a wide road, broad enough for twenty riders abreast, and still more besides on the cleared fringe to each side. Not that the Sirak and Cheren were proceeding in that kind formation. They rode in neat, orderly columns, four ranks wide, spread out along the road over half a league or so.\n\nAfter he was attacked, Uldin said he rode hard for five days to reach Drassil. Granted, we have been riding much slower than Uldin's galloping dash for safety, but still. If the Kadoshim were moving on Drassil, we should have met them by now.\n\nHis eyes drifted to the skies, a dazzle of blue through the lattice of branches that arched over the road, as he remembered that night in Drassil, Kadoshim flying over the walls, carrying warriors and Ferals in their arms.\n\nHe raised a fist, Ruga behind him sounding her horn, his hundred-strong rearguard reining to a halt. Bleda's eyes scoured the forest to either side. It was mostly thick-trunked oaks, their roots drinking the ground too dry for shrubs and thorn, and their branches were high, so the ground was clear; Bleda could see fora good way into the forest.\n\nGood ground and passage for riders.\n\nThe drum of hooves, and Bleda saw a rider cantering down the column to him: Jin, looking fine in her war gear."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We are making camp for the night,\" she said. Bleda already knew that, knew that she didn't have to come and tell him. She seemed to make reasons to come and see him, to spend time in his company. It made him feel uncomfortable.\n\nBleda nodded a thanks to her.\n\n\"Any sign?\" he asked her, more concerned right now about Kadoshim and Ferals than an amorous Jin.\n\n\"Nothing.\" Jin shook her head. She gave him along, lingering look as she turned her mount, came out of the turn with a spray of dirt and set her horse galloping back to the head of the column. It was a fine display of horsemanship, gaining some approving nods from Bleda's Sirak warriors.\n\n\"Fora Cheren, she is a fair rider,\" Tuld said beside him.\n\nOld Ellac gave Tuld a flat look.\n\nRiders began to dismount, setting to the task of making camp for the night.\n\nBleda inspected the defences of his section of their camp, Ellac, Tuld, Mirim and Ruga around him. All of their horses were picketed within a defensive line on the road, safe from the ordinary predators of Forn Forest, and Bleda paced wider onto the turf between the road and forest, found pairs of guards every thirty paces, torches burning at the mid-point between them. The guards stood in the shadowed point between the reach of each torch.\n\n\"Are you satisfied?\" Ellac asked him.\n\n\"I am,\" Bleda said, pleased with the discipline and vigilance amongst his hundred. He looked at Ellac and the other three.\n\n\"I have something to do, to ask,\" he said. \"I would like you to accompany me and bear witness.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "Ellac and the others nodded, and Bleda turned on his heel and strode along the perimeter of their camp, deeper into their warband, into his mother's section. He found her sitting on afield chair at afire-pit, her boots off, warming her feet before the fire. Yul her first-sword stood a few paces away, fire and shadow flickering across his face.\n\n\"Mother,\" Bleda said, dipping his head to her.\n\n\"Aye?\" she said.\n\n\"You gave me my brother's mail, called me a Sirak prince.\"\n\n\"I did,\" Erdene said, \"because you are.\"\n\n\"Then tome it would seem fitting that I wore the Sirak warrior braid.\" He drew a knife from his belt. \"Would you honour me?\"\n\nHe offered Erdene his knife, held it out, glinting in the firelight as she looked from it to Bleda.\n\n\"I will,\" Erdene said. She pulled on her boots and stood, taking Bleda's knife and ushering him into her chair.\n\n\"Leave us,\" Erdene said to them all, \"I would have this time with my son.\"\n\nThere was some hesitation, especially from Yul and Tuld, but Erdene's word was iron, so they retreated and disappeared into the shadows.\n\n\"The Sirak braid is the mark of a warrior,\" Erdene said as she stood behind Bleda, unbinding the knot he'd tied his hair in. \"Are you a Sirak warrior, Bleda?\"\n\n\"I am,\" Bleda breathed.\n\n\"Have you faced another warrior in battle, looked in their eyes and known that one of you would live, and one of you would die?\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda's mind raced back to the clearing at the woodsman's hut, when he had fought the Ben-Elim. And before that, to the Kadoshim and Ferals in Drassil.\n\n\"I have,\" he said. It was a solemn burden, knowing that you had taken another's life, that you had stolen all the years they might have had and reduced them to a sack of skin and bone.\n\nBut better than the alternative, as Ellac had said to him after his first kill, when tears had blurred his eyes and his hands would not stop shaking.\n\nErdene took a fistful of hair from the side of Bleda's head and cut it away, shortening the sides, then began to shave the stubble and tufts that remained. She worked around his head in silence, just the rasp of Bleda's knife against his skin. When she had shaved his head, leaving only the portion that would be used for his warrior braid, she placed the knife on the ground and began to braid his hair. Bleda sat quietly, memories sifting through his mind, of his youth as a Sirak prince, living happy and free in Arcona. Of the day the Ben-Elim came, when Kol had thrown his brother's head at Erdene's feet. When he had been taken, torn from his family to become award of the Ben-Elim.\n\n\"I have always been faithful,\" Bleda whispered. \"Inhere.\" He placed the palm of his handover his heart.\n\nErdene said nothing, continued to braid his hair, finally tying it with a leather cord. She came and knelt before him, placing a hand upon his.\n\n\"I know you have,\" she said, meeting his gaze with her sea-grey eyes. \"I will say things to you now that have long been unsaid. We Sirak, we guard our feelings like treasure, and we wear the cold-face like a shield, but there is also a time to speak from the heart.\" She looked around, probing the darkness. \"This is for your ears only, and who knows if we will ever get a chance to talk like this again.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Erdene took a deep breath, holding his gaze. \"It broke my heart, the day you were taken from me,\" she said, her voice little more than a whisper. \"And my heart has ached every moment from that day to this.\"\n\nBleda opened his mouth to say something but she held up a finger.\n\n\"Ellac has reported tome through the years, and what he told me has made my heart soar. What a man you have become. You have a rare balance inside you, my Bleda, of courage and wisdom. You stood against the Kadoshim when Jin would not. You took your own counsel and stood for your friend, Riv, against the Ben-Elim, and against Ellac's advice. I know you... feel for the half-breed, and yet you would sacrifice yourself. You would do your duty in wedding Jin to ensure peace for your Clan.\"\n\nBleda blinked, knowing that he could not go through with the wedding.\n\nBut now is not the time to talk about that.\n\nShe lifted his hand and kissed it. \"I am proud to call you my son and feel glad in the knowledge that the Sirak will have a good king after I am gone.\"\n\nFive years of worry evaporated at Erdene's words. Bleda had been so scared that Erdene would think him unworthy and a traitor to the Clan, because he had been raised as award by the Ben-Elim. There was so much that he wanted to say to his mother, so many things that he had practised saying in an imagined moment like this, and yet it was all like mist, now, fading in the sun. Instead he smiled at her, deep and heartfelt, and she smiled in return.\n\n\"There is one last thing I wanted to say to you. You remember when I visited Drassil last year, and I spoke to you on the weapons-field? Do you remember my words to you?\""
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"value": "Bleda did, he had been so filled with a need to please his mother, to earn her respect. For the whole visit Erdene had been under the watchful eye of Israfil and his Ben-Elim, but fora few moments they had been distracted and Erdene had leaned close to Bleda, whispering in his ear.\n\n\"I do,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"Never forget them,\" Erdene said.\n\n\"But, surely things are different now?\" Bleda said, puzzled.\n\nErdene opened her mouth to speak, then paused, cocking her head.\n\nThere was the whisper of wings above them; Bleda looked up to see shadows flitting across the moon and suddenly Bleda and Erdene were on their feet, swords hissing into their fists. Horns started blaring, Yul, Ellac, Tuld and Ruga appeared, bows in their fists, the camp suddenly alive, like a kicked hornets' nest.\n\n\"Friend,\" a voice called down from above, and Bleda glimpsed white-feathered wings.\n\nA Ben-Elim dropped low over them, hovering, wings making the fire flicker.\n\n\"The Lord Protector is here,\" he said, \"you are summoned to a council of war.\"\n\nBleda rubbed his shaved head, feeling the warrior braid that his mother had woven for him. It felt wonderful finally to wear the symbol of his Clan.\n\nAnd cold.\n\nHe was sitting in a circle around afire-pit, his mother beside him, Uldin and Jin there also, as well as the Ben-Elim captain, Hadran. Kol sat before them all, and Riv sat beside him. Bleda was trying to stay focused on what Kol was saying, but his eyes kept drifting to Riv, thinking about when he had seen her last..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv's eyes were shining in the firelight, and Bleda could not be sure, but he thought that she was looking at him.\n\n\"Where are these Kadoshim and their followers, then?\" Kol was saying.\n\nUldin shrugged. \"We have only covered half of the distance to the site where I was attacked,\" he said. \"But if they are moving on Drassil, they should be close.\" He looked left and right. \"But this is a big forest and a small road.\"\n\n\"Yes, I agree,\" Kol said. \"Galloping along this road with no ground support is dangerous.\"\n\n\"Your Ben-Elim stressed that speed was important.\" Uldin shrugged.\n\n\"It is,\" Kol agreed, \"but not at the risk of ambush and annihilation.\"\n\n\"We will not be the ones that are annihilated,\" Erdene said.\n\n\"I stopped at Drassil first,\" Kol said, \"and ordered a dozen units of our scouts and huntsmen to work towards us, scouring the forest as they go. And Lorina is marching up the east way with five hundred White-Wings. A rearguard support in case we need more ground troops.\"\n\nBleda nodded to himself, thinking that was wise. The speed of the Sirak and Cheren was crucial in meeting this threat, but they were not best suited for combat beneath the trees of Forn Forest.\n\n\"What if this is a trick?\" Riv said, speaking out for the first time. \"An ambush? Or like before, when we marched to Oriens, lured out to empty and weaken Drassil?\"\n\n\"I have thought that, too,\" Kol said. \"Drassil is safe, over two thousand Ben-Elim still there, with Aphra's five hundred White-Wings and more besides. The danger is here. We are at risk of an ambush here, and the Kadoshim have done it before, at Varan's Fall. Which is why we will move more slowly, and if we find them, we will only meet them in battle upon the road, and hold them until the White-Wings arrive.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda bridled at that, as did Uldin, by the look of him.\n\n\"If we bring our enemy to battle, there will be nothing left of them by the time the White-Wings have arrived,\" Uldin said.\n\n\"The Cheren did not do so well against this enemy when they attacked you on the road,\" Kol pointed out.\n\n\"We were heavily outnumbered, and taken by surprise,\" Uldin growled. \"But with our Sirak kin beside us, victory is certain.\"\n\n\"We will move slowly, scout the land around us and hold our enemy unless they engage us,\" Kol said. \"That is my last word on it. Now, sleep, and we will move at dawn.\"\n\nBleda stood in the starlight of a forest glade, waiting. Mirim and Ruga were close by, bows in their fists and arrows loosely nocked.\n\nNot that we can see more than a dozen paces to shoot anything.\n\nThey were standing within the trees of Forn Forest, a few hundred paces away from the camp. Bleda could seethe flicker of torchlight from the road.\n\nTuld, Ruga and Mirim had expressed their feelings about him doing this, sneaking out past the picket lines when there were possible enemies in the forest, besides the normal unpleasant predators of Forn.\n\nBut Bleda could not stop himself. He had to see her.\n\nAnd then there was a whisper of movement, soft footfalls, and Tuld was approaching through the trees. He carried something in his arms, and a figure followed behind him.\n\nRiv.\n\nTuld led her to Bleda, then he put the item in his arms down upon the forest litter."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Leave us,\" Bleda said to Tuld, Ruga and Mirim.\n\nThey did not move.\n\n\"Guard me, but not so close,\" Bleda allowed, and the three guards slipped into the shadows.\n\nAnd then Riv was in his arms, her lips upon his, her wings enfolding him.\n\n\"I have missed you, thought of you every waking moment,\" he whispered when they parted.\n\nRiv smiled and caressed his cheek, dappled starlight dancing across her wings.\n\n\"There is something about you, Bleda, that calms the storm that is ever raging in my blood,\" she breathed.\n\n\"There is something about you, Riv, that stirs my blood into a storm,\" he replied. Her smile grew wider.\n\n\"You have anew coat,\" she said.\n\n\"Aye. My mother gave it tome,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"It looks fine on you,\" Riv grinned. \"And anew haircut.\"\n\nBleda rubbed his shaven head, the skin stubbled in places, smooth in others. The unaccustomed weight of his warrior braid hung across his neck and shoulder. It felt strange.\n\n\"It suits you,\" Riv said.\n\nBleda drew in a deep breath. \"I have something for you.\" He looked down at the chest, bent and unbolted it, then carefully opened the lid. He stood, letting Riv seethe Sirak bow within.\n\nRiv bent and picked it up, turning it in her hands. It was unstrung, the layers of wood, horn and tendon shimmering in the starlight.\n\n\"Here, let me show you how to string it,\" Bleda said, reaching inside his surcoat to pull a wax-rolled string from a pouch. Effortlessly he strung the bow and handed it back to Riv."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you,\" she said. \"Did you... make this, for me?\"\n\n\"I did,\" Bleda said. \"I would like to test it, but now would not be a good idea.\"\n\n\"No,\" Riv agreed. \"Who knows what I would shoot?\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" Bleda said seriously, though Riv was smiling.\n\n\"And there is this,\" Bleda said, crouching. He lifted a weapons-belt from the chest, a bow-case threaded onto it, and a quiver full of goose-fletched arrows.\n\nRiv had an expression of joy on her face.\n\nBleda buckled the belt around her waist.\n\n\"I have added some straps,\" he said, \"that buckle around your thigh, to keep the quiver and casein place if you are, you know, flying upside-down, or something. And there is a clip, to hold your arrows in place. Unflick it, like this.\"\n\n\"You will need to teach me how to use this,\" she said.\n\n\"I will,\" Bleda promised. \"Though you are good enough to use it now. Just at big targets. Or close ones. Better if they are standing still and I am standing behind you.\"\n\nRiv snorted laughter at that. \"Ah, but it is good to see you, Bleda. The world is too dark and serious a place when you are not around.\"\n\nA crackle of forest litter and Tuld was appearing, pointing into the woods. A hint of movement, shadows within shadows. Bleda reached for his bow, staring into the darkness, and with a beating of wings Riv was in the air, rising and disappearing into the darkness.\n\nBleda paced to where he thought he'd seen movement, but there was nothing there, and it was too dark to check the ground for tracks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tuld, Mirim and Ruga materialized out of the gloom, shaking their heads, and then Riv was returning, landing in a swirl of leaves.\n\n\"Nothing,\" she said.\n\n\"You should get back to camp,\" Mirim said, Ruga and Tuld agreeing fervently.\n\n\"We should,\" Riv agreed.\n\nShe unstrung her bow and slipped it into the bow-case.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Riv said, leaning forwards and brushing her lips against Bleda's cheek. \"I will treasure this.\"\n\n\"Only string it for battle,\" Bleda said, \"or if you think battle is likely.\"\n\n\"I will,\" Riv said, another bright grin from her and then she was taking towing and merging with the darkness above."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm stuck,\" Drem said, his voice muffled. He was trying to put on a coat of mail, had seemed to be doing fine when he threaded his arms into it, but now he was having trouble getting it over his shoulders and finding the slit to squeeze his head through. His head and arms were in, but there seemed to be noway forward, just a great claustrophobic weight of steel constricting him.\n\nCullen chuckled behind him.\n\n\"There is an art to getting into a shirt of mail, Drem, my lad,\" Cullen said.\n\nWhy does he insist on calling me his lad when I am older than him? Not for the first time, Drem resisted his usual urge to correct.\n\n\"I'll help you, lad,\" Keld said, a reassuring hand on Drem's back. \"Now, lift your arms straight up, and jump up and down. Let gravity do the work for you.\"\n\nDrem did, and after a few moments of worry, and a helping hand from Keld, the mail shirt slithered down over his head and torso.\n\nIt was heavy, rubbing on his shoulders, a weight on his arms when he tried to lift them, like he was wading through water.\n\n\"I don't like it,\" Drem said. \"How can I fight in this?\"\n\n\"A chainmail shirt is a pain, and no denying,\" Keld said. \"Takes some getting used to. But this will turn a blow that would slice through your leather jerkin like butter. Better to put up with the sore shoulders and be a bit slower than be dead.\"\n\n\"But will being slower make me just as dead?\" Drem worried.\n\nKeld shrugged. \"Move faster.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That's helpful.\n\n\"This'll help,\" Keld said, slipping a thin leather belt around Drem's waist and buckling it tight.\n\nKeld was right, though, as soon as the belt was on, it took some of the mail shirt's weight off Drem's shoulders.\n\nOver half a moon had passed since the night he had entered the tunnels with Byrne. He could feel the scrape of the mail coat on the healing cut on his arm, little more than a dry scab now. He felt a sense of elation when he remembered that night, when he had sworn himself to Byrne. He did not regret it. Since then, each day, more warriors of the Order had arrived, answering Byrne's summons to muster. And on each of those days Drem had trained almost from dawn until dusk. His left arm felt like it was going to falloff, muscles seized and stiff from shield work, something that Drem had been entirely unaccustomed to. Muscles throughout his whole body ached. Not because he was unfit. Living a trapper's life in the Desolation had toned and honed Drem's physicality far beyond what was normal, but these last fourteen nights Drem had used muscles in ways that they had never been used before.\n\nHe rolled his shoulders and ignored the aches and pains.\n\nKeld and Cullen were already in shirts of mail, Cullen with a dark leather surcoat buckled over the top, Dun Seren's four-pointed star emblazoned upon it. Keld wore his star in his cloak-brooch.\n\n\"Here you go, lad,\" Cullen said, passing Drem his weapons-belt. Drem rolled his eyes at Cullen and took the belt. His sword and seax were already scabbarded on it, as well as two empty rings for hand-axes. There was also a pouch with Drem's flint and striking iron, some tinder, and beside it one of the Order's weighted nets, folded and ready for use. Drem had trained with it, managed to wrap himself in the net a dozen times before finally mastering the art of looping it over his head and releasing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It had felt like a glorious moment. He liked to learn.\n\n\"Well, looks like you're all dressed as fine as can be,\" Keld said, looking Drem up and down.\n\nA horn sounded from outside.\n\nDrem felt a stone settle in his gut. They all knew what the horn was for, a weight hanging over them all, though none of them had spoken of it since Drem had opened his chamber door to the two warriors. It had all been light-hearted quips, purposely avoiding what they knew was coming.\n\nThey were leaving Dun Seren and marching back into the Desolation. Crow scouts had returned from the Desolation, telling of Gulla's warband marching south from Kergard and destroying all in its path. Drem knew that Byrne had hoped to continue gathering her forces until Kol's White-Wings had arrived, but this news from the north had forced her hand.\n\n\"We exist to protect the innocent from evil like the Kadoshim,\" Byrne had said to Drem. \"We will not sit idly by while innocents are being slaughtered. Not when I can do something to save them.\"\n\nSo, they were marching to war.\n\nThe three of them shared a look.\n\n\"It's time, then,\" Cullen said.\n\nDrem grabbed two short-axes from his desk where he'd been sharpening them and slipped them into the rings on his belt.\n\nThey turned and walked from Drem's chambers, through corridors that grew busier with every footstep, and then they were striding through Dun Seren's keep and out onto the steps that led down into the courtyard.\n\nAll was noise and chaos. Horses, bears and wolven-hounds, giants, men and women, a swirling, milling mass. Keld led them across the courtyard to a huge stable block, stablehands standing and waiting with three bridled horses. Drem took the reins of his mount, a big roan mare. She whickered as he rested his head against hers, gave her half an apple from his belt pouch, which she crunched contentedly, and then he was swinging himself up into the saddle, a moment as he wavered, adjusting to the weight of his chainmail shirt, and then he was settled in the saddle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A few moments of waiting, cold breath misting in dawn's chill, Drem patting his horse's neck, and then horns were blowing again and Byrne was riding into the courtyard, Ethlinn and Balur behind her, mounted upon great bears. Byrne reined in before the statue of Corban, a silence settled; her horse dancing a few paces, sensing the excitement and adrenalin that was crackling through the fortress.\n\n\"We are marching to kill Gulla,\" Byrne cried out, \"to put an end to those that have brought war to our world.\" She paused, looked around. \"TRUTH AND COURAGE,\" she yelled, and Drem added his voice to the roar that answered her.\n\n\"TRUTH AND COURAGE,\" echoing from the fortress walls, lingering in the air.\n\nAnd then Byrne was riding out from the courtyard, crows circling in the air above, squawking a cacophony of'Truth and Courage.\"\n\nEthlinn and Balur One-Eye rode behind Byrne, a clattering of hooves and bear claws andiron-shod boots. Two thousand warriors, men, women and giants, a swarm of wolven-hounds loping on their flanks, banners of a white star on a black field rippling in the wind, and the Order of the Bright Star rode forth from Dun Seren.\n\n\"Where is everyone?\" Drem asked.\n\nThey had been riding half a day and had just reached Dalgarth, the bustling traders' village that Drem had passed through on the way to Dun Seren. It was a very different place, now.\n\nCure had travelled back to Dun Seren from Dalgarth once since Drem had returned from the Desolation, to tell them that Dalgarth was to be quarantined. He had ridden back the same day, and not been heard from since."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The walls were unmanned, gates hanging open, creaking on a northerly wind, and the streets were empty.\n\nA sense of unease seeped into Drem, and he could see it was affecting them all, warriors ahead and behind looking about, searching for any signs of life. Drem was close to the head of the column and he saw Stepor appear from aside alley, his black and red wolven-hounds with him as he reported to Byrne.\n\n\"No one, not a soul,\" Drem heard the huntsman say.\n\n\"Where have they all gone?\" Cullen said, a frown creasing his usual high spirits.\n\nKeld said nothing, but the three of them shared a look. Hildith and the scouts had told tales of the holds and villages in the Desolation laid low by plague and something worse.\n\nRevenants, Drem thought.\n\nHe shrugged his shoulders and loosened his sword and seax in their scabbards.\n\nThey rode on, through the silent village, even the crows above them ceasing their constant chatter. Slowly the warband emerged from the far side of the village and continued. As they crested a ridge Drem reined in a moment and twisted in his saddle, looking back.\n\nDalgarth sat like a stain upon the land, unnaturally still and empty, and behind it in the distance Drem could seethe dark line of the river Vold, and the walls and tower of Dun Seren beyond.\n\nI have only been there a short while, but Cullen was right, it does feel like home.\n\nHe turned, looking forwards, the undulating, cracked landscape of the Desolation before him.\n\nAnd now we are riding back towards danger, towards Kadoshim and Feral beasts and death. He sighed, feeling the weight of it settling in his soul."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But I am glad to do that, because my father's killers are out there. Fritha, Gunil and you, Gulla, the puppet-master of these dread days. I will kill you all, if I can. I shall take my father's sword back, and then I shall fulfil his oath, and slay your king. I will take Asroth's head.\n\nIf I can.\n\nOr die in the trying.\n\nHe clicked his horse into a trot, catching up with Cullen and Keld, and they rode on.\n\nInto the Desolation."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda rode at the centre of their column, his mother riding as vanguard today. It had been Uldin's idea to rotate each day, away of avoiding bad feeling between the Sirak and Cheren about who led and who rode rearguard. Bleda was impressed with Uldin's straightforward diplomacy, a simple and fairway of avoiding unnecessary conflict. It gave Bleda hope for the future between the two Clans.\n\nIf Uldin is this level-headed, perhaps he will be the one to see that my handbinding to Jin is not vital for the Cheren and Sirak to co-exist peacefully.\n\nThen he remembered Uldin's words to him upon his arrival at Drassil.\n\nAre you worthy of my daughter?\n\nBleda shifted in his saddle, feeling abruptly uncomfortable. He searched the sky for Riv, saw the silhouettes of Ben-Elim high above, but could not pick out the dapple-grey wings that set Riv apart.\n\nThis was their sixth day out from Drassil and, as Kol had ordered, they were riding at a slower pace, sending scouts into the fringes of the forest, making the most of the high branches and navigable ground.\n\nThere was a creaking sound ahead, horn blasts from the front of the column and riders were reining in. Bleda guided his horse to the edge of the road so that he had a better view down the column. He saw Erdene sitting tall in her saddle, staring at something ahead.\n\nThen Bleda saw it, too. A huge oak on the forest edge, branches swaying as if it was caught in some solitary wind. The creaking sound grew louder, building into a sharp crack, and then the tree was falling, branches and trunk crashing down onto the road, a cloud of dust erupting around it, settling slowly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bleda reached for his bow, in a few heartbeats had it strung."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All around him Sirak were doing the same.\n\nBehind him hooves drummed and Jin cantered up along the line.\n\n\"What is happening?\" she asked him. \"Why have we stopped?\"\n\nBleda nodded at the fallen tree. \"Ambush. Be ready,\" he said.\n\nJin gave him a curt nod even as she was turning her mount and galloping back down the line.\n\nAnd then something emerged from the treeline, just in front of the fallen oak, about eight or nine hundred paces before Erdene and the head of the column.\n\nTwo auroch, big bulls with huge chests as wide as a wagon and low-curving horns. They were harnessed, behind them was a wain, enormous in its proportions, two shaven-haired men sitting upon the driving bench, reins in hand. Upon the wain was a giant box, or cage.\n\nAnd then another brace of auroch appeared, pulling another similar-sized wain, two more figures on the driving bench, another massive box upon the wain's back. It stopped behind the first wain.\n\nA silence settled, the creak of wood as the wains strained under some immense weight, Bleda hearing sounds of movement within the boxes.\n\nScratching, sniffing.\n\nA growl.\n\nI don't like this.\n\nErdene called out an order and her front ranks shifted, Sirak warriors riding out either side of her, forming along line across the road, thirty riders wide. More ranks formed in disciplined order behind the first. Bows were strung and in hands, all with fists bristling full of arrows.\n\nBen-Elim flew overhead, Kol appearing, flanked by a dozen more winged warriors, all of them landing in the space between Erdene and the wains, other Ben-Elim remaining in the sky above. They all seemed hesitant to approach the wains."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bleda remembered the giant Alcyon telling him of the Battle of Varan's Fall, where the Ben-Elim were ambushed within Forn Forest and suffered serious losses."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alcyon had said that the Ben-Elim had been far more hesitant since then, reluctant to press forward in any situation where they were not certain of victory.\n\nA silhouette flew out from the trees ahead, its wings dark, not white, and Bleda recognized the distinct outline of a Kadoshim.\n\nFear uncoiled in his belly.\n\nFear is not the enemy, it is the herald of danger, and that is only wisdom, he reminded himself of the Sirak's Iron Code. Fear is wisdom, but you must master it, lest it master you.\n\nThe creature landed upon the top of one of the cages, feet spread, and looked down at Kol and his Ben-Elim. Something seemed strange about it, different from the Kadoshim Bleda remembered. It looked taller, and a nimbus shadow appeared to edge it, blurring the lines of its movement. Other Kadoshim followed, swirling out from the trees, circling above and behind the wains like a murder of crows, fifty, sixty, a hundred, more joining them as Bleda stared.\n\n\"Is that you, Kol?\" the Kadoshim upon the cage called out. \"I had heard a rumour that Israfil was dead and you had replaced him. I hoped it was true.\"\n\n\"Aye, Gulla, it is I,\" Kol said coldly. \"I am glad to see you crawl out from beneath your rock. It is a mistake, of course, because now I am going to send you back to the Otherworld.\" He raised a fist, Ben-Elim swooping up from the back of the column, speeding over the heads of Uldin's Cheren.\n\nGulla just leaned down, gripping a huge iron pinon the cage front and tugging it free. With a squeal of iron and wood the front panel of the cage fell forwards, crashing to the ground, a cloud of dust erupting. There was the sound of savage snarling, a cacophony of howls and growls, and then a tide of fur and muscle and claw was exploding from the dust cloud."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda felt his blood freeze.\n\nFerals.\n\nBut where Bleda had seen a score or so of these creatures before, now hundreds of them swarmed from the cage and surged towards Kol, and Erdene behind him, even as another Kadoshim landed onto the top of the second cage and pulled the pin, releasing the door in another eruption of Feral beasts.\n\nKol and his Ben-Elim companions leaped into the air, rushing to attack the Kadoshim swirling above them.\n\nBehind them Erdene was shouting, just noise, but horns rang out from those beside her and the front rows of her Sirak began to trot forwards, at the tide of Feral murder surging towards them. Even in the midst of the chaos and terror that was turning his veins to ice, Bleda felt his chest swell with pride for his mother, ordering a charge at these fearsome creatures, where the first and basest instinct was to turn and run.\n\nAnother horn blast, Erdene and her Sirak breaking into a canter, bows in hand, arrows gripped, and then within heartbeats they were at a gallop, their hooves a thunderous avalanche, five hundred paces between them and the onrushing, slavering Ferals, four hundred paces, three hundred, two, and then the front rank of Erdene's line was breaking left and right, across the Ferals\" path, and their bows were singing, arrows loosing, the huge power of the Sirak bows hammering into the front rows of the Ferals' charge, hurling them from their feet, throwing them back into those behind. Screams and howls of agony rang out, Ferals going down in a tangle, snaring those on their heels, a tumbling mass of limbs and blood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda saw Ferals claw their way back to their feet, tearing arrows from their bodies, raising their heads to the sky and howling, then breaking into a run again. Some stayed down, a dozen arrows pin-cushioning them, twisted unnaturally in death.\n\nBut still the vast tide of them came on.\n\nErdene and her front row were galloping back along the roadside, reforming behind her last row of riders to continue the manoeuvre in a perpetual cycle, peeling and loosing their arrows in an endless hammer-hail curtain.\n\nThey need more room.\n\nBleda had seen this manoeuvre performed before, upon the open plains of Arcona, where mounted warriors could ride like flocks of birds in the open sky. But here their flanks were constricted by the looming walls of the forest, and they could not endlessly retreat because the road was blocked by Bleda's hundred and then Uldin's Cheren.\n\nWe need to get off the road, give them more room to retreat.\n\nA movement on the edge of Bleda's vision, amongst the trees on his left. He stared, arrow nocked, and then saw a Sirak rider burst from the trees, one of their scouts. He was shouting a warning, twisting in his saddle and shooting back over the hindquarters of his mount into the murk.\n\n\"Protect the flanks,\" Bleda cried out, the cry rippling through the warriors about him, spreading, and he commanded his horse towards the trees. His hundred began falling in on either side of him, along row facing into the forest.\n\n\"Tell Uldin, protect the right flank,\" Bleda yelled to Mirim beside him. She nodded and galloped away."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 49"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda saw Ferals claw their way back to their feet, tearing arrows from their bodies, raising their heads to the sky and howling, then breaking into a run again. Some stayed down, a dozen arrows pin-cushioning them, twisted unnaturally in death.\n\nBut still the vast tide of them came on.\n\nErdene and her front row were galloping back along the roadside, reforming behind her last row of riders to continue the manoeuvre in a perpetual cycle, peeling and loosing their arrows in an endless hammer-hail curtain.\n\nThey need more room.\n\nBleda had seen this manoeuvre performed before, upon the open plains of Arcona, where mounted warriors could ride like flocks of birds in the open sky. But here their flanks were constricted by the looming walls of the forest, and they could not endlessly retreat because the road was blocked by Bleda's hundred and then Uldin's Cheren.\n\nWe need to get off the road, give them more room to retreat.\n\nA movement on the edge of Bleda's vision, amongst the trees on his left. He stared, arrow nocked, and then saw a Sirak rider burst from the trees, one of their scouts. He was shouting a warning, twisting in his saddle and shooting back over the hindquarters of his mount into the murk.\n\n\"Protect the flanks,\" Bleda cried out, the cry rippling through the warriors about him, spreading, and he commanded his horse towards the trees. His hundred began falling in on either side of him, along row facing into the forest.\n\n\"Tell Uldin, protect the right flank,\" Bleda yelled to Mirim beside him. She nodded and galloped away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Two bodies crashed into the turf before Bleda, making his mount dance backwards."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A Ben-Elim and Kadoshim, wrapped in a tangle of limbs and wings, still fighting, stabbing, biting, even as they rolled on the ground. They came to a halt, a flurry of blows, then a sharp shriek.\n\nThe Ben-Elim rose slowly to his feet, blood on his face, wings shaking off grass and dirt, and then he was leaping back into the air, hurtling back into the combat that was swirling above.\n\nAnd then figures were materializing out of the shadows of the trees, shaven-haired men and women, faces twisted in fanatical rage, screaming as they came running at Bleda's line.\n\nA hundred arrows loosed, the sound a sweet music in Bleda's ears, and all along the treeline the enemy were falling, tumbling to the ground.\n\nBleda drew and loosed, drew and loosed, grabbed another fistful of arrows from his quiver, but more enemies surged from the trees, pounding across the bodies of their comrades, so much closer now.\n\nA snatched glimpse right and left showed Erdene's Sirak swirling back in an endless retreat down the road, the Ferals surging on, snapping and snarling, the gap between them down to fifty or sixty paces now. Uldin's Cheren on the right flank were facing a storm of shaven-haired enemy, as Bleda was.\n\nOnly twenty or thirty paces now between Bleda and the enemy pouring from the forest.\n\nBleda loosed almost point-blank into the face of a woman, her spear stabbing up at him. His arrow pierced her eye, hurled her back into a man behind her, both of them going down in a heap.\n\n\"SWORDS,\" Bleda yelled, slipping his bow into its case at his hip, his hand reaching over his shoulder, gripping the worn leather of his sword hilt and drawing, all along the line his warriors doing the same."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"WITH ME,\" Bleda screamed and clicked his horse on, riding to meet the enemy rushing towards him.\n\nHis trained mount barrelled into a man, threw him to the ground, then hooves were trampling the fallen warrior, cutting short his screams. Bleda struck downwards, his sword jarring on an upraised blade. The blow shivered through his wrist and arm, numb fora moment, he swept a parry, sending a spear-thrust aimed at his chest wide, returned with a backswing from his curved sword, opening a red line across the spear-man's face, and saw him fall away, clutching at bloody folds of flesh.\n\nBleda rode deeper into his enemy, the treeline looming.\n\nA grunt and scream to his left, a thrown spear slamming into Ruga, hurling her from her saddle. Bleda looked, could not see her, swayed in his saddle as an axe tried to take his face off. He chopped down, a scream, a hand hanging almost severed, dangling by a shred of sinew and skin. He thrust down, into the screaming mouth of his foe, ripped his sword free in a spray of teeth and blood.\n\nAnd then the enemy were breaking before him, turning and running back into the gloom. Bleda reined in, resisting the urge to pursue his enemy, the blood-rush of victory a sudden surge in his veins. A snatched glimpse over his shoulder and he saw the same was happening to Uldin, the Cheren King spurring his horse after them, his warband following him into the treeline.\n\n\"After them,\" Bleda yelled, spurring his horse over the bodies of the fallen as he chased after his fleeing enemy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv tucked her wings and stooped into a dive, slamming into a Kadoshim, the creature grunting as her shoulder crunched into its belly. A flurry of blows were exchanged, steel sparking as swords sought flesh, spiralling in each other's grip, and then Riv's short-sword was stabbing through rusted mail and leather, into the flesh beneath. The Kadoshim shrieked and spasmed in her grip, back arching. With a savage wrench, Riv ripped her blade free and released the Kadoshim, saw it crash into the horde of Ferals that were swarming after Erdene's Sirak, scattering a handful in its ruin.\n\nHovering in the sky, Riv brandished her bloodied sword in the air, screeching her battle joy.\n\nThis is what I was made for, born to do, she exulted, a wild release flooding through her veins as she shrugged off the cloaked weight of normal living, no longer having to think about the rights and wrongs, the moral complexities and consequences of decisions.\n\nShe just had to fight, and to kill.\n\nShe searched for her next foe.\n\nThey were not in short supply.\n\nHadran had brought a thousand Ben-Elim on this campaign, a number deemed more than adequate to meet any Kadoshim threat, as all knew the Kadoshim numbers had been hit the worst during the last hundred years of war. And yet to Riv's eyes this aerial combat in the sky seemed equal. It was so hard to tell, the combatants an ever-moving eddy of wings and steel, of feather and dark-leathered skin, but if anything, it looked to Riv that there were more bat wings than feathered in the skies around her.\n\nHow can there be this many Kadoshim?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Death screams from below drew her eye and Riv saw Bleda and his hundred upon the left flank of the battle, holding against a tide of enemy that swept out of the forest. Even as she looked, she saw the enemy break and run, saw Bleda rein his horse in, looking back towards the far flank and Uldin. The same was happening there, the enemy fleeing back into the trees. And Uldin followed, disappearing from view, his hundreds of Cheren sweeping after him.\n\n\"Idiot,\" Riv breathed. Then, to her horror, she saw Bleda doing the same. She shouted out to him, but of course he did not hear her, her voice lost in the din of battle. She tucked her wings to go after him, and then something slammed into her side, and she was spinning through the air.\n\nSteel glinted as a knife stabbed at Riv's throat. She twisted, felt a hot line graze her neck, grabbed the wrist with one hand, saw a male, flat-boned, snarling face, a shaven-haired skull and bat-like wings.\n\nBut that's not a Kadoshim.\n\nOne of their half-breeds.\n\nThe half-breed punched Riv in the face, pulped a lip, the taste of blood in her mouth.\n\nShe spat, gave a savage grin and headbutted the half-breed, once, twice across the bridge of his nose, blood and cartilage spraying.\n\nA twist of her arm on the half-breed's wrist and he was spinning through the air. He swung a thick-muscled arm, fist connecting with Riv's jaw, stars exploding, and her grip loosened, the half-breed ripping his wrist free.\n\nThen her assailant was stabbing at her again, Riv shaking her head clear, wings beating, reversing her away from the half-breed's rush, her short-sword swinging in a looping block, steel grating as the knife stabbed wide, a rotation of her shoulder and twist of her wrist and her sword opened a gash across the half-breed's throat. Arterial blood sprayed, a look of surprise on his face as he dropped like a stone to the ground."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv hovered a moment, her wings beating to keep her semi-stationary. She shook her head again to try and clear the fog as the half-breed's corpse hit the ground below.\n\nThat is why our numbers are so even. The Kadoshim have been breeding an army to swell their numbers.\n\nWhile the Ben-Elim have been murdering their offspring, the Kadoshim have been cultivating and training theirs for war.\n\nOn the ground Erdene was still retreating in her ever-looping hail of arrows. The twisted bodies of Ferals littered the ground between the two huge cages and Erdene's Sirak, but it looked as if hundreds of the mutated beasts were still powering after Erdene, merely a score of paces separating them now. It was only a short matter of time before the Ferals caught up to Erdene's troops and all became chaos.\n\nEven as Riv looked, she saw Erdene's mouth open wide, yelling orders to a rider beside her, a horn blast and the row of Sirak closest to the Ferals pulled up, twenty or thirty riders, a heartbeat to sheathe their bows and draw the curved swords upon their backs, and then their mounts were leaping forwards, a short charge into the Ferals, hooves rearing, lashing out, swords slicing and chopping.\n\nThey are buying Erdene time.\n\nAnd Erdene used the time her riders were buying her, her warriors reforming and galloping back down the road, opening a gap between them and the Ferals.\n\nRiv felt a wave of respect for those who had charged into the tide of Ferals, knew there was only one fate for them. They were falling already, claws and fangs ripping into horseflesh, dragging the mounts to the ground, other Ferals leaping, slamming into riders and tearing them from their saddles."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Afresh wave of rage swept Riv for those brave men and women. She sheathed her short-sword and lifted her bow from its case, flicked the leather clasp on her quiver and snatched out a handful of arrows, as Bleda had showed her.\n\nHe said aim at a big target.\n\nShe loosed her handful of arrows into the swarm of Ferals, recognizing the power in the draw of this bow, the smooth snap and twang of the string as she loosed. She grabbed another handful of arrows and loosed them, too, saw one arrow punch into a skull, the Feral collapsing without a sound. Even so, a dozen heartbeats later and the last of the Sirak riders was being dragged from her mount, still chopping about her with her sword as her flesh was torn and rent.\n\nThis is useless.\n\nBleda.\n\nRiv slipped her bow back into its case, tucked her wings and dropped into a dive, sweeping over the ground between Erdene and the Ferals, searching for the point she had last seen Bleda.\n\nIt was easy to find, a tide line of dead shaven-haired acolytes marking the spot. She dropped to the ground, eyes peering into the twilight gloom of Forn. Dim figures were moving, riders on horseback, and others on foot about them. The ring of steel echoed out from the treeline.\n\nTo Riv's left Erdene was leading her Sirak warband back down the road, to her right the Ferals were bounding, leaping and snarling in their fury as they chased after their retreating prey.\n\nA groan behind Riv, and she turned to see a Sirak warrior try to rise from the ground. A woman, a spear lodged in the meat between her shoulder and chest. It was Ruga, Bleda's guard. Riv ran to her, the rush of Ferals so close now, the ground trembling, the sound of their snarling fury almost deafening."
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"value": "She tore the spear from Ruga, cast it at the oncoming Ferals and then swept the injured woman up into her arms, powerful beats of her wings lifting them both into the air, a Feral leaping at her, teeth snapping, claws raking Riv's boot. She kicked out, saw the Feral crash to the ground, and then Riv and Ruga were climbing higher, out of reach of the onrushing river of monsters beneath them as they continued their mindless, furious charge after Erdene.\n\nRiv hovered, taking a moment to assess the battle.\n\nAll around her Ben-Elim fought with Kadoshim and their half-breeds, the battle raging, balanced. On the ground, Erdene seemed to have a good distance between her and the Ferals, ever-widening, and on Riv's side of the road the dim sounds of combat drifted up and out from the forest.\n\nRiv was about to fly back into the trees and resume her search for Bleda when a movement caught her eyes.\n\nIt was far down the road, ahead of Erdene's retreating warband.\n\nAnother huge wain with a giant cage atop it was being rolled out by musclebound auroch. It stopped across the road, cutting off Erdene's retreat, a half-breed Kadoshim alighting on it and reaching down for the gate-pin.\n\nOh no."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda chopped through a raised hand, severing fingers, and then swung his sword into the meat between neck and shoulder. Another blow from Bleda crunched into the man's skull and he toppled lifeless to the ground.\n\nA twist of Bleda's knees, guiding his mount between trees as another foe leaped at him, a woman with a short-sword in her fist. Their blades clashed, the woman's hand grasping at Bleda's surcoat as she tried to heave herself up his horse's side. Bleda hacked into her arm, above the elbow, and she fell backwards, blood jetting. A command and twitch of Bleda's reins and his horse was rearing, hooves lashing out, punching the woman in the chest and face and she was crashing to the ground.\n\nThere was a moment's lull as Bleda looked around, trying to make sense of the chaos surrounding him. He had ridden deep into the forest, a wild, heedless charge at first, cutting down all those that were running before him. His line of warriors was broken by trees and melee combat as many of those they had chased into the darkness had turned and resumed their fighting. Bleda blinked, straining his eyes, the gloom restricting his vision to less than thirty or forty paces. He was not even sure what direction would lead him back to the road.\n\nA horse swept past him, Ellac upon its back, a sword in his one hand, a buckler of iron strapped to his other. He was hacking at enemy either side of him, a spear-wielding man closest to Bleda.\n\nBleda urged his horse forwards. The spear-man heard his approach, twisting and stabbing his spear up, into the chest of Bleda's horse. The animal screamed, stumbled, Bleda feeling it shudder beneath him, biting as its forelegs collapsed, taking a chunk of flesh from the enemy's cheek even as it died."
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"value": "Bleda fell from the saddle, threw himself away before the horse could roll and pin his leg. He staggered to his feet, saw the spear-man coming at him, blood gushing from the bite on his face, the weapon stabbing for his gut. Bleda stumbled backwards, slashing wildly at the spear, caught it a glancing blow, deflecting it a little so that the spearhead stabbed into Bleda's side, the plates of his lamellar coat holding, turning the strike harmlessly away.\n\nAnd then the man's head was gone, a severed stump erupting blood. The body fell to its knees and toppled to the ground.\n\nTuld was peering down at him from atop his horse.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Bleda grunted.\n\nEllac joined them, his sword red to the hilt.\n\nThey had been left behind in the melee, distant shadows and muffled cries, the three of them seemingly alone in the twilight world of Forn.\n\nThen something changed in the forest around them.\n\nIt seemed to get darker, as if night were falling, and yet Bleda knew it could not even be highsun yet. A darkness swelled in the gloom, like a black thundercloud rolling across the ground, deeper within the forest, enveloping the last shadows of those Bleda could see fighting.\n\nScreams, high and shrieking.\n\nThey spoke to Bleda of terror, rather than pain.\n\n\"I do not like this,\" Ellac muttered, his sword pointing at the darkness. His horse danced, ears back.\n\nAnd then a figure appeared from the gloom, exploding out of the dark cloud that filled the forest before them. A man, no weapons, grey and gaunt, clothing tattered and hanging in strips. Its eyes were shadowed wells, lips thin and blue-black, teeth razored and glinting."
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"value": "Bleda felt the urge to turn and run.\n\nThe man-thing saw them, changed its course and ran at them.\n\nTuld's horse reared, Tuld falling backwards from his saddle, the horse lashing outwith its hooves at this new creature. Bleda heard the distinct sound of bones splintering as hooves connected with the newcomer's chest and shoulder. It flew backwards, rolled. Was still. And then it began to climb to its feet, one arm hanging limp. There was a series of juddering snaps as bones and joints struggled to support its weight, yet still it managed to regain its footing. It looked at them, and lips drew back in a parody of a smile.\n\nIt ran at them again.\n\nTuld's horse bolted, the Sirak warrior stumbling to his feet, Bleda moving to help him.\n\nTuld swung his sword, perfectly timed to connect with his attacker's neck, but somehow it swayed, Tuld's strike whistling harmlessly over its head, and then it was on him, slamming into Tuld with no thoughts of defence.\n\nThey rolled, Bleda running to reach them, Tuld's blade rising and falling, chopping and cutting into the creature's arm and back. And all the while it was biting Tuld, jaws unnaturally wide, crunching down onto whatever part of Tuld presented itself. His arm, his shoulder, hand, the side of his head.\n\nTuld was screaming.\n\nThey rolled to a stop, Tuld's sword arm flailing, Bleda reaching them, stabbing down with his sword into the creature's back. Bleda felt flesh part, his sword-point slipping through ribs into the vital parts of a human's body. He twisted his blade and wrenched it free, felt ribs snap."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The creature's jaws fastened around Tuld's neck. A savage shake of its head, and dark blood was jetting, Tuld's sword dropping from his fingers.\n\nBleda screamed his rage, hacked two-handed into the creature's neck, cutting almost to the spine.\n\nIt rolled off of Tuld, the Sirak warrior's blood drenching its lips and lower jaw, and it seemed almost to float back to its feet.\n\nThe drum of hooves and Ellac was there, chopping down at the creature. It swayed, lightning-fast, Ellac's sword slicing a chunk of flesh from its shoulder instead of hacking into its head.\n\n\"Get out of here,\" Ellac yelled, and Bleda wanted nothing more than to obey, to turn and run as fast as his feet could carry him.\n\nBut this thing had just killed Tuld. His oathsworn man.\n\nBleda raised his sword, chopped into its side, then drew his arm back and stepped into a lunge, his whole body weight behind the blow, stabbing the creature through its belly, his sword-point punching out through its back.\n\nIt looked at Bleda then, a dark malice leaking from its eyes. Then it grabbed the blade of Bleda's sword and began to drag itself along it, towards Bleda, its jaws chomping and gnashing in some kind of paroxysm of fury or hunger.\n\nEllac was still hacking down at the beast, rocking it, but having no other obvious effect.\n\nAnd then there was a rushing of wings, Riv appearing, her sword slicing into the creature's neck, once, twice, three times. The head rolled away and bounced on the ground as the thing collapsed. No expected jet of blood burst from the creature's severed stump, just a thick, pale, porridge-like substance. Bleda ripped his sword free and continued to hack at the corpse as it slumped to the ground, where it twitched and spasmed on the forest litter, fading to tremors, a shudder, and was then still."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What in the Otherworld was that?\" Riv snarled.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Bleda said, breathing heavily. \"But it came from there.\" He pointed with his sword at the black cloud that was rolling closer, filling the forest.\n\n\"Quickly,\" Riv said. \"Your mother needs you.\"\n\n\"What?\" Bleda hissed, a knife blade of worry twisting inside his belly.\n\nMore figures emerged from the dark, the same hollow eyes, thin lips and unpleasant-looking teeth. Five, ten, a score, more shapes shifting into focus behind them. They saw Bleda, Ellac and Riv and moved towards them, breaking into a run, frighteningly fast.\n\n\"RUN,\" Ellac yelled, guiding his horse in front of Bleda. He raised his sword and buckler at the rush of creatures swarming towards them.\n\nRiv swept Bleda up into her arms and kicked the rump of Ellac's horse, sending it bolting.\n\n\"Get back to the road,\" she yelled at Ellac as she leaped and beat her wings. \"Gather all you can-Erdene needs you.\" And then Bleda was being carried through the air, Riv twisting and turning, weaving through the trees and speeding towards the light that was growing somewhere ahead.\n\nAnd more importantly, away from those things behind us.\n\nThey burst out into daylight, Bleda blinking.\n\nThe roadside was littered with the dead, the acolytes that Bleda had repelled. A handful of Sirak horses were grazing on the roadside, riderless. Bleda looked up and saw the skies above were worryingly clear. The aerial war between Ben-Elim and Kadoshim had drifted along way down the road, back towards Drassil."
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"value": "The sounds of battle banished anymore thoughts.\n\nTo Bleda's right he could seethe backs of a host of Ferals.\n\n\"What's going on?\" Bleda said.\n\n\"I'll show you,\" Riv said, hoisting him into the air.\n\nThe road spread out beneath him. The Ferals he'd seen released from their cages were now only paces away from Erdene's warband. The Sirak had formed into a stationary circle, arrows launching out, because their path of retreat along the road had been blocked by another wain and cage. Its gate had been opened, another swarm of Ferals rampaging along the road towards Erdene.\n\nShe is finished. Ferals attacking from east and west, north and south blocked by the forest. And there is no escape beneath the trees, not after what I've just seen in there.\n\nEven as he looked, the Ferals that had been released first were slamming into Erdene's warband, a deafening crash as they ploughed through men and horses, the Ferals snarling, biting, clawing in a frenzy as they finally caught up with their prey.\n\nA raucous cheering from the skies drew Bleda's gaze into the distance. To his horror he saw that the Ben-Elim were breaking, wheeling away and trying to disengage from the Kadoshim and their half-breeds. Through the chaos he glimpsed white wings speeding westwards, those that could, Kadoshim jeering and whooping their victory.\n\nThey are abandoning us.\n\nCold rage at the Ben-Elim's betrayal and a deeper fear for his mother filled him.\n\nThere will be no help from the Ben-Elim, the cowards."
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"value": "The only hope is to punch through the Ferals to the west and retreat towards Drassil.\n\n\"Riv, put me down,\" Bleda said, and she dropped to the earth. Bleda ran for one of the Sirak horses and vaulted into the high-fronted saddle, tugging on the reins and guiding it towards his mother.\n\nEllac burst from the trees, scores of Bleda's guard at his back.\n\nBleda grinned to see them. He spurred his horse onto the road, Ellac and the others falling in behind him, spreading to either side, and as one they broke into a gallop towards Erdene. Towards a sea of Ferals.\n\nBleda took his bow from its case, reached for arrows from his quiver and then he was leaning into the high front of his saddle for balance, loosing arrow after arrow after arrow into the backs of the Ferals, Riv swooping above, her bow in her hand, loosing at large knots of Ferals. They howled and screamed, reaching, tearing at the pain in their backs. Some dropped to the ground, pierced countless times, others turned, enraged, and ran at Bleda and his remaining guard.\n\nOne Feral sped ahead of the rest, running low to the ground, almost on all fours, its distended long arms raking at the road. And then it was leaping into the air, its wide jaws a red maw, claws reaching for Bleda's throat.\n\nBleda leaned in his saddle, drew and loosed, putting an arrow into the Feral's eye, little more than the fletching left visible. It spasmed in the air, a convulsion of limbs as it died, crashing to the ground and rolling in a heap.\n\nBleda galloped past it."
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"value": "And then they were too close for arrows, Bleda's bow slipping back into its case, his sword hissing from its scabbard, all those along his line doing the same. They crashed into the rear of the creatures, hooves and horseflesh pounding, trampling, mangling the first line of the musclebound beasts. Bleda and his guard layabout them either side with their swords, hacking and chopping, sending great bloody gouts trailing through the air. Then they were slowing, the press and heave of bodies crushed together halting their advance. Ferals twisted to face this new foe, tearing at Bleda and his warriors. Bleda dug his heels into his horse, hacked and stabbed, but still he could not breakthrough to his mother's warriors. He could see them, hear his mother's voice as she bellowed at her enemy, but there were too many.\n\nA Feral climbed up a dying horse and leaped at Bleda; in mid-leap Riv crashed into it, sending it hurtling back to the ground, a red wound in its chest. She swooped backup, hovering above them to loose more arrows into the Ferals.\n\nWe cannot breakthrough to my mother. And there is another mass of Ferals beyond her.\n\nBleda felt his hope dying, vowed to sell his life as dearly as he could. Close by, he saw Ellac reel in his saddle, claws from a Feral opening up red wounds across his face.\n\nAnd then horns were blaring, from within the trees to his left. Cheren horns.\n\nUldin.\n\nHe saw riders appear, bursting from the treeline: Cheren warriors with their bows in their fists, hundreds of them. Uldin rode at their head, and Jin at his side. They thundered across the open space between the forest and road, and hope flickered in Bleda's heart."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "We may yet breakthrough, with the Cheren at our side.\n\nBleda's eyes met Jin's and she smiled at him, a cold, fierce thing.\n\nAnd then the Cheren ploughed into the flank of Erdene's warband and began cutting down Sirak warriors, screaming their battle-cries as they killed.\n\nAnd his mother's words returned to him, from that day on the weapons-field in Drassil. She had leaned close and whispered in his ear.\n\nNever trust the Cheren."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha held her fist up and called a halt. Shouted commands behind her.\n\nArn rode to her side.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" he said.\n\n\"This is the place,\" Fritha said.\n\nThey were standing at the crest of a ridge, along, gentle incline leading down to a crag-strewn plain. Red fern and yellow gorse dotted the landscape, dark scars marking ragged fissures and gullies that wound through the land like old, unhealed wounds. To the right a rocky precipice reared, scattered woodland before it.\n\n\"We will fight them here,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Here?\" Arn said. He looked around. \"It's too open.\" He had raised Fritha on the hit-and-run warfare of the outnumbered and out-skilled. It had done them well, seen their ranks grow and given them countless minor victories.\n\nBut this was the Order of the Bright Star they were about to fight. It would be one battle. One huge victory, or one crushing defeat.\n\nThey stand between me and my destiny, to destroy the Ben-Elim and their pathetic sycophants, the White-Wings.\n\nThe Order of the Bright Star will not keep me from that, no matter what its reputation is.\n\nBesides them Elise rippled on her coils. Wherever Fritha went, Elise was close by. She looked at Arn, her father, with the hint of a scowl and gave a disapproving rattle of her long, sinuous tail.\n\nThat is an interesting development.\n\n\"If Fritha saysss we fight here, then thisss is where we fight,\" Elise said. Her voice had changed, too, the edge of a reptilian hiss to it."
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"value": "Fritha liked these changes. And she liked Elise's loyalty, more apparent than before.\n\nArn frowned at his daughter but said nothing.\n\nFritha surveyed the land again.\n\n\"Here.\" She nodded and looked back over her shoulder.\n\nIn the distance pinpricks of fire bloomed, scores of them scattered across the landscape, and behind them dark stains of scorched, blackened earth. Holds and hamlets that Fritha had fired on her march south.\n\n\"Draw the Order out,\" Gulla had said, so Fritha had given their crows and scouts something to see, a warband slaughtering its way south, destroying all before it as it travelled.\n\nThat should stir the Order's sanctimonious heart, Fritha thought. Defender of the weak, they swear in their oath. That and the thought that Gulla is here should be enough to draw them. She had ordered Morn to stay in the sky as much as her stamina allowed, told her to make herself visible to the Order.\n\nOnly one Kadoshim for them to see, but where they see one, they should assume there are more. Especially when combined with the tale Drem and the others will be telling.\n\nCloser to her, gathered just behind the ridge, her warband stood waiting.\n\nTo Fritha they looked impressive. Five hundred mounted warriors, her Red Right Hand decked in leather and fur and bristling with sharp steel. They were flanked on the left by Gunil upon his bear, and Wrath on the right. He had grown again during their journey south, eating his way through all that crossed his path. Wrath had learned to use his wings, descending upon elk and deer from above. The draig was almost as big as a horse, now. Not as tall, but wider and longer with its thick tail. Fritha suspected that he might be strong enough to carry her into the air."
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"value": "Morn the half-breed flew in lazy circles above the warband. Fritha's Ferals were nowhere to be seen, but Fritha was not concerned about that. She had commanded them to disperse across the land. They were close, she knew, could feel their presence, a tingle in her blood. They would come when she summoned them, of that she had no doubt.\n\nIt had been practical to send them out, an attempt to hide them from the prying eyes of talking crows, and also alleviating the requirement of feeding them. The Ferals could forage for their own meals. Food was what slowed the march of a warband, and reducing that need had contributed much to the speed with which Fritha and her small warband had covered the ground in the ten-night or so that she had been travelling since leaving the mine at Starstone Lake.\n\nShe looked at her Red Right Hand again, flanked with a mongrel guard of monsters.\n\nShe thought they were a fearsome sight. But she knew the warband coming to destroy her would be vastly larger. Morn had sighted the dust cloud of the Order of the Bright Star, flown close enough to spy great numbers of giant bears amongst their number. Two thousand swords coming against them, at least, Morn had told her. Fritha had expected nothing less. The lure of Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim, was too great to resist.\n\n\"We have at least a day, perhaps two, to prepare for them. Morn says they're a day's march away from us, at least.\"\n\n\"But how will we hide from them here? How will we ambush them?\" Arn asked, risking a baleful glare from his daughter and another rattle of her white-scaled tail.\n\n\"We won't,\" Fritha said. \"There is no hope of that, anyway. With their murder of meddling crows in the sky, my guess is that we have already been seen. I hope we have been seen. That is the plan.\" Although since Wrath had mastered his wings and had taken to spending more time in the air, it seemed to Fritha that the skies were clearer."
},
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"value": "There is anew predator in the skies.\n\nNevertheless, Fritha had little doubt that her warband had been spotted, even if the crows were too scared to fly closer and spy out the details.\n\n\"We may as well let them come to us. At least that way we do not risk them walking around us.\"\n\n\"We must attack with surprise, it is our only hope,\" Arn said.\n\nFritha looked at Arn, astern glance. She loved and respected him, but she was becoming vexed by his lack of faith in her.\n\n\"We cannot defeat the Order of the Bright Star the way you are used to fighting, Arn,\" Fritha said firmly. \"Scattered ambushes, hit and run, it will notwork. Their scouts are too good. And besides, it would take too long. We need a decisive win. I must reach Drassil before Midsummer's Day.\"\n\n\"But we are too few, and are not White-Wings, masters of the shield wall.\"\n\nFritha shouted orders and clicked her horse on.\n\nThe warband rippled into motion behind her, following her down the ridge, though every other warrior remained.\n\n\"What are we doing?\" Arn asked.\n\nI wish you would just trust me, Fritha thought, reining in her annoyance.\n\n\"We shall march forward a few leagues to draw the eyes of the Order. They will not think to scout behind us.\" She glanced over her shoulder, saw those she had ordered to remain were now dismounting and reaching for their packs. \"There will be one battle to decide this, Arn, but a few surprises will not hurt,\" Fritha said with a smile.\n\n\"One battle.\" Arn frowned. \"Do you think we can win?\""
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"value": "She glanced at her warband, then at Wrath and Elise.\n\n\"Just us, no,\" she said.\n\nShe looked to her left and saw in the distance a creeping mist that coated the lower ground, following the cracks and gullies that spread like a great cobweb across the land. It almost looked as if the mist were following her.\n\n\"But with Ulf and his Revenants, yes.\""
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"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Bleda knelt in the dirt, spat a glob of blood from his mouth.\n\nHis wrists and ankles were bound and he was tied to a stake. Afire-pit crackled in front of him. He saw weapons piled close to the fire, the distinct shape of Sirak bows, and scabbarded swords there, too. Beyond the reach of the fire-pit's light Bleda saw the denser shadows of trees, heard the rustle of the wind in branches.\n\nWe are on the roadside, then?\n\nTied opposite him was his mother, her face crusted with blood, one eye swollen shut. Her jaw was an odd shape, looked as if it had been broken, her lips cut and mangled.\n\nShe saw him looking at her, and her lips moved, a croaked whisper coming out of the pulped ruin that had been her mouth.\n\n\"Stay... strong,\" she whispered.\n\nThe words hit Bleda, the same ones she had said to him so long ago. The day Bleda's life had changed, the day his brother's head had been thrown at his feet.\n\nThe day the Sirak fought the Cheren.\n\nHe took a deep breath, trying to steady the anger and fear swirling through his veins.\n\nFigures stood at the edge of the firelight, Cheren guards. They were talking amongst themselves, but Bleda felt their eyes at his slightest movement.\n\nNever trust the Cheren. Mother was right. I hate them, curse their name. If I ever get out of these bonds, Uldin and Jin, I will kill you both.\n\nHe had not been conscious long, his last memory of the battle was of a Cheren warrior stabbing at Ellac, Bleda trying to reach him, carving his way through the sea of flesh between them, and then a blow across his shoulders and neck that sent him falling from his saddle, crunching to the ground. And then... nothing. Until he had awoken to find himself bound and staked like a goat ready for slaughter."
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"value": "Uldin must have known of the attack. His idea of rotating the vanguard and rearguard put him in the perfect position to avoid any real conflict with the Kadoshim and their servants.\n\nBut what of his attack? His wounds when he arrived at Drassil, and the wounds of his riders? All a ruse?\n\nBleda shifted, trying to ease the strain on his wrists. His lamellar coat wasn't making moving any easier.\n\nFootsteps: Uldin and Jin walking into the light cast by the fire-pit, a handful of Cheren at their back.\n\n\"You're awake, good,\" Uldin said.\n\n\"I will kill you for this,\" Bleda fumed.\n\n\"You have lost,\" Uldin said with barely repressed disdain. \"Tricked and defeated like bairns. At least do not shame yourself with threats you have no hope of keeping. A childlike display. You have little left to you, but you can still die like a warrior of the Horse Clans, with some semblance of honour.\"\n\nUldin's words only incensed Bleda more, a burning rage consuming him that he had never felt or known before. This betrayal somehow struck him as hard as his brother's death. He strained against his bonds, bucking, veins bulging, skin tearing on his wrists. Uldin and Jin stood over him, staring.\n\n\"To think you could have been handbound to this pathetic, weak worm,\" Uldin said to Jin. \"Even at the last he cannot master his emotions. He is like a child.\"\n\nJin just stared at Bleda, a cold fire in her eyes.\n\n\"Only a day ago she was still pleading with me to let you live,\" Uldin said. \"Until she saw you last night, with the half-breed.\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The noise in the glade-it was Jin.\n\n\"I told you not to shame me,\" Jin said. She stared at him along while, perhaps expecting him to say something, but Bleda had nothing left to say.\n\n\"You gave your half-breed a gift,\" Jin said. \"I have a gift for you, too.\"\n\nJin's honour guard, Gerel, stepped forwards. He held something in his hands, a severed head, gripping it by a Sirak warrior braid. With a contemptuous shrug, Gerel threw the head at Bleda's feet. It rolled, stopped, eyes staring at Bleda.\n\nIt was Mirim, his honour guard.\n\nI sent her to ask Uldin to guard the right flank. Never noticed that she did not return.\n\nHe thought of standing in his chamber as Mirim, Tuld and Ruga had dressed him for war, thought of the words he had said to them, and to all of his hundred, before they had ridden out to war.\n\n.?.?. I swear to you all, I will not let you down, I will lead you to the best of my abilities.\n\nAre they all dead, my hundred?\n\nShame swept him.\n\nAnd what of Riv?\n\nHe remembered her flying overhead, guarding his back as he strove through the sea of Ferals.\n\nThe thought of Riv lying dead upon the road, combined with his complete and utter failure to keep his oath to his honour guard, tore at his heart. He felt a deep despair open within him, a bottomless hole draining his strength.\n\nUldin walked around the fire-pit and squatted before Erdene. One eye was closed tight, swollen and bruised, but her other eye fixed on Uldin fiercely."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We are old adversaries, you and I,\" Uldin said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My son slew your husband. You slew my son. Our war should have decided things between us, but the Ben-Elim intervened.\" He shifted his weight, twisted his neck and cracked it.\n\n\"Ah, I am old, I feel it in my bones. But today I feel young again, Erdene. Six years since that day. Six years it has taken to best my foe. I want you to know that I respect you, Erdene, for your strength, for your wisdom. How you fought those Ferals upon the road, it was a joy to see. Your battle fame only makes my victory greater and more glorious.\" He smiled, a slow, languorous thing upon his face, showing Erdene that there was no reason for him to hide his emotions, because his victory was total.\n\n\"Do not think this is over, Uldin,\" Erdene said, her voice slurred through her pulped, swollen lips. \"Just because I am in a tight spot right now. All can change on the edge of a knife's blade.\" Her open eye flickered fora heartbeat to Bleda.\n\nTight spot. Knife's blade.\n\n\"This is no tight spot,\" Uldin said. \"This is your end. Your warband is slaughtered or scattered. You are two hundred leagues from Arcona and your homeland. There is no walking away from this.\"\n\nA turbulence in the air above them, all within the light of the fire-pit looking up. Dark shapes dropped out of the sky.\n\nKadoshim. Seven of them, the whisper of wings in the air above hinting at more.\n\nThey were tall, elegant, handsome in much the same way as the Ben-Elim, clean-shaven and fine-boned, though there was something oddly reptilian or raptor-like about them, in the set of their eyes and the way their heads moved, from absolute stillness to abruptly sharp, economical speed. They wore coats of dark mail, their leathery wings furled, arching behind their shoulders like high-backed cloaks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then there was one more. Bleda recognized him as the one who had set the Ferals free. He was taller than the others, his limbs longer, and his face was drawn, the angles of his features more extreme, all sharp planes, ridges and hollows, shadows shifting across his face as the firelight flickered. One of his eyes was missing, just a shadowed hole, but Bleda's eyes were drawn to his mouth, which seemed too big for his face, and filled with too many teeth. There was a black edge to him, as if he were etched in shadow that even the firelight could not penetrate.\n\n\"You have done well, Uldin,\" the tallest Kadoshim said, his voice a scratching hiss that seemed to echo inside Bleda's skull.\n\n\"Thank you, my Lord Gulla,\" Uldin said, bowing his head.\n\nThis is Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim.\n\n\"Kol and his Ben-Elim are broken, routed. They will flee for Drassil, but they only saw the Ferals. They know nothing of my Revenants, or that you are with me. You did well to hold your attack until they were fleeing, their backs to us. They know nothing of your betrayal.\"\n\n\"All is as you planned it, then,\" Uldin said.\n\n\"It is. One hundred and thirty years in the making, and all the sweeter for it.\" Gulla allowed a smile to flicker across his face. He looked at Bleda then, and Bleda felt as if a weight had pushed him to the ground and was pressing upon his chest. Terror shifted inside him, Gulla's eyes boring into him, pinning him. When Gulla's gaze moved on, Bleda felt breathless, as if he had been underwater too long."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gulla looked to Erdene, and she met his gaze.\n\n\"The queen and prince of your ancient foe,\" Gulla said.\n\n\"Aye, my Lord,\" Uldin answered.\n\nErdene's words nagged in Bleda's head.\n\nA tight spot. A knife's edge. They were familiar.\n\nNot her words, someone else's.\n\nAnd then it came to him.\n\nOld Ellac.\n\nHe shifted his weight as Gulla spoke with Uldin, the attention of his guards on these two victorious leaders fora few moments.\n\n\"I have news, my Lord,\" Uldin said. \"Kol joined us last night and called a council of war.\"\n\nSome of the other Kadoshim snorted laughter at that.\n\n\"There are five hundred White-Wings on the road from Drassil, and there are scouting bands in the forest.\"\n\n\"All the better,\" Gulla hissed. \"The fewer bodies they have to man Drassil's walls, the better. The Ferals are still loose, what is left of them. They are wild, beyond my control, but I imagine they will leave a mark upon these White-Wings and scouts. The rest I shall leave for my Revenants.\"\n\nUldin dipped his head.\n\n\"Do not linger here,\" Gulla said. \"I need you at the gates of Drassil four days from now. This battle is won, but there will be survivors, and they will try to make their way back to Drassil. My Revenants are scouring the forest, but there is no guarantee that they will find every survivor. We must move fast and reach Drassil's walls soon. Word of your true allegiance must not reach the fortress. My Kadoshim and our children have routed Kol and his Ben-Elim, but there are still too many of them at Drassil. We will not take the fortress from the skies alone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I understand,\" Uldin said. \"I will be there, and soon. We will ride hard, using the road. It will be impossible for survivors on foot in the forest to reach Drassil before us.\"\n\n\"Good. Then enjoy your revenge.\"\n\nGulla glanced from Bleda to Erdene.\n\n\"You chose the wrong side,\" he hissed. Gulla looked at the Kadoshim around him, and grinned, a humourless distortion of his face.\n\n\"We are for some night-hunting. In case there are wounded Ben-Elim out there.\" One last look at Uldin. \"I will see you soon. Do not fail me.\"\n\nWith a storm of beating wings the Kadoshim took to the air, the flames of the fire-pit crackling and hissing.\n\nThe Kadoshim horde, flying for Drassil.\n\n\"So, to my revenge, as Gulla advised,\" Uldin said. He stepped towards Erdene, a hand reaching to the knife on his weapons-belt.\n\n\"Gulla did not advise you. He ordered you,\" Bleda said with a sneer. If Uldin wasn't afraid to show his emotions, then he certainly wouldn't be either. \"You are his servant, his whipped dog. Not slave to the Ben-Elim, no, but you have another master, all the same.\"\n\nUldin stopped, turned and looked at Bleda.\n\n\"Not my master, my ally,\" Uldin said.\n\n\"Really? I did not hear Gulla call you Lord. Yet that is what you called him. Yes, my Lord Gulla, I will not be late, my Lord Gulla. And you bowed. Since when do the Horse Clans bow to anyone?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You bleat like a goat,\" Uldin said, walking towards Bleda."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You will stop, or I will make you stop.\"\n\n\"Best not take too long about it, though,\" Bleda told him. \"Or your Lord Gulla will be disappointed you didn't obey his orders.\"\n\nA twitch of emotion on Uldin's face, his grip tightening on his knife hilt.\n\n\"He is mine to kill, Father,\" Jin said.\n\n\"Oh ho, someone else who gives the great Uldin orders,\" Bleda said.\n\nUldin drew his knife and knelt beside Bleda, close enough for him to smell his sweat, and the goat's milk on his breath.\n\nBleda slashed the sharpened iron plate from his lamellar coat across Uldin's face, the Cheren King falling backwards with a cry, dropping his knife.\n\nAll the while Uldin and Gulla had been speaking of their victory and plans, Bleda had been working at the sharpened iron plate on his lamellar coat, slowly cutting away at the bonds on his wrist and then ankles.\n\nHe scrambled after Uldin now, his legs numb but working, threw himself onto the big man as all around him warriors shouted. Bleda's right hand reached to the sleeve of his coat, found the hidden flap, the worn leather hilt. He drew it and stabbed Uldin, low in the waist, Uldin crying out. And then he was hauling Uldin to his feet, his knife at the king's throat.\n\nJin and her guard had their bows levelled at Bleda, but he was hidden behind the bulk of Uldin.\n\n\"Cut my mother's bonds,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"No,\" Jin said.\n\n\"Cut my mother's bonds, and give her a horse,\" Bleda told her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Let my father go,\" Jin said, stepping closer to Erdene, \"or I will kill your mother.\"\n\n\"You were going to kill her anyway. Let her go or I give your father the red smile.\"\n\n\"Shoot him,\" Uldin said. \"Put an arrow in his eye.\"\n\nBut Bleda knew they could not. Uldin was a big man; Bleda was hidden behind him, only his knife hand visible as he held his blade at Uldin's throat.\n\n\"Get behind him, idiots,\" Uldin grunted, and warriors around Jin began to move.\n\nBleda knew it was over, then, that he only had moments until Cheren warriors would have a clearer shot at his body. He dragged Uldin back a step, almost instantly realizing that was futile.\n\nHe embraced his death. Wished that he could see Riv one more time.\n\n\"Mother, see me,\" he cried. \"Erdene, Queen of the Sirak, I am your last son, Bleda. Watch me slay our ancient foe, Uldin, King of the Cheren.\" And he stabbed his knife into Uldin's throat, and then cut outwards, severing artery and windpipe together. A dark jet of blood and Uldin was slumping, collapsing to his knees. He gurgled wordlessly and toppled face-first onto the ground.\n\nBleda raised his arms wide, looked at his mother as the Cheren bows aimed at him. Saw the pride and love in her eyes. He smiled at her.\n\n\"He is mine,\" Jin cried, taking a step forwards, her arrow nocked and drawn. She stared at Bleda.\n\n\"I could have loved you,\" she whispered. \"Did love you. But now I hate you with all that I am. Know this, Bleda, that I will slay your mother once you are dead, and her death shall be slow.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A whistling sound and an arrow slammed into Jin's shoulder, spinning her. Jin's bow-arm jerked, her arrow flying from the string, piercing a Cheren warrior to her left. He fell with a scream.\n\nAnother arrow arching down from above, a Cheren warrior stumbling, a goose-fletched arrow sticking from his thigh.\n\nRiv.\n\nAnd then mounted figures were bursting into the firelight-two, three, more-arrows thrumming, a snatched glimpse of Ellac swinging his sword, and all about him Cheren warriors were reeling, falling, blood spraying.\n\nBleda lurched into motion, crashed into a Cheren warrior with his bow aiming into the night sky, searching for Riv. He stabbed his knife into the man's belly, ripped it free and threw the warrior away from him, snatched the scabbarded sword upon the warrior's back, continued his staggering run towards Erdene.\n\nRiv swooped out of the sky, plummeting into the midst of them. Her bow was back in its case, a short-sword in each hand, and she was carving a bloody ruin around her, Cheren warriors reeling away. She saw Bleda and flew towards him, weaving in the air, something odd about her flight. He pointed to his mother as he staggered towards her.\n\nJin appeared out of the chaos, stepping behind Bleda's mother, her left arm hanging limp, a sword in her right fist. She saw Bleda, snarled at him, her face of stone gone, and plunged her sword into Erdene. The blade stabbed down, high in the back, down into Erdene's chest cavity.\n\nBleda screamed.\n\nHis mother jerked in her bonds, Jin twisting her blade, ripping it free. A gout of blood from Erdene's mouth, a spasm through her whole body, and then Bleda saw the life leave her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The world slowed around him. He heard someone screaming, distantly realizing it was his own voice as he leaped the fire-pit, eyes fixed on Jin. His grip tightened on the blades in either hand, sword and knife.\n\nBut then figures were swirling between them, amounted Sirak warrior, Cheren Clansmen all around her, dragging her from her saddle. Bleda looked around, heard the horn blasts spreading the alarm, saw more Cheren warriors pouring into the firelight.\n\nAnd then Riv's arms were around him, pulling him, lifting him.\n\n\"There is no time,\" she was yelling through the red fog in his head. \"We must run, live to fight.\" And she was trying to lift him into the air.\n\n\"Mother,\" he cried, pulling free, and Riv followed him, grabbing him.\n\n\"The dead cannot seek revenge,\" she shouted into his face. He stopped, the truth of her words hitting him like a blow.\n\nI will have my revenge.\n\nBleda embraced Riv. As she began to hoist him into the air he sheathed his knife back in its hidden pocket and leaned and lunged at the bundle of weapons by the fire, gripped his bow, and then they were airborne, juddering up and away, into the cover of darkness.\n\n\"Ellac, the others,\" Bleda said, not willing to leave his warriors again.\n\n\"They are running, too,\" Riv said. \"Look.\"\n\nBleda saw riders scattering out from the fire-pit, riding in all directions.\n\n\"They will lead the Cheren a merry chase, but they know whereto meet us.\"\n\nThey weaved through the air, the glow of the fire-pit shrinking below."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What's wrong?\" Bleda asked. Riv was breathing heavily and they were swaying. It felt nothing like when Riv had carried him away from the Revenant in the forest, all strength and weightlessness.\n\n\"One of those Cheren bastards put an arrow in my wing,\" Riv snarled. \"When Uldin attacked on the road.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Bleda breathed.\n\n\"For what?\" Riv asked.\n\n\"For saving me.\"\n\nRiv smiled. \"I love you, Bleda,\" she said, as if that answered everything.\n\nBleda looked down at the retreating glare and saw the prone body of his mother. Jin was standing over her, eyes searching the night sky.\n\n\"I will see you dead, Jin ap Uldin,\" Bleda whispered. \"On my mother's soul I swear it, and on the souls of my people that your treachery has murdered.\"\n\nRiv heard him, but she said nothing. As silent as mist they swept away from the Cheren and into the dark of Forn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem saw the line of warriors upon the crest of the ridge ahead, at least two or three thousand paces away. From down herein the vale it was impossible to tell how many of them there were, just along line of roughly a hundred swords that disappeared beyond the ridge-line. It could be ten rows deep or fifty.\n\n\"Why won't the crows fly closer?\" he asked Cullen, who apart from Tain Crow Master seemed to have the closest relationship with the crows of Dun Seren.\n\n\"Something's spooking them,\" Cullen said. \"And Byrne and Tain are telling them not to fly too close. Because of Flick.\"\n\nFlick still hadn't comeback, and Drem thought the same as most others. That Flick was dead. Drem was sad about that, he had liked the crow.\n\n\"What's the plan, then?\" Drem asked.\n\nThey had sighted their enemy early, but almost immediately Gulla's warband had made an orderly retreat. The Order had followed, scouts flanking wide and ahead to search out any ambushes they might have been lured into, but nothing had happened. Now the Order was spread along the lower reaches of a vale, the enemy halting their steady retreat and gathering atop a ridge before them. Above the enemy warband Drem saw dark specks in the sky, a handful of Dun Seren's crows circling high. Morning mist still lingered in low-lying spots, where it pooled and swirled. Along, gentle incline rose ahead of them, mostly open ground punctuated with swathes of red fern and clumps of gorse. To Drem's left was scattered woodland that rolled up to a sheer granite outcrop, and to his right the ground was bordered by one of the twisting, cracked ravines that littered the Desolation's landscape, like the ones they had used for cover after leaving the Bonefells."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Best ask the boss,\" Keld said, pointing at Byrne.\n\nShe was upon her horse at the head of their loosely ordered warband, roughly a dozen rows ahead of Drem. Balur and Ethlinn were leaning in the saddles of their great bears and talking with her.\n\nEthlinn's giants, three or four hundred of them, were gathered on the right flank, at least half of them mounted upon bears. The bulk of the Order's warriors were arrayed in amass in the centre of the vale, Drem glimpsing Utul and his Jehar warriors by the swords jutting over their shoulders. The huntsmen and their wolven-hounds were spread along the left flank. Keld had ignored the order when they'd left camp that morning to gather with the other scouts.\n\n\"Why are you not with the scouts?\" Drem asked Keld, in his usual diplomatic way.\n\nKeld looked at him a moment.\n\n\"Because someone's got to keep an eye on young Cullen,\" he said, giving Drem a wink.\n\n\"I can look after myself,\" Cullen murmured distractedly, eyes fixed on the line of warriors at the top of the ridge.\n\nDrem suspected Keld's presence was more to do with looking after him than Cullen.\n\n\"Come on, Byrne,\" Cullen muttered. \"Let's just get on with it.\"\n\n\"Patience, lad,\" Keld said. \"See,\" he said to Drem. \"If he was left to his own devices, he'd be running up the hill at them right now.\"\n\n\"The people that killed Sig are up there,\" Cullen growled, his face pale, a look in his eyes Drem hadn't seen before. \"I've spent the last few moons running from them, when all I've wanted to do is turnaround and carve some vengeance in their hides. And now they're right there. I can't be doing with this waiting.\" He looked at them both. \"When I close my eyes at night, all I see is Sig, telling us to strap her to a post.\" A tear filled his eye, ran down his cheek. Then his lips twisted. \"They're going to pay for what they did to her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He wiped the tears from his face, sniffed.\n\n\"Besides, they have the high ground, so they're not going to be obliging and march down hereto fight us,\" Cullen said. \"So we might as well just walk up there and get on with it.\"\n\n\"You're not the only one that wants to avenge Sig,\" Keld said. \"There's not a warrior of the Order whose life Sig didn't touch.\" He squeezed Cullen's shoulder. \"Won't belong, lad.\" At Cullen's words there was anew fire in his eyes, too.\n\nHe held a hand up over his eyes. \"I can see loads of those shaven-haired bastards, but where's Gulla and his brood?\"\n\nThat was a good question, and Drem was wondering where Morn was, too. He'd seen her in the sky many times over the last three days, ever since they'd left the wasteground that had been Dalgarth behind them. But now she was nowhere to be seen.\n\nAbsently, his hand went to his neck and checked his pulse.\n\nTwo crows flew away from the ridge top, sweeping back down the slope towards Byrne. They circled above her; a flapping of wings and they were alighting on Byrne's saddle. Drem could hear squawking, saw Byrne's head nodding. She looked to Balur and Ethlinn, more words passing between them.\n\n\"Here we go,\" Cullen said.\n\nByrne twisted in her saddle and said something to a warrior behind her, who raised a horn to his lips and blew.\n\nEthlinn and Balur rode their bears back to the giants on the right flank.\n\nMen and women dismounted and moved into the open space before Byrne, shrugging their round shields from their backs. They formed into three groups, each one around two hundred swords strong. Another horn blast and those shields came together with a crack, and suddenly they were solid shield walls."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Byrne signalled, and more horns rang out.\n\nKeld looked at Drem and Cullen. \"Be seeing you soon,\" he said, dismounted and handed his reins to Drem.\n\nOther huntsmen made their way forwards, threading between the shield walls and forming a row before them.\n\nA horn signal, and the huntsmen and shield walls began to walk up the hill.\n\nByrne raised an arm and then pointed at the ridge, touched her heels to her mount and followed them.\n\nDrem and all those warriors of the Bright Star still mounted rippled into movement behind Byrne. With a jangling and creaking of bridles and harness, they began to move up the slope, hooves a thudding drumbeat pounding a slow, steady time on the turf. To the right Drem could feel the rumble of three hundred bears and giants following suit.\n\nHe felt his heart thumping in his chest, a blend of fear and excitement filling him, all around him. He rolled his shoulders. He was more used to the weight of his mail shirt now, after riding, eating and sleeping in it for four days and nights. Even if the skin of his shoulders had been chafed redraw. The one thing that set him apart from most of the warriors of the Order was the lack of a shield slung across his back. Cullen and Keld had big round shields with the four-pointed white star emblazoned upon them. Drem wanted to embrace the Order, felt he'd learned so much in the short time that he'd spent there, but to use a shield in battle felt like a step too far at the moment.\n\n\"A shield'll save your life,\" Cullen had said to him, and Drem didn't doubt it, but the more he'd trained, the more he'd realized he gravitated to fighting with two weapons in his hands, preferably his seax and axe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The best defence is to attack,\" Keld had said to him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You'll be one of us huntsmen before your training's over.\"\n\n\"I'll have to make do with this mail shirt, for now,\" Drem had answered.\n\nSeeing their foe lined up along the crest of the ridge, though, he was starting to regret that decision.\n\nThey were closer now, roughly six or seven hundred paces from the ridge and their enemy. Drem searched their line for Fritha, but could not see her pale, fair stubble amongst those on the ridge.\n\nFour hundred paces and the huntsmen halted, the shield walls and mounted warriors behind all undulating to a halt. With all of the warriors that had formed the shield wall and huntsmen's line, Drem and Cullen were close to Byrne now, in the row behind her.\n\nThe huntsmen began to string their bows, men and women taking a handful of arrows from quivers at their hips and stabbing them into the ground in front of them.\n\nUpon the ridge Drem heard a shouted command and saw shields appear, the warriors up there forming a wall of shields of their own.\n\nThey can do that better than I expected.\n\nA shout from the line of huntsmen, arrows nocked, drawn and loosed in one heartbeat, a volley rising high into the sky, arcing down towards the ridge top, drumming into the wall of shields, sounding like hail on turf. A few screams echoed down the slope, Drem spying half a dozen shields tremble and fall. More shields filled the gaps.\n\nAnother volley was in the air, and then another, and another.\n\n\"It's a hard thing, standing and facing a volley or three of arrows,\" Cullen said with a grin. \"Takes some stones. This should soften them up, get them rattled before we even get started.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the story as the writer's narrative assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 54"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The best defence is to attack,\" Keld had said to him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You'll be one of us huntsmen before your training's over.\"\n\n\"I'll have to make do with this mail shirt, for now,\" Drem had answered.\n\nSeeing their foe lined up along the crest of the ridge, though, he was starting to regret that decision.\n\nThey were closer now, roughly six or seven hundred paces from the ridge and their enemy. Drem searched their line for Fritha, but could not see her pale, fair stubble amongst those on the ridge.\n\nFour hundred paces and the huntsmen halted, the shield walls and mounted warriors behind all undulating to a halt. With all of the warriors that had formed the shield wall and huntsmen's line, Drem and Cullen were close to Byrne now, in the row behind her.\n\nThe huntsmen began to string their bows, men and women taking a handful of arrows from quivers at their hips and stabbing them into the ground in front of them.\n\nUpon the ridge Drem heard a shouted command and saw shields appear, the warriors up there forming a wall of shields of their own.\n\nThey can do that better than I expected.\n\nA shout from the line of huntsmen, arrows nocked, drawn and loosed in one heartbeat, a volley rising high into the sky, arcing down towards the ridge top, drumming into the wall of shields, sounding like hail on turf. A few screams echoed down the slope, Drem spying half a dozen shields tremble and fall. More shields filled the gaps.\n\nAnother volley was in the air, and then another, and another.\n\n\"It's a hard thing, standing and facing a volley or three of arrows,\" Cullen said with a grin. \"Takes some stones. This should soften them up, get them rattled before we even get started.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A few arrows flickered back at them, flying up from the ridge and down the slope. Cullen slung his shield from his shoulder and leaned to hold it over Drem as well. There was a stuttered thumping as the arrows thumped into turf or wood. A solitary yell, but the arrows did little damage-there were too few of them.\n\nAnother volley from the Order's huntsmen, a handful of screams from the ridge, and then Byrne signalled fora horn to be blown.\n\nThe huntsmen dropped back between the shield walls, most of them reforming on foot on the left flank. Keld slipped back to Drem and Cullen. Drem handed Keld his reins and the huntsman climbed back into the saddle of his mount.\n\nByrne's hornsman was about to blow anew signal when a gap opened in the line on the ridge and a giant emerged, riding upon a bear. Gunil. His hair raven black, long moustache knotted with leather, his war-hammer slung across his back.\n\nDrem heard a muttering from amongst the giants upon the right flank, felt his own breath catch.\n\nThey helped to kill my da.\n\nGunil rode his bear down the ridge, thirty or forty paces, then reined in. He leaned down in his saddle and lifted something that was hanging from a harness.\n\nDrem felt a fist clench in his gut, because he knew what it was even before Gunil spoke. He felt Keld and Cullen tense beside him.\n\n\"No,\" Cullen hissed.\n\n\"A gift for you,\" Gunil roared, his voice echoing down the vale, and he lifted Sig's severed head and swung it around his head by her long blonde warrior braid, then hurled it down the ridge at them. It arced up into the sky, then descended, bouncing and then rolling to stop a hundred or so paces before the advancing warband."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gunil sat tall in his saddle, arms outspread.\n\n\"There lies Sig, your greatest warrior, slain by ME,\" Gunil cried. \"And I ask you: WHO'S NEXT?\"\n\nHe shrugged his war-hammer from his back and raised it over his head, bellowing wordlessly at the Order of the Bright Star and giants as if he would challenge them all.\n\nA terrible silence settled over the slope, Drem's eyes focused only on Sig's severed head.\n\n\"I AM,\" a voice shouted in response, right next to Drem.\n\nCullen gave a wordless shriek and kicked his mount, the horse leaping away. Keld snatched at Cullen's reins but grabbed only air, and then Cullen's horse was breaking into a gallop, threading between the shield walls and pounding up the slope.\n\nOthers broke along the line, following Cullen; to Drem's right there was a roaring of bears and a handful of giants burst into motion.\n\n\"HOLD,\" Byrne yelled, but the ground was shaking and warriors were yelling, Cullen louder than any of them as he pounded towards Gunil.\n\nKeld and Drem shared a look and then Keld was urging his mount on, Drem close behind him.\n\nA black-winged shape rose up from behind the warriors on the ridge, Drem recognizing it as the half-breed, but shouts came up from the enemy warband of, \"GULLA, GULLA.\"\n\nBehind him Drem heard warriors roaring battle-cries as they saw what they thought was the Lord of their ancient foe, and then more warriors were galloping up the hill.\n\nTo his right Drem glimpsed Balur One-Eye yelling and then joining them in their charge up the slope, or maybe he was trying to stop Cullen. Either way, in a few heartbeats scores of giants were surging after him like water smashing through a dam."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The half-breed swept lowdown the slope, wheeled high and then stooped into a dive.\n\nStraight at Cullen.\n\nHer arm drew back and she hurled her spear.\n\nCullen didn't even see it coming.\n\nIt struck his horse in the neck, a scream, blood spurting, and the animal's legs gave way, Cullen going down in an explosion of turf and dirt. Drem lost sight of him as others surged pastor over him, Drem could not tell.\n\nKeld yelled something, spurred his mount faster, Drem leaning low in his saddle and doing the same. All was dirt and thunder, pounding hooves and warriors yelling.\n\nThen Keld was leaping from his saddle, running to a fallen horse. Drem dragged on his reins, turning his mount to stand between Keld and the riders galloping up the field behind them, waving his arms in an attempt to force them around him.\n\nHe heard Keld grunting and heard Cullen's voice shouting, risked a glimpse and saw Cullen had a leg trapped beneath his dead horse, Keld dragging him free.\n\nThe riders thinned around Drem, now, and he saw that there was an open space, then Byrne leading the shield walls and those riders close to her who had refrained from the charge.\n\n\"Give me a horse,\" Cullen yelled behind Drem, and he turned to seethe red-haired warrior on his feet, limping towards Drem, frantically searching fora mount that he could use.\n\n\"Hold, lad,\" Keld was shouting at him.\n\nThere were no riderless mounts to be had.\n\n\"Here,\" Drem called out, offering Cullen his hand. Cullen limped over and Drem pulled him up behind him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Goon, Drem, ride on,\" Cullen urged as Keld remounted.\n\nDrem paused a moment to stare ahead.\n\nBalur's bear had surged into the lead, twenty or thirty paces clear of the tide of warriors charging up the slope.\n\nGunil grinned and brandished his war-hammer at Balur, yelling insults.\n\nBalur's bear rushed up the incline, ploughing through red fern between crags and out onto an open space beyond, forty or fifty more bears powering close behind them, the giants bellowing war-cries, the bears roaring their own wordless fury. The ground trembled with their charge, the sound like a hundred thunderstorms rolled into one.\n\nBalur was close, now, only a hundred or so paces from Gunil, the bears behind Balur gaining.\n\nAnd then the ground beneath Balur's feet just seemed to... disappear, opening up into a deep pit.\n\nThe giant and his bear fell, crashing out of view, the bears behind him following in a tumble of limbs and fur, other riders bellowing commands, reining their mounts in, but more were falling, disappearing into huge pits that spread across the incline.\n\nA great cloud of dust exploded from the pits the bears had fallen into, expanding and rolling down the slope, closely followed by the screams of giants and bears."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My thanks, Drem, for another gift you've given me,\" Fritha said, looking at and listening to the destruction her staked pits were wreaking upon the giants and their bears.\n\nShe stood in a knot of woodland on the far right of her line, Arn and a handful of her Red Right Hand with her, along with Elise and Wrath. The draig was fixated on the bears charging up the slope, rumbling low growls and snapping his jaws.\n\n\"Your plan is a successsss,\" Elise hissed beside her.\n\n\"The battle's not won yet,\" Fritha said.\n\nThere were still giants upon their bears tumbling into the pits, as more ran into them from behind, ramming them forwards and over the edges of the pits. But there were still far too many bears and giants left on the slope for Fritha's liking. Perhaps fifty or sixty had been swallowed into the enormous holes, but that still left hundreds of giants moving rapidly closer to them.\n\n\"It's a good start, though,\" Fritha murmured to Elise.\n\nThe death of my Feral in Drem's elk pit does not seem like such a grievous loss now. Every defeat is a lesson learned.\n\nThe dust began to settle, screams of pain from bear and giant alike echoed out from the staked pits. Gunil slung his war-hammer back over his shoulder and guided his bear towards Fritha.\n\n\"That went well,\" the giant observed as he reached her. \"Still more to kill, though. Too many.\"\n\n\"Thank you for your astute observation, Gunil,\" Fritha muttered.\n\nBehind him on the slope a hand appeared on the edge of one of the pits, a giant dragging himself up, clawing and crawling onto the ground. He climbed to one knee, then onto his feet, white-haired, with a latticed hole where one eye had been."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Balur One-Eye,\" Fritha whispered.\n\nHe was battered and bleeding, blood sluicing from a cut to his scalp, more blood drenching one tattooed arm, but he looked furious more than weakened. He shrugged a war-hammer from his back and hefted it.\n\n\"GUNIL,\" he roared.\n\nGunil stared at Balur. Then he slipped his war-hammer into his hands.\n\nMore hands appeared on the edges of the pits: giants beginning to climb up from the darkness, dragging themselves onto the turf.\n\n\"Wait,\" Fritha said to Gunil.\n\nShe raised an arm, her Red Right Hand watching her.\n\n\"KILL THEM,\" she yelled, and with a roar her Red Right Hand hurtled down the slope, five hundred spears, swords and axes glinting in the sunlight.\n\nFrom down the slope horns sounded, a great roar from the warband of the Bright Star.\n\nFritha heard their battle-cry echo out, \"TRUTH AND COURAGE,\" and the warband surged forwards, giants on the left sweeping wide to circle around the line of pits, some heading for the gaps of turf between the pits that acted as bridges or paths to Balur's side, joined by many riders of the Order, while others veered right, towards the woodland and Fritha, attempting to swing around the right flank of the pit line.\n\nFritha saw the first of her Red Right Hand reach Balur, his hammer swinging, sending two men hurtling through the air, bones smashed to kindling. Warriors behind began to stab at Balur; Fritha saw blood bloom from wounds.\n\n\"Now,\" Fritha said to Gunil. \"Go, and make sure Balur One-Eye dies. It will rip the heart from his giants.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Consider him dead,\" Gunil growled, that manic look back in his eyes, and he urged Claw onto the field.\n\nFritha drew a knife from her belt and sliced a red line across her palm. She let the blood well, and then put her hand to her mouth, smeared the blood across her lips, upon her tongue.\n\n\"LIOM,\" she cried out, her blood spraying with her spittle, and she felt her summons spread out, like afar-flung net across the land, and in her blood and veins she felt the trembling response. Distantly she heard the sound of howling.\n\n\"Ulf,\" Fritha said, looking behind her into the woods. A figure emerged, cloaked in shadow.\n\n\"Are your disciples ready?\" she asked him.\n\n\"They are,\" Ulf said. \"They hunger.\"\n\n\"Good. Soon they will feast.\"\n\n\"Wrath hungry,\" Wrath grumbled beside Fritha. \"Wrath want to feast.\"\n\n\"You are always hungry,\" Fritha smiled, scratching Wrath's thick-muscled neck. It was level with her head now.\n\n\"Yes,\" the draig agreed.\n\n\"I hunger, too,\" Ulf said.\n\n\"You must stay with me,\" she commanded. \"You cannot be risked.\" She gave him a reassuring smile. \"You will feast after. You will glut yourself on their blood.\"\n\nThat seemed to appease the Revenant, a little.\n\n\"Shall I call them now?\" Ulf asked her.\n\n\"Soon,\" Fritha said, holding a placating handout. She looked at Ulf, saw his dark, predatory eye observing the battle, watching death and bloodshed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Do you remember who you were?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "she asked him.\n\nHe tore his one eye from the carnage and regarded Fritha along moment.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, \"I was Ulf the tanner. It is vague, like a dream.\"\n\nFritha nodded. She wondered if her Ferals remembered, too.\n\n\"Do you miss your old life?\"\n\n\"No,\" he said, instantly. \"It was... torpid. Life now is... rich. Red.\" His lips twitched, the hint of teeth beneath.\n\nScreams drew Fritha's attention back to the battle.\n\nGunil had reached the combat. She saw him lean in his saddle and swing his hammer, crunching into a raised shield from a warrior of the Order. The blow tore the warrior from his saddle and sent him crashing into one of the open pits.\n\nHer Red Right Hand looked hard-pressed though.\n\n\"Soon, Ulf,\" she whispered. \"Be ready.\"\n\nAnd then there were figures in the woods before her, a hundred paces away, wolven-hounds loping up through the trees, huntsmen of the Order behind them, and following them a tide of riders, picking their way through the trees.\n\n\"Be ready,\" Fritha breathed, and she pressed the palm of her bloodied hand to the red wings upon her cuirass, leaving anew bloodstain there. She pulled her spear from where she had stabbed it into the ground, hefted it, bending her knees. The imminence of battle flooded her veins, fear and joy mixing into a wild, heady excitement.\n\nThe wolven-hounds burst through the trees, snarling and slavering.\n\nOne leaped at Fritha, white and grey, its jaws open wide. One of her guards jumped in front of her and the wolven-hound crashed into him, biting and snarling as they fell to the ground. The guard screamed, blood spraying, the wolven-hound's jaws clamped around his face, shaking its head with savage strength. Fritha stumbled back a few steps, daunted fora moment by the ferocity."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The hound stood over her gurgling, dying guard, then looked at her, jaws dripping red. It snarled and went at her. Fritha snarled back, lunged forwards, spear-butt low, almost wedged into the ground, blade high, just as she would do if she were hunting boar. The wolven-hound fell onto her spear-point, its momentum driving the blade deep, and it snapped and growled, a frenzied pain rage, then it was whining and slumping as the blade bit into the hound's heart. Fritha dropped her spear, the weight of the dead creature dragging it from her hands, and she drew her short-sword.\n\nAnother wolven-hound was surging at her from the side, but Elise burst forwards on her coils, speed and power a blur, and her sword lashed out. The wolven-hound dropped to the ground, a deep wound in its flank, but it half rose and threw itself at Elise, teeth raking into her coils. She shrieked and hissed at it, her sword rising and falling in frenzied strikes and the wolven-hound collapsed, its head half-severed.\n\nMen appeared, more wolven-hounds with them, and Fritha grinned at them.\n\n\"Death smiles at us all,\" she yelled as they hefted their weapons and moved towards her.\n\nThey came at her with sword and axe, though slowly, the sight of Elise and Wrath either side of her, the draig tearing chunks out of a wolven-hound, giving the huntsmen pause.\n\nThere was a rumbling behind Fritha, echoed in her blood, the sound of snarls, howls and growls, and then her Ferals were sweeping out of the trees behind her, a slavering wave of death."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They stormed past Fritha, slamming into the huntsmen. The wolven-hounds howled and leaped at the Ferals, a crashing together of teeth, claw, muscle and fur. The hounds were powerful and deadly, but there were too many of the Ferals, and in fractured, ferocious moments the Ferals had ripped the hounds and huntsmen to bloody ruin and were sweeping them away, tearing at limbs, blood exploding in great gouts, and then they were gone, rushing down, through the woods, and out onto the plain to crash into the flank of the oncoming warband.\n\nFritha grinned at Elise and patted Wrath's muscular shoulder.\n\nShe looked out at the plain and saw that on the far side giants and warriors had reached the point where they could cut around the widest pit and curl in towards her Red Right Hand.\n\n\"Ulf,\" she called, and the Revenant appeared from the trees where he had retreated.\n\n\"Now,\" she said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem stared at the wall of Ferals that came surging out of the woods to his left and smashed into the packed ranks of Order warriors upon their mounts. He was horrified by the numbers he was seeing, and the sheer volume of this huge battle. There was a roaring all around, deafening, giants and bears and Ferals, merging with the harsh clang of steel and the battle roars and death screams. And the smell, of blood and guts and excrement as people and animals died in enormous numbers. He'd fought before, the battle at the starstone mine was seared into his soul, a memory of blood and chaos and fear, but this was something of an altogether greater magnitude. He felt he wanted to put his hands over his ears and curl into a tight-knit ball.\n\nBut he didn't. Instead he took along, steady breath and tried to workout where he was most needed or useful.\n\nIn the saddle behind him, Cullen was shouting and spluttering, urging Drem to charge up the slope.\n\nDrem ignored him and waited to assess what was going on.\n\nAhead of him battle was raging on the slope, where shaven-haired warriors were swarming around Balur and a score of giants, other warriors of the Order struggling to reach them across narrow spits of land between the huge pits that the enemy had dug. Drem glimpsed Utul and his followers riding across the narrow paths to reach Balur. The warriors of the Order who had formed the shield wall were reaching the pits now, the shield wall breaking apart as they navigated the narrow channels between each hole. Drem saw Alcyon the giant upon the back of Sig's bear, Hammer. The giant was close to Balur, chopping at the enemy with his two axes in his fists. On the right flank more giants and riders of the Order were circling the pits and curving into strike on the enemy's flank and come to Balur's aid. He saw the dark silhouette of the half-breed swirling in the sky above, swooping and diving as she flew low, stabbing and slashing with a sword, then rising high to wheel and dip low again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On the left flank a host of Ferals hundreds strong was tearing into warriors of the Order, riders amongst them, but mostly the huntsmen and wolven-hounds.\n\nHe felt he should be there, where the battle raged hottest, and where the huntsmen that he identified most with were being torn apart. He gripped his reins and guided his horseback down the slope, Cullen shrieking in his ear, imploring him to turn and ride back into the battle on the ridge. Drem ignored him.\n\nHe dug his heels into his mount and dragged on her reins, guiding her out of the tight-packed press that was piling up against the Ferals and urged her south, back down the slope into more open ground, and then he was cantering, looping around the edge of the Ferals as they ploughed into the Order of the Bright Star, aligning himself fora charge at the Ferals' flank and rear. He heard the drum of hooves behind him, saw Keld burst from the press and follow him. Drem slowed fora moment to let Keld join him.\n\n\"What are you doing, Drem?\" Cullen yelled. Keld's eyes were wide with confusion. Drem realized they thought he must have been running away.\n\nDrem pointed at the rear of the Ferals. \"No point waiting in amass to get at them,\" Drem said. \"Thought it made more sense to ride around the back and give them a sharp-iron surprise.\"\n\nCullen blew out along breath, shared a look with Keld.\n\n\"Have to admit, I like your thinking, lad,\" Keld said.\n\nThe huntsman put two fingers to his lips and whistled, and Fen came bounding out of the woodland to their left."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cullen slipped from Drem's saddle and grabbed the reins of a riderless horse that came cantering down the slope."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Favouring his uninjured leg, Cullen swung himself into the saddle.\n\n\"Let's go kill us some Ferals,\" Keld snarled, and then they were spurring their horses forwards. They broke into a canter, a hundred paces from the Ferals now.\n\n\"These nets you use for Kadoshim and half-breeds,\" Drem called out, unclipping the folded net at his belt, \"you think they'll work as well on Ferals?\"\n\n\"Only one way to find out,\" Cullen grinned, unclipping his own net and snapping it free.\n\nThe rabid creatures heard the beat of their hooves, turned snarling to face them. Five of them at least broke away from the main pack and began to run at the three riders.\n\nDrem flicked his wrist, as Cullen had shown him, setting the weighted balls free, then he lifted the net over his head, holding it by its centre-point, and swung, felt the lead weights swirl around his head, felt their rhythm, conscious of not swinging too fast or too slow, trying not to let the fact that snarling death was hurtling towards him break his concentration, and then he was releasing, not up as he had practised, at an imaginary Kadoshim, but almost straightforwards, just a slight upwards angle to his cast.\n\nHis net spread wide and Drem's chosen Feral all but ran into it, the weighted balls snapping around the animal as the net enfolded its arms, torso and one leg, sending it crashing to the ground. It struggled, tearing and biting at its bonds, gaps opening up in the net, one clawed hand ripping through, and then Drem's horse was trampling the creature, hooves crashing down, snapping bones, crushing its ribcage. Drem leaned over, chopping into the Feral's head with a hand-axe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The creature died in an explosion of blood and bone.\n\nDrem sat tall in his saddle, breathing heavily, saw that Keld and Cullen had snared their Ferals and were dispatching them with sword and spear, and close by, Fen the wolven-hound was rolling with two Ferals, arcs of blood trailing through the air. Drem spurred his horse at them, chopped into the skull of one Feral, saw it stiffen and roll away limp, and Fen had the other one by the throat, a savage shake and it was over.\n\n\"No time to rest,\" Cullen cried as he urged his horse into the rear of the Feral pack.\n\n\"Told you we'd have to watch Cullen's back,\" Keld said and shook his reins, his mount breaking into a canter after Cullen. Drem felt a wild grin split his face, laying about him either side with his hand-axe, his horse biting at any enemy flesh it could reach.\n\nTime condensed and blurred for Drem, as he hacked and chopped his way through a sea of fur, snarling jaws and slashing claws. A wild energy raced through him, putting strength and fire into his limbs, and he screamed his hatred and fury at these creatures that were made for one reason only, to kill and rend for Gulla and the Kadoshim.\n\nThe battle surged along the fringe of the slope, back in amongst knots of beech and oak, then back out onto the plain.\n\nFora moment Drem found himself free of the battle, and he sat on his horse, blood-drenched, his nostrils flaring, and took a moment to look about.\n\nHe had moved further up the slope, closer to the line of pits, but far to the left, almost beneath the eaves of the woodland that fringed the slope."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Keld and Cullen were close by, working together with Fen to pick off Ferals from the pack that still beset the Order. They had come across Stepor and he had joined them in their systematic destruction, his wolven-hounds Grack and Ralla working with them like a pack. Although it seethed and swayed back and forth, it appeared to Drem that the battle was turning in the Order's favour. The Ferals were being held and pressed back into the woodland and, further up the slope, Drem could see Balur One-Eye laying about him with his war-hammer, other giants and warriors of the Order around him, including Alcyon upon Hammer. They had formed a knot and were pushing higher up the slope. Drem glimpsed Gunil upon his bear, but then he was gone. On the far right, giants and riders of the Bright Star were sweeping around the pits and charging into the flank of Fritha's acolytes.\n\nWe are going to win.\n\nAnd then something seemed to change upon the battlefield. Fora moment Drem wasn't sure what it was, but then his eyes were drawn to the edge of the slope, beyond those giants and riders who were sweeping around the pits.\n\nA thick mist was creeping onto the slope behind them, boiling out of one of the many ravines that ran through the Desolation.\n\nIt did not look natural.\n\nIt was dark, almost black, like thunderclouds, and it seemed to bubble and boil, as if there was something inside it, straining to get out.\n\nIt crept towards the rear of the giants and warriors of the Bright Star.\n\nAnd then the screaming began.\n\nOthers on the slope paused, some sense of change sweeping over the field, and Drem saw figures in the mist, what looked like a horde of them, some exploding from the darkness to slam into men or giants, other hands snaking out of the mist, grabbing and dragging people back into its dark embrace."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem felt afraid, his strength draining.\n\nThe mist rolled ever wider, enveloping the slope, moving closer.\n\nNo, it cannot end like this, Drem growled to himself.\n\nA voice rose over the din of battle, high and keening, and Drem saw Ethlinn sitting astride a huge black bear, her arms stretched wide, a spear in one fist. She was facing the oncoming mist, even her great bulk looking small before the wave of churning darkness. Drem did not know how he could hear her, but her voice carried across the field, high and otherworldly.\n\n\"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh,\" Ethlinn chanted, sweeping her spear before her. \"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh,\" she cried out, again and again.\n\nAt first nothing happened, the black mist boiling towards her, but then Drem felt it. A breeze caressed his face, growing swiftly stronger, lifting his hair and swirling it about his face, and then stronger still, a gale that rocked him in his saddle. It swept over the slope, a howling wind that slammed into the mist.\n\nFor long moments the darkness resisted, a pressure building in the air, like an imminent thunderstorm, and then the mist began to fracture at its edges, wisps and tendrils fragmenting, and then suddenly the fog was lacerated and broken, swept away to reveal what it had hidden.\n\nA host of men and women, even children amongst them, moving in an unnatural, too-fast gait. Drem saw dark eyes and gleaming teeth.\n\nThey came on at Ethlinn. Giants and warriors of the Order rallied about her, a dull thud and echo of screams reverberating down to Drem over the general din of battle as the Revenants and giants came together."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem saw Ethlinn stab down with her spear, a flicker of blue light bursting as the spear pierced a Revenant. Ethlinn lifted it high, skewered, and blue veins spread through the creature's body. It spasmed and jerked on the end of her spear like a stuck fish, then went limp. Ethlinn cast the lifeless form away.\n\nDrem frowned, not understanding what he was seeing, but he felt a glimmer of hope. It was snuffed out quickly as he saw the host of Revenants rolling over giants and warriors around Ethlinn.\n\nWhat can we do?\n\nHe looked about wildly, and then he saw her.\n\nFritha, amongst the trees. She was staring at him, warriors and... creatures about her.\n\nHe didn't care.\n\nShe slew my father.\n\nHe pulled on his reins and urged his roan mare up the slope and into the trees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha smiled as the dark mist rolled over the battlefield. Ulf was standing behind her, amidst the trees.\n\nThe Revenants will win this for us, Fritha thought. Without them, even with my Ferals, I do not think we would have triumphed.\n\nVictory was so close now that she could almost taste it.\n\nShe saw a figure riding into the trees, leaping from his horse's back when the branches became too low, and breaking into a run, straight up the slope towards her.\n\nIt was Drem.\n\nFritha wanted to clap her hands and thank whatever fate was smiling down upon her.\n\nBehind him she glimpsed other figures running into the woodland.\n\nAre the Order of the Bright Star breaking already? Have the Revenants won the day?\n\nThen Drem was crashing into the glade where Fritha was. She saw his eyes flicker to Elise and Wrath, saw the shock register, saw his run falter a moment.\n\nHe has changed, she thought. He was dressed in fine war gear, fora start, not in his trapper's leathers, a mail shirt that was streaked with gore. He looked older, somehow, less childlike, though his face held that same determined set that she had always liked about him.\n\nOnce he sets his mind to something, he tries to see it through. Unfortunately, I think this time he has set his mind on killing me.\n\nLet him try. I will take him, bind him in chains and make him into something new, just so he can follow at my heels for the rest of his life.\n\n\"Don't kill him,\" Fritha snapped to those about her, \"or eat him,\" she added to Wrath, who was growling at Drem and licking his lips as if the young man was lunch."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She saw the resolve return in Drem's eyes, despite the odds, and then he was stepping forwards.\n\nArn and Fritha's other guards moved to meet Drem, six of her best.\n\nDrem drew a short axe from his belt, without any hesitation hurled it at Arn.\n\nIt spun through the air, Arn leaping away, the axe slamming into the face of the warrior behind him, a crunch like wet wood being split as the axe blade buried itself in her face, the warrior hurled backwards from her feet. Drem drew his seax and another axe at his belt and ran at them.\n\nArn swung his spear at Drem, the other warriors spreading wide, trying to encircle him, but he was moving so quickly, his axe snaking out, wrapping around Arn's spear and tugging him off balance. Drem's momentum carried him on, a slash of his seax at another warrior, a red line across the warrior's face, a splash of blood, and Drem was backhanding his axe at Arn, who blocked it with his spear shaft and stepped in close, trying to snare Drem's axe arm.\n\nHe's learned a few things from the Order, Fritha thought dispassionately, but he's not good enough for Arn and the others yet.\n\nA blow landed across Drem's back, sent him stumbling into Arn, who put his knee into Drem's gut, doubling him over. More blows, and Drem dropped to one knee, twisted to the side, slashing with his seax. A scream, another of Fritha's warriors dropping, clutching his leg, Drem rolling to the side, back onto his feet, crouched, seax and axe ready.\n\nFritha sighed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Elise, take him for me.\"\n\n\"With pleasssure,\" Elise hissed, slithering towards Drem.\n\nSuddenly, more figures were bursting out of the woodland, three wolven-hounds, huge beasts, one grey, one black, one red-furred. They crunched into the warriors around Drem, screams and blood spraying, the sounds of flesh tearing.\n\nTwo men ran into the glade, one more limping behind them, setting upon Fritha's warriors. Two Fritha recognized: the young red-haired warrior and the older huntsman from the starstone mine attack. There was another huntsman with them, slim and black-bearded. As Fritha watched, he blocked a sword-blow from one of her warriors, turned the blade and buried his axe in her man's neck. A burst of blood and her warrior was falling to the ground, clutching at the jet of blood that pulsed between his fingers.\n\n\"Wrath,\" Fritha snarled. \"Kill them.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Wrath growled and burst forwards, a pulse of his wings adding to his speed.\n\nAt the same time a figure dropped from the trees above, Morn, her wings spreading, and she was stabbing with her spear at the red-haired warrior.\n\nHe shrugged his shield from his back, blocking her spear-thrust, slashing with his sword, but she flew out of reach.\n\nThe black-bearded huntsman saw Wrath hurtling towards him, a moment of fear washing over his face, changing to resolve, and he was setting his feet, sword and knife in his fist. He sidestepped Wrath's charge, slashed with his sword at the draig's side, leaving a red line, Fritha feeling a moment of pure rage at her creation's injury. Wrath roared at the pain, his thick tail lashing as he skidded past the huntsman, crashing into his legs, the man going down hard, trying to roll, but Wrath was turning with startling speed and leaping upon the prone warrior, jaws snapping at his head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Two wolven-hounds appeared out of nowhere, hurling themselves at Wrath, jaws biting, claws raking as they latched onto the draig.\n\nWrath just ignored them, even though red wounds were appearing, his jaws clamping around the huntsman's head. The man stabbed and hacked at Wrath's belly with his sword and knife. A sickening crunching sound, a savage wrench, and the huntsman's head was torn from his shoulders, his body collapsing, limbs juddering.\n\n\"STEPOR,\" the older huntsman cried, hurling his hand-axe at Wrath, the blade sinking deep into the draig's shoulder. Again, it ignored the blow and set about removing the wolven-hounds from its body, both of them frenziedly ripping and biting into Wrath's flesh.\n\nFritha saw the old huntsman slash at his palm, heard him yelling words of power, and he threw a handful of blood, sparks of incandescent fire appearing in the droplets even as they sprayed one of Fritha's guards and splattered upon Wrath's muzzle.\n\nA sizzle and the stench of burning flesh, Fritha's guard collapsing, screaming, hands gouging at his face.\n\nWrath roared his pain, charred splotches appearing on his muzzle, wisps of smoke curling into the air. The fire-blood seemed to do little more than irk the draig, though. It gave a violent shake of its body, like a terrier with a rat, and one of the wolven-hounds lost its grip and struck the ground, Wrath scuttling forwards and slashing with along-taloned foot. The wolven-hound howled as Wrath disembowelled it, entrails spilling onto the ground."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then other figures were around them.\n\nFritha looked up, saw that they had moved to the very fringe of the woodland, and the battle on the slope was pressing in upon them. Giants and bears were there, riders of the Order as well as Ferals and her own Red Right Hand.\n\nAnd Revenants.\n\nFritha had seen them many times at the mine and on the journey here, but they were different creatures now.\n\nThey were killing machines. Fritha stared in a moment of abject awe. They were devastatingly fast, and they were merciless, snatching at warriors, leaping up at horses to tear men and women from saddles, swarming over a bear and rending it with tooth and claw.\n\nA bear lumbered past, a male giant with along black warrior braid upon its back. He was wielding two long-hafted axes like threshing poles, a constant blur of motion. Fritha saw his axe take the head from a Revenant, a burst of blue light exploding from its neck as the creature dropped slowly to the ground, body spasming, though its hands raked and clawed at the ground for far longer than it should have before it stilled in death.\n\nThey can die, then, Fritha noted.\n\n\"Frithhhha,\" a voice called out and Fritha saw that Elise had Drem wrapped in her coils.\n\nWonderful, Fritha thought and strode towards her prize."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem strained with all his might, veins bulging, feeling as if his head would burst, his eyes explode from his face.\n\nBut nothing happened.\n\nThe giant wyrm-thing with a woman's face and upper body had wrapped him tight in her coils, pinning his arms to his sides. He still held his seax and axe but could not move them. The creature regarded Drem with cold, reptilian eyes.\n\n\"No point sssstruggling,\" the thing said, and then its coils were rippling and it slithered sinuously across the glade, weaving through the combat that raged about them. Drem yelled, saw Fritha's face smiling at him, growing closer.\n\n\"Well met, Drem ben Olin,\" Fritha said with a delighted smile, as if the wyrm-woman was giving Fritha a gift on her name-day.\n\n\"I will... kill you,\" Drem said.\n\n\"You need to let goof that obsession,\" Fritha said, like someone giving their good friend the best of advice.\n\n\"You... killed him,\" Drem wheezed. He felt a flood of emotion-frustration, rage, grief all mingled-blinked the angry tears from his eyes.\n\n\"Ah, to beloved as you loved your father,\" Fritha murmured.\n\nDrem strained again, the sight of Fritha talking about his da incensing him, wanting only to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze.\n\n\"Kill... you,\" he grunted.\n\nA ripple of wyrm-muscle and the breath was crushed from Drem's chest, coils constricting tighter about his torso, the beast glaring at him.\n\n\"Not too tight, Elise,\" Fritha said. \"We don't want a dead Drem, now, do we?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The coils loosened a fraction, allowing Dem to gasp in a breath.\n\nElise! It has a name!\n\nDrem stared at Fritha, saw her watching him with fascinated eyes.\n\nAll around them the fight was raging. Drem glimpsed Cullen fallen to one knee, blood sheeting from a wound on his scalp, Keld standing over the young warrior, fending off Morn's stabbing spear with his shield as she hovered above them both.\n\nAnd then a mountain of fur was crashing through the trees into the battle about them, Hammer the bear surging into Drem's view, Alcyon the giant upon her back, swinging his two long-hafted axes.\n\nFritha jumped and rolled to the side, Elise the wyrm-woman swayed, an axe blade hissing past her face. She lashed outwith the sword in her hand, a red line along Hammer's flank, Drem jerked and heaved as Elise's coils rippled, loosening a moment, then constricting, refusing to let him go.\n\nHammer turned, a swipe of her claws raking the wyrm's coils, gouging red wounds. Elise hissed a scream, her upper body darting forwards impossibly fast, stabbing at the bear's face, Alcyon's axe clanging into her sword, sending it spinning through the air, his other axe whirling, chopping deep into the meat of her coils.\n\nShe did scream, then, a high, lilting shriek that set heads turning, her coils spasming, releasing Drem, hurling him through the air to crunch into a tree and drop to the ground. He raised himself on his elbows, saw heads all around the glade looking at the wyrm-woman and giant bear."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem climbed to one knee, head spinning, hands scrambling for his seax and axe, which he saw lying close by on the forest litter.\n\n\"WRATH,\" Fritha yelled, her cry answered by a deafening roar that shook both the ground below and branches above them.\n\nAlcyon tugged on his axe embedded in coils, and Elise's head lunged forwards, jaws unnaturally wide, too-long teeth sinking into the flesh of Alcyon's arm. The giant grunted a yell, let goof his axe and ripped his arm free of Elise's jaws, a splatter of blood arcing through the air.\n\nAnd then the draig was there, wings beating, lifting it into the air, and it was hurtling at Alcyon, the giant swaying in his saddle, swinging his other axe. The draig's wings shifted, twisting it in the air, Alcyon's axe hissing under awing, the draig lashing outwith long talons, raking Hammer's flank and rump, tearing bloody strips, then it was crashing into the bear. Though smaller than Hammer, the draig's weight and momentum sent the bear staggering, stumbling and toppling to the side, Alcyon hurled from his saddle as they rolled on the ground, crushing figures beneath them, friend or foe, Drem did not know.\n\nDrem shook his head, trying to scatter the black dots that were clouding his vision, heard Hammer roar in agony as the draig ripped into her side with its powerful jaws, at the same time its claws digging, raking at her exposed belly.\n\nThere was an answering roar, elsewhere, echoing through the woodland, followed by a thunderous crashing, getting closer, the sound of trees being ripped from their roots, and then the white bear was bursting into the glade."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It cast its head from side to side, saw Hammer and the draig, and roared a challenge, broke into a lumbering run, scattering or crushing all in its way. Drem saw Fritha stand before its rush, wide-eyed and frozen fora moment, and then the wyrm-woman was standing before her, the wyrm's tail wrapping around Fritha and hurling her out of the way. Elise slithered on her coils, trying to evade the white bear's charge, but she was too slow and the bear crashed into her, sending her flying through the air, disappearing amongst the trees.\n\nThe white bear slammed into the draig, wrenching it from its attack on Hammer, the two beasts thundering across the glade, swiping and snapping at each other, clawing and gouging.\n\nAll was mayhem and madness. Ferals and giants, warriors of the Order and shaven-haired acolytes, Revenants, wyrms and draigs, all fighting for their lives around him.\n\nRevenants spilt across the slope and, framed in sunlight bright across the ridge's crest, Drem saw Gunil atop his great bear, Balur One-Eye finally reaching him. One-Eye swerved around the slash of the bear's paws and then his war-hammer was swinging, high and down with all of Balur's prodigious strength, smashing into the bear's skull. Drem heard the crunch from where he was standing, saw the power of that impact ripple through the animal, from head to claws, and slowly the legs of Gunil's bear crumpled beneath it, its great bulk crashing to the ground, an eruption of dust.\n\nGunil rose out of the dirt cloud.\n\n\"You killed my Claw,\" he screamed, spittle flying, and then the two giants were swinging their great hammers at each other, dark iron clashing, huge sparks leaping."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A tide of battle and banks of tattered mist swept between Drem and the two giants, obscuring them from view.\n\nA dozen paces in front of Drem he saw a rider of the Order swing his sword at a Revenant, saw the grey-skinned creature sway away from the blade and leap up at the rider, somehow finding purchase, scrambling up behind the warrior and grabbing onto his head, yanking it to the side and sinking its jaws into the man's neck. The Revenant shook its head, blood erupting, the rider toppling from his saddle, the Revenant falling upon him, biting and tearing flesh in a frenzy. The sight of it turned the blood in Drem's veins to ice.\n\nWhat are these creatures we are fighting? How is there any defeating this?\n\nAll across the slope Drem saw the same kinds of acts, giants, warriors, bears, all trying to fend off the blood-frenzied storm of Revenants. Drem saw a bear engulfed by the creatures, a horde of them swarming over it like ants, dragging it to the ground. A moment of fear as he saw one hurl itself at Keld. The huntsman saw the Revenant flying towards him, instinctively slashed with his sword and cut into the creature's neck. There was a flash of blue light, the Revenant crunching to the ground, rolling. Keld stabbed his sword down into its chest with all his strength, twisting. Blue veins rippled out from the wound, the Revenant spasming and then flopping still.\n\nAnd then Fritha was standing before him.\n\nShe looked like something out of a tale, short-sword in her fist, fair hair stubbled, blood smeared on her face, her cuirass embossed with red wings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're coming with me,\" she said.\n\n\"Over my dead body,\" he said, raising his seax and axe.\n\n\"Well, that is the alternative,\" Fritha said, looking around her. \"I'd rather have you for my experiments, make you into something that will do my bidding for all eternity. I think I'll leave you with your memory, so you will always remember that I killed Olin, even as you serve me.\" She shrugged. \"Or you can have a painful, terrifying death as food fora Revenant.\"\n\nHe snarled and swung his axe at her.\n\nShe stepped back, gracefully, a twist of her wrist sweeping his axe away.\n\nDrem followed, seax stabbing, axe swinging, a windmill of blows, and Fritha blocked and parried and swayed, feet shuffling away, to his sides, ever just out of reach.\n\n\"You've got better,\" Fritha commented, her face fixed in concentration. \"Your footwork has definitely improved.\" She smiled at him, an encouraging sword master. \"But a moon training with the Order of the Bright Star is not better than a lifetime raised as one of Drassil's White-Wings.\"\n\nShe stepped in, her sword suddenly a blur, sweeping Drem's axe wide, his seax low, knocking him off balance, and then she was closer still, inside his guard, headbutting him across the nose, sending him reeling, staggering backwards, slamming into a tree, dropping to one knee.\n\n\"You are mine, Drem ben Olin,\" Fritha said as she loomed over him, her sword raised.\n\nA horse crashed into Fritha, sending her lurching away, spinning.\n\nHorse and rider reined in between Drem and Fritha, and Drem looked up to see Byrne in the saddle. She was gore-spattered, a thing out of a nightmare, teeth bared in a rictus snarl, her curved sword blooded to the hilt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Getaway from my sister's son, you bitch,\" Byrne spat at Fritha.\n\nSomething crossed Fritha's face: worry, fear.\n\n\"I was hoping I'd bump into you,\" Fritha said. She drew her sword across her palm, a red line, smeared the blood across her lips.\n\n\"IONSAI,\" Fritha yelled, her blood spraying from her lips, \"IAD A MHARU,\" and all around the glade Ferals stopped their frenzied fighting and threw themselves at Byrne.\n\nHer mount screamed as Ferals' claws raked it in their frenzied rush to reach Byrne, the animal rearing, Byrne leaping to the ground, rolling. She regained her feet, snatched a hand inside her jerkin and pulled out a fistful of what looked like vials, threw them at a knot of Ferals that were swarming towards her, the vials smashing, some kind of liquid bursting across the creatures, soaking into their fur.\n\n\"Fuil agus tine, salann agus lathair,\" Drem heard Byrne hiss, and then blue fire was rippling to life across the Ferals' fur, spreading, engulfing them inflames. The Ferals howled and screamed, limbs windmilling, slapping and clawing at their bodies as they were ravaged by the flames. The acrid stench of seared flesh filled the glade.\n\nFritha looked at her Ferals, screamed and ran at Byrne. Their swords clashed, the two of them moving through the glade. A Revenant leaped at Byrne and she sidestepped Fritha, slashed at the Revenant with her sword. A wound opened across its chest, a blue light throbbing, and the Revenant screamed, falling away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Burning Ferals crashed between Drem and the two women, flames sparking on the woodland litter, leaping into hungry, crackling life. Drem scrambled away, into the trees.\n\nAll about him the Revenant horde was swarming, ripping and tearing flesh.\n\nWe cannot win against them, too many, Drem thought. It's just a matter of time. Something nagged at Drem's mind. I have seen them stabbed scores of times and not fall, and yet Ethlinn and Keld killed them with a blow or two, Byrne's sword hurt it...\n\nBodies crashed and fell about him, scattering his thoughts.\n\nIf I can help Byrne, and kill Fritha...\n\nHe rose to his feet, looking fora way around the flames to Fritha and Byrne, but the woodland was becoming a fiery maelstrom. He cast about wildly and saw something behind him, in the shadows. A figure, a Revenant, hunched over a woman, a warrior of the Bright Star. Drem took a step towards them and the Revenant looked up, blood slick on its mouth and jaws.\n\nDrem faltered. Even though transformed, only one eye left in its gaunt, too-paleface, Drem still recognized this creature.\n\nIt was Ulf.\n\nDrem remembered watching from a rooftop of the mine as Ulf had offered himself to Gulla, giving himself over to Gulla's fangs, remembered Ulf collapsing, twitching, convulsing as he had been changed, turned into... this.\n\nUlf had been a friend to him and his father, or so Drem had thought. But all along Ulf had been a servant of Gulla, spying, scheming. He had betrayed Olin and Drem."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem hefted his seax and axe, strode towards Ulf.\n\nThe Revenant rose to his feet, a gliding, elegant motion. He cocked his head to one side, regarding Drem with the dark well of his one eye.\n\n\"Drem,\" he hissed.\n\n\"Remember me, do you?\" Drem snarled. \"Well, remember this as I send you to the Otherworld.\" He struck at Ulf, seax and axe swinging and stabbing, Ulf swaying away, parrying with long-taloned hands that seemed as hard as iron, Drem's blows glancing away. Then Ulf was twisting, suddenly lunging forwards.\n\nDrem's axe chopped into Ulf's neck, a diagonal cut, into the clavicle. He heard the distinctive sound of the bone cracking, but it did not seem to faze Ulf, who shrugged off the blow and reached out grasping hands to grab Drem, claws raking his face, closing tight, raking his cheeks and pulling him close, towards Ulf's distended-wide jaws, razored teeth still dripping with the blood of Ulf's last victim.\n\nDrem screamed as Ulf's foul, bloodied breath washed over him and he stabbed frantically into the creature's belly with his seax, the blade plunging deep into flesh.\n\nDrem felt something in his fist as it was wrapped around the bone hilt of his seax: a hot pulse of heat, and again, and again, like a beating heart.\n\nA blue light burst from the wound.\n\nUlf screamed, a feral agony, and lashed out, striking Drem across the chest and hurling him through the air, crashing to the ground, rolling through flames. Drem climbed to one knee, still had his seax in his hand, saw that it was pulsing with a fading blue glow, like afresh-forged blade cooling from the flames. Runes along the blade glowed white-bright, and Drem remembered Keld telling him of Olin's runes, what they said."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dilis cosantoir. Faithful Protector.\n\nKeld's sword is rune-marked, as is Byrne's, and Ethlinn's spear must be, too.\n\nUlf was staring at him in rage and pain, opened his mouth and hissed a shriek at Drem, and then ran at him.\n\nDrem staggered to his feet, hefted his seax, and threw it.\n\nIt flew through the air, the heavy blade and handle spinning, glittering in the fire-flames, and punched into Ulf's chest, hurling the Revenant backwards, against the trunk of an ancient oak, Drem's blade piercing flesh, bark and wood, sinking deep and pinning Ulf to the tree.\n\nAn explosion of blue light and sparks as Ulf thrashed and screamed, gnashing his jaws, shredding his own lips in his agony and fury, Drem's seax glowing white-hot within Ulf, the hiss of burning flesh wafting.\n\nDrem stumbled forwards, saw Alcyon's axe lying on the ground, snatched it up and ran at Ulf, swinging the axe over his head, screaming his father's name.\n\n\"OLIN!\" And he chopped the axe blade into Ulf's neck. There was another burst of blue light as the axe severed the Revenant's head and buried itself in the tree. Drem was hurled away, crashing onto his back.\n\nUlf's head spun through the air and hit the ground with a thud, rolling into the flames, where it hissed, flesh melting.\n\nAll about the glade and slope beyond, something happened.\n\nRevenants froze in their slaughter and feasting, a jerking paroxysm, and then, with a collective sigh, all around Drem, they collapsed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem stared open-mouthed, saw a Revenant almost at his feet change colour, its skin shifting from grey to normal skin-tones as in death the creature reverted to the person it had been in life.\n\nA wind blew across the slope, the sun blazing bright, and the remaining giants and warriors of the Bright Star roared.\n\nTwo figures on the slope, Balur and Gunil, were still exchanging blows, battering at each other with feverish fury.\n\nAs Drem looked, Balur ducked under a hammer-swing, stepped in and struck Gunil on the knee with the iron butt of his staff. Gunil tottered, his knee bending, and Balur struck him in the mouth with his hammer-shaft, Gunil tumbling over, crashing to the ground, teeth spraying.\n\nBalur raised his hammer high, Gunil's hand reaching out, a pleading scream cut short as Balur's hammer crunched into Gunil's head, shards of bone and brain-matter exploding.\n\n\"WRATH,\" a voice screamed behind Drem. He spun on his feet to see Fritha standing on open ground, trading blows with Byrne. Fritha was bleeding from fresh wounds, breathing heavily. She ducked and stepped away, rubbed blood over her lips.\n\n\"Sruthán,\" Fritha screeched at Byrne, the droplets of blood sizzling in the air as they sped towards Byrne's face.\n\n\"Cumhacht an uisce, an tine seo a dhúnadh,\" Byrne said contemptuously, waving her hand and the blood-fire sizzled and hissed into steam, evaporating before it came close to touching her.\n\nFritha shrieked and swung a wild overhead strike, Byrne parrying, sweeping the blow wide and kicking Fritha in the chest, sending her sprawling on her back. Byrne reached inside her surcoat and pulled out another vial, threw it hard on the ground, smashing it, dark liquid soaking into the earth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fréamhacha an domhain, gabháil agus ceangail,\" Byrne called out.\n\nThe ground shifted, moving, as if something stirred deep down. Then roots were bursting from the ground, snaking out, seeking Fritha like a blind man's fingers.\n\nFritha screamed, crawled away, one of the roots snaring her ankle, wrapping around it while more tendrils sought her other limbs. Frenziedly Fritha hacked and chopped at the root, cutting through it. She rolled away, scrambling to her feet.\n\nByrne pursued Fritha, stabbing and sweeping, Fritha stumbling away, eyes wide.\n\n\"WRATH,\" Fritha screamed again, louder, and the draig sprinted towards her. It was ripped bloody from its fight with the white bear, but still full of power. Its wings spread wide, beating, rising into the air, and Fritha was running away from Byrne, leaping, arms wrapping around the draig's neck, and she was swinging onto its back, the draig climbing higher into the air.\n\nA spear whistled past Fritha, and then another winged figure was flying beside her, the half-breed.\n\nDrem watched in frustration as the two winged shapes climbed higher and higher, soon out of range of any spear or arrow, and then they were dwindling quickly to black specks in the sky.\n\nAll about them Fritha's warband broke and scattered. Ferals lifted their heads to the sky, howling, and then they were scattering into the woodland, loping away.\n\nDrem blew out a sigh.\n\nAn arm wrapped around Drem's shoulder-Cullen, grinning at him through a blood-drenched face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, that was a fight to write a song about, and no denying,\" Cullen said.\n\nKeld snorted a laugh on Drem's other side.\n\n\"She got away,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye, well, we've got to leave some fights for the morrow,\" Cullen answered, \"or else we'd have nothing left to look forward to.\"\n\nDrem looked at Cullen and shook his head, while Keld threw his head back and laughed. Byrne joined them, watching Fritha and Morn fading into the distance.\n\n\"Where's Gulla?\" Byrne said.\n\nKeld's laughter turned to a frown.\n\n\"Not here,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye.\" Byrne nodded. \"But if he's not here, then where, and why?\"\n\nDrem didn't like where that thought led him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv flew above the trees of Forn Forest. Below her the eastern road cut a line all the way to Drassil, though Riv could see no hint of the ancient fortress and great tree, only a never-ending sea of trees spreading before her.\n\nShe grimaced with the pain in her wing, a dull, throbbing ache with every beat of it. The Cheren arrow had caught her high on her wing-arch, the stretch of muscle and tendon that joined her wings to the muscles in her back. She had tried to set out for Drassil the night she had rescued Bleda, but within a score of wingbeats knew that she could not do it. The extra weight of carrying Bleda to safety had been too much for her injured wing. Bleda had tended her wound, cleaned and bound it, and after a night's rest, it had been better, but she was still not recovered, and although she had set out three days ago, what should have been a short journey was stretching into a nightmare of pain.\n\nI must reach Drassil before Jin. Must warn Aphra and Kol of Gulla's plan, tell them all that Bleda heard.\n\nOver three days had passed since she had plucked Bleda from certain death. She had taken him to a safe place and waited with him for Ellac and his surviving guard to appear. They had spent a night in each other's arms before Ellac and Ruga had led a score of battered riders into their glade. Riv had tried to comfort Bleda, who was racked with grief for his mother and fury at Jin.\n\nThis world is full of one blood-feud or another, an endless cycle.\n\nRiv knew how that felt.\n\nShe flew on.\n\nShe missed Bleda, an ache in her chest at the thought of him, but there was noway he could reach Drassil in time. It was too dangerous to use the road-Kadoshim and their half-breeds were patrolling it-and travelling through the snare and tangle of Forn would make it impossible to outpace Jin and her Cheren warriors. The only chance was Riv and her wings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Something on the road below drew her eye. She swooped lower, saw figures scattered upon the road, dark stains about them.\n\nWhite-Wings.\n\nHundreds of them.\n\nRiv landed, scowling at the sight before her.\n\nWhite-Wings, strewn everywhere. It looked as if they had formed a shield wall, the bulk of the dead gathered in a tight formation. It was clear that many had been torn from the wall and slain.\n\nBut not by sharp steel.\n\nThey had been torn to pieces, shredded with teeth and claws.\n\nFerals? Or those other things that I saw in the forest?\n\nShe picked her way amongst the dead, saw a few bodies that weren't White-Wings, dressed in tattered clothes.\n\nNot Ferals, then.\n\nNot one of these creatures' bodies was in one piece. Decapitated bodies, amputated limbs.\n\nThey are hard to kill, then. I had to take the head of the one Bleda had impaled on his sword.\n\nAnd then Riv saw Lorina, Kol's high captain.\n\nShe was lying beside the headless corpse of one of the creatures, a ragged hole where her throat had been.\n\nRiv had not cared much for Lorina, always thought of her as ambitious and untrustworthy, but she was still a White-Wing, still a comrade-in-arms to Riv. And Riv had respected her prowess on the weapons-field.\n\nShe felt she should try and raise a cairn over her fallen brothers and sisters but knew there was no time.\n\nI must fly on, or else all those in Drassil will be needing their own cairns."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Riv leaped into the air, wings beating, a sharp pain in her back."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She cursed her injury, and the Cheren archer who had given it to her, and flew on.\n\nIn the distance the great tree of Drassil loomed before Riv, branches spread wide, and beneath it the towers and walls of Drassil reared.\n\nOne last spurt. She willed her wings to work harder.\n\nShe was flying high, just below heavy cloud, moisture like mist dampening her wings. Figures appeared on the road ahead, specks from Riv's great height. With a shift of her back muscles she angled downwards, lower and lower until she was skimming the treetops.\n\nMore bodies were strewn on the road, a handful of Ben-Elim, white-feathered wings splayed and twisted. Further on Riv saw what looked like a warband gathered on the fringes of the road, spilling from the eaves of Forn Forest. They were the shaven-haired acolytes of the Kadoshim.\n\nDeeper within the forest to Riv's right, boughs were shifting, a rippling motion that wasn't the wind, hinting of something moving beneath the branches. Wisps of dark mist curled up from gaps in the trees.\n\nRiv frowned at that, remembering the dark thundercloud she'd seen, apparently full of the creatures that had slain Lorina's warband.\n\nRiv flew over it, closer to those gathered on the road.\n\nThey were shaven-haired men and women mounted upon horses. Hundreds of them were appearing, too many to count. And ahead of them were Cheren riders, distinctive with their long warrior braids. Riv was careful not to fly too low, wary of their bows. They were still well ahead, and Riv saw them break into a canter on the road as they approached the point where the road spilt onto the vast plain around Drassil."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's co-author, extend the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, war\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Blood\nChapter: 59"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Riv leaped into the air, wings beating, a sharp pain in her back."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She cursed her injury, and the Cheren archer who had given it to her, and flew on.\n\nIn the distance the great tree of Drassil loomed before Riv, branches spread wide, and beneath it the towers and walls of Drassil reared.\n\nOne last spurt. She willed her wings to work harder.\n\nShe was flying high, just below heavy cloud, moisture like mist dampening her wings. Figures appeared on the road ahead, specks from Riv's great height. With a shift of her back muscles she angled downwards, lower and lower until she was skimming the treetops.\n\nMore bodies were strewn on the road, a handful of Ben-Elim, white-feathered wings splayed and twisted. Further on Riv saw what looked like a warband gathered on the fringes of the road, spilling from the eaves of Forn Forest. They were the shaven-haired acolytes of the Kadoshim.\n\nDeeper within the forest to Riv's right, boughs were shifting, a rippling motion that wasn't the wind, hinting of something moving beneath the branches. Wisps of dark mist curled up from gaps in the trees.\n\nRiv frowned at that, remembering the dark thundercloud she'd seen, apparently full of the creatures that had slain Lorina's warband.\n\nRiv flew over it, closer to those gathered on the road.\n\nThey were shaven-haired men and women mounted upon horses. Hundreds of them were appearing, too many to count. And ahead of them were Cheren riders, distinctive with their long warrior braids. Riv was careful not to fly too low, wary of their bows. They were still well ahead, and Riv saw them break into a canter on the road as they approached the point where the road spilt onto the vast plain around Drassil."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Faster, Riv thought."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One more burst of speed and I can still reach Drassil before them.\n\nAnd then shapes were rising from the forest beneath her, winged, but not like her, great leathery wings beating hard to intercept her. Three, four of them, making towards Riv.\n\nKadoshim.\n\nRiv veered across the treetop canopy, glimpsed more Kadoshim gathered beneath the lattice of boughs, half-breeds as well, waiting. A host of them.\n\nSome burst from the canopy and came after her.\n\nRiv reached for her Sirak bow, grabbed a fistful of arrows as Bleda had taught her, in one movement nocked, drew and loosed into the knot of Kadoshim rising towards her.\n\nHer arrow punched into one, a shriek of pain and it was falling away.\n\nRiv grinned and nocked another arrow.\n\nThe Kadoshim spread wider, Riv's next arrow hissing harmlessly past them.\n\nShe swore, put her bow back into its case and pumped her wings, angling high.\n\nHorn blasts rang out, the high-screeching sound of the Cheren.\n\nOn the ground Jin's riders had reached the plain of Drassil and were galloping hard, blowing their horns, not riding in their usual disciplined ranks, but acting as if they were injured and hard-pressed.\n\nThe Kadoshim speeding towards Riv broke away, curling back down towards the forest.\n\nWhy are they doing that?\n\nThe other riders reached Drassil's plain, the shaven-haired acolytes appearing as if they were pursuing the Cheren, both groups thundering across the open space towards Drassil's gates."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Horns sounded from Drassil's walls, answering the Cheren, and to Riv's horror she saw the gates of Drassil creak open."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ben-Elim rose into the air above Drassil's walls and began to fly out to meet the Cheren.\n\nThey think Jin and the Cheren are their allies, can see they are hard-pressed and fleeing. This is Gulla's plan, to use the Cheren to open Drassil's gates.\n\nRiv worked her wings harder, felt her wound complaining, muscles failing. Ignored it, thinking of Aphra lying on flagstones with her throat torn open.\n\nOn the ground the Cheren were well ahead of their pretend pursuers, a wide gap between the two groups.\n\nWide enough for the defenders of Drassil to think they can keep the gates open for the Cheren, and have time to close them before this enemy in pursuit reaches the gates.\n\nRiv saw Ben-Elim reach the Cheren riders, swooping low, heard them calling encouragements to the Cheren, urging them to ride faster.\n\nNo, Riv screamed internally.\n\nShe swept over the acolytes, outpacing them, narrowing the gap between her and the Cheren, but they were so near to the gates now. Riv saw Jin at their head, bent low over her horse, a bow clutched in one hand.\n\nBen-Elim were close now, Riv saw one was dark-haired Hadran, and she flew to him. He saw her and smiled, beating his wings to hover in the sky.\n\n\"I'm glad you still live,\" he called out to her. \"We have had no word since Kol returned. Scouts have been sent out but none have returned.\"\n\n\"IT'S A TRICK,\" Riv screamed, pointing at the Cheren.\n\n\"What?\" Hadran said, frowning. \"They are our allies, pursued by the enemy. We must help them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The Cheren are allied to the Kadoshim,\" she yelled, closer, flying in a tight circle about him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Look,\" and she pointed back, to the forest, where Kadoshim and their half-breeds were beginning to burst from the tree canopy. Below them, on the ground, a black mist flowed from the trees onto the open plain, spreading rapidly across the ground like spilt ink on parchment.\n\n\"Jin and the Cheren are fooling you, seeking to open Drassil's gates for the Kadoshim.\"\n\n\"No,\" Hadran whispered.\n\nThey both turned and flew for the gates, yelling a warning, other Ben-Elim in the air now seeing the Kadoshim and the black mist.\n\nHorns blared, voices shouting, sounds echoing out of Drassil. Riv saw Ben-Elim launching from a thousand windows into the sky, the battlements of the fortress thick with warriors.\n\n\"CLOSE THE GATES,\" Riv and Hadran screamed to-gether, but it was too late; in a thunder of hooves Jin led her warband through the open gates and into the gate tunnel, clattering into the courtyard beyond. Riv reached the gate tower and heard the first screams as Cheren warriors loosed arrows at the warriors hurrying to meet them, a widening arc of the Cheren pouring through the gates, keeping them open, slaying the gate guards.\n\nRiv looked back over her shoulder and saw the air filled with the black silhouettes of Kadoshim and their half-breeds, speeding towards her and Drassil's walls. On the ground below, the warband of acolytes were at the gates, and close behind them the black mist spread across the plain, seething and bulging with the creatures within it.\n\nArchers on Drassil's walls loosed volleys down into the oncoming acolytes, screams echoing on the field of cairns, but the gates were open and already many were riding through them. Kadoshim were close to Riv and Hadran now, the air filled with battle-cries and the beating of many wings. More volleys were loosed into the sky, some Kadoshim screeching and spiralling to the ground. With a snarl, Hadran hurled his spear, skewered a half-breed, then drew his sword and launched himself at a Kadoshim. They crashed together, spinning, snarling, spitting."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv hovered, hesitating, unsure what to do. Then, to the south, she saw another black cloud roll out from the forest, surging towards Drassil's gates. And from the west, the trees shook and yet another mist boiled out from the treeline.\n\nThey have used the depths of the forest to travel unseen.\n\nA dread settled in her belly, seeing the gates of Drassil already taken and these overwhelming numbers surging towards them.\n\nI must find Aphra."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha shivered and clenched her jaws to stop her teeth chattering.\n\nShe was sitting upon Wrath's back, or more accurately, laying prone upon his back, her arms and legs wrapped tight around him, clinging on for dear life.\n\nMorn flew beside her, in sweeping loops, laughing at the draig's slow speed and lack of manoeuvrability.\n\n\"He is like a stone with wings,\" Morn called down to her from above.\n\nAny faster or higher and I would die.\n\nFritha's muscles ached from hanging on so hard, almost three solid days of constant flying from the battleground in the Desolation. Just the thought of that soured Fritha's blood.\n\nWe were so close. Victory in the palm of my hand. I told Ulf he had to stay safe. She spent awhile cursing and swearing to the clouds above her. There were no birds in the sky, she guessed it was because Wrath's presence scared them away.\n\nAnd then she saw Drassil in the distance.\n\nShe felt a rush of terror at what Gulla would say to her when he heard of her defeat.\n\nI will not tell him yet, not until I have done the deed, and then it will be too late.\n\nShe felt a tremor of fear at the risk she was taking, but what else could she do? Flee and live her life in hiding?\n\nNever. I have a destiny to fulfil, a great deed to do, and at the least, my vengeance must be appeased. Kol is at Drassil. She felt a thrill of excitement at that thought, after so many years of planning and scheming, of fighting and dreaming of this moment, and now it had actually arrived. A clouded haze swirled around the towers and walls of Drassil, looking from this distance like flocks of birds wheeling and swooping, but Fritha knew what it was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ben-Elim and Kadoshim, locked in their eternal battle. Will this really be its end?\n\nIt could be.\n\nThe fortress rushed towards them, growing, and below her Fritha saw trees swaying and moving as some great host moved within it. Tendrils of black mist curled from the branches. To the south she saw evidence of another black cloud host surging towards the fortress.\n\nGulla's Seven with their broods, all converging on Drassil. They have moved at night by cover of darkness, slipped into the deepest, darkest recesses of Forn to avoid prying eyes and crept their way here. But now their terrible beauty can be revealed for all to see. Let the world tremble.\n\nAnd then Wrath was leaving the forest behind, flying over a plain before Drassil's great walls. Kadoshim and Ben-Elim flew in the air, sweeping and looping as they stabbed and slashed atone another, screaming their aeons-old hatred.\n\nWrath snapped at a Ben-Elim that swept past them, trading blows with a Kadoshim. The draig snagged awing, shook it and the Ben-Elim fell spiralling to the ground, its wing ruined.\n\nWrath spat out feathers.\n\n\"Taste bad,\" he grumbled.\n\n\"Soon you'll feast on the finest flesh,\" Fritha crooned.\n\n\"Happy,\" Wrath answered.\n\nThey winged over the high walls, the clash of arms drifting up to them, Fritha looking down to seethe walls manned with White-Wings, but their enemy were already inside the fortress. There were running battles taking place in the streets, mounted warriors with bows in their hands, swirling hordes of Revenants overrunning all before them, and knots of White-Wings gathered in their shield walls, like rocks in a swirling river. Fritha felt a rush of nostalgia at seeing her old home and the White-Wings she had been raised to be part of."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I was brainwashed, part of the great lie.\n\nShe searched the sky, looking for Kol, but the Ben-Elim and Kadoshim were all a too-fast blur.\n\n\"There.\" Fritha pointed at the Great Hall, a huge domed structure that was built around the trunk of Drassil's great tree. She guided Wrath towards it.\n\nA massive shield wall of White-Wings stood before the hall's gates, four or five hundred strong. Riders were pouring arrows into it, but the shields were soaking them up. Fritha saw a charge of shaven-haired acolytes rush the wall, crashing into it, hoping to breakthrough by sheer press of numbers, but the wall held and the acolytes died, short-swords stabbing.\n\nFritha whispered in Wrath's ear and the draig swooped upon the courtyard before the Great Hall, sweeping low, and then it was crashing into the shield wall, scattering White-Wing warriors in all directions.\n\nWrath squatted amidst the destruction he had caused, chewing on a severed leg, and Fritha stood tall on his back. She drew her sword and punched it into the air.\n\n\"TOME,\" she bellowed, \"TOME,\" and then she was commanding Wrath on, lumbering through what was left of the shield wall, some White-Wings scattering, others retreating and running through the hall's gates into the chamber beyond.\n\nFritha and Wrath followed, screaming acolytes charging behind them.\n\nFritha gasped as they entered the hall-such a magnificent room, a place she knew all too intimately.\n\nBattle was already raging inhere, up above, as Kadoshim and their half-breeds swept in through the many fly-holes the Ben-Elim had crafted. Feathers and blood rained down from above."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They reached the top of the steps that led down into Drassil's Great Hall and the dais before Skald's throne. Fritha commanded Wrath to stop a moment and looked.\n\nThe molten-covered forms of Asroth and Meical were as they had always been, locked in eternal battle. Fritha felt a shudder ripple through her belly at the sight of them.\n\nThe dais they stood upon was guarded by a half-circle of White-Wings, maybe a hundred strong. More were joining them.\n\nFritha scowled at them. A thousand would not keep her away from her destiny.\n\n\"Onwards,\" she said to Wrath, and the draig lumbered down the stairs, here and there White-Wings turning and reforming, trying to hold Wrath with their wall of shields, stabbing and slashing, but the draig smashed through them as if they were so much kindling, and behind them the acolytes rolled over the fallen.\n\nFritha reached the dais, saw White-Wings gathered before her, the last resistance between her and Asroth the Great. She paused a moment, both savouring this moment and allowing acolytes to gather behind her. Anew sound in the building caused her to turn and she saw a dark mist pour through the open gates, Revenants surging into the room.\n\nGulla must be close.\n\nShe turned back to the White-Wings, saw a dark-haired woman at their centre staring at her, staring at the red wings upon Fritha's cuirass.\n\nShe recognizes meas one of their own. Good, let them seethe hypocrisy of their world that has laid them low.\n\nA winged figure dropped from the sky and hovered above the White-Wing that Fritha was staring at, a Ben-Elim, some kind of shouted exchange between the two of them. Something about the Ben-Elim looked wrong, though."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha frowned.\n\nThen she realized.\n\nIts feathers were a dapple grey, not the bright, pure white of the Ben-Elim.\n\nAnd it was a woman.\n\nIt's a Ben-Elim half-breed.\n\nThe implications of that seeped through Fritha.\n\nLike my baby. She could have been my baby girl.\n\nHow has this happened? Have the Ben-Elim changed? Repented of the evil they have done?\n\nShe was rocked by that thought, shaken to her core, and fora moment she froze in shock and indecision.\n\nShe stared at the half-breed Ben-Elim, strong-limbed and fair-haired, hovering above the White-Wings with broad, dapple-grey wings. The sight of her took Fritha's breath away.\n\nWould my Anja have looked like her? A smile touched her face as she thought of that, almost lifted out a hand towards the half-breed as if she could stroke her cheek.\n\nAll I have done, fighting against this great crime against us, and now it might have been put right. She felt a moment's relief, even happiness, at the thought that no more Ben-Elim half-breeds were being put to death.\n\nBut it is too late for my baby girl. They must still answer for their crimes.\n\nMy baby was still murdered by the Ben-Elim, and that crime was condoned by the White-Wings. It was a White-Wing who told me where the cabin was, told me what to do once my Anja was born. To kill her and put her in the ground.\n\nFritha's gaze flickered between the half-breed in the air and the White-Wings gathered below her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Slowly, her shifting emotions turned to anger, building to a hot rage that swept through her veins, bubbling like a cauldron coming to boil.\n\nWhy was my baby murdered, and this one allowed to live?\n\nShe felt an irrational, all-consuming hatred for this half-breed Ben-Elim and the White-Wings before her.\n\n\"Kill them,\" Fritha said to Wrath. \"Kill them all.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Wrath replied, always his answer to this most basic of commands.\n\nHe exploded forwards, charging straight at the dark-haired White-Wing below the hovering half-breed.\n\nThe world seemed to pause for Fritha as she hurtled towards the shield wall of White-Wings. As if in slow motion she saw the dark-haired woman set her feet, knuckles whitening around her sword. A fleeting respect passed through Fritha for this woman, who could see her death charging towards her in the open jaws of the draig, and yet still she stood.\n\nAnd then hands were grabbing the dark-haired woman and hoisting her upwards, Fritha slashing with her sword at the woman's feet as she was dragged into the air above her. To either side of Fritha the shield wall was smashed by Wrath's charge, acolytes surging into the fracture and splitting it wide, and then the wall was broken and White-Wings scattered, some running, some breaking into fragmented melees.\n\nFritha glowered at the half-breed Ben-Elim and woman in her arms, saw them circle and fly towards the Great Hall's doors, the half-breed shouting down to White-Wings beneath them, some of them attempting to follow her towards the doors.\n\nFritha was tempted to follow them and crush them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But then she looked at the frozen figures upon the dais.\n\nThey were so close, now, Fritha just standing and staring in awe.\n\n\"Asroth,\" she whispered, dismounting from Wrath's back. He set to ripping chunks of flesh from a dead White-Wing.\n\nFritha approached the frozen figure of her king and reached out a tentative hand, caressing the stump of his wrist where she had hacked his hand off, which felt so long ago.\n\nA turbulence of wings and she turned to see Gulla alight on the dais. Kadoshim and half-breeds hovered around him, forming a defensive circle as Ben-Elim and White-Wings tried to retake the dais.\n\nFritha and Gulla stood there like the calm amidst the storm.\n\n\"I am here,\" Fritha said, a world of meaning in those three words. She held her handout.\n\nGulla stared at her, the Starstone Sword in his fist, dripping with blood and wreathed in a black smoke. Fritha could seethe hesitation in him.\n\n\"I was chosen,\" she said, \"by the Kadoshim Covens and the Acolyte Assembly.\" A silent moment between them. Gulla, looking around, saw Kadoshim, half-breeds and acolytes all about him.\n\nHe gave her the Starstone Sword.\n\nFritha turned towards the statue of Asroth.\n\nShe touched the black blade against the starstone metal that encased Asroth, then looked back at Gulla.\n\n\"Together,\" she said to him, and he placed his long-taloned handover hers, and then they began to chant."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Cumhacht cloch star, a rugadh ar an domhan eile, a leagtar aingeal dorcha soar in aisce.\"\n\nBlack smoke curled around the Starstone Sword, red veins cobwebbing across the blade.\n\n\"Cumhacht cloch star, a rugadh ar an domhan eile, a leagtar aingeal dorcha soar in aisce,\" they intoned again, and the red veins leached from the blade into the metal that coated Asroth and Meical, spreading like filigree across their bodies.\n\n\"Cumhacht cloch star, a rugadh ar an domhan eile, a leagtar aingeal dorcha soar in aisce,\" Fritha and Gulla chanted again, their voices twining, growing in volume, drowning out the din of battle around them.\n\nThe two statues began to pulse, black iron and red glow rippling, as if muscles were shifting beneath them.\n\nAnd then in one fluid motion Fritha drew the sword away and swung it, crashing into the starstone casing.\n\nThere was one long, extended moment where every sound seemed to be sucked into the statues and sword, an utter silence descending upon the hall, and then an explosion, iron-black fragments bursting outwards, a great blast of air hurling Fritha and Gulla from their feet, rolling across the chamber's floor, scattering all before it.\n\nFritha grunted, a ringing in her ears, dust settling around her, Gulla shifting behind her. She stood on unsteady legs and saw a vision.\n\nAsroth and Meical, ancient enemies, both curled upon the ground, breathing as if they slept.\n\nMeical stirred first, a shifting of his white wings. He was dark-haired, along scar across his forehead and cheek. He opened his eyes and looked up at Fritha, confusion writ across his handsome features."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dimly Fritha became aware of sounds around her, a stirring in the hall as all began to climb to their feet and gaze upon the miracle before them.\n\n\"Kill him,\" snarled Gulla, reaching fora weapon. Fritha looked at the Starstone Sword in her fist and Gulla snatched it from her, raised it high.\n\nAn arrow slammed into Gulla's back, sending him stumbling forwards, dropping the Starstone Sword, and then a figure was swooping down, the dapple-feathered half-breed, a curved bow in her fist. She lashed out at Gulla with a boot, kicking him in the face and sending him staggering again, and then she was reaching a hand down to Meical, who was on his knees now.\n\nHe looked up at the half-breed.\n\n\"Move and live, stay and die,\" she snarled at Meical, wings beating, hovering as she grasped for his hand.\n\nMeical reached out and gripped her wrist, and then in a flurry of wings he was rising into the sky, half-dragged, half-flying.\n\nGulla rose to his feet, screaming orders, his wings beating, taking to the air in pursuit of Meical and his half-breed rescuer, but Fritha was not paying attention. All she could do was stare.\n\nAt Asroth, Lord of the Kadoshim. He was on his knees, but as Fritha approached him he stood, slowly uncoiling, stretching as if he had woken from a deep sleep.\n\nHe wore a coat of mail, black and oily. Dark veins mapped his alabaster flesh, his face pale as milk, all sharp bones and chiselled angles, coldly handsome. His silver hair was pulled back and tied in a warrior braid that curled across one shoulder, but it was his eyes that drew and held Fritha. Black as a forest pool at midnight, no iris, no pupil, just a pulsing intelligence. Something lurked beneath those eyes, something wild and feral, a barely concealed rage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha strode up to him fearlessly.\n\n\"Welcome to your kingdom of flesh, my beloved,\" she said. \"I am Fritha ap Talgos, and I am your betrothed.\" She dropped to one knee and kissed his hand."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 5"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Year 138 of the Age of Lore, Hound's Moon\n\nDrem threw his grapple-hook high. He felt it reach the apex of its climb and then drop. There was a thunk as it connected with wood. He pulled, felt it catch in timber, gave a tug to check it had caught properly and would hold his weight.\n\nDrem was huddled tight to the wooden wall of a stockade. The only sound he could hear was his heart pounding, echoing in his skull and the rasp of his breath. Just being back here, where it had all started-it set him on edge.\n\nThe mine at the edge of the Starstone Lake.\n\nUpon Byrne's orders, he and a few score huntsmen of the Order of the Bright Star had crept out of the northern woods in the full dark and made their way to the walls. Drem had noted that the hole Hammer had made in the stockade wall had been repaired. Emotion had swept through him as he'd looked at the spot where he had last seen Sig alive, where the giantess had made her last stand.\n\nThe mixture of grief and anger set his blood thrumming in his veins, even as he'd crept through the heather and rocks; it had not left him yet. And now he was here, pressed tight against the wall, waiting to go over, just as he had, twice before.\n\nThis time, though, I am going over with sixty of the toughest, hardest men and women I've ever encountered. Hunters of the Order of the Bright Star. There was a reassurance in that. His hand went to the hilt of his seax and brushed it lightly. There was a reassurance in that, too. He rolled his shoulders, shifting the weight of his mail coat, wincing as it rubbed on raw skin, even with two layers of linen and wool between the mail and his flesh. He'd lived and breathed in it for more than a ten-night, slept in it as well, as they'd made a forced march from the battleground in the heart of the Desolation to here. He'd learned the value of his mail at that battle and, no matter how uncomfortable it got, he was not taking it off anytime soon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The grey dawn was seeping into the land around him. With the dim light he could just make out the deeper shadows of another man and woman either side of him, twenty or thirty paces away. They had cast their grapple-hooks, too, and they were all waiting for the signal.\n\nAn owl hooted.\n\nKeld.\n\nDrem sucked in a deep breath and climbed, hauling himself up the rope, feet scraping on timber. He was a big man, heavy, but he was strong, stronger than most, and the climb was little effort to him. Ina few heartbeats he was at the top; he rolled over, lowering himself to the walkway, crouching low.\n\nA nod either side to his companions and then he twisted off the walkway, hung suspended, then dropped to the ground. A moment's pause, holding his breath to listen, and he was slipping his seax and short axe into his hands and moving into the complex.\n\nThe mine was a place of shadows and grey light, of muffled sounds: a door creaking on old hinges, the skittering of rats, in the distance the lapping of the lake. Drem made his way slowly from building to building, pushing doors open, checking for any inhabitants, searching the shadows. He saw tracks and crouched to inspect them. They were not a man's, being too long and distended, the ground scarred by claws, but they were not an animal's, either. Drem had seen too many tracks like this for his liking, lately.\n\nA Feral's.\n\nBut they were old, the soil hard and dry.\n\nA moon at least, maybe longer.\n\nAnd the fact that they had not been scuffed away by new tracks was a confirmation of what he'd suspected. The mine had long been abandoned."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem moved on, continuing his methodical search, opening every door, scrutinizing every track. His path led him ever inwards until, abruptly, a space opened up: a square bordered on three sides by an assortment of buildings. To the north a slab of rock rose to the sky, like a cliff face. Deeper patches of shadow scattered across its darkness hinted at caves. Drem knew what they were, had seen them before.\n\nCages for Fritha's experiments.\n\nIn the centre of the clearing was a table.\n\nDrem shivered as memories crawled out of the dark corners of his mind.\n\nMemories of blood and fire. Of Fritha, Gulla the Kadoshim and of words of power. He had seen Fritha cut Gulla's throat and cast him upon that table, along with the body of one of the Desolation's giant bats and the hand cut from Asroth's body. He remembered the sensation of bile rising in his throat as he had watched that dark magic at work, the bloodied, frothing steam, the writhing and melding of the forms on the table, and finally of Gulla rising, born anew, born as something different.\n\nThe first Revenant, he called himself.\n\nDrem shook his head and took a step into the open courtyard. Other forms separated from the shadows: more hunters of the Order who had made their search of the mine, all of them moving like a tightening noose towards this place, the heart of the complex. They stood in silence. Dawn was claiming the land, banishing the murk, and Drem saw more evidence that the place had long been deserted. The buildings were cold and empty, fire-pits stripped of ash by rain and wind, the only signs of life the occasional scuttle of rats or scratching of birds in eaves. The hard-packed earth was rutted with tracks. Drem imagined a gathering of many here, a mixture of animal and human, but the tracks were all hard and dry."
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"value": "A final gathering before Fritha's warband left, marching out to meet the Order?\n\nThe sun was rising higher now; the morning light washed over the huge table in the centre of the courtyard, where it squatted like some sleeping, malignant beast. Chains and manacles of iron were set deep into the timber, darker stains scattered in pools on the grain.\n\nBlood always leaves a stain.\n\nIn the pale-streaked skies above, Drem made out the circling of crows. Others were scattered elsewhere above the mine, landing on rooftops, winging through unshuttered windows. One of the crows above Drem spiralled down to the courtyard, a pale bird, white-feathered where the others were all dark. It cawed and beat its wings, alighting on Drem's shoulder. He felt Rab's claws flex and dig into him, and was glad again for his coat of mail.\n\n\"Gulla gone,\" Rab squawked.\n\n\"Aye, looks that way,\" Drem said.\n\n\"And no Twisted Men?\" Rab croaked.\n\n\"None that I can find,\" Drem told him, knowing that Rab was referring to Fritha's Ferals.\n\n\"Good,\" Rab muttered, shaking and puffing his feathers out.\n\nA figure strode from a street to the west. An older man, dark hair turning to grey, an elegance and intensity to his movement. An assortment of knives and short axes bristled from his belts. Keld, huntsman of the Order and Drem's friend. Two huge wolven-hounds were loping at his flanks, one slate grey, the other red. In one hand Keld had something long wrapped in a cloak."
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"value": "A spear?\n\nKeld strode to the centre of the clearing and paused beside the table, looking at it with a glower. Then he lifted his gaze and stared around the circle, meeting the eyes of each and every hunter. Drem shook his head when Keld's eyes locked with his.\n\nNo sign of the living.\n\nWith a nod, Keld put a horn to his lips and blew upon it.\n\nAn answering horn echoed in the distance. Soon Drem felt a tremor in the ground.\n\nIt is hard for the warband of the Order to move stealthily, especially when there are over a hundred giant bears amongst their ranks.\n\nShapes filled a wide street to the west, which cut through the mine from its main gate and led here. Mounted figures spilt into the clearing. At their head was Byrne, the High Captain of the Order of the Bright Star, and Drem's aunt. She was astern-faced woman, dark hair drawn back tightly to her nape, her mail coat and leather surcoat thick with dust from their ride here. A curved sword arched across her back. Drem considered how unassuming she looked, no ostentatious embellishments, no gold or silver, just plain, though expertly made equipment. To see her, no one would guess just how deadly Byrne truly was. Drem thought back to the recent battle: Byrne trading blows with Fritha, using both blade and the earth magic. Fritha had clearly been outclassed. Drem felt a rush of pride and affection for Byrne. She had saved his life in that battle. She was his kin and, with both mother and father dead, the only kin he had-that meant a lotto Drem. More than that, she had shown him love and kindness, and that counted for far more in these bleak and desolate times."
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"value": "At Byrne's shoulder a huge bear lumbered, upon it a dark-haired and pale-skinned giantess, Queen Ethlinn, a spear in her fist with its butt resting in a saddle-cup. Ethlinn's eyes scanned the clearing, focusing on the table.\n\nTo the other side of Byrne, another giant strode, his white hair braided, a creased lattice of scar tissue where one eye had once been. His coat of mail and leather jerkin did little to hide the slabs of muscle that padded his frame. He gripped a war-hammer in his huge hands. Balur One-Eye, father of Ethlinn, most famed warrior of the Banished Lands.\n\nBehind these three rode the warband of the Order: an assortment of giants upon bears with mounted warriors, more riders coming out into the clearing from smaller streets. Drem saw red-haired Cullen riding close behind Byrne. The young warrior's eyes sought out Drem and he gave him awry grin. Keld had spoken for Drem and his skills as a huntsman and tracker, and had easily accepted him into the hunter's order. Cullen had wanted to accompany Drem into the mine with the other scouts, but Byrne had forbidden it. Cullen was not a hunter, with neither the patience nor aptitude for stealth. He was skilled with a blade, more than most-far more than Drem-but he was hot-headed and acted before thinking, so Byrne had ordered the young warrior to stay with her. Cullen had been none too pleased about that.\n\nByrne rode up to the table and reined in, the others rippling to a halt behind her. With practised ease, Byrne slipped from her saddle. She approached the table, stopped before it and stared at it with a scowl. Ethlinn followed, holding a handout over the table, her lips moving, and then she winced, as if seeing the terrible acts that had occurred upon it. Balur lifted one of the chains and curled a lip, let it drop."
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"value": "\"Keld?\" Byrne looked to her huntsman.\n\n\"Place is empty.\" Keld grunted. \"Been that way awhile, by the looks of it.\"\n\nByrne nodded, her eyes returning to the table.\n\n\"But I did find this.\" Keld held out the object he had bundled in his cloak.\n\nByrne reached out and unwrapped the object; a series of emotions flittered across her face as she recognized it. Sorrow, anger. There was a slight tremor in Byrne's hands as she revealed it.\n\nA sword.\n\nDrem knew it immediately, even if it was still in its scabbard with along belt wrapped around it. Its size and length made it obvious that this was no ordinary sword, that it had belonged to a giant or giantess.\n\nSig's sword.\n\nDrem felt a fist clench in his gut at the sight of it. He had known Sig for such a short time, but she had left an irremovable mark upon his heart. An example of true friendship, of loyalty. Of love.\n\nOf truth and courage.\n\nA tear ran down his cheek.\n\nByrne nodded, holding the sword up high for all to see.\n\n\"You should take this,\" Byrne said, turning and offering it to Balur One-Eye.\n\nThe old giant blinked. He slung his war-hammer over his shoulder, reached out a tentative hand, then drew it back.\n\n\"No,\" the giant said. \"It should go to someone in your Order. Sig was a warrior of the Bright Star, through and through.\"\n\nByrne lowered the blade, resting its scabbarded tip upon the ground. \"So are you, inhere,\" Byrne said, touching a hand to her heart with one hand."
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"value": "\"Huh,\" grunted Balur, not a denial, Drem noted. \"But I have not taken your oath.\"\n\n\"You knew Corban, knew what he fought for. You were his friend,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"I was,\" Balur breathed, \"but I never took his oath. Only one oath guides me. To guard my daughter's life with my own.\" He reached out a calloused hand and touched Ethlinn's cheek.\n\nEthlinn wrapped his hand in her own and smiled. \"That oath would never conflict with the oath of the Order,\" she said. \"Sig was dear to you. You should take the sword.\"\n\nBalur stared at it and nodded.\n\n\"Aye, all right then.\" He reached out a hand and took the blade from Byrne, drew it from its scabbard and held it high. It glinted in the summer sun, though dark patches stained it.\n\n\"I'll avenge you with this sword, brave Sig,\" Balur shouted, his voice echoing from the buildings and down empty streets. A cheer rang out from the warriors around him. Drem's voice was one of the loudest.\n\nYou have already fulfilled part of that promise, Drem thought, remembering Balur fighting the giant, Gunil, Sig's killer and a traitor to the giants. Balur had crushed his skull with a blow from his war-hammer.\n\nDrem had felt a huge sense of satisfaction at seeing Gunil slain, not only as revenge for Sig's death, but Gunil had also been one of those responsible for the murder of Drem's father, Olin.\n\nJust Fritha left to face justice for that, now, Drem thought, his hands involuntarily clenching into fists at the thought of the woman who had slain his father."
},
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"value": "\"And it is rune-marked,\" Byrne said quietly to Balur, with a small smile as the cheering died down, and Balur slipped the sword back into its scabbard."
},
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"value": "\"That may come in very handy in the coming days.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Balur nodded.\n\nDuring the battle against Fritha they had been attacked by a swarming host of Revenants, twisted offspring created by the bite of Gulla and his chosen. They were human in shape, but fought with an utter disregard for their own safety and were near-impossible to kill. Drem had seen decapitation put one down, but other than that they just kept coming at you. Unless they were stabbed with a rune-marked blade. When struck with a blade that had been inscribed with runes of earth power the Revenant would fall, every time. Drem had stabbed the host's captain, Ulf, with his own seax, rune-marked by Drem's father, Olin. Ulf had died and, with his death, the whole of his Revenant host had collapsed and died as well.\n\nEvery single one of us should have a rune-marked blade.\n\nBut they were rare, only belonging to those whom Byrne had deemed trustworthy enough to teach the earth power to. She said it was a great responsibility, learning the earth power, and so only a small portion of the Order of the Bright Star wielded such weapons. Sig had been one of them.\n\nNow, though, after the battle with Fritha, there was a need for all to carry a rune-marked weapon, whether they knew the earth power or not. Otherwise there would be no standing against these Revenants.\n\nBalur shrugged his war-hammer off his back and slid the sword over his shoulder, fumbling at the belt straps. Byrne helped him cinch them tight. The giant rolled his shoulders.\n\n\"I'll have to learn how to use this thing,\" he muttered."
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"value": "\"I'll teach you, One-Eye,\" Cullen called out. A few chuckles echoed around the clearing.\n\n\"I'll hold you to that, you young pup,\" Balur growled. He bent and picked up his war-hammer. \"But for now, I'll stick to this.\" He hefted his war-hammer and smiled at its familiar weight.\n\nByrne looked back to Keld. \"Will Balur get to wield his new blade here?\"\n\n\"Not likely,\" Keld said. \"We've scouted the place-not a living soul'cept rats and the like. Only place we haven't looked is in there.\" The huntsman nodded towards the cliff face. \"I wasn't going to send a handful of my crew in there until there were more swords at my back.\" The rock was pocked with scores of small caves, all of them set with iron-barred gates. Now open. Drem remembered all too well the inhabitants of those cells: Ferals, mutations of men, women and children, somehow warped into a malformed half-life, created by Fritha's twisted mind and her dark blood magic.\n\nSet amongst the cells was a deeper blackness: a massive cave entrance which looked as if it ran deep into the rock face. Drem had a recollection of howls echoing out from that dark hole during the battle hereon that nightmare-filled night.\n\nByrne lifted her eyes and stared at the black hole in the granite wall.\n\n\"Spread out, search every last handspan of this place,\" she called out. \"I need to know where Gulla is.\"\n\nThe warband spread out into the surrounding buildings. Ethlinn and Balur remained, alongside a score of warriors, Byrne's honour guard with Cullen and Utul, Byrne's captain from the south. He was dark-skinned with a hooked nose, streaks of grey in his otherwise jet hair, and deep lines about his eyes-evidence of his near-constant smile. A curved sword hilt arched over his shoulder, similar to Byrne's, but with a longer grip. He was one of the deadliest swordsmen Drem had ever seen, and he'd had the privilege of seeing a few, lately."
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"value": "\"Drem, you're with us,\" Byrne said to him. Rab gave a croak, spread his wings and flapped into the air.\n\n\"You know this place better than any of us,\" Byrne said. \"I want to take a look in there.\" She nodded towards the cave entrance and started walking, Ethlinn, Balur and the others following. Keld was already at the opening, striking sparks from flint and stone into a torch he'd taken from a sconce set just inside the cave entrance. Flames sparked and flared, sending shadows dancing. In the new light Drem saw the cave ran deep into the rock, sloping downwards.\n\nKeld strode into the cave, holding the torch high. His two wolven-hounds, Fen and Ralla, followed him, though Drem could see their hackles were up, their noses twitching. Byrne ordered half her honour guard to remain at the cave entrance, the other ten following her as she marched after Keld. Ethlinn, Balur, Cullen and Utul accompanied her.\n\nDrem drew in a deep breath and hurried after them."
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"value": "Jin nocked an arrow, drew and loosed, repeating the action twice more before her first arrow thumped into the linden wood of a White-Wing's shield. Her second arrow tinged off an iron helm, the third punching into the warrior's eye. He fell back, causing a ripple in the shield wall as another stepped over his corpse to fill the gap.\n\nA sharp scream somewhere above, a looming shadow, and a Kadoshim crashed to the ground, wings and arms splayed, blood pumping from a tear in its ringmail. Jin's horse danced sideways, treading on bodies, searching for even ground. Smoke billowed across the courtyard in great clouds, the reek of blood and death, the screams of battle and the dying everywhere.\n\nJin was holding the gates of Drassil, her oathsworn guards about her, others of her Clan dismounted now and in the gate tower. Arrows whistling down from above told her they had taken the towers and were on the wall. She gave a snarled grin at her success and snatched a moment to look and assess the battle.\n\nShe and her Cheren Clan had wreaked havoc with their initial assault, the gate guards thinking she was their ally and opening the gates for her and her warriors. She had swept them away in a tide of blood. But Drassil's White-Wings were regrouping now: a shield wall formed in the centre of the courtyard, pushing towards her. Fritha's acolytes were pouring through the open gates, a wave of shaven-haired warriors, grim-faced and resolute. They were men and women who had rebelled against the rule of the Ben-Elim and allied themselves to the Kadoshim, some of them having lived from hand to mouth in the wild for many years, outlawed for their audacity in spurning the Ben-Elim's iron Lore. Now was time for their revenge."
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"value": "It had been along time coming.\n\nI want so much revenge. Against the Ben-Elim and their White-Wing puppets who have kept me a captive in this disgusting, barbaric hole when I could have been riding free upon the Sea of Grass with my kin about me.\n\nWith my father.\n\nShe still felt his death as if it was a physical blow. His murder was imprinted upon her mind, like when she looked at the fire too long, nothing else to see except the flames. Bleda's blade stabbing into her father's throat, sawing through it, a gush of blood.\n\nI will kill you for that, Bleda, if it is the last thing I do.\n\nEven killing Bleda's mother a few moments later had not softened her need for vengeance. It burned inside her.\n\nHe made a fool of me. My betrothed, meeting in secret with that half-breed winged bitch! To think I pleaded with my father to let him live, to allow us towed. Her shame twisted her mouth into a snarl, too much for her to control.\n\nThe acolytes slammed into the shield wall, horses rearing, neighing. Screams rang as short-swords stabbed out from the shields, the White-Wings killing efficiently. But there were so many acolytes, more of them riding into the courtyard with every heartbeat, and behind them Jin glimpsed a rolling tide of mist. She knew what was hidden within that.\n\nTime to move.\n\nGulla had assured her that his creatures in the mist would not harm her or her Cheren warriors, but she had seen what they had done to the Sirak. It was a risk she'd rather not take.\n\n\"With me!\" she cried, a squeeze of her knees, and her mount responded, carrying her away from the gateway. A clatter of hooves and hundreds of her warriors followed her, in deels of blue and coats of mail, recurved bows in their fists, hawk banners snapping in the wind. First amongst them was faithful Gerel, close by her shoulder as always, her oathsworn man and guardian."
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"value": "Jin reined in, seeing her new location opened up angles and gaps for her arrows to penetrate the wall of enemy shields. She reached for her quiver and nocked an arrow, cursing as the muscle twinged in her shoulder, not yet fully healed from an arrow wound taken during Bleda's escape.\n\nThat winged bitch put an arrow in me. If her aim was any better...\n\nThe White-Wings were still standing, holding the tide of acolytes, no matter that they were overwhelmingly outnumbered. They looked like a boulder in a river of shaven-haired warriors. Many acolytes were sweeping around the shield wall's flanks, ignoring them entirely and rushing towards the goal. Asroth, their frozen king. Jin ignored the protest from the frayed tendons of her shoulder and loosed, once, twice, three times, her Clansmen doing the same, a hail of arrows raining into the shield wall. The clatter-thump of arrows in shields, screams as some found the gaps and sank into flesh.\n\nMist moved in Jin's peripheral vision, a cloud of it boiling through the gateway's tunnel, into the courtyard, and Jin glimpsed figures in the mist, long-limbed arms and taloned hands, heard the slavering snarls and sibilant hissing as her new allies swept into Drassil and over the shield wall, sweeping around it.\n\nA few moments silence and then the screaming began.\n\nThe crack of shields breaking, torn from arms, swords stabbing. Jin knew the sound of steel punching into meat, and of blows, the tearing and rending of flesh. Screams rose in pitch, fear-laced, and the shield wall was rippling, fracturing into a hundred pieces."
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"value": "There is no holding back those... things.\n\nThe mist swept on, fragmenting, roiling into the street that led to Drassil's Great Hall.\n\n\"This is done: the courtyard is ours,\" Jin muttered to Gerel. He nodded, eyes fixed on the mist-shrouded carnage, streaks of blood punctuating the air.\n\nJin clicked and her horse moved on.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" Gerel called after her.\n\n\"Looking for more White-Wings to kill,\" Jin said.\n\n\"Gulla said to take the gate and hold it,\" Gerel reminded her.\n\n\"I am not his whipped hound,\" she snapped back. \"He is my ally, not my master. Besides, the gate is taken, there will be no coming back from this. And I have not killed nearly enough of my enemies.\"\n\nGerel nodded at that and urged his horse after her. Cheren warriors followed, their hooves mixing with the sound of battle.\n\nJin reined in, staring.\n\nWide streets led away from the courtyard to all parts of Drassil's fortress. The heaviest fighting was filling the street that led to Drassil's Great Hall, where Asroth was held in his iron prison. But Jin had seen something in one of the other streets, one that headed eastwards. A group of White-Wings, running across, away from the Great Hall, away from the battle. Some were limping.\n\nOne of them had stopped, was staring aghast into the courtyard. She had dark hair, cropped short like all of the White-Wings, but Jin recognized her, had watched her training in the weapons-field for so many years. There was a confidence and fluid economy in her movements that only the finest warriors possessed."
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"value": "\"Aphra,\" Jin whispered.\n\nThe figure turned and ran on with her companions, disappearing from view.\n\n\"If I cannot kill the half-breed bitch right now, then I will make do with killing her sister,\" Jin said, with a savage grin.\n\nShe touched her heels to her mount."
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"value": "Riv swayed in the sky as her wings powered her, one hand carrying a dazed warrior through the air. All about her Ben-Elim and Kadoshim were locked in battle, a savage aerial conflict that filled the sky with blood and feathers.\n\nShe swung her short-sword at a Kadoshim who flew too close as he stabbed and slashed at a Ben-Elim. Her blade sliced through the meat of his wing and sent the demon tumbling towards the ground.\n\nThe Ben-Elim she had saved gave her a curt nod, then his eyes widened at what she was grasping in her left hand.\n\nNot what, but who.\n\nAnother Ben-Elim, long black hair tied at the nape, a series of scars running across his forehead and down one cheek.\n\nMeical, once High Captain of the Ben-Elim, though for more than a hundred years he had been locked within a cage of starstone metal, none knowing if he were alive or dead.\n\nRiv had rescued him from Drassil's Great Hall, where Gulla and his Kadoshim had been moving to slay the newly awakened Ben-Elim, and now they were in the air above the courtyard beyond the hall. Bodies littered the ground, combat swirling in knots below them.\n\nMeical had been dazed when she grabbed him and carried him from the hall.\n\nWell, asleep one hundred and thirty-eight years long would do that, Riv thought.\n\nNow he was gazing around, eyes more focused, taking in the carnage. He looked at Riv, his lips moving, but Riv could not hear what he was saying over the din of battle echoing around them.\n\n\"Where's Corban?\" Meical shouted louder to her."
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"value": "Riv blinked. It wasn't a question she'd expected.\n\nCorban? The founder of the Order of the Bright Star?\n\n\"He's dead,\" Riv called down to him.\n\nConfusion, shifting to grief. The sense of pain and loss emanating from the Ben-Elim's eyes was so acute that Riv's breath caught in her chest. \"For nearly eighty years,\" she told him.\n\n\"No.\" She saw his lips make the word.\n\nBehind them a cloud of Kadoshim burst out of the doors of the Great Hall, Gulla leading the charge, larger than the other Kadoshim. His face was twisted in a rictus of hatred, head twitching like a predatory bird's as he scanned the courtyard.\n\nHe hunts Meical.\n\nRiv closed her wings and dived, settling upon a rooftop and dragging Meical under an overhang and into deep shadows.\n\n\"What do you mean, eighty years?\" Meical said.\n\nRiv peered out into the sky, saw Gulla leading his Kadoshim south-east, towards Drassil's main gates.\n\nShe looked back at Meical and sucked in a deep breath.\n\n\"You've been asleep for one hundred and thirty-eight years,\" Riv explained. Of course, the day he had been frozen had been a day of battle, much like this.\n\nShe waved a hand at the conflict all around them. \"This isn't your Day of Wrath, when the Kadoshim were defeated and you and Asroth were encased in starstone metal. That happened along time ago.\"\n\nMeical rubbed a handover his eyes and pinched his nose, processing Riv's words. He sighed and let out along breath."
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"value": "A lot for him to take in, but I don't have time for this. Riv needed to find Aphra, and below that emotion was a deeper, darker pool tugging at her, that ever-present current of rage whispering to forget all else and just kill every enemy she encountered. There were Kadoshim and their followers everywhere, and they needed to die.\n\nA hand gripped her shoulder.\n\n\"Tell me,\" Meical said, his eyes focusing on Riv, his confusion and grief of moments before gone, the pain in his eyes shut away.\n\n\"The Kadoshim have attacked Drassil,\" she said quickly, \"released you and Asroth from your gaol.\" She thought about that. \"They set Asroth free, and you were just a by-product of that.\"\n\nMeical nodded. \"They were about to kill me,\" he whispered, eyes distant, remembering.\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv agreed. \"They still might, if we don't get out of here.\"\n\n\"Who leads the Ben-Elim?\"\n\nRiv shrugged. \"Kol, if he's still alive.\"\n\n\"Kol? What of Israfil?\"\n\n\"Israfil's dead.\" She held a hand up to Meical's questioning look. \"There's no time,\" she snapped, the screams of battle still loud. \"Drassil is fallen, our only hope is to escape. Now!\"\n\n\"Flee?\" Meical said, his lip curling.\n\n\"Yes, flee,\" Riv growled. She didn't like the thought of running away, either-it left a bad taste in her mouth-but living was better than dying. With a beat of her wings, Riv shrugged off Meical's grip and rose into the air, hovering above him. Meical's eyes took in her dapple-grey feathers."
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"value": "\"You are not Ben-Elim,\" Meical said, eyebrows knotting. \"What are you?\"\n\n\"I told you, there's no more time for talking,\" Riv said, her patience fraying, thinking of Aphra out there, fighting, needing her. \"If we get out of here, I'll answer all your questions, but right now we need to get moving.\" She twirled the short-sword in her fist. \"I'm leaving. You can stay and die, or fly and live.\" She beat her wings, climbing higher into the air, and looked down at him.\n\nMeical stared at her, then looked beyond her, at the battle-stained skies.\n\n\"Give me a sword,\" he snarled.\n\nShe grinned back fiercely, threw her short-sword to him and drew her other blade from its scabbard.\n\nMeical caught the sword, hefted it for balance, then crouched and leaped into the air. His wings were wide and bright white-a pure-bred Ben-Elim, unlike her'tainted\" half-breed blood, as the others considered her.\n\nThe courtyard below was a swirling maelstrom of combat, clusters of White-Wings in their shield walls still holding against the Kadoshim's acolytes swarming around them. Here and there Riv glimpsed darker groups of the pale-faced, sharp-toothed things that she had fought in Forn Forest. They were shaped like men and women, but they fought like nothing Riv had ever seen before, an unfettered ferocity that was more animal than human. And they were hard to kill, decapitation seeming to be the only way to put one of them down permanently.\n\nRiv had seen three war-hosts of these creatures swarming towards Drassil's walls. She knew there was no standing against them-they were too many."
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"value": "In the air about them Ben-Elim fought with Kadoshim and their half-breed offspring. Riv twisted and turned through the combat, part of her desperate to wade in and spill the blood of her enemy, but she had helped Aphra and a few score White-Wings fight free of Drassil's hall, and now she feared what had become of them since she had turned back to rescue Meical.\n\nA blast of turbulent air washer only warning. She twisted, seeing the leathery wings and flat features of a Kadoshim half-breed, the glint of steel as a sword stabbed at her. With a few strong wing strokes, she halted her trajectory and defended. Sparks flew as she deflected the blade, but the half-breed's momentum carried him on. He crashed into her and they spun through the air together, locked in battle, snarling and spitting in each other's eyes as they fought to be the victor.\n\nRiv wrapped one arm around her attacker's waist, dragged herself closer and slammed her forehead into his face. Cartilage shattered, blood spurted, but the half-breed just spat curses at her and tried to smash his sword hilt into Riv's skull.\n\nShe turned, felt air rush past her face as the hilt skimmed her. A twist of her arm as she drew back her own weapon fora killing thrust.\n\nThe half-breed suddenly stiffened, eyes and mouth wide with surprise, a tide of blood bubbling from his lips, his lungs pierced and flooding. Then he slumped, plummeting to the ground.\n\nMeical hovered in the air, his sword red, his face cold and hard with hatred. He threw Riv's short-sword back to her, another, longer sword in his fist now, plucked from the half-breed's dying fingers."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I had him,\" Riv snarled, resenting Meical for taking her kill.\n\n\"You said we need speed,\" Meical reminded her.\n\nAphra.\n\nRiv bit back an angry retort, sheathed her swords, tucked awing and turned northwards.\n\nThe main gate into Drassil was on the western wall, and that was where the fighting had been fiercest. Cheren horse-archers, led by their traitorous queen, Jin, had taken the gate and held it for the Kadoshim's acolytes, allowing them to pour into Drassil, and close behind them had come the cloud-shrouded monsters from Forn Forest.\n\nThere would be no escape for any on foot through those gates.\n\nBut, for those with knowledge, there were more ways out of Drassil.\n\nRiv beat her wings faster and soon the air was clearing of fighting Ben-Elim and Kadoshim. A glance over her shoulder showed that Meical was close behind. She veered right, twisting and diving low, speeding along mostly empty streets, buildings rearing either side of her. Here and there people were running, not warriors-the White-Wing barracks were all situated to the south of the fortress-but traders and their families. Riv's heart went out to them.\n\nHow can they defend themselves against the Kadoshim and their host?\n\n\"MAKE FOR THE EAST GATE!\" Riv yelled to them as she sped over their heads.\n\nA turn southwards, the sound of screams drifted on the air, growing louder, the clatter of hooves. Riv's gut instinct was drawing her to the sounds of battle, but with an act of will she veered left, down another empty street, heading eastwards."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Again, the sounds of battle faded and Riv gave herself to her wings. They beat a storm, speeding her through Drassil's cobbled streets, whipping up a trail of leaves and dirt in her wake. The speed ripped tears from her eyes, sending her fair hair streaking in the air like a wind-whipped banner. Fear for Aphra, her sister-no, her mother-gave her wings even more strength, buildings passing by at a dizzying pace.\n\nThe thought of Aphra lying in a pool of her own blood with a Kadoshim standing over her would not leave Riv's mind.\n\nA riderless horse jolted her back to the present. A warrior's foot was tangled in the stirrup, his body dragging along the ground.\n\nOne of the Cheren. Riv recognized the rider with his shaved head and warrior braid. Battle-cries echoed from the direction the horse had appeared. Riv swept on, turned a corner, and the street and buildings disappeared as Drassil's weapons-field opened up before her. Riv had grownup in Drassil, and most of those seventeen years had been spent on this field. It was the place she loved most, the place she had learned to become a warrior, and even though much violence had been practised here, it had always felt like a place of safety, of camaraderie.\n\nAnd now it was filled with blood and screams."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Drem,\" Byrne called, and he hurried past the bulk of Balur to walk alongside his aunt. To either side, carved out of the cave walls, were more open cells, iron bars rusted. Here and there a smaller tunnel branched off. At each of these one of Byrne's guards stopped, a guardian against any hidden foes creeping upon them out of the darkness.\n\nThis is not a good place to be caught in an ambush, Drem thought.\n\nBalur stuck his head inside one of the open cells, holding a torch he'd taken from the wall and lit with Keld's. He wrinkled his nose and spat.\n\n\"When you came here before, did you enter this place?\" Byrne asked Drem.\n\n\"No,\" Drem replied. He had been to the mine twice: once on his own, searching for his father's murderers, and once with Sig, Keld and Cullen. \"I did hear... things, inhere, though.\"\n\n\"What things?\" Byrne asked.\n\n\"Ferals, I think,\" Drem said, straining his memories. \"It was the night Sig fell. We were fighting, out there.\" He nodded back towards the circle of daylight disappearing behind them. \"Cullen was standing on the table, I was with Sig.\" He paused, frowning. \"Keld opened the cages in the cliff face, letting the Ferals who weren't loyal to Fritha out. It was chaos, you understand, but I can remember hearing howling, like a storm, deafening, echoing out of the tunnel mouth.\"\n\n\"Hmm,\" Byrne said. \"Ferals.\" She nodded, looking either side of them. \"A lot of empty cages.\"\n\n\"They're not here now, though, more's the pity,\" a voice said behind Drem. Cullen, he realized."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Byrne looked at Cullen and frowned. \"So, where are the Ferals now?\"\n\n\"Food for crows,\" Cullen said, grinning. \"We carved them all up back in the Desolation.\"\n\nDrem shook his head. \"There area lot of cages down here,\" he said.\n\nByrne nodded. \"We fought many Ferals, but this many?\"\n\nAhead of them the torch stopped moving. Keld was standing and staring at something ahead. Drem saw Fen take a few steps ahead of Keld, muscles tense and coiled, as if he was hunting something. Ralla, the red-furred hound that had belonged to another hunter lost in the battle at the Desolation, paced forwards with a deep-throated growl, to stand beside Fen.\n\nThe group moved to join Keld, staring ahead to where the tunnel entered a large chamber. The scuff of their boots on stone echoed into the dark. The path curved left and right into the darkness.\n\nA cavern?\n\nA terrible smell pervaded the air. Decay, faeces and urine.\n\nAnd before them was a drop, their torchlight flickering down into what looked like a pit, the sides too uniform to have been made naturally. It was deep, but in the dim light Drem saw shadowed shapes on the ground, utterly still. Without thinking, his seax was in his fist.\n\nBalur stepped to the side and raised his torch to a sconce in the wall, lighting another torch, its flames crackling into life and illuminating more of the room.\n\nCullen slipped past them and walked along the left pathway, taking the torch and lighting others set into the walls.\n\nLight slowly seeped into the chamber. Drem saw that the motionless shapes in the pit were cadavers, piles of skin and bone. Misshapen skeletons with long claws and too many teeth, elongated spines, sometimes a clump of fur."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ferals,\" Utul said.\n\n\"Dead Ferals,\" Cullen said, looking down into the pit with interest. \"Anything that did walk or draw breath is long gone.\" He wrinkled his nose. \"Or long dead.\"\n\nA sound drifted out of the darkness.\n\nA scraping and wheezing.\n\nThe sound was coming from the pit.\n\nSomething crawled out of the shadows, human-like in shape, in that it had ahead, two arms and two legs, but there were patches of fur on an elongated skull, its lower jaw was distended, teeth like tusks curling out over its snout, and its hind legs were bunched and misshapen with muscle. With one long-clawed hand it reached forwards to dig into the hard-packed earth and drag itself along. The other arm was twisted tight to its body, like an old, arthritic man's. It made a snuffling, rasping sound from deep in its throat.\n\nFen and Ralla's growling grew deeper, more malevolent.\n\nA Feral, Drem thought, though it didn't resemble the creatures he had fought in the Desolation. They were all mutated, twisted beings, animals and humans merged with dark magic. But the animal part of most of the creatures Drem had fought resembled wolven. This thing before him looked more as if it had started life as a boar.\n\n\"I'll put it out of its misery,\" Cullen said, with a grimace.\n\nBefore Byrne could say anything, Cullen had jumped into the pit. He threw his torch behind the crawling thing, revealing an empty space behind the creature.\n\nCullen's sword hissed from its scabbard.\n\nThe thing on the ground had seen or smelled Cullen and dragged itself towards the red-haired warrior. It left gouged tracks in the ground behind it, and in its wake some kind of dark fluid moistened the hard earth."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "It crawled to a stop before Cullen, taking deep snorting breaths, apparently exhausted.\n\n\"Poor beast,\" Cullen said.\n\nIt sniffed, a wet snorting, its one good arm hovering in the air, its hind legs scrabbling, bunching under its torso.\n\n\"Get out of there, you idiot,\" Byrne called down to Cullen furiously, \"until we have this room lit.\"\n\n\"It's as weak as a newborn,\" Cullen assured her, eyes fixed on the creature at his feet. The thing looked up at Cullen, then, in a shocking burst of speed, it erupted towards him, hind legs propelling it forwards. Its one good arm wrapped around Cullen's leg and it sank its tusks into his calf.\n\nCullen screamed, shock and pain mingled, and he hacked down at the thing. His blade bit, but not as deep as Drem had expected; the thick folds of skin on the creature snared Cullen's sword. Blood welled.\n\nByrne was shouting orders as Drem leaped down after his friend. It had not been a conscious decision. His seax and small axe were in his fists, gleaming red and gold in the flickering torchlight as he broke into a run.\n\nSounds came from the darkness: snorting, scrabbling noises.\n\nDrem heard Byrne's voice, followed by Balur One-Eye's battle roar and the ground trembled as the giant jumped into the pit after him. Drem was close to Cullen now and raised his axe as he ran.\n\nSomething slammed into Drem's side, sending him flying through the air. He hit the ground hard, air punched from his lungs, and tumbled with something heavy on him, another Feral-solid, all muscle, coiled strength and a frenzied, ravenous hunger. The sharp stench of urine and blood filled his senses. He struck at it, felt his axe bite, then lost his grip on it as they rolled. He had a glimpse of tusks and rowed teeth, of snapping jaws and fetid breath. Still rolling, he stabbed with his seax, which did better than his axe. He felt the blade pierce the thick hide and sink deep, felt blood well over the hilt, over his glove and soak into his linen undershirt. With a high-pitched squeal, the creature pulled away. Drem yanked on his seax but it grated on bone, was snagged somehow, and the blade was ripped out of his hand."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem crashed into one of the cadavers. It exploded, covering him with stinking strips of skin and gnawed bone. He scrambled to his feet, breath heaving, a hot pain radiating from his ribs where the thing had connected with him. There were rents in his mail, rings hanging. In his peripheral vision he glimpsed Cullen still hacking at the creature trying to eat his leg, many more of the beasts attacking a handful of Byrne's honour guard who had joined them in the pit, and Balur One-Eye swinging his hammer.\n\nDrem realized he was standing a dozen paces from the boar-thing that had attacked him, with no weapons in his hands.\n\nThen it was coming at him again.\n\nStumbling away, he reached for his father's sword, sheathed at his hip, had a moment to wish he had a boar spear with across-bar, probably the best way to kill one of these things and keep it from goring him with its tusks. His draw turned into an upward cut, the blade's tip shearing through the beast's lower jaw, cutting through one tusk and up, through its cheek and on, carving through its brain and exploding from its skull in a spray of teeth and blood, brain matter and fragments of skull. The Feral's charge powered it on a dozen paces before its body realized it was dead and it crashed to the ground, skidding to a halt.\n\nDrem had half a heartbeat to stare at the dead Feral before another one crashed into his legs, hurling him into the air. This one was bigger. Its momentum carried it on beneath him as Drem slammed into the ground behind it, feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder as he started to rise. The beast skidded, already turning, its feet scrambling for purchase on the bones and carcasses scattering the cavern floor."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It came at him again, snorting and squealing, tusks gleaming. Drem desperately tried to lever himself upright with his sword, knowing he was too slow.\n\nTwo snarling wolven-hounds collided with the onrushing creature, knocking it off course, and it stumbled past Drem. Fen and Ralla, their jaws wide and biting, ripping chunks out of the Feral.\n\nIt came to a halt, twisting and spinning shockingly fast, its head catching Fen, hurling the wolven-hound into the air. Ralla snarled and threw herself onto the creature. Drem was on his feet now, rushing forwards, sword raised, and then Keld was there, sword and axe a blur, blood in the air.\n\nThe creature screamed, gurgled, legs spasming as it collapsed.\n\nKeld wrenched his axe from the dead beast's skull.\n\n\"LASAIR!\" Byrne's voice yelled behind Drem, and he turned to see her in the pit with them. Her sword was covered in blood, Ferals lying dead about her, and Utul was close by, chopping, slicing and stabbing at a trio of attackers. Byrne raised her hands and pointed towards an unlit torch upon the pit wall. It sparked into life, almost immediately followed by the one next to it, and then all of the torches in the chamber were bursting into flame, a wildfire chain reaction rippling around the huge cavern, light flaring bright.\n\nThe pit was revealed in its entirety: abroad stinking hole scattered with half-decomposed remains and hunger-mad creatures. One of the Ferals that appeared dead still moved, just raising its head where it lay, too emaciated and debilitated to move. Others had clearly been feeding on the weakest and were still strong."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ethlinn was in the pit, standing close to Balur, stabbing with her spear. A handful of Byrne's honour guard were hacking at the frenzied creatures. Balur One-Eye's hammer swung in a deadly rhythm, his new longsword strapped across his back.\n\nThis is hammer-work, little grace to it, or needed.\n\nBones were smashed to kindling.\n\nAnd then it was allover.\n\nA Feral's squeal quietened to a weak rattle and then a final sigh. Cullen kicked and shook himself free of the creature that had clung to him, dead now, Cullen's sword red to the hilt. He surveyed the room, his eyes coming to rest on Byrne, who was scowling at him, and he gave a shame-faced shrug.\n\n\"See, I said I'd put it out of its misery,\" he said.\n\nOnly the sound of warriors breathing hard, and then Balur's rumbling laughter.\n\n\"What is this place, anyway?\" Cullen muttered, looking around.\n\n\"It looks like Fritha's breeding chamber,\" Drem said, his toe nudging a pile of gnawed bones. They were small-a cub, or a bairn.\n\nOr both, combined.\n\n\"Aye,\" Byrne agreed, a look of sorrow on her face.\n\n\"Why were they not with Fritha, at the battle in the Desolation?\" Cullen murmured.\n\n\"Perhaps these weak, deformed ones remained behind,\" Ethlinn said, \"and they bred.\"\n\nDrem nodded; he thought that made sense, though he placed a hand on his throbbing ribs.\n\nNot that weak.\n\n\"This Fritha has unleashed anew evil upon the world,\" Ethlinn said to herself, as she crouched and rested a hand upon one of the dead Ferals. \"I can feel the earth power in it, twisted and tainted.\" She sighed. \"These poor creatures. What has this Fritha done?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Drem hadn't thought of that, Fritha's creations unleashed upon the world, breeding and mutating, adapting."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Banished Lands were dangerous enough, without Fritha's new terrors stalking it.\n\nFritha has much to answer for.\n\nThere was the slap of feet, echoing louder down the chamber. They all turned, weapons ready, as a figure emerged from the tunnel entrance and looked down into the pit.\n\nIt was Shar, a Jehar warrior and Utul's captain. Her long dark hair was plastered to her head with sweat and she was breathing hard.\n\n\"We've found something,\" she said.\n\nDrem stood on the shore of Starstone Lake, its slate-grey water glistening in the summer sun. To the south beyond the lake there was a smudge of green-topped hills, and to the east Drem heard the faint sound of gulls, a reminder of how close they were to the Grinding Sea. Decades ago, a canal had been dug by the first inhabitants of Kergard, leagues long, joining what had once been this huge crater to the sea. And then the waters had flooded in, filling the crater and turning it into a lake. That had been the beginning of the Desolation becoming habitable once more.\n\nSince then more and more people had crept into the north, fleeing the strict rule of the Ben-Elim, or just wanting a more solitary life. Drem and his da had been part of that movement. Kergard had been a thriving town when they had come north, and had grown with every passing year.\n\nKergard is thriving no more. It is an empty, desolate place now.\n\nDrem had passed through the town the day before. Part of it had burned down, gaping holes in the stockade wall, buildings-including Hildith's mead-hall-little more than ash-filled foundations. But much of the town stood as Drem remembered it. Just empty. Like a dead, soulless corpse."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A number of piers and jetties jutted out over the lake's water and the ground showed signs of a lot of movement."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The shore was rutted with wide wheel tracks, the evidence of many boots lay all along this stretch of land. Abandoned cranes on the piers creaked in the breeze.\n\nBut this was not what Drem was staring at, alongside Byrne, Ethlinn and the others. They were standing before a boatshed, one of many along the lakeshore. Within it was a large timber scaffolding frame, discarded tools and offcuts of timber, empty barrels lined along one wall. Keld approached one and looked in.\n\n\"Pitch pine,\" he muttered, then looked at Byrne. \"Caulking fora ship's hull.\"\n\n\"Now we know why Gulla was not with Fritha, or to be found anywhere in the Desolation,\" Balur One-Eye rumbled. \"He's sailed away, with a warband far larger than the one we fought.\"\n\n\"Where is the sneaky bastard, then?\" Cullen said. His calf was bandaged and he'd walked from the mine with a limp.\n\nDrem turned, looking out across the lake, towards the wide canal that led to the Grinding Sea. He remembered a dark night, watching as ships rowed towards one of the piers, Kadoshim flying in the sky above them. He remembered what those ships carried.\n\nAsroth's hand, cut from him in the Great Hall of Drassil.\n\nHe looked to Byrne.\n\n\"There is a reason that Kol and his Ben-Elim have not joined us,\" Byrne said, arriving at the same conclusion as Drem. \"Fritha was a lure, to keep us in the north, and out of Gulla's way.\"\n\nShe looked at them all with a sombre gaze.\n\n\"Gulla has attacked Drassil.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv slowed to a standstill and hovered fora moment, taking in the scene before her. The weapons-field of Drassil was a battleground. Fear snatched her breath away; she had told Aphra to come here, had arranged to meet her here because the eastern gate was only a few hundred paces from the weapons-field. She'd assumed the bulk of the fighting would have been between the main gate to the west and Drassil's hall, further north. Her eyes frantically scanned the field.\n\nWhere is she?\n\nMeical drew up alongside her.\n\nBodies littered the ground, dead or dying, a mixture of White-Wings, Cheren and acolytes.\n\nThe drum of hooves drew Riv's eyes to the centre of the field, where Cheren riders, hundreds of them, were encircling a block of White-Wings. Riv glimpsed a familiar face behind a rectangular shield and her heart lurched in her chest.\n\nAphra.\n\nRiv had hoped the Cheren would have held their position at Drassil's main gate, but somehow a large body of them had made their way here, deep into the fortress.\n\nThe Cheren were constant motion, circling in a steady canter around the warriors on foot, losing a hail of arrows at them. Most of those thudded into the rectangular shields of the White-Wings' shield wall, but Riv heard screams, saw gaps appear in the wall as arrows found cracks in their defence.\n\nElsewhere, Riv saw other knots of White-Wings, outnumbered and surrounded by shaven-haired acolytes of the Kadoshim.\n\nA glance around her showed the skies were relatively clear; the Ben-Elim and Kadoshim's aerial battle was happening elsewhere, over the southern and western regions of the fortress. With a pulse of her wings Riv flew higher. She flicked open the leather strap that held her Sirak bow in its case, gifted to her by Bleda. She snatched a handful of arrows from her quiver and began shooting at the Cheren riders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She took no time to aim, just loosed arrow after arrow at the Cheren."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were riding in tight order, almost a solid wall around the White-Wings, so that it would have been hard for even Riv's poor marksmanship to miss. She saw a horse jolt and rear, throwing its rider, another Cheren swaying with an arrow sprouting from their shoulder, another fall as blood spurted from their throat.\n\nA beating of wings beside Riv.\n\n\"I thought escape was the plan, that we had no time to fight,\" Meical said.\n\n\"I cannot leave them,\" Riv grunted.\n\n\"Explain,\" Meical snapped, as he gazed around the field.\n\n\"My mother leads those White-Wings,\" Riv grated, nodding down towards the encircled shield wall.\n\nMeical stared at the fighting warriors. \"Tell me who to kill,\" he said.\n\n\"The riders are our enemy, allied to the Kadoshim, and those with the shaven heads, they are Kadoshim acolytes, fanatics sworn to the Kadoshim's service.\"\n\nMeical dipped his head, and then his wings were beating and he was speeding towards the Cheren riders, his sword held out straight before him.\n\nWarriors amongst the Cheren realized they were under attack, some heads turning in her direction, seeing Meical speeding towards them.\n\nRiv recognized one of the Cheren: a woman, shaven-haired apart from a dark warrior braid, sharp, proud eyes and intelligent features, features that Riv hated. Hot rage swept through her.\n\nJin.\n\nOnce-betrothed to Bleda, and now the new Queen of the Cheren since Bleda had cut her father's throat. Jin had been due towed Bleda. She had clearly loved him in her way, but now that love had transformed into a white-hot hatred, for both Bleda and Riv, because Jin had seen them together in a moonlit glade."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv saw the Queen of the Cheren shift her weight in her saddle, bow arm turning towards Meical. Riv knew how deadly Jin was with a bow.\n\nWithout thinking, Riv loosed her whole handful of arrows at Jin, reached into her quiver to snatch more. The first arrow flew over Jin's head, the second slammed into her mount's neck, the third into Jin's thigh.\n\nAs her mount staggered, the arrow Jin had aimed at Meical flew wide. She snarled at the pain, gripping the arrow in her thigh and snapping its shaft. Her eyes searched the sky and met Riv's.\n\nJin's face shifted into a cold smile, a mutual hatred pulsing between them. Riv could see Jin shouting orders to her warriors, and half a dozen Cheren around her shifted in their saddles, their bows snapping towards Riv.\n\nUh-oh.\n\nCheren archers could take the eye from a hawk in flight.\n\nI'm dead.\n\nThen Meical slammed into the line of riders.\n\nCheren flew from their saddles with the impact, horses neighing and stumbling, breaking the Cheren line and flow. Meical's wings beat, pulling him back, his longsword swinging in wide circles. Blood sprayed. Riv saw ahead sail through the air, droplets of blood tracing a bloody arc.\n\nRiv drew her wings in tight and dropped like a stone to the ground, restrapping her bow into its case. The air whistled past her cheek as another arrow flew above her head, then her wings were out and she was rushing to the ground, a pulse and shift of balance sending her skimming above the bodies of the fallen.\n\nJin was still upon her horse, shouting orders. Some of her warriors were replacing their bows in their cases and drawing swords to fight Meical, others further out moving to take aim at Riv."
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She reached out a hand, snatched up a shield from a dead White-Wing and held it in front of her as she hurtled towards the Cheren, felt the drum of arrows thumping into the wood, one arrowhead bursting through, cutting the leather and linen of her glove to pierce flesh.\n\nThe pain just made Riv angrier.\n\nMore arrows punched into her shield, splinters of wood spraying in her face as she drew closer, the force of the arrows'impact greater, and then she was amongst them, smashing the shield boss into a face, drawing one of her short-swords and slashing, blood spurting. Horses neighed and reared, the Cheren struggling to control their mounts. There was a glimpse of white feathers as Meical swirled amongst them, leaving death in his wake. Riv hacked her way to him, and together they fought amongst the Cheren, guarding each other's back.\n\nA battle roar made her lookup. The sound of bodies crashing together, and the White-Wings were there, charging in perfect formation, a wall of shields carving into the Cheren.\n\n\"RIV!\" a voice screamed, Aphra, and Riv veered towards her mother, with Meical following. The weight of the shield on Riv's arm was like lead, but her rage carried heron, stabbing, spitting and snarling, and Cheren died before her.\n\nAnd then Aphra was in front of her, dark hair close-cropped in the White-Wing style. Blood sheeted from a cut across her forehead, but her eyes were sharp and focused. They shared a fierce smile, Riv glimpsing her friends Vald and Jost in the shield wall that was reforming around Aphra.\n\nAphra bellowed a command and the shield wall took a step deeper amongst the Cheren riders, forcing a wedge, pressing their advantage as they stabbed with short-swords, carving bloody ruin. Horses screamed; one close to Riv reared and toppled, pinning its rider beneath it. The shield wall strode over them, swords stabbing down into the trapped warrior under their feet."
},
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"value": "The Cheren circle broke apart. Shouted commands filtered through the roar and din of battle, and Riv saw the Cheren attempting to withdraw.\n\nThey need space for their bows to tell.\n\nAphra bellowed orders, trying to keep the Cheren engaged, to keep the shield wall amongst them.\n\nRiv yelled wordlessly, leaping into the gap that was forming, dropping her splintered shield and dragging a Cheren warrior from her saddle, trying to maintain a link with their enemy, to foul their withdrawal and reformation. She punched her sword through a shirt of mail into the woman's belly, twisted her blade as she ripped it free, throwing the warrior to the ground. But the Cheren were too good to be snared like this and, in heartbeats, a space was opening, widening. The Cheren were cantering away, their line reforming, swords slipping back into scabbards, bows emerging from their saddle-cases.\n\nWith a burst of strength, Riv flew after them and grabbed a trailing rider, dragging him from his mount, the warrior twisting, elbowing Riv in the mouth, the two of them falling to the ground as the horse galloped away. Riv spat and cursed, stabbed and punched, but the Cheren warrior avoided her blade and drew a knife. Then the man was being hauled away from her; Vald's bulk was standing over them. His sword cut the Cheren's throat and he cast the dying man away.\n\n\"You can't kill them all single-handedly,\" Vald said with a grin as he grabbed Riv's wrist and pulled her to her feet.\n\nA whistle of arrows and Vald turned, raising his shield over them. A drum of impact as arrows punched into wood.\n\n\"Fly,\" Vald said to Riv."
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{
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"value": "\"I'll not leave you like a fish in a barrel,\" she grunted.\n\nThen more shields were slamming down around them: Aphra and her shield wall forming. Riv grinned at her mother.\n\n\"What now?\" Jost's voice called out.\n\nRiv bunched her wings and launched herself skywards, rising above the shield wall, hovering to take in the field.\n\nBelow her, seventy or eighty shields were tight around Aphra, elsewhere combat still raged in smaller knots: handfuls of White-Wings trying to stand against a swarm of acolytes.\n\nThe shield wall can hold fora while against the Cheren, but it won't be able to march and reach the East Gate. The Cheren are too accurate, will exploit the gaps in the wall that movement brings. And every moment we are held here we risk the Kadoshim and their dark creatures finding us.\n\nShadows flitted across the ground and Riv looked up.\n\nOh no.\n\nKadoshim and Ben-Elim, a rolling battle in the air that swept their way like wind-blown storm clouds. Some of the Ben-Elim surged down from the sky, spears and swords stabbing at the Cheren, who were turning, aiming their bows skywards.\n\nAnother roar rose from the west and Riv saw figures swarming into the field: men and women, even children, rushing into the weapons-field, snatching up the practice weapons that lay in racks and barrels. Riv recognized some of the traders she'd seen in Drassil's streets, the ones she'd urged to head for the East Gate. There were many more of them now. They charged at the Cheren and Kadoshim acolytes. Riv felt a swell of pride at their bravery, these ordinary people. The Cheren line fractured again as swords were drawn to deal with this new foe."
}
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[
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"value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 13"
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"value": "Riv looked around, at the wall, the rowed gers and paddock. \"You've been busy,\" she said.\n\nAnother figure flew down out of the canopy, a Ben-Elim. Bleda did not know him, though he seemed strangely familiar. Long dark hair, bound tight at the nape, white scars raking one side of his face. He gripped a spear in his fist and wore a longsword at his hip. Bleda frowned, trying to place him. Then it came to him. A statue he had studied in Drassil's Great Hall, many times.\n\n\"Meical,\" he gasped, hardly believing it.\n\nRiv grinned as Meical alighted beside them. He was tall, stern-faced, his eyes a deep purple.\n\n\"Then that means...\" Bleda said. \"Asroth...\"\n\n\"... is awakened, and free,\" Riv said.\n\nA Sirak called out, pointing to movement in the trees.\n\nBleda's bow arm rose, but Riv touched his arm.\n\n\"My mother, with the survivors of Drassil,\" she said.\n\n\"Open the gates,\" Bleda cried.\n\nFigures appeared out of the mist, Aphra at their head. She was sweat-stained and gaunt, her cuirass and coat of mail torn, blood staining her undertunic. Others materialized behind her, looking in a similar condition. White-Wing warriors, some others, even a child. Bleda watched in silence as they trailed through the gates into the stockade.\n\n\"How many?\" Bleda said.\n\n\"A hundred and twelve,\" Riv said. \"All that is left of Drassil.\"\n\nBleda shook his head, feeling the weight of that settle in his belly. Drassil and the Ben-Elim. All his life they had been a tower of strength, sometimes considered his enemy, his oppressor, but never had he thought the power of the Ben-Elim and the walls of Drassil questionable. The possibility of their defeat was unimaginable."
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"value": "\"Eat, rest,\" he called down, and Sirak warriors were already running to help the injured through the gates, others moving to the cook-pots and water barrels.\n\n\"A good idea,\" Riv said. \"I'm starving.\"\n\n\"And then we shall talk of war,\" Meical growled. \"I have not woken from a hundred years of sleep to spend my life running.\"\n\nBleda nodded, liking this Ben-Elim already.\n\nBleda satin the wide space outside the cabin. Everyone was there, other than the guards on walls and scouts lurking in the forest.\n\nEllac sat one side of Bleda, Riv on the other. Aphra and Meical were close by. Fai was therewith her baby boy Avi strapped across her chest.\n\nHe was born here, Bleda thought as he watched the bairn stirring in his sleep. A half-breed child-one day he will have wings, like Riv.\n\nYul and Ruga stood behind Bleda. Yul appeared to have assumed the role of Bleda's first-sword. Bleda was not sure that Ruga was happy with that. On the far side of the circle, a White-Wing stood behind those seated. He was broad and muscular; a fair-haired child sat upon his shoulders. Bleda recognized the warrior. Sorch, a trainee White-Wing who had attacked him in the weapons-field, and later had spat at Riv, calling her a half-breed, as if that were a curse.\n\nBleda felt anger coil in his belly at the sight of him, but he mastered it.\n\nOf all those to survive, I would not have chosen him. But if he fights the Kadoshim and Cheren, that is enough for me. For now."
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"value": "Sitting in front of Sorch was Jost, tall and thin as a stick, his short hair spiked with sweat and grime. He looked as if he could be blown over with a breath, but Bleda had seen him fight, had stood beside him and knew his worth. Jost looked more than exhausted, he looked devastated, broken, his eyes flat.\n\nThen Bleda realized there was someone missing.\n\n\"Where is Vald?\" Bleda asked Riv.\n\nHer face darkened.\n\n\"He fell,\" she said, a twist of her lips. \"He saved me, in the weapons-field, and then he was gone.\"\n\nBleda felt a stab of grief at that news. Vald had been a friend to Bleda, and he had experienced few enough of those. He shook his head and squeezed Riv's wrist.\n\n\"He will be avenged,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"He will,\" Riv answered, her eyes boring into the ground.\n\nAphra stood up, a bowl of stew in her hands.\n\n\"It is good to be here, amongst friends,\" she said. She spooned some into her mouth, swallowed and smiled. \"You Sirak make good stew.\"\n\nA ripple of laughter at that, other voices amongst the White-Wings calling out their agreement.\n\nShe looked about them, then, her smile fading. \"I am guessing that word has spread amongst you, but let me make it plain for all. Asroth is risen from his gaol, Drassil fallen, the Ben-Elim routed.\"\n\nMeical grunted and shifted, a ripple through his wings, but he said nothing.\n\n\"And the question stands: what are we to do, now?\"\n\nA silence, all eyes on Aphra."
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"value": "\"But before that, I would ask: what are you going to do?\"\n\nBleda blinked at that, felt Ellac shift beside him.\n\n\"You are Sirak,\" Aphra said, \"in a strange land, your home a hundred leagues from here. We were allies of a sort.\" She glanced at Bleda. \"But I am no fool. I know that there were tensions between your people and the Ben-Elim. And yet, you are here.\" She turned a circle, looking at them all, coming to a rest with her eyes upon Bleda.\n\nSlowly, Bleda stood. He felt the weight of this moment, knew the fate of his Clan hung on his words.\n\n\"You speak the truth,\" Bleda said. \"There has long been a tension between the Ben-Elim and us Sirak. I was taken from my Clan at the point of a blade, saw my brother and sister's heads cast before me.\" A surge of emotion swept through Bleda, as if saying the words out loud opened a floodgate. The heartbreak, anger and fear that he had felt as he had been carried away from his home was abruptly as vivid as the day it had happened. \"Allies?\" He shrugged. \"That is not the word I would have used. The Ben-Elim ruled us with a rod of iron, kept meas a leash to tether my mother, and now, in a blink, the Ben-Elim have no power over us, no leverage over me or my people. So, yes, we could go. Given the way we have been treated by the Ben-Elim, we should go.\" He took a moment to steady himself, his emotions a constant swell that threatened his composure and clarity. \"And yet, as you say, we are here.\" He blew out along breath, feeling good to bespeaking truths that had so long been bottled within him."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The reason why I am here is not so hard to understand.\" He looked at Riv, stroked her face and her smile lit up the world.\n\n\"But for my Clan, we would be fools to walkaway. We have seen our enemy. Kadoshim and their half-breeds. Feral beast-men, and worse-\" he suppressed a shudder-\"the mist-walkers.\" He rubbed his head, feeling stubble scratch his palm. \"Where would we go that is far enough away from those creatures? Arcona? I do not think that is far enough. They are not just your enemies, they are enemies of all who tread these Banished Lands, and I suspect that nowhere is safe.\"\n\n\"Asroth dreams of tearing this world to bloody strips,\" Meical said.\n\nBleda nodded. \"We have fought the Kadoshim, they are an evil that cannot be bargained with, or escaped. We must continue to fight them. And then there are the Cheren.\"\n\nBehind him Yul growled and spat on the floor.\n\nBleda saw a few surprised expressions amongst White-Wings at that: it was an emotional display fora Sirak warrior.\n\n\"You may think of us as cold, aloof,\" Bleda said, \"because we wear a face of stone, but that is our shield, for our enemies. Inside we are fierce and proud, passionate.\" He punched his chest. \"Our love is afire, our loyalty a rock, our enmity a curse.\"\n\nA shifting amongst the Sirak, standing taller, rumbled agreements. Afire in their eyes. Bleda saw Ellac sit straighter and realized the old man was looking at him with pride in his face.\n\n\"The Cheren are our ancient enemy, and they slew our Queen. My mother.\" Bleda paused, controlling the emotion that constricted his throat. \"They are allied to the Kadoshim. So, I say we are allies, now, because we face the same enemy. We will stand with you, bleed with you, win or die alongside you.\""
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"value": "He sat down again.\n\nA silence settled, then Aphra smiled at him.\n\n\"That is good to know,\" she said, and Bleda could seethe weight of worry drain a little from her eyes.\n\n\"So, the next question is: how do we kill our enemies?\"\n\n\"That is a question I like,\" Meical said.\n\nEyes turned towards the Ben-Elim.\n\n\"This is Meical, High Captain of the Ben-Elim,\" Aphra said. \"He is Asroth's ancient foe. No one knows Asroth and the Kadoshim better, so we should listen to him. It is wisdom to know your enemy.\"\n\n\"That is a truth,\" Yul breathed.\n\n\"I am not High Captain of the Ben-Elim,\" Meical corrected Aphra. \"But I am Asroth's foe, and friend to any who would fight him. And yes, I know him as well as any, though that does not mean I know him well.\" He shrugged, his wings undulated. \"My guess is Asroth will want to consolidate his forces. He is newly awoken, like me, and it has taken me sometime to come to terms with all that has changed. Asroth will need that, too, a time of adjustment. He will want to fight, to be involved, to rend and tear and destroy. For two thousand years this is what he planned and schemed for, and he would not rush it, nor would he miss it.\"\n\n\"What if you are wrong?\" Yul asked.\n\n\"Then Asroth and his forces will hunt us sooner.\" Meical shrugged. \"Either way, he will hunt us.\"\n\nFootsteps ran on the stockade's palisade."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"WARE THE SKY!\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "a voice cried out, and then all were on their feet, weapons in fists, Bleda sweeping his bow from its case at his hip. He snatched at arrows, nocked and drew, searching.\n\nDeep shadows moved in the canopy above, silhouettes of winged figures. An arrow whistled from a Sirak bow.\n\n\"PEACE!\" a voice bellowed from above, and then Bleda saw the flash of white wings, Ben-Elim materializing from the murk. Bleda recognized one, blond-haired, a scar through his cheek and lip.\n\nKol. Riv's father.\n\nHis coat of mail was torn, a glimpse of bloodstained bandages below his chest.\n\nBleda aimed at the Ben-Elim's heart. It was Kol who had slain his brother and sister, cast their heads at his feet.\n\nI hate him.\n\nSomething stopped him from releasing the arrow. Moments passed, his arm starting to quiver with the strain. Then he dropped the arrow.\n\nHe is Riv's father. I cannot kill him like this.\n\nHe blew out along breath.\n\nAnd then the Ben-Elim were landing amongst them, three, four, five score, many of them injured, all of them bearing the signs of hard-fought battle.\n\nKol landed in their circle, Hadran beside him, reaching out a steadying hand that Kol shrugged off.\n\n\"We thought you had fallen,\" Aphra said, striding over to Kol.\n\n\"Not yet,\" Kol said, a grimace twisting his bitter smile. \"Though they tried their hardest.\" He raised a hand to the wound on his torso. Closeup, Bleda could see that Kol was pale, his face worn with fatigue and pain."
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"value": "\"What happened?\" Riv asked matter-of-factly as she joined Aphra and Kol, who gave her a curt nod. It was hardly the loving reunion of a father and daughter, but then Riv disliked him almost as much as Bleda did.\n\n\"We lost,\" Kol said.\n\n\"We fled Drassil after your warning,\" Hadran said. \"Tried to make it here, but there were too many wounded.\" His eyes flickered to Kol. \"We had to stop, to stitch wounds, set bones. We flew on as soon as we could.\"\n\n\"What is happening here?\" Kol said, eyeing the circle suspiciously.\n\n\"A council of war,\" Aphra said.\n\nKol looked from Bleda and the Sirak to the bedraggled White-Wings. He curled a lip.\n\n\"Then it is a good thing I have arrived just in time.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\" Bleda said. He could feel his hatred fluttering in his veins.\n\n\"I mean that I am High Captain of the Ben-Elim, Lord Protector of the Land of the Faithful. The White-Wings serve me. You are my ward, and the Sirak my ally.\" He stared at Bleda, a cold arrogance in his eyes, even with his coat of mail torn and blood seeping from a wound in his torso. \"I mean that I command here.\"\n\n\"Things have changed,\" Bleda told him. \"I am your ward no longer. You do not command me, or my people. I saw you flyaway and leave my mother to die.\" A ripple of anger then that he could not contain. He felt a presence at his shoulder: Ellac, Ruga, Yul, all close behind him."
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"value": "The Ben-Elim around him tensed, as did the Sirak warriors about the encampment. Hands went to hilts and bows creaked as they were drawn.\n\n\"Peace,\" a voice said. Meical stepped between them. \"This is not the time for blows. As you said so eloquently, Bleda, we are all enemies of Asroth. All other grievances should be put aside, for now.\" He stared at Bleda.\n\n\"I will not fight him,\" Bleda said slowly. \"But I will not serve him, either.\"\n\nMeical nodded. \"Agreed,\" he said, that slight twist of his lips that passed fora smile.\n\n\"And who made you lord and king?\" Kol spat, staring at Meical. \"You lead no one, have no authority here. The last I saw you, you were in chains, and that's where you should still be.\"\n\nMeical turned to face Kol.\n\n\"I would like to see you try,\" Meical said with a small smile, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.\n\n\"We have our own grievances, Kol, and I have not forgotten them,\" Meical continued. \"But Asroth is loose, Drassil fallen, the Ben-Elim routed. This is not the time for the enemies of Asroth to fight amongst themselves.\"\n\n\"Meical is right,\" Aphra said. \"This is a council of war amongst equals. Allies united against a common enemy.\"\n\nKol looked at them all, then at his battered followers. Slowly he nodded, then waved his hand. \"So, what has been decided?\"\n\n\"Decided? Nothing,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"Meical was speaking to us,\" Bleda said. \"Telling us of Asroth.\""
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"value": "\"Oh, really?\" Kol said. \"Then please, continue,\" he said to Meical with mock formality.\n\n\"I have been absent a hundred and forty years, so much has changed,\" Meical said. He looked at Riv. \"Our fierce friend here has filled me in on much, on the events of our Long War over the last century. From what I understand, you have allies. The Order of the Bright Star.\" He paused there, a ripple of grief sweeping his face, a twitch of his head to master it. \"And there is Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye, and their giants. I would like to see old One-Eye again.\" He looked to Bleda. \"And you area king, I am told, of the Sirak Horse Clan.\"\n\nBleda frowned. The title felt unfamiliar on his shoulders, and unearned. But he nodded.\n\n\"How many could you muster and bring to the fight?\" Meical continued.\n\nBleda looked at Yul.\n\n\"Three thousand, if the Clan is gathered,\" Yul said.\n\nMeical nodded. \"And White-Wings?\" he asked Aphra.\n\n\"We numbered ten thousand, but over two thousand swords were at Drassil. If the other garrisons have not been hit, then seven to eight thousand. The largest garrison after Drassil is Ripa in the south.\"\n\n\"Eight thousand for the shield wall, two thousand horse,\" Meical said. \"The Order of the Bright Star, and Ethlinn's giants. This is a warband that could stand a fighting chance against Asroth, Gulla and their hordes.\"\n\n\"If we can gather them,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"Aye. But what else can we do but try?\" Nods and murmurs of agreement. Bleda saw Hadran beside Kol murmuring his assent. It earned the Ben-Elim a dark look from Kol."
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"value": "\"Good, then we have the beginnings of a plan,\" Meical said. \"Now, let us make it happen.\""
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"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Jin sat at a table in Drassil's Great Hall, forcing herself to remain seated. She glanced behind her and saw Gerel, her oathsworn man. He stood at her shoulder, his hand resting on the bow in its case on his belt. His expression was flat, but she knew he felt the same.\n\nWhy are we still sitting here, when my father's murderer is out there?\n\nAsroth was seated opposite her. No matter that she loved her own Clan above all things, her eyes kept drifting towards the Lord of the Kadoshim. His coat of mail clung to his form, ridges of muscle clear beneath it, his face pale and angular, dark eyes drawing her gaze.\n\nHe is... exceptional.\n\nAsroth was reclining in a huge oak-carved chair, one leg draped across the arm, and he was eating cheese. He seemed to be enjoying it a great deal. Around him sat his captains, Bune the Kadoshim, who was a constant at Asroth's shoulder, alert, always checking for danger. Gulla was there, his gaunt face and the unsettling shadow that glimmered about him setting him apart from the other Kadoshim. Standing a dozen paces behind him were a handful of his Revenants. They stood unnaturally still, wisps of mist curling about them.\n\nAlso at the table was Morn, Gulla's half-breed daughter, who looked permanently angry, a deep scowl ridging her brow, and Fritha, whom Jin had heard called priestess. Jin had spoken to Fritha twice, once during the feast on their victory night, and then the next day. Jin found it hard to fathom her. At times Fritha seemed coldly focused, then, the next, it seemed she had forgotten that Jin was there."
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"value": "Aenor was also at the table. Abroad, squat man with a face that looked as if it had been flattened in the pugil-ring, his nose broken and set wrong. He was the appointed lord of the acolytes, those humans who followed the Kadoshim with fanatical loyalty.\n\nAsroth put another slice of cheese into his mouth, chewing and swallowing with obvious satisfaction.\n\nJin coughed and shifted in her chair. Bune's eyes snapped onto her. Asroth smiled.\n\n\"You would be away from here, hunting your enemies,\" Asroth said. He sat up straighter, shifting his leg from the arm of the chair. \"I understand the need that drives you. I feel it within me, too, inhere.\" He tapped along, fine-boned finger to his chest. \"The Ben-Elim are my ancient enemies. Thousands of years our blood-feud has raged, and now their annihilation is so close.\"\n\n\"So why are we sitting here?\" Jin asked. \"Seven nights I have been here. Waiting. Let us ride out together, slay our enemies.\"\n\n\"I like you, Jin, you have afire within you.\" Asroth smiled. \"That is why I will allow you to question me, this once.\" His voice was amiable, charming, but there was an edge to it, enhanced by the way Kadoshim around the hall paused, all of their eyes abruptly upon Jin.\n\nAsroth cut another slice of cheese and slowly, deliberately ate it. He licked his lips.\n\n\"We will wait because this is a moment that should be savoured, like good food, and wine, and... other things.\" His eyes flickered to Fritha with amusement, and then back to Jin. \"I understand your need. Let me assure you, it will be satisfied. You have served me well, accomplished great deeds. You are worthy to be allied with us Kadoshim.\""
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"value": "Jin felt a warmth fill her at Asroth's words, sounding so much like praise, but deep within her a small voice bridled.\n\n... served us well... It reminded her of how Bleda had spoken to her father, calling him Gulla's slave. She had felt a sharp anger and deep shame at Bleda's words.\n\n\"Served you,\" she said to Asroth. \"I am your ally, not your servant.\" Jin made sure that she spoke slowly, so as to keep the emotion from her voice.\n\nAsroth waved a hand languidly. \"Of course,\" he said. \"Now, to business.\" He looked at Gulla. \"How many of our Kadoshim kin are with us?\"\n\n\"Eight hundred here,\" Gulla said, his voice scratching, like nails on slate. \"A thousand in the south with Sulak.\"\n\n\"And your half-breed offspring?\" Asroth said, his lips twitching. Jin was not sure if it was the hint of a smile or a grimace of revulsion.\n\n\"Close to a thousand here, the same again with Sulak in the south.\"\n\nAsroth grunted. \"And acolytes?\"\n\n\"One thousand, eight hundred and forty-six,\" Aenor said. \"There are more trying to approach the fortress, close to two thousand in various covens, but they are... hesitant, to approach Drassil's walls.\"\n\n\"Hesitant?\" Asroth asked. \"Why?\"\n\n\"They are afraid,\" Aenor said. \"Afraid that they will get eaten. By Gulla's mist-walkers.\"\n\n\"Ha.\" Asroth barked a laugh. \"This world of flesh is so full of hunger.\" As if to prove his point, he took another bite of cheese."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Even Revenants must eat,\" Gulla said, with a rasping sound issuing from his throat that Jin realized was laughter.\n\n\"This is a serious matter,\" Asroth said. \"I cannot have my allies eating one another. Especially not before the war is won.\" He smiled, softening the words, though Jin would not forget them.\n\n\"Gulla, you must control your children.\"\n\n\"They are hungry.\" Gulla shrugged. \"They know they cannot touch any within this fortress, so they have taken to hunting in the forest. They are having to travel ever wider to slake their thirst.\" Gulla paused a moment. \"It would be better if we marched now. There will be no shortage of blood once we find our enemies.\"\n\nAsroth's brow furrowed. \"We will march when I say we march,\" he said, his voice abruptly empty of charm and humour. A cold power radiated from him.\n\nGulla held Asroth's gaze with his one eye along moment.\n\nJin felt something change around her, a chill in the air. One of Gulla's Revenant captains appeared from the shadows, tendrils of mist curling around him, his eyes fixed upon Asroth. Jin saw Bune's hand drift to his sword hilt.\n\nGulla dipped his head. \"Of course, my King,\" he said.\n\nThe tension melted away. Jin looked over her shoulder to seethe Revenant gone.\n\n\"How many of your Revenants are there?\" Asroth said, his voice reverting to its earlier charm.\n\n\"In the region often thousand,\" Gulla said.\n\n\"Hmm,\" Asroth mused. \"That is a lot of mouths to feed. We must move them away from the fortress, allow our allies to join us here, and find away to keep your Revenants satisfied until we march. I will think on it.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Marching to war would be the obvious answer, Jin thought."
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"value": "As Gulla says, find our enemies and let your Revenants glut themselves. She held her tongue, though. Partly because she had trained all her life to give nothing away to her enemies, and deep in her heart she considered anyone who was not of her Clan to bean enemy. There had only been one outside of the Cheren of whom she had thought differently. Had loved.\n\nBleda.\n\nThe other reason she did not challenge Asroth's judgement was because she feared him. Even so, she could not stay silent. She was a queen now, and felt the weight of that: a responsibility to her people that she had to live up to.\n\n\"If not now, then when?\" Jin asked.\n\n\"Soon,\" Asroth said. \"The time is approaching for us to march. Our enemy are scattered. Where are we likely to encounter their strongest force?\"\n\n\"In the south,\" Bune said. \"Drassil was always the Ben-Elim's greatest stronghold, but as they moved to conquer and rule more territory their forces were focused on the edges of their land.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" Gulla nodded. \"Ripa in the south holds a large White-Wing garrison, and there would be more Ben-Elim there. There could be up to six or seven thousand White-Wings, maybe a thousand Ben-Elim.\" He looked at Asroth. \"There are other garrisons. Haldis, Dun Bagul, but Ripa is the strongest.\"\n\n\"And what of Ethlinn's giants and this Order of the Bright Star?\" Asroth said. \"Founded by that maggot, Corban.\" His hand strayed to the scar on his forehead.\n\n\"They have been dealt with,\" Gulla said. \"By Fritha.\""
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"value": "\"I led them away from Drassil,\" Fritha said, \"far from here. I kept them from giving aid to Kol and his Ben-Elim. I fought them in the north.\"\n\n\"A great victory,\" Gulla said, looking at Fritha keenly. \"They have been a formidable enemy over the last hundred years. Worse than the Ben-Elim in their tenacity.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Asroth said. \"Then we shall march on Ripa, as that is where we shall find the largest number of our enemy to kill.\" He grinned.\n\n\"What of those that fled Drassil?\" Jin said, feeling her frustration bubbling in her veins.\n\nWhat of Riv? She will lead me to Bleda.\n\n\"We will find them. I would think that they will seek to join their comrades.\" He shrugged. \"I wish to see Meical's head on a spike and his wings hacked from his back, but chasing after them through Forn Forest will only waste our time. I think perhaps we will meet those that fled Drassil upon the battlefield at Ripa. Meical and the Ben-Elim will think to fight us, but first they must gather their strength. Where else would they go?\"\n\nYou might be right. Bleda will follow his half-breed bitch like a dog in heat, and Riv will go where the Ben-Elim go. Jin felt her fingers twitch for an arrow. Twice she has put an arrow in me, Jin thought. Her, the worst archer in the world. The need to put Riv in the ground was almost as strong as her desire to slay Bleda. Almost.\n\n\"But before you ride with me to Ripa, you have a warband to raise,\" Asroth said, snapping Jin from her anger."
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"value": "\"What?\"\n\n\"You have five hundred riders here, yes?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Jin said. \"Five hundred horse-warriors. The best in the Banished Lands.\"\n\n\"Five hundred is not enough. I want you to return to your land, this Sea of Grass, and raise your Clan. Every man and woman who can ride a horse and wield a bow. How many can you raise?\"\n\nJin looked to Gerel.\n\n\"Three thousand at least,\" Gerel said. He shrugged. \"More.\"\n\n\"Ha,\" Asroth said, slapping the arm of his chair. \"Now that is a number I like. You shall bring them to Ripa. But first, destroy your ancient enemy, the Sirak.\"\n\nJin blinked.\n\n\"What did you say?\"\n\n\"Every last man, woman and child. Destroy them, trample them into the dirt. Ride for Arcona, gather your Clan and slay the Sirak. They are an enemy that I do not need at my back. Make it as if their Clan never existed.\"\n\nJin could not control herself, she felt a grin spread across her face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem crested a hill and saw the traders' town of Dalgarth on the plain below. The sun was sinking into the west and Dalgarth looked eerily still, no columns of smoke or hum of noise emanating from it, like the first time he had seen the town. Now it was a desiccated husk, sucked dry of all life. When Dalgarth had first fallen silent they thought it had been hit by a plague, but now they knew better.\n\nIt was a plague, in away. Ulf and his Revenants, infecting all those that they feasted upon, turning them into the same blood-hungry creatures.\n\nHe rode on, part of a line of scouts preceding their main warband. Keld was closest to him, twenty or so paces to his left. Crows wheeled in the sky above and wolven-hounds loped ahead of them.\n\nAs they made their way down the slope Drem's horse whickered, head raised, and took a snorting breath.\n\n\"Almost there,\" Drem said, patting the neck of his roan mare, Rosie. She had carried him all the way north, into battle and then to the starstone mine, and now they were making their way home. She knew they were close to home.\n\nDun Seren. Home. Strange that I have so quickly come to think of it as that.\n\nHe saw it in the distance, beyond a wide sweeping river. A dark tower upon a hill, surrounded by clustered buildings and tiered walls. Columns of black smoke rose from the fortress. Heralds of the coming war from the forges of blacksmiths. Almost immediately after the battle with Fritha, Byrne had sent a contingent of warriors back to Dun Seren: all of their skilled smiths. Kill, Byrne's captain, had led them."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The ground levelled into a rocky plain that led to Dalgarth and Dun Seren beyond. Drem heard the thump and scrape of bear-claws as Queen Ethlinn and her giants crested the peak of the ridge behind him, and then the warband of the Order was spilling down the slope.\n\nThey rode in silence past Dalgarth, choosing to skirt the town rather than ride through it. They passed a copse of trees, twisted and wind-blasted, though green with summer's leaves. Something moved in Drem's peripheral vision and his eyes snapped around, searching. One hand went to the sword at his hip.\n\nIt was the white bear.\n\nYou are remarkably silent and stealthy fora creature almost the size of a barn, Drem thought with a smile.\n\nThe white bear had joined them at the battle, perhaps responding to Hammer's bellowing call when she was injured. Whatever the reason, the white bear had saved Drem's life and helped to turn the battle against Fritha's creatures, her winged draig, the Ferals and her snake-woman. Drem shuddered at the memory of her. He still had fading bruises across his ribs from where her coils had squeezed him and he remembered her breath on his face, her voice in his ear, sibilant and reptilian.\n\nAfter the battle Drem had found her tracks, leading south-east, away from the conflict. There had been blood in them.\n\nDid she find someplace to die, or is she still out there?\n\nHe didn't like the thought of that.\n\nDrem watched the white bear as it made its way through the group of trees, following them.\n\nWhat will you do now? Will you cross the bridge and join us? Or will you part ways with us again, the bridge and Dun Seren too much for your wild heart to cope with? I know how you feel... but I'm getting better with people and walls. Maybe you would too if you gave us a chance..."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem's hand drifted to his neck, the thought of the fortress raising his anxiety. With two fingers he searched for his pulse, the rhythmic beat calming him.\n\nSoon Rosie was cantering over the stone bridge that arched the river before Dun Seren. He looked back over his shoulder, saw the column of their warband crossing the bridge and stretching back beyond. He could just make out the shadow of the white bear, sitting off to the west amongst a stand of trees, watching. And then he was turning a bend and riding up to the walls and open gates of Dun Seren. He passed through the gates and into a huge courtyard. A small crowd was waiting to greet them in the shadow of the Order's founder, the statue of Corban and his wolven, Storm.\n\nI wonder what he was like.\n\nThe statue looked serious, but there were laughter lines carved at Corban's eyes, and something about the set of his mouth that spoke of kindness.\n\nIt is a strange thing, to think my bloodline goes back to that man, and his sister.\n\nKill, Byrne's captain, was standing beneath the statue. She was tall and dark-skinned, her black hair tied back into one thick warrior braid. She nodded a greeting to Keld, who was first to ride through the gates at the head of fifty of Dun Seren's huntsmen.\n\nDrem followed close behind Keld. They rode around to the right, making room for Ethlinn and her giants.\n\nStablehands rushed to take Drem's reins as he dismounted. Young lads and lasses, too young to fight. The fortress had been almost stripped bare of warriors, only a skeleton garrison left to protect those too old or too young to go. Drem thanked the young lad trying to take his reins, but told him firmly that he would see to his own mount."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"She has looked after me, so it's only fair that I should look after her now,\" he said."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was what his da had taught him, all their years living a solitary life in the wild. The stable-lad nodded and moved onto the next rider.\n\nEthlinn, Balur and a few hundred giants and bears were filling the courtyard now, Byrne riding in behind with her honour guard, as well as Utul, Shar and Cullen. Drem nodded to his friend.\n\nByrne rode towards the statue of Corban, slipping from her mount and striding forwards to greet Kill. They took each other's arms in the warrior grip, then Byrne turned.\n\n\"We've travelled far, and fought hard,\" she called out. \"Rest and eat, you've earned it.\" And then she was striding towards the keep, deep in conversation with Kill. Ethlinn and Balur followed her.\n\n\"Come on, then,\" Drem said, as he patted Rosie's neck. \"Let's see if we can find you some oats and a good brush.\"\n\nDrem walked towards the bridge, a spear in one hand, a sack slung across his back. He stepped into the torchlight and raised a hand to the guards, two men and a woman. He strode across the bridge, his long legs taking him quickly to the far side, where he stopped a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Behind him the fortress stood like a deeper shadow, torches glinting through shuttered windows and upon walls. He turned his back on it and strode west, along the riverbank, pulling his cloak tighter about him.\n\nTrees loomed and he paused, looking up. Stars punctuated the night sky. Drem had a sense of something, the skin on his neck prickling. A flicker up above, stars winked out and then back, quick as a blink."
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He hefted his spear, searching the sky for some clue.\n\nKadoshim or their half-breeds? Would they come so close to Dun Seren? Scouting?\n\nDrem stood therefor along time, hunting the sky, but there was no sign of anything.\n\nPerhaps it was a bird. An owl or a heron?\n\nHe drew in a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand with cold air, as if shrugging off a heavy cloak. Drem felt comfortable in the silent landscape. Far more comfortable than he felt within the walls of Dun Seren, with people and stone crowding all around. He had sat many a night in the wild, only his da for company.\n\nHe walked a few dozen more paces under the trees until he entered a clearing, and then he stopped, setting his bag on the ground. Leaves scratched and rustled in the breeze, the creak of branches, beyond that the gurgle of the river.\n\n\"Where are you?\" Drem muttered as he searched the gloom, but he saw nothing but trees and crow-black shadows. He rummaged in his bag and took out a big clay pot, grunted as he unstoppered it, then wafted it around, the scent warm and sweet.\n\n\"Come on,\" Drem called, and set the pot on the ground.\n\nHe sat and waited.\n\nIt was not long before there was a vibration in the ground, and then the cracking of foliage as something large made its way closer. A deeper darkness formed, growing larger, and then the white bear was lumbering into the glade. It towered over him, its muzzle twitching as it snuffled. Drem held up the pot, took a ladle from a cloak pocket and scooped out a spoonful of honey."
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"value": "The bear snorted its pleasure and took a big lick of the spoon, its rough tongue rasping across the back of Drem's hand.\n\n\"I thought you'd be hanging around,\" Drem said. \"You've got too used to your honey.\"\n\nAnd us.\n\nDrem had fed the white bear every night after camp had been set. He'd elicited curses from the healers when he had stolen pots of honey from their tent, but Byrne had waved their complaints away.\n\n\"He saved enough of us,\" she had said. \"The least we can do is share something of what we have with him.\"\n\nDrem ladled out more honey, the bear sat down, slurping, the lips and fur of his muzzle sticky and dripping. When the honey was all gone, it scratched at the pot with long claws, one of them missing from his front paw. Drem put a hand to the claw hanging about his neck.\n\n\"It's a strange world,\" Drem said, \"that you and I should start off with you trying to eat me, and now I am the one feeding you.\"\n\nHe bent down, stoppered the pot and wiped it on the ground before stuffing it back in his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he gave the bear a pat on a huge shoulder. He was not sure when he had started doing that, or when the bear had made it clear he would tolerate being touched, but now it felt quite natural.\n\n\"I'll bring some more tomorrow,\" Drem said, and walked away.\n\nThe bear lowed mournfully behind him.\n\n\"It's all gone,\" Drem said, and carried on walking. A dozen heartbeats later and the ground was rumbling. Drem didn't look back and carried on walking. The bear followed. It paused when Drem began crossing the bridge, but only fora few moments. Drem heard its claws scratching on stone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The outer guards stared as they walked past. They had not seen the white bear, but tales had spread of his part in the battle. His huge head swayed from side to side as he assessed them with his small dark eyes.\n\nTogether they followed a wide road that skirted wharves and barns and then passed beneath the sweeping walls of Dun Seren.\n\nGuards saw Drem and the bear approaching and the gates swung open. Drem slowed down, falling back to walk almost alongside of the bear.\n\nWhen they reached the gates, the white bear stopped and regarded the walls suspiciously. Drem stopped, too, looking up at the looming fortress.\n\n\"I know how you feel,\" Drem said, resting his hand on the bear's neck. \"When I first came here it felt as if someone's hands were about my throat, everything was so closed in, and there were so many people. You and I are creatures of wood and sky, we love the open spaces. But it's not that bad, it just takes a bit of getting used to. It's worth it, fora warm bed, hot food and good friends.\"\n\nThe white bear looked from Drem to the open gates. Drem set off again, and after a moment's hesitation the bear followed. Their steps echoed through the gate tunnel and then they were in the courtyard. Drem didn't hesitate and led the way through the city until they came to a large building, more like a stone complex, a paved courtyard edged with what looked to be large stables. Drem approached one of them and a bear's head appeared over a stable's half-gate.\n\nIt was Hammer.\n\nShe rumbled a greeting to the white bear, who approached her, growled and then rubbed his muzzle against hers, their teeth clacking together."
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem unbolted the door and opened it. The stable was huge, large enough for three bears. The white bear took a deep snorting breath and then lumbered in, Hammer rumbling and growling in welcome.\n\nDrem stood in the doorway and watched as the white bear scratched at the straw-covered floor, sniffed at a barrel of apples and turned in a circle. Then it looked up at Drem.\n\nDrem returned the bear's gaze, the two of them frozen for long moments, then the white bear snorted and stuck his head into the apple barrel. There was a lot of crunching.\n\n\"You're welcome,\" Drem said. He bolted the stable door and walked away. He was smiling.\n\nDrem's door rattled; someone was pounding on it with a fist.\n\n\"What?\" he groaned, rolling out of bed and stumbling to the door.\n\nCullen was therein his training leathers.\n\n\"Your white bear's smashed a stable door to kindling and I'm not quite sure where the beast is.\"\n\nDrem tugged on clothes, grabbed a tunic and ran out of the door.\n\nDawn was seeping into the sky in pinks and orange, Drem's breath misting as he ran into the bears\" stable enclosure. The door he had bolted last night was splintered and spread over a wide area; Hammer and the white bear were nowhere to be seen.\n\n\"Oh dear,\" Drem muttered.\n\n\"Aye,\" Cullen breathed, skidding to a halt as he caught up with Drem. \"Oh dear, it is.\"\n\nThe courtyard was empty, though bears were sticking their heads over stable doors and peering into the courtyard.\n\n\"Over here,\" a voice called. Keld appeared at the far end of the courtyard, Fen and Ralla at his heels. Drem hurried over."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Keld was leaning on a post-and-rail fence, looking into a huge paddock. Drem blew out a sigh of relief. In the shadowed grey of first light he could seethe white bear was in there, with Hammer. Both of them were standing in a stream, scooping at fish.\n\n\"I guess he doesn't like feeling shut in,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Keld said, eyeing the shattered stable door. \"You can say that again. Some of us just don't like bars.\"\n\n\"I suppose that's fair enough,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Say that once you've cleared up his mess,\" Cullen said, grinning and patting Drem's back.\n\n\"Come on, we'll help you cleanup before Ethlinn's giants start arriving,\" Keld said, and looked up at the brightening sky. \"Any moment now.\"\n\n\"Stooping falcon,\" Byrne called out, and fifteen hundred swords were drawn and raised into the air.\n\nDrem was in the weapons-field, standing with most of the warband of the Order, going through the sword dance. Byrne stood at their head, Kill one side of her, Utul the other. Unless the Order of the Bright Star were actually fighting, it seemed that missing the sword dance as their morning ritual was unthinkable.\n\n\"Lightning strike,\" Byrne cried, and every sword slashed diagonally downwards.\n\nDrem had come straight to the weapons-field from the bears'enclosure. Keld and Cullen had helped him clear the debris, though he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do about repairing the smashed door before sunset.\n\nMaybe the white bear will be happier in the paddock.\n\nGiants had arrived while Drem and his friends were cleaning up, Alcyon first amongst them with his twin axes crossed upon his back, dragging a wain full of fruit and berries. His son, Tain the crow master, was with him. They were deep in conversation."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is time, long overdue,\" Alcyon was saying. \"Please, Tain, send one of your crows to find her.\"\n\n\"They are not my crows,\" Tain said, \"and they are needed. They do an important job.\"\n\n\"I know that. Have a conversation with Craf, then. He will not begrudge this.\"\n\nTain was silent.\n\n\"Tain, your mother should be here. Should have been here along time ago.\"\n\n\"I do not think she will come,\" Tain said.\n\nAlcyon stopped, gripping Tain by the shoulder.\n\n\"There is only one way to know that. Please, send her the message.\"\n\nTain nodded. \"I will talk to Craf about it, and Byrne.\"\n\nAlcyon grunted and they carried on into the courtyard. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the smashed door and looked at Drem.\n\n\"Takes awhile fora bear to settle in, sometimes,\" was all he said.\n\n\"Boar's tusk,\" Byrne cried. Drem lunged forwards and up, like a gouging boar, and held the position. He was starting to sweat, now, steaming in the fresh morning air. He liked this time, when the world faded fora short while and all that existed was the burning in his muscles, the tip of his blade and the trembling in his fibres, the pleasure when he executed a manoeuvre and stance well. And deep in the back of his mind the knowledge that his parents had once been here, going through exactly the same routine. It was comforting, somehow.\n\nAnd then before Drem knew it Byrne was sheathing her sword across her back and facing the gathered warriors.\n\n\"We are at war,\" Byrne addressed them. \"You have fought well, and we are all grieving for those we have lost.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A ripple through the warriors around Drem, bowed heads as comrades were remembered.\n\n\"We shall never forget. But we shall avenge them,\" Byrne shouted.\n\n\"Captains, with me,\" she called out, and strode away. Utul and Kill followed her. Drem and Cullen made for the weapons racks.\n\n\"Drem, this way, lad,\" Keld said to him.\n\nDrem raised a quizzical brow.\n\n\"You're coming with me, to Byrne's council of war.\" Keld gestured for him to follow.\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Drem said. Byrne had requested her captains, and Keld was captain of the Order's huntsmen, but Drem was newly arrived, hadn't even taken his weapons trial or sworn the oath yet.\n\n\"Didn't I tell you? You're my apprentice now.\" Keld stopped. \"Byrne approved my request last night. And that means you go everywhere I go, and I'm going to the council of war, so...\" He shrugged.\n\n\"Ach, that's not fair,\" Cullen moaned. \"I should be there, too.\"\n\n\"Ha,\" Keld said. \"We all know what your input would be.\"\n\n\"Oh, do we? And what would that be, then?\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Attack. Attack now.\"\n\nDrem held back a smile.\n\nCullen shrugged. \"Seems like the obvious thing to do,\" he said sullenly.\n\n\"As it happens, Byrne asked me to bring you along, too.\"\n\nCullen grinned, bright as the morning. \"She's realized I'm invaluable,\" Cullen said to Drem."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Ah, Cullen, good,\" Byrne said, as they walked into a high-vaulted chamber where Byrne sat at the head of a table."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I've asked for you to be here because I want to keep my eye on you.\"\n\nCullen opened his mouth to speak.\n\n\"Sit down, be silent, and perhaps you'll learn something,\" Byrne said with a frown.\n\nShe is still mad with him for jumping into the Feral pit at the starstone mine, Drem thought.\n\nQueen Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye were there, along with Tain Crow Master and the old crow, Craf, perched on his shoulder. Utul and Kill sat either side of Byrne.\n\n\"So,\" Byrne said, \"we need to decide what to do? We know Gulla has sailed with many ships, his target likely Drassil, and we have had no word from the Ben-Elim. Has Drassil fallen? The silence makes that seem likely. So should we march on Drassil? Gather our full strength here before we move out? Or send out word to the other garrisons of the Order, and meet somewhere on route?\"\n\n\"Gulla has to be stopped, we should move quickly,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"But not blindly,\" Drem said to his friend, frowning. \"We've been led by the nose enough.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Balur rumbled. \"We need information.\"\n\nByrne looked to Tain and Craf.\n\n\"Gulla badman,\" Craf squawked. \"Craf like to peck his eyes out. Must be stopped. But Craf's children in danger. Skies not safe.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Byrne said. \"But we need to know. These are dark times, and your crows could save lives.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" Craf muttered, wagging his head. \"Craf heard it all before; Craf fly here, Craf fly there, tell us this, watch that. Craf do it for friends. For Corban, for Brina, for Camlin, even when Craf scared.\" The crow's claws dug into Tain's shoulder, but the giant only stroked Craf's ruffled feathers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are brave, Craf, and so are your children,\" Tain said.\n\nCraf bobbed on Tain's shoulder. \"Craf's children brave,\" he murmured. \"Flick was brave.\"\n\nDrem felt a twinge at that, because Flick had been the crow who had found Drem, Keld and Cullen in the Desolation, when they had been fleeing Fritha. Flick had disappeared, it was assumed he was dead.\n\n\"Flick was brave,\" Tain said. \"He fought for our cause. For friendship, and against the darkness of the Kadoshim.\"\n\n\"Badmen,\" Craf agreed. He rubbed his beak against Tain's head. \"And Tain my friend. Byrne my friend.\" The crow looked at them all, hovering over Ethlinn and Balur. \"Even old One-Eye a good friend.\"\n\n\"Careful who you're calling old, you old crow,\" Balur grunted.\n\nCraf squawked, the noise sounding like laughter. \"My children will fly, be your eyes in the sky,\" he said.\n\n\"Thank you, Craf,\" Byrne said, dipping her head to the crow.\n\n\"Welcome,\" Craf croaked.\n\nHorn calls drifted in through an open window and they all stopped, Byrne rising to lookout. Drem could seethe pale blue beyond her.\n\nThere were winged figures in the sky."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha woke and stretched. High above, she saw the silhouette of Kadoshim wings, flying in lazy circles beneath the Great Hall's domed rooftop. Dawn's light seeped through the fly-holes built into the chamber, casting the world in shadow and beams of grey light. She was lying on abed that had been carved and built upon the dais in Drassil's Great Hall. The dais where Asroth and Meical had recently been entombed in starstone metal. The bed was huge, big enough for half a dozen giants, but one thing she was learning about Asroth.\n\nHe liked excess.\n\nLooking about her, she realized that Asroth was gone. Rolling to the bed's edge she grabbed her breeches and tugged them on, then dragged her linen shirt over her shoulders, hiding the bruises. Her body ached, purpling fingermarks a testimony to Asroth's tastes. After the feast he had come to her, asking her to explain why she had called him her betrothed. He had listened stone-faced as she'd explained to him about the Kadoshim covens and Acolyte Assembly, about how Gulla had negotiated a deal with humankind, the beginning of an alliance that promised anew future for both races. If the Ben-Elim were defeated.\n\n\"So, you are the bridge between our worlds, between Kadoshim and mortal-kind,\" he had said.\n\n\"I am to be your bride,\" she had answered with a shrug, \"a symbol of our races' futures together.\"\n\n\"So much is new,\" he had breathed, eyes locked on hers. \"Not how it was supposed to be. But, I think I am liking this new world and its compromises.\"\n\nHe had smiled at her then, and after that he had taken her to his bed. They had not had the handbinding ceremony yet, but in all other ways they were now wed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She put a hand to her belly.\n\nA sound behind her; she turned and saw Asroth.\n\nHe was standing with one arm outstretched, his hand against the trunk of Drassil's great tree, about which this whole chamber and the fortress beyond were built. The bark was knotted and ridged, stippled with patches of moss and age-old vine. The trunk was wider than any of Drassil's towers.\n\nFritha rose, buckled on her weapons-belt and padded over to Asroth. As she walked past, she glanced at the huge chest Asroth had ordered built to hold the shattered pieces of starstone metal. It was closed and bolted, but Fritha fancied that she could sense the power of the metal within, a tingling deep in her blood. Asroth never moved far from it.\n\nFritha reached Asroth and rested an arm upon his bareback, ran her fingertips down the alabaster flesh, following a tapestry of blue-black veins.\n\n\"What are you doing, my love?\" she whispered.\n\nHe ignored her, his hand tracing the knots and whorls of the great tree. He was whispering, at first the words alien and meaningless to Fritha.\n\n\"Geata rúin, taispeáin duit féin,\" he muttered, over and over again. Slowly the words coalesced in Fritha's mind.\n\n\"Gateway of secrets,\" she murmured, \"show yourself.\"\n\nAsroth froze, his black eyes turning to regard her.\n\n\"You area remarkable woman,\" he said quietly. \"I must never forget that. And if you breathe a word of what I am saying to another living thing, I will kill you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha recoiled, took a step back.\n\n\"I would never,\" she said. \"We are wed, bound.\"\n\nAsroth stared at her long moments, his face expressionless, but Fritha's skin goosebumped, as if caressed with frozen hands. He held her gaze a moment longer and then turned back to his task, resumed his muttering. Abruptly he stopped, his hand finding something in the bark, not quite a hole, more like an old wound, as if the bark had been stabbed. Amber resin had leaked like blood from a sword-cut, scabbed and hard now. Asroth's fingers probed and he continued to mutter. \"Geata rúin, taispeáin duit féin, geata rúin, taispeáin duit féin, geata rúin, taispeáin duit féin.\"\n\nThere was a cracking sound, like an axe splitting wood, and a line appeared, spreading, an arched gateway was outlined against the bark, wide as two giants. Asroth gripped inside the hole he had found and pulled, and with a creaking and hissing of air long-captured the door swung open.\n\nA stairwell stood before them, carved out of the heart of the tree, leading downwards. The air was musty, thick with mould, but there was something else there, too. Fritha inhaled, scenting the tang of metal, like a blacksmith's forge, but as faint as morning mist.\n\nBune flew down from above them, landing with a soft scrape of leather on stone.\n\n\"A torch,\" Asroth commanded, and Bune swept one from a sconce on the wall, handing it to his master.\n\nAsroth stepped into the stairwell, touched his torch to a bowl mounted upon the wall. Blue flame crackled and Fritha recognized it for the oil she had once found in giant ruins. More of them lined the stairwell; Asroth lit them as he descended."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha followed, stepping quickly in front of Bune.\n\nHer fingers traced the wall as she spiralled downwards. They came away sticky with sap, the scent of resin thick in the air. And then the stairs were levelling out and they were entering a circular chamber. Asroth touched his torch to a trough built into the wall and it flared with blue fire, spreading around the room with a hiss and crackle, and the stench of oil. Fritha took a moment to take in the room. It was edged with racks filled with giant weapons: war-hammers, battle-axes, spears and swords. Further on, tools replaced the weapons: tongs, pincers, hammers of all sizes, chisels and awls. In the room's centre stood a huge anvil, and behind it a bellows and forge loomed, still banked with ancient charcoal and cinder.\n\nAsroth approached the anvil and, almost reverently, laid his hand upon it.\n\nFritha saw runes inscribed upon the wall, and other things, symbols. The whole circle of the wall was filled with them. One looked like a spear, another like a double-bladed axe, elsewhere a cup.\n\n\"It is a map,\" Asroth said, watching her. \"Of the Banished Lands, and of where the Seven Treasures were kept.\"\n\n\"The Seven Treasures,\" Fritha whispered. So many tales of them: cauldron, spear and axe, dagger, torc, necklace and cup. All of them were said to have been created from the Starstone, and all had power. She touched a hand to the hilt of her sword.\n\n\"Yes, like your blade,\" Asroth said, \"though that is a crude thing compared to these treasures. The giants used them in their war, when their Clans were sundered.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is all true, then,\" Fritha breathed, the tales of antiquity in this place feeling like areal weight, heavy and bearing down upon her.\n\n\"Oh, aye,\" Asroth said. \"And this is where they were forged.\" He patted the anvil, a meaty slap. \"But those treasures are no longer where the map says they are. They are all up there, in my wooden chest.\"\n\nFritha looked at him.\n\n\"All of the treasures were cast into the cauldron, by Corban and his witch-sister, Cywen. They were undone by her sorcery, melted and made new again as my prison. A skin of starstone metal. Ach, how it burned.\" His face twisted in a snarl.\n\n\"But they will be made new again, and I shall wield them.\"\n\nFritha looked at him with a fierce smile. And I shall be by your side when you do."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv began the descent to Dun Seren, far below her.\n\nThe fortress was a dark smudge upon a green hill, the river Vold curling around its northern walls like the black carcass of a great serpent. Riv could hear horns blowing, see pinpricks moving upon walls. She glanced at Meical, who flew silently beside her, his face set in hard lines.\n\n\"They've seen us,\" Riv shouted over the roar of air as they swept downwards. Meical stared ahead, eyes fixed on the fortress.\n\n\"That is Dun Seren?\" he called to her, his face shifting, emotions rippling.\n\n\"Aye, you know it?\"\n\n\"By another name. It was Gramm's Hold then, a hall of timber and thatch, and it was inflames when I left it. Dun Seren,\" he said, a smile ghosting his lips. \"Fortress of the Star.\"\n\n\"The Order of the Bright Star,\" Riv corrected him.\n\nMeical said nothing.\n\nRiv did not know what to make of Meical. All her life she had seen him as a symbol of the fight against the Kadoshim. A literal image of that battle, locked in combat with Asroth for all to see. Though now, looking back, Riv realized that during all of her history and Lore lessons her Ben-Elim teachers had barely mentioned Meical or Corban. That was strange. And, judging by the words Meical had exchanged with Kol back at the cabin, something had happened to sour Meical's relationship with his kin.\n\nA flicker of white wings and Hadran overtook them, another dozen Ben-Elim with him. Kol had sent them with Riv and Meical, as protection against Kadoshim and half-breeds, Kol had said, but Riv knew that was no truth. Kol wanted to keep a leash on Meical. He was a threat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If Kol doesn't like Meical, or trust him, then that alone is a good reason for me to like Meical.\n\nRiv felt no bond of daughterly love for her Ben-Elim father, who she knew would have slaughtered her as a child, had her mother Aphra not concealed her existence.\n\nShe knew Kol would have been hereto watch Meical himself, but he had another task to accomplish. The debate at the cottage in the woods had sweptback and forth for half a night about the best course of action. The next day they had separated, all going about their own tasks, each one vital. Each one dangerous.\n\nI miss Bleda. Riv felt his absence like a punch in the gut. She had felt such a rush of joy at seeing him upon the wall at the cabin, after so much fear and death, and now they had been separated again. She pictured his face, his beautiful almond eyes, could fora heartbeat feel his fingers upon her bare skin, the sensation of his lips against hers.\n\nI will see him again, she vowed.\n\nDun Seren was much closer now, the tower and courtyard clear, a crowd forming. Hadran led them down in a slow spiral, making sure that all below could see that they were Ben-Elim, that their wings were white feathers, not leather and gristle, like the Kadoshim.\n\nThey circled above the courtyard and touched down between the statue in the centre of the yard and the wide stone steps that led up to the keep. Riv saw Ethlinn and Balur One-Eye emerge from the keep's shadows and could not keep the smile from her face at seeing the old giant. Byrne, High Captain of the Order, emerged between them. Riv felt nothing but respect for the woman who had bested Kol in this very courtyard, not so long ago, to Riv's surprise and great satisfaction."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Others were with Byrne."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A slender giant Riv remembered as Tain. Craf the old crow was on his shoulder. There were five human warriors as well, a dark-skinned woman and four men. One she recognized: Drem. He had been the reason Kol and Byrne had fought-some old grievance between the Ben-Elim and the Order of the Bright Star.\n\nByrne saw Riv and dipped her head in a greeting.\n\nHadran stepped ahead of Riv and the other Ben-Elim, and took a few paces up the steps towards Byrne.\n\n\"Drassil has fallen. Asroth is free,\" he said, loud enough for all to hear.\n\nGasps and oaths muttered around the courtyard. Byrne jolted to a stop, her face turning ashen.\n\n\"No,\" Ethlinn said.\n\nBalur One-Eye made a growling sound.\n\nRiv looked around for Meical and realized he was not standing with her or the other Ben-Elim. He was standing behind her, gazing sadly up at the statue in the courtyard, of a warrior and a wolven.\n\nCorban, the founder of the Order, and his wolven, Storm.\n\nRiv stepped close to Meical, saw that his lips were moving, though she could not hear what he was saying.\n\nAloud squawking filled the courtyard.\n\n\"MEICAL, MEICAL, MEICAL,\" and Riv saw the old crow on Tain's shoulder hopping up and down and flapping his scraggly wings.\n\nMeical turned and stepped out from behind the Ben-Elim. He smiled at the exuberant crow.\n\n\"I did not expect to see you here, Craf,\" Meical said, striding up the steps. He stopped before Byrne and dipped his head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You must be Byrne,\" he said, \"the High Captain of this Order.\"\n\n\"I am,\" Byrne said, no emotion on her face. \"And you are Meical. I have seen you before, frozen in starstone metal.\" She took along moment to study his face, holding his gaze.\n\n\"I am free, now,\" he said. He rolled his shoulders and looked from Byrne to Ethlinn. \"It is good to see you, Lady.\"\n\n\"And not so good to see you,\" Ethlinn replied, \"for to see you means that a hundred years has been undone. Asroth is free.\"\n\n\"Aye, he is,\" Meical said. \"But that means he is also free to die. To be sent back to the Otherworld, once and for all.\"\n\nRiv liked the sound of that.\n\n\"And you, old One-Eye,\" Meical said. \"It is good to see you, too.\"\n\nBalur stared at Meical with his one eye, a scowl on his face.\n\n\"You caused us a lot of trouble,\" Balur grunted.\n\n\"I did,\" Meical said, a pinching of his eyes.\n\n\"Corban said Meical redeemed himself, at the end,\" Ethlinn reminded him gently, reaching a handout and resting it on Balur's arm.\n\nBalur nodded. \"And that is why I have not taken this winged man's head,\" he growled. \"But still...\"\n\nCraf flapped his wings and took off from Tain's shoulder. The bird rose unsteadily, winged through the air, a few feathers drifting down to the ground, and landed on Meical's shoulder.\n\n\"Meical good friend,\" the crow croaked. \"Craf saw Meical save Corban, fight Asroth.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Aid the author by keeping the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 18"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You must be Byrne,\" he said, \"the High Captain of this Order.\"\n\n\"I am,\" Byrne said, no emotion on her face. \"And you are Meical. I have seen you before, frozen in starstone metal.\" She took along moment to study his face, holding his gaze.\n\n\"I am free, now,\" he said. He rolled his shoulders and looked from Byrne to Ethlinn. \"It is good to see you, Lady.\"\n\n\"And not so good to see you,\" Ethlinn replied, \"for to see you means that a hundred years has been undone. Asroth is free.\"\n\n\"Aye, he is,\" Meical said. \"But that means he is also free to die. To be sent back to the Otherworld, once and for all.\"\n\nRiv liked the sound of that.\n\n\"And you, old One-Eye,\" Meical said. \"It is good to see you, too.\"\n\nBalur stared at Meical with his one eye, a scowl on his face.\n\n\"You caused us a lot of trouble,\" Balur grunted.\n\n\"I did,\" Meical said, a pinching of his eyes.\n\n\"Corban said Meical redeemed himself, at the end,\" Ethlinn reminded him gently, reaching a handout and resting it on Balur's arm.\n\nBalur nodded. \"And that is why I have not taken this winged man's head,\" he growled. \"But still...\"\n\nCraf flapped his wings and took off from Tain's shoulder. The bird rose unsteadily, winged through the air, a few feathers drifting down to the ground, and landed on Meical's shoulder.\n\n\"Meical good friend,\" the crow croaked. \"Craf saw Meical save Corban, fight Asroth.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Meical scratched Craf's head.\n\n\"No, Craf, it was Corban who saved me,\" Meical said.\n\n\"Corban saved us all,\" Craf squawked. \"And Cywen.\"\n\n\"The victory was won by many,\" Ethlinn said.\n\nRiv looked at Meical. That's not how most Ben-Elim would have us know it. They told us they were the saviours of humankind. There was little mention of Corban and his followers...\n\n\"How is it that there's still breath in your beak, old friend?\" Meical said to Craf.\n\n\"Secret,\" Craf cawed, with a touch of smugness to his tone.\n\n\"There is much to speak on,\" Byrne interrupted. \"War is upon us. Hadran, Meical, join us in council, there is much we need to discuss.\" She paused, eyes shifting to Riv. \"And you, too,\" she added.\n\nHorns blew loud behind Riv, from the gate tower.\n\n\"Riders approaching,\" a voice boomed down to them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At the alarm, Drem followed Byrne as she hurried towards Dun Seren's gates. He watched Riv open her wings and take to the sky, flying upwards in a tight spiral. Craf squawked from Tain's shoulder and spread his wings, flapping awkwardly into the air.\n\n\"Be careful,\" Tain called up to the old bird. Other crows cawed and croaked above them, flying south to where the riders were approaching. Drem saw the white smudge of Rab amongst them.\n\nWhen they reached the battlements' top Byrne walked until she stood over the gate, Ethlinn and Balur either side of her.\n\nDrem put a handover his eyes and stared to the south.\n\nDun Seren spread in tiers below them, shifting into rich green pastures. A road cut through the green, and upon it a plume of dust marked riders approaching.\n\n\"What do you see, lad?\" Keld muttered beside Drem. He knew Drem's eyes were excellent.\n\n\"Three riders,\" Drem said. \"Warriors.\" He strained his eyes, but they were too far for him to tell anything else.\n\nA flapping from above and Craf descended, alighting clumsily on Tain's outstretched arm.\n\n\"Craf tired, too far,\" the crow muttered.\n\n\"Your children will do your flying,\" Tain soothed.\n\nThey waited.\n\nThe riders drew closer. It seemed to take along while but Drem could tell they were riding hard. He saw a winged figure swoop down, circling the riders: Riv, he thought, from the colour of her wings, though he could not be sure at this distance. Crows circled above them. Then the winged figure was speeding back to them, straight as an arrow's flight, crows following in her wake."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem was right, it was Riv. She approached at a dizzying rate, wings spreading and checking her when she was almost upon them. Her feet touched gently onto the stonewall before Byrne.\n\n\"Riders from Ardain,\" Riv said. \"They say they are scouts of Queen Nara, who follows behind them. They have been attacked.\"\n\n\"Who by?\" Byrne asked.\n\nRiv pulled a face. \"Monsters in the mist, they said.\"\n\nByrne looked at Ethlinn, then turned to the honour guard beside her.\n\n\"Sound the call to arms,\" she said. \"Every warrior with a rune-marked weapon rides with me.\"\n\nThe riders clattered through Dun Seren's gates as Drem rode back into the courtyard, Keld and Cullen either side of him.\n\nByrne was already waiting therein her war gear, her coat of mail andiron helm gleaming, and mounted ahead of a score of her guards, waiting for the riders of Ardain. They were mud-spattered, eyes dark with exhaustion. Byrne cantered to them as stablehands ran to help them. One warrior slid from his mount and lay still on the stone-flagged ground. Men ran to help him.\n\nA trembling of the ground and Drem looked over his shoulder. He saw Ethlinn approaching, mounted upon a bear, a spear in her fist, two score giants upon bears behind her. All of the bears bore coats of mail, strapped with leather andiron. They were a formidable sight, muscle rippling beneath their riveted mail. Alcyon was there, the sides of his head freshly shaved and his two axes slung across his back.\n\n\"What news?\" Byrne asked. Drem rode as close as he could to hear. \"Is it true that Queen Nara is behind you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ardain is fallen,\" one of the warriors panted, a younger man, tufts of beard on his chin.\n\n\"What?\" Byrne blinked, leaning forward in her saddle as if she had misheard.\n\n\"The monsters in the mist, they have swept Ardain like a plague. Queen Nara tried to fight them, but it was impossible. In the end she gathered the survivors and fled the realm.\"\n\n\"She is coming here?\" Byrne asked.\n\n\"Aye. We had nowhere else to go. But they have followed us, and they are gaining. They were almost upon us when Queen Nara bid us ride to you.\"\n\n\"Lead us to her,\" Byrne said, calling for fresh mounts for the riders.\n\n\"I'll find them,\" Riv said, spreading her wings, \"lead you to them.\"\n\n\"No,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"Why not? You don't trust me?\" Riv scowled.\n\nShe doesn't like being told what to do, Drem observed.\n\n\"Not that,\" Byrne snapped. \"It's too dangerous.\"\n\n\"I'm not scared.\" Riv bridled.\n\n\"I didn't say that, either,\" Byrne said, frowning at Riv. \"You must learn to listen,\" she added. \"Did you not hear my orders, on the wall.\"\n\n\"Something about runed blades,\" Riv said. She put a hand to the two short-swords at her hip. \"I don't need runed blades. These are all I need.\"\n\nIf you want to die a quick death at the hands of Gulla's Revenants, Drem thought. Drem's sword and seax were both rune-marked, both of them forged by his father, Olin. Drem had raised an eyebrow at Cullen when he had appeared at the stables and saddled his horse. He knew Cullen didn't have a rune-marked blade, and so should not be preparing to ride outwith Byrne, but he'd learned not to tell Cullen he couldn't do something. That was the surest way of getting Cullen to do it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Not against these creatures,\" Byrne said, \"if they are the same that we fought in the Desolation. Only a rune-marked blade can slay them. I forbid anyone to trade blows with these creatures unless they are wielding a rune-marked blade. I'll not have my people dying in a fight they can't win.\" Her face softened. \"Or you.\"\n\n\"These mist-walkers, I've killed them before,\" Riv grunted.\n\nThey are called Revenants, Drem silently corrected.\n\nByrne raised an eyebrow. \"Have you? How many?\"\n\nAlong pause.\n\n\"One,\" Riv muttered. \"And that wasn't... easy.\" A longer pause. \"And I had some help.\"\n\nCullen barked a laugh.\n\n\"Rune-marked blades kill them. Hurt them like any blade would hurt us,\" Drem said.\n\nRiv stared at Drem along moment, then looked back to Byrne. \"Well, have you got one of these blades I can have, then?\" she said.\n\nByrne smiled, looking to her left, where Kill and a dozen warriors were leading a horse and wain into the courtyard. They creaked to a halt before Byrne, and Kill pulled back a waxed sheet to reveal a mound of weapons. Spears, swords, axes, some bundled arrows.\n\n\"Not enough,\" Kill grunted, \"but this is all we have been able to craft in the last moon.\"\n\n\"How many?\" Byrne asked.\n\n\"Forty swords. Seventy spears. Sixty-five axes. Fifty arrows.\"\n\n\"It will have to do, for now,\" Byrne said.\n\nRiv edged closer, peering into the wain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Meical stepped forwards.\n\n\"We are not of your Order, but it would be wise to give us Ben-Elim a weapon. We can fly out, could be a great help in bringing Nara and her people back within these walls.\"\n\nByrne looked at him, and at Hadran and the dozen Ben-Elim behind him.\n\n\"Trust us,\" Meical said. \"Trust me. I will not let you down.\"\n\nByrne gave a curt nod.\n\n\"Take spears,\" she said.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Meical said, and stepped closer. Kill handed him a bundle of spears to distribute amongst the Ben-Elim.\n\n\"Can I have a sword?\" Riv said, looking in the wain. \"And some arrows.\" She patted the curved bow in a case at her hip and looked up at Byrne in her saddle. \"Please,\" Riv added.\n\nByrne nodded to Kill and then Riv was walking away with a sword and a sheaf of arrows, which she began threading into her belt quiver.\n\n\"Spread the weapons amongst the mounted,\" Byrne said, as she reached down and gripped a spear. \"Make sure Cullen has a rune-marked sword,\" she added.\n\nThe crack of hooves as more riders cantered into the courtyard from the direction of the stables: Utul and Shar, other warriors of the Order who possessed rune-marked blades, all of them in mail and leather. Behind them there was the creak and roll of empty wains drawn by horses rather than auroch, as was usual for the big wagons. It was a convoy of them, more than Drem could count.\n\n\"And remember,\" Byrne cried, standing tall in her saddle, \"protect yourselves at all costs. A coat of mail, iron helm, gloves, or you don't ride outwith me. If these things bite you, you're finished.\" She looked at her warriors. \"More time and we could have rune-marked helms and shields, our armour.\" She shrugged."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem's hand shifted to the iron helm strapped to his saddle. It was more of a cap, and he hated wearing it, but knew that Byrne was right. He was already wearing his gloves, thick, boiled leather with strips of iron stitched into protect the knuckles.\n\nMeical, Riv, Hadran and the other Ben-Elim leaped into the sky, wings beating. Byrne turned her mount and cantered for the gate. \"WITH ME!\" she cried, and with a roar Drem was swept through the courtyard and out of the gates of Dun Seren.\n\nThree leagues south of the fortress, Drem saw the host of Ardain. The sun was high in the sky, a pale light behind darkening clouds. A sharp wind brought the taste and scent of rain to Drem. At first the host before Drem was little more than a dark smudge across the land, a sheen of dust hovering in the air above them. Riv, Meical and the other Ben-Elim had already flown out to the vanguard and given word of Byrne's coming. Now the Ben-Elim flew above Byrne's riders, crows smaller dots flapping amongst them. Drem glanced up, saw Rab flying close to Riv. They looked to be talking.\n\nThe survivors of Ardain were spread across the land, a swirl of people thousands strong, disappearing over a ridge on the horizon.\n\nI have never seen so many people in my whole life, Drem thought. He felt a shifting in his belly, still a sign of his inherent discomfort at such crowds. Muscles in his arm twitched, fingers wanting to search for the steady reassurance of his pulse. With an effort he kept both hands upon his reins and drew in along, steady breath, as his father had taught him.\n\n\"You all right, lad?\" Keld called to him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye,\" Drem grunted. He looked at Keld, felt something was missing. Then he realized.\n\n\"Where are Fen and Ralla?\" he asked.\n\n\"Told them they couldn't come. They've not got rune-marked teeth or claws, they wouldn't stand a chance against those Revenants.\"\n\nHe's right. As vicious as Fen and Ralla are, tooth and claw won't stop Gulla's Revenants.\n\nA hand drifted to his seax, feeling the smooth-worn bone of the hilt.\n\nA loose line of riders stretched ahead of Ardain's host, the glint of steel from weapons and mail.\n\nAhead of him Byrne touched her heels to her mount, picking up the pace. Drem and the other mounted warriors matched her, eighty or ninety riders, a gap opening between them and the column of empty wains that were being driven across the land. Ethlinn and her bear-riders broke into a loping stride, matching the speed of Byrne's riders. Drem glimpsed Balur One-Eye with Sig's sword across his back, and Alcyon upon Hammer. Behind Alcyon and Hammer there was a flash of white fur. The white bear had followed them and was loping along close to Hammer and Alcyon. Drem felt a twinge of worry for the bear.\n\nI didn't know you'd followed us. Hope you don't get into any trouble if this comes to a fight.\n\nThe drum of hooves filled Drem's ears and soon they were close to the sprawling host. Some were on horseback, here and there was a wain crowded with too many people, but most were on foot. Gaunt, hollow eyes gazed up at Drem and the others. A ripple of cheers rose from them as Byrne and her riders approached. A warrior rode out from the vanguard, a woman, dark hair tucked beneath a helm, her warrior braid sweat-stained and stuck to her skin. Byrne slowed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Where is Nara?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Byrne called out to the warrior.\n\n\"With the stragglers and the rearguard,\" the warrior shouted, gesturing over her shoulder with a spear.\n\n\"Wains are coming, fill them with the neediest first,\" Byrne called, and then she was urging her mount on and breaking into a canter, riding along the outskirts of the host. Drem and the others followed.\n\n\"Where are they?\" Cullen said, riding close to Drem. The red-haired warrior was staring ahead, searching the distance.\n\n\"Who?\" Drem called to him.\n\n\"Our enemy,\" Cullen shouted, a grin on his face. \"My arse is getting sore and I need to stretch my legs.\" He had a flush in his face and agleam in his eye that Drem was starting to recognize.\n\nDrem glanced up, saw the outline of Ben-Elim above them, and ahead the dark spots of Dun Seren's crows, circling.\n\nI think they've found our enemy.\n\nThey crested a ridge, cantering down a gentle slope. The crowd was thinning, only a few score stragglers hobbling up the slope. A little further down the ridge was a line of horsemen, five, six hundred of them, spread in along row. All were warriors, spears and swords in their fists, the grey-checked cloaks of Ardain fluttering from their backs in a sharp breeze. They were facing away from Byrne and her companions, towards the bottom of the ridge where the ground levelled out. A black mist seethed and boiled there, filling the land to the horizon, like storm clouds rolling in a sullen sky. It was moving steadily towards them, against the breeze. Drem felt a shiver's chill course through his veins."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gulla's Revenants.\n\nHe guessed it was no more than three leagues away.\n\nA banner snapped and rippled in the middle of the horsemen, a snarling wolven, teeth bared. Byrne rode towards it.\n\nFaces turned to them: a woman, straight-backed and dark-haired, skin pale, a coat of mail beneath a thick cloak.\n\nThat must be Queen Nara. She had a drawn sword in her hand, resting across her saddle. To one side of her was an older warrior, broad-shouldered and mail-clad, a short beard upon astern face. On the other side of the Queen sat a man in leather and mail, slimmer, dark-haired, his warrior braid coiling out from his helm. His eyes flitted across Byrne, Drem and the others, hovering on Ethlinn and Balur to the rear of Byrne's companions. Something about the way he sat on his horse, his posture and his sharp glance told Drem this was a dangerous man.\n\n\"Well met, Queen Nara,\" Byrne called out as she reined in before the dark-haired woman. Byrne dipped her head in greeting.\n\n\"You have come, but I wish now that you had not,\" Nara said with a calm gaze. \"It is too late. They are almost upon us, and I would not have you or your people risk your lives for the impossible.\"\n\n\"You should not be waiting here for them,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"That's what I said,\" the older warrior muttered, his voice as stern as his face.\n\n\"Elgin,\" Byrne said with a nod.\n\n\"My Lady,\" Elgin replied with a dip of his head.\n\n\"I will not run while my people stand and die,\" Nara snarled at the older warrior. He did not wither before her anger, just nodded soberly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye, that is what makes you the queen you are,\" he said slowly, \"but with you Ardain lives or dies. I would rather it live on. We could stay, fight, buy you the time you need to escape. You should go while there is still hope.\"\n\nDrem got the impression this was not the first time they'd had this conversation.\n\n\"No,\" Nara said. \"There is no hope, now. They are too close, and there are too many. You would buy us sometime with your courage, Elgin, but not long enough for my people to reach Dun Seren's walls. Better that we shall die fighting together, on our feet, steel in our fists and facing our enemy, not showing them our backs.\"\n\n\"There is hope,\" Byrne said grimly, \"but you need to leave.\" She drew her sword, a rasp of steel and leather and held it in the air. \"This blade is rune-marked and can kill those things in the mist,\" she cried, her voice loud, carrying along the line. \"Each warrior herewith me carries such a weapon. We can kill them. So, let us stand, guard your rear while you tend to your people. We have wains, beyond the ridge, to carry your injured, your children and old folk to Dun Seren's walls, and fresh horses. Go, save your people. They need you.\"\n\nNara looked at Byrne, then to the roiling mist in the valley.\n\nShe has made her peace with death. It is hard to comeback from that place.\n\n\"My Queen, go to your people, and we shall meet you at Dun Seren,\" Byrne urged.\n\nNara blew out a slow breath, looked away from the mist and into Byrne's eyes. She nodded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ardain is forever in your debt,\" Nara said.\n\n\"No debt. We are allies, and friends,\" Byrne replied. \"Besides, one day soon you maybe returning this favour.\"\n\nA ghost of a smile on Nara's lips. \"Gladly,\" she said, then reached out and gripped Byrne's wrist.\n\n\"Kill those bastards,\" she hissed. \"They have torn my land and its people to pieces.\"\n\n\"We will make them pay dearly for it,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"Good,\" Nara snarled. \"Madoc, sound our withdrawal.\" The dangerous-looking warrior put a horn to his lips and blew, three short blasts, and Nara turned her mount and cantered up the ridge after the last of her disappearing people. Her warriors turned and rode after her, Madoc first to reach her.\n\nByrne watched them go.\n\n\"Right,\" she said, turning back to Drem and the others. \"Let's get ready fora fight.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha blinked sweat from her eyes as her hammer rose and fell, the clangour filling her head, echoing through the room. She was in the forge room of Drassil, this wondrous place secreted right at the very heart of the fortress, a chamber carved out within the great tree's heartwood. She liked it here; she felt as if she was party to some ancient secret.\n\nAnd I am. The Seven Treasures were forged here. And out of their molten destruction, something new shall be reforged.\n\nFritha paused in her work, muscles burning in her arm, shoulder and back. She wiped sweat from her face and looked to one corner of the chamber. Blue giants-fire flickered in the trough set around the circumference of the room, warring with the white-orange blaze of the forge. Combined, the two light sources cast an eerie glow on the huge chest in which Asroth had stored the shards of starstone metal that had once been his gaol.\n\nThe lid was open.\n\nFritha looked down at the shape on the anvil before her. An iron glove of black metal, riveted and articulated for ease of movement. It was big, made to fit a large hand, larger than most men's, though smaller than a giant's hand.\n\n\"He will be here soon,\" a voice said, Choron, standing close to the chamber's entrance. He was one of half a dozen Kadoshim in the chamber, all of them watching her every move. It was an honour that Asroth trusted Fritha to be in this room, to be carving and making something from his horde of starstone metal, but he did not trust her completely.\n\nNot enough to leave me to work in peace. I have to have their black eyes watching me."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "If Wrath were down here you would speak tome with a different tone, she thought, staring at Choron. Her draig was too wide now to fit down the stairwell that led to this chamber, even though it had been built by giants, for giants. Fritha knew that he would be waiting for her in Drassil's Great Hall, though.\n\nShe bit back a retort and reached for her tongs, gripped the glove and thrust it into the forge fire, held it there until it glowed white-hot, then laid it back upon the anvil. She took up a small, sharp knife and neatly sliced her palm, another red line that would soon join the myriad scars that were testament to her dark work.\n\nEverything has a price, especially power.\n\nBlood dripped from her palm onto the white-glowing metal, sizzling and spitting, then she picked up a small hammer and an engraver's chisel and hunched over the glove, tapping in careful, measured beats.\n\n\"Réalta dubh, foirm nua, saol nua. Bí láidir, ná sos, crush do naimhde,\" she breathed as she tapped. \"Réalta dubh, foirm nua, saol nua. Bí láidir, ná sos, crush do naimhde,\" she repeated, again and again as she carved runes into the backplate of the iron gauntlet.\n\nA blast of air made the forge fire roar, flames leaping hungrily, and Fritha looked up from her work. Footsteps echoed on the stairwell and Bune appeared, and behind him, Asroth himself.\n\n\"Is it done?\" Asroth asked, approaching Fritha.\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, taking the gauntlet in tongs and dipping it hissing into a vat of oil. She pulled it out, held it up for him."
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"value": "Asroth took it in his one hand and studied it, turning it this way and that. He saw the runes carved into it.\n\n\"Unbreakable, foe-crusher,\" he whispered. Slowly a smile spread over his face. \"I like it. Now I just need a hand to wear it upon.\"\n\n\"Yes, you do,\" Fritha said with a sharp smile. \"And that is what we are hereto do.\" She waved her handover a table full of tools. Razor-edged saws, spikes, tongs, knives, a wide-bladed cleaver. Strips of leather cord, bone needles and twine. Fritha looked over to the Kadoshim Choron and nodded. He shifted his weight, pulling on a chain, receiving only a groan in response, drifting up from a shadow at his feet. Choron spat a curse and kicked the figure on the floor, dragging on the chains again. The figure slowly stood, a tall, muscled man, swaying unsteadily. Vald, the White-Wing warrior who had spat in Asroth's face the night of their victory feast.\n\nHe did not look like the same man now. His hair had grown out from the close White-Wing crop and now hung lank and greasy, one eye was barely open in a swollen mass of purple bruising, the other eye a black, scar-puckered hole where Asroth had gouged it out. His lips were macerated against chipped and broken teeth. In his half-open eye, though, Fritha saw the same defiance and strength of spirit that had led him to spit in Asroth's face. It was a stubbornness that no beating would putout. Fritha knew, because she had administered much of the torture; she had tried to snuff it out, and failed. She was still a little annoyed about that, though also felt a grudging respect for the warrior."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bring him here,\" Fritha said.\n\nChoron jerked the chain and led Vald shambling across the chamber to stand before Fritha and Asroth. It was not just Vald's face that had been beaten. He dragged one leg, blood crusted on cuts and burns allover his torso, the burns weeping yellow pus.\n\n\"Your new hand,\" Fritha said, gesturing at Vald.\n\n\"It is still attached,\" Asroth pointed out.\n\n\"Aye. You must take it and give it tome.\"\n\nAsroth smiled, brushing his fingertips over the cleaver upon Fritha's table of tools, then nodded at Choron.\n\nThe Kadoshim dragged Vald forwards, but somehow, despite his condition, he gathered untapped reserves of strength and threw his body towards Choron, taking the Kadoshim by surprise. Choron fell onto Fritha's table and Vald rose with an iron spike in his fist, stabbed two-handed at Choron, burying the spike deep into Choron's shoulder.\n\nThe Kadoshim shrieked, stumbled backwards.\n\nBune and other Kadoshim surged forwards, but Asroth was ahead of them. He slammed a fist into Vald's face, pulping the man's nose, then wrapped his fist in Vald's hair and smashed his face into the flat of the anvil. Vald went limp, a pool of blood spreading around his face.\n\n\"Hold him,\" Asroth snarled, and Bune and others pinned Vald to the anvil.\n\n\"His hand,\" Asroth said, reaching for the cleaver with his left hand and raising it.\n\nChoron gripped Vald's right hand and pulled it forwards, then Asroth's arm was rising and falling. A thunk and crack as the cleaver carved through meat and bone, blood sprayed. Vald screamed."
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"value": "Fritha licked blood spatters from her lip.\n\nThe cleaver rose and fell again, crunching into Vald's skull, his scream cut abruptly short.\n\nAsroth lifted the severed hand and gave it to Fritha. Vald's corpse was released to slide off the anvil and fall in a heap to the ground.\n\n\"Thank you, my King,\" Fritha said. She took the hand, measuring it against the iron gauntlet, and smiled to see her calculations and measurements matched perfectly.\n\n\"What now?\" Asroth said.\n\n\"Now I will bind this hand to your flesh,\" Fritha said. She offered him a strip of leather. \"You may want to bite on this,\" she said. \"I suspect this is going to hurt.\"\n\nAsroth took the leather, looked at it and tossed it on the ground. \"Pain will not master me,\" he said, curling a lip.\n\n\"Put your arm on the anvil,\" Fritha instructed.\n\nAsroth did, eyes fixed on hers.\n\n\"Do not fail me,\" Asroth said.\n\nFritha wrapped leather cords about Asroth's forearm, binding it to the anvil. Then she turned to her table and selected a saw. She touched the sawblade to the puckered flesh of Asroth's stumped wrist, hardly hearing Asroth's words, her focus on the task ahead, her blood pounding with the thrill of it.\n\nBune wrapped a hand around her wrist.\n\n\"If any harm comes to our King, you will know pain you could never imagine.\"\n\nShe ignored him.\n\n\"My King?\" Fritha said, looking into the black pools of Asroth's eyes."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Make me whole. Make me more,\" he said. \"Your rewards will be... great.\"\n\n\"An chéad ghearradh, breith na maitheasa,\" Fritha chanted into the chamber, her voice echoing, then a silence fell.\n\nFritha began to saw.\n\nAsroth opened his mouth and screamed. Then, slowly, the screaming shifted to laughter."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wall of mist was a mere half a league away now, if that. The Revenant host had covered over two leagues at shockingly quick speed.\n\nA blast of air from above and Drem looked up to see Meical and some of the Ben-Elim descending. Riv was with them. They hovered close above, the air from their wings stirring the grass.\n\n\"Ethlinn,\" Byrne said. \"I think our enemy needs to come out from behind its cloak. We need to see what we are facing.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Ethlinn said, \"just what I was thinking.\"\n\n\"ELEMENTALS!\" Byrne called out.\n\nRiders drew up either side of Byrne, forming a line that faced the black mist. Ethlinn, Balur, Alcyon and Tain were amongst them. Keld rode over to Byrne's side and Drem made to guide his horse after the old huntsman. Cullen grabbed Drem's reins.\n\n\"This isn't for the likes of us,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Drem frowned.\n\n\"We are not Elementals.\"\n\nElementals-those who have learned to use the earth magic. Byrne had used that word when she had taken him into the secret passages beneath Dun Seren and shown him the Order of the Bright Star's sacred book. It was a great responsibility, she had said, and only those judged capable of handling that responsibility were chosen. They were the elite of the Order, and most of them were gathered here. One of the marks of an Elemental in the Order was that they rune-marked their own blades. Byrne had spoken of teaching Drem the earth power, had showed him the chamber where the Elementals learned their craft. She had hinted at teaching him, and Drem had felt both scared and excited at that thought."
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"value": "Byrne and Ethlinn were at the centre of the forming line. Balur, Alcyon and Tain were the only other giants there, the rest hanging back on their great bears. Utul and Shar joined the line, along with two score Jehar that had ridden with Utul from the south. Utul drew his curved sword from his back and ran it across his hand.\n\n\"Lasair,\" he said, and flames ignited along its blade. He held it up in the air.\n\n\"Always the show-off,\" Shar said beside him.\n\nKill, Keld, all of Byrne's honour guard and a few score other warriors from the Order rode up to the growing column. Drem and Cullen remained close to the giants, all of them separate from Byrne's gathering. Drem figured there were about ninety riders spread either side of Byrne, all facing down the ridge.\n\n\"What are they doing?\" Drem whispered to Cullen.\n\n\"Patience.\" Cullen winked.\n\nDrem frowned. Of which you normally have none.\n\nEthlinn and Byrne pulled knives from their belts, drew them along their palms and cast their hands into the air, spraying speckles of blood.\n\n\"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh,\" Byrne called out, and repeated the words, Ethlinn adding her deep voice to Byrne's. The words rose and fell, washing over Drem. They set a tingling in his blood, like the thrum and vibration of a bowstring.\n\nOthers in the line drew blades from scabbards and more blood was welling. They raised their hands and joined their voices to Byrne and Ethlinn's.\n\n\"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh,\" they cried. \"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh.\" Over and over again, voices ringing like awake dirge, and even though Drem did not understand the words, he felt them seep into him and twist and twine through his veins."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh.\"\n\n\"CUMHACHT AN AEIR, SCRIOS AN DORCHADAS SEO ON TALAMH,\" the voices rang like a thunderclap.\n\nA gust of wind rose up, tugging at Drem's hair, building to a roar in his ears. It swirled around him, growing stronger, and within two dozen heartbeats became a howling wind that swept down the slope, stirring up a dust cloud in its wake. Drem could almost seethe forms of warriors in the wind, a sharp-edged gale that slammed into the tenebrous mist, cutting into it. There was a moment where the mist swelled, holding and bending like a dam under pressure, and then it began to tear and fracture, ripping like an old desiccated parchment. The outlines of figures appeared, a seething mass. They were too faraway for Drem to make out their features, but he had seen their like before: long-taloned, pale-faced, hollow-eyed creatures. Once these beasts had been men and women of Ardain-Drem even saw the silhouettes of children amongst them-people who had had lives, friends, families, dreams and hopes. Now they were Gulla's Revenant horde, driven by a baser hunger.\n\nThey were moving at a steady, uniform pace, but Drem saw many of them falter as the tattered mist dissipated around them, faces looking up to the sky, black eyes blinking, confused. Others came on, seeing Byrne and the warband ahead of them. Some of them broke into a run.\n\n\"They're running,\" Cullen said, beside him. \"Half a league away and they're running. Ha, they will be running away when they see me and my sword.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Somehow, I doubt that.\n\nThere were thousands of them. Drem looked at Byrne's line of warriors and the other two score giants close to him.\n\nA hundred and thirty of us, maybe a hundred and forty. He looked up, saw Riv and the dozen Ben-Elim. A hundred and fifty.\n\nBack to the horde of Revenants surging up the slope.\n\nWe are outnumbered, twenty, thirty to one, maybe more. Even with our rune-marked blades, how can we hope to defeat so many?\n\nA tingle of fear twisted in his belly.\n\nByrne lowered her hands and looked either side of her.\n\n\"Too many for us,\" Kill said. \"We should retreat.\"\n\n\"Then they would catch Nara and her people,\" Byrne said. \"We must slow them, somehow.\" She looked at the approaching mass, then at the warriors about her. \"TWO LINES!\" she bellowed. \"The Order and giants mixed. First line hits them, retreats, second line hits them, giving the first some room to get out. Second line retreats...\" She looked up at Meical and the Ben-Elim. \"You strike then, help the second line to get out.\"\n\nMeical gave astern nod.\n\n\"Then we retreat, see what having a taste of our blades does to them. Once they know they will die easily, it may give them pause.\"\n\nOr it may not, Drem thought, remembering the Revenant horde they had fought in the Desolation. They are capable of thought, Ulf spoke tome, remembered me, but it was through a veil. Their bloodlust made them more like the Ferals than humans.\n\n\"Once we are all out, we shall see. Maybe harry their edges, but keep our distance.\" Byrne rose up in her saddle, raising her voice for all of them gathered about her. \"We slow them, but this is no last stand. I need you for the war ahead. Do not throw your lives away.\" Her eyes flickered across everyone, lingered on Cullen a few moments. \"And remember,\" she cried, \"DO NOT let them bite you. You know what will become of you if that happens. One day at most and you will become one of them.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem shivered at that. The thought of becoming one of those blood-mad creatures turned his stomach to ice. He unbuckled his iron cap from his saddle, slipped it onto his head. He shifted it around to get the leather and sheepskin liner that padded it more comfortable and tried to buckle up the chinstrap. He spent awhile fumbling at it, getting nowhere.\n\n\"Straps first, gloves last,\" Cullen whispered to him with a smile.\n\nDrem took off his gloves with his teeth, buckled his helm's chinstrap with ease, and pulled his gloves back on.\n\n\"There's a lot more to the art of war than stabbing what's in front of you,\" Drem muttered.\n\n\"Now we can see them, it's easier to kill them,\" Balur bellowed. He drew Sig's longsword from behind his back, swept it through the air in a figure of eight. Warriors shouted their approval. Somehow the act checked the fear that sat like a coiled wyrm in Drem's gut.\n\n\"And that's what we are going to do,\" Byrne called out. \"WARRIORS, ON ME!\" she cried, and nudged her horse into a walk down the slope.\n\n\"Now it's time for us,\" Cullen said, slapping Drem on the shoulder and kicking his horse on. Drem followed, feeling something shivering through his veins, the echoes of magic, Byrne's words, a combination of both. He drew his father's sword as he joined the line.\n\nByrne turned and saw him, beckoned him over.\n\n\"When you slew their leader in the Desolation, they all died,\" she said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Drem agreed.\n\n\"And you told me his name was Ulf. That he was one of the Seven that Gulla turned.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye,\" Drem nodded. He knew where Byrne was going with this; his thoughts were taking him a few paces down the same road.\n\n\"Do you know who all seven were? And would you recognize them now?\"\n\nUlf. Tyna, his wife. Burg, the man who tried to hang me. The brothers Thel and Ormun, trappers who wintered at Kergard, like me and Da. He closed his eyes, picturing that dark night, black pools of blood glistening on the table. Gulla, teeth bared and arms open, wrapping people in a deathly embrace. A man, tall, lean, but not someone from Kergard. And Arvid-she was one of Hildith's strongarms.\n\n\"I... think so. Six of the Seven, yes. Five were from Kergard, my home. Two weren't. I'm guessing they were acolytes from the mine-one of them tried to hang me, so I won't forget his face in a hurry. The other one, maybe.\"\n\nByrne nodded. \"If you see one of them, tell me. Or kill them. Then, with luck, the whole horde will die and save us the job of killing them one by one.\"\n\nDrem nodded.\n\n\"Here, beside me,\" she said, making a space for Drem to stand to her left. She looked to Cullen. \"And you, in the front row. Keep an eye on Drem.\"\n\nCullen grinned at Drem's frown.\n\nHorses jostled, bears growled, gouging at the turf with long claws. Drem rolled his shoulders, shifting the weight of his mail coat. He smelled the sweat and grease that coated the riveted mail."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Revenants were surging up the slope, now, all of them seemingly accustomed to the daylight.\n\nAnd not as hindered by it as I'd hoped.\n\nThe slither of fear in his belly uncoiled, worming through his body.\n\nHow have I come to be here, standing before a horde of snarling creatures who want to kill me? I don't even like crowds.\n\nHe fought the urge to be sick.\n\nI hate battles.\n\nAnd then he remembered his father's shattered body, holding his da's hand, trying to stroke the blood away from his lips. His father's last breath. He remembered the oath he had sworn, of vengeance, the oath that had set him upon this course.\n\nThese Revenants were born of Fritha's magic. Born of the Starstone Sword my father made, that was stolen from him. That he was killed for.\n\nHis fear was still there, but he felt a sliver of anger, a resolve that tempered the terror, that kept the dread from ruling him.\n\nA horn blast and the first row moved into a canter, swords drawn, spears levelled. Despite his fear, Drem did not hesitate. To his right Byrne held her reins loosely, sword in her fist, to his left Cullen was grinning as if it was his name-day.\n\nThe Revenants were rushing to meet them, running with unnatural speed, mouths gaping, sharp teeth glinting, saliva hanging in thick threads from their mouths.\n\nThousands of them.\n\nDrem sucked in a deep breath, snarled a curse at his fear.\n\nThe first Revenants were five hundred paces away. His eyes flickered across them, searching for something familiar, for one of the Seven."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"TRUTH AND COURAGE!\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Byrne cried, a hundred voices echoing her, and the first line charged. Drem squeezed Rosie's flanks, a whispered word as he bent close to her ears, and she obeyed instantly, leaping forwards from canter to gallop in a burst of muscle and power and speed.\n\nThe world became a thunder of hooves, blood pounding in his head, voices screaming the Order's battle-cry. Dimly he realized he was yelling it, too. And then they crashed into the Revenants, a wave of horse and bear smashing into meat, a concussive crack as bones broke and bodies were flung through the air. Drem glimpsed Ethlinn and her bear, Revenants hurled like so much kindling, her spear stabbing about her. He slashed with his sword, a spark of blue light as his blade crunched into a skull, his arm wrenched as his mount's momentum carried him on, but managing to keep a grip of his sword as it ripped free of the skull, trampling Revenants, cutting to either side of him with his blade, eruptions of blue light all about him as blades bit into their blood-hungry enemy, wounding, maiming, killing.\n\nThey carved deep into the Revenants, their enemy falling away. Those that weren't crushed and broken by hoof and claw were stabbed and skewered by magical blades, but then the charge slowed. The weight of bodies in mounds underfoot were a growing pressure before them, until Drem felt as if they were wading through water. His sword rose and fell, hacking, chopping, his arm and shoulder burning. Sweat blurred his eyes. To his left Cullen was laughing and singing, dealing out deathlike a reaper on harvest-day.\n\nA hand grabbed at Drem's hip, talons raking his mail coat, a Revenant hauling itself up, its mouth gaping wide, teeth bristling. Drem stabbed into its mouth, a burst of blue light and he ripped his blade free, teeth flying as the creature slumped back into the throng."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Three more leaped at him."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He thrust, pierced a chest, feeling ribs crack, then his wrist was grabbed in an iron grip and he was dragged forwards.\n\nA sword swipe, a blue explosion and Drem was leaning back in his saddle, a severed hand still gripping his wrist, Cullen laughing even as he stabbed another Revenant in the face.\n\nDrem brushed sweat from his eyes and snatched a glance at Byrne, saw her slicing and stabbing at a dizzying speed, though each stroke was economical and tight. The line had not broken, but Revenants were pushing between Drem and Cullen now.\n\nMuch longer and we will be swamped.\n\nByrne shouted something to one of her honour guards and a horn blew, sounding the retreat. Drem swung with his sword, a flurry of blue bursts of flame as his father's blade carved through flesh and bone, and he tugged on his reins, Rosie neighing, rearing, lashing outwith her hooves and half-turning.\n\nA face in the horde, eighty, a hundred paces away. A tall woman, the remnants of a muscled physique visible through a thick-grimed tunic. Once it had been fine wool, embroidery on the neck and sleeves. Her eyes were fixed on Byrne. She looked less feral than the other Revenants, more in control, something calculating in her expression. And she held a hand-axe in her fist, the first Revenant he had seen with a weapon beyond its teeth and talons. Revenants were grouped around her, a protective mass.\n\nHe knew that face, though it took him a moment to place her, changed as she was.\n\nArvid.\n\nRosie's hooves slammed down, Revenant bones splintering. Cullen was yelling; Byrne had already turned, kicking her mount away, backup the slope. Drem hesitated, stared into the Revenant horde."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arvid. Kill her-the battle is won.\n\nBut there were five hundred Revenants between them.\n\nNot possible. Get out, tell Byrne, maybe another charge.\n\nHe tugged on his reins. Rosie shifted her weight, then there was a thud as a Revenant leaped up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist and chest. Teeth bit down into his shoulder, and Drem screamed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv swooped low over the Revenants, slashing with her sword. Arms reached out to grab her, some Revenants leaping startling heights to grasp at her, but she twisted and rolled, avoiding them, chopping and hacking limbs and heads, always just out of reach, as if she were skimming the surface of a turbulent lake.\n\nA lake full of flesh-hungry monsters.\n\nWell, I want to kill you as much as you want to eat me, she thought, losing herself in the joy of battle. It was the simplicity of it she loved the most. Gone were the politics of Ben-Elim and half-breed, all the precepts and rules of the Lore that she had lived her life by, the confusion and anger-inducing betrayals of the last year. With the Revenants it was simple: kill or be killed.\n\nA shape lunged at her from the mass below and her sword slashed, a ripple of blue light as the blade sliced the lower jaw from a Revenant's head.\n\nI love this sword.\n\nThe Revenants were still unnaturally fast, their strength incredible and their single-minded drive to tear the life out of anyone in front of them was daunting, but with these blades they felt pain and could die just as any normal human.\n\nRiv smiled as she killed them.\n\nA voice, faint, filtered through the din of battle and Riv's own bloodlust. Calling her name. She angled her wings, sweeping higher, twisting away from the horde below.\n\n\"RIV,\" the voice called.\n\nMeical.\n\nHe was hovering above her, Hadran and the other Ben-Elim around him. She flew up to join them. Riv could taste the moisture in the air, the tingling of imminent rain."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We will be needed soon,\" Meical said when she reached him.\n\nRiv turned and looked down at the battle beneath them. She had watched with a mixture of envy and respect as Byrne had led a charge into the oncoming Revenants.\n\nSixty or seventy riders in that first line, against thousands, and Byrne at the front.\n\nShe had looked at Meical. \"We should go and help.\"\n\n\"I cannot,\" Meical answered with a frown. \"Byrne asked for our aid; we are needed for the extraction of the second charge. The timing will be vital, I cannot risk becoming embroiled in my own separate battle.\"\n\nShe had looked down at the conflict below, watched as Byrne and her warriors had carved a wedge deep into the onrushing Revenants. It was hard to watch other people fight her enemies.\n\n\"I can't just stay here and watch,\" Riv said with a growl.\n\n\"I am not your captain, but I gave Byrne my word,\" Meical said, his face unreadable, but Riv saw something in his eyes.\n\nApproval.\n\n\"I'll be back soon.\" Riv grinned, tucked her wings tight and drew her rune-marked sword as she plummeted towards the ground.\n\n\"Return when I call you!\" Meical had shouted after her.\n\nAnd she had. She hovered now with the rest of them, heard the horn blast sounding the retreat of the first line, saw Byrne, Ethlinn, Alcyon and a few score others turn and ride out of the destruction they'd caused. One of the riders had not pulled away with the others. She stared harder, saw that it was Drem. He's in trouble.\n\nBefore she realized it, her bow was in her fist, her other hand unclipping the quiver, and her wings were propelling her down towards the battlefield. She saw another warrior in the retreat turn, heading back to Drem, other heads turning. A streak of white feathers shot past her and sped towards Drem. It was the white crow, Rab, whom she had spoken with on the flight here."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Speaking with a crow!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The world is stranger everyday.\n\nRab flew at the Revenant attacking Drem, talons raking at its head, beak pecking. The Revenant swept a hand up, but Rab's wings beat, taking him out of reach, and then he sweptback in again. At the same time the second charge was beginning, two groups sweeping in from the flanks. She was vaguely aware that Balur One-Eye was leading one side, a huge sword in his hands. She was closing in on Drem now, an arrow nocked, but the Revenant that had leaped onto Drem's horse was wrapped around him and Rab was still hovering at its head, raking shreds of skin and flesh from the Revenant's skull. Riv knew she wasn't the best of shots with a bow and didn't want to risk putting an arrow into Drem, or Rab. Another Revenant leaped out of the crowd at Drem and her arrow punched into his chest, a blue flash of light and the creature fell back, mouth wide in a scream. Riv's wings shifted, sending her in a spiral, swerving behind Drem, and now she had a clear shot of the Revenant grasping him. Another arrow nocked, drawn, loosed, and this one slammed into the creature's back. It arched, threw its head back, but did not let go.\n\nRevenants were everywhere, all around Drem, grabbing and tearing at his horse. Riv heard it scream, saw it rear, saw Drem draw his short-sword and stab it behind him, into the belly of the Revenant that was clutching him. It fell away, another of Riv's arrows punching into its face as the gap between it and Drem appeared. The horse's hooves thumped into the enemies, but there were more, sweeping over Drem and the horse like a tide of rats. The horse swayed, then fell with a crash. Rab flew skywards, escaping a flurry of grasping hands, and hovered over the fallen Drem, squawking in panic. Another two arrows drawn and released in as many breaths, and then Riv was slipping her bow back into its case, snapping the leather clip into place, drawing her sword and was speeding towards the ground. A voice filtered down to her from above, Meical? But the red haze was filling her mind, a rage swelling with every breath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She crashed into the Revenants swarming Drem and his mount, her wings buffeting a handful of them to the ground."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With a choked snarl she slashed and stabbed, a cascade of blue light erupting as she hacked her way to the fallen warrior. He was on the ground, one leg pinned beneath his horse, which was clearly dead, blood sluicing from a hundred wounds. Drem was desperately fending off Revenants with two blades. Riv powered towards him, took the head from a Revenant as it turned towards her, sliced another in the gut, ripped her blade free, spun and crunched her sword into another's skull, but more were flooding in between her and Drem. A rider appeared: red-haired Cullen, chopping either side of him, forging away towards them, but he too was held back by the Revenants. Riv screamed her frustration, leaped into the air, wings beating, slashing down as she tried to reach Drem. A taloned fist grabbed her ankle, tugging her down, and Riv twisted but missed the Revenant, cutting at air. She felt herself sinking, saw teeth and talons rising towards her.\n\nThere was a turbulence of air above her, spears stabbing down, and Meical was there, with Hadran and the other Ben-Elim, and the Revenants fell away like wheat before the scythe. Meical skewered the Revenant clutching Riv, whipped his spear free and thrust it into the mouth of another foe. In heartbeats a space opened up, littered with the dead.\n\nRiv alighted beside Meical, gave him a quick nod of thanks and moved to Drem. His face was bloodied and twisted with pain. She put her arms under him and pulled, trying to drag him out from under his dead horse, but he did not move.\n\n\"Rosie?\" Drem breathed.\n\n\"What?\" Riv grunted, tugging to no avail."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My horse,\" Drem said.\n\n\"She's dead,\" Riv grunted again, saw Drem's face twist, awash of grief.\n\nThe thud of hooves and Cullen was there, leaping from his horse to help her, another rider appearing, the old huntsman, Keld. Meical and Hadran faced into the enemy horde, the other Ben-Elim forming up either side, making a protective fist about Riv and the others as afresh tide of Revenants came at them. All about them battle raged. Riv heard Balur yelling a battle-cry, the screams and snarls of Revenants, other voices, horses neighing, bears roaring.\n\nRiv, Keld and Cullen tugged and pulled at Drem, leaned into the horse, trying to raise it even half a handspan.\n\n\"We can't hold them much longer,\" Meical yelled, as wave after wave of Revenants swarmed around them, the line of Ben-Elim bending and curling ever tighter around Riv and Drem. She shared a look with Cullen and Keld. The two men threw themselves against the dead weight of the horse; Riv dragged at Drem. He moved a handspan, then was stuck again.\n\n\"Leave me,\" Drem grunted.\n\nA Ben-Elim fell across him, blood jetting from his throat, a Revenant wrapped around him, teeth ripping at the warrior's face. Riv, Keld and Cullen all stabbed the creature in the same moment. It screeched, spasmed and flopped off the Ben-Elim, but it was too late for him. Another Ben-Elim staggered back into them, fending off teeth and talons. Meical and Hadran fought back to back, Riv standing over Drem and snarling. Cullen and Keld stepped in either side of her, the three of them covering Drem the best they could."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"FLY!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Meical shouted at the remaining Ben-Elim. They took to the air, eight or nine of them, Meical and Hadran the last to leap skywards, hovering low, still stabbing at the Revenants who now ran at Riv, Keld and Cullen.\n\n\"Leave!\" Drem shouted up at them.\n\n\"Shut up!\" Riv and Cullen shouted back in the same breath.\n\nThen Revenants were hurling themselves at Riv and the others. Keld and Cullen shrugged shields from their backs, locked them together over Drem, stumbled as bodies slammed into them. Riv snarled a curse and cut at a belly in front of her, opening up a blue-lined gash. She knew she should fly, take to the air, live to fight another day, as she had done time and time again, but something held her feet to the ground; perhaps it was the courage of the two men standing and fighting over Drem, a loyalty that resonated in her very core.\n\nShe stabbed and slashed, beat her wings, pushing a Revenant back, others all around her now. They were an island fighting the incoming tide. She could only see enemies, the roar of battle building around her, growing louder, like the sea in a storm.\n\nTalons raked her wings, feathers exploding. She stabbed the Revenant in the face, a blue-crackled explosion of teeth and bone. Her sword arm was grabbed and she was yanked forwards, stumbling onto one knee. A Revenant's jaws opened around her arm and bit down, her sleeve of mail blunting it, the teeth grinding, grating, but the links of mail held, though pain exploded in Riv's arm. A spear thrust from above stabbed down into the Revenant's back and it collapsed. Meical's face appeared, his hand reaching out for her, but more creatures threw themselves at Riv, and she was rolling on the ground. Bodies blotted out the sky, Riv rolling, trying to swing her sword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I'm going to die, the realization hither."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda's face filled her mind, the thought of never seeing him again. She screamed in rage and frustration.\n\nThe roaring grew louder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem swung his sword, chopping into a Revenant's ankle, at the same time he swept his seax up, cutting into the open mouth of another Revenant bearing down upon him, seemingly intent on biting his face off. He sawed with the long knife, cut deep into the soft tissue of the creature's mouth, grated on teeth, and it recoiled. Drem glimpsed booted feet: Cullen and Keld. A flash of Riv's grey-speckled wings, the warrior on her knees, enemies swarming her.\n\nI'm getting them all killed. A terror and rage built within him and he writhed, heaving with every ounce of his strength to free himself from Rosie's corpse. Rosie, who had carried him, obeyed him, fought for him and who would now be the death of him and his friends.\n\nThe roaring grew, bears'and warriors\" voices mingled.\n\nNot bears. Bear.\n\nOne of the Revenants grappling with him disappeared. A white-furred paw swept across Drem's vision, leaving behind a cloud of eviscerated flesh and bone hanging in the air. A deafening roar right above Drem, and a gaping maw and fangs appeared, clamped around the remaining Revenant's head and shook, tearing the head from its shoulders. The headless corpse swayed and fell away from Drem.\n\nTwo huge white paws slammed down either side of him, the white bear standing over him, roaring its defiance, spittle flying. It swiped left, raking flesh and smashing bone, freeing Cullen and Keld, then swiped right, ripping a Revenant from Riv's back.\n\nDrem tugged on his leg, felt a little give, leaned up and pushed futilely at Rosie's dead weight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The bear looked at what Drem was doing with his small black eyes, then swiped at the dead horse, lifting it off Drem's leg as easily as a cat swatting a mouse. Drem rolled away, gasping as jolts of pain shot up his leg, but he was free. He sheathed his sword and grabbed a fistful of the white bear's leg, dragging himself upright. Hands gripped him, Keld heaving him up onto the bear's back. Cullen was hacking at Revenants that were grappling with Riv. Ina burst of wings she was airborne, a hand reaching down for Cullen, grabbing his wrist and hoisting him into the air. Revenants leaped at him, Cullen slashing at them, more Ben-Elim appearing, stabbing down with spears.\n\nThe white bear shifted, looked around to regard Drem on its back.\n\nHe's going to throw me off, Drem thought, but instead the bear turned, a swipe of a paw decapitating a Revenant, and then it was moving, smashing away through the sea of creatures about them. Drem reached down and grabbed Keld's hand, hauled him onto the bear's back. They both clung on desperately, wrapping their fists in fur as the bear's muscles heaved and bunched, ploughing its way through wave after wave of Revenants.\n\nThey were not as alone as Drem had thought. Byrne and Ethlinn were close by, Alcyon upon Hammer, his twin axes swinging. More giants and warriors were riding in a wedge behind them, trying to cutback into the Revenants.\n\nByrne saw Drem atop the white bear and she yelled a wordless cry.\n\nA dozen paces of being tossed like a branch on a storm-racked sea and the white bear made its way to Byrne, all of them fighting now to breakaway from the horde. Bodies were everywhere, the ground thick with Revenant corpses, bones and meat crunching and bursting with every step of the bear's rout. A snatched glance behind showed the ridge was still dense with living Revenants, too many of them to count. They were spreading wide, starting to encircle Byrne and her company."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A shadow passed over Drem and he looked up, saw Riv carrying Cullen above them. He was white-faced, his maniacal smile gone.\n\nUtul was close, a savage grin on his face, Shar at his side, her mouth astern line, as always.\n\nUtul fought with his flaming sword. He chopped downwards; a Revenant fell away, flames licking its blue-edged wound. Another slash of Utul's blade and more were reeling away, flames catching in their tattered garments. A gap opened up around Utul.\n\n\"BYRNE!\" he cried. \"They don't like my fire.\" He slashed again.\n\nByrne reached inside a cloak, came outwith something in her fist, a vial. She threw it to the ground amongst a swarm of Revenants, sliced her palm and threw droplets of blood after the vial, shouting, \"LASAIR!\" Fire erupted, a wave of heat, and Revenants screamed, a dozen of them going up inflames, staggering and stumbling, falling to their knees. Others paused in their frenzied rush, some even stepping hesitantly backwards.\n\n\"Give them fire!\" Byrne cried, pointing to the effects of her flames, and in a few moments all around her warriors of the Order were throwing vials, shouting'LASAIR,\" and flames were bursting around them. The white bear sniffed and snorted, breaking into a shambling run up the ridge, away from the Revenant horde and the spreading flames. Close to the top of the ridge it slowed and stopped, turning around to look back down the slope at the conflict.\n\nRab flapped down out of the sky and alighted on the bear's back, his feathers ruffled.\n\n\"Drem safe, safe,\" Rab squawked. \"Rab happy.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My thanks for your help, brave Rab,\" Drem said, stroking the crow's head.\n\n\"Brave Rab, brave Rab,\" the white crow croaked, head bobbing up and down.\n\nIslands of fire burst into life in a rough line, quickly feeding on Revenants and the dry plains grass, spreading to form a wall of flame, the Revenants reeling away, standing and hissing at the blaze. Byrne shouted orders and riders were moving left and right, throwing more vials, shouting words in their Elemental tongue, and in a score of heartbeats the wall of fire had spread huge distances across the ridge. In another thirty heartbeats it was out of control, the wind swirling and spreading the flames in all directions.\n\nByrne came galloping up the ridge, her face covered in black soot, the survivors following behind. Ethlinn was bleeding from claw marks across her cheek; many others were wounded, but it looked to Drem as if most of their number were still standing. Byrne reined in next to Drem and the white bear.\n\n\"You were too slow,\" Byrne said breathlessly, her mouth astern line.\n\n\"I saw Arvid,\" Drem explained, shifting on the bear's back. \"One of Gulla's Seven.\"\n\nByrne's mouth softened a touch. \"Where?\" she said.\n\nDrem tried to see through the flames, but black clouds of smoke were billowing across the ridge, flames crackling as high as a stockade wall. He shrugged. \"She was close when the horn sounded, but not close enough.\"\n\nByrne put a hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"I am glad you're not dead,\" she breathed, a flicker of relief and emotion sweeping her face. She looked back at the sheet of fire and the faint outline of Revenants beyond. Heat was rolling up in great, pulsing waves. Drem could feel the hairs on his face prickling. \"That will slow them, at least. And it will allow Nara and her people to reach Dun Seren safely.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Helping the author, keep the tale going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 23"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My thanks for your help, brave Rab,\" Drem said, stroking the crow's head.\n\n\"Brave Rab, brave Rab,\" the white crow croaked, head bobbing up and down.\n\nIslands of fire burst into life in a rough line, quickly feeding on Revenants and the dry plains grass, spreading to form a wall of flame, the Revenants reeling away, standing and hissing at the blaze. Byrne shouted orders and riders were moving left and right, throwing more vials, shouting words in their Elemental tongue, and in a score of heartbeats the wall of fire had spread huge distances across the ridge. In another thirty heartbeats it was out of control, the wind swirling and spreading the flames in all directions.\n\nByrne came galloping up the ridge, her face covered in black soot, the survivors following behind. Ethlinn was bleeding from claw marks across her cheek; many others were wounded, but it looked to Drem as if most of their number were still standing. Byrne reined in next to Drem and the white bear.\n\n\"You were too slow,\" Byrne said breathlessly, her mouth astern line.\n\n\"I saw Arvid,\" Drem explained, shifting on the bear's back. \"One of Gulla's Seven.\"\n\nByrne's mouth softened a touch. \"Where?\" she said.\n\nDrem tried to see through the flames, but black clouds of smoke were billowing across the ridge, flames crackling as high as a stockade wall. He shrugged. \"She was close when the horn sounded, but not close enough.\"\n\nByrne put a hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"I am glad you're not dead,\" she breathed, a flicker of relief and emotion sweeping her face. She looked back at the sheet of fire and the faint outline of Revenants beyond. Heat was rolling up in great, pulsing waves. Drem could feel the hairs on his face prickling. \"That will slow them, at least. And it will allow Nara and her people to reach Dun Seren safely.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Something landed on Drem's cheek. He looked up at the sky, dark clouds bunching above them. Another raindrop splashed on his nose.\n\nHe looked back to the fires blazing on the slope.\n\nByrne held her handout, raindrops landing on her palm.\n\nShe stood tall in her saddle. \"Well fought,\" she cried. \"Now for the walls of Dun Seren while the fires still burn. I don't think our enemy will be far behind us.\"\n\nA flapping of wings and Riv was descending from above, Cullen held tightly in her grip. His face was pale as milk.\n\n\"You could be more grateful,\" Drem heard Riv say, as Cullen's feet touched the ground. He dropped to his knees.\n\n\"Don't let her near me, ever, ever, again,\" Cullen said with shaking hands.\n\n\"What's wrong with you?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"I don't like heights,\" Cullen managed to say before he vomited onto the grass.\n\nRab made a squawking, croaking noise that sounded to Drem suspiciously like laughter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha cut the leather cords binding Asroth's arm to the anvil, then stepped back, her own arms from her hands up to her elbows thick with blood.\n\nAsroth's blood.\n\nShe smiled, looking slowly around the chamber. A dozen Kadoshim were all staring, but not at her.\n\nAsroth stood with his right arm raised in front of him. He looked at his new hand, a thick line of stitches around his wrist, clotted blood crusting around seared flesh. Asroth made a fist.\n\n\"It feels... strange,\" he said. Knuckles cracked and popped as his fist clenched tighter. He spread his fingers, wiggled them, looked at Fritha. \"Will this ever feel right?\"\n\nFritha shrugged. \"Ask Wrath,\" she said. \"His wings work well enough.\"\n\nAsroth smiled at that. \"Ask a draig,\" he muttered, shaking his head.\n\n\"It will feel stiff and alien at first,\" Fritha continued. \"The more you use it, the more natural it will feel. And it will feel better with the gauntlet on,\" she added.\n\nAsroth reached for the gauntlet, lifted it and slipped his new hand into it.\n\n\"It is cold,\" Asroth observed.\n\n\"I am not finished, yet. It needs a leather liner. Let me help you.\" Fritha stepped closer, reaching for leather cords that threaded under the wrist.\n\nWhen it was secure Asroth flexed it, twisting his hand. After long moments of studying it, flexing the fingers, twisting to test the articulation, Asroth looked at Vald's corpse.\n\n\"Lift him up,\" he said. Bune and Choron grabbed the dead White-Wing and held him before Asroth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"On the anvil,\" Asroth grunted, and they lay him upon the huge slab of iron. Asroth stood over him, then raised his hand, curled it into a fist and slammed it into Vald's face.\n\nThe head exploded, blood, bone and brain spraying. Asroth pulled his fist away and there was nothing recognizable of Vald left, just a pulped mess of meat and fluid.\n\n\"Huh,\" Asroth grunted, \"it works, then.\" He looked up at Fritha and wiped a chip of bone from his cheek. Then he took a step towards her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him, crushing her lips to his.\n\nFor long moments Fritha was lost in a dark storm, a whirlpool of black water pulling her ever deeper.\n\n\"Ha!\" Asroth exclaimed, as he released her from his embrace. \"And to think, once I hated all you humans. I have to concede, Elyon may have been onto something in your creation. You can be quite useful when you set your minds to it.\"\n\nKadoshim laughter rippled around the chamber, more like hissing and spluttering. Fritha found it unsettling, though she was only dimly aware of them. Asroth's closeness and his attention were dizzying. She could still taste him.\n\nSomething filtered through the haze of pleasure that was filling Fritha's head. A tickling at the back of her skull, a whisper in her mind.\n\n\"Frithaaaaaa,\" the voice said.\n\nFritha jerked away from Asroth.\n\n\"Elise?\" she said.\n\n\"Frrrithaaaaa,\" the voice in her head said again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth frowned, raised an eyebrow at Fritha.\n\nFritha heard Wrath growl, somewhere up in Drassil's great chamber.\n\n\"Elise, where are you?\" Fritha said.\n\n\"I am heeere,\" the voice said.\n\nWithout thinking, Fritha was leaping up the stairs. She burst into Drassil's hall, past the bulk of Wrath, who had been sleeping close to the doorway. Fritha took a few steps and then froze, staring up at the entrance to the chamber.\n\nElise was slithering down the wide steps of the hall, part woman, part white wyrm, her great coils sinuously looping and bunching. She still wore her coat of mail, though it was ragged and torn, streaked red with blood and rust. Beside Elise strode a tall, lean warrior-Arn, Elise's father, and Fritha's friend. He was grey and travel-stained, his hair long and lank. Behind them both were a few score warriors, men and women of Fritha's warband. And around them were other creatures. Part man, part beast, creatures of tooth and claw, hunched and muscled, limbs elongated.\n\nMy Ferals.\n\nFritha sighed, a sense of joy blooming in her belly.\n\nThey were surrounded by acolytes, looking more like warriors now that Drassil's armouries had been thrown open to them. They were clothed in coats of mail and boiled leather, iron caps on their heads, swords at their hips and spears in their fists. Aenor, Lord of the Acolytes, led them; despite his newfound and very fine war gear, he still looked more like a brigand than a warrior, short and squat, barrel-chested."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Above them Kadoshim flew in lazy circles. Fritha saw Morn and smiled at her. Morn did not return the smile, her face flat. She nodded her head, directing Fritha's gaze ahead of her.\n\nFritha met the cold, flat gaze of Gulla, who was staring at her, his face twisted with rage.\n\nHe knows about Ulf. Elise or Arn must have told him.\n\nOf those on the ground, the Ferals saw Fritha first, a ripple of whimpering passed amongst them. They bounded towards her, claws scraping on stone.\n\nFritha held her hands out, the Ferals swarming around her, nuzzling her, grunting and snuffling. There were more than Fritha had dared hope after the terrible slaughter in the Desolation, forty or fifty of them.\n\nGulla swooped down from above, the blast of his wings opening a space before Fritha. He landed, striding towards her, his one red eye blazing.\n\n\"You lied,\" he snarled, along-taloned hand reaching for her throat.\n\nFritha stepped back, Ferals filling the gap between her and Gulla. They crouched low, snapping and snarling at the Kadoshim. They felt his power, like terriers before a wolven.\n\nBut even so they would protect me. Fritha smiled at them, stroking fur.\n\n\"Call them off, else they will die,\" Gulla snapped, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword. In the edges of Fritha's vision she saw mist-wrapped shadows detach from dark recesses in the hall.\n\nGulla's Seven. Or Five, now that Ulf is dead and Arvid is hunting in Ardain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You owe everything tome,\" she said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I found the Starstone Sword, took Asroth's hand. I made you.\"\n\n\"Ulf is dead, you lost the battle; you lied tome,\" Gulla answered, knuckles tightening around his sword hilt. His Revenants were closer now, mist-wrapped pillars of death, standing motionless beyond her Ferals, all of them staring at her.\n\n\"You will die for your deception,\" Gulla snarled.\n\nWrath growled, a deep tremor that Fritha felt through her feet.\n\n\"Touch Fritha, you die,\" the draig rumbled.\n\n\"You dare threaten me,\" Gulla said. He half-drew his sword.\n\n\"No threat,\" Wrath growled. \"Promise. I will eat you.\"\n\n\"What is all this?\" Asroth's voice called out, as he emerged from the blue-flickered stairwell carved into Drassil's great tree. He strode into the chamber, Bune and a dozen Kadoshim spreading wide behind him. More Kadoshim and half-breeds appeared, the sound of leathery wings above as Drassil's hall filled.\n\n\"Gulla, what are you doing?\" Asroth asked as he drew close. His voice was calm, but Fritha detected something within it, an undercurrent of deep malice that gave her pause. Asroth stopped at the Ferals, stared at Fritha. She whispered a command and the Ferals parted for him, until he was only one step away from Fritha and Gulla.\n\nThis is the moment. Life or death, on a knife-edge. I must be cunning.\n\n\"Ulf, one of my Seven,\" Gulla said, sucking in a deep breath and trembling with the effort of controlling his rage. \"I left him and his warband with Fritha, to help her fight the Order of the Bright Star. She told me they were defeated, that she had won. But survivors of the battle have arrived.\" He gestured to Elise and the others; Asroth's eyebrow rose as he saw the wyrm-woman."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Another of your creations?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "he said to Fritha.\n\n\"Yes,\" Fritha said, the sight of Elise filling her chest with pride.\n\n\"Fritha lied tome, to us all,\" Gulla said. \"She lost the battle, Ulf is dead, his warband destroyed.\"\n\n\"They were impossible odds,\" Fritha said. \"I held the Order in the north, took their attention away from Drassil. If they had been here, Asroth would still be in his prison. I had five hundred swords against two thousand, what did you expect?\"\n\n\"I gave you Ulf!\" Gulla said, fury cracking his voice. \"He had thousands of Revenants in his warband.\"\n\n\"It was Ulf who lost us the battle,\" Fritha snapped. \"I told him to stay back, to stay hidden, but he could not control his bloodlust. It was his own fault he died.\"\n\n\"You failed and you LIED!\" Gulla yelled, spittle flying from his razored teeth. \"And now you stand before me, in Drassil's Great Hall, and you threaten me. Me, Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim. I have fought the Ben-Elim in this world of flesh for over a hundred years, saved my kin from extinction, orchestrated Asroth's freedom, and you dare to threaten me.\"\n\n\"I did not threaten you,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Your draig did, and you control him,\" Gulla hissed.\n\n\"He is loyal,\" Fritha said with a shrug. \"That is no crime.\"\n\nGulla took a step towards her.\n\n\"No,\" Asroth said. \"You-\" he pointed at Elise and Arn-\"come here.\"\n\nAenor led them over, Elise's coils scraping on the flagstoned floor. Fritha could not help but smile at her, though Elise regarded Fritha with pain in her eyes. Arn's stare was flat and cold."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You left usssss,\" Elise said to Fritha.\n\n\"My friend, I am sorry but I had to be here,\" Fritha said. \"I vow I was coming back for you. I sent Morn to find you.\"\n\nGulla twitched at that, a twist of his lips.\n\nFritha held a handout to Elise, who remained where she was, though her tail-tip rattled, and Fritha saw her fingers move involuntarily.\n\n\"You are survivors of the battle in the Desolation?\" Asroth asked them.\n\nElise and Arn were staring at Asroth with expressions of awe.\n\n\"Yessss, my King,\" Elise said first.\n\nAsroth regarded her, his black eyes taking her in from tail-tip to head. \"You area work of art,\" he breathed. \"Fritha, you are nothing if not... talented.\"\n\nFritha smiled.\n\nI know. And Elise is just a fraction of what I can do.\n\n\"What happened in the Desolation?\" Asroth asked Arn and Elise.\n\n\"We fought the Order of the Bright Star,\" Arn said, his voice flat, as if he were reporting after an uneventful patrol. \"Pits were dug, the Order was tricked. Ulf's Revenants flanked them. The battle was going well.\" Arn stopped.\n\n\"What happened then?\" Asroth prompted.\n\nArn looked to Gulla. He had been Arn's commander for countless years, the figure of highest authority in his life. Arn opened his mouth, but no words came out.\n\n\"Tell him what you told me,\" Elise hissed at her father.\n\n\"Tell me,\" Asroth commanded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ulf came out from hiding and was seen by Drem,\" Arn continued. \"Drem slew Ulf. The Revenant host died.\"\n\n\"See, I told you,\" Fritha said to Gulla. \"Ulf disobeyed my order and died because of it. The battle was almost won, the idiot just had to stay alive.\"\n\n\"He was my firstborn,\" Gulla said, teeth grinding.\n\n\"He was a witless fool,\" Fritha retorted.\n\n\"I will see you on a spike for this,\" Gulla hissed.\n\n\"You would have to fight through my children first,\" Fritha snarled at him.\n\n\"You think I cannot? I have legions ten thousand strong beyond these walls.\"\n\n\"Your word is no longer the last say, you are not lord here,\" Fritha said loudly. \"You may think yourself Lord of Drassil, but you are just another captain, no different from me.\"\n\nGulla's face twisted in a paroxysm of rage; he lunged forwards and grabbed Fritha by the throat, heaving her into the air.\n\nAll around the chamber motion blurred. Gulla's Revenants burst forwards, the Ferals crouched, snarling, muscles bunching. The hiss of blades drawn in the air above. Wrath let out a deafening roar, claws scratching on stone. Elise jerked towards Gulla, lips pulling back to reveal long fangs. Gulla's grip tightened about Fritha's neck; there was a pounding of blood in her head. Her hand reached for her sword hilt, her palm still slick with Asroth's blood.\n\n\"HOLD!\" Asroth's voice boomed. He stepped in, his new gauntleted fist clamping around Gulla's forearm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All movement around the chamber stopped, a frozen, sharp intake of breath.\n\n\"Release her,\" Asroth said, quiet as death.\n\nGulla's one red eye snapped from Fritha to Asroth.\n\n\"She lied tome, betrayed me, lost the battle,\" he hissed. \"And she is a human worm.\"\n\nAsroth looked from Gulla to Fritha, whose face was purpling, eyes bulging. His eyes shifted to his new hand.\n\n\"She is valuable,\" Asroth said thoughtfully.\n\nGulla's eye widened, but he did not release Fritha's throat.\n\nAsroth squeezed, the gauntlet constricting. Fritha heard bones grind and suddenly she was free, dropping to a heap on the ground, her legs weak. Wrath's bulk was beside her, his fetid breath washing over her.\n\nAsroth released Gulla. The Kadoshim stepped back, holding his arm tight to his chest. He was staring at Asroth, and at his gauntlet.\n\n\"You would choose her, over me?\" Gulla hissed.\n\n\"It would do you well to remember this,\" Asroth said, wings snapping wide behind him and beating slowly, lifting him from the ground. \"I am king here, not you.\" He held Gulla with his baleful eyes, then looked at his new hand, flexing it into a fist. He smiled at the sight of it. \"And Fritha is my bride and shall be your queen.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem sat on abed in Dun Seren's hospice while a healer prodded at his shoulder.\n\n\"You're lucky,\" Aelred the healer said. \"It's bruised but doesn't look like its teeth broke your skin.\"\n\nDrem blew out a sigh of relief. He'd seen what Gulla's fangs had done to those he bit.\n\nAfter the journey back to Dun Seren, all the wounded had been ordered to pay a visit to the fortress' healers. Keld had accompanied him while they waited to be seen.\n\nThey had stood in silence and watched as healers strapped down Giluf, a warrior of the Order with seven Kadoshim kills notched on his sword. He was bandaged around the throat, fresh blood seeping through the fabric. A Revenant had tried to tear his throat open, just missing the artery. It was a deep and ragged wound, though, and Giluf had deteriorated on the journey home. He was acting disoriented, now, his face pale, and he was struggling with the healers.\n\nDrem had spoken to the healers helping Giluf, had advised that they use more straps, and kept a very close watch over the young warrior, and any others bearing signs of puncture wounds from Revenants' fangs.\n\n\"It must be someone else's blood,\" Aelred said, still examining Drem's shoulder.\n\n\"Good,\" Drem grunted, a wave of relief flooding him as he proceeded to struggle back into his ringmail and strap his belts back on.\n\nHe was feeling exhausted, and downcast. He was glad to be back inside Dun Seren's walls, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Rosie's corpse. He knew she was a warhorse, bred and trained for battle with the Kadoshim, and that this life of violence often ended quickly. But he felt he'd let her down. That she'd carried him faithfully, trusting his guidance, and she had died because of it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What kind of creature did Fritha create that wants to suck the world dry and watch it crumble? Does she have any idea what she's unleashed?\n\nDrem was slow to anger, but he felt it building within him, now, deep in his core. A rage fuelled by the injustice of it all, the acts of murder and slaughter. He had seen too much death recently: his father, Sig, the battle in the Desolation, and now this.\n\nAll of it flowing from that one night at the starstone mine, when Fritha transformed Gulla into a monster. He jerked his weapons-belt tight, buckled it with white knuckles.\n\n\"You all right, lad?\" Keld asked him.\n\n\"No,\" Drem said, blowing out along breath. \"I'm angry. At Gulla, Fritha, the Kadoshim and their acolytes. Those blood-drinking Revenants. At all this death and bloodshed.\"\n\n\"I meant your wound,\" Keld said, pointing at Drem's shoulder.\n\n\"Oh.\" Drem frowned. \"Aye, that's fine. Just bruises, nothing more. Thanks to this.\" He slapped his mail, the blow dispersed in a gentle ripple. \"How about you?\" Drem nodded at a bandage on Keld's arm.\n\n\"Just a scratch,\" the huntsman said. \"Claws, not teeth, apparently, so it wasn't deep. And I'll not become a Revenant by morning.\"\n\n\"Well, that's always good to know,\" Drem said.\n\nA horn blast rang out, echoing through the hospice building, repeated again, and then again.\n\n\"Call to the walls,\" Keld said. He looked at Drem."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They're here.\"\n\nDrem stood with a groan, muscles aching and stiff. He picked up his helm, tucked his gloves into his belt and then they made their way out into the darkness. He looked briefly towards the bear stables and paddocks, where he'd left the white bear. He had ridden home on the bear's back, but the animal had growled and curled his lip at Keld, showing his teeth, until the huntsman had dismounted. Drem, though, the bear seemed to tolerate happily for the entire journey back to Dun Seren.\n\nDrem had felt strangely... honoured.\n\nHorns sounded again.\n\n\"Come on, lad,\" Keld called back to him. \"We are needed.\"\n\nDrem hurried after Keld. It had taken half a day to get back to Dun Seren from the skirmish with the Revenants. They had caught up with Queen Nara and her people, many loaded on the wains from Dun Seren, and the sun had been sinking into the horizon when the last rider passed through the gates of the fortress. Now it was deep into the night, a blustery wind whipping rain into Drem's face.\n\nThe courtyard was crowded. Drem and Keld threaded their way through people who were making their way into the great keep, most of them inhabitants of the outer ring of Dun Seren, tradespeople and their families.\n\nByrne had ordered the outer fortress evacuated. It was protected by a stonewall, but Byrne wanted the keep manned only by warriors who carried rune-marked blades, and they would be spread too thin on the outer wall. In truth, they would be spread thin on the inner wall, too, but it was better than the alternative. No warrior was permitted to carry more than one rune-marked blade, allowing for closer to three hundred warriors to line the walls, rather than the hundred and fifty who had ridden out earlier that day. Drem had loaned his sword to a warrior of the Order. He felt more confident with his seax, had spent a decade with it in his fist, whereas he was still adjusting to fighting with a sword. He'd rather fight with the seax than a sword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem climbed the stairwell beside Dun Seren's gates and found Byrne on the wall.\n\nShe was surrounded by Ethlinn and Balur, Kill, Tain and Utul, Alcyon with his twin axes, and a dozen of her honour guard. Meical was also there, and Drem saw Cullen lurking close by. He grinned to see Drem and Keld. All those with rune-marked blades were gathered close on the wall, waiting.\n\nA fluttering of wings and Rab swept down out of the darkness.\n\n\"They are here,\" the white crow squawked. \"Bad people everywhere, filling the shadows.\"\n\nMore wings from above and Riv appeared. Drem had not had a chance to thank her for helping him.\n\nFor saving me. I was trapped and buried, thought it was the end of me, and then she was there. And she did not leave.\n\n\"Mist-walkers are swarming through the gates of the first wall,\" she said to Byrne, who nodded. Byrne jumped up onto the wall's rampart and turned to face everyone.\n\n\"Our enemy are within the walls of Dun Seren,\" she cried. \"We are outnumbered, but we have this wall, we have our blades, but greater than that, we have TRUTH AND COURAGE!\" She brandished her sword, Drem and three hundred others answering her with a battle-cry that echoed from Dun Seren's stonewalls.\n\n\"Drem,\" Byrne called, and he made his way to stand before her. She offered him a hand and gripped his wrist, pulling him onto the battlement beside her, though he felt uncomfortable standing before so many.\n\n\"The leader of these Revenants,\" Byrne called out. \"Kill her and the rest of her brood die, just like the horde in the Desolation. Drem knows her.\" She looked at Drem. \"Describe her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Drem closed his eyes, picturing Arvid as he had once known her, as he had seen her that night at the mine on the shores of Starstone Lake."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She had been one of Hildith's enforcers. Tall and broad, long-limbed and muscled. Then Gulla had sunk his teeth into her neck.\n\n\"A woman named Arvid,\" Drem cried out. \"Tall, a muscled physique. Long dark hair. Her clothing was once rich, her tunic of fine wool, embroidery on the neck and sleeves, though it is in tatters now. There was something about her when I saw her: she had more control than these other Revenants, seemed more human, more calculating. And she held a hand-axe in her fist, the first Revenant I have seen with a weapon beyond their teeth and talons. There were other Revenants grouped around her, like an honour guard.\" He shrugged. \"That is all I can say of her.\"\n\n\"That is enough,\" Byrne said. \"If you see her, kill her!\" she shouted. \"And remember, DO NOT let them bite you.\" A moment's silence as they thought on the consequences of that. \"Now, to your stations,\" Byrne called.\n\nWith that, Drem was jumping back onto the stone walkway and making his way a few hundred paces along the wall. Every twenty paces or so was a burning brazier, a stack of oil-soaked torches piled either side.\n\nDrem buckled his helm on, shook his head to check the strap was tight enough, then pulled his thick leather gloves on.\n\n\"Ah, you're learning, laddie,\" Cullen said with a grin, and thrust a shield at Drem. He didn't really like working with a shield, preferred to have a blade in each fist, which he told Cullen.\n\n\"It's not about liking something,\" Cullen said, his face serious for once, \"it's about choosing the right tools for the job. You have one rune-marked blade, not two. And your blade is not so long-you will have to get close to these vermin to use it. You need a shield to hold them off; you know, to stop them from biting your face off while you stab them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Cullen's right, much as it pains me to say it,\" Keld said, hefting his own shield and a sword.\n\nDrem thought about it, knew that the logic was sound and so took the shield. He slipped his hand into the grip behind the shield boss, tested the feel of the iron handle, a bar wrapped in leather riveted to the back of the linden boards. He hefted the shield, measuring its weight. It was large and round, banded in iron, painted black with a four-pointed white star upon it.\n\nThe Bright Star.\n\n\"My thanks.\"\n\nHe looked out over the wall.\n\nThe night was as black as pitch, rain clouds hiding any sign of moon or stars. Bonfires blazed in the street surrounding the wall, crackling and hissing in the wind-whipped rain, buffeted beacons of light in the darkness.\n\nThat is what we are, Drem thought, standing against the darkness of Asroth and his Kadoshim. They spread evil like a plague.\n\n\"Where are they?\" Cullen muttered beside him.\n\nAnd then elongated shadows were detaching from the night, a swarm of long-taloned shapes surging towards the wall, mouths gaping.\n\n\"Truth and Courage,\" Drem whispered, as he drew his seax."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv stepped off the wall and spread her wings. She glided across the open space between the inner wall and the buildings of the lower fortress. Below her, Revenants were breaking away from the darkness, outlined and silhouetted by the beacons Byrne had ordered built.\n\nNot a night for archery, Riv thought, cursing the wind and rain, because this was just when she could use a bow: a swarming mass of her enemy, no allies she did not want to risk harming amongst them.\n\nThe first Revenants reached the wall, leaping and snarling, claws scraping on stone as they tried to climb. It stood as high as six men; even the Revenants' unnatural speed and strength would not be enough for them to scale those walls.\n\nShe swooped low over the invaders, lifted higher, over the first buildings. The darkness was so dense that even her sharp eyes were struggling to discern the Revenants' movements.\n\nByrne asked me to track them, but they're all heading for the gate, so I might as well go and stab a few of them.\n\nShe sped back to the walls.\n\nRevenants were swarming the huge gates, tearing at the wood, splinters flying, great gouges, but the gates were holding.\n\nThey're trying to eat their way in.\n\nBut the gates of Dun Seren were thick, and banded with iron.\n\nIt will take them a moon to get through.\n\nAs Riv flew closer, she saw flaming torches hurled from the wall's battlements, arcing down to land amongst the heaving mass before the gates, trailing sparks in the dark. A Revenant caught fire, gave a hissing scream, staggering away from the wall. More torches were thrown from above, setting many of the creatures alight, but they either stumbled away or were trampled beneath the press of hundreds."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Riv drew her sword, swooping low over the mass of heaving bodies, slashed down, felt her blade bite, saw the crackle of blue flame that had come to give her so much pleasure."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then she was at the gates, hovering over the mass, which was rising as Revenants climbed on one another in their frenzy to reach their prey.\n\nSlowly the tide climbed higher, becoming a kind of living ladder or tower made of limbs and torsos.\n\nRiv slashed and roared, kicked one Revenant in the face as it bunched its legs and launched itself at her. Others saw her now, more propelling themselves at her.\n\nA beating of wings and Ben-Elim were dropping from the night sky: Meical, Hadran and the others, all of them stabbing with long spears, skewering Revenants as they leaped, killing others as they clambered up the seething mound that was slowly reaching towards the battlements.\n\nA snapping and snarling behind Riv, and she snatched a glance left and right. Black shapes were bursting from the darkness as far as she could see all along the wall, gathering in clusters, massing together to form more living ladders, knots of bodies merging, rising like a swarm of ants that Riv had once seen as they massed together to cross a stream. The Revenants surged higher at startling speed.\n\nThe noise behind her again and she spun around in the air, saw a dark knot of shapes in the shadow of a building. She strained her eyes, her wings taking her a little closer, and saw two or threescore Revenants. There was something different about them. They were still, staring, watching, their attention focused towards the centre of their circle, not the walls.\n\nThen Riv saw her, a Revenant standing half ahead taller than those around her. She was broad, had long dark hair and an axe in her fist.\n\nArvid.\n\nArvid was gesturing with her axe, giving orders. Revenants were running where she directed, at the darkest points on the wall, between the reach of the bonfires. Here they were linking together, forming their organic, living ladders, rising with shocking rapidity towards the battlements; all the while, new Revenants were rushing to join them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv heard shouts and screams, the sound of battle drifting down from above, marking where the Revenants had reached the top.\n\nGlancing around, she saw Hadran and flew to him, shouting in his ear over the din of battle. Together they turned and flew straight at Arvid, Hadran's arm pulling back, hurling his spear.\n\nA dozen Revenants leaped into the air in front of Arvid. Hadran's spear skewered one of them, threw it back into the wall of a building, pinning it there, a crackle of blue fire rippling through its chest.\n\nRiv stabbed a Revenant in the mouth, cut another's hand off, slashed another across the throat, caved another's skull in, but where one fell, two more threw themselves at her. Hands grasped at her, talons raking her, mouths open unnaturally wide, until Riv veered upwards, flying out of reach.\n\nHadran hovered there, his sword in his hand, but it was not a rune-marked blade.\n\n\"Where is she?\" Riv yelled.\n\n\"That way,\" Hadran said, \"I think. She fled with a score or more around her.\"\n\n\"Come on, then,\" Riv said.\n\nHadran looked back to the battle at the wall, where screams and the din of battle were echoing from the battlements, snatched and swirled by the wind and rain. Riv could see at least four ladders of bodies where the Revenants had coiled together and breached the wall.\n\nHe turned towards the darkness where he had seen Arvid running.\n\n\"You go back to the wall, Riv-they need your sword arm, and your rune-marked blade. I've lost my spear, so I'll follow Arvid, see where she's going. They won't see me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A moment's hesitation."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With every fibre of her being, Riv wanted to kill Arvid and end this. But she could have disappeared, and the screaming from the battlements sounded desperate.\n\nRiv nodded. \"Don't get yourself killed,\" she said.\n\nHadran smiled at her, something she'd never seen him do before. \"I'd give you the same advice,\" he said, and then he was winging into the darkness.\n\nRiv flew towards the wall. Meical and the other Ben-Elim were fighting above the gates, spread around Byrne and Ethlinn. She glimpsed Balur swinging a two-handed longsword. Revenants'body parts were flying in myriad directions. Further along the wall, a breach to the right, the fighting looked more desperate. Two Revenant ladders were dividing and crushing a section of the wall's defenders. Alcyon was there, with his two axes. Then she saw Drem, stern-faced, smashing his shield into a Revenant as it scaled the top of the wall.\n\nSo many to kill-where do I start?\n\nShe gave a bloodthirsty grin and headed to where she thought she'd be needed most."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem grunted, slamming his shield into a Revenant as it scaled the wall, its claws raking his shield, clinging on as he propelled it back into open air. He teetered fora moment, stabbing it frantically. It fell away, a flare of blue light exploding in its torso, but it was too late. Drem stood a moment, arms flailing, feet scrabbling for purchase, but the stone was slick with rain and blood. He fell. Keld lunged for him, but the huntsman was too faraway. A scream builtin Drem's throat, and then a hand grabbed hold of him. He glimpsed wings and feathers, and then his feet were on solid stone.\n\nRiv laughed breathlessly.\n\n\"Can you avoid getting into trouble just fora little while?\" she asked, turning to ram her sword into the face of a Revenant.\n\nDrem stepped to the left, took a taloned blow on his shield that would have ripped one of Riv's wings off, plunged his seax into the Revenant's belly. He shoved its body away as he tore his blade free. \"I don't think that's a realistic request,\" he grunted.\n\nRiv gave him a grin, crouched and leaped into the air, flew straight up, then looped and came back. She kicked an invader in the face, sending it hurtling off the wall, stabbed her sword through another's back, the blade bursting out of its chest.\n\nDrem swiped rain from his eyes and snatched a glance along the wall. He couldn't see far, but the situation didn't look good. Revenants were everywhere, two of their multi-limbed ladders latched onto the wall within fifty paces each side of him. Along from him, Alcyon swung his two axes, sending heads flying, but there were too many dead warriors of the Order lying in pools of blood, Revenants upon them, tearing at their flesh. Keld and Cullen were close, fighting back to back, holding off a tide of black shapes. Revenants were dying, but for everyone that died, four more were scaling their living ladders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Even as Drem watched, Keld was reaching inside his cloak and throwing a vial, shouting, \"LASAIR!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A Revenant erupted into flames, stumbling off the wall and falling, a blazing torch.\n\nThose ladders, unless they are stopped... why doesn't Keld just set them all on fire? But even as he thought the question, the answer was obvious.\n\nNot enough fire. How many vials does he have? Five, ten? He would need ten times that. There are just too many Revenants.\n\nHe looked around wildly, flames from the brazier whipped in the wind, highlighting the scene in shifting flame and shadow. And then he was moving, ducking low under the swing of a clawed hand, stabbing up into the Revenant's sternum as he rose, deeper into the chest cavity, blue light pulsing through a map of veins. He shoved the dying creature away, slammed his shield into another face, stabbed around the shield rim into a shoulder, ripped the blade free and slashed across the creature's throat, hacked another across the face from scalp to chin. He stepped over it to reach the brazier.\n\nIt was only apace or two away from a Revenant ladder. He grabbed one of the torches leaning against the wall, shoved it into the flames to ignite, then he was swinging the torch with his shield hand, stabbing and hacking with his seax. Two Revenants caught fire, falling away into more of their kind, careening off the wall.\n\n\"KELD, CULLEN!\" Drem yelled as he threw the torch at another, its face igniting, melting, then he dropped his shield and crouched, wrapping his arms around the brazier's base, hoping that his friends had heard him and that they could reach him in time.\n\nThe base was huge, as wide as a man. He grunted with the strain, barely able to lift it a handspan from the ground. Heat washed him as the wind tugged at flames. He ignored it, heaved again, veins bulging, feeling as if his head would explode, every sinew in his body straining. There was movement close in his peripheral vision, the gaping maw of a Revenant looming close. Drem screamed defiantly, determined to finish his task even as the teeth lunged for his face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And then the face was gone, a stump upon shoulders left where the head had been."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The creature's body toppled to the side, Alcyon's bulk appearing beside him. The giant swung his two axes, blue light erupting as he cleared a space about Drem. Keld and Cullen reached him a breath later. Seeing what he was about, they both grabbed the brazier, helping him lift it. Slowly it rose, the bowl scraping against stone. A blast of air and Riv landed, crouched and put her back under the brazier's base, then began to stand. She yelled as she stood, face red, eyes bulging.\n\nThe brazier lurched higher, then it was teetering above the ramparts and Drem was shoving it, guiding its fall. Flames washed out of the bowl, white-hot coals and fire cascading over the wall, a waterfall of flame pouring down onto the seething ladder. The first Revenants burst into flames, an explosion of heat, not even time to scream. The flames spread greedily down the dried, desiccated creatures, the Revenants' limbs and bodies so intertwined that it was impossible for them to disentangle themselves in time to avoid the fire. In moments the ladder was an inferno collapsing in upon itself.\n\nDrem and the others stood and peered over the wall. Bodies writhed and twitched, flames pooling and spreading along the base of the wall. The tide of Revenants that had been feeding the ladder was now scattered and retreating to the shadows in dismay.\n\nAlcyon grinned at Drem and the others. Almost immediately the fighting along their section of the wall lessened, with Revenants dying and not being replaced. Alcyon set about hastening that process, hacking at a knot of invaders who were tearing at a handful of warriors.\n\n\"Well, I'm glad your da forgot to teach you not to play with fire,\" Cullen grinned at Drem. Riv barked a laugh."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't encourage him,\" Keld said to her with a sigh.\n\nThe screams of battle echoed along the wall and they all looked towards the gate. Battle was still raging there. Cullen slapped Drem's shoulder and pointed at another brazier.\n\n\"ALCYON!\" Riv shouted as she flew into the air, wings beating. Drem and the others linked their shields and started fighting towards the next brazier. The wall-top was just wide enough for them to form a shield wall four men wide. Alcyon joined them, standing behind and towering over them. His axes sang their song of steel above their heads as he chopped at Revenants beyond their small wall of shields. It was Revenants now who were caught between enemies from two sides, and in a few dozen heartbeats Drem and the others were at the next brazier. With Alcyon's help this one rose more easily and they heaved it over the wall onto another ladder of Revenants. An explosion of flames and sparks, hissing and screaming, and the ladder was collapsing.\n\n\"Next one,\" Riv said to them, and she soared off the wall, Drem and the others linking shields again. They pushed towards the gate, stabbing and cutting down any enemy before them, but before they reached the next brazier Drem saw Balur and Ethlinn heaving it into the air and hurling it down upon the next ladder.\n\nThree ladders had been incinerated now. The Revenants on the ground beyond the wall were more hesitant for the moment, retreating to the shadows beyond the bonfires. Riv alighted on the battlements next to Drem and the others.\n\n\"There are more braziers further along, beyond the gate,\" she said, \"but I've told Byrne; they're going to throw them over.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even as the words left Riv's mouth, Drem saw a burst of fire and flame flaring bright in the darkness, an implosion of sparks as another ladder caught fire and was decimated.\n\nThere were still invaders upon the wall, and Drem and the others set to slaughtering them. The Revenants were fast and unnaturally strong, but the combination of rune-marked blades and their small wall of shields worked well against them in a tight space. Alcyon drove them back, and Riv swept in and out of the darkness, her sword leaving trails of blue sparks.\n\nDrem chopped at taloned fingers that clutched his shield rim, slashed his seax into the Revenant's throat as it fell back. He looked for the next one to kill, saw one crouched on all fours, snarling over a dead warrior of the Order. It saw Drem and the others, bunched and leaped at them, but as it flew into the air Drem saw Queen Ethlinn appear behind it.\n\nShe stabbed the Revenant with her long spear, skewering it, the blade bursting out through its chest. Blue light stuttered through its veins as Ethlinn lifted it high and hurled it out over the wall. Drem watched it crunch to the ground and roll, coming to a stop before one of the bonfires.\n\nHe nodded a weary thanks to Ethlinn.\n\nThe wall was clear for the moment, at least as far as Drem could see either way. Byrne was there, yelling orders, blood sluicing down her forehead, slick in the rain. She ordered the Revenant corpses to be thrown over the wall, then oversaw as the healers arrived to treat the injured and screaming. Some were put on stretchers and carried off."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Here,\" Keld said, tapping Drem with a water bottle. Drem took a sip and abruptly realized he was thirsty beyond all understanding. He lifted the bottle and drank deeply.\n\n\"Is that it, then?\" Cullen said, glaring out over the wall at the brooding shadows. He sounded disappointed.\n\n\"They'll be back,\" Meical said, a whisper of wings as the Ben-Elim emerged from the night above them and alighted on the wall. \"There are many more of them out there.\"\n\nThe slap of feet, and Drem saw Revenants surge out of the darkness, running in their peculiar gait past the bonfires on the street below. Hundreds, thousands of them. It was as if the mountains of their dead piled along the wall had not dented their numbers, or their fury. They knew what they were doing now-no frenzied hurling themselves at a thousand points on the wall. This time they filtered into columns and swarmed together in clusters along the wall, their limb-knotted columns rising.\n\nDrem looked at Keld and Cullen; the two warriors were hefting their shields, setting their feet.\n\nThere are no more braziers.\n\nByrne looked at the approaching enemies and nodded to Kill, who was standing beside her. The warrior lifted a horn to her lips and blew. One long, lingering note, wavering on the snatching wind.\n\n\"FALLBACK!\" Byrne yelled.\n\nKeld turned, grabbing Cullen's wrist when the young warrior did not move.\n\n\"I'm not running,\" Cullen growled.\n\n\"It's an order from Byrne, so you are,\" Keld said.\n\n\"No,\" Cullen snapped, eyes fixed on the Revenants swarming at the walls."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Ach,\" Keld spat."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This is not the time for brainless heroism, lad.\"\n\n\"Cullen,\" Drem said, resting a hand on his shoulder. \"You've sworn an oath to Byrne and your sword-kin. To protect and obey. Byrne is chief, here; to disobey her is to disrespect the Order, and to break your own word.\" He paused, Cullen's head twisting round to stare at him. \"I hope one day that I am worthy of taking that oath, of saying those words and pledging myself to you all, and to our cause. Do not dishonour it or yourself.\"\n\nCullen frowned, glaring at the climbing Revenants. He spat a curse, then turned with Keld, and the three of them were making for the stairwell. Drem saw a hand-axe lying on the wall, close to a fallen warrior of the Order. He slung his shield across his back and snatched the axe up as he strode past, hefted it for weight.\n\nThat's better.\n\nThey swept down the stairwell and pounded across the courtyard, other warriors and giants all around them.\n\nByrne had spoken of the possibility of falling back, knew that the wall was long and their numbers were few. They made for the keep, where most of the population of Dun Seren was taking refuge, the huge doors open, bristling with warriors. Nara, Elgin and many more who had wished to be on the walls but had been forbidden by Byrne were determined to keep them safe.\n\nLooks as if they'll get their chance to fight soon enough. There are not enough of us with rune-marked blades to man every door and window of the keep.\n\nA sound filtered through the wind and rain, from the east. Drem's footsteps faltered and he stumbled to a halt, straining to hear. And then he heard it again, swirling on the wind."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Roaring.\n\nHe looked at Keld.\n\n\"The bear enclosure,\" they said together.\n\nWithout thinking, they both broke into a run, away from the keep. Cullen joined them, following without question. Drem ignored everything, just ran, only one thing in his mind.\n\nThe white bear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv was hovering above the gate's battlements, stabbing at the first Revenant to scale the wall. It fell back with a shriek, blue flame crackling from a hole in its throat.\n\n\"Riv, come on,\" Meical called to her, the Ben-Elim winging back towards the keep. Riv saw the first warriors reaching the keep's open doorway, others sprinting across the courtyard. The wall was clear of them, now, and that had been why Riv had lingered: to protect any stragglers. She saw a rune-marked spear on the wall, its owner dead; she sheathed her sword and swept down to it, plucked it up, beat her wings and gained some height as Revenants started to swarm over the battlements.\n\nA noise on the wind, swirling louder and then quieter, snatched away, blurred by the hiss of rain. A roaring.\n\nThen she saw a handful of figures change direction in the courtyard, her sharp eyes picking out Drem, Keld and Cullen. Alcyon was close behind them, a few more warriors followed, one of them the man with the flaming sword. Riv couldn't remember his name, though she liked his fighting style-all-out attack, no thought of defence. They were heading away from the keep.\n\nRiv flew into the courtyard, swirled around the statue of Corban and started to fly after Drem and the others.\n\n\"Riv,\" Meical called again. He was hovering above the steps of the keep. He saw her hesitate, her eyes staring after Drem and the others, and he flew to her.\n\n\"We'd be no use inside the keep,\" Riv said. \"We should go with them.\" She nodded into the darkness, where Drem and the dozen others had disappeared. Something about Drem, Cullen and Keld reminded her of her friends Vald and Jost. A camaraderie they shared, a friendship forged in blood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The thought of Vald caused a knot in her gut, like a fist wrapping around her intestines.\n\nHe's dead. Fallen on the field protecting me.\n\n\"They'll need our help,\" she shouted.\n\nMeical stared. The sound of bears roaring swirled around them. There was an edge to it that Riv didn't like.\n\nIt sounds like... pain.\n\n\"The mist-walkers must have scaled the wall,\" she said. \"Come on.\"\n\n\"Byrne needs to know,\" Meical said.\n\n\"No time to wait, I'm going after them.\" Riv shifted and beat her wings, speed building as Meical wheeled away, back to the keep.\n\nIn heartbeats she was alone, twisting through a wide street, wind and rain whipping into her face. The sound of feet, figures appeared out of the darkness: Alcyon, Drem, half a dozen others charging towards the building ahead of them. As the group drew near, the door exploded open, splinters of wood, two figures careening out into the street. Two men, both dressed in the Order's dark mail. They rolled on the ground, came to a halt. The one on top looked... strange, then his head thrust down and his jaws clamped around the other's throat. A savage wrench, a spray of blood.\n\nA Revenant! How?\n\nRiv swept lower, almost level with Drem and the others.\n\nKeld was closest to the creature in the street. His sword arm came back, began to swing, but the creature saw him, ducked with unnatural speed and rolled to the side. Keld's sword hissed over its head and Keld's momentum was carrying him on, his feet skidding to check his speed and he was turning, his backswing catching the Revenant as it leaped at him. A flash of blue fire, but the creature kept coming, crashing into Keld, and the two of them flew through the air, crunching to the ground, rolling. They slowed, limbs thrashing, the Revenant on top, one handover Keld's face, pinning him, its mouth opening wide, bearing down."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv saw movement at the edge of her vision, heard a savage growling, and two wolven-hounds burst from the shadows, crashing into the figure on top of Keld, hurling it off him.\n\nThe wolven-hounds set about ripping the still-rolling Revenant to pieces, tearing chunks of flesh from its arms and legs. It came to a halt, got one knee beneath it and rose, the hounds snapping, snarling, ripping. The Revenant lashed outwith a taloned hand, sending one wolven-hound stumbling away, grabbed the other one by the fur of its neck and opened its mouth wide, fangs dripping. The wolven-hound squirmed and bucked, growling and whining in the Revenant's grip, but its hold did not loosen.\n\nRiv's spear took the Revenant through its open mouth, a spatter of blue fire and the creature flopped into a puddle, its grip on the wolven-hound abruptly loose. Now Riv was closer, she could seethe hound was red-furred, the other one a dark slate grey, like storm clouds.\n\n\"My... thanks,\" Keld panted as he rolled to his knees. The wolven-hounds pushed themselves close, licking his face.\n\n\"Ach, you two, you're a pair, so you are,\" Keld said, ruffling their fur, hugging them. \"I told you both to stay out of it. I can't rune-mark your teeth and claws, and I'd not have you ripped open or infected by one of them.\" His lip curled, a glance at the Revenant.\n\n\"Love and loyalty thinks not of itself,\" Alcyon murmured.\n\nRiv looked at the giant-something in those words struck a chord in her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem gave Keld his arm, helping the huntsman up.\n\n\"I'm fine, lad,\" Keld said to Drem's worried look. Keld sounded angry with himself. \"The sight of him, it shocked me. Slowed me down.\" He pointed to the Revenant.\n\n\"It's Giluf,\" Drem said. \"We left him in the hospice with a bite wound in his neck.\"\n\nScreams echoed out behind the shattered door.\n\nThe warrior with the flaming sword was first through it: no hesitation, he charged in, curved sword raised high. A woman followed, stern-faced, wielding a curved sword.\n\nA crash, grunting, a scream. Riv was desperate to get inside, but Alcyon's bulk filled the doorway, then he was through, Cullen after him and Riv close behind.\n\nShe paused a moment, blinked. The stench of death was thick in the room, blood and excrement.\n\nA healer's room, by the number of beds and the way they were laid out, and by the cupboards lining the walls, bottles and jars full of herbs and plants. Now everyone was dead.\n\nThe room was a slaughterhouse, blood everywhere, sprayed across the walls, glistening pools on the floor. The flaming sword chopped into a Revenant's neck; its head spun through the air.\n\nAlcyon's axes swung, an explosion of blue light as another Revenant fell, body opened up from shoulder to gut.\n\nThen it was silent, punctuated by the groans and wet rattle of the dying.\n\n\"Four, five Revenants did this,\" Drem whispered, nudging corpses with his boot. \"I told them to strap Giluf and the others tight, to watch them close.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Not tight enough, not close enough,\" Cullen snarled, stabbing a dead Revenant; its body twitched.\n\n\"It's dead,\" the warrior with the flaming sword said.\n\nCullen shrugged. \"Makes me feel better, Utul,\" he grunted.\n\nUtul stuck his sword into a dead Revenant. He looked up at Cullen and grinned. \"So it does,\" he said.\n\n\"Tsk,\" chided the woman at Utul's side.\n\n\"They have turned so quickly,\" Keld muttered.\n\n\"Come,\" Alcyon grunted, \"they are all beyond our help here, but the living still need us.\"\n\nAnother roar swept through the open doorway on a gust of wind, this one louder.\n\nAlcyon ran into the night, the others following, Riv running out through the door and into the air, beating her wings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem ran through Dun Seren's streets, the image of slaughter in the hospice imprinted on his mind.\n\nThese creatures area plague. Setting brother upon brother, friend upon friend. Gulla needs to die for this crime against nature, and Fritha, for creating this pestilence.\n\nThe roaring from the bear enclosure was ringing in the air now.\n\nIt made his legs pound harder, overtaking all except Alcyon, though he drew level with the giant.\n\nPlease be alive, please be alive, he repeated to himself again and again, not like Rosie.\n\nThe rain was fading, the glow of moonlight leaked into the air from behind ragged clouds.\n\nAnd then they were skidding around a bend, into the courtyard of the bear enclosure.\n\nTorches flickered, swirling in the wind, sending shadows dancing. All was movement; confusion and chaos as Drem's eyes adjusted, trying to make sense of the scene before him.\n\nBears filled the courtyard, too many to count. Some were moving, some were not. Smaller shadows flitted around them: Revenants everywhere, leaping, biting, tearing. Blood glistened like black pools on the ground, stable doors had been smashed to kindling.\n\n\"HAMMER!\" Alcyon yelled. Drem looked straight to Hammer's stable, the door that he had only repaired yesterday smashed and splintered again, then his eyes were searching the courtyard fora glimpse of Hammer and the white bear.\n\nIf Hammer answered Alcyon's call it was impossible to tell-the roar and clamour was almost deafening. Without thinking, Drem was moving, running into the courtyard. He hefted his seax and hand-axe, chopped into a Revenant as it leaped at a bear, a blue flare of flame as the axe hacked through ribs, the Revenant dropping to the ground, rising, and Drem's seax punched through its mouth. He kicked it away and strode on."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind him Alcyon roared, axes swirling. Cullen stormed into the enclosure, a berserker scream on his lips and spittle flying as he killed. Utul's blade flamed and flared as it carved through Revenants, Shar beside him, silent and deadly. Keld and his wolven-hounds worked together, jaws pinning arms as Keld's blade took lives. A shadow flitted over the moon and Riv was amongst them, spear flicking down, a trail of blue in her wake.\n\nA Revenant crashed into Drem, sending him flying. He crunched into a dead bear, the stench of fur and blood engulfing him. He stabbed and chopped with his two weapons, the Revenant hissing and screaming as it lost half a hand to the axe blade, a blue hole in its waist from the seax. Nevertheless, it came relentlessly on, jaws wide as teeth sought his flesh. Drem tried to throw himself away-Giluf's corpse was a stark reminder of what a Revenant's bite could do to him-but the bulk of the dead bear held him there.\n\nAn explosion of flame and blue light, the Revenant's skull gone, Utul's grinning face filling the same space.\n\n\"Give me your hand, brother,\" Utul said, hoisting Drem to his feet.\n\nBrother.\n\nDrem liked that.\n\nThis is my family.\n\nAnd then Utul was moving, his sword tracing incandescent sparks in the air; a Revenant fell. Another jumped at his back, talons reaching, but Shar cut it down, the head and body rolling indifferent directions.\n\n\"You going to lie there all day and watch?\" she asked Drem, as she took the head from one more."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He staggered to his feet, moving through the courtyard, chopping and killing.\n\nThey went from bear to bear, saving the living, avenging the dead, and there were already so many of them. The bears were fighting with all of their prodigious strength, the ground littered with dead Revenants, but these creatures just did not stop, biting and clawing, latching onto bear flesh like terriers around a bull. Too many bears were still and silent.\n\nAnd then Drem saw the white bear.\n\nHe was close to the gateway to the paddocks, standing before the bulk of a slumped shadow.\n\nHammer.\n\nDrem's heartfelt as if a fist had closed around it. He broke into a run. Revenants came at him, he ducked swiping claws, stabbed into a belly, slammed into the dying creature, spun around, ripping his blade free, his hand-axe swinging, taking the lower jaw from another attacker, teeth and bone spraying, stumbled on.\n\nShouts behind him, Alcyon bellowing a battle-cry, to the side a Revenant went down under Fen and Ralla's savage attack, Keld stabbing down.\n\nDrem was almost there, the white bear looking at him, black stains allover his white fur, which glowed silver in the fractured moonlight. Half a dozen Revenants were hurling themselves at him. Drem saw claws swipe atone, eviscerating it, intestines and shattered bone slopping onto the ground. The bear's jaws clamped onto another's head and shoulder, a savage shake and the Revenant was in pieces, its torso collapsing. But there were too many. Others leaped onto the bear, talons sinking deep, climbing up onto the white bear's back. One cast its head back, mouth opening wide, teeth bared."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem threw his axe, heard it crunch into the side of the Revenant's skull, saw it topple bonelessly from the bear's back. Then Drem was beside them, a moment as he rested his palm on the huge beast's muzzle, looking into its eyes.\n\nHe's exhausted, lost so much blood.\n\nA snatched glance at Hammer lying upon the ground. She was still alive, her sides moving with breath. Black blood caked her jaws, pooled around her body, amass of dead Revenants littered the ground.\n\nTears blurred Drem's eyes. The anger that had been bubbling away inside him suddenly boiled over. With a scream, he wrenched his hand-axe from the skull of the dead Revenant, swung and slashed at the shadows that were latched upon the white bear, clawing and biting. Drem slaughtered them, moving with a strength and speed that only rage provides. His world became a red haze punctuated by lunging talons and snapping teeth, their hissing screams as he tore their lives from them, the burn of muscles and crackle of blue flame as his axe and seax carved through flesh and bone.\n\nDimly he was aware of Cullen close by, of Keld and his wolven-hounds guarding one flank of Hammer and the white bear. The flash of Utul's sword, Shar guarding his back. Alcyon's booming battle-cry. Revenants piled up about them like a tide-line.\n\nA Revenant came flying out of the darkness, straight at Drem, no time for him to even lift a blade. He braced himself for the impact. A spear hurled from above skewered his attacker, pinning it to the ground, its legs drumming, twitching, then still. Riv swept low, hacked with her sword, more taloned hands grasping for her, one catching her wing and dragging her down. She slammed into the ground, fell, dazed. Drem leaped forwards, chopped his axe between the neck and shoulder of the creature that had torn Riv from the sky, stabbed it in the gut with his seax, ripped both his blades free and stood over her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She rolled to one knee, pushed herself upright, drew her sword, looked at him.\n\n\"Guess that makes us about even,\" she said breathlessly.\n\nThey set their feet, standing to one side of the white bear.\n\nAnew wave of attackers were rushing out of the darkness.\n\nDrem gritted his teeth.\n\nThe air above came alive: white-feathered wings, and Meical and Hadran were there, the Ben-Elim about them, swooping and stabbing with their long spears.\n\n\"TRUTH AND COURAGE!\" a voice bellowed, and Balur One-Eye appeared, his longsword sweeping around his head, chopping limbs from three Revenants at the same time. Ethlinn was beside him, her long spear stabbing, and then Byrne was beside Drem, sword and shield in her hand, her honour guard sweeping through the courtyard, and in short moments the last Revenant was hissing its dying breath into the stone-cobbled ground.\n\nByrne squeezed Drem's arm.\n\n\"You live,\" she panted.\n\nHe nodded, numb, turned to the white bear. It stood beside Hammer, lowered his head to nudge the female bear.\n\nHammer rumbled a mournful growl.\n\nAll about the courtyard a silence fell, only the wind, the rumbling growls of bears.\n\nDrem moved to inspect the white bear's wounds. Ice shifted in his belly as he saw countless puncture wounds made by Revenant fangs. He knew what that meant, had seen what had become of Giluf, and so quickly.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" he whispered. \"I should never have brought you here. I should have left you north of the river.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 34"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"For you, my Elise,\" Fritha said, holding the spear out in the palms of both her hands.\n\nElise looked at it, a gentle hiss escaping her lips, and then she slithered forwards, scales rasping on stone. Elise took the spear, hefted it, testing its weight and balance. Then she was slicing it through the air, reversing her grip from overhand to underhand, switching to double-handed, the air rushing with each stroke.\n\n\"It issss beautiful,\" Elise said.\n\n\"Not as beautiful as you, my perfect creation,\" Fritha said quietly.\n\nElise smiled at her, fangs bared. Fritha felt a warm glow in her belly.\n\nI have her back. Her and Arn, and now Morn. And Wrath, of course. Her draig was in Drassil's great chamber, curled before the stairwell that led to this room. He had grumbled that he could not fit up the stairs when Fritha had climbed them, but Fritha knew this needed to be a private conversation, and that Wrath's presence at the foot of the stairs would ensure that no one came within earshot.\n\nAnd my Ferals, though few of them are left. They will breed.\n\nBut it is something. A place to start.\n\n\"How have you done this?\" Arn asked her, still staring at the axe blade, turning it in his hand.\n\n\"I am Asroth's queen,\" she said, then smiled, knowing how fragile that position was. \"I have made myself useful to him. Forged his hand and gauntlet, and made him weapons from the starstone. He is well pleased and wished to reward me. He gave me a portion of starstone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And you made these for ussss, when you could have made anything for yourself?\" Elise said.\n\n\"In truth, I am not that selfless. I did make myself a little something.\" Fritha patted a short-sword hanging in a scabbard at her hip, like the swords she was trained within the White-Wings. \"But there was metal to spare.\" She shrugged. \"I could have made myself more, but... you are important tome. I wanted to show you that, with more than words.\"\n\nShe stopped, drew in a deep breath.\n\n\"There is something that I would tell you. And something that I would ask.\"\n\nFritha looked at them all in turn.\n\n\"You must swear to secrecy. If you breathe of this to another soul, it would... endanger me.\"\n\nAnother silence, only the crackle of torches on the wall.\n\n\"Tell ussss,\" Elise said. Arn and Morn nodded.\n\n\"Asroth's seed is in my belly. His child grows within me.\"\n\nTheir eyes grew wide, a sharp intake of breath from Morn. Elise's tail rattled.\n\n\"I would have you swear to protect my baby. She will be the future of the Banished Lands. But there are factions within Asroth's court that would not be best pleased with this news. Factions that would see my child as a threat. And soon we will march to war; dangerous times lie ahead for us.\"\n\n\"She?\" Arn said.\n\nFritha stroked her belly.\n\n\"Yes. She.\" Even now Fritha could feel the warmth of her child, a presence deep within.\n\n\"Will you do it?\" Fritha asked, a tremor in her voice."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yessss,\" Elise said.\n\n\"Aye.\" No hesitation from Arn.\n\nMorn looked at Fritha. \"I thought there was something different about you,\" Morn said. \"Now I see it. You have hope, again, where you had none. It has made you scared.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Fritha admitted. \"Will you swear tome?\"\n\n\"I will,\" Morn grunted.\n\nFritha drew her new short-sword, the blade black as night. \"Then let us make anew scar, and bind ourselves, one to the other.\" She drew the blade across her palm, blood welling, and looked at them, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.\n\nElise, Arn and Morn each put their starstone blades to their hands and drew blood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem stood with his friends.\n\nByrne was before them. She had a large, flint-grey stone in her hands, and she turned and placed it upon a cairn.\n\nThey were standing in afield of cairns, apart of Dun Seren that Drem had not seen before, to the north-east of the keep, the river Vold a black smear beyond stonewalls. Hundreds of people filled the field around Drem. Thousands. Warriors of the Order and their families, Queen Nara with Elgin, Madoc and her people. Riv, Meical and the handful of the Ben-Elim who had survived the battle were close by, and Drem also saw that Faelan and a few score half-breeds from the caverns beneath Dun Seren were there. They looked uncomfortable in the open space, the sky cloudless and blue above them, a beautiful summer's day.\n\n\"Your sacrifice was not in vain, and it will be remembered,\" Byrne said, her voice loud in the silence. \"We will never forget.\"\n\nThe crowd echoed her words, Drem adding his voice to theirs.\n\n\"We will never forget.\"\n\nThere were one hundred and twelve new cairns; Drem knew exactly how many, for he had helped raise them, rocks brought up in wains from the river below. It had been a sobering deed, seeing linen-wrapped bodies slowly disappearing as the rocks were piled around them. Most of them were warriors of the Order, those who had fought with rune-marked blades, but some were Ben-Elim, and half-breed Ben-Elim, and some from Nara's warriors.\n\nPeople from across the Banished Lands, torn to pieces by a horde of blood-mad Revenants. Drem pinched his nose, the strangeness and injustice of it filling him with a deep melancholy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They stood in silence along while, Drem lost in his thoughts, the wound in his leg starting to ache and throb. Cullen's hand upon his shoulder brought him back to himself. He saw that only a few were left, the crowds around him melting away, back to the work of repairing and healing.\n\nAnd preparing.\n\nHalf a ten-night had passed since the Battle of Dun Seren, as it was starting to be called, and almost with the rising of the sun that same day Kill had gathered a team and taken them to the forges. The fires had been blazing night and day since then, the sound of hammers a constant ringing as rune-marked blades were forged.\n\n\"Come on, lad,\" Cullen said.\n\nWhy does he insist on calling me'lad,\" when I am older than him?\n\nThey walked through the field of cairns together, Drem looking at the inscriptions on stones as they passed them. To his right Drem saw movement, the flicker of wings deep amongst the cairns. He tapped Cullen and pointed.\n\nIt was a Ben-Elim, on his knees before a cairn.\n\nDrem and Cullen threaded through the cairns, approaching the Ben-Elim. He was talking, head bowed.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" Drem heard the Ben-Elim say. He must have heard their footsteps, for abruptly he froze, his head snapping round to look at them.\n\nIt was Meical, and tears were streaming from his eyes.\n\nHe stood quickly, a beat of his wings and he was airborne, rising higher into the blue. In heartbeats he was just a smudge in the sky, blurred by the sun.\n\nDrem shared a look with Cullen. There were two cairns closer together than the others."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Why would Meical be kneeling before a cairn?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem asked. \"And whose cairn is it?\" He found the stone at the foot of one of the cairns.\n\n\"I know,\" Cullen said.\n\nDrem leaned closer to read the inscription on a flat stone at the foot of the cairn.\n\n\"Here lies Corban, the Bright Star, our captain, our friend.\"\n\nHe was silent a moment, feeling the weight of history behind those words.\n\nOur friend.\n\n\"He was a hero,\" Drem said. \"We have all heard the tales.\"\n\n\"Aye, he was,\" Cullen said, unusually solemn.\n\n\"But out of all that could have been said about him, the word friend is on his cairn. He was a man. Like us.\"\n\nWe are just people, all of us the same. Flawed, fragile, stubborn, angry, happy. And life treats no one differently. We are born, and we live, and then we die. It's what we do while we are here that counts. And if we can be called friend, then we are lucky indeed.\n\nThat thought rocked Drem. He shook his head and stared at the cairn. It was the same as all the others, the stones weathered, moss-grown, flowers poking out of gaps. He shifted, looked at the other cairn. It lay across the foot of Corban's cairn, and Drem moved so that he could read its stone.\n\n\"Here lies Storm, friend of Corban, protector of her pack. Faithful unto death.\"\n\nDrem blew out along breath. \"Corban's pet wolven?\"\n\n\"She was never his pet,\" Cullen said.\n\nFriend of Corban. Those words echoed in Drem's mind. Friend."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So much of what we are and do is shaped by that. Our friendships. Those we love, those we choose to stand beside.\n\n\"There's a story that goes with that inscription,\" Cullen said. \"Corban died here, an old man, in his sleep. He was placed within his cairn, his sword upon his chest. Afterwards a feast was held in Corban's memory. Storm, the wolven, did not want to leave the cairn, but Coralen, Corban's wife, coaxed Storm to go with her. Well, later that night, during the feast of remembrance, Storm started to growl. Then she howled and went running off. Coralen and all of the Order went after her, and she led them back to Corban's graveside. Kadoshim were here, attempting to desecrate the cairn, and Corban's body.\"\n\nCullen paused, emotion twisting his mouth, putting a tremor in his voice.\n\nDrem sucked a breath in. After the life that Corban had led, standing against the Kadoshim and their evil, that was the most unbearable act. It looked as if Cullen agreed with him, the young warrior's face pale, his mouth a thin line.\n\n\"Because of Storm they were interrupted before they could carryout their plan, but they did take Corban's sword.\"\n\nDrem's fingers brushed the hilt of his own father's sword, hanging back at his hip again.\n\nI am glad to have this, something that was apart of you, my dear father, Drem thought.\n\n\"The next morning,\" Cullen continued, \"Coralen dressed for war and rode out of Dun Seren, with Storm at her side. She never came back.\"\n\n\"But Storm did,\" Drem said, looking at the huge cairn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Aye."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ten moons later. She loped into the fortress, the story goes, ignored everyone, and made her way to Corban's cairn. When she got here she lay down at his feet, and refused to leave his side ever again. She lived awhile longer, I'm not sure how long, days, a moon? But she never left Corban's side again.\"\n\n\"Faithful unto death,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye, just so.\" Cullen nodded.\n\nThe stable yard was busy. Warriors of the Order and a score of giants were repairing splintered doors and frames. Drem saw Keld working on the post-and-rail fence before the bear-paddocks. Fen and Ralla were close by, lying in some shade beneath a hawthorn tree.\n\nThe huntsman's face was cut and bruised, stitch lines along the whole of his cheek, temple and across the side of his head where Revenant talons had sliced a huge flap of skin.\n\n\"Ach, but you're not getting any prettier,\" Cullen said as they stopped before Keld.\n\n\"Don't think I'll lose any sleepover that,\" Keld grunted. \"Hold this,\" he said, pointing at a wooden rail.\n\nDrem lifted it, held it in position, bracing it with his knee while Keld nailed it in place. He looked into the paddock, eyes searching.\n\n\"He'll be along anytime now,\" Keld said with a wink.\n\nJust then a huge shape lumbered into view, the white bear appearing from behind a stand of trees. Hammer followed behind him.\n\nAfter the battle in the caverns beneath the fortress, Drem had hurried back to the enclosure, hoping that the white bear was still alive. Alcyon the giant had been tending them both, cleaning wounds and preparing for stitching. Hammer, although at more risk than the white bear and closer to death, had been easier to stitch, because she was verging on unconscious. But the white bear had taken none too well to Alcyon stabbing him with a sharp needle. It had taken a lot of honey to get the white bear's wounds stitched."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem felt a jolt of happiness at the sight of him.\n\nHe saved me in the skirmish on the plain, and carried me all the way home.\n\nHeavy footsteps, and Alcyon strode up to them. He had a huge saddle slung across one shoulder and a big bundle of leather tack in one arm, a hemp sack in the other. He looked at Drem and the others.\n\n\"Time to see if Hammer is up to a saddle on her back.\"\n\nHer wounds had been so bad that Drem was amazed that the giant bear was even up and walking.\n\nBut I have seen her fight a giant bear and a draig and survive. She is a strong one. But what else should I expect? She was Sig's companion for countless years.\n\nThe white bear and Hammer were close now, and Drem climbed the rail that Keld had just nailed, earning him a tsk and a dark look from the huntsman.\n\nCullen followed him over.\n\n\"Just testing your work,\" he said, with a flashed smile at Keld.\n\nAlcyon went the long way around, using the gate.\n\nDrem walked up to the white bear, who stopped and lowered his head, rubbing his muzzle into Drem's chest. It nearly knocked Drem to the ground, but he set his feet and leaned into the bear, scratching one of its ears. His other hand stroked the bear's neck and chest, his huge shoulder, checking that wounds were healing well, flesh knitting, scabs thick and starting to peel away.\n\n\"You area survivor, my friend,\" he whispered. The bear rumbled quietly in agreement.\n\nAlcyon reached them and put the saddle and tack on the grass, then dropped the hemp sack with a thud."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What's in there?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem asked the giant.\n\n\"That's Hammer's coat of mail. If she's going into battle, she'll need to be wearing it.\" He looked up at the bear looming over him.\n\n\"Well, Hammer, how do you feel about having a giant on your back?\"\n\nThe female bear regarded Alcyon a moment with her small dark eyes, and then she dipped her head and one shoulder. It was the way that the giant bears of Dun Seren gave permission fora rider to climb upon their back.\n\n\"They are not pets, or dumb animals broken to service,\" Keld had told Drem when he'd seen it the first time. \"This is a partnership. A bond of friendship and loyalty between rider and bear. These bears areas intelligent as you or I. They know what they are doing, and choose it willingly.\"\n\n\"Ah, well thank you, great bear, you dome much honour,\" Alcyon said, patting Hammer's shoulder and stooping to lift the saddle. \"Some help?\" he said to Drem, who grabbed one side of the saddle and grunted with the weight of it. Together they heaved it up onto Hammer's back, let her shake a little so that it shifted into place.\n\nDrem and Alcyon reached for the saddle-girth, but a rumbling growl stopped them. It wasn't from Hammer, but from the white bear.\n\n\"Think you better have a look at this,\" Cullen said, slapping Drem's back.\n\nDrem turned to see that the white bear had dropped his shoulder and dipped his head, like Hammer had just done to Alcyon. He was looking at Drem with intelligent black eyes.\n\nDrem froze, staring. Then he stepped forwards, around the white bear's lowered shoulder, gripped a handful of fur and leaped up onto the bear's back. He teetered a moment, almost falling, but the white bear stood and rolled its shoulder, shifting Drem onto his back."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem sat there, the world looking different from this high vantage point. Men, women and giants were staring at him; Cullen open-mouthed, Keld with awry smile on his face, Alcyon nodding. Drem felt... overwhelmed. A happiness soared through him, such that he hadn't felt since before the death of his father. He leaned forwards, patting the bear's neck, and whispered in his ear.\n\n\"Thank you, my friend,\" he breathed.\n\nThe white bear looked up over his shoulder at Drem and gave a contented rumble.\n\n\"Well, I think that bear deserves a name. We can't keep on calling him white bear,\" Cullen said from down below.\n\n\"Time fora naming,\" Alcyon agreed, grinning.\n\n\"What's it to be, then?\" Cullen said. \"Death From Above? Avalanche?\"\n\nThe white bear rumbled a growl in Cullen's face.\n\n\"Terrible Breath?\" Cullen said, pinching his nose.\n\nDrem sucked in a deep breath, emotions still flowing through him. He looked at his friends about him, felt such a sense of belonging at this moment-the act of the white bear's friendship sealing something in him. It was an act of loyalty that would never be forgotten.\n\n\"Friend,\" Drem said. \"His name is Friend.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Help me,\" Fritha said to Bune, as she struggled with a shirt of mail that was laid out across her bed.\n\nThe Kadoshim stepped close and took one side of the shirt. He touched it hesitantly, respectfully.\n\nIt was forged from starstone metal.\n\nThe links were black, greased for protection, so it looked like liquid oil as Fritha and Bune lifted it, rippling and shimmering in the light. They settled it over Asroth's outstretched arms and around his back. He was on the dais in Drassil's Great Hall, their bed behind him, a hundred Kadoshim surrounding them, Asroth's personal honour guard, all of them hand-picked by Bune. Wrath lay a short distance away, enjoying the warmth of abeam of sunshine that sliced down through a window in the domed wall. Fritha and Bune pulled the mail coat along Asroth's arms, over a shirt of padded linen, across his broad shoulders, and then each of them was stepping behind Asroth. Unlike a normal coat of mail, it was not one enclosed piece that would have been threaded over the head. The Kadoshim had wings that had to be tailored for. Fritha and Bune stepped behind Asroth, buckling straps that pulled the mail tight and snug around the arched mounds of muscle where Asroth's wings met his back.\n\n\"There, my beloved,\" Fritha said with a grunt, as she threaded the last buckle. She stepped back in front of him and watched as he rolled his shoulders and shifted his weight, letting the mail coat settle around him. He swung an arm, punched the air.\n\n\"It feels good,\" he said.\n\n\"This will make it feel even better,\" Fritha said, taking a belt and buckling it tight about his waist. It had along knife hanging from it, almost as long as Fritha's short-sword. A knife with a black, starstone blade. Fritha pulled some of the mail coat up above the belt, let it hang so that the belt took some of the coat's weight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth grunted. \"That is better on the shoulders.\"\n\nFritha lifted a helm of black iron. Asroth dipped his head as she placed it upon him, adjusting the nasal bar, settling the curtain of iron rings over his neck and shoulders. Black cheek-plates hung as protection; they were engraved with silver. She buckled the chinstrap, then stepped back.\n\n\"Ah, but you are fine,\" Fritha breathed as she looked at Asroth. \"A god of war.\"\n\nAsroth smiled at her. \"The god of war,\" he corrected.\n\nFritha dipped her head in agreement.\n\nShe had worked to exhaustion and beyond to craft Asroth's war gear, seeking out the finest smiths, metal crafters and leather-workers within their ranks, overseeing everything, and blending all with her blood magic and words of power.\n\nAsroth looked at Fritha and held his handout. His new hand, wrapped in a black metal gauntlet.\n\n\"Give it tome,\" he said.\n\nFritha stepped behind Asroth and nodded to Bune. This was definitely too heavy for her to lift alone. Bune stepped forwards and together they lifted along axe, turned and placed it into Asroth's fist.\n\nHis gauntleted hand closed about the shaft. Thick wood, ringed with bands of black iron. Asroth touched the butt to the stone floor, a black iron capon the haft's end scraping on stone. The axe blade stood at a height with Asroth's head, single-bladed and bearded, a wicked-looking spike on its spine. There were pits in the iron and dark mist curled around the blade. Asroth wrapped his other hand around it and swung it in a hissing circle. A trail of mist marked where it sliced the air. Fritha had the distinct impression that he could have decapitated a giant with that blow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth inspected the blade, scraped his gauntlet against the spike, tested the balance of the haft, then looked up at Fritha.\n\n\"I am ready,\" he said to her.\n\n\"I have something for you, a surprise,\" Fritha said, barely able to contain her excitement. She opened a hemp sack and reached inside, took out a rolled bundle and held it out.\n\nA whip, the handle made of leather-bound wood. The whip comprised a dozen strips of leather twined with thin black wire. Towards the end of each strip were three hooks, the heaviest ones on the tip. They were made of black metal.\n\nAsroth took the handle, the strips of leather dropping to the stone with a slap and clink of iron.\n\nThe whip swung loose in his hand, then he was bringing his arm back, and with a fluid snap the whip cracked, twelve barbs of iron lashing out at his bed, some snaring in the sheets and straw mattress, others in the wooden frame. A flick of his wrist and the bed seemed to just explode, a cloud of straw and linen and splinters of wood filling the air. Fritha raised a handover her face.\n\nAsroth stared at the whip.\n\n\"I like it,\" he said.\n\nHe rolled the whip and hung it on his belt, then spread his wings wide. A few powerful beats and he was rising, turning and hovering.\n\nHe is truly formidable. Clothed in starstone metal, wielding starstone blades. A man to follow, to lead a nation, to conquer a world. And he is father to my child. Tendrils of pride and fear coiled through her.\n\n\"This is our time,\" Asroth said to Fritha and to the Kadoshim about him, one hundred warriors. \"This metal,\" he said, raising an arm and looking at the sleeve of his mail coat, \"it was my prison for over a hundred years. Now it is my weapon and my shield.\" He nodded an acknowledgement to Fritha. \"How long have we fought the Ben-Elim and their tyranny?\" he asked the Kadoshim. \"Our Long War. More than two thousand years we have struggled against them, and now we will end it. We will end them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv satin a high-vaulted chamber, a cup of wine in her hand and a plate of bread, cheese and fruit before her. She was high in a tower, large windows with shutters flung open looking out over the land about Dun Seren. Meical and Hadran were there, Balur One-Eye and Ethlinn sitting opposite. Queen Nara of Ardain was with them, her hair jet black, a wolven-fur about her shoulders. Her battlechief, Elgin, sat beside her, and Madoc her first-sword stood behind her chair. Other chairs were empty.\n\nRiv drummed her fingers on the table.\n\nThe creak of a door.\n\n\"Welcome,\" Byrne said as she strode into the chamber. Kill marched one side of her, Tain the crow master at the other, Craf perched on his shoulder. Others followed behind them: Shar, Drem, Keld and Cullen.\n\nAnd Faelan, the half-breed.\n\nRiv's breath caught in her chest.\n\nShe had so many questions.\n\nByrne sat down, the others settling into seats around her. Faelan's wings rippled, glossy dark-brown feathers, almost black. His eyes glanced over Meical and Hadran, then settled upon her. He looked as if he had questions of his own.\n\n\"And welcome to this, our council of war,\" Byrne said.\n\nClose to a ten-night had passed since the Battle of Dun Seren. That time had not been spent sitting idly. \"This meeting is long overdue,\" Byrne said, \"but there has been much to do. The dead deserve our respect.\" She hung her head a moment, genuine grief twisting her features. She had lost a lot of people, Riv realized."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And she is a leader who actually cares about her warriors. I am soused to the Ben-Elim, to Israfil and then Kol. They saw us as servants, pawns. Byrne is not like that.\n\n\"But before we talk of war, and the way forward, there is something that must be resolved. Something that has long been hidden, and is now in the light.\" She looked at Faelan, who returned her gaze, unblinking.\n\n\"This is a moment I have long dreamed of,\" Faelan said, \"but now that it is here, I do not know whereto begin.\"\n\n\"Let me help you, then,\" Byrne said gently. \"Faelan has been here more years than I have drawn breath. His mother brought him to these walls in the year 65 of the Age of Lore.\"\n\n\"That means you are at least seventy-three years old,\" Riv snorted. Faelan did not look that old.\n\n\"Aye,\" Faelan dipped his head. \"Remember, the blood of Ben-Elim runs in my veins. I suspect I am not immortal, like my father; I am but a half-breed, blessed or cursed with long life.\"\n\n\"Who is your father?\" Riv asked.\n\n\"I do not know,\" Faelan said. \"My mother took that secret with her to the grave. Who is your father?\"\n\n\"Kol,\" Riv said.\n\nI will keep his dirty secrets no longer.\n\nByrne frowned at that.\n\nFaelan nodded slowly.\n\n\"Why do you live in darkness? A secret hidden in the dark.\" Riv looked at Byrne, feeling her anger pulse. \"You speak of truth and courage here. I do not see much of that at work in this.\" Her lip curled in a sneer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She saw people tense, Drem sitting straighter, Cullen scowling at her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She did not care.\n\n\"I understand your saying that,\" Byrne said. \"I have long struggled with it. Faelan's secret was handed tome by my predecessor, the day I became high captain of the Order. With it came an oath of secrecy, sworn in blood. Right or wrong, I do not know, but here is the logic of it.\" She drew a deep breath. \"Faelan's mother came to my predecessor, a babe clutched in her arms, barely a moon or two on this earth. She told my predecessor and his captains of the Ben-Elim's ways, their dirty secret. Of what they did to hide that secret.\"\n\nHadran shifted in his seat, looked at the floor.\n\n\"She told us of the cabin in the woods,\" Byrne continued. She looked at Riv. \"You will know of this place, I presume?\"\n\n\"Aye. I have seen it,\" Riv said. \"I have seen the cairns.\"\n\n\"I was told that the captains of the Order discussed it; at first they were outraged, and were of a mind to confront the Ben-Elim. Who knows how that would have gone? Faelan's mother pleaded against taking that course, for Faelan's sake. She said the Ben-Elim would not rest until he was dead. You must remember, Israfil was their lord. He would not brook such an affront to Elyon's Lore. To him Faelan would have been an abomination.\" She looked at Drem. \"We nearly went to war with the Ben-Elim over you,\" she said to him. \"Just imagine what would have happened over us sheltering a Ben-Elim half-breed.\"\n\n\"It would have been war,\" Riv said, remembering Israfil hacking the wings from a Ben-Elim who had committed the crime of kissing a human. \"Israfil would not have stopped until Faelan and all who protected him were dead. There is no question about that.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Yes,\" Byrne said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is what my predecessors believed.\" She shrugged. \"So, the decision was made to acquiesce to Faelan's mother. The Order agreed to give her and her child shelter, to protect them and keep them secret. The tunnels were the obvious place.\"\n\n\"That is no place to live,\" Riv said.\n\n\"I like it,\" Faelan said. \"The tunnels are safe. My people have been safe therefor over seventy years, and we leave at night by secret ways, feel the wind in our wings, patrol the night skies and the darkness. We watch over Dun Seren at night, a small way to repay our debt.\"\n\n\"Craf's crows watch over Dun Seren,\" Craf squawked.\n\n\"Aye, and a grand job you make of it,\" Faelan said. \"But even crows have to sleep.\"\n\nCraf ruffled his feathers.\n\n\"Aye, we sleep safer in Dun Seren knowing that you protect the skies from dusk till dawn,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"Your people?\" Meical interjected. \"How is it that there are so many of you?\"\n\n\"I meta woman.\" Faelan shrugged, a ripple of his wings. \"One of the Order's high captains. The chamber we fought the Revenants in-that is where those of the Order go to learn their Elemental ways.\"\n\n\"The captains of the Order have always been party to this secret,\" Byrne said. \"They would meet with Faelan, teach him. His letters and history, martial skills. Orina was in Kill's rank, fifty years ago.\"\n\n\"Ah, but she was beautiful as the moon,\" Faelan breathed. \"We had seven children, and those children met others within the Order.\" He shrugged. \"We have lived a good life, thanks to the Order; thanks to Byrne.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is no thanks tome. I have just kept the oath I swore, though I have questioned it everyday. I have long felt the weight of it.\"\n\n\"It is no fault of yours,\" Faelan said. \"That blame lies with the Ben-Elim.\" He glared at Meical, who returned the gaze, sadness in his eyes.\n\nHadran looked up then. \"Do not blame Meical for this. He was imprisoned in a gaol of iron. And in truth, before that came to pass, he was the only Ben-Elim who spoke of you humans as... people, and he was mocked and mistreated for that. We Ben-Elim have been so wrapped up in our war with the Kadoshim that all else has paled. We saw you as... unimportant.\" He hung his head. \"I am ashamed to say those words out loud. And I am as guilty as any Ben-Elim. I was part of Kol's faction.\" He shook his head. \"I cannot speak for any other Ben-Elim, but for my part, I am sorry, and I will do all in my power to make amends for the past.\"\n\nFaelan stared at Hadran along time, his gaze unblinking.\n\n\"I will watch you, and see if your words ring true,\" he said eventually. \"Forgive me if I am not disposed to place much faith in the word of a Ben-Elim.\"\n\n\"That is fair enough,\" Hadran said. \"My deeds will attest to the truth of my words.\"\n\n\"Time will be the judge of that,\" Faelan said.\n\nA silence settled over the room.\n\n\"So, we are kin,\" Riv said to Faelan. \"I am not alone in this world.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" Faelan said, ashy smile twitching his mouth. Riv felt her own smile spread across her face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well, I'm glad that's sorted out,\" a voice said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen. \"Now, can we talk about the business of killing Asroth?\"\n\nBalur One-Eye rumbled a laugh.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Byrne. \"There is much to discuss.\" She looked at Meical and Hadran. \"You came here fora reason, but Nara and her people arrived before we could speak properly.\"\n\n\"I apologize for the inconvenience,\" Queen Nara said, though Riv saw a twitch of her lips.\n\n\"No inconvenience,\" Byrne said, \"we are glad to have another thousand warriors in our ranks.\"\n\n\"We are glad to be alive,\" Nara said.\n\nByrne looked back to Meical and Hadran.\n\n\"We came to tell you of Drassil's fall, of Asroth's return.\"\n\n\"You have done that already,\" Byrne said, \"and yet you stay?\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Meical dipped his head. \"There was a battle to fight, and a friendship to prove.\"\n\n\"Granted,\" Byrne said. \"And yet you are still here.\"\n\n\"We are allies in the war against Asroth. We should talk of the way forward. Together.\"\n\n\"I agree,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"We should share all we know,\" Ethlinn said. \"Our expedition in the north, the news from Drassil. Questions we both have maybe answered that way.\"\n\n\"That is wisdom,\" Byrne agreed. \"Meical, Hadran, when you arrived we had not long returned from the north, where we fought with a warband of acolytes and other creatures.\"\n\n\"Ferals and mist-walkers?\" Riv said through a mouthful of cheese. \"Like the ones we fought here?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Balur grunted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Amongst other things,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Other things?\" Riv raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"A snake-woman,\" said Byrne. \"A terrible creation, born of the earth power, a corruption of blood and bone.\"\n\n\"And a draig with wings,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Where have these creatures come from?\" Meical frowned. \"This is not the Banished Lands I remember.\"\n\n\"Fritha.\" The name was whispered. It took Riv a moment to realize that Drem had uttered the name. He was looking down at the table.\n\n\"Fritha has done this,\" he said, looking up and meeting Meical's dark gaze. \"She is called priestess by the Kadoshim and their acolytes. It was Fritha who changed Gulla, made the Revenants, the Ferals, a draig with wings, all of them.\"\n\n\"She was at Drassil,\" Riv said, sitting up straighter. \"With her draig. They smashed the shield wall like twigs. She freed Asroth with a black sword.\"\n\n\"My father's sword,\" Drem said. \"Forged from starstone metal with the purpose of slaying Asroth.\"\n\n\"Well, that didn't go quite according to plan,\" Riv remarked. \"Did your da think this through?\"\n\n\"Fritha murdered him and took his sword,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Oh.\" Riv looked down.\n\n\"I will take the sword back from her and fulfil my father's oath,\" Drem said. His face was flat, emotionless. At this moment he reminded Riv of Bleda and his face of stone.\n\nHe thinks he's going to kill Asroth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a ludicrous claim, especially when Drem was sitting in a room with some of the greatest warriors in the Banished Lands. Byrne, Balur One-Eye.\n\nMe.\n\nAnd yet there was something about the way he said it that gave Riv pause.\n\n\"Aye, well, to kill Asroth we've got to find him. And to find him we need to get off our arses and go after him,\" red-haired Cullen said. \"What are we waiting for?\"\n\n\"Whisht, Cullen,\" Byrne snapped. \"Not every problem is solved by charging at it.\"\n\nCullen looked as if he disagreed and was about to say so, but Keld shifted beside him and Cullen winced.\n\nDid Keld just stamp on Cullen's foot?\n\n\"There is wisdom in Cullen's words,\" Meical said.\n\n\"See?\" Cullen muttered.\n\n\"Every moment you remain here is another day that Asroth grows stronger, tightens his grip.\"\n\n\"You all saw those Revenants, what they can do. I will not throw my warriors' lives away because we rushed into battle unprepared,\" Byrne told him. \"I aim to put a rune-marked weapon in the fist of every warrior here-man, woman and giant.\" She paused, drew in along breath. \"But I know time is vital. The longer we wait, the longer Asroth and Gulla have to consolidate their grip on the Banished Lands. The more innocents will die.\" She looked between Hadran and Meical. \"What is your plan? Your purpose for coming here?\"\n\n\"Asroth is free, his enemies should work together,\" Riv said. \"Otherwise Asroth will pick us all off one by one.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ethlinn nodded. \"There is wisdom in that,\" she said.\n\n\"What allies?\" Balur said. \"Who is left?\"\n\n\"Kol still lives,\" Hadran said. \"He leads the survivors of Drassil-Ben-Elim and White-Wings-south, to join with our garrison at Ripa. There are over seven thousand White-Wings spread along the borders of the Land of the Faithful, but most of them are at Ripa or close to it. He asks that you join us there, and that we face Asroth together.\"\n\nRiv felt a stab of worry thinking about Aphra marching south through Forn.\n\nByrne steepled her fingers, brows knitting.\n\n\"Ripa is along way,\" she said.\n\n\"Drassil's closer,\" Cullen said. \"Best we go there, kill Asroth, toast our victory.\"\n\nByrne and Keld tutted him. Balur chuckled.\n\n\"What are your numbers here?\" Meical asked.\n\n\"Around two thousand warriors of the Order. Less, since the battle.\"\n\n\"Two hundred giants,\" Ethlinn said. \"Some with bears.\"\n\n\"A thousand warriors of Ardain,\" Nara and Elgin said together.\n\n\"That is not enough to take Drassil,\" Riv said.\n\n\"We've fought the Kadoshim long enough to know how to beat them,\" Cullen said, a curl of his lip.\n\n\"There are too many of them,\" Meical replied, shaking his head.\n\n\"There cannot be so many Kadoshim.\" Byrne frowned. \"A hundred years of battle and hunting them has seen their numbers dwindle.\"\n\n\"They have bred an army of half-breeds,\" Hadran said with a scowl. \"Thousands of them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A widening of Byrne's eyes, then she nodded."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Gulla has planned long and well, it would seem.\"\n\n\"I've seen you train,\" Riv said, \"and had the honour of fighting alongside you. You area force to be reckoned with, of that there is no question.\"\n\nCullen snorted.\n\n\"But if you go alone you will be outnumbered and overwhelmed. They have warriors in the air, acolytes, thousands of these mist-walkers-\"\n\n\"Revenants,\" Drem interrupted.\n\n\"What?\" Riv said.\n\n\"They are called Revenants. I told you, that's what Fritha named them, and she created them, so she should know.\" He looked agitated.\n\n\"Fine. Revenants,\" Riv continued, scowling at Drem, \"and Cheren horse-archers.\"\n\n\"The Cheren are allied to Asroth?\" Byrne asked.\n\n\"Aye. They made a deal with Gulla, betrayed us. It was the Cheren who used a ruse to open Drassil's gates for Gulla's acolytes.\"\n\nByrne drummed her fingers on the table.\n\n\"The greatest warriors in the world could not hope to win against these odds,\" Riv continued. \"Even with your magic swords.\"\n\nByrne just looked at her.\n\n\"We need each other,\" Meical said. \"You need the Ben-Elim to fight in the air, the White-Wings to hold the ground with their wall of shields. The Order of the Bright Star and Ethlinn's giants would be the hammer against their anvil.\"\n\n\"What of the Cheren?\" Byrne said. \"I have seen their bow and horse work. They are not a force to betaken lightly. We would need to counter them, somehow.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We have the Sirak,\" Riv said with a smile.\n\n\"The Sirak are allied to you?\" Byrne said. \"Truly? I doubt they have much love for the Ben-Elim.\"\n\n\"My Bleda has given his word. He is riding to Arcona now, to raise his Clan.\"\n\n\"Your Bleda?\" Balur rumbled, raising an eyebrow.\n\n\"Yes,\" Riv said, feeling her face flush with colour. \"My Bleda.\" She liked saying it out loud.\n\nByrne studied Riv, slowly she nodded. \"Love is the strongest oath,\" she said.\n\n\"The warriors you have here,\" Meical asked, \"is this your full strength?\"\n\n\"No,\" Byrne said. \"I summoned many for the campaign into the Desolation, but our holds have been left manned.\"\n\n\"There is a garrison at Balara,\" Shar spoke for the first time. Her eyes were still red-rimmed and sunken. \"Two hundred swords. They would be disappointed to miss a battle with Asroth.\"\n\n\"Balara?\" Riv said.\n\n\"A giant ruin in the south. It is not far from Ripa,\" Byrne said.\n\nMeical smiled.\n\n\"There are others at Brikan and other places,\" Kill said. \"Perhaps another thousand in all.\"\n\n\"We will need them all,\" Meical said. \"The battle is coming that will decide the fate of the Banished Lands for the next thousand years. Every man, woman and giant who would stand against Asroth and his Kadoshim should be there. It will be our only chance. We must wipe them all from the face of this earth.\"\n\n\"To my mind it is the Revenants that pose the greatest danger,\" Byrne said. \"You saw them at Drassil?\" she asked Riv."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye. Impossible to tell their numbers; they moved in the forest and were shrouded in mist, but I saw five hosts converging on Drassil, each similar to the host we have just fought.\"\n\n\"We have burned over four thousand Revenant corpses,\" Tain the giant said.\n\nCullen wiggled his fingers, frowning. \"Twenty thousand?\" he said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Byrne nodded. \"Even if every man, woman and giant here went into battle with a rune-marked blade we would be overwhelmed by such numbers.\"\n\n\"And their numbers swell with every victim,\" Ethlinn said.\n\n\"All the more reason to move quickly,\" Cullen muttered.\n\n\"We have to kill their captains,\" a voice said: Drem. \"There were seven of them. Seven people that Gulla drank from that night. Ulf and Arvid are now dead, and their broods with them.\"\n\n\"Do you remember them?\" Byrne asked him.\n\nDrem frowned.\n\n\"Scar-faced Burg.\" He put a hand to his throat, fingers brushing a discoloration around his neck. \"He tried to hang me; I won't be forgetting his face. Tyna, Ulf's wife. She made good soup. Thel and Ormun, two brothers, they were trappers, like me and Da...\" He trailed off a moment, looked out of the window to the north. \"The last one I did not know. His head was shaved short, like one of the Kadoshim acolytes. He was tall, slim. A scar over one eye, making it droop, like this.\" He pulled the skin down over his right eye.\n\n\"Well, let's find them and kill them,\" Balur growled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye, that's a plan I like,\" Cullen said, snapping his fingers. \"Find the five that still live and kill them. That would just leave us with Kadoshim, half-breeds, fanatical acolytes and the Cheren to fight.\" He grinned. \"Easy.\"\n\n\"I have a better plan,\" Drem said. All in the room looked at him. \"Kill Gulla, and the five will fall and all their Revenants with them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda sat on his horse and stared, the long grass of Arcona sighing in the wind about his horse's legs.\n\n\"No,\" he whispered.\n\nHe was staring at a Sirak camp. Flames crackled, gers burned to charred husks, and great clouds of black smoke billowed across the plain. Bodies scattered the ground, arrows and spears protruding from their charred, twisted remains.\n\nWe are too late.\n\nA click of his tongue and his horse walked forwards. She was a skewbald mare, her name Dilis, which meant Faithful in the old tongue. Ruga, Ellac and Yul spread around him, his warband shifting into motion behind him. They had ridden hard to reach here, over a moon. The hardest part of the journey had been travelling through the snarl of Forn from the cabin to the east road. After that they had moved fast, the road cutting like an arrow from Drassil to the plateau of Arcona.\n\nOn the road they had found signs that had troubled Bleda: hoof-prints and dung indicating a large body of riders was ahead of them, the gap widening with everyday. Wyrms of worry had been coiling in his belly since then.\n\nGrass turned to ash beneath his horse's hooves, his warband spreading wide, ninety-eight riders, all that was left of his honour guard and the warband his mother had brought to Drassil. Bleda passed a charred corpse clutching a spear in their belly, another face-down with three arrows in the back. More and more. Here and there a horse stood over a corpse, head low. Such was the bond between rider and horse that Sirak mounts would often return to their riders, dead or alive.\n\nA touch of Bleda's ankles and Dilis stopped. He leaned and gripped a spear shaft, tugged it free from another corpse."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A Cheren spear,\" Ellac grunted beside him.\n\n\"Aye.\" Bleda sighed. He hefted the spear-the balance was excellent-and slipped it into the leather ring on his saddle.\n\n\"Search for any survivors,\" he said. \"Gather the horses and arrows.\"\n\nSmoke in the distance, faint screams on the wind.\n\nThey were three days deeper into Sirak lands, following the trail of destruction the Cheren were leaving. Seven more Sirak camps, hundreds dead. They had a change of mounts, now, though, which made their progress faster, and they were gaining. Bleda also had another twenty riders in his warband, survivors they had found, unconscious, wounded, all somehow overlooked by the Cheren.\n\nThey are moving fast, not taking the time to check the dead or even gather up their arrows. We will use them to slay those that made them.\n\nA gentle rise in the land, beyond which the shouts were louder. Bleda signalled, the column of riders behind him spreading wide, like wings. Another signal and a score of riders peeled away from each wing, circling wider.\n\nWe should scout our enemy out, learn their numbers, approach cautiously, a voice in his head whispered. But there was afire in his belly, his heart pounding with the frustration of seeing his people slaughtered.\n\nFresh cries on the wind, louder.\n\nHe slipped his bow from its case, gripped a fistful of arrows and took Dilis to a gallop, leaning low to the arch of her neck. He glimpsed Yul smile to his right, heard the drum of Ellac and Ruga's horses\" hooves close behind.\n\nAnd then he was cresting the ridge. Black clouds rolled up the slope, engulfing him fora moment. He rode on, blind, burst out into bright sunlight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Instantly he knew that he was outnumbered."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There were Cheren riders everywhere, a flock of warriors swirling through the camp before him in their sky-blue deels, mail and leather, bows in their fists. Impossible to tell accurately how many, but there were more than his hundred and twenty. Gers were on fire, flames reaching for the sky, Sirak warriors on the ground. The old and children as well. Others running for their horses. Bleda saw one leap onto her mount, an arrow taking her in the shoulder, throwing her back to the ground. She scrambled to her knees, but the Cheren rider was rearing over her, hooves crashing down, trampling her.\n\nAnother Sirak warrior was running up the incline, straight towards Bleda, three Cheren riders pursuing him. The Sirak stumbled, unsure of who Bleda was as he burst from a cloud of smoke. The riders behind him were galloping, screeching their battle-cries like the hawk that filled their banners. Bleda nocked and loosed, leaning over his mount's neck; the first Cheren rider was punched from his saddle with Bleda's arrow in his eye. The second Cheren fell backwards over his saddle with an arrow in his chest, Bleda slowing to look down at the Sirak warrior stumbling to a halt before him. Yul and Ruga swept past Bleda, their arrows pin-cushioning the last Cheren rider.\n\n\"Who are you?\" the Sirak warrior breathed.\n\n\"I am your kin,\" Bleda said. Ellac reined in beside Bleda, a small shield strapped to his right forearm, a spear in his left fist.\n\n\"Ellac?\" the warrior said.\n\n\"Aye, it is me, returned to give you a kick up the arse, Oktai. Now turnaround, put some sharp iron in your fist and fight for your Clan.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda's warband swept over the rise, bursting out of the smoke, and rode screaming battle-cries into the camp. Bleda grabbed more arrows from his quiver and rode on, Ruga and Yul sweeping wide and circling back to join him.\n\nIna handful of heartbeats all turned to chaos. The slope had given some sense of the conflict, a detached view, but down here amidst the smoke and flame, warriors appeared from nowhere, horses thundering, the whistle of arrows through the air, iron clashing, screaming, smoke choking and stinging eyes, flames swirling. Bleda's horse jumped over a Sirak warrior lying on the ground, trying to hold his intestines in, purple rope glistening between his fingers.\n\nBleda nocked and loosed, nocked and loosed, one arrow slamming into a Cheren's back, throwing him forwards in his saddle. He took another through the throat as they raised a spear to skewer a Sirak on the ground.\n\n\"UP,\" Bleda yelled at the fallen warrior as he rode past him, swerving amongst a cluster of gers, putting another Cheren down. His blood pounded through his veins: anger, fear, exhilaration combining into a heady joy that swept through him. Finally, to do, to fight, instead of thinking, chasing, worrying. His body took over, virtually no room for thought as he charged through the Sirak camp. Countless years of training, of allowing muscles to act in pre-programmed patterns. His arrows left a trail of the dead in his wake. Dimly Bleda was aware of Ellac at his left shoulder, a shadow protecting his flank. He was not sure if Ruga and Yul were still with him. A cloud of smoke billowed across him, the sound of hooves and clash of iron loud in his ears. Bleda slipped his bow back into its case and reached over his shoulder, drawing his sword. Then he was through the smoke, a knot of Cheren riders in front of him, eight or nine warriors stabbing and slashing down at a handful of Sirak, all of them on foot, desperately trying to stay alive a few heartbeats longer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"ERDENE!\" Bleda screamed, and spurred Dilis into them. A jarring crash as horseflesh collided, Bleda chopping right, a downwards, diagonal slash that opened the face of a Cheren warrior as he turned at Bleda's scream. Bleda swayed in his saddle, a spear-point stabbing past his eyes, the upswing of his sword striking the spear shaft, Ellac finishing the woman holding it, his own spear punching into her throat. Bleda urged his horse on, constant movement, steel sparks as he parried a clumsy strike at his torso, a counterstrike at his opponent's head, denting his helm, blood sheeting the man's face, blinding him fora moment, Bleda's sword opening his throat.\n\nThen he was through the knot of riders, Ellac following. Bleda pulled on his reins, Dilis turning in a tight circle, just in time to see Yul and Ruga emerge from the smoke and crash into the Cheren. Ruga snarled as she fought, mouth twisted. In four or five breaths she severed a hand at the wrist, cut into a shoulder, links of mail spraying, and slashed a warrior's thigh. Yul, beside her, moved like a warrior from the tales. Bleda could only track the man's blade by the arcs of blood that it left in the air and the warriors slumping or falling in their saddles. Ahead spun through the air, thumped to the ground and rolled up to the hooves of Bleda's horse.\n\nThe Sirak on the ground dragged the last Cheren from her saddle and she disappeared from view. A scream cut short, and then there were no more Cheren breathing.\n\n\"Up!\" Yul shouted, holding the reins of a Cheren mount and offering them to one of the Sirak on the ground. There were four still standing, all of them grabbing weapons and leaping into Cheren saddles."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"WITH ME!\" Bleda cried, and turned his horse, riding on into the camp. Yul, Ruga and the others caught up with him.\n\nLike a wave they swept through the spaces between gers, Cheren falling, confused by this new attack from behind. Bleda's sword was notched and slick with blood when he burst out of the far side of the camp. A score of Cheren riders were ahead of him. Their leader, an older warrior, his warrior braid grey as it curled beneath his helm, sat on his horse a moment, the animal dancing.\n\nHe hesitates, unsure what to do.\n\nRuga put an arrow through the warrior's throat, the man swaying and toppling.\n\nMore Sirak emerged from the gers, a line forming either side of Bleda. The remaining Cheren turned away and spurred their mounts into a gallop.\n\n\"They can't getaway,\" Ruga snarled.\n\n\"They won't,\" Bleda said.\n\nThe two score riders he had sent wide appeared, curling around the camp and riding towards the fleeing Cheren, cutting off their escape route. A flurry of blows, the clash of steel, and then it was over, Bleda's warriors cantering towards him. Many of them were grinning and whooping.\n\nBleda felt a rush of joy, at being alive, at being victorious. He looked about him, saw men and women from this camp about him, others joining them, as well as more of his own warband appearing. He patted Dilis' neck, the mare sidling on the spot, the thrill of battle coursing through her muscles, too.\n\nRuga grabbed Bleda's wrist and punched it into the air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"BLEDA!\" she screamed, Ellac and Yul and the others taking up the chant.\n\n\"BLEDA!\"\n\nBleda pulled his arm free and rode on a few paces, turned so that all could see him, waited for the chanting to stop.\n\n\"This is not the time to celebrate our victory,\" he cried. \"The Cheren are killing our people. We are the only hope of saving them. Search the camp, tend the wounded, put all who can ride and hold a bow in a saddle. Then we ride.\"\n\nHis warriors turned and made their way back into the camp. Old Ellac was sitting on his horse, staring at Bleda. Their eyes met and Ellac smiled at him, dipped his head.\n\nThat meant more to Bleda than a thousand voices shouting his name."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem stood in the weapons-field of Dun Seren, dawn's light washing over him, high cloud tinged with pink and orange. The air was sharp and crisp, a freshness to the day's start that filled Drem's lungs.\n\nIt feels pure.\n\nOthers were rowed either side of Drem, ninety or a hundred in total. Many of them were young, no more than sixteen or seventeen summers. Cullen had told Drem that they were warriors from Ardain who had travelled herewith Sig over a year ago, hoping to become warriors of the Order. And then there were the half-breeds from the caverns. Faelan stood with around sixty of his kin, an assortment of wing colours. Faelan appeared utterly focused, his back straight.\n\nByrne stood before him, Kill and Tain either side of her, Craf perched upon Tain's shoulder. And behind them, all of the Order of the Bright Star. Around two thousand warriors, dressed in their war gear, looking at Drem and those around him. He could see Keld and Cullen watching him, both of them solemn-faced. Rab the white crow was sitting on Cullen's forearm, Cullen absently scratching his feathers. Shar was there, her face still marked by her grief. So many others.\n\nBehind Drem he heard the murmuring of a crowd. Many who were not warriors of the Order were gathered; Ethlinn and her giants, a few hundred warriors, Meical and Riv and the Ben-Elim, Queen Nara, Elgin, Madoc and a thousand others.\n\nSo many people, all staring at me and a handful of others.\n\nIt was making Drem feel uncomfortable. He fought the urge to put his fingers to his neck and take his pulse.\n\nYou have fought two battles. Faced a Revenant horde. Stop being an idiot."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Byrne stepped forwards.\n\n\"These are exceptional times,\" she said, \"and they call for exceptional measures. Usually, to join the Order of the Bright Star, you would take your warrior trial before us all; sword, shield, spear, net, the running mount. But to do that would be to disrespect you. You have come through the furnace of combat. You have stood with us, shoulder to shoulder, and risked your lives in the defence of this fortress. Not just the rock and stone, but the values this fortress is built upon, that our lives are built upon.\" She paused, taking a moment to look each one of them in the eye.\n\n\"Truth and Courage. Those are the words that define a warrior of this Order. They are more than words; they area way of life. Would you choose them? You will be swearing to a life of hardship, a life where you put aside your own pleasures and desires, and place yourself in danger's way. Again, and again, and again.\"\n\nMy mother and father stood here once, on this field, and swore this oath.\n\nA moment's silence. Then, as one, Drem and the others responded.\n\n\"I will.\"\n\nByrne nodded. \"Then say these words after me.\" She sucked in a deep breath.\n\n\"Tru-\"\n\nThe flapping of wings from above and a figure descended from the sky, dapple-grey wings beating, breaking her fall, and Riv alighted before Byrne. Her wings drew in tight, a twitch and ripple as Riv stood there, dust settling around her.\n\n\"Will you take me?\" she asked Byrne.\n\nByrne stared at her.\n\n\"You would take our oath?\"\n\n\"I would,\" Riv said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Have you thought this through? You have other allegiances.\"\n\n\"I have a mother, whom I love more than life. But she is a warrior; she knows the life we choose. She would be proud of me.\"\n\n\"And your father?\"\n\n\"I care not what he thinks. I have thought this through. Being here, standing with you... it is hard for me to put into words. It is like coming home...\" She shrugged. \"So, I ask you again. Will you take me?\"\n\nA small smile touched the edges of Byrne's mouth. \"I would be glad to hear you take our oath,\" she said. \"And proud to call you sister.\"\n\nRiv looked at her, almost as if she was surprised Byrne had said yes.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Join the line,\" Byrne told her, and Riv stepped backwards, Drem shuffling to his left to make room for her. He nodded to her as she slipped in beside him, one of her wings squashing against him.\n\nShe looks more nervous than when we went into battle.\n\nRiv drew in along, deep breath, her shoulders rising, held it and then blew it out slowly.\n\n\"Repeat these words after me,\" Byrne called out, her voice ringing in the morning air. \"Truth and courage are the banners I live by.\"\n\n\"Truth and courage are the banners I live by,\" Drem said, slow and clear, his voice mingling with Riv's and a hundred others.\n\n\"Love, loyalty and friendship shall be my guiding light.\"\n\nDrem echoed Byrne's words, the weight of them resonating within him. He could almost hear his da whispering them in his ear, his father's voice, cracked with the years, the voice that had cared for him, taught him, loved him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will be the bright star in the night sky, the candle in the darkness.\"\n\nDrem spoke on, tears running silently down his cheeks as the ghost of his father said the oath with him.\n\nOh, Da, I miss you so.\n\n\"The defender of the innocent, protector of the weak. I will bring hope to the lost, give my life for the helpless.\" He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.\n\n\"With Truth as my shield,\" Byrne called out, and Drem echoed her. \"And Courage as my sword, I shall stand against the darkness.\"\n\nI will, Drem thought. I belong here, with these people, living this life.\n\nThe field seemed to ring with the words, Drem's heart pounding.\n\n\"From this day on, until the time of my death.\"\n\nThe words faded, a ringing echo returning from the high northern wall.\n\nByrne stood before them, a silence settled.\n\nDrem glanced at Riv, saw tears staining her cheek.\n\nByrne opened her mouth one last time.\n\n\"This is my oath,\" she cried, \"sealed with my blood.\"\n\n\"This is my oath,\" Drem said, and drew his seax, slicing it across his palm, making a fist that dripped red droplets of blood onto the grass.\n\n\"Sealed with my blood.\"\n\nA stillness settled over the field, Drem staring at Byrne and the Order of the Bright Star behind her. He saw Keld and Cullen, though their faces were blurred through his tears.\n\nThen the Order erupted in cheering."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A wall of sound hit Riv, the Order's cheering almost deafening her.\n\nRiv blew out along, shaky breath, her chest rising and falling as if she'd run a dozen leagues.\n\nWhat have I done? A White-Wing becoming one of the Order of the Bright Star, our greatest rivals. She wanted to laugh, felt the emotion bubbling in her chest. But it feels so right. My life at Drassil was a lie. All of it a deceit to keep me in my place, and to further the Ben-Elim's cause. But this place is not like that. These people are not like that. They accept me for who I am. So I too can accept what I am. The real me, and afresh start.\n\nI feel as if I've been reborn.\n\nShe smiled, a grin that made her face ache, at everyone and no one.\n\n\"Truth and courage,\" she whispered.\n\n\"Welcome, sister,\" a voice said beside her. Drem. He was smiling at her, and offering her his arm. His smile changed his face. It was not something she remembered seeing on him, unlike his friend, Cullen, who seemed to smile all the time.\n\nAnd especially when he's going into battle.\n\nShe took Drem's offered arm in the warrior grip.\n\n\"Brother,\" she said, liking the sound and feel of that.\n\nByrne was the first to reach them, a hand on each of their shoulders, emotion bright in her eyes. She stepped back and straightened, looking at them both. Tain and Kill appeared at Byrne's shoulder, each of them holding something. Tain had a folded grey-green cloak of simply spun wool. Kill held something out in her palm, an iron cloak brooch about the size of Riv's fist. It was fashioned into the shape of a four-pointed star."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Welcome to the Order of the Bright Star,\" Byrne said formally, taking the cloak from Tain and throwing it around Riv's shoulders."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She then took the brooch from Kill and pinned the cloak in place, adjusting the brooch so that it sat upon the left side of Riv's chest.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Riv said, not knowing what else to say, her emotions too complicated to articulate.\n\nByrne gave her a formal nod and moved onto Drem. Tain grinned at her.\n\n\"Welcome,\" he said.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Riv murmured, still trying to master the emotions in her veins.\n\nCraf was perched upon Tain's shoulder.\n\n\"More warriors with wings,\" the crow muttered. He didn't sound too impressed.\n\nRiv looked up at the bird.\n\n\"I am honoured to share the skies with you, Craf,\" she said.\n\nCraf looked at her with afar too intelligent eye. \"Welcome to the Order,\" he squawked down at her.\n\nByrne leaned close to Drem and said words Riv could not hear, but Drem blinked away a tear and smiled, and then Byrne, Kill and Tain were moving along the line and Cullen was upon them, all laughter and hugs. Keld was just behind him, and more of the Order offering congratulations. Even the white crow, Rab, was there, flapping and squawking excitedly. Shar suddenly appeared before Riv, her eyes still red-veined with his grief.\n\n\"Welcome, sister,\" she said. Riv remembered Shar kneeling in the dirt, Utul's body in her lap.\n\n\"You slew my Utul's killer,\" she said. \"I am in your debt.\"\n\n\"No, you're not,\" Riv said. \"No debt. I did what anyone of us would have done, given the chance.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 40"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Welcome to the Order of the Bright Star,\" Byrne said formally, taking the cloak from Tain and throwing it around Riv's shoulders."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She then took the brooch from Kill and pinned the cloak in place, adjusting the brooch so that it sat upon the left side of Riv's chest.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Riv said, not knowing what else to say, her emotions too complicated to articulate.\n\nByrne gave her a formal nod and moved onto Drem. Tain grinned at her.\n\n\"Welcome,\" he said.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Riv murmured, still trying to master the emotions in her veins.\n\nCraf was perched upon Tain's shoulder.\n\n\"More warriors with wings,\" the crow muttered. He didn't sound too impressed.\n\nRiv looked up at the bird.\n\n\"I am honoured to share the skies with you, Craf,\" she said.\n\nCraf looked at her with afar too intelligent eye. \"Welcome to the Order,\" he squawked down at her.\n\nByrne leaned close to Drem and said words Riv could not hear, but Drem blinked away a tear and smiled, and then Byrne, Kill and Tain were moving along the line and Cullen was upon them, all laughter and hugs. Keld was just behind him, and more of the Order offering congratulations. Even the white crow, Rab, was there, flapping and squawking excitedly. Shar suddenly appeared before Riv, her eyes still red-veined with his grief.\n\n\"Welcome, sister,\" she said. Riv remembered Shar kneeling in the dirt, Utul's body in her lap.\n\n\"You slew my Utul's killer,\" she said. \"I am in your debt.\"\n\n\"No, you're not,\" Riv said. \"No debt. I did what anyone of us would have done, given the chance.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What happens in our heads,\" Shar said, tapping her temple, \"and what we actually do, can be a world apart.\" She shrugged. \"Anyway, I have made you a gift, for avenging Utul.\" She held a linen-wrapped package out to Riv, tied with leather.\n\nRiv stared at it, hesitated. She was not used to compliments, or gifts.\n\n\"Do not offend me by refusing,\" Shar said. \"My heart is wounded enough.\"\n\nRiv tugged on the leather and opened the bundle.\n\nShe gasped.\n\nIt was two swords in polished leather scabbards. They were short, like her own White-Wing blades, the hilts leather-wrapped. The cross-guards were gently curved, wings engraved upon them.\n\n\"They are rune-marked,\" Shar said, \"by my own hand. They will never fail you; they will stay sharp as any razor, never notch or break.\"\n\n\"I-I don't know what to say,\" Riv said, notable to tear her eyes away. She reached out and took one in her hand. The scabbard was soft and freshly waxed. With a hiss of steel she drew the first sword, then drew the other one and touched them together, a gentle chink, and held them close to her ears, listening to their sword song.\n\nShe smiled and held them before her, rolled them in her wrists. They caught the rising sun, glowed red.\n\n\"Beautiful,\" she whispered. \"You honour me, Shar. My thanks. A thousand times, my thanks.\"\n\nShar smiled at her. \"We shall kill Revenants together,\" she said. \"And avenge Utul again and again, until these Revenants are no more.\"\n\n\"That is a pact I will gladly agree to,\" Riv said, unable to keep a grin from splitting her face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She sheathed the swords and Shar helped her strap them to her weapons-belt. When she was happy that all was right and that no adjustments needed to be made, Shar bade her farewell and left.\n\nRiv stood there, looking about the field. Drem was close by, with Keld and Cullen, others of the Order congratulating the new recruits. Byrne and Kill were talking with Faelan.\n\nA tremor in the ground and Riv turned.\n\nBalur One-Eye was looking down at her, Queen Ethlinn beside him.\n\n\"Well, you have come along way since you failed your warrior trial a year ago,\" he rumbled.\n\n\"Ha,\" Riv said. A flash of Israfil the Lord Protector, High Captain of the Ben-Elim, as he fought her, goaded her with insults and half-truths, testing her temper and self-control.\n\nThat did not end well.\n\n\"I have not thought on that fora long while,\" Riv said. \"At the time I thought my world had ended, that my life was over.\"\n\n\"And look at you now,\" Ethlinn said. She gave Riv along, appraising look that made Riv feel uncomfortable. \"I am glad for you, young one,\" Ethlinn said. \"You blaze bright as the sun. The world is a better place for having you in it.\"\n\nRiv blinked at that. She could not remember ever having spoken to Ethlinn before, although she had admired her many times in the weapons-field, especially her skill with a spear.\n\n\"Well, got nothing to say to my daughter?\" Balur grunted.\n\n\"Forgive me,\" Riv said. \"I am not often lost for words.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Balur barked a laugh at that.\n\n\"I did not know that you had even noticed I was alive, all my years at Drassil,\" Riv said to Ethlinn. \"And, I should also say that I am not used to compliments.\"\n\n\"Ha, Ethlinn notices everything and everyone.\" Balur smiled. \"It is her gift. And she is not given to handing out compliments, either.\"\n\n\"A warrior does not just fight,\" Ethlinn said, awry smile on her face. \"First a warrior must see. And I give compliments where I see them due,\" she added, looking at Balur.\n\nHe chuckled at that, too.\n\nHe laughs a lot more here, at Dun Seren, than he ever did at Drassil.\n\n\"I've watched you, too,\" Balur said. \"You've still got a bit of a temper, though.\" He ruffled Riv's hair.\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv conceded. \"I'm still working on that.\"\n\n\"Self-control is overrated,\" Balur said with a smile.\n\n\"Truth and courage,\" Ethlinn said, tapping Riv's new cloak brooch. \"You could do much worse than live your life by those values.\"\n\n\"That's what I think,\" Riv said, looking at the cut on her palm, starting to scab, now. \"That is my oath. That's what I'll do.\"\n\nA horn rang out over the field, long and haunting. It fell silent and then sounded again.\n\nAll conversation stopped.\n\n\"That is it, then,\" Balur said. \"It's time to go.\"\n\n\"What is that horn?\" Riv asked.\n\n\"The call to war,\" Ethlinn said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv stood on the wall above Dun Seren's gates, staring at the statue of Corban and Storm. Meical and Hadran were beside her, seven more Ben-Elim close by. They stood in silence, waiting.\n\nThe crack of hooves on stone, and the thud and rumble of bears.\n\nByrne appeared, mounted at the head of a host. She was clothed in mail and leather, sword at her hip, a spear couched in a saddle-cup. Kill rode one side of her, gleaming in mail, Tain striding on the other, along spear in his fist. Behind them rode the Order of the Bright Star, the sun shimmering on their helms and coats of mail, spear-tips glinting, shields with the bright star painted upon them slung across backs or hanging from saddle straps. Amongst them all, one warrior stood out to Riv: Drem, black-haired and tall in his saddle, his mail glinting, a helm and shield hanging from saddle straps. His new cloak brooch shone bright upon his chest.\n\nHe was riding the white bear.\n\nRiv grinned to see it. The warriors of the Order were all around him, Cullen and Keld there, but Drem sat above them. He was a big man, tall and broad, but he still looked small upon the bear's back.\n\nByrne rode through the courtyard, looking up at the statue of Corban and Storm as she passed them, then looking up at Riv and Meical as she passed through the gates and out into Dun Seren's streets.\n\nA raucous squawking and flapping of wings and Riv saw a cloud of crows burst from the keep's tower, swirling lower and following the battle-host.\n\n\"WAR,\" they croaked, as they passed over Riv, \"WAR,\" repeating their chant again and again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the courtyard the last of the Order passed through the gates, over two thousand warriors, and then Queen Nara rode in, Madoc at her side and Elgin behind, leading her warriors. A grey-cloaked warband a thousand strong, the banner of a snarling wolven rippling above them.\n\nNara and her warband passed through Dun Seren's gates and finally Ethlinn and her giants appeared, wrapped in mail and leather, the ground trembling with their arrival. Riv guessed at a hundred and fifty bears that came lumbering into the courtyard, perhaps fewer, another hundred or so giants striding amongst them. As they passed through the courtyard Meical nodded down at Balur and Ethlinn, and then his wings were spreading and beating and he was airborne. Riv crouched and jumped, wings powering her up, Hadran and the Ben-Elim around her.\n\nWind filled her wings and she laughed with the joy of it, Meical glancing at her, a smile cracking even his serious face. They spiralled upwards together, and from behind the keep Riv saw more winged figures appear: Faelan and his kin, flying to join the war-host as it left Dun Seren.\n\nMeical led Riv, Hadran and the Ben-Elim on a wide loop of the warband, swooping back over Byrne as she rode through the outer gates of Dun Seren, out into a rolling meadow. Byrne reached a fork in the road and she turned east, towards the dark of Forn Forest.\n\nAt Byrne's council of war they had talked long into the day, debating the best strategy to pursue. A strike on Drassil, Cullen had advocated. Meical had petitioned that Byrne march south-east to Ripa and join forces with Kol and the White-Wings. In the end they had all agreed that they could not waste time at Dun Seren while scouts travelled the land to ascertain where Asroth was. Byrne proposed that they wait at Dun Seren until all who were fit to march to war were equipped with a rune-marked blade. It had taken fifteen nights for that goal to be achieved. In the meantime crows had flown east, sent to scout Drassil and report."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Asroth and Gulla are our goal,\" Byrne had said. \"Slay them and this war is over. We will go where they are.\"\n\nMeical had not been happy about this decision, but as yet they did not know where Asroth was.\n\n\"He may have marched south after Kol and his host,\" Meical had said. \"That is what I would do. Strike my foe where they are strongest, before they have time to grow stronger.\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Byrne had agreed. \"If that is the case, then we shall march for Ripa. But I will not march blind.\" So they had agreed to march eastwards until they received words from Craf's scouts.\n\nRiv hoped that the final decision would be to travel to Ripa, for that was where she had asked Bleda to meet her.\n\nIf he is successful in Arcona and gathers his Clan. If he even still lives.\n\nShe felt a pang of worry at that, and a stab of anger, already swearing to slaughter any who dared lay a hand on her Bleda.\n\nHe still lives, she told herself. And I will see him again. If we do not fly for Ripa, then I will get word to him, somehow. We shall meet where the Kadoshim are. Wherever we fly, the Kadoshim will be there. That is where the great battle of our time will take place."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wind whipped tears from Jin's eyes as she leaned forwards in her saddle, the feathers of an arrow tickling her cheek as she drew and loosed. Two more arrows followed in quick succession before the first one hit its mark, a Sirak warrior standing open-mouthed before the opening to his ger. She imagined him with Bleda's face. He fell back into the tent, clutching the arrow sprouting from his chest.\n\nShe rode on, slowing her mount with her knees, loosing an arrow into the darkness of the tent opening, just in case someone else was about to emerge. A scream followed her as she sped past the ger, telling her she had guessed right. Slowing again, she reached for another handful of arrows, searching for her next target. There was no shortage of them, Sirak all about her stumbling from their tents in the cold half-light of dawn. Men, women, children. She saw two of them fall with her arrows in them. The drum of hooves, Gerel appearing to her right, a blazing torch in his fist. He tossed it onto the roof of a ger; flames leaped skywards as the felt started to crackle and burn. All about, Cheren riders overtook her, forming a line of torches, some thrown, trailing flames through the air. Ina dozen heartbeats the camp was on fire, entering its death-throes as her warriors carved their way through another Sirak encampment.\n\nJin reined in, looking around. This was the seventh Sirak holding she had struck. She had lost count of those that had died by her own hand, each death a personal message to Bleda.\n\nIt is not enough.\n\nShe reached for another fistful of arrows.\n\nIt was midday before they were done, the sun a furnace in the sky, sweat running from Jin's face. The elation of battle had dimmed, leaving her tired and thirsty. Gerel offered her a water skin and she took it without comment, drinking deeply, and watching as Tark rode towards her. The old scout had a rope tied to his saddle, a score of Sirak bound to it by their wrists, being dragged across the plain. Behind them their camp burned, bodies cooking in the flames."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tark rode up and reined in, yanked on the rope and warriors stumbled to their knees before Jin.\n\n\"Kneel before your Queen,\" Tark said.\n\nOne of the Sirak, a woman with grey in her warrior braid, her body lean and striated with muscle, looked up at Jin and spat at her.\n\nTark's spear stabbed her in the throat, in and out like a fast punch.\n\nThe woman swayed, tried to say something but only blood issued from her mouth. She fell on her face, a twitch of her foot and then she was still.\n\n\"Be respectful, or die,\" Tark said. He looked at Jin. \"We have saved some, as you wished,\" he said.\n\n\"So I see,\" Jin said. \"Put them with the others.\"\n\nTark slipped from his saddle and took an axe from his weapons-belt. He calmly chopped at the wrists of the dead Sirak, hacking through meat and bone. When he was done, he climbed back into his saddle and led the prisoners away, towards a row of wains that were rolling into view, ten of them, already stuffed full of Sirak prisoners.\n\nAt first Jin and her people had glutted themselves on the slaughter of the Sirak, the fulfilment of a dream long hoped for. Seven camps they had put to steel and flame, a frenzy of killing, their bloodlust an endless wave. But Jin had realized that this would soon come to an end. It was almost too easy. She decided to take some prisoners, just a handful from each camp, so that once all of the Sirak camps had been hunted down and destroyed, they would have something to do during their celebration feast.\n\nI will miss the screams of the Sirak, but no matter how many I hear, they do not takeaway my pain, or my hatred for Bleda."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I wish he were here, so that he could seethe destruction of his people."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I will wipe their name from this earth, so that there is no thought or memory left of them.\n\nHer warband were moving out of the Sirak camp now. Close to a thousand riders. An overwhelming number for any of the Sirak camps they had come upon, the largest only numbering a hundred and seventy souls. The rest of her Cheren war-host she had split into bands of two hundred and cast them wide. Like a net they had set upon the Sirak borderlands, a net sixty leagues wide, and together they had swept into the Sirak lands, all travelling inwards, towards the Heartland. The Sirak were like the Cheren, with a nomadic life, extended families living and moving in camps. Setting up fora ten-night or a moon, then moving on. But they had a Heartland, just like the Cheren did. A traditional, holy place where they would gather, fora coronation, or a royal wedding, or a birth.\n\nThat is where we shall end this. Where we shall end the Sirak.\n\nJin sat looking into the fire-pit. A pot hungover it; Tark was stirring porridge. Grey light was seeping into the world, darker shadows shifting into the outlines of men and women, the silhouettes of gers beyond them. They had setup their site in the shadow of another fallen camp, little more now than ashes and blood beneath her hooves. There had been more resistance this time, Jin's slower pace allowing for word to run ahead of her charge towards the Sirak Heartland. They had faced mounted warriors, a pitched battle half a league before the camp, but it had helped the Sirak little. Jin liked to think that it was Cheren skill that had prevailed, but in truth she knew it was their numbers. The Sirak had been a hundred and sixty, against Jin's thousand. It had been over almost before it had started, although she had lost twenty-seven riders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jin had sat at this fire-pit last night and drunk with her warriors."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She had been too inebriated to make her way to a ger and had fallen asleep beside the fire, listening to them drinking and toasting their victory. Toasting her.\n\n\"Great Queen,\" a voice said, Tark offering her a bowl of porridge.\n\nGreat Queen, they are calling me. Because I have led them to the greatest victory the Cheren have ever known. Even if we stopped now, got on our horses and rode away, this moment will live in the Cheren Clan forever. When we swept like wildfire through our enemy's land.\n\nShe felt relief, that she had led her Clan to this, that she had not failed.\n\nI think Father would have been proud of me.\n\nThat thought caused something to hitch in her chest, and fora moment tears threatened.\n\nNo. She took along, deep breath and pushed that emotion away.\n\n\"My thanks,\" she said, taking the bowl from Tark. It was hot, so she blew on it and stirred it with a wooden spoon.\n\nShe noticed Tark staring at her and raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"You are not like the Cheren,\" he said. \"Your skin, it is smooth, soft.\"\n\nJin scowled. \"I am like the Cheren, inhere,\" she said, putting a handover her heart. \"Just because I do not look like a weathered saddlebag, like you.\"\n\nTark's lips twitched a smile, his moustache jumping.\n\nGerel shifted beside her, leaning forwards to ladle a bowl of porridge for himself. He blew on his porridge and spooned up a mouthful, slurping and huffing because it was too hot.\n\n\"You should wait for it to cool,\" Tark said to him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know, but I hate waiting,\" Gerel said. \"And my belly is cold, so the heat is no bad thing.\"\n\n\"Ha, tell that to the skin peeling from your lips,\" Tark said.\n\nJin snorted a laugh, the first she could remember in along time.\n\n\"Today is the day, my Queen,\" Gerel said to her, smiling good-naturedly at Tark's comment.\n\nShe looked at him.\n\n\"Today we shall take the Sirak's Heartland,\" he said.\n\n\"Yes, we will,\" Jin said. There was no doubt in her mind about that. There were not enough Sirak left to stop her.\n\nEven knowing this, Jin felt an emptiness. A knowledge deep in her belly that taking the Sirak's Heartland was not enough.\n\n\"Something troubles you?\" Gerel said to her.\n\nShe sighed.\n\n\"There is more to be done,\" she muttered.\n\n\"More? What more?\" Tark said.\n\n\"My father's vengeance,\" she said quietly. \"This is not finished. It never will be; not while Bleda still lives.\"\n\nTark shrugged, a pragmatic gesture. \"First one sows, then one reaps,\" he said.\n\n\"Aye. One step at a time,\" Jin said. \"I know. But I am like Gerel. I hate waiting. I want Bleda's head on a spike now.\"\n\n\"If that were so you would have nothing left in life to look forward to,\" Tark said. \"It will be the greatest revenge, my Queen.\" He looked at her over his bowl. \"And it will happen. You are the Great Queen, she who has raised the Cheren up higher than a thousand generations. We will follow you to the ends of the earth, kill a nation of enemies to bring you joy.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That made Jin's blood quicken. The Cheren were a hard people, weathered by a hard life on the Sea of Grass. To hear them speak of her like this, it was another dream come true.\n\nShe smiled, an act of trust, her gift to Tark.\n\nHe looked away into the distance and ate some more porridge.\n\n\"Here comes Hulan with his riders,\" he said.\n\nJin followed his eyes, saw the shimmer of riders on the grassland, a banner in the breeze. Hulan led one of the smaller bands Jin had sent into the Sirak borderlands. If the plan had worked, all ten bands would join her today. And then they would strike the Heartland together.\n\nJin sat on her horse, looking into the distance. Tark and Gerel were mounted beside her, her warband gathered and waiting. Six more captains had ridden into her camp after Hulan, all with tales of victory and slaughter, but the other three groups had not been seen. No one had arrived since midday, and the sun was now sinking into the horizon.\n\n\"We can wait no longer,\" Tark said quietly, as Jin scanned the grasslands.\n\nWhere are they? she thought, looking to the west.\n\nOnly the sinking sun and leagues of undulating grassland.\n\n\"I know,\" she said. \"We must ride without them.\" She raised her fist and Tark put a horn to his lips. With a sound like rumbling thunder, the war-host of the Cheren began to move, Jin leading them. She gave one more glance over her shoulder, hoping to see riders with the hawk banner on the horizon, but they did not appear.\n\nWhere are they?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda waited in silence. He was mounted, leaning low over Dilis' neck, the felt roof of a ger brushing his head.\n\nHow long? Are they coming? Have I made a mistake?\n\nDilis' ears pricked forwards. He strained a moment, and then he heard it.\n\nThe drum of hooves.\n\n\"Steady,\" he whispered, patting her. He lifted his helm from its saddle hook and pulled it over his head, buckled the chinstrap.\n\nThe hooves louder, now, and then the first scream, a Cheren war-cry.\n\nBleda put a horn to his mouth and blew, at the same time touching his feet to his mount, and she burst into motion, exploding out of the ger. Daylight bright around him. Bleda dropped the horn and grabbed his curved bow from its case, a fistful of arrows, and he was nocking and drawing.\n\nA swarm of riders were galloping towards him, blue deels, hawk banners, bows and burning torches in their fists.\n\nHe loosed at the wall of riders, a touch of his knees to keep Dilis moving-to stay still with a hundred Cheren war-bows aimed in his general direction meant certain death. A dozen arrows slapped into the space he had just been filling. One slammed into his shoulder, rocking him. He grabbed the arrow shaft, twisted and pulled the arrow out. There was no blood. The arrowhead had pushed apart two of the iron plates of his lamellar coat, but the leather and wool beneath had snared the point. He threw the arrow away.\n\nAll around him Sirak riders burst from more gers, Yul, Ruga, Ellac, scores more, and in seven or eight heartbeats they were galloping towards the Cheren, Bleda leading them, all leaning low over their horses, arrows flying from their bows. Bleda heard a scream behind him, an arrow skimmed past his face, another tinging off his helm. He emptied his fist of arrows, saw riders falling in the Cheren line, so close now he could see faces, expressions of surprise and doubt amongst his enemy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You will see how it feels to have a fair fight; this time you are not falling like hawks upon an unsuspecting mouse.\n\nBleda and his warriors had caught up with this Cheren warband and circled wide around them during the night, along, arduous journey, leading their horses at a walk through the darkness. Just before dawn they had found the Sirak camp the Cheren were headed for, and warned them.\n\nBleda slipped his bow back into its case and reached for his sword. Sirak war-cries echoed and he knew that more of his warband would be riding at the Cheren flanks now, the trap sprung. His blade hissed into his hand and he grinned.\n\nThe hunter is now the hunted.\n\nThere was a concussion as the two lines collided, horseflesh crashing together, bones jarred, Bleda grunting with the impact as he parried an overhead blow, swept the sword down and away, a backswing counter that he felt meet the resistance of leather and then flesh. He sawed his blade free, heard a scream and then his horse's momentum carried him on, no time to check if his opponent was dead or just injured. He swayed and chopped to the right, too quick for his enemy's parry, his sword glancing off a helm, carrying onto bite between neck and shoulder. His target grunted with the pain, but still lunged at Bleda, sword stabbing at his chest.\n\nA spear took the Cheren in the shoulder, punched through boiled leather into flesh, Ellac appearing at Bleda's side. He shoved, pushing the Cheren from his mount, the warrior falling with a shriek and disappearing amongst churning hooves.\n\nBleda rode on, hacking and slicing either side of him. It was a jostling mass. Sweat stung his eyes, battle-cries and screams filled his ears. And then he was bursting into air and space, pushing through the enemy line and pulling on his reins to turn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He paused. The battle was all but done. There had never been any doubt of the outcome. His own warband had swelled with the Sirak he had saved, over three hundred riders added to his original force. And the warriors of this camp had joined them as well, another hundred and fifty. In total almost six hundred Sirak rode with him now. There were at most only two hundred Cheren riding against them here.\n\nSirak warriors punched the air in victory, an ululating cry going up amongst them. Bleda felt their joy. It was a terrifying and exhilarating thing, facing another manor woman in battle, knowing that in a short space of time one of you would likely be dead. Just to see that through, to come out the other side of that conflict and realize you were alive, brought with it a rush of elation and relief. And combined to that the Sirak had the exultation of facing an age-old enemy in battle and triumphing.\n\n\"Another victory,\" Ruga said as she cantered up beside him, Yul and Ellac following, others behind them, chiefs of the camps Bleda had saved.\n\nBleda nodded at her.\n\n\"It is good to seethe Cheren fall,\" a warrior in mail said, an older woman, her warrior braid more silver than black. Her name was Saran, chief of this camp. \"But it was over too soon.\"\n\n\"There are more Cheren out therefor you to kill,\" Bleda said. \"There will be more opportunities to bloody your steel.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Saran said.\n\nBut how many more?\n\nThey had questioned a wounded Cheren at the last camp. At first the woman had refused to speak a word. She was clutching at her belly, trying to stop her intestines from squeezing through, and failing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bleda had respected her courage, though that had not stopped him letting Yul introduce her to another level of pain."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had questions that needed answering.\n\nAnd now he knew what he had suspected.\n\nJin is behind this.\n\nIt is no spring raid, snatching cattle and a few souls. This is a planned, organized attempt to destroy my Clan. We have slain close to six hundred Cheren warriors, now, but I fear it is just the spume of the wave.\n\nHow will we beat them? How will I save my people?\n\nHe rode slowly amongst the dead, looking down at the Cheren warriors in their sky-blue deels, now blood-soaked from one wound or another. He stopped beside a corpse, a lamellar vest upon this one, over a coat of boiled leather.\n\nA young man, a fine sword lying in the trampled grass beside him, its leather hilt wrapped with silver wire.\n\nTheir chief, judging by his war gear.\n\n\"Strip them,\" Bleda said. \"Gather their weapons, their armour, and any deel that isn't too damaged.\"\n\nSunset drenched the grasslands red, a sea of blood. Bleda had called a halt on their journey south and east. It was clear where Jin was headed, and they weren't going to get there before full dark.\n\nTo the Sirak Heartland. It was over half a day's ride before they would reach the floodplain the Heartland was built upon, and there was no point pushing on into darkness, risking their horses. Many of the animals were close to exhaustion. They are our lifeline. An injured horse will result most likely in a dead warrior. So, camp was being made beside the banks of a river, though the midsummer sun had dried it up to little more than a stream. Bleda had ordered no fires, just dry biscuit, cured meat and hard blocks of goat's cheese. Ellac had grunted approvingly, which was starting to unsettle Bleda. It was happening too often from the usually silent and stoic warrior. Paddock lines had been set, gers erected, and warriors were beginning to sit and talk, while going through the daily ritual of checking and repairing their kit. Soft kit first, then armour, whether it was boiled leather or mail, and finally weapons, checking for notches and dried spots of blood which would eat away at the steel, then sharpening. It was a continual cycle of stitching, cleaning, fixing, maintaining, all of it essential to the art of staying alive in combat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda was walking along the riverbank, within the boundaries of the camp. He was aware of Ruga following him, tenor twenty paces behind. He knew as Lord of the Sirak he had to accept this, but Bleda felt suffocated, overwhelmed, and had just needed to walk and think. Since leaving the last camp he had been preoccupied with finding Jin, and her warband. The Cheren prisoner had spoken of the strength of the Cheren, every last man and woman that could sit on a horse and wield a bow.\n\nThat is a lot of Cheren to kill. What am Ito do?\n\nHe felt the weight of his newfound leadership. It was taking some getting used to. Especially as he had felt that he'd failed so disastrously with his first command. His hundred honour guard. He'd led them into a forest full of mist-walkers, and never seen most of them again.\n\nBut I still live, though I do not deserve to. I will think, this time. Not charge blindly at my enemy and just expect a victory. Courage is good, but it must be tempered with wisdom and strategy.\n\nAnd that is what he had been trying to do; to use his wits first, an attempt to win battles with the fewest casualties to his warriors. Like at the last camp, hiding in wait for the Cheren, surprising them, and crushing them with a flanking force. It had worked this time. Only five Sirak slain, a dozen wounded, for two hundred dead Cheren.\n\nBut he knew it would not be so easy against Jin and her horde. The prospect was overwhelming. He was not scared. Well, not scared of dying, anyway. He had come face to face with death the night his mother had died, when he had cut Uldin's throat and then stood open-armed, waiting for the arrows to pierce his body."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No, he was scared of failing. Of letting his people down, of letting Riv down.\n\nHe came upon the stump of a willow, lightning-struck and fire-blackened, the dead trunk fallen into the river. He sat, looking into nowhere, just thinking, took a wedge of cheese from a pouch at his belt and carved a slice. A sound filtered through his thoughts, a tapping. He looked up and saw a huge black crow sitting on the blasted tree trunk. It had a snail in its beak and was bashing it against the fallen tree. The snail shell was proving to be remarkably resilient, the crow banging it harder and harder against the tree, its feathers becoming more and more ruffled with the effort.\n\n\"Here, have some of this instead,\" Bleda said, cutting a slice of cheese and throwing it at the crow. The cheese landed close to a taloned foot. The crow stopped its frustrated banging, the snail still in its beak, and eyed the cheese. Its head swivelled, looking at Bleda, then back at the cheese.\n\nIt dropped the snail, then took one sidestep closer to the cheese. The black beak stabbed down, skewered the cheese, threw it into the air and swallowed it whole.\n\nBleda smiled.\n\n\"Thank you,\" the crow muttered, looking at Bleda with a beady eye.\n\nBleda nearly fell off the tree stump.\n\nHe blinked, staring at the crow.\n\n\"Pardon?\" he said.\n\n\"Thank you,\" the crow croaked. It took a few sidling steps closer to Bleda. \"Nice cheese. Got more?\"\n\nI did not imagine it, Bleda thought. Or am I losing my mind? Then he remembered something Riv had told him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are from Dun Seren,\" Bleda breathed. Riv had told him of a talking crow, a messenger from the Order of the Bright Star, who lived at Dun Seren. It had been bringing word to Israfil. Riv said its name was Flick.\n\n\"Are you Flick?\"\n\n\"Dun Seren, home, yes,\" the crow squawked. \"Flick, no. Me Durl. Flick dead. Flick brother.\" The crow hung his head.\n\n\"Ah, I am sorry to hear that,\" Bleda said. \"It is always hard to lose kin. Here, have some more cheese.\" He cut a slice and threw it, Durl catching it deftly.\n\nRuga stepped out of the twilight, frowning at Bleda.\n\n\"Who are you talking to?\" she asked suspiciously.\n\nBleda pointed at the crow. Ruga scowled at him.\n\n\"Who are you talking to?\" she asked again, eyes scanning the riverbank.\n\n\"Talking to Durl,\" the crow said, rocking from one taloned foot to the other.\n\nRuga stumbled back, reached for her bow.\n\nDurl squawked and flapped his wings.\n\n\"No, Ruga,\" Bleda said. \"This is Durl. He is anally, from Dun Seren.\"\n\n\"A talking crow!\" Ruga said.\n\n\"Obviously,\" Durl muttered, eyeing Ruga with disdain and running his beak through a ruffled wing.\n\n\"Sit, Ruga,\" Bleda said. \"You're upsetting Durl.\"\n\nRuga looked as if she didn't want to get any closer to Durl, but she sat on the stump beside Bleda."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You area long way from home, Durl."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What are you doing here?\" Bleda asked. Ruga was looking at him as if he was insane.\n\n\"Tain give Durl important task,\" the crow cawed, puffing out his chest feathers. \"Looking for someone.\"\n\n\"Arcona is a big place,\" Bleda said. \"It can't bean easy task.\"\n\n\"No, not easy,\" Durl agreed. \"Durl been flying longtime. Wings ache.\" He eyed them. \"You help Durl?\"\n\n\"If I can, I will,\" Bleda said. \"Who are you looking for?\"\n\n\"Durl looking for Raina. Giant. She needs to go home. Back to Dun Seren.\"\n\n\"There are no giants in the Sea of Grass,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"There were, though,\" Ruga said thoughtfully. \"There were tales, remember? Of a giant Clan who dwelt near Kletva.\"\n\nBleda did remember, but he had never given the tales much credence, thinking them faery stories designed to keep young riders from swimming the lake for the island.\n\n\"Yes, yes, the Kurgan,\" Durl squawked. \"Raina one of Kurgan.\"\n\n\"Why don't you look at Kletva, then?\" Bleda said, pleased that he might have helped. \"It's a lake, north and west of here.\"\n\n\"Durl already been there,\" the crow said despondently.\n\n\"Have some more cheese,\" Bleda said. It seemed to cheer the crow up.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Durl cawed. He swallowed the cheese, then flapped his wings. \"Durl keep looking. Can't give up, must keep trying,\" he said, jumping and beating his wings, taking to the air. \"If you see Raina, tell her Durl looking for her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"A nice crow,\" Ruga said with a shrug as they watched Durl disappear into the twilight.\n\n\"And wise,\" Bleda said with a frown. \"Don't give up, keep trying,\" he breathed to the night air.\n\nBleda crawled through the grass on his belly, up to the ridge of an incline. The scraping of grass either side of him, a handful of others joining him: Ellac, Yul, Ruga and Saran. They all stopped at the ridgeline and stared.\n\nBleda swore softly.\n\nThe Heartland was inflames. A Sirak encampment, the closest thing to a town or fortress that the Sirak had. It was not fortified; it had never needed to be, situated at the centre of the Sirak's land, a hundred leagues in all directions of Sirak-controlled plains and Sirak warriors about it. But it was big. A sprawling mass of gers, many of them up to ten times the normal size of a travelling ger, their wooden framework more solid, timbers planted into the ground, felt and animal skins stretched wide and high on the frames.\n\nAnd it was all burning.\n\nBleda could see Cheren riders speeding between the gers, hawk banners everywhere, could hear the faint screams on the wind. He tried to count those banners, to try and gauge how many Cheren Jin had mustered, but in the chaos it was too difficult. Even so, it was obvious that there were thousands of his enemy down there.\n\nAnd we are six hundred and twelve.\n\nSomething drew Bleda's eye, a dust trail. He followed it, saw on the plain between him and the Heartland a column of wains that tracked the river Selen, wide and dark that curled across the plain, along way from its meltwaters in the Kalevala Mountains, far to the north. There were maybe tenor twelve wains, Cheren riders spread around them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Is that their baggage train?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Food? Not likely. The Cheren usually ride light, and they would have been plundering the Sirak camps they have destroyed.\n\nHe squinted, straining his eyes to seethe wains. They were wide, and had some kind of structure atop each one.\n\nLike... bars on a cage.\n\nHe swore again, and then signalled for the others to follow him back down the incline.\n\n\"We cannot beat them,\" Bleda said. \"They are too many.\" Yul and Saran and many others scowled back at him. These were words that no Sirak ever wanted to hear about the Cheren.\n\nThey were sitting in a great circle beyond the ridge Bleda had climbed, letting their horses drink at a stream. Over six hundred Sirak were staring at him.\n\n\"We strike hard and fast, and hope that works. If it doesn't, we do not stay and fight. We will run, and live to fight another day. I have not saved you from the Cheren horde only to see you throw your lives away now.\"\n\nBleda had his plan firm in his mind, knew there was a chance it would work. But equally, he had seen many a plan fall apart. And he knew his people. They were proud, stubborn, stiff-necked. He knew they would not be inclined to flee from the Cheren, so he had to deal with that possibility here, now.\n\nA ripple of muttered curses confirmed his worries.\n\n\"I will not run from the Cheren,\" Saran said, voices behind her murmuring agreement. \"I will not show them my back. I am not weak.\"\n\n\"To die now is the weak choice,\" Bleda said, his Sirak cold-face still and emotionless. \"Die now, and the Cheren will dance on our bones and wipe the Sirak name from this earth. Follow me, stay alive, and I vow to you a chance at fulfilling our vengeance.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ellac quietly grunted his approval. Bleda was glad for the encouragement.\n\n\"How can we ever hope to beat them?\" another voice called out. \"You said it yourself, they are too many. Better to die fighting, in our Heartland, defending our Clan, than to die running. Chased and hunted down like astray goat.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" agreed Saran and others.\n\n\"There is another choice,\" Bleda said. \"We have friends in the west. Allies. We lead Jin and her horde there. And once we are there, with our allies beside us, we will turn and kill them. Jin, her honour guard, and every single Cheren warrior who follows her.\"\n\n\"Allies? Foreigners! The Ben-Elim areas much our enemy as the Cheren,\" Saran spat. \"What use are they? They would betray us.\"\n\n\"Things have changed in the west,\" Bleda said. \"I thought of them like that, but war with the Kadoshim has altered everything. It has brought out the best, and the worst.\" Bleda remembered the road in Forn, as he fought alongside his mother against a swarm of Ferals, he remembered how Kol and the Ben-Elim had abandoned him, flown away and left them.\n\nBut not everyone abandoned me.\n\nHe bowed his head, thoughts of Riv filling his mind, how she had flown out of the darkness at Uldin's camp and saved him from certain death; he saw her fierce smile, could almost taste her breath. How her wings felt as they wrapped around him, soft feathers against his back. His hand strayed to his chest, where beneath his lamellar coat and woollen tunic sat a dapple-grey feather, pressed against his heart. He would go back for Riv, if nothing else."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Where are you? Did you succeed in your task with the Order of the Bright Star? Will they stand with us on the field of battle against Asroth?\n\nAsroth.\n\nThere was more to go back for than love, though that alone would have been enough for Bleda. He hated Kol and did not trust him, but he did trust Meical. He had only known the Ben-Elim a short while, but his words at their brief council had filled Bleda with something he hadn't felt fora longtime.\n\nHope.\n\nMeical will keep his word. Will gather all who would stand against Asroth and his Kadoshim. And they area great evil, even more than Jin and her Cheren scum. Asroth must be beaten, and the Sirak are needed in the west for that to happen.\n\n\"We have allies in the west, and they are worthy of our friendship. Some amongst the Ben-Elim. Giants. The Order of the Bright Star.\"\n\nHis warriors looked at each other, a hundred conversations beginning. Even in Arcona the Order of the Bright Star was known, though mostly through tales and fables.\n\n\"But our people are here. Our home is here,\" Saran said.\n\n\"No, my home is here,\" Bleda said, touching his heart. \"And here.\" He put a hand upon Ellac, and then on Ruga, moved onto touch Yul, and then gestured, taking them all in. \"We are kin, Clan; we are the Sirak, not this dust we stand upon. Wherever we are, there is our home.\"\n\nNods of agreement.\n\n\"I am your King, last child of Erdene. You follow me, or you do not.\" He shrugged. \"It is your choice. Either way, I will not change my course.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Without hesitation Yul was beside him.\n\n\"You slew Uldin; I will follow you to the ends of this earth.\" He looked at Saran and her followers. \"I am a simple man. I love my kin and my Clan. I give and keep my oath. I can aim an arrow and wield a sword, but I do not know much about strategy. I do know that Bleda promises me revenge for Erdene's death.\" He paused a moment, a tremor in his cheek. \"Bleda promises me a chance at defeating the Cheren. He promises me vengeance.\" He shrugged. \"That is enough for me.\"\n\nA silence settled over them.\n\n\"Will you follow me?\" Bleda asked.\n\n\"HAI!\" the crowd called out. Saran met Bleda's eye and she gave a curt nod.\n\n\"Good,\" Bleda said. \"Now we ride, and show our enemies what it means to fight against the Sirak.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin reined in and wiped sweat from her face, spat a glob of blood onto the ground. Her jaw ached, blood leaking from her lip where a sword-pommel had been punched into her face. She probed it with her tongue, found a tooth was loose.\n\nI came off better than you, though, she thought, looking down at the woman who had injured her. Her head flopped to one side, half-severed by Gerel. He had seen the blood on Jin's face and gone into a frenzy that had seen him hack the offending warrior from her saddle, and then swept him on into another knot of Sirak warriors. Jin shifted her weight in her saddle and rode after him, her honour guard in a line behind her.\n\nThey crashed into the Sirak, a storm of swords and spears, of snarling faces and screams, Jin's sword moving fast in short, economic strikes. She sliced and stabbed, lunged and swayed. The Sirak fought with a wild abandon that only the cornered can do, but her honour guard were too many, too skilled, and in a score of heartbeats all the Sirak before Jin were dead.\n\nShe looked at Gerel, saw him sitting on his horse, covered in blood, his face a red mask, his chest heaving. Jin grinned at him.\n\nWe are here, at the heart of my Clan's enemy, dealing them their death-blow. Think not of Bleda and the future. Enjoy the now.\n\n\"On,\" she said, urging her horse forwards.\n\nThe encampment was burning, smoke and flame destroying a thousand years of culture, her Clan sweeping through it, slaughtering those that had built this place, who lived here, refusing to leave.\n\nI admire that about them. They knew I was coming, saw our host approaching on the plain and knew they were outnumbered. But they chose to stay. They chose to stand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The battle had roared through this part of the Heartland and moved on, the sound of skirmishes here and there floating through the wide spaces between the great gers, so much bigger than a normal camp."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were built to accommodate the whole of the Sirak, a few thousand people.\n\nBy nightfall it will be burned to the ground.\n\nExhaustion draped over Jin like a shroud, every muscle in her body burning, aching, throbbing. She leaned back in her saddle, the high back supporting her, and fora moment she lacked the strength to lift her sword.\n\nDead Sirak were all around her.\n\nShe had fought her way through the encampment, through the chaos and blood, and somehow now found herself back on the outskirts of the camp, close to where she had originally entered. Half a league behind her the wains full of Sirak prisoners were waiting on the plain. Jin had ordered that they keep their distance until the battle was done. She didn't want to risk them entering the Heartland and catching fire somehow, or being attacked by any survivors. She was looking forward to the entertainment her prisoners would bring.\n\nTonight, when we celebrate.\n\nGerel was close by, his battle-frenzy gone. He sat straighter than Jin, though, his eyes everywhere, alert as always. She was becoming used to his constant presence, and reassured by his vigilance and watchfulness. More of her honour guard were around her, seventy or eighty. The others had either become separated from her in the confusion of battle, or they were dead. Tark was there, too, his spear red almost the length of the shaft.\n\nJust beyond Tark survivors were being herded out from the blackened husk of the encampment, Cheren warriors leading handfuls of bound prisoners out and depositing them on the plain. There were at least a hundred, so far.\n\nI do not like these warriors being grouped together, while my force are still spread through the encampment, rooting out any last resistance."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tark,\" Jin called out. \"Take those prisoners out to the wains. Load them up, lock them away. I don't like them just sitting here. There are too many of them.\" Their numbers had grown again, a hundred and twenty, maybe. \"Take as many riders as you need to get it done.\"\n\n\"Hai,\" Tark said, dipping his head to Jin. He rode off, barking at Cheren as he passed them, rounding out forty or fifty riders. They circled the captured Sirak, spent awhile checking they were bound securely, and then they were prodding them to their feet with spears and setting off across the plain towards the wains.\n\n\"You have done it, my Queen,\" Gerel said to her.\n\n\"What?\" she said, still watching Tark escorting the prisoners.\n\n\"What no Cheren king or queen has done before. Taken the Sirak Heartland, destroyed their Clan. How many of the Sirak do you think still live?\"\n\n\"We have maybe three hundred prisoners, now,\" Jin said.\n\n\"Aye, but they won't be breathing for long,\" Gerel said.\n\n\"That is a truth,\" Jin said.\n\n\"Once the prisoners are gone, the Sirak will be no more.\"\n\n\"Apart from Bleda, and however many he has with him.\"\n\n\"Ach.\" Gerel spat. \"There could not have been more than a score that rode away from their raid on our camp,\" he said.\n\n\"It doesn't matter,\" Jin said. \"While Bleda breathes, the Sirak still live. We will stay here a day or two, celebrate our victory.\" She looked at the prisoners moving across the plain, close to the wains now. They would play a large part in that celebration. Perhaps she would make them fight each other, like Asroth had done to the surviving White-Wings at Drassil. She smiled at the thought of that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is that?\" she said, still looking out onto the plain.\n\n\"Where?\" Gerel asked.\n\nJin pointed; out beyond the wains, there was movement on the plain. Riders. A hundred, more. Jin's fist tightened around the hilt of her sword.\n\n\"They are ours,\" Gerel said. \"The hawk banner flies above them, and I can see blue deels.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Jin said, the banner clear to her, now. \"It must be Duya or one of the other chiefs, arrived late to the battle.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda cantered across the plain. He shifted in his saddle, rolled his shoulders, trying to settle the lamellar vest he had buckled over a blue deel. He'd taken them both from the dead Cheren chief. It wasn't a bad fit, but Bleda had lived and breathed in his own lamellar coat, and this was no comparison. He felt lighter, though, as if he could move as fast as the wind.\n\nI will need to, if this doesn't go to plan.\n\nHe was riding across the plain, parallel to the great river Selen. The midsummer sun had made the water low and the riverbanks steep. A hundred and eight warriors rode behind Bleda; that was as many Cheren deels as they could salvage. Ruga and Yul were as close to him as shadows. Ellac was not there, and Bleda felt uncomfortably aware of the old warrior's absence. He had ordered Ellac to stay behind, his stump marking him out and making him a risk. Ellac was the only warrior missing a hand still to be riding in a warband upon the Sea of Grass. The Sirak and Cheren were masters of the bow, and what use was a warrior who could not draw a bow?\n\nA great use, is the answer to that, Bleda thought. Ellac had proved he was no waste filling a saddle. With his one hand he had slain more Cheren than Bleda could count.\n\nAnd he gives good counsel, when he can be bothered to open his mouth.\n\nBut Ellac would have been a danger, now. Because everyone knew that Ellac was Bleda's companion, which was why Bleda had ordered the old warrior to stay behind. The look on Ellac's face had given Bleda pause, though. It had been as if Bleda had given him the greatest insult. So Ellac had been given anew task."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only one hundred and eight of us. How many prisoners are in those wains?\n\nBleda and each warrior with him had a spare mount tied to their saddles. That would not be suspicious to anyone looking at them-the Cheren often rode with spare mounts, and especially soon this campaign, where speed had been their greatest weapon. The only odd thing about the spare mounts was that they were already saddled.\n\nIf we need more horses we can take them from the Cheren. I count fifty Cheren guards around the wains, maybe another ten driving them. If we are quick and do this right, we should be away without any trouble.\n\nA movement caught Bleda's eye. Further away, beyond the wains. More riders, approaching from the Heartland.\n\nHells.\n\nBeyond them Bleda saw flames and smoke curling up from his ancestral home, the Sirak Heartland. There were Cheren warriors at the fringe of the encampment, blue deels marking them.\n\nBleda felt a sharp rush of shock, a frozen moment where his breath caught in his chest, followed swiftly by anger. The Sirak Heartland, inflames. The urge to kick his horse into a gallop and slaughter the Cheren before him was overwhelming. But that would mean more than his death. It would be the death of his people, of the Sirak. He drew in a shuddering breath and focused on the Cheren around the wains.\n\nSharp-eyed Ruga had noticed the riders approaching. She pointed.\n\n\"How many of them?\" Bleda asked her.\n\n\"Maybe fifty,\" she said, after a moment's silence. \"They are escorting more Sirak to the wains.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Bleda brightened. \"More of our kin that we can save, then, and more horses we can take.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Why not ride on and slay the whole Cheren horde, while we are at it?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ruga said cheerfully.\n\n\"Perhaps we will,\" Bleda said.\n\nHe did not feel so confident, his eyes scanning the plain, running along the river's edge.\n\nAm I mad, leading a hundred warriors towards a warband of my enemy, at least two thousand strong?\n\nShould we have just left, ridden away with the warriors I have saved? Six hundred Sirak is a fearsome warband.\n\nNo. These are my people. I owe this to them.\n\nHe sucked in a deep breath, his hand dropping to the leather clip on his bow-case. He undid it.\n\nThis will be bow work, quick and fast, or we are in trouble.\n\nHe looked ahead now, as they drew closer to the wains, Cheren riders looking at him and his warriors. Behind them the wains were becoming clearer; the Sirak prisoners within them were crushed and piled tight, no room to move. The stench of urine and excrement wafted on the air. Bleda felt his anger stir, alongside his fear, his blood pounding in his veins, the imminence of violence sharpening everything. Sight, sound, smell, all seemed brighter, clearer. His fingers twitched for his arrows.\n\nIn his peripheral vision he saw Ruga and Yul rest their hands on their bows.\n\nThe riders from the Heartland had reached the wains. Cage doors were being opened, Sirak prisoners forced to clamber in, spear-points encouraging them. Bleda saw an older warrior leading the prisoners. He stared towards Bleda.\n\nHe said something to a Cheren rider close by, and that warrior started to ride towards Bleda. He raised his hand in a greeting, then dropped it casually to rest upon his bow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A voice in Bleda's head told him it was time, to hesitate now would mean disaster.\n\nFaster than thought, his bow was in his hand and arrows in his fist, the first one nocked, drawn, loosed. Two more arrows in rapid succession, the first one punching into the rider approaching him, a spray of blood as he toppled backwards over his saddle. The second arrow took a more distant Cheren in the shoulder, the third arrow piercing his throat as he opened his mouth to scream.\n\nA whispered word and touch of his heels, and his horse leaped forwards, moving from canter to gallop, the horse tied behind following.\n\nYul, Ruga and the rest of his warband burst into motion, spreading wide, a hail of arrows flying from them a few hoofbeats later. Cheren tumbled from their mounts, twenty, thirty, more, the remaining warriors reaching for their bows. Bleda's warband surged forwards, only the drum of hooves betraying their charge, no battle-cries this time.\n\nWe will be as silent as wolves in the night, Bleda had ordered.\n\nArrows came back at him. He bent low over his saddle, a touch of a knee and Dilis was swerving right, though a little sluggish with the spare mount tied to her saddle. Arrows zipped past him. A few screams behind him, the thump of Sirak bodies falling. Bleda saw the old warrior stab a Sirak prisoner with his spear. Other prisoners were turning on their guards, leaping up at them, dragging them from their horses.\n\nAnother fistful of arrows, gone in a few heartbeats, and then another fistful. He was almost amongst them now, his warband in a loose line. An arrow slammed into his saddle-arch, a moment later another arrow punching into his left arm, like being hit by a rock. It threw him backwards, almost toppling him from his saddle. He swayed, righted himself, felt his grip going on his bow and managed to slip it back into its case. He looked around wildly, searching for where the arrows had come from."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old warrior. He was reaching for more arrows.\n\nRuga saw him, too, screeched with anger that her lord had been wounded, aiming. Loosed two arrows in the time it took Bleda to draw a breath.\n\nThe old warrior ducked and yanked on his reins, the first arrow punching into the horse's shoulder; it screamed and reared, the second arrow piercing the warrior's thigh. He fell from his saddle; his horse's hooves crashed to the ground and it bolted, dragging the warrior fifty paces before his leather stirrup snapped.\n\nBlood pulsed from Bleda's bicep. He grabbed the arrow shaft protruding from his flesh, tried to snap it, a jolt of pain and nausea that threatened to empty his stomach and sent dots flashing in front of his eyes. He left it and reached over his back, drawing his sword.\n\nMovement from his left, the thud of hooves as riders appeared from the riverbank. He grinned to see Ellac leading another hundred of their warband. They had made their way down to the river Selen and dismounted, leading their horses by foot along its steep banks. Taking advantage of the low waters, they had crept closer, hidden from view by the steep-sided banks.\n\nNow they were charging into the flank of the wains and remaining Cheren, arrows flying. Bleda saw Ellac reach the wains first, an arrow pinging off his buckler. Ellac put his spear into the belly of a Cheren standing on the wain's driving bench.\n\nBleda raised his sword, searching for an enemy to slay, and instead saw the last of the Cheren fall from his saddle, his throat opened by Yul's sword. He held back a cry of victory, instead riding to the nearest wain and chopping at the bolts that kept it locked. Sparks flew and the bolts fell, the cage door swinging wide, Sirak within spilling out. He gave the first one the reins of his spare horse. More Sirak riders were there, helping prisoners into saddles."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ellac was throwing the cage doors wide on another wain, a mad scramble for empty saddles. Saran and other Sirak riders were rounding up empty Cheren horses, others leaping from their saddles to gather up quivers of arrows from the fallen enemy. Bleda saw Ruga take the reins of the old warrior's horse, then ride back to where he lay upon the ground. He moved and Ruga's spear arm rose.\n\n\"Hold,\" Bleda called to her, and Ruga's spear-point hovered.\n\nBleda cantered over to her, looked down at the old warrior.\n\nHe tried to rise, spat a curse at Bleda, but he had an arrow in one leg, his arm was broken from his fall and it looked as if his back had been ripped open from being dragged by his horse, a trail of blood smearing the grass.\n\nBleda took his spear from its saddle-cup and stabbed down, held it a finger's breadth from the warrior's eye.\n\n\"I am Bleda ben Erdene, Lord of the Sirak,\" he said. \"I slew your King. Remember me to your Queen.\"\n\n\"You lie,\" the old warrior said. \"All know that Bleda is the whipped dog of the Ben-Elim. He is in the west with his half-breed whore. He does not have the stones to come here.\"\n\nRuga's spear twitched.\n\n\"Hold,\" Bleda snapped.\n\nHis wrist flicked, a red line opening along the old warrior's cheek.\n\n\"Just so you know that I am no ghost,\" he said. The old warrior looked away.\n\n\"Look at me,\" Bleda said. \"Look at my face. Describe it to your Queen. Tell her that I chose a half-breed Ben-Elim over her. And tell her that I will kill her, soon. Maybe not cut her throat, like I did her father, but she will die by my hand. Erdene will be avenged.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old warrior stared at him, then, hatred bright in his eyes. \"The Great Queen will see you dead,\" he said.\n\n\"Ha.\" Bleda laughed. \"Let her try.\"\n\nA sound drifted over the plain to him. A high-pitched screeching, followed by a horn blowing from the Heartland. He looked up, saw riders massing at the encampment's rim, two hundred, more joining them; some of them were already breaking into a gallop towards him. At their head was a woman. That was where the screeching was coming from.\n\n\"Jin,\" he breathed.\n\nA cold anger swept him, then, the world shrinking to Jin upon her horse. The woman who had killed his mother. Who had slaughtered his people. His hand reached for his bow. A sharp pain from his shoulder. Ruga touched his wrist.\n\n\"This is not the time,\" she said.\n\nAlong, lingering moment, then he took a shuddering breath.\n\n\"Tell her,\" he snarled at the old warrior, and then he was tugging on his reins, his mount turning. Most of the Sirak prisoners were mounted, Saran and Ellac leading them back across the plain, away from the Heartland. Bleda saw three of his kin still on foot. He kicked Dilis into a canter, rode to one of them, his handout, and pulled them up into the saddle behind him. Ruga reached the other two, gave one the reins to the old warrior's horse and grabbed the other one's outstretched arm, and then they were galloping away from Jin, the wind whipping their warrior braids, horns blowing wildly behind them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin galloped across the plain, a wild rage flooding her, filling her veins and powering her limbs, a feral, kinetic energy that needed to be released.\n\nNever had she felt such hatred.\n\nShe had stared at the riders in their blue deels beneath the Cheren hawk banner as they'd approached her wains, at first pleased that more of her warriors were alive. She had been worried about them, and troubled by their absence.\n\nHer eyes had been drawn to their leader. A dark-haired warrior, sun glinting on a lamellar vest.\n\nAnd then she had seen the same man draw his bow and start putting arrows into her warriors.\n\nFora dozen heartbeats she had stared open-mouthed, struggling to understand what she was seeing. His riders had moved from a canter to a gallop, spreading behind him, and sent a hail of arrows into her warriors. She'd seen Tark shouting a warning, killing prisoners, then reaching for his bow, putting an arrow into the leader in the lamellar vest.\n\nSomehow, she had been frozen; confused, unbelieving.\n\n\"It is the Sirak,\" Gerel had said, his hand gripping her arm.\n\n\"It is Bleda,\" she had whispered back at him. By then other Sirak were surging up the bank from the river. Tark was down, prisoners pouring from her wains, and Bleda was cantering over to Tark.\n\n\"It cannot be Bleda.\" Gerel frowned, straining his eyes.\n\n\"It is BLEDA!\" Jin screeched.\n\nHer shock was burned away in a flare of hot rage, incinerated by it.\n\nShe had screamed for her warriors, Gerel putting a horn to his lips and blowing, summoning the Cheren, wherever they were, even as Jin was kicking her horse into motion and reaching for her bow. In heartbeats she was hurtling across the plain, her body one with her mount's, the two of them moving in unison, muscles and hooves flowing in the perfect rhythm of the gallop."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 45"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin galloped across the plain, a wild rage flooding her, filling her veins and powering her limbs, a feral, kinetic energy that needed to be released.\n\nNever had she felt such hatred.\n\nShe had stared at the riders in their blue deels beneath the Cheren hawk banner as they'd approached her wains, at first pleased that more of her warriors were alive. She had been worried about them, and troubled by their absence.\n\nHer eyes had been drawn to their leader. A dark-haired warrior, sun glinting on a lamellar vest.\n\nAnd then she had seen the same man draw his bow and start putting arrows into her warriors.\n\nFora dozen heartbeats she had stared open-mouthed, struggling to understand what she was seeing. His riders had moved from a canter to a gallop, spreading behind him, and sent a hail of arrows into her warriors. She'd seen Tark shouting a warning, killing prisoners, then reaching for his bow, putting an arrow into the leader in the lamellar vest.\n\nSomehow, she had been frozen; confused, unbelieving.\n\n\"It is the Sirak,\" Gerel had said, his hand gripping her arm.\n\n\"It is Bleda,\" she had whispered back at him. By then other Sirak were surging up the bank from the river. Tark was down, prisoners pouring from her wains, and Bleda was cantering over to Tark.\n\n\"It cannot be Bleda.\" Gerel frowned, straining his eyes.\n\n\"It is BLEDA!\" Jin screeched.\n\nHer shock was burned away in a flare of hot rage, incinerated by it.\n\nShe had screamed for her warriors, Gerel putting a horn to his lips and blowing, summoning the Cheren, wherever they were, even as Jin was kicking her horse into motion and reaching for her bow. In heartbeats she was hurtling across the plain, her body one with her mount's, the two of them moving in unison, muscles and hooves flowing in the perfect rhythm of the gallop."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Sirak were fleeing, now, the one she thought was Bleda leaving last, pulling another Sirak up behind him onto his mount. She reached for arrows, knowing they were out of bowshot, but nocking and loosing anyway. It fell infuriatingly short of the last riders.\n\nA cloud of dust was swept up by the fleeing Sirak, marking their retreat, four or five hundred riders at least, by the look of it.\n\nThere must have been three hundred prisoners, maybe more.\n\nThey were riding up a ridge, now, beginning to disappear over it by the time Jin reached the wains. The ground was littered with Cheren dead, ninety, a hundred of her warriors. Jin dragged on her reins, a spray of grass and dry earth, pulling her horse to a trot, stopping where she'd seen Tark fall.\n\n\"My Queen,\" she heard a voice call, saw Tark close by, trying to drag himself upright. He was badly wounded, blood sheeting his leg from an arrow wound, one arm hanging at the wrong angle.\n\nHooves drummed, Gerel catching up with her, the first of her riders with him, around a hundred and fifty. More were riding from the Heartland, a steady stream, though she could still hear the faint din of battle, swirling on the wind.\n\n\"See to him,\" Jin said, and Gerel slipped from his saddle, kneeling beside Tark. He cut Tark's breeches around the arrow protruding from his thigh, gave Tark a drink from his water skin and then poured the rest over the wound, washing it clean. He touched the arrow, probed the wound. A grunt from Tark.\n\n\"Will have to cut it out,\" Gerel said. He took Tark's arm, a protruding lump on the forearm where the bone had snapped. \"Bite on this,\" Gerel said, slipping his knife's sheath from his belt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Wait,\" Jin said. \"The one who spoke to you.\" She paused, blew out along, unsteady breath. \"Was it him?\"\n\nTark looked up at her, pain, anger, shame mingled in his eyes.\n\n\"He called himself Bleda,\" he said.\n\nJin sucked in a strangled scream.\n\n\"What did he look like? Describe him.\"\n\n\"Young, like you,\" Tark said. \"He was arrogant, though I put an arrow in his arm. Dark. His face was soft, fora Sirak.\"\n\n\"Aye, like mine. Because we have not ridden the Sea of Grass for ten years.\" She looked at the last riders disappearing over the ridge line. \"What did he say to you?\"\n\nTark's eyes flickered away.\n\n\"Tell me everything. You will heal, ride the grass again. If you wish to ride at my side, you will tell it all tome.\"\n\nA grunt and nod from Tark. \"He said he would kill you, soon. He boasted of cutting Uldin's throat.\"\n\nA memory of her father, black blood jetting as Bleda's knife sliced through his neck.\n\n\"What else?\" Jin said, a tremor in her voice. She focused on Tark. \"There is something else.\"\n\n\"And that he chose a half-breed whore over you.\"\n\nThe fire in Jin's veins turned to ice.\n\nI will kill him. By Elyon above and Asroth below, I will kill him, if it is the last thing I do.\n\n\"Set his arm,\" she grated at Gerel. There were Cheren riders all around now. Maybe five hundred of her warriors, a trickle as more crossed the plain to join her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a grinding sound as Gerel pulled on Tark's arm. The old warrior hissed, went rigid as Gerel manipulated his broken bone back into place, boot-heels scraping in the grass.\n\nThey must have numbered close to two hundred. Then the prisoners, another two to three hundred, though most of them are weak, injured, weaponless.\n\nShe made a decision.\n\n\"WITH ME!\" she cried, standing tall in her saddle, and then she was riding towards the ridge line. The drum of hooves behind her, Gerel calling out, but she ignored him, setting her face to the dust cloud that still hovered in the air.\n\nCheren riders settled around her, grim-faced men and women. Jin reached for her bow, slipped it from its case, took a handful of arrows from her quiver, holding her reins loose and guiding her horse with her knees and ankles. She was riding up the ridge, now, a steady canter. She was angry, angrier than she had ever felt before, but the wild heat was gone, replaced by an icy rage that she could think through.\n\nI will not rush blindly into some trap. She signalled right and left, a few score riders branching off, sweeping wide. Then she was cresting the ridge, arrow nocked, leaning low over her saddle to give a smaller target. She was expecting the snap and whip of arrows.\n\nNothing.\n\nThe ridge was empty, trails flattened through the grass. Jin rode on a short way, so that she wasn't silhouetted upon the crest of the ridge, and then touched her reins, her mount stopping while she surveyed the land, using the high ground. A series of dried-out stream-beds clustered below heron the plain, separating again to thread their way to the river Selen. Where the streams met there were signs of her enemy, the ground churned by hooves, bloodied clothes and bandages discarded. Jin raised her hand and pointed. A handful of warriors rode down to the streams, searching. At the same time the warriors she had sent wide around the ridge appeared. They had been sent to root out any flanking ambush, or to undertake their own flanking manoeuvre if Jin had ridden into a fight. They signalled that all was clear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin was satisfied no ambush was imminent, and so lifted her gaze further afield. Riders were in the distance, a large mass riding away from her. They were riding hard, stirring up a dust cloud, travelling fast, not caring about hiding their passage or their numbers.\n\nThey are fleeing for their lives. Bleda knows he has stuck his head too far into the wolf's mouth; he has seen my strength. Survival is all he has on his mind. He is running scared.\n\nThe drum of hooves behind Jin. She twisted in her saddle, but it was only Gerel. Tark was with him, his broken arm in a sling, the arrow that Jin had seen protruding from his thigh was gone, a bandage wrapped around it, blood starting to seep through.\n\nTark reined in with one hand and a word; his new mount stopped. Bleda and the Sirak had taken his old horse. His eyes scanned the scene, taking in the stream-bed and then the fleeing warband. They were already over a league away.\n\n\"Prepare to ride,\" Jin called out.\n\n\"No, my Queen, they are too many,\" Tark said. \"They could be hoping to lure you out, away from the strength of your host.\"\n\n\"No, Bleda is fleeing; he is scared,\" Jin said.\n\n\"Is he?\" Tark said. He shrugged. \"Either way, you have five hundred riders here. They have more.\"\n\n\"How many?\" Jin snapped. Her father had taught her how to count and measure riders on the plain, but usually by noting the banners flying above them. Bleda's warband had no banners.\n\n\"Nine hundred, a thousand horses,\" Tark said. \"They may have spare mounts, but I don't think so.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin sat there a few moments, not trusting her mouth. Her teeth ground, muscles in her jaw bunching as she thought.\n\n\"Let me track them for you; they shall not escape,\" Tark said.\n\n\"You?\" Jin said, expelling an angry breath and looking him up and down. His arm in a sling, his leg bound but bleeding.\n\n\"You are not fit to ride.\"\n\n\"I am,\" Tark said. \"What is a little pain. My arm and leg are seen to; they will heal. Besides, I could ride with no arms.\"\n\nThis was true, not some idle boast. The Cheren learned to guide their mounts through pressure from their knees and feet, far better than clumsy yanking on reins.\n\n\"But you cannot fight,\" Jin remarked.\n\n\"Maybe not.\" Tark nodded. \"But I am the best tracker in Arcona, I have other uses. And I would makeup for my failure to kill Bleda. Let me find him for you.\"\n\nJin gave Tark along, measuring look, and then nodded.\n\nTark snapped an order and a score of scouts set off after Bleda, moving down the ridge and onto the plain at a steady canter.\n\n\"They cannot gallop forever,\" he said to Jin. \"And they are unlikely to have spare mounts. We will catch them. Send word back to the Heartland, gather your warband about you. They will wish to seethe death of Uldin's killer.\"\n\nJin smiled coldly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha leaned over Wrath's back.\n\n\"There they are,\" she shouted, aflutter of joy in her belly at the sight of Asroth's war-host. It had been over a ten-night since she'd seen it. \"Time to land.\" The wind whipped her words from her mouth even as she spoke them.\n\nWrath heard her, though, tucking a huge wing and turning in a wide, looping half-circle.\n\nThey were flying above the treetops; the sun sinking into the west was turning the canopy of Forn to molten gold. Below Fritha was a line of her warriors riding a narrow road. Arn and her honour guard, her hand-picked warriors, on course to intersect afar wider road that carved through the trees. It ran from Drassil in the north to the Bairg Mountains in the south and was called Lothar's Road, for some reason that Fritha could not remember from her histories.\n\nI was taught those histories at Drassil when I was trained, indoctrinated, as a White-Wing.\n\nFritha still could not quite believe how much the world had changed in so short a time.\n\nDrassil fallen. The Ben-Elim routed. Asroth free. His child in my belly.\n\nIt made her feel dizzier than Wrath's spiralling descent.\n\nBelow them was a sight that took Fritha's breath away. A warband, the like of which the world had never seen before.\n\nFirst were the Kadoshim and their half-breed offspring, close to two thousand winged figures speckling the sky. Below them, upon the road, marched nearly four thousand acolytes. They were starting to move like professional warriors now, rather than the brigands and outlaws that most of them had been. Not that all of them were cut-throats, criminals and murderers. Many of them had been outlawed by the Ben-Elim for petty crimes or had turned to brigandry as a response to the harsh regime of the Ben-Elim. Arn and Elise had been such as these. Others were from a more martial background, like Fritha herself, or Aenor, chief amongst the acolytes. He too had been a White-Wing, disillusioned and outlawed for his own personal reasons."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The warband on the road below Fritha was not in any discernible formation, just a disorganized rabble.\n\nThey have been used to skulking in the dark places for the last ten years, in forests and mountains and caves, trying not to be seen. And now they are marching down Lothar's Road for the whole world to see them, although that can hardly be called marching.\n\nThe White-Wing warrior within her curled her lip at their haphazard progress.\n\nShe swept down through the Kadoshim and their half-breeds, and then lower, Forn's trees rising either side of her. Crows squawked, lurking in the shadows of Forn, some circling the warband.\n\nThey know that death and slaughter are coming.\n\nFritha eyed the crows suspiciously, remembering Flick, the talking crow from Dun Seren.\n\nThere could be talking crows amongst them, she thought, spying onus. But there are so many of them, we could never root out the spy.\n\nHorn blasts echoed up to her, people pointing up at Wrath.\n\nThe acolyte warband filled the road as far as Fritha could see, a slow-moving river of men and women, leather and steel. At their head she saw Asroth. Although he was often in the skies, he also liked to ride at the head of his war-host, sitting upon the largest horse Fritha had ever seen. A piebald stallion found in the stables at Drassil, all muscle and mane. Fritha suspected that he had been used more for ploughing than battle, but he was broken to ride and responded well to all of the usual commands, and most importantly of all, he could take the weight of Asroth in all his war gear, which was impressive. Fritha felt her heart beating faster at the sight of him, clothed in his armour, shimmering like black oil in the setting sun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Horns sounded and the warband stuttered to a halt."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A hundred wains were pulled to the roadside as men and women began to unload them and setup camp.\n\nWarriors were cheering and shouting, welcoming Fritha's return.\n\nWrath landed, a running crash, his wings beating to break their fall, Fritha clinging on. People leaped out of their way.\n\n\"Still need to work on those landings,\" she said to the draig as she unbuckled herself and climbed down from her saddle, dropping the last few feet to solid earth. She breathed a sigh of relief. As much as she was becoming used to flying upon Wrath, and had made her saddle and harness more secure, she still preferred her feet upon solid ground.\n\n\"Sorry,\" Wrath growled.\n\nFritha patted his scaled neck and began undoing the girth of his saddle, warriors of her honour guard hurrying to help her. She heard the sound of hooves and the scrape and slither of scales on the ground and turned to see Elise rippling sinuously towards her, Arn riding at her side. A hundred of Fritha's honour guard rode behind Arn, heading fora newly erected paddock. Elise smiled to greet Fritha, her fangs bright.\n\n\"You have returned tome,\" Elise said. She had not come on Fritha's task, unable to match the speed of mounted warriors that Fritha needed. Elise was shockingly fast, but she lacked the endurance to move at such speed for days at a time.\n\n\"Of course I have,\" Fritha said.\n\nOne of her Ferals loped past Elise to greet Fritha, pushing its head against her. She staggered with its strength, though she smiled and stroked its muzzle, tugging on a huge protruding canine. Elise slithered up, coils pushing the Feral away. It growled at her, and she hissed back, tail rattling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Peace,\" Fritha said, smiling, \"we are all friends here.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She stroked Elise's cheek, the snake-woman's scowl melting away.\n\n\"Well met, Father,\" Elise hissed as Arn slipped from his saddle, passing his reins to an acolyte. Arn's hand rested upon the head of his starstone axe, which was hanging on a belt loop at his waist.\n\n\"What news?\" Elise asked them.\n\n\"Asroth will calla meeting, soon. Stay with me and you shall hear it then.\"\n\nElise nodded.\n\n\"This war-host needs to move faster,\" Fritha commented.\n\nArn shrugged. \"If Gulla's Revenants hadn't eaten most of the horses at Drassil then this warband would be riding, not walking.\"\n\nFritha pulled a face, agreeing. By the time anyone had realized what the Revenants were doing in Drassil's stable-blocks it had been almost too late. Little more than a hundred horses had been saved. Fritha had taken most of those for herself and her warriors, and scouts were riding the rest.\n\n\"Wrath hungry,\" the draig rumbled, talk of eating horses obviously stirring his appetite.\n\n\"Go and fly, find yourself something to eat,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Have to fly far,\" Wrath moaned. \"Mist-walkers eat everything.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know,\" Fritha said, tight-lipped. \"Happy hunting,\" she said and patted Wrath's muscled neck, then shielded her eyes as he beat his wings, stirring up a cloud of dust, and winged into the sky.\n\n\"Come with me,\" Fritha said to Arn and Elise as she walked away, a score of her honour guard following a few steps behind them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Welcome back, my Queen,\" Asroth said as Fritha approached. He slung a leg over his saddle, slipping to the ground, took two long strides towards Fritha and swept her up into his arms, crushing her to him, kissing her passionately.\n\n\"Ah, but this world of flesh is a constant joy tome,\" he said as they parted. \"Two thousand years of living in the Otherworld as a spirit is really very dull.\"\n\nFritha laughed, still reeling from his kiss.\n\n\"Come, our tent awaits,\" Asroth said. He gestured to a Kadoshim guard, who raised a horn to his lips and blew, summoning Asroth's captains, then Asroth was striding through the entrance of a huge, hastily erected tent. Torches were already burning, a table being laid outwith food and wine. Asroth thumped his long axe down onto the table-top and satin a chair, draped one leg over the arm and held his cup out, an acolyte appearing at his shoulder to pour. He drained it in one long draught, then held the cup out for another. Bune and a handful of Kadoshim followed behind Asroth, some sitting at the table, others taking up various positions around the tent.\n\nFritha unstrapped her weapons-belt and laid it over the back of her chair, then sat and sipped from her own cup. Arn stood behind her, Elise slithering into the smoky shadows of the tent.\n\nAenor strode through the opening, short and squat. He poured his own cup of wine and sat at the table. Asroth held his cup out to him in greeting, drank that down, too.\n\n\"Well met, Fritha,\" Aenor said, a dip of his head to her before he drank. \"I am glad to see you returned to us safe.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So am I,\" Fritha said. She liked Aenor. They had had their differences over the years, and Aenor could be rude, obstructive, a pain in the arse, but she knew that he was honest, and if he said he was pleased, then he was.\n\n\"The warband looks bigger since I left,\" Fritha said to Aenor.\n\n\"Aye, it is, thanks to you,\" Aenor said.\n\nSince leaving Drassil Fritha had taken to flying ahead of their warband, Arn and fifty of her honour guard riding on the road beneath her. Together they had visited the towns and villages scattered along the great road, declaring the Ben-Elim routed, and proclaiming the new order of the Kadoshim and humankind, working together in harmony.\n\nA draig with wings had made an impression, though many had run screaming at the first sight of Wrath. Once Fritha had proved he would not eat anyone without her say-so, though, people had seemed to be far more open to listen to her message.\n\nShe asked all if they would join her warband. Well, not exactly asked. She told them of Asroth and his great army, and made it clear what would happen if they refused. Even this was no guarantee, and sometimes Gulla and his Revenants were needed to show what would happen to those who refused Fritha's generous offer. One night Fritha had flown back to see what exactly Gulla's lesson was. She had heard the screams long before she had seen the village. So, their ranks were swelling.\n\nEvery man and woman in the Banished Lands learned weapons-craft from childhood. Spear and axe, mostly, as a sword was a costly weapon, so they were valuable additions to the warband. Once they joined, Aenor would teach them how to fight as a unit, in the shield wall or just as part of a fighting company."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Many had joined, Fritha suspected, because they were in equal measure awed and terrified of Wrath."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Over a thousand had swelled the ranks of the acolytes since their journey from Drassil had begun.\n\n\"It is you who has to train them, not I,\" Fritha said to Aenor.\n\n\"A task I am happy to do,\" Aenor said, raising his cup.\n\nWhile Fritha had been locked away within the forge at Drassil, working her dark magic upon starstone metal, Aenor had been working his own kind of magic upon the acolyte warband. He had been drilling them in the weapons-field everyday, from dawn till dusk, and every evening since they had left Drassil, too. Even if they were not a match for the White-Wings' discipline, Fritha was becoming confident that they could form a shield wall and hold their own in a fight. The new recruits were fitting easily into that routine.\n\nAenor had also plundered the armouries of Drassil, and his warband looked like warriors now, many in shirts of mail, or if not mail then in boiled leather coats and cuirasses and carrying the White-Wings'rectangular shields. The white wings embossed upon shields and armour had been painted black, though. Weapons had also seen a significant upgrade, thanks to Drassil's armouries. Most of the acolytes had fought with spear and axe, but now the bulk of Aenor's host had a short-sword at their hip.\n\nI suppose Aenor chose the right skill to teach first; fighting is more important than marching.\n\nA beating of wings and a dark silhouette filled the tent's entrance, blocking out the last rays of the sun. Gulla entered the tent, his wings closed tight, a travel-stained cloak swirling about him like mist. He dipped his head to Asroth and sat at the table, ignoring Fritha. Black mist curled around him like smoke."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He hates me, after what I said to him in Drassil's Great Hall. I have made an enemy. Though better an enemy of Gulla and a friend of Asroth than the other way around.\n\n\"Now that we are all here,\" Asroth said, \"a warm welcome back, my bride. We are overjoyed to see you. Now, report.\" His smile of a few moments ago was abruptly gone, all earnest focus now. This was something she was becoming used to: Asroth's ability to switch from one mood to another in the beat of a heart.\n\n\"Haldis is empty,\" Fritha said. \"It is no risk to us. There were signs that the fortress has been lived in recently, but its inhabitants are gone now.\"\n\n\"What inhabitants? How many? And gone where?\" Asroth said.\n\n\"Maybe a thousand White-Wings,\" Fritha said. She had flown to Haldis with a hundred half-breeds in the air around her, Arn leading her honour guard on the ground. They had gone to scout out the fortress, to discover if it was inhabited and a potential threat to their flank.\n\n\"There has long been a White-Wing garrison at Haldis,\" Fritha said. \"It has always been around a thousand strong.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" grunted Aenor. He had served at Haldis, long ago.\n\nThe sound of wings beating outside the tent and Morn alighted beyond the entrance. She didn't block out as much light as Gulla as she swept inside, her frame shorter and broader than her father's.\n\n\"My King,\" she said to Asroth, dipping her head.\n\n\"Sit,\" he said, nodding at a chair, and then Morn was sitting at the table, beside Fritha."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Continue,\" Asroth said to Fritha.\n\n\"We found evidence of a large force heading south. The tracks were old.\"\n\n\"How old?\" Asroth asked.\n\n\"Hard to tell,\" Fritha said, looking at Arn.\n\n\"Maybe a moon, could be longer,\" Arn said.\n\nAsroth nodded. \"And where are they going, these White-Wings?\"\n\nFritha took a sip of her wine. \"They travelled south. We have long thought that our Ben-Elim enemy would have fled south to Ripa, where the White-Wings have their largest fortifications outside of Drassil. It would make sense that these White-Wings were going there, too. Perhaps they heard news of Drassil's fall. Ripa is the obvious place for them to regroup.\"\n\nAsroth leaned back in his chair, sipping thoughtfully from his cup of wine. He turned his heavy-lidded gaze onto Morn.\n\n\"And what news do you bring me, child of the Kadoshim?\"\n\n\"There is life in Brikan,\" Morn said, colouring at Asroth's words.\n\nAsroth cocked his head, inviting more.\n\n\"There are warriors on the walls, though I did not see many. I would guess there is a skeleton garrison left at Brikan,\" Morn said.\n\n\"You would guess,\" Asroth said. \"You flew along way to guess.\"\n\nMorn's face flushed even redder. She looked at the ground.\n\n\"I was ordered not to set foot on the ground,\" Morn said sullenly.\n\n\"By whom?\" Asroth said, his voice cold.\n\n\"By me,\" Gulla answered, his voice a rasp. \"For her safety.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth stared from Morn to Gulla.\n\n\"My eyes are good,\" Morn said. \"I saw much. Warriors of the Order of the Bright Star, curse them.\" She spat. \"I counted fifty, on the walls, the bridge, the courtyard, a patrol along the riverbank.\"\n\n\"The Order of the Bright Star fielded a sizeable warband in the north,\" Fritha said. \"I should know, I fought them.\"\n\n\"And lost to them,\" Gulla said quietly.\n\n\"So, it is likely the numbers at Brikan are low,\" Fritha continued, ignoring Gulla.\n\nAsroth sighed.\n\n\"It would be foolish to march beyond Brikan with our eyes fixed on the south,\" he said, carefully putting his cup of wine on the table. He sat up straight, slipping his leg off the arm. \"That would leave enemies at my back. And I am no fool,\" he said, his smile and relaxed demeanour vanished. He looked from Fritha to Aenor, to Gulla.\n\n\"But, it would be a shame to halt our march south, as well,\" he said after a moment's silence. \"I will send a force west. Strong enough to overcome any resistance.\" He drank more of his wine.\n\n\"Gulla, take as many of your Revenants as you need and ensure that Brikan is filled only with corpses.\"\n\n\"Yes, my King,\" Gulla said.\n\n\"That will be good, it might leave some food in the forest for the rest of us to hunt,\" Fritha said, sharing a look with Aenor.\n\nFeeding a warband on the march was not easy, especially when there were ten thousand Revenants lurking in the darkness of Forn, eating their way through the forest's population; whatever manner of beast or bird, the Revenants were sucking the animal population of Forn dry."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Better than turning onus, I suppose, Fritha thought."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was acutely aware that Gulla and his Revenants outnumbered the rest of Asroth's warband two to one.\n\nGulla turned his one eye upon Fritha.\n\n\"There is food enough in the forest for all of us,\" he said in his grating hiss of a voice.\n\nAsroth waved his hand, dismissing the subject as if he found it boring. \"Gulla, be quick with this task. I am eager to be out of this forest. Does it goon forever? How much longer until we reach our destination?\" He waved his hand again. \"Ripa? I am eager to catch Meical, Kol and the rest of the Ben-Elim maggots and make them pay for their crimes.\"\n\n\"At this pace we will not seethe Bay of Ripa before Hunter's Moon,\" Aenor said.\n\n\"Three moons.\" Asroth frowned, then he shrugged.\n\n\"If we had horses, my King,\" Aenor said.\n\nAnother sore subject, Fritha thought, but she said nothing, thinking she had goaded Gulla enough.\n\n\"It will take as long as it takes,\" Asroth said. He looked at Gulla. \"And Sulak is in the south?\"\n\n\"Yes, my King,\" Gulla said. \"With our allies.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes.\" Asroth smiled. \"I am looking forward to meeting them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv dropped through cloud, moisture coating her wings, glistening on her mail, and then she was through it, the land spread like a tapestry below her. Forn Forest lay to the east, an endless ocean of green, while below her lay multi-hued meadows dissected by glistening streams. They wound their way to the river Rhenus, which the warband had recently crossed.\n\nClose to three and a half thousand warriors of the Order of the Bright Star.\n\nAt first they had headed east from Dun Seren, taking the road to Drassil, but little more than a ten-night into their journey crows had returned, bringing the news that Drassil was empty, Asroth and his warband marching south.\n\nRiv had wanted to fly to Drassil, to scout it out and see for herself what the Kadoshim had made of her home. But Byrne had forbidden it.\n\n\"The skies are dangerous,\" Byrne had said. \"No longer are they the sole domain of the Ben-Elim. Best to send Craf's crows. I imagine a murder of crows already fills the sky wherever the Kadoshim go.\"\n\nRiv knew that Byrne's logic was sound, although she was not so keen on being ordered.\n\nStill, I am a warrior of the Bright Star, now, she thought, one hand brushing the cloak brooch at her shoulder. I have to take the bad with the good.\n\nThe warband below her was heading south, skirting the edges of Forn Forest, their destination Ripa, far in the south.\n\nRipa. Where Aphra waits for me.\n\nRiv felt a flush of happiness at the thought of her mother. She had never gone so long without seeing her."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And Kol, my father.\n\nThat was not a reunion she was looking forward to.\n\nThough I am looking forward to telling him that I've joined the Order of the Bright Star.\n\nA figure swept into her peripheral vision, dark-winged Faelan. He flew closer to her, nodded a greeting, then pointed at the ground.\n\n\"Time for the next shift,\" he shouted to her.\n\nByrne had put the warriors with wings into teams, three units to scout the skies immediately about the warband. The crows travelled further afield. The winged warrior units were to rotate in shifts, to prevent exhaustion.\n\n\"Battle could fall upon us at anytime,\" Byrne had said. \"We must be ready, and not exhausted from flying every hour of the day.\"\n\nRiv had shrugged at that. She loved to fly, but the logic made sense to her.\n\nShe raised a hand to Faelan and he grinned at her, then he was turning awing and veering left, banking to roundup the rest of his unit. Riv dipped her head and began a spiralling descent to the ground. Queen Nara was at the head of the warband, her warriors taking the vanguard today. Beyond them small specks dotted the ground, Riv's sharp eyes picking out solitary riders and wolven-hounds loping through meadows and groves, the hunters of Dun Seren scouting the land. Branches shook in the eaves of Forn and she saw Drem upon his white bear. Then she was turning and looping down towards Byrne and Ethlinn, ready to make her report.\n\nRiv dipped a chunk of dark bread into her bowl of pottage stew. She was about to put it into her mouth when she stopped, turning to look at Cullen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had his own bowl of stew, and just like Riv he had dipped his bread into it. Now he was sucking on that bread, slurping, pottage dribbling down his chin.\n\nRiv felt her face twist in disgust.\n\nCullen must have felt her eyes on him, for he looked at her.\n\n\"What?\" he said.\n\n\"You eat like a pig,\" Riv snarled.\n\n\"Aye.\" Cullen shrugged. \"But I kiss like an angel.\" He gave her his broad smile, stewed barley stuck between his teeth.\n\nRiv stared at him, unblinking.\n\n\"That's not funny,\" she said.\n\nCullen's eyes dropped, downcast. \"Wasn't trying to be funny,\" he muttered.\n\n\"Ignore him, he's an idiot,\" Keld said. The old huntsman was standing with his two wolven-hounds.\n\n\"Eat your stew,\" Cullen said, waving a bowl at Keld.\n\n\"When I'm done,\" Keld said.\n\nRiv looked at Keld, and the two wolven-hounds standing next to him. They were huge, of a height with Keld's chest, and broadly muscled as well, their muzzles shorter than a wolven, jaws broader. Riv remembered seeing them tearing chunks out of Revenants.\n\n\"I'm glad they're on our side,\" she said.\n\n\"Ah, these two, they're the best of friends to their pack, the worst of enemies to any that try to harm their pack.\" He smiled. \"They're my babies.\" Keld grunted as he unbuckled coats of mail from them.\n\n\"That's quite the job, each morning and night,\" Riv said."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"Aye, it is,\" Keld said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But it's worth it. Once upon a time I would only pull their ringmail out if we were going into battle, but these days...\" He looked up at the trees of Forn looming in the east, a darker wall of shadow as twilight settled about them. \"With Revenants and who knows what lurking in the dark places, it's safer this way,\" he muttered.\n\n\"Aye,\" Drem said as he strode into their small camp. It was one of a hundred fires burning within the picket-line of the warband, spread over half a league of land. Drem had a bag slung across his back stuffed full with his white bear's coat of mail. \"Friend has a coat of mail, too. We all saw what the Revenants did to them. Mail is worth its weight in gold; it stopped a Revenant making a meal of me. Alcyon helped me make this. Most of it we patched together from other bears\" coats. Bears that fell, that night.\"\n\nRiv knew exactly what night he was speaking of, could still remember all too vividly the dead bears littering the courtyard, Revenants swarming over them like flies.\n\nDrem dropped the sack of mail onto the ground. \"Wish it wasn't so heavy, though,\" he grunted.\n\nKeld took the bowl Cullen was waving at him, and Drem ladled himself a bowl from the pot hanging over their fire. They both came and sat down.\n\nRiv was not sure why she found herself at their fire each night, when Hadran and Meical were always inviting her to eat with them. She had spent time with Faelan as well; the two of them had so many questions for each other. But when evening and tiredness began to set in, Riv always found herself searching out the company of these three men. Perhaps it was their easy way with each other that she found settling, reminding her of her own kin and friends."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Keld threw a crust of bread to his wolven-hounds. The red-furred one, Ralla, jumped and snapped it out of the air before Fen had opened his jaws.\n\n\"Ach, you're getting slow, my lad,\" Keld said, waving a crust at the slate-grey wolven-hound. The hound padded over to Keld, took the bread and rubbed his head against Keld's shoulder, nearly knocking the huntsman over.\n\nThe pad of footsteps, and figures walked into their camp. Byrne, with Meical and Hadran.\n\n\"I thought you'd be here,\" Byrne said with a nod to Riv.\n\n\"We've been looking for you,\" Meical said.\n\nKeld stood and offered them bowls of stew. Byrne took one, and the ladle, too, filling her own bowl and offering some to Meical and Hadran.\n\n\"Meical wishes to leave us,\" Byrne said. \"He thinks word needs to betaken to Ripa; of us. Of Asroth's war-host.\"\n\n\"There is news of that?\" Cullen asked.\n\n\"Aye. Our crows have returned. Asroth moves down Lothar's Road. He is almost at the southern fringes of Forn.\"\n\nRiv was silent, she knew what was coming.\n\n\"Meical wishes for you to fly with him.\"\n\n\"Riv's one of us, now,\" Cullen said. \"She doesn't need to go flying off half a thousand leagues.\"\n\n\"You're right, Cullen,\" Byrne said. \"You are one of us,\" she said, looking at Riv over the fire. \"Meical suggested that you might want to go, as you have kin in Ripa. Rather than discuss this behind your back, I thought it best to find you and ask. If you wished to go, I wanted you to know that there is no problem with that; I would give you leave.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv nodded, thinking over Byrne's words.\n\n\"Aphra I do long to see,\" Riv said. \"Kol, not at all.\"\n\n\"I can understand that,\" Byrne said with a grimace.\n\n\"I would like you to fly with us,\" Meical said. \"I feel that you have been at the heart of this, since I have been awakened. And-\" he smiled-\"you could be the representative of this Order. The thought of Kol's face...\"\n\nHadran coughed into his bowl of stew.\n\nRiv grinned at that.\n\nHe won't be too happy that I've swapped the white wings for the star.\n\n\"It's true, a representative of the Order of the Bright Star in Ripa would be good,\" Byrne said, a half-smile on her face. \"I could not send Faelan. I fear he would kill Kol within half a sentence of their first conversation.\"\n\n\"Not the best way to begin an alliance,\" Meical observed.\n\nRiv smiled. \"I will go,\" she said, then dipped her head to Byrne. \"My thanks.\"\n\n\"You are welcome,\" Byrne said, a warm smile, rare from her, softening her hardness. \"But comeback to us.\"\n\n\"Of that there is no doubt,\" Riv said, already a sadness in her gut at the thought of leaving these people.\n\n\"Good,\" Meical said, \"then we will fly with the sun.\"\n\n\"One thing I would ask of you,\" Byrne said, standing. \"Stop at Brikan, our outpost in Forn. There area hundred and fifty of our Order there. Tell them of what is happening. Have them prepared to leave. Tell them we will be therein a ten-night, at most.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will,\" Meical grunted. He looked to Riv. \"We fly at dawn,\" he said, as he and Hadran followed Byrne out of the firelight.\n\nRiv sat and stared into the flames awhile, her thoughts filled with Aphra and Kol, of Jost and Fia and her White-Wing friends. And of Bleda.\n\nAh, Bleda, where are you? she thought. Will I find you in Ripa? That thought sent moths fluttering inside her belly.\n\n\"Don't know why Meical thinks he can drag you halfway across the Banished Lands,\" Cullen muttered as he poured himself another bowlful of stew. \"Feels safer with you in the sky above us.\"\n\n\"Faelan and his kin are here,\" Riv said. \"They guard the skies.\"\n\n\"Well, it's not the same,\" Cullen said. \"They're not... you.\"\n\nRiv looked at Cullen, slightly confused.\n\n\"What Cullen is trying to say, lass,\" Keld said, \"is that we shall all miss you.\"\n\n\"Aye, that is what I said.\"\n\n\"No, it isn't.\" Drem pulled a face.\n\nRiv looked at them, realized she had come to care for these three.\n\n\"I shall miss you, too,\" she said.\n\n\"Ach, it's all right, lass,\" Keld said, patting her knee. \"We are brothers and sisters in arms, we four.\" He looked at Drem and Cullen. \"I've had something on my mind to say, but have been thinking on it awhile. Your departure makes this a good time to speak of it, I suppose.\"\n\n\"What?\" Riv and Cullen said together. Drem sat silent, intently focused as always."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"At the Order of the Bright Star we often form a crew,\" Keld said to Riv. \"We recently lost someone, someone dear to us. She was a good lass-\"\n\n\"Lass!\" Drem exclaimed. \"She was two hundred and forty years old.\"\n\n\"Aye, well. She was the best of us, brave and fierce, like you, Riv. Maybe not quite so...\" he paused, looked like he was trying to think of the right word. \"Spontaneous,\" he said.\n\nDrem cracked a smile at that.\n\n\"Ha.\" Riv laughed. \"You mean angry.\"\n\nKeld shrugged. \"We've one hot-head already, why not two? What I'm saying, lass, is that you'd be welcome in our crew.\" He looked at Drem and Cullen. \"I haven't asked these lads, yet, but I'm certain of their answer.\"\n\nDrem and Cullen nodded.\n\n\"You'd be welcome,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Drem agreed.\n\nRiv looked at all three of them, felt a swell of emotion in her chest, and her eyes blurred with tears. For so long now, she had felt alone. The Ben-Elim had taught her that she was an abomination. Her temper had lost her friends, caused her to fail her warrior trial, and yet these three saw past all of that.\n\n\"I would be honoured,\" she said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda reined in his mount, staring at the river that cut across their path. It was wide and slow.\n\n\"A big river,\" Ellac observed.\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda agreed. He twisted in his saddle and looked back, over the heads of his warband to the dust cloud that hovered in the distance, marking Jin's pursuit behind him.\n\n\"They are still following,\" Ellac said. \"And getting closer.\"\n\nBleda looked at Ellac.\n\n\"I know,\" he said.\n\nThey had ridden south-west fora ten-night, a fast pace, though not as fast as Bleda would have liked. They had around a hundred and eighty spare mounts, and between nine hundred and eighty-three riders that was not particularly helpful. Even less, when a dozen of those spare mounts were carrying provisions and bundles of arrows gathered from the Cheren they had slain. The initial gap that Bleda had opened between him and Jin's following warband had closed steadily over the last seven days.\n\nHe frowned, looked back at the river, then rode Dilis on, down a gentle slope and into the water until it lapped at her hocks. It looked as if the waters did not rise any higher. Bleda patted Dilis' neck and she dropped her head to drink from the river.\n\nEllac joined him, Yul, Ruga and Saran following.\n\n\"A ford,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"Aye. A good place to cross,\" Ellac said, \"or-\" He paused, looking left and right, following the river as far as he could see, both north and south. He touched his reins, his horse moving left, through the slow-flowing water. He stopped after a hundred paces or so, turned to look back at Bleda."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What?\" Bleda asked. He felt his nerves starting to fray. Constant riding, exhaustion and the weight of responsibility heavy upon his shoulders.\n\nIf Jin catches us, we will die. All my people, the last of the Sirak. Because of me. My leadership. My decisions.\n\n\"I am thinking, we could ride a league or two in these shallows, until we reach another ford.\"\n\n\"Why? The Cheren would find our trail when we leave the river,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"Yes, they would,\" Ellac said. \"But first they would have to stop here, send riders to the far bank, and ride both north and south until they found our trail again.\"\n\nThat will slow them, help to widen the gap again.\n\nBleda rolled his left shoulder as he thought on Ellac's suggestion. His arm ached where the old warrior's arrow had pierced him. Yul had pushed the arrowhead through, clean out the other side of Bleda's arm, then snapped the shaft and pulled it free. Bleda had his lamellar coat back on, now, and was thankful for it, though his wound was itching and he could not reach it to scratch it. It was driving him insane.\n\nYul and Saran both grunted their approval of Ellac's plan.\n\n\"That is a good idea,\" Ruga said.\n\n\"Ellac, you are wise beyond your years,\" Bleda called out.\n\n\"Then that would be wise indeed,\" Ellac said, water splashing as he cantered back to them. \"The old wolf is the more cunning,\" he said as he reached them.\n\n\"Cunning is good,\" Bleda said. \"Cunning is what we need right now.\" He clicked his horse on, riding along the shallows, his warband moving into the river after him, churning the water brown."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ruga, what river was that?\"\n\n\"The Ider,\" she said.\n\n\"I don't remember these lands,\" he said, much to his shame.\n\nHow can I lead my people when I do not even know the land?\n\nBy asking for help. Pride can be a poison.\n\n\"You were taken when you were eight,\" Ruga said, with a shrug. \"You have not ridden the Sea of Grass all your life, like most Sirak.\"\n\n\"No,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"But you are Sirak, here,\" she said, fingers brushing her heart. \"And here-\" a tap of her temple.\n\nBleda glanced at her and smiled.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said.\n\nThey were riding at the head of the warband, the Ider River three days and sixty leagues behind them. They were deep in the south of Arcona now, heading for the southern passages, running for Ripa. The grass was not so green, the earth dustier. Groves of trees spotted the distance, mostly twisted, sun-blasted husks. He turned in his saddle and looked back. His warband was riding in tight formation at a steady canter, scouts on the flanks and ahead. He looked behind them into the distance and swore under his breath.\n\nJin was back.\n\nFor two days the dust cloud of Jin's warband had disappeared, Ellac's idea at the river slowing his enemy. But now they had caught up again. He turned and looked forwards.\n\n\"You know when you stopped me killing that old warrior,\" Ruga said, \"the one that put an arrow in your arm?\"\n\n\"I know the one.\"\n\n\"Why did you say those things to him, insulting Jin, goading her?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Because I needed to make sure she would follow us. If she wasn't sure it was me, she might have sent a warband a few hundred strong after us. And I wanted her and all the Cheren in Arcona to follow me, to give any survivors in the Heartland a chance to escape.\"\n\nRuga looked back at the Cheren warband, then forwards.\n\n\"Your plan may have worked a little too well.\"\n\n\"Ha, that is the truth of it.\" Bleda laughed. \"I think Jin must be angrier than a hornet-stung bull.\"\n\nIn the distance he saw the shimmer of hills and mountains, marking the southern rim of Arcona. Beyond those mountains were the deserts of Tarbesh. To the east Arcona's plateau was bordered by the southernmost reaches of Forn Forest. That was his goal.\n\n\"How well do you know this land, and the route to the Tethys Sea?\" Bleda asked her.\n\n\"Well enough,\" Ruga said. \"As well as anyone, better than most. My kin travelled often in the south.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Bleda said. \"Out of my captains, who would you say knows these southlands as well as you?\"\n\n\"Ellac,\" Ruga said without hesitation. \"Out of all, he is the only one I would say knows them better. He was born here.\"\n\n\"Ellac,\" Bleda said, an idea starting to form in his head.\n\n\"I won't do it,\" Ellac said.\n\n\"You will, because I am Lord of the Sirak, and it is my wish,\" Bleda said. \"But even if I were not, you would still do it. Because you know it is our best hope, and because I ask you as my friend, not my subject.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ach, don't try your clever words on me,\" Ellac spat. Bleda saw panic in his eyes. \"My place is with you. At your side. That is the oath I swore to your mother.\"\n\n\"You swore to do all in your power to protect me,\" Bleda said. \"That is not staying at my side. Do what I ask, that will be protecting me. It will be the best chance at protecting us all.\"\n\nA silence between them, Ellac looking from Bleda to the others-Ruga, Yul, Saran. All stared back at him, stony-faced.\n\n\"You could go,\" Ellac said to Yul.\n\n\"I could, but I would get the warband as lost as a deaf and blind rabbit.\" Yul shrugged. \"I do not know these lands.\"\n\n\"You, then,\" Ellac said to Ruga.\n\n\"I am asking you,\" Bleda said. \"It is the most important task, and I only trust you to do it.\"\n\nAlong, indrawn breath from Ellac, expelled angrily.\n\n\"All right,\" Ellac said. He pointed a finger at Bleda. \"But you better live to see me the other side of this.\"\n\n\"I will do my absolute best to honour that,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"And you-\" Ellac pointed at Yul-\"make sure he keeps his word, and his head.\"\n\n\"If it is within my power, then it is already done,\" Yul said.\n\n\"Good, that is settled,\" Bleda said. \"Now, strip every bush, every tree, I need as many campfires as we can make.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin raised her hand, a horn blast echoing her command to halt.\n\nIt was the dark end of twilight, when shadows had merged and night was settling into full dark. Riding any longer would risk broken legs for mounts.\n\nBut Jin's heart begged her to continue.\n\nWe are so close. I can almost smell the sweat of Bleda's warband. Their fear.\n\nIt had been a hard chase, even with spare mounts they had ridden their horses close to exhaustion. And when they had reached the Ider River and fallen behind by another day, Jin had almost screamed with frustration.\n\nBut we are close now. On the morrow we shall catch them and I shall have my vengeance. I think I will nail Bleda to a tree and watch him skinned.\n\nIn the distance campfires prickled into existence, like stars in the night sky.\n\n\"They are making camp,\" Tark said beside Jin. \"A wise idea.\"\n\nGerel gave Tark a dark look. \"It is wise when my Queen says it is wise.\"\n\nJin smiled.\n\nGerel would say day was night if that was what I commanded.\n\n\"It is wise,\" Jin said, looking around. Streams ran like veins of black blood in the darkness. \"A good place to make camp.\"\n\nCalls rippled along the wide column of Jin's war-host, horses were led to streams, paddock posts and ropes hammered into the ground.\n\nJin dismounted and led her mounts to the paddocks, unsaddled them, rubbed them down, checked their hooves, Gerel her constant shadow. When she was done she slung her saddle over her shoulder and found a campfire, sat and leaned against her saddle. Gerel passed her a spit of roasted lamb and onions wrapped within a stone-warmed flatbread. She ate silently, thinking on what the morrow would bring."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My Queen.\" A hand shook Jin awake. \"They are moving out.\" It was Tark, his arm splinted and wrapped in a bandage.\n\nJin sat upright, a sharp pain in her neck where she'd slept awkwardly on her saddle. It was as dark as pitch, embers glowing in the remains of the scraped-out fire-pit. Gerel grunted close by, pushed himself up onto one elbow.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Jin said, reaching for her water bottle and standing. She drank, then poured water over her face, blinked.\n\n\"See for yourself,\" Tark said.\n\nThey strode through the camp, Jin picking her way through and oversleeping bodies. Tark stopped and pointed.\n\nJin squinted into the darkness.\n\nA thousand pinpricks of light were moving in the distance. Torches. Moving south, away from her. Jin looked to the east, saw no sign of dawn, no patch of grey on the horizon.\n\n\"What are they doing?\" Gerel asked, joining them.\n\n\"They are risking their horses,\" Tark said, disgust in his voice.\n\n\"A desperate act,\" Jin said with a sneer. \"Bleda thinks I will not follow until dawn, that I will not risk broken legs for my horses on this ground.\" She looked to the east again. \"How long until dawn?\" she said.\n\nTark shrugged. \"The night is far from done.\"\n\nJin looked at the moving torches, kicked the dusty ground.\n\n\"Raise the warband,\" she said.\n\nGerel put a horn to his lips.\n\nThe ground was rising beneath Jin's feet, a gentle incline. She held a torch in front of her, checking the ground before each step, leading her horse by the reins, another mount tied and following behind."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The glow of Bleda's torches was far in the distance, but still visible. Jin stepped around a cluster of rabbit-holes, came across a guttered campfire, saw another at the edge of her torchlight.\n\n\"This is where they made camp,\" Tark said beside her. He was bending low, studying the ground.\n\n\"We need to move faster,\" Jin said, staring at the faint glow of torches in the distance.\n\n\"We should check their camp, this could be a trap, an ambush,\" Tark said.\n\nJin had thought of that, but in the end the thought of losing Bleda was so horrific that it made the risk worth it.\n\nI have close to four thousand warriors. Even if this were an ambush, we would crush him.\n\n\"I will not lose Bleda,\" Jin said.\n\nAlong moment, Tark frowning, then he dipped his head.\n\n\"Onwards, then,\" he said.\n\nThey carried on, following a thousand torches into the night."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda called a halt. Grey light was seeping into the world, an orange glow in the east as the sun clawed its way over the edge of the world.\n\n\"Douse your torches,\" he called out, throat dry. He thrust both of the torches he was carrying into a stream, then walked along the flank of his horse, took the torch strapped to his saddle and plunged that into the water, another hiss and burst of steam. Finally, he strode back to his second mount, Dilis, having along-earned rest from carrying him, and took the torch fastened to her saddle, too, and doused that one. Behind him a hundred and eighty warriors did the same.\n\nHe squatted beside the stream, drank from a cupped hand, then filled his water bottle.\n\n\"Drink,\" he said to his horses, leading them to the stream-bank. \"We will not be stopping fora while.\"\n\nThey dipped their heads to the cold water, Bleda standing and looking behind. His warriors were spread along a hillside path that followed the stream bubbling out of these hills. They were tired, dust-covered, but an air of satisfaction rolled off them. Of a ruse gone well.\n\nYul was sitting on a boulder, running a whetstone along his sword-edge.\n\n\"They followed us, then,\" Ruga said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda said, looking past his small warband and into the distance. \"And it looks like all of them.\"\n\nBehind them, threading between two gentle hills, was Jin's war-host, thousands of lit torches making the air about them glow. They were low in a valley, dawn not touching them, yet.\n\nThe most vital part of his plan had been for Jin's warband to cross his campground long before there was a hint of dawn's light. Otherwise they would have seen the tracks of eight hundred horses heading south-west, away from Bleda's force of one hundred and eighty, who Ruga was leading south-east, towards the mountains that bordered the desert lands of Tarbesh."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They will know, now, though,\" Ruga said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Even the Cheren can count.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda grunted.\n\n\"They could still turn back, once they realize they've been tricked,\" Ruga said, \"or split their force and send half of them back. It will be along journey, and a big gap, but they still have spare mounts. Ellac doesn't.\"\n\n\"I know. They must continue to follow us. All of them.\" Bleda strode to his horses and unbuckled a strap, pulling out a rolled package from behind his saddle. He shook it and held it out. A blue deel, blood staining the left arm, and a vest of lamellar armour. He dropped it on the ground beside the stream.\n\nRuga looked at the clothing, then at Bleda.\n\n\"You are relying heavily upon Jin's hatred for you,\" she said.\n\n\"I killed her father. Shamed her with a Ben-Elim half-breed.\"\n\nRuga nodded. \"I would hate you, too.\"\n\n\"MAKE READY TO RIDE!\" Bleda cried out. He took his bow from its saddle case and strung it, checked his sword over his back, made sure it wasn't sticking in its scabbard. Finally, he checked the hidden knife in his lamellar coat, the one he had used to cut Uldin's throat.\n\nHis warriors went through similar routines, then they were climbing into saddles, leather andiron creaking and jangling.\n\nBleda shifted in his saddle, then looked at Ruga.\n\n\"It's going to be along day. Lead us on,\" he said, and then they were moving out, the drum of hooves filling the air."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin reined in her horse and stared down at the ground.\n\nBehind her the war-host was letting their mounts drink from the stream, filling water bottles, chewing on cured meat and hard biscuit.\n\nJin felt frozen, just staring at the blue deel and lamellar vest on the grass beside the stream.\n\nTark was already on the ground, looking at tracks. He approached the deel and vest, prodded it with the butt end of his spear shaft.\n\n\"That is what he was wearing,\" Tark said. \"When he gave me this.\" He touched a red scar on his cheek, still raw, not quite healed.\n\nRage bubbled up inside her, a pressure within her chest. It had been close to boiling over from dawn's first light, when she had seen Bleda's warband on a hillside in the distance. Not the thousand she thought she was following. Not even two hundred. She had been tricked.\n\nTark squatted and stuck his spear butt into the stream, fished out a sodden torch.\n\n\"A good trick,\" he said.\n\nJin flashed him a dark look.\n\n\"We could go back,\" Tark said. \"They have spare horses here, many hoof-prints were deeper, heavier than others. My guess is the bulk of the warband went south-west from their camp, but it is these who have the spare mounts. That would make sense now. Speed is their only hope of escaping from us.\"\n\nJin pulled in a deep breath, trying to dispel the red fog in her head. All she could think about was Bleda, of pushing a sword into his chest, slowly, watching his mouth open to scream, seeing in his eyes the knowledge that Jin had won."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She shook her head, looked behind, then forwards. Gerel sat his horse close by, silent and brooding.\n\n\"No, we go forwards,\" Jin said. \"Bleda is here. We find him, kill him, then the Sirak have no lord, they are finished.\"\n\n\"And the other warband, the bulk of their strength?\" Tark asked.\n\n\"The other warband is heading for the Tethys Pass,\" Jin said. \"Once we have killed Bleda and his two hundred, then we shall travel west. We shall either catch them before the pass and kill them, or follow them into the west and kill them there.\" She shrugged.\n\n\"I like it. Either way, all the Sirak die,\" Gerel said.\n\n\"Yes. But Bleda first,\" Jin said.\n\nTark prodded the deel and lamellar vest.\n\n\"This could be a ruse, to keep you on this trail, stop you from turning back. Bleda might not even be here.\"\n\n\"It could be a ruse,\" Jin acknowledged. \"But I don't think so. Bleda is too proud. He would not allow someone else to lead this band, so outnumbered and unlikely to survive. He is too noble to allow that. No, Bleda is with them, I am sure of it.\"\n\n\"Well, then,\" Tark said, swinging up into his saddle with a grimace, his arm not healed yet. \"Let's be about catching him.\"\n\n\"Find Bleda, help me catch him, and your place and fame amongst the Cheren will be guaranteed for all generations.\"\n\n\"I will find him for you, my Queen. It is what I do.\"\n\nTark slowed in front of Jin."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had been riding hard for more than half the day, the sun high and hot. Beneath them the ground was changing. Rolling foothills shifting to steeper inclines, valleys and cliffs, the ground moving from grassland to dusty shingle.\n\n\"What is it?\" Jin asked as she reined in beside him.\n\n\"Something... strange,\" Tark muttered, swinging from his saddle.\n\nThey were in a wide, stony valley, a number of gullies separated by cliffs leading up into the mountains. Tark walked to the end of the valley, stooping before the entrance to each gully. Jin clicked her tongue and her horse trotted after him.\n\n\"What is it?\" Jin asked again.\n\nTark looked up at her, shaking his head.\n\n\"He is a clever one, this Bleda.\"\n\n\"Tell me,\" Jin said.\n\n\"They have separated. Riders have entered each gully.\"\n\nInside, Jin screamed.\n\n\"Bleda must beheading for the west,\" Jin said. \"Not Tarbesh in the south. If he goes to Tarbesh he would be trapped. From there he would have to sail to the Land of the Faithful. So, which route leads west?\"\n\n\"It's impossible to say,\" Tark said. \"Unless you know the land. This is the Sirak southlands. I have raided Sirak territory all my life, but never have I been within fifty leagues of these southlands. To answer your question would need local knowledge. Does anyone know these lands?\" he asked.\n\nJin's captains were all standing together. Hulan, Jargal, Vachir, Medek, Essen, all captains who had led smaller warbands in Jin's campaign against the Sirak Heartland. They all shook their heads, said no."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 51"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had been riding hard for more than half the day, the sun high and hot. Beneath them the ground was changing. Rolling foothills shifting to steeper inclines, valleys and cliffs, the ground moving from grassland to dusty shingle.\n\n\"What is it?\" Jin asked as she reined in beside him.\n\n\"Something... strange,\" Tark muttered, swinging from his saddle.\n\nThey were in a wide, stony valley, a number of gullies separated by cliffs leading up into the mountains. Tark walked to the end of the valley, stooping before the entrance to each gully. Jin clicked her tongue and her horse trotted after him.\n\n\"What is it?\" Jin asked again.\n\nTark looked up at her, shaking his head.\n\n\"He is a clever one, this Bleda.\"\n\n\"Tell me,\" Jin said.\n\n\"They have separated. Riders have entered each gully.\"\n\nInside, Jin screamed.\n\n\"Bleda must beheading for the west,\" Jin said. \"Not Tarbesh in the south. If he goes to Tarbesh he would be trapped. From there he would have to sail to the Land of the Faithful. So, which route leads west?\"\n\n\"It's impossible to say,\" Tark said. \"Unless you know the land. This is the Sirak southlands. I have raided Sirak territory all my life, but never have I been within fifty leagues of these southlands. To answer your question would need local knowledge. Does anyone know these lands?\" he asked.\n\nJin's captains were all standing together. Hulan, Jargal, Vachir, Medek, Essen, all captains who had led smaller warbands in Jin's campaign against the Sirak Heartland. They all shook their heads, said no."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin drew in along breath.\n\n\"Then we must split up,\" Jin said. \"How many different routes, Tark?\"\n\n\"Six,\" the scout said.\n\nAnother indrawn breath, Jin struggling to control her simmering rage.\n\n\"Hulan, Jargal, Medek, Essen, Vachir, take five hundred warriors each. The rest with me.\"\n\nThe gully steepened rapidly, the ground littered with shingle and rocks. It was slow going, Jin felt the passage of time like a burning candle in her chest. The wax melting, the light fading. Tark was in front of her, riding awhile, then slowing, observing the ground.\n\nHe pointed to lichen on a boulder as Jin passed it, a scuff, horsehair stuck to it. A little further up the gully, a pile of horse dung.\n\nIt was still warm.\n\nThe sun was starting to dip into the horizon, the temperature dropping.\n\nNo. If darkness falls we will never find him.\n\nA shout from Tark, other warriors behind Jin calling out.\n\nThe silhouette of a horse and rider up ahead, standing beside a boulder. The horse's head was dipped, eating a patch of grass. The rider sat straight-backed, clothed in a leather surcoat andiron helm, apparently uncaring that Jin was riding up the gully towards them, fifteen hundred Cheren at her back.\n\nBefore she knew it Jin had her bow in her hands, an arrow nocked and sent speeding through the air. It punched into the rider's shoulder.\n\nThe rider swayed, then was still. No cry of pain. They didn't even look Jin's way."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The sound of arrows loosed all around, a dark cloud rising and falling, a ripple of thunks as thirty arrows slammed into the rider."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They toppled from the saddle, disappearing. The horse shied slightly, then calmed and continued to eat.\n\nJin kicked her horse into a canter, oblivious of the terrain, and was the first to reach the horse and rider.\n\nCheren were about her heartbeats later, bows pointing in all directions, waiting for the ambush and arrows that all thought was coming.\n\nThe gully levelled off here, a pool of clear water, dark green grass growing about it. More horses and riders were here, scattered about. Some of the horses were drinking from the pool, others cropping at grass, all of their riders strangely straight-backed and wholly uninterested in Jin and her Cheren warriors.\n\nJin looked at the warrior on the ground, amass of arrows protruding from him.\n\nProtruding from it.\n\nJin jumped from her horse and kicked the warrior. The leather coat fell away to reveal a branch of wood, the coat stuffed with grass and straw. She stood and stared at it, fora moment her mind struggling to understand what she was seeing.\n\nThen she raised her head to the sky and screamed.\n\nFar in the distance, horns echoed through the mountains."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda held his bow ready, an arrow nocked, his right hand holding two more. He glanced at the jagged skyline, the sun sinking into the mountains.\n\nWe almost made it. He'd thought the scarecrows on horseback would have saved them, had almost kissed Ruga when she'd come up with the idea. Twenty of their spare horses slapped and sent galloping up each gully, each with a scarecrow of branches and shrubs stuffed into Sirak armour and tied to their backs.\n\nIt had hurt him to lose a hundred of their horses, but if that bought them enough time, then it was the difference between life and death. Bleda and his hundred and eighty warriors had set off up the gully that Ruga was certain led to the Tethys Pass. The only problem was that there had been a fall of rocks across the gully, and Bleda and his warband had been forced to dismount and clear a passage through. It had taken too long, and although after that they had moved quickly, given the rocky terrain and steepness of their trail, it was not long before riders from the rear were cantering forwards and warning Bleda that there were sounds of pursuit.\n\nSoon after there had been shouts and the sound of arrows, one of his warriors falling with an arrow through the back of his neck.\n\nBleda had led his warband on, a burst of reckless speed, hoping to maintain a gap long enough for the sun to set and night to fall. But then they had come across a second rockfall. It was too late. The Cheren were upon them.\n\nAnd so here he was, sitting in his saddle with a hundred riders lined around him, bows in hand, waiting. He patted his horse's neck, a gelding taken from the Cheren. It whickered at him. Bleda had ridden Dilis through the day and she was salt-stained with sweat, resting with their other spare mounts. Yul was beside him, bow in his fist."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No foolish bravery,\" Yul said to him. \"I swore an oath to Ellac.\"\n\n\"We have a plan,\" Bleda said. \"I will stick to it.\"\n\nYul grunted.\n\nThey formed a row across the gully, cliffs and boulders guarding both flanks.\n\nA good, defensible spot, Bleda thought, if I were a White-Wing. Their wall of shields would work well here, and this ground is not made for horses. We need space, the open plain to wage our war.\n\nBut who knows how many Cheren are riding up this gully after us?\n\nThe sound of horses' hooves, a whinny, and figures appeared around the curve of a huge granite boulder. One horse, two, a handful more, spread out across the gully, moving carefully.\n\nScouts.\n\nBleda drew his arrow, felt the tension build as his bow bent, feather scratching his cheek, and loosed. His left arm quivered a little; the wound in his bicep had healed, but the muscle inside was still weak. His arrow flew well enough, took the first scout in the chest, punching through leather vest and wool deel, the rider toppling backwards over his high saddle.\n\nAll around Bleda bows thrummed and arrows flew, the handful of scouts entering the gully falling in a matter of heartbeats. One put a horn to his lips and blew, the call being taken up behind him, horn blasts echoing up the ravine, deafening.\n\nAn arrow hurled the last scout from his saddle.\n\nWill they come slowly, or rush us?\n\nThe horns kept ringing, but over them Bleda heard the thunder and crack of hooves."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"READY!\" Bleda called out, another arrow nocked, his blood thumping in his veins.\n\nThe first riders cleared the boulder, a solid line, warriors riding hard, leaning over their mounts' necks, keeping low to reduce how much of a target they were. More riders behind them.\n\n\"LOOSE!\" Bleda cried, and his line of warriors released their first arrows, all of them nocking and loosing, nocking and loosing, again and again.\n\nHe saw the Cheren doing the same, the sound of arrows whipping through the air like a kicked nest of hornets.\n\nA drawn breath as Bleda reached fora fresh fist of arrows, before his first three had found their marks. He heard screams from the Cheren, saw riders fall. Screams around him, as well, Sirak tumbling, swaying, falling from mounts.\n\n\"LOOSE!\" Bleda yelled again, his bowstring thrumming as he loosed another three arrows in quick succession. Saw the Cheren were sweeping around the boulder and into the gully like a tidal wave, filling his sight. More Sirak fell about him. An arrow tinged off Yul's helm, rocking the warrior in his saddle.\n\n\"Now,\" Yul said beside him.\n\n\"RIDE!\" Bleda cried, touching his reins, his mount turning, and then he was giving it its head, letting it gallop up the gully, away from the Cheren. All around him Sirak broke into a gallop, Yul close by. He looked over at Bleda and grinned, the first time Bleda could remember such an expression on the warrior's face.\n\nBleda grinned back.\n\nIf we are to die, we will make a song of it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He looked back, saw at least a score of his warriors littering the ground, wiping the smile from his face.\n\nThey followed me, and now they are dead.\n\nThey sped around a bend in the gully, out of sight of the pursuing Cheren, arrows stopping fora moment. Up ahead Bleda saw the second wall of tumbled rocks that had blocked their way. They had tried to clear a path through this rockfall, too, but it had quickly become apparent that there was no chance of doing it in time.\n\nRuga had been inconsolable with shame and had tried to throw herself upon her sword.\n\nI have led you to your death, she had said. Bleda had grabbed her wrist and Yul had told her it was more shameful to die before her King, unless it was in defence of Bleda's life.\n\nBleda saw her now, a face looking out at him from high up in the rocks. There were another eighty Sirak around Ruga, all waiting with bows ready. All knew the rocks had ruined their plan of staying ahead of their pursuers. Now the only option was to turn and fight, to kill all who followed them, or to die. Bleda hoped to lure the Cheren into a charge, to get them to fill the ravine, no slow, stealthy attack from them, just a killing ground full of the Cheren. From the sounds of thunder sweeping up the ravine, this plan had worked well.\n\nMaybe too well. They are too close, number too many.\n\nBattle-cries behind Bleda, the whip of arrows as the Cheren surged around the bend in the ravine. A strangled cry close by, a Sirak tumbling to the ground.\n\nBleda turned in his saddle, leaving his horse to choose her own path, only his knees guiding her, and he looked back, bow drawn, sent an arrow flying at the mass of Cheren behind him. And another. Yul and other Sirak riders did the same, and Bleda heard the snap and twang of arrows flying from bows behind him, a hiss as arrows flew overhead from Ruga and her eighty."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cheren fell, scores of them, horses, too, and in heartbeats the ravine was a tangled mass of horses and warriors.\n\nMore arrows flew, more death rained upon the Cheren. Bleda drew and loosed.\n\nCheren began to flow around the snarl of horseflesh and limbs, arrows flying up the ravine. Yul cried out and swayed in his saddle, an arrow high in his back.\n\nShouts amongst the Cheren, a hail of arrows flying Bleda's way.\n\nThey see me, my lamellar coat.\n\nArrows spattered around him, Bleda twisting in his saddle, a jerk of his knees sending his horse galloping right, towards the ravine's boulder-strewn edge. Arrows followed him, ricocheting off stone. One thumped into his mount's flank, another its back leg, and the gelding faltered, an arrow flew spinning, deflected by Bleda's lamellar plates. A trio of arrows slammed into his horse's side and neck. It screamed, stumbled and fell, Bleda suddenly airborne, flying weightless through the air, his bow slipping from his grip.\n\nHe hit the ground with a crash, breath flying from his lungs, rolled and crunched into a rock, rearing black above him. Spots dotted his vision, a wave of nausea, and then he was scrambling to his knees.\n\nAll he could think of was his bow.\n\nHis brother's bow.\n\nWhere is it? If I am to die, I want it in my hands.\n\nSo much of him was caught up in that bow. Life, when it had been happy, as a child in Arcona with his kin. And then, again, when Riv had returned it to him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv.\n\nHer face filled his mind.\n\nHis hand moved, desperately searching the ground.\n\nThe thunder of hooves. Cheren were pouring up the ravine, only a few hundred paces behind him. His horse was lying on the ground, bloody froth on his lips. He couldn't see his bow.\n\nA scream to his right: Yul, realizing that Bleda was not with them. He was dragging on his reins, turning, galloping back to Bleda, leaning in his saddle.\n\n\"No,\" Bleda said.\n\nA volley of arrows slammed all around Yul, speckling the ground, piercing his horse, the animal's front legs folding, collapsing, and Yul was hurled through the air. He hit the ground, rolled, cried out, the arrow in his back snapping. He came to his feet and stumbled towards Bleda. His bow was gone, his arm was reaching over his shoulder, sword hissing from his scabbard and then he was standing before Bleda, a human shield.\n\nArrows flew at them, Bleda staring up at Yul. The warrior's blade moved, a blur slicing through the air, and arrows fell about Bleda, chopped in two. One slammed into Yul's thigh, another skimming from his helm. Others punched into the boulder behind Bleda.\n\nShouts, war-cries, and Bleda looked up the ravine to see Ruga leading a charge from the rocks, scores of warriors behind her. And the Sirak he had been riding with were all turning, riding back towards the flood of Cheren.\n\n\"No,\" Bleda whispered.\n\nIt will all be for nothing. They will all die here.\n\nAnother volley of arrows at Yul, the warrior's sword moving impossibly fast, only the hiss of air, the crack of wood, broken arrows falling on the ground around Bleda. Yul grunted, staggered back, another arrow punched through mail into his side, high, around his ribs, blood seeping."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come, death,\" Yul snarled at the wall of Cheren warriors.\n\nBleda threw himself at Yul, crashed into the back of his legs, knocking Yul to the floor. More arrows hammering down around them. Bleda dragged him back, tight to the boulder, a partial overhang giving them slight cover.\n\nYul struggled, trying to regain his feet.\n\n\"LOOK AT ME!\" Bleda yelled, grabbing Yul's face.\n\nYul froze, stared at Bleda.\n\nBleda pulled an arrow from his quiver. He pressed it into Yul's hand.\n\n\"Take this arrow and give it to Riv. Tell her to slay Jin with it. Tell her I love her, that I tried...\"\n\n\"No,\" Yul grunted. \"I will not abandon you.\"\n\n\"I am your KING,\" Bleda growled, \"and my command is this. Lead my people, help Riv. She is with the Order of the Bright Star in Dun Seren. Help them, too.\"\n\nYul stared at him along moment. His faced twisted, a battle going on within him.\n\nA flight of Cheren arrows peppered the boulder about them, striking sparks.\n\n\"No,\" Yul said. \"My Queen died without me by her side, a shame I struggle to bear each day. I will not leave you hereto die alone.\" He looked down at himself, his body studded with Cheren arrows. \"And besides, I do not think I would get very far. Let us die together, as a Sirak king and his oathsworn man should. Killing our enemies.\" He gripped his sword.\n\nBleda looked into Yul's eyes, then nodded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A grating sound behind them, a hiss, like steam, and the boulder that Bleda and Yul were leaning against moved."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Disappearing, as Bleda tumbled backwards onto his back into a cave or tunnel as the wall vanished. A huge face peered down at him, a woman, all slabs and sharp angles.\n\nShe looked down at them, scowling.\n\nNo, she's not human. She's a giant.\n\n\"What in all the hells is going on?\" she growled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem swayed in his saddle, moving with the rhythm of Friend's gait. It was unlike a horse's movement, more a rolling, lumbering, permanent swaying, like being at sea, rather than the precise movement of a horse, and his body used different muscles to keep him sitting in his saddle. After his first day of riding upon the white bear, Drem's legs and lower back had ached more than he could ever remember. The next morning he had hardly been able to move from his cot, his muscles were so stiff and painful. Now, though, after over a moon of travelling, it felt as natural to him as walking. He leaned forwards and patted the bear's thick-muscled neck through a coat of mail, and received a rumble in response.\n\nDrem was riding down a hard-packed forest path, more like a road. To his left the forest was cutback thirty or forty paces, and to his right the river Rhenus flowed, wide and dark. Branches curled over the path, a lattice of canopy above him, though it thinned over the river, allowing beams of sunlight to intrude on this twilight world. Drem marvelled at the forest, the trees so much bigger than anything he had ever seen before. He'd thought the forests of the Desolation were impressive, but this...\n\n\"Put your eyes back in your head,\" Keld said, riding a horse beside him, \"they're only trees, and there's a lot more where they came from. It's what they're hiding that we need to be looking for.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" said Drem, taking his eyes from the canopy above to search the gloom that pressed about them. He saw loping shadows flitting amongst the trees: Fen and Ralla and other wolven-hounds that were part of their scouting party."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There it is,\" Keld said, pointing ahead."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Abridge appeared, crossing the river into a dark-stoned fortress, walls thick with ivy surrounding a squat keep. \"Brikan, garrison of the Order.\"\n\nThey were riding at the head of a score of warriors, all huntsmen and women of the Order, sent ahead by Byrne to lead the garrison of Brikan out of Forn and join the warband in their march southwards, to Ripa.\n\n\"Brikan, Brikan.\" Rab flapped down from above, setting other crows in the trees to squawking.\n\n\"We know,\" Keld said to the crow, \"but thank you, anyway.\"\n\n\"Welcome,\" Rab croaked, as he spiralled above their heads.\n\nDrem saw figures upon the wall. A horn call rang through the forest.\n\n\"Shouldn't be here long,\" Keld called out to all in the scouting party. \"Rest your mounts, a bite to eat and drink. Reng, soon as you've done that, roundup a crew and scout out a perimeter. Don't want any surprises.\"\n\n\"Aye, chief,\" Reng said, a slender warrior, lean-muscled. Drem had sparred with Reng many times in Dun Seren and been surprised by his wiry strength. He had expected him to be fast, which he was, but the strength in his lean frame seemed to exceed the man's weight.\n\nThey reached the bridge that crossed the river and led directly into the fortress. Hooves clattered on stone, Friend's claws scratching gouges. Warriors of the Order lined the gatehouse wall. Keld raised a hand to them, and the gates swung open. Drem rode into a wide courtyard, feeling a hundred pairs of eyes upon him and the white bear. The courtyard was edged with a moss-covered stonewall, a score of buildings around the sides. Stables, forge, grain stores, water barrels, a haybarn. Drem saw a handful of wains fully loaded, auroch harnessed and ready, and a few score horses tethered to rails; they were all saddled and ready to ride. In front of Drem a set of wide steps led up to the keep, a squat building wrapped in vine. Warriors lined the walls, others were in the courtyard and on the keep's steps. Drem counted over a hundred."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A man strode down the steps of the keep, grey hair tied back except for his warrior braid, a beard grey and dark as storm clouds, his eyebrows jutting from his brow. He was dressed for war in a coat of mail, a surcoat of the Order worn over it, black wool with the bright star upon his chest. He was of average height, with a lightness to his step that spoke to Drem of ability and speed, despite his age. Sword, knife and axe all hung from his weapons-belt.\n\n\"Well met,\" he called out to Keld, as the scouting party spilt into Brikan's courtyard, wolven-hounds loping amongst them, all wrapped in coats of mail.\n\n\"Well met, Halden,\" Keld called back to him. He dismounted, a stablehand taking his reins, Fen and Ralla falling in either side of him as he strode to Halden. They took each other's arms in the warrior grip.\n\n\"Mind if my crew eat some of your food and drink some of your water?\"\n\n\"Course not,\" Halden said, gesturing towards the stables and water barrels. Drem saw that along table had been laid out, food and drink upon it.\n\n\"We've packed all we can carry,\" Halden said, \"might as well try and eat the rest.\"\n\nMost of Keld's crew dismounted and led their horses towards the stables and water.\n\n\"You look ready to ride,\" Keld said, nodding to the saddled horses and loaded wains.\n\n\"Aye,\" Halden said. \"We had visitors, three nights gone. Winged visitors.\"\n\n\"Meical, Riv and the others,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Halden said. \"Strange times we are living in. Meical free of his skin of metal. A half-breed Ben-Elim flying the skies in broad daylight.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That's Riv,\" Drem said. \"She swore the oath.\"\n\nHalden looked up at Drem upon Friend's back.\n\n\"I'm glad to see it,\" he said. \"It's about time, been too long incoming. And I'm guessing we can use all the help we can get.\" He stepped back, staring at the white bear. \"And this big lump is a pleasant surprise. I've seen keeps smaller than this bear.\" His eyes drifted up to Drem. \"Big as you are, you're the smallest giant I've ever seen,\" he said.\n\n\"Ha, he's no giant,\" Keld said. \"You're looking at Drem ben Olin. He's Olin and Neve's boy.\"\n\n\"Well, I'll be,\" Halden said with a grin. \"You'd best begetting your arse down here, then, so I can give you a proper welcome.\"\n\nDrem lifted one leg over Friend's saddle and slid to the ground. It was along way down, but he had mastered it now. Alcyon had adapted Friend's saddle, added a set of leather hoops to the stirrups, a little like a ladder, but Drem only used them to climb up into the saddle. Getting down was much easier.\n\nAs falling is easier than climbing.\n\nHooves clattered on stone as Reng led a crew of five out of the courtyard, dipping his head to Keld and Halden as he went. A handful of wolven-hounds followed them, loping out of the gate and across the bridge.\n\nHalden stood and looked Drem up and down.\n\n\"Well, you're a big one.\" He slapped Drem's shoulder. \"I can see Olin in you, and your mother. They were fine people. Friends.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem just nodded. It still felt strange, that so many people at the Order had known his mam and da so well.\n\nBetter than me.\n\nHalden looked up at the white bear. \"Well, there's a story there, I'm guessing. You're the first man I've ever heard of to ride a giant bear.\"\n\n\"There is a story,\" Keld said, \"along one. Drem and this bear have saved each other's lives, many times each now, from Kergard in the Desolation to Dun Seren. And likely will again, before this war is done.\"\n\n\"So, it's happening, then,\" Halden said. Drem thought he saw hints of excitement and apprehension mingled on the man's face, though he could not be sure. He'd never been a very good judge of what a man was thinking by the expressions he pulled. Olin had tried to give him lessons.\n\n\"Asroth awakened, the Kadoshim taking Drassil, the Ben-Elim routed. The last battle of the Long War, ending in our times.\" Halden blew out along breath, then smiled. \"We've waited along time for this, my friend,\" he said to Keld.\n\n\"Aye. And we'd best be riding soon, if we don't want to miss it,\" Keld said. \"Byrne and the rest are half a day's ride west. Don't want to let them have all the fun.\"\n\n\"As you see, we are all ready. You and your crew refresh yourselves, and we'll be off.\"\n\nDrem saw that Keld's scouts were already at the table. Wolven-hounds were snarling over a trough of butchered scraps.\n\nThe bear swung its head, snuffling, raised his head, sniffed the air and then growled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem was learning to tell the difference between the bear's growls. Some were playful, or mournful, or friendly.\n\nThis one was none of those.\n\nWolven-hounds lifted their heads from their gnawing of bones, looked to the open gateway of the keep and also growled.\n\nA horn blew upon the walls.\n\n\"Rider approaching,\" a voice called.\n\nThe thud of hooves beyond Brikan's walls, and Drem looked out through the open gateway, across the bridge and into the forest.\n\nReng appeared, riding hard, a wolven-hound bounding at his side. There was blood on the hound's muzzle. Blood on Reng.\n\nBehind them a mist boiled from the forest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda stared at the giant. She was shaven-headed, apart from a ridge of black spiky hair running down the middle of her head.\n\n\"Dun Seren,\" she said, her voice like rusty iron. \"You said Dun Seren. You said the Order of the Bright Star.\"\n\nOther figures loomed behind her, more giants, heads shaved, clothed in mail, leather and fur.\n\n\"Yes,\" Bleda said. \"I am allied to the Order of the Bright Star.\"\n\nScreams filtered into the cave he was half in. The pounding of hooves and a Cheren rider appeared, horse rearing, his bow drawn. He hesitated a moment, seeing the cave opening and a giant leaning over Bleda, but only fora heartbeat and then his arrow was leaping from the string of his bow, straight at Bleda's chest.\n\nThe giant swung her arm, a huge round shield covering Bleda and Yul. The arrow punched into it, a spray of splinters near Bleda's face as the arrowhead pierced wood. Bleda heard a scream cut short, the splatter of blood and the Cheren warrior crashed to the ground, lifeless eyes staring at him.\n\nThe shield withdrew, the giant stared at him again, a spear in her fist dripping blood.\n\n\"Help us, please,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"Do giants still stand with the Order?\" the giant asked him.\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda said. \"Ethlinn, Balur One-Eye... Alcyon.\" They were the only giants Bleda knew well enough to recall in an instant.\n\nThe giant recoiled, her face twisting in a scowl, Bleda thought she was going to kill him. Instead she stood, said something to the giants behind her in a language he didn't understand. One of them raised a horn to his lips and blew, the sound deep and ominous, echoing through the cave and out into the ravine."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Other Cheren riders rode at them, reining in their mounts, bows nocked and drawn-warriors searching for Bleda and Yul. At the sound of the horn they hesitated.\n\nThe giant stepped out in front of them, her shield high, and threw a spear. It pierced a rider, hurled him from his horse, flying through the air to crash into another horse and rider behind him. The giant took a few long strides forwards, startlingly fast, at the same time pulling a one-handed hammer from her belt and hefting it. She smashed it into the chest of the second Cheren rider, the sound of bones shattering and the rider disappeared from her saddle.\n\n\"With me,\" the giantess cried over her shoulder.\n\n\"Kill the ones in blue,\" Bleda shouted to her. \"Those in grey are with me.\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\nOther giants issued from the cave, striding over Bleda and Yul and out into the ravine, just as the charging ranks of Cheren and Sirak met with a deafening crash. Along the ravine other granite doors opened, more giants emerging from them. The giants bellowed a war-cry and charged, wielding long-hafted hammers, axes and spears. They slammed into the flank of the Cheren like a wave into kindling. Cheren warriors and their horses fell in an explosion of limbs and blood.\n\nBleda scrambled to his feet, gave Yul his arm and pulled the warrior up. He was wounded many times, arrows protruding from his leg and torso.\n\nOne by one Yul gripped the arrows and snapped them, a grimace of pain. Then he hefted his sword and grinned at Bleda.\n\n\"Let's kill some Cheren.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Revenants,\" Drem breathed.\n\nKeld and Halden ran to the wall, speeding up the stairwell, Drem behind them, others from the courtyard following.\n\nReng was galloping for the bridge, a black mist rolling along the path behind him, curling from the trees either side, then his horse's hooves were cracking on stone and he was bursting through the open gates of the fortress, his wolven-hound leaping behind him.\n\n\"Ware Revenants,\" Reng cried out.\n\nFeet pounded on steps; warriors manned the wall, Keld's scouts amongst them.\n\n\"Halden, best be closing those gates,\" Keld said grimly.\n\n\"CLOSE THE GATES!\" Halden bellowed, then looked to Keld. \"What are Revenants?\"\n\n\"Look,\" Keld said.\n\nThe mist boiled along the path, spilling out onto the riverside. More vapour flowed from the wall of trees beyond the river, rolled up to the bridge and stopped, churning sluggishly. Shapes moved within the mist.\n\n\"How many ways out of here?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"That's it,\" Keld nodded at the bridge.\n\nThe flapping of wings-Rab all but fell from the sky above them.\n\n\"Revenants, Revenants,\" the bird was squawking, alighting on the wall before Drem and Keld.\n\n\"Will that bird ever tell us anything before we already know it,\" Keld muttered.\n\n\"Worried,\" Rab croaked.\n\n\"Rab, fly to Byrne as fast as your wings will take you, tell her what is happening here.\"\n\n\"Rab not leave friends,\" Rab protested."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Go now,\" Keld said. \"If Byrne doesn't learn of this, and soon, then none of us will be leaving here.\"\n\nRab hopped from claw to claw.\n\n\"Rab fly, save friends,\" he said, then leaped into the air and flapped over their heads, spiralled once and flew west.\n\nOn the riverbank a figure stepped out from the mist.\n\nA man once, now twisted. He was tall, his head shaven, pale as parchment, black veins mapping his skin. He looked up at Drem and the others on the wall, hissed at them, revealing a mouth too full of razored teeth. One eye drooped shut, a scar running through it. His chin was crusted black with blood.\n\nA memory flashed through Drem's mind, of Gulla rising before a bloodstained table, of seven figures stepping forward, raising their chins and baring their throats to the Kadoshim lord.\n\n\"That's one of the Seven,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Revenants? The Seven?\" Halden said.\n\n\"Dark spawn of Gulla and twisted magic,\" Drem replied.\n\n\"Rune-marked spear,\" Keld cried, turning and looking down into the courtyard. One of his scouts threw a spear up to him.\n\nKeld caught it, in one motion turned, arm whipping back and then forwards, the spear hurtling from his grip. It flew down from the wall, across the water.\n\nThe Revenant on the riverbank saw it, watched, then swayed. A spark of blue fire as the spear's edge grazed the creature's ribs, sailed onto disappear in the mist. There was a gurgled scream, a flare of blue light inside the mist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bollocks,\" Keld muttered. \"Do you have a rune-marked blade?\"\n\nThe figure on the riverbank raised a taloned hand and pointed at the keep.\n\n\"Aye,\" Halden said, patting his scabbarded sword.\n\n\"Brothers, sisters, be ready to FIGHT,\" Keld called out. \"All with a rune-marked blade to the wall and gates.\"\n\n\"Only a runed blade will hurt them,\" Drem said to Halden. \"Anyone without such a blade will die a quick death at these creatures' hands.\"\n\nThe Revenant on the bank opened its mouth and screeched. A high-pitched, scratching sound issued from its mouth, like a thousand flies trying to crawl into Drem's brain. He fought the urge to put his hands over his ears.\n\nThe mist moved, slid onto the bridge, gaining momentum, flowing across, towards the barred gates.\n\nKeld turned and sprinted down the wall's steps, running for his horse.\n\nDrem drew his sword and thrust it into Halden's hands. \"It's runed-give it to someone who needs it.\" Halden grunted and turned, barking out orders to his warriors as he strode along the wall, heading to the gates. Everywhere was motion: warriors running to the gate, racing to the walls. Drem glimpsed Keld's scouts handing out their weapons-all of Keld's crew had more than one runed blade, whether it be spear, axe or sword.\n\nDrem drew his seax and hand-axe, hefted them, felt the excitement and fear of imminent battle flutter through his veins.\n\nThe mist slammed into the gates, burst upwards like a dark wave, wisps curling over the wall. The barred gate shook as bodies slammed into it, hundreds, the sound of wood creaking."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Keld appeared beside him, his bow and quiver of arrows in his fist."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fen and Ralla were with him, snarling, muscles rippling in their coats of mail. Drem looked to the white bear, saw he was standing below in the courtyard, facing the gates, snarling and scratching the ground.\n\nKeld rested his quiver of arrows against the wall and strung his bow. Impacts against the gate echoed through the courtyard, a tremor Drem could feel in his boots and bones. He leaned over the battlement, peering at the bridge and gate.\n\nThat gate is not like Dun Seren's. It is not going to hold.\n\nRevenants appeared, swarming out of the mist, climbing the gate and towers in a tangle of snarled limbs, just as they had done at Dun Seren.\n\n\"BURN THEM!\" Keld cried out as he drew an arrow from his quiver, leaned out over the wall, loosed at the Revenants climbing the gate. A spark of blue fire. Another arrow loosed, then another and another. Bodies fell from the wall, into the river.\n\nDrem bounced on his toes, feeling both frustrated that he couldn't get at the Revenants and a sense of building dread in his gut about the numbers they were facing. There had been no warning of this attack, no time to tell Halden and the warriors of Brikan that fire was the greatest weapon against the Revenants, and no chance to explain the urgency of identifying and killing the Revenants\" leader. It was all happening too fast.\n\nThe Revenants clambering the wall were close to the top. Some of Keld's scouts were there, stabbing with rune-marked spears, other warriors of Brikan with runed blades or burning torches. Drem saw a constant crackle of blue flame in the swarm at the gate, a Revenant here and there falling away, flames sprouting from face or body, but the throng of creatures swallowed their dead and kept hurling themselves at the gates, others surging upwards in amass of bodies."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Keld loosed his last arrow, saw a Revenant tumble into the river, disappearing with hardly a splash.\n\nWith a growl, he dropped his bow and shrugged his shield onto his arm, drew his sword.\n\n\"With me, Drem,\" he said, and strode along the wall towards the gateway.\n\nRevenants were clawing their way onto the wall, tendrils of mist curling up around them, grabbing at limbs even as they were stabbed. A warrior of the Order was dragged screaming over the wall. Then another. A Revenant leaped out of the mist, landed on all fours, threw itself into a warrior, the two of them falling into the courtyard.\n\nDrem reached the press, leaned and stabbed a Revenant as it climbed, saw a hundred more beneath it. The mist on the bridge seethed and swarmed with dark figures.\n\nThere are too many.\n\n\"We must find their captain,\" Keld grunted, thrusting his sword into the mass of enemies in front of him.\n\nRevenants were clambering over the wall, now too many of them to push back. One threw itself onto a warrior of Brikan. She swung a sword but the creature was too fast, surging inside her guard, jaws wide, teeth searching for flesh. Drem stabbed it in the waist with his seax, a burst of blue flame, saw it spasm and scream, chopped into its skull with his axe, bone and rotten flesh exploding. The Revenant collapsed, the woman pushing it away in revulsion.\n\nAloud crack from the gates, vibrating up through stone. Drem and those around him froze fora moment. Another crack, louder, the iron hinges of the gate squealing.\n\nThen in a burst and screech of iron and splintered wood the gates exploded inwards. Drem and those around him on the wall above the gates were thrown to the ground."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A frozen moment, a cloud of dust filling the courtyard, slowly settling. Drem clambered to his feet, saw Keld rising.\n\nBlack mist poured through the shattered gateway, followed by countless Revenants.\n\n\"SHIELD WALL!\" a voice yelled in the courtyard, Halden, standing with forty or fifty warriors of Brikan. Round shields came together with a crack, sharp steel glinting. The Revenants hit it like a wave, the wall staggered, straining, but it held against the first rush, swords and spears stabbing out, flashes of blue flame and Revenants fell back, screaming.\n\nThey have no chance, Drem thought, the shield wall is too short, its flanks unprotected. Even as Drem looked he saw Revenants pouring around the shield wall's edges, leaping and tearing at warriors.\n\nThere was a deafening roar as Friend waded into the Revenants on the shield wall's right flank. He swiped with his claws, his huge jaws clamping onto bodies and shaking them. Revenants went flying through the air like sticks, bellies opened, torsos and limbs shredded. Drem saw a severed head spinning through the air.\n\nIt gave a moment's reprieve; the shield wall took a step forwards, stabbing down at the scattered Revenants. But the tide of creatures through the smashed gates was relentless, the courtyard filling. Anew wave threw themselves at Friend, swarming over him.\n\n\"No, not again,\" Drem breathed, and leaped into the courtyard.\n\nHe slammed into a knot of Revenants, scattered them, though they were instantly twisting and turning, leaping back to their feet. Drem slashed and stabbed with axe and seax, crackling blue flame as Revenants fell about him. Then Keld was at his side, Fen and Ralla throwing themselves at the creatures, ripping at limbs, Keld working with them, his runed sword stabbing and hacking at any Revenant the wolven-hounds pinned or distracted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They cut away through to Friend. The bear was covered with Revenants biting and slashing at him, frenziedly trying to rip through his coat of mail. Friend let out a deafening roar, spittle flying, and he reared onto his back legs, throwing a dozen black figures in all directions, slammed back down to earth, crushing a fallen Revenant; the ground shook. Drem chopped into a skull, stabbed through aback, ripped his blade free, sliced another Revenant across the face. Keld punching Revenants with his shield, stabbing, chopped into one between neck and shoulder, his blade snaring in bone, dragged down, his booted foot on the dying creature's chest, yanking his blade free.\n\nAnd then the bear was free, a space cleared around them, dead or dying Revenants all about, gurgling, scratching. Fen and Ralla crouched either side of Keld, snarling. Drem strode to Friend, stood with his back to the bear's shoulder, looking into the courtyard.\n\nHalden's shield wall was swamped: dead Revenants piled before it but so many more were climbing over the dead. Drem saw one grab a shield rim and drag the warrior holding it out from the ranks, three Revenants falling upon her, tearing and biting. A warrior stepped into the breach from the second rank with a two-handed spear and pierced a Revenant, blade punching into its chest and bursting out of its back. But the spear was not rune-marked. The Revenant gripped the shaft piercing its chest and dragged itself along the wood towards the warrior, grabbing him by the throat, talons raking flesh to red ribbons.\n\nA scream from above, shadows flitting across the courtyard, and Drem looked up, saw winged figures swooping down. Their wings were black and leathery."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"WARE THE SKIES!\" Keld cried as Kadoshim and half-breeds fell upon the courtyard. Drem saw a half-breed woman swoop at the shield wall and stab down with a spear, a dozen more winged warriors following her.\n\nIt's her, Gulla's daughter.\n\nThe shield wall shattered with her attack, a hole opened that Revenants poured through, the shield wall breaking and splintering.\n\n\"TO THE KEEP!\" Keld yelled, started to run, stopped and grabbed Drem by the shoulder, half dragging him. Drem turned and ran with him, Fen and Ralla bounding ahead, leaping up the wide steps. \"Friend!\" Drem bellowed. The bear was swatting at another Revenant, then turned and lumbered with them.\n\nThe keep's doors were open. Brikan was built from stone by giants in an age long past. Drem ran through into a deep hall, turned at the entrance. Friend trudged past-there was room enough for him.\n\nKeld stood at the gateway and put a horn to his lips, gave it three short blows, the sound echoing in the hall, ringing out into the courtyard.\n\n\"WARRIORS OF THE ORDER!\" Keld yelled. \"TOME! The doors,\" he called to Drem, and the two of them began to heave them closed. Warriors leaped up the stairs, ran into the hall, ten, fifteen. All about the courtyard battle raged. A knot of warriors from the shield wall were fighting their way up the steps, others caught in scattered melees. Horses bucked and screamed as Revenants fell upon them, a stampede as ropes were snapped, some horses galloping for the gateway, trampling Revenants and clattering across the bridge, others falling to the horde, dragged down by a wave of teeth and talons. Their screams filled the courtyard."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Reng burst through the doorway, his wolven-hound still with him, a handful more of Keld's scouts following. They turned and helped Drem and Keld with the doors, some reaching for the wooden bar. Halden was leading a knot of warriors up the steps. Drem ran to join them, chopped his axe into a Revenant's wrist, severing the hand that had just grabbed a warrior's shield. He ducked a swipe of talons from the other hand and stabbed upwards with his seax, punched into the creature's belly, on, upwards and deeper, found its rotted heart, twisted his blade and then pushed it away.\n\n\"YOU!\" a voice cried. Drem looked into the courtyard to see Gulla's half-breed daughter staring at him. She hurled her spear; Drem stumbled to the side, the spear striking stone and flying through the keep's doors.\n\nShe beat her wings, moving towards him.\n\nDrem turned and ran, throwing himself into the hall just behind Halden.\n\nKeld and Reng were closing the doors.\n\nDrem hefted the wooden bar, ready to set it in the doors, another warrior helping him.\n\nSomething changed in the courtyard, a stillness settling upon the Revenants, all of them halting whatever they were doing. They all looked up. Survivors of the Order took the opportunity, running to the keep's open doorway, flying through.\n\nDrem saw the Revenants' captain again, standing in the wreckage of the smashed gateway. He was looking up, too.\n\nDrem followed their stare, saw half-breeds descending, maybe fifty of them, alighting in the courtyard amongst the dead, then a score of Kadoshim. They spread through the courtyard, forming a ring. Another figure descended, dark wings wide, beating slowly, dust stirring on the ground. He was a Kadoshim, but different. Taller, limbs stretched, musculature striated. He wore a coat of dark mail, a nimbus shadow about him like a dark halo, and he had only one eye, which glowed red."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Gulla,\" Drem whispered, though all in the hall heard him; the silence in the courtyard was absolute.\n\nGulla looked about him, surveying the dead, saw warriors of the Order scattered everywhere, the courtyard slick with their blood. He smiled, then looked up at the keep, saw Keld, Reng and Drem.\n\nKeld slammed his door shut, Reng a heartbeat behind him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda sat on a stone chair too big for him; he felt like a child with his feet dangling. He was exhausted, limbs heavy, his very bones aching, but there was also an energy flowing through him.\n\nI am alive, when I thought I was dead. Should have been dead.\n\nHe looked about. They were in a huge cavern, wide bowls burning with blue-tinged fire set around the chamber.\n\nYul was lying on a table, his mail and deel stripped away, the giant cutting arrows from his body. All around them injured Sirak warriors were being tended. About a hundred of his warriors were still breathing, survivors of the battle in the gully.\n\n\"Are you... Raina?\" he said.\n\nThe giant's head snapped up at him and she frowned, brows bunching.\n\n\"How do you know that?\" she said in her voice of iron.\n\n\"A crow from Dun Seren was looking for you. Durl. He hasn't found you yet, then?\"\n\n\"No,\" Raina grunted, her frown deepening.\n\nThe battle in the gully had been short and fierce. All of his Sirak had ridden at the Cheren, trying to get to Bleda and Yul, but the Cheren numbers had been overwhelming. But then the giants had charged from their hidden tunnels, crashing into the Cheren's flank, axe and hammer and spear smashing the Cheren into pulped, bloody ruin. In less than a hundred heartbeats it had been all but over, close to five hundred Cheren lying on the rocky floor, bleeding into the mountain's bones.\n\nOther giants came and stood around Raina, tall and brooding. All of them had shaved heads, strips of hair down the middle of their heads. Most of them wore leather and mail. One that was standing close to Raina wore along, short-sleeved coat of lamellar plate, like Bleda's, except that each iron plate was as big as Bleda's fist. He was fair-haired, a twisted scar running through his nose."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He said something to Raina in a language Bleda didn't understand.\n\n\"This is Ukran, Lord of the Kurgan,\" Raina said to Bleda.\n\n\"Oh, you are not their lord, then,\" Bleda said to her. For some reason he'd thought that she was.\n\n\"She is not,\" the giant said haltingly. His voice deeper and rustier even than Raina's.\n\n\"The Kurgan are not used to speaking in the Common Tongue,\" Raina said with a shrug. She dug a knife into Yul's back, coaxing an arrowhead out, soaking up blood with a linen rag. Yul grunted. With a sucking sound the arrow pulled free. Raina set to stitching the wound, a hooked needle on the end of a thread as thick as a bowstring.\n\n\"So small it hardly needs stitching,\" Ukran grated.\n\nRaina ignored him, carried on stitching.\n\nBleda was proud of Yul: he made not a sound.\n\nWhen she was done Raina cleaned the wound, packed leaves and honey onto it and then wrapped a linen bandage around Yul's back and chest. She took his arm and helped him sit upright.\n\nThat was the third arrow she had cut from Yul's body, the third wound she'd stitched and cleaned.\n\n\"I am in your debt,\" Bleda said to her. \"To all of you.\"\n\n\"You are, little man,\" Ukran agreed. \"I was of a mind to kill you all. I don't like strangers.\" He scowled at Bleda.\n\n\"Well, I am doubly thankful that you joined with us,\" Bleda said. \"I am Bleda ben Erdene, Lord of the Sirak. Well met, Ukran, Lord of the Kurgan.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The giant just looked at him.\n\n\"We are all strangers until we meet,\" Bleda said with a shrug. He held his arm out, offered the warrior's grip.\n\nRaina's mouth twitched at that.\n\n\"Hmm,\" Ukran rumbled. Then he took Bleda's arm in a huge fist.\n\n\"And my thanks, for not killing us,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"You have Raina to thank for that,\" Ukran said.\n\n\"You spoke of Dun Seren and the Order of the Bright Star,\" Raina said. \"Of Ethlinn and Balur and... Alcyon.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda said. \"You know them?\"\n\nA smile ghosted Raina's face.\n\n\"Aye,\" she said. \"Alcyon is my husband.\"\n\nBleda nearly fell off his huge stone chair. Alcyon was the giant he had known the longest. Bleda had ridden upon Alcyon's bear saddle all the way from Arcona to Drassil, so many years ago. Despite that, he had liked the giant. There had always been a sense of kindness behind his dark, quiet eyes.\n\n\"So, what news from the west?\" Raina said. \"Why is Durl searching for me?\"\n\n\"The news is war,\" Bleda said. \"The Kadoshim have risen, Drassil is fallen, Asroth awakened. The Ben-Elim are routed.\"\n\nRaina was silent, her face unreadable. \"And what of the Order?\" she asked.\n\nBleda looked at Raina. Was aware that he was giving her much information, while hardly knowing who she was.\n\nBut Durl is seeking her, a crow from Dun Seren, so she must be allied to them somehow. Alcyon is her husband. And most importantly of all, she saved my life, and the lives of my warriors. I am in her debt, and the least I can give her is the truth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda sucked in a deep breath.\n\n\"In truth I know little of them. Only that one I love has gone to them, asking for their aid.\"\n\n\"One you love?\"\n\n\"Aye. Her name is Riv. She is a half-breed Ben-Elim. She has gone to Drassil with Meical and other Ben-Elim-\"\n\n\"Meical!\" Raina interrupted.\n\n\"Aye. He was freed along with Asroth. Riv saved him, helped him escape from Drassil.\" He felt his chest swell with pride at that.\n\nIs she not the fiercest, bravest warrior in all the Banished Lands?\n\n\"And what are they asking the Order of the Bright Star to do?\" Raina asked. \"What is Meical's plan?\"\n\n\"To meet at Ripa. There is a garrison of White-Wings there, the largest force outside of Drassil. All those who survived Drassil are heading there. I too have promised to raise my people and take them to Ripa.\"\n\nRaina looked around the chamber.\n\n\"One hundred Sirak will not make so much of a difference,\" she said.\n\nYul grunted at that. He clearly disagreed.\n\n\"There are more of us than this. I led these brave warriors as a diversion, allowing eight hundred of my people to make it to the Tethys Pass.\"\n\nRaina looked at him along while, then at Ukran.\n\n\"You are an interesting man, Bleda ben Erdene,\" she said at last.\n\n\"Aye,\" Ukran said. \"I think I am glad we saved your life.\"\n\nBleda dipped his head to them both.\n\n\"So, you are bound for Ripa?\" Raina said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Aye."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Can you help me get there? These mountains are full of a Cheren warband hunting me.\"\n\n\"We will kill them,\" Ukran said.\n\n\"Although I do not doubt your skill, they number three to four thousand riders,\" Bleda told him.\n\n\"Hmm,\" Ukran rumbled. \"Perhaps we shall leave them be, then.\"\n\n\"I will help you get to Ripa,\" Raina said. \"I will do more than that. I will come with you.\" She looked at Ukran. \"I have news that the Order needs to hear, news that Ukran's scouts have discovered. I am hoping that Ukran and his Clan will march with me, that they will join in this war against Asroth.\"\n\n\"We are safe here,\" Ukran replied with a shrug. \"Why march my people to death, when they can stay here and live?\"\n\n\"Because if Asroth and the Kadoshim win, then death will find you, even here,\" Bleda assured him. \"This is no political war, one king seeking land and titles. This is a war against evil. I have looked into a Kadoshim's eyes and seen it. They would kill us all. Every living, breathing creature that walks the Banished Lands.\" He raised his hands, palms up. \"That is why I fight. To protect those I love from death.\"\n\n\"That is the only reason to fight,\" Raina said.\n\nUkran regarded him with dark, brooding eyes.\n\n\"What is this news that the Order of the Bright Star needs to hear?\" Bleda asked Raina.\n\nI have been truthful with her, told her all I know. Will she dome the same courtesy?\n\nShe gave him another long, unreadable look."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Shekam giants are riding to war, and Kadoshim fly above their Clan.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bar the doors,\" Keld said. Drem and the other warriors were only too happy to oblige. A thick oak bar slammed into place, latched with four thick hooks.\n\nThey stepped away from the doorway.\n\n\"That Gulla you spoke of, their leader, he's out there?\" Halden asked. He was bleeding from claw marks across one cheek.\n\n\"Aye,\" Keld said.\n\n\"And his half-breed daughter,\" Drem said.\n\n\"And one of the Seven,\" Keld added.\n\nHalden snorted and shook his head.\n\nDrem looked into the hall. There were seventy or eighty warriors there, a mixture of Keld's scouts and Halden's warriors of Brikan. All had rune-marked blades; those who didn't were corpses outside, bleeding into the courtyard's stone. Friend loomed behind them, and Fen and Ralla padded in the shadows, four more wolven-hounds snarling at the keep's doorway. The hall was vaulted, shuttered windows along two walls.\n\n\"Ways out? Somewhere more defensible?\" Keld asked.\n\n\"Rooms in the tower,\" Halden said, a jerk of his head towards a stairwell at the back of the hall. \"Or the dungeons below.\"\n\nDrem already knew that, whatever the decision, he wouldn't be leaving this hall. The keep was built for giants, but Friend would struggle to fit through stairwells and corridors, and would certainly have no room to turn or fight. Drem walked to Friend's side, leaned against the white bear.\n\n\"I've led you into another tight spot,\" Drem said sadly.\n\nFriend rumbled a growl, nudged Drem with his muzzle. Revenant flesh hung between his teeth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm not of a mind to run,\" Halden said. \"Let's try and kill the bastards here.\"\n\nKeld nodded, grinned.\n\nWarriors took water skins from their belts, drank deeply, some tending to wounds, ripping and tying makeshift bandages, no time for more. Some sat at benches in the hall, cleaning weapons.\n\nA slow banging on the door, a fist shaking dust from timbers.\n\n\"I saw you, son of Olin. Slayer of my son. I know you are in there. My daughter is out herewith me. She dreams of your death.\" Gulla's voice seeped through the door like a scratching hiss, squirming into Drem's head, making his ears itch.\n\nDrem looked at Keld.\n\n\"I am coming in. You will all soon be dead. Best you say your last words, but know this: your time is over, the Long War is already won, the Banished Lands ours. You are already dead, you just do not know it yet.\"\n\n\"Less talking, more fighting,\" Halden called back, \"and then we'll see who will be doing the dying.\"\n\nA hissing laugh, then silence.\n\nWarriors looked atone another, hefting weapons.\n\n\"Ready,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Kill Gulla's captain and many of the Revenants will fall,\" Drem said into the silence. \"Kill Gulla and all the Revenants die.\"\n\n\"He speaks the truth,\" Keld said. \"Kill Gulla.\" He said it again, louder. \"Kill Gulla.\"\n\nVoices joined him, becoming a chant.\n\n\"KILL GULLA, KILL GULLA, KILL GULLA.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A silence settled again, no sound of movement from the other side of the doors.\n\nA sudden bang, a shutter across a window imploding, splinters of wood showered in. A Revenant crashed through into the hall, crunching into the long table, rolling to its feet, snarling, talons slashing. All along the wall Revenants smashed through the shuttered windows, falling and rolling, rising, running.\n\nBattle erupted, warriors of the Order cutting down the incomers with their rune-marked blades, more Revenants pouring through the open windows. Halden threw himself at a Revenant standing upon the long table, chopped into its ankle with his sword, severing its foot. The Revenant swayed and fell, Halden's sword hacking into its neck. Another Revenant leaped upon Halden's back; Reng stabbed it with a spear.\n\nA huge thump against the keep's doorway, an explosion of dust.\n\nDrem stabbed a Revenant through the belly as it leaped upon him, the creature hurtling into Drem, its momentum sending them both tumbling to the ground. Drem kicked and rolled, extricated himself from the dead weight, climbed back to his feet.\n\nAnother crash, the doors rattling in their hinges. The bar creaked, fissures opening.\n\nFriend grabbed a Revenant in his jaws, shook his head and body pieces flew indifferent directions.\n\nAnother blow against the door, fracture lines crackling through it, the bar bending, a series of snapping sounds.\n\nWinged shapes swept through the open windows, half-breeds and Kadoshim, flying up into the eaves of the hall, hovering. Spears flung, warriors of the Order falling.\n\nKeld punched a Revenant in the face with his shield boss, sent it staggering, Fen and Ralla leaping forwards, jaws clamping on its arms, dragging it down, Keld stepping forwards, stabbing it in the face, an eruption of blue fire."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A deafening crash, the doors exploded inwards, shards of splintered timber flying through the air, one impaling a warrior of the Order, hurling her into a wall.\n\nFora frozen moment, all stared at the shattered doorway, abeam of light flooding in, then gone as bodies filled the entrance. Revenants poured into the room, mouths wide, jaws snapping, talons reaching. Kadoshim and half-breeds flew above them.\n\nDeath comes for us all, Drem thought. But we'll take some of you with us.\n\nHe slashed a Revenant across the face, saw it fall in a spray of teeth, a horizontal chop of his axe into another's throat, blue fire sizzling, ripped the blade free as the Revenant collapsed. Pushed back by the press of bodies. Friend roared, lashed out, eviscerating three Revenants with one swipe of his razored paws.\n\nThen Drem saw the Revenant captain. In life he had been an acolyte, hair shaven short. His lower jaw was covered, thick with blood. He exploded into the room, ducked a warrior's sword-swing, ripped the shield from her arm and leaped in close, jaws opening wide, clamping on her throat. They fell to the ground, the Revenant's head shaking, blood spurting. The warrior's feet drummed on the ground.\n\n\"KELD!\" Drem yelled, pointing at the captain. Keld nodded, the two of them cutting away forwards, Fen and Ralla following Keld, Friend with Drem.\n\nThe churning of air above Drem. He instinctively ducked, a spear stabbing where his face had been. He turned and looked up-Gulla's half-breed daughter was glaring down at him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My name is Morn,\" she snarled. \"It is good to know the name of your killer.\" Her spear stabbed again, Drem twisting, steel scraping on his shoulder, links of his mail coat tearing.\n\nDrem chopped with his axe, splintered the spear shaft. Morn flung it at him and he batted it away. She drew her sword.\n\nFriend roared, swiped at her, Morn's wings beating, moving her, but claws raked awing, sending her spinning. She screamed as she fell, and more half-breeds swooped from the sky, jabbing spears at Friend. A red gash opened along one cheek, mail tearing on his flank. Drem grabbed the net at his belt, swung it overhead and released, lead weights spreading, wrapping around one half-breed, crushing his wings together and he plummeted from the air, crashed to the stone floor. Friend stamped on him, blood and bone erupting.\n\nThere were half-breeds and Kadoshim all around now, the air a turbulence of wings, stabbing at Friend, forcing him back, away from Drem.\n\nMore wings behind Drem, an impact in his back, throwing him to the ground. He fell and rolled, looked up into Gulla's face. Gulla had a longsword in his fist and swung at Drem's head. Drem lashed outwith his seax, rolled at the same time, a clang of steel and sparks flew. He swayed right, a vertical cut from Gulla's sword missing him by a finger's width. Pushing to his feet, he slashed at Gulla with his seax.\n\nGulla roared, parried Drem's seax and beat his wings, swept close, a boot kicking Drem in the chest, sending him tumbling. Stamped on Drem's forearm, pinning his axe. Drem stared up at Gulla, saw his sword rise."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In your role as the author's collaborator, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 57"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My name is Morn,\" she snarled. \"It is good to know the name of your killer.\" Her spear stabbed again, Drem twisting, steel scraping on his shoulder, links of his mail coat tearing.\n\nDrem chopped with his axe, splintered the spear shaft. Morn flung it at him and he batted it away. She drew her sword.\n\nFriend roared, swiped at her, Morn's wings beating, moving her, but claws raked awing, sending her spinning. She screamed as she fell, and more half-breeds swooped from the sky, jabbing spears at Friend. A red gash opened along one cheek, mail tearing on his flank. Drem grabbed the net at his belt, swung it overhead and released, lead weights spreading, wrapping around one half-breed, crushing his wings together and he plummeted from the air, crashed to the stone floor. Friend stamped on him, blood and bone erupting.\n\nThere were half-breeds and Kadoshim all around now, the air a turbulence of wings, stabbing at Friend, forcing him back, away from Drem.\n\nMore wings behind Drem, an impact in his back, throwing him to the ground. He fell and rolled, looked up into Gulla's face. Gulla had a longsword in his fist and swung at Drem's head. Drem lashed outwith his seax, rolled at the same time, a clang of steel and sparks flew. He swayed right, a vertical cut from Gulla's sword missing him by a finger's width. Pushing to his feet, he slashed at Gulla with his seax.\n\nGulla roared, parried Drem's seax and beat his wings, swept close, a boot kicking Drem in the chest, sending him tumbling. Stamped on Drem's forearm, pinning his axe. Drem stared up at Gulla, saw his sword rise."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A piercing scream, echoing through the room. Something in the air changed, Revenants pausing, looking.\n\nGulla and Drem looked, too.\n\nKeld was standing before the Revenant captain, his sword in the creature's chest. It was screaming. Blue fire crackled like lightning through its torso, and then Keld was ripping his blade free, the Revenant collapsing at his feet.\n\nAll around the room Revenants sighed and dropped to the ground.\n\n\"Rald,\" Gulla snarled, shock and hatred leaking from him.\n\n\"WHO'S NEXT?!\" Keld bellowed, glaring about the room.\n\nGulla took a step towards Keld.\n\nDrem slashed desperately at Gulla with his seax, a blue line opening up along his thigh. Gulla screamed and stumbled, his face filled with shock.\n\n\"That's three of your Seven dead,\" Drem grunted as he scrambled to his feet, swept up his axe. \"Him, Ulf, Arvid.\" He leaped after Gulla, another slash of his seax catching the Kadoshim across the forearm, mail links tearing, rage and fear washing the Kadoshim's face.\n\n\"Soon it will be you. We can hurt you, we can kill you,\" Drem yelled, brandishing his seax and axe.\n\nGulla snarled and beat his wings, rocking Drem backwards, and swung his sword. Drem parried with both his weapons, the power in the blow sending him stumbling. A roar shook the room as Friend lumbered between Drem and Gulla, teeth bared. Gulla looked at the white bear, opened his mouth and screamed his rage, wings beating, and he rose into the air, shouting commands to his Kadoshim who swept towards Drem and the bear. Gulla flew towards Keld."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" Drem breathed, then screamed Keld's name, the huntsman turning, seeing Gulla flying at him. He grinned, set his feet with shield and sword.\n\nDrem started to run, swerving around Friend and ducking beneath the slice of a Kadoshim sword. Revenants leaped at him.\n\nHow are there Revenants still standing? Rald is dead. The hall was thick with dead Revenants, but a few were still standing.\n\nThey are Gulla's Revenants.\n\nA roar from the white bear. Drem turned back to see a Kadoshim hovering in the air, stabbing his sword at Friend's eyes. Drem sheathed his seax and swept up a spear, hefted it once, finding its balance, and threw. It flew straight as an arrow, pierced the Kadoshim in the waist, sinking deep, angling up. The Kadoshim shrieked and dropped from the sky like a stone. Friend finished him off as Drem started running again towards Keld.\n\nGulla was close now, wings beating hard. The huntsman was perfectly still, in a half-crouch, shield and sword ready, eyes fixed on Gulla.\n\nThen something crashed into Keld's back, throwing him forwards, onto his knees, his shield spinning from his grip.\n\nMorn. She stood behind him, along, black knife in her hand, and stabbed down. The blade punched through Keld's mail, pierced deep into his back.\n\nKeld screamed.\n\nFen and Ralla leaped at Morn, jaws clamping on her face and arm, the three of them tumbling backwards. Drem saw the black knife in Morn's fist, bloody to the hilt. They disappeared from view. A wolven-hound yelped, whined."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem was sprinting now, axe back in his fist. A Revenant in front of him. He shouldered into it, his seax slashing its throat open, ran on as it spun and fell.\n\nKeld was pushing himself upright, sword still in his hand. Blood speckled his lips.\n\nBehind him Drem saw Fen flying through the air, thrown into a wall.\n\nGulla landed in front of Keld, the huntsman swung his sword. The blow was weak, Gulla sweeping it away, a backswing chopping into Keld's arm, his sword clattering onto stone. Gulla reached down, grabbed a fistful of Keld's mail and heaved him up, into the air, feet dangling.\n\nDrem, almost sobbing, skidded to a halt, hefted his axe and threw it.\n\nKeld's hand was at his belt, trying to find the hilt of his knife.\n\nGulla's jaws opened unnaturally wide, rows of razored teeth bristling, and bit down onto Keld's throat. Dark blood spurted.\n\nDrem's axe spun through the air, sinking with a wet slap into Gulla's back. He screeched, dropped Keld, tried to reach the axe, couldn't. A beat of his wings and he was rising, twisting into the air, snarling, Keld's blood thick on his chin. Dripping.\n\nDrem was close now, saw Keld on the ground. The huntsman was moving, though weakly, hands clamped around his throat, blood leaking between his fingers. A figure rose behind him: Morn, her face a bloody mask, mail coat rent and tattered. She had anew spear in her fist, eyes fixed on Drem."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem ran at her, a cold rage filling him.\n\nMorn hefted the spear, pulled her arm back, aiming at him.\n\nAn arrow punched into her, high in the chest, spinning her.\n\nDrem ran on, dimly aware of Kadoshim and half-breeds dropping from the sky, crashing to the ground, arrows sprouting from them, Revenants falling around him, blue flame crackling around arrow wounds.\n\nDrem saw it all in blurred half-images, his eyes fixed on Keld. He dropped onto his knees, skidded to Keld's side, lifted the warrior's head and shoulders, cradling him on his lap.\n\n\"Hold on,\" Drem said.\n\nKeld looked up at him, tried to say something, blood bubbling from his mouth, choking.\n\nBeyond Keld, Morn was on the ground, slowly rising, an arrow protruding from high in her chest, blood running down. At her feet lay a tangle of red fur, the wolven-hound Ralla, lifeless eyes staring.\n\nMorn stood.\n\nArrows slapped onto stone around her, one punching through her wing.\n\nA Kadoshim fell from the sky, crunched onto stone, an arrow in his throat. Drem looked up, saw a winged figure at a window, Faelan, with a bow in his hand. Other half-breed Ben-Elim were swooping into the room, all loosing arrows while in flight.\n\nA horn blew, high and otherworldly. Morn looked up, more arrows flitting at her, one skimming off her mail-coated arm. She looked at Drem, then up at the half-breed Ben-Elim. Back at Drem."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"ARGH!\" she screeched. \"Soon,\" she snarled at Drem, and leaped into the air.\n\nKeld's body started to twitch.\n\n\"No,\" Drem said, part order, part denial.\n\nKeld's eyes fluttered.\n\nA whine, scratching on stone and Drem glanced right, saw Fen stumbling towards them. The wolven-hound was bleeding, swaying. He collapsed at Keld's side, lay his bighead on the huntsman, whined.\n\nKeld stared at Drem, an intensity in his eyes.\n\n\"Look... after...\" Keld breathed, bubbles of blood forming on his lips.\n\nDrem wiped them away.\n\n\"Please, Keld, no. Not you. I can't lose you, too,\" Drem whispered, tears blurring his eyes.\n\n\"Look... after Cullen, and my babies,\" Keld whispered, his breath a rattle. \"This'll go... hard on them.\"\n\n\"You'll look after them yourself,\" Drem said.\n\nKeld's hand fell from his throat, scraped on the ground.\n\nDrem buried his face in Keld's chest and sobbed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin picked her way amongst the dead, crows rising in a squawking, protesting mass from their feast.\n\nThe sun was not long risen, tall shadows stretching across the gully. Jin had ridden hard upon realizing she had been tricked yet again. But by the time she and Tark had led her warband out of their own ravine and back to the valley, darkness had settled and the sounds of distant battle had long since fallen silent. She had made the frustratingly difficult decision to make camp for the night and to rise before first light.\n\nBy that time Jin's other captains had all returned to the valley, only Medek and his warriors were missing. As the sun had crested the peaks, Jin and Tark had led their reunited warband into the gully Medek had taken.\n\nAnd now she had found him.\n\nOr at least, she thought it was him. His skull had been caved in, most of his face missing, the rest pulped.\n\n\"What happened?\" Gerel muttered, shifting another Cheren corpse with his boot.\n\nThey had found the battleground quickly enough. The ravine was thick with the dead. Men, women, horses, all lying still and twisted, most with empty, red-staring sockets where their eyes had been, taken by the crows. Tark had set his scouts to searching the area; so far, no survivors had been found.\n\n\"There are Sirak here,\" Cheren said, crouching beside a dead warrior in a grey deel. She was lying on the ground, legs twisted unnaturally beneath her, two Cheren arrows protruding from her chest.\n\n\"Aye, there are,\" Jin said.\n\n\"But not enough,\" Tark grunted, dropping Medek's bow upon his corpse and moving on, picking his way through the corpse field."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Find Bleda,\" Jin said. \"Check everybody.\"\n\n\"Aye, if he is here, I will find him.\" Tark nodded, but Jin knew the huntsman did not expect to find Bleda's body. Because she didn't, either.\n\nHe is making a fool of me.\n\nJin sipped from a water bottle in the shade of a boulder, the sun hot in the gully. Gerel stood close by, a dozen of her honour guard about her. Everyone else was working at the task before them.\n\nBodies were being piled, Cheren and Sirak, weapons and war gear stripped from the dead, anything valuable. There were things here that Jin did not understand.\n\n\"Report,\" she said, as Tark approached her.\n\n\"Five hundred Cheren dead. Eighty Sirak.\"\n\nThat staggered Jin fora moment. The dead had been so tangled and intertwined that it had been impossible to tell numbers or Clan.\n\nHow has this happened?\n\n\"And Bleda? Where is he?\"\n\n\"Bleda is not amongst the dead,\" Tark said. There were others with him, a handful of his best scouts, and Jin's captains, Hulan, Jargal, Vachir and Essen, all of them lords of large families within the Cheren.\n\n\"Where is he then?\" Jin asked, trying to keep her voice even and calm, suppressing the rage that was churning within her, a pressure building in her chest.\n\n\"I do not know,\" Tark said, a frown knitting his brows. \"Perhaps over those rocks.\" He gestured to a tumble of boulders that blocked the gully. \"Though I can see no tracks that way. He would have had to goon foot, noway for horses to get through.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin drew in along breath.\n\n\"Tark, what happened here?\"\n\nThe scout looked at her, confusion, uncertainty in his eyes.\n\n\"All right,\" Jin said. \"Tell me what you do know.\"\n\n\"There was clearly a fierce battle fought,\" he said. \"A charge from both sides; you can see where the lines met.\" He pointed to the gully, to a point where the corpses of warriors and horses had been piled thickest, the stony ground still dark with their blood.\n\n\"But battle spread all along this part of the gully. And then, there were more Cheren dead there.\" He pointed again. \"As if they were attacked on the flank.\"\n\n\"An ambush?\" Jin said. She shrugged. \"Bleda is proving to be cunning.\"\n\n\"Aye, that he is,\" Tark replied. \"And yes, it looks like a flanking attack, but where from? There is no cover to hide such a force.\" He looked at the cliffs and boulders whose shade they were standing in. \"And then there are the wounds. Only on our Cheren.\"\n\n\"Goon,\" Jin said.\n\n\"They are... unnatural,\" Tark said. \"There are many Sirak arrows amongst the dead, sword and spear wounds. But there are others as well. Men and women crushed. Dismembered. Wounds too big for Sirak sword or spear.\"\n\nJin just looked at Tark. \"It is strange,\" she admitted. \"How, then, do you explain these things? Who gave these wounds and deathblows to my people?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" Tark said.\n\nYou are saying that a lot. Too much, for my liking."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Giants?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin said. She had seen old Balur One-Eye training in the weapons-field at Drassil. He could have made wounds like this, with his war-hammer.\n\n\"Giants do not live in Arcona,\" Tark grunted.\n\n\"The Night-Walkers,\" a voice muttered, Vachir, one of Jin's captains.\n\n\"What?\" Jin said.\n\nVachir looked away. He was an older warrior, grey streaks in his warrior braid, and wore a fine coat of mail, edged with leather and gold wire.\n\n\"Creatures of campfire tales,\" Tark said, with a frown. \"Mountain-dwellers, cave-lurkers that come out in the dead of night and steal our goats and children.\"\n\n\"Monsters,\" Vachir said.\n\n\"Huh.\" Jin snorted. \"I believe in monsters, but only the ones I can see.\"\n\n\"Believe or not,\" Vachir said, looking at a huge gaping wound in a dead Cheren warrior's chest, \"the dead tell no lies.\"\n\n\"And where are the horses? Our horses,\" Jin said. \"Five hundred Cheren rode into this ravine. Their bodies are here, but I only see a hundred or so dead horses. Where are the rest? The way ahead is blocked by rockfall, and we came up the gully this morning. Where are they, Tark?\"\n\nHe opened his mouth to speak.\n\n\"Do not say I don't know,\" Jin snapped. \"You swore tome that you would guide me, that you would lead me to Bleda. That is what I do, you said tome. So, find him.\"\n\nTark looked at her, then looked away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where are my horses, Tark?\"\n\n\"Lining a monster's belly?\" Vachir said, quietly, but loud enough for Jin to hear.\n\n\"And where did this monster gut and skin our horses, quarter them, cook them?\" Jin snapped.\n\nVachir shrugged. \"You lead us, you tell me,\" he said, a twist of his lips. He looked at her then. \"Or can you not? We have followed you; sixty leagues from the Cheren Heartland, been tricked, lost a warband of our kin.\" He gestured to the piled dead. Then he hawked and spat.\n\n\"You question my leadership, Vachir?\" Jin said quietly.\n\nHe stared into her eyes, looked about at Cheren warriors, working at stripping the dead, but listening. He stood straighter.\n\n\"The leader of the Cheren must be able to do more than slaughter abound prisoner,\" he said loudly. \"Skilled with bow, blade and wits, that is what the Clan requires in their king, or queen.\"\n\nA silence settled between them.\n\n\"Aye, that is how you slew Erdene, is it not? A sword-thrust from behind, Erdene bound and beaten, on her knees.\" He sneered. \"My youngest bairn could do such a thing. No great honour in that. No great skill.\"\n\nOthers were listening now, Cheren warriors up and down the valley, pausing at their tasks.\n\n\"And now you lead us blindly, following this Bleda like an auroch bull with a ring through your nose. Tricked, our kin slaughtered.\" Vachir looked at the Cheren dead. \"Where are your wits? Where is your skill?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gerel took a step forwards, hand rising for his sword hilt.\n\n\"Hold,\" Jin said, a gesture at Gerel.\n\n\"I will show you my skill,\" she said quietly, resting a hand on the bow in its case at her hip, \"if you wish. If you challenge me.\"\n\nHe stared at her, silence thick and heavy around him.\n\nThen he was reaching for his bow, his other hand grasping a fistful of arrows.\n\nJin's bow slipped into her hand, her other hovering over her quiver. She waited, aware of the gradient, the wind, the ground about her feet.\n\nVachir's first arrow was nocked, drawing back to his ear.\n\nJin moved as he loosed. She grabbed three arrows, dropped to her left, tucked her shoulder and rolled, right hand in her quiver. Vachir's first arrow hissed through the space she had been standing in, came out of the roll as the second arrow crunched into the stony ground a handspan from where she knelt. Her first and second arrows nocked, drawn, loosed in quick succession. She rolled again, Vachir's third arrow skimming her shoulder, mail links tearing.\n\nA yell, a thud.\n\nShe came out of her roll with her last arrow aimed.\n\nShe didn't need it.\n\nVachir was on the ground.\n\nShe stood and strode up to him, her heart pounding, chest heaving, the thrill of violence and the closeness of death surging through her veins. Gerel was a shadow at her shoulder, Tark and the others following behind.\n\nVachir had one arrow in his hip and another between shoulder and neck. It had punched deep, through mail, wool and linen into flesh, just below his clavicle. Blood pulsed from both wounds."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I lead the Cheren,\" Jin said, standing over Vachir."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have earned that right.\" She drew her bow, aimed her arrow into Vachir's face, her blood yearning for his death.\n\nHe stared back at her, a brave man facing his end with a snarl.\n\nShe blew out along breath, loosened the tension on her bow.\n\n\"Your life is mine,\" she said to Vachir. \"Mine to take, mine to give. Death or life, your choice. Will you follow me?\"\n\nHe looked up at her, mastering his pain, a change in his eyes, the slow realization that he could live, if he wanted to.\n\n\"I will follow you,\" he grunted.\n\nShe slipped her arrow back into its quiver and offered him her hand, pulled him upright. He grunted with the effort, but stood beside her.\n\n\"You were close,\" she said, showing him the split links on her mail coat.\n\n\"Not close enough,\" he breathed, then bowed his head to her.\n\n\"My Cheren people,\" Jin called out, turning to look at her warriors. Thousands of faces, shaven-haired, long warrior braids, a hard, strong people. Her people. \"I have slain our enemy's queen, led you into the Sirak lands, crushed and burned every hold, turned their Heartland to ashes. All that remains is to destroy their homeless king and his handful of vagabond followers.\"\n\nShe saw pride fill Cheren faces, shoulders straighten and chests puff out.\n\n\"I do not know where Bleda has gone,\" she cried, \"but I do know where he is going. To the Tethys Pass and then Ripa, to meet with his puppet-masters and his half-breed whore. That is where I am going to lead you. And if he has reached there first, then we shall follow him, to the ends of the earth if needs be. Until our victory is complete, until he and his followers are dead, and the Sirak name is nothing more than a bloodstain at our feet.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"HAI!\" cheered the Cheren."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem satin the hall of Brikan, Keld's body in his arms. Time passed, people moving before him, crouching, saying things. Drem thought one of them had been Halden, blood-spattered and angry. He was gone now. All Drem could see was Keld's face, his empty eyes, blood congealing on his lips.\n\nLike my da.\n\nHorns rang in the distance.\n\nFen lay against Keld's body, blood crusting in his fur. The wolven-hound was whining quietly, a plaintive, melancholy sound. To one side the white bear stood, head bowed as if he were in mourning, too.\n\nA hand on Drem's shoulder, the whisper of wings.\n\nFaelan knelt beside him, looked down at Keld.\n\n\"Ah, but this is a grave loss,\" the half-breed said sadly. He rested a hand upon Keld's chest, murmured words. \"You should let him go,\" Faelan said. \"He is gone.\"\n\n\"No,\" Drem said. He did not want to let Keld go. It was strange, he had known the man only a short time, but they had been through so much together. Keld had saved his life, countless times over. Without even knowing it, Keld had become a man that Drem loved. Like a brother. Like a father. Like a friend.\n\nHe had had few friends in his life, his da filling that space for so many years, and that had been enough for him. But since the Order had come into his life it had seemed that there was a family about him. It felt strange, and good. And yet they all just kept on dying.\n\nMy father. Sig. Stepor. Now Keld."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He felt short of breath, a cold fist around his heart, squeezing.\n\nThe flapping of wings, talons scraping on stone and Rab was there.\n\n\"No, no, no,\" the bird squawked. \"Not Keld. Brave Keld, Keld Rab's friend.\" He bobbed his head, hopped about on the stone, then laid his white-feathered head against Keld's hand, ran his beak over it. The crow looked up at Drem, hopped up to him, aflutter of wings and he was on Drem's shoulder.\n\n\"Rab sad, Drem sad,\" the crow croaked in Drem's ear.\n\n\"Yes,\" Drem breathed.\n\nHorn calls again, louder, now, the sound of hooves across Brikan's bridge and into the courtyard. Voices calling out. Someone shouting his name, and Keld's.\n\nCullen.\n\nHooves clattering on the keep's steps, louder, echoing as a horse was ridden into the hall.\n\n\"Drem,\" Cullen cried, the young warrior leaping from his saddle, boots slapping on stone, and he was running, falling to the ground beside Drem, throwing himself upon Keld's body.\n\n\"No, no, no, no, no,\" Cullen was murmuring. He rocked on his knees, cupping Keld's cheeks in his palms, and looked up at Drem. Tears streaked his cheeks, snot hung from his nose.\n\n\"Who?\" Cullen said, face twisting between grief and snarl.\n\n\"Gulla, and Morn, his daughter,\" Drem whispered. \"I tried...\" He felt a wave of guilt, that he had not saved Keld. The huntsman had saved him so many times, always watching out for him, guarding his back."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where are they?\" Cullen said, one moment terrifyingly cold, the next weeping, grimacing.\n\n\"Gone, back into the forest,\" Drem said. In truth he did not know. \"Kadoshim, half-breeds, Revenants,\" he murmured.\n\nMore people were entering the keep, orders shouted. Drem heard Byrne's voice.\n\n\"Thank the Bright Star you live,\" she said, appearing beside him, crouching and throwing her arms around Drem, hugging him tight. She let him go, looked down at Keld.\n\n\"Ach,\" she said, her lips twisting. She stroked Keld's head, blinked tears from her eyes.\n\nThe sound of feet. Drem realized that Cullen was no longer beside him. He turned, saw Cullen leaping into his saddle, drawing his sword.\n\n\"Cullen, what are you doing?\" Byrne cried.\n\n\"Hah,\" Cullen shouted, urging his horse into motion, dragging on his reins, and the animal was turning, cantering out of the keep, across the courtyard.\n\n\"What is that fool doing, now?\" Byrne snapped.\n\n\"He wants revenge,\" Drem said. Gently he lifted Keld's head from his lap and laid it on the cold stone, then stood.\n\n\"I'll bring him back,\" he said, climbing into Friend's saddle. The bear lifted his head, rumbled a growl at Drem and then they were moving.\n\n\"Faelan, take some of your kin, watch over them,\" Drem heard Byrne call out behind him. Then he was out in the courtyard, the place full of the dead, warriors beginning to gather them. He glimpsed Queen Nara with her battlechief, the two of them lifting a body together."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cullen was halfway across the bridge, his horse close to a gallop."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem leaned over in his saddle and whispered in Friend's ear. The bear increased his speed, heading for the shattered gateway. People leaped out of the way and then they were on the bridge, a few heartbeats later beyond it, trees rising tall, branches closing overhead, twilight settling about Drem like a cloak.\n\n\"CULLEN!\" Drem yelled, but if he heard, he gave no indication of it. Cullen galloped on, guiding his horse down a hard-packed road that led away from the keep, travelling roughly north-east, by what Drem could make out from the sun and his memory of maps Keld had shown him of Brikan and the surrounding terrain.\n\nKeld.\n\nA knife in his heart, the pain surging allover again.\n\nHe glanced behind him. Brikan was fading into a pale light at the end of a rapidly narrowing tunnel.\n\nIn front of Drem, Cullen galloped on, bent low over his saddle. But he was riding a horse. Friend was bigger, surprisingly fast when he needed to be. His lurching gait was gaining on Cullen.\n\nThe world was degrees of shade now, the odd beam of light where sunlight managed to pierce the canopy. Something flitted across the ground before Drem, the hint of a shadow. Drem glanced up, saw broad, feathered wings, others further away.\n\nFaelan and his kin.\n\nBehind him, faint as morning mist, the sound of hooves.\n\n\"CULLEN!\" Drem called again.\n\nHis horse cannot gallop forever, they must slow soon. Gulla and his Revenants must belong gone by now.\n\nOn into the forest they thundered.\n\nCurls of mist crept across the forest path. Drem felt a seed of worry. His hand went to his belt. His scabbard was empty, sword given to Halden. His axe was gone, lodged in Gulla's back, only his seax was in its sheath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen slowed, then dragged on his reins, his mount skidding to a halt. A moment's pause as he stared into the forest, and then he was spurring his horse off the path, into the trees.\n\n\"NO!\" Drem yelled, but Cullen was already gone. A whispered word and Friend slowed. They reached the point where Cullen had left the road. Dark mist churned sluggishly on the forest path. A fox's trail ran through thicket and vine. Drem stared into the shadows, thought he saw the hint of movement, heard the drum of hooves. He looked up, saw the silhouette of feathered wings high above.\n\n\"Friend?\" Drem said, unsure if the bear could move into the forest here, the foliage so dense. Friend lurched forwards, pulverizing a path into the darkness.\n\nWell, that was easier than I thought.\n\nThey moved into a twilight world, Friend unexpectedly nimble, threading amongst wide-boled trees, able to find away through branch and tangled brush, and when he couldn't, he simply smashed through any obstruction in front of him.\n\nNot much good at stealth, though. We won't be sneaking upon Cullen like this.\n\nThere was a flicker of movement up ahead, and then Cullen's horse came into view. It was drinking at a stream, Cullen gone from its back. The forest grew thicker here, a snarl of thicket and thorn.\n\nMist grew denser about them. Now that Friend had stopped moving, Drem noticed a change in the forest.\n\nIt was silent. No birdsong or crow-call, just the rustle and scrape of branches high above. A spot in the undergrowth that had been hacked, a ragged trail. Movement between the trees, what looked like the flash of Cullen's red hair. And something else, further ahead. A shape flitting through the forest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A Revenant?\n\n\"On,\" Drem said, and Friend shifted into motion, smashing a line through the dense overgrowth, straight after Cullen and whatever it was that the warrior was chasing.\n\nThey gained, Cullen having to thread his way through the underwood where Friend just walked through it. The thing Cullen was chasing was closer, too. Human in shape, mist curled around it, and it had that stuttered motion that marked it as a Revenant.\n\nBut it moved oddly, though.\n\nIt was limping.\n\nThe forest grew lighter.\n\nFifty paces between Drem and Cullen now. Ten paces between Cullen and the Revenant. It seemed to be alone, no wall of mist nearby, no other Revenants moving through the forest here.\n\nIt is injured, has fallen behind.\n\nIt was stumbling through the brushwood, snatching glances back at Cullen, who was shouting and raging, swinging his sword wildly at the undergrowth in front of them, frothing and snarling like a madman.\n\nDrem was thirty paces away, now, and then Cullen leaped at the Revenant, the two of them falling, crashing into the bushes. Friend ploughed on, lumbered to a halt a dozen steps from where Cullen had disappeared. Drem slid from his saddle, slipping his seax from its scabbard. He hit the ground running, ready to stab the Revenant and drag Cullen free.\n\nBut they were gone.\n\nDrem prodded the ground with his seax, could see where it had been flattened. He followed the trail a few paces, and then saw the ground fall away. A steep slope down to a stream forty or fifty paces below, some kind of ravine, a sheer cliff rising on the other side."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The forest was lighter here, daylight filtering in where the canopy thinned over the ravine.\n\nShouts, screams echoed up to Drem. He leaned, peered down, saw Cullen and the Revenant fighting. Then he was scrambling down the slope, his seax back in its scabbard, clinging to roots and vines as he fell more than climbed down the slope. He tumbled out onto the ravine floor and drew his blade.\n\nThe Revenant was dead. More than dead. Cullen was swinging his blade, chopping at the creature as it lay upon the ground, hacking it into something unrecognizable. He was screaming, and crying, his voice hoarse.\n\nDrem sheathed his seax again, and wrapped his arms around Cullen. The warrior resisted fora moment, then dropped his sword and turned into Drem, hugging him back. His body shook with sobs.\n\n\"Keld,\" Cullen said, over and over, as if his name would bring the huntsman back. Drem felt fresh tears filling his own eyes, an ocean of grief swelling inside him.\n\nHe did not know how long they stood there like that, only that eventually Cullen's sobs quieted, and then they were stepping apart.\n\n\"I'll kill them all,\" he said, wiping his nose. \"Gulla, Morn, every last Revenant that walks this earth. Pile their skulls at Keld's feet.\"\n\n\"Leave a few for me,\" Drem said, in his mind Gulla and Morn looming large, and Fritha behind them.\n\nAnd Asroth, the ultimate creator of all of this grief.\n\nA rumbling growl drifted down to them. Friend was standing at the top of the ravine, peering out through the trees, looking at them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where are we?\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Somewhere in Forn.\" Drem shrugged. \"I just followed you.\"\n\n\"Forn Forest is a big place. Bigger than a country.\"\n\nDrem looked around, a fast-flowing stream was close by, bubbling around moss-covered stones, the ground soft and green.\n\nIn the shadows of the cliff something dark loomed.\n\n\"What's that?\" Cullen said, bending quickly to pickup his sword.\n\nDrem stepped closer, hand on the hilt of his seax.\n\n\"It's a cabin,\" he said, approaching it. He stepped lightly across the stream, boots splashing in water, and then he was on the other side, walking up wooden steps onto a cabin porch. The timber creaked, damp and rotten.\n\nFootsteps splashing and Cullen was behind him.\n\nA tree had grown through the floorboards of the timber porch, wood splintered and rotten. Drem could just make out shuttered windows, thick with vine. A door hung half-open, one hinge gone.\n\nAbove the door a skull had been nailed to the timber frame. The bone was bleached by weather. It was human in shape, but somehow different, bigger, the planes of cheek and brow sharper, more angular. And to either side of the door were nailed two wings. Dark, leathery, desiccated and crumbling, only the bone and cartilage of wing-arches intact.\n\nEven so, it was clear to Drem what it had been in life.\n\n\"A Kadoshim,\" he breathed.\n\nDrem pushed the door open with one hand, peered inside, waited for his eyes to adjust to the shadows, then stepped into the cabin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A single room, a table and chair. The air was thick and musty.\n\nCullen squeezed in behind Drem, his sword pointing into the corners of the room.\n\nOn one wall more skulls were nailed, all of them similar to the one outside, a dozen Kadoshim.\n\n\"Whoever lived here, I think I like them,\" Cullen whispered.\n\nIn the corner was abed.\n\nDrem strode over and gazed down at it.\n\nA skeleton lay upon the bed. Clothes hung in tatters on bones, a rusted mail coat. A book and a longsword lay across the skeleton's chest, hands that had clearly once gripped the hilt had fallen away.\n\n\"The room's clear,\" Cullen said. Then the pad of footsteps and Cullen was behind Drem, peering around him.\n\nA gasp.\n\n\"It can't be,\" Cullen said.\n\nDrem's eyes were fixed on the hilt of the sword. A-hand-and-a-half grip, the pommel fashioned into the shape of a howling wolven.\n\nDrem had seen that sword hilt before, on a carved statue that stood in the courtyard of Dun Seren.\n\n\"It's Corban's sword,\" breathed Cullen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell me of the Shekam,\" Bleda said, as he rode beside Raina. They were at the head of along column of Sirak and giants, threading through a wide, high-ceilinged tunnel. He was on Dilis, had been so relieved when he'd seen the skewbald mare led into the cavernous halls of the Kurgan giants. It was their third day of travelling underground, the dark constantly pressing in upon them, and Bleda longed for daylight and the sight of the sky.\n\n\"The Shekam area giant Clan,\" Raina said, \"like my Clan, the Kurgan, who walk with us.\"\n\n\"But these giants, the Shekam, are allied to Asroth?\"\n\n\"Aye, it looks that way,\" Raina said. \"They have been seen marching from their secret lands, and Kadoshim fly above them.\"\n\n\"That's not a good sign,\" Drem said. \"I have fought the Kadoshim. They are more than just an enemy. They area sickness. A plague. How many of these Shekam are there?\"\n\n\"Two hundred, three hundred, maybe more.\"\n\n\"Ah.\" Bleda did not think that was too great a number. Of course, giants were formidable warriors; he had just seen what a hundred could do to the Cheren, but he knew the White-Wings at Ripa numbered in their thousands.\n\n\"You think that is not so dangerous,\" Raina said, glancing at him.\n\nBleda shrugged. \"A formidable foe, but their numbers-they're not so great.\"\n\n\"Ah, but they are riding draigs,\" Raina said.\n\n\"Draigs!\" Bleda almost spat. He had never seen a draig, had thought them more a campfire tale than real, living creatures. From the stories he had heard told, one of them was supposed to have been a match fora score of warriors."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye, draigs,\" Raina said.\n\n\"Let's hope Ethlinn and her bear-riders are marching for Ripa, then.\"\n\nRaina said nothing, just held her torch up and stared ahead. Silence settled between them.\n\n\"You are Kurgan?\" Bleda asked after awhile.\n\nRaina looked at him.\n\n\"You ask a lot of questions,\" she said.\n\nBleda smiled. \"It's along walk in the dark, and I don't like tunnels. Better to talk.\"\n\n\"I am Kurgan,\" she said.\n\n\"And your husband Alcyon, he is Kurgan?\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"Then why is he with Ethlinn, and not herewith you?\"\n\nRaina blew out along breath. \"That is not a short story,\" she said.\n\n\"I am going to beat your side fora hundred leagues,\" Bleda answered.\n\n\"A fair point. But it is also a tale that I do not like to think on. I will not talk of it,\" she said.\n\nBleda nodded.\n\nThey walked on in silence awhile. Just the sound of boots and hooves on stone, the drip of water. One hundred of Bleda's Sirak had survived the battle in the ravine, though most of them bore injuries of one sort or another. Yul, despite his wounds, was still sitting straight in his saddle. They had close to five hundred horses with them, taken from the Cheren dead and led into the tunnels.\n\nThat will speed our journey to Ripa, if we are reunited with Ellac. I hope he made it to our meeting point, that Jin has not caught up with him somehow.\n\nBleda heard something, at first thought it was the sound of wind, roaring through the tunnel. It got louder. And then he saw a pinprick of light, beyond Raina's torch."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We are here,\" Raina said.\n\nThe roaring grew louder, constant and close to deafening. It was a waterfall, cascading over the exit to their tunnel. Fractured sunlight broke through in multi-hued beams.\n\n\"Control your horse,\" Raina shouted to him over her shoulder, Bleda straining to hear her. She doused her torch in the water, and then walked on. The path they were following narrowed to a ledge. Bleda twisted in his saddle and looked back, over the three horses he was leading, and saw Ukran behind him, then Yul and Ruga. He signalled to them, and they moved into single file.\n\nThen Bleda was moving forwards. Raina had disappeared, the path twisting just beyond the tunnel's mouth. Water fell only a handspan from his horse's hooves, the ground slick and slippery. He rode into a dense mist, moisture thick in the air. Bleda rested a hand upon his bow in its case, though he knew that it would be useless-the bowstring would be ruined by this water. He blinked as bright sunshine seared his eyes, and then he was outside, the sky opening up above him. He breathed in happily and rode on a few paces. Raina was ahead, standing on green grass, a wall of trees behind her.\n\nThe waterfall crashed into a wide pool that frothed and spumed, a permanent mist of water hanging in the air before the tunnel entrance. Yul, Ruga and Ukran appeared through the mist, blinking as Bleda had done. Riders and giants filed out into the daylight behind them. Bleda looked up, following the waterfall. It fell from a great height, a cliff rising almost to the clouds, it seemed.\n\n\"Where are we?\" Bleda breathed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Arcona is up there,\" Raina said. \"We are now in the Land of the Faithful. Those trees mark the south-eastern fringe of Forn Forest.\"\n\nBleda looked around, imagining the maps he had pored over during his lessons in Drassil. He wished he'd paid more attention. Vaguely he could see it in his mind's eye. The plain of Arcona filling the east, Forn Forest its western border. To the south-west lay Ripa, on the coast.\n\nBut before Ripa I must find Ellac and my Clan.\n\n\"Can you take us to the Tethys Pass from here?\" Bleda asked.\n\nRaina pointed to the south, at something that shimmered on the horizon.\n\n\"That is the Tethys Sea,\" she said, \"and your kin should be less than half a day from here.\"\n\n\"There it is,\" Raina said, pointing.\n\nBleda was sat upon his horse beside Raina, Ukran and Ruga. The rest of Bleda's warriors were stationed deeper in the forest with Yul and over a hundred giants.\n\nThey had ridden south from the waterfall, seen the plateau of Arcona sink towards the sea, turning into a white-rocked land of mountains and sheer cliffs.\n\nRaina was pointing at a wide road that led from the forest into those mountains.\n\n\"Where is your Clan?\" Ukran asked.\n\nBleda looked at the road, at the forest it emerged from, and the mountains it disappeared into. Beyond the road the land slowly levelled and the sea shimmered, a glistening blue. Bleda could smell salt on the air, and the cry of gulls drifted on a breeze."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I don't know.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He shook his head. \"I have never been here before, and Ellac only as a child.\"\n\n\"That would be a hundred years ago, then,\" Ruga said.\n\nBleda snorted a laugh.\n\n\"Ellac?\" Ukran said. \"Is he a giant?\"\n\n\"No,\" Bleda said. \"He is just old. Ruga was making a joke.\"\n\n\"This is not a joking time,\" Ukran grunted.\n\nThat is a truth.\n\nIs Jin out there?\n\nRaina had assured Bleda that it was impossible for Jin to have ridden through the mountains and reached this pass before they had, using the giants' tunnels. Three days it had taken them to reach here, and Raina said above land it was a four-day journey, at least.\n\nBut Jin rides fast, and rage and revenge will be afire in her belly.\n\n\"I told Ellac to wait for meat the Tethys Pass,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"For how long?\" Ukran asked him.\n\n\"One day. Any longer, and the gap he'd opened between him and Jin could have been closed.\" He scanned the mountains and forest again. There was no sign of Ellac, or of Jin, but either of them could have been hidden in the ravines or shadowed forest.\n\nHooves drummed and Ruga was riding out from their cover into the stretch of land that separated mountains from forest.\n\nBleda made to go after her but Yul put a hand upon his reins and held him there, the warrior grimacing as his wounds pulled.\n\n\"It is too late,\" Yul said. \"The deed done. Following will not help.\"\n\n\"He is right,\" Raina said."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda watched as Ruga trotted across the open ground. It was stony, with patches of sun-bleached grass. She reached the road and reined in, looking east and west to the mountains and then the forest. A touch of her reins and her mount turned in a tight circle, showing herself to any eyes that might be watching. Ruga wore a Sirak deel of grey, a coat of mail over it, sleeves ending at the elbow for bow work, splits up each leg for riding.\n\n\"It is I, Ruga of the Sirak,\" Ruga called out. \"If you are hiding in the shadows, Jin of the Cheren, come out and fight me. Or are you too much of a coward?\"\n\nBleda heard Yul grunt his respect.\n\nA silence, only crows squawking in the forest.\n\nRuga turned a circle again.\n\nWhere the road met the trees of Forn a rider emerged.\n\nRuga's hand dropped to her bow in its case.\n\nThe rider was a man, dressed in grey and mail. His head was shaved, one long, grey warrior braid coiling around his shoulder. He raised an arm to Ruga, revealing a stump where his fist should be.\n\nEllac.\n\nBleda clicked his tongue and spurred his horse on, bursting from the trees. Yul was close behind him, and together they rode across the ground ululating a welcome, Raina and Ukran following them.\n\nRuga was already with Ellac, but Bleda saw the old warrior staring at him. They met upon the road, Bleda grinning at the old man, gifting him with his open emotions. He did not think he could have hidden them if his life depended upon it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ah, but my old heart soars to see you,\" Ellac said as Bleda leaned in his mount and gripped the old warrior's arm.\n\n\"You made it,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"Of course,\" Ellac grunted. \"That was never in doubt. You, on the other hand.\" He looked into Bleda's eyes. \"I have worried...\"\n\nOther riders emerged from the forest where Ellac had appeared, more Sirak, some fanning wide, bows in fists, eyes on the mountains.\n\n\"We should move from here, it is too open,\" Yul said, looking up at the mountain pass.\n\nEllac looked at the bandaged wounds on Yul.\n\n\"You have a tale to tell,\" he said.\n\n\"Aye, and allies to introduce to you,\" Bleda said, gesturing at Raina and Ukran.\n\nEllac raised an eyebrow, then dipped his head to the two giants.\n\n\"Well met, Ellac of the Sirak,\" Raina said.\n\n\"We should move,\" Ukran said. He was looking up at the mountains.\n\nBleda followed his gaze, into the mountains, and then up, to where something was becoming visible in the sky, a few leagues distant.\n\nA cloud of dust.\n\n\"Jin,\" Bleda said. \"Best we save the introductions and ride.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem stood by the stream, looking up at warriors climbing down the ravine wall. Ropes had been tied to trees, making the descent easier and safer than his had been. Faelan and a handful of his kin circled in the stark sky. Drem looked over his shoulder, saw Cullen still standing over the bed in the cabin, looking down at the skeleton and sword.\n\nFaelan had taken word to Byrne at Drem's request.\n\nAnd there she was, Byrne almost at the ravine's floor. Her feet touched onto ground and she strode towards Drem, a handful of her honour guard about her. She glanced down at the corpse of the Revenant as she passed it, then looked up at Drem. Their eyes met, no words. Byrne strode up the creaking steps and into the cabin, eyes flickering to the Kadoshim skull nailed above the doorway.\n\nDrem followed, saw Cullen lean forwards, reaching out. Gently the young warrior extricated the sword from the skeleton and held it up, his eyes bright with emotion. Byrne stopped in front of Cullen.\n\nShe just stood and stared.\n\n\"By the Otherworld,\" she breathed.\n\n\"It's his sword,\" Cullen murmured, turning the blade in his hand. It was long, a-hand-and-a-half grip, the blade wide at the hilt. Dust had thickened to a kind of congealed skin upon the blade, but Drem had a feeling the blade beneath was sharp and bright. Cullen sliced the air with it, then a roll of his wrist, turning it, holding the hilt out to Byrne.\n\nShe took it, her eyes wide, contemplated the blade for long, silent moments. Then she looked down at the skeleton upon the bed.\n\n\"It must be Coralen,\" Byrne said. Drem remembered Cullen telling him of the tale, Coralen riding out of Dun Seren with Storm after Corban's cairn had been defiled. Byrne knelt beside the bed, tentatively put a handout and lifted long strands in her fingers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Hair, Drem realized."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was mostly grey, though Drem caught a hint of red.\n\n\"Coralen had red hair, flaming like fire, the tales say,\" Byrne said. She looked up at Cullen. \"Like yours.\"\n\nCullen smiled then, an awed, joyful expression sweeping his face.\n\nGently Byrne lifted the book from the skeleton's chest. She held it as if it could crumble in her fingers, blew dust from the leather cover, wiped more away. The leather was cracked and worn, but Drem could see markings upon it. Letters, like the ones he had seen upon his seax, runes. And two symbols; one shaped like a black teardrop, the other the eyes and snarling teeth of a wolven.\n\nByrne gasped. \"This book bears the sigils of Cywen and Coralen.\"\n\nCullen leaned over Byrne's shoulder.\n\n\"A chaitheamh amach,\" he said clumsily.\n\n\"To cast out,\" Byrne breathed.\n\nDrem checked Friend's wounds. Dawn was brightening the world around him, mist from the river and dew dripped from trees. Drem looked at the vapour curling up from the water and onto the bridge, but this was ordinary mist, not black and seething with taloned monsters.\n\nHe was standing in Brikan's courtyard, cleared now of countless Revenant corpses and the bodies of fallen warriors. Dark stains dotted the flagstoned ground. Everywhere was movement, warriors mounting horses, giants climbing onto bears. Auroch bellowed and stamped their feet, harnessed to wains.\n\nFriend had new wounds, most of them shallow. Only one had needed stitching. Thankfully there had been no bites. Drem was spooning fresh honey onto a gash beneath Friend's eye, the bear's mouth open, huge tongue lolling, trying to reach some of the sweet liquid."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mostly the wounds were around his muzzle and face, where spears had been jabbed at him. His coat of mail had served him well. Drem had tended to the rent links last night, patching them up, and his own mail coat as well. He'd had a pile of harness to fix and stitch, buckles torn loose, a gash in his coat of mail, more rips in his breeches.\n\n\"Here you go,\" Drem said, dolloping a spoonful of honey onto Friend's tongue. The bear rumbled contentedly.\n\nHorns blew, the warband preparing to move out. Queen Nara had led a force out already, a vanguard moving along the road out of Forn Forest.\n\nDrem sucked in a deep breath and stroked Friend's cheek.\n\n\"Something I need to do, first,\" he muttered, then walked away, across the courtyard. Friend eyed him, then followed.\n\nDrem skirted the keep. He paused at a wain, prised open a barrel and pulled out a butchered leg of lamb, wrapped in linen. He walked on until he was in a walled area behind the keep, strode past an open gateway, the entrance to Brikan's weapons-field, and on, past buildings and then trees, until he saw cairns before him. Lots of cairns.\n\nThere was a row of fresh-built ones. Cullen stood before one, head bowed. Rab was perched on his shoulder and Fen the wolven-hound lay close to the stones.\n\nDrem walked up, stood silently at Cullen's side, and looked at Keld's cairn.\n\nHe felt the pain again, a fist around his heart as grief bubbled within him.\n\nCullen knelt and placed a hand upon the cairn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I never had the chance to tell you anything,\" Cullen whispered, voice thick with grief. \"But you were my rock, my friend. I loved you like a father, and I miss you more than I can bear. Only the thought of avenging you, and Sig, keeps me moving.\" He looked up at Drem, tears in his eyes.\n\nDrem looked back through blurred vision, images in his mind of his father in the snow, of Sig strapping herself to a post, of Keld in his arms.\n\n\"We will never forget,\" Drem breathed.\n\n\"We will never forget,\" Cullen echoed. He stood. \"Gulla's a dead man walking,\" he snarled.\n\n\"And Morn,\" Drem breathed, remembering her black knife punching into Keld's back.\n\nCullen drew his knife from his belt and cut a red line along his forearm, held it out.\n\nDrem, understanding, took his seax and sliced his arm, drawing blood.\n\n\"For Keld,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"For Keld,\" Drem replied, and gripped Cullen's arm, blood mingling and dripping onto the stones of Keld's cairn.\n\nA horn rang through the fortress.\n\n\"Rab peck Gulla's other eye out,\" the crow squawked.\n\n\"Good,\" Cullen said. He looked at Drem. \"Let's go find those bastards and kill them,\" and then he was striding off.\n\nDrem looked down at Fen, the huge wolven-hound lying beside Keld's cairn. Fen still wore his coat of mail, blood crusted in patches. Another cairn lay beside Keld's. Ralla's body was inside it. Wolven-hounds of the Order were honoured and remembered, just like any other warrior who fought for the Bright Star."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ah, but you're a faithful lad, and you're grieving, too,\" Drem said, kneeling beside Fen and placing his hand upon the hound's chest. \"Keld has been like your da, your pack leader from when you were a cub.\" Fen looked at him with one yellow eye, gave out a mournful whine.\n\n\"You can't stay here, Fen,\" Drem said. He looked the wolven-hound in the eye, stroking his furry, scarred cheek. \"I don't know if you understand me, but you should know that Keld asked me to look after you. With his last breath he did that, caring about you.\" He reached inside his cloak and took out the leg of lamb. Friend sniffed behind Drem.\n\n\"This isn't for you, Friend,\" Drem said to the bear, and offered it to Fen. The wolven-hound sniffed the meat, then opened his jaws and took it. Dropped it on the ground and put one of his paws over it.\n\n\"I can't look after you here. You have to come with me and Friend, Cullen and Rab. We're going after those that slew our Keld, and we are going to make them pay. It'll be dangerous, might not live through it. But at least we will have tried.\" He stood. \"What do you say? Coming? We are pack, now; you, me, Friend, Cullen and Rab. Riv when she comes back. And we are going to make Gulla and Asroth wish we had never been born.\"\n\nFen looked up at him, a rumbled growl deep in his chest. Then he stood, sniffed once at Keld's cairn, whined, picked up the leg of lamb and padded after Drem."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv satin the dark and chewed on a hard biscuit. She missed Cullen's pottage stew. In truth, she missed more than that. She missed the Order of the Bright Star. She missed her crew: Keld, Drem and Cullen.\n\nShe had been honoured and deeply touched when Keld had invited her into their group, and flying away the next morning had been a difficult thing to do. But she knew information had to be exchanged, the lines of communication opened up between the Ben-Elim and the Order of the Bright Star. And she missed her mother, too, was looking forward to seeing her.\n\nAphra, I hope that you are safe, and that you have made it to Ripa. I have so much to tell you.\n\nA ten-night of hard flying, close to a hundred leagues travelled, and now Ripa was close. Riv looked up, a sky full of stars shimmering above her. The temperature had risen with everyday travelled, although summer was waning. They had made camp tonight in a small dell, a few scattered alders around them. Meical had said no fires, as they had seen distant silhouettes in the sky that day. Kadoshim, circling far to the east.\n\nRiv had been tempted to scout closer, but they only numbered eleven, and they were not looking fora fight.\n\nNot yet.\n\nMeical was sitting opposite her, his head bowed in thought.\n\nHe's not much of a talker, for someone who has been Lord of the Ben-Elim, she thought.\n\nHadran and five other Ben-Elim sat with them, in a loose circle in the grass, the other three Ben-Elim on their watch shift. The night was warm, cloudless and bright, so Riv wasn't missing the fire. She was feeling a tremor in her blood, though, but it was nothing to do with the cold. It was the thought of seeing Kol."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "My father.\n\nShe thought of the last time she had seen him, at their makeshift council of war at the cabin in Forn, and the things that had been said.\n\n\"What did Kol mean,\" Riv asked Meical, \"about you being in chains, the last time he saw you?\"\n\nMeical looked up, eyes unfocused fora moment.\n\n\"I was a prisoner, put in chains and thrown into a cell,\" Meical said.\n\nRiv scowled. \"Who by?\"\n\nMeical was quiet, looked at his hands.\n\n\"By us,\" Hadran said with a frown. \"By the Ben-Elim.\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Riv said. \"I thought you were High Captain of the Ben-Elim. Why would they throw you in gaol?\"\n\n\"I was their high captain,\" Meical said. \"But it was decided by the Ben-Elim Assembly that I had become too close to humankind; to the people of the Banished Lands I had been living amongst. They thought my judgement was clouded by my emotions.\"\n\n\"Your emotions? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"My friendship with Corban.\"\n\nAlong silence, then a twitch of his lips. \"They were right, but I do not regret it. In truth, I thought that my emotions had finally opened my eyes, not clouded them.\"\n\n\"What was wrong with being friends with Corban?\"\n\nMeical glanced at Hadran, who sat with his head bowed. The other Ben-Elim were shifting where they sat, wings twitching uncomfortably.\n\n\"You could tell her,\" Meical said to Hadran. \"I would not speak ill of you.\"\n\nHadran looked up, his dark hair glossy in the starlight. He drew in a deep breath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Ben-Elim decided that Meical had lost sight of our task, and our plan. We had strategies in place that had taken hundreds of years to come to fruition, and Meical was putting those plans at risk. He was no longer prepared to make the... sacrifices, that war sometimes requires.\" Hadran's voice was stiff, wooden as he spoke.\n\n\"I still don't understand,\" Riv said. \"What did you do for the Ben-Elim to imprison you?\"\n\nMeical looked at Hadran and the other Ben-Elim. Hadran just nodded.\n\n\"I told Corban the truth.\" Meical shrugged. \"That he had been lied to. That he and his kin, his family, were pawns in a great game. That they were a strategy in our Long War with the Kadoshim.\"\n\nRiv shook her head. \"Why am I not surprised,\" she said bitterly. \"The more I learn of the Ben-Elim, the more a fool I feel for blindly following them.\"\n\nHadran stiffened. He opened his mouth, then stopped, his shoulders slumping.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" he said. \"For my part, I regret much that has been done.\" He looked up at Riv, pain in his eyes.\n\nShe looked at him, wondered when exactly this cold, aloof warrior had gone from being her guard to her friend.\n\nShe smiled at him. \"The past is done. Now, the next day. That is what is important. What truly matters.\"\n\nHadran nodded. \"Thank you,\" he whispered.\n\n\"Riv is right,\" Meical said. \"The past is done. Over. My only regret is that it took me away from the fight, from Corban and the others.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You were thereat the end, though, at the battle. At the Day of Wrath.\"\n\n\"I was,\" Meical said. \"But only because Corban ventured into the Otherworld and set me free. His friendship taught me much.\" He looked at Hadran and the other Ben-Elim. \"For my part, I forgive the mistakes of the past. As long as lessons have been learned, and the same mistakes are not repeated, over and over.\"\n\n\"What lessons are those?\" Riv asked him.\n\n\"That what we fight for is love and friendship. Not schemes and strategies, but people. Our kin, our friends. Our loved ones.\" He sighed. \"That is what Corban taught me. The mistake is to forget that.\"\n\n\"That mistake will not be made by me,\" Hadran said. \"Never again.\"\n\nMeical offered Hadran his arm. There was a moment as Hadran looked into Meical's face, and then he took it in the warrior grip.\n\n\"What of Kol, though?\" Riv said.\n\nMeical sighed. \"I cannot speak for him. But I will not standby and watch him do wrong. If I can stop that, I will.\"\n\n\"So will I,\" Riv snarled.\n\nMeical smiled.\n\n\"I have no doubt of that, warrior of the Bright Star.\"\n\nThe ground below Riv changed from the undulating green of Sarva's trees to open meadows, a wide river flowing from the forest towards the sea. Ripa appeared, a fortress and town nestled in a bay of glistening blue, the river's estuary curling around the town's western border. A tower of white stone stood like a spike upon a hill, sharp cliffs on its south side dropping down to the bay. It was surrounded by a stout wooden fortress, buildings of wood and thatch spilling in tiers down the hill and rolling up to the bay, where scores of piers and jetties jutted into the sea. Masts were thick on the water, gulls crying above them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv and her companions had been seen, other Ben-Elim spotting them a dozen leagues further inland, scouts guarding the approaches to Ripa.\n\nAnd that is wise, from what we have seen.\n\nNow an escort of white-winged Ben-Elim were leading them into Ripa, flying lower, swooping over sun-baked meadows that surrounded the fortress. Riv saw a hive of activity on the plains. A tall, long, palisaded wall ringed a half-circle about Ripa, roughly a league out from the fortress. Closer to the fortress there was a well-organized camp: rowed tents, hundreds of them, if not thousands, which was reassuring. Paddocks, fire-pits, cook-houses, grain stores. Riv could make out figures as small as ants sparring, others on marching drill. Her eyes lingered on the paddocks, hoping to see Sirak horses, smaller and hardier than the mounts the White-Wings used, but from this height she could not tell.\n\nErem, one of the Ben-Elim leading them in, shouted and gestured and they tucked their wings, diving out of the bright blue towards the tower on the hill. Horns were blowing, now, announcing their arrival, figures becoming clearer, warriors pointing up at them.\n\nRiv and the group of Ben-Elim circled the tower and swept in close. At the tower's peak Riv saw huge windows facing north, south, east and west. Erem checked his wings, slowed, and flew through one of those windows, disappearing into the tower.\n\nThey followed.\n\nRiv beat her wings, slowing and hovering, then alighted upon a stone floor. The room was the interior of the tower, at its centre a huge table, a map of the Banished Lands carved into its top. Around it were a dozen Ben-Elim, elegant and beautiful, and standing about them were a handful of White-Wings, men and women with short-cropped hair, gleaming mail and polished cuirasses, the white wings of their order emblazoned upon their chests."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 62"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv and her companions had been seen, other Ben-Elim spotting them a dozen leagues further inland, scouts guarding the approaches to Ripa.\n\nAnd that is wise, from what we have seen.\n\nNow an escort of white-winged Ben-Elim were leading them into Ripa, flying lower, swooping over sun-baked meadows that surrounded the fortress. Riv saw a hive of activity on the plains. A tall, long, palisaded wall ringed a half-circle about Ripa, roughly a league out from the fortress. Closer to the fortress there was a well-organized camp: rowed tents, hundreds of them, if not thousands, which was reassuring. Paddocks, fire-pits, cook-houses, grain stores. Riv could make out figures as small as ants sparring, others on marching drill. Her eyes lingered on the paddocks, hoping to see Sirak horses, smaller and hardier than the mounts the White-Wings used, but from this height she could not tell.\n\nErem, one of the Ben-Elim leading them in, shouted and gestured and they tucked their wings, diving out of the bright blue towards the tower on the hill. Horns were blowing, now, announcing their arrival, figures becoming clearer, warriors pointing up at them.\n\nRiv and the group of Ben-Elim circled the tower and swept in close. At the tower's peak Riv saw huge windows facing north, south, east and west. Erem checked his wings, slowed, and flew through one of those windows, disappearing into the tower.\n\nThey followed.\n\nRiv beat her wings, slowing and hovering, then alighted upon a stone floor. The room was the interior of the tower, at its centre a huge table, a map of the Banished Lands carved into its top. Around it were a dozen Ben-Elim, elegant and beautiful, and standing about them were a handful of White-Wings, men and women with short-cropped hair, gleaming mail and polished cuirasses, the white wings of their order emblazoned upon their chests."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kol stood at the centre of it all, leaning upon the huge table, staring at it. The last time Riv had seen him he had been pale-faced and battered, his mail torn, bandages seeping blood. Now, he was dressed and glowing like a god. His golden hair was tied back, bound in a thick warrior braid, a coat of mail trimmed at neck and sleeves with gold. A sword and knife hung at his belt, both scabbarded in soft leather bound with gold wire. He looked up as Riv flew in, his eyes flickering over her, settling upon Meical and Hadran.\n\n\"Well, I was wondering where you were,\" Kol said. He looked Hadran and the other Ben-Elim up and down. \"Fetch them food and drink,\" he said, waving a hand. \"There were more of you when you left.\"\n\n\"We have seen battle,\" Hadran said. \"A Revenant horde.\"\n\n\"Aye. Well, report,\" Kol said.\n\nHadran looked at Meical, who gave a slight nod. Kol saw it, his mouth thinning to a tight line.\n\n\"The Order of the Bright Star are marching here, willing to unite with our forces,\" Hadran said. He paused. \"The plan is proceeding as Meical proposed.\"\n\n\"It was my plan,\" Kol said defensively.\n\nHadran gaped at Kol, opened his mouth.\n\n\"It does not matter who suggested the plan of uniting here against Asroth,\" Meical interrupted. \"So long as that is what we do. Unite with our allies.\"\n\nKol shot Meical a hard look.\n\n\"I do not think you should be here. You were removed from your position of authority, deemed unfit and imprisoned. You have no right to be party to our council of war.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hadran gazed at Kol in shock.\n\n\"This is wrong,\" he said. \"Meical has fought with us, fought Asroth, he has every-\"\n\n\"Be silent, Hadran. You were in the Assembly that voted him removed from power; you were in the Assembly that voted me Lord Protector of the Banished Lands. My plan is going well. We have close to six thousand White-Wings here, another thousand marching from Haldis due any day, and a thousand Ben-Elim, those stationed on the southern coasts, or survivors of Drassil. We hardly need the Order of the Bright Star.\"\n\n\"You know that's not true,\" Meical said calmly. \"We all saw Asroth's host at Drassil. And it is stronger now.\"\n\n\"Well, be that as it may,\" Kol said, \"we certainly don't need an outcast Ben-Elim's help.\" He glared at Meical. \"You disregarded the Ben-Elim Lore. Made a mockery of our traditions. Perhaps you should go back to a cell.\"\n\nI've had enough of this.\n\nRiv strode forwards, Ben-Elim around Kol staring at her, standing in her way. She did not change her pace or direction, just walked through them, shoving them out of her way.\n\n\"Talking of disobeying the Lore,\" she said, looking into Kol's eyes fiercely. \"Well met, Father. Have you missed me?\"\n\nA silence settled over the room, all staring at Kol and Riv. Slowly Riv saw understanding dawn in Ben-Elim eyes.\n\nDumah, a Ben-Elim that Riv remembered from the Assembly, stepped forwards.\n\n\"You told us no one knew who her father was. You swore it, in front of the Assembly.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I...\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kol said, eyeing Riv with disgust. \"She's lying.\"\n\n\"No, she's not,\" a voice spoke from the back of the room.\n\nRiv turned, saw her mother, Aphra, standing there. Like Kol, she was gleaming in mail and leather. She looked strong, and back in the best of health. She strode through the room, Ben-Elim and White-Wings parting for her.\n\n\"I am Riv's mother, and Kol is her father,\" Aphra said to the room. She looked at Dumah and the other Ben-Elim and drew in a deep breath. \"I'm sick of living this lie, it has been a poison in my life. Do to us what you will.\"\n\nDumah looked between Kol, Riv and Aphra. Kol was pale, a tremor in his cheek.\n\nFear, or rage? Riv wondered. Probably a bit of both.\n\nFor herself, Riv felt no fear. Just a soaring elation, and a swell of love and pride for her mother. She reached out and took Aphra's hand in hers.\n\nDumah turned to Kol, holding his gaze. Kol tried to return the look, but his eyes faltered and he dropped his head.\n\n\"I maybe an outcast Ben-Elim,\" Meical said quietly, \"but I say Aphra and Riv are innocent in this. You,\" he said to Aphra, \"were manipulated and seduced by someone you believed to be almost a god.\" He looked at Kol. \"If anyone should answer for this, it is you.\" Murmurs of agreement rippled around the room. \"But,\" Meical continued, \"my advice is that any judgement should wait. There is a war out there. Asroth marches here, we have seen his war-host, and there is no room for discord amongst us. Not now. All who are the enemies of Asroth should put aside our differences and fight.\" He snarled the last word, wiped a handover his face. \"Because, let me tell you; divided we will fall.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dumah, Hadran and the other Ben-Elim all stared at Meical, as did the White-Wing captains.\n\nNo, Riv thought, let Kol be tried and cast out now. She felt her rage bubbling, the thought of Kol finally receiving some small measure of justice intoxicating to her.\n\n\"Meical speaks wisdom,\" Hadran said. \"Asroth is our enemy.\"\n\nDumah frowned. \"Lies and deceit within our midst, though,\" he muttered.\n\n\"Deal with it after the war, if any of us still live,\" Meical said. \"A Ben-Elim Assembly. I would demand it, anyway. I have my own grievances to air.\" He held Dumah's gaze.\n\nRiv breathed in, deep and slow. She had come to trust Meical, knew that what he said had logic in it, though every fibre of her being wanted to see Kol humbled and laid low.\n\n\"I would be in agreement with that,\" Dumah said, \"if the other captains amongst us agree.\"\n\n\"Most of them are here,\" Meical said. \"What say you?\" he asked, looking around the room.\n\nThere were nods, mutters of agreement.\n\n\"That is settled, then,\" Dumah said. \"An Assembly when Asroth is defeated. Though until then Kol forfeits his title of lord protector. Decisions will be made by the Assembly.\"\n\n\"In consultation with our allies,\" Meical added.\n\nDumah looked at him, then nodded.\n\n\"Good,\" Meical said.\n\n\"Good,\" Kol echoed, as if this had been his plan all along.\n\nRiv stared at Kol, stunned by his audacity."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well met, daughter,\" he said, the twist of his crooked smile through his scar."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You area great deal of trouble, you know. And a disobedient soldier. A White-Wing should do as they are ordered.\"\n\n\"I'm not a White-Wing,\" Riv said, tapping her cloak brooch with a cold smile of her own.\n\nKol looked at it, frowned.\n\n\"What have you done now?\"\n\n\"Made the right choice,\" she said. \"Truth and Courage.\"\n\nKol rolled his eyes. \"Dear Elyon above,\" he said.\n\nAphra put a hand on Riv's shoulder.\n\n\"I have been so worried for you, missed you so much,\" she said, and smiled at Riv, tears in her eyes.\n\nIn front of them all Riv wrapped her arms around Aphra and kissed her cheek.\n\n\"I have missed you, too, Mother.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha poured a bucket of hot water over Asroth's back; steam rose from the bath and she passed him a cup of wine.\n\n\"Ah, by the Otherworld, but that feels so good.\" Asroth groaned. \"The pleasures of this world of flesh are never-ending.\" He twisted in the bath to look back at her, water spilling.\n\nShe was refilling the bucket from a barrel in the corner of their huge tent and hanging the bucket to warm over afire-pit.\n\n\"Let someone else do that. Join me,\" Asroth said.\n\nIt was not a suggestion.\n\nFritha unbuckled her weapons-belt, lay it over a chair, then jumped and wriggled out of her coat of mail. Then her boots and breeches came off and finally her tunic. Quickly she lifted a leg over the bathtub rim and gasped as she eased herself into the hot water, sat facing Asroth, steam rising in curls between them.\n\nHe took a sip from his cup of wine, a red stain on his lips.\n\n\"You are beautiful,\" Fritha said to him, taking in the sharp lines of his cheeks, the black wells that were his eyes, muscle of shoulders and chest thick and striated.\n\nHe just smiled at her.\n\n\"You cannot hide it from me,\" Asroth said casually.\n\nFritha raised an eyebrow.\n\nHe leaned forwards, his hand moving beneath the water. Fingertips brushed her stomach, making her shiver.\n\n\"Your belly. My child,\" he said.\n\nThey had not spoken of it up until now. Fritha had guessed that Asroth knew, but she did not want to risk being banned from battle, so hadn't mentioned it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She smiled at Asroth."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am honoured that your seed grows within me,\" she said.\n\n\"As you should be,\" he replied, brushing away a strand of silver hair that had fallen across his face. \"Your name will live on in history, long after your bones have crumbled to dust.\"\n\nThat was not a particularly warming thought for Fritha. She did not care much for glory, or for what may come to be after she was dead and gone. She wanted things now. Revenge. Success. A child. A family to belong to, to look after.\n\n\"A child. My child,\" Asroth murmured. \"It is a strange thought, but not unpleasant. I think I will enjoy being a father.\"\n\n\"You will be a good father,\" she said.\n\n\"Maybe.\" He sipped more wine. \"Can you fight, with our child in your belly?\" He sounded genuinely interested.\n\n\"Aye,\" Fritha said. She shrugged. \"There will come a time when I can't, but the war should be won by then.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Asroth grunted. He stretched in the bath, his foot rising beside Fritha's shoulder, black-nailed toes wriggling. \"I am eager for battle now,\" he said, a smile creasing his face. \"How long until we reach Ripa?\"\n\nThey had left the trees of Forn Forest behind them a ten-night ago, travelled through the passes of the Bairg Mountains and were now marching across leagues of gently rolling meadows and dells. Their pace had picked up each day, with Aenor finally teaching his acolytes the rudiments of marching.\n\n\"A moon and a half, perhaps two moons.\" Fritha shook her head. \"You were in no rush to begin this march, and yet now you wish it were over?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth looked at Fritha along while, under heavy-lidded eyes.\n\n\"I find your company refreshing,\" he said. \"And I am inclined to tell you a truth. Can I trust you?\"\n\n\"Of course you can,\" Fritha said. \"I would rather cut my unborn child from my belly than betray you.\" Though even as she said the words, she knew she did not mean them. Her child was everything to her.\n\n\"I will hold you to that,\" Asroth said.\n\nFritha looked at him. \"A truth,\" she prompted.\n\n\"I wanted to leave Drassil much sooner, but I... feared.\"\n\n\"Feared what?\" she asked with a frown.\n\n\"Losing.\" He looked to the entrance of their tent where a curtain hung, saw the shadow of a Kadoshim guard outside.\n\n\"Gulla,\" he breathed. \"He is much changed. More powerful now. And he has the Seven about him, and his host of Revenants. He is my captain, has always been loyal, but since I have returned, there is a change in him. He has tasted his newfound power, and liked it.\"\n\nFritha nodded. There was always a knot of worry in her belly about Gulla, and what he was capable of.\n\n\"You made him this powerful,\" Asroth said. \"But at Drassil I knew I had the starstone metal, and that the forge was somewhere within the fortress. I needed those weapons.\" He looked over at the long axe leaning against his coat of mail that was hung on across-frame. His battle-helm and whip hungover one arm, his weapons-belt with his black-bladed knife over the other.\n\n\"When I awoke, I felt weak. And discovering I was missing a hand did not help that.\" He lifted his arm out of the water and looked at his new right hand, made a fist. Fritha could seethe scar-line and stitch marks a little way above his wrist, and to her eye the flesh of his hand looked slightly paler than the rest of his arm, but to most it would look almost normal."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I am stronger, now, and the starstone strengthens me more."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was created in a place between this world of flesh and the Otherworld, and took power from both. I can feel its strength when I wear it. I am not so worried about Gulla now.\"\n\nFritha stroked the swell of her belly beneath the water.\n\n\"I have a truth to share with you, too,\" she said. \"You know that Gulla and his Revenants do not feel pain like us. They can take a wound that would slay or disable anyone of us.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Asroth nodded.\n\n\"In the Desolation, Ulf, one of the Seven, was with me. He was slain with a rune-marked blade.\" She paused. \"I worked such runes into your long axe and knife. And my short-sword.\"\n\nAsroth stared at her along while, then chuckled.\n\n\"No wonder Gulla fears you,\" he said.\n\n\"Fears me?\" Fritha said. \"Hates me, more like.\"\n\n\"You need not worry about him, my bride,\" Asroth said.\n\n\"I am worried where he is,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"He has been gone too long,\" Asroth agreed.\n\nOver a moon ago Gulla had left them, taking Rald, one of his Seven, a Revenant horde and a guard of Kadoshim and half-breeds. Their destination was Brikan, with orders to destroy whatever skeleton guard remained. It should have been a simple task and they should have been back by now. Fritha was most worried because Morn had gone with Gulla.\n\n\"And I worry about other things,\" Fritha said. \"Where are Jin and her three thousand Clansmen? We area moon from Ripa. She should be with us by now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth waved a hand. \"With or without her the Ben-Elim will fall.\"\n\nFritha was not so sure.\n\nDrassil was a well-timed ambush. We took them by surprise. Ripa will not be like that. I do not trust Gulla and his Revenants, and without them we have four thousand acolytes, plus the Kadoshim and their half-breeds. I have seen what a White-Wing shield wall is capable of and the Ben-Elim are more than a match for the Kadoshim.\n\n\"We have other allies, remember,\" Asroth said, sipping his wine.\n\n\"Allies we have never seen or spoken with,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Gulla has spoken with them, and Sulak is in the sky, watching them,\" Asroth said. \"You worry too much.\"\n\nAnd you worry too little. Have these pleasures of the flesh overwhelmed you? We need strategy, not brute force. We must not underestimate the Ben-Elim and their forces.\n\nIt was the next morning that Gulla swept into Asroth's tent, Morn a few steps behind him. Kadoshim guards were stationed inside the tent now, Fritha seated at a table with Asroth. Aenor was there, too. Elise was lurking in the shadows. Wrath lay outside the tent's entrance-he was too big to fit through the opening.\n\n\"More wine,\" Asroth said, holding his cup out, an acolyte servant hurrying forwards with a jug to fill it. Wine was offered to Fritha, too, but she held a handover her cup.\n\nA clear mind, whenever Gulla is around. It seems that Asroth enjoys his wine too much to care."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gulla was walking with a limp, a bandage around his thigh, and another wrapped around his chest and back, threaded between his wings. His brows were knotted in a glower over his one red eye. Behind him Morn looked worse. Her face was a lattice of red-scabbed wounds, a bandage wrapped high around her chest, a spot of blood on the linen, and one of her wings was frayed and tattered.\n\n\"What happened?\" Asroth asked, looking Gulla up and down.\n\n\"There were more of the Order at Brikan than expected,\" Gulla said. \"And Byrne's vanguard arrived before we had finished them.\"\n\n\"Vanguard?\" Asroth said.\n\n\"They were half-breed Ben-Elim,\" Morn said. \"Skilled with bow and spear.\"\n\nFritha sucked in a breath, felt as if she had just been punched.\n\nHalf-breed Ben-Elim, like my daughter.\n\nMy daughter, who the Ben-Elim murdered.\n\nFritha had seen one of these half-breeds in Drassil, at the battle within the Great Hall when Asroth had been freed. A fair-haired warrior with dapple-grey wings. She had dragged Meical to safety. Fritha felt an unnatural hatred for her, that she was alive where her own daughter was dead.\n\n\"We slew many of them,\" Gulla said, \"but the battle was hard fought, and we were forced to retreat before more of Byrne's advance arrived.\"\n\nAsroth's lip curled. He gestured for Gulla to sit and offered him a cup of wine.\n\n\"I do not drink that anymore,\" Gulla said. \"I have other tastes.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Asroth said. \"I keep forgetting. You are wounded,\" he added. \"I did not think you could be wounded now, or that you did not feel the pain from it.\" He waved his hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gulla reached inside his cloak and drew out a hand-axe. He threw it onto the table with a clatter.\n\n\"There is worse news,\" he said. \"The Order of the Bright Star have forged weapons that can hurt us. Slay us. Me, my Revenants.\"\n\n\"Like Ulf in the Desolation,\" Fritha said. Gulla shot her a glowering look from his red eye.\n\n\"Rald is dead,\" Gulla said, bowing his head. \"Thousands of my Revenant horde fallen with one blow.\"\n\n\"That is a blow,\" Fritha murmured. She reached forwards and took the axe, lifted it and turned it. It was well balanced, a single, slightly hooked blade, weighted for throwing. She ran her thumb along its edge, saw pearls of blood bead on her thumb. She smeared the blood over the blade.\n\n\"Nochtann,\" she whispered.\n\nThe blade seemed to shimmer a moment, her blood bubbling, and then runes appeared, carved into the iron of the axe-head. Fritha bent closer, studying the runes.\n\n\"Misneach,\" she murmured, looked up at Gulla and the others. \"Courage.\"\n\nMorn made a disgusted sound in her throat.\n\n\"Where did you get this?\" Fritha asked.\n\n\"Morn pulled it from out of my back,\" Gulla snarled. He rolled his shoulders, grimaced.\n\n\"Drem threw it,\" Morn said, staring straight at Fritha.\n\n\"Drem?\"\n\n\"Aye, the man who slew my brother.\"\n\n\"I know who he is,\" Fritha said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man she had chased from one end of the Desolation to the other. Who she had offered a place at her side.\n\nAnd he spurned me.\n\nI did kill his father.\n\n\"I tried to kill him,\" Morn said, \"came so close.\"\n\n\"It looks as if he came closer to killing you,\" Asroth said drily, looking at Morn's wounds.\n\n\"This was not him,\" Morn said. \"The huntsman's wolven-hounds tried to eat me. I put a knife in one of them. Father tore the huntsman's throat out,\" she said, with a smile at Fritha.\n\n\"He slew Rald,\" Gulla growled.\n\n\"The huntsman who led the escape through the Desolation,\" Morn said to Fritha.\n\n\"Good,\" Fritha said, remembering him. A man she guessed was high in the Order of the Bright Star.\n\n\"The Ben-Elim half-breeds put an arrow in me,\" Morn continued, touching the bandage across her chest, \"that Father cutout.\" She clicked her neck. \"And that white bear did this to my wing.\" She extended one wing, showing Fritha where claws had raked it.\n\n\"The white bear?\" Fritha asked. She had come across a white bear before, and was not fond of it.\n\n\"Yes, the white bear,\" Morn said. \"And I will kill it.\"\n\nA rattle sounded from the shadows of the tent, Elise emerging. \"I hate that white bear,\" she hissed. During the battle in the Desolation the white bear had nearly crushed Elise.\n\n\"So does Wrath, don't you, my darling?\" Fritha called out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A deep rumbling growl echoed in from beyond the tent's entrance, the wind of Wrath's breath stirring the curtain.\n\n\"You fought that white bear, didn't you?\" Fritha called out to her draig.\n\n\"Wrath smaller then. Wrath big now. Wrath eat white bear if see it again.\"\n\n\"That's the spirit,\" Asroth said, laughing. He looked at them all. \"So, my grudge with Meical is not the only one that will be settled before the walls of Ripa, then.\"\n\n\"No,\" Fritha answered, thinking of Drem. \"Not if the Order of the Bright Star are marching to Ripa.\"\n\n\"I hope they are,\" Asroth said. \"All our enemies in one place. I am growing tired of this constant marching. Better to fight them all and be done with it.\"\n\nAlthough if they unite that would make our enemies stronger. Better to fight them separately, divided and weaker.\n\n\"They are marching south,\" Gulla said. \"Whether they are marching to Ripa to unite with our allies, or just pursuing us, I do not know.\" He lifted his palms. \"Either way, we shall face them on the battlefield soon.\"\n\n\"Don't look so worried about that prospect,\" Asroth said.\n\n\"I have just lost thousands of warriors.\" Gulla tried to keep the anger Fritha could see clear upon his face from spilling out in his voice.\n\n\"They were only Revenants, though. Surely you can just make more,\" Asroth said, waving airily, and smiled. \"After all, there are plenty of blood-filled humans between here and Ripa in the south.\"\n\nGulla nodded thoughtfully at that. A slow smile crept across his face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Has there been any sign of Bleda?\" Riv asked Aphra, who was striding in front of her through the warren of the White-Wings' camp beyond the walls of Ripa.\n\n\"No,\" Aphra said, looking over her shoulder. She saw the look that settled over Riv's face.\n\n\"Should be any day now,\" she added reassuringly.\n\nRiv just grunted, chewing her lip.\n\nShe followed Aphra through the camp, the rising sun already hot, casting the world in red and gold. Tents were set in orderly rows, thousands of them. Despite dawn only just breaking, everywhere was motion, the camp waking into lifelike a living, breathing machine. Fire-pits burned, meat turning on spits, pots boiling, porridge bubbling, people sitting on benches, eating and drinking. In another section White-Wing warriors sparred, drilled the shield wall, voices and the clack-clack of practice blades.\n\n\"Here we are,\" Aphra said, as they passed through along row of tents and stepped into another open space of cook-fires and sparring ground.\n\nConversation stopped, those sparring stuttering to a halt, as all paused in whatever they were doing to look at Riv.\n\nSo many faces.\n\nFamiliar faces: Aphra's garrison of White-Wings, the survivors from Drassil. Riv saw Ert, the old sword master, and Fia scooping water from a barrel with a ladle and washing her baby. Avi, how he had grown, a shock of dark hair on him. Bull-muscled Sorch was there, on his knees with a practice sword in his hand, a young boy attacking him.\n\nTam.\n\nThere was a silence and then a cheer rose up amongst them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why are they cheering me?\" Riv said.\n\n\"Because none of us would be here if not for you, Riv,\" Aphra said. \"You saved us.\"\n\n\"Meical helped,\" Riv said, uncomfortable.\n\n\"Aye, he did,\" Aphra said. \"But without you, we would have been food for crows that day, and they all know it.\"\n\nPeople came forward, slapping Riv on the shoulder, offering their arm in the warrior grip, hugging her, welcoming her back. Aphra ushered her through the crowd, Riv nodding and smiling, and then she was being sat upon a bench and given a pot of porridge and aboard of sliced meat, fried onions and bread.\n\n\"Riv,\" a voice called, a figure shoving through the crowd around her.\n\n\"Jost!\" Riv said, putting her food to one side and standing, embracing her friend. They held each other tight, silent for long moments.\n\n\"I've missed you,\" he said when they parted. \"It's been too quiet. No brawling fights, no having to guard your back. I haven't had a black eye in at least three moons.\"\n\n\"I'm sure I can fix that for you,\" Riv said, and they both grinned.\n\n\"Sit, eat with us,\" Aphra said, and Riv did, Jost hurrying off to fetch a jug of water and a handful of cups. Fia joined them, carrying Avi under one arm.\n\n\"Wings,\" the boy said, pointing at Riv.\n\n\"Aye, aren't they fine?\" Fia said. \"One day you'll have your own wings, just like that.\" She held her handout and squeezed Riv's shoulder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So, what's the news?\" Jost asked, as he sat down beside Riv.\n\n\"There was a battle at Dun Seren, a host of Revenants chasing the survivors of Ardain.\"\n\n\"Revenants?\" Aphra asked.\n\n\"Mist-walkers,\" Riv said. \"They were created by Fritha, High Priestess of the Kadoshim. She changed Gulla using dark magic and Asroth's right hand, made him into something new. The first Revenant.\"\n\n\"Fritha,\" Aphra said.\n\n\"Aye. It washer at Drassil, who rode upon the winged draig.\"\n\n\"I know her,\" Aphra said, going pale. \"Or of her. She was a White-Wing. Just... disappeared. I suspected that Kol or one of his inner circle were the reason.\" She looked at Fia, who nodded.\n\n\"Well, she hates us and the Ben-Elim, sure enough,\" Jost said. \"I saw her at Drassil.\"\n\n\"If she was anything to do with Kol, then she has good reason,\" Riv muttered.\n\n\"Careful,\" Aphra said, looking about. \"You are amongst friends now, but Kol is powerful here, and he has many eyes and ears in this camp.\"\n\n\"What happened, in this battle?\" Jost asked Riv.\n\nSo Riv told them of the battle upon the meadows where Nara and her people were saved, and then of the assault upon Dun Seren, about the effects of being bitten, about the Revenants'towers of bodies and limbs, how flame deterred them, about the Order's rune-marked blades. About the rush for the tunnels beneath the fortress and of Arvid's fall, though she did not say that it washer who had killed Arvid."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then she told them of Faelan and the half-breed Ben-Elim.\n\n\"Elyon above,\" Aphra breathed. \"So many years, so many lives damaged by Kol and his hubris.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv grunted. \"They will be here soon, with the Order of the Bright Star.\" She looked at Fia and Avi. \"Your son will not be as alone as you feared. The Order protected them, kept them secret and safe for over sixty years.\"\n\n\"Sounds as if you like this Order of the Bright Star,\" Jost said. \"I thought they were supposed to be a poor image of us. Weaker, less skilled.\"\n\n\"The truth is something altogether different from that,\" Riv said. \"I like them a great deal. I took their oath. I am one of them.\" She showed them her cloak brooch, the bright star gleaming, freshly polished.\n\n\"But you area White-Wing,\" Jost breathed, \"one of us.\"\n\n\"No, I failed my warrior trial, remember? I was never deemed good enough by the Ben-Elim. And now, even if I wanted to be a White-Wing, I do not think I would fit so well into a shield wall.\" She gave her wings a ripple. \"That is where you White-Wings are more skilled than the Order of the Bright Star, the shield wall,\" she said.\n\nJost sat a little straighter at that.\n\n\"In all else martial, the Order of the Bright Star excel. But that is not why I took their oath.\"\n\n\"Why did you swear their oath?\" Aphra asked.\n\nRiv had thought on this long and hard in the days since she had alighted on the weapons-field at Dun Seren."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Because of what they stand for,\" Riv said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Even their battle-cry is Truth and Courage. Truth. Not the lie I have lived at Drassil. That we have all lived. Just speaking to Meical on the journey here has revealed so much more of the Ben-Elim's deception.\" She shook her head. \"And Courage. That is something that we all value and believe in. I am a fighter.\" She shrugged. \"Born and trained to kill. But when I fight with the Order of the Bright Star, I know it is for the right reasons.\"\n\nShe looked up, saw Aphra, Jost, Fia, all staring at her, and others had joined them, were sitting or standing, listening attentively. Ert, Sorch, many others.\n\n\"We share the same enemy, the Kadoshim,\" Riv said, \"and they area great evil that must be fought. But when this war is done, if I am still breathing, I want nothing to do with Kol or his Ben-Elim.\" She gazed at Aphra, took her hand. \"I love you, you should come with me. All of you.\" She looked at Jost and the others. \"There would be a life for us at Dun Seren, amongst people we can respect. Not pretty, egotistical arselings with wings who use us as pawns.\"\n\nA silence settled about her, some nodding, some frowning.\n\nAphra blew out along breath. \"Much to think on.\" She nodded, squeezing Riv's hand. \"But you are right, the Kadoshim are the enemy of all. I will consider what you've said, but one battle at a time, eh?\"\n\nRiv nodded.\n\n\"I would say this, though,\" Aphra continued. \"The Ben-Elim are no different from you and I. Good, bad and everything in between. Some are honest, honourable, others are... less so.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye. Hadran is all right, and Meical,\" Riv acknowledged.\n\n\"All right?\" Jost said. \"Meical fought Asroth to a standstill. He's a legend.\"\n\nA small figure pushed through the press around Riv, Tam. He threw himself at Riv and hugged her. The huge figure of Sorch loomed behind him.\n\n\"You've come along way from Drassil, Tam,\" Riv said. \"I saw you in the weapons-court, you're fierce with a blade.\"\n\nTam grinned. \"Sorch has been teaching me.\"\n\n\"Looks as if he's doing a fine job of it,\" Riv said, and nodded at Sorch. She'd never liked him much but the Ben-Elim had away of making friends out of enemies, and her feuds with Sorch seemed so long ago.\n\nI have fought a host of Revenants since then, people who wanted to tear my throat outwith their teeth or fingernails. Sorch doesn't seem so bad now.\n\nShe stood and looked at him.\n\n\"So,\" she said. \"Which am I? Abomination or sword-sister?\"\n\nHe looked her up and down.\n\n\"Sword-sister, I'm thinking,\" he said with a grin.\n\nRiv offered her arm in the warrior grip, and Sorch took it.\n\nThe beating of wings up above and Meical descended from the sky. He was dressed for war, as always, with the rune-marked sword and spear the Order had fashioned for him in his fist and at his hip.\n\n\"A hard-fought journey since I saw you last in Forn,\" Aphra said to Meical, as she offered him her arm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Aye,\" Meical answered as he took it."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is the way of the Banished Lands. Your daughter brings you much honour. She slew Arvid, one of Gulla's Seven, and with that blow destroyed the Revenant host.\"\n\nMurmurs and gasps of appreciation rippled around them.\n\n\"Well, you left that bit of information out.\" Aphra's eyes gleamed with pride as she looked at Riv.\n\n\"Forgot,\" Riv muttered, shuffling her feet. \"So,\" she said, changing the subject. \"Tell me, how do you plan to face a horde of blood-hungry Revenants?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda sat and chewed on some flatbread and cold lamb. To the south mountains reared, to the north, the trees of Forn Forest. They were camped upon the banks of a river, in a wide valley that cut through those mountains.\n\nDawn's glow was beginning to seep into the world, pushing the darkness back.\n\nHe was up first every morning, liked this time to sit in silence and think on the coming day.\n\n\"More?\" Ruga asked, using her knife to cut slices of meat. She was his constant shadow.\n\nBleda shook his head, too full of what the next days might bring.\n\nRipa. Battle. Riv. Will she be there? Does she even still live?\n\nA tremor in the ground and Raina joined them with a large black pot in her hands. She set it upon the stone next to Ruga's lamb, then saw that the fire-pit had burned out. Reaching down to a pouch at her belt, she pulled out a small jar. Afoul smell like curdled cream hit Bleda as Raina wiggled open a wooden stopper. The giant carefully took a pinch of powder from the jar and sprinkled it onto the dead embers in the fire-pit. She stoppered the jar, put it back in her pouch, then took a water skin and washed her hands clean. Finally, she drew a striking iron and kindling stone from her pouch, struck some sparks that went scattering over the embers and powder.\n\nThere was a whoosh and blue flames burst into life, filling the fire-pit.\n\nRaina gave a contented grunt, stirred her pot with a wooden spoon, then sat beside Bleda.\n\n\"What is that?\" Bleda asked, staring at the blue flames."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Giant's fire,\" Raina said with a shrug.\n\n\"I've heard of it,\" Bleda said. \"I thought it was like oil.\"\n\n\"No.\" Raina smiled. \"It is this powder. You can add it to anything, oil, water, wood-it will make everything burn, and a little goes along way.\"\n\n\"I can see that,\" Bleda said, looking at how the whole fire-pit was crackling with blue flame. Raina stirred her pot again.\n\n\"You're an early one.\" She grunted, rubbing her head, stubble scraping.\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda said. \"Tell me again, where are we?\"\n\n\"Those mountains are the Agullas.\" Raina pointed. \"And the land we are moving into was once known as the realm of Tenebral. Now it is just one more province in the Land of the Faithful.\"\n\n\"Not for much longer,\" Bleda said. \"Win or lose this war, the world will change. Kol and his Ben-Elim will not rule.\"\n\n\"Will they not?\" Raina said, raising an eyebrow. \"I can't seethe Ben-Elim relinquishing their power so easily.\"\n\n\"They won't have a choice,\" Bleda said.\n\nRaina shrugged. \"I hope you are right.\"\n\nThere was a flapping and cawing above them and a crow spiralled out of the sky.\n\n\"RAINA, RAINA!\" it called, getting closer and bigger, setting dust swirling as it landed in the grass.\n\n\"Durl found Raina,\" the crow squawked.\n\n\"Durl,\" Raina said, a smile on her face. \"I was wondering when you'd finally find me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well met, Durl,\" Bleda said to the crow. \"I told Raina you were looking for her.\" He reached for some lamb and tore a shred off, throwing it to the crow, who caught it in his big black beak and swallowed it whole.\n\n\"Tain say hello,\" Durl said, hopping from foot to foot. \"Alcyon say they need you. War. Asroth. BADMEN!\"\n\n\"I am already going to them,\" Raina said.\n\nDurl cocked his head to one side, regarding Raina with one eye.\n\n\"Truth?\" the bird croaked.\n\n\"Aye, truth,\" Raina said.\n\n\"Alcyon say he miss you.\"\n\nRaina paused, looked away.\n\n\"I have missed him, too,\" she murmured. \"You can help us find them,\" she said, louder. \"Bleda here says that the Order of the Bright Star are marching to Ripa, to join with those who stand against Asroth. You could fly there and find out if they are there yet.\"\n\n\"Durl fly to Balara,\" the crow said. \"Durl's friends at Balara.\"\n\n\"That's close enough,\" Raina said.\n\n\"Durl hungry, thirsty, tired. Rest first. Been looking everywhere for you.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Raina said. She stirred the pot. \"Break your fast with us. Meat or brot?\"\n\nDurl hopped closer, eyeing the food.\n\n\"Both,\" he squawked.\n\nRaina scooped a spoonful of the porridge-like substance into a bowl.\n\nBleda tore off more strips of lamb and threw them at the crow's feet. Around them the camp was coming to life, giants and Sirak emerging from tents, setting about the process of breaking camp."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We shall begone soon. Bleda looked to the east, wondering how far behind them Jin was. She was still following them. Seven days had passed since Bleda had seen the dust cloud of her host at the Tethys Pass, and it had followed them steadily southwards. With the extra horses that Bleda had captured, his warband had moved faster, and he had been stunned that he had not needed to slowdown for the giants. They had run at a steady, ground-eating pace. Jin had followed them, but not gained. He judged she was a day and a half behind them.\n\n\"How long since you last saw Alcyon?\" Bleda said to Raina.\n\n\"Thirty years,\" Raina said.\n\nBleda blinked. \"That is along time. Why?\" he asked.\n\nRaina slowly looked at him.\n\n\"I love someone,\" Bleda said. \"I have been parted from her, and it hurts, like a physical pain. I cannot imagine being parted for so long.\"\n\nRaina blew out along breath.\n\n\"My apologies,\" Bleda said, \"I should not have pried.\"\n\n\"You are honest,\" Raina said. \"There is a sincerity about you that I like. And we are allies, so perhaps a little truth does not hurt.\"\n\nShe gave a sigh. \"Many, many years ago, our Clan, the Kurgan, were attacked,\" she said. \"I and my son were taken prisoner, and Alcyon was forced into slavery to a Kadoshim lord. The rest of our Clan were scattered. Years passed.\" She paused. \"And then two good men set us free,\" Raina continued. \"Maquin and Veradis were their names. And as we emerged into the world again the Long War was happening. Coming to its end, we thought, at Drassil.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Day of Wrath?\" Bleda asked.\n\n\"Aye, that is what it came to be called. We fought alongside Ethlinn. She united the giant Clans. Benothi, Kurgan, Jotun, we all fought against the Kadoshim and the Black Sun. And we won. But the war was not over. Kadoshim fled the battleground, hid, and then fought again. Dun Seren was built, the Order of the Bright Star established. But all the while, my heart was drawing me back to Arcona, to search for my people. Alcyon came with me, but eventually he wanted to stop, said that Ethlinn needed us. That the Kadoshim were a danger that we could not turn our backs on. I did not want to go, still believed there was hope of finding our people.\" She shrugged. \"Alcyon left.\"\n\n\"And you stayed, and you found them.\"\n\n\"I did,\" Raina said. \"I asked them to comeback with me to Ethlinn, but they would not. They felt safe, in their caves in the dark. They would be staying, still, if not for the Shekam, and for you.\"\n\n\"Me?\" Bleda said.\n\n\"It was the words you spoke the night we found you. About standing against the Kadoshim. About standing against evil. They struck a chord in Ukran's heart.\"\n\nShe looked at him and spread her hands wide. \"And now I am travelling with you and my Clan. Going back to Alcyon, and to war.\"\n\nThe sound of hooves and jangle of harness. Bleda looked up to see Ellac leading Bleda's horse to him, saddled and harnessed.\n\nTime to ride."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye,\" Bleda said, standing and thinking of Gulla and Jin, and of Riv. He reached for his weapons-belt and buckled it about his waist. \"To war.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin rode along a valley that cut through a range of mountains. They loomed to the north-west and south-east, peaks flecked with snow.\n\nThe Agullas, she remembered from her history lessons in Drassil.\n\nIt was starting to feel as if she'd been chasing Bleda forever. In reality, it had only been a ten-night since she had picked up his trail at the Tethys Pass. She could see that same trail on the ground now, many hooves. There were other prints, too, of booted feet, unnaturally large.\n\n\"Giants.\" She spat. As soon as Tark had shown the footprints to her at the foot of the Tethys Pass Jin had known. Here were the Night-Walkers Vachir had spoken of.\n\nThey may look intimidating, but an arrow through the eye will put one on their back, no different from any other foe.\n\nUp ahead Jin saw some of her scouts. They were stationary, waiting beside a river.\n\nJin signalled to Gerel and he put a horn to his lips and blew, the call taken up by others along the three-thousand-strong warband.\n\nSlowing to a canter, Jin drew close to Tark and his scouts. Tark nodded to her and slipped from his saddle.\n\n\"They camped here,\" Tark said, gesturing to fire-pits and heating stones, areas of grass that had been flattened.\n\n\"How close are we?\" she asked, though she already guessed.\n\nTark walked to a mound of horse dung, bent and broke apiece off, sniffed and chewed on it. Spat it out.\n\n\"A day,\" he said.\n\nJin controlled the urge to snarl. Once she had reached the Tethys Pass and found Bleda's tracks she had ridden her war-host hard, but when her horses had started to fall, with injuries or exhaustion, she had had to slow the pace."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin's captains rode up around her. Vachir nodded respectfully to her, bandages still bound around his wounds at chest and hip.\n\n\"We are far into the Lands of the Faithful now,\" Tark said to her and her captains. He looked uncomfortable about that.\n\n\"These lands don't belong to the Ben-Elim now,\" Jin said. \"The Ben-Elim are routed. Asroth thought they had fled to Ripa, a fortress to the south.\" She looked up to the sky, checking the sun and mountains. \"And Bleda rides that way.\"\n\nShe knew a time was coming, approaching fast, where she would have to make a decision. Continue to follow Bleda, or abandon the chase and ride in search of Asroth. That is what she had sworn to do. But Bleda was so close, she could almost taste her vengeance.\n\nBut he will reach Ripa before I catch him, and then I will likely be the outnumbered one.\n\n\"My Queen,\" a voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Gerel. He was pointing up.\n\nJin looked into the sky, putting a handover her eyes. It was cloudless, an endless blue, the sun hot, despite the fact that it was Hunter's Moon, summer long departed. And in that blue there were black dots. She stared, and the dots grew larger.\n\nBows were lifted from saddles and strung, hands hovering over quivers.\n\nBen-Elim or Kadoshim? Jin wondered, her own hand resting on her bow.\n\nThe dots were becoming winged silhouettes, twenty or thirty of them, and one of them was far larger than the others. And this one had a tail.\n\nFritha and her draig."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Peace,\" Jin called out. She looked at Gerel. \"But be ready. They maybe our allies, but that does not mean I trust them.\"\n\nShe heard gasps and murmurs from amongst her warband as the draig swooped lower, its wings beating up foam and spray from the river. It circled over Jin's head, a wide loop, and swept down to land on the far side of the river. The ground shook as its feet hit the surface, wings still beating, slowing its momentum, but it ran on, into the river, an explosion of water hurled into the air, crashing back down, spray reaching as far as Jin, spattering her face.\n\nThe draig stood in the middle of the ford, water up to its bowed belly, Fritha upon its back, wearing a bearskin cloak.\n\n\"Wrath thirsty,\" the draig said, and lowered its head to drink noisily from the river. Fritha leaned forwards and stroked the beast's muscular neck.\n\nThat beast's hide is so thick, its scales look like plates of lamellar armour. I wonder, would my arrows even pierce it?\n\nAround Fritha other shapes descended, thick-muscled men and women with wings like leather and spears in their hands. Not Kadoshim, but their half-breed spawn. Jin recognized the one named as Gulla's daughter, Morn.\n\nThe draig lurched into motion, eruptions of water with each footfall as it splashed across the river, then stomped up the riverbank. It lumbered onto the meadow, stopping a dozen paces before Jin. Her horse danced on the spot, not liking the sight or smell of this draig before her. She calmed the mare with a soft word and a hand on her neck."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well met, sister,\" Fritha said to Jin, which took her by surprise.\n\nSister?\n\nJin looked up at Fritha along moment.\n\n\"Well met,\" she replied.\n\n\"I have been looking for you, hoping to find you soon,\" Fritha continued. \"You area welcome sight, and needed.\" She looked from Jin to the war-host gathered at her back. Fritha smiled. \"You have kept your oath, I see, and gathered the strength of your Clan.\"\n\n\"Three thousand Cheren riders; finest warriors in all of the Banished Lands,\" Jin said.\n\n\"Hmm.\" Fritha nodded. \"And the Sirak?\"\n\n\"Most are feeding the crows. I am in pursuit of the last of them.\" She looked to the south. \"Bleda leads them.\"\n\n\"Ah. The one who slew your father.\"\n\nJin nodded.\n\n\"How far ahead is he?\"\n\n\"A day or so.\" Jin shrugged.\n\n\"You should break off that chase now, and come with me. Asroth and our war-host are two score leagues west of here. You will not catch Bleda before he reaches land held by the Ben-Elim. Seven thousand White-Wings, over a thousand Ben-Elim in the sky. Even the finest warriors in the Banished Lands will struggle against those odds.\"\n\n\"You do not command the Queen of the Cheren,\" Gerel said.\n\nFritha looked at Gerel, and so did Wrath. A snort of air exploded from the draig's nostrils, a line of saliva dripping from one long tooth.\n\n\"He looks tasty,\" Wrath rumbled.\n\n\"We do not eat our friends,\" Fritha reminded him. \"I was not ordering, merely advising,\" she said to Gerel. \"Your Queen is a strategist and cunning thinker. What is the point of charging into death, when she could wait a little longer, join our host, as she promised, and attack with a warband of fourteen or fifteen thousand at her side? That is just wisdom, is it not?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gerel gazed up at Fritha.\n\n\"That is for my Queen to decide, not I,\" Gerel said.\n\n\"Loyalty, I like that. You area good man. And it takes a good leader to inspire that kind of devotion.\" Fritha looked at Jin.\n\n\"What say you? Come west with me, to victory. Or continue south, to an almost certain glorious death. Better vengeance than grief, don't you think?\" Fritha's eyes flickered to Morn.\n\n\"Better vengeance than grief,\" Jin said. \"I like that.\"\n\n\"So do we.\" Fritha smiled, another fleeting glance at Morn. Jin saw even a twitch of lips upon her glowering face.\n\n\"We will ride with you to Asroth,\" Jin said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem rode through the sentry-line, one of the last to return from a day scouting ahead of Nara's vanguard. Warriors parted for Friend, nodding a greeting up at him as Fen loped at his side and Reng the huntsman trotted beside him. Since Keld had died, Drem had ridden ahead as scout everyday. Reng had led, taking over Keld's position amongst the huntsmen of Dun Seren, but had given Drem point on many occasions, having seen first-hand Drem's skills as a woodsman and tracker.\n\nThey passed through countless lines of tents, the smell of woodsmoke from a hundred fire-pits drifting on the breeze. Up above, winged figures circled: Faelan and his kin, as well as Craf's crows.\n\nHe glanced to his right, saw the spike of a tower beyond their camp. The fortress of Jerolin, its black tower pointing like an accusatory finger at the sky, a glistening lake beyond it, wide as a sea to Drem's eyes. The fortress was empty; word of Asroth's horde had sent all fighting men and women south to Ripa, those left behind running to hide in the wooded hills and forests of this land. It had been the same for over a moon: every hold, village, town and fortress empty. The people of the Banished Lands were afraid. Drem could feel it, a creeping sensation in his gut, a shiver down his spine, as if a spider's legs crawled across his neck.\n\nThe end is coming.\n\nHe wiped sweat from his eyes.\n\n\"It's Hunter's Moon, how can it be so warm?\" he muttered to Friend. \"Though I don't know why I'm complaining; you're the one covered in fur.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They reached the bear enclosure and Hammer lumbered over to them as they entered, a deep rumbling sound in her chest. She rubbed her head against Friend's neck and he rumbled back, pushing against the huge bear.\n\n\"We're pleased to see you, too,\" Drem said to Hammer, \"but let me climb out of my saddle first.\"\n\nAlcyon laughed, the giant following Hammer. Drem dropped to the ground, stretched his back and patted Fen's neck. The wolven-hound padded off to the shade of a tree, turned a circle and flopped to the ground, mail coat clanking. Drem saw Alcyon looking up at Jerolin's tower.\n\n\"You've seen this place before?\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Alcyon growled. The memory did not seem like a pleasant one. The giant sighed and rubbed a handover his eyes. \"Those Kadoshim have caused a lot of hurt in this world. Too much.\"\n\n\"That will end soon,\" Drem said, his mind full of Gulla and Fritha and Morn.\n\n\"Aye, it will,\" Alcyon said. \"One way or another.\"\n\nThe giant was helping Drem unbuckle and remove Friend's saddle and coat when Cullen ran into the enclosure.\n\n\"Byrne wants us,\" Cullen said. \"Riv's back from Ripa.\"\n\nByrne was in her tent standing beside a table, pouring mead into a handful of cups. Riv was there, wings furled tight across her back. Meical was there, too, and Kill was at Byrne's shoulder.\n\nRiv looked over at Drem and Cullen as they walked into the tent, gave them a tentative smile that faded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What's wrong?\" Riv said. Then she looked at Fen, who had followed Drem and now padded into the tent. \"Where's Keld?\"\n\nByrne handed Riv a cup of mead. \"I haven't had time to tell her,\" Byrne said to Drem and Cullen.\n\n\"Keld...\" Cullen began, a tremor in his voice stopping him.\n\n\"Keld fell, at Brikan,\" Drem said, his voice flat, monotone. He felt the grief, though, a nausea deep in his gut and a prickling behind his eyes.\n\n\"How?\" Riv asked, colour draining from her face.\n\nDrem drew in a deep breath. \"Keld led a scouting expedition to Brikan. While we were there, Revenants attacked. Gulla was there. He and his daughter, Morn, slew Keld.\"\n\n\"And I will slay them,\" Cullen snarled.\n\nRage helps him.\n\n\"Keld put a rune-marked sword through the heart of one of Gulla's Seven,\" Drem carried on. \"Thousands of Revenants fell.\"\n\nRiv shook her head and put a hand to her temple, rubbed it. She drank her cup of mead.\n\nByrne refilled the cup.\n\n\"Keld is a loss we all feel,\" she said.\n\n\"Aye,\" muttered Kill beside her.\n\n\"I-\" Riv started, but words would not come. Her face twisted in a snarl. \"Asroth, Gulla and all his scum need to die.\" She took along, shivering breath, looked at Drem and Cullen. \"I am so sorry,\" she said.\n\n\"Asroth does need to die,\" Byrne said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Long War must come to an end,\" Meical said beside Riv. \"And killing Asroth is the start of that, but it will only be over when every last Kadoshim is wiped from existence.\"\n\n\"So, let us be about that end,\" Byrne said. \"What news, Riv?\"\n\n\"You are ten, maybe twelve nights from Ripa,\" Riv said slowly. \"But Asroth is closer. He has crossed the Agullas far to the east of here, and is marching due south to Ripa. I have not had a close look at his warband, his scouts were thick in the air, but I saw it from a distance. It is... vast. Though much of it was cloaked in mist. The work of Gulla and his Seven, no doubt.\"\n\n\"They are four, now,\" Cullen said with a fierce snarl.\n\nAnd soon they will be none.\n\n\"How long until Asroth reaches Ripa?\" Byrne asked.\n\nRiv looked at Meical and shrugged. \"If his host were as disciplined as White-Wings, they would travel the distance in five days. But he is slower. Nine, maybe ten days. It is hard to tell.\"\n\nByrne's mouth formed a tight line. \"Can he be delayed? It would be best for us to reach Ripa and fight him together. Divided we are both easier to destroy. And we have rune-marked blades, unlike the warband at Ripa. Until we reach there they are vulnerable to a Revenant attack. It would be overwhelming.\"\n\n\"Aye. Like Drassil,\" Riv said. \"But Kol is in no hurry to join with you.\"\n\nByrne raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"He has seven thousand White-Wings around him, over a thousand Ben-Elim. He thinks he is invulnerable.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Idiot,\" Byrne muttered.\n\n\"Fortunately, he is not in total control of the Ben-Elim and White-Wings anymore,\" Meical said. \"Thanks to Riv.\"\n\nAll looked at Riv.\n\n\"I named him as my father,\" Riv said, \"in front of his Ben-Elim and White-Wing captains.\"\n\n\"Ah, well, better the truth be brought out into the light,\" Byrne said. \"What happened?\"\n\n\"Kol will be tried before the Assembly after the battle with Asroth is fought, if anyone lives to try him.\"\n\nByrne nodded. \"But who commands at Ripa, now?\"\n\n\"Technically, the Ben-Elim Assembly,\" Meical said. \"But that is too unwieldy. In reality it is spread between a handful of Ben-Elim: Dumah, Hadran, a few others. Kol still holds some power. He has many followers.\"\n\n\"So,\" Byrne said, \"is there anyway that Asroth can be slowed?\"\n\n\"Defences have been laid. Ditches dug, barriers built, but how long will they slow him?\" Riv shrugged. \"Who knows?\"\n\n\"We must hurry, then,\" Byrne said, looking at them all.\n\n\"There is something else I wanted to talk to you about,\" Riv said. \"To ask you.\"\n\nByrne sat down.\n\n\"Sit,\" she said, \"and tell me all about it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha led three White-Wing warriors by a leash, two men and a woman, beaten bloody, staggering, half insensible. They had been caught by Morn and her half-breed kin, scouts spying on Asroth's camp.\n\nThey were foolish to think they could come so close. They deserve what is about to happen to them. She walked out beyond the last tents of the camp and into the shade of a copse of alders. Behind her and the captives strode Arn, Elise there, too, slithering across the ground, and a handful of Fritha's honour guard behind them. Fritha put a hand to the small of her back, rubbing knotted muscles. Her swelling belly was affecting all parts of her body. The child within her was growing, and quicker than a human child, she felt. Something in her spirit told her this baby would not be much longer in her womb.\n\nJust wait for the battle to be done, she thought, stroking her belly.\n\nThe three captive warriors started to pull on the rope leashes tied around their necks and wrists.\n\n\"Can you smell him?\" Fritha said to them, as she dragged the warriors on. They were pitifully weak after being put to the question, all three of them missing somebody part or other, whether it be fingers, toes or teeth. \"Or is it death that you can smell? Either way, I am sorry, but this is a cruel world. At least your deaths will be quick, and they are fora good cause. My Wrath will need his strength over the next few days.\"\n\nShe heard Wrath's rumbling growl, a reverberation in her boots and chest, and saw a hulking shadow move between the trees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She stopped and let the warriors go."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Just dropped the ropes. They tried to bolt backwards but Elise was there, her tail lashing and mouth wide, hissing, Arn and Fritha's warriors pointing sharp steel at them.\n\nThe White-Wings turned from Elise, panicked by her proximity, and ran straight into Wrath.\n\nHis neck darted out and one was in his jaws, bones crunching, blood spraying. One of the men. The other two warriors ran stumbling indifferent directions.\n\nFritha smiled, watching Wrath eat the first warrior, shards of bone spilling from his jaws.\n\n\"The other two are going to escape,\" Arn said.\n\n\"No, they won't,\" Fritha said, gazing lovingly at Wrath. She looked at Arn. \"He likes to hunt.\"\n\nArn nodded.\n\n\"Come,\" Fritha said, \"I am supposed to be in Asroth's tent. He has called another council of war.\"\n\nAn acolyte pulled the tent opening wide for Fritha and she stepped into Asroth's portable throne-room. She strode in and then stopped, staring.\n\nAsroth was sitting in his high-backed wooden chair, Bune standing behind him, other Kadoshim in the shadows that pooled between burning bowls. Another Kadoshim was kneeling before Asroth. With a gesture from him the Kadoshim rose and looked at Fritha.\n\n\"Behold, my bride,\" Asroth said to the Kadoshim.\n\nThe Kadoshim eyed her. He had jet black hair where Asroth's was silver, his face pale as a fish's belly, a scar running down his cheek and through his mouth, making one corner curl in a permanent sneer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Beautiful,\" the Kadoshim said, his eyes running over Fritha. They hovered over her belly. Although she was strapping it with linen, it was still showing through her mail shirt. Her cuirass did not fit and needed the buckles adjusting.\n\n\"Fritha, this is Sulak,\" Asroth said.\n\n\"Well met,\" Fritha said, approaching Sulak. She held out her arm for him. \"My Lord Asroth has spoken much of your loyalty and fierce bravery.\"\n\nSulak regarded her. Slowly he wrapped his long fingers around Fritha's forearm, squeezing her leather vambrace.\n\n\"Well met, Fritha, high priestess and bride of the King,\" he said, his voice quiet, almost gentle. It did not match his dark gaze.\n\n\"Come, sit,\" Asroth said, \"eat, and drink wine.\" He snapped his fingers and acolytes came forwards with jugs and platters.\n\nFritha sat at Asroth's table. Elise and Arn entered the tent, Arn to stand at Fritha's shoulder. Sulak's eyes followed Elise as she slithered around the tent, coiling and settling in a shadowed corner.\n\nAenor entered brusquely, sweating. He grunted a greeting and then sat and poured himself a cup of wine, filled his wooden trencher and started eating.\n\nFritha stared at him.\n\n\"Hungry work, catching White-Wings,\" he mumbled through a mouthful of cheese. It had been Aenor who had captured the White-Wing spies Fritha had just fed to Wrath.\n\nMore movement at the tent's entrance and Gulla and Morn swept in, black mist curling around Gulla like a cloak. Fritha noticed that he was still walking with a limp, and that his shoulders were hunched."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 68"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Beautiful,\" the Kadoshim said, his eyes running over Fritha. They hovered over her belly. Although she was strapping it with linen, it was still showing through her mail shirt. Her cuirass did not fit and needed the buckles adjusting.\n\n\"Fritha, this is Sulak,\" Asroth said.\n\n\"Well met,\" Fritha said, approaching Sulak. She held out her arm for him. \"My Lord Asroth has spoken much of your loyalty and fierce bravery.\"\n\nSulak regarded her. Slowly he wrapped his long fingers around Fritha's forearm, squeezing her leather vambrace.\n\n\"Well met, Fritha, high priestess and bride of the King,\" he said, his voice quiet, almost gentle. It did not match his dark gaze.\n\n\"Come, sit,\" Asroth said, \"eat, and drink wine.\" He snapped his fingers and acolytes came forwards with jugs and platters.\n\nFritha sat at Asroth's table. Elise and Arn entered the tent, Arn to stand at Fritha's shoulder. Sulak's eyes followed Elise as she slithered around the tent, coiling and settling in a shadowed corner.\n\nAenor entered brusquely, sweating. He grunted a greeting and then sat and poured himself a cup of wine, filled his wooden trencher and started eating.\n\nFritha stared at him.\n\n\"Hungry work, catching White-Wings,\" he mumbled through a mouthful of cheese. It had been Aenor who had captured the White-Wing spies Fritha had just fed to Wrath.\n\nMore movement at the tent's entrance and Gulla and Morn swept in, black mist curling around Gulla like a cloak. Fritha noticed that he was still walking with a limp, and that his shoulders were hunched."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His wounds from Drem at Brikan still trouble him.\n\nFritha felt unduly pleased about that.\n\nFour figures followed Gulla, what was left of his Seven: Burg, Tyna, Ormun and Thel. The smell of decay entered the tent with them, of things long dead and rotted.\n\n\"Sulak,\" Gulla said with a dip of his head, and he sat at the table, too. Morn slammed down into a chair between Gulla and Fritha.\n\nShe does everything angrily.\n\nAnother shadow at the tent entrance and Jin stepped into the tent. She wore her blue deel tunic, a coat of riveted mail over it. Weapons bristled on her belt: bow, quiver, two knives. A curved sword jutted over her shoulder. A Cheren warrior followed her, Gerel.\n\nFritha smiled at them both, pleased to see them. Jin's presence gave her anew confidence. Three thousand warriors that were not Revenants. Experts of warfare on horseback. Now their war-host was beyond formidable.\n\nJin nodded a greeting and Fritha patted the chair beside her.\n\n\"Welcome, my captains,\" Asroth said. \"So, to business. How long until we reach Ripa and I get to put my boot on Meical's skull?\"\n\n\"Three days' travel,\" Aenor said. \"We will seethe fortress of Balara in two days.\"\n\n\"Balara?\" Asroth said, raising an eyebrow.\n\nHe has been told countless times, Fritha thought, trying not to roll her eyes. He does not seem concerned with any details of the impending battle.\n\n\"A fortress belonging to the Order of the Bright Star, my King,\" Aenor said. \"It lies upon a hill on the northern fringe of the Sarva Forest, a day's journey from Ripa. We should take it first, don't want enemy at our back when we assault Ripa.\" Aenor shrugged, slurping on his cup of wine. \"We do not expect much resistance there. It most likely has a skeleton garrison, much like Brikan did, in Forn.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Although that was not as easy to crack as some thought,\" Asroth said, eyeing Gulla.\n\nGulla said nothing.\n\n\"Aye. It should be scouted out thoroughly,\" Aenor said.\n\n\"So, three days until we reach Ripa,\" Asroth said. \"Most excellent.\" He grinned.\n\n\"What is the plan, my King?\" Fritha asked. \"The strategy of attack?\"\n\nAsroth looked at her over his cup of wine.\n\n\"I shall lead the centre, you and Aenor at my side. Jin will watch the left flank, Gulla and his Revenants the right. Morn and Bune will lead the aerial attack. And you with me, of course,\" Asroth said to Fritha. \"Your Wrath will cause quite the impression, I am thinking.\" He raised his palms. \"And then our enemy shall die.\"\n\n\"You will remain on the ground?\" Fritha asked him.\n\n\"Aye,\" Asroth said. \"To begin with. It will be a battle, no plan lasts past the first hundred heartbeats. We have overwhelming numbers, both on the ground and in the air. Meical's defeat is inevitable.\"\n\n\"The numbers are in our favour,\" Fritha said cautiously, \"but we are not facing a rabble. Seven thousand White-Wings, possibly more. They are skilled at field combat.\"\n\n\"We shall tear them to pieces.\" Asroth smiled. He looked at Fritha, then pulled a sad face. \"Do not look so worried, my bride. Our war-host is vast, unstoppable. But to add to that, Sulak has joined us; my loyal friend. He leads a thousand Kadoshim and their... children. He will join us at Ripa, with his winged forces, and our allies, the Shekam giants. Our enemy will not walkaway from this fight.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Shekam giants,\" Fritha repeated, looking at Sulak. \"En route from Tarbesh? That is a hard journey. How close are they to Ripa?\"\n\n\"They are speeding to Ripa as we speak,\" Sulak said. \"Have no doubts, they shall be there when you need them. As will I.\"\n\n\"And what is the planned attack with them?\"\n\nSulak raised an eyebrow. \"Have you seen a warband of giants, three hundred strong?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Fritha said, thinking back to Balur One-Eye charging up a hill upon his battle-bear, hundreds of giants and bears behind him. The ground had shaken.\n\n\"Well, then you have some idea. But these giants will be riding draigs. Three hundred draigs. There will be no stopping them, no defending against them. Seven thousand White-Wing warriors, ten thousand, the end will be the same. Their corpses trampled into the ground.\"\n\nFritha hoped it would be that easy, but life had taught her never to underestimate anyone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem sat, unstoppered his water bottle and took along, deep drink.\n\n\"Thirsty work, riding bears,\" Alcyon said to him. \"And sore on the arse.\"\n\nDrem nodded. Riding a bear was not the same as sitting in a horse's saddle. The legs were pushed wider, different muscles used to maintain your position, and a bear's movement was different to a horse's. No walk, trot, canter and gallop. It was just shifting from one lumbering speed to the next.\n\n\"Here,\" Alcyon said, passing Drem a wrapped parcel of dried, salted pork.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Drem said, cutting himself a slice, and then passing it onto Riv, who sat the other side of him.\n\nThey were camped in the Sarva Forest, beside a black-flowing river, wide and languorous as it approached the sea. Night had fallen. Drem, Riv, Alcyon and Meical were sitting on the riverbank, a dozen warriors of the Bright Star with them. Cullen and the rest were on first watch, silent and still amongst the trees of Sarva. Fen was somewhere out in the forest, too.\n\nFriend was with Hammer beneath high-boughed trees, close to the wains. The white bear was nibbling Hammer's shoulder, and she swiped him with a paw.\n\n\"How long?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"We'll see Balara on the morrow,\" Meical said. \"We've made good time. Pulled ahead from Byrne and the Order by a day or two.\" They'd been riding hard for six days. Switching the horses harnessed to the wains every half-day, and the ease of travelling on the wide, hard-packed road, had seen them cover around sixty leagues in six days."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My thanks,\" Riv said. \"These weapons that we are carrying may well save my mother's life.\"\n\n\"You're welcome,\" Drem said.\n\nWings flapped and Rab fluttered down out of the canopy above.\n\n\"Rab's wings tired,\" the crow said. Riv cut a slice of pork and threw it to the crow, who stabbed it with his sharp beak, flung it into the air and gulped it down.\n\n\"Thanks.\" He burped.\n\n\"What news, Rab?\" Alcyon asked.\n\n\"Saw Kadoshim in the sky, long way away. Two days from Balara, three from Ripa, maybe.\" The crow ruffled his feathers, a semblance of a shrug.\n\nMeical grimaced. \"That is too close. A hard ride to Ripa on the morrow.\"\n\n\"We'll do it,\" Riv said.\n\nDrem thought Riv was capable of making most things happen by sheer will.\n\nI like her. She sets her mind to a task and does what is necessary to make it happen.\n\n\"How does it feel, to be so close to the end?\" Alcyon said. He was looking at Meical.\n\nThe Ben-Elim shook his head. \"I do not know. Is it the end? I hope so, but for it to really be the end, Asroth, Gulla and every single Kadoshim must die.\" He looked around at them all. \"So much has happened, for you the last hundred years full of battle, victory and defeat. But my last memory was fighting Asroth in the hall at Drassil. Corban was there, going sword to sword with Asroth; Storm and Cywen, too.\" He shook his head. \"Part of me feels that I am still in that fight.\" He blew out along sigh. \"Asroth and all who follow him must die,\" he said. \"That is all I know. If that were to happen, how would it feel?\" He looked into nowhere. \"Like standing on the brink of an abyss. This is the last breath before the fall.\" He shrugged. \"Thousands of years this war has been waged, so to think that this battle will settle it... I hope so, and at the same time it is a... daunting thought. I am scared, excited.\" He looked at them all then: Alcyon, Riv, Drem, the other warriors of the Order."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Win or lose, I am proud to fight beside you. That is the lesson I have learned, that changed me. Love, loyalty, friendship. You humans have such a great capacity for these qualities. It makes me want to be like that.\"\n\n\"You are,\" said Riv.\n\n\"I made mistakes, in the past.\"\n\n\"Yes, the past,\" Alcyon rumbled. \"This is now. You are here, with us, not in a high tower with Kol and the rest. Aloof. Superior. You are our friend, willing to stand beside us. Willing to die beside us.\"\n\nMeical nodded. \"I am,\" he said quietly.\n\nDrem slipped through the forest, almost as quiet as Fen, who was shadowing him. It was his watch, and he was looking for Cullen.\n\nA sound in the darkness. A slow, rasping scrape. Drem altered his direction and saw Cullen, sitting with his back against a tree. Moonlight filtered through branches, trees losing their leaves in Hunter's Moon, casting dappled silver and black across him. He was running a whetstone across his sword, head bowed, staring at his blade as if it contained all the answers in the world.\n\nDrem crept up behind him, purposely cracked a twig under his boot.\n\nCullen jumped and looked, sword out. Half rose from his position. The moonlight showed tears glistening on his cheeks.\n\n\"Oh, it's you.\" Cullen slid back to his sitting position.\n\n\"Your watch,\" Drem said. \"It's over.\"\n\nCullen nodded, but made no move to leave.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Drem asked, reaching out to squeeze Cullen's shoulder and sitting down beside him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What isn't wrong?\" Cullen mumbled, carried on sharpening his sword.\n\nFen appeared from the darkness. He sniffed at Drem's face, licked him, then turned and sat, shuffling backwards until his back haunches were pressed against Drem.\n\n\"He's telling you he trusts you,\" Cullen said. \"Keld explained what that means. Fen is telling you he trusts you to guard his back.\" He went back to rasping the whetstone along his blade.\n\n\"I trust him, too,\" Drem said, and scratched Fen's neck, just above the leather collar of the wolven-hound's mail coat.\n\n\"We had a chat,\" Drem said. \"Fen's part of our crew.\"\n\n\"Damn right he is,\" Cullen muttered.\n\n\"And Keld asked me to look after him.\"\n\n\"When did Keld ask you that?\" Cullen said, a slight break in the rhythm of his whetstone.\n\n\"With his last breath,\" Drem said.\n\nCullen grunted.\n\n\"He asked me to watch over you, too,\" Drem said. Cullen deserved to know Keld's last words. \"He said his death would go hard on you.\"\n\nA gulp from Cullen, though he did not stop sharpening his sword. \"He wasn't wrong.\"\n\n\"We are kin,\" Drem said. \"We look after each other.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Cullen sighed.\n\n\"That's a rune-marked sword,\" Drem said. \"I doubt it needs sharpening.\"\n\n\"No,\" Cullen agreed. He stopped his work. \"This is a cruel world,\" he breathed. \"Keld. Sig. Before that my mam and da. All of them slain by Kadoshim.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How old were you, when your parents died?\"\n\n\"Twelve summers,\" Cullen said. \"Since then, it was always Sig and Keld there, looking out for me.\"\n\n\"Cullen, you are fearless and brave. A mighty warrior.\"\n\n\"Fearless and brave,\" Cullen said bitterly. \"Not inside. Inside, I feel the fear, everyday. Of fighting Kadoshim, of dying, of not living up to my heritage, of letting my mam and da down. Of letting Sig and Keld down. I'm scared of everything.\"\n\n\"But you laugh in a fight, you are the first to charge. You even like getting hurt.\"\n\n\"Aye, that's right,\" Cullen said fiercely, \"because fear won't rule me, that's why. If I didn't laugh, I'd runaway crying. Why do you think I challenge Balur One-Eye on the weapons-field everyday? Do you think I want to fight that big oak tree? He beats me every time.\" He looked at Drem. \"Fear will never be my master. But Keld dying-it's too much. I feel... alone.\" Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks.\n\nDrem nodded. He knew what fear and loneliness felt like. He turned his arm, ran his fingers along the gap in his leather vambrace, felt the ridge of a scar beneath his linen tunic. A reminder of his oath over Keld's cairn.\n\n\"You're not alone, brother,\" he said quietly.\n\nCullen looked up at him, tears bright in his eyes. He reached out and squeezed Drem's hand.\n\n\"I know,\" Cullen murmured.\n\nDrem saw the top of Balara's tower as he and their small band spilt out of the forest onto the road that curled around the fortress and led towards Ripa. Drem twisted in his saddle and looked to the south. He saw a curving wall of timber surrounding a plain that led towards the coast. On the horizon the sea shimmered a deep, sparkling blue, and when he squinted he could just make out arise in the land, a white spire upon it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The tower of Ripa.\n\nDrem looked about, saw Alcyon glowering up at Balara's tower.\n\n\"Are you all right?\" Drem asked him.\n\nA tear rolled down the giant's cheek.\n\n\"Bad memories?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Aye. My wife and son were imprisoned here once. By the Kadoshim and their servants, the Vin Thalun.\"\n\n\"Your son. Tain?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Aye. Tain, and my wife, Raina.\"\n\n\"I cannot imagine you allowing that to happen,\" Drem said. \"It must have been a bad time.\"\n\n\"Huh.\" Alcyon grimaced. \"It was the worst of times. I was enslaved to a Kadoshim by dark magic. My wife and son were kept here as a surety of my obedience.\"\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\n\"It is along story, but the short of it is that Maquin Oath-Keeper rescued them. Brought Raina and Tain tome.\" He wiped a handover his eyes.\n\nRab looked up to the sky and squawked, flapped his wings.\n\n\"Brother coming,\" he croaked.\n\nA black dot was swooping over the fortress and down the hill towards them, coming from the east and circling lower.\n\n\"Durl, Durl,\" Rab squawked, as the black crow spread his wings, slowing his descent.\n\n\"Rab, Rab,\" it answered, alighting upon one of the wains, saw Cullen and hopped onto his shoulder, ruffled his beak through Cullen's red hair.\n\n\"Well met, Durl,\" Cullen greeted the crow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Durl happy Cullen here,\" Durl said.\n\n\"Why do all of Craf's crows love you so much?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Because of my wonderful personality and kind nature,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Nothing to do with your regular visits to Pella, that lass who works in Crow Tower helping Tain,\" Alcyon said.\n\n\"Nothing at all,\" replied Cullen.\n\nDurl the crow jumped at Alcyon's voice, then started hopping on Cullen's shoulder, squawking excitedly.\n\n\"Alcyon, Alcyon,\" the crow squawked.\n\n\"Aye,\" Alcyon rumbled. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Durl found Raina. Tain sent Durl to find her, said Alcyon sad, need Raina. Durl find her. Durl find Raina, Raina, RAINA.\"\n\nAlcyon's face drained of colour.\n\n\"Where is she?\" he asked.\n\n\"On plain, running to Ripa.\"\n\n\"Ripa. Why?\"\n\n\"She helping Bleda and the Sirak.\"\n\n\"What?\" It was not Alcyon who said that, but Riv.\n\n\"Who are you?\" Durl asked Riv.\n\n\"I will be the one who plucks all your feathers out if you do not answer me, and quickly,\" Riv said. \"Who is Raina with?\"\n\n\"It's all right, Durl, this is Riv, and she's one of us,\" Cullen said.\n\nDurl bobbed his head.\n\n\"Riv rude,\" Durl muttered.\n\n\"Be polite,\" Cullen whispered.\n\n\"Please, Durl,\" Riv said, her feathers twitching."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Raina with Bleda and Sirak. They on plain, riding for Ripa.\"\n\n\"Durl, I could kiss you,\" Riv said, winging into the air.\n\n\"On the plain,\" Alcyon repeated.\n\n\"Yes, Raina close, close.\"\n\nHammer lurched into motion, Alcyon urging heron past Drem and the others towards the plain before Ripa's walls.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" Cullen shouted after the giant.\n\n\"To find my Raina,\" Alcyon called back joyfully.\n\n\"Drem, Cullen, follow us to the plain before Ripa,\" Riv called to them.\n\nShe was already speeding away before Drem or Cullen had a chance to answer her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv sped through the air, her wings beating fast, wind ripping tears from her eyes.\n\nBleda.\n\nBalara shrank behind her and, in a score of heartbeats, she was level with Alcyon and Hammer, the bear heading east, down Balara's hill and onto the rolling meadows that dominated the landscape. Riv left the giant and bear behind, sped over meadows dotted with clustered woodland. To her right the sea and Ripa edged the south, but Riv was looking to the east. She saw a cloud of dust, about a league away, moving south-west, towards Ripa. Her wings beat harder, propelling her faster than she had ever flown before.\n\nThe dust cloud grew larger, figures within it taking shape, a lot of horses, maybe a thousand, the riders moving at a fast canter, a column roughly ten horses wide. Giants were amongst them, running.\n\nCloser still and Riv saw banners amongst the riders, a stallion rearing on afield of green. Her heart lurched in her chest.\n\nIt is them. That crow was not lying.\n\nAnd then she saw him.\n\nBleda.\n\nRiding at the head of the column, straight-backed in his coat of lamellar armour. His face was partly covered but she knew him. His shape, the way he carried himself, his effortless ease in the saddle.\n\nA horn call from the column, faces looking upwards, hands pointing. Some reached for bows.\n\nThis would not be a good time to die.\n\nRiv slowed a little, spreading her wings and gliding fora few heartbeats, letting them see her wings and see that she was no Kadoshim.\n\nBleda was looking now, calling out. He shifted on his saddle, climbed to stand upon it, reins in one hand, the other raised to her. He was grinning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Riv swept down, a curling dive, had a glimpse of faces, mouths opening when she didn't slow, and then she was flying into Bleda, wrapping him in her arms, lifting him from the saddle."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She shifted the angle of her wings, beat them hard, rising steeply, and Bleda was hugging her, kissing her face, her lips, and all the while they rose into the sky, Riv returning his kisses with a joyful passion. They hovered in the sky kissing, laughing, crying.\n\n\"You missed me, then,\" Riv said, a grin so wide her jaws were aching.\n\n\"Aye, a little,\" Bleda said. He gifted her his beautiful smile.\n\n\"Ah, but it is fine to see you, Bleda ben Erdene,\" she sighed, laughed again.\n\n\"I have missed you like a flower misses the sun,\" Bleda said.\n\nRiv laughed, the joy in her belly uncontainable.\n\nSlowly they descended, turning gently, her wings beating slowly, until their feet touched the ground.\n\n\"You should ask next time you are thinking of taking my King half a league straight up into the sky,\" Old Ellac said to Riv. \"My heart is thumping in my chest.\"\n\nShe grinned at him. \"It is good to see you, Ellac, and you, Ruga,\" she said, seeing Bleda's oathsworn guard. \"And you, Yul.\" She nodded to the warrior, noting the bandage around his thigh, another high about his chest and back. Her eyes took in the Sirak, all warriors in leather or mail, bows and quivers at their hips, heads shaved apart from their long, thick warrior braids. Most of them bore the marks of battle, bandages somewhere on their bodies.\n\n\"You have seen a scrap or two, a tale to tell,\" Riv said to Bleda.\n\n\"Aye.\" He nodded. \"Much like you, I am guessing.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And who is this winged woman?\" a giant rumbled. A woman, a huge round shield strapped across her back, head shaved apart from a strip of thick black hair running across the centre.\n\nLike Alcyon shaves his head. Looking around, Riv realized all of the giants wore their hair the same way. There were a lot of them, sweating and travel-stained.\n\n\"This is the one I told you of,\" Bleda said. \"My Riv, the one I love.\"\n\n\"I should hope so,\" the giant rumbled. \"I would be disappointed if you greeted every woman you meet in such away.\" She looked Riv over, saw her star-shaped cloak brooch. \"You are one of the Order of the Bright Star. A half-breed Ben-Elim! Pfah, how the world has changed since I walked east.\" She smiled at Riv. \"But for the better, it seems.\"\n\n\"This is Raina,\" he said, \"one of the Kurgan Clan. Ukran there is their lord.\" Bleda pointed at another giant, wearing a coat of lamellar plate, much like Bleda's, the strip of hair running down the middle of his head golden as wheat. \"They saved my life, and many of my Clan. I owe them a blood debt.\"\n\n\"Ha, you'll have your chance to repay that, I'm guessing,\" Ukran said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv said. \"Asroth is two days' march from Ripa.\"\n\nA silence settled then, all eyes sharply on Riv.\n\n\"My thanks, Raina, Ukran, for saving Bleda. This world would bean empty place without him.\" She stroked Bleda's cheek, smiling, unable to stop herself from touching him. She wanted to kiss him again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A rumbling in the ground, and Riv turned, saw a shape approaching them across the ground, dust rising about it.\n\nBleda reached for his bow, others too.\n\n\"No,\" Riv said, \"it is a friend.\" She glanced at Raina.\n\nHammer approached at a lumbering run. A hundred paces away and she began to slow. Alcyon sat there, head shaved, a strip of black hair down the middle, two single-bladed axes crossed upon his back. Twenty paces away and Hammer skidded to a stop, dust and sun-bleached grass erupting. Alcyon leaped from the bear's back, landed in a stumbling run and ran on, straight towards Raina.\n\nHe threw himself to the ground at her feet, skidded up to her, wrapping his arms around her hips and burying his face in her stomach.\n\n\"My Raina,\" he was crying, over and over again. \"I should never have left you. Forgive me.\"\n\nRaina put a hand on his head, tears streaming from her own eyes.\n\n\"There is nothing to forgive,\" she said, prising his arms from about her waist. She sank to the ground, pressing her forehead against Alcyon's, and folded her arms around him.\n\nRiv turned away; something about this reunion was so raw and intimate that she felt it was wrong to be watching.\n\nBleda stroked her face.\n\nA warning cry from Ruga, pointing into the sky, and another winged figure was descending from the sky. It was Meical.\n\n\"Well met, Bleda,\" Meical said as he landed. He looked at the Sirak and Kurgan giants. \"You have honoured your word, brought a warband that could turn this battle.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They are fine warriors, each and everyone,\" Bleda said. \"But I have also brought a warband of Cheren on my tail, at least three thousand strong.\" He looked behind him, to the north-east. \"Though I think they've thought better of galloping into Ripa after me.\"\n\n\"Most likely they've joined with Asroth's war-host,\" Meical said. \"You'll see them soon enough.\"\n\nRiv looked to the north, her eyes picking out black specks in the sky, at the edge of the horizon.\n\nKadoshim.\n\n\"We'd best make for Ripa,\" she said, turning towards the timber wall that ringed the plain and fortress.\n\nBleda remounted and offered Riv a horse. It had been along time since she'd satin a saddle, but she did not want to leave Bleda's side, so she accepted.\n\n\"You do not look so comfortable,\" Bleda said to her, \"as you do in the air.\"\n\n\"It's been along time,\" she said with a shrug.\n\nThey rode at a slow canter through plains of yellowed grass, the ground stony, clusters of poplar and olive trees. The giants kept pace with long, ground-eating strides. Alcyon chose to run beside Raina, Hammer lumbering along with them. Ripa loomed on the horizon, Ben-Elim circling the skies, and half a league ahead of them Ripa's newest wall loomed. Riv could see White-Wing warriors walking upon it, more clustered around the gates they were approaching. On the plain to the west she saw a band of riders, three wains, and a giant white bear.\n\n\"Time for you to meet my new friends,\" Riv said, and led Bleda and his warband towards them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda was struggling to take his eyes off Riv. She glowed like the sun to him. He glanced towards the newcomers, then looked again.\n\nThat's a very big bear. And it's white.\n\nHe stared at the white bear. It was huge, much bigger than Hammer, who was making the ground shake a dozen paces away from him. The white bear was wrapped in a coat of mail, muscles shimmering as it moved. The mail was buckled and harnessed under its torso, much like a horse's saddle-girth, though more complex.\n\nI've often thought our horses should have those. It would slow them, but would protect them, too. And they would adjust to the weight, as I have adjusted to my coat of plate.\n\nWhat Bleda was most surprised about, though, was that a man, not a giant, was riding upon the bear's back. He was dark-haired and broad, a leanness to his musculature. He wore a coat of riveted mail, sword and axe at his belt, and the biggest knife Bleda had ever seen. A grey cloak draped his shoulders, pinned with a brooch fashioned into the shape of a four-pointed star. A helm and round shield with the same four-pointed star hung from hooks on his saddle.\n\nLike Riv's. The Order of the Bright Star.\n\nA wolven-hound loped at the bear's side; it, too, wore a coat of mail.\n\nDoes everything in the north wear mail?\n\nBehind the white bear a red-haired warrior sat on the bench of a wain, driving a brace of horses. Two crows sat on the bench-back, one white and one black. The black one was Durl. Two more wains rumbled along behind them, warriors driving them, others riding around them, about a score of hard-looking men and women in mail, all with the four-pointed star on their shields and pinned across their chests."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So, this is the master of horse and bow that you won't stop telling us about, then,\" the red-haired warrior said, grinning broadly, looking from Riv to Bleda.\n\n\"That's Cullen, ignore him,\" said Riv, though she was smiling, too.\n\n\"Well met, Bleda of the Sirak,\" Cullen called out, \"and welcome to the we-are-going-to-kill-Asroth clan.\"\n\nBleda liked him already.\n\n\"The talkative one upon the giant bear is my friend Drem,\" Cullen continued. \"He's pleased to meet you, too.\"\n\nBleda looked up at Drem, who nodded down at him.\n\n\"I am glad to see you reunited,\" Drem said. \"Riv has spoken much of you.\"\n\n\"Well met, Drem,\" Bleda said. \"And I'm pleased to see you're fighting on our side, and not the enemy's.\" He looked from Drem to the bear to the wolven-hound.\n\nDrem smiled. \"I've had the good fortune of making some excellent friends since I've come out of the north.\"\n\n\"Talking of friends,\" Meical said, looking up into the sky, \"we have visitors.\"\n\nBen-Elim were flying in their direction, maybe a score of them, their white wings gleaming in the bright sunshine. Even from this distance Bleda could see they all held spears.\n\nMeical looked at Drem and Cullen. \"You should go,\" he said. \"Byrne wants you back, and I gave her my word. Stay and you're likely to get caught up in Ben-Elim politics, and then you'll never make it back to the Sarva before Asroth's vanguard is insight. You'll be stuck in Ripa.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem and Cullen looked from Meical to Riv.\n\n\"Meical's right,\" Riv said. She passed her reins to Bleda and dismounted, striding to the wain and climbing up onto the driver's bench, taking the reins from Cullen.\n\n\"My thanks,\" she said, \"you have given my mother and friends a chance at surviving the Revenants. This would not have happened without you.\"\n\nCullen shrugged, gripped Riv's arm. \"I'll tell Byrne you'll see her soon,\" he said, then leaped from the wain onto the back of a horse.\n\n\"Alcyon?\" Drem called out.\n\n\"I'll be staying here awhile, I'm thinking,\" he said. \"Tell Tain why.\"\n\n\"Durl tell Tain, that Durl's job,\" the black crow squawked, ruffling and puffing his feathers out.\n\n\"We will all see you soon,\" Drem called down from the back of his bear. He looked to Bleda and gave him a nod.\n\n\"I'll look for you on the battlefield,\" Bleda said, dipping his head.\n\n\"He's not hard to find,\" Cullen laughed. \"He rides an avalanche.\"\n\nAnd then the white bear was turning away and breaking into a run, heading towards a green smudge on the western horizon. The warriors driving the other two wains climbed onto spare mounts, and then Cullen and the other riders were following Drem, having to break into a fast canter to keep pace with the bear.\n\nRiv satin the wain, watching them go. Two of Bleda's Sirak dismounted and climbed onto the driving benches of the other two wains. Riv flicked her reins and they were moving out. Bleda rode up beside her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Interesting friends you have made,\" he said.\n\n\"Aye, that they are. And good in a scrap.\"\n\n\"That's good, because there's a big one coming.\"\n\nRiv looked at him, another grin as bright as the sun.\n\n\"Asroth is coming here, to us?\" Bleda said.\n\n\"It looks that way,\" Riv said.\n\n\"So this will be our battleground?\" Bleda asked, looking about him.\n\n\"Between here and Ripa,\" Riv said. \"Probably the other side of that wall.\" She nodded ahead. \"But the ground is much the same.\"\n\nThey were riding across an undulating plain of sun-bleached grass, clusters of trees here and there, to the south-east a ridge of hills leading up to the coast. The tower of Ripa stood upon the westernmost of those hills, a town on the slopes rolling down into a bay. Much of the land between Bleda and Ripa was obscured by the wall they were approaching, but Bleda could see that a huge, sprawling camp lay across the hillside that Ripa's tower stood upon.\n\nThey reached the gates in the wall. Bleda held up a fist and his warband came to a disciplined halt.\n\nThe gates were barred, White-Wing warriors peering down at them.\n\n\"Open the gates,\" Riv called up to them.\n\n\"We need permission,\" one of the warriors called down, a woman that Bleda did not recognize.\n\n\"We are your allies,\" Riv called up. \"Come to fight with you against Asroth.\"\n\n\"I need a Ben-Elim's permission for the gates to open.\"\n\nMeical spread his wings. \"What am I?\" he said. \"Open the gates.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I wish I could, but I cannot,\" the warrior said. \"I have had my orders.\"\n\n\"Orders?\" Riv echoed. Bleda could see her muscles starting to twitch in her face. He knew what that meant.\n\nThe White-Wing looked up, saw Ben-Elim in the sky above.\n\n\"We'll wait for them,\" she said. She looked relieved.\n\nShadows dappled the ground and Bleda saw the Ben-Elim that had been flying their way were above them now, circling downwards. Fifteen of them.\n\n\"Declare yourselves,\" one of the Ben-Elim called out, alighting in front of Bleda, the others hovering over them or landing on the palisade's walkway. The one in front of Bleda was brown-haired, handsome as all Ben-Elim were, a spear in his fist, and he was frowning, eyes moving from Riv to Bleda.\n\n\"Erem, you know full well we are friends and allies,\" Meical said, stepping out in front of the Ben-Elim.\n\n\"We are at war, Meical; I cannot allow just anyone to wander inside our lines. Who are you?\" he said, looking at Bleda.\n\nBleda drew in a deep breath, all of those years at Drassil and the Ben-Elim's airs of entitled superiority flooding back to him. He could feel the tension in those around him, Ruga and Yul closest. He saw Ruga's fingers twitching.\n\nShe wants to put an arrow in his eye and I don't blame her.\n\n\"I am Bleda ben Erdene, King of the Sirak,\" he said.\n\n\"And what is your purpose here?\"\n\n\"Enough,\" Meical said furiously. \"You are insulting our allies, Erem. These warriors have travelled far, and through great danger, to join us in the fight against Asroth. What are you doing?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Kol's rules are very clear,\" Erem began.\n\n\"Get out of the way and open the gates before I do it myself,\" Riv snarled.\n\nShadows on the ground again and more Ben-Elim were in the air, a score or so. They swooped down to the wall and gate, one of them landing on the ground close to Erem. It was Hadran.\n\n\"Open the gates,\" he called up to the White-Wings on the wall.\n\n\"Kol's orders-\" Erem began again.\n\n\"Are now overruled,\" Hadran said sternly. \"These are our allies, and our friends. They will be treated with respect.\"\n\nThere was a creaking of timber and the gates opened.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Riv said to Hadran, and flicked her reins, the wain rolling on.\n\nBleda clicked his horse forward, a fast walk, and rode in front of Riv, towards Erem. His warband broke into motion behind him. \"Kol is not my master,\" he said to Erem as he drew near. \"I am here because Asroth is our mutual enemy. Not because the Ben-Elim summoned me, not because I like you, or even respect you.\"\n\nThe Ben-Elim blinked, a curl of his lips as his spear twitched, but a thousand hands dropped to bows in a heartbeat, and Hammer let out a low rumbling growl.\n\n\"I wouldn't,\" Alcyon said, striding past the Ben-Elim.\n\nErem leaped into the air, his face twitching with anger.\n\n\"Kol will hear of this,\" he called down.\n\n\"Good,\" Riv shouted up to him.\n\nBleda rode close to the wain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I think I hate the Ben-Elim almost as much as the Kadoshim,\" he said.\n\n\"They are not all the same,\" Riv said. \"Meical is one of us. And Hadran.\"\n\n\"That is good.\" He looked at her. \"And I would tolerate all the Ben-Elim in the world to beat your side again.\"\n\n\"That's the correct answer,\" she said, grinning.\n\nBleda followed Rivas she drove the wain along a column made by two rows of tents. The sun was sinking, long shadows merging. White-Wing warriors were everywhere, more people than Bleda had ever seen in his life. He was feeling uncomfortable, closed in after riding across the Sea of Grass. Worse, he had left his warband to make camp. It would have been impossible to ride his whole Clan through the camp like this, and Riv had asked him to accompany her, so he'd left Ruga in charge, Hadran escorting Bleda's warband and assisting them in the organization of their camp. Raina, Alcyon and Ukran were setting up their own settlement close to Bleda's warband. Ellac and Yul were the only Sirak accompanying him.\n\nRiv pulled on her reins and turned into an open square roped off into two sections. More White-Wings were here, most of them lined along a trestle table, helping themselves to the evening meal laid out in pots and bowls. All stopped and stared as Riv drove in, the other two wains following her.\n\n\"Riv,\" a voice called out, and Bleda saw Aphra running towards them. She looked older than Bleda remembered, more grey in her short-cropped hair, lines deeper in her face.\n\nThe last few moons have taken their toll on all of us."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv leaped from the wain and fell into Aphra's arms, the two of them hugging.\n\n\"Well met, Bleda,\" a voice said, Bleda looking to see Jost beside him. He didn't look much changed at all. Tall and slim, a surprising strength in his lean frame.\n\nBleda slipped from his saddle and gave Jost his arm. Jost slapped it away and wrapped his arms around Bleda, hugging him tight.\n\n\"It's good to see you,\" Jost said. \"Lots of White-Wings here, but not many friends.\"\n\n\"It's good to see you, Jost,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"White-Wings, gather round,\" Aphra called out, and Riv beat her wings and flew up onto the bench of the wain.\n\n\"Asroth's war-host is almost here,\" Riv said, as Aphra's warriors gathered close. Bleda thought there were around two hundred, maybe more.\n\n\"On the morrow they will reach Balara. The day after they will be here. You all saw the mist-walkers that attacked Drassil. Revenants, they are called, a dark magic spawned from Gulla and his priestess. These Revenants will be with Asroth. Ten thousand of them, maybe more. Normal weapons do not hurt them. You know these things already, you've seen them, know what they can do.\" She leaned over the wain, undid a knotted rope and sweptback the hemp sheet, revealing bundled weapons.\n\n\"These weapons are rune-marked blades. They will hurt the Revenants as any normal wound would hurt us. These weapons will kill them, as a normal blade would kill us. There are short-swords, though few of them, for the front row of the shield wall. More spears and long axes for the deeper rows.\" She looked around at them all. \"I wish I could have brought more. But at least if you come up against these Revenants in the coming battle, you will have a fighting chance. And give them a reason to fear you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aphra looked into the wain, touched a spear blade.\n\n\"We cannot thank you enough for this,\" Aphra said. \"I have been racking my mind trying to think of away to stand against those things.\"\n\n\"Well, now you have it,\" Riv said with a grin. \"They area gift from the Order of the Bright Star. Each and every warrior in their warband has a rune-marked blade, close to four thousand warriors, and they are no more than three days away. If we can hold Asroth's horde for one day, they will be here. So, Aphra, distribute them as you see fit. Apart from the arrows. They are for the Sirak.\"\n\nBleda grinned.\n\nRuga held open the tent curtain, Bleda and Riv ducking to enter. Bleda looked around, nodding.\n\nIt is not a Sirak ger, but it will do.\n\nThe night was growing late, much discussion having taken place at Aphra's camp, and Bleda was abruptly feeling exhausted. Now they were safe, within patrolled pickets and no chance of Jin galloping into his warband, he felt weariness creeping through his limbs. Torches burned in sconces, smoke rising through a hole around the central pole. Abed in one corner, a table and two chairs, jug and cups, a platter of food. Fruits and cold meats, cheese. And a stand for his armour and weapons.\n\n\"How did you manage all this?\" Bleda said to Ruga.\n\n\"I told the Ben-Elim you area king, so Hadran organized this.\"\n\n\"It will be strange, not sleeping under the stars,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"Aye, warmer, and better for the back and bones,\" Ruga said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"For that I am grateful,\" Ellac added as he entered behind Bleda and Riv. He and Yul were carrying bundled sheaves of arrows under each arm. They put them upon the table.\n\n\"Five hundred arrows there,\" Riv said. \"These Revenants, you have all seen them?\"\n\nBleda and the others nodded.\n\n\"Fire hurts them, but these-these will kill them.\" She touched one of the arrow-tips. \"Each one has been forged with a rune of power. But there are thousands of the monsters,\" Riv said. \"Kill their captains, and those they have turned fall with them.\"\n\n\"Their captains?\" Bleda said.\n\n\"Gulla was changed, transformed, into anew creature, by their priestess, Fritha. He chose seven captains, who became the first Revenants, and he sent them out to create a legion of monsters, all blood-hungry. Kill one of the Seven, and those they've turned will fall. I have seen it happen. Kill Gulla, and we believe all will fall.\"\n\nBleda grunted, thinking that through. \"That could change the whole battle; win it.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv said.\n\n\"How do we find these Seven?\"\n\n\"There are only four, now,\" Riv said, a brief smile ghosting her lips.\n\nThere is a story there.\n\n\"From what we've seen, they are different from the others. More intelligent, they wield weapons and they have guards about them.\" Riv pulled a face. \"It will not be easy. But we have one more day to prepare. There will be a council of war on the morrow, and you will be invited,\" Riv said. \"I will make sure of it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And Raina, Alcyon and Ukran?\" Bleda asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" Riv said. \"All those allied against Asroth must be represented.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Bleda said. \"Then tonight I will have a cup of wine, and not sleep with my weapons-belt making indentations in my flesh.\"\n\n\"As long as it stays close,\" Ellac said.\n\n\"Aye.\" Bleda nodded.\n\nHe poured them all a cup of wine from the jug on the table, then held his own cup out.\n\n\"My friends, we have come along way, through much,\" he said. \"And more danger and death is only a night or two away. But this night, sleep well, and be proud of what you have accomplished.\"\n\nNods and murmured approval as they touched cups, and they all drank.\n\nEllac looked at Bleda and Riv.\n\n\"I am for my bed,\" he said, \"better to face death without yawning.\" He walked to the tent entrance and lifted the curtain, then looked back. \"That means all of us,\" he said, gesturing at Ruga and Yul. They stood slowly and left the tent. Ellac looked at Bleda, and smiled, closing the curtain behind them.\n\nBleda looked at Riv and she smiled at him over her cup of wine, her eyes shining in the torchlight. A tremor shuddered through her wings.\n\n\"Ah, but you look fine tome, Bleda ben Erdene,\" she said.\n\nA slow, shy smile touched his own lips. He unbuckled his horsehair helm from his belt and set it upon his weapons-stand.\n\nRiv unfastened her cloak brooch and took her cloak from her back, reverently placed the cloak and brooch upon the table. \"Help me,\" she said, turning her back on him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda stepped close to her and began unbuckling her coat of mail, a set of leather buckles down the middle of her back. She sighed as it came loose, her linen tunic beneath damp with oil and sweat.\n\n\"It's been awhile since I've stepped out of this,\" Riv said, laying the mail over the back of a chair.\n\n\"Aye,\" grunted Bleda. Being close to Riv was blurring his concentration, his blood pounding in his head like a drumbeat.\n\n\"Here,\" Riv said, gently turning him, \"a favour fora favour,\" and she unbuckled his lamellar coat. He wriggled and it slipped down from his arms. Riv stepped close. \"Battle looms, and none can know the outcome, who will live or die, but I know this. We have now. This moment.\" She leaned close and brushed her lips against his, her fingers at his deel, unfastening the ties. They would not open, so she gripped the deel and ripped it open, both of them laughing and kissing as the deel fell to the ground. He stepped away, pulled his linen tunic over his head, and something fell to the floor.\n\nRiv laughed, breathless. \"How much do you keep secreted away in your clothing?\" she said. Then looked at the floor. There were two things. A dapple-grey feather and a dried flower. She looked in his eyes. \"One of my feathers, and the flower I gave you, in Forn.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda said. He looked away, then raised his gaze to meet her eyes. \"You are my heart, my life, Riv. So I have kept them over my heart. The feather is part of you, and the flower...\" He smiled at her, shrugged. \"I knew then, when you gave it tome.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Knew what?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv whispered.\n\n\"That you felt the same as I.\"\n\nA silent moment, and then they were in each other's arms, kissing, Riv's wings wrapping about them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha braced herself as Wrath crashed into the gate tower of Balara. There was an explosion of rock and masonry cascading down into the courtyard beyond the wall, a cloud of dust enveloping Fritha.\n\n\"Wrath sorry,\" the draig growled, shaking himself.\n\nThe rising sun sent Wrath's shadow stretching across an empty courtyard. Fritha peered into Balara and saw a deserted fortress, gates open and streets empty. The sound of hooves behind her as the Cheren approached and Jin cantered through the gate arch, Cheren riders behind her, spreading out, bows bristling.\n\nJin looked at the rubble in the courtyard, then up at Wrath and Fritha, perched on a half-destroyed section of the wall. She raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"He is still working on his landings,\" Fritha said. She looked around. \"I don't think anyone is here.\"\n\n\"I'll find out,\" Jin said, a touch to her reins and she rode on, along the central street that led to Balara's tower. Fritha watched the Cheren filter into the fortress, three thousand riders. They broke into groups, some dismounting, going through building after building, checking every room, alcove and hidden space. Others stayed mounted, patrolling the streets. Fritha was impressed with their methodical thoroughness.\n\nThere were more hoofbeats on the hill beyond the wall and Arn rode into the courtyard, a hundred of Fritha's hand-picked warriors with him. Elise was there, gleaming in her mail, her scales shining in the sunrise. Ferals loped around her, some sniffing the ground, others looking up at Fritha.\n\nAsroth had given Fritha the honour of leading the attack on Balara. She had chosen Jin and Morn as her captains. Morn had scouted the fortress from high above last night, before the sun had set, and reported that it looked deserted, but that was not to say that there was not some nasty ambush-in-waiting lurking in the shadows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Hold this courtyard and the gate,\" Fritha said to Arn and Elise."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Let the Cheren do the hunting. There are enough of them.\"\n\nA shadow passed over the courtyard and Morn swept down to her, two score half-breed Kadoshim behind her. Morn alighted on the wall beside Fritha, her kin spreading over the fortress, swooping low.\n\n\"It looks empty,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Morn grunted. \"A pity. I would have liked to kill some more of the Order of the Bright Star.\"\n\n\"Where is your father?\" Fritha asked.\n\n\"With the war-host, half a day behind us,\" Morn growled.\n\n\"This has been along time coming, hasn't it?\" Fritha said. \"And yet, now we area day away from Ripa and the Ben-Elim, it feels so faraway.\"\n\n\"Yes, I am sick of this waiting, eager for the battle to begin.\"\n\n\"Let's get a better look.\" Fritha leaned over Wrath's neck.\n\n\"Take me up, my darling,\" she whispered.\n\nWrath shook, snapped his wings out and stepped off the gate tower. They fell towards the courtyard, Arn's eyes flaring wide, but Wrath's wings caught the air and they started to glide, then his wings were beating and they were rising, over the rooftops of the fortress, up, towards the tower, circling around it, spiralling upwards, until they were at the very top of the tower.\n\n\"Can you land there, without destroying the tower and killing all the Cheren on the ground?\" Fritha asked Wrath.\n\n\"Don't know, Wrath try,\" Wrath growled."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha laughed.\n\nWrath's wings changed angle and he hovered above the tower, slowly descended, his bowed legs searching for purchase. Tiles cracked, crumbled to powder, and Fritha felt the whole tower strain. And then Wrath was balanced, the tower holding, though stones and timber creaked and groaned. A tile slid and skittered down the roof, fell spinning into air, along drop and then the tinkle of it splintering on the ground.\n\nMorn circled them, then landed.\n\n\"He's learning,\" Morn said.\n\n\"Well done, my darling,\" Fritha said, patting Wrath's neck. The draig rumbled contentedly.\n\nFritha looked to the north and saw the mist of Gulla's Revenants, moving slowly across the land like spilt oil. In the sky Kadoshim and their half-breed offspring circled like crows, all moving inexorably south, towards Balara. As Fritha looked she saw some of those specks in the sky were much closer. They were moving fast, with every heartbeat growing closer, larger.\n\n\"He is coming,\" she whispered.\n\nAsroth was easy to spot in the sky, bigger than the others, his blackmail and helm seeming to suck all light into it, a dark shadow around him, the very air dimmer.\n\nHe saw Fritha upon Balara's tower and angled towards her, hovered over her a moment, his long axe slung across his back, his honour guard of Kadoshim swirling around them, a storm of wings, and then Asroth was alighting beside Fritha and Morn, his wings snapping closed.\n\n\"Are they here?\" Asroth asked them."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No, my beloved,\" Fritha said, \"they have fled your coming.\"\n\n\"Ah, that's a great pity,\" Asroth said, looking genuinely disappointed. \"I wanted to whet my axe in battle. It is different from executing prisoners. And this Order of the Bright Star were founded by Corban. Killing them will be the next best thing to killing that maggot.\"\n\n\"You'll get your chance, I'm sure,\" Fritha said. \"But first, you'll have to make do with Ben-Elim and White-Wings.\"\n\nShe looked to the south, Asroth and Morn following her gaze.\n\nTo the south a plain of sun-dried grass rolled towards the sea, dotted with low hills and clusters of woodland. A curling timber wall enclosed the plain before Ripa.\n\nSomeone's been busy, Fritha thought.\n\n\"There it is,\" she said. \"Ripa, and our enemy.\"\n\n\"On the morrow they will all be dead,\" Asroth growled, his voice cold as a winter's grave."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was not long after dawn, part of the rising sun still merged with the horizon, sending long shadows creeping across the world, but Riv was dressed in her war gear and was standing in Ripa's highest tower room.\n\nShe had been summoned to a council of war.\n\nThe memory of Bleda was fresh in her mind; she could almost feel his body, still curled against her in sleep, feel his touch on her skin, his lips upon hers. She turned, smiling, to look at him, standing close to her, Ellac, Ruga and Yul with him. Their eyes met, a flicker of a smile from him.\n\nMeical was studying the table in the centre of the room, which had a map of Ripa and the surrounding area laid out upon it. Raina, Alcyon and Ukran were talking about good staging points with Aphra and a score of White-Wing captains, leaders of the regiments that would defend Ripa's walls.\n\nBen-Elim swept into the room, entering through the huge windows. Twenty, thirty of them. Riv stepped back as Kol entered, his blond hair tied and braided with silver wire, his coat of mail gleaming. He strode to the centre of the room, giving Meical a disdainful look. Other Ben-Elim joined him, Dumah and Hadran amongst them.\n\n\"The Kadoshim have taken Balara,\" Dumah announced. \"They area day from our walls.\"\n\nA silence as that news settled into everyone.\n\n\"Our White-Wings will man the new wall and form three lines on the plain between the wall and Ripa,\" Kol said. \"Three shield walls: a centre and two flanks. Bleda and his Sirak will guard one flank, the giants-\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Stop,\" Bleda said.\n\nKol stuttered to a halt, confusion on his face.\n\n\"Kol, you will not command my forces in this battle,\" Bleda said. He looked at the other Ben-Elim. \"I was of the understanding that Kol had been removed from his position of authority until he stands trial before the Assembly.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" Dumah said, \"but Kol has led the defence strategy for seven moons. We-\" he gestured to the Ben-Elim around him-\"believe it is better for him to lead this campaign. It will be a battle. It cannot be run by a council.\"\n\n\"Let Meical lead, then,\" Bleda said. \"He has actually defeated Asroth before. And I will not fight under Kol's command.\"\n\n\"Meical!\" Kol sneered. \"Unacceptable.\" He looked at Dumah. \"Let this petty child leave, if that's what he wishes. We don't need him, anyway, our victory is obvious. Asroth leads a rabble. At Drassil we were surprised, but now Asroth has no chance. A collection of acolytes and some half-breed Kadoshim, they are no match for us, or our White-Wing legions.\"\n\nDumah looked from Bleda to Kol.\n\n\"We do need him,\" Dumah said. \"I have seen the reports of Asroth's warband.\" He looked at Bleda. \"Kol is right for this task.\"\n\n\"Then I will leave, and take my warband with me.\"\n\n\"If the little mangoes, I will leave with him,\" Ukran said.\n\nKol glared at the giant.\n\nDumah sucked in along breath, his mouth a tight line. He looked at the Ben-Elim behind him, some shuffling, nodding, rippling of wings."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then Kol will step down as commander of this battle.\"\n\n\"I am in agreement for Meical to lead,\" Hadran said.\n\n\"I will not lead,\" Meical said quietly. \"But I will fight Asroth, and let no man, woman or Ben-Elim try to stop me.\"\n\nSomething in Meical's words set Riv's blood thrumming, the first hint of her battle-joy.\n\n\"It would not befitting for you to lead,\" Dumah said. \"If the Assembly agrees, I shall lead. I have been here since the defences began and know the terrain as well as any.\"\n\nThe Ben-Elim nodded and murmured their agreement.\n\nIs this the first time the Ben-Elim's leadership has ever been questioned? And that they have changed their course as the result of a human's objection? The thought that it had come from Bleda made Riv's chest swell.\n\n\"Does that settle this?\" Dumah asked Bleda. \"Are you prepared to accept my leadership?\"\n\nBleda looked at Meical, who dipped his head.\n\n\"I am,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"Good. Then let us proceed. We have close to seven and a half thousand White-Wing warriors gathered here. One thousand Sirak riders, and a hundred Kurgan giants. Ripa is not large enough to contain one third of our troops, and what little space there is will be given to the protection of the innocent, the old and young, those who cannot fight.\"\n\nAre the Ben-Elim finally learning compassion for us mere mortals? Riv wondered.\n\n\"So, we will have to meet them on the field. That is, in part, why we have built a wall out on the plain. Asroth approaches from the north-\" he pointed to the map on the table-\"with a host of Kadoshim, half-breeds, acolytes and these mist-walkers.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Revenants,\" Riv said. Dumah looked at her. \"They are called Revenants.\"\n\nDumah gave a curt nod.\n\n\"What are their numbers?\" a voice said, quiet, calm. It was Meical.\n\n\"Impossible to tell,\" Kol said, not even looking at Meical.\n\nThere was a flapping of wings at the tower window behind Riv and a white crow flew into the chamber, Rab alighting on Riv's shoulder.\n\n\"Well met, friend,\" Rab croaked in Riv's ear.\n\nShe smiled to see him and scratched his chest.\n\n\"Byrne and Order in Sarva,\" Rab muttered.\n\n\"We are outnumbered,\" Dumah continued. \"Our scouts have flown as close as possible to Asroth's host, but they have more wings in the air than us, so it is difficult. We have had losses.\"\n\n\"How many do we face?\" Meical asked again.\n\n\"Maybe twenty thousand,\" Dumah said, \"but most of the host move under a cloak of mist, so it is impossible to tell accurately.\"\n\n\"Aye, Gulla and his Revenants,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Yes. They will prove difficult. Kol has told us that we need to take their heads for them to fall.\"\n\n\"And do all you canto avoid their bite. If they put their teeth in you, you will be turned into one of them, within a day. Armour, helms, gloves, greaves. Coverall you can,\" Riv advised.\n\nDumah nodded. \"That information will be spread.\"\n\n\"Taking their heads is one way to put them down,\" Riv said. \"The best way is to stab them with a rune-marked blade.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dumah frowned at that.\n\n\"The Order of the Bright Star wield them,\" Riv said.\n\n\"But the Order of the Bright Star are not here,\" Dumah pointed out.\n\n\"They were supposed to be,\" Kol muttered. \"I sent for them. But they are late.\"\n\n\"They are one day behind Asroth,\" Riv said, trying to keep the anger from her voice. \"And they have marched from the north, after defeating a host of those Revenants.\"\n\n\"We will have to fight without them,\" Dumah said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv agreed. \"If we can hold Asroth for one day, then the Order of the Bright Star will be here.\" She looked at Kol. \"How do you propose to fight these Revenants? You have been here for nearly seven moons. You have fought our enemy, know what we face. How have you planned to meet them?\"\n\n\"Be careful, half-breed,\" Dumah said. \"You are close to being disrespectful. We will meet our enemy with more than just our courage. We have not been idle over the last few moons. A wall has been built around the plain of Ripa. We do not expect it to hold our enemy indefinitely; not when they have aerial troops who can flyover it. But the bulk of their war-host will fight on foot. We hope it will hold back their acolytes, and these Revenants, if the walls are manned thick enough. We have over five hundred scouts and hunters, skilled with the bow. They will be split between the outer wall and Ripa's tower.\"\n\nYou have a thousand Sirak, but they are not best used on a wall. They need space, to ride.\n\n\"Aye,\" Meical said. \"It will help, though the Revenants are adept at scaling walls. We saw them climb Dun Seren's walls and breach them in short time. They swarm at points and interlink, make a tower of limbs.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is good to know,\" Dumah said.\n\n\"Pouring fire on them slowed them,\" Hadran said.\n\n\"We have pitch and oil, but the walls are timber, they could catch fire,\" said Dumah.\n\n\"Soak the walls first, it may not stop them catching fire eventually, but it will slow the process,\" said Meical.\n\n\"And a burning wall would hold them,\" Hadran added.\n\n\"Fora while, until it burned itself out,\" Meical said.\n\n\"We are not expecting the wall to stop them. More likely it will hold them awhile, and maybe allow us to thin their numbers,\" Dumah said. \"Behind the wall there is a league of land before the camp. We are expecting that to be the primary battleground. In that space two trenches have been dug around Ripa, both filled with stakes and barricades, both flooded with water channelled from the river. They are designed to slow our enemy. In between those barriers are hidden pits, positioned in away to channel our enemy into choke-points. At each of those points a White-Wing shield wall will be stationed, each one a thousand strong.\" He looked at the White-Wing captains. \"We will have reserves close by. From what we know, these Revenants will not tire, so rotating fresh troops will be vital to holding those points. If a choke-point breaks, all fallback behind the second trench, where we do the same again.\"\n\nMeical nodded. \"This is a good plan, against Asroth's acolytes. I am not so sure those trenches will hold the Revenants, or channel them where you want them to go. And the skies will be dangerous.\"\n\n\"What else can we do?\" Dumah asked.\n\n\"Kill Gulla, and all his Revenants will die,\" Riv said. She waved a hand as everyone in the chamber looked at her."
}
] |
[
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"from": "system",
"value": "Partner with the author and carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 73"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is good to know,\" Dumah said.\n\n\"Pouring fire on them slowed them,\" Hadran said.\n\n\"We have pitch and oil, but the walls are timber, they could catch fire,\" said Dumah.\n\n\"Soak the walls first, it may not stop them catching fire eventually, but it will slow the process,\" said Meical.\n\n\"And a burning wall would hold them,\" Hadran added.\n\n\"Fora while, until it burned itself out,\" Meical said.\n\n\"We are not expecting the wall to stop them. More likely it will hold them awhile, and maybe allow us to thin their numbers,\" Dumah said. \"Behind the wall there is a league of land before the camp. We are expecting that to be the primary battleground. In that space two trenches have been dug around Ripa, both filled with stakes and barricades, both flooded with water channelled from the river. They are designed to slow our enemy. In between those barriers are hidden pits, positioned in away to channel our enemy into choke-points. At each of those points a White-Wing shield wall will be stationed, each one a thousand strong.\" He looked at the White-Wing captains. \"We will have reserves close by. From what we know, these Revenants will not tire, so rotating fresh troops will be vital to holding those points. If a choke-point breaks, all fallback behind the second trench, where we do the same again.\"\n\nMeical nodded. \"This is a good plan, against Asroth's acolytes. I am not so sure those trenches will hold the Revenants, or channel them where you want them to go. And the skies will be dangerous.\"\n\n\"What else can we do?\" Dumah asked.\n\n\"Kill Gulla, and all his Revenants will die,\" Riv said. She waved a hand as everyone in the chamber looked at her."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is very good to know,\" Dumah said. He looked at the Ben-Elim in the room. \"We shall put together a strike force. If Gulla is spotted, we will go for him. But if Gulla does not join the attack, if he remains at the rear?\"\n\n\"Then we do it the hard way,\" Riv said. \"Kill them one Revenant at a time. They don't like fire. What about the channels you've dug?\"\n\n\"Those channels are leagues long, and filled with water,\" Dumah said.\n\nRiv turned and looked out of the window. To the south Ripa was protected by a bay. To the west the river curled out of the Sarva, wide and deep feeding into the bay. It was a natural border to Ripa's town and also a good natural defence. Masts, piers and boathouses lined the riverbank. Riv could see where the two channels began, the first only a few hundred paces behind the new wall. There was about half a league between the first and second channel, both curling in half-circles from the river around the entirety of Ripa, ending at the foot of hills to the east of Ripa. The space between the two channels was a good killing ground, mostly undulating grassland. Riv could see clusters of pits, designed to feed the enemy into three narrow points.\n\n\"The flanks are weak,\" Riv said. \"To the west, if Asroth has forces that can cross the river, and east, where the wall ends and the hills begin.\"\n\n\"I will protect the east flank,\" Bleda said, staring at the land from their vantage point.\n\nRiv looked at him. She had thought that he would prefer the plains to the hills, better ground for horses and manoeuvrability."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The start of an idea,\" Bleda said, tapping his head. \"I would like to take a ride through those hills, later today.\"\n\n\"I like it when he gets that look,\" Ruga whispered. \"Previously it has ended in Cheren dying.\"\n\n\"And I will watch over your west flank, guard the river,\" Ukran said.\n\n\"Good.\" Dumah nodded.\n\n\"What about the air?\" Meical asked. \"What are our numbers?\"\n\n\"Around a thousand Ben-Elim,\" Dumah answered.\n\n\"They outnumber us in the air, as well, then,\" Meical said. \"Have you planned for that?\"\n\n\"We will stay close to Ripa, and low. There will be archers in the tower, on the walls.\"\n\n\"Lead the Kadoshim and their offspring over my Sirak,\" Bleda said, \"and we shall teach them to fly high.\"\n\nRiv looked back at the channels dug into the land.\n\n\"Raina,\" she said. \"That powder you have, that sets blue flame burning on anything. Does that include water?\"\n\n\"It does,\" Raina said, her voice like an iron rasp.\n\n\"How much do you have?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha padded through the darkness along a stone-flagged street, a skin of wine in one hand. Behind her the sounds of revelry echoed out from Balara's hall and tower. She did not feel like merrymaking.\n\nI will save that for after the battle.\n\nAll had their own way of finding their courage before a fight. Fritha wanted quiet but the noise in the hall was filling her head with chaos. She walked along the wide street that led from Balara's tower towards the gates. Behind her she heard the slither and rasp of scales on stone, and then Elise was beside her.\n\n\"What issss it?\" Elise asked her, \"enemy in the treesss? A night attack?\"\n\n\"No, my love, I just wanted some quiet,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"May I ssstay?\" Elise asked.\n\n\"Of course,\" Fritha said, her fingers brushing Elise's hand.\n\nThey walked silently through the fortress, passing guards stationed along the way. Iron braziers burned in the courtyard, flames swirling in a breeze. Acolytes sat around the fires, others lining the walls. They moved out of the way as Fritha and Elise scaled the stairs and walked along the wall.\n\nArn was already upon the wall, staring out towards Ripa. He nodded a greeting and fell in silently behind them. Stone turned to timber beneath their feet as they crossed sections of the wall that had crumbled to ruin and been repaired by men. Fritha eventually found a spot that she deemed right for her mood, dark and silent. It was to the west of the gate tower, overlooking the dense shadows of the Sarva Forest. She sat, dangling her legs over the wall, and took a drink from her wine skin. Arn sat one side of her and Elise coiled the other."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Silence settled about them, only the soughing of wind in trees, the creak and scrape of branches. In the distance, from within the forest, Fritha heard the howl of one of her Ferals, taken up by others.\n\nMy babies are hunting in those woods. And guarding us, too. Nothing on the ground could slip past them.\n\n\"Along time,\" Fritha said into the darkness, \"since my Anja was murdered by Ben-Elim, and you both found me, somehow brought me back from a darkness worse than death.\" She looked at them both. \"You both saved me.\"\n\n\"We have sssaved each other, countless timessss,\" Elise hissed, her tongue flickering.\n\nArn grunted his agreement, his hand on the starstone axe at his belt.\n\n\"And everything we have done, strived for, it will be decided on the morrow,\" Fritha said, taking another sip of wine.\n\nAnd if we win, what then? A brave new world. One where Asroth rules, with meat his side. She felt a shiver at the thought, pleasure and fear. Will Asroth keep his word, once we have helped him win? I do not know, and that is why I am gathering my friends. Wrath, Elise, Arn; and Jin will be next. She is no fool. Together we area force that Asroth cannot discard. Or easily destroy. But these are thoughts for another day. Right now, there is only the morrow. She felt so many things; excited, melancholic, fearful, angry, all of those emotions swirling through her blood, mixing and blending. She reached out a hand and put it upon Elise's, squeezed it, then reached out to Arn, too, and squeezed his hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Together we shall face all that this world throws at us.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Arn said. \"Together. We areas close as kin now.\"\n\n\"We are,\" Fritha agreed.\n\n\"We shall avenge my fallen mother, hung from a rope by Ben-Elim for no real crime,\" Elise hissed. \"We shall wipe the Ben-Elim from the face of the earth, and make thisss a better world for those who follow after usss.\"\n\n\"We shall,\" Fritha said. Her hand went to the swell of her belly. She felt a kick, as if her unborn child agreed with her.\n\n\"No flying away if thingsss go bad, thisss time,\" Elise said.\n\n\"No,\" Fritha said. \"This is one battle that there is no running from. Tomorrow we will win or we will die.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda sat on a stool as Riv scraped her sharpest knife across his head. Dawn's first rays filtered through cracks in the fabric of their tent curtain, along with sounds of the camp stirring. They had both woken in the dark, lying there, silent, holding each other.\n\nToday is the day. Today we fight. Live or die, this is the day.\n\nBleda blew out along breath, felt knots of tension and excitement building in his stomach and chest.\n\n\"I know,\" Riv murmured, as she shaved stubble from the last part of his head, leaving only the long warrior braid.\n\n\"All done,\" she said, wiping her knife clean and sheathing it.\n\n\"My thanks.\" He stood and looked into her eyes.\n\n\"Well, it's a special day, you should look your best,\" Riv said.\n\n\"It is,\" Bleda agreed. \"For so long, I have just been living from one day to the next, not knowing if I would seethe next dawn. This day, this battle, has always seemed so faraway. And now it is here, upon us.\"\n\n\"I feel it, too,\" Riv said. \"Like a song in my blood.\"\n\n\"Aye, that is it.\" He looked at Riv, so strong and beautiful, her wings magnificent.\n\n\"I want to... thank you,\" Bleda said. \"You have given me so much. My heart was buried in a deep, dark place for so many years. You awoke it, the day you gave me my brother's bow. That act of kindness, of friendship, when I felt so alone...\" He paused.\n\nRiv smiled and stroked his cheek. \"I love you, Bleda ben Erdene,\" she said, and leaned forwards and kissed him. \"I have one more gift for you,\" she said, and reached into her bundled cloak. She drew out along knife in a scabbard. \"It is rune-marked,\" she said. \"You have runed arrows, but, just in case.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My thanks,\" Bleda said. He threaded the scabbard-loops onto his weapons-belt, which was draped over his lamellar coat.\n\n\"Come, let's get you dressed,\" Riv said. She was already in her coat of mail; Bleda had helped her into it earlier. Riv passed him a tunic of wool, which he shrugged over his head, and then his grey deel of felt. A lot of layers beneath his lamellar coat, but the combination of felt and wool would help to snare an arrow if it found a gap in the iron plates of his armour.\n\nA cough beyond the tent's entrance.\n\n\"Come,\" Bleda said.\n\nRuga entered, carrying two clay bowls. \"Porridge and some honey,\" she said. \"It's going to be along day.\"\n\nBleda took his bowl and stirred it, steam rising, blew on a spoonful and ate. Ellac and Yul entered the tent behind Ruga, silent and grim, both in coats of mail, leather vambraces on their forearms, their grey deels clean and bright. Ellac had a sword across his back. Yul had the same, and his bow and quiver at his waist. The rune-marked arrows were easy to pick out, their feathers grey, where the rest were goose-wing white.\n\nBleda had given out twenty-five runed arrows to twenty hand-picked warriors, including himself. They were the best archers in his warband and Riv had told him of the importance of putting Gulla or his captains down.\n\nWithout a word Ruga helped Riv with Bleda's lamellar coat. He stood with his arms out, helping them thread it over him, then cinching it tight at the back and buckling it. He rolled his shoulders, enjoying the welcome weight of it. Riv and Ruga slipped his weapons-belt around his waist, Riv buckling it, his bow-case and quiver comfortable on each hip. Finally, his sword-belt was looped over his shoulder, a leather baldric, and the scabbard settled across his back. It was not his father's sword, which Erdene had given to him. That had been taken from him by Jin and Uldin when he had been taken captive in Forn Forest. But this was a good Sirak sword, taken from a fallen warrior. He reached over his back, gripped the leather-bound hilt, checked that it did not snare in the scabbard. It was perfect."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He and Ruga helped Riv with her weapons-belt. The bow he had made her in its case, a quiver of runed arrows. Two short-swords and a knife.\n\nRiv went through a routine of checking her blades for their draw, adjusting the straps of her quiver, brushing the palm of her hand across the feather-tips.\n\n\"I think we are ready,\" Bleda said. He took a moment, looked at all of them.\n\n\"My brave warriors,\" he said to them. \"You have followed me, saved me, proved your courage and heart tome a thousand times.\" He nodded to himself. \"Whatever happens this day, I am proud to know you, and call you friends.\"\n\nEllac, Ruga and Yul looked back at him, tears in their eyes.\n\nBleda drew in a deep breath. \"Let's kill our enemies, and live to drink and boast of it together,\" he said, and all four of them grinned back at him. From Ruga, Ellac and Yul that was the deepest honour they could give.\n\nRuga swept the curtain open and went out before him, moved to one side, Bleda stepping out into bright morning sunshine.\n\nHis warband were arrayed in front of him, a thousand warriors all mounted, staring silently. Horse breath steamed in clouds on the chill of morning. A horse whinnied, leather harness creaked. Bleda strode to his mount, Dilis, one fist on the saddle pommel, and he vaulted onto her back, then looked at his warriors.\n\n\"You have followed me this far, fought countless battles beside me. Spilt your blood. And it all comes to this day. Now we have our chance to avenge our kin; now we have the chance to put our enemy in the ground. The Cheren die today.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"HAI!\" his warband cried, and then they were breaking into motion, Bleda leading them out. Riv's wings snapped open and she leaped into the air, rising above them.\n\nBleda looked at the battlefield. He was positioned halfway up a low hill on the eastern fringe of the plain, Riv standing beside him. The wall curved before him, circling out and away from the hills he had his back to, a huge semi-circle that took in leagues of open plain before it curled back in towards the coast, ending on the banks of the river that spilt from Sarva's darkness. Bleda could make out Kurgan giants massed along the riverbank.\n\nWhite-Wing warriors walked the palisade, over a thousand warriors in their polished black cuirasses and mail. Archers were amongst them, and at scores of points Bleda saw the heat-shimmer in the air, marking where great iron pots of pitch were being heated. On the walls about them warriors were tipping barrels of water down the timber palisade and walkways, soaking the wood, preparing it as well as they could for the imminent fire and pitch.\n\nOn the plain immediately behind the wall the ground was empty. Two or three hundred or so paces back the first ditch cut a dark line across the plain. It ran parallel with the wall, the water in it glistening, spikes bristling. Makeshift portable bridges were laid across it at the moment. Scores of pits had been dug into the ground on both sides of the ditch, filled with stakes and kindling and pitch, though it was not lit yet. The pits were covered with latticed branches and had loose earth and grass thrown onto them. Each pit had a stone placed upon it, painted with limestone whitewash so that Bleda and all the allies would be able to see them and know where the pits were. They gleamed in the sun, now risen over the hills and cliffs at Bleda's back."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Further back still, behind the pits, were three regiments of White-Wings, each a thousand swords strong. Bleda had never seen a shield wall with such great numbers. Behind them was open plain, then the second ditch, and then behind that ditch were another two regiments of White-Wings, reinforcements or to protect any retreat. Arrayed behind them was the camp, spread across the hill that Ripa's tower stood upon. Bleda could see gulls circling, a glimpse of the sea shimmering behind it all.\n\n\"A lot of warriors,\" Ruga said beside him.\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"But not as many as them,\" Riv said. She was standing beside Bleda.\n\n\"No,\" Bleda said. They were far enough up the hill to have a view over the outer wall. On the plain to the north, still a league or so away, Asroth's war-host approached. It filled the land like a dark stain, creeping towards them. On this eastern fringe, their right flank, banks of black mist rolled over the land, everything within it hidden. The mist was thinner in the centre, though, and Bleda could see warriors with shields marching, the same rectangular shields that the White-Wings used.\n\nThe western flank was wreathed in mist.\n\nWhere is Jin?\n\nAbove the warband Kadoshim and their half-breed offspring flew.\n\nWings from above and Bleda looked up, saw a score of Ben-Elim dropping towards him. Meical led them.\n\n\"Well met,\" Meical said as he landed, his wings stirring up dust from the ground. Hadran alighted with him, other Ben-Elim hovering in the air above them. \"A good day fora fight,\" he observed, looking up at the sky. It was cloudless, the sun at their backs, a gentle breeze taking the heat out of the sun, but not too much to foul bow work."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"The Ben-Elim thank you for standing with us, Bleda ben Erdene,\" Hadran said.\n\nBleda nodded. \"I am happy to stand alongside you, Hadran, and you, Meical. There are many reasons I am here. The Kadoshim are an evil that must be purged, there is no running or hiding from them. My greatest enemy stands with them, Jin of the Cheren. But above all, I am here for her.\" He looked at Riv.\n\n\"There is much strength in love,\" Meical said. \"You humans have taught me that.\"\n\nHe held his arm out and Bleda looked at it a moment, and then leaned in his saddle and gripped it.\n\n\"Whatever this day may hold for us, it's an honour to fight alongside you,\" Meical said.\n\n\"Aye, and you too,\" Bleda said. \"Ha, you area legend from our histories. How can we lose?\"\n\n\"So is he,\" Meical said with a frown, looking out at Asroth's host. They could not see Asroth, but everyone felt his presence. A dark malignance approaching them.\n\n\"Even legends can die.\" Bleda shrugged. \"If you put an arrow in their eye.\"\n\nBehind him he heard Ellac grunt his approval.\n\n\"Yes,\" Meical said, staring at the dark host on the plain. \"Riv, it is time,\" he said. She looked at Meical, then at Bleda.\n\n\"Kill your enemies, and live to boast of it with me tonight,\" she said to him, as her wings snapped out, repeating his words from earlier in the tent. She bent her knees, jumped and beat her wings and then she was airborne, hovering a moment before Bleda, looking into his eyes. He smiled at her, and then she was rising with Meical, Hadran and the other Ben-Elim."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Just live, Bleda thought, watching her shrink into the sky."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha rode upon Wrath's back, swaying with his bow-legged gait, her eyes fixed on the wall before them. The sun was rising slowly, hanging low in the sky behind the hills and cliffs of Ripa, making Fritha squint.\n\nThey have the advantage of the sun at their backs, Fritha thought, not liking that. Only half a league separated her from her enemy now. Her heart was beating faster, a nervous energy in her limbs building, making her movements twitchy.\n\n\"Fritha, something strange is happening tome,\" Asroth said.\n\nShe looked over at him. He was riding upon his huge stallion, clothed in his starstone mail and helm, his long axe slung across his back, his whip and knife at his belt.\n\nHe looked like a god come to earth.\n\nWhich I suppose he almost is.\n\n\"What is it, my beloved?\" she said.\n\n\"I can feel my blood pumping through my veins, my heart beating faster, and look-\" he held his gauntleted handout and Fritha saw a tremor pass through it.\n\n\"Is this fear?\" he said.\n\n\"I think it is,\" Fritha said. \"Fear, excitement, the knowledge that we are about to face our enemy, and either you or they will be food for crows by the end of the day. The prospect of imminent death can focus the mind and make your heart pound.\"\n\nAsroth nodded. \"I was thinking about that,\" he confessed. Then he smiled. \"This fear is delicious. I have never felt anything like it. The possibility of death is... euphoric. Fear will not rule me, though. I will fight, despite my fear.\" He looked at Fritha, grinning. \"No wonder you mortals cling so desperately to your lives, if it is so full of this. It is intoxicating.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth looked down atone of his acolyte honour guards, riding a few paces behind.\n\n\"Summon my captains,\" he said.\n\nThe warrior put a horn to his lips and blew two short blasts.\n\nIn moments Gulla and Morn were sweeping from the sky, Bune and a dozen other Kadoshim as well. Aenor cantered up from further down the line, and a few moments later Jin was riding across the warband, her oathsworn man at her shoulder, as always.\n\n\"It is upon us,\" Asroth said. \"The last battle of our Long War. Can you taste it?\" He grinned at them all, heads nodding back at him. Fritha could taste it, everything heightened at this moment.\n\n\"We all know what to do. To kill our enemies, we must get past that wall,\" Asroth said, abruptly focused. \"Gulla, send the two of your Seven and take their flanks. Aenor, now is your time. You have served me faithfully and so the honour of striking first at the Ben-Elim is yours. Take the wall.\" He looked at Jin. \"You, my violent friend, will wait until there is a hole in that wall. It won't take long. Once it's there, and we've cleared it, you will lead us.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Jin said, nodding.\n\n\"That is a nice sword,\" Fritha said, looking at the weapon that jutted across Jin's shoulder, its leather-bound hilt threaded with silver wire.\n\n\"It is Bleda's,\" Jin said. \"I am going to give it back to him. In his skull.\"\n\nFritha smiled. She liked this woman more and more."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth looked up at the sky, saw Ben-Elim circling beyond the wall, but they were no great host.\n\n\"Where are they?\" he murmured quietly.\n\nFritha watched Asroth, sensing a change in him.\n\nHe is more focused and assertive than I have seen him. There is a sharpness to him that I have not seen on this whole long journey. It gave her a rush of confidence that she had not been feeling.\n\n\"This is close enough,\" Asroth said, and horns blared, the war-host stuttering to a halt. Wrath growled, saliva dripping from his teeth. Fritha could sense it in him, too, a tremor in his skin, scales rippling. He wanted to tear and rend and feast. They were only a few thousand paces from the wall now. Silence settled over the plain like a shroud, thick and heavy.\n\n\"Gulla, Aenor, start the assault,\" Asroth commanded.\n\nBehind them the sound of drums began, a steady, pulsing beat. Aenor marched past them, leading his warband of acolytes, thousands of them in wide columns. They passed around either side of Asroth and Fritha's honour guards. Elise's tail lashed and Ferals snarled, pawing the ground. Aenor looked up at Fritha as he passed her, their eyes meeting. She dipped her head to him, respect both for coming so far and for what he was about to do. Then he was past her, the bulk of his warband following, over three thousand warriors committed to the assault. Long ladders cut from Sarva's trees were gripped amongst them.\n\n\"Kill them,\" Fritha whispered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Left and right, on the edge of Fritha's vision, she saw banks of black mist swirl forwards, moving across the plain towards the eastern and western flanks of the wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv glided close to the ground with Meical, Hadran and a score of Ben-Elim. They were flying low, behind the wall, Hadran calling out encouragement to the warriors around them. Pockets of Ben-Elim were stationed about the battlefield, strike forces tasked with the support of the wall, having the speed to reach beleaguered points quickly. They were also hunting parties for Gulla or his captains, if they were seen. The bulk of the Ben-Elim were being held in reserve, though, waiting. They would try to counter the Kadoshim aerial attack, when it came.\n\n\"One thing I need to do,\" Riv called to Meical. She saw Aphra on the western fringe of the wall, working hard with her White-Wings at dousing the timber palisade and walkway with water. Riv sped towards them, with a flurry of beating wings alighted beside Aphra.\n\nHer mother emptied a barrel of water and wiped sweat from her brow.\n\n\"Stay safe,\" Aphra said.\n\nRiv smiled and reached out a hand to stroke Aphra's face. \"It's a battle, Mam,\" she said.\n\nAphra smiled, too, and pulled Riv into a tight embrace.\n\nIn the distance, drums began to beat.\n\n\"Here they come,\" Jost said, close by.\n\n\"I'll see you after,\" Riv growled, and leaped into the air, speeding along behind the wall to join Meical and the others. She reached them and together they rose over the central section of the wall.\n\nThe plain north of Ripa spread before them, Asroth's war-host filling it. Banners rippled in the breeze, black wings upon a white field."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Three fronts were advancing across the ground."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the centre a block of acolytes were moving forwards, thousands of them, though Riv could still see deep columns of warriors held behind in reserve. The line of warriors advancing was roughly a hundred fighters wide, twenty or thirty deep. Rectangular shields were raised, though they were not in tight order. They looked like White-Wing shields, but with black wings, not white. Riv spied ladders in the deeper ranks. A volley of arrows flickered out from archers upon the wall as the acolytes came within range. Most thudded into shields, a few screams drifting on the wind.\n\nRiv's eyes were drawn to the two flanks. Two banks of mist were surging forwards, roiling like wind-whipped storm clouds, already sweeping past the acolytes. The sound of drums rolled across the plain, like thunder rumbling within the storm. Faster and faster the banks of mist swept forwards, an unstoppable river tumbling down a hill. Wisps of vapour curled and frayed at its edges as Revenants charged the wall's western and eastern tips.\n\nThe charge to the west hit first. An explosion of black mist sprayed upwards, like a great wave crashing into a cliff, spume hurled high. Revenants appeared, a tangle of limbs and torsos as they merged together, massing into their tower of bodies that climbed frighteningly fast up the timber wall.\n\nWhite-Wings on the wall above the Revenants were shouting. Cauldrons of boiling pitch were hurled over the wall.\n\nRevenants screamed, audible even from Riv's distance, bodies tumbling from their living tower, catching fire, limbs flailing.\n\nTo the east another crash as the second bank of mist crunched into the wall. Riv's head snapped that way. The wall shook, a tremor running through it, but it held."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A roar of voices as the acolytes in the centre closed ranks, shields coming together with a crack."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Their pace doubled. Arrows rained down upon them now, rattling upon shields, more screams as they found flesh. Another dozen heartbeats and the acolytes were running, shields still tight, a few cracks here and there. Lines of warriors appeared with ladders, sprinting for the wall, others holding shields above them. Some dropped as archers targeted them, but many more sped on. The first ladders reached the wall, spiked legs set into the ground, the tops slamming onto wood. Riv's hand reached for her bow, but she stopped herself, knowing all her arrows were rune-marked.\n\nSave them for Revenants.\n\nScreams rang out from the west.\n\nHalf a dozen Revenant towers were surging up the wall, boiling pitch being hurled upon them. Flames were bursting into life from Revenant flesh, towers collapsing, but other Revenants were reaching the top of the wall, taloned hands gripping timber, heaving themselves over onto the walkway.\n\nAphra is stationed down there.\n\n\"My mother,\" Riv yelled, pointing to the west. Without waiting fora response she was tucking her wings and stooping into an angled dive. Wind ripped at her, snatching tears from her eyes as she hurtled down. Everything grew larger, quickly. Riv unclipped her bow, pulling it from its case and snatching a fistful of arrows. One, two, three arrows nocked and loosed in quick succession as Riv aimed at the top of the Revenant towers climbing the wall, not wanting to shoot into the combat. Her aim was not that good, not when she was moving so fast her vision was blurred.\n\nShe did seethe crackle of blue flame, though, evidence that her arrows had hit their mark. Revenants tumbled through the air, crashed to the ground. More blue fire drew her eye, a series of bursts on the walkway."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aphra and her warband.\n\nShe shifted her wings, changed her angle and slipped her bow back into its case. Then she drew her swords.\n\nMore ripples of blue flame on a section of the wall, White-Wings fighting desperately. Riv crashed into a knot of Revenants, her swords swinging and slashing. Blue fire crackled and Revenants fell away screaming. Riv's feet hit the timber walkway and she chopped at a Revenant climbing over the wall, fingers spraying as it fell backwards. A stab into another's mouth as it leaped over the wall. A tide of creatures swarmed the walls, so many, moving so fast. Riv saw one grab a White-Wing and hurl the warrior over the wall. Riv ducked talons, punched her sword into a belly, ripped it free in a burst of blue flame, a beat of her wings as more claws slashed and grabbed at her, lifting her up. She swung her swords, severing grasping hands, swiped at ahead, her blade biting into a skull, wrenching it free, the Revenant dropping like a stone.\n\nAnother figure leaped at her but was skewered by a spear as Meical swept down behind her. Hadran and the other Ben-Elim followed, raking the Revenants on the walkway, clearing a space in heartbeats. White-Wing warriors cheered to see them.\n\nMore Revenants came over the wall, an endless tide.\n\n\"SHIELD WALL!\" a White-Wing yelled, Riv recognizing her mother's voice from a thousand battlefield drills. Aphra was twenty paces ahead of Riv, a dozen warriors were lifting shields with her. Aphra was trying to protect a team working the pitch and cauldrons. Shields thudded tight, a small wall formed across the walkway, and rune-marked blades stabbed out, swords, spears, long axes chopping, Revenants falling before them. Riv beat her wings, passing over her mother, landed beside the four or five White-Wings gathered around a huge iron fire-pit with crackling flames. Cauldrons were upon chains attached to wooden beams and posts that could be swung from the fire to the wall, where a lever upended them. But the incomers were climbing too fast, too high. The cauldron swung towards the wall as a snarl of Revenants appeared, surging over and dropping to the walkway. Riv leaped upon them, stabbing and slashing, but one slipped past her, a slash of its talons opened the throat of the White-Wing swinging the cauldron upon its timber frame, and then the Revenant hurled itself into the beam that suspended the cauldron. There was a creak of timber, the beam snapped and then the cauldron fell. A huge crack as it hit the walkway, a shower of boiling pitch exploding, the stench of sizzling flesh, White-Wings and Revenants screaming. The cauldron rolled, hot pitch spreading across the floor, engulfing a Revenant's feet. It howled, fell into the black-bubbling liquid, hands submerged where the flames ignited, hungrily burning up the creature's arms. Then the timber of the walkway and wall was smoking, more flames sparking."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wall burst into flame."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda saw the flames ignite on the western wall, snatching into the sky like grasping fingers. Black smoke billowed. Worry coiled and slithered in his belly. He'd seen Riv diving down to join the battle, saw Meical and the other Ben-Elim follow, but now Riv had been swallowed in the chaos, too faraway for Bleda to make out individuals on the wall, even from his vantage point on the hillside.\n\nShe is fierce, resourceful, he told himself, and tore his eyes away, looking back to the section of wall before him.\n\nBleda felt revulsion as he watched the Revenants swarm the wall, first in their tens, then scores and now hundreds of them gaining the walkway. He had fought them in Forn Forest. Well, fought one of them, seen it rip the throat out of Tuld, his oathsworn man. He knew how strong and unnaturally fast they were, and how hard they were to kill.\n\nWhite-Wings on this eastern tip of the wall were fighting hard, hacking with swords, sending heads spinning, smashing Revenants back over the wall as they appeared. It was a losing battle, the wall was starting to breakdown into knots of combat as the enemy just kept oncoming.\n\n\"DISMOUNT!\" Bleda cried out, swinging his leg over his saddle and dropping to the ground. Ashe strode forwards he drew his bow from its case, took a rolled, waxed bowstring from a pouch at his belt and strung the bow.\n\nScores of burning braziers stood in a row before his warband, barrels full of arrows sat close to each one. Each arrowhead had a strip of linen soaked in pitch tied about it. Bleda and his Sirak had been tasked with keeping the walkway clear, but he was loath to start using the fire arrows so soon, especially after he had just seen the western wall burst into flame."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"RUNED ARROWS!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "he called out, taking one grey-fletched arrow from his quiver. His twenty chosen archers did the same, Ruga and Yul either side joining him. \"AIM AND LOOSE!\" he called out. He drew and loosed, saw his arrow fly through the air and punch into the temple of a Revenant clawing at a White-Wing's belly. Bleda saw a spark of blue fire in the creature's head as it was hurled from its feet, fell toppling back over the wall.\n\nAll along the wall twenty Revenants fell, a ripple of blue sparks. But still the wall was filling with them, White-Wings falling, throats ripped out by talons and fangs. Some of the Revenants were breaking away, forging their way towards the wall's centre. One rolled off the walkway and fell to the ground, climbed to its feet and began running towards Bleda.\n\nThere is no choice, Bleda realized. Five hundred runed arrows will begone in a hundred heartbeats, and it will not stem the tide. And we need those arrows for Gulla and his captains. We must risk the fire arrows or the wall will be lost.\n\n\"FIRE ARROWS!\" Bleda cried, taking a pitch-soaked arrow from the barrel and dipping it into the burning brazier. A whoosh as it ignited and Bleda held it up for his warriors to see.\n\nThis time a thousand Sirak drew their bows, each with aflame-wrapped arrowhead. As one they loosed, a swarm of flames arcing through the air, slamming down into Revenants upon the wall. A dozen arrows pierced the Revenant running at Bleda; it was thrown backwards, rolling to a halt. It started to rise but flames crackled, engulfing it, and it collapsed. Screams from the walkway, the hiss of flame in flesh, clothes igniting as Revenants fell."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"AGAIN!\" Bleda cried, and another thousand arrows were in the air, and then another volley, and then another. Revenants fell spinning, pin-cushioned with arrows, became living torches, an inferno raging across the walkway. White-Wings used their shields to hammer the invaders back over the wall, or hurl them down to the ground.\n\nAnd then, like a held breath, the wall was clear of Revenants.\n\nWhite-Wing warriors raised their weapons and cheered.\n\nBleda felt a moment of elation, believed that these creatures were stoppable.\n\nHands appeared at the wall, afresh tide of Revenants dragging themselves up and onto the walkway.\n\nAnd Bleda saw patches of timber blackening and glowing. Flames crackled into life."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha stared at the wall. All along it, battle raged. The White-Wings on the eastern flank had looked close to being overwhelmed, Gulla's Revenants swarming up the wall like an unstoppable wave, cauldrons of pitch slowing but not stopping them. Then a storm of arrows had held that tide and reduced them to living torches. But Gulla's horde was relentless and now sections of the wall were starting to burn, flames licking at the sky. In the centre Aenor and his acolytes had gained the wall, though many had fallen. As Fritha watched, ladders were pushed from the wall-top and sent crashing to the ground, crushing a score of warriors. On the western flank the Revenants'black mist was merging with clouds of smoke as a section of the wall burned. Around it Fritha glimpsed white-feathered wings and saw the odd crackle of blue flame. It brought back terrible memories of when she had seen weapons of the Order of the Bright Star slay Ulf's Revenants. It had been during the battle in the Desolation, and she had seen that same blue flame.\n\nAre the Order of the Bright Star there?\n\nBut their scouts had seen the Order's warband moving into Sarva Forest only a day ago, so they could not have reached Ripa before Asroth's host. It was impossible, even with a night march. Fritha scanned the rest of the wall, could see no evidence of those weapons elsewhere.\n\nThere are too few of them. It is only there, on the western tip. Perhaps it is the garrison from Balara, fled here instead of joining with Byrne.\n\nScreams from the centre drew Fritha's eyes, another ladder pushed away from the wall, swaying fora moment and then toppling to the ground."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aenor needs support,\" Fritha said. \"Surely the time is here for Morn.\"\n\n\"No,\" Asroth said. \"It is too soon. Wait until the walls are harder pressed, all of their troops engaged.\"\n\nThere was a certainty in Asroth's voice that reassured Fritha. For sometime she had been concerned about his strategic skill, or more importantly his lack of it. But she had seen a change in him yesterday, during their council of war at Balara. Scouts had returned, reporting on the movement of Byrne's warband, stating that they had just entered the western fringes of the Sarva Forest. Gulla had asked whether they should wait for the Order of the Bright Star to join Ripa's warband, rather than risk having an enemy at their back.\n\n\"No,\" Asroth had said. \"Divided, they will fall. We strike Ripa on the morrow, hard. The Ben-Elim will fall. And then we will turn and face Corban's offspring.\"\n\nFritha had agreed. Gulla had been a fool to suggest waiting. The only danger was that Byrne's warband would appear before Ripa was taken. But that was beyond unlikely. The last report soon after dawn that morning was that Byrne was a day's march away. So, if Ripa fell today, all would be well.\n\nIf.\n\n\"Now,\" Asroth said, beside Fritha, drawing her from her thoughts.\n\nBune put a horn to his mouth and blew along, ululating note.\n\nBehind her Fritha heard the beating of many wings. Morn flying over them, leading all of her half-breed kin. Eight hundred warriors. And every single one of them carried one of Aenor's acolytes. They flew low to the ground, approaching the wall like a swarm of hornets, the sound of their wings drowning the din of battle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Warriors on the wall saw them, horns sounded. Arrows flickered out from the wall, faint screams, a handful of half-breeds plummeting to the ground. Ben-Elim appeared in the sky, small clusters of them, scattered in the air along the length of the wall, all of them speeding towards the centre, where Morn and her warriors were aimed.\n\nBut they were too late.\n\nMorn and her kin were close to the wall now, and they began to rise. Fritha could see acolytes in their grip drawing weapons, warriors with long axes, swords, spears. None of them carried shields. This was a force intent on slaughter and ruin. They had accepted their own deaths were likely. Morn was the first to crest the wall, dropping the acolyte in her arms onto the walkway. Within heartbeats Morn's kin were swooping and releasing the acolytes in their arms. A hundred, two hundred, three hundred warriors dropped onto the wall in less time than it took Fritha to unstopper her water skin and take along sip.\n\nStill more acolytes were dropping from half-breed arms as the first of the Ben-Elim reached them, a score or so, carving into the flank of half-breeds as they turned in the sky, their orders to return to Asroth's host on the plain. Winged shapes fell, twisting, wings broken or lifeless. More Ben-Elim arrived as the last of Morn's kin released their human cargoes.\n\nFritha drummed her fingers on her sword hilt. She was restless, filled with energy.\n\nI need to fight.\n\n\"They are holding longer than I thought,\" Asroth growled. All along the wall battle raged, sections beginning to burn, the fire spreading, clouds of smoke billowing, and in the sky above the wall Ben-Elim fought half-breed Kadoshim."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If we wait long enough the wall will burn to the ground. There, and there, first,\" Fritha said, pointing to the western and eastern tips of the long wall.\n\n\"Too long,\" Asroth said, looking at the sun. To Fritha's surprise it was high in the sky, midday already upon them. Asroth looked at Fritha. \"It is time,\" he said.\n\nThose words set Fritha's blood thrumming through her veins.\n\nShe buckled herself in, checked the bindings. Then she took a helm from a saddle loop, a simple iron cap with cheek-plates and a curtain of riveted mail hanging from the back to protect her neck. She buckled the leather strap under her chin. Then she checked her weapons, longsword and short, hanging at her hips, a spear couched and strapped in a saddle-cup, around shield with black wings painted upon it strapped to her saddle harness.\n\nAsroth leaned over and placed a hand on her cuirass, low, over her belly. \"Keep to the plan, no undue risks,\" he said, \"I would see my child when this is done.\"\n\nFritha smiled at him, felt a flush spread through her chest and into her neck.\n\n\"Go, then, priestess and bride, earn your fame in the histories of this world,\" Asroth said to her.\n\nFritha leaned forward in her saddle and patted Wrath's neck.\n\n\"It is time, my love,\" she whispered. \"You know what to do.\"\n\n\"Destroy, kill, eat?\" Wrath growled.\n\n\"Exactly,\" Fritha said.\n\nWrath broke into lumbering motion, his wings spreading wide, and then he leaped into the sky, wings beating. She looked back, saw Arn urge his horse into a canter as he followed her, her honour guard, over a hundred strong, riding at his back. Elise was powering across the ground, coils undulating, her shield and spear raised. Ferals loped on their flanks. Fritha smiled, seeing them following her into battle. Then she set her face to the south, to the wall that was looming ever closer. Arrows flickered up at her, one hissing past her head. Another passed through Wrath's left wing, the draig lurching fora moment, then steady again. And then Wrath was diving, aiming straight at the wall, a section to the left of the central gates. More arrows came at them. Wrath's wings pulled in tight, their speed increasing, and Fritha leaned low over his neck, her gloved hands holding on tight to the leather harness. She felt a moment of absolute terror as the wall seemed to hurtle towards them, a fractured image of faces staring, mouths opening to yell, some leaping, realizing what was about to happen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wrath hit the wall, a lurching impact, a moment of resistance, Fritha thrown forwards in her saddle, leather harness about her straining, and then the wall exploded like kindling, timber thick in the air, warriors hurled up, high into the sky. A moment of weightlessness, then another impact, Fritha rocked and shaken, Wrath crashing to the ground, his legs buckling, claws gouging the earth, sending up an explosion of grass and earth. The draig fell, a half-roll, wings beating frantically to right himself, skidding to a halt.\n\nTimber and bodies fell about them, thudding to the ground, a cloud of dust enveloping them.\n\nFritha lay with her arms wrapped around Wrath's neck, for long moments unsure if she were dead or alive, if she was unhurt or if she'd broken every bone in her body.\n\nWrath lurched to his feet and shook himself, splintered timber and earth flying off. Then his neck darted out and he snatched up a White-Wing warrior in his jaws, bit down hard, a scream cut short as Fritha heard bone shatter and crunch. The draig shook his head, blood spurting, the White-Wing hanging limp.\n\nThe dust settled and Fritha pulled her spear from its strap. White-Wing warriors were all about her-reinforcements for the wall, she guessed-others running down from wooden stairwells. Aenor's acolytes were upon the walkway to either side of her. One stairwell was almost taken by them. Behind her she heard the thunder of hooves, Arn and her honour guard pouring through the huge hole Wrath had smashed. Elise appeared at Fritha's side, warriors freezing fora moment at the sight of her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha looked at an open plain, a scattering of White-Wing warriors before her, grassland behind them, studded with more organized blocks of White-Wings, and behind them, a hill and the tower of Ripa.\n\nWrath dropped what was left of the White-Wing in a heap at his feet, opened his jaws wide and roared."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv was thrown from her feet, a huge concussion rippling through the wall, timber frames and wall bracers screeching in protest. She fell over the walkway's edge, White-Wings and Revenants tumbling about her, the ground rushing up towards her. A frantic beating of her wings and she checked her fall, stabilized and then climbed into the air, hovering fora moment, trying to understand what had just happened.\n\nSmoke and flames billowed, clouding her vision. A deafening sound rang out, a roaring that filled the air, making Riv's ears ring. She climbed higher, escaping the smoke, and then froze.\n\nPart of the wall around the central gate was just... gone, smashed into a thousand pieces. And standing on the ground immediately before the hole in the wall was a winged draig, a woman upon its back. Riv had seen them before, in the Great Hall of Drassil, charging and smashing Aphra's shield wall apart.\n\nFritha.\n\nAs Riv watched, enemies poured through the breach, riders in mail, and Ferals and something else. At first Riv thought it was a giant snake, like the white wyrms that she had heard Cullen tell of, because its thick, sinuous body was pale as curdled milk. But this snake had a woman's torso and head, wore a coat of mail and gripped a shield and spear.\n\nRiv shivered, a moment of intense revulsion.\n\nIn the air above them Ben-Elim and Kadoshim half-breeds swirled and fought and died.\n\nTime to retreat.\n\nThat had been the plan, Dumah had been adamant. The wall closest to Riv seethed with combat, the Revenants were being kept at bay by Aphra and the White-Wings with runed blades."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And this wall will not hold much longer.\n\nTimbers were blackening, the wall creaking, swaying.\n\n\"RETREAT!\" Riv bellowed, saw White-Wings look her way. Her mother lifted a blade in acknowledgement, barked an order and her small shield wall took a step forwards, stabbing and hacking down Revenants in their way as they cut a path to the closest stairwell.\n\nMeical and Hadran appeared out of the smoke, other White-Wings about them, twelve or fifteen left of their original score.\n\n\"The wall is breached,\" Riv said, pointing with one of her short-swords. \"And Asroth has not come yet. Why?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Meical said, scanning the plain. \"Perhaps he uses his allies as fodder.\" He shrugged. \"He will come.\" He looked at the wall, Revenants still scaling it, then he looked to Hadran. \"We must help with the retreat.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Hadran said, a shift of his wings and he was leading the surviving Ben-Elim back at the wall, spears stabbing at Revenants blocking the path to stairwells. Riv saw her mother with a knot of warriors. They were carving away to a stairwell, almost there, but Revenants were thick upon the wall before them.\n\nRiv beat her wings and flew at them, crashing into the creatures like a boulder, scattering them, her twin swords slashing and stabbing. Blue flame crackled like a ring around her as she sliced throats, opened bellies, stabbed and hacked and thrust. And then she was standing on the walkway, her chest heaving, her mother before her.\n\n\"MOVE!\" Riv shouted, jumping into the air. Aphra led her band of warriors down the stairs at a run. Riv glimpsed Jost and old Ert amongst them. Revenants were swarming on the walkway, running after them. Riv landed and stood at the top of the stairwell, blocking their way."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The black figures threw themselves at her. She severed a taloned hand as it grasped at her, stabbed a Revenant through the chest, felt her sword grate on bone, kicked the collapsing body back, snaring and tripping creatures behind it. Sliced a throat, stabbed into a face, an overhead swing that cracked a skull, ripples of blue fire everywhere, but where one Revenant fell, two more replaced it. Riv leaped into the air, evading grasping talons and snapping teeth. Feet thudded on timber and then Aphra was on the ground. She ran on fifty paces, then paused, yelling for more of her warband to join her. Sixty or so warriors were gathered around her, others flocking to her, yet more shouting from other stairwells as they hurtled down from the walkway.\n\nRevenants were surging over the wall now, an unstoppable tide. Meical, Hadran and the Ben-Elim were hovering, stabbing with rune-marked spears, choking the stairs with the dead, buying White-Wings a few heartbeats to breakaway. Revenants started leaping from the walkway, forgetting about the stairwells. They crashed to the ground, fell in heaps, but then rose in their jerking, stuttered movement.\n\n\"RUN!\" Riv yelled, as she swooped over Aphra and saw her mother retreat towards the outer ditch, leading amass of White-Wings with her.\n\nRiv swept higher. On the eastern fringe she saw the wall inflames, sections starting to crumble, caving in, explosions of flame and ash. She looked for Bleda, saw that he had led his Sirak higher into the hills, though they were still loosing volleys of flaming arrows at the Revenants. Battle raged at the centre, where the draig had broken through the wall, most of the White-Wings there unable to extricate themselves from the acolytes and riders who had swept through to confront them. Riv saw the draig lumbering forwards, jaws lunging, long-taloned claws slashing, Fritha upon its back, stabbing with her spear. Riv paused in the air, her blood surging with the urge to go and put her sword in Fritha's belly. Screams from below drew her attention and she saw Revenants starting to catch up with White-Wings, leaping and crashing into their backs."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aphra?\n\nRiv searched below, saw one Revenant speeding, closing ground on a White-Wing, but then in a burst of grass and earth it was gone, falling into one of the many pits. Others were falling, White-Wings using the whitewashed rocks to guide their way, swerving amongst the traps. Riv flew over one of the triggered pits, saw a Revenant within it pierced upon spikes. It was writhing, squirming, slowly disentangling itself.\n\nAre those pits deep enough to hold them?\n\nShe looked to the south, to the block of a thousand White-Wings standing in loose formation before the second ditch.\n\nCome on.\n\nBehind them she saw smoke billowing and the flare of ignited torches. Then, as one, five hundred Ben-Elim took to the sky, their white-feathered wings blindingly bright in the midday sun, all of them with a burning torch in each hand.\n\nThey rose over the White-Wing formation, sweeping forwards. Riv flew higher and they passed beneath her, throwing their burning torches into pits that had been triggered, flames igniting, the Revenants trapped within screaming. All across the plain flames burst into lifelike stars breaking into light at nightfall.\n\nRiv searched for her mam, saw her reach one of the makeshift bridges laid across the first ditch of water. Aphra stopped, turned, urging her warriors to cross. Riv sped towards her, landed beside her, a shared look between them as White-Wings pounded across the bridge.\n\nThe world was different down here, a chaos of sounds and smells. The last of the White-Wings crossed the bridge, Aphra following. Riv saw a Revenant come stumbling intact through the maze of pits, swerving and leaping, then it was running towards her, arms reaching, mouth gaping."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Riv stood, waited."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Revenant was thirty paces away, twenty, ten. It leaped.\n\nRiv's knees bent and her wings snapped out, launching herself into the air. The Revenant hurtled through the space beneath her. Riv twisted in the air to see Aphra and a dozen White-Wings gripping the timber planks of the bridge, heaving and throwing them into the ditch. The Revenant fell, the ditch too wide, and it screamed as it was impaled upon along spike of timber. It thrashed, limbs flailing, teeth gnashing, but could not free itself. All along the ditch Riv saw White-Wings doing the same thing with the bridges, then turning and running again.\n\nMore Revenants were navigating the burning pits, running at the ditch, launching themselves into the air. It was too wide for them to clear it, all of them splashing into the deep water, submerged, many pierced by spikes. But some avoided the spears and clawed their way at the far bank, scrambling up onto the plain, breaking into a run again.\n\nThat ditch will not stop the horde, but it is slowing them.\n\nElsewhere on the field the pits and ditch were having a greater effect upon the acolytes. Riv saw Aphra and the retreating White-Wings reach the ranks of the shield walls before the second ditch, three wide regiments, each a thousand swords strong. Riv saw giants close to them, Alcyon upon Hammer's back.\n\nRiv turned in the air and looked at the battle on the field, wondering who to kill next."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha stabbed down at a White-Wing, her spear slapped aside by a shield, the warrior slashing at Wrath's side. Aline of blood welled, but the cut was not deep; Wrath's scales and skin were thick and hard. Then the warrior was collapsing, Elise's spear punching through the back of his neck and bursting out of his throat. She whipped the blade free, tendrils of black smoke curling around the spearhead.\n\nFritha gave Elise a quick nod of thanks, pulled on Wrath's reins, trying to slow his frenzied onslaught. The draig stamped on a White-Wing running past them, pinned the screaming warrior down. Wrath's jaws clamped around her head and she stopped screaming.\n\n\"Stay here!\" Fritha shouted. \"Eat.\"\n\nWrath rumbled his thanks up at her, then set about tearing the warrior beneath his claw to pieces.\n\nFritha took the opportunity to look around.\n\nSmoke billowed, obscuring much. Fritha glimpsed White-Wings retreating from the wall, Revenants and acolytes in pursuit. Directly ahead of Fritha the ground was unbroken by these fire-pits, a seemingly unhindered path towards Ripa. In the distance she could see along wall of shields, waiting.\n\nA screech, a hissing through the air and a Kadoshim half-breed crashed to the ground, wings tattered and limp. A wound gaped in its belly. Fritha looked up, saw hundreds of Ben-Elim filling the sky, the last of Morn's half-breeds speeding away, back to Asroth's lines on the northern plain. As she watched, the Ben-Elim wheeled in the sky, reforming, most of them flying back towards Ripa."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "More shrieks and Fritha saw acolytes in front of her disappearing, sprays of water erupting, other warriors falling on spikes.\n\nWe need to pullback. Getting sucked into a mindless charge into that shield wall is not the best idea.\n\n\"Pull everyone back,\" Fritha called out to one of her guards. Her own troops had stayed close to her, Arn and her honour guard all mounted, curled around her flanks. Even her Ferals had remained near, though they were savaging any White-Wing who came within reach.\n\nHer guard put a horn to his lips, blowing out two notes, one short, one long, then repeating it. Acolytes ahead of Fritha slowed, stopped, began to filter back to her through the maze of fire-pits.\n\nThe Revenants did not.\n\nOn both the eastern and western flanks they poured over the wall and through the fire-pits, though on the eastern flank their numbers were being thinned by a constant hail of fire arrows.\n\n\"What are we doing?\" Arn called up to her. \"They are fleeing.\"\n\n\"No, they are retreating,\" Fritha said, her gaze flickering across the plain. \"This is planned. And that is what we shall do. We shall keep to the plan.\" She remembered Asroth's words to her, his hand upon her belly. \"Breach the wall and clear it. Hold it for the next move, that was our task.\" She twisted in her saddle, looked back over her shoulder, through the wall, saw a line of horses, hawk banners rippling above them.\n\nThe sound of wings and Morn was in the sky above her, hovering. She had a cut across her forehead, blood sheeting one side of her face, but she was grinning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well met, sword-sister,\" Fritha said to her. \"You can tell Jin the way is clear for her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin satin her saddle, waiting.\n\nShe had felt a fierce exultation watching Fritha upon the draig's back, the two of them hurtling out of the sky like a hammer and smashing the wall before her to kindling. Even Tark had grunted his satisfaction. Then Fritha's warriors had passed through the breach, followed by a lot of screaming. To either flank Revenants were still swarming the walls, a never-ending stream of bodies climbing and disappearing. She glanced to her right, saw Asroth sitting upon his horse, wings furled tight to his back. Kadoshim were all about him, on the ground, some circling lazily in the air, and behind them a large number of acolytes. Around a thousand warriors, kept in reserve. A bank of mist churned sluggishly beyond Asroth, showing that not all of Gulla's captains had been committed to the attack on the wall.\n\nA winged figure flew out from behind the wall and sped towards her. Morn. She descended, alighting in front of Jin.\n\n\"Fritha has cleared the way,\" Morn said. \"Our enemy have retreated. They have dug pits, but they are all on fire, so you can see them.\" Morn looked back at the wall. \"There is a central pathway wide as afield that cuts through the pits, a shield wall of White-Wings at the end of it.\"\n\n\"Room to manoeuvre?\" Jin asked.\n\n\"Aye, there is,\" Morn said, \"it is maybe two hundred men wide, but it is clear they are guiding us that way. And there is a water-filled ditch cutting across the plain before the White-Wings.\"\n\n\"How wide?\" Fritha asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Morn scratched her arm-pit. \"Maybe three men, lying head to toe.\"\n\nJin nodded. \"We can jump that,\" she said, \"but we will need room to move between the ditch and the shield wall.\"\n\n\"There is much room,\" Morn said. \"More than from hereto the wall.\"\n\nGood, Jin thought. That will be enough. She dipped her head to Morn. \"My thanks,\" she said.\n\nJin took her helm from a saddle hook and slipped it over her head, buckled the strap under her chin, looked at Gerel.\n\n\"Begin,\" she said.\n\nGerel blew out along horn call, Jin flicking her reins and touching her heels to her mount's ribs. She moved forwards at a fast walk, three thousand Cheren following behind her. The wall grew closer, the crackle of flame louder. A cloud of smoke billowed out of the hole in the wall, Jin sucking in a deep breath and riding into it. She came out the other side of the cloud, inside the wall, now, and saw Fritha upon her draig, standing to the right of Jin. Pits of fire burned across a wide plain, only a central channel directly in front of Jin clear of flame. A dark line shimmered, marking the water-filled ditch. A fair distance beyond the ditch Jin could see along row of rectangular shields, white wings emblazoned upon them.\n\nThey want us to approach down this line, think their wall of shields is strong enough to resist whatever comes at them. I shall teach them to regret such arrogance.\n\nShe looked elsewhere, searching fora sign of Bleda, but could only see smoke and flame.\n\nHe is here somewhere, and I shall find him, but first I will show these White-Wings what it is like to stand before the Cheren."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She clicked her tongue, shifted her feet, her horse moving from a walk to a slow canter. Jin dipped her head at Fritha as she passed her.\n\nShe rode on, focused now on the path before her. Jin called out to Gerel, more horn blasts, and a line of riders formed up either side of Jin, sixty wide, a ripple as lines formed behind her, the warband slipping into a huge column. Their passing rumbled like constant, distant thunder.\n\nThe ditch was closer now, Jin saw spikes with bodies impaled upon them. Another touch of her ankles and flick of her reins and her horse was leaping into a gallop. She bent low over the arch of her horse's neck, felt the wind snaring her warrior braid, her heart pounding in her head. The ditch rushed towards her, forty paces away, and Jin tapped her heels into her mount's flanks, urging him on, then she was rising in her saddle, taking her weight from her horse's back, and they were flying, weightless, leaping across the ditch, a flash at the edge of her vision of Gerel and Tark and so many others doing the same, fora long, timeless moment all of them sailing through the air. And then with a thud and drum of hooves she was landing on the other side, turf spraying, and she was galloping on.\n\nA wide stretch of plain opened up between Jin and the White-Wings, the warriors closer with every heartbeat. A horn blast and the White-Wings stepped together, moving from loose order to tight, another signal and their shields were coming up, interlocking with a crack. A hundred warriors wide, ten rows deep, it was the largest shield wall Jin had ever seen.\n\nOver ten years I have waited for this moment, planned it in my mind. How I will show the Ben-Elim and their White-Wings that a wall of shields is no match for the Cheren."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 82"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She clicked her tongue, shifted her feet, her horse moving from a walk to a slow canter. Jin dipped her head at Fritha as she passed her.\n\nShe rode on, focused now on the path before her. Jin called out to Gerel, more horn blasts, and a line of riders formed up either side of Jin, sixty wide, a ripple as lines formed behind her, the warband slipping into a huge column. Their passing rumbled like constant, distant thunder.\n\nThe ditch was closer now, Jin saw spikes with bodies impaled upon them. Another touch of her ankles and flick of her reins and her horse was leaping into a gallop. She bent low over the arch of her horse's neck, felt the wind snaring her warrior braid, her heart pounding in her head. The ditch rushed towards her, forty paces away, and Jin tapped her heels into her mount's flanks, urging him on, then she was rising in her saddle, taking her weight from her horse's back, and they were flying, weightless, leaping across the ditch, a flash at the edge of her vision of Gerel and Tark and so many others doing the same, fora long, timeless moment all of them sailing through the air. And then with a thud and drum of hooves she was landing on the other side, turf spraying, and she was galloping on.\n\nA wide stretch of plain opened up between Jin and the White-Wings, the warriors closer with every heartbeat. A horn blast and the White-Wings stepped together, moving from loose order to tight, another signal and their shields were coming up, interlocking with a crack. A hundred warriors wide, ten rows deep, it was the largest shield wall Jin had ever seen.\n\nOver ten years I have waited for this moment, planned it in my mind. How I will show the Ben-Elim and their White-Wings that a wall of shields is no match for the Cheren."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her mouth twisted, part snarl, part smile, and she reached for her bow, drew it from its case, then her other hand was grasping a fistful of arrows. She knew her warriors were all doing the same.\n\nA hundred and fifty paces at full gallop, she wrapped her reins around her pommel, guiding her mount with her knees, passed her arrows to her bow fist and nocked the first arrow, drew it and loosed, the next two arrows flying before the first one hit. She heard bowstrings thrum left and right of her, a hail of iron hurtling through the air. The rattle of stones on wood as arrows slammed into shields, screams as the missiles found gaps in the wall, ahead too high, an exposed ankle.\n\nOne hundred paces away from the wall, anew handful of arrows, nock, draw, loose, nock, draw, loose, the arrows punching deeper now that she was closer. More screams as arrowheads pierced wood and bit into the arms holding the shields. A ripple as warriors fell, others stepping forward to fill the gaps.\n\nFifty paces, another trio of arrows loosed, their impacts rocking warriors not fully braced. One of Jin's arrows took a warrior in the cheek as he risked a glance over his shield rim.\n\nIdiot.\n\nHe dropped, dead before he hit the ground.\n\nAlmost on top of the shield wall now and Jin touched her reins, a pull to the left, pressure from her knees and ankles, and her mount slowed, turned, thirty riders doing the same, the other thirty from Jin's front row peeling right, all of them galloping along the length of the shield wall, loosing arrows at almost point-blank range, White-Wings hurled back into the warriors behind them. At the same time the row of riders behind Jin began loosing at the shield wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin reached the end of the shield wall and steered her mount left again, dropped to a canter and rode back along the flank of her galloping column, riding three hundred paces back down the channel before touching her mount and riding back into the centre, reforming a line again with Gerel and Tark meeting her, all of her sixty riders slipping back into a disciplined row, moving forwards at a slow canter, horses blowing and sweating. Jin saw the last few rows of her column galloping at the shield wall, peeling left and right, others cantering back down the line, reforming into rows behind her. The shield wall appeared before her, their shields studded with arrows, some cracked and splintered, dead White-Wings heaped on the ground, and then she was urging her horse into afresh gallop, reaching for more arrows, bending low in the saddle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda stared at the Cheren as they galloped across the plain, hurtling at the White-Wing shield wall positioned at the field's centre. He felt his jaw clenching, muscles bunching as he watched the Cheren loose a storm of arrows at the shield wall at full gallop, the front row peeling left and right in perfect timing, galloping along the front of the shield wall, loosing more arrows as the row behind charged, then peeled away, a perfect manoeuvre repeated inconstant cycle, giving the shield wall no respite, no time to clear their dead. He heard warriors scream, saw them fall. He felt a grudging respect for the Cheren, to see them galloping into battle, their courage as they charged the shield wall, the beautiful lines of their columns, their skill.\n\nHe hated them.\n\nJin is down there, leading them.\n\nBut there was noway to get at her.\n\nHe had repositioned his force higher on the hills, taken the barrels of fire arrows with him. His endless hail of missiles had thinned the Revenants flooding the wall, and after that flying draig had smashed a hole in the wall's centre, he had helped to hold the Revenants back as the White-Wings had retreated.\n\nBut his position meant that there was now a river of Revenants between him and the Cheren.\n\nStrangely, even though he and his Sirak had slain far more Revenants than all of the White-Wings on this eastern edge of the battle, the Revenants were completely ignoring him and his warriors, were still charging in a frenzied mass at the White-Wing shield wall on the plain behind the first ditch.\n\nHe lifted his last fire arrow, nocked it, drew and loosed. The arrow flew through the air, trailing fire and smoke, hundreds of other arrows arcing and dropping through the air, punching into Revenants as they swarmed across the fire-dotted plain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The creature Bleda had aimed at stumbled, the arrow catching it in the shoulder, spinning it. Fora long moment it teetered on the edge of afire-pit, arms flailing, then it fell backwards into the flames.\n\nA knot of Revenants were moving across the plain, threading in between the burning pits of fire. They were moving differently from the others. A solid mass of them, slower, but with more purpose. As Bleda watched, they stopped, one of them at the centre looking up at the hill from where the flaming arrows had been coming. Straight at Bleda. It was a woman, longhair lank and stuck to her skull. She pointed at Bleda, opened her mouth and issued a ululating cry, that felt like insects crawling inside Bleda's skull, behind his eyes.\n\nRevenants stopped in their steady stream towards the White-Wings, looked up the hill, began to run at Bleda.\n\n\"One of Gulla's captains,\" Bleda hissed, fingering the twenty-four grey-tipped arrows he had.\n\nHe turned, ran to his horse and leaped into his saddle.\n\n\"Ellac, you're in charge here. Rune archers, with me,\" he called, and then he was spurring his horse into motion, breaking into a canter. Ruga, Yul and a score of riders following him.\n\nThey charged at the Revenants.\n\nCreatures were running towards them, converging on Bleda, but he ignored them, eyes fixed on the woman who had pointed at him. She was still there, standing between two pits of fire, staring at him.\n\nBleda felt for his bow, his other fist reaching for arrows, a glance to make sure they were grey-fletched."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Smoke billowed in front of him, hiding the Revenant captain.\n\nAnother Revenant appeared at the edge of his vision, leaping at him, arms outstretched. Two arrows punched into it, a spurt of blue flame as it was hurled to the ground. Ruga and Yul.\n\n\"Cover me,\" Bleda cried, his thighs and knees tensing, putting pressure on his horse, and he was swerving between pits of fire, turf spraying, smoke rolling over them. Heat flared from one pitas his horse's hooves skidded and they swerved too close to the flames, the stench of singed hair, then they were balanced again. Revenants leaped at him, then fell away with flashes and spurts of blue flame, his companions\" arrows keeping him safe.\n\nAnd then he saw her again, moving now in her swift, jerking fashion, away from him, through the maze of pits. More Revenants were swarming towards him, hundreds of them. Bleda loosed an arrow, then another, took along breath, then let the third fly.\n\nThe first arrow slammed into the Revenant captain's side, staggering her, a ripple of blue flame shimmering up her ribs. The second sliced into the back of her leg and she stumbled, dropping to one knee, more blue flame. She looked back at him with a snarl on her face.\n\nRevenants leaped at him, ten, twelve, more. Too many for his guards to cull.\n\nHis third arrow punched into the Revenant captain's eye. Blue flame pulsed, spiralling out from her eye socket, juddering through her whole body. She collapsed on the ground, legs jerking, arms twitching, then she was still.\n\nThe Revenants jumping at him fell like rocks, thumped still and lifeless to the ground."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda reined in his mount, Yul and Ruga catching up with him, his other warriors with them.\n\nAll around them Revenants gave a collective sigh and dropped, collapsing to the ground. Hundreds of them, thousands. A still silence hung in the air, and then cheers rang out from the shield wall.\n\nBleda twisted in his saddle, looked up at his warband on the hill, saw Ellac punching the air with his spear. Bleda grinned. A flick of his reins and his horse walked on, over to the Revenant captain. He dismounted and knelt by her corpse, pulled his three runed arrows free. They came outwith a sucking, tearing sound. He wiped them clean and slipped them back into his quiver.\n\nOne of his palms was flat on the turf, bracing him as he crouched beside the Revenant's corpse. He felt a tremor in the ground, heard screams filtering across the field. A few strides and he was back in the saddle, looking to the west.\n\nWhere the Cheren were still charging the centre's shield wall in a perfect loop.\n\nThere was no longer a river of Revenants blocking his way.\n\nHe gave Yul and Ruga a cold smile, leaned in his saddle and spoke quickly to them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin was galloping at the shield wall, arrows flying from her bow, slamming into linden and flesh. She saw a White-Wing collapse, the warrior behind too slow to fill the gap, a dozen arrows flitting into the hole. Screams, more White-Wings dropping, the gap widening.\n\nThey are close to breaking.\n\nJin glimpsed split shields, other White-Wing warriors exhausted, trying to rotate back in the wall, but her Cheren spied every movement, every chink, filling any weakness with arrows. And there was nothing the White-Wings could do to stop them-the Cheren horse were always out of reach.\n\nJin was enjoying herself.\n\nHer war-host had made over a dozen passes and put about thirty thousand arrows into the shield wall. She had glimpsed shadows flitting across the ground as Ben-Elim gathered in the sky above her, and Jin was waiting for their inevitable diving attack. But that was what Jin wanted. Her Cheren would move their bows from the shield wall and aim them at the sky.\n\nJin realized something had changed on this flank: there was an absence of sound. She glanced around, saw that the entire eastern section of the plain was still. There were no Revenants moving in their constant, animated thirst for blood.\n\nWhat has happened? Have they retreated?\n\nThe hiss of an arrow and the Cheren rider in front of Jin swayed in his saddle, toppled slowly to the side, a white-fletched arrow protruding from his neck. His foot caught in a stirrup and he was dragged along the ground.\n\nThe thrum of bowstrings and instinctively Jin ducked. More Cheren riders fell in front of her, four or five, screams and thuds behind her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She looked to the east, the direction the arrows were coming from, and frowned.\n\nHorses were standing in a line, maybe a score of them, and upon their backs were... Revenants. And they were loosing arrows at her Cheren riders. A bank of smoke swept across them, Jin squinting to see. The Revenant riders appeared again, trotting out of the smoke, sending more arrows flying. Jin swayed in her saddle, an arrow hissing past her.\n\nThe Revenant riders broke into a canter, and then a gallop, charging at Jin and her war-host. Another volley of arrows from them, the rumble of their hooves in gallop, more Cheren hurled from saddles.\n\n\"WARE!\" Gerel was crying, Jin raising her bow, grasping for arrows, nocking and drawing. She put her first arrow into the chest of a Revenant, her second and third into its face. Three more arrows punched into it in quick succession, Gerel unloading his bow into the creature. It rocked back in the saddle, swayed and fell to the side, crunched to the ground.\n\nAnd Jin's heart froze in her chest, ice suddenly in her veins.\n\nThere was another rider sitting in the saddle behind the Revenant, who wore a deel of grey beneath a lamellar coat, horsehair flying from an iron-spiked helm.\n\nBleda.\n\nHe was galloping towards her, bow in his fist, loosing arrows at her Cheren riders. The sheer bold audacity of it sent a pulse of rage through her, even as she threw herself forwards, barely avoiding two arrows in the chest.\n\nA handful of arrows flitted from Jin's warriors, more Revenants pierced and falling to the ground, revealing Sirak warriors in the saddle. They were close, now, thirty or forty paces away. Cheren warriors gathered about Jin, seeing this new threat, and launched volleys of missiles at the charging line. Bleda was already turning in a tight half-circle and riding away, cantering between the pits of fire, his warriors following him, back into the flames and dark vapours."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Without thinking, Jin was guiding her mount off the wide channel and into the maze of fire-pits. Gerel saw her and followed, his horn at his lips, blowing blast after blast, and then her Cheren were following her, three thousand warriors riding into afire-and smoke-filled wasteland.\n\nJin glimpsed Sirak riders ahead of her, clicked her mount into a trot. No reckless gallop through this maze of fire, another trap of Bleda's, no doubt. Dimly, she was aware of horns blowing, to the north. Fritha's voice, high and shrill, calling Jin's name. She knew this was breaking away from the plan, that she had not yet accomplished her task of cracking the White-Wings\" shield wall, but she did not care. The horn calls changed and a glimpse to the north showed ranks of acolytes massing around Fritha. They began to move forwards, down the wide channel towards the shield wall.\n\nI will return. Once Bleda is dead, his corpse hanging from a spike, I will lead my Cheren back and finish what I've started. But Bleda is right there...\n\nAnother glimpse of horses ahead of her, three or four hundred paces, grey deels. She loosed a trio of arrows, heard screams, both human and horse. Picked up her pace, moving into a fast canter, becoming accustomed to finding the winding path between the pits of fire.\n\nCorpses littered the ground, emaciated, their clothing in tatters, and Jin realized she was riding amongst afield of Revenants.\n\nThis is where he took the Revenant corpses from. He killed their captain.\n\nFritha had told Jin how the Revenants could be slain, and what had happened when their captain had fallen in the Desolation."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Smoke cleared and Jin saw Bleda and his riders breaking into a gallop. They were free of the pits and riding up a hill.\n\nJin bared her teeth in a snarl, resisted the urge to gallop after them, she was almost through the field of fire. And then the ground cleared before her, no more pits, no more fire, her view unhindered.\n\nBleda had crested the rise of a hill and had stopped, was looking down at her.\n\nIce slithered through her veins, a hatred of this man before her that chilled her blood. Her hand twitched but she knew he was out of bow shot. Jin reined in a moment, allowing her warriors to gather behind her as they emerged from the smoke.\n\nA score of Sirak surrounded Bleda, Jin recognizing Ruga, one of Bleda's oathsworn, and also Yul, who had been Erdene's first-sword.\n\nYou didn't save her, and you won't save Bleda.\n\nBleda saw her. He lowered his bow and slowly drew one finger across his throat.\n\nThe ice in Jin's veins erupted into a white-hot fire.\n\n\"BLEDA!\" Jin screamed.\n\nThen she flicked her reins and touched her heels to her mount, felt the animal's muscles bunch and she was leaping forward, breaking straight into a gallop.\n\nBleda looked at her a moment longer, and then he was turning and riding down the far side of the hill, disappearing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha ground her teeth, watching as Jin led her warband away from the White-Wing shield wall.\n\nShe will answer to Asroth for that.\n\nShe scanned the battlefield, knew that Jin had come close to breaking the shield wall.\n\nI shall finish the shield wall in Jin's place and I will take her glory, and Asroth's praise.\n\nWrath led the way, Elise and Arn either side of her, Aenor and his acolytes massed behind her, maybe fifteen hundred to two thousand who had survived the assault upon the wall.\n\nWe must strike now, before the shield wall has a chance to recover and reorganize.\n\nWrath was lurching forwards, head low, moving side to side, tongue flickering. The ditch was close now, maybe fifty paces ahead. Spikes and corpses were becoming visible.\n\nThat will not keep us out.\n\nFritha looked to the east, flame and smoke shielding much from view, but she could see Jin and the first of her riders galloping hard up a gentle hill beyond the field of flame. Other than the Cheren on the hill, the whole eastern quarter of the battlefield looked strangely still. Fritha had seen the Revenants fall, knew instantly that their captain must have been slain. The shield wall they'd been tearing to pieces was still standing there, looking like a half-mauled animal, stunned and in shock. The skies were clear, which bothered Fritha. She knew Asroth was waiting for the Ben-Elim to commit to the fight, and she had thought that moment had arrived when the Ben-Elim swept forwards with their torches. But they had flown back, behind the shield wall, and now the skies were mostly clear of white-feathered wings, maybe a few score of them circling beyond the shield wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To the west Fritha saw more wings, but they were low, swooping at the Revenants that were attacking the western shield wall. The White-Wings looked swamped, close to breaking. Fritha glimpsed grey-feathered wings and blonde hair diving low over the Revenants, recognized the half-breed Ben-Elim that she had seen in Drassil.\n\nYou chose the wrong side.\n\nThe ditch loomed, waters swirling with blood, the stench of death in the air, voided bowels. Flies buzzed on corpses. Wrath spread his wings, broke into a run and leaped into the air, wings beating, and he glided over the ditch, landed with a crunch on the far side. Fritha let him walk on a few paces, then told him to stop.\n\n\"Not smash enemy?\" the draig asked, confused.\n\n\"Soon,\" Fritha said. \"We should wait for our friends.\"\n\nA splashing behind her as Arn rode into the ditch, water coming up to his horse's chest. Elise slithered into the water, swam sinuously across, both of them navigating the obstacles and climbing up the bank. Then they were either side of Fritha, more of Fritha's honour guard negotiating the water, Aenor leading his acolytes into it, wading through the filth. It was not long before a thousand swords were massed about and behind Fritha, all dripping, more wading through water and climbing up the ditch's bank.\n\nThe shield wall was still and silent before her, maybe five or six hundred paces away. Behind it was more open ground, eventually rising into a hill, avast camp spread upon it. And beyond that, the town and tower of Ripa, framed by the sinking sun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha leaned in her saddle towards Aenor.\n\n\"Form a wedge behind me,\" she said. \"You know the shield wall as well as any. I'll punch the hole, you widen it.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Aenor said, hefting his shield. Blood crusted his mail, a flap of skin was hanging from his chin, but he looked animated. This was a moment they had all waited for, to take on the fabled White-Wing shield wall.\n\n\"We'll teach those arrogant bastards a lesson,\" he said, giving Fritha a grim smile.\n\nShe nodded, then looked to Arn.\n\n\"Hold back, don't follow me into this, horses won't help where I'm going. Harry the flanks as the wall splits.\"\n\nHe dipped his head in acknowledgement.\n\nThen Fritha was sitting tall in her saddle, hefting her spear, eyes fixed on the wall of shields.\n\n\"Smash them,\" she said to Wrath.\n\nThe draig let out a bellowing roar, and then he was lumbering forwards, a shuffling, broken-gaited run. Behind her the acolytes broke into a jog. Within the shield wall, orders were shouted, shields tightening up.\n\nIt won't help them. Nothing can, now.\n\nCloser now, fifty paces away, forty, the ground flashing by in a blur. Spears flew at her, cast from far back in the wall. Some hit, striking Wrath's neck and shoulder, but were shaken loose as he continued to charge, blood flowing over his scaly skin. He roared again, his wings giving a sharp beat, a final burst of speed, and then he was smashing into the shield wall. A concussive whoomph, Fritha rocked in her saddle, and warriors were flying through the air, voices screaming, trampled, bones shattered like kindling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wrath ploughed on, his momentum carrying him deeper into the shield wall. He lashed outwith jaws and talons. Fritha righted herself, gripped her spear and stabbed, took a White-Wing in the neck, dragged her spear free, stabbed again, into the opening of a helm. Shields and swords were coming back at them, now, stabbing. Wrath bellowed, jaws crunching on a shield and the arm that held it, ripping it from its socket.\n\nFritha glanced, saw Elise beside her, round shield in one hand, her black-bladed spear in the other.\n\nShields started pushing in, Fritha jabbing left and right, adrenalin coursing through her, fuelling her limbs. Elise was hissing and snarling, her black spear carving ruin. A roar from behind: Aenor and his acolytes. White-Wings fell, the acolytes cutting into their ranks, widening the existing gap like water freezing to ice within a cracked stone, prising it open from within, and then the shield wall began to break. Like a dying animal taking a last, deep breath, there was a moment's pause, and then the shield wall shattered, fracturing into a hundred smaller parts. Horns blew, a frantic sound from deeper back in the shield wall. White-Wings were disengaging and retreating where they could, though many were falling to Aenor's acolytes and Arn's mounted warriors.\n\nWe cannot let them regroup.\n\nMore horn blasts and the tramp of feet, Fritha looking to the east. She saw the shield wall that had been fighting Revenants marching towards her. It was six or seven hundred strong, shields locked and tight. Ahead of her the shield wall was retreating and regrouping, maybe two or three hundred swords left."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Wrath could smash it again, but our flank is threatened."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This could become far too even a fight in a very short space of time. She twisted in her saddle, looking back to the hole in the wall. We need reinforcements.\n\nAsroth, I need you.\n\nBut nothing was there, the hole in the wall an empty place, no sign of movement.\n\nHer troops were massed about her, milling, waiting for her leadership.\n\nAlong look at the two shield walls before her.\n\nWe should retreat, pull them after us, or send word for reinforcements.\n\nThere was a burst of light, like a soundless explosion, and then a wall of blue flame was leaping up, higher than two men, spreading across the field of battle in a wide, looping curve.\n\nGiant's fire, like in the hidden forge in Drassil's great tree.\n\n\"No,\" she said, even as the wall of flame ignited the ditch in front of her, cutting across the channel she was about to use to retreat, flames crackling on, rippling around the whole battlefield, the entire ditch a barrier of blue flame, heat haze rolling from it in waves.\n\nRealization dawned upon her.\n\nThe ditch was not to keep us out. It was to keep us in. We are trapped."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin galloped down a steep slope. Gerel and Tark were either side of her, her war-host surging down the hill like an avalanche. In front of her she glimpsed Sirak riders disappearing behind the swell of another hill.\n\n\"CAUTION!\" Tark yelled, as he galloped alongside her.\n\nJin's heart was pounding, her blood boiling, the sight of Bleda and his reminder of how he had slain her father incensing her. But Tark's words filtered through her rage.\n\nTark is right, Bleda has tricked me before.\n\nShe slowed, her warriors doing the same about her, shifting from a gallop to a steady canter.\n\nTark dipped his head to her, and then rode ahead with his men to the hillside where the Sirak had disappeared. Tark reined in and waited for Jin as his scouts fanned out around him, moving on, disappearing from sight.\n\n\"He is planning something, this Bleda,\" Tark said. \"I do not like the look of this.\" He pointed: two hills rose either side of a valley, curling and disappearing behind a stony slope. Jin looked up at the sky, saw the sun starting to dip towards the west.\n\n\"He is a cunning one, this Bleda,\" Tark said, \"and we must be cunning, to catch him.\"\n\n\"What do you suggest?\" Jin asked him.\n\n\"Let my scouts go first. Then choose a captain to lead a vanguard. And more scouts upon those slopes. Then we move forwards. No blind charge.\"\n\nJin nodded, though her blood surged with the need for speed, the sense that Bleda was slipping further away with every wasted breath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do it,\" she said. \"Quickly,\" she added.\n\nIn less time than it took Jin to change her bowstring and drink from her water skin, Tark had sent fifty riders up onto each slope, and Jargal, one of her captains, was riding into the valley, a thousand warriors at his back.\n\n\"Now we proceed,\" Tark said.\n\nThe valley began as wide and grassy underfoot, but soon became stonier, with a steady, gentle incline. Other vales branched off, but Tark and Jargal led them on. Slopes began to rear around them, the route becoming narrower. Jin lost sight of the scouts on the slopes above her.\n\nHooves crunched on stone and Tark rode back to Jin.\n\n\"I don't like this,\" he said.\n\nA sound on the wind. A scream?\n\n\"Where are your scouts?\" Jin asked him.\n\nTark's eyes flitted over the slopes.\n\nA sound above them, movement behind a huge boulder. Jin's bow was in her fist, pointing. But it wasn't something behind the boulder that she'd seen moving.\n\nIt was the boulder.\n\nIt lurched into movement, began a slow roll down the slope, quickly gathering momentum. All along the slope other boulders began to move, tumbling down towards Jin and her warband."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"PUSH!\" Bleda grunted, his shoulder to a huge boulder. All along the ridge other Sirak were doing the same, boulders careening down the slope.\n\nIt had taken Bleda half a day of scouting the hills yesterday to find this spot, another half a day to manoeuvre the boulders into the right positions, teams of horses harnessed up to move them. Alcyon, Raina and the Kurgan giants helped.\n\nAt that point he hadn't even known how he was going to get Jin to follow him. He only knew that he had to try. All the time, sweat and toil could have been for nothing.\n\nBut as Bleda stood and watched the boulders hurtling down the slope towards the Cheren warband, all that labour and pain were very definitely worth it.\n\nShouts and screams were ringing out from the valley floor, Jin and her warriors bursting into motion, horses turning, jostling to move back down the valley. Some did, but there were close to three thousand horse down there, and the valley had become too narrow for them to all turn and gallop to safety.\n\nBleda's boulder slammed into the Cheren, the bone-crunching sound of impact, the rock rolling on, leaving a crushed mass of blood and bone in its wake. The other boulders hit the valley floor, pulverizing all in their way.\n\nBleda reached for his bow, grabbed arrows, close to a thousand Sirak warriors around him doing the same. They sent a volley up, arcing down into the valley, another volley, and then another. The patter-slap of arrows striking leather and flesh, like hail on shutters, more screams ringing out. Then the Cheren were retreating, horns blowing, a frantic gallop back along the valley floor. Bleda watched them go."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The sound of hooves on gravel and Bleda looked up, saw Ruga leading her warriors along the crest of the slope."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A hundred Sirak riders. They were at the head of along train of riderless horses. Maybe fifty of them.\n\n\"A gift from the Cheren,\" Ruga said. \"Their scouts were not expecting their ambush to be ambushed.\"\n\nBleda smiled at her.\n\n\"And they have given us a gift,\" Ruga said, pointing to bundles of quivers tied to the first few horses, all full of arrows.\n\nEven Yul smiled at that.\n\nBleda strode to his horse and climbed into the saddle, looked back towards the west and the battlefield. Between the curve of hills he glimpsed the flicker of blue flame.\n\n\"We'd best begetting back,\" he said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Horns rang out, echoing along the forest road. Drem looked over his shoulder, saw the warband rippling to a halt. He ground his teeth, turned to look ahead. The road continued into shadow, bordered on their left by a wall of trees, branches arching overhead. To Drem's right a wide, sluggish river flowed, winding its way to the Bay of Ripa. Patches of sky were visible, angled beams of sunlight from the sinking sun sparkling on the river and sending shadows stretching along the road.\n\n\"Why are we stopping?\" Drem called to Cullen, the sense of dread in his belly flaring.\n\nWe are too late, the battle is underway. How can we stop now?\n\nCullen shrugged, his own desperation for speed etched on his face.\n\n\"Horses to the river,\" a voice cried out. Elgin, Nara's battlechief, was leading the vanguard of Ardain's warriors to the river's edge. Warriors dismounted, knelt to refill water bottles, horses\" heads dipping to drink.\n\nFrom further down the line Rab fluttered above the warband, squawking Drem's name.\n\n\"Byrne wants you,\" Rab croaked at Drem and Cullen. Drem touched his reins, Friend turning and lumbering back down the forest road, Cullen riding in the emptiness of his wake. Warriors hurried out of their way.\n\nByrne was standing amongst the first line of trees, a handful of figures around her-Ethlinn and Balur, Tain with Craf upon his shoulder, Queen Nara and Kill. Byrne was holding the book she had found upon Coralen's skeleton in the cabin.\n\n\"Drem,\" Byrne said as he joined them. \"Riv is close to you and Cullen. Did she speak to you of the fall of Drassil? Specifically, of her rescue of Meical?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She spoke of the priestess Fritha and the winged draig,\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Cullen nodded.\n\n\"And Meical, when she lifted him into the sky?\"\n\n\"Did she speak of starstone metal that had encased him and Asroth?\" Craf squawked impatiently. \"Craf saw it when Cywen made it, like black oil, allover them.\"\n\n\"Be polite,\" Tain whispered, stroking Craf's neck.\n\n\"No, Riv never spoke of it,\" Cullen said, shaking his head.\n\nDrem frowned, searching his memories. \"She said the skin of starstone metal exploded, the blast of it throwing all in the chamber to the ground.\"\n\n\"But what happened to the metal?\" Queen Nara asked.\n\nDrem and Cullen shrugged.\n\n\"Riv did not say,\" Cullen said. \"In truth, I think she was more focused on escape.\"\n\n\"A fair point,\" Balur said.\n\n\"Why?\" Drem asked.\n\nByrne looked at the book in her hands. \"There maybe an answer to our war with the Kadoshim, but we need starstone metal. A lot of it.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it is still in Drassil,\" Balur rumbled. \"If it was shattered and blown in all directions by the explosion. Like stone smashed by a war-hammer.\"\n\n\"Would Asroth just leave it there?\" Ethlinn mused.\n\n\"Impossible to know.\" Byrne grimaced. With a snap she closed the book. \"Well, if no other answer comes to light, then we must return to Drassil, when we can, and search for the starstone metal. But not today.\" She smiled grimly at them. \"Today we ride to battle and blood.\" She looked at the warband spread along the forest road, many remounting now, water bottles filled, the thirst of their mounts slaked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A black-bladed knife,\" Drem whispered.\n\n\"What? Speak up,\" Craf squawked.\n\n\"I saw a black-bladed knife, at Brikan,\" Drem said. \"It cut through Keld's coat of mail as if it was nothing.\"\n\n\"Anew starstone weapon?\" Ethlinn growled.\n\n\"Who wielded it?\" Byrne said.\n\n\"Gulla's half-breed daughter,\" Drem said.\n\nByrne nodded slowly. \"We must consider the possibility of new starstone weapons, then, and if Asroth allows warriors such as that to wield one, then there must be more.\"\n\n\"It will make him stronger,\" Ethlinn said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Byrne said, looking at the ground. She shrugged and looked at them all. \"But forewarned is forearmed, and this was never going to bean easy fight. We must fight it one step at a time, first we must get to Ripa, and I fear we will not reach its walls before the sunsets, but we must try.\"\n\nGrunts of agreement. They had abandoned their baggage train two days ago, packing provisions fora few days and riding hard for Ripa, making the most of every moment of daylight, and walking further during the night, but they were still not close enough.\n\nDrem climbed back onto Friend's back.\n\nWe must try, he thought. Riv is there, fighting for her life."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha looked at Aenor, the two of them realizing how this was going to go. The shield wall in front of them had reformed, maybe three or four hundred strong. The shield wall from the east was marching towards them, at least six hundred strong. Together they were roughly equal to Aenor's acolytes, and they were White-Wings. They were better trained. She had Elise, Arn and his riders, and she was upon Wrath, who could do a lot of damage, but he was not invincible.\n\nSomething on the battlefield changed, a prickling on Fritha's neck drawing her eyes to the west, where Revenants were swarming a beleaguered shield wall.\n\nExcept that the Revenants were collapsing.\n\nA silence, like an indrawn breath, followed by along sigh. A winged figure rose up from the ground, dapple-grey wings, two short-swords raised.\n\n\"The half-breed,\" Fritha whispered.\n\nThe half-breed Ben-Elim let out a victory cry, echoed by the White-Wings below her.\n\nShe's slain another of Gulla's captains.\n\nAnd as Fritha stared, horns blared and voices cried out. The shield wall beneath the half-breed reformed and was beginning to march, straight towards Fritha; maybe four or five hundred shields, a handful of Ben-Elim circling above them. And behind them all was another ditch and two more legions of White-Wings, both at full strength.\n\nWe are going to die. It dawned on Fritha in a moment, like a candle being snuffed out.\n\nWhere is Asroth and his Kadoshim? Where is Jin and her Cheren? Where is Morn and the half-breeds, or Gulla and his Revenants? There are still thousands of them left, but none of them are here."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She looked down at Aenor, at Arn and Elise, and she stroked Wrath's bloodied neck.\n\nA glorious death, then, and take as many of them as I can with me.\n\n\"Let's do this,\" she said, her companions hearing her. They all hefted their weapons, shifted their feet. Prepared themselves for one last charge.\n\nAnd then she saw the White-Wings in front of her staring beyond her, eyes wide, mouths gaping.\n\nFritha turned in her saddle, looked at the blue flame barring her way.\n\nThe earth around the ditch was moving, crumbling away, as if something were burrowing beneath it, sucking it down. The blue flames rippled, flickered, thinned. Fritha heard a voice.\n\n\"Crochnaíonn an talamh an lasair, buail mo shliocht. Lasair, bogha dodo rí...\"\n\n\"Earth, smother the flame, bear my passage. Flame, bow to your king,\" she whispered, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.\n\nThe earth began to seethe and bubble.\n\n\"CROHNAÍONN AN TALAMH AN LASAIR, BUAIL MO SHLIOCHT. LASAIR, BOGHA DODO RI,\" the voice bellowed, and earth exploded upwards in a great gout, spraying over the blue flames, raining back down into the ditch, and with a hissing crackle the flames went out. A ridge of earth rose up from within the ditch, wide enough fora score of men abreast to cross.\n\nAsroth rode across the hard-packed earth, blue flame still crackling either side of him. Warriors marched behind him in ordered rows. Behind them Fritha glimpsed a wall of dark mist concealing Gulla and his Revenants. And above them all flew the Kadoshim and their offspring. Fritha saw Morn amongst them, a spear in her fist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And then Asroth was beside Fritha."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He looked at her, smiled, for Fritha the world fading fora moment. Asroth dismounted, marching forwards to stand between Fritha and the White-Wing shield wall.\n\nAsroth stared at them, his coat of mail and dark helm glistening and shimmering like oil. Then he shrugged his long axe from his back and gripped it in both hands, swirled it around his head in a looping circle, leaving a trail of black smoke in the air.\n\n\"Who is first to die?\" Asroth said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv froze in the air, hovering, speechless.\n\n\"Asroth,\" Meical breathed.\n\nIt felt as if the whole world had stopped. Was holding its breath.\n\nFora moment Riv felt... scared. A wyrm uncoiling in her belly, fear slithering through her.\n\nHe looks... unstoppable. No Ben-Elim, no warrior, not even Balur One-Eye, carried the same aura of malice and menace.\n\n\"Who is first to die?\" she heard Asroth call out, his long axe circling his head.\n\nThe shield wall in front of Asroth did not move, though to their credit they did not turn and run, either. And then Asroth was striding forwards. He loomed over the first row of the shield wall, Riv seeing shields tighten up, warriors bracing themselves, setting feet and leaning shoulders into their shields.\n\nAsroth swung his axe, a cracking, splintering sound as the blade hacked into shields, an explosion of timber and blood, screams, and three or four warriors fell, shields and flesh sheared by the axe. A warrior at the edge of the axe's reach stumbled forwards, her shield snagged. Asroth's second swing chopped into her at the waist, a wet, sickening crunch and she was hurled to the ground, her body almost severed in two. Asroth put one boot on her corpse and wrenched the axe blade free.\n\nThe shield wall moved, warriors stepping forwards to fill the gap left by the dead, countless years of drill making the act subconscious.\n\n\"ADVANCE!\"\n\nRiv felt a flush of pride and respect for whoever called that.\n\nThe shield wall took a step forwards, towards Asroth, and another. He stood a moment, as if surprised, then swung his axe again, more screams, shields and warriors shattered and broken, a spray of blood, but the shield wall did not falter. They stepped forwards again, closing on Asroth, and spears stabbed out, grating on his mail."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth roared, a rage-filled sound, his right leg going back as he swung his axe again, more White-Wings hurled from their feet, blood spraying.\n\nHorns blew from Ripa's tower. She looked up to see Ben-Elim leap into the sky, hundreds of them, white feathers glowing red in the sinking sun. They swept down the hill, towards the plain and Asroth.\n\nA cry rang out from the Kadoshim and half-breeds behind Asroth, wings beating as they rose higher in the air, powering towards the Ben-Elim.\n\nThere was another roar, louder and deeper than Asroth's, filling the whole field, and Fritha's draig lurched forwards, lumbering into a run. It smashed into the wall beside Asroth, hurling a dozen White-Wings through the air, trampling a dozen more.\n\nThe acolytes behind Fritha yelled and broke into a jog, shields up, charging at the White-Wings.\n\nRiv shook herself, a spell had been lifted, as if she'd been mesmerized by Asroth's appearance.\n\nNow she just wanted to kill him.\n\nShe looked a Meical and Hadran.\n\n\"Let's end this,\" Meical said, and the three of them shared a grim smile.\n\nWithout another word, their wings spread wide and they flew towards the battle.\n\nThe acolytes hit the White-Wings, a concussive crash echoing, warriors thrown to the ground, most of the White-Wing shield wall holding. The din of battle rang over the field again.\n\nIn the air the Ben-Elim and Kadoshim met above the warriors on the ground, an aeons-old rage palpable as they clashed, the battle breaking down into a myriad of individual conflicts as Ben-Elim, Kadoshim and half-breeds swirled around one another, spears and swords stabbing, feathers and wings slashed, blood pouring from the sky like rain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kadoshim and half-breeds saw Riv, Meical and Hadran, a dozen, maybe more, and they hurled themselves at them. Riv snarled, a fierce joy sweeping her.\n\nShe tucked her wings, a burst of speed, and spun between two Kadoshim, swords slashing. The clang of steel on one side, a spray of sparks. On the other side her sword bit through mail and flesh, mail links shattered and blood flowing. The wounded Kadoshim screeched, lurched in the air and then gave out a gurgling scream as Meical's sword chopped into its neck.\n\nThe world condensed to a swirl of noise and fractured images as Riv snarled and raged and killed.\n\nShe heard a voice calling out, filtering through the red haze that filled Riv's mind.\n\n\"ASROTH!\" Meical yelled. Asroth paused in his death-dealing and looked up. Silver hair spilt over his shoulders. He smiled and raised his axe at Meical, an invitation.\n\nMeical closed his wings and dived.\n\n\"No,\" Riv whispered. We have to attack Asroth together.\n\nA pulse of her wings and she was flying after Meical, but then a weight slammed into her side, a leather-winged half-breed crashing into her, the two of them spinning through the air, locked. The half-breed had a spear in one fist, a knife in the other, and Riv felt white-hot pain lance along her thigh. She could not bring her swords to bear, snared in a spinning dive, not knowing which way was up or down. A glimpse of a snarling face, black-stubbled hair, and Riv punched her sword hilt into that face, again and again. The half-breed fell away; Riv stretched her wings and pulled out of the dive, hovering in the air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She saw the half-breed dropping, then its leathery wings snapped out and it was rising, turning to look at Riv."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A woman, her nose and lips pulped and bleeding from Riv's sword hilt.\n\nShe still gripped her spear and knife.\n\nAlong, black-bladed knife.\n\nDrem had told her of a half-breed with a black-bladed knife.\n\n\"Morn,\" Riv said. \"You slew Keld.\"\n\nThe half-breed smiled, blood on her teeth.\n\n\"Aye, and now I'll do the same to you.\"\n\n\"Come and try,\" Riv said, curling her lips, holding her short-swords wide."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A voice rang out somewhere above her.\n\n\"ASROTH,\" and Fritha looked up, many upon the ground pausing, doing the same.\n\nIt was Meical, hovering in the sky, brandishing a longsword.\n\nAsroth lifted his axe, an acceptance of Meical's challenge, and then the Ben-Elim was tucking his wings and diving. Close in the sky Fritha glimpsed Morn, locked in a spinning embrace with the Ben-Elim half-breed.\n\nMeical descended from above like a well-cast spear, his sword pointing straight at Asroth's heart.\n\nThe long axe swung, a huge loop, at the last moment Meical shifting the angle of his approach, sweeping up, the axe skimming his belly. Meical's sword slashed down, clanged on Asroth's helm, staggering him, and then Meical was sweeping up into the air.\n\nAsroth bellowed at him, his wings snapping out, beating, and he was rising into the air after Meical, dust swirling in a whirlwind upon the ground. Meical turned and flew at him again.\n\nAsroth gripped his axe two-handed, like a staff, blocked an overhand swing from Meical, steel sparking, turning as Meical swirled around him, blows struck faster than Fritha could see, always answered with the clang of steel, a stuttered staccato of blows that lasted a dozen heartbeats, ending with a crunch and Meical spinning away, dropping from the sky, crashing to the ground before Fritha. He rose unsteadily, blood sheeting from his head.\n\nAsroth descended slowly, landed before Meical, a grin upon his face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You've had more than two thousand years to prepare for this,\" Asroth said. \"I thought you'd be better.\"\n\nMeical shook himself, a ripple through his wings.\n\n\"Cré a bheith ina bholg, coinnigh mo namhaid,\" Meical shouted, and ran at Asroth, sword held high, two-handed.\n\nThe ground beneath Asroth's feet shifted, seemed to melt, and Asroth lurched, sinking into the earth. He swayed, straining to heave a leg free, but the ground had become a sinking bog, sucking at Asroth's legs.\n\n\"Lig saor mé,\" Asroth snarled, and the ground solidified, seemed to spit him out.\n\nMeical slashed down as Asroth stumbled and raised his axe, steel grating as their weapons caught in a bind. Meical broke away, a flurry of blows at Asroth, head, thigh, shoulder, ribs, all blocked, Asroth standing there like a rock before a storm, Meical swirling, moving faster than Fritha's eyes could follow.\n\nMeical stepped back, breathing hard.\n\nAsroth put his gauntleted hand to his cheek, wiped away a thin line of blood. Gripped his axe again.\n\nMeical stepped in fast, a straight lunge at Asroth's chest, dipping under Asroth's block, sweeping backup and in, stabbing high. Asroth stepped away, Meical's blade touching him, sparks on mail. A twist of Asroth's arms and his axe shaft had locked Meical's blade.\n\nAsroth kicked Meical in the groin, dropping the Ben-Elim."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A beating of wings and more Ben-Elim were swooping down, a score at least."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kadoshim were close behind them, Bune leading Asroth's honour guard, who had been fighting in a loose circle above Asroth.\n\nFritha recognized some of these Ben-Elim. Dumah was there, whom she had served under fora time. He flew at Asroth, Ben-Elim either side of him, the three of them breaking through Bune's guards. Spears stabbed out at Asroth. He stepped back, away from Meical, who was still on his hands and knees, retching onto the grass.\n\nAsroth set his feet and swung his long axe, an explosion of splinters as he sheared through the Ben-Elim's spear shafts, a backswing and the wicked spike on the reverse of the axe crunched into a Ben-Elim's skull, the warrior dropping like a stone, crashing to the ground. Asroth tugged the blade free, bits of bone and brain in the air, slammed the butt into the second Ben-Elim's belly, doubling him over, Asroth's knee crunching into his face, sending him flying, slamming onto the ground.\n\nDumah swept past Asroth, turned, dropping his shattered spear shaft, reaching for his sword hilt, and Asroth's axe sliced into his neck, a spurt of arterial blood and his corpse collapsed to the ground.\n\nA swarm of Ben-Elim were swooping around Asroth now, Kadoshim interweaving amongst them, trying to hold them back.\n\nFritha urged Wrath towards Asroth, swiping a path through White-Wings in her way.\n\nMeical was back on his feet, his sword in his hand. He charged at Asroth, but Bune slammed into him, knocking him back to the ground. Meical rose, sword swinging in an arc around his head, chopping at Bune's neck, parried, Bune stumbling away, then coming back at Meical. A furious exchange, steel clanging, grating, Meical eventually stepping out of range. Bune followed, relentless, sword swinging in a horizontal blow with enough force to take Meical's head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Meical dropped to one knee, sword stabbing straight out and punching into Bune's belly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It tore through mail, then leather and flesh. Bune's sword dropped to the ground and he fell to his knees, staring at Meical. Then toppled backwards.\n\nAsroth was backing towards Fritha, half a dozen Ben-Elim setting upon him in a frenzied attack. His long axe kept them all back. Fritha saw another Ben-Elim land to his right, beyond Asroth's vision, spear poised, waiting for an opening to stab in.\n\nFritha felt her heart freeze in her chest.\n\nIt was Kol. The father of her child, Anja.\n\nShe had loved him once, with a passion that burned as bright as the sun. She hated him now, with a passion just as fervent. He had ordered the murder of her baby.\n\n\"KOL!\" she screamed, the White-Wing hearing, turning.\n\n\"Wrath, crush him,\" Fritha snarled, and the draig leaped forwards, head swaying, sending any White-Wings in their way hurtling through the air. Kol saw them charge, turned, wings opening to leap into the sky, but the air was thick above him with fighting Ben-Elim and Kadoshim. He dived to the right, just as Wrath's head lunged out, jaws wide. The draig's teeth snapped on air, claws raking the ground, turf spraying as he skidded to a halt, Fritha dragging on her reins, Wrath turning.\n\nKol was on the ground, rolling. He grabbed a White-Wing shield as Wrath swiped at him with a taloned claw. The shield exploded in a spray of splinters, Kol flying through the air, over the heads of fighting warriors, crashing to the ground thirty or forty paces away, disappearing amongst the turmoil."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha searched for him, screamed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv twisted in the air, Morn's spear jabbing at her, fast as a snake. She curled around the spear as it stabbed past her, one short-sword hacking down at the spear shaft, splintering it, the head falling away, her other sword stabbing at Morn's belly.\n\nThe Kadoshim half-breed swayed, too slow, Riv's sword slicing into her hip, shattering mail and grating on bone.\n\nMorn screamed, hacking at Riv with her black knife. She felt the blade score a red line across the side of her neck, then slammed her head forwards, headbutting the half-breed across the bridge of her nose. A burst of blood and cartilage and Morn's eyes rolled back into her head. She began to fall, fingers limp around the black knife.\n\nRiv's hand snatched out and grabbed the knife, watched Morn fall, crashing into a knot of combat below.\n\nHadran was spinning through the air, two Kadoshim pursuing him. She flew at them, crunched into one's side, slashed wings with her short-sword, stabbed Morn's knife into the Kadoshim's chest. The weapon pierced mail like a hot knife through butter. Riv twisted the blade, pulled it free and the Kadoshim was falling. Hadran had dispatched the other Kadoshim.\n\n\"Meical,\" Hadran said, and they looked down at the battlefield below them.\n\nAsroth was standing amongst a swarm of violence. Dead Ben-Elim and White-Wings ringed him like storm-wreckage left by the tide.\n\nMeical was the only Ben-Elim trading blows with Asroth.\n\nHadran's wings folded and he dropped into a dive, Riv following him. They smashed through the combat. Somehow Asroth glimpsed them coming. He stepped away from Meical and swung his axe at Hadran. The Ben-Elim swerved, the axe slicing through his wing as he hit outwith his spear, punching into Asroth's bicep, but the blackmail held, the spearhead glancing away, and Hadran crashed into a knot of acolytes and White-Wings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv was right behind Hadran, hidden from Asroth's view, and she flew straight at him. He saw her, then pulled his axe back, the spike swinging at her, but she twisted her wings and flew under it, skimming the ground, and lashed outwith her short-sword, felt it bite through wool and flesh.\n\nAsroth bellowed in pain.\n\nRiv's momentum swept heron and she ploughed into the acolytes where Hadran had crashed. She swung and stabbed with sword and knife, righted herself. Grabbing Hadran's arm, she dragged him upright. They turned and ran at Asroth.\n\nMeical was there before them, leaping in, striking down in a powerful two-handed blow, right to left, Asroth's long axe parrying, knocking Meical's sword wide, Meical twisting, a burst of speed that avoided the counter-swing from the butt-spike of Asroth's axe. He swung his sword at Asroth's waist, slashing into mail, black smoke bursting from the starstone coat. Asroth grunted, twisted on his feet, axe swinging in a circle, its blade slashing through part of Meical's wing. Meical stumbled, dropped to one knee, one wing hanging limp, Asroth followed him, a booted foot crunching into Meical's chest, hurling him twenty or thirty paces through the air, crashing to the ground.\n\n\"Cré, coinnigh mo namhaid,\" Asroth growled as he strode after Meical, and the ground around Meical began to bubble and seethe. Roots burst from the earth, wrapping around Meical's wrists and ankles. Meical struggled and heaved, veins bulging purple, but he could not break free."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fréamhacha agus sosanna,\" Meical gasped, and the roots began to wither, some snapping.\n\n\"Greim a choinneáil air, fréamhacha an domhain,\" Asroth commanded as he approached Meical, his long axe rising. More roots burst from the ground, snaring Meical. \"You are no match for me, with blade or with the earth power.\" He smiled, looming over Meical.\n\nRiv slammed into Asroth's back, her sword cutting into the small of his back with all of her strength. Impossibly, his mail held, the sword turned away, only scraping across it. Asroth twisted, snarling, his elbow crunching into Riv's nose, even as she lashed outwith the black knife. It stabbed into Asroth's arm, piercing the blackmail easily, on into the meat of his bicep. He cried out, dropped his axe, swung his arm, throwing Riv off, his gauntleted fist crunching into her head and she spun through the air, hit the ground, slammed into Meical.\n\nBlack stars speckled Riv's vision. She shook her head, pushed herself to her knees.\n\n\"Help, me,\" Meical grunted beside her, straining against his bonds. Riv still had sword and knife in her fists. She slashed with the knife at the roots about one of Meical's ankles and they fell away.\n\nA battle-cry behind them: Hadran was thrusting his spear at Asroth's chest, a blow that should have torn through the coat of mail and stabbed deep. But the spear just... exploded in a shower of splintered wood. Hadran gazed down at the shattered shaft, confusion on his face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth laughed and backhanded Hadran with an iron-gauntleted fist, lifting him from the ground, sending him spinning through the air to land a dozen paces before Riv and Meical.\n\nHadran climbed to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth, and stood guard before Meical and Riv, drawing his sword from his scabbard.\n\nRiv slashed at the roots binding Meical's other ankle.\n\n\"You can't save him from me,\" Asroth said. He drew a short-sword from his hip with a grimace of pain, blood dripping from his arm where Riv had stabbed him. With his other hand he unclipped a whip from his belt. Riv saw the gleam of iron shards and black wire in the leather. Asroth looked up at Hadran and smiled.\n\nRiv cut Meical's last bonds. Meical lurched to one knee, grasping for his sword.\n\nAsroth threw his arm out and flicked his wrist, the crack of leather andiron as the fronds of the whip hissed out.\n\nHadran screamed, iron hooks biting into him, wrapping around his arms and torso, his neck and face. Tentacles of black mist swirled around him. He slashed his sword at the leather strips, but they did not break, only pulled tighter.\n\nAsroth heaved on the whip, Hadran fell, screaming, dragged until he lay at the Lord of the Kadoshim's feet, lacerated and bleeding into the ground.\n\nRiv started to run.\n\nAsroth stabbed down with his short-sword and there was a gurgled cry as Hadran spasmed. A tremor through his wings, then he was still.\n\nRiv screamed, behind her Meical was yelling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind the demon king a bank of black mist poured through the gap between the blue flames. A figure emerged from it, one red eye glowing.\n\nGulla.\n\nHe alighted behind Asroth, stabbing his spear at a cluster of White-Wings locked in combat with shaven-haired acolytes.\n\nA horn rang out from behind Riv and Meical, a voice shouting.\n\n\"RETREAT!\" it cried, the horn blasts taken up, blaring across the battlefield. All around Meical and Riv, White-Wings were turning and running, filling the space between them and Asroth. Above them Ben-Elim tried to disengage from their battle with the Kadoshim.\n\nRiv looked for Asroth, glimpsed him through the crowd. She took a step towards him.\n\nA fist grabbed her arm, part turning her. Meical.\n\n\"Stay and die, or fly and live,\" he said to her, an echo of the words she had said to him, so long ago, it seemed, on the day she had saved his life in Drassil.\n\nRiv snarled, her face twitching, tears blurring her eyes.\n\n\"Hadran,\" she said.\n\nA twist of Meical's lips. \"Only alive can we avenge him.\" He looked beyond Riv, at the black mist spreading. \"We can't win this battle, not with afresh wave of those Revenants. Not here, not right now.\"\n\nRiv let out a strangled growl, then grabbed his arm, part dragged him through the air, over the ranks of acolytes and White-Wings. Below her she saw Raina preparing to light the second ditch."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The world opened up before Bleda, a cold wind blowing off the bay, stirring his warrior braid. It felt good on his skin, which was damp with sweat. To his left was a clifftop and the sea glistening far below. Straight ahead he saw Ripa's white tower, and down to his right the camp of their war-host spread across a hillslope and vale, and beyond that, the plain of the battlefield.\n\nFar out on the plain the wall was a burning, smouldering wreck. Within its boundaries the field was studded with fire, clouds of smoke billowing across it. He saw the outer ditch had been lit with Raina's giant's fire, a blue line curving around the battleground. Either side of the blue-flamed ditch black mist swirled, crossing into the southern part of the field through a small gap.\n\nBleda's lip curled. More Revenants.\n\nEven as Bleda was staring, trying to make sense of the battleground, he saw the second ditch spark into blue flame. It began around the centre, flowing rapidly in both directions, in heartbeats dissecting the battlefield again, curling as far as the river to the west and the hills to the east.\n\nThe sign to retreat. We've been pushed back, then. Gulla needs to die. It would make this battle winnable.\n\nGulls screeched and Bleda looked to the south, out to sea. Black specks on the horizon, swirling in a slow-moving circle.\n\nThey could not be birds, they were too big. He strained his eyes, peering hard, saw the faintest silhouette, and felt a sliver of ice rundown his spine.\n\n\"Ruga, what do you see?\" he asked, knowing her eyes were as keen as a hawk's."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Kadoshim and ships,\" she eventually said.\n\nThey curled around the headland, into the bay, moving steadily towards Ripa.\n\n\"I don't like the look of that,\" Ellac muttered behind him.\n\nBleda touched his reins and his horse turned away, breaking into a canter.\n\nHooves drummed as Bleda rode through the empty camp, the plain below him. He could seethe survivors of the battle now. Ben-Elim in the air, above the giant's fire, two blocks of White-Wings, the reserves that had been held back, each over a thousand strong. Between those blocks milled more White-Wings, maybe a thousand. Bleda searched for Riv, but couldn't see her, a seed of worry in his belly.\n\n\"Get their attention,\" Bleda said to Ruga. She put a horn to her lips, others behind her doing the same, and then horn blasts were ringing out. Bleda saw figures turning, looking up at him on the hillside, and then he saw what he was searching for: grey-dappled wings rising into the air, flying towards him.\n\nRiv gave him a relieved smile as she drew close. She was covered in blood, sweat-stained, a gaunt, haunted look in her eyes.\n\n\"There are Kadoshim flying above the bay,\" he called up to her, \"and ships fast approaching Ripa.\"\n\nRiv's wings beat and she rose higher in the sky, straight up, hovering. After long moments she dropped back down to him.\n\n\"Help me spread the word,\" she said, \"and meet meat the quayside.\"\n\nShe turned, speeding back towards the war-host at the foot of the hill.\n\nMoving into a fast canter, Bleda led his warband on."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 93"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Kadoshim and ships,\" she eventually said.\n\nThey curled around the headland, into the bay, moving steadily towards Ripa.\n\n\"I don't like the look of that,\" Ellac muttered behind him.\n\nBleda touched his reins and his horse turned away, breaking into a canter.\n\nHooves drummed as Bleda rode through the empty camp, the plain below him. He could seethe survivors of the battle now. Ben-Elim in the air, above the giant's fire, two blocks of White-Wings, the reserves that had been held back, each over a thousand strong. Between those blocks milled more White-Wings, maybe a thousand. Bleda searched for Riv, but couldn't see her, a seed of worry in his belly.\n\n\"Get their attention,\" Bleda said to Ruga. She put a horn to her lips, others behind her doing the same, and then horn blasts were ringing out. Bleda saw figures turning, looking up at him on the hillside, and then he saw what he was searching for: grey-dappled wings rising into the air, flying towards him.\n\nRiv gave him a relieved smile as she drew close. She was covered in blood, sweat-stained, a gaunt, haunted look in her eyes.\n\n\"There are Kadoshim flying above the bay,\" he called up to her, \"and ships fast approaching Ripa.\"\n\nRiv's wings beat and she rose higher in the sky, straight up, hovering. After long moments she dropped back down to him.\n\n\"Help me spread the word,\" she said, \"and meet meat the quayside.\"\n\nShe turned, speeding back towards the war-host at the foot of the hill.\n\nMoving into a fast canter, Bleda led his warband on."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Kadoshim and ships in the bay,\" he shouted, his Sirak taking up the cry."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda turned west, riding along the rear line of the war-host. Word spread quickly, and Bleda saw Riv descending to the front lines before the fired ditch. Behind him he heard the tramp of many feet, looked back to see one of the White-Wing reserve regiments marching after him, towards Ripa's port. Others were moving his way, too, giants, and many of the White-Wings. They were battered and bloody, survivors from the wall and battlefield, he guessed.\n\nHe entered Ripa through a wide street, buildings of timber and thatch rising about him. The calls of gulls grew louder, the smell of salt and fish oil thick in the air, and then he was cantering onto stone, the port and harbour of Ripa spread around the curl of the bay. Wooden piers jutted out into the sea, all manner of ships bobbing on the swell, anchored or roped to piers.\n\nBleda reined in, his warband spreading behind him in disciplined rows.\n\nThe Kadoshim were clear in the sky now, flying low over a fleet of red-sailed ships. They were huge vessels, low in the water, moving sluggishly. As Bleda watched, sails were furled and oars appeared, banks of fifty aside. They dipped into the water, the ships moving faster.\n\nThe sound of wings and two shapes were dropping out of the sky, alighting beside him. Riv and Meical. He was cut and bloody, pale-faced, a bandage wrapped around the arch of one of his wings.\n\nMarching feet behind them and the White-Wing regiment moved into the harbour, spreading wide along the dockside. They were around a thousand strong: a hundred shields wide, ten rows deep.\n\nThe ground shook, Alcyon upon his bear, a coat of mail rippling across its muscles. Raina, Ukran and the Kurgan giants came with them, a hundred warriors in mail, leather and fur. A few hundred White-Wings marched with them, led by Aphra."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why is the whole war-host not coming?\" Bleda asked. \"I don't like the look of those ships.\"\n\n\"Asroth can breach the giant's flame somehow. Some kind of Elemental magic,\" Riv said. \"Someone has to try and hold him.\"\n\n\"So we are likely to be attacked from two fronts?\" Bleda said.\n\nRiv nodded grimly.\n\nA fluttering in the sky and a white bird flew down towards them, the crow, Rab. He alighted on Riv's shoulder.\n\n\"Looks bad,\" the crow squawked. \"Follow Rab, leave now. Rab take you to Byrne and friends.\"\n\nBleda looked to the west, the river and giant's fire a barrier, beyond it a plain and then the trees of Sarva.\n\n\"We can't just leave everyone,\" Riv said to Rab.\n\nThe sound of many wings above and Ben-Elim were flying over the port, some sweeping down. Kol and a dozen others alighted on the ground before Bleda, Riv and Meical. Kol's face was a mask of cuts and blood, splinters of wood embedded in his cheek and forehead. A bruise was spreading across one eye and cheek, and he held his left arm close to his side, as if to protect his ribs.\n\nBleda withheld a smile.\n\n\"Our White-Wings will meet them, whoever they are,\" Kol said. \"Bleda, try to contain them, stop them from flanking the shield wall. Thin their numbers.\"\n\n\"You don't command here,\" Bleda said, even though the strategy was sound. It was exactly what he intended to do, anyway.\n\n\"I do for now,\" Kol said. \"Dumah is dead, Hadran is dead, every high-ranking Ben-Elim fallen or unaccounted for.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda blinked at that.\n\n\"Hadran?\" He looked at Riv, knew they had been close. She said nothing, but her cheek twitched.\n\nThe ships were closer, now, movement on the decks discernible. A banner was unfurled, above the high prow of the first ship. It was a red, long-taloned claw upon a black field.\n\n\"A bear's claw?\" Kol said, frowning.\n\n\"No,\" Raina said, approaching them. \"A draig's claw. They are the Shekam, and they ride upon draigs.\"\n\nKol looked up at her, his face draining of what little colour it had left.\n\n\"Rab told you things bad,\" the white crow squawked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv felt those words hither like a fist in the belly. Raina had warned them that the Shekam were marching to war. But Ben-Elim scouts had flown out to watch all the approaches to Ripa from the east, and there had been no reports of them. No one had thought to watch the sea.\n\nHow do you get a draig on a ship?\n\nRaina stepped forwards with Ukran and a dozen giants. They were carrying three chests between them.\n\n\"Guard us from above,\" she said to Kol.\n\nThe ships were close now, oars powering them towards the many piers and quays that jutted out from the harbour-side.\n\nRaina and the other giants strode down a wooden pier, put the chests down and unbolted them, started taking out long chains and cook-pots.\n\nRaina was pouring something into her pot; Ukran and the other Kurgan were all doing the same. Riv saw sparks and blue flame ignite. Then Raina was gripping chains in her fist, swirling the pot around her head in wide, looping circles. Once, twice, three times around her head, and then she released it, the pot arcing high into the sky, trailing blue flame. It began its descent, crashed onto the deck of the closest ship, just below the mast. An explosion of blue flame, flaring bright, catching on the wooden deck immediately, running up the mast like a hungry beast, the furled sail igniting with a crackle. Other pots were flying through the air, three more smashing into the same ship, others flung higher, further. Some splashed into the sea, a ripple of blue fire on the waves, but others landed onto other ships, blue flame spreading in heartbeats."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Shrieks in the sky and Kadoshim were sweeping down, a hundred, two hundred, more, straight at Raina and her kin on the pier.\n\nRiv heard Bleda curse and then his horse was leaping forwards, his bow rising, Sirak behind him following in a thunder of hooves.\n\nRiv jumped into the air, wings beating, shouted at Kol to help. Meical's wings beat but he rose into the air with difficulty.\n\nRiv drew her short-sword and black knife, and flew at the Kadoshim.\n\nThere were flames in the bay, the ship closest to Raina a maelstrom of blue flame, black smoke billowing into the sky. Timber was cracking, breaking, water flooding into the hull, and Riv heard a terrible roaring, screaming as the ship began to sink.\n\nMore pots of flame flew through the air. They crashed onto ships, flames exploding.\n\nKadoshim swept around the fire and smoke, forcing Raina and the Kurgan to turn and run back along the pier, one pausing to hurl one last fire-pot. Many ships were burning. Spears were flung by the Kadoshim, a giant on the pier crying out, toppling to her knees. Riv saw Raina slip her huge shield from her back and run back for the fallen giant. Ukran and others were faltering under the attack of the Kadoshim, gripping weapons in their fists-axes and war-hammers.\n\nRiv slammed into the first Kadoshim. It never saw her coming, so intent was it upon Raina and the giants. They rolled in the sky, Riv's sword sheared through its wing-arch, knife jabbing into its throat, and it was plummeting through the air, sinking into the sea with hardly a splash. Riv flew on, amongst the Kadoshim, now, slashing and stabbing, arcs of blood, bodies falling, but there were too many."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Screams from below, giants.\n\nRiv glimpsed white-feathered wings, saw that Kol and the Ben-Elim with him had entered the battle.\n\nThere is much I'd say about Kol, but my father is no coward.\n\nTime passed in fragmented moments, punctuated with blood and screams. Riv felt impacts, some blunt, some lines of white-hot fire, saw a burst of her dapple-grey feathers floating through the air, but she fought on. It was who she was, what she did. She was rolling in the air, locked in a grip with a half-breed Kadoshim, the thick muscles of its arm binding her sword arm. She saw its other arm reach fora knife at its belt. Then it was choking, gurgling, dark blood vomiting from its mouth, an arrowhead bursting through its throat.\n\nIts grip went slack and the half-breed began its slow, spiralling tumble to the sea.\n\nRiv looked down, saw Bleda upon the pier, Sirak all around him, scattered along the quayside, their arrows reaping Kadoshim from the skies. Raina and her giants were back on solid ground, running back to Aphra's shield wall.\n\nBleda was waving for her, signalling for her to fly clear.\n\nShe did, or she tried to, but Kadoshim were swooping for her. Arrows hissed through the air, more Kadoshim dropping around her and then Riv was clear of them and flying over stone again, circling above Aphra and Raina.\n\nBleda came cantering back, Ruga and a hundred Sirak with him.\n\n\"My thanks, little man,\" Ukran said.\n\n\"Ha, we have taught them to fly higher,\" Bleda said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv looked and saw that the skies were clear, the Kadoshim retreating higher into the blue.\n\nShips were burning, flames and smoke sweeping across the bay, but more vessels appeared, rowing through the chaos, navigating the sinking hulls. One of the burning ships was still moving through the water; it crashed into a jetty, wood splintering. Blue flames jumped from the ship to the jetty, found some wood and crackled into furious life.\n\nOars banked and a ship's hull grated on wood, others crunching into the quayside. Riv had not realized how huge the ships were. They towered over the piers and harbour.\n\nRopes with iron hooks were cast from the deck, sinking into the timber of quays and jetties, wrapping around pillars and buildings on the dockside.\n\nThere was a moment of silence, ships creaking on the rise and swell of the sea.\n\nA shouted command from the shield wall, bodies shuffling tighter together. A thousand shields came up and pulled tight with a crack, like a thunderclap.\n\nMuted voices from within a ship grating against the dockside. The sound of great bolts being drawn, a creaking sound, a thud, and then an enormous panel in the ship's prow dropped down, crashed onto the harbour-side, leaving a hole in the hull of the ship, like a gaping mouth.\n\nA shadow loomed within that hole, and then a draig was bursting out of the ship and lumbering down the gangplank, a male giant upon its back. The draig thundered onto the dockside, long, razored talons scraping on stone, short legs bowed, its body wide, heavily muscled and low to the ground. The giant upon its back barked an order, pulled on reins and the draig stopped. Its head swayed from side to side, scaly skin a greenish brown, tail lashing. Huge, curved teeth protruded from along, flat muzzle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hammer growled, a deep-chested rumble.\n\nUpon its back the giant sat and regarded them. He wore a spiked helm of iron, cheek-guards, a curtain of riveted mail hung from the back. Most of his face was in shadow, but Riv saw along, drooping moustache tied with leather. He wore a vest of scaled plate, like Bleda's, but the iron plates bigger and thicker, and his body was wrapped in billowing linen. Tattoos of vine and thorn coiled up one arm, and part-way down the other. He carried along spear, the spear blade longer and wider than a sword, curved and single-bladed, like the blades the Sirak wore strapped across their backs.\n\nThe draig opened its jaws and roared, spittle spraying, the sound filling the harbour, drowning out all else fora moment.\n\n\"Bás dár NAIMHDE!\" the giant cried out, bellowing the last word.\n\nThe draig charged.\n\nHorns blew from within the ship and more lumbering shapes appeared, surging down the gangplank. All along the dockside more doors crashed open, an explosion of dust, draigs roaring, lurching out of the ships' bellies.\n\nThe first draig hit the White-Wing shield wall. A concussive, bone-crunching impact, rippling through the wall, bodies hurled into the air, crashing to the ground. The draig ploughed deep into the wall's lines, six, eight rows in, not quite breaking through. White-Wings pressed around it, pushing close, stabbing with short-swords. Riv saw a hundred red lines open up across the draig. It roared, lashing outwith head, claws, tail, more White-Wings falling. The giant upon its back swung his huge spear, carving through wood into mail and flesh. Ahead sailed through the air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "More draigs hit the shield wall, twenty, thirty, forty of the beasts, still more disgorging from the ships moored along the docks, and Riv saw more ships behind them, rowing into the harbour.\n\nThe shield wall disintegrated, a thousand warriors cast into havoc and ruin in a score of heartbeats. The White-Wings fought back, tried to regroup, pressing around draigs, stabbing with their short-swords. One draig reared and crashed to the ground, White-Wings swamping it, stabbing at the animal's softer belly and the giant. But there were too many draigs. They were crushing, tearing, eviscerating all in their path.\n\nBlue flame was spreading across the dockside, the wind helping it jump from the burning jetty to grain stores and ship-houses.\n\nBleda and a dozen Sirak drew their bows, loosed. Riv saw arrows skitter off the draigs'thick, scally hides, and from the giants\" iron-plated armour. One giant fell, an arrow in his eye.\n\nKadoshim came swooping from the sky, screaming and hissing their hate.\n\nThe din of battle drifted to them from the north. Shouting, screams, the clash of arms.\n\n\"Asroth has broken through the second ditch,\" Meical said.\n\nRiv felt any hope left within her drain away. She gripped her weapons anyway and spread her wings, bent her knees.\n\nRab squawked, flapped in front of her.\n\n\"Riv warrior of Bright Star,\" the bird croaked. \"Can't stay. Stay means die. Fly with Rab, save your friends, save yourself.\"\n\nMeical touched Riv's shoulder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The crow's right. This battle is lost,\" he said.\n\nRiv looked at Meical, then to Bleda and Aphra, even Raina was looking at her, waiting on her word. She saw Alcyon, and the giant nodded at her.\n\n\"We will run and live, fight another day,\" Riv said. \"If we can.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda touched his heels to his horse, barking out orders. His Sirak broke and spread around Aphra's White-Wings as they jogged away from the harbour. Raina and Alcyon were leading the way, out of the town, towards the west. Riv leaped into the air, wings taking her away. Meical tried to do the same, but he swayed in the air, his injured wing failing him.\n\n\"Here, brother,\" Bleda called to him, riding close, offering Meical his arm. Meical took it and swung up behind Bleda.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Meical said, and they rode on.\n\nShrieks from above and Bleda twisted in his saddle, looked back over his shoulder and saw Kadoshim and half-breeds sweeping down after them, calling down to Shekam giants, pointing at Bleda and his companions.\n\n\"WARE THE SKIES!\" Bleda called, as he reached for arrows, nocked and loosed, guiding his horse on with his knees. The hiss of arrows as other Sirak saw the Kadoshim and loosed at them. A ripple of screams in the air as a hail of Sirak iron slammed into flesh, Kadoshim falling, spinning from the sky. Another burst of arrows raked the Kadoshim and the survivors broke off their pursuit and wheeled away, searching for easier prey.\n\nBleda rode on, a slow canter as he curved around Aphra's White-Wings. She was blowing on a horn, trying to gather more White-Wings to her as they fled. Bleda saw the horn calls working, scattered White-Wings in the harbour running in their direction. They left the harbour behind, the ground shifting from stone to hard-packed earth, the street wide, buildings of wood and thatch rearing about them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sounds of battle swirled around them, from the harbour, from the north, where Asroth must have forded the giant's flame."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Between buildings Bleda snatched glimpses of warriors. Some were fighting acolytes, others fleeing. Further off he glimpsed banks of black mist spreading into the town.\n\nBuildings thinned and then disappeared around them and they moved into open grassland. Aphra had swelled the White-Wings to hundreds, warriors filling the road and spilling down its embankments. Bleda led his Sirak wider, riding across trampled grass. To their left the river flowed, lined with boats and jetties and a jumble of buildings, smoke-houses, grain yards, boathouses. A few hundred paces ahead the road was blocked by a wide trench of roaring blue flame, the western tip of the second battlefield ditch.\n\n\"The boats,\" Riv yelled, circling back to them, and Aphra veered off the road, ran for the riverbank. Bleda searched fora way through the fire for his horses, but could not see one.\n\nThey reached the riverbank, dozens of boats of various sizes moored to wooden jetties. Aphra barked orders and formed a protective shield wall with a few score warriors, then started ordering the other White-Wings onto the boats, pushing them off, oars dipping into the water. Bleda helped Meical off his horse, Meical staggered and Aphra ran to steady him, helped him onto a boat.\n\nRiv hovered over Bleda.\n\n\"Can your horses swim?\" she called down.\n\nBleda grimaced. They could, but arrows, bows, strings, so much would be ruined or useless if they drove their horses into the river.\n\n\"Fly on, I'll find away,\" he called up to her, \"I'll catch up with you in the forest.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm not leaving without you,\" Riv said.\n\nA small fleet of boats was in the river now, packed with hundreds of White-Wings rowing upstream, towards the trees and darkness of Sarva. More were still leaping into boats.\n\nRaina took her hammer from her belt and marched to a boathouse, slammed her hammer into one of the hinges of a huge door. She shouted something over her shoulder and Alcyon rode Hammer to the other door and began chopping at its hinges with his axes.\n\nWhat are they doing?\n\nBleda turned and looked back at Ripa. More White-Wings were running towards them, trying to escape the blue flame that was spreading through the town, belching black smoke. He glimpsed figures between the smoke and flame: giants on draigs, White-Wings, pockets of shield walls. Kadoshim and Ben-Elim fought in the skies, a constant whirlwind of combat, though Bleda saw some Ben-Elim breaking away and flying their way. Others had already passed overhead, in the direction of the forest.\n\nFurther north the roar of battle was echoing, and there were more Ben-Elim and Kadoshim in the sky. Black mist was rolling across the ground, seeping into the town of Ripa, and moving their way, towards the river.\n\nThe hinges Raina was hammering at came free with a squeal of iron and the door crashed to the ground. Alcyon's door followed a few moments later.\n\n\"Help us,\" Raina said, Ukran and a handful of giants rushing to her and Alcyon's aid. Together they lifted the doors and carried them over to the blue flame that crackled and roared in the ditch, hurled one of the gates down. It snuffed the flame beneath it, forming a makeshift bridge. Alcyon and his helpers threw their door down on top of the first one, thickening and strengthening the bridge."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ukran yelled at his giant kin, urging them across the bridge.\n\n\"Get your Sirak across, quickly,\" Raina said. \"I don't know how long it will hold.\"\n\nBleda barked an order, Sirak starting to canter across the bridge.\n\nA roaring and figures burst from the town. White-Wings, hundreds of them, engaged in a running battle with acolytes. Some were moving in good order, a disciplined retreat, others were running in full rout. There were wounded amongst them, stumbling, falling. The acolytes behind were slaughtering the fallen.\n\nWe must leave now. Become embroiled in this and there will be no escape. We will be overrun.\n\nAphra and the White-Wing warriors about her were yelling at their comrades, urging them on. Some of her warriors broke away from the shield wall around the boathouse, moving towards those fleeing the town. Aphra yelled orders, started marching back to help her people.\n\nIn the air black figures appeared, rising from the north-east, swirling across the town after the fleeing White-Wings. Kadoshim. A larger figure flew at their head, leathery wings, along whip trailing from one hand.\n\nBleda felt fear trickle through his veins. He knew who this was, even before Riv screamed his name.\n\n\"ASROTH COMES!\" Riv yelled above him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv stared at Asroth and the host of Kadoshim behind him, looked down at Aphra as she led a score or so of White-Wings to the aid of her warriors. Aphra had reached them, was leading an attack on acolytes, trying to forge a gap, buying time for her comrades to escape. With mounting horror Riv saw Asroth angle his descent towards the snarl of White-Wings and acolytes.\n\nShe sheathed her sword and slipped the black knife into her belt, unclipped her bow-case and grabbed a fistful of arrows, at the same time as her wings were beating, propelling her back towards Aphra, Asroth and the Kadoshim. Feathers brushed her cheek as she drew and loosed, her first arrow arcing towards Asroth, flying high, over his shoulder, punching into a Kadoshim behind him. Her second arrow was wide, another Kadoshim shrieked. Her third arrow she thought was aimed straight at Asroth's chest, but his wings folded as he launched into a dive and the arrow hissed past him.\n\nMore arrows in her hand as she dipped into her own dive, loosing as she flew. One of her arrows hit Asroth in the shoulder, but it pinged off his mail shirt. Riv shouted a curse.\n\nAnd then Asroth was crashing into White-Wings, scattering them, hurling many to the ground. He alighted amidst them, his black wings beating a storm that battered more to the ground, his whip snapping out, tearing flesh from bones.\n\nA figure rose amidst the fallen White-Wings, alone warrior holding a battered shield and a short-sword. Riv knew instantly that it was Aphra. Fear swept her and she beat her wings harder, slipping her bow back into its case."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth's whip cracked, iron claws biting into Aphra's shield, Asroth dragging her towards him. Riv saw Aphra release her shield, run in behind it, using the momentum of Asroth's tug. It took the Lord of the Kadoshim by surprise, and before he could do anything Aphra was within his guard, ducking under his short-sword and stabbing her own blade up, into his belly.\n\nIt was a perfect blow, struck with Aphra balanced, her weight and strength behind it, a manoeuvre that Aphra would have practised ten thousand times in the weapons-field.\n\nThe sword shattered, hurled Aphra onto her back.\n\nAsroth's whip cracked again, this time no shield to protect Aphra. Claws of sharp black iron bit into her, slicing through mail and leather, hooking into her flesh.\n\nRiv heard her scream, echoed it with her own.\n\n\"MAM!\"\n\nRiv was close now, a hundred paces, her wings tucked, wind ripping at her hair.\n\nAsroth dragged Aphra towards him, more screams, a thick trail of blood smeared across the ground as Aphra was dragged to his feet, and he sliced down with his short-sword.\n\nRiv slammed into Asroth, hurling him away, sending him crashing to the ground. She spread her wings, checked her flight, sweptback to where her mam lay upon the ground. Whip-cords were still wrapped around her, strips of flesh hanging, white bone glistening through the blood. Riv swiped at her eyes, blurred with tears, tried to loosen the cords, but Aphra cried out, a weak, broken sound."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm sorry, Mam,\" Riv said through her tears, tried to lift her in her arms, but Aphra cried out again. Riv knelt on the ground, cradled her mother's head. \"I've got to get you out of here,\" she said.\n\nAphra stared up at her, eyes full of pain. Along, rattling sigh fading to nothing.\n\nRiv looked up at the sky and howled.\n\nA sound behind her, a mocking laugh.\n\nRiv turned, saw Asroth standing over her.\n\n\"I want my whip back,\" he said.\n\nThe red haze boiled inside Riv's head, all else gone from her mind except fora raw, uncontrollable rage. She snarled, tears blurring her eyes, and hurled herself at the demon king."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda rode after Riv. He'd heard her scream, seen her dive into the fray, but he lost sight of her as a handful of acolytes threw themselves at him, grabbing at Dilis\" bridle, trying to rip him from her back. He put an arrow into one at almost point-blank range, hurling the man to the ground. The other acolytes fell in a heartbeat or two, more arrows thumping into them, and then Ruga and Yul were riding alongside him.\n\n\"Where is she?\" Bleda called to them, standing in his saddle as he searched for Riv. All was battle and blood, White-Wings and acolytes fighting, Kadoshim sweeping and screeching, stabbing. The ground trembled as draigs lumbered from the town.\n\nThen he saw her.\n\nA space had cleared thirty or forty paces to his right, White-Wings dead or battered to the ground. Asroth stood there, his dark wings furled behind him, stumbling as Riv slammed into him.\n\nThey twisted and turned fora few moments, Riv seemingly trying to gouge Asroth's eyes outwith her thumbs.\n\n\"Clear my way,\" he called to Ruga and Yul, then spurred his mount on. In front of him acolyte warriors spun away, pierced with Ruga or Yul's arrows. They shot a path in front of him, filled with the dead, and then Asroth and Riv were clear before him. His heart lurched into his chest. Riv was hanging limp in Asroth's grip, he had one hand clasped around her throat, a black gauntleted fist pulled back fora blow that would surely crush her skull.\n\nThe space between them disappeared as Dilis galloped towards Asroth. At the last moment Bleda pulled on his reins, leaning back in the saddle, a lifetime of learned commands passing through the touch of his knees and feet. Turf sprayed as Dilis skidded out of her gallop, then reared up, hooves lashing out, crunching into Asroth, hurling him through the air. Riv fell from his grip."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dilis'hooves slammed to the ground and Bleda was leaning low, one hand on the saddle pommel, the other grabbing Riv's arm and hauling her up from the ground, laying her limp form across the saddle in front of him. He spurred Dilis on again, a tight turn and he was speeding back the way he had come, Ruga and Yul skewering any who came close to him. Then the three of them were galloping away, towards the makeshift bridge across the blue fire.\n\nUkran, Alcyon and Raina were there, guarding the bridge, allowing more White-Wings to cross. They called out to Bleda, urging him on. Ina dozen heartbeats Bleda was clattering across the bridge and then he was riding hard along the road, Raina and Ukran running alongside him, Alcyon upon Hammer's back. His Sirak formed around him and they swept along the road and plain, the sinking sun sending their shadows stretching long behind them. Ina hundred heartbeats they were disappearing into the gloom of Sarva's trees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin crested the brow of a hill.\n\nThe battlefield before her was a place of ruin. Some of the pits of fire still burned, most were empty of flame, just black, gaping holes now. Two lines of blue fire curled across the field, and much of Ripa was burning, blue flame creeping up the hill towards the tower.\n\nMost of the field was habited by the dead and those that had come to feast on them. Crows squawked and argued.\n\nCloser to Ripa it looked as if battle still raged, shapes in the sky swirling in combat. Screams drifted on the wind.\n\n\"The battle is won, then,\" Gerel said, beside Jin.\n\nShe nodded, the action sending shafts of pain through her skull and nausea flaring in her gut. She leaned in her saddle and vomited on the ground.\n\nReaching for her water skin, she swilled her mouth out, spat it out, and drank. Then put a hand to her head and adjusted her bandage. It was stiff with dried blood.\n\nGerel had found her, unconscious beneath her horse. It had taken ten warriors to lift the dead animal enough to pull her out. Her leg still throbbed, but it was not broken.\n\nDamn Bleda to a thousand deaths.\n\nA thousand fewer warriors were riding back with her than had entered those hills. She felt a flush of shame, chased swiftly by rage.\n\nNever again will I chase after Bleda. He longs for my death as much as I long for his. If he still lives, I will let him come tome.\n\nIf he still lives.\n\nShe looked back to the battlefield and kicked her mount on, trotting down the slope."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Tark and a dozen scouts slipped into the lead. Crows leaped into the sky as they passed, squawking their protests at being disturbed from their feast.\n\nTark led them to the earthwork bridge across the burning ditch, and in silence they passed across it. The other side was thick with the dead, the stench of blood and excrement crawling into Jin's nose and throat. She rode on, to the next ditch, another earthwork bridge, and she crossed that, too.\n\nFritha was sitting upon her draig, both of them slumped with exhaustion, both thick with blood. Morn the half-breed sat with her back against one of Wrath's legs. Elise the snake-woman was coiled, leaning over Morn, wrapping a bandage around the half-breed's head.\n\nFritha looked up as Jin crossed through the flame. She smiled.\n\n\"Good,\" Fritha said. \"I feared you might be dead.\"\n\n\"Not yet,\" Jin said, grimacing. \"Where is everybody?\"\n\n\"Pillaging the town, hunting for survivors,\" Fritha said. \"Gulla is leading his Revenants in a hunt for their supper, no doubt; what is left of them.\" She frowned at Jin. \"You should not have ridden off. I thought you Cheren were masters of your emotions.\"\n\nJin opened her mouth to say something, an angry, bitter defence of her actions, but then she thought better of it.\n\nThe truth is clear to all. Best to admit to it, deal with it.\n\n\"Bleda, he brings out the worst of me,\" Jin said. She shrugged. \"He led me a merry chase through the hills and then dropped a rock on me. It's the last time I make that mistake.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin felt a tremor in the ground and looked up to see Kadoshim winging through the sky. Draigs walked below them, huge creatures of slabbed muscle ridden by giants. Asroth strode at their head, acolytes behind him.\n\nAs Asroth drew near her, Jin saw he was limping, one leg of his breeches blood-soaked, and his right arm was wrapped in a bloodstained bandage. His long axe was slung across his back, his whip and short-sword in his fists.\n\n\"Ah, my fierce hawk has returned tome,\" Asroth said to Jin. \"A little late,\" he said, a coldness filling his voice.\n\n\"I am sorry, my Lord,\" she said. \"I erred. The next battle will be different.\"\n\nAsroth approached her, reached out and cupped her chin in his palm, looking into her eyes. He held her gaze along while, then nodded.\n\n\"Plans go astray once the blood is being spilt,\" he said. \"But this battle is won, Ripa fallen and our enemies crushed at our feet.\"\n\n\"Not all of them,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Enough for one day,\" Asroth said. \"Too many even for the crows.\" He turned and gestured to one of the giants upon a draig. A huge man, tattooed, a wicked-looking long spear in his fists.\n\n\"Meet my ally, Rok of the Shekam,\" he said.\n\nThe Kadoshim Sulak descended from the sky, alighting beside Asroth.\n\n\"I told you we would be here,\" Rok said to Fritha, giving her a mocking half-bow."
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"value": "\"I'm glad you were,\" Fritha replied, dipping her head to the giant.\n\nThe giant looked down at her. He unbuckled his helm and lifted it off, revealing a shaven head, tattoos of thorn and vine swirling upon it.\n\n\"Well met,\" he grunted.\n\nHis draig snorted.\n\n\"Pretty draig,\" Wrath rumbled, snapped his wings out wide.\n\n\"Stop showing off,\" Fritha said to him.\n\nThe Shekam draig looked at Wrath, curled a lip and growled at him.\n\n\"I like her,\" Wrath rumbled.\n\n\"Ha, he has earned that,\" Asroth said. \"We all have. Faced our fear and won, slain our enemies. But even so, the plan has not gone exactly as I'd hoped.\" He looked up at the tower on the hill. Blue flame wreathed it, and most of the hill about it, smoke belching into the purpling sky as the sun dipped into the west. \"I wanted to feast in Ripa's tower.\"\n\n\"It's back to Balara for us,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Asroth agreed. \"To some wine, a celebration, and then we sharpen our weapons for the Order of the Bright Star.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Drem satin a glade in the moonlight. He glanced up, looking at the moon, saw it was close to midnight.\n\nA rasp as Drem drew his seax, stroked the steel with gentle fingertips. Then he loosened the leather ties of a vambrace and slipped it off his forearm, exposing grimy, sweat-soaked skin. He drew his seax across it and watched blood rundown his arm, across his palm, dripping from fingertips to the grass.\n\n\"Now we wait,\" he said to Fen. The wolven-hound was curled at his side, back to a boulder. Its coat of mail shimmered in the half-light.\n\nTime passed, Drem murmuring to Fen, absently tugging on one of the wolven's ears.\n\nAbruptly Fen shifted, climbed to his feet, ears pricked forwards. He growled, almost inaudibly, more of a vibration deep within the wolven-hound's broad chest.\n\nDrem's hand moved to his neck and silently started counting the beats of his pulse.\n\nA sound in the forest, deep within the darkness. The rustle of foliage, the snap of a twig.\n\nDrem slipped his vambrace back on and stood, tightened the leather cords with his teeth, then slipped his hand-axe from its belt hoop. He set his feet, seax and hand-axe ready, eyes flitting across the glade.\n\nSounds from all around now, moving closer. Padded foot-falls, the whispered crackle of forest litter, bodies pushing through foliage.\n\nThen a growl from something that prowled on the edge of darkness.\n\nA silence, a held breath.\n\nFigures burst from the forest, part man, part beast, creatures of tooth and claw, hunched and muscled, limbs elongated, patched with fur and bare skin."
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"value": "Ferals.\n\nTen, twelve, more leaping from the darkness, a whole pack of the creatures.\n\nFen jumped, colliding with one of the Ferals in mid-air, a bone-crunching collision, a deep-throated snarling, snapping.\n\nA hissing sound filled the glade, arrows raining down from above, punching into Ferals. Faelan and others of his kin swooped down from boughs, bows thrumming. Some of the Ferals dropped instantly, pierced many times. Some evaded the iron-tipped death, launched themselves at Drem.\n\nAnother explosion from the trees, this one as big as a boulder, a wall of white fur and a gaping maw, and Friend flew into the creatures hurling themselves at Drem. The bear's jaws clamped on one, a paw swiping another, shredding ribs and an arm, the other collided with Friend's chest and was sent hurtling through the air, crashing into a tree.\n\nOne evaded the white bear and came straight at Drem. He ducked and spun on one heel, slashed with his seax as the Feral flew past him. It turned, came at him again, ploughing into him. They fell together, rolling in the grass, a tangle of limbs. Drem tried to strike at the creature, found one of his blades was trapped in the Feral's flesh, the other weapon gone from his grip.\n\nThe Feral's jaws were close to Drem's face, snapping, teeth clicking, a finger's breadth from his ear.\n\nAnother snarling sound, and then jaws were clamping around the Feral's neck and shoulder, the sound of flesh tearing, blood spurting in Drem's face. The Feral howled and whined in pain as Fen tore chunks of flesh. Its claws raked on riveted mail and Fen did not let go, continued to shake the Feral like a rat. Then Friend was there, a paw crashing onto the Feral's back, pinning it."
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"value": "An arrow punched into the Feral's head.\n\nDrem looked up from the ground, chest heaving as he gasped for breath, saw Faelan hovering over him.\n\n\"Trust me, you said,\" Drem breathed.\n\nFaelan alighted beside him, offered him his arm.\n\n\"You're alive.\" Faelan shrugged.\n\n\"How many?\" Drem asked as he climbed to his feet. His body ached like he'd been hit with a tree.\n\n\"Twenty-six of them,\" Faelan said. His kin were circling the glade, loosing arrows into any Feral that still moved. \"Is that all of them?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Drem said. \"But we can do no more.\" He patted Fen's neck, the wolven-hound pressing close to him. \"My thanks, Fen,\" he said, then turned to the white bear.\n\n\"You're not supposed to be here,\" he said, the bear dipping his head and rubbing his muzzle against Drem's chest.\n\nCullen rode into the glade, moonlight casting him in silver and shadow.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" Drem asked. \"Is the whole warband coming this way? And you shouldn't be riding in the dark.\"\n\n\"If he's allowed to disobey orders,\" Cullen said, pointing at the white bear, \"then so am I.\"\n\nDrem shook his head.\n\nThe trap had been his idea. Craf's crows had spied the Ferals in the forest, better scouts and guardians for Asroth's warband than any warrior. It would have been impossible to slip past them unobserved. So Drem had come up with this plan. He'd insisted on standing alone, because the Ferals would have smelled the white bear, or hidden warriors upon the ground, and been put off their attack. Only Faelan and his kin had a chance of going undetected."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Have I missed all the fun?\" Cullen asked.\n\n\"Aye,\" Drem said, rolling his shoulder, which throbbed as if it had been dislocated.\n\n\"I'll be your guide back to camp, then,\" Cullen said. \"Shouldn't take us long. Friend's made a road as wide as a barn.\"\n\nDrem's eyes snapped open.\n\nHe was lying on the forest floor beside a tree, head on his kit-bag, his cloak pulled tight around him. Cullen was snoring close by. Or it might have been Fen.\n\nBooted feet were inline with Drem's eyes and he pushed himself upright, the weight of his mail coat feeling heavier than normal. Exhaustion was becoming a well-known companion. Byrne was approaching him, threading through sleeping warriors. Beyond her he heard the constant murmur of the river they were following through the forest. Drem sat up, rubbed his eyes, looked up through the trees. It was full dark, long before dawn. He hadn't been asleep long.\n\nByrne reached him and crouched down.\n\n\"You did well,\" she said, her voice hushed.\n\nDrem grunted.\n\n\"Cullen,\" Byrne said.\n\nThe warrior continued to snore.\n\nDrem poked him with his boot.\n\n\"What?\" Cullen muttered, opening his eyes and, seeing Byrne, sat up.\n\n\"Good morning, Aunt,\" he said.\n\n\"It's along way from morning.\" Drem sighed.\n\n\"Aye, it is,\" Byrne said. \"But when morning comes it will bring battle with it. We are close to the forest's border, and Ripa. Less than half a day's march.\"\n\nDrem nodded."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I wanted to see you both, before it begins,\" she said. Shrugged. \"You are my kin.\"\n\nDrem looked at her, a strong woman, muscles honed, a sharp intelligence and wisdom in her eyes. She always appeared so strong. Led with strength, but with a streak of kindness also.\n\n\"I'm proud to call you my kin,\" Drem said, speaking his thoughts, as he often did.\n\nByrne smiled. \"And here it was me coming to tell you both that same thing.\" She looked away, her eyes shining. \"Whatever happens on the morrow, know this. I love you both. This war feels as if it has been my whole life, and sometimes it can become hard to remember why I am fighting it. There has been so much death and tragedy.\" She blew out along breath, rubbed her eyes. \"When it comes down to it, though, when I strip all the politics and strategies away, it is quite simple: I am fighting this war for you. For my kin, the people I love.\" She smiled at them. \"You are worth fighting for.\" She reached out and squeezed Drem's wrist.\n\n\"I'll fight for you until my last breath,\" Cullen breathed. \"Follow you into the Otherworld, if I have to.\"\n\nByrne stood, looking down at them. \"I know you would.\" She turned away, paused. \"Oh,\" she said. \"Here's something for you, Cullen.\" She held out something long, wrapped in wool.\n\nCullen stood up and took it, unwrapped it. Gasped.\n\n\"But...\"\n\nCullen held up a sword, drew it slowly from its worn leather scabbard. It was Corban's sword. Sounds came from Cullen's throat, but no words, his eyes bright with tears. The sword glinted in the moonlight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"But...\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "he said again.\n\n\"It's mine to give,\" Byrne said, \"and I know, here, that it is you who should wield it.\" She touched a hand to her heart. Then smiled. \"Just don't lose it.\"\n\nCullen grinned. \"That I won't,\" he said, \"not while there's life in my bones.\"\n\n\"Sleep while you can,\" Byrne said, turning away.\n\nA flapping of wings and loud squawking, they all heard it together, and a white bird came flying above the river.\n\n\"RIPA IS FALLEN,\" Rab squawked."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Riv swayed on her feet and Drem reached out an arm and steadied her, then pulled her into an embrace. She just stood there, her arms trembling, a sea of emotion churning within her.\n\nDrem stepped back, held her at arm's length, looking into Riv's eyes.\n\n\"What has happened?\" he asked.\n\nRiv just stared at Drem. She did not want to say it, did not want to think it. Her face was throbbing, the taste of blood in her mouth, and she couldn't breathe through her nose. Asroth had broken it. All she remembered was Asroth's gauntleted fist filling her vision, and then nothing, until she'd regained consciousness upon Bleda's horse. Fora moment she did not know where she was, could not remember what had happened. And then memory had swept in like a huge wave, destroying everything in its path.\n\nBleda was standing behind Riv, holding his horse by the reins. He hovered close, worry in his eyes.\n\n\"Aphra, Riv's mother, fell in battle,\" Bleda said. \"At Asroth's hand.\"\n\nThose words seemed to open a floodgate inside her and Riv swayed, almost dropped to her knees, but Drem and Bleda grasped her, held her up. Riv shook her head, fresh tears flowing from her eyes. She felt... everything. A pounding in her head, as if it was about to explode, pain in her chest as if her heart were being squeezed, waves of nausea in her belly. There was a bottomless grief deep inside her, blended with a flickering, white-hot rage, all of it twisting and turning within her veins, spiralling, sweeping her along in a dizzying torrent of misery and fury."
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"value": "\"There is no greater wound, no greater pain,\" Drem breathed, his face full of care and worry.\n\n\"Aye,\" Bleda whispered behind her, his hand still under one of her arms.\n\nSome distant part of her knew that Drem and Bleda had lost kin in this war, a memory of Bleda's grief as Riv had carried him away from the scene of his mother's death, but all was overwhelmed by the fresh rawness of her own pain.\n\n\"Come,\" Drem said, \"let's find some quiet, a place for you to sit, some food and drink.\"\n\nRiv just looked at him numbly, but when he took her hand she followed.\n\nAll around her the Order of the Bright Star's camp was in motion. Torches lit, warriors rushing to help the survivors of Ripa, horses stamping, giants, bears, wolven-hounds, an endless tide of living things. Fia and Ert were standing on the riverbank, shoulders slumped with exhaustion, both of them helping White-Wing warriors climb out of their boats and scramble up the bank. Riv saw fractured moments; Raina reunited with her son, Tain, tears streaming down the crow master's face, Craf flapping his wings and squawking. Someone handing a bowl of porridge to Jost, who took it and just cupped it. Ruga checking the hooves of her horse. Kill unwrapping the bandage about Meical's wing and inspecting the wound. Kol arriving, battered and bloody, a few score Ben-Elim with him. He just sat on the riverbank and looked into his hands.\n\n\"Welcome home, child,\" Byrne said in Riv's ear, her arm around Riv's shoulder. \"Go, eat something. Rest. I'll find you soon.\""
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"value": "Riv sipped a spoonful of Cullen's stew, holding onto it with both hands. She was trying to stop her hands from shaking. She was not sure if she was starvingly hungry or on the verge of vomiting. Both. Something warm in her belly seemed to help.\n\nCullen spooned out more bowls from his pot. A lot of people had followed Riv to Cullen's pot. Bleda, Ellac, Ruga and Yul, Ukran, Jost, Ert, Fia and Sorch. All of them were sitting, eating and drinking, all of them lost in their exhaustion and thoughts.\n\nFootsteps and Ethlinn appeared out of the gloom, Balur One-Eye at her shoulder. She looked around the campfire, saw Riv and came to put a hand on Riv's shoulder, squeezed it, then strode to Ukran and crouched beside him.\n\n\"Welcome, Ukran of the Kurgan,\" Ethlinn said. Balur stood over them. \"You have travelled far to join us. We are grateful, and I am happy to see more giant kin in this world.\"\n\n\"I haven't come to bend my knee to you, if that's what you're thinking,\" Ukran said gruffly.\n\nEthlinn shrugged. \"There are more important things than the bending of knees,\" she said, though Riv was not so sure that Balur agreed, by the way he was glowering at Ukran. \"The end of the Long War. The Battle of the Banished Lands is upon us.\"\n\nUkran looked at Ethlinn along while. \"It is a battle that cannot be avoided,\" he said. \"I fight now, or when the Kadoshim are knocking on my door in Arcona.\" He grimaced. \"Better to fight now.\""
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"value": "\"Aye, that is wisdom,\" Ethlinn said.\n\n\"It was the little man's idea. I just followed him here.\" Ukran pointed at Bleda, who lifted his bowl in a greeting to Ethlinn.\n\nEthlinn smiled. \"Just followed.\" She laughed. \"Over a hundred leagues. You have made your choice, Ukran of the Kurgan, and it is a brave one.\"\n\n\"Sit, eat with us,\" Cullen said, trying to find bowls big enough for Ethlinn and Balur. He'd already given his other pot to Ukran.\n\n\"I think we will,\" Ethlinn said.\n\nCullen filled her a bowl and gave it to her, though it looked tiny in her hands.\n\n\"Just give me the pot,\" Balur rumbled. He sat down next to Ukran.\n\nMore figures stepped out of the trees. Byrne, with Kill and Queen Nara at her shoulder, and Meical. Byrne looked at Riv and the other survivors of Ripa.\n\n\"Meical has told me of the battle,\" Byrne said. \"Of Asroth and his blackmail. Of his starstone weapons. He also told me that he saw Asroth bleed today. A knife put through his arm by Riv.\"\n\nAll faces turned to stare at Riv. She had not even told Bleda of her fight with Asroth, her heart so raw and wounded from the loss of Aphra. She was experiencing moments where nothing seemed to matter anymore, but they were swiftly followed by bursts of hot rage, images of vengeance all-consuming.\n\n\"Asroth wore a coat of blackmail,\" Riv said, her voice sounding strange in her own ears, flat, emotionless. \"I think it is made from the same substance as the knife. I saw Hadran's spear explode when he stabbed Asroth. A blow that would have skewered a wild boar. My mother's sword shattered when she stabbed his coat of mail.\" Riv paused, felt a tremor in her voice. Breathed deep, then drew the black knife from her belt. \"This is the blade I stabbed him with. It pierced his mail. I think this is a starstone blade,\" she said. \"I took it from Gulla's daughter, Morn.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "\"You slew her?\" Drem and Cullen asked together.\n\n\"No. She fell. Might have died in the fall, but I cannot be sure.\" Drem and Cullen shared a look.\n\nByrne took the blade, studied it, turning it in her hands.\n\n\"It is starstone metal,\" she breathed.\n\n\"The point is, Asroth can bleed,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Balur rumbled, \"and what bleeds can die.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Bleda murmured.\n\n\"That is good, but there is much more to this,\" Byrne said, looking up at all of them, anew fire in her eyes. \"We need this starstone metal. Asroth appears to be wearing or wielding it-a coat of mail, a helm, a gauntlet, black axe, sword and whip. But if this weapon is out there, then perhaps he has gifted starstone weapons to more of his captains. We need it all.\"\n\n\"What for?\" Cullen asked.\n\n\"To change our world, end the war, forever, not just fora generation. So, on the morrow, if any of you come against an enemy wielding or wearing this starstone metal, take it from them. At all costs.\"\n\nNods and grunts amongst them all.\n\n\"You have fought hard, fought for Ripa and the Ben-Elim, given your all, and lost much,\" Byrne said, her eyes resting upon Riv. \"But I would ask you to fight once more. One more day, to change our world. To avenge our fallen. Can you do that?\"\n\nRiv held Byrne's gaze and gave one sharp, curt nod. Avenge our fallen. Yes.\n\n\"Good,\" Byrne said, and gave the black knife back to Riv. \"Riv, Ukran, Bleda, I would talk with you, before we move out.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv nodded and climbed to her feet.\n\nKill stepped forwards, until now a silent shadow at Byrne's shoulder.\n\n\"Who commands the White-Wing survivors?\" Kill asked.\n\nAphra's name formed on Riv's lips, afresh twist of pain in her belly. The other White-Wings were looking atone another-Jost, Ert, Fia and Sorch.\n\n\"Ert is the best of us,\" Fia said, Jost and Sorch nodding.\n\n\"I am an old man, had some luck on the battlefield, that's all,\" Ert said.\n\n\"Luck!\" Jost snorted a laugh. \"I stood next to you, and I'm glad I did. What I saw today wasn't luck.\"\n\nKill looked him up and down. \"I have heard the White-Wings are not bad at the shield wall.\" The twitch of a smile at her lips.\n\nErt smiled back. \"I have heard that said,\" he answered.\n\n\"We will need the shield wall on the morrow, and you would be welcome in our ranks. I have been thinking during the long journey here, how best to face these Revenants.\"\n\n\"With our runed blades in their hearts,\" Cullen snapped.\n\n\"Aye, but if my thinking is right we will still be heavily outnumbered. They are like a flood.\"\n\n\"They are,\" Ert agreed.\n\n\"Well, I have had an idea, and have been drilling my shield wall in it, but I would be glad if the White-Wings would join us and tell me what you think of it?\"\n\n\"I am intrigued,\" Ert said.\n\n\"Good,\" Kill said.\n\nByrne smiled grimly. \"Come, join us, Ert, and together maybe we can workout how to defeat our enemies and take Asroth's head.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Best thing I've heard all day,\" Cullen whispered.\n\nRiv stood with her back to a tree, looking at Byrne, who was sitting upon her mare, before the massed warband. Giants, Ben-Elim, the Sirak, White-Wings, Queen Nara and the warriors of Ardain. And the Order of the Bright Star. Talking crows, bears, wolven-hounds.\n\nSo many of us, all with one thing in common. An enemy that would take everything from us. All that we love. She glanced at Bleda, who was close by, surrounded by his Sirak warriors.\n\nPale moonlight gleamed on the water, reflecting into the forest.\n\n\"The day is finally here,\" Byrne said. \"The Battle of the Banished Lands upon us. Some here have waited two thousand years for it, some a few score. For me, it feels as if I have been waiting all of my life.\" She looked at the faces staring back at her. \"Our enemy are out there, and they would take everything from us. Take this land, take our homes, our families, our loved ones. Our lives. Make no mistake, Asroth wants it all.\"\n\nA silence settled over them.\n\n\"I say no. Not this day, not ever.\"\n\nByrne looked up, along the ranks facing her. \"Take your weapons and face your fear. There is only one hope today. And that hope is you.\" She pointed at a warrior standing before her. \"And you.\" She pointed at another. \"And you.\" She gestured at them all. \"We are all the Banished Lands has left, we are this world's last hope. Today there will be a reckoning. Today will be a time of vengeance.\" She nodded, looked along the rowed ranks, muscles in her face twitching. \"Today will be a time of COURAGE!\""
},
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv felt her blood stir, her weariness washed away.\n\n\"Take your Courage, and let's go fight the devil with it,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"COURAGE!\" the warband roared back."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha woke suddenly.\n\nSomething is wrong. She was sitting in a high-backed chair in Balara's feast-hall, a grey light starting to seep in through the doorway and shuttered windows. Asroth was in a chair beside her, one leg slung over the chair's arm, his chest rising and falling in sleep. All around the hall Kadoshim and their half-breed children slept. It had been a night of great celebration, but Fritha had eaten little and drunk less. She felt surprisingly flat, a dark melancholy settling over her. They had won a great victory. A lifetime of hoping and planning, of blood and toil and labour, always working towards one end.\n\nVictory over the Ben-Elim.\n\nAnd here it was, virtually complete. The Ben-Elim were certainly broken and scattered. Fritha did not know how many had survived yesterday's battle, but it could not be more than a few hundred. White feathers had littered the field.\n\nShe looked at Asroth, asleep in his chair.\n\nHe was magnificent yesterday. A god of war. He slew and slew and slew. And he saved me when I needed him. When the giant's flame had cut me off and left me to face three thousand White-Wings, he crossed the flame, saved me.\n\nBut even that was troubling Fritha.\n\nI never knew he had such power, that he was an Elemental. He commanded the ground to change for him, and it did. Yet there has been no hint or display of that power, until yesterday.\n\nWhy didn't he tell me?\n\nI do not trust him.\n\nShe shook her head.\n\nStop being so maudlin."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She stood and padded quietly from the chamber, knew that sleep was beyond her.\n\nGuards stood at the hall's doors, acolytes and Kadoshim. They dipped their heads as she walked past them. A slither and hiss of scales on stone and Elise emerged from the shadows, joined her.\n\n\"Can't sleep,\" Fritha explained.\n\n\"I sssleep little, now,\" Elise said.\n\nFritha nodded. She looked north, saw a thick bank of black mist filling the street that led into the northern quarter of the fortress.\n\nThat is where Gulla sleeps, surrounded by his Revenants. His two remaining captains were supposed to be stationed north and west of Balara, guarding their flanks. They were in the shadows of the forest, most likely stripping Sarva of its blood-filled inhabitants.\n\nFritha turned south, not wanting to enter Gulla's territory. Elise followed her and they passed along a wide street, its buildings filled with warriors, Aenor's acolytes. The Cheren and Shekam were camped out on the plain, preferring to be close to their horses and draigs.\n\nThey reached the gates, barred and guarded, a brazier burning. Fritha and Elise climbed a stairwell and stood on the battlements. A cold breeze stirred Fritha's pale hair, felt good on her skin. The sun was rising, just a thin line of gold on the horizon. To the south Ripa still burned, a blue glow.\n\nFritha frowned, shook her head.\n\n\"What'sss wrong?\" Elise asked her.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Fritha said. \"It's like something is... missing.\" Then she knew. \"My Ferals.\" Always she could feel her creations, a distant whisper, a caress in her blood. \"They are gone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha looked to the forest, a dark, impenetrable sea, swaying, stirring in the wind. Gulla's Revenants were supposed to be filling the forest's borders, guarding their flank, but Fritha did not trust them, or Gulla, so she had sent her Ferals deeper into the forest, placing them as scouts against any sneaky tricks Byrne might bethinking of.\n\nBut she knew, beyond all doubt, that her Ferals were gone.\n\nHave Gulla's Revenants eaten them?\n\nShe felt a stab of fury at that thought.\n\nThen movement caught her eye, on the plain, between Balara and Ripa.\n\nAt the same time, a sound grew within the forest, maybe half a league south and west. Branches scraping, shaking, and a shrieking, rising in volume.\n\n\"Sound the call to arms,\" Fritha said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There,\" Drem said.\n\nDawn was a hint in the air, the solid mass of night breaking down into degrees of shadow. Drem was peering around a wide tree trunk, Faelan and Ethlinn behind him.\n\nHe was looking at a dell amongst the trees, a dip in the land before the hill that rose to the fortress of Balara. As Drem stared he saw a denser shadow within the dell, tendrils of mist curling sluggishly from it.\n\nEthlinn and Faelan looked where he was pointing. Faelan grunted his agreement.\n\n\"I can't see them,\" Ethlinn said.\n\n\"They are there,\" Faelan said.\n\n\"Good. Let's do this, then,\" Ethlinn said. She turned and strode away, Drem following, Faelan taking to the air. Four hundred paces deeper into the forest Drem saw Friend waiting for him, amongst what looked like a wall of giant bears, all of them harnessed and buckled into coats of mail. The Order's huntsmen were scattered amongst them, Drem spotting Reng. Wolven-hounds padded in the shadows.\n\nEthlinn climbed into her saddle upon a huge brown bear. Alcyon was there, sitting upon Hammer, other giants on foot spread amongst them, including Balur One-Eye and Tain. A murder of crows squawked in the branches above him.\n\n\"Revenants are there,\" Ethlinn said. She lifted along spear from a saddle-cup. \"Remember, only use your runed blades. We need to put these creatures down.\"\n\nBalur One-Eye reached over his back and drew Sig's longsword. He gripped it two-handed, sliced the air with it."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Aid the author by keeping the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 102"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There,\" Drem said.\n\nDawn was a hint in the air, the solid mass of night breaking down into degrees of shadow. Drem was peering around a wide tree trunk, Faelan and Ethlinn behind him.\n\nHe was looking at a dell amongst the trees, a dip in the land before the hill that rose to the fortress of Balara. As Drem stared he saw a denser shadow within the dell, tendrils of mist curling sluggishly from it.\n\nEthlinn and Faelan looked where he was pointing. Faelan grunted his agreement.\n\n\"I can't see them,\" Ethlinn said.\n\n\"They are there,\" Faelan said.\n\n\"Good. Let's do this, then,\" Ethlinn said. She turned and strode away, Drem following, Faelan taking to the air. Four hundred paces deeper into the forest Drem saw Friend waiting for him, amongst what looked like a wall of giant bears, all of them harnessed and buckled into coats of mail. The Order's huntsmen were scattered amongst them, Drem spotting Reng. Wolven-hounds padded in the shadows.\n\nEthlinn climbed into her saddle upon a huge brown bear. Alcyon was there, sitting upon Hammer, other giants on foot spread amongst them, including Balur One-Eye and Tain. A murder of crows squawked in the branches above him.\n\n\"Revenants are there,\" Ethlinn said. She lifted along spear from a saddle-cup. \"Remember, only use your runed blades. We need to put these creatures down.\"\n\nBalur One-Eye reached over his back and drew Sig's longsword. He gripped it two-handed, sliced the air with it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Drem remembered that blade, remembered Sig wielding it."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Abruptly, he found his chest filling with emotion, found it hard to breathe.\n\n\"Today you will be avenged, Sig,\" Balur rumbled, putting the blade to his lips.\n\n\"Yes,\" Drem murmured.\n\nA bear growled; Drem realized it was Hammer.\n\n\"Let's be to it, then,\" Balur said, looking up at Ethlinn.\n\nDrem climbed into his saddle, settled himself, then drew his father's sword. It still didn't feel a natural part of him, but seax and axe were not right for this, he needed a weapon with a longer reach from Friend's saddle.\n\nHe looked around him, saw Fen in his coat of mail.\n\n\"You be careful,\" Drem told him.\n\nEthlinn rode forwards. A hundred giant bears, another hundred or so giants on foot; a hundred and fifty warriors of the Order, all hunters, accompanied by their wolven-hounds, followed. Drem spotted movement in the air above them, saw Faelan and other wings.\n\nDrem rode with Reng, who led the hunters wide, moving on the left flank of the bears. Balur and the giants on foot filtered to the right flank, Ethlinn's line of bear-riders filling the centre.\n\nThey moved through the forest, dawn's grey light all around them now. Birds squawked in trees, startled by their passing. The ground trembled.\n\nThis is not a stealth attack. Those Revenants must know we are here.\n\nTrees thinned around them and Drem saw the dell up ahead, the Revenants' mist clear now.\n\n\"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh,\" Ethlinn called out, as she rode through the forest, lifting her arms. \"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh.\" Other giants added their voices to hers, a deep-booming chant like a war-song as they rumbled closer to the dell."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem heard sounds issuing from the mist, saw it start to seethe and bubble, shapes moving.\n\n\"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh,\" Ethlinn and her giants continued to chant, and Drem felt a wind pickup from behind him, swirling through the trees and rushing past him, growing in power and velocity. Drem saw the moment it collided with the mist, a swelling in the air as the mist resisted, making his ears pop, then the mist was tearing and shredding, evaporating, revealing a horde of Revenants within, pale-faced, long-taloned, mouths gaping and razored teeth champing. They were running towards Ethlinn and the line of bears.\n\nI hate Revenants.\n\nEthlinn levelled her spear and her bear broke into a loping charge.\n\nBears and Revenants crashed together in a bone-splintering impact, Revenants hurled into the air, trampled, skewered and sliced by rune-marked weapons. It seemed to Drem that a wall of blue fire erupted as the first ranks of the Revenants were decimated.\n\nThe bears ploughed on, Revenants screaming their death-rage.\n\nReng led Drem and the hunters in a looping circle through the trees, cutting back in ahead of Ethlinn's host as they began to slow, the sheer press of Revenants bogging them down. Drem gripped his sword, saw wolven-hounds loping around him, low to the ground as if they were stalking an elk, breaking into a run. Drem shouted a word to Friend and the bear increased his speed, breaking away from Reng and the other hunters, and then he was crashing into the flank of the Revenants, Friend trampling, crushing, rending with his jaws. Drem saw Revenants fall away, chests caved in, half of their face torn away, only for them to jerk back to their feet and throw themselves at Friend. Drem swung his sword, blue flame crackling, and then Reng and his riders were charging into the flank, spears and swords stabbing, and this time Revenants were falling and not getting backup."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Shadows flitted overhead, arrows hissing down into the press of Revenants between Drem and Ethlinn's bear-riders, more bursts and sparks of blue flame, and faraway Drem heard the battle roar of Balur One-Eye and heard the impact as his giants ploughed into the Revenants\" right flank.\n\nDrem slashed and hacked to either side of him, cutting the creatures off Friend. To his side he glimpsed Reng stabbing a spear into a Revenant that was rolling with Fen on the ground, all along the line hunters working with their wolven-hounds.\n\nThey had slain hundreds in the first few heartbeats of their attack, but Drem saw more, maybe thousands.\n\nA Revenant leaped at Friend, its claws raking across the bear's coat of mail, somehow finding a purchase and scrambling up towards Drem. He stabbed his sword down, into the Revenant's mouth, but before his blade touched the Revenant it was abruptly still, staring into the distance. Then it sighed, slumped and slithered down Friend's side, collapsing into a boneless heap on the floor.\n\nAll around Drem the Revenants fell, the echo of battle fading.\n\nDrem looked around, searching for who had slain the Revenants' captain. Then a victory cry drifted down from above, Faelan swooping low. He was brandishing his bow, whooping. Drem cheered, along with three hundred others.\n\n\"A great victory,\" Ethlinn called up to the half-breed Ben-Elim.\n\n\"Aye,\" Balur agreed, striding amongst the Revenant dead. \"Now let's get on and find Byrne. Don't want to be late for the battle of the century.\" He patted his sword and rested it over one shoulder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Silently they moved on, the trees thinning around them, in the distance Balara's hill becoming visible, and the plain beyond it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha climbed onto Wrath's back and buckled her helmet strap under her chin.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" Fritha asked the draig.\n\n\"Humping,\" Wrath growled. \"Shekam draig pretty.\"\n\n\"Well, as long as you've got some strength left for today,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Wrath STRONG!\" the draig roared, lashing his tail.\n\nThe clatter of hooves and Arn was riding into the courtyard, leading Fritha's honour guard. Seventy warriors had survived yesterday's battle. Elise slithered beside them, looking glorious in her mail and helm, around shield on one arm, her black-bladed spear in her fist. The courtyard was heaving with acolytes as Aenor shouted them into rowed order.\n\nAenor looked up at Fritha, scabbed cuts across his face, a bandage around his ankle visible beneath his greaves. He hefted his shield, slung it across his back.\n\n\"Think I'll be off,\" he grunted at her.\n\n\"Kill your enemies, and stay alive,\" Fritha said to him. \"You fought White-Wings yesterday. The Order of the Bright Star will be easy in comparison. They don't know how to form a shield wall.\"\n\nHe gave her a smile.\n\n\"I'll see you after,\" he said, and led over a thousand acolytes out of the courtyard and down the hill.\n\nAsroth stalked into view, his long axe slung over his back. Kadoshim thick as a cloak trailed behind him. Sulak was there.\n\nAsroth was limping, afresh bandage bound around his lower leg where the half-breed Ben-Elim had cut him, and he was rolling and flexing his arm where she had stabbed him with Morn's starstone knife."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth climbed into the saddle of his huge stallion, an acolyte standing at its head, holding the bridle. Asroth took the reins, then looked at Fritha.\n\n\"Being flesh is not all wonderful,\" he said, flexing his bicep where he had been stabbed. \"I am not so keen on this pain.\"\n\nFritha had tended his wounds last night. Cleaned them, packed them with healing herbs, said a word of power over them to speed the healing and then bandaged them with fresh linen.\n\n\"Can you wield your axe?\" she asked him.\n\n\"Aye,\" Asroth rumbled. \"Though it hurts.\"\n\n\"Pain is a badge, an emblem and reminder of what we go through,\" Fritha said. \"Nothing easy is worth having.\"\n\n\"Human wisdom,\" Asroth muttered.\n\n\"The pain will pass,\" Fritha said. \"This victory will last forever.\"\n\n\"Ha, now that is more to my liking.\" Asroth smiled. He looked out through the gates of Balara, his expression changing, draining of all warmth and becoming something cold. A dark malice pulsed from him. He lifted his helm from its saddle hook and lowered it onto his head, shook the mail curtain into place across his neck, then buckled the chinstrap. \"Let's go and take that victory.\"\n\nAsroth rode out through the gates onto the hill, Fritha behind him. A hundred Kadoshim leaped into the sky and flew lazy circles above them, and five hundred acolytes followed them. They marched through the gates, Asroth riding down the curving road that led to the plain. He reined in about a third of the way down the hill."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A good spot to see what is happening,\" Asroth said to Fritha. The Kadoshim dropped to the ground, setting a guard around them. \"We'll attack where we're needed.\"\n\nThe ground spread before Fritha like a map. The blue-flicker of Ripa's burning tower glinted in the distance, but Fritha's eyes were drawn much closer, to the plain before Balara's hill. To the west was the Sarva Forest. Fritha looked at it suspiciously. Her Ferals and one of Gulla's captains were supposed to be lurking in those dark shadows, guardians against any flanking attacks. But Fritha had felt the disappearance of her Ferals and heard strange sounds from the forest, and seen the trees shaking. They were silent now.\n\nShe had told Asroth, but he hadn't seemed particularly concerned.\n\nOn the plain a war-host was crawling across the ground. They were moving slowly, a block of foot-soldiers leading at their centre, somewhere between one and two thousand strong. Fritha could see White-Wings with rectangular shields at the centre, other warriors carrying round shields with the four-pointed star painted upon them. Horses rode on their flanks and spread behind them.\n\nAenor had reached the foot of the hill. His warband marched forwards. Fritha felt a vibration in the ground, shivering up through Wrath, and then from the east the Shekam appeared. Rok led them upon his huge draig, over two hundred draigs scuttling across the ground, taking up a position on Aenor's right flank, between his force and the forest. The drumming of hooves and Jin was leading her Cheren riders onto the field, moving into position on Aenor's left flank."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aenor marched on, the Shekam and Cheren keeping pace with him, all of them inching closer to the Order of the Bright Star. Faint horn blasts echoed up the hill and Aenor's warriors came to a halt, the Shekam and Cheren settling either side of them, like arched wings.\n\nHorns sounded from the Order of the Bright Star as well, and their forces came rippling to a stop.\n\nA stillness layover the plain. The hissing of the wind, horses whinnying, harnesses creaking. Fritha could feel Wrath's deep breaths, his ribs expanding and deflating, and beneath all of it she felt the beating of her heart. A wild elation coursed through her.\n\n\"GULLA!\" Asroth cried, his voice echoing across the hill and plain.\n\nAnother long, protracted silence, Fritha twisting to look back at the fortress. Black vapour curled up over the walls, a sound rising, like the rushing of the wind, and then the mist was bursting through the open gates like vomit, the fortress disgorging its inhabitants in a dark, talon-filled mass. Fritha had a glimpse of Gulla, wreathed in mist, flying above his creatures as they spilt down the hill, an endless torrent curling to the left and right around Asroth, Fritha and their warriors and reforming lower down the slope, like a river swirling around a boulder. Gulla and his last captain, thousands of Revenants under their control. They swept on, passing across an open space between the Shekam and the acolytes, and then coalesced into a solid block across the front of Asroth's war-host.\n\nThey did not pause there, but just carried on towards the Order of the Bright Star."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv stood next to the shield wall on the plain and watched the black wave of Revenants hurtling towards them. Kill stood close to her, the agreed commander of the shield wall foot-troops, with Ert and the White-Wing survivors gathered in the front ranks and heart of the formation.\n\nFurther back Riv saw Fritha and her draig upon a hill, a figure upon a horse that could only be Asroth. She felt the heat of grief and rage swell within her.\n\nAsroth, you will die this day, she swore. With an act of will stopped herself from soaring into the air and flying at him. Keep to the plan. Byrne is right, we can win, we can slay Asroth, but only if we all work together. She sucked in along, unsteady breath, held it a few moments before breathing out, trying to take the edge from her rage.\n\nByrne rode up along one flank of the warband, over a thousand survivors from Ripa at its core, another five hundred warriors of the Order upon each wing, all on foot.\n\nByrne rode out beyond Kill and Riv, a glance at them, then she was facing the wall of black mist as it came speeding towards them. About a score of warriors followed her.\n\nByrne lifted her hands into the air.\n\n\"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh,\" Byrne cried out. \"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh,\" she repeated, and then Kill and the others were crying out the same words.\n\n\"Cumhacht an aeir, scrios an dorchadas seo ón talamh.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A wind rose up, sweeping across the plain, tugging at warrior braids and tunics."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It swirled around Byrne and her group of riders, and then burst away from Byrne, almost a physical thing, like a horse kept too long in a stable. The windswept towards the bank of mist and tore into it, shredding it into tendrils and wisps in a dozen heartbeats, exposing the Revenant horde within. They were charging towards them, amass of sharp teeth and talons. A Kadoshim flew above them.\n\n\"Always better to see who you have to kill,\" Byrne said as she looked back to Riv, Ert and Kill.\n\nThe Revenants were less than a thousand paces away, covering the ground at a terrifying speed.\n\nByrne drew a knife from her belt and pulled it across her palm.\n\n\"LASAIR!\" she cried out, sprinkling blood onto the ground in front of her. Flames crackled into life. The riders about Byrne did the same, a line of fire leaping up. A flick of her reins and Byrne began to canter along the front of the shield wall, continuing to scatter her blood over the ground, repeating her command of'LASAIR!\" More fire bloomed. Her riders broke into two groups, half riding with Byrne, the other half heading in the other direction, creating a wall of flame before the shield wall.\n\n\"WARRIORS!\" Kill cried out, stepping back into the first line.\n\nRiv leaped into the air, beat her wings and rose higher, above the flames. Hovered. The Revenant horde came hurtling on, uncaring of the flames.\n\n\"SHIELD WALL!\" Kill yelled, echoed by Ert, and rows of shields, both rectangular and round, came up and slammed together, a crack of thunder.\n\nThe first Revenants hit the wall of flame, burst through it shrieking, engulfed. They stumbled forwards, collapsed to the ground, but the screams and death did not deter the horde behind them. Hundreds, thousands crashed through the wall of fire, so many that the flames began to thin. Revenants pounded over the dead, began to avoid the stuttering flames, came on charging at the shield wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"WEAPONS!\" Ert bellowed, and Riv heard the hiss of blades leaving scabbards, like the wind through grass.\n\nThe flames were all but trampled out of existence, suffocated by the weight of bodies crashing through them.\n\n\"WARRIORS!\" Kill cried out. \"SHIELDBURG!\"\n\nThe warriors in the front row of the shield wall dropped to their knees, warriors on the flanks doing the same, shields still interlocked, but resting upon the ground, now. The second row, still standing, lifted their shields to lock above the first rows. From the third-row back shields came up to sit horizontally over their heads, like a roof. They formed an impenetrable fortress, sealed on all sides, with small gaps between the shields left for stabbing their rune-marked blades through.\n\nThe Revenants hit them, an unstoppable wave, a bone-jarring collision. The shield wall buckled, but held. The first ranks of the attackers were hurled onwards, skidding across the roof of shields, scrambling, tearing at the wood andiron, trying to find purchase.\n\nThe only gaps had blades slipped through them. Sharp steel stabbed upwards and outwards, and suddenly Revenants were screeching and hissing, blue flame crackling as they were stabbed, injured and slain.\n\nRiv took her bow from her case and reached fora fistful of grey-feathered arrows, began to nock, draw and loose. It was perfect, like having rats in a barrel, the Revenants a swarming, seething, increasingly frenzied mass. Blue sparks of flame burst with every arrow she loosed.\n\nThere were so many of them, though. Many were held in the press against the front row of the shieldburg, but their numbers were so great that Revenants began to seep around the flanks of the shieldburg, surrounding it. Shield rims were grabbed, torn at, warriors dragged out of formation and torn apart."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Horns blared behind Riv and the riders on each flank of the shield wall moved forwards."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Queen Nara led the left flank, five hundred warriors of Ardain, her battlechief Elgin leading the right flank with another five hundred warriors. All of them were armed with runed weapons, spears in their fists.\n\nThey broke from a trot into a canter, riding in at an angle on the Revenants' flanks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha watched the battle unfold with a growing seed of dread in her belly. The wall of flames she had expected, but she had never seen this shield wall manoeuvre performed and it had worked annoyingly well, holding the Revenants in place with what looked like very few casualties. And now mounted warriors were moving on the flanks of the besieged White-Wings, breaking into a canter and charging at the Revenants. Even from her high vantage point Fritha could seethe crackle of blue flame as the riders hit the Revenants, could hear the hissing screams. Fritha huffed her annoyance. Revenants were falling in huge numbers, piling around the tight-packed shields.\n\nDoes every warrior down there carry a rune-marked blade?\n\nAsroth made a growling sound in the back of his throat.\n\n\"Send them all in,\" he said to the acolyte beside him. \"There will be no waiting. Send them all in.\"\n\nThe acolyte lifted a horn to her lips and blew.\n\nOn the plain the Cheren and Shekam began to move, Jin and Rok leading their Clans. The solid block of acolytes in the centre lurched into motion, and behind Fritha she heard the beating of over a thousand pairs of wings.\n\nAsroth looked at Fritha.\n\n\"Fly with me, my bride,\" he said. \"No more waiting, no more strategy,\" he snarled, clenching his fist. \"We will crush our enemy, drive them before us, grind their blood and bones into the ground. Right now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv had almost emptied her quiver of runed arrows, only four or five left. She paused, wanting to hold onto those, in case she saw a Revenant captain, or Gulla himself. The riders of Ardain had held the Revenants back from spilling around the shieldburg's flanks and the creatures were turning upon Nara and Elgin's units now, leaping and tearing at horses, dragging riders from their saddles. But blue flame continued to spark, and Revenants continued to die. The numbers were rapidly becoming more even.\n\nRiv gave a fierce smile. For once a plan was working well. And then she heard the horns. She looked up, saw Fritha upon her draig and Asroth beside her. Warriors and Kadoshim were arrayed about them, around five hundred acolytes on foot, Kadoshim in the air.\n\nThe Cheren, who had been deployed upon the plain directly ahead of Riv, moved forwards. Two thousand horse, at least, heading for Elgin's riders. And on the far flank the Shekam lurched into motion on their draigs, lumbering towards Nara's warriors.\n\nMore movement drew her eye, upon the hill, behind Asroth and Fritha.\n\nWinged warriors rose into the air from within Balara's walls, Kadoshim and their half-breed offspring. The sky was thick with them, more than a thousand, far more than there were Ben-Elim left in a condition able to fly. They swept over Balara's walls and sped down the hill, low to the ground, over the battlefield."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin lifted her bow from her case, reaching for arrows.\n\nHer head hurt, a throbbing pain with each pulse of her heart, waves of nausea rippling through her belly. Her leg ached, too, had been so stiff and swollen when she awoke before dawn that fora moment she had thought she would not be able to walk. She did not care. Nothing except death would stop her fighting. Yesterday's defeat in the hills had rocked and enraged her. Today she would kill her enemies and prove to her warband that she deserved the king's band.\n\nGerel and Tark were either side of her, her captains and warriors spreading behind her like the wings of the hawk that snapped on their banners.\n\nThe enemy were close, five or six hundred paces away. She saw a banner of a black snarling wolf upon a grey field.\n\nJin nocked her first arrow, saw a grey-bearded warrior, straight-backed, a fine coat of mail and a sword in his fist.\n\nHe is leading them.\n\nA word to her mount and she moved into a fast canter. Two hundred paces away. Close enough to loose, if her target was leather and flesh, but not if she wanted her arrows to pierce mail.\n\nSome amongst her enemy were looking now, had seen this new threat. The old grey-beard was shouting orders, a horn blowing, warriors peeling away, lining up to face the Cheren charge, thirty, forty, fifty warriors, a hundred, more joining them. They spurred their horses on, spears levelling. The grey-beard led them.\n\nJin grinned. A foe with courage. She liked that.\n\nShe bent low over her saddle, drew and loosed, once, twice, three times, saw her first arrow land, the old man sway in his saddle, the second and third arrows punching into his chest. His spear dropped from his hand and he toppled over the back of his saddle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A storm of arrows flew from behind Jin, slamming into the riders charging at them, the Cheren yipping and shouting as they charged."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda felt the tremor in the ground as the Shekam's draigs powered across the plain towards Queen Nara and her warriors. He looked at his warband behind him, saw Yul and Ruga, Ellac, Saran, Oktai, so many more who had followed him. He felt proud of what they had accomplished. He knew the Cheren were on the field, had seen them on the opposite flank before the Revenants had flooded the field between them. But he also knew that they no longer numbered the four or five thousand warriors who had originally given chase to him, right back at the Sirak Heartland.\n\nHe was itching to kill more of them, memories of the Cheren's betrayal that day on Forn's eastern road flooding his mind.\n\nThe Cheren will have to wait for later. First we must protect our friends, and stay alive.\n\n\"Their armour is thick,\" he cried out, \"and the draig's skin is like mail. You must be close for our arrows to pierce them. But they are slow, where we are fast, and our arrows are accurate. Aim for their eyes.\"\n\nA flick of his reins. \"Carry me once more, my faithful friend,\" Bleda whispered, patting Dilis'neck. She whinnied at him and broke into a canter. He reached for his bow, then fora fistful of arrows. The Sirak cantered behind him, spreading wide like wings, their hooves a rumbling thunder, heading at an angle to hit the Shekam before they could plough into Nara's warband. That would mean destruction for his allies.\n\nMovement in the sky drew Bleda's eye and he saw a cloud of Kadoshim and their half-breed offspring winging across the battlefield, moving fast and low. Hundreds of them, more, over a thousand. He saw them pass over the acolyte foot-soldiers on the plain, who were marching forwards in loose order. The Kadoshim split apart, breaking into two groups, veering left and right of the shieldburg and Revenants, swooping low to stab and slash at Ardain's riders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bleda raised a hand, pointed at the Kadoshim flying over Queen Nara's warriors and changed his course."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He rode towards them, sweeping in close to Nara, saw her stabbing a Revenant with her spear, Kadoshim above her hovering, jabbing, looping and slashing with swords and spears. Queen Nara's riders were screaming and falling.\n\nBleda raised his bow and loosed, saw his arrow slam into a Kadoshim's side, punching through mail and leather into flesh. It fell screeching from the sky. Behind him his Sirak followed him in a looping curve towards Nara's warband, sending volley after volley into the sky. Kadoshim and half-breeds were falling, crashing to the ground, studded with arrows.\n\nMany of the Kadoshim saw their kin falling about them and wheeled higher, screeching, moving out of range, giving Queen Nara and her warriors a reprieve. She saw Bleda and dipped her head in thanks. He pointed to the Shekam, who were thundering across the plain towards them. Nara's eyes widened as she stared at the giants and draigs, a ripple of fear, then she was shouting orders, a horn blowing, and her riders were peeling away from the Revenants, forming a loose line a few columns deep and riding at the Shekam. Bleda respected that.\n\nBleda was ahead of them, riding hard. He swerved away then veered back in, his warband following him like a flock of birds wheeling in the sky. He charged at the Shekam, was close enough to see scales on the draigs' flat muzzles, tattoos of thorn and vine curling up arms and disappearing beneath leather and fish-scale armour.\n\nFifty paces, forty, twenty, the world a thundering storm around him, the very earth seemed to be shaking."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He leaned low in his saddle and chose a giant, a woman, one of their long-bladed spears in her hands. She saw him, her draig shifting to meet him. He nocked and loosed, nocked and loosed, saw his first arrow skitter off the giant's lamellar coat, the second pierce her thigh, the third punch through her plate coat into her shoulder. Then her spear was swinging at him and he was throwing himself to the side, gripping the saddle pommel with one hand, guiding Dilis wide. The spear hissed through the air above him and he thundered past the giant, dragging himself upright, snatching at arrows and putting all three into the next draig as he sped past it.\n\nBehind him he heard a crunching impact and the screaming of horses. He saw his Sirak were amongst the Shekam, swerving between draigs, arrows hissing through the air like hornets. Giants were falling, draigs screaming, some stumbling and collapsing, their hides pin-cushioned, some with arrows buried deep in their eye-sockets, but Sirak were falling, too, draigs lashing outwith claws, lacerating flesh, huge jaws snapping, tearing at horses, snatching riders from their saddles. Bleda snarled and urged his horseback into the blood and death."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Wrath flew over the plain, Fritha watching the battle unfold. Asroth flew beside her, a hundred Kadoshim surrounding them. On the ground below, Arn led Fritha's honour guard down the hill, Elise slithering along beside them. Only the five hundred acolytes remained on the hill, Asroth's honour guard. He had ordered them to hold their position.\n\nFritha and Asroth passed over Aenor's acolytes, over a thousand warriors marching in loose order.\n\nThe shieldburg was still holding, a tide of Revenants swarming over it like ants. On the flanks a swirling battle raged between Jin's Cheren, who were slaughtering mounted warriors, and the Shekam upon their draigs carving into the riders who had attacked the Revenants\" flank. She glimpsed other riders, like the Cheren, loosing arrows at draigs, so they had to be the Sirak.\n\nThat must be Bleda the Cunning, she thought, remembering how one of Jin's captains had spoken of Bleda during the feast last night.\n\nAnd above all of this the Kadoshim and their offspring swirled above the battle, swooping and stabbing. Beyond the shieldburg there was a large block of riders, as yet not committed to the battle. They were moving, now, splitting into two groups. That concerned Fritha, as Asroth had thrown all of their host into this battle, with only the acolytes on the hill in reserve, and they were too faraway to achieve anything. There was no time to worry, though, the battle was rushing towards them.\n\n\"Me first,\" Asroth said, as he twisted through the air, speeding towards the shieldburg."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The din of battle eddied up to Fritha on a wind from the south, but over it all she heard Asroth's voice, deep and sonorous.\n\n\"Talamh, croith, ceangail mo namhaid,\" he cried, descending towards the battlefield.\n\nThe shieldburg still stood, shields battered and torn, but solid, and dead Revenants ringed it like sand piled by the sea.\n\nAsroth alighted on the ground, strode on a few steps, his wings folding behind him.\n\n\"Talamh, croith, ceangail mo namhaid,\" he cried out again, raising his palms.\n\nThe ground between Asroth and the shieldburg rippled, as if a huge serpent were passing beneath it. There was a tremor in the shields, gaps opening as warriors stumbled and swayed. Asroth's hundred Kadoshim landed behind him, curled around him, swords and spears raised.\n\n\"TALAMH, CROITH, CEANGAIL MO NAMHAID!\" Asroth bellowed, at the same time shrugging his long axe from his back.\n\nThe ground shuddered, soil exploding beneath the shieldburg. Warriors were thrown in all directions, fell stumbling into the open. Asroth strode forwards, his axe swinging in a great looping arc, and shields were splintered, bodies broken.\n\nPart of the shieldburg collapsed, a large area of the ground before Asroth shifting like quicksand, warriors sinking into it, trying to pull free, Asroth's axe chopping into them, cutting them down like wheat at harvest. Asroth pushed into the shieldburg, the rippling shifting away from him, ground solidifying beneath his feet as he trod upon it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Orders were bellowed as White-Wings tried to reform into better shape, others running at him, weapons raised. Kadoshim swept in, guarding Asroth's flanks, stabbing and cutting, warriors falling, some defending against the Kadoshim, fighting back as Asroth carved ever deeper, like a wedge hammered into the crack of a stone.\n\nAnd then Fritha was muttering to Wrath, the draig's wings shifting, tilting, banking to the left, hurtling straight towards the eastern flank of the shieldburg, where warriors with round shields were reorganizing into a shield wall.\n\n\"Smash them,\" Fritha said to Wrath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem's hand moved absently to the pulse at his throat.\n\nHe had never seen such a scene before. The battles in the Desolation and at Dun Seren were as nothing compared to this. To the north there was amass of acolyte warriors marching at speed towards the battle. In front of him giants upon draigs were thundering across the plain, Drem glimpsing Bleda's Sirak and warriors of Ardain flitting amongst them, behind them a shield wall made of White-Wings and warriors of the Order. In the skies Kadoshim and their offspring flew, swooping and shrieking. The noise was deafening-shouting, screaming, roaring, the clash of steel-all of it blending into a colossal, vocal pandemonium. He resisted the urge to put his hands over his ears.\n\nBeyond the draigs and riders something was happening to the shield wall. It was rippling and swaying, warriors falling. A figure in dark mail and black wings was wielding along axe in great, looping circles.\n\n\"Asroth,\" Ethlinn growled.\n\nHe was taller than all those around him. White-Wings ran at him and were hacked down with his axe. He seemed unstoppable.\n\nAnd then Drem saw something in the sky, low, hurtling towards the shield wall.\n\nA draig with wings. And Fritha was upon its back.\n\nShe killed my da. And she killed Sig.\n\nThe anxiety in his veins shifted, something both hot and cold running through them. His fingers twitched for his seax.\n\nThe draig smashed into the shield wall, a concussive explosion.\n\n\"Ach, we're late,\" Balur One-Eye spat. \"Best begetting in there before it's allover. Asroth needs putting down, and his pet draig.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes,\" Drem growled, a hot anger melting his fear.\n\n\"We will have to carve away to him through the Shekam and their draigs,\" Ethlinn said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Ukran grinned, as if he were looking forward to it. He hefted a double-bladed battle-axe.\n\nDrem had thought the Shekam and their draigs would be unstoppable; he remembered full well his encounter with one draig in the Bonefells. Even Hammer, a giant bear, had been hard-pressed. But Bleda had spoken to them all during the night, assured them they could be beaten, with the right tactics: his Sirak archers and a flanking attack from Ethlinn and her bear-riders. The draigs outnumbered them, but the bears were all wearing coats of mail, which helped to balance the odds. Drem had believed Bleda and trusted his plan. Now, though, seeing the draigs and giants...\n\nBleda and his Sirak are slowing them, so perhaps he was right. But he is alone, outnumbered, he needs us, now.\n\n\"This is as far as you go,\" Tain said to Craf, who was perched upon his shoulder. Other crows flew in a slow spiral high above the crow and crow master.\n\n\"Craf brave, Craf fight,\" the crow squawked.\n\n\"I know you're brave,\" Tain said gently, \"but we need your eyes and your wits more than your beak and talons. Here,\" Tain said, offering his wrist to Craf. The crow jumped onto it and Tain lifted his arm up into the boughs of a tree that loomed over them.\n\n\"Craf watch, think, help,\" the crow said, and then hopped onto a branch. \"Tain be careful, or Craf be sad.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Raina shrugged her round shield from her shoulder and took her single-handed hammer from her belt."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rolled her wrist. All along the line warriors checked weapons, adjusted grips. Drem pulled on the buckle of his iron helm, making sure it was tight. He took his round shield from its saddle hook and checked the grip, then tugged his boiled leather gloves on and drew his sword.\n\n\"On me,\" Ethlinn said, and without another word she was riding out from the trees onto the plain, her long spear in her fist. Balur strode at her side.\n\nDrem looked down at Reng, who led the Order's huntsmen.\n\n\"I'll swing wide and hit those big bastards from the other flank,\" Reng said. \"You're welcome to join us, but probably best if your white-furred friend charges with the other bears.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Drem nodded.\n\nReng gave him a grim smile. \"I'll meet you in the middle,\" he said, and then he was riding off, the Order's hunters following him, a pack of wolven-hounds wrapped in mail loping across the plain.\n\nDrem saw the Shekam crashing into the bulk of Queen Nara's warriors, heard the screams of horses.\n\n\"We've come along way from the snow and ice of the Bonefells,\" Drem said, leaning forwards and patting Friend's neck. He blew out along breath and then Friend was lumbering out from the trees, Fen loping at their side, the three of them quickly catching up with Ethlinn and her giants. Friend made for Hammer and pushed in between her and another bear. Her head swung towards Friend and she rumbled a greeting. Alcyon looked over at Drem and gave him a nod.\n\n\"This is it, lad,\" Alcyon said. \"All the grief they've given us and this world. Time to give them some back.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, it is,\" Drem said, his eyes searching for Fritha upon her draig.\n\nAnd then Ethlinn was charging, all of them following.\n\nDrem shifted in his saddle, felt his blood pounding like a drum in his head, had a flash of his father's face, blood on his lips, heard his father's voice in his head.\n\nSometimes the only answer is blood and steel.\n\nThe gap between bears and draigs closed. Sirak warriors were swerving and wheeling around the Shekam like a swarm of angry bees, Shekam giants roaring and swinging their huge, long-bladed spears. Drem saw a Sirak decapitated, a horse's side opened up from shoulder to flank, another horse hurled from its feet by a draig's lashing tail. But giants and draigs were falling, too, studded with a multitude of arrows. Some of the Shekam were looking their way now, roaring out warnings to their kin, draigs turning. It was too late, Ethlinn's line of bears was an unstoppable avalanche of meat and bone, leather and steel. Balur bellowed a battle-cry, Sig's sword raised high, two-handed over his head.\n\nSirak riders were bolting away.\n\nThen the bears crashed into the Shekam.\n\nFriend ploughed into the side of a draig, the giant upon its back thrown from his saddle and disappearing in the crush. The impact threw Drem forwards in his saddle. The draig was shoved a score of paces by Friend, claws scrabbling in the dirt for purchase, and then it was coming back at them. Friend lashed outwith his claws, opened red lines down the draig's shoulder and neck. The creature roared, head whipping around, jaws biting into Friend's shoulder and chest. The mail protected Friend from the worst of it, but the draig's canines tore through iron links, sinking into the flesh beneath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Friend's paw slapped the draig's head, raking a bloody trail down the beast's muzzle."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem leaned and chopped with his father's sword, saw another deep gash open in the draig's shoulder. The animal released its grip on Friend and stumbled away.\n\nThe draig's rider appeared, limping, dragging himself back into the saddle. He drew a curved, thick-bladed tulwar that was strapped to the draig's harness.\n\n\"On,\" Drem urged Friend. Blood pulsed from the puncture wounds in Friend's torn mail.\n\nThe giant and draig rushed at them, the draig's jaws wide, the giant raising his sword.\n\nThey came together in a crash of muscle, fur and scales, teeth clashing as draig and bear tore at each other. The giant swung his curved sword at Drem, who deflected it on his shield, the blow shivering through his arm. Drem steered the blow wide and lunged with his sword. It stabbed into the giant's belly, scraped along mail plates, slipped between two and sliced through leather. The giant yelled as he swung his sword again, Drem throwing himself backwards as the sword hissed past his face.\n\nDrem and the giant were both shaken in their saddles as bear and draig slammed against each other, biting and tearing.\n\nThere was a flash of iron and grey fur and Fen was leaping onto the back of the draig and hurling himself at the giant. Jaws clamped on the giant's shoulder and neck, a savage shake of Fen's head and the giant was screaming, blood erupting. Drem stabbed his sword into the giant's throat and he was toppling from his saddle, Fen falling with him, still snarling and tearing.\n\nFriend's muzzle and fur were soaked red, claw marks raking the bear's neck, but the draig was in worse condition. The two beasts were close in size, but Friend's coat of mail had turned the balance and the draig staggered back, a tremor in its legs, its head and neck lacerated. Friend must have bitten deep, because a gout of arterial blood spurted from the draig. It swayed, then its legs gave out and it crashed to the ground, tail lashing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem cuffed sweat from his eyes, his left arm throbbing from the giant's sword-blows upon his shield. Amidst the ever-moving chaos and madness he glimpsed Balur One-Eye, covered in blood, swinging Sig's longsword around his head, chopping into a draig's neck, half-severing it. Ethlinn was upon her bear, swirling her spear two-handed, a clatter of wood and steel as she duelled with a Shekam giant upon a draig. Sirak riders were swerving and loosing arrows. Raina was battered to her knees, holding her shield up as a giant chopped at her, Alcyon bellowing and hacking with his twin axes, trying to reach her. Reng's charge of horse crashed into the Shekam's flank, sixty wolven-hounds running before them, leaping up at draigs and giants in a snarling, snapping wave. Close by, Tain was trading blows with a Shekam giant, Tain stumbling backwards. A squawking, deafening noise above-Drem glanced up to see a murder of huge black crows spinning downwards, swirling about the giant attacking Tain, pecking, raking him with their talons. The giant bellowed, rivulets of blood running down his face. He slashed with his long spear, birds squawking, an explosion of black feathers, a handful of crows falling dead, others continuing their barrage upon him.\n\nHe saw Queen Nara, yelling, wielding her sword, rallying her battered warriors. A Shekam giant rode at her, swung his spear, Nara swaying, parrying, but the spear's angle changed, the blade skimming over her sword, chopping into Nara's neck. There was a fountain of blood as she toppled from her saddle. Beside her Madoc, Nara's first-sword, screamed, his horse pressed tight in a melee. In one fluid movement he lifted his feet from his stirrups and stood upon his saddle, dropped his shield and drew a knife from his belt, then leaped at the giant who had slain Nara. He crashed into the Shekam, sword and knife swinging and stabbing, the giant crying out. They tumbled to the ground together."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem hefted his shield, gritted his teeth and looked fora way through to Fritha and her draig. He couldn't see her through the tumult of battle, his vision filled with giants and draigs.\n\nI'll have to carve away to her, he thought, and looked about for someone else to kill. Friend charged at another draig."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv hovered over the shieldburg, watching warriors hurled through the air by the winged draig. She looked at Byrne, who sat upon a horse with a thousand warriors of the Bright Star mounted behind her.\n\n\"Now.\" Byrne nodded, raised her fist. A horn blew.\n\nBen-Elim lifted into the air, wings beating, a few hundred of them rising from behind Byrne's riders.\n\nRiv's wings beat, taking her higher.\n\n\"Riv,\" a voice called up to her. Meical, sitting upon a white stallion beside Byrne, one of his wing-arches tightly bandaged. Cullen was upon a horse next to him, the young warrior looking as if he was going to explode with frustration.\n\n\"Wait for us. We kill Asroth together,\" Meical said to her.\n\nShe looked at him but said nothing, just drew her short-sword and black dagger, a trail of smoke curling around its blade. She flew higher, joining the flight of Ben-Elim, and saw Kol, still bandaged, his face a lattice of scabbed cuts. He held a spear in his fist, a score of his loyal supporters about him. All Riv could think about washer mother, and her killer, Asroth, down in the shield wall with a winged draig beside him. Behind her she heard horns blowing, Byrne's riders moving.\n\nThe shield wall was splintering. Asroth was carving a wedge deep into it, his Kadoshim protecting his flanks. Orders and horns were ringing out, the front rows that had already been split apart were trying to form new, smaller shield walls.\n\nThey need to do it quickly, Riv thought, seeing a wall of acolytes moving rapidly across the field towards them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The din of battle rolled across the field in waves. Bears and draigs were fighting in a frenzied maul, Sirak riders swirling through the combat like mist. Riv's eyes searched for Bleda, but there was no chance of recognizing him, the fight too fluid and fast. There was no telling who was winning.\n\nAnd then she had no more time to think, the Kadoshim suddenly thick in the air about her. She swayed out of the way of a spear-thrust, the blade stabbing past her face; she beat her wings to sweep inside its range, and pushed both of her blades into the Kadoshim's body. It plummeted to the ground. Riv flew on, weaving amongst the Kadoshim and their offspring. A half-breed slammed into her, the two of them locked, spinning, the half-breed headbutting Riv in the face. She heard her nose crunch, breaking for the second time in two days, tasted blood in her throat, shook her head and headbutted the half-breed back. They separated, a clash of steel as Riv parried a sword-blow, slashed with her knife, leaving a red line along the half-breed's forearm.\n\nThen an arrow sprouted from the half-breed's throat, a rush of blood and he gurgled, dropped from the sky. As Riv looked around, a dozen more Kadoshim fell from the sky, all skewered with arrows.\n\nFaelan swooped in, an arrow nocked, his kin swirling in the sky behind him, fifty of them circling the Kadoshim and loosing their arrows.\n\n\"Well met, sister,\" Faelan said to Riv. She grinned at him and nodded her thanks. Faelan flew on, leading his kin around the edges of the conflict, picking off Kadoshim and half-breeds. The aerial combat was fragmenting now, spreading wide over the field as Ben-Elim and Kadoshim whirled and dived and looped around each other."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Riv used this brief reprieve to look at the battlefield."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin and her Cheren had decimated the warriors of Ardain on this flank and she was now leading her Clan in sweeping attacks on the shield wall.\n\nAsroth had carved deep into the shield wall's centre, killing all that appeared before him with his fell axe, Kadoshim guarding his flanks as knots of White-Wings and warriors of the Order hurled themselves at the Kadoshim's king.\n\nThey need to retreat and regroup, attack him properly.\n\nOn the plain a host of Revenants stood, still and silent as death. Many of them had fallen, but there were still so many remaining. Too many. A shiver passed through them and, as one, they surged forwards, rushing into the gap Asroth had forged and hurling themselves at White-Wings and warriors of the Order. Riv thought she saw Kill and Ert with a score of warriors about them, shouting, pulling more to them. They held against the Revenants, were slowly retreating.\n\nFurther along Fritha sat upon her draig, amidst a pile of the dead, warriors trampled, crushed, torn to pieces. The shield wall here was utterly destroyed, a few hundred pulled back into anew wall. All about the field White-Wings and warriors of the Order were reforming into smaller walls, a hundred warriors here, forty or fifty there.\n\nA wide line of acolytes marched at these smaller defences, their lines tightening.\n\nThe drum of hooves, and Byrne, sword drawn, led five hundred riders galloping around the back of the splintered shieldburg.\n\n\"TRUTH AND COURAGE!\" Byrne and her warband yelled, the war-cry rippling over the battlefield.\n\n\"TRUTH AND COURAGE!\" rang out from the western flank of the field, where Cullen was leading the rest of Byrne's mounted warriors."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv was about to drop into a dive and try to help Kill and Ert when her eye was drawn to two figures on the plain. The acolytes had parted for them, swept around them. One Kadoshim, one Revenant. They were standing side by side.\n\nIs that...?\n\nRiv sheathed her sword and threaded the black knife into her belt, then reached for her bow.\n\nGulla..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin reined in, Gerel beside her, a permanent presence. The enemy she had been sent to attack were all dead, hundreds of riders strewn across the ground. She had set her warband to picking the shield wall apart, but now that had ruptured into smaller parts and had been enveloped by the acolyte shield wall. Jin was looking fora new foe, peering to the west, searching for Bleda. Rok with his Shekam upon draigs seemed to be causing havoc, and the Sirak were there.\n\nThat is where I need to be.\n\n\"TRUTH AND COURAGE!\"\n\nJin looked to the south, saw amass of riders galloping straight at her warriors.\n\nThe Order of the Bright Star.\n\n\"Gerel, form upon me,\" Jin said.\n\nGerel put his horn to his lips and blew, Cheren riders peeling away and joining Jin. Her horse leaped into a gallop and Jin leaned forwards, her bowstring thrumming at the riders galloping towards her, a swarm of arrows flying from the bows of her warriors straight at the Order of the Bright Star. Jin saw a warrior at their head, red hair streaming from a helm. He seemed to be their leader.\n\nShe aimed at him, loosed.\n\nHis shield came up, covering his body, warriors behind him doing the same, the hail-hammer of arrows punching into wood. A few riders screamed, swayed in their saddles, fell, but not nearly enough, and not their red-haired leader. And then it was too late for another volley as the two warbands came crashing together, horseflesh colliding, weaving in amongst each other. Jin slashed at the red-haired warrior, but he turned her blade, struck with his own sword. She swayed, the sword raking her side, and then their momentum carried them apart. The Order's warriors used their shields well, slashed and hacked with their swords and spears, and Jin heard Cheren warriors crying out, falling. Jin swung her sword, a shield coming up to block her blade, a sword stabbing at her. Ina few moments she knew her Cheren were outmatched in this close sword-work. A touch of her heels and her mount was dancing away, taking her out of range. A collision of horses and a grunt behind her, Gerel trading blows with a warrior, the two of them looking well-matched."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gerel swayed in his saddle, a sword-tip hissing past him, and he lunged forwards, stabbed into his opponent's throat.\n\nAll around her Jin saw Cheren falling.\n\n\"We need to get out of here, find some space for bow work,\" she called to Gerel.\n\nA shrieking from above and Jin looked up to see Kadoshim and half-breeds swooping down on the new riders, spears and swords stabbing. Warriors of the Bright Star fell.\n\n\"Now,\" Jin said, and she was riding through the throng, the Order's warriors distracted, defending against the foe from above. Gerel followed, blowing his horn, and her warriors began to disengage, riding out from the throng into open ground.\n\nWhen they were clear Jin looked back, saw the warriors of the Bright Star focused entirely on the Kadoshim who were swooping down at them. Many in the Order were swirling lead-weighted nets over their heads, hurling them into the sky, the nets wrapping around Kadoshim, the weights pulling tight around wings. Kadoshim fell from the sky.\n\nOver a thousand of her warriors were around Jin now, others still trying to disentangle themselves from the melee.\n\nJin sheathed her sword.\n\n\"It is time,\" Jin said, looking across the open plain to the Sirak on the western flank. \"Time for our vengeance. The Sirak are there, and there are no more tricks that will save them. DEATH TO OUR ENEMIES!\" she cried, took her bow from its case and began to ride out across the open plain, away from the Order's riders.\n\nBattle raged on her left. She saw Fritha upon her draig, smashing into a shield wall, her snake-woman and her honour guard about her. Then Jin was past them, riding on, Asroth standing tall like an island in the centre of the field, laughing as he killed with his black axe. Revenants and Kadoshim all around him were battling with more of the fragmented shield walls. Everywhere she looked she saw Asroth's warriors prevailing, the enemy hard-pressed, failing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ahead and to her right Jin saw two figures standing amongst the dead. Gulla and his last Revenant captain. They were both staring at the Revenants swarming allover shield walls, looks of earnest concentration on their faces.\n\nAre they guiding their Revenants?\n\nThe hiss of an arrow from above. It punched into Gulla's foot, a spurt of blue flame. Another arrow close behind, this one piercing the Revenant captain, into the meat between neck and shoulder, angled inwards. A crackle of blue flame and the Revenant dropped to one knee, hands wrapped around the arrow shaft. It was screaming, a hissing shriek.\n\nAnother arrow slammed into the ground, and then one more was crunching into the Revenant's skull, blue flame, and the captain dropped like a stone, dead before it hit the ground.\n\nAll across the field to Jin's left Revenants collapsed, hundreds of them. A cry rang out from the beleaguered shield walls.\n\nGulla looked at his dead captain, then up at the sky. An arrow hissed out of the blue, slammed into his shoulder. He shrieked. Spread his wings, took to the sky, speeding across the plain, back towards Balara.\n\nCoward, Jin sneered.\n\nShe looked up to the sky, searching for Gulla's assailant.\n\nAnd then she saw her.\n\nRiv, hovering in the sky, wings beating slowly, a bow in her fist.\n\nThe half-breed bitch. No wonder it took her five arrows to kill one Revenant.\n\nWithout even thinking, Jin had a fistful of arrows and was launching them all skywards. She smiled when her first arrow punched into Riv's thigh. The second one skittered off her mail, Riv's wings beating, turning, and the third one slammed into the half-breed's back. Jin heard the scream and saw Riv faltering in the sky a moment, then she began to fall, a lurching, stuttered spiral that sent her crashing into the battle on Jin's left."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin smiled.\n\nThe half-breed whore is down. Just the betrayer to go now. Bleda, I am coming for you."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda swerved around a draig and loosed an arrow into the giant's face, was already past them before the giant began to topple. He twisted in his saddle and loosed two more arrows into the draig, heard it roar, its tail lashing. Then he was reaching for more arrows, ducking as a Shekam giant swung its long spear at him, air hissing past Bleda's throat, and he was riding away.\n\nHe broke into open ground, reined in, trying to make sense of what was happening. The field was pandemonium, the battle with the Shekam spreading wide, up to the first trees of the forest. Ruga was close by, loosing a trio of arrows into a draig, planting one of her shafts into its eye. The beast stumbled on a few paces and then collapsed.\n\nRuga saw him and cantered towards him. She was bloodied, a gash across her cheek and a bloodstain on her breeches, but she was smiling.\n\n\"We are winning,\" she said. \"These giants might be strong, but they are too slow.\"\n\nBleda smiled back at her.\n\nAn arrow punched into Ruga's throat, the iron head bursting out of her flesh, a spurt of blood. She dropped her bow, hands coming up to her neck, and opened her mouth, tried to speak. Blood bubbled out of her mouth.\n\nAnother arrow slammed into her side and she fell from her saddle.\n\nBleda yelled, shock and horror washing through him. Beyond her Bleda saw riders in blue deels galloping towards him, bows levelled. Jin was leading them. He jerked in his saddle as arrows flew past him. Grabbing his own arrows, he urged Dilis into movement and she leaped away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"SIRAK, TOME!\" Bleda cried out. Yul put a horn to his lips and blew. Ellac and a score of Sirak rallied to him. Bleda pointed to the Cheren and broke into a gallop. He heard Sirak ululations behind him, the drum of hooves.\n\nRuga's face hovered in his mind. His friend. She had been smiling. Blood in her mouth.\n\nBleda felt his rage boiling and he snarled, then breathed deep, trying to control his anger, finding the calm. Anger made your muscles tremble and jitter, and that was no good fora steady aim.\n\nAnother arrow hissed by. He guided his horse as his mother and brother had taught him, remembered what they had said about the duel of arrows, where two riders charged one another with bows in their fists. Swerve left and right, no pattern that your enemy can read, smooth movement, stay low in your saddle, almost hugging your horse's neck, give your enemy the smallest target.\n\nHe nocked, drew and loosed, nocked, drew and loosed, saw Jin sway in her saddle, his arrows piercing a rider behind her, who toppled over the back of his saddle. Behind Bleda the thrum of bowstrings as Sirak arrows were loosed. Cheren fell. More arrows coming back at them, Bleda swerving, leaning left and right, loosing more arrows. The pounding of hooves behind him was louder, more Sirak joining his charge. He heard a scream close behind him. One more volley of arrows leaping from his bow and then he was amongst the Cheren, Jin hurtling past him, close enough to touch, her lips pulled back in a rictus snarl. Bleda reached over his shoulder and drew his sword, slashed left and right, felt his blade bite, blood arcing through the air, and then he was through the Cheren warband, galloping out onto the open plain, sheathing his sword and dragging on his reins, turning, reaching for more arrows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hundreds of Sirak were emerging from the Cheren warband, Yul first, Ellac close behind. His spear was bloodied to the shaft, the round shield strapped to his arm bristling with arrows.\n\nHe charged a Cheren warband without a bow. Bleda felt a swell of pride and love for the old warrior, followed by worry.\n\nTogether they turned and faced the Cheren, who were trying to turn fora second pass. They had ridden into the swirl of combat, though-many of them getting caught up in the conflict. Bleda saw Raina hammer a Cheren rider across the chest, hurling him from his saddle. Others were set upon by Sirak warriors still caught up within the Shekam chaos.\n\nBleda glimpsed Jin ducking a sword-swing from a Sirak warrior, saw another Cheren chop into the Sirak's neck with a sword.\n\nGerel. Jin's oathsworn man.\n\nSome of the Cheren broke free of the melee and began to ride back at Bleda. He spurred his horse on, nocked and loosed, heard a Cheren scream. Yul, Ellac and the other Sirak behind him broke into a gallop.\n\nThe two warbands charged at each other, wind whipping the horsehair plume on Bleda's helmet behind him. A hail of arrows came whistling from the Cheren, one pinging off his helm, rocking him in his saddle. He had the chance to loose two more arrows and then he was amongst them, drawing his sword, striking left and right as they galloped past one another. And then he was bursting past them, a snatched glance showing Yul and Ellac appearing. His horse's momentum carried him on, back into the seething mass of draigs and bears. He spied the blue of a Cheren deel, veered that way, swung his sword, a scream, blood spraying, and he was riding at another Cheren, this one seeing him, reaching for their own sword. Bleda's mount came upon the left side, his sword slashing down, parried. Bleda swayed away, the tip of his opponent's blade scraping sparks on the iron plates of his lamellar coat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They circled one another, horses colliding, jostling, swords a blur, fighting their way across the battleground, in amongst the first trees of the forest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin ducked, moved, a sword slicing through air where her throat had just been. She slipped her bow back into its case and drew her sword, met her opponent with a flurry of blows. Their swords met, held in a bind, and Jin was looking into her enemy's eyes. He was an old warrior, deep lines in his weathered face. He stared back at her.\n\n\"The Fool Queen,\" he grunted.\n\nA spear-point burst through his throat, was ripped back out, a gush of blood, and he fell from his saddle, Tark appearing behind him.\n\nShe dipped her head in thanks, looked around.\n\nIt was mayhem: giants, bears, draigs, her Cheren embroiled in a sweeping melee with Sirak, who appeared to be everywhere. And the Order's warriors were there, too, with their swords and shields. Ben-Elim and Kadoshim swirled over their heads, feathers and blood falling from the sky.\n\nThen she glimpsed him.\n\nBleda, fighting beneath the forest's boughs against one of her Cheren. More of her Clan were riding at him, and Sirak were gathering about Bleda.\n\nThe Fool Queen, is that what the Sirak call me? Bleda did make a fool of me, consorting with that half-breed behind my back while betrothed tome.\n\nBut I will be the fool that kills Bleda the Cunning.\n\nShe pointed with her sword and kicked her horse into movement, Tark and Gerel following her, a handful of others. They rode through the melee, a hurricane of noise surrounding them, swerving around draigs and bears. Jin avoided any combat, her eyes fixed on Bleda. He was flitting between trees, locked in battle with the same Cheren warrior, others fighting around him. A Shekam giant crashed his draig through the trees, Kurgan giants on foot about him."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 114"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jin ducked, moved, a sword slicing through air where her throat had just been. She slipped her bow back into its case and drew her sword, met her opponent with a flurry of blows. Their swords met, held in a bind, and Jin was looking into her enemy's eyes. He was an old warrior, deep lines in his weathered face. He stared back at her.\n\n\"The Fool Queen,\" he grunted.\n\nA spear-point burst through his throat, was ripped back out, a gush of blood, and he fell from his saddle, Tark appearing behind him.\n\nShe dipped her head in thanks, looked around.\n\nIt was mayhem: giants, bears, draigs, her Cheren embroiled in a sweeping melee with Sirak, who appeared to be everywhere. And the Order's warriors were there, too, with their swords and shields. Ben-Elim and Kadoshim swirled over their heads, feathers and blood falling from the sky.\n\nThen she glimpsed him.\n\nBleda, fighting beneath the forest's boughs against one of her Cheren. More of her Clan were riding at him, and Sirak were gathering about Bleda.\n\nThe Fool Queen, is that what the Sirak call me? Bleda did make a fool of me, consorting with that half-breed behind my back while betrothed tome.\n\nBut I will be the fool that kills Bleda the Cunning.\n\nShe pointed with her sword and kicked her horse into movement, Tark and Gerel following her, a handful of others. They rode through the melee, a hurricane of noise surrounding them, swerving around draigs and bears. Jin avoided any combat, her eyes fixed on Bleda. He was flitting between trees, locked in battle with the same Cheren warrior, others fighting around him. A Shekam giant crashed his draig through the trees, Kurgan giants on foot about him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then she was breaking out into open space and spurring her horse on. She slipped her sword into the scabbard across her back and pulled her bow from its case, reached for arrows. Nocked.\n\nBleda slipped behind a tree, part of his horse visible. Jin cursed, rode on, swerving right, saw him again, his sword clashing with his Cheren opponent. She drew and loosed, her arrow leaping from the string, heading straight for Bleda's throat. His opponent's horse crashed into his, and Jin's arrow slammed into the Cheren's neck, slicing through a curtain of mail. The rider cried out, arched his back and toppled from his saddle.\n\nBleda looked straight at her.\n\nShe loosed again, riding directly at him, but he backed his horse up, disappearing behind the tree, her arrow flickering into the forest. She swerved, trying to keep him insight, and he reappeared the other side of the wide trunk, his sword sheathed, bow in his fist. She threw herself to the side and an arrow hissed past her, iron-tip scraping the cheek-plate of her helm, at the same time as she loosed another arrow. It slammed quivering into the trunk of the tree, a handspan from Bleda's head. Then she was upon him, too close to reach for her sword. She lashed outwith her bow, hit him in the face, saw blood spurt as she rode past him, dragging on her reins, turning.\n\nSomething slammed into her back, high, just below her left shoulder, felt like a punch. Then the pain came, pulsing out. She twisted, saw one of Bleda's arrows protruding from her. Bleda was riding around her, reaching for more arrows. She ducked, loosed at him, saw her arrow punch into his arm, below the sleeve of his mail coat. He cried out, dropped his bow and ripped the arrow from his forearm, then reached over his back for his sword and spurred his mount at her. She loosed again, a spike of pain in her back, her arrow flying at Bleda's chest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He chopped it from the air with his sword.\n\nJin snarled, frustration and respect mixed, then reached for her own sword, rode at him.\n\nTheir weapons clashed in a flurry, a spray of sparks, their horses swirling around each other, neighing, trying to bite one another, rearing, hooves lashing out, the two of them moving deeper into the forest.\n\nJin swayed and ducked, struck and parried, the world around her shrinking down to Bleda, to his eyes, his posture, the ripples of movement that helped her read his attacks. Pain pulsed from the arrow wound in her back, but she ignored it, her hate driving her, filling her with new strength. Dimly she was aware that they had entered a glade, a draig lying dead in its centre, along spear buried in the beast's chest.\n\nHooves thudded, steel clashed, letting Jin know other Sirak and Cheren were in the glade about her. She glimpsed Gerel and Tark in her peripheral vision, both of them fighting furiously against Sirak warriors.\n\nBleda swung at her, a scything blow. She parried, though late, a flash of pain in her wrist, her sword smashed off-line. Bleda backswung and she had no time to bring her sword back into play. She threw herself forwards, inside his strike, and punched him in the face. Blood spurted from his lip and she grabbed at him with her free arm, Bleda trying to pull away, to give himself room to swing his sword. But Jin clung to him, hit him in the head with the pommel of her sword, a clang of iron from his helm. Bleda moved in his saddle, Jin's weight pushing into him, and he began to topple, reached out and grabbed her as he fell from his horse, dragging her with him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They crashed to the ground, pain erupting in Jin's shoulder as Bleda's arrow snapped with the impact. She rolled away, sword gripped tight in her fist, felt bile rise in her throat, shook her head to clear the black dots that blurred her vision. Then she was climbing to her feet, saw Bleda on one knee.\n\nWarriors were fighting around her. She saw Gerel was still mounted and was fighting Yul, their swords a blur. Tark was trading spear-blows with Old Ellac.\n\nA crashing and splintering of branches above her and two figures plummeted to the ground, a Kadoshim and Ben-Elim, locked in combat, rolling on the forest litter.\n\nThen she was on her feet, striding at Bleda.\n\nHe stood to meet her, raised his blade and parried her overhead blow, slipped to the side, sending her blade wide, putting her off-balance, and he was cutting at her waist. She twisted on her heel, her blade smashing his away, and elbowed him in the face, stepped in as he stumbled. His blade came backup, parried her chop at his head, sliced down, striking her coat of mail, a trail of sparks from her chest to belly, mail links shattering. She stepped away, sword levelled at him.\n\n\"No more running,\" she said to him. Bleda was still, his blade held high, two-handed. \"Today you die.\"\n\nBleda just watched her, focused on her. She saw recognition dawn in his eyes.\n\n\"That's my sword,\" he said.\n\n\"Yes, and I'm going to kill you with it,\" Jin said.\n\nTwo horses rode between them, Gerel and Yul. They were hacking and slicing atone another, blades so fast Jin could only seethe after-image of their movement. Blood spurted in the air, raining on Jin's face, and Gerel reeled back in his saddle, blood jetting from his throat. He gurgled and toppled from his saddle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jin just stared, struggling to believe what she had just seen."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gerel. He had been with her since her father's first visit to Drassil. Loyal, brave, skilled, a constant reassuring presence.\n\nAnd Yul had just killed him.\n\nJin leaped forwards and hacked at Yul in front of her, chopped deep into his thigh, blood welling. He cried out, kicked his horse on. Bleda was in front of her again.\n\nTheir blades clashed, a rush of blows. Jin pressed hard, her attack relentless. Her cold-face was gone, no mask of her feelings. Hate blazed in her eyes, giving her an edge that Bleda could not match. She pushed him back across the glade, past Ellac and Tark, still mounted. Bleda tripped over a branch, stumbled backwards, fell, Jin rushing at him, sword raised.\n\nYul appeared on his horse, crashing into Jin, sending her flying through the air. She slammed to the ground, rolled, Yul riding after her.\n\nJin climbed to her feet, saw Yul bearing down upon her and raised her sword. Beyond Yul she heard a cry and glimpsed Ellac toppling from his horse, a spray of blood. Tark twisted in his saddle, saw Jin and Yul. He drew his arm back, hefted his spear.\n\n\"NO!\" Jin heard Bleda cry.\n\nTark's spear flew through the air and slammed into Yul's back, shattering mail, slicing through leather. Yul cried out, fell forwards in his saddle with the blow, straightened and reached over his back, pulled the spear free.\n\nJin stepped forwards and stabbed her sword up, into Yul's belly. He stiffened, gasped, his sword dropping from his fingers. Jin twisted her blade, ripped it free, blood pouring, Yul fell from his saddle onto the ground before her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A scream: Bleda, he was running at her, sword raised.\n\nJin set her feet, mouth a hard line.\n\nBleda struck at her, a flurry that drove her back, his blade a blur, a combination of blows, one merging into the next, Jin parrying, retreating across the glade, no time to counter-strike. He lunged in, stabbing at her belly, and she pivoted, steering Bleda's blade wide, kicked out at his knee, and he dropped to the ground. Jin struck his sword hard, sending it spinning out of his grip, sliced at his throat, but he rolled away, her blade scoring a line across his chest. She followed, felt victory's breath on her neck, so close, her sword slashing. Bleda kicked at her legs, swept her off her feet. She fell with a crunch, a sharp pain, ignored it, rising to one knee, her sword swinging at Bleda as he rolled beneath her blade, his hand grasping at the sleeve of his lamellar coat, then lashing out. Too late she saw the glint of steel, a knife slashing close.\n\nShe felt an impact, a few heartbeats before she realized something was wrong. The taste of blood. Tried to take a deep breath, choking as liquid filled her lungs.\n\nA frozen moment as she stared at Bleda. Her sword arm was drooping, the blade suddenly too heavy for her, and she fell back, sitting on the ground.\n\nFight him, kill him, she told herself. You are better than him, you have won. She tried to tell him how much she hated him, choked on more blood, her hands rising to her neck, felt the open wound, slick and slippery.\n\nBleda stared at her, a bloody knife in his fist. She stared back at him, hating him, hating herself as she realized what was happening."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had beaten her.\n\n\"For my mother,\" Bleda said, and stabbed his blade up through the bottom of her jaw, thrusting it until the cross-guard slammed into flesh."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda tore his knife from Jin's dying body, saw her slump to the ground. He stumbled to his feet, chest heaving, staring at Jin's lifeless face.\n\nI've done it, avenged my mother. It didn't feel real. A vision of Jin stabbing down into his mother's neck. He yelled at her body, a wordless, grief-filled roar.\n\nThe sound of combat pulled him back.\n\nHe saw Ellac and Tark wrestling on the ground, rolling. Tark had a knife, was trying to stab Ellac, but the old warrior had the huntsman's knife arm in a lock, and with his other arm was punching Tark in the head with the buckler strapped to his arm. The iron boss cracked into Tark's temple and the warrior went slack. Ellac rained blows upon him, again and again, Bleda hearing the sound of bone cracking as Tark's skull caved in.\n\n\"Ellac,\" Bleda called out, and the old warrior looked up, stopped pounding the dead man, raised a hand.\n\nBleda turned and ran to Yul.\n\nHe was lying on the forest floor, blood seeping into the ground. Bleda dropped to his knees beside the warrior, stroked his head, tears in his eyes.\n\nYul's eyes flickered open. He was waxy-pale, blood on his lips. His fingers twitched and Bleda gripped his hand.\n\n\"Mightiest of the Sirak,\" Bleda said to him. He called over his shoulder, \"Ellac, find a healer!\"\n\n\"I saw you,\" Yul breathed, a half-smile touching his lips. \"My King.\" Along, sighing breath, and then his eyes closed and his head slumped."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda dropped his head, silent tears running down his cheeks.\n\nThe sound of fighting and he turned, saw a Kadoshim and Ben-Elim rolling together, punching, biting atone another. They came to a halt, the Kadoshim on top, pinning the Ben-Elim's arms, reaching fora knife at his belt.\n\nBleda ran at them.\n\nThe knife raised high, was stabbing down.\n\nBleda chopped into the neck of the Kadoshim, half-severing its head. It fell to the side, blood spurting, a tremor through its wings, and then it was still.\n\nBleda looked down at the Ben-Elim on the ground.\n\nIt was Kol.\n\nBleda stood there, looking down at Kol. His sword hovered. He hated this man. The killer of his brother and sister. A tremor ran through his blade, the desire to drive it down into Kol overwhelming.\n\nThe rustle of footsteps, Old Ellac was walking towards him. He did not say anything, just looked at Bleda.\n\nBleda looked back at Kol, the Ben-Elim staring up at him with his half-sneer.\n\nWith a shuddering breath Bleda lowered his sword.\n\n\"I'll let the Ben-Elim Assembly deal with you,\" he said, and turned away, strode to Ellac, wrapped his arms around the old warrior and hugged him. Ellac hugged Bleda back, shaking with emotion.\n\nA wet cough behind Bleda and Yul moved.\n\n\"Ellac, go and find a healer,\" Bleda exclaimed as he rushed to Yul, saw blood on the warrior's lips, but his chest was moving, his eyes open, fixed on Bleda. He dropped to his knees and gripped Yul's hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hold on, my friend.\"\n\nEllac nodded and hurried limping to his horse. He picked up his spear on the way, then climbed into his saddle and rode out of the glade.\n\nBehind Bleda, Kol found his spear and levered himself upright with it.\n\n\"There is no Assembly left,\" Kol said. \"All of them are dead.\"\n\n\"You'll stand atrial,\" Bleda said over his shoulder. \"Of that I am certain.\"\n\nKol curled a lip at him. \"If I do, I'll be found innocent.\"\n\n\"No, you won't,\" Bleda said. He coughed, blood in his mouth, spat it out. \"You area liar and a murderer. I have seen the glade of cairns where slaughtered babies have been hidden to sate your hubris and lust. I will testify that to any who will listen.\"\n\nThe rustle of wings and Bleda half-turned, saw Kol flying towards him. He started to move, then Kol's spear punched into his throat. He tried to raise his sword, but it was too heavy. He dropped it, lifted his arms, tried to grab Kol, but the Ben-Elim ripped the spear free and stepped back.\n\n\"Will your kind never learn their place?\" Kol said, shaking his head.\n\nBleda fell to his knees, swayed, toppled onto his back. Kol reached down, plucked an arrow from Bleda's quiver and stabbed it into Bleda's thigh.\n\nBleda hardly felt it.\n\nYul grunted, moved.\n\nKol stood over them both, gripped his spear two-handed and stabbed it down into Yul's chest. A tremor passed through the warrior, a sigh."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda's hand twitched for his sword, but his body would not obey. He saw Kol become a silhouette that spiralled upwards, the sky a bright, white light behind him. Darkness blurred the edges of his vision, crept slowly inwards.\n\nHis last thought was of Riv."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv opened her eyes. She could see booted feet, could hear the grunt and yell of combat. Everything was pain. She moved, her wings twitching.\n\n\"Careful,\" a voice said to her. She turned her head, looked up to see Jost looming over her.\n\n\"What happened?\" Riv said.\n\n\"You fell out of the sky, with two arrows in you. Lucky for you that you landed on a pile of dead Revenants.\"\n\n\"Don't feel lucky.\" Riv grunted, trying to climb to one knee. Nausea swept through her, making her eyes water. Bile rose in her throat.\n\n\"Well, you're lucky to be feeling anything at all,\" Jost said, heaving her up.\n\nRiv saw a bandage around her thigh, put some weight on it. There was a tremor, but it held.\n\n\"Had to cut the arrows out of you. The one in your leg was deeper than the one in your back. A coat of mail helps.\"\n\nShe spread her wings, gave them a beat. The muscle of her right wing-arch ached, but she thought her wings would take her weight.\n\n\"Here,\" Jost said, holding out Riv's short-sword and her black knife.\n\nRiv was standing in the centre of a shield square, two rows deep, facing in four directions, maybe eighty or ninety warriors, a mixture of White-Wings and warriors of the Order. Riv glimpsed Kill standing in the front, shoulder pressed into her shield and stabbing her short-sword through the gap. Ert was beside her. They were surrounded by acolytes, grunting and pushing back with their own shields and short-swords. But this wall was made up of White-Wings and warriors of the Order of the Bright Star."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Acolytes were dying.\n\nA half-dozen warriors were standing or sitting in the space within the shield square. Sorch was there, tall and broad. He nodded a greeting to Riv.\n\nDimly she heard a booming laugh, recognized it from the battle on Ripa's plain.\n\n\"Asroth,\" she whispered.\n\n\"Aye. He's chopping his way through shield walls,\" Jost said, with a shudder. \"Fortunately, he's over there, somewhere.\" He nodded west.\n\n\"WARE THE DRAIG!\" a voice yelled, from the eastern side of the shield square.\n\nAn ear-splitting roar rang out, a tremor in the ground, and then warriors were flying through the air, screaming. A draig's head and shoulders appeared, head lashing, jaws snapping, sweeping up a White-Wing and crunching down. Fritha sat upon its back. She stabbed down at a warrior of the Order with her spear.\n\nThe draig lumbered forwards, scattering the wall, warriors thrown, scrambling away. Acolytes started to push into the gap the draig had made.\n\nRiv snarled, flexed her wings and leaped into the air, a wave of pain in her leg, but her wings worked and she flew towards Fritha, building speed.\n\nSomething crashed into Riv and she was hurled through the air, crunched back to the ground. She rolled, a shape moving after her, sinuous and reptilian.\n\nFritha's snake-woman.\n\nShe loomed over Riv, rising high on her coils, a fair-haired woman, her arms and torso covered in a coat of mail, around shield on one arm, a black-bladed spear in her fist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Black-bladed. Byrne wants that spear.\n\n\"Frithaaaa wants you,\" the snake-woman hissed, and she surged forwards. Riv stabbed with her short-sword, but the snake-woman's shield batted it away, then coils were wrapping around Riv, crushing her legs together, pinning her arms tight.\n\nSorch and Jost appeared, a dozen warriors behind them. They charged the snake-woman, shields up. Jost's sword rang on her shield boss, Sorch chopped at the white-scaled body of the woman, cutting a shallow gash through thick scales. A pale, milk-like substance oozed from the wound and the creature let out a hissing scream. She slammed her shield into Jost, hurling him away, her strength prodigious. Sorch stabbed at her, his blade sinking deeper, and she shrieked again, turned on him and stabbed her spear. He raised his shield, but the black-bladed spear punched through the layers of linen and linden wood as if they were a cobweb. Sorch grunted, sank to his knees, his shield falling away, a red hole in his chest. He looked at Riv and then fell flat on his face.\n\nRiv yelled, writhed and strained in the snake-woman's coils, but she could not break free.\n\nThe snake-woman whirled her spear above her head, a looping slice at the remaining warriors. Her spear cut through the shields like wheat, carving across three warriors, all of them falling back with red wounds gaping. She surged forwards, leaving trails of blood and black smoke in the air, and warriors fell dead or wounded about her. Then she was dragging Riv across the field towards Fritha and her draig, who were only twenty or thirty paces away, destroying White-Wings and warriors of the Order with a savage glee."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Another roaring, from the east, the ground trembling, and Riv saw White-Wings parting, leaping out of the way. A huge white-furred bear lumbered into view, a battered and torn coat of mail upon it, the white fur of its muzzle stained pink with blood. Drem was sitting upon its back, a shield upon one arm, white star upon a black field, a sword in his fist.\n\nThe bear paused a moment. Drem looked around, saw Fritha upon her draig, and then the snake-woman slithering towards Fritha.\n\n\"ELISE,\" Drem bellowed at the snake-woman, \"LET HER GO!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem snapped a word to Friend and the white bear burst into a shambling run after Elise, who was slithering away, coils undulating, speeding her across the battleground to Fritha. But Friend was faster. The bear slammed into the serpent-woman, a clawed paw raking her tail, his chest crunching into her torso. Elise screamed, as she was thrown through the air, her coils loosening around Riv, who beat her wings and wriggled free, stabbing deep with her black knife. Riv raised her arm for another blow, but there was a rushing of air and Morn was sweeping down from above. Riv screamed a challenge and leaped into the air, the two of them stabbing and slashing at each other, swirling up and away.\n\nFriend's jaws clamped around Elise's torso, tearing through mail into flesh, blood spurting, and he shook her. Elise screamed, her snake-body shaking like a whip.\n\nWrath looked up, started to lumber towards them.\n\nElise lashed outwith her tail, Drem blocking it with his shield. The blow cracked timber, numbed his arm. She swung her spear, raked a line along Friend's shoulder, slicing through mail and into flesh.\n\nFriend roared.\n\nDrem leaned in his saddle and chopped down at her, his sword biting into Elise's neck.\n\nHer spear fell from her grip and Friend spat her twitching body on the ground, then stamped on her head. A hissed cry cut short. A tremor quivering through Elise's tail and then it flopped still.\n\nThere was a scream from Fritha, high-pitched, grief and rage mingled, and the draig was charging at Friend, roaring, the ground shaking."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem looked at them, a moment of fear, then he thought of his da, hefted his shield and gripped his sword, shouted a word to Friend.\n\nThe white bear charged.\n\nDraig and bear crashed together, an impact that rattled Drem to his bones.\n\nTeeth cracked as the draig's and bear's jaws lunged at each other, trying to find purchase in head or neck. The draig's talons raked Friend's chest, the mail coat tearing but taking the brunt of the blow. Friend's paw slapped the draig's head, claws tearing red strips from its muzzle. Fritha stabbed with her spear, the blade turned by Friend's mail. Drem leaned and chopped with his sword, opened a red wound on the draig's thick neck. It roared, backed away, bunched its legs and hurled itself at them again, jaws clamping around Friend's chest and shoulder, biting down.\n\nMail tore, blood spurted.\n\nFriend roared, pain-filled.\n\nDrem hacked desperately at the draig's head, slicing red strips, but the thick skull turned his blade. Fritha stabbed at him with her spear, Drem swiping the blade wide with his shield, chopped at the shaft, Fritha whipping it back.\n\nA blur of grey fur andiron mail leaped at the draig's head, Fen snapping and snarling, claws scrabbling for purchase, the wolven-hound's jaws biting down into the draig's cheek and eye.\n\nThe draig stumbled back, gave a savage shake of his head and Fen flew through the air, disappeared into the crowded battleground. The draig growled, a taloned claw coming up to paw at his eye. It was a lacerated, pulped mess."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Acolytes formed upon either side of Fritha and the draig and marched forwards.\n\n\"SHIELD WALL!\" Drem heard a voice cry out behind him, thought it was Kill's, then White-Wings were charging in a disciplined line at the acolytes, shields crashing together. Riders poured around the edges of the acolyte shield wall, Drem glimpsing a dark-haired warrior with a black axe chopping down at White-Wings. His axe sheared through shields, iron helms, and left a trail of smoke in the air.\n\nStarstone metal, we need that axe.\n\nThe draig hurled itself at Friend again, jaws snapping for purchase. Fritha's spear stabbed at Drem, and he shifted in the saddle, the spear blade skimming past his waist. He clamped down with his shield arm, trapped the spear, swung with his sword. Fritha released the weapon and threw herself backwards, Drem's blade-tip raking the mail over her chest, shattering links.\n\nFritha smiled at him.\n\n\"You've learned a few tricks with your Bright Star friends,\" she said, reaching for her sword hilt.\n\nThe Starstone Sword. My father's sword.\n\nDrem pulled his feet up, stood on his saddle, legs bunching, and leaped at her. Her eyes flared in shock, and then he was crashing into her, tearing her from her saddle, the two of them tumbling to the ground.\n\nThey rolled, separated, both coming to their feet, Fritha drawing the Starstone Sword. She swung at Drem, a high blow, and he met it with his shield. The sword sheared through wood, cut from shield rim to boss. Fritha ripped her blade free, trying to slice into Drem's forearm, but he twisted and dropped the shield, hefted his sword, pulled his hand-axe from his belt, set his feet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha came at him again, another overhead blow. Instinctively he met it with his sword, fora heartbeat wondered if the starstone blade would just carve through his own sword and cut into his skull.\n\nA harsh clang, a ripple of blue flame where the two blades met, and Drem's runed sword held.\n\nA moment's shock between them both, then Drem was pushing Fritha's blade high, shoving her back. She stumbled and he stepped in, chopping with his hand-axe. It crunched into mail, the rings holding, but Drem heard the crack of bone, ribs fracturing. Fritha grimaced, staggered back again.\n\nDrem followed, stabbed with his sword, it was swept wide by the black blade. He chopped again with his axe, Fritha swinging a wild parry, but the blade caught Drem's axe shaft and cut it in two, the axe-head spinning away.\n\nThe drum of hooves and Drem instinctively ducked and moved, heard air hiss over his head, the bulk of a horse stamping past him. He stood, stabbed at the warrior who had tried to take his head, saw it was the dark-haired man with the black axe. Drem struck up with his sword, felt the blade pierce mail and flesh. The warrior screamed, arched his back and fell away as the horse walked on.\n\n\"No,\" Fritha snarled, pain in her eyes. \"You are killing all I love.\"\n\n\"As you have done tome,\" Drem snarled back at her.\n\nFritha pressed in, a flurry of blows, Drem parrying. The black sword sliced through his mail, links shattering, cut a red line along his forearm, a fist to his nose as Fritha stepped in."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A wild, pain-filled roaring filled Drem's ears. He glanced and saw Friend crash to the ground, the draig's jaws clamped around one of the bear's forelegs. Blood was spraying as Friend rolled onto his side, the draig seeing Friend's exposed belly, covered only by a latticework of leather buckles.\n\n\"NO!\" Drem screamed, made to run to the bear, but Fritha hacked at him. He stumbled backwards, fell over the coils of Elise's corpse, lost the grip on his sword.\n\nFritha stood over him, the screams of Friend ringing out in the background, and raised her sword.\n\n\"This could have been so different,\" Fritha said. \"You were a fool not to join me.\"\n\n\"Go to hell,\" Drem snarled at her. Glimpsed a black-bladed spear.\n\nFritha's sword sliced down.\n\nDrem rolled, grabbed the spear and swung wildly at Fritha, black sword and black spear blade colliding. A concussive explosion, hurling Fritha away, sending Drem skidding and scrabbling across the ground. He stabbed the spear into earth and came to a halt, levered himself upright and saw the draig standing upon Friend, pinning the bear with his bulk. The draig's jaws were slick with blood, Friend bellowing with pain. As Drem watched, the draig reared up, jaws opening wide, rushing down to fasten upon the exposed flesh of Friend's belly.\n\nDrem found his balance, drew his arm back and hurled the starstone spear.\n\nIt flew straight as a loosed arrow, trailing black smoke through the air and punched into the draig's chest. Deep it sank, halfway up the shaft, dark blood pulsing from the wound."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The draig roared, an ear-splitting sound, a shiver rippling through its body, and it crashed to the ground, rolled onto its side, wings and tail thrashing, jaws snapping, frothing blood. A juddering tremor ran through it and then its head slumped, its powerful neck flopping. A groaning rattle issued from its throat, and it was still.\n\n\"WRATH!\" Fritha screamed, staggering to her feet, her black sword still in her fist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha could not see for her tears. She swiped at them, staring at Wrath. Her beautiful, powerful, destructive creation. His flesh was torn, bleeding from a hundred wounds. And he was so very still. She wiped her eyes, drew in a deep, shuddering breath.\n\nDrem has done this.\n\nHe is worse than the Ben-Elim, killing my babies.\n\nShe looked at Drem. \"I'm going to kill you, now.\"\n\nHe swept up his sword and drew his seax, rolled it in his fist.\n\n\"Sometimes the only answer is blood and steel,\" he breathed, and launched himself at her.\n\nThe movement was so swift and unexpected that Fritha struggled to get her guard up, blue flame crackling as her black sword clanged against Drem's rune-marked blades. He stabbed with his seax, Fritha shuffling her feet, sidestepping, at the same time throwing his sword wide.\n\nShe stepped away as Drem came at her, parrying his attacks, waiting for an opening. He followed with small steps, maintaining his balance, short bursts of blows, always a combination with sword and seax. Fritha felt a white-hot line across her forearm, another across her thigh, mail links on her coat shatter as his seax slashed her belly, all the while her ribs sending pain screeching up her side.\n\nThis is not supposed to be happening. He is not this good. She felt her frustration growing, her grief for Wrath and Elise a red rage, but it was tinged with something else, now.\n\nFear.\n\nShe darted away and lifted her black sword, gripped the sharp blade with her fist, squeezed it until she felt her palm slick with blood. Then she smeared her lips with the blood, cupped her fist as more blood pooled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She saw realization dawn in Drem's eyes.\n\n\"Fuil, sruthán mo namhaid,\" Fritha breathed, her blood spraying, and she flung her blood at Drem. It hissed as it flew through the air, spattered Drem's face and neck, sizzling. She smelled burning flesh.\n\nDrem fell away, screaming, and Fritha followed. He dropped to the ground, rolling, and she stabbed down at him, missed, skewered turf. She raised her sword again.\n\nShe heard a snarling, saw movement from the corner of her eye, and then something crashed into her, sent her flying through the air. She landed with a jolt, rolled, stopped. Climbed to her feet.\n\nA slate-grey wolven-hound stood before her. It turned away, loped back to Drem, who was on one knee, patches of his face blistering and smoking. The wolven-hound nuzzled Drem, licked his face, and then turned to face Fritha.\n\nShe walked towards it, sword-tip rising.\n\nThe wolven-hound growled at her, lips pulled back in a snarl, its hackles rising.\n\nFritha started to whisper under her breath.\n\n\"No,\" Drem said, rising.\n\n\"You need to stay down,\" Fritha snarled, still walking towards him.\n\n\"No,\" Drem repeated, swaying as he stood. \"You can burn me, cut me, blind me, I will never stop coming at you. Only death will stop me.\" His face twisted in pain. \"I loved you, and you killed my da.\"\n\n\"I could have killed you, too,\" Fritha said. \"I stood over you, could have killed you so easily.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You should have,\" Drem said.\n\nThen Fritha saw he had anew weapon in his hand, not his seax. A black-bladed axe. He drew his arm back and threw it.\n\nFritha saw the axe coming at her, shifted her weight, raised her sword, trying to both leap out of its way and cut it from the air.\n\nNeither worked, the axe skimming past her sword and punching into her shoulder. Its blade cut through mail links and chopped deep into muscle, spinning her round. She stumbled away, her arm numb, hanging limp, and tried to turn, raising her sword.\n\nDrem was right before her, a handspan between them.\n\n\"For my father, and for Sig,\" he whispered, and stabbed his seax into her. It punched into her mail, piercing and splitting through it, on through leather and linen and into flesh. A terrible pain in her stomach, Drem wrapping one arm around her back, like a lover, and pulled her tighter onto his seax, pushing it deeper, until it was buried to the hilt in her.\n\nFritha stared into his eyes. They were so close, lips almost touching.\n\nShe sucked in a deep breath and screamed.\n\n\"ASROTH!\"\n\nThen she fell."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv twisted away from Morn, pain shooting up her back, Morn's spear blade sliced across her cheek. She beat her wings and swept away, her body a competing map of pain.\n\nIgnore it. Pain is better than death.\n\nShe rolled in the air, spun back towards Morn, slashing with her short-sword, chopping another chunk off the splintered end of the spear shaft. Morn threw it away and drew a knife from her belt, flew at Riv.\n\nThey slammed together, Riv feeling the knife blade scraping across her helm, seeking a path inside. They struggled, wrestling, punching, butting heads, snarling and spitting at each other, not knowing which way was up. A glimpse of the ground, rushing towards them, a bone-jarring collision and they hit the floor.\n\n\"ASROTH!\" a voice screamed, ringing out across the field as they climbed to their feet, stumbling away from each other.\n\nRiv saw Drem and Fritha, in what looked like a close embrace.\n\nFritha dropped to her knees, toppled to the ground.\n\nMorn cried out, an inarticulate, feral sound.\n\nRiv heard a growling snarl and saw a wolven-hound running towards them. Fen, his mail coat a shimmer, surging across the ground, and then he was leaping, crashing into Morn. They fell, tumbling, Fen's jaws clamping around Morn's face. Riv saw Morn's knife move and Riv beat her wings, speeding to the wolven-hound and half-breed. She landed and stamped her foot upon Morn's wrist, the knife-blade a handspan from Fen's belly.\n\nA frozen moment, Fen pinning Morn, jaws wrapped around her face. Morn looked up at Riv."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You slew Keld,\" Riv said. \"Fen has something to say about that.\"\n\nFen shook his neck, and blood sprayed. Morn screamed; another savage wrench of Fen's neck and the scream faded to a gurgle. Her feet drummed and then she was still.\n\nHooves on the turf, Cullen riding up. He saw Fen tearing at Morn's corpse.\n\n\"Ach, she was mine to kill,\" Cullen said.\n\nFen looked up at Cullen, his muzzle soaked red, and growled at the red-haired warrior.\n\n\"You had a claim, too, I suppose,\" Cullen said. He pointed a finger at Fen. \"But Gulla is mine.\"\n\n\"I put an arrow in Gulla,\" Riv said breathlessly, wiping blood from her face. \"Saw him flee to Balara.\"\n\nCullen looked at the fortress on the hill.\n\nSomething around them changed, like a silence amidst the storm. Riv looked around, saw a black shape in the air, winging towards them with slow, powerful beats of his wings.\n\n\"Asroth is coming,\" she said.\n\nKadoshim followed him, and Revenants upon the ground.\n\n\"Good,\" Cullen snarled.\n\n\"ASROTH COMES!\" Riv yelled the warning. She leaped into the sky. The whole battleground had disintegrated into a large-scale melee, a hundred different hard-fought battles raging across the field. Close by she saw Kill and Ert with two or threescore White-Wings and warriors of the Order rallied around them, holding against twice that number of acolytes. As Riv watched, riders of the Order appeared, Byrne at their head, Meical riding close to her. They charged the flank of the acolytes attacking Kill and Ert, chopping down with swords, and in a few heartbeats the acolytes were collapsing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Above her Ben-Elim fought in the sky. Riv glimpsed Faelan swirling amongst them, his quiver empty now. He fought with sword and long knife. He and his kin seemed to have done a good job of balancing the numbers.\n\nTo the west Riv saw Ethlinn's giants fighting the Shekam draig-riders; Sirak and warriors of the Order were riding amongst them. It looked as if the draig-riders were slowly being overwhelmed. She glimpsed Balur One-Eye trading blows with a huge giant upon a draig's back.\n\nWhere is Bleda? Riv thought, searching the swirling combat, but she was too faraway and the Sirak riders were a blur as they weaved amongst the draigs.\n\nShe saw Asroth again, closer now, bearing down upon her and her friends. Kadoshim flew around him, and the last of the Revenants swarmed upon the ground, following him. In his wake Asroth left a trail of the dead.\n\nA sound filtered through to Riv and she turned, glancing north, towards Balara.\n\nA winged figure was flying towards the battlefield, low to the ground, wings beating slowly.\n\nGulla.\n\nHe flew above hundreds of acolytes; they were marching hard.\n\nRiv looked down, searching for Byrne. Old Ert was trading blows with abroad, squat acolyte, chopping at each other's shields, stabbing over the rims. It was clear he knew his swordcraft. Riv drew her wings in and flew down, intent on putting her sword through the acolyte's heart.\n\nHe was on the ground before Riv landed, blood leaking from a sword-thrust beneath his ribs. Ert was leaning on one knee, breathing hard, speaking to the fallen acolyte."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You betrayed us, Aenor, and chose the wrong side; and now you're dying for them.\"\n\n\"I'd rather die a freeman than the Ben-Elim's puppet,\" Aenor gasped, blood on his lips, then the light in his eyes faded.\n\nByrne cantered up to them, Meical beside her. She was bloodstained, along cut on her calf dripping blood, but there was afire in her eyes. Her riders gathered behind her, the rest either dead or scattered around the field.\n\n\"Asroth is coming,\" Riv said, \"a hundred Kadoshim with him, four, five hundred Revenants following him on the ground. And Gulla returns from Balara, leading fresh acolytes.\"\n\nByrne looked at Ert. \"Can you keep the Revenants and acolytes off us?\"\n\nA curt nod. \"Or die in the trying. SHIELD WALL!\" Ert bellowed, hefting his battered shield and runed short-sword. Warriors on foot ran to him.\n\nCullen cantered over, Drem following on foot, Fen and Friend limping along either side of him.\n\n\"This is the time of reckoning,\" Byrne said to them all. \"Asroth comes, with his Kadoshim.\" She looked at them.\n\n\"Truth and Courage.\"\n\n\"TRUTH AND COURAGE!\" they cried back at her, Riv whispering those words.\n\nAnd then the beating of wings grew louder, Asroth's shadow loomed over them.\n\n\"WITH ME!\" Ert cried, leading the warriors he had gathered towards the onrushing Revenants.\n\nByrne walked her horse forwards, the warriors of the Order spreading in a line either side of her. Cullen lingered, looked down at Riv and Drem."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We are all here, then,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Drem said. \"I'm glad we're together, now. For the end.\"\n\n\"For his end,\" Cullen snarled, looking at Asroth as he grew larger in the sky. He looked at Drem's fists. \"What's that you've got there?\"\n\nDrem lifted up his hands. In one he had a sword, in the other, a single-bladed axe. They were both forged of black steel, and tendrils of dark smoke curled around them.\n\n\"This is the Starstone Sword my da forged,\" Drem said. \"I swore I'd take it back from Fritha, and kill Asroth with it. This,\" he said, looking at the axe, \"I'm thinking it's a starstone axe.\"\n\n\"Well, now,\" Cullen said, whistling. He looked at Riv, who had her black knife in her hand. He frowned. \"This isn't fair.\"\n\n\"You have a fine sword,\" Riv pointed out, and Cullen grinned, holding up his ancestor's sword. The hilt was a hand and a half, the blade longer and broader than Cullen was used to.\n\n\"Aye, it is a fine sword, and I'm honoured to wield it, but it's not going to be cutting through a coat of starstone mail like those two, is it.\"\n\n\"I'd let you have this sword, but I swore an oath on it,\" Drem said. \"You can have the axe, though, if you like.\" He held it out to Cullen. \"Or there's a black-bladed spear in that draig over there, if you can pull it out. It looks deep, tome.\"\n\nCullen looked from the axe to the dead draig."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Byrne said she wants every starstone weapon we can lay our hands on, and I'm not much for axe work,\" he said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Think I might just have a look at that spear.\" He dipped his head to Drem and Riv and trotted his horse towards the draig.\n\nAnd then, with a rushing of wings, Asroth was upon them.\n\nHe spiralled down from the sky and landed beside Fritha, who lay upon the ground, staring up at Asroth. He bent, and Riv saw his lips move, though she could not hear what he said. Then he stood tall and looked around.\n\nHis Kadoshim guards swirled above him, some landing, spreading protectively around him.\n\nByrne reined in her horse a hundred paces before Asroth. Meical and her warriors lined up either side of her. Beyond them Riv heard Ert shouting orders, shields cracking together, and the hissing roar of the Revenants as they threw themselves at the shield wall.\n\n\"Meical,\" Asroth said, as if speaking to an old friend. \"Back for another beating?\"\n\nMeical said nothing, just stared at Asroth. He held a shield and sword.\n\nAsroth's face twitched. \"Two thousand years you have been plotting my demise, and now you have nothing to say?\"\n\n\"This is the day you die,\" Meical said.\n\n\"Ha,\" Asroth laughed. He looked genuinely amused. \"Not by your hand.\" His gaze shifted to Byrne.\n\n\"So, you are the leader of this rabble?\" Asroth said to her. He took a few strides towards her, shrugged his long axe from his back. Swirled it around his head, like an athlete preparing fora training bout. Black smoke curled around him.\n\n\"I am Byrne ap Baradir, High Captain of the Order of the Bright Star, descended from the line of Cywen ap Thannon, sister to Corban, the Bright Star,\" Byrne said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Corban! That pathetic worm,\" Asroth spat. His hand brushed a white scar that ran along his forehead. \"I never had the chance to grind Corban's skull to dust. I shall makeup for that with you.\"\n\nByrne flicked her reins and her horse walked forwards. She reached inside her cloak and pulled out a vial.\n\n\"Talamh, coinnigh ant-aingeal dorcha,\" she said, clicking her horse to a canter. Meical and the line of riders broke into movement.\n\n\"Best be joining in,\" Riv said to Drem.\n\n\"Aye,\" he said. He began to walk towards Asroth, black sword and black axe in his fists.\n\nAsroth frowned at Byrne, looked around him, as if he sensed something. The ground shifted beneath his feet, thick ropes of vine bursting from the ground, wrapping around his ankles. He pulled on one leg, but the vines held it tight.\n\nByrne's horse came faster, the warriors behind her charging.\n\nThe Kadoshim on the ground leaped into the air, the ones circling above swooping down, a winged charge at the riders.\n\n\"Let her through,\" Asroth yelled to his Kadoshim, and they parted for Byrne, regrouping after she'd passed through their ranks, and they hurled themselves at Byrne's followers. Asroth smiled at Byrne as she bore down upon him, her curved sword levelled at his heart.\n\n\"Scaip,\" he said, waving a hand at the vines around his ankles. With a hiss and slither they seemed to just dissolve, evaporating into thin air.\n\nByrne gripped her sword blade with her freehand, made a fist, crushing the vial and cutting her palm, the contents of the vial mixing with her blood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Cóta ceangailteach,\" she shouted, and threw blood and liquid at Asroth. Riv saw it shimmering in the air, changing, growing, the droplets merging, expanding, swirling into a cloak of red sinew, fibrous and slick with blood. It hit Asroth with a wet slap and wrapped around him, like a living skin, pulling tight, snaring his arms.\n\nAsroth writhed, trying to pull free.\n\n\"Lig saor mé,\" Asroth grunted, and the net of blood and sinew collapsed around him, dropping to the ground. He raised his axe, Byrne's sword clanging against it as she thundered past him, pulling on her reins to turn.\n\nThe line of Kadoshim and riders met, flesh and bone colliding, screams, the ring of steel, horses neighing.\n\nRiv gritted her teeth and flew at Asroth.\n\nKadoshim swirled around Asroth and Byrne like a shield, fighting with an unbridled ferocity to protect their king, keeping all from him. Riv heard Byrne shouting words of power, glimpsed fragmented images, the ground bucking around Asroth, throwing him to his knees, Byrne flinging more droplets of blood at him, hissing into flame, Asroth screaming as the sizzling blood seared him, but he cried out his own words, a pulse of air battering Byrne's horse away, the animal neighing, rearing, hooves lashing at Asroth, Byrne slashing with her sword, Asroth's axe swirling, chopping into the legs of Byrne's horse, the animal screaming, collapsing.\n\nA Kadoshim flew at Riv and she swerved, swept his spear wide as he stabbed at her and then she was inside the spear's range, was stabbing her black knife into the Kadoshim's belly, ripping it up, the Kadoshim screaming, dying, falling from the sky."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv flew on, veering around another Kadoshim, a slash of her knife through its leathery wing and muscled arch and it was plummeting to the ground. Another Kadoshim came at her, and died, and then she was through the Kadoshim's barrier and flying at Asroth.\n\nByrne was on the ground, rolling as Asroth swung his axe at her. It carved into the ground where she'd been, Asroth ripping it free, an explosion of turf, Byrne back on her feet, darting in, slashing twice at his belly, sparks on mail, then she stabbed at his leg, opened a red line across his thigh, just below the rim of his mail coat. Asroth bellowed, lashed at her with his gauntleted fist, caught Byrne on the side of the head, sending her spinning through the air, slamming to the ground, rolling to crunch against her dead horse.\n\nHe strode after her, raising his axe.\n\nRiv crashed into his back, an arm wrapping around his neck, stabbing at him with her black knife. He dropped his axe, grabbed her wrist, twisted and threw her over his shoulder, flying through the air into Byrne, who was clambering back to her feet. They fell in a tangle of limbs and wings.\n\nAsroth picked up his axe.\n\nRiders broke through the Kadoshim around them, three, four warriors of the Order, Meical with them, all of them riding at Asroth, weapons raised high.\n\nAsroth snarled, ran at them, wings beating, axe spinning. He took the first rider in the chest, chopping her almost in two, hurling her from her saddle, then he was spinning, a rider galloping past him, sword hissing through air and the spike of Asroth's axe punched into the back of the rider's head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come, child,\" Byrne said, helping Riv to her feet.\n\nByrne rolled her curved sword in her wrist and ran at Asroth. Riv stood, shaking her head, and then followed.\n\nMeical was exchanging blows with Asroth, upon his horse, slashing at Asroth's head and neck.\n\nAsroth just walked through the blows, letting them bounce off his helm and mail.\n\n\"Páirt agus coinnigh mo namhaid, cré agus cloch,\" Asroth yelled, the ground shifting beneath Meical's horse, turning to bog, hooves sinking, and Asroth smashed the butt end of his axe into Meical's chest, hurling the Ben-Elim from his saddle.\n\nByrne was running now; she leaped at Asroth, holding her sword two-handed, stabbing it at his back, a concussion and explosion of steel splinters as Asroth's coat of mail shattered Byrne's blade.\n\nByrne fell to the ground and Asroth turned, lifted his knee and cracked it into Byrne's face, throwing her through the air. He swung his axe at another rider, slicing through a shield and severing an arm at the elbow. Then he was twisting, a further backswing as Byrne was rising, the spike of his axe stabbing into Byrne's back.\n\nShe cried out as she was thrown back to the ground, where she rolled and lay still.\n\nRiv screamed, threw herself at Asroth.\n\nMore figures came bursting through the Kadoshim perimeter: acolytes, in their scores.\n\nGulla must be here."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem saw Byrne fall and yelled her name. He broke into a run, Friend and Fen beside him.\n\nRevenants were breaking past Ert's shield wall and hurling themselves at riders of the Order, dragging them from their saddles. Acolytes came pouring into the battleground, hundreds of them. Some were forming a shield wall, but most were charging in an undisciplined mass, howling battle-cries. Riders of the Order tried to turn and meet them. Almost directly in front of him Drem saw Gulla swoop from the sky and crash into a rider, ripping her from her saddle, the two of them slamming to the ground. Gulla's jaws opened wide, distending, and he bit down upon the warrior's throat, ripping and lacerating.\n\nKeld, Drem thought.\n\nRevenants flocked to Gulla, forming a ring around him.\n\n\"GULLA!\" a voice cried out: Shar, charging at the Kadoshim, her sword held high.\n\nShe wants her vengeance for Utul's death at Dun Seren.\n\nGulla looked up, his chin slick with blood.\n\nDrem ran at Gulla, Revenants swarming towards him. He hefted his sword and axe.\n\nFriend reached them first, limping, blood leaking from her wounds, but still prodigiously strong. She smashed into them, sending Revenants hurtling through the air. Drem, moments behind the white bear, hacked and chopped with the Starstone Sword and the black-bladed axe. Blue fire crackled.\n\nThese blades are rune-marked, too. The dark blades carved the Revenants to pieces. He ran on.\n\nShar screamed, slashing and stabbing to either side as Revenants slammed into her horse, ripping at the animal with long talons."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gulla strode through his Revenants, drawing a longsword from his hip. A Revenant leaped up onto the saddle behind Shar and dragged her crashing to the ground.\n\n\"Hold her,\" Gulla snarled, and stood over Shar.\n\nThe Kadoshim raised his sword high, Shar struggling on the ground, a Revenant pinning her.\n\nA thundering of hooves.\n\n\"GULLA!\" a voice yelled, and Gulla paused, looking round to see a warrior riding at him.\n\nA red-haired warrior with a black-bladed spear.\n\nFear flashed in Gulla's red eye and his wings beat, lifting him into the air.\n\nCullen drew his arm back and hurled the spear into the air. It flew, slicing into Gulla's belly, bursting out of the Kadoshim's back. He fell, screeching and flailing. Cullen leaped from his mount's back, hitting the ground, rising, drawing his sword and running towards Gulla. Revenants ran at him and Cullen slashed, blue flame crackling, limbs and heads flying through the air.\n\nDrem reached Shar, stabbed down into the Revenant holding her. Shar grabbed her sword and climbed to her feet. She ran, Drem following.\n\nRevenants were encircling Gulla, who was writhing on the ground, screeching and hissing, holding onto the spear shaft in his belly.\n\nDrem, Shar and Cullen carved into the Revenants. Cullen reached Gulla first, screaming Keld's name as he swung his sword.\n\nA burst of blue flame and Gulla's head rolled away from his body.\n\nA pause, the Revenants switching from their too-fast, stuttered movement to absolute stillness. Then, as one, the Revenants dropped."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All around the battlefield warriors paused, looking at the creatures dropping around them. Cheering rang out across the field. Drem saw Ert turn, shouting orders to the remnants of his shield wall, saw them turn, a tide-line of Revenant dead piled beyond them. A crack as warriors' shields came together, and then they were marching towards Asroth, cutting down acolytes, pushing through the swirl of horses and Kadoshim.\n\nAsroth was surrounded by battle, riders, Kadoshim, Ben-Elim sweeping down from above, warriors of the Order on foot, acolytes in their scores. Drem saw Byrne's body, lying where she had fallen, small and still amidst the swirl of violence. Without thought, he was weaving through the arena of battle, until he burst out into the open space that ringed Asroth. Riders were circling the Lord of the Kadoshim. Meical was there, Rivas well, striking at him, seeking an opening. Kadoshim wheeled amongst them, and at the centre of it all, Asroth laughed his deep, baleful laugh, wielding his black axe and revelling in the bloodshed and death.\n\nA voice in Drem's head whispered of his oath, the black sword in his hand twitching, but he ran to Byrne instead, dropped to his knees beside her. She was lying upon her back, staring at the sky. Blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the trampled turf.\n\nHer head moved as he fell beside her, gripped her hand and kissed it.\n\n\"It's going to be all right,\" he said, though ice coiled in his chest, snatching his breath away. Tears blurred his vision. This was the woman who had taken him in, fought for him, protected him, taught him, made him feel part of a family again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My sword,\" Byrne said, and Drem saw it lying in the grass. He reached out, put the hilt in her fist.\n\n\"I keep trying to getup, have to fight him,\" Byrne breathed, \"but I can't feel my legs.\"\n\nHe looked down, saw Byrne's legs were unmoving, one at an unnatural angle.\n\nScreams drew Drem's eyes.\n\nAsroth had disappeared amidst the crush of bodies around him. Horses were neighing, rearing, warriors stabbing and slashing.\n\n\"Cré, caith mo namhaid don ghaoth,\" a voice bellowed. There was a ripple in the earth beneath Asroth, like a restless giant turning in their sleep, and an explosion of blood, horses staggering and falling away, warriors hurled from Asroth in all directions.\n\nAsroth stood there, blood-soaked, his black axe dripping gore, looking at the warriors cast down around him, and he smiled.\n\n\"Does he still live?\" Byrne asked Drem.\n\nDrem nodded, rose slowly.\n\n\"Not for long,\" he replied."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Kadoshim was trying to throttle her, an arm wrapped around Riv's neck. She was struggling, swinging her elbow, kicking, but he held on tight. Riv bit down on the Kadoshim's arm, felt blood spurt between her teeth.\n\nHe screamed, his grip loosening, and she was twisting away, slashing with her short-sword across his throat. He fell away, choking on his own blood.\n\nRiv stood there, chest heaving. She saw Meical trying to climb to his feet, using the saddle and harness upon his dead horse to pull himself upright. She stumbled to him, felt the weakness in her leg from the arrow wound, pain pulsing up her back, gave him her arm and helped him stand. They both stood there, battered, bleeding.\n\nA tremor in the ground and Riv looked to the west. A giant brown bear was lumbering across the battleground, Ethlinn upon its back, a handful of giants running alongside her. All in her path were being crushed, hurled through the air. Behind Ethlinn other giants were following, some mounted upon bears, others running on foot. Balur One-Eye was amongst them.\n\nAsroth saw Ethlinn, turned to face her. Kadoshim swooped down at Ethlinn, one of the giants running alongside her crashing to the ground with a spear deep in its chest, the others slowing, forced to fight off the aerial attack. More Kadoshim came, launching themselves at Ethlinn.\n\n\"Bogann an ghaoth iad ó mo chosán,\" Ethlinn cried out, waving a hand. The Kadoshim attacking her were swept away by a tempestuous wind, hurled crashing into each other. Riv heard bones shattering. They fell to the ground, Ethlinn's bear trampling over them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asroth bellowed a challenge.\n\n\"Fréamhacha an turais domhain aici, coinníonn sí í,\" he cried, and the ground shifted before Ethlinn's bear, roots bursting from the earth and wrapping around the bear's legs.\n\n\"Faigheann fréamhacha bás,\" Ethlinn shouted contemptuously, and the roots withered and crumbled, the bear stumbling, righting itself and ploughing on. It roared at Asroth, spittle spraying, waves of sound buffeting them. The bear's jaws opened wide, Asroth standing before it, still as stone. He held his axe wide, one-handed, set his feet, raised the axe high. Then he was moving, stepping to the right, turning on his heel, spinning around, and swinging the black axe with all his might. The bear's momentum carried it wide of Asroth, jaws snapping out at him, even as his axe blade crunched into the bear's chest. It cut through the bear's coat of mail, a shower of iron links, carved deep into the bear's flesh, blood erupting, the bear bellowing, its momentum carrying it on, ripping the axe from Asroth's hands and throwing him to the ground.\n\nThe bear lumbered on tenor twenty paces, then its forelegs folded and it was crashing to the ground, skidding, turf spraying. Ethlinn was hurled from her saddle, thrown through the air.\n\nAsroth climbed to his feet, strode after the fallen bear, put his feet on its chest and wrenched his axe free. He walked towards Ethlinn, who was rising unsteadily to her feet.\n\n\"ASROTH!\" a voice bellowed, Balur One-Eye, Sig's huge sword in his fist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kadoshim fell from the sky, swirling around Balur, stabbing at him. He ducked, swung his sword, shearing through wings, but more Kadoshim flew at him and his companions.\n\nAsroth turned back to Ethlinn.\n\nRiv leaped into the air, Meical limping after heron the ground.\n\nEthlinn stood, her spear in her fists.\n\n\"This world is not for you,\" she said as he approached her.\n\n\"I like it here.\" Asroth grinned.\n\nEthlinn stepped forwards to meet him, swirled her spear over her head, ending with the spear pointing at Asroth's heart.\n\nHe stepped in, swinging his axe.\n\nEthlinn sidestepped, stabbed at Asroth as his swing carried him, her blade scraping across his mail, glancing up, scratching his cheek.\n\n\"Your coat of mail cannot save you,\" Ethlinn said.\n\n\"Tine í a ithe,\" Asroth shouted, a hint of panic in his voice, wiping blood from his face and holding it on his gauntleted hand. The crackle of flame and fire grew upon his palm, expanding, and Asroth hurled it like a ball at Ethlinn.\n\n\"Múchfaidh an ghaoth na lasracha seo,\" Ethlinn called out, and a swirling wind rose up around her, swept forwards and tore the flames to stuttering ribbons.\n\n\"And neither can your words of power,\" Ethlinn said. \"In every way you are outmatched. You have not the skill to best me, only your mail is keeping you alive a few moments longer.\"\n\nAsroth snarled and rushed in, wings beating, gripping his axe two-handed. Ethlinn stepped into meet him, holding her spear in the same way, and their weapons met, a series of cracks and clashes. Ethlinn was taller than Asroth, but shockingly fast for her size. There was a flurry of blows, Ethlinn's spear striking Asroth four times, three of them sparking on his blackmail, the fourth slicing a red line down one forearm. He staggered away, off-balance, stood and looked at the blood on his arm. He looked at Ethlinn, then up at the sky above her."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conclusion\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Courage\nChapter: 121"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kadoshim fell from the sky, swirling around Balur, stabbing at him. He ducked, swung his sword, shearing through wings, but more Kadoshim flew at him and his companions.\n\nAsroth turned back to Ethlinn.\n\nRiv leaped into the air, Meical limping after heron the ground.\n\nEthlinn stood, her spear in her fists.\n\n\"This world is not for you,\" she said as he approached her.\n\n\"I like it here.\" Asroth grinned.\n\nEthlinn stepped forwards to meet him, swirled her spear over her head, ending with the spear pointing at Asroth's heart.\n\nHe stepped in, swinging his axe.\n\nEthlinn sidestepped, stabbed at Asroth as his swing carried him, her blade scraping across his mail, glancing up, scratching his cheek.\n\n\"Your coat of mail cannot save you,\" Ethlinn said.\n\n\"Tine í a ithe,\" Asroth shouted, a hint of panic in his voice, wiping blood from his face and holding it on his gauntleted hand. The crackle of flame and fire grew upon his palm, expanding, and Asroth hurled it like a ball at Ethlinn.\n\n\"Múchfaidh an ghaoth na lasracha seo,\" Ethlinn called out, and a swirling wind rose up around her, swept forwards and tore the flames to stuttering ribbons.\n\n\"And neither can your words of power,\" Ethlinn said. \"In every way you are outmatched. You have not the skill to best me, only your mail is keeping you alive a few moments longer.\"\n\nAsroth snarled and rushed in, wings beating, gripping his axe two-handed. Ethlinn stepped into meet him, holding her spear in the same way, and their weapons met, a series of cracks and clashes. Ethlinn was taller than Asroth, but shockingly fast for her size. There was a flurry of blows, Ethlinn's spear striking Asroth four times, three of them sparking on his blackmail, the fourth slicing a red line down one forearm. He staggered away, off-balance, stood and looked at the blood on his arm. He looked at Ethlinn, then up at the sky above her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"TOME!\" Asroth bellowed, and a swarm of Kadoshim disengaged from combat and swept towards him. Ethlinn disappeared within a storm of wings. Riv heard her shouting words of power, saw Kadoshim swept and hurled by strong winds, but there were so many.\n\nRiv flew towards them, Meical breaking into a limping run, others trying to get to Ethlinn through the swirling Kadoshim. Meical cried out. Riv saw him on the ground, a Kadoshim standing over him. Without thought she threw her black knife, the blade punching into the Kadoshim's back, high, between its wings. It shrieked, stumbled forwards, Meical rolling to one knee, standing, slashed with his sword across the Kadoshim's belly. Mail links torn, a line of blood. The Kadoshim stumbled back.\n\nRiv flew down, wanting her knife back.\n\n\"This is why you will lose, Meical,\" the Kadoshim snarled. \"Because you do not see these things for the vermin they are.\" He sneered at Riv.\n\n\"You are the vermin, Sulak,\" Meical said, \"and Riv is my friend.\" He stepped forwards, a straight stab into the Kadoshim's throat. Sulak fell away, gurgling. Riv kicked him over and pulled her knife from his back.\n\nA cry behind them, both turning to see Kadoshim stabbing down at Ethlinn, and she stumbled, her spear dropping from her hands. Asroth stepped in, Ethlinn's mouth moving as she spoke words of power, but Asroth grabbed her wrist, heaved her towards him and slammed his helmeted head into her face. Ethlinn's legs buckled and she dropped to her knees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A roar from Balur, Riv glancing to see him running, cutting a Kadoshim from the sky without breaking stride.\n\nAsroth stepped back and swung his axe, a sickening crunch as the blade chopped through mail and carved deep into Ethlinn's back. She collapsed to the ground, her legs twitching, then still. Asroth put his boot on her back and wrenched the axe free.\n\nRiv and Meical hurled themselves at Asroth. He swung the butt end of his axe, smashing into Riv's side, sending her crashing into Meical. They tumbled away, Asroth striding after them, axe rising.\n\nThe ground trembled and a white bear shambled to stand over Riv and Meical, Drem upon its back. The bear lashed with a huge paw, caught Asroth halfway through his axe-swing and hurled him through the air.\n\nDrem looked down at Meical and Riv.\n\n\"Best begetting back on your feet, we'll need to do this together.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem slipped down from Friend's back.\n\n\"You stay out of this,\" Drem said to the bear. \"Kill Kadoshim or acolytes, but leave Asroth to us.\" He offered his hand to Riv, helping her stand.\n\n\"Take this,\" he said to Meical, offering the black axe.\n\nMeical looked at it, saw black smoke coil, gave a cold smile. He sheathed his sword and took the axe.\n\nDrem turned and faced Asroth.\n\nAsroth beat his wings, righting himself, strode back towards them, his axe rising again.\n\n\"You should have seen: I know how to deal with bears,\" Asroth growled.\n\n\"You'll kill no more of my friends today,\" Drem said, walking towards Asroth. Riv limped on his left side, Meical on the right.\n\nAsroth laughed. \"I'll kill all of your friends today, and you as well.\" He shook his head. \"Humans, thinking you can actually make a choice about how this will end.\"\n\n\"We'll end you, you pale-faced bastard,\" Cullen called out, running to join them. A Kadoshim swept out of the sky, stabbing, but Cullen sidestepped and sliced with a black-bladed spear, the Kadoshim crying out, his intestines spilling to the ground.\n\nDrem nodded at Cullen as he came to stand beside them.\n\nAsroth looked at them, at the starstone weapons in their hands. Sword, axe, knife and spear. Something rippled across his face.\n\n\"Nothing worthwhile is easy,\" Asroth said grimly, and started walking towards them.\n\nA whistling sound, something huge hurtling through the air between Drem and Riv. Sig's sword, spinning end-over-end. It slammed into Asroth's chest, point first, would have skewered a draig, but his coat of mail somehow held. The sword exploded into a thousand shards but the impact hurled Asroth from his feet, flying through the air, losing his grip on his axe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem turned to see Balur One-Eye running towards them. He slowed at Ethlinn's body, staring down at her, then looked at Asroth. His face was twitching and shuddering, grief a raw wound in his eyes. Slowly Drem saw it shift to rage. A cold, burning rage. Balur stalked towards them. He shrugged his war-hammer from his back, long-shafted, iron banded, a solid lump of pitted iron at its head. He rolled his shoulders, clicked his neck.\n\nAsroth rose slowly, looked at Balur and the others. Looked to the sky.\n\n\"TOME!\" Asroth bellowed at his Kadoshim, as he took his whip from his belt, let the iron-bound cords drop to the ground, slid a short-sword from its scabbard.\n\nKadoshim tried to disengage from their battles, some flying to Asroth, gathering behind him, hovering. Fifteen, twenty of them.\n\nBalur started to run at Asroth, Drem a heartbeat behind. Riv lifted into the air, Cullen and Meical following Drem and Balur.\n\nAsroth's whip cracked, straight at Balur, but somehow Balur swayed and swerved, the cords hissing through the air, past his face, and Balur was leaping.\n\nAsroth stabbed outwith his short-sword.\n\nBalur parried the blow with his hammer-haft, iron bands screaming, a flare of sparks. He swung the hammer into Asroth's head, a grating crunch, sending Asroth stumbling, reeling, his black helm spinning through the air, the leather buckle snapping. Asroth's wings beat, steadying him, and he turned snarling at Balur, silver hair flowing down his back."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Balur strode at him, a Kadoshim diving, stabbing, Balur hammering it into the ground.\n\n\"Talamh a shealbhú mo namhaid,\" Asroth yelled, and the ground around Balur's feet shifted into a sucking bog, Balur sinking into it.\n\nDrem was close, ducked a Kadoshim, slashed with his sword, a clang as his blade was parried. Cullen stabbed the Kadoshim with his spear, a shriek. Drem continued moving forwards, closer to Asroth, swept a Kadoshim's spear away, slashed across the demon's throat.\n\nAsroth stepped towards Balur, his sword rising, the giant held firm in the ground. Asroth smiled.\n\n\"Scaoileadh talún mo chara,\" a voice cried out, and Drem twisted to see Byrne heaving herself across the ground towards them, her legs dragging limp behind her. \"Scaoileadh talún mo chara,\" Byrne shouted again, and the ground around Balur's feet solidified, spitting him out. The giant stumbled, fell to the ground, rolled as Asroth's sword hissed through air.\n\nAsroth bellowed his frustration.\n\nMeical reached Asroth, ducked his sword-swing and chopped the black axe Drem had given him into Asroth's thigh.\n\nA bellowing scream, Asroth lashing a backswing at Meical, Meical ducking, too slow, the sword blade slicing through his wing, sending him staggering a few paces. Asroth's whip cracked again, wrapping around Meical, screams as black iron bit, and Asroth dragged Meical through the air, hurling him away, flesh tearing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv swept down through a storm of Kadoshim, swerved around Asroth and his sword and slashed with her black knife, tearing along rent in the blackmail across Asroth's ribs. Blood welled. Then she was sweeping up, out of range, Kadoshim falling upon her.\n\nAsroth paused, looked at the blood, snarled, drew his arm back, cracked the whip at Riv.\n\n\"Scuabann an ghaoth é,\" Byrne cried, and a funnel of wind rose around Asroth, rocking him, sending the strike of his whip wide.\n\nA wordless scream from Asroth, rage and fury. He muttered words, eyes fixed on Byrne. Flames crackled to life along the wound on his arm, tongues of fire materializing; Asroth gathered them in his fist, pulled his arm back to hurl them at Byrne. Drem slammed into Asroth, staggering him, the tongues of fire flung to the ground, an explosion of flames and sparks; heat swept Drem, scorching hair, Drem leaping away.\n\nAsroth roared.\n\nBalur came at him, war-hammer swinging. Asroth's legs bunched and he launched into the air, wings snapping wide and beating, the hammer hissing below his feet. He swung his sword at Balur, who raised his hammer, the sword chopping into the haft. A crack and the shaft was splintered. Balur dropped the two halves. Asroth kicked him in the face, Balur falling backwards, crashing to the ground, and Asroth's whip cracked, wrapping around Balur's arm, iron hooks biting deep.\n\nBalur bellowed his pain.\n\nAsroth tensed, pulling on the whip, flesh flaying along Balur's arm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem stepped in and swung his black sword, severing the whip's cords. A crack like thunder, black smoke exploding where sword and whip met. Asroth tumbled away, the resistance suddenly gone.\n\nBalur climbed to one knee.\n\n\"Think I'll see how this suits me,\" he growled. He lifted Asroth's long axe from the ground, climbed to his feet.\n\nAsroth stared, wings beating, rose hovering into the air.\n\nDrem saw it in Asroth's eyes.\n\nFear. He's going to flyaway.\n\nAsroth's wings beat, lifting him higher.\n\nCullen's spear slammed into Asroth's side, punching through the mail, into his ribs.\n\nAsroth screamed, ripped the spear from his body, another lurching beat of his wings taking him higher, blood cascading from the spear-wound.\n\nRiv crashed into him, the two of them spinning together. Drem saw Riv's knife rising and falling, stabbing into Asroth's back, slicing one of his wings to tattered ribbons. Riv was screaming her mother's name, again and again. Asroth bellowed his pain, punched his sword hilt into Riv's head, Riv falling away, limbs suddenly boneless. She crashed to the ground in a heap, Asroth lurching down behind her, his tattered wing failing him. He stumbled to the ground and Cullen leaped at him, slashing with Corban's sword. The blade crunched into Asroth's shoulder, mail turning the blade, but Drem heard the sound of bone breaking. Asroth grunted, slashed his short-sword across Cullen's shoulder, slicing through mail and deep into muscle, blood spurting."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen cried out. Asroth punched him with his gauntleted fist. Cullen's nose broke, blood pouring. He fell flat on his back, Asroth standing over him, short-sword rising.\n\nDrem stepped in, held his sword as his da had taught him, high in a two-handed grip.\n\nStooping falcon.\n\nHe slashed at Asroth, right to left, shattered blackmail, a red gash from shoulder to ribs. Asroth cried out, falling away.\n\nKadoshim swooped at Drem. There was a hiss of air and body parts were raining down upon him-Balur swinging the black-bladed long axe.\n\nDrem and Balur walked after Asroth, stepped left and right.\n\n\"TOME!\" Asroth cried, backing away, short-sword flitting from Drem to Balur. But no one answered his call, his Kadoshim dead or entangled in battle. Asroth beat his wings, rose lurching into the air.\n\n\"Fréamhacha an aeir, greim air,\" Byrne yelled, and roots burst from the ground, leaping into the air like striking snakes, wrapping around Asroth's ankles, snaring him, dragging him crashing back to earth.\n\nDrem stepped in, sword in guard across his body.\n\nIron gate, his father's voice whispered.\n\nAsroth staggered, slashed at the roots, saw Drem and lunged at him, a clang as Drem swept the sword wide, then stepped in quickly, stabbing from low to high, two-handed.\n\nBoar's tusk, his father breathed in Drem's mind.\n\nDrem yelled as his black sword punched into Asroth's belly, pierced mail, deeper, through linen, wool and into flesh. Asroth stared at him, surprise, shock, disbelief crawling across his face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem stepped into the blow, forcing his blade deeper, Asroth grunting, gasping. Black blood pulsed around the wound.\n\n\"That is my oath fulfilled, Father,\" Drem whispered. Then he ripped the sword free, blood flowing. Asroth stumbled back apace.\n\nThen Balur's black axe crunched into Asroth's neck, a downwards stroke, shearing through mail, collarbone, deep into Asroth's chest.\n\nAsroth opened his mouth to say something, but only blood bubbled on his lips.\n\nHe fell backwards, crashed to the ground, and lay still."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv groaned, opened her eyes.\n\nAm I dead?\n\nThe pain pulsing through her, from so many places, all clamouring for her attention, told her she was definitely alive.\n\n\"Here,\" a voice said, Meical, standing over her. His arm, shoulder and part of his face were sliced to ribbons, flesh lacerated, blood flowing, but he had a smile on his face.\n\nRiv took his arm and climbed to her feet.\n\n\"Asroth?\" she said.\n\n\"Dead,\" Meical nodded.\n\nIt was quiet.\n\nThere was no more combat in the air above, or on the field around them. Riv saw half-breed Kadoshim on their knees, arms in the air in surrender, acolytes dropping their weapons.\n\nRiv and Meical walked slowly, the ground littered with the dead. Cullen was climbing to his feet, his nose twisted, clearly broken, his lower face slick with blood. Together the three of them joined Drem and Balur, staring down at Asroth.\n\nHe looked smaller, in death. His skin translucent-pale, silver hair splayed around his head. He was covered in wounds, their collective effort.\n\nYou are avenged, Mam.\n\n\"Got to admit, he was hard to kill.\" Cullen was breathing hard. \"Good fight, though.\"\n\nDrem shook his head wearily.\n\nBalur spat on Asroth's corpse and walked away. An arm wrapped around Riv's shoulder and she looked to see Jost. Tall, skinny, impossible-to-kill Jost, his shield arm was hanging limp.\n\n\"Should have known you'd be one of the God-Killers,\" he said, grinned at her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She hugged him, so much emotion sweeping through her.\n\nThe tremor of giant feet and Balur returned. He was holding a figure cradled in his arms.\n\nByrne.\n\nDrem saw her and stepped aside for Balur. Byrne was pale, pain pinching her features, but her eyes were aware. She looked at Drem and he reached out and squeezed her hand.\n\n\"We did it,\" he whispered, \"with your help.\"\n\nA tear dropped from Byrne's eye.\n\n\"Look, Byrne,\" Balur grated, his voice full of grief. \"Look at the accomplishment of your life's work.\" Gently he stroked hair from Byrne's face and angled her so that she could see Asroth.\n\n\"It's over,\" Balur rumbled.\n\nThose words sank into Riv, slowly, like raindrops into wool.\n\n\"It's over,\" she breathed. Somehow saying the words out loud made it feel real. Her legs felt weak and she held onto Jost, who grinned at her.\n\n\"It's over,\" she said again. Felt a rush of relief flood through her, a flicker of joy. And then all she could think of was one thing. One person.\n\nBleda.\n\nBecause when you love someone, you have to share your joy with them.\n\nShe looked around at the gathering crowd, hundreds strong, now, but couldn't see him, or any of the Sirak. She spread her wings, people shuffling away behind her, giving her space.\n\n\"Have you seen Bleda?\" she asked Jost. He shook his head. Faelan was close by and heard her.\n\n\"I saw the Sirak near the forest,\" he said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv beat her wings and took to the sky, spiralling up.\n\nMost of the field was still now, crows circling. The living were mostly moving to look at Asroth, though others were walking amongst the fallen, searching for survivors, tending to the injured. She saw Kill organizing the guarding of prisoners. Riv flew west, across the field, dead draigs strewn beneath her, and far in the distance one running, its lurching, shambling gait taking it towards Ripa. There was movement within the eaves of the forest. She saw Sirak upon horses, and giants. Her wings beat, taking her further, and she angled downwards, skimmed the treetops, saw more Sirak and giants passing through the forest. And then she was flying over a glade, saw bodies strewn upon the ground, Sirak lined around the glade's edge, in a deep circle.\n\nWorry uncoiled in her belly like a wyrm, slithering, stealing her joy away in a heartbeat.\n\nShe circled lower, level with the trees now, then lower.\n\nThe Sirak were there, hundreds of them ringing the glade, and she saw Old Ellac, sitting on the grass and staring, at a body.\n\nAnd then she saw him.\n\n\"No,\" she breathed, felt her stomach lurch, dived the last distance, landing, her wounded leg almost giving way, and she was dropping to the ground, throwing herself upon Bleda's body, holding him, pulling him into her arms, sobbing, kissing his face. His cold, cold face.\n\n\"No, Bleda,\" she said, \"it's over, you have to wake up, it's over, we've done it. We can go home now.\" She shook him, willing him to take a breath, for her to see his eyes focus on her. His beautiful, beautiful eyes, that always seemed to look into her, and know her. She stroked his cheek, her tears falling onto him, her body shaking with sobs. She hugged him tight, rocking back and forth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She didn't know how long she had been there, but dimly she became aware of other people around her. Faelan, looking down at her with sad eyes. His kin were about him; others were in the trees. Drem and Cullen rode into the glade, Drem upon Friend, the bear limping, his fur bloodied and torn. Meical rode with them, fresh bandages wound about his face and shoulder. They were looking at Riv with such concern in their eyes that her grief surfaced again, afresh wave. She drew in a shuddering breath, then looked up at Ellac.\n\nHe had been sitting there, the whole time, just staring at Bleda. He looked so old now. An old man, withered and frail, some kind of spark gone from him.\n\nBleda was his spark. His reason for living.\n\n\"What happened?\" she asked him, her voice halting.\n\n\"I... don't know,\" Ellac said. \"We fought, here, with Jin and her kin. Bleda slew Jin. Yul was wounded and Bleda sent me to find a healer.\" He gestured at Yul's corpse, lying close to Bleda. \"When I came back, he was...\" Ellac swallowed, and tears rolled down his cheeks. They were not the first, judging by the lines on his face through the blood and grime.\n\n\"There was no one else here?\" Riv asked him.\n\nEllac looked to the far side of the glade, Riv following his eyes, to where a Kadoshim's corpse lay, its head half-severed.\n\n\"Kol was here,\" Ellac said. \"Bleda saved him from that Kadoshim.\"\n\n\"Kol,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Aye, but he was gone when I returned,\" Ellac said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv looked up at Faelan.\n\n\"Find him, bring him here,\" she said.\n\nFaelan nodded and took to the sky, some of his kin following him.\n\nDrem and Cullen came and sat down beside her, said no words. Fen the wolven-hound loped into the glade, up to Drem, licked his face and then curled down around him.\n\nRiv sat therewith them, waiting. More tears came, her grief an ocean inside her.\n\nThe sound of wings and Faelan was spiralling down into the glade, his kin with him. Kol flew amongst them, a score of Ben-Elim about him. He alighted before Riv, looking down at her and Bleda. He was covered in cuts and bruises, his face still raw from the injuries he'd sustained at Ripa.\n\nHe bent over Riv, peering at Bleda.\n\n\"Ah, that is a shame,\" he said. He looked at Riv, shook his head. \"War is a terrible thing.\"\n\n\"Ellac says you were herewith Bleda, alone,\" Riv said. She lay Bleda's head gently on the ground and stood, Cullen and Drem helping her. Ellac rose, too, with the help of his spear.\n\n\"Aye, that is true,\" Kol said. \"I fought a Kadoshim.\" He gestured to the creature's corpse. \"Bleda helped me. He ordered Ellac to fetch a healer for his oathman. I stayed, thanked him for his assistance with the Kadoshim-\"\n\n\"Assistance!\" Ellac muttered. \"You'd be a dead man if Bleda hadn't stepped in.\"\n\n\"Aye, maybe.\" Kol shrugged. \"I thanked him, and then left, rejoined the battle.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"How did he die?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv asked him.\n\n\"I don't know,\" Kol said, his face flat. He looked at Bleda's corpse. At the wound in his throat, and the arrow in his thigh. He pointed at the arrow. \"The Cheren, I'm guessing,\" he said. \"The battle was spread all through the eaves of the forest and the Cheren were everywhere.\"\n\nRiv looked at Bleda's wounds. She had not been able to bring herself to do so, until now. But something was whispering to her.\n\nEllac frowned.\n\n\"That is a Sirak arrow,\" he said, crouching to look at it, using his spear for balance.\n\nKol shrugged again. \"I don't know what happened, but that's my educated guess. I'm going to go now. My body hurts, and there is much to do. I have a kingdom to rebuild.\"\n\n\"Kol does know what happened,\" a voice squawked.\n\nRiv looked around the glade, searching for the owner of the voice.\n\nA branch swayed above them, leaves rustling, shifting to reveal an old crow, pink skin visible where his feathers had fallen out.\n\n\"Craf,\" Alcyon said.\n\nKol spread his wings.\n\n\"Wait,\" Riv said to him.\n\n\"You don't tell me what to do,\" Kol said.\n\n\"Craf, what did you say about Kol?\" Meical asked the crow.\n\nCraf hopped from one leg to the next, looking at Kol with dark, intelligent eyes.\n\n\"Kol BADMAN!\" Craf squawked. \"Kol stab Bleda.\"\n\nRiv blinked, a roaring in her ears. She stared at Craf, then looked at Kol."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Don't be absurd,\" Kol said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Of course I didn't. We are on the same side, for goodness' sake. Why would I do that?\"\n\n\"Cairn of murdered babies,\" Craf squawked, \"that's what Bleda said. Then Kol stab Bleda with spear.\"\n\nKol took a few quicksteps towards Craf, his fingers twitching to his sword.\n\nCullen moved in front of Kol, his sword in his fist, his face dark. \"I'd not do that, if you want to keep your head,\" Cullen growled. Ben-Elim moved, hands on weapons.\n\nMeical stepped between them, holding a hand up.\n\n\"Kol is to stand before the Assembly for other accusations,\" Meical said. \"This can be dealt with there.\"\n\n\"Yes, if you like,\" Kol said, a sneer on his face. \"But I hardly think the Ben-Elim will credit the testimony of a crow. Let alone one that is bald and senile.\"\n\n\"Rude,\" Craf muttered. \"Kol murderer.\"\n\n\"Shut up!\" Kol snapped.\n\n\"You killed Bleda,\" Riv said, staring at Kol.\n\n\"Pfah,\" Kol spat. \"I'm not staying hereto listen to this gibberish. Make your claim at the Assembly, and see how that fares for you.\"\n\nRiv's hand dropped to the pommel of her short-sword. The ocean of grief in her belly had changed, quick as thought. It was rage now, a storm inside her. A red mist filled her vision, her head, a tingling in her veins. Muscles twitched in her jaw.\n\n\"Don't,\" Kol said.\n\n\"You killed Bleda,\" Riv repeated. She lunged forwards, reaching for her short-sword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Shouts, people grabbing at her, hands and arms snatching at her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But she was too quick. Kol hadn't even had time to react before her sword was out and resting against his throat.\n\nA heavy, breath-held silence.\n\n\"You should put that away,\" Kol said, staring into Riv's eyes. \"Don't bean idiot. Do you want to start another war?\"\n\nShe stared back at him, and he saw the hatred in her eyes. Saw that she didn't care.\n\n\"I am your father, you cannot kill me,\" he hissed.\n\nRiv heard murmurs amongst the Ben-Elim behind Kol, but she didn't take her eyes from his.\n\nHe killed Bleda. My Bleda. After we had come through so much, for it to end like this. The red wave inside her turned into a black one, rising high as a wall, a dark sorrow overwhelming her. In one moment life had drained of all meaning, of all colour.\n\nAnd you took it from me.\n\nHer body tensed for the killing thrust.\n\nAn arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her back. She turned her dark glare upon him, saw that it was Ellac.\n\n\"You don't want his death on your soul,\" Ellac said, looking deep into her eyes. \"It would change you, leave a stain on your heart. He is your father, your kin.\"\n\nRiv's lips twisted, tears of anger and grief mingled.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Kol said to Ellac.\n\nEllac took his eyes from Riv's and looked at Kol. Then he stabbed his spear forwards, adder-fast, the blade piercing Kol's throat. Whipped it back out, blood jetting.\n\nA stunned moment, everyone staring.\n\n\"Bleda was as a son tome,\" Ellac snarled, his voice breaking, tears rolling down his cheeks. \"I would slay you a thousand times and risk a thousand wars for him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kol staggered back, hands reaching to his throat, blood pulsing over them. He swayed, dropped to his knees.\n\nBen-Elim shouted, drew their swords.\n\nThree hundred Sirak bows were bent.\n\n\"Loose,\" Ellac said.\n\nAs one, the Sirak released their bowstrings, their arrows hammering into Kol, hurling him to the ground. His blood soaked into the forest floor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha stared at the sky. It was empty of wings now, of Kadoshim and Ben-Elim, though crows were starting to replace them.\n\nThey will come for me soon, Fritha thought. I hope I am dead when they do. I have seen what they eat first. Eyes, and lips. The softest parts.\n\n\"Fola, croí, a bheith mall, beo, beagán níos faide,\" she whispered, the same words she had been breathing since Drem had ripped his seax from her and she had collapsed to the ground. She knew the words of power she was uttering would not save her, would only keep her alive a little longer.\n\nIn truth, she was not sure why she was clinging onto life so desperately.\n\nFor my baby. Because she knew, when she died, so would the child growing inside her. But it was inevitable-there was no coming back from Drem's blow.\n\nThe blood pulsing from the wound in her belly was leaking sluggishly. She felt her heartbeat beginning to fade, becoming weaker, the gaps between each beat longer, the same with her breaths. Her baby kicked within her, an act of panic. That upset her. She did not want her child to feel fear.\n\nShe turned her head, saw the place where Asroth had fallen. She'd watched his fall, was still surprised by it, by Drem and the rest. Asroth's body was gone now, carried away by Balur and his giants. The battleground was empty, still and silent, apart from the squawking of crows, the wet slap of beaks tearing flesh. Nearby she heard the snort of a horse, heard it chewing at a clump of untrampled grass."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A memory of Asroth flashed through her mind, in Drassil's Great Hall, of her dressing him in his war gear. He had seemed invincible, like a god to her.\n\nI thought you would have saved me. Saved your unborn child.\n\nShe had said that to him, when he had landed beside her. He had bent down to her, and she had asked him to save her, and her baby.\n\nHe had shrugged. \"There are more bellies in this world that I can plant my seed in,\" he had said, then stood and strode away.\n\nShe had wept then, knowing that her baby would die.\n\nA sound, a scratching on the ground. She tried to move, but she had no strength, her limbs numb, her body an immovable weight. She twisted her head, saw something crawling towards her.\n\nArn. Blood pulsed from the stump of his wrist. He was dragging himself through the dirt with his remaining hand, looking at her.\n\nShe smiled at him.\n\nHe reached her, lay his head upon her.\n\n\"Forgive me,\" he said to her.\n\n\"For what? You gave all. Everything,\" she breathed.\n\n\"I swore to protect your child.\"\n\nA silence, thoughts taking too long to wind their way through the fog growing in Fritha's mind.\n\n\"You still can,\" she said.\n\n\"How?\" Arn asked. He pushed himself upright, looked at her. She could see some of his strength returning.\n\n\"Take my sword, cut my baby free and save her. Take her somewhere faraway and raise her.\"\n\nArn pulled away.\n\n\"I cannot do that,\" he said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You swore,\" she said, a flash of fierce passion in her voice. \"I am done, my body broken, my life-blood soaking the earth. But she still lives within me. I can feel her.\" She looked into Arn's eyes, saw his tears, felt tears of her own.\n\n\"Please,\" she whispered.\n\nHe stared at her, emotions rippling across his face. Then he stroked her forehead, kissed her cheek and wrapped his hand around the hilt of the short-sword at her belt, its blade black as night."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Year 1 of the Age of Courage, Eagle's Moon\n\nRiv swooped down into a bank of cloud, all becoming white mist fora dozen heartbeats, and then she was bursting through it, moisture coating her like a cobweb. Dun Seren spread below her, glowing in the morning sun.\n\nFaintly, she could hear a bell ringing.\n\nShe shifted awing and began the long spiralling descent.\n\nDun Seren grew larger, other winged figures flying over the fortress, all of them descending, like Riv, towards the weapons-field.\n\nIt felt good to be back, like coming home, and the knowledge that her friends were down there made her heart smile a little. But there was still something, a cloud within her, that kept her distant. She had spent so long with grief wrapped around her heart that sometimes she thought it had seeped into her bones, into her soul.\n\nOh, Bleda, Mam, how I miss you both.\n\nShe sucked in a deep breath and tried to focus on what was about to happen.\n\nPeople were gathered upon the weapons-field, as small as ants from Riv's great height, others walking through wide streets, making their way to the same place. A section towards the rear of the field, where anew building was underway. A stone dais stood upon a flagstoned floor, wider than Dun Seren's keep. It had been built by Balur and many giants. On the field around it pegs and markers were hammered into earth, trenches being dug, the foundations fora new building. Balur was there, Ukran, Alcyon and Raina, a hundred other giants, all masters of stonework. Scattered around the new foundations were a handful of old oaks, their trunks wide, the bark thick and knotted. Crows sat upon the branches, watching. Riv spied Rab amongst them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "People were upon the dais; Riv was low enough now to recognize faces."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Byrne was there, sitting in her chair, which had poles slipped through iron brackets so that it could be carried about. Furs were draped across her lap. Craf was perched on the chair's back, Tain and Kill either side. Meical was standing with them, his white wings gleaming in the spring's sunlight. He was leaning down and talking to Byrne. Or to Craf.\n\nProbably both.\n\nTo one side of the dais Riv saw amass of white-feathered wings. Ben-Elim, standing silently, looking up at the newly risen sun.\n\nThe sound of wings and a voice called to Riv: Faelan, sweeping through the air towards her. She raised a hand in greeting and together they spiralled down to the dais, alighting on the grass before it, landing beside her friends.\n\nDrem and Cullen were there, both in wool tunics, grey cloaks wrapped around their shoulders. Riv was not used to seeing them out of a coat of mail, though they still wore their weapons-belts. She was wearing her coat of mail, rolled her shoulders to shift the weight.\n\nCullen grinned to see her, Drem smiling, too, and she strode over to them, pulling her wings tight.\n\n\"Glad you could join us.\" Cullen winked at her.\n\n\"This is not something I'd miss,\" Riv said. \"Even if Byrne hadn't ordered me to be here.\"\n\nAn arm wrapped around her shoulder and she turned to see Jost smiling at her.\n\n\"Welcome back,\" he said to her. \"How are you?\"\n\nRiv had flown to Arcona, to meet with Ellac and the remnants of the Sirak. A great cairn had been raised over Bleda's body when they had returned to their homeland, and Riv found herself visiting there often, just to stand before Bleda's cairn and talk to him. Life was calmer in the Banished Lands since the Day of Courage, but grief still darkened Riv's mind. She knew Bleda was gone, and nothing could bring him back, but standing close to his burial mound, knowing there was something of him within, somehow seemed to ease her pain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fine,\" she said with a shrug.\n\nJost looked at her as if he didn't believe her.\n\nHe wore the grey cloak of the Order, bore the four-pointed star upon his shoulder. There were no White-Wings anymore. The world had changed so much, the White-Wings disbanded. Ert, Jost and the surviving White-Wings had joined the Order the day after the battle on Balara's fields.\n\nA horn blew, Tain on the dais.\n\n\"It is time,\" he called out, when the ringing faded.\n\nCullen looked at Drem and Riv, and together they stepped forwards; others were stepping out of the crowd, climbing up onto the dais. A mixture of warriors of the Order, Faelan amongst them. Riv stood beside Byrne. She looked up at Riv and smiled at her.\n\nGiants appeared, Balur, Alcyon, Raina and Ukran, carrying a chest threaded with poles between them. They approached the dais, climbed broad steps and walked to its centre, then stopped.\n\nBalur and the others saw Riv and she dipped her head to them.\n\nRaina opened the chest and the four giants tipped out its contents.\n\nAlong black-bladed axe, a helm, a coat of mail, a gauntlet, a spear, a sword, a second, smaller axe and a knife. The remnants of a whip, and a short-sword.\n\nBalur and the others took the chest away.\n\nThen Byrne took a knife from her belt and opened a red line across her palm.\n\n\"Cumhacht i mo chuid fola, oscail doras,\" she said, and let it drip into a pewter cup. She passed the cup to Riv, who cut her hand and held her fist over it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Cumhacht i mo chuid fola, oscail doras,\" Riv breathed, as her blood dripped into the cup, focusing hard on the words. Early on the journey back to Dun Seren from Ripa, Byrne had called a number of warriors to her tent: Riv, Cullen, Drem, Faelan, a few others.\n\n\"So many of our number have fallen,\" Byrne said, \"the secrets of the Order could have been wiped out forever. That cannot happen, so I will teach anew generation the earth power. It is a great responsibility, so guard it with your lives, and use it wisely.\" And as simply as that, Byrne had begun to teach them the power of the earth. The journey back to Dun Seren had taken five moons, so a lot had been learned. Having to focus on something so intensely had probably saved Riv's life. Up until that point she had been falling deeper and deeper into a black abyss of grief.\n\nRiv passed the cup onto Drem.\n\nAll on the dais performed the same act, and when they were done Balur One-Eye came and collected the cup. He took it to the pile of black metal in the middle of the dais and poured the blood over the weapons.\n\n\"Iarann dubh, réalta cloiche, a bheith nua,\" Byrne recited, and together they echoed her. The black metal on the dais began to shimmer, a heat haze rippling off it, and then, before their eyes, it began to melt, rippling and pooling.\n\n\"Bíodh doras agat, idir fuil agus cnámh agus biotáille,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"Bíodh doras agat, idir fuil agus cnámh agus biotáille,\" they echoed, all of them repeating the words, again and again. Riv felt the tingle in her blood, had learned to recognize that as a sign that the world was changing, reacting to her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The black iron melted into a dark pool on the stone dais, and then it began to move, to shift and change its shape, rising into the air, slowly becoming something new.\n\n\"Bíodh doras agat, idir fuil agus cnámh agus biotáille,\" they continued to chant, until the black substance stopped moving, seemed to cool with a hiss, steam rising from it, as if suddenly doused with water.\n\nTheir voices faded, a silence settling upon them all, spreading across the weapons-field.\n\nBefore them upon the dais stood a black-arched doorway, as tall and wide as two giants. On the far side of the dais the weapons-field rolled up to a stonewall, but Riv looked through the doorway and saw something... else. At first it looked like mist swirling sluggishly, a veil, but there were glimpses of what lay beyond. Of purple skies and white-tipped mountains.\n\nMeical stepped onto the dais, walked until he stood before the doorway. The Ben-Elim that were gathered to the side of the dais followed him. Three hundred and twelve of them. Most of the Ben-Elim who had survived the Battle of the Banished Lands, though not all.\n\nMeical turned and looked at Byrne.\n\n\"It is time for us to leave the Banished Lands,\" he said. \"We have caused enough harm.\"\n\n\"You will always be a friend of the Order of the Bright Star,\" Byrne said to him.\n\nMeical smiled, the scars on his face crinkling. \"I thank you for that. I was a friend to Corban, in the end, so it means much tome, to be a friend to this Order. It is his legacy, and he would have been proud to know you, proud of your courage.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Byrne dipped her head to him.\n\nMeical looked at them all, eyes coming to rest on Riv.\n\n\"It has been my deepest honour to know you,\" he said, \"and to call you friend.\" He bowed to Riv, and she smiled at him, suddenly realized that she was going to miss him.\n\nMeical beat his wings, rose into the air, then turned and flew through the mist-shrouded door. There was a turbulence of wings as the other Ben-Elim left the ground. They spiralled up, then went through the door in a storm of wings.\n\nTendrils of mist curled from the doorway.\n\nThey all stood therefor long moments, staring at the fading shapes. Then Byrne reached beneath a fur upon her lap and drew out a book. There were two sigils upon it, a black tear and the eyes and fangs of a wolven. Byrne's finger traced the sigils, and then she opened the book, looking upon a page of writing in a thin, spidery hand.\n\n\"Cabhraíonn cumhacht na cruinne liom. Gaoth, tine, uisce agus talamh,\" Byrne read from the book, her voice loud, echoing across the field.\n\nEarth power, help me. Wind, fire, water and earth, Riv translated in her mind, even as her voice and of all who stood those alongside her called out the same words of power.\n\n\"Faigh na cinn scoite, créatúir an bhiotáille. Aingil bhán, aingil dorcha, aingeal dílis agus tite,\" Byrne continued.\n\nFind the winged ones, the creatures of spirit. White wing, dark wing, faithful and fallen angels. Riv and the others echoed Byrne's words."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Faigh iad agus ceangail iad, agus tabhair chugam iad,\" Byrne finished.\n\n\"Find them and bind them, and bring them tome,\" Riv breathed aloud, then repeated the words in the old tongue. \"Faigh iad agus ceangail iad, agus tabhair chugam iad.\"\n\nThe last words echoed, slowly faded, a silence settling. A tingling in Riv's blood as a gentle breeze caressed her face, grew quickly stronger, tugging at her braids. Between Byrne and the black portal the air shifted, shimmered. Air swirled, growing faster, wilder, became a wild spinning force, flecked with flame and water. It roared, spiralling into a tight whirlwind, and then exploded outwards, breaking into myriad strands, hurtling out over Riv's head in all directions, like a thousand ropes of air and flame cast into the sky.\n\nRiv looked at Byrne, but she was sitting with her head bowed, staring at the book. Turning, Riv looked into the sky, saw the tendrils of air had fractured in all directions, streaming through the sky, further and faster than Riv could see.\n\nIt seemed that only moments had passed when Riv saw the first speck in the sky. A black dot, growing swiftly larger. A trail of air and flame was returning, a Kadoshim bound within it. The Kadoshim was dragged kicking and screaming through the sky, faster than Riv could fly, over the walls and fields of Dun Seren, the rope of air and flame contracting, hauling the Kadoshim towards them, closer, closer, until the Kadoshim was held bound before them, wings and arms snared tight to its body. It looked at Byrne, hissed and screeched at her as it writhed and bucked, but it could not break its ethereal bonds."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Byrne just stared coldly at it.\n\nMore dots in the sky, a dozen, then a score, soon over a hundred. This time Ben-Elim were amongst them, shouting their outrage, their white wings bound, all of them dragged struggling, shrieking, screaming to hover upon the dais before Byrne and the others. Hundreds of them bound, bunched and jostling together.\n\nRiv searched the sky, saw that all of the tendrils had returned.\n\n\"You do not belong here,\" Byrne said.\n\n\"What outrage is this?\" a Ben-Elim screeched at Byrne. \"How dare you bind us? We are the Ben-Elim, the firstborn of Elyon.\"\n\n\"You are not welcome here,\" Byrne continued, ignoring the Ben-Elim.\n\nYells and cries of shock and indignation, threats and insults spat at Byrne.\n\n\"Caith amach iad, isteach sa neamhní,\" Byrne cried out.\n\n\"Cast them out, into the void,\" Riv breathed, and then raised her voice with the others.\n\n\"Caith amach iad, isteach sa neamhní,\" they called out, like a thunderclap.\n\nBen-Elim and Kadoshim were dragged into the portal, hurled through it, hundreds of voices wailing, deafening at first, but fading as they passed through, disappearing.\n\nSilence settled.\n\nCullen looked at Riv.\n\n\"Well, that was thirsty work. Don't know about you, but I could do with a drink,\" he whispered.\n\nShe looked at him.\n\n\"A drink with friends sounds good,\" Riv said."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Dread\nChapter: 8"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There was logic in that, and Drem liked logic."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "More than that, logic was the cadence by which he walked through life. But the memory of that bear, its claws and teeth, was still vivid in his mind.\n\n\"And we need those pelts to sell, if we don't want to starve through winter, \"Olin added.\"We're not farmers, have no crops to see us through.\"\n\nDrem looked up at the foothills and mountains beyond, solid slabs of darkness now as night settled like a shroud about them.\n\n\"Back to the camp it is, then.\" He nodded.\n\n\"With first light,\" Olin said.\n\nThey settled about the fire, dressed in their dried-out clothes, but all the time Drem was going over the bear attack in his mind. He'd travelled and lived in the Wild for many years with his da, and he was no stranger to the savagery of the Banished Lands and their bloodthirsty predators. Packs of wolven, blood-sucking bats– once he'd even seen a draig. But never had he come across something that had affected him like that white bear. He'd been frozen with fear. There was respect, too; for the staggering majesty of its power, and for its indomitable will. Any creature that made the wild of the Desolation its home was a force to be reckoned with.\n\nHe thought of his da, standing over him as the bear charged.\n\nAnd my dais not so different from that bear. He is indomitable, too.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Drem whispered.\n\n\"Huh?\" Olin grunted, his back to him. Drem had thought he was asleep.\n\n\"I said, thank you. You saved my life.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, I'm your da. It's my job.\"\n\n\"Life and death is no jest,\" Drem muttered.\n\nHis da shifted to look at his son, his face deep-lined, all dark grooves and shadow in the flickering firelight.\n\n\"No, you're right. \"He sat up, pulled his knees up to his chest.\"The truth of it is, there are not many things I've done right in this life. Getting handbound to your mam was one of them. You're another, Drem; the one good thing I have left. And I'll be damned if I'll let anything take you from me. Not without a fight, anyway. '\n\nDrem felt a surge of emotion at his da's words. They were both practical men, both viewed life logically, rarely given to emotional displays. Neither of them were much for long words or long conversations, and Drem had never heard his da say such things as this to him.\n\nMaybe it's coming so close to death. We both stared it in the face this morning.\n\nHis voice did not cooperate as he tried to speak. He coughed, cleared his throat.\n\n\"I wish I could remember more of Mam,\" he said. \"If I think hard enough I can see something of her face, her eyes. Her smile. But no matter how hard I try, I can't remember her voice. '\n\nThe fire crackled between them, the only sound as Olin stared into the flames.\n\n\"Her voice was beautiful,\" he eventually said. \"Like a river to a parched man. At least, it was tome.\" He smiled to himself. \"She laughed a lot, cried little. She liked a good jest, did your mam. Ach, she would falloff her chair she laughed so hard.\" He shrugged, finally looking at Drem. \"She loved you fiercely.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As I love her.\n\nHis memories of his mam were vague and half-formed, like figures in the mist.\n\nLong, dark hair, laughing eyes.\n\nFractured memories flickered through his mind. A song, hummed in his ear, a tight hug. Another face, a woman, tall, blonde, a stick in her hand, bending down to lift him up. A tower on a hill.\n\nDrem had only been a bairn when his mam died, three or four summers old, but he remembered how she made him feel: a warm glow in his chest, edged with the melancholy of loss.\n\nSafe, and loved, that's how I feel when I think of her.\n\n\"I hate the Kadoshim,\" Drem growled.\n\nOlin just stared into the flames, his eyes glistening with reflected firelight.\n\n\"Why did she have to die? Why did the Kadoshim kill her?\" Drem said, more to himself than to his da, but Olin looked at him.\n\n\"Because this world is a hard and cruel place,\" Olin breathed. \"That white bear, nothing else you have ever faced matches the malice that the Kadoshim bear towards us, towards mankind. They are wickedness made flesh.\"\n\nDrem thought about that awhile; the silence grew between them.\n\nKadoshim and Ben-Elim, ancient enemies waging their eternal war against each other.\n\nAn ember crackled and popped on the fire.\n\n\"If it was the Kadoshim that murdered my mam,\" he eventually said, \"why is it that you hate the Ben-Elim so much, when they hunt the Kadoshim?\"\n\n\"Aye, I suppose it would not make sense to you.\" He scowled into the darkness. \"I do not like to talk of these things, have tried for years now to leave them behind, to carve a life for us free of their stain and influence. Talking about it only digs up the hurt that I've spent along time burying. \"Olin sighed.\"But, always the questions. \"He drew in a deep breath.\"So. An answer for you, and then maybe you'll give me some peace. The Ben-Elim do hunt the Kadoshim, are their ancient enemies. But it was the Ben-Elim who plotted and schemed for the Kadoshim to enter these Banished Lands in the first place. The Ben-Elim used the Kadoshim to open a portal between the Otherworld and the world of flesh, and then the Ben-Elim followed them through, their spirit-bodies becoming flesh in the process, just like the Kadoshim.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Drem frowned at that."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why? Why did the Ben-Elim do that?\"\n\n\"They had their reasons,\" his da said, \"the telling of which I do not have the time or the inclination for. Just trust me on this. The Ben-Elim are not our friends or allies because they hunt the Kadoshim. The Kadoshim would not be herein the first place if not for the Ben-Elim.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Ach.\" His da spat. \"Answer this, then. The bear and the wolven, they both hunt the elk, do they not?\"\n\n\"Aye, they do.\"\n\n\"Are bear and wolven friends, then? Would they share a meal one with the other?\"\n\n\"They'd most likely fight, \"Drem answered.\"Or maybe one would walkaway, depending on how hungry they were, how big the bear was, and how many wolven in the pack. '\n\n\"Aye, you have the right of it, lad. Things are rarely clean cut, black and white, right or wrong. Life's more complicated than that. And so it is between the Ben-Elim and human-kind. Or so it should be... \"Olin's hand dropped to the knife at his belt, fingertips brushing the worn leather hilt. \"Besides, the Ben-Elim are not the only ones who hunt the Kadoshim.\"\n\n\"Who else does, then?\" Drem asked, leaning forwards.\n\n\"Is there no end to your questions?\" his da muttered. \"You'll get no more out of me tonight. We've an early start and along walk on the morrow. I'd recommend getting some sleep. ' And with that he rolled over.\n\nWhat's wrong with questions? Drem thought, feeling frustrated. They are all I have. Absently he lifted two fingers to his throat, searching for his pulse. Something about its steady rhythm soothed and calmed him when he felt anxious or troubled. He counted the beats, a whisper of breath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Drem,\" his da said. \"Stop taking your pulse, or at least, count in your head.\"\n\n\"Aye, Da.\"\n\n\"There it is,\" Drem said, pointing as the elk pit became visible on the path ahead of them. It was closer to sunset than highsun, both of them slowed by their injuries from the day before. They separated, slipping into the cool shadows of pine trees either side of the track, moving forwards slowly and searching for any signs of the white bear. There was none and they met beside the elk pit.\n\nThe elk was gone, snagged fur and dried blood staining the bottom of the pit, the earth churned and scattered, great gouges from the bear's claws and ruts in the soil from the elk's death-throes.\n\n\"Taken it back to its den– some cave or safe place,\" Olin said. \"Where it can eat in peace.\"\n\nMust be a cave the size of a mead-hall, Drem thought, looking at an imprint of one of the bear's paws.\n\n\"Well, as long as it's far from us, I'm not caring,\" his da said. He sniffed and looked around; the hillside was quiet and still.\n\n\"Let's go see what's left of our camp.\"\n\nTheir path wound into the pine trees close to the river, and Drem saw the spot where he'd fallen, where his da had stood over him. Fora moment he felt his blood run chill at the memory of it...\n\nI wish I had Da's courage.\n\nA patch of blood and Drem's axe lay amongst the forest litter close to where he'd fallen, beside it a claw, long and curled, a tuft of fur and flesh still attached to it where the axe had severed it from the bear's paw."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's a keepsake for you, ' Olin said as he crouched and passed the claw to Drem, who whistled while turning it in his hand, the claw measuring from the tip of his finger to his wrist.\n\n\"Not that you'll need reminding of that beast, ' his da said.\n\n\"Not likely,\" Drem muttered, the claw bringing back a kaleidoscope of memories of him lying on his back staring at the onrushing bear.\n\nThey found his da's axe close by, its blade blood-crusted black.\n\n\"Good axe, that,\" his da said with a smile, \"Glad not to have seen the last of it.\"\n\nTheir camp was mostly untouched, the piles of furs where they'd left them. One of their packhorses had slipped its rope but they found it only a few hundred paces away, contentedly eating grass. Something had been through the leftovers of their supper and ripped open a bag of cheese but, judging by the teeth marks, it was more the size of a weasel or stoat than a giant bear. It did not take long for them to break camp and soon they were winding their way back down the hillslope, leading three ponies, all piled high with bundled furs and kit. It was close to sunset but they'd agreed to get as faraway from this spot as possible before darkness forced them to stop. Drem felt much better fora thick cloak about his shoulders, the spear he held in his hand and the axe hanging at his belt, not that weapons had done him or his da much good yesterday.\n\nWhen they reached the elk pit Drem marvelled again at the carnage caused by one beast. Looking into it, something else caught his eye. Not agleam, more the opposite: a matt darkness. Something black and solid."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem scrambled into the pit, careful not to take any weight on his injured ankle as he dropped the last few handspans, then crouched in the soil.\n\n\"What is it?\" his da called from at the pit's rim.\n\n\"I don't know, ' Drem answered as he scraped and dug at his feet. Then he sat back, frowning.\n\nIt looked like a slab of rock, black and pitted. It was roughly the length of his forearm, loosely shaped like a teardrop, cold to the touch. As Drem tried to pull it free of the soil around it, he realized it was heavy, much heavier than he would have expected of a slab of granite, or iron ore of a similar size.\n\nFeet thumped to the ground beside him as Olin joined him.\n\n\"What is it?\" his da asked again.\n\n\"You remember I hit something hard when I was digging the pit– you called it the mountain's roots, ' Drem said.\n\n\"Aye. It was a joke,\" Olin muttered.\n\n\"I think this is what I hit. The bear's claws have raked around it, dug it free. \"Drem shuffled aside to show his da, who crouched down and reached out to touch the rock. He pulled his hand away, hissing as if he'd been burned or bitten.\n\n\"What's wrong? ' Drem asked.\n\nOlin looked pale. \"Get me my shovel,\" he said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SIG\n\nSig satin her saddle, hunched over from the rain, and stared into the darkness. Beneath her, Hammer shifted her huge paws and gave a low, grumbling growl, more a vibration in the great bear's belly that shivered up through Sig's bones than an audible sound. Horses whinnied and stamped, no doubt unsettled by the great mass of muscle and teeth that they were standing with, too close for their liking.\n\nIt is not so easy fora giant such as Ito stay hidden, but silence is at the heart of it, and I am making a better job of it than they are!\n\nSig frowned admonishingly down at the men gathered about her, even if the closest rider to her was Elgin, Battlechief of Ardain. He looked old to her in the darkness, deep lines in his face, though his straight back and the strength of his grip when she had arrived had told her all she needed to know.\n\nIt is not the first time we have hunted and fought together. Not many that I'd trust at my side beyond my sword-kin, but he is one of them.\n\nOnce this would have been unthinkable to her: a giant of the Jotun Clan, standing amongst the race of men in companionable silence. But now the giant Clans were reunited, and peace had been made with mankind.\n\nAlthough the Banished Lands are not yet at peace.\n\n\"How much longer,\" Sig heard someone whisper, a bodiless voice in the gloom.\n\n\"Whisht,\" Elgin silenced the voice.\n\nSig sniffed the air and looked up at the sky, though there was naught to see except darkness and the sensation of rainpatter upon her face.\n\nIt is always darkest before the dawn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She shrugged, loosening stiff muscles, a ripple of her broad shoulders that set water cascading as if shaken from a tree, shifting the weight of her shield and the sheathed longsword across her back."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The moon slid out from behind rag-torn clouds, silvering the woodland they were standing within, softening the solid dark of the hill before them, a glimpsed snarl of twisted hawthorn and wind-beaten rock. Sig looked to her right, saw Cullen sitting straight-backed in his saddle, ringmail glistening black with rain, a spear in his white-knuckled fist. His red hair was bound tight at the nape, around shield like hers slung across his back with a white, four-pointed star painted upon it.\n\nThe bright star, sigil of our Order.\n\n\"Now?\" Cullen mouthed up to Sig. She gave him a scowl in return.\n\nAnticipation and energy exuded from the young warrior and, not for the first time, Sig wondered at the wisdom of bringing him fresh from his Long Night into such atrial as this.\n\nThat decision's long-made, now. No going back on it. Besides, he was the best of his year, which was no surprise with the blood that runs in his veins.\n\nSig twisted the other way in her saddle, a creak of leather and ringmail, and glimpsed faces about her, men cold, wet and tired from their night-long journey and vigil, but their faces were stern and set in hard lines. She liked what she saw.\n\nI asked for hard men. They'll need to be.\n\nGrey trickled into the world, dawn making shadows shift and form where there had been only the crow-black of night. A whisper of wings overhead, the hint of something much bigger than owl or hawk as a darker shadow flitted above the trees, speeding towards the hill. Sig strained eyes and ears, but there was nothing more.\n\nA hundred heartbeats later, anew sound. The pad of footfalls, then a flicker of movement. Shapes appeared: one man, two hounds slipping through the grey. Great beasts, chests broad and solid with muscle, muzzles flat and wide, bristling with the threat of sharp teeth. One was brindle-dark, the other grey as mountain slate. Sig felt men tense at the sight of them, quickly followed by whispers and pats to calm horses, but Sig grinned to seethe wolven-hounds, so named because of the mixed blood that flowed through their veins. Fora moment Sig was a hundred leagues away, and over a hundred years, seeing in her mind the original parents of this line: the great wolven, Storm, and her mate the brindle hound, Buddai, fighting and rending Kadoshim on that Day of Days. She felt a flush of pride, muted by sadness at glories and friends long past and faded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man with them was clothed in leather, fur and soft skins, his eyes dark shadows above a tangle of beard. He too wore around shield slung across his back, as all in the Order did. A single-bladed axe hung from a loop at his belt, kept company by a brace of knives. He held an unstrung bow in one hand. Keld, her huntsman. Sig only needed one look from him to know it was time. A jolt of excitement rippled through her, which surprised her.\n\nBut then, it is not everyday that you track a Kadoshim to its lair.\n\n\"Guards?\" Sig said, her voice grating like an old iron hinge.\n\n\"Aye, there were, but the bairns saw to that,\" Keld said, patting the bighead of one of the hounds.\n\n\"All right then,\" Sig grunted, feeling the imminence of violence begin to course through her, a tremor in her bones, a wildness fluttering in her blood, and she looked at Elgin.\n\nHe pulled himself straighter in his saddle and nodded to her.\n\n\"Aghaidh,\" Sig whispered and Hammer lumbered into motion, out of the trees and across a windswept open space towards the hill in front of them. The rising sun washed the land in pale light, making deep valleys of shadow amongst the boulders. Elgin and his threescore swords followed, all proven men, handpicked from Queen Nara's honour guard. They spread into a wide line behind Sig, Cullen and Keld.\n\nElgin raised his arm and signalled his warriors; a number of them peeled away to circle the hill, spread to watch for any hidden boltholes.\n\nThe ground began to slope upwards, Sig's eyes fixed on the darker shadow ahead of her, not much more than a crease in an exposed section of the rock of the hillside."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A cave. A lair.\n\nKeld hooked his unstrung bow onto Sig's saddle and gave the rain-ragged clouds above a dark look– too wet to bother stringing his bow. The huntsman gave a low whistle and his hounds padded left and right, merging with the shadows.\n\nSig rode pasta knot of hawthorn, saw boots poking from it, the stain of blood dark and slick on the grass where the guard had been dragged by Keld into cover. Hammer gave the corpse a cursory glance and sniff as she padded past it.\n\nOnly fifty paces from the crease in the rock face, then figures detached from the cave's entrance: two, three, four of them emerging as if from the very rock itself. Their bowed heads were hooded, cloaked for the rain, one holding a spear, the others with sword hilts poking from their cloaks.\n\n\"Cullen,\" Sig said as she drove Hammer on, the bear jerking into a lumbering run. Behind her the red-haired warrior stood in his stirrups and hurled his spear as the first figure looked up and saw them. His mouth opened wide as he sucked in a gasp of air but the spear punched into his chest before any warning cry could be uttered. The force of the blow threw him back into his comrades in a dark splatter of blood, taking one man to the ground with him in a tangle of limbs. The other two reached for blades as Keld's hounds leaped in from either side, a blur of motion, a crunch of flesh and bone, a succession of snarling and wet tearing sounds, a gurgled rattle of a cry.\n\nHammer reached them as the last survivor climbed from the ground, gasping out a warning cry, a glint of steel as he dragged his blade free of its scabbard. Hammer swiped a paw at him, claws as long and sharp as daggers raking across his face and chest and he dropped faster than he'd risen in a spume of blood-mist and gore."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then there was silence, just the wind and rain, the creak and jangle of harness, one of the wolven-hounds lapping at pooling blood. Keld tutted and the hound stopped. Sig sat high in her saddle, one hand on the hilt of her longsword still sheathed across her back, the other resting upon the weighted net that hung at her belt. These were the precarious moments, when the entrance was still open and unguarded. When escape was still possible for their enemy.\n\nThey waited, frozen, all seeming to hold their breath, even the wind dying down fora few heartbeats.\n\nNo new enemy emerged from the shadows, and Sig slid from her saddle and approached the entrance. There was along rasp as her longsword slipped from its scabbard. Cullen tugged his spear from the dead man and joined her in the approach to the Kadoshim's lair. Keld was at his shoulder, his short-handled axe in one fist, knife in the other. Behind them Elgin and his warriors dismounted and followed.\n\nA dozen paces into the tunnel a torch-sconce was hammered into the stonewall. It flared and sputtered, below it the remains of a burned-out fire. A spit rested above the fire and a pot sat beside it, a few cups of wood and leather about it. No one was there. Keld crouched to touch the ash and embers and his hounds padded past him. Together they stopped, sniffing the air and their hackles rose. As one they growled, a low, savage snarling. Keld looked back at Sig.\n\n\"It's here, ' he breathed.\n\nA thrill of excitement threaded through Sig, everything around her becoming a little sharper.\n\nSix years gone since the kin last hunted a Kadoshim to bay and killed it."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen swept past her– an unblooded hound eager for the kill.\n\nSig grabbed his shoulder with her iron grip and scowled a warning at him.\n\nShe strode past him and Keld, following the tunnel as it twisted deeper into the hillside, sloping gently upwards. Torches flickered periodically, light then darkness. As she climbed higher the air seemed to thicken, a smell of things long dead, a corruption in the air.\n\nThe tunnel opened ahead and Sig came into a small chamber. A single shadowed exit on its far side. Afire-pit satin the middle of this chamber, embers still glowing, and around the edges furs and blankets were splayed, a rack of weapons, spears and rusted swords leaned against one wall, though there was no sign of the living. Cracks in the wall oozed damp earth, worms as thick as rope were wriggling within it.\n\n\"Fifty-two,\" Cullen said, counting the furs spread about the chamber's edges. He shared a look with Sig and Keld.\n\nNever this many. So, the rumours are true.\n\n\"A better fight, if they're all here, ' Cullen declared, notable to keep the grin from his face.\n\nSig gave him a flat stare.\n\nThe hounds growled, paws splayed as they half-crouched, hackles a ridge upon their backs, lips curled to reveal sharp teeth. Keld hissed a command. Then a tendril of sound drifted down to them, emerging from the darkness of the exit on the far wall: voices, joined together, chanting, a cadence to it rising and falling. They set a chill trickling down Sig's spine, and behind her she heard muttering amongst Elgin's men."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sig strode into the darkness, the chanting growing louder as she climbed higher, past another flickering torch. She felt her flesh goosebump, a creeping dread seeping into her, thick in the air, making her limbs grow heavy. The urge to stop and go back wormed into her mind.\n\nSomething is at work here.\n\n\"Truth and Courage,\" she hissed at the darkness and saw either side of her Cullen and Keld straighten at those words, the Order's battle-cry and mantra. And then, in front of them was an arched doorway, a form silhouetted against the fire's red glow. The chanting was loud, echoing down the tunnel, filling Sig's head and heart with dismay.\n\nGo back, go back, fear's voice whispered in her head.\n\n\"Truth and Courage,\" she snarled back at it and surged forwards. The silhouette turned, a man, head shaven to scabbed stubble. His mouth opened at the sight of Sig storming out of the darkness, hounds and warriors about her. A spear in his hands levelled at Sig but her great sword was already cutting upwards, shearing through the shaft, lopping half of his hand off with it. The man stumbled backwards, amputated digits spinning through the air, his eyes fixed on the stumps where his fingers had been. A roll of Sig's shoulders and her sword came back down to chop into the meat of him between neck and shoulder, a wet sound like an axe cleaving damp wood, bones cracking, and the man was falling back in a spray of bloody froth. Sig ripped her blade free and stood over his twitching corpse.\n\nA circular chamber spread before her, high and wide, the roof hidden in shadow and smoke. Braziers of fire belched red light, casting misshapen shadows. A crowd of men and women at least forty-strong gathered around a dais at the chamber's centre, chanting in a tongue Sig had never heard before. They were all shaven-headed, and Sig glimpsed the gleam of chainmail and weapons."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "These are not disgruntled farmers, or deluded dissenters, Sig thought. More like warrior-acolytes.\n\nUpon the dais was a wooden cross-frame; a figure was bound wrist and ankle upon it, a man stripped naked.\n\nAnd close as a lover to this man stood a figure, tall, head shaved, its skin pale as alabaster, mapped by dark veins. It wore a shirt of rusty mail, a sword sheathed at its hip, and from its back great wings of leather and skin were furled. Power and malice pulsed from it like a heat haze.\n\nKadoshim.\n\nSomething inside Sig leaped at the sight of it, a jolt of hatred racing through her, burning away any remnants of fear that lingered in her veins. Once she had seen these Kadoshim in their thousands filling the skies above Drassil, and since then she and those like her had hunted these dread creatures, over a hundred years of blood and war. At first the fighting had been constant, but in the last score of years the Kadoshim were rarely found– so much so that her Order was questioning whether the creatures had been brought close to extinction in the Banished Lands.\n\nNot extinct yet.\n\nAs Sig stared, the Kadoshim thrust a knife into the belly of the prisoner, a gush of blood and coiled entrails splashing from the gaping wound. There was the sudden rush of blood-stink and hot metal in the air as the man screamed his agony over the fevered chanting from the crowd.\n\nThen the Kadoshim saw Sig and the shadowed figures of her companions behind her. Their eyes met and the chanting about the chamber stuttered and died.\n\nThe Kadoshim pointed its blood-slick knife at Sig, faces turning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Kill them,\" it rasped."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "BLEDA\n\nBleda stood upon the walls of Drassil, looking down at the weapons-field below. All manner of warriors were training, learning the craft of spear, bow and sword, as well as other things.\n\n\"Strategy, they call it,\" his friend Jin said as she pointed to a shield wall that had formed near the centre of the field. She was award of the Ben-Elim, too, taken the same day as him. That had been grounds enough fora friendship.\n\n\"Cowardice is what I call it,\" she continued, head cocked to one side as she considered the warriors far below. Her jet hair was short-cropped to her head, the sharp features of her cheeks and the slight hook of her nose reminding Bleda of the stooping hawk that was the sigil of her Clan. \"A warrior should stand one against another, whether with bow, spear or blade. That is skill, that is honour. Not that! Hiding behind your weapons-kin, hiding behind wood andiron!\"\n\n\"Huh,\" Bleda grunted, his eyes drifting from the shield wall to the figure of amounted warrior galloping, spear raised, charging a straw man. The drum of hooves drifted up to Bleda, simply the sound of it stirring his blood, even if the horse was a huge, muscle-bound beast as far from the swift and hardy ponies he had grownup riding as he was different from a giant.\n\nAh, to ride through the plains of grass with nothing but wind and sky before me. A recollection of doing just such a thing filled his mind. It was a dim, faded memory, more precious to Bleda than gold, silver or jewels. He closed his eyes a moment and concentrated, almost feeling the wind whipping across his face, could almost hear the distant echo of his laughter mixing with his brother's, who had been riding at his side on that long-ago day."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Altan.\n\nBefore he had a chance to control it, another image flashed through his mind. His brother's severed head in the dirt, eyes bulging, tongue lolling. With an act of will he pushed the memory away, forced it into a shadowed hole in his mind and let out along breath, as if he had completed some physical exertion.\n\n\"They are cowards, no?\" Jin said, clearly enjoying her rant against the warriors of Drassil, and wanting Bleda's support on this point. It was not often that they were alone enough to be able to speak like this, always someone was around teaching or watching over them. Even now they were supposed to be with a loremaster and hard at work learning their letters. Instead they had sneaked off and made their way onto Drassil's walls, finding a rare spot between guards on watch duty.\n\n\"Their ways are strange and without honour,\" Bleda said, and in truth many of the Ben-Elim's ways still seemed so to him, even after five years of living amongst these people as their ward. But there was much more to the Ben-Elim and their allies than that. Much of what had once seemed strange now made a lot more sense.\n\nAnd they are not cowards, as much as I would like to agree with Jin on that point. But Bleda kept his opinion to himself, as he often did. I'll not argue with my only friend, the closest thing I have to my kin in this strange land.\n\nIn truth, Jin should have been his enemy. Until Bleda had been snatched away by the Ben-Elim on that dark and distant day, Jin had been his enemy: daughter and heir of the Cheren's lord, the Clan that Bleda's people had been fighting the day the Ben-Elim came. Technically there was blood feud between Bleda and Jin, as Bleda's da had been slain by members of Jin's Clan, and in return Jin's older brother and heir to the Cheren Clan had been slain by the Sirak. But now, for five long years, all they had had was each other, each of them acting for the other as some tenuous bridge to home."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The thrum of arrows leaving bows dragged his eyes from the galloping horse, in time to see a score of straw targets shudder as loosed arrows hit their mark. Even Bleda could not stop his lip from curling in a sneer at that.\n\nGreat longbows of ash or elm. How could you string or shoot one of those from the back of a horse?\n\nHe saw one archer give a congratulatory slap on the shoulder to another.\n\nNo doubt thinking they have great skill. I was hitting such targets as that when I was eight summers old. And when is a fight ever like that? Your enemy standing helpfully still while you take careful aim?\n\nHe shook his head, disgusted, and Jin grinned to see it.\n\n\"They would be no match for the Cheren,\" she said, following his gaze, \"or even the Sirak,\" she added with a twitch of a smile.\n\n\"They defeated both our Clans, though,\" Bleda muttered.\n\nJin scowled at that. \"They took them by surprise,\" she spat.\n\n\"Aye, they did. But there was more to their victory than surprise. I was there. I saw it.\" It was a fact he never failed to remind her of, giving him a slight advantage in their discussions of home.\n\n\"Still, if our Clans had been ready, and stood together,\" Jin said, jutting her chin out.\n\n\"Aye, maybe,\" Bleda agreed, though he was not so sure.\n\n\"As they will when we return home and rule our Clans.\" She flashed him a grin.\n\n\"Just so,\" he replied, hiding the doubt in his heart.\n\nBleda turned away from the weapons-field and stared out over the walls of Drassil. High above him the branches of the great tree arched, spreading wide over the plains that surrounded the ancient fortress, dappling the meadow-grass in sunlight and shadow. The plain to the west was covered in cairns, thousands of them, burial mounds of moss-covered stone raised over those who had fallen on the day the Ben-Elim came, the day the Kadoshim were defeated. A road ran through the centre of them to the gates of Drassil."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A road watched over by the dead, Bleda thought.\n\nIn the distance a forest ringed Drassil: ancient Forn, though its trees had been cut and thinned for over a hundred years now as the Ben-Elim had rooted Kadoshim from the dark places. Slicing through the forest were roads that radiated out from the fortress, north, south, east and west, like spokes from a wheel hub. They were wide and straight, connecting Drassil, the Ben-Elim's seat of power, with the rest of the Land of the Faithful, and it was along these roads that their armies marched, whether it was to fight Kadoshim or to enforce peace upon lands within their ever-expanding boundaries.\n\nBleda found himself looking east, as he often did, imagining that he could seethe rolling plains of his homeland beyond the green-leaved bulwark of Forn Forest. This time, though, he saw a column upon the east road, marching steadily towards Drassil, the distant ripple of banners snapping in the breeze.\n\nHe slapped Jin's shoulder. She was still pouring scorn upon those in the weapons-field, but her eyes narrowed as she saw what he was pointing at.\n\n\"Giants and bears at the front,\" she whispered.\n\n\"And Ben-Elim above,\" Bleda said, spying shapes circling in the air above the column.\n\n\"But banners?\" Jin said. \"Not Ben-Elim troops, then.\"\n\nThey stood in silence, wondering who these approaching visitors were, important enough to warrant such an escort. A shadow crossed over them and there was a gust of wind, light footsteps and a Ben-Elim landed close by. He was tall, graceful and beautiful as a fine statue, as were all the Ben-Elim, though he was fair-haired where most were dark. Bleda felt a stirring of anger in his blood at the sight of him, for this was Kol, the Ben-Elim who had thrown the heads of his brother and sister at his feet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Many are looking for you two,\" the Ben-Elim said. \"You are wanted in the keep.\"\n\n\"What for?\" Jin answered, haughty as if she were already Queen of the Cheren.\n\n\"You have visitors,\" the Ben-Elim said, looking out onto the plain before Drassil.\n\nThe approaching column was still away off, but close enough now for Bleda to seethe swirl and snap of the banners. Jin gasped, her eyes always a little keener than his, but he recognized the images soon enough, and his heart lurched within his chest.\n\nTwo banners, one with a stooping hawk upon a blue sky, the other with a rearing stallion in afield of green.\n\nThe Cheren and the Sirak Clans.\n\nOur kin have come.\n\nBleda sat at a table in a chair too big for him, fidgeting and picking at a scab on his thumb. In response to their barrage of breathless questions, Kol, the Ben-Elim, had given them nothing, except fora dark scowl. The only thing Bleda really wanted to know was who rode beneath the Sirak banner.\n\nHas my mam come to claim me? Finally to take me home?\n\nJin was seated beside him and he could see her trying to look calm and indifferent despite him being sure she felt the same mixture of fear and excitement as he. The Lord Protector swept through the open doors, a dozen White-Wings marching behind him. Israfil's expression was as emotionless as usual.\n\nHis mastery of the cold-face would earn even my mother's respect.\n\nThere was something in his stride that spoke of something else, though.\n\nAgitation?\n\nIsrafil stood before Bleda and Jin, somehow managing to hold both of their gazes at once. Bleda noticed a twitch in his wings sending a ripple through the white feathers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You were not at your letters,\" Israfil said, a statement. \"You could not be found when you were needed and, as a result, you have not been briefed on the arrival of your Clansmen, or been able to prepare for it.\"\n\nBleda returned Israfil's gaze as long as he could, felt Jin doing the same beside him, felt her shift as her head bowed. He was not long behind her.\n\n\"You are given every advantage here. Learning– language, your letters, the histories, all manner of knowledge. You are taught your weapons, no less than our greatest warriors. Food, clothing, everything that you could want for, you are given; a preparation for the great task ahead of you, to rule your people, to spread the peace of Elyon.\"\n\nTo be trained as your puppet king and puppet queen of the Arcona Clans, you mean.\n\n\"You are given the utmost respect; are you not?\"\n\nBleda and Jin were silent a few moments.\n\n\"We are, Lord Commander,\" Bleda said. He could not deny that they were treated well.\n\nFor prisoners.\n\nHe felt Jin's eyes burn into him, a look that did not go unnoticed by Israfil.\n\n\"All that is expected of you is a measure of that respect returned,\" Israfil said, frowning at Jin.\n\nJin remained darkly silent.\n\nBleda clamped his lips shut. Part of him agreed with Israfil, knew that his behaviour was insolent and rude, and felt a stirring of shame for that. But another part of him remembered, would never forget. His brother. His sister.\n\nI represent my Clan, here. Am the face and voice of the Sirak."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I apologize for our rudeness,\" Bleda said, seeing Jin's head snapping around and ignoring the look of disgust she sent him.\n\n\"Good.\" Israfil nodded and heaved along sigh. Bleda felt his neck flush red.\n\nAnd then horns were ringing and the open doorway of the keep was full of figures, a handful of giants entering first, axes and war-hammers slung across their backs, ringmail shirts gleaming. Jin hissed as the giants moved to one side, revealing astern-faced man, head shaved apart from along dark warrior braid curling across his shoulder, an iron-grey beard upon his chin. He wore a fine sky-blue deel, edged in gold thread, belted with soft-tooled leather, his breeches bound tight from ankle to knee, and baggy above. His eyes locked with Jin's and his stern face softened, eyes creasing in the hint of a smile.\n\n\"Father,\" Jin whispered, half rising.\n\n\"Stay, child,\" Kol murmured from behind them and Jin sat back down.\n\nAnd then everything else in the room faded for Bleda.\n\nHis mother, Erdene, Queen of the Sirak, strode through the doorway.\n\nShe was older, with lines in her brown, weathered face that had not been there the last time he'd seen her, streaks of grey in her thick-bound warrior braid. A white scar stood out across her shaven head.\n\nShe looked as fine a Sirak lord as he had ever seen, dressed in a richly woven white deel tunic, fox fur trimming its collar and hems, a thick leather belt dressed with chains of silver and gold about her waist, and his heart thumped with pride to see her march towards him. He felt his face shifting, mouth stretching into a smile."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her eyes looked into his, saw his smile, but he received nothing in return, only her cold-face, flat and impassionate. He gritted his teeth together and with an act of will wiped all emotion from his face.\n\nBehind Uldin and Erdene walked a small retinue from their courts. Bleda saw an old face staring at him.\n\nOld Ellac!\n\nBleda's heart leaped a little with joy at another familiar face. The old warrior stared straight at Bleda, though he too showed no spark of emotion.\n\n\"Welcome to Drassil,\" Israfil said as they were all shown to seats around the table. Food was brought and drinks were poured as Israfil continued his greeting, speaking of the journey from Arcona and the new peace in the Land of the Faithful. His voice became a blur of sound that Bleda did not hear, all his attention focused on his mother, and on maintaining the required facade of indifference.\n\nIs she ashamed of me? Five years since I saw her last, and not even a nod of her head. He was suddenly painfully aware of his appearance, how little he now looked like a Sirak prince. Especially his hair, which should have been grown long enough fora warrior braid, the rest of his head shaved and the long braid bound upon completing his warrior trial and Long Night. Instead his hair was cut short, the same way as the other training warriors at Drassil wore their hair.\n\nTo her it must look as if I have become one of them. Does she think I have betrayed my Clan?\n\nBleda felt all this raging within him, rearing and lashing at him, like a wild stallion's hooves. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead with the effort of keeping it all hidden."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I will not shame her more than I already have.\n\nAnd then Israfil's voice faded and Bleda realized a silence had fallen over the table.\n\n\"My thanks for your courteous welcome,\" Uldin of the Cheren said, his voice warm and strong. \"It is a pleasure to be in fabled Drassil. Truly, it is a place of magnificent wonders, greater even than we had ever imagined, and I am only left with the question of why have I not journeyed here before. Why have I left it so-\"\n\n\"What Uldin is trying to say,\" Erdene interrupted, her voice calm and flat as a windless sea, \"is: why are we here? Why have you summoned us?\"\n\nIsrafil inclined his head to Erdene.\n\n\"Five years have passed since your two Clans went to war,\" Israfil said, \"breaking the peace of the Faithful. Breaking Elyon's Lore. And in those five years your two Clans have known unbroken peace, is this not so? '\n\n\"This is a truth,\" Uldin said, glancing at Erdene, who just gave a curt nod.\n\n\"We Ben-Elim are here for one reason: to protect the creation of Elyon. All the peoples of these Banished Lands. Asroth led his legions of the Fallen, the Kadoshim, into this world, and so we followed them, to protect you as best we could. The war with the Kadoshim was fierce and bloody, and many of my kin fell in battle on that fateful day. Even so, we won that battle, saved mankind from a dread fate, but the war is not over. Asroth remains, imprisoned within a skin of starstone iron, and many of his Kadoshim survived, secreting themselves away to fight on with stealth and cunning. So we stay to guard the body of Asroth, and we fight on against the Kadoshim.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This is a tale we all have heard,\" Erdene said. \"You did not summon us over a hundred leagues to tell us this.\"\n\n\"No, I did not,\" Israfil said, betraying no sign of annoyance at Erdene's interruption.\"I have received word of the Kadoshim moving in your lands, of deaths at their hands. '\n\n\"Aye, this is true,\" Uldin said. \"Some foul sacrifice was performed.\"\n\n\"We will find these monsters and root them out,\" Israfil said, a hint of snarl andiron in his voice, the closest thing to emotion that Bleda had ever seen in the Lord Protector. \"But we are stretched, the Banished Lands vast, which is why we are blessed with the allies we have. Giants, as well as warriors from throughout the Land of the Faithful; they area tithe of thanksgiving to aid us in the practicalities of this war that we wage.\"\n\nIsrafil stopped then, allowing his words to sink in.\n\n\"What are you saying?\" Uldin grated, his voiceless warm than before.\n\n\"He is saying that he wants us to fight the Kadoshim,\" Erdene said flatly.\n\n\"Yes, and more,\" Israfil said. \"It is time for you to show your gratitude to the Faithful, time to prove your commitment both to peace with each other and to the great war. It is time that you committed a tithe of warriors to the cause, just as the other peoples that dwell within the boundaries of the Land of the Faithful do.\"\n\n\"Well, now we have it out on the table and plain for the seeing,\" Uldin said.\n\n\"If that is the whole of it,\" Erdene said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"That is the meat of it,\" Israfil said, \"though there is a little more."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We want a tithe of warriors soon, and after that, a yearly tithe of your young, to be trained here, at Drassil.\"\n\nBleda felt his face twitch at that, a momentary slip of his cold-face.\n\nThey would steal the heart from our people, and deny our culture to each new generation. He controlled the sneer that threatened to twist his face. They would make puppets of us all, turn us into them, pious, wingless pawns.\n\nUldin and Erdene just stared at Israfil, giving no clue as to their inner reactions.\n\n\"And to cement your peace with one another and your commitment to the cause,\" Israfil said, \"a symbolic act to bind your Clans further in peace, your two heirs shall also commit to one another.\"\n\nFor the first time a twitch upon Erdene's face.\n\n\"What does he mean?\" Jin whispered to Bleda.\n\n\"I...\" Bleda said, his voice not working right, his head spinning, for he was sure he knew exactly what Israfil was saying.\n\n\"Bleda and Jin shall be wed,\" the Lord Protector declared."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SIG\n\nMen and women in hooded cloaks charged at Sig, iron glinting red in the flickering firelight as weapons were drawn, and, from behind her, Keld's wolven-hounds bounded forwards, crashing into the onrushing crowd, an eruption of blood and screams and snapping, slavering growls. Sig strode forwards, Keld and Cullen close behind, Elgin shouting a battle-cry and leading his men charging from the tunnel entrance.\n\nSig punched her sword through the belly of the first man to rush her and kicked him in the chest as she ripped her blade free, sending him hurtling into those behind, a snarl of limbs as they went down. Cullen leaped into the space and stabbed down with his spear, ducking a sword-slash from a man who knew his blade-craft a little better, not that it helped him much as Keld's axe crunched into his skull, wrenched free in a spray of bone and brains.\n\nSig marched on, longsword swinging in great loops, sent ahead spinning through the air, a jet of blood erupting from the stump of a severed neck. Her sword-kin stabbed and hacked to the left and right of her, the wolven-hounds wreaking bloody havoc in the shadows, and Elgin's warriors spread wide as the Kadoshim's followers hurled themselves in a frenzied attack.\n\nSig wiped sweat from her eyes, searching for the Kadoshim. It was still upon the dais, passing something to one of its shaven-headed followers, leaning to hiss in the man's ear.\n\nSig shouted, pointing with her sword at the Kadoshim, and Keld and Cullen answered, moving towards the dais like ships through a storm-racked sea.\n\nA woman came at Sig, wielding sword and knife, a swirling attack that stopped Sig's advance, the clang of steel as Sig parried the sword, a grunt as the knife slashed at her belly, stopped by her ringmail shirt. She slammed an elbow into the woman's jaw, then hacked though the woman's forearm, which dropped to the floor still clutching its sword. The woman staggered and fell to her knees, face draining white as her life's blood pumped into the ground. She toppled sideways, cursing Sig as she died."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sig forged on, the din and stench of battle in this subterranean chamber immense: death screams, battle-cries, the wounded mewling and shrieking in their pain. She saw the Kadoshim push its companion on the dais away, sending him running fora shadowed alcove. A sword hissed into the Kadoshim's fist, its wings unfurled and flexed, a beat of air that carried the stench of corruption as it lifted from the ground, Keld's axe whistling through empty air where it had just been standing.\n\nSig burst onto the dais through a knot of the attackers, her bulk scattering them. A jolt of power shuddered up through her boots, sudden nausea making her stagger; a glance at the dais showed runes scratched and scribed into the ground. She shook her head and strode towards Keld and Cullen. A glance at the prisoner bound to the wooden frame showed there was no helping him, slumped in his bonds, his entrails heaped about his feet. His chest was still, a string of spittle hanging from his slack jaw.\n\n\"Keld,\" Sig said, pointing at the hurrying messenger who was disappearing into what Sig had thought was a shadowed alcove, but as she looked now she saw it was an exit from the chamber.\n\n\"The Kadoshim gave him something,\" Sig said. \"Whatever it was, I need to see it.\"\n\n\"It's done, ' Keld grunted, running and leaping from the dais, two fingers in his lips and whistling, an answering snap and snarl came from within the chamber.\n\n\"Where is the Kadoshim?\" Sig growled, standing back to back with Cullen as they turned slowly, searching for the Kadoshim in the guttering red-flicker of light and shadow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen yelled, as the Kadoshim swooped down from the murk of the chamber's roof, chopping atone of Elgin's men, lifting another one bodily into the air and burying its sword in his belly, hurling the dying warrior back down into the chaos.\n\nWithout a word the two of them left the dais, forging away towards the Kadoshim.\n\nA man leaped at them, axe raised over his head, Cullen's spear darting out and punching through his open mouth, dragged free in a burst of blood and teeth. Cullen shrugged his shield from his back, caught a sword-blow aimed for Sig, slammed the iron rim into the sword-wielder's throat and sent him gasping and choking to the ground. Sig stamped on the fallen man as they pushed on, bones cracking beneath her iron-shod boots.\n\nThen the Kadoshim was only a handful of paces before them, hovering above the conflict as its wings beat up a storm of dust.\n\n\"FALLEN ONE,\" Sig bellowed, her cry ringing through the chamber, a momentary lull as both sides paused. The Kadoshim stared at Sig, saw Cullen beside her raise his shield, the bright star of their order upon it, and hissed at them, spraying spittle. Then it was flying at them, a dark blur. Sig hefted her blade and swung two-handed, the Kadoshim's wings tucking tight together and somehow it was spinning, Sig's sword slicing wide by a handspan. A crack as Sig turned, Cullen grunting as the Kadoshim swooped over him, raining down a flurry of blows, Cullen bending beneath them in a burst of incandescent sparks as the Kadoshim's blade crashed into the iron rim of his shield, shearing through it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cullen yelled in fury and stabbed up with his spear, the blade grating along the Kadoshim's mail shirt, links twisting and snapping."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Kadoshim just laughed and grabbed the shaft of Cullen's spear, ripping it from his hands.\n\nSig charged in, her sword slicing an overhead arc at the Kadoshim, who somehow saw the giant coming and with a beat of its wings swept higher, Sig's sword-tip cutting through the leather of its boot. Blood dripped a spatter of red rain from the wound as it hovered above them.\n\n\"You're along way from Dun Seren, ' the Kadoshim snarled down at them, its guttural voice cutting through the din of battle.\n\n\"We'd travel twice as far to carve some pain into your stinking hide, ' Cullen yelled back.\n\nThe Kadoshim hissed at them.\n\n\"Who are you?\" Sig shouted. \"Gulla?\"\n\nThe Kadoshim laughed, the sound of nails scrapping across chalk. \"Over a hundred years, and yet you know nothing of us.\"\n\n\"Gulla is chief of your kind, I have heard,\" Sig said, eyes fixed on the Kadoshim, circling to her right. \"If not Gulla, who are you, then?\"\n\n\"I am Rimmon,\" the Kadoshim snarled. \"I am your death.\"\n\n\"Like to see you try,\" Cullen snapped back, grinning.\n\nRimmon screeched and swooped down at them, hacking, chopping, stabbing.\n\nSig leaped away and the Kadoshim turned in mid-air, blade slashing at Cullen as he rushed in, sending the young warrior staggering away with a gash across his forehead. He disappeared amongst the press and heave of battle.\n\nSig bellowed a battle-cry and stabbed, but Rimmon twisted and Sig's lunge sliced only air. Battle raged about them as she held her ground against the creature."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Enough of this.\n\nSig leaped close and the Kadoshim's blade met hers in a shower of sparks before he fell back before her.\n\nRimmon's wings beat hard; the Kadoshim grabbed a fallen spear as he sweptback into the air. Sig reached a hand to her belt, felt the mesh of her weighted net, unhooked it and with a flick of her wrist snapped it open.\n\nShe raised the net, whirled it about her head as the Kadoshim drew a hand back and hurled the spear down at her. Sig twisted, a figure leaping in front of her and fouling her net throw. It was Cullen, his battered shield taking the force of the Kadoshim's spear. Sig stumbled as Cullen's weight slammed into her. He fell to the ground, Rimmon crowing in victory, before speeding away across the room. Sig took a step after him and then heard a groan.\n\nCullen.\n\nThe young warrior was pale as milk, red hair sweat-soaked and plastered to his head. The spear had burst through his half-splintered shield and pinned his arm to his body. He tried to say something but his breath was a wheezing hiss. Sig had noway of telling what the wound behind the shield was like, but from the look of him she feared the worst.\n\nWaiting won't make it better.\n\nShe put one big boot onto the remains of the shield, gripped the spear shaft and pulled it free.\n\nCullen grunted, face twisting with pain, and Sig knelt beside him. She breathed a sigh of relief as she lifted the shattered shield away. The spear had pierced his bicep, punching clean through and out the other side, but Cullen's chainmail shirt had slowed it there, done enough to save the lad. A few rings were shattered, the spear-point cutting through the wool and linen beneath, abloom of blood, but it was only a shallow wound."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not that the fool boy will be doing much more leaping around fora ten-night or two.\n\n\"I can fight on,\" Cullen mumbled, trying to stand. His eyes rolled white and he slipped back to the ground with a groan.\n\n\"No, you can't, ' Sig said.\n\n\"Will I die, then?\" Cullen whispered, struggling for breath.\n\n\"Of old age, most like, but not this day, laddie,\" Sig said and stood, raising the spear in her hand. She saw the shadowed streak of Rimmon as he sped towards an exit from the chamber, hefted the spear a moment, finding its balance and judging its weight, and then she threw. It flew straight as an arrow, punching through one of the Kadoshim's wings, low, where it thickened and joined the shoulder. There was a scream, Rimmon plummeting to the ground.\n\n\"Got to leave you awhile,\" Sig grunted down at Cullen.\n\n\"Bring me its head,\" Cullen mumbled.\n\nSig ploughed through the chamber, smashing any before her out of her way. In heartbeats she was at the spot where the Kadoshim had fallen, saw the spear she'd cast at the Kadoshim lying on the ground, its blade dark with blood. Darkness thick as smoke filled the tunnel, so Sig grabbed the weapon, tore a dead man's cloak from his back, wrapped it around the spear shaft and stabbed it into afire-filled brazier. Soon flames were crackling and she lifted the torch and glanced back.\n\nThere were knots of combat still raging about the chamber, but to Sig's eye Elgin and his men had the measure of it, far more of them still standing than their frenzied enemy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They can finish here. I've got a Kadoshim to kill.\n\nSig gritted her teeth and ran into the tunnel, no time for care or caution.\n\nDarkness retreated before her; the tunnel sloped upwards, closing tight about Sig, constricting and claustrophobic after the high-roofed chamber. Soon the noise of battle faded. Side tunnels breached the main path, but fat spots of blood showed Sig the way, leading her ever higher in the main tunnel. Then she saw Rimmon running ahead, a shadow at the edge of her torch's reach, the tunnel too close for him to unfurl his great wingspan.\n\nOr perhaps my spear throw has injured his wing.\n\nRimmon stumbled, one shoulder scraping against the tunnel wall, righted himself and ran on. Sig increased her pace, no need for stealth. Rimmon knew she was there; knew she was gaining.\n\nAlight ahead, bright in the darkness. Daylight, not torch or fire.\n\nA spurt of speed from Sig, twenty paces behind the Kadoshim now. Ten. Cobwebs draped Sig's face. Daylight loomed, bright and blinding, the Kadoshim a black silhouette.\n\nSquinting into the white glare, Sig threw the spear. It arced forwards, trailing fire and smoke, and Sig saw the dark shadow of the Kadoshim tumble and fall. Moments later she burst out into a winter's sun, a pale, cloud-choked morning almost blinding her.\n\nThey were on the hilltop with the squawking of disturbed crows, around them open air and the wind snatching at clothes, setting Sig's blonde warrior braid fluttering. In the far distance she saw the stain of the Darkwood and the towers of Uthandun before it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Rimmon rolled upon a flat patch of grass, the spear tangled between his legs, guttering black smoke."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sig swung her sword overhead, aiming to carve the beast in two. With a snarl the Kadoshim swept to the side, part-roll, part-beat of wings, a heartbeat later and he was upright, sword in his fist, though Sig saw one of the wings was twisted, like an injured arm. Malice radiated from the Kadoshim's dark eyes.\n\nWith a snap, leathery wings were unfolding and Rimmon rose unsteadily into the air, a blast of wind rocking him, one wing leaking blood at the shoulder-joint. Fora moment the Kadoshim hovered in the sky, the sun behind framing him in a luminous halo.\n\n\"Finish this another time,\" Rimmon hissed. Another pulse of wings and the Kadoshim veered away, swerving through the air like a man after too much mead. He tested his wings, darted forwards again, well out of reach of Sig's sword as the giant ran to the hill's flat edge and swayed a moment, risking along, bone-breaking tumble to the ground far below. The Kadoshim sank a little in the air, another beat of his wings taking him further away, though hugging the hillside.\n\n\"I'd rather finish you now, Rimmon of the Kadoshim, ' Sig muttered.\n\nShe unclipped her net and swung it over her head, a whistling sound as the cord and weights in its four corners cut air, then she released it, high, arcing up and then down, dropping gracefully, corners spread.\n\nThe net folded around the Kadoshim, snaring his wings, wrapping around limbs, and Rimmon screeched, twisting in the air as he thrashed, spitting and biting, trying to tear his way free, but with every movement the cords snared tighter and the Kadoshim folded and plummeted to the ground."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sig sheathed her sword across her back and launched herself over the edge, skidding and sliding down a grassy slope. She toppled and rolled a hundred paces, righted herself, saw the Kadoshim still falling, close to the hill's base now.\n\n\"HAMMER,\" Sig bellowed through cupped hands and heard a faint rumbling roar drift up to her as the Kadoshim hit the hillside and bounced away, spun through the air a good fifty paces and crunched and rolled as the ground levelled out.\n\nSig continued her sliding fall down the hill, saw Hammer appear lumbering out from between boulders. Rimmon had stopped rolling now, was still fora few moments and then slowly extricated himself from the net and began to drag and crawl away through the grass, wings trailing behind.\n\nHammer stopped at the foot of the hill, looking up at Sig, who yelled snatched commands as she made her way down the slope. The bear turned, head swaying on its thick-muscled neck, and then thundered after the Kadoshim.\n\nThe ground levelled beneath Sig and she half ran, half stumbled towards Hammer. The huge bear stood over the Kadoshim, one paw upon his chest, pinning him to the ground. Rimmon writhed and squirmed beneath the bear's weight, limbs and wings batting feebly at it, but Hammer did not move.\n\nSig drew her sword as she reached them and stood over the Kadoshim. He was bloody and broken, limbs and wings twisted, one leg showing bone, his pale, dark-veined face splattered with blood, but his eyes still radiated a malefic fury.\n\nSig levelled her sword at the creature's throat.\n\n\"I would like nothing more than to kill you now,\" she grated, \"but I have questions for you: so many followers here? The man you sacrificed– why? And the message you sent?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Kadoshim stilled a moment.\n\n\"I will tell you nothing,\" Rimmon spat, voice as broken as his body. A trickle of black blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.\n\n\"We shall see,\" Sig said, retrieving her net from the ground a dozen paces away. \"Perhaps not now, and I am not the most patient of questioners. But I shall take you back to Dun Seren...\"\n\nSomething swept across the Kadoshim's face at the mention of Sig's home, the fortress where the Order of the Bright Star were based.\n\nHave the Kadoshim learned to fear us? A hundred years of bloodshed has given them good cause.\n\nSuddenly the Kadoshim had a knife in his fist and he was stabbing frenziedly at Hammer's paw, sinking deep, blood spurting. The bear roared and jerked away, the Kadoshim– abruptly free– was up and stumbling at Sig, knife lunging for her belly.\n\nThen Hammer's jaws clamped around Rimmon's torso, lifting him bodily from the ground, jaws snapping tighter as it shook the Kadoshim furiously, blood spraying, bones snapping. The bear hurled the Kadoshim to the ground, slammed one paw upon the winged demon's torso and grabbed its head, ripping it from its shoulders with a wet, tearing sound.\n\nSig stood and stared. It was allover in a handful of heartbeats.\n\n\"I think you are more bad-tempered than I am,\" she muttered, patting the bear's neck."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "RIV\n\nRiv cursed under her breath, a continuous muttering as she scrubbed the floor of one of the many communal latrines in Drassil. It was early and she was on latrine duty, not her favourite of tasks at the best of times, but even less so today. Her sleep had been troubled with bad dreams. In the light of day they were ephemeral, only a vague memory of weightless, endless falling.\n\n\"What's that? ' Carsten said. Just like Riv, he was the child of a White-Wing, born in Drassil and raised to become a warrior of the White-Wings. He was a year younger than Riv, as were all on the latrine team with her; because she had failed her warrior trial, all of her friends were training on the weapons-field as White-Wings, but not her.\n\n\"For my shame,\" she muttered, then looked up at him. \"What's what? '\n\nCarsten was supposed to be pouring buckets of water over the long stone seating block that Riv had just scrubbed, but he had stopped. The walls behind him were filled with pastel depictions of Ben-Elim casting Kadoshim from the skies, a reminder of the great sacrifice they had made to protect mankind from the evil of the demon horde. Riv was just about to give Carsten apiece of her mind for shirking his duties when he said it again.\n\n\"What's that? ' he said, and then she heard it, filtering in through the unshuttered window and open doorway. The blowing of horns.\n\n\"That's the call to the Lore Chamber, \"Riv said, leaping to her feet. Usually the Lore Chamber convened once a ten-night: Israfil and his captains gathering in Drassil's Great Hall and sitting in judgement upon all manner of issues brought before them, whether they be disputes between residents of Drassil, petty charges of drunkenness or minor disobediences to more serious matters, even murder."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the tale as the plot helper for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Dread\nChapter: 12"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "RIV\n\nRiv cursed under her breath, a continuous muttering as she scrubbed the floor of one of the many communal latrines in Drassil. It was early and she was on latrine duty, not her favourite of tasks at the best of times, but even less so today. Her sleep had been troubled with bad dreams. In the light of day they were ephemeral, only a vague memory of weightless, endless falling.\n\n\"What's that? ' Carsten said. Just like Riv, he was the child of a White-Wing, born in Drassil and raised to become a warrior of the White-Wings. He was a year younger than Riv, as were all on the latrine team with her; because she had failed her warrior trial, all of her friends were training on the weapons-field as White-Wings, but not her.\n\n\"For my shame,\" she muttered, then looked up at him. \"What's what? '\n\nCarsten was supposed to be pouring buckets of water over the long stone seating block that Riv had just scrubbed, but he had stopped. The walls behind him were filled with pastel depictions of Ben-Elim casting Kadoshim from the skies, a reminder of the great sacrifice they had made to protect mankind from the evil of the demon horde. Riv was just about to give Carsten apiece of her mind for shirking his duties when he said it again.\n\n\"What's that? ' he said, and then she heard it, filtering in through the unshuttered window and open doorway. The blowing of horns.\n\n\"That's the call to the Lore Chamber, \"Riv said, leaping to her feet. Usually the Lore Chamber convened once a ten-night: Israfil and his captains gathering in Drassil's Great Hall and sitting in judgement upon all manner of issues brought before them, whether they be disputes between residents of Drassil, petty charges of drunkenness or minor disobediences to more serious matters, even murder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But the next meeting's not due for another four nights.\n\nThe horns blew again.\n\n\"Come on,\" Riv said, making for the open doorway.\n\n\"But, the latrines,\" Carsten said.\n\n\"It's excrement, it'll still be here when we're done. ' Riv strode out into the streets of Drassil, hearing Carsten following her.\n\nThe streets were full, all those not on essential duties making their way to the great chamber of Drassil.\n\n\"What's going on? ' Riv asked a White-Wing in the street.\n\n\"Ethlinn and Garidas are back,\" she said.\n\nThe horns blew again and Riv began to run, feeling aches in her joints that hadn't been there a few days ago.\n\nCan't sleep, and I'm aching like I have a fever. I'll visit the healers when I have sometime.\n\nCrowds grew thicker as Riv reached the courtyard of the Great Hall, people pouring through the open gates, Riv elbowing through them. Inside everyone was filing along the tiered stone steps, using them as benches, hundreds already sitting there. Riv saw her mam, Dalme, a few rows down and squeezed and shoved her way through the crowd to reach her.\n\n\"Hello, my darling,\" her mam said.\n\n\"I hear it's Ethlinn and Garidas returned, ' Riv whispered as she sat beside her mam.\n\n\"Aye, it's true, \"Dalmae said, gesturing to the hall's floor below them.\n\nThe iron-covered statues of Asroth and Meical were where they always were, tall and brooding before the trunk of Drassil's ancient tree, and ringed about them were Ethlinn's giants, as always. On the wide space between them and Riv a dozen chairs had been set, for Israfil and his captains sitting either side of him. Blond-haired Kol sat at the far end. Riv found her gaze lingering on the scarred Ben-Elim. He seemed different, somehow, from the Ben-Elim he sat beside, his perfect features altered by the scar that ran down his face, changing the straight line of his mouth. Perhaps he felt her eyes on him, because he looked up, straight at her, as if she were the only person in the room. She held his gaze a few heartbeats, then looked away."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Before the Ben-Elim was a wain, something bulky upon it, covered with a sheet of stitched hides. A score of White-Wings and giants were standing about it. Riv saw Garidas, who was captain of a White-Wing hundred, just as Aphra was. He was standing straight-backed and stern, as always, short-cropped dark hair framing a serious face. Riv liked him: he was a devout man, utterly committed to the Ben-Elim, and a fine warrior. He'd given Riv a fair few bruises on the weapons-field, although recently she usually gave as good as she got. If anything, Riv thought, it wouldn't harm him to smile more.\n\nBeside Garidas towered Ethlinn, Queen of the Giants. She was pale as milk, long-limbed, even fora giant, slimmer and less muscled than most, though there was an obvious strength in her musculature. Black hair knotted in a thick braid coiled about her shoulder and a thin torc of silver rested about her neck.\n\n\"Where have they been?\" Riv asked her mam. There had been rumours, but no one really seemed to know, even Aphra, which was rare, because Aphra always seemed to know everything that was going on.\n\n\"I think we're about to find out. ' Dalmae shrugged.\n\nThe murmuring of the crowd stilled as Ethlinn strode to stand before Israfil.\n\nWhen Israfil satin his chair on the Lore-Giving days, he would start the proceedings with a prayer to Elyon and a reading from the Book of the Faithful, but today was different. He stood, the hall settling into immediate silence.\n\n\"Faith, Strength and Purity,\" Israfil intoned."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"For that is the Way of Elyon,\" Riv responded automatically, along with all the others.\n\nIsrafil sat and gave a nod to Ethlinn.\n\n\"The rumours were true,\" Ethlinn said. \"We found a Kadoshim lair, though recently deserted. There was evidence of large numbers dwelling there, thirty, forty at least.\"\n\nGasps and murmurs rippled around the crowd. Kadoshim sightings were rare; the last one had been in the Agullas Mountains far to the south, over a year gone. It had been hunted and slain, a half-starved, pathetic thing, by all accounts, only a handful of deluded servants with it, more farmers than warriors.\n\n\"Where?\" Israfil asked.\n\n\"In Forn. Thirty leagues south, between here and Brikan,\" Ethlinn said.\n\nSo close. How dare they? Riv thought, her anger flaring.\n\n\"How do you know it was a Kadoshim lair,\" Kol said, \"if it was deserted?\"\n\n\"We found a body, nailed to crossed timber. He'd been sacrificed, runes upon the floor, written in his blood. \"She paused.\"Terrible things had been done to him. '\n\nIsrafil said nothing, but the other Ben-Elim about him whispered to one another.\n\n\"And we found this,\" Garidas called out, at the same time ripping off the hide covering from the wain.\n\nA cage of iron bars lay underneath, within it a figure. Riv stared, straining to see properly. One man, heavily muscled and shaven-haired, clothes ragged and torn. He sat upon his knees, a chain hanging between his wrists. There was something... wrong, about him. Then he moved and something shifted on his back. At first Riv thought it was a cloak, but it was moving."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It cannot be,\" her mam hissed beside her.\n\nBecause the man in the cage had wings.\n\n\"Is that a Kadoshim?\" Riv asked. It was not what she expected, looked nothing like the paintings on the latrine walls she'd just been looking at. It appeared far more human than she had been led to believe, and although he was sitting, he seemed short, definitely shorter than the tall, elegant Ben-Elim.\n\n\"No,\" her mam said.\n\n\"Bring him closer,\" Israfil ordered, a tremor in his voice that spoke of fury.\n\nWhite-Wings unlocked the cage and dragged the winged man out. He did not put up a fight, just walked towards Israfil, with Garidas and half a dozen White-Wings about him. Riv saw the winged man pause, staring at the dais and the entwined figures of Asroth and Meical. Garidas yanked on his chains and he stumbled forwards.\n\n\"You area half-breed. Spawn of improper relations between a Kadoshim and a woman, are you not?\" Israfil said, barely able to keep the rage from his voice.\n\n\"I am,\" the man said, standing tall before Israfil, his voice deep and guttural.\n\n\"Kneel before the Lord Protector,\" Garidas said; one of the White-Wing guards slammed a spear shaft across the half-breed's shoulders. He swayed but remained on his feet, another blow and he dropped to one knee.\n\nShouts and angry yells echoed from the benches around Riv. She looked about, saw White-Wings and many others shouting curses and shaking their fists. Amongst the crowd a few stood still and emotionless: Bleda the ward, alongside those from his Clan who had arrived recently. He was staring at Israfil and the half-breed, his darker skin and almond-shaped eyes drawing Riv's eyes to him. His companion, Jin, saw Riv's gaze and nudged Bleda. Riv looked away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Israfil stood, a ripple passing through his wings, and he strode closer to the half-breed.\n\n\"Whose seed are you spawned from?\" Israfil asked. \"Who is your sire?\"\n\nThe half-breed looked up at Israfil, eyes cold with hatred.\n\n\"You area filthy abomination, a tainted stain upon the land,\" Israfil said. \"Your very existence is justification for the war we wage against the Kadoshim. They have broken the greatest law, mixing the blood of eternal with mortal, and you are the result.\" Israfil's face twisted in disgust.\n\nA movement drew Riv's eyes away from Israfil to the Ben-Elim seated behind him, to Kol. A flash of anger flickered across his face, making his scar twitch, then it was gone.\n\n\"Who is your sire?\" Israfil repeated.\n\n\"Why would I tell you?\" the half-breed said. He spat at Israfil's feet.\n\nA cascade of blows fell upon the half-breed, head, shoulders, back. He fell forwards, onto his hands.\n\n\"Hold,\" Israfil snapped.\n\n\"Who is your sire?\"\n\n\"We know of you, Israfil, petty pawn of the Tyrant,\" the half-breed said. He smiled through bloodied lips. \"Your days are numbered.\"\n\n\"No, half-breed scum,\" Israfil said. \"It is you who will soon betaking your last breath. But not before you are put to the question. It will not be quick– there are Ben-Elim who have mastered the art of keeping a body alive indefinitely, on the knife-edge of death. By the end we will know everything that you know. It is surprising how long even apiece of corrupted filth like you can live.\" A look of contempt and loathing. \"It is not a task I take pleasure in, but my holy charge is to protect Elyon's creation, and you and your ilk area corruption that must be eradicated. ' Israfil raised a hand, signalling for the beating to continue."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Drekar is my father,\" the half-breed blurted."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And I am Salk.\"\n\n\"You have no name, should not exist. You area pestilence,\" Israfil said. \"Where is Drekar, now?\"\n\n\"You will see him, when he chooses,\" Salk said. \"But for now he sends you a message.\" With a burst of unbelievable speed and strength, Salk surged to his feet, leathery wings beating as he threw himself to the side, crashing into one of his White-Wing guards, wrapping the chain that hung from his manacled wrists about the warrior's neck. Other White-Wings stabbed with their blades, but the half-breed was faster, leaping from the ground in a burst of powerful legs and wings, other warriors rushing forwards.\n\nThere was a collective gasp throughout the chamber, Riv jumping to her feet and vaulting through the tiered crowd, though she knew she was too far, too late.\n\nThe half-breed lurched into the air, hovered above his captors, the White-Wing in his grasp fighting and twisting, but Salk gave a last savage wrench of the chains and there was an audible crack, the White-Wing's limbs suddenly dangling, head hanging slack. Salk hurled the body at the warriors below him, snatching a short-sword from the dead man's scabbard, tucking his wings and hurtling towards Israfil. He bellowed a wordless cry.\n\nIsrafil drew his own sword, other Ben-Elim behind him taking to the air.\n\nSalk's lips drew back in a primal snarl as he levelled his sword at Israfil.\n\nEthlinn stabbed her spear into the half-breed's shoulder, bursting out of his back in a spray of blood. She kept hold of it, swinging and slamming Salk to the stone floor, where he twisted and writhed on her spear like a stuck salmon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Israfil and a score of others rushed to him, but before they could reach him Salk had the short-sword at his own throat.\n\n\"Father says he will send you back to the Otherworld,\" the half-breed said, and then he was dragging the sword across his neck, a jet of arterial blood.\n\n\"No,\" Israfil yelled, Ethlinn kicking the sword from the half-breed's hand, but it was too late: a pool of blood was widening about him. In moments he was gone.\n\nIsrafil stood over the corpse, shaking his head. \"We could have learned much from him.\"\n\n\"When he was captured we searched him, found this,\" Garidas said, reaching into his cloak and pulling out a tattered scrap of parchment.\n\n\"What does it say?\" Kol asked, standing at Israfil's shoulder.\n\nGaridas looked to Israfil, waiting for his permission. \"Perhaps you should see this in private,\" the White-Wing captain said. The Lord Protector nodded.\n\nEthlinn spoke out anyway, her voice echoing through the chamber.\n\n\"It says Go luath. Soon.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DREM\n\nDrem limped along beside his da and their string of packhorses, not for the first time wishing he was sitting upon the back of one of those horses, rather than struggling along beside it with his ankle throbbing. The fact was, though, that they had too many furs and skins to carry, and when faced with the prospect of leaving those skins behind or walking...\n\nOlin had been happy to leave a bundle or two behind, but Drem knew how long and hard they'd worked for those skins, risking life and limb, and they needed them to sell if they wanted to eat through the winter.\n\nThe palisaded walls of Kergard loomed higher the closer they came to the new town sitting upon the rim of the Starstone Lake. Noise and activity rolled off it like heat from a dung heap.\n\n\"It looks bigger,\" Drem said, and that was because it was. Bigger than when he had last seen it, six moons ago. Fresh-built holds and houses of timber and stone, roofed with thatch and sod, spilt down the slope and into the meadow and woodland about Kergard's walls.\n\nOlin didn't respond, just stared with a frown upon his face. Without a word, he led their lead-pony off the main road to Kergard and onto a rolling meadow, skirting the town and heading north-east, towards their home. He had been like this since their discovery in the foothills three days ago. Drem saw his da reach out and put a hand upon the lump of black iron they'd hauled from the elk pit, wrapped and hidden now within half a dozen skins.\n\nHe is convinced it is starstone metal. And it is strange: twice as heavy as it should be, and a black that seems to suck light into it. I've never seen anything like it. But starstone... ?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The more Drem thought about it, though, he had to admit that there was a slim possibility that his da was correct, regardless of how farfetched the likelihood seemed. Besides, his da was a practical man, not given to wild theories or flights of fancy. Local legends told how the lake beyond Kergard was supposedly a crater formed by the original Starstone as it crashed to earth. He looked back over his shoulder at the foothills they had only recently left, one hand coming up absently to stroke the bear claw that he had tied to a strip of leather about his neck.\n\nBehind those hills reared the jagged teeth of the Bonefells, looking as if they were holding up the sky. He squinted his eyes and tried to imagine the Starstone coursing over those mountain peaks, spitting great gobs of fire and smoke and blazing a trail of flames.\n\nHe blinked and nodded to himself.\n\nWho is to say that part of the Starstone did not crack and fall away as it plummeted to earth.\n\nHe frowned, unsure of what it meant if what they carried hidden in their pack was indeed apiece of the fabled stone.\n\n\"No time to stop, we're almost home, ' his da called back to him.\n\nI hope it's not apiece of the Starstone. Look what happened last time– blood, war and death throughout the Banished Lands.\n\nWith a sense of unease seeping through him, Drem hobbled on.\n\nDrem smiled to see their homestead appear, the rooftop of their barn visible beyond a copse of oak and alder. It was not as isolated as it had been when he and Olin had left. A handful of fresh-built homes were running along the line of a stream that curled out of thickening woodland to the north and fed into the lake. They passed a fence line belonging to the last of these new homes and turned onto the grass-choked path that led to their homestead. A dog barked and a voice called out. Drem saw a big hound standing in their path, lips curled back in a snarling growl. He was old, scars criss-crossing his dun coat, one ear half-chewed. A voice called out, an old man was hurrying from the porch of a timber house, a hobbling run using along staff for help. A younger woman appeared a dozen steps behind him. The old man reached his fence, gasping for breath and leaned upon the timber rail fora moment, though he still managed to wave the tip of the spear he was carrying in Drem's direction. Drem had thought it a walking staff, but the old man seemed to have other ideas as he pointed it at Drem and his da."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That your hound?\" Olin asked, keeping one eye on the snapping, snarling creature.\n\n\"It is,\" the woman said as she reached them. She was of an age with Drem, as far as he could tell, hair as yellow as the sun, tied and pinned tight to her head, blue eyes creased with worry as she reached a handout to the old man.\n\nHe snatched his arm away and tutted at her.\n\n\"I'd be grateful if you'd call him off.\" Olin nodded at the hound.\n\n\"Maybe I will, and maybe I won't, \"the old man said.\"Who are you? And what business do you have to come creeping about my home? '\n\n\"We're not creeping! ' Drem said, annoyed at the unjust and inaccurate accusation.\n\nThe spear-point levelled at Drem's chest.\n\n\"That's our hold, ' Olin said, stepping between Drem and the old man and pointing to their home.\n\n\"No one lives there,\" the old man snapped. \"Been empty since we came here.\"\n\n\"It's been empty fora little over six moons, \"Olin said,\"and like as not it is cold and damp inside and needs a hearth-fire lit. It's our home, though, built by our own hands. Didn't have neighbours when we left, but looks like we've more than a few now.\"\n\nThe woman looked at their packhorses, the skins and furs tied in big bundles.\n\n\"Calder the smith said that trappers built that place, Grandfather,\" she said to the old man. \"He said they'd be back for winter, as well. '\n\n\"He did?\"\n\n\"He did,\" she said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Huh, then why didn't you say so? ' he snapped at Drem and his da.\n\n\"We just did,\" said Drem.\n\nThe old man lowered his spear-point, a little begrudgingly, Drem thought.\n\n\"Your name is Olin, is it not?\" the woman said.\n\nOlin frowned at that, but eventually nodded into the growing silence. \"Aye, it is.\"\n\n\"Well met and welcome home,\" the girl said. \"I'm Fritha, and my grandfather is Hask. '\n\n\"Well met,\" Olin said. \"And this is my son, Drem.\"\n\n\"It'll be good to have some neighbours out here, \"Fritha said,\"so close to the forest and mountains. '\n\nDrem looked where she was pointing, at woodland just behind his own hold, and hills beyond.\n\n\"They're not mountains, ' Drem corrected, not liking it when things were said wrong. His da gave him a flat stare.\n\n\"Well, whatever they are, we're happy to meet you, \"Fritha said.\"Isn't that right, Grandad?\"\n\n\"What? Yes, I suppose we are,\" Hask muttered. \"Can never be too careful,\" he added with a shake of his spear.\n\n\"True enough,\" Olin said.\n\nThe hound was still growling and barring the way. Olin looked pointedly at it.\n\n\"We've been sleeping on root and rock for six moons; it would be nice to light afire and see our beds. '\n\n\"Of course,\" Fritha said.\n\n\"Surl, enough,\" Hask snapped and the hound slunk over to his heel with one last snapping growl and then it was silent."
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"value": "Olin bade them farewell and led Drem and the line of ponies on.\n\n\"You can be very diplomatic when you put your mind to it,\" Drem said to his da as they drew near the gates to their hold.\n\n\"Don't have to use a sharp edge to deal with every situation, \"Olin replied.\"More often than not a kind or polite word will fix a disagreement. \"He looked along moment at Drem.\"And you don't have to correct every inaccuracy you hear in a conversation.\"\n\n\"I just don't like it when people get things wrong. \"It was more than that– a compulsion far beyond habit or annoyance. Drem felt that he had to do it, a pressure would grow within him until he voiced his corrections. He knew his da didn't like him doing it, had often spoken to him about it.\n\n\"I know that, son, but other people, they can take it wrong, think you're criticizing, being rude. Some people don't react well if they think you're disrespecting them. '\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"I know, you don't mean any harm, but just think before you speak, eh? And hold your tongue if that's at all possible. Even if you don't understand why it's important. Do it for your old da.\"\n\nDrem winced, knowing that it would pain him, but he nodded. \"I'll try, ' he conceded.\n\nOlin smiled and patted Drem's shoulder.\n\nIt was good to be home. Olin unloaded the packhorses in the yard, all except the rock they'd dugout of the elk pit. He led the horse with the rock still upon its back around the rear of the barn, telling Drem to carry on until he returned. So Drem did: fires were lit, cobwebs and rats were swept and evicted from rooms, the horses rubbed down and putout to paddock, and a stew was set to simmering in a pot over the hearth. Ashe was seeing to these routine tasks Drem thought on his da and the lump of black rock they'd dug up."
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"value": "I wish we'd never found it, and bringing it home with us! If it is what Da thinks it is, then a war that consumed the world began over something very similar.\n\nThat was not a comforting thought, and Drem resolved to talk to his da about it. He was carrying their pelts into the barn when his da joined him, hands and boots sticky with mud. Drem gave his da an enquiring look but received no response, so he carried on moving the pelts, his da washing down in a rain barrel and then silently helping. Once all the skins were undercover Drem began sorting through their tools in preparation for tanning.\n\nI hate tanning skins, he thought, wrinkling his nose as he got a whiff of lime milk. It felt as if it singed off all the hairs up his nose.\n\n\"We'll start the tanning on the morrow, \"Olin said.\"Just prepare for it now, then we'll go and put some hot food in our bellies.\"\n\nWatching his da rest a hand upon the pile of skins, bow his head and pinch the top of his nose, Drem thought he looked more troubled than he had ever seen him.\n\nBecause of that stone we've found? I'm troubled, too.\n\n\"Da, should we have brought that stone here? It's-'\n\n\"It's better with me than anywhere else, ' Olin said, cutting him off.\n\n\"But we could have left it there, buried it again.\"\n\n\"I could not live with the knowledge of it out there,\" Olin said, \"just waiting to be found. At least with me, I know it cannot be put to any great evil.\"\n\nEvil!\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Enough,\" Olin snapped. \"Let it lie, Drem, I'll not be changing my mind. '"
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"value": "Drem sucked in a deep breath, weighing up the worth of continuing.\n\nOnce he makes up his mind, there's rarely any changing it. For now.\n\nDrem loved his da, but more and more of late, he was feeling frustrated at how his da treated him, avoiding questions, treating him like a bairn.\n\nTwenty-one summers old. I'm a man.\n\nHis da rolled his injured arm, the one Drem had stitched.\n\n\"How is it?\" Drem asked him.\n\n\"Itching,\" Olin said, then shrugged. \"A good sign. Your ankle?\"\n\n\"Throbbing. I'll live. '\n\n\"Aye, well, let's get this finished, stable the ponies and we can look forward to some hot food, a cup of mead and a bowl of hot water to soak our feet in, and we can compare injuries. '\n\nDrem liked the sound of that and the thought of it put some fire in his limbs. It made the job of finding and dusting off the buckets and barrels of quicklime, salt and oak bark less of a chore.\n\nDrem's belly was rumbling by the time they finished bringing the ponies in from the paddock and settling them in the stables. As tempting as it was, they'd learned the hard way last year that you didn't leave animals outside through the night. The north had predators that liked the taste of horse.\n\nThe clouds were low and bloated, the sun just a faint glow on the horizon when they left the stables and made their way across the small yard to their cabin.\n\nThe sound of approaching hooves broke their companionable silence, growing steadily louder. They paused on the cabin steps, Drem noticing his da loosening his knife in its sheath and taking a step closer to the wood axe that was leaning against a timber post."
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"value": "It was Ulf, the tanner. He trotted into the yard on a bay pony that looked too small for him, raised a hand in greeting and dismounted stiffly, approaching them with his halting gait.\n\n\"Thought you were back,\" Ulf said with a grin, pointing at the smoke rising from the chimney.\n\nUlf was a few summers younger than Drem's da, but looked older. Mostly grey with a few streaks of black still in his hair, fat-bellied and fingers stained with the chemicals of his trade. He was one of the few people for whom Olin had more than a passing time, and last winter they had spent many an evening round afire in each other's company.\n\nMaybe it is because he was like us, once. Before his injury.\n\nUlf had been a trapper, like them, liked to boast that he had helped sink the first posts in Kergard's walls over a score of years ago and used to trap along the Bonefells every spring and summer. After his injury– a tale involving a wolven that became larger and more fearsome with every telling– Ulf had retired from trapping and become the town tanner, buying skins and pelts from those who still hunted this far north and turning them into tooled leather. He was a skilful man; Drem's da said he'd never had a pair of finer-fitting boots than the ones Ulf had made. When Drem and Olin had come to Kergard five year ago Olin had struck up a friendship with the tanner, who had helped them build their cabin and surrounding homestead.\n\nNow, though, Drem could see a tension in his da at the appearance of the tanner, his eyes flickering beyond the barn, just fora moment."
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"value": "He's worrying about that lump of rock.\n\n\"A good season's hunting? ' Ulf asked.\n\n\"Aye, good enough,\" Olin said.\n\n\"I was hoping to buy or trade your skins,\" Ulf said.\n\nPlease, thought Drem. He hated the tanning process far more than the cold nights and hard rock and root of the hunting.\n\n\"We were just talking about starting the tanning on the morrow,\" Olin said, tugging on his short beard.\n\n\"I'll give you a good price and save you the hard work, and the smell... '\n\n\"We're not afraid of some hard work, are we, lad? ' Olin said.\n\n\"No, Da.\"\n\nBut the smell. Please...\n\nOlin saw Drem's look.\n\n\"Well, it's something we'd not be against discussing, I suppose, is it, Drem?\"\n\n\"No, no, it's not, ' Drem said, trying not to let his hope spill allover his face.\n\n\"We'll come into town on the morrow, talk on it some more, ' Olin said.\n\n\"Well, I'd like to talk on it now, if it's all the same to you. Don't like to go to bed with unfinished business, gives me gut-ache and then I can't sleep. But it's hard with the smell of that food cooking, \"Ulf said, smacking his lips and raising his head to take a big sniff.\"Distracting, it is. '\n\nOlin frowned, his eyes flicking beyond the barn again, but then his face cracked in a smile. \"Best we do something about that hole in your belly, then,\" and with that they all entered the cabin."
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"value": "\"Kergard's bigger than when we left, ' Olin said, dipping some black bread into his bowl.\n\nUlf had produced a loaf from a saddlebag strapped to his horse. \"Never go anywhere without a loaf of bread– makes every meal better,\" Ulf had pronounced, and Drem had to admit it had certainly made his bowl of stew much better as he ripped off a large chunk and soaked up the last of the thick gravy glistening with fat and onion juice at the bottom of his bowl.\n\n\"Aye, it is, sure enough,\" Ulf said as he sat back and quaffed his mead, emptying the cup without taking a breath, then belched as long and loud as Drem had ever heard. His da filled Ulf's cup and sipped some of his own. Night had fallen long since, a strong wind outside making timbers creak and sending the flames of the fire flickering and coiling as darkness pressed in upon them, making shadows dance and writhe on the walls.\n\n\"Close to four hundred new souls living around the crater, I'd wager, \"Ulf said.\"All of them arriving since you wandered off in the spring towards the Bonefells. Not that I'm complaining: they'll all be after fur-lined boots and cloaks once they have a taste of winter up here. '\n\n\"Any trappers like us?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Aye, a few. Not like you two, though,\" Ulf said. \"Six moons living wild in the Bonefells, now that's what I call commitment to the job. Most of the others have been back at least a moon, those that are coming back. '\n\n\"Not everyone's returned, then? '\n\n\"No, Vidar and Sten are still out there, though they're almost as insane as you two, so there's still hope they've survived the Wild another season. Old Bodil isn't back, either, which isn't so good. Don't expect to see him, now. He's wintered eight years in Kergard, and he's always back before the end of Reaper's Moon. \"Ulf squinted at Olin through one eye, a sure sign that the mead was having some effect.\"Didn't see him on your travels?\""
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"value": "\"No. Not him nor any other soul,\" Olin replied.\n\nHope he's all right, Drem thought. He liked Old Bodil, though most called him cantankerous and ill-tempered. Drem thought most of that was just straight talking, without any dressing.\n\n\"Ah, well. He'll not be the first trapper to end his days up in those mountains, or the last. Maybe he ran into the kin of the wolven that ended my trapping days. Course, I doubt they'd ever be as fierce a beast as I had the bad fortune to come across, roaming up in the high places.\"\n\nThey probably are, wolven don't become less fierce, thought Drem, gritting his teeth so that he didn't blurt the words out. He was trying to take his da's advice and not unwittingly insult Ulf; not that he saw any insult in correcting a mistake, but he'd learned to take his da's advice on such subjects, no matter how much it bothered him. And it did bother him. Listening to someone make a mistake and not correct it was like listening to nails scraping across slate and not asking them to stop.\n\n\"Big as draigs, they were, those wolven.\" Ulf rubbed a hand along his thigh, leg out straight before him, eyes distant.\n\n\"There's more than wolven to watch out for up in those hills, \"Olin said.\"We came across a giant bear. White as snow, it was. '\n\nUlf grunted and sat up with interest. \"A white bear pelt; now that would fetch a rare price. Why didn't you bring it home? '\n\n\"We were too busy trying not to let it eat us.\" Olin smiled ruefully.\n\nDrem nodded his head vigorously."
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"value": "Ulf raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"It was big,\" Olin said, \"bigger than any I've seen before, even those with a giant on their backs. '\n\n\"Pffft.\" Ulf spat with a smile. \"Animals grow in the telling, I've learned. ' Nevertheless, Drem saw him give Olin an appraising look.\n\nHa, you're a fine one to say that! Drem thought, almost grinding his jaws together to stop himself from saying anything. Instead his hand reached up into his woollen shirt and he pulled out the bear claw tied around his neck, dangling it for Ulf to see.\n\nUlf whistled and held his hands up. \"Fair enough,\" he said, eyes wide. \"The beast on the end of that must've been a rare sight. '\n\n\"We didn't standstill to admire it, ' Olin said.\n\n\"No, spent more time running, and swimming,\" Drem added.\n\n\"And near soiling our breeches,\" Olin put in.\n\nUlf spat a mouthful of his mead onto the fire, which hissed, flames leaping.\n\n\"Ah, I miss those days.\" He laughed wistfully.\n\n\"And even then we didn't getaway free of harm, \"Drem added, pointing to his ankle and his da's arm.\n\n\"Good job Drem can stitch a wound,\" Olin said.\n\n\"Like that, eh?\" Ulf nodded knowingly. \"Man-eater, then. I've come across them before. I wonder... ' Ulf gazed at the fire, falling silent.\n\n\"Wonder what?\" Drem prompted.\n\n\"Not just trappers lost to the Wild. Townsfolk have been going missing, too. Lads out hunting, mostly. Some near the lake.\" He shrugged. \"And a bairn or two. First I thought it was southerners not having enough respect fora northern winter. Too many, though. Then I thought a wolven pack may have come south early. Thought I heard howling, the other night, off to the north-east. Might have been the wind. But maybe it's your white bear. Once they get a taste of man-flesh... ' He looked to the flat dark of a shuttered window, and suddenly Drem was imagining the white bear padding through their yard."
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"value": "\"That was just a wild animal protecting its kill,\" Olin said with a wave of his hand, though he looked troubled by what Ulf had said. He looked hard at Ulf. \"Tell me, these new arrivals at Kergard. Has this ever happened before? So many coming north in just one season?\"\n\n\"Not since I've been here, \"Ulf said,\"and that's over a score of years. Most I remember is a dozen in one year. Usually it's people like yourselves, coming up in twos, threes, fours. Sometimes a family. '\n\nOlin nodded thoughtfully. \"Why so many, do you think?\"\n\n\"Two reasons, far as I can tell,\" Ulf said. \"They've found iron ore, lots of it, close to the northern rim of the lake. A mine's sprung up, all sorts coming north to work it.\"\n\nThat would explain the lights we saw the other night, Drem thought, sharing a look with his da.\n\n\"And then there's the other reason, \"Ulf continued, looking about the room, hunching closer to Olin as if there were spies in the shadows. Drem did the same.\"There's trouble in the south,\" the old tanner said. \"Hard to get the truth of it, a rumour here, another there. A lot of unrest, I'm hearing, people not happy. '\n\n\"Not happy with what?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"The Ben-Elim,\" Ulf said. \"There's another side to their so-called peace, and to living in their Land of the Faithful. \"He took a large sip from his cup.\"I saw it all those years ago, but apparently it's getting worse.\"\n\n\"What is?\" Olin asked, his voice impatient."
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"value": "\"You know the Ben-Elim demand a tithe for their peace and protection. Coin or goods, and flesh?\" Ulf said.\n\nOlin nodded.\n\nHow is it that Da knows this, and I don't.\n\n\"What do you mean, flesh?\" Drem asked, looking pointedly at his da, who just frowned, avoiding Drem's eyes.\n\n\"I mean people, Drem,\" Ulf said. \"The Land of the Faithful keeps growing, and there aren't enough Ben-Elim to patrol it, so they want a tithe of warriors. Course, they've got the giants, or most of them, apart from those at Dun Seren, but that's still not enough. They demand youngsters they can train in their ways of making war, to go out and fight for them. '\n\n\"Oh,\" Drem said. \"That just seems wrong. I don't like it. ' He felt the urge to take his pulse, fingers twitching, but controlled himself.\n\n\"No? Well, you'll not like this, then. Up till now, the Ben-Elim have asked fora flesh tithe. But now they're just taking it. Seems not everyone's happy to send their young away to Drassil for warrior training, and so the Ben-Elim are just taking their tithe, whether people are willing or no. '\n\n\"That's close to slavery, ' Drem gasped.\n\nOlin glared at the flames.\n\n\"You're not the only one to think so, \"Ulf said,\"and a lot of those that think the same are ending up here, where the Ben-Elim don't rule.\"\n\n\"Good enough reason,\" Olin said.\n\nUlf looked at them both along moment, the room silent except for some wood cracking in the hearth."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And then, there are the other stories I'm hearing, ' he said.\n\n\"And what are they?\" Olin asked. Drem could feel a change in Ulf, even before he said it. A change in his voice, in the set of his shoulders.\n\nAs if he's scared.\n\n\"Well, no one talks about it at first, but my job, well, I see a lot of people and, believe me, I hear a lot of folk's tales. After awhile they tell me things, serious things. And it seems like there's one thing everyone agrees on.\" He paused, took another drink from his cup. Drem saw a tremor in his hand.\n\n\"Go on,\" Olin prompted.\n\n\"The Kadoshim are at the heart of it.\"\n\nDrem's da stiffened at that, a tension in his jaw.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Olin asked.\n\n\"I've heard talk of a Kadoshim cult arising. And talk of strange rituals. Of sacrifice. ' His voice dropped to almost a whisper, and Drem felt that even the flames and darkness were leaning closer, straining to hear.\n\n\"Human sacrifice.\""
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"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "RIV\n\nRiv drew the arrow, the yew bow creaking as muscles flexed in her arms and back, until the feathers tickled her cheek. She sighted along the length of the shaft, raised the head a little and loosed.\n\nThe string thrummed as the arrow flew, arcing up across the archery range of the weapons-field, wind snatching at it before it dipped down and thudded into a straw target. It struck lower than she'd intended. She swore.\n\nIf that was my enemy, at worst they'd be walking with a limp now.\n\nSword and spear, she was a match for most of those she trained with, but she still had a lotto learn with a bow.\n\nA chuckle sounded behind her. Riv turned to seethe two wards from Arcona, Jin and Bleda, standing at the head of a small crowd.\n\n\"You see, Father, they use a bow as long as a spear, and most of them are about as skilled as any five-year-old from the Cheren.\"\n\nJin's head was twisted over her shoulder, talking to a man behind her. His head was shaved, apart from his warrior braid, like all the warriors Riv had seen from the east. He was standing with a handful of others, men and women all of a similar appearance.\n\nThe leaders of the Cheren and the Sirak, and their attendants.\n\nRiv saw Israfil and Kol amidst their ranks. A memory of the half-breed in Drassil's Great Hall flashed through her mind, Israfil standing over him, face twisted in revulsion.\n\nUsually he is so calm, so controlled. How deep must be his hatred for the Kadoshim, and for the breaking of Elyon's Lore."
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"value": "The Lord Protector was talking to a woman close to Bleda, and behind them all were two giants.\n\nRiv had heard of the arrival of this party from Arcona, and news that they were hereto discuss a tithe of their warriors had spread through the White-Wings faster than sickness through a camp. Riv had mixed feelings about that, as she liked the way things were at Drassil, and having newcomers with new ways felt like a threat to her way of life.\n\nIsrafil will not allow that. They will have to become like us, followers of the Lore, not the other way around.\n\nThe distinct feeling that she was now being mocked did not ease her concerns. She felt her cheeks flush red, a burning sensation.\n\n\"Why don't you show me how it's done, then?\" Riv said, the words escaping her mouth before she'd realized they were even there, and at the same time she was throwing the bow at Jin. Riv was a little disappointed at the ease with which Jin caught it, a moment's surprise flashing across the girl's face even as she stepped forwards and deftly plucked the bow from the air.\n\nJin held it her hand, studying it with her flat, emotionless face as she twisted it from left to right.\n\n\"This is not fit for firewood,\" she pronounced with a curl of her lip and passed it to a man behind her, an older man, with a beard the colour of iron. Another Cheren warrior handed Jin a curved bow, already strung, and a bag of arrows. Riv's eyes flickered to Israfil, saw him staring at her and she quickly looked away, back to Jin, who strode forwards a few steps, pulling a handful of arrows from the bag. She nocked one, the others held loosely in the hand that gripped the bow, drew and released in one fluid motion. Even as the arrow was rising high into the air she was drawing the next one, loosing, and then a third. She let the bow drop to her side and stared at Riv, not even watching to see if her arrows would find their target."
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"value": "Riv did, though, and saw the first slam into the chest of the same target Riv had selected, with her arrow still protruding from its leg."
},
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"value": "The second arrow took it through the throat, the third piercing what would have been a shoulder, the straw man rocking on its base with the impact of the arrows.\n\n\"You should close your mouth, it is not a becoming look,\" Jin said to her.\n\nRiv just stood there, torn between admiration and respect for the feat of skill she'd just witnessed, and a bubbling anger that didn't take too kindly to being humiliated. An image of her fist connecting with Jin's disdain-set jaw flashed through Riv's mind. It was very tempting. But even through the first tendrils of red mist seeping through her she knew that it was a humiliation she deserved.\n\nIsrafil is watching. Show him you have learned a lesson. Show him you have control of your anger.\n\n\"That was...\" She hesitated, her jaw tight and clamping on what she knew she should say. \"Good,\" she ground out, not quite what she intended, but better than a host of other responses that were filling her mind.\n\n\"Pah,\" Jin said. \"It is no more than any child of the Cheren could do. Our warriors do the same from the back of a galloping horse. To my shame I am a little out of practice.\"\n\nRiv searched for words to answer that, but couldn't find any, so she just nodded stiffly and walked away.\n\nAs she stepped onto the flagstoned road that led from the weapons-field she stopped and looked back. The field was alive with activity, as it always was: different cohorts of troops training in shifts throughout the day. There were giants upon the field, now, sparring with wooden hammer and axe, making the ground tremble, and Ben-Elim swooping and diving in mock aerial combat.\n\nAnd there was Vald, her friend and, until recently, training partner. He was with the others who had passed their weapons-trial and Long Night. He stood proudly amidst a unit of White-Wings, being drilled on shield wall formations and flanking manoeuvres."
},
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"value": "No, not amongst the White-Wings."
},
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"value": "He is a White-Wing now.\n\nThe sight of it twisted a knife in Riv's gut and she wrenched her eyes away, back to Jin and the others. It looked as if Israfil was showing the two lords from Arcona something of warrior training and life at Drassil.\n\nThe Lord Protector was talking to the man Jin had given Riv's longbow to. Jin's father, Uldin, Riv presumed. The others were lined up watching riders galloping at targets with sword and spear. As Riv watched, she saw Bleda amongst the crowd, but he wasn't watching the riders. He was staring right back at Riv. A woman, Bleda's mother, leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. Riv remembered her well: Erdene, sitting upon her horse, bloody and bowed. She was still clearly a warrior-born, solid and wiry as a twisted rope, head shaved clean except fora coiled warrior braid.\n\nRiv saw a jolt go through Bleda at Erdene's whispered words and he leaned away from her, looking into her eyes, his face twitching with more emotion than Riv had ever seen from him since the day he had been torn from his Clan and kin. Then the emotion was gone, face swept clean as if it had never been there. He gave his mother a curt nod and turned to look at the riders as they galloped by.\n\nRiv turned and left the weapons-field. She felt agitated, troubled by her encounter with Jin and her resulting humiliation, and something about what she'd just witnessed between Bleda and his mother bothered her, making her frown.\n\nThe streets of Drassil were heaving with activity. Riv walked through a traders'market thick with the sounds and smells of food and drink, vendors cooking all manner of meat and fish, a blend of herbs and spices mixing into a heady aroma. Close by, fat steaks of auroch and sliced onions sizzled on a charcoal griddle, making Riv's stomach growl, but she walked on, the streets thinning a little as she left the market behind, the roads changing as she moved through the potters'district, with all manner of jars, vases, cups and plates on display upon tables before workshops. And then she was through them, passing through the clangour of hammer on anvil, the hiss and steam and rolling heat of the blacksmiths\" quarter, and then, finally, she was standing before the barracks of the White-Wings: a series of stone buildings on either side of a wide street, great arched doorways leading into entrance chambers as big as a keep."
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"value": "The military might of the Faithful was split into different disciplines. There were the White-Wings, the infantry heart of the army, masters of the shield wall, of sword and spear. There were the archer units, smaller bands of men and women who scouted and foraged during campaigns and formed solid blocks of archers during any battle. There were light cavalry, skilled with horse, with spear and lance, used mostly in battle for swift flank attacks and the harrying of routed forces. Then the giants, fewer in numbers, who when on foot acted as the shock troops of the army and became the heavy cavalry when mounted upon their giant bears.\n\nAnd of course the Ben-Elim, death-from-above.\n\nThere were rooms enough at Drassil for the full strength of the Faithful's army, in total over twenty thousand strong, the White-Wings alone numbering over ten thousand swords, but the bulk of the army was spread throughout the Land of the Faithful, stationed at outposts and garrisons along the far-flung borders, at the Tower of the Bay at Ripa in the south, at Gulgotha in the east, at Brikan and Jerolin and Tarba.\n\nSo many of the buildings before Riv were empty and dark. At Drassil now there were around a thousand White-Wings, and they were split into ten units, each hundred its own compact fighting force. Riv's sister, Aphra, was captain of a hundred. Riv remembered the day Aphra had been promoted, her wings presented to her by Kol, one of Israfil's captains. Riv had thought she would burst with pride.\n\nNow she walked through the open doors of the hundred that she had been assigned to for as far back as her memory reached. The same hundred that her sister commanded, and the one that her mother had served in before that. Two generations, lives dedicated to the White-Wings and the Ben-Elim. It was all Riv knew. The centre of her life, around which all else revolved."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The feast-hall was empty, the fire-pit cold, as Riv expected. The whole hundred should be out on guard duty and then training in the weapons-field, so Riv was surprised when she opened the door that led to her barrack chamber and heard voices. A woman, not shouting, but voice raised, in anger or alarm. And another voice, quieter, calmer, deeper. Riv cocked her head to one side, straining to listen. She climbed a few of the stone steps leading up to the chamber she shared with her mam and sister and the other members of their hundred, ten warriors and their attendants, all sharing the same sleeping quarters, bonds forged by a lifetime of eating, sleeping, training, fighting, living and dying together.\n\nThe woman's voice grew louder, tremored with emotion, the other lower, an edge of iron to it. Both were blurred, the words unclear.\n\nThe door behind Riv grated shut and the voices beyond the closed door at the top of the stairwell fell silent, quick as a snuffed candle.\n\nRiv paused a moment, only the sound of her breathing, then decided to goon.\n\nI live here, they're my quarters, too. And besides, she was intrigued to know who the voices belonged to.\n\nThe door at the top of the stairs opened, a figure was striding down towards her. It was Fia, tall and dark-haired, her sister's closest friend. She saw Riv and nodded a greeting, though she did not stop, just carried on past her. She was looking away, but Riv noticed that Fia's eyes were red-rimmed.\n\nStill looking over her shoulder, Riv entered the chamber, a sizeable room that was home to almost thirty people. It was one long, large room, neat rows of cots along two walls, chests at the bottom of each cot, an aisle running down the middle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no one else in the chamber.\n\nRiv frowned.\n\nStrange.\n\nThe shuttered window over her cot was open and she looked out into the street, but there was no sign of anyone. Riv shrugged and walked to the end of her cot, kneeling before her chest, home of all her belongings, although in reality they were not hers. The White-Wings renounced all worldly possessions, emulating the Ben-Elim in their devout desire to serve Elyon. All that they owned was given to them by the Ben-Elim, every item useful for the furtherance of Elyon's kingdom on earth. She unlatched the bolt, slid it across with hardly a sound– the White-Wings taught discipline and cleanliness as if it were the path to holiness– and raised the lid, pushing it back to rest against the frame of her bed. Inside was an assortment of items: clothes, boots, a pair of iron-shod sandals, belts, her best cloak, her fire-making kit, knives of various blades and lengths, a short-hafted axe, rags and oils for the maintenance and care of her small armoury. She rummaged through them, reaching deep, and then pulled out an object concealed in a sealskin cloak. She laid it on the floor before her and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a curved bow.\n\nBleda's bow.\n\nA ripple of guilt at seeing it; it was not hers, had not been allocated to her by the Ben-Elim, and so in away could be considered as her own possession, something that was forbidden.\n\nBut it is not mine, it is Bleda's. I have just been looking after it for him.\n\nShe had seen him drop it on the day the Sirak had been cowed, all those years ago, the same day he had been taken by the Ben-Elim as award. It had just lain in the dirt long after Bleda had disappeared into the horizon and Erdene and Israfil had moved onto the privacy of a tent for Israfil to talk over the terms and details of the Clan's surrender. As the sun had sunk into the hills Riv saw the bow still lying thereon the ground, and without thinking had picked it up, wrapping it in a cloak and storing it with her sister's kit. She'd brought it all the way back to Drassil with her, not really knowing why, except that something inside her had gone out to the boy as he'd been held in the air by Israfil, his brother and sister's decapitated heads strewn upon the ground at his feet. She had thought how she would feel if it washer, with Aphra's head rolling in the dirt. Not that the Ben-Elim's actions were wrong, she knew that. The Sirak and Cheren had disobeyed the Ben-Elim's Lore: to preserve life, to only slay Kadoshim and their servants. And the deaths that day had established a peace that had lasted five years, so Riv was satisfied that they were justified."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But the look in Bleda's eyes...\n\nShe felt a wave of sympathy for him, because Riv knew that Israfil had punished Kol for the terrible act. Kol should have chained Bleda's brother and sister and brought them before Israfil for judgement, but Kol had a reputation for taking things into his own hands, for being more spontaneous than most Ben-Elim.\n\nAll this time later and she had never returned the bow to Bleda, even though she had resolved to do so a hundred times. Something always stopped her.\n\nShe brushed the grip with her fingertips, worn leather smooth and sweat-stained from Elyon knew how many hours Bleda had practised with it.\n\nHundreds, if he is anything like Jin. To be able to do that, after five years of inaction.\n\nThe bow was about the same size as the one Jin had used with such skill, less than half the length of the longbow Riv had been practising with, significantly shorter even than the hunting bows used by Drassil's scouts and trackers. There was an elegance and beauty of design in the pronounced curves of its limbs. Riv ran her fingers along them, the layers of wood, horn and sinew smooth and cold to her touch.\n\nI should return it to him. Perhaps he could teach me...\n\nThe slap of boots on stone drifted through an open shutter to Riv, in the street outside, then echoing as they entered the hundred's barrack. A few heartbeats and she heard the door open and feet pounding on the stairwell. Hastily, Riv wrapped the bow in its sealskin cloak and buried it back in her chest, closing the lid and snapping the lock shut even as the dormitory room opened and her sister ran into the room."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What are you doing here?\" Aphra asked, though she seemed distracted, not even looking at Riv, instead her eyes scanning the dormitory.\n\n\"Nothing,\" Riv said with a shrug as she sat on her cot, a cold breeze from the open shutters ruffling her short hair. Aphra marched up and down the central aisle, looking between beds.\n\n\"What are you doing here?\" Riv asked her.\n\nAphra stopped her searching and looked at Riv.\n\n\"Have you seen Fia?\"\n\n\"Aye. She was leaving as I arrived. She didn't look very happy. '\n\n\"Where did she go? Did she speak to you?\"\n\n\"No, she passed me on the stairwell. Didn't say a word tome. '\n\nAphra studied her a moment. \"If you see her, tell her I was looking for her, and that I need to speak to her.\"\n\n\"What about?\"\n\n\"None of your business.\"\n\nRiv's scowl followed Aphra through the door as her sister turned on her heel and left."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DREM\n\nDrem satin the seat of their wain, the reins held loosely in one hand, his da beside him. The sky was a pale winter's blue, making Drem think of ice, and a cold windswept down from the Bonefells, Drem's nose and ears feeling like ice.\n\n\"Get on,\" Drem said, a flick of his whip adding some motivation to the two ponies pulling the wain as they reached the slope that led up to Kergard's walls, their snorted breaths great clouds of vapour in the cold air. The wain was loaded full with the pelts they had hunted, six moons\" worth of their life being sold to Ulf the tanner, for which Drem was thankful.\n\nDa negotiated enough coin to see us through winter and longer, and I don't have to spend half a moon with my nose plugged, a cloth wrapped around my face and my hands stained orange.\n\nNew holds had been built beyond the timber walls of Kergard, sprawling on both sides of the track with no apparent plan or design, a snarl of timber, wattle and daub and thatch, fences, pigs, goats, chickens, dogs, a cacophony of noise as Drem and Olin rode by.\n\n\"Looks different,\" Drem remarked.\n\n\"Aye, and smells different,\" Olin said, frowning at the advancement of civilization all around him.\n\nThe smell didn't improve much once they'd rumbled through the open gates, Olin nodding to the man on guard duty. Kergard wasn't ruled by a lord or king, the Desolation was free of such rulers and authority, free even of the Ben-Elim for the time being, as it was newly settled land. A group of Kergard's founders had worked together in the building of the village and had decided on a democratic council with no one man to lead or rule them. They'd called themselves the Assembly, and over the years some had died or left Kergard, while some of the new settlers had been invited to join the Assembly, but the core of the Assembly was still the same as it had been some twenty years ago. Ulf the tanner was one of them. Between them they organized a tithe from those who lived within the village's walls, and that tithe paid for roads, building repairs, labour and, amongst other things, fora small unit of guards. It was the Wild, after all, and crops, herds and homes often needed defending from the predators that lurked and roamed within the dark and storm-racked north. Most of the guardsmen were older men, retired trappers and huntsmen, whose days of roaming the Bonefell's were behind them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem guided the ponies through busy streets of hard-packed earth, more people about than he had ever seen in Kergard before. They made their way through the village and towards the eastern fringes, where Ulf's tanning yard was situated. Drem could smell the place before sighting it, the sharp tang of his lime-water vats and the sickly stench of fat-scraped hides lying thick as smoke in the air.\n\nUlf met them with a grin and a bag of silver, and set two of his sons to unloading the wain of its pelts while Olin and Ulf chatted, mostly about mead and soreheads.\n\nA woman entered the yard as they were talking, tall and stern-faced, an otter pelt cloak about her shoulders. Two men walked a step behind her, both muscled and scarred, belts brimming with axe and knife.\n\n\"Hildith.\" Drem nodded a greeting. She ran Kergard's mead-hall, had helped build it with her own hands and was one of the original members of the Assembly.\n\n\"Still alive, then,\" Hildith said to Drem and Olin.\n\n\"Aye,\" Drem said.\n\nJust, as he thought of the white bear.\n\n\"Forgive me, but I cannot stand herein conversation,\" Hildith said, pulling a sour face. \"The smell is too much. I've come for my new boots and cloak, Ulf. '\n\nUlf ran to fetch them and Olin led Drem back to their wain, now unloaded.\n\n\"Come see meat the mead-hall and tell me your trappers\" tales, ' Hildith called after them.\n\nOlin raised a hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"A good deal,\" Drem said to his da as he drove the wain out of the tanner's yard, wheels bouncing now the load was lighter."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They turned into a wide street, where clouds of steam were hissing from the roof of Calder the smith.\n\n\"Huh,\" Olin grunted, making Drem frown. His da had been like this since they had found that lump of black rock in the elk pit– distant, quiet, uneasy, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.\n\nIt is the starstone that worries him so, if that is what it is. I do not blame him; I am worried, too. Despite his da's reasons for taking and keeping the lump of black rock, Drem thought it would be better for all if they took it and buried it again, or dumped it in the Starstone Lake.\n\n\"Here,\" Olin said, pointing, and Drem whistled and pulled on the reins. They were at the market square, all manner of tents and stalls selling a variety of goods. Drem followed his da round and listened as Olin bartered and haggled, Drem carrying each purchase back to the wain. It was not long before the cart was groaning with the weight of grain sacks, barrels of salted meat and fish, and a fair few skins of stoppered mead. Olin had also bought a crate often chickens and two goats, who were now tethered to the wain.\n\nA group of men were standing close to the cart, seven or eight of them, some trappers by the look of them, clothed in furs and deer-skin, knives and axes hanging from their belts.\n\nOne of their number, a man with red wisps fora beard, was prodding the butt-end of a spear at the feet of Drem's new goats, making them dance. He was finding it much funnier than Drem considered it to be."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem loaded a huge round of cheese into the wain, looking at Wispy Beard.\n\n\"They don't like that, ' Drem said.\n\n\"They must do, or they wouldn't be dancing, ' Wispy said, laughing so hard at his joke he started coughing and choking. One of the men with him, hooded face in shadow, touched his arm and Wispy raised a hand.\n\n\"All right, I'll stop then, \"he said,\"if you think they're all danced out.\"\n\nA ripple of chuckles through his companions.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Drem said, remembering his da's advice to always be polite.\n\nThe hooded man looked at Drem. He appeared to be bald beneath the hood of his cloak; Drem did see a scar running across one cheek, through the edge of the man's mouth to his jaw, giving him a permanent scowl.\n\n\"We're new to town, \"the hooded man said.\"Heard there was amine nearby, needing men. '\n\n\"Aye, that'll be up to the north of the lake, \"Drem said.\"Easy to find. '\n\n\"And somewhere to wet our dry throats while we're here? ' Wispy asked.\n\n\"Hildith's mead-hall– that way. ' Drem pointed, then he headed back to the market.\n\nThere were new faces everywhere, some amongst the traders, but mostly those who were walking the market streets looking to buy rather than sell. Olin was talking to a stallholder about it when Drem returned.\n\n\"Feels crowded for the north,\" Olin was saying.\n\n\"Aye,\" the trader said, Asger, a short, round man, his forearms so hairy Drem could hardly seethe skin beneath. \"Lots of new faces in Kergard, holds springing up allover. And there's that mine on the north shore of the lake. A few faces have disappeared, though. \"He leaned closer to Olin, glancing left and right.\"I don't mean packed up and moved on. I mean gone. Just vanished. If it was all newcomers I'd put it down to them not respecting a winter in the north. But it's some of the townsfolk, too, ones that have been here years, like Hakon and his brood. They're gone. Cattle still in the barn, all their belongings still there. '"
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Dread\nChapter: 15"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem loaded a huge round of cheese into the wain, looking at Wispy Beard.\n\n\"They don't like that, ' Drem said.\n\n\"They must do, or they wouldn't be dancing, ' Wispy said, laughing so hard at his joke he started coughing and choking. One of the men with him, hooded face in shadow, touched his arm and Wispy raised a hand.\n\n\"All right, I'll stop then, \"he said,\"if you think they're all danced out.\"\n\nA ripple of chuckles through his companions.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Drem said, remembering his da's advice to always be polite.\n\nThe hooded man looked at Drem. He appeared to be bald beneath the hood of his cloak; Drem did see a scar running across one cheek, through the edge of the man's mouth to his jaw, giving him a permanent scowl.\n\n\"We're new to town, \"the hooded man said.\"Heard there was amine nearby, needing men. '\n\n\"Aye, that'll be up to the north of the lake, \"Drem said.\"Easy to find. '\n\n\"And somewhere to wet our dry throats while we're here? ' Wispy asked.\n\n\"Hildith's mead-hall– that way. ' Drem pointed, then he headed back to the market.\n\nThere were new faces everywhere, some amongst the traders, but mostly those who were walking the market streets looking to buy rather than sell. Olin was talking to a stallholder about it when Drem returned.\n\n\"Feels crowded for the north,\" Olin was saying.\n\n\"Aye,\" the trader said, Asger, a short, round man, his forearms so hairy Drem could hardly seethe skin beneath. \"Lots of new faces in Kergard, holds springing up allover. And there's that mine on the north shore of the lake. A few faces have disappeared, though. \"He leaned closer to Olin, glancing left and right.\"I don't mean packed up and moved on. I mean gone. Just vanished. If it was all newcomers I'd put it down to them not respecting a winter in the north. But it's some of the townsfolk, too, ones that have been here years, like Hakon and his brood. They're gone. Cattle still in the barn, all their belongings still there. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He tugged on a bushy beard.\n\n\"I've heard wolven howling at night. Maybe a pack's comedown from the Bonefells...\"\n\n\"Could be,\" Olin said, looking thoughtful.\n\n\"Not complaining about the newcomers,\" Asger continued. \"It's good for business. Though sometimes it's not.\" Asger looked both ways and leaned close again, dropping his voice. \"Thieving's becoming a problem. Was a time when I didn't need to lock my barn doors. Wouldn't dream of leaving them open, now. It's those new miners. Not the same as good, honest trappers, if you ask me.\"\n\nDrem snorted. He'd met many a trapper that would have happily put a knife in his back to take his furs, a few had tried, though his da had taught them the error of that decision.\n\n\"Though they've hired their own trappers to keep them fed and clothed. They're more like thieves, I reckon.\"\n\nDrem would have liked to stay and hear more, but his da loaded him up with a barrel of apples and so he trudged back to the wain. He thought about what Asger had said, about thieving, thought about those men near the wain and resolved to wait there until his da was finished in the market.\n\nAshe turned a corner and the wain came into view he saw a woman in the street, pale yellow hair revealed as the hood of a cloak blew back in the wind. It was Fritha, his new neighbour, a large basket of latticed willow hooked over one arm. She didn't see Drem, as she looked to someone calling out to her: Wispy Beard, part of the group of trappers and miners that Drem had seen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Need some help with that?\" Wispy said, stepping close to Fritha.\n\nDrem didn't hear what Fritha said, but Wispy didn't seem to like it, stepping in front of her, blocking her way. She tried to go around him but he mirrored her, stepped with her. Some of his companions laughed. Drem put his barrel of apples in the wain, looking over his shoulder at Fritha.\n\nWords passed between Wispy and Fritha, unheard but clearly angry in nature. Then Wispy slapped the basket, emptying its contents onto the ground. Red berries.\n\nBerries picked from the woods, to sell in the market? Drem thought.\n\nFritha crouched down to scoop them back into her basket and Wispy raised a boot to stamp on them.\n\nBefore he'd realized he'd done it, Drem was standing over Fritha, Wispy sprawling on the ground. The sneer on his face quickly transformed into a snarl. His companions stepped away from the wall they'd been huddled around, seven of them, all giving Drem dark looks. The cloaked man pushed his hood back, revealing a shaved head and intense blue eyes.\n\n\"Shouldn't have done that, ' the bald man said.\n\nProbably not, Drem thought. But what choice was there?\n\nDrem didn't like fighting. He hated it, in fact, thought it was pointless. He'd had one fight in his twenty-one years, when he was thirteen summers old, had broken the lad's jaw. Sometimes at night he could still feel his knuckles slamming into flesh, the slap of meat, like a hammer hitting a steak, the crunch of jawbone and grind of teeth knocked loose. The memory of it made him feel sad."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm sorry, ' he said to Wispy on the ground, and offered a hand to help him rise.\n\n\"Walk away,\" Fritha hissed to him, taking a step towards the market.\n\nWispy gripped his hand and pulled himself up, grinning.\n\nAh, see. Da was right. Polite and friendly fixes most problems.\n\nWispy was still grinning when he punched Drem in the gut, doubling him over.\n\nA crunch in the side of Drem's head, white light exploding in front of his eyes, something cold slamming into his face.\n\nDirt. Realized he was face-down on the ground.\n\n\"Uh,\" he grunted, pushing up onto one elbow, the world out of focus fora moment. He blinked, saw Wispy was standing over him, still grinning, holding Fritha's arm.\n\n\"You'll regret this, \"she snarled and slapped Wispy furiously, raking her nails across his cheek. Wispy howled, spat a curse and put his fist in Fritha's face; her legs suddenly went wobbly, only the trapper holding her up.\n\nDrem punched Wispy between the legs, hard, saw his eyes bulge with the pain of it, then Drem was somehow on his feet even as Wispy was dropping to his knees, another trapper coming at him, swinging a punch. Drem didn't like fighting, always avoided it, but he was big, taller than most, and stronger than most, too. He caught the man's fist in his own, stopped it dead. Felt an anger flare in his belly at these men. At the pointlessness of this conflict. He could understand the white bear chasing him, the drive to survive, to protect its kill."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But this!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For what?\n\nHe wrapped his fingers around the man's fist, squeezing and twisting the wrist and arm, felt the crackle of finger bones snapping, the trapper yelling, and he put his knee into the man's ribs as he bent at the waist to get out of Drem's grip. More bones breaking, ribs this time, and the trapper collapsed to the ground.\n\n\"Let her go,\" Drem said to the man holding Fritha.\n\nThere was a moment's silence.\n\nThen men were lunging at him from all directions, blows raining down upon him. He blocked a punch to his head, swept it away, threw a punch of his own, felt his knuckles connect with flesh, grunted as a fist slammed into his side, a kick to the back of his knee sending him stumbling forwards. The bald man appeared in front of him, grabbing Drem's shirt and headbutting him in the face. An explosion of stars and the world spun, the salt taste of blood in his mouth and he was somehow on his knees. There was a lull, men pulling back fora moment, and Drem found he was close to Wispy, who was also struggling back to his feet. They both looked atone another fora long moment.\n\n\"Fancy yourself a bear-hunter, eh?\" Wispy grunted, and Drem saw that his bear claw was hanging loose about his neck.\n\n\"I'm going to take that claw and give you anew red smile with it, ' Wispy snarled.\n\nThen those on their feet were moving in again, more blows, and all Drem's hard work to reach this position was for nothing as he toppled to the ground, trying to curl up, cover his head with his arms. Distantly he was aware of screaming– Fritha? – wanted to do something about it, but his body wouldn't cooperate, kicks and punches merging."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Slowly he became aware that the blows had stopped. He opened his eyes, saw boots in a half-circle around him, saw Wispy climbing back to his feet, and the man whose hand he'd crushed and ribs he'd broken dragging himself away. Fritha was leaning against the wain, a purpling bruise spreading across her jaw.\n\nAnd beyond the boots around Drem there was another trapper on the ground, unconscious, a man standing over him.\n\nDrem's da.\n\n\"Step away from my boy,\" his da said, voice tight, cold as frost-bitten iron.\n\n\"Stay out of this, old man,\" a voice answered, anew pair of boots stepping over Drem. The bald man.\n\nOld man? Is he talking about my da? The thought shocked Drem, even through the fog of pain that was pulsing through him, but as he looked at his da he saw a man whose hair was mostly grey, deep creases around his eyes and mouth, weathered and worn by living in the wilderness, his body lean and wiry.\n\nHe didn't speak like an old man, though.\n\n\"This is over,\" Olin said. His eyes flickered to Drem, then across the men before him, five of them still standing, by Drem's counting, and finally back to the bald man.\"I'll ask you again. Step away from my son.\"\n\n\"I don't take orders from the likes of you, ' the bald man said, taking a step towards Olin and spitting on the ground.\n\n\"Not ordering, just asking,\" Olin said. \"I'll not ask again. '\n\nDrem tried to getup, needed to getup, knew these men were not going to back down, and he didn't want to see his da beaten to a pulp like him, or worse. But only his fist opened and closed, and one foot scraped the dirt. He dribbled blood and spittle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We're not finished with him, \"the bald man said, jutting his chin at Drem.\"So fight us or leave, old man. '\n\nOlin stretched his neck left and right, bones clicking. \"I'll fight you if you wish. But know this: I am old fora reason. '\n\n\"Ha, listen to the o-\" the bald man began, but then he was staggering backwards and choking. Olin had lunged forwards and punched him in the throat, strode after him and followed up with a fist to the chest, and the bald man tripped over Drem and went sprawling. Others rushed at Olin, a burst of violence as punches flew, too fast for Drem to follow. He heard grunts of pain, aloud crack followed by an even louder scream, the thud of a body hitting the dirt. The chaos cleared fora moment, Drem seeing his da duck a punch and step in close, land a blurred combination of blows to the gut and head of Wispy, who it seemed had climbed back to his feet. An uppercut from his da lifted him from the ground and then he was lying in the dirt again beside Drem.\n\nMen backed away from Olin, three left on their feet, panting, spreading in a half-circle. Olin stood with his feet spread, balanced, blood on his knuckles, a thin trickle of blood from a cut below his eye.\n\nHow is he still standing?\n\n\"He's broken my arm! \"someone screamed beyond Drem's vision.\n\nThe bald man appeared again, stepping into Drem's view, this time with a spear in his fists, the tip levelled at Olin's chest. Drem heard the sound of steel scraping free of sheaths, the other three pulling blades. Something changed in Olin's eyes and he shifted his feet, drew the short axe at his belt with his right hand, a knife with his left."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maybe the bald man saw the same change in Olin's eyes that Drem saw, because he hesitated a moment; only the sound of the wind, the groaning of men with broken bones, the scraping of dirt as Drem managed to drag himself to one knee.\n\nThen voices were shouting, footsteps drumming, and Drem saw Calder the smith appear, a huge man, bare-armed and bare-chested apart from a thick leather apron, a hammer in his hand. Hildith and her two burly guards were with him. Asger and other traders from the market appeared from the other direction, coming to stand behind Olin.\n\nThe bald man stood there a moment, then he was shrugging, stepped back and lowered his spear. He helped one of his comrades stand, the others still on their feet doing the same, moving away, carrying those who couldn't do it themselves.\n\n\"Do they need throwing into Kergard's gaol? ' Calder asked Olin, a scowl on his face.\n\n\"No.\" Olin shook his head, slipped his knife and axe back into their homes at his belt and hurried over to Drem.\n\n\"Slowly,\" Olin said as he knelt beside him, face all twisted with worry. He helped him stand, checking limbs for broken bones, holding a finger before Drem's eyes, ordering him to track them. Asking him questions, like what moon it was.\n\n\"What about kind and polite words fixing a disagreement?\" Drem wheezed at Olin, his mouth thick with the copper tang of blood, his split nose throbbing, pulsing with his heartbeat.\n\n\"There's a time for that, \"Olin said.\"But sometimes, son, the only answer is blood and steel. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SIG\n\nSig unwound the bandage from Hammer's paw, the bear rumbling dolefully.\n\n\"That's what you get for standing on a Kadoshim, ' Sig said.\n\nThe stab wounds were healing, no pus or scent of rot, for which Sig was relieved. Gently she washed them out, then reached fora fresh poultice of honey, yarrow and comfrey, packing it tight into the many red punctures and finally binding it backup with afresh bandage of clean linen. She stood and patted the huge bear's neck. Hammer's muzzle sniffed Sig's face, a blast of air sending her blonde braid flapping.\n\n\"You're doing fine, my faithful friend, \"Sig murmured.\"We're not leaving fora few days yet, not until you're ready for it, so just rest easy, and eat. '\n\nHammer licked Sig's cheek, leaving a trail of saliva.\n\n\"Lick this brot instead, it'll taste nicer than me, \"Sig said, pouring a thick, viscous liquid into a bucket, more like porridge than anything else. It was the giants\" staple travelling food, incredibly nourishing and possessing healing agents as well. Hammer sniffed it and began to lick it up with relish.\n\nSig slapped the bear's muscled shoulder and left the converted stable block. Hammer was now its sole resident, as the horses of Uthandun had made it clear they were not comfortable sharing their stables with a giant bear.\n\nThe courtyard of Uthandun was awash with activity, warriors in the grey and green cloaks of Ardain everywhere, the honour guard of Queen Nara newly arrived from Dun Vaner to the north-west. Word of the Kadoshim coven had spread quickly and there was a sense of menace and tension in the air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Warriors parted for Sig as she strode across the courtyard, their faces a mixture of unease and admiration. Giants were rare in Ardain, even with the close relationship between Ardain's Queen Nara and Dun Seren's Order of the Bright Star, but word of Sig's Kadoshim-slaying had circulated quickly, and that was a feat respected by all.\n\nThough I didn't actually kill the beast, Sig thought as she made her way up a stairwell to the walls above Uthandun's southern gate. A cold wind blew from the north, reminding her of winter's approach.\n\nHammer should get the credit for that deed.\n\nCullen was there, waiting for her, his wounded arm in a sling, but apart from that looking for all the world like the happiest man alive.\n\n\"How is it?\" Sig grunted, jutting her chin at his wounded arm.\n\n\"That, oh, it's fine. Just a scratch, hardly know it's there.\"\n\n\"The spear pierced your arm and came out the other side,\" Sig said. \"Even by my judgement, that's no scratch. '\n\nCullen shrugged. \"A tickle, nothing more.\"\n\n\"Make a fist,\" Sig said.\n\nCullen's eyes pinched as the fingers on his left hand twitched and slowly formed a loose fist. A bead of sweat dripped from his nose.\n\n\"Huh,\" grunted Sig. \"You'll not beholding much in that hand fora while. Next time, look before you leap. '\n\nCullen blinked at that. \"I took a spear meant for you,\" he said, somewhere between angry and upset.\n\n\"What, you thought I needed saving?\" Sig growled. \"I would have dealt with the spear, without losing the use of an arm. And you fouled my net throw, which would have ended the battle then and there.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen withstood Sig's gaze a moment, then looked away.\n\n\"I-\"\n\n\"No,\" Sig snapped. \"You acted recklessly. Truth and Courage does not mean hurling yourself in front of every thrown spear.\"\n\nCullen was silent.\n\nSig stared at him, knew that she had hurt his pride and felt a glimmer of sympathy for him.\n\nHe is young and reckless. I can remember that feeling. But I would rather have him ride back to Dun Seren beside me with his pride injured, than be carrying his corpse tied to a horse.\n\n\"Give your arm time; rest it properly and it won't belong before you're back to risking your neck,\" she said.\n\nCullen grinned. \"Can't wait, ' he said.\n\nSig rolled her eyes.\n\n\"You didn't come away bloodless, either, \"Cullen said, looking at the lattice of cuts upon Sig, on her face, forearms, legs. She felt them as she moved, scabs pulling, tight skin itching. Along gash cut across her new tattoo of vines and thorns, added to the one already curling up one arm and down the other, a tale of the lives she'd taken.\n\n\"Aye, but mine are just scratches.\"\n\n\"Well, it was a good fight, so it was,\" Cullen declared, \"and no denying.\"\n\nTell that to Elgin's dead sword-brothers. Twelve men beneath a pile of stones, now nothing more than cold sacks of meat. He's like a young pup, feeling invincible and too eager to please.\n\nShe didn't say anything, though. Cullen had fought well, with courage and skill, and acted to save her life without a thought for his own."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Kadoshim is dead, its followers slain,\" Sig said byway of agreement.\n\n\"We for home, now?\" Cullen asked.\n\n\"Hammer needs another day or two.\" Sig shrugged. \"Should give Keld the time he needs to get back to us.\"\n\n\"Thought he'd be back by now. He ever been gone this long before? ' Cullen asked.\n\nSig didn't answer, just looked out over the meadow that rolled away from Uthandun's walls towards abridge that arched across the river Afren, which flowed slow and sluggish to the sea. On the far banks of the river a wall of trees grew, the fringe of the Darkwood, quickly becoming a sea of green and gold and russet that filled the southern horizon.\n\nWhere are you, Keld?\n\nIn truth Sig was worried about her huntsman. It had been four nights now since the assault on the Kadoshim coven, four nights since he'd gone in pursuit of the shaven-haired acolyte who had fled on the Kadoshim's orders.\n\nFour nights since she'd asked Keld to pursue the Kadoshim's servant.\n\nKeld can look after himself, she reassured herself, burying the worry that stirred within her. And Elgin has sent his own huntsmen out in search of him.\n\nAnd I want to see what the Kadoshim gave to that messenger.\n\nThere was more to her worry than Keld's delay. The whole mission was unsettling. Never before had she seen a Kadoshim surrounded by so many fanatics, and they were clearly more than a collection of feeble-minded zealots. They were organized, knew their weapons and were stealthy. They'd built a defensible maze within a dozen leagues of Uthandun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Why?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What is behind it?\n\nA dread had filled her, a chill in her blood and bones ever since she'd heard the chanting in the tunnels of that hill, set eyes upon the Kadoshim as it sacrificed its prisoner. And saw the runes inscribed in a circle around the human offering.\n\nThis is some new strategy, and I do not like not knowing what it is.\n\nMovement drew Sig's eye: a pinprick in the sky above the Darkwood. A bird, standing out as different from those others in the air about it because of its flight. Where the others wheeled and soared, riding currents, this one flew straight and unerring towards Uthandun.\n\nCullen saw it, too, stared with head cocked.\n\n\"Is that who I think it is?\" he said as the bird drew closer.\n\n\"Aye,\" Sig rumbled. \"It's Rab. '\n\nA white bird flew to the walls of Uthandun, saw Sig and Cullen and circled above them, squawking raucously as it descended in a flapping of wings, alighting on the timber wall. It was a white crow, its pink beak long and thick, feathers ruffled and poking in odd directions.\n\n\"Finally,\" the crow croaked. \"Rab been searching everywhere for you.\"\n\nA warrior standing guard upon the battlements shuffled away, muttering under his breath.\n\n\"Well, you've found us now, ' Cullen said to the crow.\n\n\"You bring a message from Byrne,\" Sig said. It wasn't a question.\n\n\"Rab does,\" the bird answered, hopping along the wall, flexing its wings wide. \"Rab sore,\" it muttered. Cullen reached out his good hand and stroked the bird's wings, Rab leaning into the caress."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's along way to fly from Dun Seren, ' Cullen said with a shrug.\n\n\"The message,\" Sig prompted the white crow.\n\nYes, \"Rab squawked with a clack of his beak.\"First, check that Sig and her crew are safe, Byrne said. \"Rab paused and pointedly looked them over with a beady, red-tinged eye, lingering on Cullen's arm in a sling and the cuts and gashes allover Sig.\n\n\"Hammer. Keld. Hounds?\" Rab squawked.\n\n\"Hammer has a knife-wound in her paw, but is healing fine,\" Sig said. \"Keld and his hounds are missing; chasing after a man who escaped our raid.\"\n\n\"Raid?\" Rab cawed. \"No. First Rab finish message. Byrne wants you back, Dun Seren, Dun Seren. Things happening.\"\n\n\"Does she? What things?\" Sig frowned.\n\n\"Byrne not tell Rab,\" the crow squawked sadly, shaking his head. \"Rab just messenger.\"\n\n\"I know, I know,\" Sig said, holding a hand up, having listened many times to the crow's opinions on keeping information from him.\n\n\"Sig go back to Dun Seren, soon as Sig can,\" Rab finished.\n\n\"I'm just waiting for Keld, ' Sig rumbled, not for the first time thinking of going in search of him herself. But Keld knew Uthandun was the rendezvous point, and Sig was no tracker. Then a thought struck her.\n\n\"You could look for Keld, Rab. The sooner we find him, the sooner we can all go back to Dun Seren. We last saw him there,\" Sig said, pointing north-east towards a line of hills."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The white crow puffed his chest up, white feathers bristling.\n\n\"It would be very helpful,\" Cullen said, scratching Rab's neck.\"We're worried for Keld. And we'd be grateful. '\n\nRab is helpful, \"the crow squawked, his head bobbing up and down.\"And Rab like Keld. \"The crow looked up at Sig.\"Rab look for Keld, \"he said, as if the idea were Rab's own.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Cullen said, nudging Sig with his elbow.\n\n\"My thanks,\" Sig said with a grunt.\n\n\"Welcome,\" Rab said and hopped off the rampart, wings spreading, catching an updraught, and then the crow was climbing higher, circling over their heads.\n\n\"Rab back soon,\" the crow squawked, and then it was winging away.\n\n\"Ah, he's a good bird, ' Cullen said with a smile.\n\nSig raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"He is,\" Cullen said. \"Always eager to help, that one. And I feel sorry for him. The other crows in the tower are not always kind to him.\"\n\n\"Are they not?\" Sig frowned.\n\n\"No. I think it's because of his feathers. \"Cullen shrugged.\"To my mind it's wrong to fault a bird for the colour feathers it's born with, don't you think?\"\n\n\"Huh,\" Sig grunted. She did agree, but she was wondering more about why Cullen knew so much about the behaviour of crows in their tower at Dun Seren. Rab was not the only talking crow that resided at the fortress.\n\n\"Well, I'm glad Rab has you to lookout for him, \"Sig said. She sighed, long and thoughtful.\"Come on, \"she said.\"I'm hungry, let's find us some hot food. And after that, I need to talk to Queen Nara, and you'd best come with me. She is your distant kin, after all.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Nara, Queen of Ardain, was sitting in the highchair of Uthandun's great keep, tall, fora human, dark-haired with a paleface."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was wrapped in a thick bear pelt, silver wire wound through her hair, along knife sheathed at her belt, which Sig approved of. The feast-hall was mostly empty, one man poking at the central fire-pit, stirring embers up and adding logs. As Sig and Cullen arrived, Queen Nara was deep in conversation with Elgin, her battlechief. He had a bandage wound around his head, souvenir of the battle with the Kadoshim's acolytes. Another man stood at Nara's shoulder: Madoc, the Queen's first-sword.\n\nSig stopped a respectful distance away, Cullen at her side, but Nara gestured them forwards with an impatient flick of her wrist.\n\n\"Well met, Queen Nara,\" Sig said, giving her best try at a bow. It was more a stiff lean from her hips, for Sig was not used to bowing. Cullen made a better job of it, though his arm in a sling didn't help.\n\n\"Enough of that,\" Nara said, looking up at Sig. \"There's no need for ceremony between us, Sig. I have long hoped to meet you, who knew my great-grandparents and founders of the realm of Ardain. To think that you spoke with Queen Edana and King Conall, \"she said wistfully.\"And you, Cullen, my cousin. \"Nara looked Cullen up and down along moment, serious eyes fixing on his face, her lips pursed.\"There is a statue of King Conall in Dun Taras, and I can see his likeness in you. '\n\n\"I am told I am most like my great-grandmother, Coralen, who was Conall's sister, ' Cullen said.\n\nPerhaps that is why you throw yourself so willingly into every battle, Sig thought, remembering Coralen fondly. Sig had admired Coralen's ferocity and skill, remembered the first time she'd seen her, fighting traitorous giants from Sig's own Clan, the Jotun. She looked at Cullen, at his red hair and the set of his shoulders and jaw. But there is something of your great-grandfather in you, too. A kindness about you. Sig's mind was suddenly full of Corban, the man who had founded their Order. The Bright Star after whom it was named. The man she had grown to respect above all others. She felt a stab of pain at the thought of Corban, barely dulled by the passage of time."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You are greatly missed, Bright Star.\n\n\"Perhaps, if you are staying here long enough, you could tell me something of my ancestors,\" Nara said to Sig. \"It would be a fine thing to talk to someone who actually knew Edana and Conall, who spoke with them, drank with them, fought with them.\"\n\n\"I did all of those things,\" Sig said. \"Edana and Conall were strong allies in those early days in the fight against the Kadoshim, and faithful friends to Corban, the founder of our Order.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Nara nodded. \"And nothing has changed there; there will always be a bond between my realm and the swords of Dun Seren.\"\n\n\"I do not doubt that,\" Sig said.\n\n\"To prove that my words are not just air, I have something for you,\" Nara said. \"A group of my young warriors-in-training have volunteered to accompany you back to Dun Seren. More than forty or so who wish to become warriors of your Order.\"\n\n\"That is good news,\" Sig said, \"for which I am most grateful. The fight goes on, and fresh recruits are ever needed.\" Her eyebrows knitted together. \"Riding to Dun Seren does not mean they will remain, though. Our training is hard. It tests both strength of sinew and strength of heart.\"\n\n\"As it should,\" Queen Nara said. \"It is a noble cause.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Sig agreed.\n\n\"All the volunteers know this.\" Nara shrugged. \"There is no insult or dishonour in trying and failing.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Sig rumbled. \"And I will be happy to tell you my memories of your kin. If we may, I would stay a night or two more, until Hammer is well enough to travel.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perfect,\" Nara said, a smile lighting up her serious face.\n\n\"And I hope for my huntsman to join me here. He pursued one of the Kadoshim's servants who fled the battle. '\n\n\"Yes, to the meat of it, then. Elgin has told me of what happened inside that hill. A dark and dreadful business, and the impudence of that fell creature,\" Nara snarled, \"making its lair so close to one of my fortresses. I only wish that I could have been herein time to be apart of your raid.\" Her hand slipped to the hilt of her dagger.\n\nI like this queen more and more.\n\n\"Elgin was the greatest of help,\" Sig said. \"We would not have succeeded without him. And his men fought bravely. It is no easy thing to walk into the darkness, and worse when you know a Kadoshim is lurking there.\"\n\n\"My men are brave and true,\" Nara said with pride. \"Elgin has told me of all that occurred within the creature's lair. The... ceremony. '\n\n\"Aye,\" Sig said. \"It is troubling. The sacrifice, so many acolytes.\" She shook her head. \"This is something new.\"\n\n\"Do you think there are more, like that?\"\n\nSig shrugged. \"I suspect,\" she said, \"but there is no proof– yet.\"\n\n\"I have sent messengers to my lords throughout Ardain, alerting them. We will scour the land.\"\n\n\"That is good. We must hunt them down and root them out. The Kadoshim area plague, their deepest desire to drown the world in our blood.\"\n\n\"If they are here, in Ardain, I will find them,\" Nara said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a noise from the far end of the hall, beyond the closed doors. Shouting, and suddenly all were reaching for weapons, Madoc, Nara's first-sword stepping before her, steel glinting. Sig and Cullen strode across the feast-hall, Elgin with them, shouting commands. The doors opened a crack, a warrior's head poked in. He called something out, but then a shape was bursting through above him, a bundle of white feathers.\n\n\"SIG!\" Rab squawked as the warrior stabbed at the white crow with a spear.\n\n\"HOLD!\" Sig bellowed. Cullen broke into a run.\n\nRab saw them and flew straight as an arrow towards them, giving the warrior that had tried to skewer him a baleful glare.\n\n\"Why are you here?\" Sig said, looking at the daylight slanting through high windows. He's been gone little over half a day.\n\nRab fluttered and perched on Cullen's shoulder, hopping agitatedly from one taloned foot to the other.\n\n\"Follow Rab,\" the bird cawed, flapping backup into the air. \"Quickly, quickly. Rab found Keld's hounds. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "BLEDA\n\nBleda stood in the courtyard of Drassil, waiting. Jin was nearby, and he felt her eyes upon him, though he refused to look. Ever since Israfil had announced that they would be wed she had smiled at him more, touched him more, even if it were just resting a hand upon his shoulder when he made her laugh.\n\nPart of him liked it. It felt agreeable, he had to admit, and started other sensations fluttering in his belly which weren't unpleasant, either. But he was also acutely aware of his mother's presence at Drassil, as well as Old Ellac and a dozen more of his Sirak kin, and they seemed to be watching him all the time. He was straining to keep his cold-face on so much that it was a relief when he lay down in his cot at night and the torches were extinguished. Muscles in his face ached that he hadn't known were there.\n\nControlling your emotions is a tricky business.\n\nAnd Jin seems to begetting worse at it, instead of better.\n\nThere was the sound of hooves on cobbles and he was grateful for the distraction, though he felt a swell of sadness as well.\n\nHis kin were leaving Drassil.\n\nHe saw his mother first, riding into the courtyard as if she lived in a saddle, which she mostly did. She had been in Drassil for most of a moon, and yet they had barely talked, and never alone, though the Ben-Elim had been mostly responsible for that. Bleda looked at her now and had no understanding of what she thought of him, whether she was proud or filled with shame. The thought of that gave him too much pain to cope with and he pushed it away quickly, a rapid blinking the only sign that he'd felt anything at all. His mother's eyes touched him, moved to Jin, then onto the great gates and up to the sky, the ever-present shapes of Ben-Elim riding the currents. Close behind her rode Uldin, the Cheren lord and Jin's father. He did not smile at his daughter, either, but he did dip his head to her fora moment as they approached the pair. Then their retinues were clattering into the courtyard behind them; Ellac was there, looking as balanced as the rest of them in his saddle, despite the lack of one hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a blast of wind and a rustle of feathers as Israfil and Kol landed gracefully either side of Bleda and Jin, waiting for the riders to reach them. Giants, Queen Ethlinn and her father, Balur One-Eye were also standing nearby, and a host of White-Wings lined the courtyard, a sign of respect or a reminder of strength, Bleda was not sure.\n\nProbably both.\n\nWhatever it was, Bleda sensed a tension in the air. The members of his mother's retinue might be skilled in the art of the cold-face, but some were not as adept at keeping their emotions entirely hidden. Bleda noticed white knuckles on reins, strung bows on saddle-pegs, horses with ears back or flicking as their rider's mood was sensed on some level and transferred. And Israfil and Kol either side of him were fidgeting in their tell-tale ways that possibly only Bleda could read, a quiver through their wings, a tightness in their musculature.\n\nSomething is wrong.\n\nErdene and Uldin reined in before Bleda and Jin, Israfil and Kol.\n\n\"We will give you your tithe of flesh,\" Uldin said, no preamble, \"send you warriors from amongst the Sirak and Cheren.\"\n\nA silent sigh seemed to ripple through the courtyard, the change to Israfil and Kol minuscule, but Bleda noticed it: a relaxing in the set of their wings, a slow breath from Kol.\n\nAh, Mother and Uldin hadn't told them yet, and Israfil thought they would leave without committing to the terms. He would not have allowed that to happen. My mother and the others were no doubt tense because of the shame of it. Another stain as we bend the knee to our new masters. Why could we just not be left to live free. The Sirak are not made for the Ben-Elim's rules and regulations; we area people of the plain, moving with the seasons and the sun, no yoke or master to bind us in one place."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When we return to Arcona we shall send a small party, to show our good faith while we select and organize a larger force,\" Erdene said. \"First you shall have one hundred riders from the Sirak, one hundred from the Cheren. More shall come later.\"\n\n\"The Sirak and Cheren are noted for their honour in this,\" Israfil said.\n\nHonour? They are forced to bend the knee, something the Sirak have done to no one for as long as the grass wind has blown.\n\n\"They will be the honour guard of our heirs. Of Bleda and Jin. A wedding-gift to show our commitment to their forthcoming marriage.\"\n\nEven the word marriage caused Bleda some significant discomfort and proved difficult to keep from his face.\n\nOur honour guard! Will Israfil allow this? Technically the warriors would not be answerable to any except Jin and me. We would be their lords.\n\nA silence grew, lengthening as Israfil considered this. Just as Bleda thought the time to answer without giving insult had passed, Israfil nodded.\n\n\"Of course,\" he said.\n\nErdene nodded, and then she looked at Bleda.\n\n\"May your arrow fly true,\" she said to him.\n\n\"And your horse never stumble,\" he gave the response, feeling a joyous warmth spread through him.\n\nShe thinks of meas kin.\n\nUldin said something to Jin, though Bleda did not hear it, his heart still soaring from his mother's acknowledgement, and then Erdene and Uldin were riding away, towards the open gates of Drassil, their retinue following behind. Only Old Ellac looked at Bleda as they rode past."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Before Erdene and Uldin reached the gates, a dozen giants mounted upon bears lumbered out before them, an honour guard to escort the Arcona lords partway along the eastern road.\n\nBleda and Jin stood watching their kin, giants before them, a handful of Ben-Elim circling the skies above them as they rode a short way along the road of the dead, amongst the field of cairns, before they turned and headed east, moving swiftly out of sight. Bleda wished he could run up the wide stairwell to the battlements and watch them until they faded into the distance.\n\nShe is gone, but I have her parting tome. And also those words she whispered in my ear while on the weapons-field, the day that Jin shamed Riv, the trainee White-Wing.\n\n\"Well, what are you two doing, standing about?\" Kol said to them with an easy smile, glancing up at the sun, which had not long cleared Drassil's high walls.\"You're due at lessons, are you not?\"\n\nBleda and Jin burst into the teaching chamber, a high-vaulted room of stone and wide-arched windows, one long wall filled with shelves full to bursting with scrolls and parchments. It was a room that Bleda was more familiar with than any other part of the fortress, because he had spent such a large portion of his life sitting in there, learning his letters, the histories, the theories of weapon and war, herbs and healing, the ways of earth and sky. And of course, the teachings of Elyon, how to live a life of faith, strength and purity. Of sacrifice, honour and duty.\n\nThough that sounds more like the Ben-Elim than Elyon, tome.\n\nIt was fair to say that the Ben-Elim had brought more with them than just rules and an iron-shod foot upon the neck of those who lived and breathed within the Banished Lands. Though no trade that is forced upon you is a fair trade."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Where's Jibril?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "' Bleda said, skidding to a halt.\n\nA giant stood before one of the long windows. He was leaning over a table, hands resting upon it like two knotted saplings. It was a giant Bleda knew well, or better than most at Drassil, because it was the giant who had plucked him from Israfil's grip that day in Arcona when he had been taken from his people. He had ridden with this giant upon the back of a bear all the long way from Arcona to Drassil, and fora giant he was more talkative than most.\n\n\"Alcyon, where is Jibril?\" Bleda asked again.\n\nJibril was their tutor, a dark-haired Ben-Elim who had taught them their histories ever since they had arrived in Drassil, some five years gone. Different Ben-Elim taught different subjects. Bleda suspected it was not because they specialized indifferent subjects, with some knowing more or less about certain subjects. Bleda believed that all the Ben-Elim were equally knowledgeable, but that they also had their own likes and dislikes, subjects that brought them pleasure and subjects that they disdained.\n\n\"Jibril is escorting your kin along the eastern road,\" Alcyon said. \"So Israfil asked me to give you your lesson today.\"\n\n\"You?\" Jin said, looking Alcyon up and down.\n\nMuch as any other giant, he stood a man and a half tall and was thick with muscle, his face a slab of forehead and angular lines, long moustache hanging and bound with leather. A tattoo of vine and thorn trailed up one arm and partway down the other. The things that were different about him when compared to other giants were his hair and weapons. His hair was shaved from his head, apart from a thick black strip across the centre of his skull, plaited into his warrior braid. And he wielded twin axes, single-bladed rather than one of the double-bladed variety that most giants chose. He usually wore them across his back, but now they were leaning against a wall, long-shafted with hooked, bearded blades."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, me. I am not Ben-Elim, but I have a little knowledge inside this head of mine.\" He prodded his temple with a thick finger.\n\nJin looked as if she didn't quite believe him.\n\n\"What are you looking at?\" Bleda asked, moving over to look at the table. A huge parchment was spread out, a map inked upon it. Bleda frowned as he stared at it, for at first it had looked like a map of the Banished Lands, but where the Land of the Faithful now existed, it was divided into different realms. Bleda smiled to see Arcona, abroad expanse to the east of the dark stain that was Forn Forest.\n\n\"Isiltir, Carnutan, Helveth, Tenebral,\" Bleda read. \"What are these places?\" he asked.\n\n\"That is the Banished Lands before the Day of Wrath,\" Alcyon said. \"There were many realms then.\"\n\n\"Where have they gone?\" Bleda asked.\n\n\"They have been welcomed into the Protectorate of the Ben-Elim, become part of the Land of the Faithful,\" Alcyon said.\n\nIs this what will happen to Arcona? Bleda thought, a shiver of fear rippling through him, Absorbed into the Protectorate, as if it had never existed.\n\n\"Sit,\" Alcyon said, waving a hand and rolling up the map.\n\nThere was a table and bench for their letters, with sheaves of parchment, quills, pots of ink, blotters, a supply of salt and powders of ground cuttlefish. If writing was not required, there were other chairs that they would usually take– more comfortable, covered in leather and fur– usually used when a subject that required a level of deeper thinking was being taught."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda took one look at Alcyon's huge hands and concluded that he would not be teaching the art of letters, and so satin a more comfortable chair of leather, draped with fur. Jin followed suit, though she dragged her chair over so that she was much closer to Bleda.\n\n\"What are you teaching us, then, with that knowledgeable brain of yours?\" Jin asked Alcyon, keeping her face free of the sarcasm Bleda was sure lurked behind her dark eyes. She wiped astray strand of her jet-black hair from her face, her glance flickering to Bleda, the hint of a smile twitching her lips.\n\nAlcyon walked around the table and sat on the bench, the wood creaking. He smiled and spread his arms wide.\n\n\"What would you like me to teach you?\"\n\n\"Jibril never gives us a choice!\" Jin said, surprised.\n\nBleda shot her a dark look.\n\n\"Strategies of war,\" Bleda said hurriedly, thinking to make the most of this slip in Ben-Elim discipline.\n\nAlcyon frowned, his massive brow bunching like a storm cloud.\n\n\"And how does Jibril teach that?\" he rumbled.\n\n\"Battles are described, the forces involved, opposing sides. Numbers, styles of combat, strengths, weaknesses. Strategies and tactics,\" Bleda said with a wave of his hand. Jin looked at him, abroad smile, smoothed away quickly.\n\n\"Ah, I see,\" Alcyon said, regarding them both thoughtfully. Bleda thought he'd seen through his plan, but then Alcyon nodded.\"All right then. The Battle of Drassil. Midwinter's Day, the first Year of Lore.\"\n\n\"We've heard that one so many times, \"Bleda said. It was true, they had. All about the Ben-Elim's triumphant entry into the Banished Lands, saving the beleaguered forces of mankind from the overwhelming numbers of Kadoshim and their terrible allies. Jin pulled a bored face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What battle, then?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alcyon said.\n\n\"Name some,\" Bleda said with a shrug.\n\n\"The Battle of Dun Bagul: that one was fought twenty years after Drassil.\" He looked at them both.\n\n\"Can we hear a few others, then choose?\" Jin asked sweetly.\n\nAlcyon shrugged, making his bench creak again. \"The Battle of Haldis, a few years before Drassil. Domhain Pass. Gramm's Hold, Taur-'\n\n\"What about the Battle of Varan Falls,\" Bleda said.\n\nAlcyon frowned at him. \"How have you heard of that one?\" he asked.\n\n\"Jibril's mentioned it, ' Jin said.\n\n\"He has?\"\n\nHe did, but only to dismiss the idea of ever telling us about it.\n\n\"Why would you think he wouldn't? ' Bleda asked Alcyon.\n\n\"Because that was a bad day for the Ben-Elim, that one.\" He paused. \"A grievous day for us all.\" Quieter.\n\n\"It's important to analyse the defeats, so that they do not happen again, no? ' Bleda said.\n\n\"True,\" Alcyon murmured, rubbing his chin. He stared past them, afar-away look in his eyes. \"Very well, then.\"\n\nAlcyon tugged on his moustache.\n\n\"First of all, it isn't the Battle of Varan Falls. It's the Battle of Varan's Fall. '\n\n\"Oh. I thought it must have taken place close to a waterfall, or something like that,\" Jin said.\n\n\"Well, it did, which adds to the confusion. It took place in the north-west of Forn Forest. But it was given its name because it was the battle where Varan fell.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Varan?\"\n\n\"A giant, great amongst us,\" Alcyon said, a sadness behind his eyes. \"And my friend. He was brave and loyal. Lord of the Jotun Clan fora short time, before he bent the knee to Ethlinn as she united the Clans and we became one; what was left of us.\"\n\nA silence fellas Alcyon drifted in thought. Bleda saw the giant differently, then, if only fora few moments. Until now he had only ever thought of the Ben-Elim, the giants and White-Wings as the Victors. The triumphant, conquering army that were strangers to loss and defeat. Briefly he saw grief writ across Alcyon's face, in his eyes, and fora few heartbeats felt a sense of kinship with him, a bond created between those who suffered the same pain.\n\nAlcyon shook his head.\n\n\"We had information that the Kadoshim were building a fortress, secreted in the north-east of Forn. Our informants spoke of a place built largely beneath the ground, a subterranean structure of labyrinthine tunnels. So, we set out to find it. Giants, Ben-Elim, White-Wings. And we worked with our allies, the Order of the Bright Star.\"\n\n\"I thought there was bad blood between the Order and Drassil?\" Bleda said. \"Aren't they not to be trusted? '\n\n\"The Order? I would trust anyone of them with my life, and frequently have.\" Alcyon shrugged, an acknowledgement. \"There are some trust issues, between the Order and the Ben-Elim, aye. But the Kadoshim are enemy of all, and the Order areas fervent in their hatred of the Kadoshim as the Ben-Elim are.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But I-\" Bleda began, but Alcyon held his hand up.\n\n\"If you wish to hear of the Battle of Varan's Fall before horns sound and you're wanted in the prayer-hall, then I suggest you hold your words.\"\n\nBleda and Jin nodded silently.\n\n\"A force marched from Drassil, me amongst them. Other giants, Balur leading us. The White-Wings, and Ben-Elim.\"\n\n\"How many of you?\" Bleda asked.\n\n\"A thousand, roughly. Half of that White-Wings. Our plan was to meet with a force of the Bright Star, marching east from their fortress of Dun Seren, and assault the Kadoshim's new lair together. We marched north-east, made slow progress the further we travelled. Forn can be a dark and dangerous place, well suited to the hiding of demons, which is why we have spent a hundred years building roads and thinning the trees. But this part of Forn, well, we hadn't given it our attention at that time, so the trees were ancient, their canopy a lattice of limbs wide as my leg, and the paths thick with thorn and vine. And rivers were many, draining from Forn into the Grinding Sea. It was hard going. Until we came to a well-trod path– a road almost, the ground cleared and levelled, wide enough to march upon. We thought it the Kadoshim's, cleared by them as they carried materials for the building of their lair. The Ben-Elim could not scout well, hindered by the dense canopy, but what they saw they deemed safe. We guessed the Kadoshim believed themselves secure that far north, hidden by the warp and weft of Forn. '\n\nHis mouth twisted in a snarl."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We guessed wrong. It was a salmon trap.\"\n\n\"A what?\" Bleda and Jin asked together.\n\n\"When you fish for salmon, the easiest way to catch them is you build an easier path for them to follow, steering them into safe waters, or so they think. But it leads to nowhere, and when they are piled up in their road to nowhere like cattle in a pen...\" He snapped his fingers, aloud crack when it is made by giant fingers.\n\n\"We were late to our meeting point, you understand. Which saved us, I don't doubt. We heard the screams, the sound of battle, ringing out through the forest. Iran, because I knew it was the Order, and had both kin and friends amongst them. Balur ran with me, all the giants did, but the Ben-Elim and White-Wings, they were more cautious, fearing an ambush. Sensible, as that's what happened, but sometimes you just listen to your heart. The Ben-Elim were none too happy about that, I heard afterwards.\"\n\n\"Did the Ben-Elim punish you for your disobedience?\" Bleda asked, knowing that Israfil came down like a hammer on the smallest transgressions at Drassil. Part of the Way of Elyon, as were all the imposed rules of the Ben-Elim.\n\n\"Disobedience?\" Alcyon frowned.\n\n\"The Ben-Elim are your masters, and you ran off and abandoned them, disobeyed their order to stay with them.\"\n\n\"The Ben-Elim are not master to us giants.\" Alcyon scowled. \"We are allies. Drassil is our home, built by giants. We agreed for the Ben-Elim to reside here. They are our guests.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Seems they are the ones giving all of the orders,\" Jin said.\n\n\"Aye, well, the Ben-Elim like their rules. Ethlinn is a diplomatic woman and so would not speak openly against them, unless she deemed it vital; but we will not be ruled.\"\n\nThat's interesting. I thought the giants were another conquered people, like my Clan.\n\n\"So, the battle,\" Jin said. \"You ran off and left the Ben-Elim behind...\"\n\n\"Aye. It was part of the Kadoshim plan, it became clear after the battle, to separate us. The Ben-Elim and White-Wings were attacked separately.\"\n\nHe sighed, lost in thought again.\n\n\"The Order were overrun when we arrived, their backs to a river and waterfall, beset on all other sides by the Kadoshim and their fanatics. From the trees above, from out of the undergrowth, the very air seemed to seethe with them. I saw many comrades already fallen, friends who had fought and survived the darkness that was the Battle of Drassil. My son still stood, thank Elyon above.\"\n\n\"What about Varan?\" Bleda asked. \"Was he with you? Marching from Drassil?\"\n\n\"Varan? No. He had joined the Order of the Bright Star many years before. We all fight the Kadoshim, just choose who we stand beside when we do it, that's all. Varan was standing with his brother, Gunil. Much younger than Varan, he was, born after the Ben-Elim came, little more than a giantling, really. But he was fierce, a great warrior. The two of them were standing waist-deep in the river, the waterfall roaring at their backs, Kadoshim slain in a heap about them. Iran to them, but it was chaos. Battle always is, once you're in it, and if anyone tells you different they're a liar. It's no clinical act of strategy, then, though that helps to begin with. But when it comes down to it, it's blood, steel and muck, stench and guts and screaming loud enough to burst your head, fear and rage and everything else in between, and you keep swinging your blade at the foe in front of you until your arms are numb and there are no more left, or you die."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I lost sight of Varan, tried to fight my way to him, though moving in one direction in a battle is a hard enough task."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Ben-Elim finally arrived, the White-Wings with them, bloodied by another ambush that had been held in reserve for them. By then the Kadoshim knew they were finished and melted away, back into the forest. By then no one was standing in the river, let alone fighting in it. I waded in, the water thick with bodies and blood, and found Varan, floating face-down. Fallen with a host of wounds.\"\n\nAlcyon hung his head, and Bleda was shocked to see a tear rolling down the giant's cheek. Jin was staring at him with a look of disgust.\n\nHe would be cast out of the Sirak for such a display of weakness; his emotions his master.\n\n\"His brother?\" Bleda asked, wanting to end this display. It made him feel uncomfortable.\n\n\"He fell over the waterfall, I was told,\" Alcyon said. \"A long drop, and then the Grinding Sea.\" He sniffed and wiped his face. \"So that was Varan's Fall, and a dark day it was, too. '\n\n\"What about the Kadoshim's lair? \"Jin asked.\"What happened when you got there?\n\n\"We never found it. Perhaps it was all a fiction, the intelligence we received false, all of it to lure us to that ambush. If we had entered into that killing ground together, it would have been much worse.\"\n\nAlcyon looked at them both.\n\n\"So. Analyse,\" he said to them. \"Why did we lose? Or at least, why did we not win?\"\n\n\"Overconfidence,\" Bleda said.\n\n\"That's right. Good, \"Alcyon said.\"Many battles and skirmishes have been fought with the Kadoshim since the Battle of Drassil, scores, and we had never lost a one. Varan's Fall was no crushing defeat, mind; but it was a defeat nonetheless. What else?\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Planning, scouting, knowing the ground,\" Jin said. \"Jibril says they are key steps to victory.\"\n\n\"Aye, true enough,\" Alcyon agreed. \"The Kadoshim were far better prepared than us, that was plain to see. They knew we were coming. Knew we were two forces. Knew the routes we would approach by, and they laid their ambushes well. And we blundered in, expecting to crush them as we had before. Huh.\" He wagged a finger at them both. \"Never underestimate your enemy, but especially not the Kadoshim. Their numbers were winnowed on that first day, when Asroth fell, and there are certainly far fewer of them than Ben-Elim, but they are creatures of deep cunning.\"\n\nLike their kin, the Ben-Elim.\n\nHorns blew outside, echoing into them.\n\n\"Best be off for prayers,\" Alcyon said.\n\n\"Are you not coming?\" Jin asked.\n\n\"Me? No,\" Alcyon said, a twist of his lips.\n\nBleda noted that with interest.\n\nSo, giants are not the obedient slaves I thought them.\n\n\"Our thanks,\" Bleda said. \"You have taught us much today.\"\n\nMore than old Jibril ever has.\n\nAlcyon waved a hand but had that faraway look again. Bleda and Jin rose and left him to his thoughts.\n\n\"See, they are not unbeatable,\" Jin said to him as they stepped out into the street. \"Not like the Cheren and Sirak will be when we are wed.\"\n\nShe squeezed his hand and ran for the prayer-hall looking back to grin at the startled expression that cracked his cold-face."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "SIG\n\nI should have gone straight after Keld, not sat at Uthandun waiting for him, Sig berated herself, not for the first time, as she ran through the rain, each drop feeling like a chip of ice flung into her face by a spite-filled wind. She'd left Hammer in the stable at Uthandun, her paw not yet recovered enough fora hard run across the wind-blasted hills of Ardain. At the edge of Sig's vision she glimpsed Rab, the albino crow flapping stoically onwards, a white blur amidst the sheeting downpour.\n\nCullen rode alongside Sig, head down and cloak up against the wind and rain. Sig had thought about ordering him to stay behind, but he was part of her crew. He'd splinted and bound his wounded arm with strips of wood and leather.\n\nElgin rode at Sig's left, grim-faced, a score of men in column behind them. Nara had wanted to come herself, but Elgin and Sig had convinced the Queen of Ardain to remain at Uthandun. Rab had said that he'd found Keld's hounds, not Keld himself. They'd left as soon as they could after Rab's arrival, making the most of what day remained before nightfall. Since then Sig had hardly shared a word with the white crow, who had led them north-west, past the hill where the Kadoshim had been discovered, on into foothills that had once separated the realms of Narvon and Cambren, long united now by the marriage of Conall and Edana over a hundred years ago.\n\nThey'd made camp as darkness fell. Rab had disappeared, only rejoining them with a screeching admonishment to hurry up as dawn crept unannounced across the land, a grey, rain-soaked shroud. Now Sig guessed it was close to highsun, though that was hard to tell– a diffuse glow only hinting at a sun beyond the leaden sky. They were climbing steadily into the hills, the terrain a bleak mixture of exposed granite and stunted, twisted trees."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sets a good pace, that crow of yours,\" Elgin said.\n\n\"Aye,\" grunted Sig, concentrating on the loose rocks and rabbit holes at her feet. To her surprise and anger she was feeling the pace that Rab was setting, lungs burning, legs aching– she, who used to run fora ten-night as easy as rising.\n\nThere's a lotto be said for riding bears into battle, but I'm going to have to do something about this.\n\nAhead, Rab began to circle a spot, spiralling downwards.\n\nSig wiped rain from her eyes, saw forms materializing upon the path where it narrowed before a sharp turn. To the right was a sheer rock face, to the left a steep drop to a fast-flowing stream. Sig slowed, loosened the sword sheathed across her back, Elgin and Cullen doing the same.\n\nBodies were scattered across the path, twisted in death. Eight, ten, Sig counted, checking them carefully. Keld was not amongst them, though Sig found his huntsman's axe embedded in the skull of a shaven-haired man. Sig put her foot on the man's head and wrenched the axe free. All of the dead had shaved heads in common, like those they had found at the Kadoshim's lair. Many of the death wounds were ragged tears, flesh torn and ripped. One of Keld's hounds, Hella the brindle bitch, lay strewn across the path, bodies piled around her, a bodiless arm in her mouth, strips of frayed flesh and sinew hanging at the shoulder. A score of puncture wounds crusted dark with blood ranged along the hound's side, her back leg almost chopped clean through.\n\nSig knelt by the dead hound and put her hand on its head a moment."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Thank you, Hella, faithful hound, for your sacrifice."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "You will be avenged.\"\n\n\"Ach.\" Cullen spat. \"Keld will take this hard.\"\n\nAye, if he still lives, Sig thought. Keld would never have left Hella like this. He's either slain or captured. She felt a stab of fear for her friend, quickly morphing into a swell of rage.\n\nThey will pay for this.\n\nBeyond the dead was a small cabin, situated just around the bend. It looked like a goat-herder's hut. Elgin and a handful of men approached it, Elgin kicking the door down with one booted foot, sticking his head in.\n\n\"Empty,\" he called over his shoulder.\n\nA squawking drew Sig's attention. She looked around for Rab, couldn't see him at first, then spotted the crow down by the stream at the bottom of the slope.\n\n\"Come, come,\" Rab was squawking, hopping about upon a rock, bobbing and shaking his head, muttering to himself.\n\n\"QUICK!\" Rab screeched.\n\nSig made her way down the slope, skidding and sliding on slick, goat-cropped grass, the sound of others behind her.\n\nRab had found Keld's other hound, Fen, lying upon the corpse of another shaven-haired man, along, bloody knife still gripped in the man's fist. His throat was a red, ragged wound.\n\nThe hound's hind legs trailed in the stream. He was covered in wounds, one ear missing, but he was still alive, his big chest rising and falling.\n\n\"Poor Fen,\" Rab croaked mournfully. \"Sig help Fen?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Sig grunted, ripping a strip from her cloak and soaking it in the stream, then setting to washing out the hound's wounds, fingers gently probing for broken bones. Footsteps thudded around them as Elgin and a few others joined them."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tracks leading on into the hills,\" Elgin said. \"My tracker says ten, maybe twelve of them. Looks like your man was still alive then. He tells me they're maybe one day ahead of us, so we've gained on them.\" He looked at the big hound, the shallow rise and fall of its chest. \"We should be after them.\"\n\n\"A few moments,\" Sig said. \"Keld will take his axe tome if he hears I left his Fen to die.\" She was rummaging through her pack, crushing dried comfrey and lavender in her big fists, drizzling honey into the mix and packing it into the hound's many wounds. Fen whined, lifted his head to look at Sig, then slumped back down. Sig wrapped bandages where she could.\n\n\"One man to stay and guard him. Give him water.\" Sig unstoppered her brot bottle and poured some into the strip she'd torn from her cloak, squeezed a few drops into Fen's mouth. \"And give him this.\"\n\n\"One man to guard a dying hound? Can we spare him, not knowing what lies ahead?\" Elgin frowned.\n\n\"This is no ordinary hound, as you well know. Storm's wolven blood runs in his veins, and Keld will not be best pleased if we abandon him while there's breath in his body.\"\n\n\"I am not convinced of the wisdom,\" Elgin said.\n\n\"Fen one of US!\" Rab squawked, shaking his wings at Elgin.\n\n\"Trust me on this, and I'll not forget the favour, \"Sig said, holding Elgin's gaze. The battlechief rubbed his bearded jaw, finally nodded and bellowed up the slope to his men.\n\n\"Rab, after Keld,\" Sig grunted and the crow leaped into the air, flapping and rising. Sig bent and stroked Fen's head.\"Live, \"she whispered,\"Keld still needs you. '"
}
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[
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"from": "system",
"value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Dread\nChapter: 28"
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "A branch slapped into Drem's face, sharp fingers raking his cheek. The trees were growing thicker about them, branches lower, men ducking in their saddles. They'd made the decision to stay mounted for as long as possible, just to use every moment of extra speed to close the gap between them and their quarry, but the time to dismount and leave the horses behind was rapidly approaching.\n\nThe line of hunters grew fractured, the thickening trees and dense scrub a barrier that sent horses searching for easier paths. A horn blast, and then they were dismounting, Ulf choosing a score of his followers to stay with the mounts, the rest of them reforming as best they could and marching on.\n\nHounds bayed somewhere ahead of Drem, afresh excitement in their barking. His da was beside him, the next hunter a vague shadow slipping in and out of view.\n\n\"Do you think they've found it? ' Drem asked his da, a hand reaching for his sword.\n\nShould have brought a spear.\n\nHis throat still hurt, inside and outside, his cloak rubbing against the rope-burn, his voice grating raw when he spoke.\n\n\"No,\" Olin said. \"They'd be making a different sound entirely if they had. More like dying. \"He looked at Drem's face, saw the worry in his eyes. \"They might begetting closer, though, the scent stronger.\"\n\n\"That's what I thought, ' Drem muttered.\n\nSnow was falling thick about them, swirling with gusts and eddies into banks at their feet.\n\nIf it's this thick inside this wood, what is it like beyond it? We'll be needing to dig through snowbanks to get in our front door.\n\nA hand closed around his wrist."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Drem,\" his da said, leaning close, \"we should leave.\"\n\n\"What!\"\n\nI can't. Fritha.\n\nOlin saw Drem's expression, but continued anyway.\n\n\"We should go, now. While we have a chance.\"\n\n\"Da, how can you say this?\"\n\n\"Drem, you're usually the practical one. Think. I've told you what I plan to do.\" He put a hand to the sword that was hanging through a leather thong at his hip, the blade wrapped in leather and sheepskin.\n\nAsroth. Drassil. With us being attacked, Fritha taken, I'd almost forgotten my da plans on slaying a demon-lord.\n\n\"Hildith and Ulf have told us we are involved in this investigation into Calder's death. Do you think we'll just be allowed to leave? And now there's blood feud against us. A whole town of miners and trappers out for our blood. I've told you: something is wrong here, and we need to be away, before it's too late. This is the perfect opportunity, while the townsfolk, and the men who wish us dead, are stumbling snow-blind amongst these woods. We could just turnaround and go back, and no one would know fora good while. We could get a day's head start. We should go.\"\n\nHe let goof Drem's wrist, just held his gaze. His looked grieved to say it, clearly knew the turmoil Drem was feeling over Fritha.\n\n\"You're right, \"Drem said,\"it is logical. It does make sense. But... Fritha... ' He trailed off, unsure of what he meant or wanted, just knowing that he felt torn, emotions running through him that he was unable to put into words. He looked at his da, feeling as miserable and conflicted as he could ever remember."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "His da sighed, nodded.\n\n\"We'll see this through, \"he said,\"find Fritha... '\n\nAlive or dead, Drem finished his da's sentence.\n\n\"And then we'll be away, quick and quiet as we can, ' Olin added.\n\n\"Thank you, Da,\" Drem said, relief washing through him. To give upon her now would feel wrong.\n\nOlin took the lead, pushing on through the deepening snow. The hounds were silent now, and Drem could see no one to the left or right, only the snow, the constant flutter of it in his face. Olin's eyes were on the foliage about them, branch and bush. He paused once, lifting leaves that had been snapped, scraped past; he marched on more quickly.\n\nAnd then somewhere up ahead hounds were barking, a raucous baying, close, much closer than Drem would have thought, and he felt his heart lurch in his chest. He broke into a run, past his da, the sound of the hounds growing ever louder, deafening now, and changing, snarling, growling, snapping, a yelp and whine. Drem burst into a clearing, or, at least it was a clearing now, as a giant white bear had snapped branches, torn bushes up and uprooted trees in its violence against the hounds that had tracked it and brought it to bay.\n\nThere was blood on the snow, a hound crawling, whining, its back legs not working, another hound lying as still as stone, head twisted at a sickening angle. Others were circling the bear, snarling and snapping as the great beast growled and swiped at them with its huge scythe-like claws."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Where's Fritha? Drem thought, looking about frantically for her, but he could see no sign of her. Hope drained from him.\n\nIt wouldn't have left her alive in its den, or anywhere else. Dead and stored, more likely. He'd seen predators do it many times, hide their kill until they felt it was safe to retrieve it. He felt a rush of anger, rage like he'd never felt before.\n\nI will kill you, bear, for what you've done.\n\nUlf burst into the clearing, a handful of men about him, all of them pausing fora frozen moment, staring at the white beast in astonished wonder. Then a man was charging it, a spear levelled at the bear's chest, stabbing through fur and flesh, the bear bellowing its pain, a shrug of its shoulder and claws splintered the spear shaft, another swipe and the man was spinning through the air, an arc of blood trailing him. He crashed to the ground, rolled, didn't move again.\n\nAs if breaking a spell, the first man's ruin released the others from their frozen stupefaction, Ulf bellowing, the others rushing forwards, spreading about the bear, jabbing at it with their weapons. Drem charged with them, Olin following more cautiously, unsheathing their own blades. Drem heard the distinct sound of sizzling, saw snowflakes melting to steam where they touched his da's black sword. Then they were part of the net closing on the white bear, Drem stabbing when it slashed orbit in another direction, jumping back when it cast its baleful attention in his direction.\n\nThat's definitely the one from the elk pit, Drem thought as he saw its right paw, one long claw clearly missing."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Just need to carve the rest of you up, now.\n\nRed lines appeared on the beast, blood leaking into its fur, and more men died, those too slow or too foolhardy. Ina few hundred heartbeats five men lay bleeding into the forest litter, only two dogs still standing, but a handful of new men had trickled into the clearing, one of them, Drem noted, was Wispy Beard.\n\nThe bear lunged forwards, caught a warrior's thigh with its claws as he tried to jump away, sent him crashing to the ground, and the bear's head darted forwards on its long, powerful neck, its jaws crunching about the man's torso, lifting him into the air and shaking him like a terrier with a rat. Blood sprayed in fountains, the man's screams rising in pitch, abruptly silent as bones snapped. Olin danced into the rear of the bear and slashed two-handed at the beast, carving a red gash down the bear's flank and leg, the stench of meat burning, flesh and fat hissing. It bellowed in pain, dropping the dead man, and surged forwards, straight at Drem, fleeing this new agony. It slammed into him and the bulk of men about Drem, sending them spinning, flying through the air like so many twigs. Drem crashed to the ground, air forced from his lungs. He tried to move, hand grasping for the hilt of his blade, and then a clawed paw thumped into the ground by his head and the bear's jaws filled his vision. It stood over him, looking down at him, saliva dripping from one long tooth to land on Drem's forehead.\n\nIt sniffed him, opened its jaws and let out a great roar, then exploded away from him and went crashing into the undergrowth, disappearing into the twilight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only Olin was still standing, a handful of others groaning as they tried to rise. Olin ran to Drem and helped him back to his feet, put his sword back in his hand.\n\n\"I'm all right, \"Drem said to his da's worried look.\n\nI should be dead. It didn't kill me.\n\nDrem shared a look with his da and they followed the bear, moving quickly, not quite a run, the sounds of it crashing ahead making it easy for them to track the beast.\n\nThe noise of the bear slowly faded, despite Drem and Olin picking up their pace, a sense of despair settling in Drem's chest. Eventually Olin stopped, twilight thick about him.\n\n\"We'll not catch it in a sprint, \"his da said.\"And anyway, it doesn't have Fritha, you saw. It might have dropped or discarded her somewhere in the forest. Best thing to do is retrace its steps. And then...\"\n\nWe'll find Fritha's dead body in the snow and forest litter, Drem thought morosely.\n\n\"She may have escaped the bear of her own accord,\" Olin said. \"She may still live.\" Drem could tell that his da didn't believe that, though. And neither did he.\n\nDrem nodded, admitting defeat, the forest silent about them now, draped with shadow, snow still falling, though he could feel it more than see it, twilight masking the world in grey. A voice in the distance, a horn call, faint and far.\n\n\"Ulf and Hildith, regrouping. Might be better to camp out here as a group than try and walk home,\" Olin said.\n\n\"I think you're right and it's time to leave, Da,\" Drem said, \"in the dark, where we won't be missed. Fritha must be dead, though I dearly wish she were not. '"
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "Olin looked at him.\n\n\"Only if you're sure, son. She means much to you; we'll stay and search until you're ready. '\n\nDrem nodded, then froze, cocking his head to one side.\n\nA sound, to their right, deep in the undergrowth. His da heard it, too, both of them staring, alert. And slowly something formed in the shadows, the darkness deepening, a shifting of muscle and bulk, a low rumbling growl.\n\n\"RUN!\" Olin yelled, shoving Drem back the way they had come as the undergrowth exploded outwards, snapping and shattering in a burst of snow and leaves, a deafening roar blasting them, filling Drem's head as he stumbled to the ground. He glimpsed his da setting his feet, lifting his blade, heard the crash and growl of the bear as it surged from the shadows.\n\nIt came back. How did it flank us so quietly?\n\nHis da's voice was raised in a battle-cry and there was a roaring bellow of pain from the bear. Drem pushed himself up to his knees, grasping for his sword, then something slammed into the back of his head. There was a bright explosion of light behind his eyes, quickly followed by darkness as he crashed to the ground, consciousness fluttering away.\n\nA gasp of air, ragged, pain in his throat, in his head, everywhere, it felt, his whole world a vault of pain. He opened his mouth, tasted snow and dirt, and with a grunt pushed himself over onto his back, then just lay there gasping fora few moments.\n\nAbove him the scrape and rasp of leafless branches stirred by the sighing wind, boughs sagging with snow. Snowflakes landed on his face, tingling."
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"value": "Then he remembered.\n\nThe bear.\n\n\"Da,\" he rasped, a whisper, his bruised throat raw and on fire. He rolled, pushed himself to hands and knees, then upright, ignoring the pain, spiked explosions pulsing out from the base of his skull. He stood. Looked frantically about.\n\nThere was still a dim light in the twilight world, a faint glow from the snow on the ground. He looked at a hole the size of a barn, a blackness amidst the undergrowth and trees, branches and bushes snapped and torn where the bear had charged them.\n\n\"Da,\" Drem said louder, a stone of dread dropping in his belly; with every heartbeat of silence the dread growing, becoming worse.\n\n\"Drem,\" a whispered breath that made his heart leap, and he saw him, a dark, still figure lying on the ground. Drem stumbled to his da, dropped to his knees, at the same time heard voices in the distance behind him, heard men calling, recognized Ulf's voice.\n\nHis da was pale and blood-drenched, and this time Drem knew it was not the blood of his enemies. He was lying upon his back, one leg twisted at a strange angle, his torso looking like one big wound. Blood pulsed sluggishly from long gashes that started at his shoulder and ended at his hip. Between them the flesh was torn and ragged, flecks of bone amidst the crimson.\n\n\"Oh, Da,\" Drem whispered, the breath hitching in his chest, something cold clenching in his belly, squeezing his heart. He'd seen wounds like this, not in a man, but knew what it meant, something in him refusing to accept it. Couldn't bear to accept it."
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"value": "Olin's eyes were distant but, at Drem's presence, he blinked and lifted his head.\n\n\"Lie still, Da, Ulf's coming, \"Drem said desperately, stroking sweat-soaked hair from his da's forehead. All that he had been consumed with– finding Fritha, killing the white bear– all of it evaporated as his whole world constricted down to this moment. His da, the only person in his life who truly mattered. His blinked tears from his eyes.\n\nOlin shifted, his mouth moving. A trickle of blood dribbled over his lips, a whisper of air.\n\n\"Sword,\" he said.\n\nHe wants to hold his sword in his hand. He thinks he's going to die, going to cross the bridge of swords.\n\nDrem looked about frantically for the black sword, could not see it anywhere, though the ground was churned and covered in bits of tree and bushes. He couldn't bear to leave his da's side to search more thoroughly, so Drem drew his own blade and put the hilt in his hand, closing his fingers about it. Olin's gaze flickered down to it, then pushed the blade away.\n\n\"Starstone,\" Olin wheezed.\n\n\"I can't see it, Da, \"Drem said, lifting his da's hand and kissing it, felt his da's fingers twitch and he put them to his cheek, as his da had done to him so many, many times before.\n\n\"My... boy,\" Olin whispered, a bubbling rattle. \"I was... wrong.\" Olin jerked then, his other arm rising, palm upon Drem's chest, fingers clenching, gripping onto the bear claw about Drem's neck. One long, slow exhalation that seemed as if it would never end, his eyes fixed onto Drem's with a burning gaze and then Olin was still, the light in his eyes fading, glazing over."
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"value": "\"No, Da, no,\" Drem breathed, his vision blurring with tears as Olin's fingers slipped from the claw about his neck."
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"value": "SIG\n\nSig crested a low rise in the land and, with a word and a touch of her heels, reined Hammer in. Somewhere behind she heard Keld shout a command, the drum of hooves as their loose column drew close. But Sig only had eyes for the view on the horizon before her.\n\nDun Seren.\n\nIt was highsun, a pale sun suspended like a marker in the sky above the fortress of grey stone. It was standing upon a gentle hill, a keep and tower silhouetted on the horizon. Around it dark walls circled the hill, the hint of myriad buildings contained within. Another wall had been raised closer and wider still, upon the flatter meadows that surrounded Dun Seren's hill. Sig had been there when the decision to build it had been made. The Order had grown beyond its founder's wildest expectations, the twin arts of weapons-craft and healing drawing so many to their halls. Corban, the creator of the Order, had been grey-haired then, and he had smiled to see how the seed of his dream had flourished into something far greater than he had ever imagined.\n\nStaring at it now, a kaleidoscope of memories flashed through Sig's mind, more than a hundred years\" worth of remembrance condensed into a handful of heartbeats, of weapons training, pain, sweat, broken bones, battle and loss. But far greater than that were the memories of song and laughter, a bond of friendship forged with men and giants that she had never believed possible. A host of names and faces hovered in her mind's eye: Corban, Gunil, Varan, Coralen, Veradis, Cywen, Dath, Kulla, Farrell, Storm, so many, many more.\n\nAnd so many of them gone, now. But their memory lives on."
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"value": "We shall never forget.\n\n\"We shall never forget,\" Keld murmured beside her, and she looked down at him to see him staring at Dun Seren's walls with a faraway look in his eyes.\n\n\"Come on,\" Cullen cried out, all excitement and passion. \"What are we waiting for? Let's go home! '\n\nHome.\n\n\"Home,\" squawked Rab as he alighted on Cullen's shoulder, the young warrior wincing as crow talons flexed.\n\nAnd in good time. Still a ten-night to go before Midwinter's Day.\n\nShe glanced behind her, saw expressions of wonder and awe spread upon the faces of the young recruits from Ardain, and then Sig was spurring Hammer on, the bear roaring as it ran lumbering down the rise, Keld, Cullen and their recruits from Ardain cantering behind, Fen the wolven-hound a grey blur ahead of them.\n\nThe scrape of Hammer's claws and the clatter of hooves echoed as they passed through the arched gate of Dun Seren's inner wall and into the courtyard before the grey keep. Above the gatehouse a banner of a bright star upon a black field snapped and rippled in the cold wind that was blowing hard from the north. Sig tasted a hint of snow upon it. Warriors lined the walls, horns ringing out and voices cheering Sig's return, sword-brothers and sisters, a smattering of giants as well, and Sig smiled to see them, raising her hand in greeting. Cullen grinned and waved as if he was a returning hero, though Keld was more contained beside him, still raw with the loss of his wolven-hound, Hella.\n\nA statue loomed before them, dominating the centre of the courtyard, twice the height of Sig upon her bear's back. Two figures carved from dark stone, pale veins running through it. One a man, handsome and serious, broad-chested and thick-armed, his hair tied into a thick warrior braid that coiled across one shoulder. He was dressed as a warrior, wearing a shirt of mail and leather surcoat, breeches and boots, around shield slung across his back. A torc sat about his neck, snarling wolven heads at either end, with an arm ring spiralling about one bicep, two more wolven heads at beginning and end. One handheld a naked sword, the tip resting upon the ground, its pommel another wolven head, this one raised with jaws open, howling."
},
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"value": "The warrior's other hand rested upon the neck of a wolven, broad and muscular, standing almost as tall as the warrior's chest."
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"value": "Its teeth were bared in a snarl, long canines curved, scars latticing its body.\n\n\"Behold Corban, the Bright Star, founder of this Order,\" Sig bellowed. \"And Storm, his faithful companion.\"\n\n\"Told you he had a pet wolven,\" someone said.\n\n\"Storm was no pet,\" Sig growled at them.\n\nA figure stepped out from the fire glow of the keep behind the statue, the jut of a curved sword sheathed across its back. Byrne, the high captain of their Order. A giant walked beside her, the outline of a crow upon the giant's shoulder. Sig raised her hand to them, saw Byrne raise hers in return, then turn and walk back into the keep.\n\nSig led their party through the courtyard towards the main stable block, a word to Hammer and the bear was slowing to a halt as stablehands swarmed to meet them.\n\n\"Back to your tower and report to the crow master,\" Sig said to Rab, who was still clinging determinedly to Cullen's shoulder. The white crow looked up at her from its human perch, appeared to sigh– arise and slump of its wings, if that was possible fora crow– and then winged into the air, spiralling slowly upwards, circling the tower that loomed behind the keep. Other dark-winged shapes appeared from the tower, a raucous cawing drifting down from them.\n\n\"Hope they're nice to him, ' Cullen muttered beside Sig.\n\nSig just shook her head.\n\n\"See to your mount, greet your kin, and then meet me in the High Captain's chamber, \"Sig said to Cullen and Keld,\"I'll see that our new recruits are looked after.\" They nodded to her and dismounted, leading their horses to the stables."
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"value": "Sig turned to look at the two score young warriors behind her.\n\n\"Welcome to Dun Seren,\" she said.\n\n\"Welcome home,\" Byrne said with a warm smile as Sig stepped into the High Captain's chambers, Cullen and Keld either side of her. Fen the wolven-hound was with them, slinking towards afire that blazed in a hearth almost the size of one wall. He flopped down in front of it with a satisfied sigh.\n\nI'm glad Dun Seren was built by giants, Sig thought. At least I don't have to lower my head entering every chamber, or risk smashing any chair I sit in.\n\nByrne looked older. Sig had been gone from Dun Seren less than six moons, but the lines in Byrne's face were deeper, and there was more silver creeping through her once-black hair.\n\n\"Did you miss me, cousin?\" Cullen said, all smiles and swagger, the returning hero, his sleeves rolled up to show his new-earned scar, a white slash through the centre of his left bicep.\n\nFool boy. There'll come a time when he wishes for fewer scars, and the ache they give him.\n\n\"Whisht,\" Sig said to him with a scowl.\n\nByrne raised an eyebrow at him.\n\nCullen's smile shrivelled.\n\nByrne raised her other eyebrow, continued to scold him with her gaze.\n\n\"Sorry, High Captain,\" he mumbled.\n\nAch, but she looks like her great-grandmother when she pulls that face.\n\nByrne was descended from Cywen, the sister of Corban, who had founded the healers' element of Dun Seren, teaching and pioneering new methods of the healing art, of herbs and remedies and medical procedures. All who came to Dun Seren, who dreamed of becoming warriors of the Bright Star, were educated in the art of healing as much as developing skill at arms. It was the same in reverse: any who came with a passion for healing would be taught with just as much rigour how to fight, how to kill. And Byrne had excelled at both, from a bairn Sig had noticed the talent in her. It had fairly glowed."
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"value": "Sig had once seen Byrne drill a small hole through a fallen comrade's skull to relieve swelling and pressure upon the man's brain, the result of a heavy blow from a sword-pommel. A difficult procedure at the best of times, but this had been knee-deep in an ambush, Kadoshim and their servants all about. Sig had stood over her, trying to guard her back while she did it.\n\nIt's no wonder she rose to the position of high captain of the Order.\n\nAnd she's a good friend.\n\n\"It's good to be back, ' Sig said. She threw a leather bag onto a wide desk, where it landed with a heavy thud, its contents spilling out, rolling a half-circle. It was the severed head of the Kadoshim from Ardain, flesh rotting and peeling, stinking, the long fangs in its mouth accentuated by the decomposing lips, pulled tight and slimy with putrefaction.\n\n\"Do you know its name?\"\n\n\"Rimmon,\" Sig said.\n\nByrne nodded, her lips a tight line. She opened a large leather-bound book upon her desk, dipped a quill in ink and wrote upon a page. Sig leaned over, saw Byrne write Rimmon at the bottom of a list, pages long. Above it were the names Charun, Malek, Balam, Dramal, many, many more.\n\nI know. It's always good to see a dead Kadoshim, anew name on the list. But it would be better if it was Gulla, the self-called New Lord of the Kadoshim.\n\n\"The rumours were true, then,\" Byrne said, bending closer to study the Kadoshim's features, her expression clinical and detached as only a healer could be."
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"value": "There was a knock at the chamber door, Cullen rising from the seat he was lounging into go and open it. Byrne did not have servants.\n\nA giant walked in, taller than Sig, though not as broad, dark-haired as she was fair, his hair wild, poking in all directions, apart from the warrior braid that coiled across one shoulder.\n\n\"Well met, Tain,\" Sig said to him, and he beamed to see her, abroad smile that seemed to takeover most of his face. It was unusual to see a giant smile, never mind a smile so huge or teeth so bright they could dazzle a charging warband.\n\n\"I am glad you are returned to us safely,\" Tain said, looking from Sig to her companions. He was the crow master of Dun Seren, overseeing the care of the birds like Rab that nested in Crow Tower, a few score rare and gifted crows that had mastered the art of speech. They were born and bred from Crow Tower, their talent passed onto them by their sire, who at this moment was sitting upon Tain's other shoulder.\n\nHalf of the crow's feathers were missing, patches of pink skin flaking, his beak long and curved, old beyond years. The crow regarded Sig and her companions with bright, intelligent eyes, though, undimmed by his age. Those eyes swivelled to the Kadoshim's head upon Byrne's desk, and he squawked and bobbed, excited.\n\nNo. Pleased with himself.\n\n\"Well met, Craf,\" Sig said, keeping the fondness she felt for the old crow from her voice. It did not do any good to show the crow that kind of kindness, he was notorious for exploiting it, as Tain, the giant he was perched upon, would readily testify."
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"value": "\"Craf right then,\" the bird squawked, \"Kadoshim in Ardan.\"\n\n\"It's called Ardain, now, but yes, Craf, ' Byrne said.\n\n\"Ardain, Ardan,\" Craf grumbled.\n\nThe world has changed much since you were hatched, old crow, Sig thought. Realms come and gone. Ardan, Domhain, Narvon and Cambren in the west becoming one realm, Ardain. And the Land of the Faithful, ruled by the Ben-Elim. Once the realms of Tenebral, Helveth, Carnutan, Tarbesh and Isiltir. And still the Ben-Elim spread their influence ever wider.\n\n\"Though, to be fair, we all thought it so, and sent Sig based on that decision,\" Byrne pointed out to Craf.\n\n\"Craf's fledgling bairns first to tell, ' Craf said, flapping his wings in annoyance, a black feather drifting to the ground. Craf watched it fall with a beady eye.\n\nNow look what made Craf do, \"he muttered.\"Cold enough, now one less feather. '\n\n\"I'll fetch a blanket for you after, ' Tain said quietly.\n\n\"Kind Tain,\" Craf crooned.\n\nCrow master we named him, but it's more like crow servant, Sig thought, keeping the smile from touching her lips.\n\n\"So there's one fewer Kadoshim in Ardain, ' Byrne said, bringing their attention back to the severed head upon her desk.\n\n\"Aye,\" Sig said, \"though there was more to it than we would ever have expected. There is much to tell you, of acolytes, of sacrifice and incantations. Of anew strategy amongst the Kadoshim. The slumbering beast stirs,\" Sig said ominously. \"Something dread is afoot.\""
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"value": "\"Tell me,\" Byrne said.\n\nSo they did.\n\nSig told most of it, how they had hunted the Kadoshim to its lair, enlisted the aid of Elgin, Battlechief of Ardain, and then attacked the Kadoshim's den. Of the numbers of acolytes, the human sacrifice and spells, the escaped messenger. Keld hung his head– in shame or grief, Sig did not know– when she told of his capture and the death of his wolven-hound, Hella. At the mention of her name Fen lifted his head from the fire and whined. Craf cawed softly, the sound somehow full of melancholy.\n\nAnd Sig told of Rab's arrival at Uthandun, the white crow's help in Keld's rescue. Craf bobbed his head at that, clacking his beak loudly. Sig ignored him and carried on, telling them of the lit beacon in the rain-soaked hills of Ardain, the other beacons lit in response. Of the note that simply said: Now. And finally of the recruits Queen Nara had sent north with them, and of the Ben-Elim, Kushiel's visit to Uthandun as Sig was preparing to leave.\n\nAll of it Sig told in a flat, inexpressive voice, as if she were recounting a morning's sparring on the weapons court, giving an analysis of the strengths and weaknesses of a student of the Order. Apart from when she spoke of Keld and Cullen, of Rab and Fen and Hammer. Those she praised.\n\nCullen beamed as if it was his name-day. Keld sat there grim and dour, a scowl looking to have been etched through his face with a plough.\n\nWhen Sig finished, a silence settled upon them all, only the fire crackling in its great hearth, the snoring of Fen as he slept in front of it."
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"value": "\"There is more news from the Nest,\" Tain said, meaning Crow Tower, \"that makes more sense, now we have heard Sig's tale. '\n\n\"Go on, then,\" Byrne prompted.\n\n\"Frick has returned from Jerolin,\" Tain said. \"The poor lad; it's along way to fly, he's fair shattered, he is-\"\n\n\"Tell them, tell them,\" Craf squawked impatiently in Tain's ear, making him jump.\n\n\"Beacons, springing up all across what once was Tenebral, now the southern reaches of the Land of the Faithful. And attacks. Much the same as you have described in Ardain. Holds burned, merchants and travellers attacked upon the road. Some villages. No organized assault on what you would calla military strength, though. Or at least, that's what Frick has heard. '\n\n\"Thank you, Tain,\" Byrne said with a dip of her head.\n\n\"There was noway of bringing this Kadoshim back alive, head still attached to its body?\" Byrne said, her dark eyes fixing Sig. Even though Byrne was little more than half Sig's height she still managed to hold her with that gaze.\"It would have been helpful if we could have asked a question or two. And, as I remember, that was your task. To find it, and bring it here. '\n\n\"Aye, well, the Kadoshim was not for cooperating,\" Sig said. \"I tried, had it in my net, even. And to be fair, it wasn't me that killed the beast. '\n\nSig felt disloyal, informing on Hammer, but Byrne somehow had that effect on people. She could suck the truth from a stone and Sig had long come to the conclusion that there was no point fighting it."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hammer killed it.\"\n\nShe's a bear, she's got broad shoulders.\n\nA raised eyebrow from Byrne. Surprisingly effective at eliciting an urge in Sig to provide further information.\n\n\"The Kadoshim stabbed her in the paw.\"\n\n\"Ahh,\" Byrne and Tain said together.\n\n\"No matter,\" Craf cawed. \"Only good Kadoshim is a dead Kadoshim.\"\n\n\"Well, what's done is done, \"Byrne said.\"No point wishing it were not so. But I think you are right, Sig, this heralds something new. Not just another skirmish in the endless war. Anew strategy. But what are they up to, and why? '\n\n\"Craf will think on it,\" the crow squawked, as if they could all stop worrying now. Craf fell from Tain's shoulder, spread his wings and glided to Byrne's desk, where he hopped over to the Kadoshim's head. He stabbed his beak down, came backup with along strip of decaying flesh.\n\n\"Ugh!\" Cullen groaned. \"That'll make you gut-sick, that will! '\n\n\"Dead is dead, meat is meat,\" Craf squawked as he swallowed noisily, \"and Craf not fussy.\"\n\nClearly not.\n\nEven Byrne pulled a disgusted face.\n\n\"We must talk more on this,\" she said, turning her back on Craf, though that didn't blot out the wet, disgusting sounds of his feast. She spoke louder.\"The Captains of Kill and Cure must be told. We'll hold a meeting on the morrow, with all the captains and masters of Dun Seren. And Tain, word must be sent to our outposts at Brikan and Balara.\" She pursed her lips, thinking. \"And we should tell the Ben-Elim. This is bigger than our... differences. Choose a bird and send word to your father at Drassil.\""
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"value": "Tain nodded.\n\n\"I urge you all,\" Byrne said, worry creasing her eyes. \"Think hard on this. I have a feeling in my gut; the Kadoshim are coming out from the shadows, attacking for the first time in a quarter of a century. The question is: why? To what end? we must solve this riddle, before it is too late.\"\n\n\"What feeling?\" Cullen asked. \"In your gut, I mean.\"\n\n\"Dread,\" Byrne said, and Sig nodded her agreement, for she felt it, too."
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"value": "DREM\n\nDrem satin the darkness of his cabin, staring at nothing. Two fingers were pressed to the pulse in his neck as he rocked gently back and forth, counting.\n\nIt was the third day since his da had died. Or at least, that was what he thought, but he couldn't be sure. It had taken a day to get back home, after Ulf and Hildith had gathered their scattered hunting party back to them, he was sure of that. He strained to remember, a wave of fresh pain crashing over him with the coming of memories, making him wince and groan. They'd camped in the forest that night, lit blazing fires, and wrapped the dead in cloaks. It was not only his da who had fallen to the white bear. The next day had been a sombre procession back through the forest, carrying litters fashioned from spears and cloaks, Drem carrying his da. He'd been aware of men around him, Ulf offering his sympathy, others like Wispy Beard and Burg saying nothing to him, and for the most part Drem had been unaware of anyone else's existence. All he could think of was his da, the fact that he was gone now feeling like when the giant bat had sunk its fangs into his shoulder. Sharp, excruciating pain, followed by a numbness to all else, then a memory surfacing through the fog that would drag him back to the pain, followed by the numbing sensation again, over and over.\n\nThey had reached his hold on the evening of the first day, bringing his da's body into the cabin. On the second day Ulf and Hildith had returned with half a dozen men and they had carried Olin's body into the paddocks and there helped Drem to raise a cairn. Words had been spoken, by Ulf, and Drem remembered even saying something himself, though he could not remember what he'd said. More vivid was the pain in his knees where he had dropped to the ground in his grief. His breeches still bore the snow-salt and grass stains as a reminder."
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"value": "And now it was the third day since his da had died.\n\nI think.\n\nHis stomach growled, but he ignored it, the thought of putting food in his mouth making him feel sick.\n\nOr is it the fourth day? How long have I been sitting here?\n\nHe didn't know.\n\nA shiver rippled through him, his body telling him he was cold, but he didn't care. He was close to the hearth, though no fire burned in it; only cold ash and black embers filled it. Blinking, he looked at the shuttered windows, realized that it was getting lighter outside, faint beams of light stretching through the slats.\n\nThe fourth day, then.\n\nWhat does it matter?\n\nDa's gone.\n\nI'm alone.\n\nNo one and nothing to live for.\n\nHe felt so alone, a depth to the feeling that the word couldn't hope to contain, and he felt lost, like a broken compass with the needle spinning wildly. His da had been his compass, his lodestone, his north star, and now he was gone.\n\nHe realized he had something in his hands, looked down as the daylight washed over it, agleam of silver.\n\nDa's silver cloak-brooch.\n\nSunlight reflected from the four points of the star on it.\n\nThe Order of the Bright Star. My da was a warrior, fought fora cause.\n\nBut he walked away from it, turned his back on it.\n\nAye, for me. To protect me, and to avert a war.\n\nThat's what he was doing, even to the end. Telling me to run, standing before me, protecting me. He was only there, in that forest, for me. Because I wanted to find Fritha. And she's gone too."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tears came then, not the first time he'd shed them since his da had fallen, but this time they came as great, racking sobs, heaving out of him, his whole body convulsing, his voice and throat a raw, wounded howl. At the end of it he sat there, rocking back and forth, his arms wrapped around his knees. The brooch glinted on the floor where he'd dropped it, and, not knowing why, he bent and picked it backup, wiping tears and snot from his face.\n\nHe was a warrior, and even though he walked away from the Order he never turned his back on me.\n\nOne of the few things that Drem did remember clearly from those tangled moments when the bear attacked was the sight of his da setting his feet and raising his sword, and the battle-cry that had issued from his lips.\n\nTruth and Courage.\n\nWhy that?\n\nHooves drummed in the courtyard, one horse, no more, the sound of someone dismounting, feet thudding up the steps. A knock at the door.\n\n\"Drem?\"\n\nThe handle turned, the door opening slowly, a creak of hinges, light flooding in. A silhouetted figure stepped in, opening the door wider.\n\n\"There you are, lad,\" the figure said, turning now so the daylight washed his face. It was Asger, the market-stallholder. He had been on the hunt, Drem remembered, and been one of those who had helped raise a cairn over his da.\n\nAsger looked at Drem, then about the room, finally at the hearth, and went to work. He threw the shutters open, letting in a blast of cold air and daylight, the sky a pale blue beyond the window frame. He scraped the hearth clean of ash and cinder, found a pile of split logs, a basket of kindling, and started afire, then went to searching in the kitchen. It wasn't long before an iron pot was hanging over afire crackling in the hearth, the smell of porridge wafting about the room as Asger stirred it with a wooden spoon. To Drem's surprise, when his stomach rumbled this time he didn't feel immediately sick, as he had the last time."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's a hard thing, what's happened to you,\" Asger said to Drem as he passed him a bowl of porridge and scooped one for himself. He pulled up a stool and sat with Drem.\n\n\"No words that'll make it go away, no deed, either. ' Asger looked hard at Drem, who had been staring into his porridge bowl. Drem stirred it with his spoon, then took a mouthful.\n\n\"I wanted to talk to you about something,\" Asger continued. \"I'm leaving; me, my wife and bairns. We're packing up and leaving Kergard, heading back south. Don't much like the way things are going up here. Don't much like the new crowd, either. All together it leaves a sour taste in my mouth.\"\n\nHe spooned a mouthful of porridge while he waited a few moments fora response from Drem, but didn't get one.\n\n\"So I'm leaving on the morrow. And I was wondering if you might like to come with me. \"He held a hand up.\"It's not charity, though maybe there is a bit of kindness in it. But I need some help with the stall, and my bairns are too young to give it. I'd pay you fair, feed you, put a roof over your head. '\n\nHe shrugged, coming abruptly to the end of his speech, and went to finishing off his bowl of porridge. Then he stood, washed it clean and left it in the kitchen, came back.\n\n\"Ulf will be leading afresh hunt out after that white bear, in a few days, he says. Guess you may have a mind to stay and have some revenge. I'd understand that, though revenge won't bring your da back.\" He shrugged. \"It's up to you. Just wanted you to know, the offer's there if you want it. I'm leaving at dawn on the morrow. You know whereto find me. ' He stood in front of Drem awhile longer, then made for the door."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My thanks,\" Drem said hoarsely and Asger stopped and looked back.\n\n\"You're welcome, lad. Your da was a good man. And so are you. '\n\n\"Can I ask you a question?\" Drem said, looking up at him.\n\n\"Course you can. I might not have the answer, but asking never hurt nobody.\"\n\n\"Truth and Courage. Have you ever heard that before?\"\n\nAsger snorted. \"Not heard it used, but I know where it's from. Thought everyone did. '\n\nDrem just looked at him.\n\n\"It's the battle-cry of them at Dun Seren. The Order of the Bright Star. '\n\nDrem nodded, feeling something shift inside him.\n\nDrem shovelled the steps to his cabin free of snow, piling it in banks to either side, then scraped the last of the ice clear. Once it was done he sat on the steps.\n\nAfter Asger had left he'd felt a little life return to him; maybe it was the porridge, or the fact that another human being had cared enough to come and find him, he didn't know. He still had that weight of grief in his heart and belly, like a cold, hard stone, but he didn't feel incapacitated by it, at least, not for the moment. He'd finished his porridge, got up and let the goats and chickens out, checked on the horses in the stables, stood by his da's cairn, rested a hand upon it and shed some more tears, and now he was here. Thinking.\n\nHe was grateful for Asger's visit, grateful for the act of kindness in it, though it was a dim, distant gratitude, his grief too raw and potent a thing for other emotions to make any kind of lasting impression. And he was considering Asger's offer. Leaving was what he and his da had been about to do, after all. Though Drem knew that his da had a different destination in mind."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But Drem liked Asger, had always thought well of him, and the offer was a good one."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Anew life. Afresh start. Just the thought of some kindness and company was a tempting enough reason to go, without the fact that there were men not so faraway with a blood feud against him. That wasn't going to go away, either. And, as much as he felt like his heart was broken, that all of the colour of life had just drained away, the thought of being skewered upon the end of Burg's or Wispy's blades was still not an appealing one.\n\nAnd he'd been thinking on other things, too. Things that he needed to sift through first, before he fully faced up to Asger's offer. He'd been thinking on his da's last words. His cry of Truth and Courage, how that had still been so much apart of him, even after sixteen years of living anew life with Drem, that it had burst from his lips at such a telling moment.\n\nA life-or-death moment.\n\nAnd then, when he was dying, when he knew he was dying, he'd asked for his sword. The Starstone Sword.\n\nDrem had not been able to search for it as he'd sat with his da, not while his da still had breath in his body, and every breath and moment had been precious. But after, Drem had searched everywhere, all the more desperate to find it because his da had asked for it.\n\nBut Drem had not found it.\n\nMaybe I just missed it. It was dark. I was wounded and grief-stricken.\n\nNo. He knew how methodical he was, even in anxious, stressful times.\n\nThen where is the sword?\n\nHe moved to his da's very last words.\n\nI was wrong.\n\nWhat did he mean?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It could have meant so many things. Wrong to walkaway from the Order of the Bright Star. Wrong to think he could protect Drem. Wrong to go after the bear. Wrong to give into Drem's desire to find Fritha, even when they both knew she was most likely dead and that they were wasting their best opportunity of leaving without being noticed.\n\nBut none of those options rang true with Drem.\n\nI was wrong.\n\nThere's more, I know it. Think back further.\n\nFritha's cabin. Da was concerned, then.\n\nDrem closed his eyes, seeing the cabin, the destruction and bodies. He remembered his da crouching by the hound, then moving onto Hask's body, lifting apiece of timber.\n\nPart of the door.\n\nMaybe he wasn't as concerned by the need to leave as he was about what he saw in the cabin.\n\nAnd that wasn't the first time da had been troubled lately. Think back, further.\n\nHe remembered their night at Calder's forge, sifted through their snatches of conversation over or between the din of hammer blows.\n\nWe spoke of Bodil, how we were both troubled by the death-scene. No tracks. And the strap-marks torn into his wrist, like an animal caught in a snare. And Da said that Calder's corpse bore a knife-wound.\n\nDrem stored this information away, a nagging voice telling him he was missing something. He felt as if he was sitting at a loom, staring at the threads of a tapestry but not quite seeing the picture.\n\nAnd then, finally, he forced himself to think of the scene in the woods, amidst twilight and snow, where his da had died. A shivering breath threatened to overwhelm him again, a blur of tears and pain in his chest, but he took a few long moments and breathed deep as his da had taught him when he was worried or anxious, and slowly the sensation subsided. Not gone, but it became a calm sea of grief, not a great wave."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The white bear, sounds of it fading."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A conversation– what to do.\n\nHe realized he was standing, physically re-enacting the moments and steps with his da.\n\nPursue. Stay. Go. That's what we talked about. I said it was time to leave. If only I'd said that before the bear had been brought to bay. Da would still be here.\n\nThe ocean of his grief threatened to rise up at that, and fora while Drem stood therewith fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. After awhile he gave a shuddering sigh and wiped them away. Forced his mind to return to the scene of his da's death.\n\nThe bear. We both heard it. To our right.\n\nHe turned, staring to his right, eyes screwed shut as he remembered.\n\nHow did it flank us so quietly, when it had been crashing through the forest so recently?\n\nNo answer would come for that, so he moved on.\n\nDa telling me to run. Me falling. Snatched glimpses. Da's battle-cry.\n\nHe was on the ground in his yard now, the snow cold, exhilarating.\n\nMe trying to getup.\n\nOn his knees in the courtyard, pushing to stand.\n\nAn explosion in the back of my head.\n\nDropping back into the snow.\n\nWaking, pain, turning, standing.\n\nHere-enacted it all, just as he remembered and saw it in his mind's eye.\n\nThe blow to my head? What was it? Not the bear– its claws would have carved me like a melon. And besides, it came from the wrong direction.\n\nHe spun on his feet, looking accusingly about his yard for the hidden culprit, but only one of his goats looked back at him, chewing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A branch, maybe, sent flying through the air by the bear's attack.\n\nHe moved onto the last moments when he held his da, spoke to him. First the sword. Then...\n\nI was wrong.\n\nThe goats bleated, the second one there too now. Both of them watching him.\n\nHe felt frustrated because he was still not understanding. His hand rose up to the bear claw about his neck, the bloodstains still upon his shirt from where his da had gripped it.\n\nI was wrong.\n\nAnd then Drem was breaking into a run, past the barn and stables and into the paddock, crunching, almost wading through the deep snow until he was standing before his da's cairn. He stopped then, breathed in deep, long breaths, as if he'd been running half a day, the thought of what he intended to do stopping him, holding him in a grip of iron.\n\nI can't do it.\n\nYou have to. It's the only way to know.\n\nAnother deep-tremored breath.\n\nI can't.\n\nYou must. Da would want you to, if it leads to the truth. To an answer.\n\nWith an act of will he reached out and grabbed one of the stones upon the cairn, covered in a thick skin of snow and ice, and pulled it off. It resisted a moment, its mortar of rime binding it, but then with a crack it was free. He turned and placed the stone carefully upon the ground. Then another, and another. Soon sweat drenched him as he laboured, removing rock after rock, until he saw a hint of wool and agleam of pallid flesh. He stopped then, a groan escaping his lips. But he was committed to the act, now, and must see it through."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Until, finally, his da's body was exposed to the light. A faint smell of damp and rot drifted up to him, though thankfully the snow and ice had made that far better than it otherwise would have been. His handshaking, Drem reached out and pulled back the cloak, revealing his da's head and torso. He let out a strangled sob, took another handful of moments to catch his breath and hold his courage. He had cleaned his da as best he could, that night in the forest. His da's face was a bloodless grey, now, pale as winter's morning. Drem ripped his eyes away, looking to his task, and gazed at the wounds raked across his da's chest. He lifted his right hand, fingers curled like a claw, and in slow motion followed the path of the wounds upon his da. One terrible claw swipe, from right to left, high to low, starting at his da's left shoulder, ending at his right hip, destroying everything in between. Drem paused, thinking, tried the same motion in reverse, up from the hip to shoulder.\n\nNo. Not that. It couldn't have been that. The flesh is tattered and torn in the other direction. It must have been its right paw, slashing down, from right to left.\n\nHe stared at it.\n\nAnd then he lifted a hand to the claw about his own neck, gripping it tight and he swayed a little as the truth hit him.\n\nBecause the wound upon his da's chest was given by a bear with five claws, and the white bear only had four.\n\nDrem reined in his horse before Asger's house. It was on the outskirts of Kergard, a sturdy cottage of wattle and daub with a grass-sod roof, aside gate and track running between house and barn. Drem heard the creak and roll of wheels and saw Asger emerge from the barn, sitting upon the bench of a heavily loaded wain, reins in hand, his wife and bairns snuggled up close to him. There could have been a dozen more of them wrapped beneath the folds of blankets and furs they were buried beneath, guarding them against the dawn cold."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Asger smiled when he saw him, reining in the two sturdy ponies that were pulling the wain.\n\n\"I'm glad to see you, \"Asger said.\"You're coming with us, then?\"\n\n\"No,\" Drem said, dismounting from his pony. \"But I wanted to give you my thanks, for your offer. It was a kind thing you did.\"\n\n\"Ach, lad, it was more to save my failing back!\" Asger grunted, though Drem saw his wife dig him with an elbow and heard the giggle of bairns somewhere beneath all the furs.\n\n\"And maybe a hint of kindness,\" Asger admitted.\n\n\"More than a hint,\" Drem said. \"And I'll not be forgetting it. Ever. When you came to see me yesterday, I thought I had nothing left to live for, and now I have two. You have a friend in me, Asger. For life. ' He looked the trader in the eye, as his da had often told him to do when you mean what you say, and Asger nodded.\n\n\"Sure you want to stay?\" Asger said. \"Kergard's not what it was, and I think it's only going to get worse.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you're right, but I have somethings to do. Have to do,\" Drem said. \"But, there is one favour you could do for me. I'd be grateful. '\n\n\"I'll tell you when I know what this favour is, ' Asger said, a suspicious twist of his eyebrow.\n\nDrem reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a package. It was about the size of a plate, wrapped tight in a cloak of black wool, tied with twine. Drem held it out, but Asger didn't take it, just stared at it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And where would you like me to be delivering this package of yours?\" Asger asked.\n\n\"If you're travelling south, you'll most likely be passing their door,\" Drem said, his eyes earnest and hopeful.\n\n\"Where?\" Asger repeated.\n\n\"To Dun Seren. It is to be given into the hands of a warrior of their order. She goes by the name of Sig.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "RIV\n\nRiv felt a jolt of fear and excitement with every marched step along the eastern road. She'd gone on plenty of patrols with Aphra's hundred before, protecting a merchant convoy here, escorting state ambassadors there, even to restore peace where some dispute or other had turned bloody between villages or towns, like the incident between Bleda's Clan and Jin's. But this...\n\nKadoshim!\n\nThey might be fighting them, and soon. It was everything she'd trained for. Her whole purpose in becoming a White-Wing. It felt like some kind of lifetime fulfilment.\n\nAnd, truth be told, it was good to be away from Drassil. After what had happened to Estel and Adonai, the fortress had felt different, dour and cold– something she'd never felt about the place she'd been born and raised before. Everyday away from Drassil and Riv had felt her spirits lift, and the spirits of their company, as well, it seemed. Three units of White-Wings were marching down the Arcona road, the first hundred led by Aphra, the second by Garidas, ever earnest and devout, the third by astern-faced woman named Lorina.\n\nRiv was situated at the rear of the column, part of the retinue that travelled with Aphra's hundred White-Wings as assistants, most of them fledgling warriors within a year of their warrior trials. In reality they performed the bulk of tasks required fora warband on the move. Making camp, digging trenches and latrines, collecting wood and building fires, securing freshwater and filling hundreds of water skins. And then seeing to the needs of whichever warrior they were assigned to, in Riv's case her sister, Aphra, which included keeping her weapons and armour maintained, clean and polished."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind her rolled two dozen wains pulled by big-boned horses, the wains full of the camp supplies. And behind them two score giants marched rear-guard at the back of the column, Balur One-Eye leading them, the white-haired giant dressed for war in ringmail and leather, his great war-hammer slung across his back.\n\nThe iron-shod boots of the Hundred cracked a rhythm on the flagstones of the eastern road. An embankment fell to either side, the land stripped of trees fora good hundred paces, a task that never ended, having to be performed every year, as the forest was ever trying to reclaim what it had lost. Beyond the cleared space Forn reared tall and brooding, a wall of twisted bark and rustling leaves.\n\nThey could be in there, right now. Watching us.\n\nIt was sections of the forest like this that were dangerous, where Forn Forest had still to be thinned and searched, declared free of Kadoshim and made safe.\n\nThe sky was clear and blue up above, like a bright road between the arching canopy. Silhouettes of Ben-Elim flew weightless circles, guarding above, patrolling ahead, searching.\n\nWish I could fly, she thought. The sense of freedom, seeing so much, so far...\n\nGolden-haired Kol led the Ben-Elim, fifty or sixty of the white-winged warriors scattered across the sky.\n\n\"Do you think we're nearly there yet? ' Jost said beside her.\n\n\"I don't know, ' Riv muttered.\n\nI swear, if he asks me that one more time...\n\nA horn blast drifted down to them from above, and suddenly Ben-Elim were swooping low over the column, shouting orders. Riv almost felt feathers brush her upturned face as a Ben-Elim skimmed above her. It was Kol, grinning and whooping. Riv smiled at his exuberance."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He and Israfil could not be more different.\n\nMore horns blew and the column rippled to a halt, Riv and those with her running to their allocated warriors. She glimpsed Ben-Elim flying ahead, twelve of them shaped like an arrowhead in the sky.\n\n\"I don't need you, \"her sister Aphra said as Riv handed her a water skin. She drank deep.\"I want you at the back of the column. Protect the wains. '\n\n\"But...\" Riv said, looking beyond Aphra and the White-Wings to the outline of walls and buildings up ahead.\n\n\"Now!\" her sister snapped, voice cold and hard, no give in it.\n\nNo changing her mind when she's in this mood.\n\nRiv's shoulders slumped and she turned to go.\n\n\"Stay close to One-Eye,\" her sister called after her. Riv didn't answer, a petty last victory and protest.\n\nRiv stomped back down the line, saw Vald checking the straps of his shield and setting himself inline with other White-Wings. He nodded to her and flashed an adrenalin-fuelled grin. She tried to return it, but knew it was weak and forced, her shame at not being part of this, at being relegated to the safe place, again...\n\nHorns sounded and shields came together with a crack, making Riv's heart leap. She loved that sound, though she preferred it when she was in the thick of a shield wall herself.\n\nResignedly, she found Jost waiting for her with the others, gathered about and amongst the wains. Behind them, and curling around the flanks like a protective hand, were Balur and his giants, all with their axes or war-hammers in their hands, their eyes fixed on the walls of the town that the White-Wings were approaching."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was named Oriens, away-point upon the eastern road for those travelling to or from Arcona. Since the Ben-Elim had put down the seeds of civil war between the Sirak and Cheren, trade with the east had flourished. Oriens had grown, from not much more than a feast-hall for travellers and a few wattle-and-daub buildings, into a thriving walled town. Reports had reached Drassil that something was wrong, that travellers had heard screaming and the sounds of battle and slaughter echoing from the walls and instead of stopping had galloped on past. Ben-Elim had made aerial assessments but seen no signs of movement. Something was wrong, and they had decided against entering the town's walls until they had ground support from the White-Wings. They had learned their lesson after the Battle of Varan's Fall, where many had died because they had rushed blindly into an ambush.\n\nAphra and her hundred had been told little more than that, although the word Kadoshim had been whispered.\n\nRiv watched as Aphra led her hundred White-Wings out. They marched down the wide road towards the town, keeping their ranks as they trod the sloping embankment and on across open ground towards Oriens'open gates. No one manned the town's walls, no curls of smoke marked the air where there should have been many cook-fires burning. All was still, tension hovering like a thick mist.\n\nSomething's wrong.\n\nMore horn blasts and shouted orders, and Garidas'second hundred rippled into motion, the crack of their iron-shod boots setting a drumbeat for Riv's heart. Lorina's hundred waited in reserve as Aphra's White-Wings marched through Oriens'open gates, Ben-Elim swooping low over the walls, one alighting above the gates. Riv's flesh goosebumped, felt like spiders skittering across her skin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aphra is in there, maybe risking her life. I should be there, too.\n\nShe felt the familiar tingle of anger stirring in her veins, making her bounce on her toes, clenching and unclenching her fists.\n\nThe last of Garidas'White-Wings marched through Oriens\" gates, disappearing into shadow. Still there was only silence from the town, pulsing in almost palpable waves. A creak of leather and rattle of chainmail behind her; giants were slipping between the wains, Balur striding past Rivas they approached the town.\n\nAnd they waited, and waited... silence radiating from the town like heat from afire-pit. Riv's anxiety mounted with each passing moment as she stared fixedly at the walls, images of Aphra walking into an ambush flooding her mind. Her fingers clenched white around the hilt of her dagger at her belt.\n\nWorry, fear, shifting into anger at being left behind, at the way Aphra was treating her, her emotions bubbling away inside her.\n\nAs usual the anger burned all else away. Commonsense. Her sister's orders. Thoughts of consequences. Riv could almost feel it spreading through her veins, like ink through water, seeping into her head, whispering to her.\n\nYou should be a White-Wing already, inside those walls with the other warriors, not out herewith unproven, untested fledglings. You're as good as any of them with a blade, better than most, and they only give you a knife!\n\nBefore Riv realized what she was doing, she was running. Not towards the town, because that would take her through Balur and his giants, and even when she was rage-blind she wasn't that much of a fool. She skidded down the embankment and sprinted across the open space towards the trees of Forn Forest. Dimly she heard a voice behind her, Jost hissing her name, didn't think to look, and then she was amongst the trees, in an instant moving from bright day to a world of twilight, shadows shifting, branches swaying, vine snagging at her feet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She ran on, hardly breaking her stride, flitting through the forest, around trees, becoming one of the shadows herself."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even sound was different within the forest, noise magnified, the crackle of forest litter beneath her feet, the scratching rustle of branches overhead. Her own breath in her head, a drum keeping time.\n\nLooking to her right, she saw the shadow of walls beyond the trees, veered towards them and burst out into a strip of cleared meadow between the forest and Oriens'walls. This north-facing wall was not as well tended as the western gates: Riv saw patches of the timber wall covered in great swathes of vine, and further on a giant oak spread a gnarled branch over the town's wall.\n\nShe sprinted towards the oak, hardly breaking her stride as she reached the twisted trunk of the ancient tree, running up thick roots, gripping ridged bark, clinging like a lizard to a sun-baked wall. A contraction and extension of muscle in calf and thigh and she was leaping, almost felt like she was flying, grinning with the joy of it, and then her hands were clamping around the branch, pulling herself up, getting her feet set and she was upright, running along it, arms spread wide for balance. In heartbeats she had crossed over the wall and was jumping down from the oak onto a wooden walkway.\n\nShe paused and looked around, chest heaving. The town spread before her, a patchwork of thatch and timber. There was a flash of movement to the west and her eyes were drawn to the higher roof and long structure of a feast-hall, what looked like a town square before it. She heard marching feet, rising from a main road that cut from the gates to the town square.\n\nAphra's hundred.\n\nA shadow flitted across the ground.\n\nBen-Elim. Or Kadoshim?\n\nWithout thinking she sprinted down a stairwell and carried on running, into a wide street, then zigzagging into a smaller one. She threw herself against a shadowed wall and twisted her head to lookup, searching the skies, but whatever had made the shadow was out of sight."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Dread\nChapter: 32"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She ran on, hardly breaking her stride, flitting through the forest, around trees, becoming one of the shadows herself."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even sound was different within the forest, noise magnified, the crackle of forest litter beneath her feet, the scratching rustle of branches overhead. Her own breath in her head, a drum keeping time.\n\nLooking to her right, she saw the shadow of walls beyond the trees, veered towards them and burst out into a strip of cleared meadow between the forest and Oriens'walls. This north-facing wall was not as well tended as the western gates: Riv saw patches of the timber wall covered in great swathes of vine, and further on a giant oak spread a gnarled branch over the town's wall.\n\nShe sprinted towards the oak, hardly breaking her stride as she reached the twisted trunk of the ancient tree, running up thick roots, gripping ridged bark, clinging like a lizard to a sun-baked wall. A contraction and extension of muscle in calf and thigh and she was leaping, almost felt like she was flying, grinning with the joy of it, and then her hands were clamping around the branch, pulling herself up, getting her feet set and she was upright, running along it, arms spread wide for balance. In heartbeats she had crossed over the wall and was jumping down from the oak onto a wooden walkway.\n\nShe paused and looked around, chest heaving. The town spread before her, a patchwork of thatch and timber. There was a flash of movement to the west and her eyes were drawn to the higher roof and long structure of a feast-hall, what looked like a town square before it. She heard marching feet, rising from a main road that cut from the gates to the town square.\n\nAphra's hundred.\n\nA shadow flitted across the ground.\n\nBen-Elim. Or Kadoshim?\n\nWithout thinking she sprinted down a stairwell and carried on running, into a wide street, then zigzagging into a smaller one. She threw herself against a shadowed wall and twisted her head to lookup, searching the skies, but whatever had made the shadow was out of sight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "What am I doing here?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What have I done?\n\nShe stood there, breathing heavily. The thought of going back crossed her mind, but the red mist was still making a fog out of everything; the idea of her sister walking into danger without her was a wildfire fuel. She ran on, through smaller dirt-packed roads, searching for Aphra, thinking she could check on her, ensure her safety and then maybe head back to the wains. The town was eerily silent, shuttered windows dark with shadow, doors closed, dew-filled cobwebs latticed across them. And then the shadow was flashing across the ground again and Riv glanced up, saw the dark outline of wings haloed by the sun. She ran on.\n\nShe burst into an open space, the town square, the long feast-hall of timber and thatch before her. Skidding to a halt, churned mud spraying, legs scrambling, arms windmilling desperately to stop, she just stood therefor a frozen moment staring at the scene before her in horror.\n\nIn the centre of the square, placed immediately before the steps to the feast-hall, stood a mountain of severed heads, steaming in the winter's cold."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SIG\n\nSig swung her weapon, a swooping curve, from high to low that arced around her opponent's attempt at a parry. Too late he tried to dance back out of reach, but the length of Sig's arm with a blade was too far for any man to evade in half a heartbeat. Her weapon crunched into his leg, just below the knee, lifting him from the ground and spinning him a full circle in the air before he crashed to the hard-frozen grass, flat on his back, the air leaving his lungs in one massive whoosh.\n\nThe scuff of feet behind her and, without a second's thought, Sig spun on her heel, parrying the axe blow aimed at her head, flinging it high and stepping in close to stab her sword-point into the chest of the giant before her. Ashe stumbled back, dropping to one knee, Sig ducked, air hissing over her head as she spun again, this time chopping her blade two-handed into the waist of another giant, seeing him sway and slowly topple to the ground. Sig took a step forwards, standing over him, sword-tip at his throat.\n\nThe giant on the ground looked up at her, then swore.\n\n\"Ach, you're just showing off for the new bairns, ' he said gruffly.\n\n\"Give me your hand,\" Sig replied, lifting her wooden practice blade away from Tain's throat.\n\nHe smiled then, that infectious grin, even as he was wincing with the pain of moving as his waist twisted and bruised ribs contracted.\n\n\"I'm going back to my Crow Tower, \"Tain said with a mock groan,\"it's safer up there.\"\n\n\"Not by the looks of your cloak,\" Sig commented, looking at what was once a black bearskin cloak, now streaked and strained with the arse-end of crows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That I can live with, pain's a much deeper issue, ' Tain grunted.\n\nBehind her Fachen, another giant warrior of the Order, was climbing to his feet.\n\n\"You all right?\" Sig asked.\n\nHe raised a hand to Sig, nodded.\n\n\"You're slowing down, ' he grunted.\n\nSig breathed in along, deep breath, enjoying the sensation of the cold as it seeped into her lungs. They'd already had some light snow, and more on the way, by the smell of it. She was glad to be back. Even though that sense of dread that Byrne had spoken about had not gone, it had faded, and Sig was home in time for Midwinter's Day. It was a holy day for the Order of the Bright Star, a day of remembrance, for it was on Midwinter's Day that the Battle of Drassil had been fought, the Kadoshim and Ben-Elim unleashed upon the Banished Lands. The Kadoshim had been defeated, driven from the field, and Asroth sealed within his cage of molten stone. Corban the Bright Star had been central to those events, and it had been on that day that his dear friends, Gar and Brina, had fallen in the great battle. It was also the day when Corban had resolved to create the Order of the Bright Star, both as a legacy to Gar and Brina, and also to continue the fight against the Kadoshim. The festival was on the morrow, a day of sombre remembrance, and in the evening they would feast in the grey keep and drink to fallen comrades. It was important to Sig that they were remembered, honoured for their sacrifice. On the morrow they would gather before the Stone of Heroes, bow their heads and think of their fallen sword-brothers and sisters..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They were upon Dun Seren's weapons-field: a huge expanse contained between the inner and outer walls of the fortress."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Warriors were hard at combat in various sections of the field, training. Some were mounted upon horseback, giants upon bears, elsewhere a hundred or so formed up in the shield wall. The Order of the Bright Star used round shields in their wall, unlike the rectangular ones favoured by the White-Wings of Drassil. That was because, to become a warrior of the Bright Star, a novice had to master all of the disciplines, be able to fight in the shield wall, or upon horseback, or upon their feet all alone, and a rectangular shield was impractical upon a horse or in individual combat. Around shield was more adaptable across the disciplines, and so that was what they used.\n\nSig heard a distant shouted command and the front row of shields dropped as warriors hurled javelins skywards, the iron-tipped shafts arcing high, then thudding to the earth. Sig could almost seethe imagined Kadoshim ripped from the sky, imagined the ruin of their fall, the shield wall marching forwards, short-swords stabbing down to finish any survivors as they trampled over the dead and injured.\n\nMuch stays the same, and yet much has changed, since that day at Drassil. Heart and courage, iron and blood is as old as the hills, but we are ever finding new ways to kill our foe. The worry is that they are just as diligent at finding new ways to kill us.\n\nSig turned, looking closer to home, and saw a knot of people staring at her: the two score new recruits from Ardain. Mouths were open, expressions a blend of shock and awe.\n\nThey'd been at Dun Seren almost a ten-night now, but this was the first morning that Sig had resumed her duties as sword master of the fortress. The captains of each discipline rotated, so that some would train the warriors at the fortress, while others would lead missions and campaigns out into the Banished Lands against the Kadoshim. It had worked well enough for the past hundred years, keeping all warriors sharp in both training and experience, whether captain, veteran or newcomer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Help..."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "me,\" a thin, reedy voice wheezed.\n\nIt was Cullen, still flat on his back from where Sig had spun him through the air and winded him.\n\n\"You did ask to join in,\" Sig said as she stood over him.\n\n\"Thought Tain and Fachen were enough to take the sting out of you,\" he gasped. He tried to sit up, grunted with pain. \"I was wrong.\"\n\nHe tried to sit again, winced again.\n\n\"I think you've broken my back. '\n\n\"Nonsense,\" said Sig, \"stop making such a fuss.\" She grabbed hold of his leather jerkin and hoisted him unceremoniously to his feet. He whimpered.\n\n\"Bruised a little, maybe,\" Sig conceded.\n\n\"Bruised a lot, more like.\" Cullen rubbed his back, then hoisted his wooden practice sword and brandished it at her.\n\n\"Again?\" He grinned at her.\n\nSig shook her head, hiding a smile.\n\nHe has a death-wish.\n\nA murmur behind them, and Sig saw heads turning amongst the new recruits as Byrne approached, dressed in her training leathers, dull and scuffed, sweat-stained from years of use.\n\n\"A fine display,\" Byrne said to Sig. \"Glad to see half a year on the road hasn't dulled your skills. '\n\nFighting Kadoshim tends to keep you sharp.\n\nThey were standing on the part of the field where individual sparring took place, with all manner of weapons. Byrne approached a weapons rack and sifted through the wooden replicas on offer. They were dull edged, of course, but every weapon had been hollowed out and filled with iron, making it heavy. Heavier than the weapons they were fashioned to represent, usually, unless it was a giant's war-hammer or battle-axe, but Sig thought that was a good thing, forging strength in muscle and tendon and sinew, so that when a warrior came to use the sharp steel version, it felt light and responsive in their hands."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Byrne selected a curved sword with a two-handed grip, the wooden likeness of the blade that she usually wore slung across her back."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All who came to Dun Seren were trained in a multitude of martial disciplines: sword, spear, axe, hammer, bow; shield-work, knife-fighting, axe-throwing; the shield wall. Various swords– short-swords, longswords, curved swords, single grip, one-and-a-half hand, double grip. Blade-work on foot and mounted. Horsemanship, tracking and hunting. Everything imaginable, and all had to master each discipline. Most had a preference, though, a weapon or combination of weapons that they gravitated towards, a style of fighting, and they were free to choose it, once they'd mastered all of the disciplines and proved it in their warrior trial and Long Night. Sig preferred her longsword, loved the simplicity and elegance of it. Byrne had always been drawn to the curved blade of the Jehar, warriors from the east that had dedicated themselves fanatically to Corban. Gar, the man in whose honour Corban had built the weapons school, had been such a warrior.\n\n\"Anyone?\" Byrne said as she walked into an open space. Sig grinned and took a step, remembering a thousand hours they had sparred together through the years, but before she could stand in front of Byrne another figure jumped before the High Captain of the Order.\n\nCullen, his wooden sword resting across one shoulder.\n\nHe's a glutton for punishment, Sig thought, stepping back and leaning against a weapons rack, folding her arms.\n\nByrne dipped her head, raised her sword, not taking her eyes off Cullen, and that was a good job, for he darted in, sword a blur, stabbing straight at Byrne's heart. The crack of wood, Cullen's blade was slapped away and he was spinning, a horizontal chop at Byrne's waist was again blocked, almost casually, as Byrne shifted her feet, not wasting her energy on a counterstrike as Cullen was already out of range, dancing away and back in again, a combination of blows this time, chops, stabs and lunges, all met by Byrne's blade, a discordant rhythm cracking out the timing of their battle as Byrne became the calm centre of Cullen's storm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sore back, my arse, Sig thought.\n\n\"Is his tactic to wear her out?\" a voice said beside Sig. Keld was there, silent as only a master huntsman could be. His dark mood had lifted a little in the last few weeks, Dun Serena tonic to him as it was to Sig.\n\nSig shrugged. \"If it is, he should be the one standing still, not dancing around Byrne like he's had a barrel of mead on Midwinter's Eve.\"\n\n\"I was thinking the very same thing,\" Keld said. \"Mind you, he's wearing me out just watching him. Maybe that's his thinking.\"\n\nSig snorted.\n\nDespite their gentle mocking, Sig knew that Cullen was good. More than that, he was exceptional. But he was not the only exceptional warrior at Dun Seren. It took a large dose of exceptional to become high captain of the Order, as well as a significant portion of wisdom.\n\nAnd it might be the wisdom that Cullen's lacking at the moment, while the stuff fair leaks from Byrne.\n\nAnd, as if to prove Sig's point, Cullen was abruptly flat on his back, rolling to avoid Byrne's economical chops, spraying turf where his body had been a heartbeat before. Somehow Cullen managed to make it back to his feet, circling Byrne as she resumed stooping falcon, sword high above her head, and waited for him to launch himself at her again.\n\n\"Now, I've given you a chance, \"Cullen said breathlessly,\"but I'm getting hungry now so it's time to end this. ' He lunged in again, laughter rippling around the spectators.\n\n\"Do you think he's got a chance of even touching her with his blade? ' Keld asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sig had drawn breath for seven hundred years and was considered past her prime and slipping into old age by giant reckoning, and in that time she had fought all manner of foes. Only three people had ever defeated her in combat: Corban, his wife Coralen, and a man named Veradis, who had been one of the masters at Dun Seren, teaching the shield wall. He too had been exceptional with a blade, preferring the short-sword used by warriors of the wall. And he was Byrne's great-grandfather, for he had wed Cywen, Corban's sister. As Sig watched Byrne spar now she saw Veradis in her, not her physical appearance, which was all Cywen, but in her demeanour, the economy of movement and tactical brain, the way she would calmly weather any storm of blades and wait for her moment. And when she saw it, she would not hesitate.\n\nAs if that washer cue, Byrne began to move, not a whirling storm like Cullen, but a steady progress forwards, pushing Cullen back, containing him, restricting him. Her blade hit his arm, then stabbed his thigh, came around high and chopped into his shoulder, making Cullen yelp and Keld laugh, and then Cullen had his back to the weapons rack and Byrne's sword against his throat.\n\nHe stood there, breathing heavily.\n\nA horn blast called time to move to anew weapon in the field.\n\n\"All right, then, we can stop now if you like,\" Cullen said. \"Call it a draw, and count yourself lucky.\"\n\nByrne just stared at him. Sig thought that he'd finally gone too far and that Byrne would give him a week of kitchen duty, but instead a smile split her face.\n\n\"Get on with you,\" she said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He's not right in the head, that one, ' Keld said to Sig.\n\n\"I know, it's part of what will make him great. If he lives long enough, that is. '\n\n\"Got to love him for it, though I often want to strangle him for it, too.\"\n\nSig noticed a man approach Byrne. It was Odras, a fine healer, and warrior besides. He was the chief quartermaster of the keep, with a talent for keeping supplies flowing and the barns and grain stores full. He spoke in Byrne's ear, and she turned, beckoning Sig over to her.\n\n\"A visitor to see us,\" Byrne said with a frown.\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"A merchant from the north, Odras says. And they have asked to see you. I think I'll come along, though. I'm curious as to who would visit the ill-tempered Sig!\"\n\nThey left the weapons-field together, leaving a few hundred warriors-in-training behind them. As they stepped from the field onto a wide street, Sig paused beside a great slab of rock that rose from the ground, taller and wider than she was. The Stone of Heroes, it was called, a host of names carved into it. Sig ran her fingertips over some of them.\n\nGar and Brina were the first names, carved large at the top of the stone, and beneath them many hundreds more. Sig whispered some of them to the sky.\n\n\"Dath, Akar, Kulla, Farrell, Veradis, Corban, Coralen,\" she breathed. As she said their names their faces formed in her mind's eye, so many, many more, the names of those who had given their lives to the Order, whether they'd fallen in battle or to time and age, if they had served the Order, their names were honoured."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her eyes came to rest upon one last name, her fingertips tracing the rune-work carved into the stone.\n\n\"Gunil,\" she whispered, just the sound of his name bringing back so many emotions, a gossamer web spiralling through her veins, about her heart.\n\nSig shook her head.\n\nA hand touching her– Byrne, a small comfort.\n\n\"We will never forget,\" Byrne murmured beside her, then turned and walked away.\n\nNo, Gunil, I will never forget you. With a sigh Sig followed after Byrne.\n\nThe merchant was waiting in a chamber of the keep, sitting at a table with a platter of food and a cup of wine poured for him. A barrel-chested man with thick-muscled arms, more hair on them than there was on his head. He stood as Byrne and Sig entered the room, a mouth full of crumbling cheese, his eyes widening as they took in Sig's size and musculature, hovering on the sword hilt that jutted over her shoulder.\n\n\"When he said warrior, what he meant was monstrous killing machine,\" the man muttered.\n\nSig frowned. Is he touched in the head?\n\nAfter the merchant had recovered from the general shock of meeting Sig, the sight of a warrior giant seeming to unman him fora moment, and then the added shock of being introduced to Byrne, leader of the fabled Order of the Bright Star, he announced himself as Asger, a merchant trader recently from Kergard, the most northern outpost of the Desolation.\n\n\"There was nothing there but ash and rock when last I travelled the Desolation,\" Sig rumbled. She looked out of the window at the far end of the chamber, which opened out onto a view of the north. The fortress spilt down the hill towards the river Elv, dark and wide, as it curved sluggishly around the hill that Dun Seren was built upon, a hundred quays and jetties jutting out into its waters. Abridge of stone arched over the river, leading into the Desolation, now more green than the grey it had been when Sig had dwelt there. In the distance leaden clouds were massing, creeping their way south."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And bringing snow with them, no doubt.\n\n\"It is thriving now,\" Asger said, still eyeing Sig dubiously. \"Kergard, I mean. Since the crater became a lake the land has become green again. There are fields and farms, a wealth of furs and skins to be had from the Wild. A good life to be had, if you're not afraid of some hard graft, and the cold, of course. Or at least, it was a good life... '\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Things have turned, sour,\" he said. \"New folks, bad folks, fleeing the goings-on down south.\"\n\n\"Then why are you coming south, marching into these troubles?\" Byrne asked him.\n\n\"There's trouble allover, seems tome, \"Asger muttered,\"but I didn't like what I was seeing. Fights in the streets, friends killed, giant bear running amok. Lynchings. It all started with that bonfire in the Bonefells, and Old Bodil's death. ' He stopped.\n\n\"Bonfire? Like a beacon?\" Sig asked him.\n\n\"Aye, you could say that,\" Asger said. \"But I didn't come hereto tell you the troubles of the north; I'm sure you have enough troubles of your own to be dealing with.\"\n\n\"The Kadoshim are our trouble,\" Byrne said. \"And they would be your trouble as much as ours, if we were not the shield that seeks to protect you from them.\"\n\n\"I'm sure, \"Asger said, though he looked as if he was thinking he'd never once seen a Kadoshim, and hoped he never would.\n\n\"Least you don't charge a flesh tithe for the service, like the Ben-Elim, \"he said, then shook his head.\"I didn't come hereto grumble and complain. I was asked to deliver a package. To you,\" he added, looking at Sig. He bent down and rummaged in a bag at his feet, straightened with a package in his hand, about the size of a wooden plate, bound with twine, and held it out to her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sig turned it in her hands, saw it was some kind of spun wool, dyed black, though faded."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With big fingers she undid the twine and let it fall away, unfolding the cloth. She stood there a moment, just staring.\n\nSig trod the spiral stairs of Crow Tower, torchlight flickering, her shadow stretching before and behind her. The cawing of crows grew louder, and then she was stepping into the chamber, a high-roofed room with a tree growing at its centre, spreading wide branches that were full of dark-shadowed nests.\n\n\"Sig, Sig, Sig,\" a crow squawked, others joining until her name was ringing out like a manic battle-cry, Sig fighting the urge to cover her ears.\n\n\"All right!\" she yelled and the crows fell silent.\n\nShe scanned the nests in the tree, saw black-feathered heads and glistening eyes staring down at her, eventually found what she was looking for. Agleam of white feathers in the highest reaches of the chamber, Rab peering out of a nest that teetered on the thinnest of branches. He puffed his feathers out, pleased to see her.\n\nTain was standing below a branch, having a conversation with a crow perched above him. Craf was sitting upon a table, one scabby wing over his head, sleeping. Sig thought she could hear snoring. Tain saw Sig and raised a hand, then came over.\n\n\"Sten's back from the east. More beacons and unrest, \"Tain said. He paused, looking at Sig's face. \"What's wrong? '\n\n\"I need to speak to Rab, and I've a message I'd like you to send to your da in Drassil.\"\n\n\"Cullen,\" Sig said, standing over the young warrior in the feast-hall. A dark-haired woman was draped across his lap and he was curling ringlets in her hair with a finger, his other hand emptying a horn of mead down his throat. Sig recognized the woman as one of Tain's helpers from Crow Tower."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ah, now that would explain why Cullen knows so much about the behaviour of crows.\n\n\"Eh? What?\" Cullen said as his eyes focused on Sig.\n\nShe turned and walked away. When she heard Cullen swear and stumble to his feet, the slap of boots as he ran after her, she nodded to herself.\n\nThe kennels were quiet and warm, more like stables than kennels, along, stone-built building, straw thick on the ground. Broad, furry heads lifted, over a score of amber eyes and fangs glistening in the torchlight as Sig and Cullen strode through them. Two hounds growled, one of them only fora few moments before it caught their scent. All of the wolven-hounds of Dun Seren knew the warriors of the Order by scent. The other hound that had growled was separated in a stable of its own, because it had just whelped eight pups and would happily tear the face off any living thing that stepped within a dozen paces of its pups. As the visitors put some distance between them and the newborn pups the growling subsided.\n\nThey found Keld playing knuckle-bones with half a dozen others. By the look on the faces of those around Keld he was winning. He saw Sig's expression and left the game.\n\n\"Somewhere private,\" Sig said, and Keld led them to the far end of the kennels, into an empty stable that was used as a storeroom. Cullen flopped down on a sack of bones with a huge sigh.\n\n\"This better be good,\" he said. \"I was enjoying the celebrations.\"\n\nKeld leaned against the quartered carcass of a boar, both of them staring at Sig.\n\nShe took the package Asger had given to her from a pocket in her cloak."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"A merchant from Kergard delivered this tome today,\" she said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She opened it, unfolding black-spun wool to reveal a silver cloak-brooch, fashioned in the shape of a four-pointed star. Cullen and Keld knew it instantly for one of their Order; they wore the same, as did Sig.\n\nBeneath the brooch was a folded sheaf of parchment. Sig opened it and began to read.\n\n\"This message is for the eyes of Sig, and for Byrne, of the Order of the Bright Star. If either of you still live. I am Drem, son of Olin, who was once a warrior of your Order. I have only discovered this recently, and also that I am blood-kin to Byrne. I am writing to tell you both that my father, Olin, is dead. I suspect he was murdered, and I don't know what to do. Strange things. \"Sig paused there, looking up at them.\"The word strange has been scored through here, replaced with sinister, ' she said, then looked back to the parchment.\n\n\"Sinister things are happening. Men and women abducted, bound and slain, a great bonfire. Newcomers with murder in their hearts. I don't know what to do. I know that my da was part of your Order, once, though he walked away along time ago, and he has spoken tome of you, Byrne, and you, Sig, with great affection. If that counts for anything, after so many years have passed, then I would ask for your help. I would ask you to help me bring my da justice. I have thought on leaving Kergard and coming to you in person, but my heart will not let me leave while my dais unavenged. '\n\nSig looked up, feeling her blood stir, a cold anger, a white flame in her belly. A silence filled the stable."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Little Drem,\" Keld whispered, \"Byrne's nephew."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Ben-Elim wanted him as award, and Byrne said no. You used to sit him on the Stone of Heroes so that he'd stop chopping at your shins while you were teaching sword-skills.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Sig smiled at the memory.\n\n\"What do you want to do?\" Cullen asked.\n\n\"I'm going to do as he asks, \"Sig said,\"Byrne wants her nephew back– I've had to talk her out of coming with me. She's needed herewith all that's happening. It sounds as if the Kadoshim are moving in the Desolation as well, so I'm going to poke a nose in and see what I can find. And more than that, I'm going to find some justice for my sword-brother and friend, Olin, and I'm going to bring Drem back to Dun Seren. He's one of us. Was born here. This is his home.\" She looked at them both. \"I'm asking you both to come with me. You're my crew.\" She shrugged. \"You don't have to. I know what the morrow is, would not think less of either of you for wanting to stay. '\n\n\"Of course I'm coming, ' Keld said, tightening his belt and looking fora cloak, as if he were going to walkout and head north right then and there.\n\n\"But, what about Midwinter's Day? The Remembrance? The feast. The drinking! ' Cullen said.\n\n\"We'll leave on the morrow, stay for the Naming, be away right after, long before highsun. '\n\n\"But, the evening feast, the toast to the fallen,\" Cullen said. He knew the weight that Sig put upon honouring their fallen sword-kin, but Sig suspected he also looked forward to the evening feast for his own reasons."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is good and right to honour the dead,\" Sig said. \"But I'll not turn my back on a brother that needs us. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "RIV\n\nCrows lurched into the air at Riv's arrival in the town square, squawking a raucous protest as they abandoned their grisly feast. A choked cry escaped from Riv's lips as she stared at the mound of heads. It stood twice as tall as her, wide at the base, steam curling up in clouds from the rotting skulls. Most had red holes for eyes, flesh ripped and torn into tatters, the dull gleam of bone beneath. A stench of decay and putrefaction rolled out from the mound clawing into Riv's nose and mouth like rotting fingers. She retched, turned away and vomited onto the dirt.\n\nThere was the sound of marching footsteps, growing louder, and somewhere above and behind her the rush of air, the beating of wings. The scrape of a sword drawn from its scabbard.\n\n\"Turn around, slowly,\" a voice said behind her, calm and cold. \"Reach for your blade and you'll die. '\n\nA jolt of fear like bright sunlight burned through the red haze that had been driving her feet and fogging her head. Suddenly cold to her toes, Riv turned slowly, making sure her hands stayed well away from her belt and the hilt of her dagger.\n\nKol was staring at her, white wings flexed, ready for flight, a bright sword levelled at her chest.\n\n\"Riv!\" he said, a frown marring his scarred face. \"You shouldn't be here. '\n\nWhat have I done? Think I'm going to save Aphra all on my own. Think I'm the hero of every story, she berated herself. I'm just an idiot girl who's ruled by her childish temper. Israfil is never going to allow me to pass my warrior trial."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What are you doing here?\" the Ben-Elim asked suspiciously.\n\n\"Being an idiot,\" Riv muttered. \"I was worried about Aphra,\" she added, fully aware of how stupid she sounded.\n\n\"You were given orders,\" Kol said.\n\n\"Aye,\" Riv said. \"I broke them.\"\n\nA silence, Kol's gaze intense, boring into her.\n\n\"Rules are not iron, and breaking them not always a sin,\" he said.\n\nRiv blinked at that. It was not the answer she'd been expecting from a Ben-Elim.\n\nThe noise of the approaching White-Wings filled the town square, almost upon them now. Kol's eyes twitched from Riv to the street the White-Wings were advancing from, then back to Riv.\n\n\"Get out of here,\" Kol said, jerking his head towards the street she'd run through to get here.\"Quickly; if you're seen, I can't help you. '\n\nRiv didn't need anymore encouragement. She leaped forwards, sprinting out of sight just as the first row of the White-Wings\" shield wall entered the courtyard. Slamming herself against a wall, she looked back, saw Kol give a beat of his wings and glide twenty paces towards the skulls. The White-Wings spread into the town square, scouts breaking off to search buildings, looking for any potential ambush, and other Ben-Elim dropped down from the skies.\n\nAphra appeared with her guard; orders were given, smaller units of tens breaking away, marching to the outskirts of the square, setting secure perimeters while Aphra, weapons drawn and prepared for battle, led her warriors past the mound of heads, their booted feet thudding on the timber steps of the feast-hall. Then she was disappearing into the shadowed doors, Riv straining her ears, heart beating heavy as a drum in her head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Be safe, be safe, Riv pleaded, eyes flitting back to the mound of heads.\n\nWhoever, or whatever, did this might still be here, might be waiting in the shadows of that feast-hall.\n\nAphra appeared in the doorway, sheathing her sword, and signalled that the building was clear. Riv released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.\n\nThere was the sound of more feet as the second hundred of White-Wings marched into the courtyard, led by Garidas. They split into smaller units, continuing the search of buildings and alleys around the courtyard, moving on towards the far end, and to where Riv was lurking.\n\nTime to go.\n\nRiv turned and ran back towards where she determined the main gates were. As she drew close she heard familiar voices, saw Jost and the other helpers moving into the town now that perimeters were set. She made her way as close as she could to them, always hugging the shadows, light and silent on her feet. As they passed her by, she stepped out and rejoined them. Jost pulled a relieved face.\n\n\"Thank Elyon you're back, \"he whispered.\"There's only so long I can tell people you're on a latrine break. '\n\n\"Thanks,\" she said and grinned at him.\n\nRiv sat close to Aphra, who was engaged in deep conversation with Garidas, Lorina and Kol.\n\nThey were sitting around afire-pit dug into the meadow that surrounded the town of Oriens.\n\nAll around the meadow fire-pits crackled, small oases of light in night's darkness. White-Wings were sitting and taking their meals, giants and Ben-Elim spread amongst them, the Ben-Elim looking as relaxed as she had ever seen them. It reminded her of the night in her own feast-hall back in Drassil, when she had seen Adonai with Estel. Something twisted in Riv's stomach, a sour taste in her mouth, and she pushed the memory away."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "There's enough darkness in this very day, without searching old memories to find it.\n\nGuards patrolled the line between meadow and forest, and above her Riv occasionally heard the whisper of wings, hoped that it was Ben-Elim, and not one of the huge blood-sucking bats that dwelt within the gloom of Forn.\n\nOr Kadoshim.\n\nRiv glanced at the walled town, silent and still. There was plenty of room in therefor the warriors, and the walls and roofs would have offered protection against the predators of the forest. But no one wanted to sleep within the walls of Oriens. The mound of heads had made an impression upon all of them. It was clearly the townsfolk, not just warriors or men who had taken up arms against a raider. Men, women, bairns, all were amongst the macabre, blood-soaked mound.\n\nKol had ordered the mound dismantled, in itself a grisly act, as a search for the bodies had been made, but none had been found before light had begun to fade. So a deep pit had been dug, Riv's hands blistered by the hard shovel work, and the heads were buried. Kol had spoken words from the Book of the Faithful over them.\n\n\"The unjust will laugh and mock the righteous, they may outlive their dark deeds by a day or a year, but the righteous will find them, and when they do, the unjust will tremble.\"\n\nVoices had called out agreement, oaths made to avenge the slain.\n\n\"Who would do such a thing?\" Jost whispered to Riv.\n\n\"Kadoshim,\" Riv breathed back to him.\n\nMust be. Who else would murder innocents, mutilate children and babies?"
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"value": "The smell came back to Riv unbidden, a vision of a tiny skull, red holes for eyes. She breathed deep and slow, controlling the lurching of her stomach.\n\n\"Ask Aphra,\" Jost urged her.\n\nShe looked at her sister, who was staring into the flames of the fire-pit, not involved in the conversation between Kol and Lorina. Garidas was silent, too, though his eyes were on Aphra, not the flames. Riv had long thought that he had more than a warrior's respect for her sister.\n\n\"Go on.\" Jost nudged Riv with his elbow.\n\n\"Is it Kadoshim?\" Riv leaned close and whispered in Aphra's ear.\n\nHer sister jumped as if stabbed, staring at Riv.\n\n\"I don't know, Riv. We found only the dead in Oriens, ' Aphra said, her voice clipped, as if she were straining to hold the rest in.\n\nKol glanced between Aphra and Riv.\n\n\"It's a dark, grievous thing that has been done here, ' Kol said, standing; others turned to listen. He looked at the faces about the fire-pit, all staring at him, washed in a blood-red flicker.\n\n\"Was it the Kadoshim?\" a voice asked. Jost.\n\nKol looked at Jost, the fledgling White-Wing standing still as stone, all sinew, stretched muscle and tendon. He looked ten shades of uncomfortable under the scrutiny of so many eyes.\n\n\"I don't know. This could well be the work of the Kadoshim, \"Kol said, a snarl twisting his features, his golden stubble glinting in the firelight.\"I can think of no other that would perform an atrocity such as this. '"
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"value": "That's what I thought.\n\n\"Whoever they are, we will find them,\" Garidas spoke up. He was a fine warrior, and a respected leader, though Riv considered him to be too serious, too obsessed with following the Lore's every dictate, and that was saying something, because she took the Way of Elyon more earnestly than most. As Riv watched him, his gaze flickered beyond Kol's wings to Aphra.\n\n\"As to the how of it,\" Kol continued. \"When the sunrises we search, we scour this place for tracks, signs as to who did this. Then we hunt them down. There will be a reckoning.\" He shrugged, his wings a rippled sigh with the motion, then strode into the darkness.\n\n\"There's your answer, then, ' Aphra said with a weary sigh to Riv.\n\n\"What's wrong with you? \"Riv said, sitting next to her sister.\"Is it something I've done?\"\n\nAphra gave her along look. \"No,\" she said eventually.\n\n\"Then wha-\"\n\n\"Leave it,\" Aphra snapped, quiet and cold. \"The world does not revolve around you and your woes, Riv. Shocking as it may seem, people have troubles of their own.\"\n\nRiv stared at her, then stood and marched off.\n\nSick of being Aphra's training post. Thinks she can takeout her anger on me!\n\nShe heard footsteps behind her, hoped it was Aphra following her. She didn't like how cold and distant her sister had become, wanted her to go back to normal.\n\nI suppose Mam is right, though. Leading is hard. Especially at times like this."
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"value": "She looked back over her shoulder and saw Jost hurrying up behind her, felt a rush of disappointment that it wasn't her sister.\n\n\"What do you want?\" she said to Jost, more curtly than she meant it to sound.\n\n\"Shouldn't be walking around on your own, \"Jost said stoutly.\"Orders. Safety in numbers, those giant bats of Forn... '\n\nRiv knew that. \"Orders aren't iron, ' she said, though, and stalked on.\n\nThe camp was contained to the meadow and road, neatly ordered rows of tents, a paddock roped off for the horses, wains on the raised embankment of the road. Riv was stomping along close to the paddocks, only a few hundred paces from the trees of Forn which loomed like dark cliffs.\n\nRiv knew Jost was right, and she had no intention of wandering off alone into the dark. The mound of heads in Oriens had left its mark. And she was glad of Jost's company, at least it meant he cared whether Riv lived or died. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shift a dull ache in her back, high, between her shoulder blades.\n\nMust've pulled a muscle climbing that tree.\n\nThey walked pasta group of White-Wings gathered around afire– the paddock guards, part of Lorina's hundred. Some of them were singing; one invited them over, but Riv walked on.\n\n\"Hold,\" a voice rang out before them; two figures stepped out of the darkness, spears in their fists. Two White-Wings standing guard duty. One of them was Vald. He looked tense, his eyes constantly scanning the gloom and shifting shadows within the forest.\n\n\"Don't stray so close to the trees, \"the other one said, an older warrior from Garidas\" hundred."
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"value": "\"They're all right, ' Vald said.\n\n\"Aye. Of course they are, they're going to be White-Wings. Won't stop them being eaten by one of Forn's hungry mouths, though, or snatched by a Kadoshim, or whatever it was did that to those in the town. \"He looked pointedly at Riv and Jost.\"Back to the meadow, eh? '\n\n\"As you asked so nicely,\" Riv said, and they started back, soon reaching the road guards. They were still in their cups, songs louder and more slurred.\n\n\"Aren't they the two fledglings that failed their warrior trial? ' a slurring voice said.\n\n\"Ignore them,\" Jost whispered.\n\n\"Run back to your sister's apron strings, ' one of them said, pointing at Riv, then he fell over, laughing.\n\nRiv scowled at the warriors, a mixture of young and old. The one who'd fallen over climbed back to his feet, only a few years older than her. Jost was pulling on her arm and she gave a frustrated sigh, stamping down the ever-present rage that had begun to burn again. She turned away with Jost and began to walkaway.\n\n\"Fly along, little fledglings,\" another guard said, making a flapping motion. \"Get back to Big Sister before it's too late. ' The one who had fallen over laughed so hard it sounded like he was crying.\n\nRiv twisted on her heel and marched towards them, the rage descending like a red mist again.\n\n\"What?\" Jost said. \"Riv, what're you doing? Riv, no, comeback, Riv. Riv, please. ' He hurried after her, snatched at her arm but she pulled it away."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "\"So, which one of you arse-wipes wants to go first?\" Riv asked, glaring at them all.\n\n\"Eh?\"\n\n\"Just ignore her,\" Jost said, pulling at Riv's arm.\n\n\"Listen to your friend,\" one of the other guards, a sharp-nosed man, less in his cups than the others.\n\n\"Aye, listen to that bag of string and run along,\" said another, a woman, a scar running from eye to jaw. \"No doubt you'll be a White-Wing soon enough– your sister will make sure of that, even though you don't deserve it.\" She looked Jost up and down. \"What is he, anyway? Your guard-stick?\"\n\n\"Bag of string? Guard-stick?\" Jost said.\n\n\"You first, then,\" Riv said and leaped at the woman.\n\nShe crashed into the warrior, the two of them rolling together, Riv throwing punches and using elbows all the while. Someone grabbed her collar, hoisting her away. A glimpse of Jost punching someone flush on the chin.\n\nHe has long arms, as they're finding out, Riv thought, feeling a rush of joy sweep through her, a grin splitting her face as she let the frustrations in her bubble over into a physical release of violence. She twisted in the grip about her neck, knee lashing out, connecting with something soft. There was a whoosh of air and a gurgled groan and she was no longer being held. People all around her, faces, limbs, all one long, furious, blurred drunken dance. She threw punches and kicks, felt some land, dimly, through her euphoria, saw a flash of a face that looked like Vald.\n\nCouldn't have been."
},
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"value": "And then, abruptly, she was airborne, weightless, legs kicking, the snarl of bodies below her stopping in mid-punch or kick."
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"value": "She saw Jost upon the floor, someone's arm around his neck, but he had another's leg in his grip, his mouth open to bite their calf.\n\nThe rushing of air about her, a sound. She looked up, saw broad white wings beating, Kol's grim face looking down at her.\n\nDawn was close, a grey stain seeping across the horizon, turning the solid black of night into shifting shadows. Riv's mouth throbbed, pains everywhere clamouring for her attention and she put a hand to her face, felt a cut on her lip, a loose tooth.\n\nShe was in a wain with the baggage train, her head on a grain sack, peering out through a slot in the wain's tall sides. It was the closest to an isolation cell that Kol had been able to find at short notice. Jost and Vald had their very own wains a few score of paces away. Riv could hear Vald snoring, could hear the rhythmic shaking and rattling of his wain's brackets as if they were in a storm.\n\nIt had been Vald's face she'd seen in fight last night. He'd seen what had happened and come rushing, diving bodily into the melee.\n\nHe's a good friend, coming to help like that. And now he's in isolation for deserting his post!\n\nMust control my temper, must control my temper, Riv recited to herself, over and over.\n\nIf I don't get my temper under control I'll never get to pass my warrior trial. I'll never even get to take it. When Israfil hears about this...\n\nShe punched the side of the wain, hissed a string of curses and then sighed, setting about removing the splinters from her knuckles."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A whisper of wings, a silhouette blotting out the grey of dawn, and then Kol was alighting inside the wain, sitting down so that he was hidden from view from outside the wain, his great wings wrapping around him. He stared at Riv, his dark eyes fixing her, golden hair shimmering in the first glow of the sun.\n\n\"Disobeying orders and sneaking into Oriens. Fighting guards. Let's go back a little. Fighting on the weapons-field. Further. Fighting in the feast-hall, kicking your friend in the stones. Back further. You punch Israfil, the Lord Protector of the Ben-Elim, Overseer of the Land of the Faithful, in the face. \"His lips twitched at the last.\"It would seem you have anger issues, Riv. \"He shook his head.\"What am Ito do with you? '\n\nA silence settled between them, just his stare.\n\n\"Was that a rhetorical question?\" she eventually asked, uncomfortable, \"or do you want me to answer?\"\n\nKol snorted a laugh at that. He laughed a lot, judging by the creases at his eyes.\n\n\"I can only help you so much– like today in the market square. You must help yourself.\"\n\n\"Why do you care?\" Riv grunted. She knew it was churlish as soon as she said it, but she seemed to be doing a lot of things like that lately. Acting, speaking, doing, before thinking.\n\n\"I like you, Riv.\" Kol shrugged. \"You have spirit. I can see your mam in you, and your sister, and that is no insult. But keep on like this and you'll never make the White-Wings. '\n\n\"I know,\" said Riv with a frustrated sigh. \"And that is my greatest, my only wish.\""
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"value": "\"Then let me help you make it come true,\" he whispered.\n\n\"You would help me?\"\n\n\"Yes. If I can. But you must help yourself, too. Start by stopping your brawling. It won't do. It's spoiling your looks.\" He smiled then, a flash of white teeth and Riv felt herself blushing. Starlight highlighted the arch of his eyebrows and cheekbones, making the scar that ran from forehead to china dark valley. Somehow it made his face more handsome, different from the Ben-Elim's perfection. And fierce. She was glad the sun hadn't risen so far that Kol could see her blush. He reached a handout, fingers brushing the cut on her lip. Riv fought the instinct to pull away, would have, if not for the wain's board behind her head. Something about his touch sent a shiver through her.\n\n\"You are so different from Israfil,\" she whispered, scared by his touch, the smile in his eyes, enjoying it, too.\n\n\"He is too serious,\" Kol whispered, fingertips still brushing her cut lip. \"This life of flesh, there is so much more to it than his constant frowning and his fixation with the Lore.\"\n\nRiv smiled, snorted a shocked laugh.\n\n\"I thought the Lore was everything,\" she said.\n\n\"Is it?\" Kol said. \"The Kadoshim must be exterminated, it is the only way to fulfil our Holy Calling, to protect mankind. But as for the rest...\" He shrugged, a ripple of his wings. His fingers moved away from her lip, a caress on her cheek.\n\nFootsteps, soft, a shape looming over the wain's side.\n\n\"Riv-\" her sister said as she looked into the wain, then froze, stared from Riv to Kol."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"No,\" she said, a quiet voice, cold as winter, face hard and flat, but Riv could seethe sudden fury in her eyes."
},
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"value": "\"No,\" she repeated, some of that fury leaking into her voice.\n\nKol smiled at Aphra as he stood, stretched luxuriously. With a beat of his wings he was airborne, a silhouette against the rising sun.\n\nAphra stared at Riv, her mouth twitching, though nothing came out.\n\nHorns sounded, announcing the change of guard and the coming of morning.\n\nIt's Midwinter's Day, Riv realized.\n\nTrees blotted out the day as Riv entered Forn. It was close to highsun, and she was marching information with the other fledglings of Aphra's hundred, all of them equipped with shield and spear.\n\nScouts had worked through Oriens and out onto the surrounding area as soon as dawn had arrived and, not long after, evidence of a trail had been discovered on the north-eastern side of the town, leading into Forn Forest. Kol had sent two score White-Wings into scout the path while the rest of the three contingents prepared to march.\n\nAs they did, Kol had alighted on the wall of Oriens and addressed them all, a stirring speech of justice for the slain, of Elyon's judgement upon the murderers. He quoted from the Book of the Faithful again, more about the iniquities of the Fallen catching up with them, of justice and blood. Then he ordered that the fledglings be equipped for battle and accompany the search into Forn. Riv had seen Aphra's frown, but not known whether it was from worry for Riv's safety, or for some other reason.\n\nAnd now they were marching into Forn, shadow and leaf all about.\n\nHas Kol done this for me? Is this what he meant, when he said he would try to make my dream come true?"
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"value": "It was like a dream, a thrill coursing through her as she'd stepped into line and lifted her shield, Jost beside her. To her left there was aloud crack as a branch snapped, a giant appearing between trees. They were spread to either side of the White-Wings\" ragged column, impossible to keep tightly regimented in this terrain.\n\nAnd on they marched, deeper into Forn.\n\nSomething changed about them. Riv was at first unsure what the change was. Then she realized.\n\nIt had become silent.\n\nNo birdsong, no insects. And with it, a tension in the air, thick and stifling.\n\nA horn blast, the front of the column halting, the rest rippling to a stop behind.\n\n\"What's happening? ' Jost said, peering along the line.\n\n\"You're taller than me, \"Riv said.\"All I can see is someone's back. And Jost, I wanted to give you my thanks, for last night.\"\n\n\"You're my sword-kin, what are friends for, eh? ' he said, smiling, one eye half-closed, a purple bruise circling it.\n\n\"Your poor eye,\" she said.\n\n\"Ah, it's not so bad. I'd rather that than wake up this morning with teeth marks in my ankle, like one of their lot has had to do.\"\n\nThey both laughed at that, receiving strict looks from a White-Wing in the ranks ahead.\n\nAnother horn blast and then the column was moving on again. Suddenly, Riv saw what had caused them to stop.\n\nThey had found the bodies of the townsfolk. From an overhanging tree branch hung a body. A noose about one ankle, it was headless, skinned and gutted like a boar ready for the spit. Riv had to force herself to look away as they marched beneath it and on into the forest."
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"value": "As they pushed on, more bodies were visible, hanging from branches, swaying, dangling, chewed upon by things that flew or climbed.\n\nThey are like markers showing the way.\n\nWhich is worrying. Is this an ambush? Are we marching to our slaughter?\n\nRiv felt fear tingling through her veins, but also excitement, the thought that she might finally fight the Kadoshim. She felt as if she were born to do that. The one thing that she existed to do.\n\nAnd then they found them.\n\nBodies in a small clearing, hundreds upon hundreds heaped upon each other in a tangled, stinking pile. Crows and flies rose in a buzzing, croaking cloud, the stench of rot rolling out from the dead like a wave. Jost was not the only one to empty his guts into a bush.\n\nOrders were barked, Balur One-Eye appearing out of the gloom. All were mindful of an ambush, eyeing the trees suspiciously, horns blowing and the White-Wings splitting, some moving to help Balur and his giants as they went about setting up a perimeter, giants hacking at thinner trees, White-Wings using machetes and axes to chop at vine and brush, pushing the forest back a little, clearing a defensible space. The other White-Wings and fledglings merged into a circular defensive formation, weapons bristling outwards, while Kol and his captains stood and consulted near the pile of the dead.\n\nRiv scanned the forest, her spear clutched ready, her eyes drifting higher, aware that Kadoshim could strike from any angle, any direction. She saw a Ben-Elim swooping through branches high above. The more she stared, the more she thought."
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"value": "There's no one here, except the dead.\n\nIt doesn't seem right, Riv thought. For whoever it is to do this, even to go as far as marking the way to this spot. The trail of bodies. Why go to all this trouble? It must bean ambush. Why else would we have been lured out here.\n\nWhy else would they want us here.\n\nAnd then it hither.\n\nSo faraway from Drassil."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "BLEDA\n\nBleda's eyes snapped open.\n\nSomething's wrong.\n\nIt was dark, his eyes taking awhile to adjust, some instinct telling him it was the small hours between midnight and dawn, though he could not be sure. And his head hurt.\n\nToo much wine.\n\nBut it has been Midwinter's Day.\n\nThen he heard it. Faint cries.\n\nWhat?\n\nHe swung his legs out of bed, feet cold on the stone floor. Embers still glowed in his fire-pit, a half-light that he dressed by, swiftly pulling on breeches and boots, a wool tunic, reaching instinctively for his belt with his bow-case and quiver of arrows.\n\nI feel like someone made anew, since Riv returned my bow tome.\n\nJust at the thought of it he felt a tremor of emotion that threatened to undo his cold-face. It took a few moments to master it.\n\nMore cries, louder. Boots thudding on stone.\n\nHe padded to his window and opened the shutter, shivered at a blast of frost-filled air and looked out into the starlit street. White-Wings were running, still in loose formation, but running.\n\nThey never run. They march everywhere. Even to bed, most likely.\n\nScreams on the night air. The clash of steel. Bleda felt a jolt of fear, a shock.\n\nDeath, battle, in unassailable Drassil, heart of the Ben-Elim.\n\nHe left his chamber, his heart thumping in his chest, and found Jin standing in the doorway of their shared house. Their guards, usually half a dozen White-Wings that dwelt in the same building, were nowhere to be seen."
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"value": "\"They ran off, towards the gates,\" Jin hissed, an answer to his look at the empty guardroom where water in an iron pot was bubbling over flames in the hearth. \"What's happening? '\n\n\"We're being attacked, ' Bleda said.\n\n\"Who?\"\n\nHe just shrugged.\n\nA raid? A full-on assault?\n\n\"Let's go find out, ' Jin said, stepping into the street, breath misting in the starlit night. She looked excited by the prospect, one hand resting on the hilt of along dagger sheathed at her belt. Bleda followed, as it was exactly what he had intended to do, anyway.\n\nThey slipped through the darkness of Drassil, the ancient trees'branches swaying high above, sending shadows shifting across the flagstoned streets. The clamour of battle rose in volume, and then they were at the courtyard before Drassil's gates. Bleda pulled Jin into a darkened alcove.\n\nBefore them was a scene of chaos.\n\nThe gates were open, flames flaring high from one of the oil-filled braziers that burned day and night, and smoke and flame crackled and spilt from one of the stables edging the courtyard. Horses screamed within.\n\nCombat ranged about the courtyard, steel clanging. Shapes of men silhouetted by flame were fighting, wrestling, as a wave of dark-cloaked figures surged through the open gates, hundreds, it seemed to Bleda, though it was hard to tell through the smoke and flame. White-Wings were forming their shield wall, more shields locking into place with every moment, and then a horn blast and they were slipping fluidly into movement, pressing towards the gates, the dark-cloaked enemy falling before their short stabbing blades."
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"value": "Two figures crashed into a wall nearby, came careening towards them, a White-Wing and a Dark-Cloak. There was a wet, punching noise and the White-Wing fell at their feet, blood bursting from his mouth, black in the starlight. The Dark-Cloak stood over his enemy, his hood fallen away to reveal a pale-faced man, shaven-haired and wild-eyed. He looked about for more White-Wings to kill and threw himself back into the battle.\n\n\"Stay back,\" Bleda hissed at Jin when she took a step forwards, \"you've only got a knife. '\n\n\"And you've your present, I see, ' Jin said, notable to hide an edge of venom from her voice as she glanced at the bow in his hand.\n\nJin had been awestruck when she saw Bleda's bow, a little less so when she'd heard where it had come from.\n\n\"All these years she's kept it from you, ' Jin had said.\n\n\"She has,\" Bleda had agreed. \"But she has given it tome now.\" And Jin had seen something in his eyes then that she hadn't liked. Not one little bit. Ever since then Jin had hidden it well, but whenever he used his bow or spoke of it her voice had been gilded with spite, veiled threads of jealousy leaking from her.\n\nJealous of his bow, or of Riv, he did not know.\n\n\"Don't worry for my safety, \"Jin said as she stood over the dead White-Wing, turning the fallen man's head with her foot. \"I just wanted to make sure he's dead. I have no intention of getting involved. Let them kill each other, what do I care? Good, I say. The world is better for fewer Ben-Elim and White-Wings. '"
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"value": "A short while ago and Bleda would have agreed without thought, but now, at Jin's words the first image to flash into his mind was Riv.\n\nA fledgling White-Wing.\n\nHe had missed her since she'd been gone, over a ten-night, which had surprised him, but now he just felt a sense of relief that she was not here, was not fighting, risking death in this courtyard.\n\nThough she maybe no safer, wherever she is.\n\nHe pushed the thought away, brought back to the present by another death-scream.\n\nHow did they get inhere? Get the gates open, take Drassil by surprise? And where are the Ben-Elim?\n\nAs if answering his thoughts, he felt the air shift above him, saw shadows flitting across the sky.\n\nBut they weren't Ben-Elim.\n\nBleda knew it in a moment. The shape of them was different, their outline– silvered by starlight above, red-flamed glow from below– looked wrong, somehow. Their wings were ragged and thin, like wind-torn clouds after a storm, and they were edged in sharp-curved talons.\n\nKadoshim!\n\nEven as he thought it, one of the winged figures was descending to the ground, only fifteen, twenty paces from Bleda and Jin. And it was carrying something in its long arms, another figure that it as good as hurled into a knot of White-Wings who were forming a small shield wall of a dozen men, calling others to them.\n\nThe figure thrown into their midst scattered them like kindling, roaring a battle-cry as the White-Wings scrambled to their feet. Its arms swung, some kind of sickle-like blade in its hand, and ahead was spinning through the air. Then it leaped at two more White-Wings, the three of them crashing to the ground in a roaring tangle of limbs."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Kadoshim alighted between them and Bleda, its wings furling behind it with a snap, a rush of air that tasted of the grave, of rot and decay. Bleda and Jin just stood and stared at the creature. All his life Bleda had heard of the Kadoshim, dread foes of the Ben-Elim, their opposite in every way. But no tale had prepared him for the sight of one in the flesh, living, breathing, stinking, just ten paces away. It was taller than a man, black eyes set in a reptilian face, fixing upon him, dark veins cobwebbing its pallid flesh. Its face shifted, smile or snarl, Bleda was unsure, revealing white, pointed teeth, and it strode towards them, drawing a sword from its scabbard, dark wings framing it like a cloak.\n\n\"Kill it!\" Jin hissed beside him, but Bleda was frozen, those black eyes burning into him. He felt the closeness of death, a cold breath down the back of his neck. He fumbled desperately with the arrows in his grip, dropped them clattering about his feet, beside him Jin moved into a fighting stance, knees bent, her knife gleaming in her fist.\n\nThe Kadoshim raised its sword.\n\nBleda nocked an arrow to his bow, fingers feeling numb, swollen, like when he'd been stung by a bee. He tried to draw his arrow, aim, knew he was too slow, too late, the Kadoshim's shadow falling across him, the stench of its breath filling his senses, and all Bleda could do was stare into its pale-as-death face.\n\nJin stepped forwards, crouched, knife levelled. She hissed a challenge.\n\nAn axe slammed into the Kadoshim's skull, its head gone in a heartbeat, an explosion of blood and bone and brains, the axe continuing its descent, carving down deeper, through clavicle bone, sternum and ribs, on and into its chest cavity. Then the axe-blade was being ripped free, the Kadoshim collapsing to the ground with a wet slap, blood steaming. A figure appeared in its place."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "Alcyon, covered in blood.\n\n\"Get out of here,\" the giant shouted at him, gesturing for Bleda and Jin to flee. Then he was turning and wading into the fight, other giants appearing, Ethlinn striding into the courtyard wearing a gleaming coat of mail, along spear in her fists.\n\nThe air above was suddenly full of movement, more Kadoshim winging overhead. And other shapes, winged, but their outlines shorter and less reptilian, more human.\n\nLike the half-breed that attacked Israfil.\n\nThe pale gleam of white feathers reflected starlight as Ben-Elim appeared, the din of steel clashing, shapes swirling, Ben-Elim and Kadoshim spiralled through the night sky, stabbing and chopping and screaming at each other.\n\nBleda felt overwhelmed, chaos, confusion and death a whirling maelstrom all about. He felt he couldn't breathe.\n\nHe turned and ran from the courtyard a dozen paces, a score, two score, the tumult receding quickly behind him. He paused, hands on his knees, sucking in deep breaths.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Jin said behind him. \"Don't leave, I want to watch! '\n\nHe felt better now, his head clearing, angry with himself. Ashamed of his fear.\n\nThe whisper of wings overhead, a swift shadow, and Bleda looked up, glimpsed a Kadoshim flying deeper into Drassil, carrying a figure in its arms, more of them, too dark to count.\n\nWhere are they going?\n\n\"Get Alcyon,\" he said to Jin and ran off after the disappearing Kadoshim.\n\nWithin moments the streets were silent, the battle seemingly focused and contained within the courtyard. Bleda caught a glimpse of dull metal up above, more Kadoshim and half-breeds flying overhead, all clutching a warrior-passenger in their arms, moving in the same direction as he'd guessed the other ones to be flying. Deeper into the fortress."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Helping the author, keep the tale going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Dread\nChapter: 34"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alcyon, covered in blood.\n\n\"Get out of here,\" the giant shouted at him, gesturing for Bleda and Jin to flee. Then he was turning and wading into the fight, other giants appearing, Ethlinn striding into the courtyard wearing a gleaming coat of mail, along spear in her fists.\n\nThe air above was suddenly full of movement, more Kadoshim winging overhead. And other shapes, winged, but their outlines shorter and less reptilian, more human.\n\nLike the half-breed that attacked Israfil.\n\nThe pale gleam of white feathers reflected starlight as Ben-Elim appeared, the din of steel clashing, shapes swirling, Ben-Elim and Kadoshim spiralled through the night sky, stabbing and chopping and screaming at each other.\n\nBleda felt overwhelmed, chaos, confusion and death a whirling maelstrom all about. He felt he couldn't breathe.\n\nHe turned and ran from the courtyard a dozen paces, a score, two score, the tumult receding quickly behind him. He paused, hands on his knees, sucking in deep breaths.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Jin said behind him. \"Don't leave, I want to watch! '\n\nHe felt better now, his head clearing, angry with himself. Ashamed of his fear.\n\nThe whisper of wings overhead, a swift shadow, and Bleda looked up, glimpsed a Kadoshim flying deeper into Drassil, carrying a figure in its arms, more of them, too dark to count.\n\nWhere are they going?\n\n\"Get Alcyon,\" he said to Jin and ran off after the disappearing Kadoshim.\n\nWithin moments the streets were silent, the battle seemingly focused and contained within the courtyard. Bleda caught a glimpse of dull metal up above, more Kadoshim and half-breeds flying overhead, all clutching a warrior-passenger in their arms, moving in the same direction as he'd guessed the other ones to be flying. Deeper into the fortress."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Where?\n\nAnd then he knew, as he ran skidding into another courtyard, this one all but empty, the huge domed walls of Drassil's great keep rising before him. Bodies lay scattered upon the steps, a Kadoshim or two, some Dark-Cloaks, and White-Wings. Blood steamed, clouds of it in the cold night air.\n\nAnd from out of the open doors echoed the sounds of battle.\n\nAsroth.\n\nBleda had visited Drassil's Great Hall on his very first day with Israfil. The Ben-Elim had shown him the iron-clad Asroth and Meical upon their dais before the trunk of the great tree. He had stood quietly and listened as Israfil told the story of the Seven Treasures, how both Asroth and Meical were encased by some dread spell during the Battle of Drassil, maybe alive, maybe dead, forever imprisoned, and under eternal guard. It had just seemed like a faery tale to him, an excuse for the Ben-Elim to enslave the people of the Banished Lands.\n\nUntil now.\n\nAbruptly, terrifyingly, he entertained the thought that it was all true. That Asroth was real.\n\nAnd the Kadoshim are hereto free him.\n\nBleda ran, then, leaping up the wide stone steps, over the dead. At the open gates he stopped and peered in. The floor of the Great Hall was lit by huge iron braziers, blue flame blazing from giant oil, giving the chamber an eerie, dreamlike quality.\n\nThere was a guard of giants about the statues within, a score of them in ringmail, wielding war-hammers and axes, ranged in a half-circle before the dais upon which stood the statues of Asroth and Meical, and they were beset by Kadoshim, half-breeds, Dark-Cloaks, and... other things."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some were men, shaven-haired warriors, fighting with a frenzied, heedless energy. But there were also human-like creatures, shambling and disjointed, arms too long for their bodies, nails curved and long as claws. Bleda saw three of them attacking a giant, acting like a pack of wolves, darting in and outwith tooth and claw, hamstringing the giant and then ripping at his throat with their claws. As the giant fell, one of them raised his head and howled.\n\nIn the air of the great dome Ben-Elim flew, a dozen of them at least, though they were falling even as Bleda looked on, outnumbered and locked in swooping, spiralling aerial combat with Kadoshim.\n\nFear breathed upon his neck once more, a cold fist contracting in his belly.\n\nThis is not your fight. Kadoshim, Ben-Elim, they do not belong here. Let them kill each other, as Jin said, and rejoice in it.\n\nIt is not your fight.\n\nHe looked at the splayed corpse of a Kadoshim close to his feet, dead eyes staring, dark veins mapping its face and arms.\n\nThe Ben-Elim are bad, but these Kadoshim...\n\nThey are worse!\n\nIn his mind's eye he saw the one in the courtyard, sword raised high, malice radiating from its every pore like mist. The thought of them setting Asroth free, of what they would do if they won against the Ben-Elim, sent shivers down his spine.\n\nHe looked over his shoulder, hoping to see Alcyon leading a host of giants and White-Wings into the courtyard. But there was only stillness and silence.\n\nHe reached into his quiver, pulled out three arrows and stepped into Drassil's Great Hall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On the floor below, many of the giants were down, the survivors drawing tighter about the iron-black statues of Asroth and Meical, Dark-Cloaks and the things with them throwing themselves at the giants, Kadoshim swooping down from above.\n\nBleda raised his bow, nocked and loosed without thinking; a Kadoshim shrieked, arching in mid-air, then tumbling, limbs loose, crashing to the stone floor. He paused, realizing it was the first time he had shot at a living foe, the first enemy life he had taken. The weight of that shivered through him.\n\nScreams drew him back to himself. He shook his head and focused. Nocked an arrow and loosed again, a Dark-Cloak stumbling and falling, another arrow, another Dark-Cloak down.\n\nMore arrows from his quiver as he padded down the wide steps that led to the chamber's floor. Another Dark-Cloak falling with an arrow in his back. Then a Kadoshim saw him, shrieking a warning, and some of the Dark-Cloaks on the ground looked up at him.\n\nHalf a dozen of them, more, turned and ran at him, the Dark-Cloaks screeching battle-cries, the beasts with them disturbingly silent.\n\nBreathe. Don't panic. It's like shooting rats in the salt gorge.\n\nNock, draw, release. Nock, draw, release.\n\nA Dark-Cloak down in a spray of blood. Another doubling over, an arrow in the gut.\n\nEasier when they're running straight at me.\n\nNock, draw, release.\n\nSparks as an arrowhead crunched into stone, his first miss."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Though the fact they're coming to kill me isn't helpful for my concentration.\n\nAn arrow thumping into a shoulder, spinning a Dark-Cloak.\n\nNock, draw, release. Nock, draw, release.\n\nOne of the shambling creatures dropped to one knee, Bleda's arrow lodged in the meat between neck and shoulder. Another arrow skittering on stone, his second miss.\n\nJin would laugh to see those shots.\n\nThere was a slap of wind in his face and he instinctively ducked, a Kadoshim's sword from above just missing where his head had been. He fell, rolling, dropping arrows, desperately clutching his bow. Gasping, he regained his feet and leaped away, running a dozen paces down the tiered steps as the Kadoshim came after him. He tugged an arrow from his belt-quiver, loosing wildly, the Kadoshim veering away, the arrow piercing its leathery wing. Bleda was dimly aware of the surviving Dark-Cloaks and their companions still charging at him. Much closer now. Grabbing at the remaining arrows in his quiver, only a few left, he backed away, pausing to nock and aim, loosing, one shot slamming into a Dark-Cloak's chest, hurling him to the ground.\n\nTwo figures were still running at him, only twenty paces away, the shambling, loping things the Kadoshim had flown across Drassil's walls. Bleda starred into the face of the wild-eyed man, if you could call him that. There was a feral, soulless cast to him, teeth bared in a snarl, canines worryingly sharp, nails grown long and black, thicker than they should be, limbs having a stretched appearance, running in a loping, shambling gait, as if its bones had grown overnight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda readied himself, nocked and aimed, put an arrow into the man's chest, at less than twenty paces, the force of it hurling him backwards, head over feet, down the wide steps. Bleda had another arrow nocked and was aiming at the last Feral when he saw the first one rise, stagger to his feet, shake himself like a wounded hound, and then the eyes were fixing onto him. It sent a jolt of fear lancing through Bleda.\n\nThat should have killed him. What are they?\n\nHe adjusted his aim, away from the closer attacker, back to this difficult-to-kill creature, loosed, his arrow leaping from the bow. Bleda knew it was good without needing to see it land, shuffling back to make time for the last Feral.\n\nHis arrow punched into the first creature's eye, sending it tumbling, limbs boneless. This time, to his relief, it didn't get backup.\n\nHe nocked another arrow quickly, shifting to aim at the last Feral, but too late. It was upon him, a crunching impact, launching him through the air with a moment's weightlessness, then a bone-jarring impact as his shoulder slammed into stone. Breathless, he lost his grip on the bow, then the man-beast was on top of him, claws reaching for his throat, scouring his chest, pain erupting like lines of fire; hot, fetid breath in his face as far-too-long teeth snapped a handspan from his jaw. He kicked and punched, pain lancing up his shoulder, writhed and bucked in the thing's grip, felt those long claws seeking out his throat, moving inexorably closer.\n\nI will not die like this!"
},
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"from": "human",
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},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His grasping hands made contact with a loose arrow on the floor and he grabbed for it desperately, punched it into the side of the creature's head, into its cheek, ripped it out, stabbed again, saw teeth through the gash. The creature barely seemed to notice. He stabbed again and again before it howled, jaws open wide, its red maw of a mouth all jagged teeth, and bit into his shoulder.\n\nThe pain was shocking, a burning, tearing agony...\n\nThen large hands were around his attacker's neck, hauling it off, the creature tearing chunks of flesh from his shoulder, as Alcyon held the spitting, snarling thing in the air then hurled it away. It hit stone, rolled, scrambled to its feet far too agilely and then it was running at them. Alcyon stepped in front of Bleda with a roar, his twin axes windmilling, hacking into the creature's shoulder and waist. It collapsed, howling, Alcyon putting a boot onto its head to wrench his blades free. The thing on the ground twisted, tried to bite into his foot, somehow still refusing to die.\n\nAnother axe blow and it spasmed, one foot drumming, then was finally still.\n\nBehind Alcyon Ben-Elim were sweeping through the wide-open doors, White-Wings beneath them in a shield wall, marching out of the darkness of the courtyard, down the stone steps into the blue-flicker madness of the Great Hall.\n\n\"Here, lad,\" Alcyon said, offering the blood-soaked shaft of one of his axes for Bleda to pull himself upright. His shoulder was screaming its pain at him, nausea lurching in his belly, but all he could think of was his bow. He'd dropped it, had glimpsed it skittering across stone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There.\n\nHe stumbled down a dozen steps, over halfway to the chamber floor now, and swept it up.\n\nSomeone grabbed his arm, spun him around.\n\n\"You could have died!\" Jin said to him furiously, looking as if she wanted to slap him.\n\n\"Still could,\" he muttered, pulling his arm free, the battle din echoing loud and furious.\n\nThe new wave of White-Wings, giants and Ben-Elim had hit the battle on the chamber floor, and though the fighting was fierce, it did not look as if it would last long, the Dark-Cloaks and their Feral companions outnumbered and flanked now. Although, even as Bleda stared, he saw the shrinking line of giant guards around the statue of Asroth and Meical fracture and break apart into islands of melee-like combat.\n\nOne figure drew his eye. A tall Dark-Cloak, hood falling back as he leaped onto the dais. Slim and athletic, fair hair shaved to stubble on his head. He drew a sword from a scabbard; something about it was strange, the metal a dull, sheen-less black. The warrior strode to the figure of Asroth and lifted the blade. His lips moved, the clamour in the chamber was too great to hear anything, but again, there was something wrong about it.\n\nNo!\n\nBleda reached inside his quiver, only one arrow left, and nocked it. Drew it, an explosion of pain in his shoulder where the Feral had bitten him.\n\nBlack smoke hissed from the sword.\n\nBleda gritted his teeth, drew and loosed, hoped his aim was good.\n\nA moment as he held his breath."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The arrow struck the man in his shoulder, staggering him, dropping the sword.\n\nBleda grinned.\n\nA Kadoshim alighted beside the shaven-haired man, this one standing out from the others, bigger, a greater sense of menace and power about it. It hauled the warrior Bleda had shot back to his feet, and together they gripped the black sword's hilt and touched its blade against the starstone metal that encased Asroth and Meical. Then they began to chant.\n\n\"Cumhacht cloch star, a rugadh ar an domhan eile, a leagtar aingeal dorcha saor in aisce.\" Though Bleda did not understand their words they chilled his blood. The chanting continued, rising in volume over the din of battle, the same phrase, again and again.\n\nAnd then the black sword began to glow, tendrils of red veins spiralling through it, up, seeping into the starstone metal that encased Asroth and Meical.\n\n\"AINGEAL DUBH,\" a voice bellowed, Ethlinn striding into the chamber, spear in her hand. \"Ar ais go dtí an dorchadas, cumhacht réalta cloiche,\" the Queen of the Giants cried, and Bleda swore that fora heartbeat her eyes glowed, a bright flash.\n\nThe Kadoshim and the shaven-haired acolyte swayed, the red seams in Asroth's tomb retreating, shrinking back into the black sword.\n\nThey redoubled their chanting, the red veins grew again.\n\nIsrafil flew into the chamber, alighting beside Ethlinn, taking up her chant, power emanating from them like a heat haze. The red threads dwindled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Kadoshim snarled, releasing the sword, turning and hurling a spear at Israfil."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ethlinn deflected it with her own spear, sent it skittering across stone.\n\nThe acolyte with the black sword glanced around, saw their war party dwindling, Ethlinn and Israfil marching towards them.\n\nThey are beaten, and they know it.\n\nBleda saw something pass across his face, a shouted word to the Kadoshim, who leaped into the air, powerful wings taking it higher. The acolyte swept up the black sword in both hands and raised it high. Brought it down onto Asroth's arm.\n\nThere was a moment when all sound seemed to be sucked from the room, like an indrawn breath, and then a huge noise, like a tree splintering, followed immediately by a detonation of air that exploded outwards from the dais in an ever-expanding ring, knocking all in its way flat. Bleda had a half-moment to feel fear, and then the wall of air was crashing into him, hurling him from his feet, his back slamming into stone. He saw Jin thrown to the floor as the explosion hither, heard Alcyon grunt somewhere further up the stairs.\n\nHe scrambled to his knees, just staring at the dais.\n\nA cloud of dust slowly settled, revealing the two black-iron statues still there, though something had changed. Red veins now ran through the iron, like seams of gold, and fora heartbeat the iron casing seemed to ripple and swell. Bleda thought he saw Asroth move. A twitch of his head, a flare of light at his eyes. Then the red veins faded, retracting through the figures, drawing into a focal point. Asroth's right fist. Or, to be exact, where his right fist had been. Now there was a stump, a bright forge glow about it, quickly fading."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The shaven-haired warrior with the black sword was on his feet again, the snapped shaft of Bleda's arrow still protruding from his back. He bent and picked something up, black and heavy, put it inside a leather bag.\n\nOthers were climbing to their feet, giants and White-Wings, half-breeds, Ferals and Dark-Cloaks. A Kadoshim screeched and swept down from high in the chamber's roof, swooping low, skimming heads. The man on the dais lifted an arm and the Kadoshim grabbed hold of him, swinging him around so that he straddled its back between its wings, and then it was banking left, turning a tight circle, wings beating and it powered for the chamber doors, other Kadoshim and half-breeds falling in about it, others snatching up surviving Dark-Cloaks and Ferals, and then they were flying out of the chamber doors like the north wind. Ethlinn threw her spear atone, skewered it through the chest, hurling it against one of the chamber doors, the blade driving deep into wood, thrumming, the Kadoshim slumped, pinned. Ben-Elim swept after the disappearing Kadoshim, a storm of wings.\n\nBleda looked back to the statues, the chamber floor littered and strewn with the dead and dying, screams, groans echoing, survivors climbing slowly to their feet.\n\nAsroth and Meical were in the same positions they had ever been, Meical on his knees, grasping at Asroth, whose wings were spread, trying to lift free, one hand around Meical's throat, the other drawn back into a fist.\n\nExcept that the fist was gone.\n\nThere was no fire glow now, just a stump at the wrist, the black iron back to the matt-dull that it had always been. No hint of life in Asroth's eyes."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "DREM\n\nDrem strode to the centre of his yard and drew his da's sword.\n\nMy sword, he reminded himself. Da gave it tome, before he died.\n\nHe raised it over his head, gripping it two-handed.\n\nStooping falcon, he recited to himself, holding the pose, counting his heartbeats, feeling the slow burn beginning in his wrists, in his part-bent thighs.\n\nNinety-nine, one hundred, and then he was chopping down, right to left in one smooth, fluid movement, a hiss of air as the blade passed through it. \"Lightning strike,\" he murmured, holding that for another count of a hundred, then a powerful stab up with boar's tusk, into his imaginary foe's belly, holding that, then slowly, methodically moving through the forms of the sword dance that his da had taught him, muscles and tendons shifting gradually from burning to trembling to exhaustion, sweat beading his brow amidst the snow and ice, his breath a mist about him.\n\nWhen he'd finished, he practised sheathing his sword in one move, so far proving harder to master than most forms in the dance. He swore as he cut his thumb, again, and looked around to see not only the two goats but also the chickens standing around the yard, staring at him.\n\n\"Not funny,\" he muttered at them, then, at the rumble of hooves, shifted his gaze to lookout of his hold's gates, seeing riders approaching down the track.\n\n\"We're going to kill that white bear, ' Ulf said, looking down at Drem from the back of his horse. Hildith and a score of her lads were with her.\n\n\"If you're wanting some payback for your da, you're welcome to join us,\" she said to him, sympathy in her eyes softening the hardness in her face."
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem rubbed his chin, surprised at how long his stubble of beard had grown. He'd already gone to Ulf and told him that the white bear had not killed his da, that it had been a different bear.\n\nUlf hadn't believed him.\n\n\"We all saw the bear, lad. We fought it in that glade,\" Ulf had said to him. \"Many didn't leave the glade breathing because of it. Of course it was the white bear that killed your da. '\n\nDrem had told Ulf his reasoning, but Ulf had baulked at the idea of digging up Olin's body and inspecting his wounds.\n\n\"Disrespectful,\" he'd said, looking at Drem with a little horror and a lot of disgust in his eyes.\"Don't need to go digging up a corpse that's been buried a ten-night, anyhow. Think about it. A swipe with the other paw, a different angle than you remember in your mind. \"Ulf shrugged.\"It was fast, confusing, and you had a crack on your head, Drem. Easy to make a mistake. Now stop spouting your nonsense theory like it's fact, and go sharpen your spear. We'll hunt that white bear down soon enough. '\n\nDrem had known better than to argue, knowing how men got that look in their eyes and tilt to their head when a discussion had gone past the facts and somehow turned in their minds into a question of who was cleverest, wisest, strongest, most skilled, whatever.\n\nSo Drem had just sighed and left.\n\n\"Drem, we're talking to you, ' Ulf said to him now.\n\nDrem blinked and focused back on Ulf, Hildith.\n\n\"You coming or not?\""
},
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Out of the corner of his eye he saw the goats, standing and staring. Heads swivelling from Ulf to Drem, as if they were waiting for his answer.\n\n\"No,\" Drem said.\n\n\"All right then. Too painful. It'll bring it all back, I understand. \"Ulf nodded, turning his horse in a circle.\"Wanted to make the offer, though. I'll bring you a set of claws to match the one round your neck.\"\n\nDrem didn't say anything to that and after a moment's silence Ulf clicked his horse on, back to the gates and track. Hildith hovered a moment, then dipped her head to Drem and followed.\n\nDrem waited until they had faded from sight, the track empty, just churned snow and ice and sentinel trees. He drew in a deep breath and sighed.\n\n\"Best be on with it, then.\"\n\nDrem stopped at the gates to Fritha's hold and stared at the wreck of her cabin. A cairn stood to one side, between the cabin and some stables.\n\nDrem had returned to the cabin the same day as he'd given Asger his package. He'd found it exactly the same as the last time he'd seen it– no kin or friends of Fritha and Hask to raise a cairn over the body.\n\nApart from me, he'd thought. So he'd carried Hask's corpse out into the yard, and the hound's, too, laying Hask and Surl side by side, and then gathered rocks from the field behind the cabin, loading them in a wain he found in the barn, and bringing them back to pile over the two bodies. When it had come to saying some words for the dead he'd stood there silent awhile, thinking with sadness that Hask's only mourner was a stranger who knew almost nothing about him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I knew his granddaughter, though. And to have raised a woman so fine and brave and kind– well, he must have done something right.\n\nAnd so Drem had said so, spoken words out loud to the stones and snow, adding something about the hound's loyalty and Hask's spirit.\n\nHe waved a spear at my da, that was spirit enough!\n\nThen he'd left.\n\nBut before carrying the bodies into the yard and raising a cairn over them, Drem had spent half a day going over the destruction of the cabin; every splinter of wood, every handspan of the room, the floor, the walls, the gaping entry and exit holes, meticulously checking both bodies, their wounds, fingernails, teeth, claws. Everything. It hadn't been pleasant, limbs part-frozen with the cold, blood congealed and black.\n\nNow, as he thought of what he'd found, his hand drifted down to a pouch at his belt, fingertips through his gloves brushing it. Then he turned and looked to the snow-heaped forest, saw the track Hildith and Ulf's hunting party had made through the snow, and followed after them.\n\nDrem stood in the woodland twilight, looking at the trampled ground. Searching. He found the buckle from his da's belt, amidst forest litter and something darker. He didn't want to look too close, didn't need to. Ahead of him lay the path the white bear had trampled, the one he and his da had been following it along, branches splintered to ruin, bushes and undergrowth trampled and torn. And to Drem's right lay another path, the destruction that the other \"bear\" had caused in its attack, leaping out from the darkness. Drem stared into it, all shifting shadows and the rare glitter of daylight on ice."
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Behind him he heard the distant baying of hounds, somewhere north and west of him, Ulf's hunt picking up the scent of the white bear. He kept his back to it.\n\nThat is nothing tome.\n\nHe thought of his da then, an act of choice, of will, basked in the memory of him, felt the grief stir in his belly, and something else, anger, fire in his veins. He thought of the decision he'd made when he declined Asger's offer to leave Kergard and travel south, and the reasons why.\n\nTwo reasons to live, I said to Asger, though I didn't tell him what they were. One, to finish Da's quest. Togo to Drassil and cut Asroth's head from his shoulders. But I need the Starstone Sword to do that.\n\nAnd the second reason, to see justice done for my da.\n\nHe tugged off a glove with his teeth and reached down to the pouch at his waist, pulled out a cloth and opened it carefully, revealing a few strips of torn, tattered leather. He'd found them within the jaws of Surl, Fritha's hound, and another strip hanging from one of the hound's paws. They hadn't matched any item of clothing within the cabin.\n\nIf I find the Starstone Sword I will find the answer to who killed my da. A bear, yes, though not a white one with only four claws on its right paw. And it wasn't alone. Bears don't pickup swords and walk off with them, and nor do they wear leather clothing. It wasn't the bear that struck me on the head, but a person. Whoever or whatever it was, it played a role in my da's death, and now has the Starstone Sword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem wrapped the strips of leather backup and placed them in his pouch, then methodically went over his kit. A skin of water across one shoulder. A bag slung across his back, full with essential gear: tinder and kindling, flint and striking iron, fish-hooks and animal gut for the stitching of wounds, a roll of linen for bandages. Medicinal herbs– honey, sorrel, yarrow, comfrey, skullcap, seed of the poppy. Oats for porridge and strips of salted pork. A slab of cheese. And a pot. He wore layers of clothes, linen, wool, leather and fur, his bone-handled seax and his da's axe at his belt, as well as his sword, and a thick-shafted spear in his fist.\n\nAnd courage in my heart, and vengeance on my mind.\n\nDrem breathed deep, his back straightening, and then he stepped off the path and into the splintered gloom made by his father's killers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "RIV\n\nRiv approached the walls of Drassil. They rose tall and forbidding before her.\n\nThey had marched back from Oriens as fast as the White-Wings could travel. Riv had rushed to Kol, Aphra and the other captains in that grisly glade deep within Forn Forest, telling them of her suspicion that they had been lured from Drassil fora reason. At first Aphra would not entertain the thought, instead had ordered her to leave, to get back into rank before she was punished for more insubordination and rule-breaking. But Kol had called her back and questioned her rationale behind the suspicion. Meanwhile scouts were sent out into the forest, reconnoitring deeper to search for any signs of recent life or the vaguest hint of a trap.\n\nThey had comeback shaking their heads.\n\nKol had ordered horns blown and an organized retreat. Then they had turned around and marched as fast as they could physically manage for Drassil. Kol had led many of the Ben-Elim ahead, and he had returned to their column on the east road two days ago, announcing the dark news that Kadoshim had indeed raided Drassil, a bold attempt to set Asroth free from his gaol of iron. Many had fallen, he reported, but the Kadoshim's plan had been thwarted.\n\nRiv's first thought had been for her mam, and for Bleda. She had asked Kol, who said that they were both alive, easing her mind.\n\nAfter that the horror of Kol's news had seeped into her. Just the brazenness of the attack had shocked Riv deeply.\n\nA hundred and thirty-seven years since the Battle of Drassil, and never once have the Kadoshim attacked this fortress, whether in raid or assault."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Why now?\n\nAnd how would they free Asroth from a cage forged from starstone? I thought that was impossible.\n\nShe wanted to ask Aphra, to talk about the possibilities, but her sister had been consistently tight-mouthed and aloof with her since Oriens.\n\nWhat is wrong with her? She has never been so unkind and bad-tempered before.\n\nThen they were marching out onto the plain that surrounded Drassil, Riv's heart leaping at the sight of her home, the white-winged banner snapping in a cold wind above the gates. She looked closer and forgot all about Aphra fora short while.\n\nNew cairns had been raised in the plain before Drassil's walls, the reality of the tragedy that had befallen their home, their friends and kin, hither, all of them, a silence falling over the White-Wings and giants as they marched past in sombre mood.\n\nThe carcass of a Kadoshim was nailed to the battlements above the great gates; Riv was not the only one who stared up at it as she passed through the gateway. Its head lolled between wide, leathery wings, eye-sockets dark holes excavated by crows.\n\nFurther above on the battlements she glimpsed a dark-skinned face, staring down at her, and she felt some warmth spark into life in her belly, welcome after the unsettling anger that was lurking in her veins.\n\nIt was Bleda.\n\nThe flagstones of the courtyard were stained with blood, even though eight nights had passed since the attack. The stains were faint, just an echo of what it must have been like, but Riv saw them.\n\nBlood always leaves a stain.\n\nIt felt good to walk into her barrack, the fire-pit roaring, a deer turning on the spit, fat sizzling and crackling in the flames. A dash up to her chamber and it did not take long for Riv to unpack her and her sister's kit, all of it already shining spotless, as Riv had tended to it each night on the road. When she finished, Jost and Vald tried to tempt her with a cup of wine in the feast-hall, but she felt the call of the weapons-field. As she stepped onto the turf she saw Bleda on the field, where he usually was, at the archery range. Riv felt a little flutter in her belly and increased her pace, only for it to drop like a stone as she saw Jin appear from behind him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well met,\" Bleda said to Rivas she approached them, and she thought she saw the hint of a smile ghost his lips, just fora moment."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His hair was longer than she remembered, no longer close-cropped like the White-Wings, as it had been for so many years. It stuck out at angles, giving him a scruffy appearance. Riv supressed the urge to smooth an unruly tuft behind his ear.\n\nBleda gripped his double-curved bow, a quiver of arrows at his belt. And he had a bandage wrapped around his shoulder.\n\n\"You were injured in the attack?\" Riv said, hurrying forwards and reaching a handout to Bleda's injury.\n\n\"Aye.\" he nodded, his serious face back in place.\n\n\"Bleda fought,\" Jin said proudly. \"It was he who realized the Kadoshim's plan. He fought in the Great Hall, slew many Kadoshim and their Dark-Cloaks and Feral beasts. And he foiled the plot, put an arrow in the black sword. '\n\nDark-Cloaks and Ferals?\n\n\"Black Sword?\"\n\n\"The warrior with the Starstone Blade, who tried to set Asroth free,\" Jin said. \"My betrothed is the hero of Drassil.\"\n\nRiv blinked, looking from Jin's proud face to Bleda's embarrassed one, both of them seeming to have lost the ability to maintain a cold-face.\n\nBleda is a hero!\n\nA rush of pride made her grin.\n\nBetrothed!\n\nShe felt something else at hearing that word, but chose to push it away into some dark corner, not even acknowledging it.\n\n\"Your mission?\" Bleda asked her, shifting his feet.\n\n\"A ruse, to lure us far from Drassil and weaken the defences here. Or so we suspect, anyway.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So you have not fought, then?\" Jin said. The words were spoken flat, no intonation, but Riv felt the insult in them.\n\nPlease don't make me angry.\n\n\"No. I did not fight.\"\n\nNot the enemy, at least.\n\n\"The bait to lure us from Drassil was a terrible thing,\" Riv said, trying to ignore Jin.\n\nShe told Bleda of their discoveries at the town of Oriens, Jin moving closer to hear properly. Riv was still talking when a Ben-Elim alighted close beside them, the only warning a blast of air.\n\n\"The Lord Protector wishes to speak with you,\" the Ben-Elim said to Riv.\n\nOh dear. Riv gulped. Has he heard of my fighting at Oriens already?\n\nShe took a resolute step.\n\n\"And you,\" the Ben-Elim said to Bleda.\n\n\"Not you,\" he said to Jin as she made to walk with Riv and Bleda.\n\nThe only thing that made the thought of the dressing-down she was no doubt going to receive from the Lord Protector bearable was the look on Jin's face as they left her behind.\n\nRiv and Bleda satin the entrance hall of Israfil's chambers.\n\n\"You area hero, then,\" Riv said to Bleda as they sat waiting.\n\n\"No,\" Bleda said, sounding very certain of the fact. After a few moments of staring straight ahead he looked at her, more emotion in his face than she had ever seen. \"I would like to tell you something,\" he said. \"I could not tell anyone else.\"\n\n\"Not even Jin?\"\n\n\"No. Especially not her.\"\n\nShe felt a warm glow at that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Of course you can, Bleda."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You can tell me anything, we are friends.\"\n\n\"I was terrified,\" he said, looking down at his clasped hands.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"During the battle. In the courtyard, a Kadoshim attacked us. Me and Jin. I dropped my arrows, fumbled my bow. I am surprised I did not soil myself. I froze with terror.\"\n\n\"You're alive, though? '\n\n\"Alcyon chopped it to tiny pieces.\"\n\n\"He's good at that, I've heard,\" Riv said. \"And what about these acts of bravery, the Kadoshim you slew?\"\n\n\"That happened later. In the great chamber. With my bow.\" A brief flicker of a smile.\n\nHe does love that bow.\n\n\"So let me get this right. You were attacked by a Kadoshim, and you felt scared-\"\n\n\"Terrified,\" Bleda corrected.\n\n\"Terrified. And then, soon after, you killed Kadoshim and their servants in the Great Hall. And wrestled some man-beast thing that chewed your shoulder to pulp.\"\n\n\"Aye. And then Alcyon saved me. Again.\"\n\n\"Bleda, that is the definition of courage. Or so Balur One-Eye has told me, and if you want to argue with him, well, that doesn't make you brave, that makes you stupid. '\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Bleda said.\n\n\"You cannot be truly brave unless you feel truly afraid. That's what courage is. Doing it anyway, even though you're scared. Sorry, terrified. And you did. You chose to fight. To step into that furnace of blood and madness and pain, and fight. Despite your fear.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She watched him, saw his face shift in ways she'd never seen it move before as her words settled into him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He sighed at the end, a relief.\n\n\"My mother said something like that tome, along time ago. I'd forgotten, until you said those words. '\n\nHe has fine eyes, she thought. Almond-shaped, a deep brown.\n\n\"You fight all the time,\" he said to her. \"Is that what you feel?\"\n\nShe thought about that, her frown deepening.\n\nI don't ever remember feeling scared. Mostly just angry. No. Only ever angry.\n\nAnd even more so recently.\n\n\"Tell me of your mother, your home,\" Riv asked him, avoiding answering his question.\n\n\"My mother,\" he said, leaning back, a slight frown creasing his forehead. \"She is strong, brave, wise. A respected leader of the Sirak.\"\n\n\"I know that already, tell me something different about her.\"\n\nBleda thought about that a moment.\n\n\"Her laugh,\" he said. \"When she laughs, really laughs, she snorts like a pig. My brother, Altan, he could always make her laugh, with just a look, a raised eyebrow. And once my mother started laughing– like a pig– then we would all be laughing.\" Riv was amazed to see a smile spread across his face, deep and genuine, muscles relaxing. He looked at her. \"Thank you,\" he said. \"It is like a gift, a forgotten memory. Ah, to be Sirak again, to live free, travelling with the seasons, dismantling and rolling the gers, herding flocks of goats, hunting with my father, with hawk and spear. The freedom of the Grass Sea...\"\n\nI believe in the Way of Elyon with all my heart, and pray everyday for his Lore to spread throughout the Banished Lands, to bring peace and harmony, but, listening to Bleda... She sighed. Life does not sound so bad, the Sirak don't seem in any great need of saving or protecting."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bleda,\" a voice said, and they looked up together, saw Israfil standing in an open doorway.\n\n\"Come in,\" Israfil said, and Bleda's cold-face slipped back over his smile, like a mask. He rose and entered the Lord Protector's chamber. The door closed, voices muffled. Riv could only stand being able to hear their voices but not the words for so long. Then she stood and crept oh so quietly across the flagstoned floor to the closed door.\n\n\"... proud of you, Bleda,\" Israfil was saying. \"You fought for us. For the people of the Faithful. I wanted to give you my gratitude, not just for the act that you did. Stopping the foul deed that could well have freed Asroth from his prison, but also for the principle of what you did. Of making a stand. Of fighting for us. A selfless act against our common enemy. I knew my faith in you was well placed, just as I know that you will make a fine leader of your people. We will accomplish great things together, when you are lord of the Arcona.\"\n\n\"The Sirak, you mean.\"\n\n\"The Sirak and Cheren will become one, when you and Jin are wed. One people, working with us, driving the Kadoshim from the land.\"\n\n\"The Kadoshim, they are terrible,\" Bleda said. \"I could see their hatred, taste it.\"\n\n\"They are,\" Israfil agreed.\n\n\"But I do not think I stopped them...\"\n\nThere was a pause.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Israfil said.\n\n\"I think they wanted Asroth's hand. Or part of him. '\n\nFootsteps echoed in the corridor beyond the entrance chamber and Riv ran to her seat, only to hear the footsteps pass the door and fade. She thought about going back to eavesdrop at Israfil's door again, but then it opened and Bleda came out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Riv,\" Israfil said sternly, and she rose and entered the chamber, giving Bleda a little smile as they passed each other."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He didn't acknowledge her, looked distracted.\n\n\"Close the door behind you,\" Israfil said, walking away to stand before an open window, his chamber looking out over Drassil and the plain beyond.\n\n\"Sit,\" Israfil said, gesturing to a chair, his back to her.\n\nRiv did, nervously, wood scraping on stone.\n\n\"I am worried for you,\" Israfil said, turning to face her.\n\nShe didn't say anything, had done so many things of late that she wasn't sure what Israfil was referring to, and didn't want to incriminate herself any further.\n\n\"Fighting, with White-Wings, while on a mission.\"\n\nKol has told him.\n\nShe dipped her head with a sigh. \"I am very sorry, Lord Protector,\" she said.\n\n\"I have watched you on the weapons-field. You have the potential to become an exceptional warrior, Riv. One of the most skilled I have seen come up through the ranks of Drassil since the Ben-Elim have dwelt in this world. But more than that, there is afire in you, a purity of dedication to our cause. You hate the Kadoshim, long to take your place in the ranks in this holy war.\"\n\n\"I do.\" Riv breathed, looking up now, meeting Israfil's gaze.\n\nHow can he know me so well?\n\n\"But there is something else in you. An anger that cannot be quenched.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she admitted.\n\n\"What I said to you, during your warrior trial. You remember?\"\n\nAbout my father. About my pride. About needing to prove myself. That I am shallow and brittle. Out of control..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even at the memory of Israfil's words Riv felt her blood stirring, her anger flexing.\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"It was not true. It was a test, designed to provoke, to push, to strengthen your control, your ability to weather any storm.\"\n\nIt's as Aphra told me, then. And I failed.\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\n\"You are the first person that I have told this truth to, before they have passed. All go through it unknowing. It is a hard test.\"\n\nShe nodded grimly.\n\n\"I want you to pass your warrior trial, Riv. And soon. Dark times are ahead, I feel it. Your sword arm and fervour will be needed.\"\n\n\"There is nothing I long for more.\"\n\n\"You shall retake your warrior trial soon. So master your anger.\"\n\n\"Yes, Lord Protector.\"\n\n\"There are other things that I wanted to talk to you about.\" Israfil fell silent, just staring at Riv, a level of sternness in his gaze that she had not seen before.\n\nOh no. He knows about all of the fights.\n\n\"The other fights,\" Riv said, then paused. Israfil was frowning. \"What did Kol tell you?\" she asked.\n\n\"Kol? No, it was not Kol that told me of your altercation at Oriens. It was Aphra.\"\n\nWhat! My own sister! How could she?\n\nRiv did feel her anger stir then, a snake uncoiling, hissing and rearing, fangs bared.\n\n\"Riv!\" A hand slapping on his desk, aloud crack. \"You remember that last command. To master your anger. I suggest you start right now. I can see it in you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's getting worse. I can feel it there all the time, like a deep ocean, any insult or injury, the wind that whips it into a storm.\n\n\"Please, help me,\" Riv said, fighting back a sob. \"I can feel it, moving through me.\" She rubbed her temples. \"It is like a drug in my blood. Like when you drink wine, I feel it in my belly, a warmth, aglow. Then it is in my veins, spreading through me, seeping through every part of me, into my fists, making them clench, and into my head, like a mist, fogging all thought. And then...\" She shrugged. \"Then it is just me, and I am it.\"\n\n\"A dark affliction, it sounds.\"\n\n\"It can be,\" Riv nodded. \"And it can move from the belly glow to the head mist in a few heartbeats. No slow process, no time to fight it.\"\n\n\"Perhaps fight it is the wrong phrase. Control is what you need. To harness that rage, and use it. You would be formidable.\" Israfil stared at her along time. \"Maybe sometime at Dun Seren would help you,\" he said, sounding as if he was talking to himself rather than Riv.\n\n\"I thought things were not good between us and Dun Seren,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Oh, there has always been a tension,\" Israfil said with a wave of his hand. \"Their founder, Corban, took issue with our tactics from the very first day. Overly emotional and sentimental, I always thought him. Unable to seethe greater good. Always obsessed with notions of kin and friendship and loyalty. Leaders must act for the greater good.\" He shrugged. \"But they are the enemy of the Kadoshim, as are we. And of a time we will share information. I only think of them now because Balur and Alcyon speak of their training with much respect.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I train hard, none harder,\" Riv said, \"and no warriors train harder than the White-Wings.\"\n\n\"So quick to judge, when you have not seen,\" Israfil said, raising an eyebrow.\n\nThat is a fair point.\n\n\"I understand, you are defending the pride and honour of your people, the White-Wings,\" Israfil said. \"But do not let that sentiment cloud your vision, or your understanding. A warrior sees to the heart of his enemy, sees strengths and weaknesses honestly, dispassionately. And casts the same gaze upon himself. Or herself. That is purity of mind, what the Lore demands we strive for. Removing the ego.\" He paused, a slight smile. \"My apologies, this was not supposed to be a lesson on the philosophies of combat.\"\n\n\"I like it,\" Riv said with a shrug.\n\n\"Another time, then. As for your sister, do not be so hard with her. She did tell me of your misdemeanour at Oriens. She also told me that it was you who first saw through the Kadoshim ruse; that Oriens was a lure.\"\n\nOh. There is some pleasantness left in her still, then.\n\n\"Now, onto the other matter I wished to speak of with you. It is a grave matter, and its possible consequences far-reaching.\"\n\n\"If I can help in anyway, Lord Protector, I will.\"\n\n\"Adonai and Estel,\" Israfil said, and suddenly Riv's head was full of blood and feathers, of Estel's White-Wings insignia torn and stamped upon on the flagstoned floor. \"You know of what I speak.\"\n\nIt was not a question.\n\n\"Improper relations,\" Riv murmured, remembering Israfil's words in the Great Hall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Yes."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I am hearing rumours. That this behaviour...\" He paused, face twisting with uncommon passion. \"This sin is more widespread than I would have hoped. That Adonai was not the only Ben-Elim, Estel not the only mortal engaged in these... practices.\"\n\nRiv felt a heat flush through her, as if she were racked with guilt.\n\nBut I have done nothing wrong.\n\nAnd then she thought of Kol, on that moonlit night beyond Oriens. His smile, the touch of his fingertips against her lips. The shiver it had stirred in her.\n\n\"Do you know of any such conduct?\" Israfil asked her.\n\nShe gulped. \"Me, I, no. No, Lord Protector.\"\n\nHe regarded her along moment, then nodded slowly.\n\n\"It maybe that I am wrong. But, if it is happening, it must be stamped out, quickly and ruthlessly, before it spreads. It is wrong, and it would destroy us.\"\n\nRiv nodded, though again she got the feeling that Israfil was talking to himself more than to her.\n\n\"I am gathering a small group about me,\" Israfil said, definitely talking to Riv now, as he pinned her with his gaze. \"A few that I trust. You are one of them, Riv, because I see your passion and dedication to the cause, despite your, issues. I am placing my trust in you, even talking to you of this. But I would ask more. I would ask you to be my eyes and ears.\"\n\nHe is asking me to spy on my own. But he is the Lord Protector, the highest power in my world. How can I refuse him?\n\n\"Of course, Lord Protector,\" she heard herself say."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a knock at the door, making Riv jump.\n\nIsrafil took along moment, eyes fixed on Riv. \"My thanks,\" he said to her. Then. \"Enter.\"\n\nEthlinn walked in, Balur One-Eye at her shoulder.\n\n\"We've had news from our scouts tracking the Kadoshim, ' Ethlinn said. She saw Riv sitting before Israfil, raised an eyebrow, but continued.\n\n\"Has one of my Ben-Elim returned?\" Israfil asked.\n\n\"No,\" a croaking voice came from the unshuttered window, and a big black crow flew into the room, flying around and then landing on the arm of Riv's chair. It looked up at her with one beady eye.\n\n\"Our friends from Dun Seren have sent help,\" Ethlinn said, a twitch of a smile on her lips.\n\n\"Flick,\" the bird croaked.\n\nRiv had heard of the talking crows of Dun Seren, but never seen one in the flesh. She'd always thought it would be amusing to meet one, but now that it was sitting a handspan from her and regarding her with all too much intelligence, the whole experience felt far more like unnerving, rather than amusing.\n\n\"Is Flick your name?\" Riv said, feeling strangely uncomfortable.\n\n\"Yes. You?\"\n\n\"My name is Riv,\" Riv said.\n\n\"Well met,\" the crow rasped.\n\n\"Yes, this is all very polite,\" Israfil interrupted. \"But do you have news of the Kadoshim force that attacked Drassil?\"\n\n\"They scattered, fled in many directions, lost in Forn,\" the crow squawked, its talons clenching alarmingly with each syllable. One group, largest, went to Varan's Fall. Grinding Sea.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Israfil looked to Ethlinn. \"What do you make of that?\"\n\n\"There is nothing there, only sea.\"\n\n\"Boats,\" Flick croaked.\n\n\"The ground is marked with boats that had been moored on the shore,\" Balur said, his voice a deep growl. \"They rowed away.\"\n\n\"Where to?\" Israfil mused. \"It is a clever move, making them untrackable. What options are therefor their destination?\"\n\n\"The coast runs west to east. East is a few hundred leagues of Forn Forest, then mountains, then Arcona.\"\n\n\"So, unlikely they would go that way. West?\"\n\n\"Is Dun Seren and the Desolation.\"\n\n\"Dun Seren is as unlikely a destination as I can think of,\" Balur rumbled. Riv realized that he was laughing.\n\n\"And north?\" Israfil asked.\n\n\"The Grinding Sea,\" Ethlinn said, openhanded.\n\nRiv had felt uncomfortable, initially, as if she wasn't supposed to be involved in this meeting, and not enjoying the way the crow seemed to be sidling its way closer to her arm. But now she was engrossed in the conversation.\n\n\"So,\" Israfil said. \"Unless there is some hidden location in the Grinding Sea, the logical conclusion is that our enemy have fled to the Desolation.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DREM\n\nNot the best time of year to decide to go camping in the Desolation, Drem thought, not for the first time, as he woke to find ice in his growing beard. He cracked it free and scraped more ice from his eyebrows, then crawled from his makeshift tent, a bearskin propped up by branches, only to see that it was covered in another layer of fresh-fallen snow. He regarded the sky through a canopy of pines, saw a clear bright blue far above. Breaking camp was a swift affair, Drem taking comfort in the routine of it, all the little practices that his da had drummed into him over countless years. Soon his bag was across his shoulder and his thick-shafted spear in his fist and he was walking on through the snow.\n\nHe'd been following the trail of the bear that killed his da for over a ten-night, now. Twice he had lost its tracks completely, fresh snow masking everything, and he'd had to retrace his steps, searching not just the ground but all that grew, shrubs and bushes and trees, until he'd found the bear's trail again. And once he'd seen two sets of boot-prints, one uncommonly large, but it could have been a big man wearing snow-boots.\n\nThe trail had led northwards, into the foothills of the Bonefells, though in a looping arc, and Drem had found a number of pits and traps along the trail, as if the bear followed a trapper's trail, returning to collect its prey. And now the trail was circling back, southwards. Drem paused as he stepped onto a plateau, open and free of pine trees. He walked to the edge, stood on a ridge and looked south onto a world of white that seemed to goon forever. The only blemishes were Starstone Lake, directly south of him, its waters dark and glittering in a winter's sun, and Kergard, further west and south."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And that, he thought, eyes narrowing. A few leagues ahead of him, beyond the tiered roll of foothills and forest, there was a small village, smoke rising from hearths and fire-pits. It was built upon the edge of Starstone Lake, a pier jutting into the dark waters.\n\n\"The mine,\" he said to himself, feeling something shift in his gut.\n\nSomehow he knew, sensed, this was the place he would find his answers. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he stared. Then he gripped his spear and walked on.\n\nDrem crept through the last patch of bush and scrub and crouched in the snow.\n\nIt was twilight, the sky a mixture of purples and pinks, and he was situated at the top of a gentle slope, looking down upon the mine spread before him, a squat, sprawling mess of buildings. Even from this distance Drem knew something was wrong about the place. Barns, huts and barrack-like cabins were scattered around the enclosure with no seeming logic to their positioning. All of it was ringed by a palisaded wall that curled around to the lakeshore, gates on every side. And most of it was in darkness, a few torches belching smoke on the wall, some lights flickering inside huts. He could see no signs of life, no movement on the walls, no voices, singing, not even the rhythmic crack and crunch of miners at work, carving their living from the rock.\n\nThen an animal noise rose up, part roar, part mournful howl, and ice skittered through Drem's veins.\n\nHe'd spent many years in the Wild, hunting, trapping, and thought he'd heard all there was to hear from an animal's throat, but this sound..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem sat and waited, watched as the sun became a thin line on the horizon. He shrugged off his kit bag, pulled out a roll of rope and hooked it on his belt, and then he stood and sprinted, bent low, straight towards the wall. His heart pounded in his head, waiting, expecting a voice or horn to ring out the alarm.\n\nThirty paces left, he looked up, saw the wall was empty.\n\nFifteen paces. Ten.\n\nAnd then he was there, back against the timber, sucking in air.\n\nHe was close to a large, double gateway, a smaller, single door beside it, a simple latch on the door. He'd planned to loop his rope around one of the timber beams of the palisade and haul himself up, but thought he might as well try the latch first.\n\nThe door opened.\n\nHe slipped through, closed it behind him, and moved along the wall. It was near dark, now, the solid buildings and shadows in between merging. Stars flickered into life. He looked about, unsure what to do, whereto go.\n\nWhat am I doing here?\n\nA pang of fear, threatening to overwhelm him. He took a moment to remember.\n\nThe bear. My father's killer. The Starstone Sword.\n\nHe took a deep breath, focused on those three things, stiffening his resolve, and moved on. Ran across the gap between wall and a building, slipping deeper into the enclosure.\n\nThen the smell hit him. First the clear smell of animal dung, but there was more to it, not sweet-scented like a horse, something acrid in it.\n\nA meat-eater.\n\nVoices. He followed the sound, found himself in an alley between two long buildings, what looked like sleeping barracks, and beyond them a larger building, longer and wider, timber-walled with a grass-sod roof. Lights flickering in shuttered windows, the murmur of voices. One man's rising in laughter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He moved close to a shuttered window and carefully peered in.\n\nAlong table, a score of shaven-haired men around it, a wooden board, one man standing, grinning as he tossed the bones onto the board, watching them roll.\n\nPlaying knuckle-bone.\n\nThe man barked a laugh, punching the air, turning so that Drem could see his face.\n\nIt was Wispy Beard.\n\nConflicting emotions at seeing him, anger and fear mixed as he remembered the noose around his neck, being hoisted into the air. Wispy laughing.\n\nDrem scanned the others, recognized some, though he didn't see Burg there, the leader with the scar on his face. In the gloom someone else sat, the firelight and darkness making him look too big, longer and wider than a man, legs outstretched as he leaned back in his chair, arms folded, seemingly asleep.\n\nThe animal-roar again, a sad thing, closer, louder, vibrating through the snow-slush and into the soles of Drem's boots. Most in the room ignored it, the big man's legs twitching, but nobody moved to tend whatever it was that made such a sound. The stench of excrement was stronger, too, insinuating itself into the back of Drem's throat.\n\nHe moved on, a lifetime of trapping having taught him silence and patience. He knew instinctively when to wait, when to move, and how to tread as silent as a fox. But there was no light-footed trick in the world that could avoid footprints in snow. He tried to follow well-used tracks, his footprints mixing with a stream of others.\n\nA stable block stood before him, a torch burning outside it, fixed atop a post. Drem froze in the shadow of a building and stared. In time ahead loomed over the stable-door, but it was no horse. A bear, dark-furred, huge, its eyes baleful. It opened its jaws and let out a sound closer to groan than growl."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Is that the bear that killed my da?\n\nDrem's fist tightened on his spear, the urge to run over and plunge it into the creature's chest sweeping him.\n\nWait. The hunter is patient.\n\nIn answer to its mournful groaning another sound echoed around the encampment, a chorus of howls and whines.\n\n\"Shut your row,\" a voice called out. Drem's head snapped around to a dark hollow, dense and thick behind the bear pen. He crept along the building's wall to get a better view and saw an open space, along table set within it, legs of timber thick as trunks. Shapes were scattered upon the table, unclear in the darkness.\n\nStrange, a table out in the open.\n\nBehind it was a huge boulder, rising like a cliff face. As Drem moved to get a clearer view, the stench grew worse, fetid and cloying.\n\nA man stood in the boulder's shadow, wrapped in furs and cloak, a spear in his hand that he rattled against the rock, clanging on iron, and Drem saw darker shapes in the boulder, iron bars slatted across them.\n\nCells, dug into the rock face, iron-barred gates.\n\n\"Shut your row,\" the guard shouted again as strange howls and whines echoed out from many cells, haunting, chilling Drem's blood.\n\nAs Drem watched, the man walked a dozen paces, turned to face the wall, his back to Drem, and urinated up the rock face. Drem hurried across the open space, long legs speeding him, the man hearing him at the last moment, turning, urine steaming in the icy cold, but not quick enough to avoid Drem's spear-butt in the head. He dropped with a grunt, cloak hood falling away. Another shaven-haired man."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem hit him again, just to be sure.\n\nA sound in the cell closest to him and he approached it, saw only darkness inside, a form moving, deep at the back. A warning growl.\n\nDrem bumped into the table, turned and looked at it.\n\nTools were scattered across its surface, saws and knives, a butcher's cleaver chopped into the wood. Thick iron rings were set deep into the timber, chains hanging from them. Then Drem realized what the lumps he'd seen spread upon the table were.\n\nBody parts.\n\nSome animal, some human. Arms, legs, torsos. A wolven head, a furry shoulder and leg, its paw as big as a plate. A bat like the one that he'd seen feasting on Fritha's hound was pinned to the table with a spike through its chest, wings spread wide, pierced with iron nails. It tried to flap its wings, a feeble movement, head swivelling to regard him with its red eyes. On the table beside it was a human hand, an iron rod jammed into the gaping wound of its wrist, tendons somehow attached. Other things, unrecognizable. A wooden frame, some kind of fabric stretched across it. Drem peered closer.\n\nSkin! It's flayed skin!\n\n\"Help... me,\" a voice whispered, Drem leaping around, spear pointing. A shape moved in one of the cells, a dark shadow shifting.\n\n\"Please,\" the voice whispered, slurring, as if drunken or broken-jawed.\n\nThere were rush torches set in holders about the table, some blackened, burned-out stumps, others still fresh. Drem took his fire iron from his belt pouch and struck sparks, a torch flaring to life. He knew how dangerous it was, herein the middle of this place, enemies all around– but that voice. He recognized it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Sten?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "he said, holding the torch up, approaching the boulder. Darkness retreated, orange glow washing the rock face, shadows flickering and dancing, the cells looking like myriad dark eyes staring back at him, silent as secrets. \"Sten?\" Drem said again.\n\nSten was one of the trappers from Kergard who had not returned from the Bonefells, along with his partner, Vidar. Drem remembered Ulf telling him and his da over a skin of mead and a warm fire. That seemed like so long ago.\n\nLight from Drem's torch pushed back the darkness in the cell, a figure slowly emerging, a man, stooped and hunched, shambling forwards, dragging one foot that was twisted at an odd angle.\n\n\"Stennnn,\" the figure whispered, finally looking up at Drem.\n\nHe almost dropped the torch.\n\nIt was Sten, but not as Drem remembered him. His lower jaw was distended, looking too big for his head and hanging open, sharp teeth rowed within red, swollen gums, and his eyes were yellow. His hands were curled, as if sore and swollen, nails grown long and black.\n\n\"Sten, what have they done to you?\" Drem whispered.\n\n\"Killll me,\" the thing that had been Sten breathed.\n\n\"Vidar; where's Vidar? ' Drem asked, stepping close to the iron bars. Sten twisted his head, bones clicking. Muscles bunched in his shoulders and back, unnaturally large between shoulder and neck, taut as knotted rope.\n\n\"Vidarrrrrr gone,\" Sten groaned, eyes flitting to the table behind Drem. He slumped, like a sail with no wind, then suddenly grew, swelling, and hurled himself at the iron bars of his cage, clawed hands clutching at Drem, snagging in his torch, his cloak. Drem leaped backwards, stumbling and falling into the snow. Sten pounded and snarled and smashed at the iron bars, a feral fury sending an explosion of dust and fragments of stone from where they were buried into the rock face."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Dread\nChapter: 44"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Morning...\" he said, remembering his da's admonishments to always be polite, though he felt a little strange, talking to a crow.\n\n\"Rab,\" the white crow cawed. \"Name is Rab.\"\n\n\"Morning, Rab,\" Drem said. Then he frowned. \"I thought you were on watch duty?\"\n\n\"Rab cold,\" the bird said, giving his best impression of a shiver to reinforce his point, feathers puffing up and sticking out in odd directions.\n\n\"No fears, Fen prowling.\"\n\n\"The others?\"\n\n\"Outside,\" Rab squawked, poking his beak at the open doorway and yard beyond.\n\nHe saw it was only a little past dawn as he stepped out of his doorway, the sun a heatless glow clawing its way up over the edge of the world.\n\nWhat happened to yesterday? I remember Sig cutting me down from the tree, the others. Telling them about the Kadoshim. He frowned, the rest of it a blurred jumble.\n\nIn the yard Sig, Keld and Cullen were standing, swords in their fists, shields slung across their backs, performing the sword dance. Drem recognized it instantly from what his da had taught him, though watching these three perform it made him feel like a clumsy oaf in comparison.\n\nThey made it look beautiful. And deadly.\n\nNevertheless, he felt drawn to join them, his hand settling upon his sword hilt. On the porch to his right the snow was bloodstained, the bear trap closed and put to one side. Drem didn't know what had been done with the body they'd found in the trap, bled out by the time they'd gone to check. Then he saw a row of boots and legs sticking out from around the side of his cabin, remembered Sig and the other two heaving the dead around there."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aboard had been nailed onto the splintered doorframe overnight to keep out some of the chill, but now it was laid across the elk pit Drem had dug. He walked carefully down the steps of his porch and across the wooden board, slightly concerned when it creaked under his weight.\n\nHis barn was nothing more than a smoking ruin, charred stumps of timber and the iron parts of his wain making upmost of what had survived the fire.\n\nHope the goats and chickens survived. Though not sure they'd be safe around herewith a bear and a wolven-hound.\n\nHe saw a goat poking out from the stables and smiled.\n\nHe joined Sig and the other two, drew his sword and moved with them, stepping from iron gate into scorpion's tail. He saw Cullen's eyes flicker to him, but Sig and Keld took no notice, and before long he was lost in each moment of the dance.\n\nSig's sword snapped back into its scabbard, Keld and Cullen sheathed their blades without any noticeable or conscious thought. Drem felt blood well on his thumb as he cut it, trying and failing to sheathe his own sword without looking at it.\n\n\"Need to work on that,\" Sig said as she cuffed sweat from her brow.\n\n\"Here, use your thumb as a guide, not like a vegetable you're slicing for the pot; like this, ' Cullen said, stepping next to Drem and breaking the move down into smaller pieces. Drem watched, the individual parts clicking into place in his head, and he managed to perform it correctly on his third try.\n\n\"Well done, Drem, my lad. We have a fast learner, here,\" Cullen called up the steps, slapping him on the back. \"But you are my cousin, after all, so I'm not surprised. '"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cousin? I've never been spoken of as kin to anyone before, except my da.\n\n\"Cousin,\" Drem repeated, liking the sound of it.\n\n\"Blood doesn't help in the sword dance, \"Sig said,\"there are no shortcuts; it's dedication, day in, day out. That's all. '\n\nDrem had snatched memories of Cullen riding into the yard with a spear in his fist, the clash of steel as he fought. He was shorter than Drem, slimmer-framed, though Drem recognized the whip-cord strength in him that he often saw in trappers.\n\nLiving in the Wild hones a man, his da had often said to him. Body and mind.\n\nLiving at Dun Seren must do something similar, then.\n\n\"Ignore her,\" Cullen whispered, \"she's too serious by far. You are Byrne's sister son, descended from Cywen, sister to Corban, so you have royal blood in your veins.\"\n\nDrem paused on the step at that. His da had never told him of his lineage past his mam, only that he was blood-related to Byrne.\n\n\"Royal?\"\n\n\"Well, as good as, if you're a resident of Dun Seren. '\n\n\"And who are you descended from, to be my cousin?\"\n\nCullen's chest swelled a little.\"Corban and Coralen are my great-grandparents, ' he said.\n\nDrem blinked at that.\n\nCorban. He looked at Cullen with fresh eyes.\n\n\"Enough of that,\" Sig said from Drem's smashed doorway.\"We need to talk. '\n\nThey all settled onto stools or chairs around Drem's hearth. Sig sat on the floor, her legs taking up half the room."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We came because of your message,\" Sig said to him once Cullen had put hot bowls of porridge and steaming tea in all their hands.\n\n\"You asked me to come, if my friendship with Olin meant anything tome after so many years. A fair question. And here is your answer,\" she said, spreading her hands, as if to say: We came.\n\n\"First I must tell you that Byrne wishes she were here. She very nearly came, it was I and her captains who dissuaded her of it. Strange things are happening in the Banished Lands, the scent of war with the Kadoshim in the air and Byrne is the high captain of the Order of the Bright Star. She could not abandon her post at such a dangerous time. But she asked me to tell you that she has thought of you every single day, from the moment that Olin took you from Dun Seren until now, that she searched for you and would have fought the Ben-Elim to keep you free.\"\n\n\"My da knew that,\" Drem said, \"which is why he took me. To avert a war.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Sig said, \"we knew that, and loved him for it. But we would rather the both of you had stayed with us.\" Sig dipped her head a moment. \"One last thing Byrne asked me to tell you. That Dun Seren is your home. It always has been, and always will be, if you so wish it.\"\n\nHome. That was a strange concept to Drem. Home had always been at his da's side.\n\n\"And I would say,\" Sig continued, \"that you are not just Byrne's kin, but kin to all of us. We of the Order have a bond that cannot be broken, and you were born there, spent your first four years amongst us. Olin was my sword-brother. He was my friend, and that's more than enough for me, whether you are Byrne's kin or no. '"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem felt his chest swell at that, a surge of emotion. He had felt nothing but alone since his da's death, and to hear Sig's words felt as if a door had been unlocked in his heart. Tears glistened his eyes.\n\n\"My heartbreaks for Olin,\" Sig said. \"He was brother to us all, and dearly missed these past years.\" She bowed her head, Keld and Cullen following suit, even the white crow. Drem was deeply touched by the small display of respect.\n\n\"He spoke of you,\" Drem said when Sig looked up. \"Though not until a moon or two ago. Until then I knew nothing of his past, or the Order of the Bright Star. He said you were friends.\"\n\n\"Aye, though friends is too small a word for it,\" Sig said. \"And I knew your mother, Neve. We were all close, closer than kin. And you. You gave my shins more than one bashing with your wooden sword. I was not surprised to see you join us in the sword dance just now, as we could hardly keep you from it as a bairn. You showed great promise on the weapons-field.\"\n\n\"I did? I don't remember. '\n\nThere were fractured, lightning flashes, more of frozen images and moments. A huge tower upon a hill. A stone, words carved upon it, smooth under Drem's fingers. A fair-haired woman, laughing as she admonished him.\n\nSig!\n\n\"Little Drem.\" Keld chuckled, shaking his head. Somehow Drem thought a smile on the man's face was a rare thing.\n\n\"There's more to tell you, that I've discovered since I wrote the letter to you,\" Drem said, desperate to hear more of his past, of his mam and da, but he knew the knowledge he had was momentous."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You said something last night."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "About Kadoshim, but you were delirious by that point,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Aye, you were off with the faeries.\" Cullen grinned.\n\nThree days and nights of no sleep and then being hanged, again, will do that to a man.\n\n\"And Asger told us of a great bonfire in the Bonefells.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Drem said. \"What of it?\"\n\n\"There have been bonfires, beacons, lit throughout the Banished Lands. We know it is some kind of signal amongst the Kadoshim. Which is another reason for my presence. It is a hint that the Kadoshim are here, this far north, and if they are, the Order must know.\"\n\n\"They are,\" Drem said. \"The Kadoshim. I saw them. Only half a day's ride from here. ' He gestured vaguely north-east.\n\n\"They?\" Cullen asked. \"More than one?\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Drem nodded.\n\nThe three newcomers shared a look.\n\n\"How many?\" Sig asked Drem.\n\nDrem closed his eyes, remembering those moments when he'd stood on the palisade and stared out over Starstone Lake.\n\n\"I saw three, at least,\" he said at last. \"It was night, there could have been more.\"\n\nHe saw the questions forming on all their lips and held a hand up. \"But before that, I must tell you this. My da found a lump of the Starstone, and he fashioned a sword from it.\"\n\n\"What?\" Sig, Keld and Cullen said in unison. Rab squawked above them.\n\n\"Why?\" Sig said. \"The man I knew would not have done something so rash, not without good reason.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He wanted to end it all. The war between Kadoshim and Ben-Elim, wanted them gone from the Banished Lands.\"\n\n\"And how was he going to accomplish that with one sword?\" Cullen said. \"Even if it was a magic one.\"\n\n\"He planned to cut Asroth's head from his shoulders. '\n\nA silence, Sig and Keld sharing along glance.\n\nCullen whistled.\n\n\"Well, that would probably do it,\" Keld said.\n\n\"And who has this sword, now?\" Sig asked.\n\n\"The Kadoshim must. My da's killer took it from him. '\n\nSig looked at him pointedly.\n\n\"Tell us everything you know.\"\n\nSo Drem did, beginning with the clues he'd discovered that pointed to another bear and person being his da's killers, and ending with the nightmare scenes he'd stumbled upon at the mine. The boats returning, Kadoshim in the air. The desperate, exhausted run through the forest.\n\n\"And then you all arrived, saved me,\" Drem said with a shrug.\n\n\"To be fair, you did a large part of that job for us,\" Keld said. \"We've counted the dead. You must have put fifteen of them down before we got here. '\n\n\"Sixteen,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"Olin would have been proud of you,\" Keld said.\n\n\"The question,\" Sig rumbled, \"is what are they doing at that mine, and why?\"\n\n\"They're making monsters, \"Drem said.\"Feral beast-men, strong, fast, and they want to rip your throat outwith their claws and teeth! '\n\n\"That's not the worst trait to have, \"Keld said.\"Though I'd prefer it if it stayed with my hounds.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"But it sounds as if they're experimenting, \"Cullen said, brows bunching.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That whatever they're trying to create, they haven't perfected it, yet. '\n\nAye. The things I saw were as much crippled as they were killing machines.\n\n\"It sounds tome as if the Kadoshim are making weapons,\" Sig said. \"Which would make a good deal of sense. They have their acolytes, and a lot more of them than we thought, but they still lack the numbers to win this war. They need something to tip the balance in their favour.\" She looked at them all. \"During the War of Treasures, the first war of the Starstone, when the Seven Treasures were forged from it, the giant Clans did something similar. They bred new species: wolven. White wyrms. Draigs. Living beasts, but they were also weapons of war, used in battle. The Kadoshim are doing the same, but taking it a hundred steps further, using dark magic and evil intentions to create mutated half-breeds.\"\n\n\"Why here?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Because it's the Desolation, free of the Ben-Elim's rule, and their watchful eye,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Aye, and do you think it's a coincidence that this is happening where the Starstone fell? \"Cullen asked.\"I don't. That's why they've built amine. They've been searching fora stray bit of starstone. They know the only way to free Asroth from his gaol is with the Starstone. '\n\n\"And my da gave it to them,\" Drem whispered.\n\n\"No, lad,\" Sig rumbled. \"He was murdered, and had it stolen from him. That's a different thing entirely. And one that requires vengeance. '\n\nDrem liked the way Sig said that. Not just as if she meant it, but as if it had already happened, was inevitable, and it was just the doing of it that was left to happen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's just one other thing I need to ask you about, \"Sig said.\"You saw a giant bear, stabled at this mine. And you think it's the one that killed Olin.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Drem nodded.\n\n\"And you saw a figure, like a man, but bigger. As big as me?\"\n\nDrem looked her up and down, closed his eyes, remembering the shadowed figure in the feast-room of the mine.\n\n\"Maybe,\" he nodded.\n\n\"They have a rogue giant?\" Keld said.\n\n\"Sounds like it,\" Sig growled. \"Perhaps it was him, or her, who hit Drem when Olin was killed. And then took the Starstone Sword.\"\n\nDrem nodded thoughtfully.\n\nThat would make sense of the abductions, the bear killings and sacrifices. Bear, giant and Kadoshim, all working together.\n\nA thought hit him.\n\nFritha's hold, smashed by a bear, and leather in the hound's jaws. Surl the hound bit the giant, which killed it and old Hask, and abducted Fritha to take her back there, to the mine, to be experimented upon. She is one of their Feral things, now. It could have been her body parts upon that table, or she may have been one of the things that threw itself at the cage bars.\n\nThe thought of it made him feel physically sick. Beautiful, kind Fritha, reduced to some creature consumed with bloodlust and used as a weapon.\n\n\"So, what now, chief?\" Keld said to Sig.\n\n\"We go kill them,\" Cullen said. \"What else?\"\n\n\"No,\" Sig said. \"We take Drem back to Dun Seren and report to Byrne.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"But we're so close, \"Cullen said.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And what about these Ferals, and a Starstone Sword? How can we just walkaway from that? '\n\n\"You remember Ardain?\" Sig said. \"Where we attacked one Kadoshim and its coven. We had the Battlechief of Ardain at our back with a few score of his best shieldmen, and it was still a hard fight.\"\n\n\"It was nothing,\" Cullen said, \"we barely worked up a sweat.\"\n\n\"That scar on your arm says different,\" Keld said.\n\n\"Aye, well, I've matured since then. '\n\nRab squawked.\n\n\"Three Kadoshim together,\" Sig muttered. \"And what if each of their covens are with them? That is the most Kadoshim sighted together since the Battle of Varan's Fall. Where your mother fell. ' She nodded to Drem.\n\n\"Da told me only a little of it,\" Drem said.\n\n\"I will tell you of it. Of her. Songs are sung of her that day.\"\n\n\"I would like to hear that,\" Drem said quietly.\n\n\"How many acolytes?\" Sig asked him.\n\n\"Acolytes?\"\n\n\"The shaven-haired warriors.\"\n\n\"Many,\" Drem said. \"Two boatloads, and others already at the compound.\"\n\n\"And these creatures, these Ferals?\"\n\n\"In cages. It could be ten, could be fifty. A hundred. I'm guessing at much of this, you understand? \"Drem said.\"It was dark. I was terrified. '\n\n\"Poor Drem,\" Rab cawed from above them.\n\n\"Aye. Approximate numbers, but the result is the same. A lot. Too many, and at least three Kadoshim. One Kadoshim is hard enough to kill.\" She looked at Keld and Cullen. \"I've much faith in you two, in Hammer and Fen. And my own sword arm. But-'"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And me. And Drem,\" Rab squawked.\n\n\"Aye, even you, Rab,\" Sig said. \"And Drem, but we've no right to ask him to go into any battle with us, let alone one where we are so heavily outnumbered. And Byrne needs to know of this. We should go back to Dun Seren, comeback with a few hundred swords. '\n\n\"Ach, we didn't come all this way for nothing, ' Cullen said.\n\n\"We've achieved much already, \"Sig said, frowning at him.\"We've saved our long-lost brother, for one. And his information is more valuable than gold, for two.\" Even so, Drem could see it pained her even to consider walking away from this fight. But it was the logical thing to do.\n\n\"You said I was your brother, your kin?\" Drem said.\n\n\"Aye, that you are, Drem,\" Sig said. \"I have told you, you are kin tome. As much apart of us as Olin was, and know this: if you have need, I– we– will be there, at your side. We are bonded, we few of the Order of the Bright Star, a bond of blood and friendship, unto death.\"\n\nShe held his gaze along moment, giving her words time to settle into him.\n\n\"Then I shall go where you go. Fight or freedom, either way.\" he shrugged. \"Though freedom is the logical choice.\"\n\nSig smiled at him.\n\n\"To ask you to walk back to that hell-hole, quite possibly to fight and die.\" She thought about that and shrugged. \"Probably, not possibly. No, I will not ask you to do that. We came to help you, not march you to your grave.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I could scout this mine out, with Fen,\" Keld said. \"Don't doubt Drem's account, but some eyes on the place in daylight would give us a better idea, more solid ground for Byrne to make a decision on.\"\n\nSig looked at him thoughtfully.\n\n\"I could send Drem back with Cullen and Rab,\" Sig said, \"and come with you.\"\n\n\"You'll not get to have all the fun while I walk back to Dun Seren, ' Cullen muttered sullenly.\n\nThat mine is not what I call fun.\n\nThere was the sound of hooves in the yard, all of them standing, reaching for weapons, then a strangled cry, high-pitched, a woman.\n\nDrem burst onto the porch behind Sig and Keld, saw a woman upon a dun horse. She was as pale as death, staring wide-eyed at the bear Hammer as it lumbered out of the trees to the north.\n\n\"Dear Elyon above, it's going to eat us! ' the woman shrieked.\n\n\"Hold, Hammer,\" Sig shouted and the bear stopped.\n\nDrem ran forwards, recognizing the woman as Tyna, Ulf the tanner's wife. She looked as if she was going to faint at the sight of Sig.\n\n\"What is it, Tyna?\" Drem asked. \"What's wrong? \"Why are you here?\"\n\n\"I'm worried about my Ulf, \"she said.\"Listening to you and your talk of Kadoshim, I told him he should have a look at that mine, just for some piece of mind. '\n\n\"He didn't go, did he? ' Drem asked.\n\n\"Of course he did, and he took my three boys with him, amongst a dozen others. Went off yesterday morning, and he's still not back. '"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem shared a look with Sig, Keld and Cullen.\n\nMore fodder for the Kadoshim to mutilate and transform. Not Ulf.\n\n\"We'll go and take a look. ' Sig nodded.\n\n\"Well, it would have been a shame to come such along way for just one little fight,\" Cullen said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "RIV\n\n\"Water,\" Riv whispered, breath like a rasp in her throat, scraping her flesh raw. It was dark, the sound of rain, pounding and hissing against stone, a torch flaring bright, though she could just about manage to keep her eyes open now without the sensation of sharp, sliver-thin knives stabbing into the back of her brain and scraping upon the inside of her skull.\n\nThat's progress.\n\nFractured memories slipped through her mind. Sparring with Kol on the weapons-field. His arm tight around her, his breath on her neck. Collapsing, a kaleidoscope of images in this room. Aphra, her mam, Kol. A whispered meeting in the dark.\n\nThere was a dark shape over her, a hand behind her head, helping her sit. Water, oh blessed, sweet, heaven-sent water, a trickle on her lips, over her swollen tongue and down her redraw throat.\n\n\"Slowly,\" Aphra said as Riv tried to tip more water into her mouth.\n\n\"Where am I?\" Riv croaked, looking around. The room was circular, one long window starting from the floor and ending with an arched top, tall and wide enough fora giant to walk through. Darkness, wind and rain leaked in, pressing upon the torchlight, making it swirl and hiss. Something about the way the wind whistled through the window whispered to Riv of height.\n\n\"A tower room,\" Aphra said, \"above our barrack.\"\n\nNever knew this was here!\n\n\"It's my solitude room, \"Aphra said with a sad smile.\"How do you feel? '\n\nRiv wasn't sure. She felt as if her body had been put through a mangle, aching and entirely lacking in anything resembling energy. Keeping her eyes open and looking around seemed to be taxing enough."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Weak,\" she breathed. \"Cold.\" She shivered, trying to shrug the woollen blanket tighter around her. She frowned at the open window.\n\nA shutter would help.\n\n\"Your fever is returning,\" Aphra said with a frown, her hand on Riv's brow.\"This is the third time. Twice I thought it had broken and you were healing. '\n\n\"How long?\"\n\n\"Half a ten-night.\"\n\n\"What! Is that how long I've been... ? \"She didn't know what to call it. \"Unwell?\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Aphra nodded. \"Since you collapsed on the weapons-field.\"\n\nRiv drank some more water, managed to blink and roll her neck without feeling as if she'd spent a morning in the shield wall. Her back ached, a dull throb of pain, pulsing out from her shoulder blades.\n\n\"Back,\" she said, trying to roll her shoulders. She felt different, somehow. As if she'd grown.\"It hurts. \"She shifted, feeling muscle move that hadn't been there when last she checked.\n\n\"Your back. Well, I'm not surprised it's hurting.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Riv said, not liking the sound of that, or the look on Aphra's face. Not just worry. Something more. Something far greater than worry.\n\nAphra held up a strip of something that looked like parchment, crinkled and opaque.\n\n\"What's that? ' Riv pulled a face.\n\n\"Your skin. It's been peeling from your back for half a ten-night. '\n\n\"Ugh!\"\n\n\"And there's plenty more where that came from. '\n\nWhat's happening tome? Have I caught some disease from the mission to Oriens and into Forn? Some plant spore that has infected me? I've heard tell of warriors breathing spores or seeds into their lungs, their stomachs, and fungus growing inside them, eating its way out!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Am I going to die?\"\n\nRiv found the fact that Aphra didn't immediately discard that option deeply worrying.\n\n\"No,\" Aphra eventually said. \"But I think we're going to have to get you out of Drassil. '\n\n\"What! Why?\"\n\n\"Riv, you're growing. You have new muscle forming-'\n\n\"I can feel it,\" Riv said, flexing her shoulders, feeling muscle bunch between her shoulder and neck. It was an odd sensation.\n\n\"This must be how Vald feels,\" she said.\n\n\"You're starting to look like him, \"Aphra agreed with awry smile. She stroked Riv's face. \"I'm sorry, ' she whispered.\n\n\"Why?\" Riv said. \"What for?\"\n\n\"So many things. For the way I've been, with you. I've had my own troubles, but that is no excuse. You are my blood, the most important thing tome in all the world, and I have neglected you, let you down.\" A fat tear rolled down Aphra's cheek.\n\nRiv looked up at her, a whole host of emotions whirling through her. She tried to find words, but they wouldn't come, so she settled fora smile.\n\nThe latch on the door rattled. Riv jumped, twisting to look and immediately regretting that, a wave of dizziness.\n\nA figure entered. Aphra was standing, a hand on her sword hilt, stepping between Riv and the door. She relaxed when she saw who it was.\n\n\"Mam, you startled me.\"\n\n\"How is she?\" Riv's mam said.\n\nAphra stepped out of the way.\n\n\"Hello, Mam,\" Riv said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, my darling,\" Dalmae said, crouching down beside Riv, stroking her face.\n\n\"Nice to see you,\" Riv whispered, feeling an edge of delirium starting to fog her brain again.\n\n\"It's nice to see you, too, \"her mam said, a half-laugh. Riv was surprised to see tears in her mam's eyes. She wasn't much of a crier. Riv was also surprised to see that beneath her cloak her mam was dressed in her old White-Wing uniform, a short-sword hanging from her belt.\n\n\"What's going on? ' Riv asked, brow wrinkling, her sense for danger tingling, a faint echo in her head.\n\n\"The fortress is on alert,\" Aphra said, her eyes flickering to their mam. \"Word of a possible Kadoshim attack.\"\n\n\"I'd better-' Riv started, struggling to rise, though too quickly, anew wave of dizziness and she blinked and found herself lying in her cot again.\n\nTry again, slower this time.\n\n\"Garidas is downstairs, asking for you,\" her mam said to Aphra. \"He's not alone. A score of his hundred in the barracks. More outside. \"There was meaning in the words that Riv didn't understand.\n\n\"What did you tell him?\" Aphra asked.\n\n\"That he cannot see you. That you are indisposed at present.\"\n\n\"Do you think he will settle for that?\"\n\nThe sound of footsteps on a stairwell. A knock at their door. A silence.\n\n\"There's your answer, ' Dalmae whispered.\n\n\"Aphra. Aphra, it is I, Garidas. If you are in there, I must speak with you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A shared look between Aphra and her mam.\n\n\"Enter,\" Aphra said, her mam slipping back into the shadows behind the door as it opened.\n\nGaridas walked in, Riv, trying to sit up again, was abruptly aware that she had little in the way of clothes on. She pulled the woollen blanket higher, saw her clothes at the bottom of the bed.\n\nGaridas' eyes took in Riv, a look of concern. Genuine.\n\nRiv liked Garidas. He had always seemed straight and kind, if a little pompous. She could see that kindness in his eyes now.\n\n\"Are you well?\" he asked Riv.\n\n\"No,\" Riv said, feeling honesty was more appropriate than politeness, and she didn't have the energy for any social niceties, anyway.\n\n\"I am sorry if I am interrupting something,\" Garidas said, looking to Aphra, \"but I need to speak with you. It is most urgent.\"\n\n\"My sister is unwell,\" Aphra said. \"This is not a good time.\" Her eyes glanced to the dark window, looking out, beyond, though all Riv could see was the blackness of night, hear the rattle of rain on stone and the wild gusts of wind through the great tree's branches high above.\n\n\"I will be quick,\" Garidas said, something about him making it clear he would not leave until he had said what he came to say.\n\n\"Go on, then,\" Aphra said, a sigh, a hint of resignation in her voice.\n\n\"You must leave Drassil,\" Garidas said. \"Tonight. Now.\"\n\nAphra did not answer, just stared at him. There was clearly more to come."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You're in danger."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He opened his mouth, closed it, pinched his nose.\"You know I think highly of you. I hoped that one day... '\n\nHe paused, the words seeming to stick in his throat, and took a deep breath.\n\n\"Kol is finished. His transgressions are uncovered. I know that you have been... involved with him, in the past. But not for many years. I would not see you torn down and destroyed with him in his ruin.\"\n\nAlong silence, emotions playing across Aphra's face.\n\nKol and Aphra, like Adonai and Estel! Riv felt as if she was experiencing it all through a veil, like a secret observer. As if it were all a dream, just another of the many lurid, irrational, sometimes insane dreams she'd experienced lately.\n\nNo, I am here. It is the fever in my body making it feel like this.\n\n\"What do you mean, finished?\" Aphra said.\n\n\"My men have taken Kol into custody, are taking him to Israfil as we speak.\"\n\n\"Who else knows?\" Aphra asked.\n\n\"That does not matter,\" Garidas snapped. \"The whole sordid tale will be spilling from Kol's lips soon. His confession is only a formality. Israfil already knows, and he will carve a confession from him, if needs be. Go, now, before it is too late. Once this is settled and over, you will be able to return-'\n\n\"That will be impossible,\" Aphra said. \"Lorina? Does she know?\"\n\n\"Not of Kol's arrest, no. \"Garidas scowled.\"She is in league with him. Did you not know? '\n\n\"I suspected,\" Aphra said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We are wasting too much time. You have to leave, now, or it will be too late. I have horses ready for you, a wain if you need it. Come.\" He held out an arm to Aphra, stood there long moments as she hesitated.\n\n\"Please,\" Garidas said.\n\nA creak of leather behind him, a familiar hiss, one they all knew instantly. The sound of a sword being drawn.\n\nGaridas turned, hand on his sword hilt, drawing his blade as he moved.\n\nA sword punched into his belly, low, beneath the line of his cuirass, and he gasped, slumped forwards onto his killer, rested his head upon her shoulder, as if she were his lover.\n\n\"I am sorry, my sword-brother,\" Dalmae said as she pushed him away, pulling her sword free, the splash of blood on stone, and he fell backwards, clutching his gut, staring up at her. He cried out, loud, wordless betrayal, full of pain, and Riv heard an answering call below. Dalmae stepped forwards and stabbed him in the throat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "SIG\n\n\"We'd best leave the track, now, \"Drem said beside Sig. After hearing the news from Ulf's wife they had ridden hard from Drem's hold, using a well-worn path that hugged the fringes of the northern woodland. To their right was the Starstone Lake, dark and still, and in the distance Sig saw the outline of a stockade wall, buildings rearing within. A pier jutted into the lake with boats moored along it.\n\nSig looked up at the sun, veiled behind fraying louds, saw it was a little past highsun. She grunted an agreement with Drem and barked a command, the four of them riding into the eaves of the wood, Hammer ploughing away through the snow that as good as made anew track, the others falling in behind. Every now and then Sig saw the grey streak of Fen shadowing them.\n\nAfter awhile the woodland grew too close and dense and they dismounted, Drem taking the lead, as he told them he knew the ground a little, which was a lot more than them.\n\n\"Five years my da has taught me to track, hunt and trap in this northern Wild,\" he said, \"and fora good while before that further south. If I can't do a job, or someone can do it better than me, I'll tell you.\" He looked at Keld. \"He's as much a hunter as his wolven-hound, and far better at it than me, but I know this ground. Know where I'm leading you.\"\n\nSig glanced at Keld, always her first port of call, and he nodded.\n\n\"He knows what he's doing, \"Keld said.\"I'm happy to follow him.\" He'd told Sig of the number of traps and work he'd found around Drem's hold, his preparation for the coming of the Kadoshim's acolytes. Keld had laughed, he'd been so impressed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He dug an elk pit. In the heart of winter, and then sank a dozen spears into it. And that wasn't all. A nail trap, a bear trap, a mini-stampede, and he blew the barn up. On purpose. '\n\nSig liked what she saw in Drem. There seemed to be no falsity to him, no bluster or hidden ways. He spoke the truth as he saw it and displayed very little bravado.\n\nWhich is good, as I have enough of that to put up within Cullen. Though he's a good lad, too, just trying to live up to his heritage. One day soon he'll realize it's more about what he does than what he says. I think he and Drem could work well together.\n\nSig was already beginning to form plans on how her small crew would be changing once they got back to Dun Seren.\n\nBest not get ahead of myself. If Drem's right, there are Kadoshim and a host of enemies out there. Getting back to Dun Seren alive is going to be task enough.\n\nThere was a flapping above and behind. Rab appeared, blending with the snow-glow.\n\n\"Done it,\" he squawked, alighting on Cullen's shoulder. The young warrior scratched his neck.\n\nSig had been loath to walk into such a dangerous situation, knew the perils around them and feared that if things went sour Byrne would never hear of the Kadoshim and their dark goings-on in the north, so she had inked a letter on a scroll of parchment at Drem's hold. She could not spare Rab to fly the parchment all the way back to Dun Seren, as she needed his eyes here, but Drem had told her of a woman at Kergard whom he trusted, whom he believed would make sure the scroll reached Dun Seren. It was not as reliable an option as Sig would have liked, but assessing the situation, she could think of no other way to get word to Byrne."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're sure you gave the parchment to the right woman? ' Sig asked.\n\n\"Hildith, Hildith,\" Rab squawked.\n\n\"What did she look like?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Stern. Big men with her. Smelled of mead.\"\n\n\"That's her, ' said Drem.\n\n\"Good enough.\" Sig nodded. \"Well done, Rab.\"\n\nRab bobbed his head and puffed his feathers out.\n\nWelcome, ' he croaked.\n\n\"Now, would you fly ahead and have a look at this mine for us?\" Sig asked.\n\n\"Course,\" Rab squawked and then he was flapping away.\n\nDrem led them on.\n\n\"How did my mam die?\" a voice said. Sig looked down to see Drem walking beside her, leading his horse by its reins. Hammer was following at her own pace, treading her own path at the edge of Sig's vision.\n\n\"She was slain by a Kadoshim, at the Battle of Varan's Fall, ' Sig said, a rush of memory flooding her mind. Of trees and Kadoshim and blood.\n\n\"I know that,\" Drem said. \"I have the Kadoshim's tooth. \"He drew his sword and showed Sig the hilt of his father's blade.\n\n\"I remember,\" Sig said. \"I helped your father hunt the beast. Moloch was its name. It was the Kadoshim that struck your mam down. Olin made it scream when finally we brought it to bay. It was not a quick death.\"\n\nDrem nodded, looked as if he was storing that piece of knowledge deep inside.\n\n\"Varan's Fall? \"Drem said.\"My da said it was an ambush. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Aye."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the north of Forn Forest. We were after the Kadoshim's captain, second only to Asroth. His name is Gulla. But we were over-confident, did not scout ahead properly. Dead Kadoshim were heaped around your mam in piles that day. She and your da fought back to back, but were cutoff from the rest of us fora while. Many of our sword-kin fell that day. Gunil, ' she whispered, then fell silent, remembering the others who had been cutoff and slain. Brave, noble Varan. And his brother...\n\nGunil. How I miss you. A memory of his smile filled her mind, the way it would start in his eyes.\n\n\"Gunil?\" Drem said.\n\nHis ears are good.\n\n\"A giant,\" Sig said. \"A friend.\"\n\nMore than a friend.\n\n\"You were close?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Sig sighed.\n\nI have never spoken of Gunil to anyone before. There is something about this lad, a goodness in him.\n\n\"Death and heartache are all about,\" Drem said quietly. He looked up at Sig. \"So, Gulla was responsible for my mam's death, then. He did not strike the blow, but he led the attack. '\n\n\"Aye, you could say that.\" Sig nodded.\n\n\"And responsible for your Gunil's death, too. '\n\nSig regarded him along moment.\n\n\"Aye,\" she growled.\n\nRab flapped and threaded through a gap in the canopy above.\n\n\"It's close, \"the crow squawked.\"Buildings, torches burning. '\n\n\"There it is,\" Drem said, though the place hardly needed pointing out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were standing to the north of the mine, behind a cluster of boulders and hawthorn, Drem having led them in a wide circle around the encampment, all of them of the opinion that any watch would be focused more to the west and the road to Kergard. It was sunset, the sky above a dull orange, shifting towards pinks and purples.\n\n\"Looks quiet,\" Cullen observed.\n\n\"Aye, it does,\" Keld agreed. \"Could bean ambush.\"\n\n\"I hope it's an ambush, ' Cullen said, his fingertips brushing his sword hilt.\n\nSig sighed.\n\n\"Is he always like this?\" Drem asked.\n\n\"Like what?\" Cullen frowned.\n\n\"So keen for bloodshed.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Sig and Keld said together.\n\nRab flapped down and landed on a hawthorn branch.\n\n\"Only a few on walls. Something happening inside. A meeting. Bad smell.\"\n\n\"What's the plan, chief? ' Keld asked her.\n\nAre we to storm a fortified position with unknown numbers of our enemy inside, with just the four of us, and a bear, a hound and a crow?\n\nKeld is right, we need solid information to take back to Byrne.\n\nBut townsfolk from Kergard are in there, Drem's friend amongst them. More innocents likely to be slaughtered by the Kadoshim scum.\n\nShe thought of the Order's oath, to protect the weak, to fight for them. Looked at her palm, the scar a silver line where she had sealed it with her own blood.\n\nShe knew they should already be on their way back to Dun Seren."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "But if I leave now, innocents will die. And what of this Starstone Sword? Can I just walkaway and leave it in the hands of the Kadoshim, to do Elyon knows what kind of evil. If we can get that, I'm guessing we'll stop a world of hurt from happening.\n\nSig looked at the sky.\n\n\"We'll wait for twilight, \"she said, feeling her blood stir, a snarl twitching her lips at the thought of Kadoshim so close.\"And I'm thinking Hammer should be dressed for the occasion.\" Then she drew a knife from her belt and tested its edge with her thumb.\n\nJust enough time fora shave. She smiled at Cullen.\n\n\"What?\" Cullen said suspiciously.\n\n\"Give me your hand,\" Sig hissed, leaning over the wall and reaching down to Drem. He jumped and caught her wrist, and then Sig was hauling him up and over the palisaded wall of the mine, both of them ducking low.\n\nIt was as good as full dark; Sig's preparations had taken a little longer than she'd expected. The wall was poorly manned and only sporadically lit, so it took just a few heartbeats to check they hadn't been seen, and then Drem was padding down a stairwell, Sig jumping from the walkway into snow. They crossed an open space and hugged a wall, Drem slipping ahead, Sig confident to follow his lead. A hundred heartbeats and they were deep in the camp, an acid stench burning its way into the back of Sig's throat. Drem turned and signalled, pointing up at the roof of a building, single-storey with a sod roof. Sig was on it in moments, then giving Drem a helping hand. They crawled across the sod, Sig careful to spread her weight. Grass tickled her face. And then they were peering down upon a scene that set even Sig's skin to gooseflesh."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was an open space, illuminated by many torches, their flames whipped and swirled by the wind. A boulder as big as a keep sat atone end of the clearing, the dull gleam of iron bars highlighted by the flames showing the countless gaols Drem had told them of. Veiled shapes prowled their shadows. The foul stench was emanating from those recesses in palpable waves. In the centre of the clearing stood a table, various butcher's tools spread across it, as well as a profusion of body parts. In places the timber was stained black.\n\nOn the far side of the clearing more buildings sprawled. Sig could hear the occasional snuffling and lowing of a bear coming from their direction, though she could not be sure of the exact building.\n\nAnd in the clearing a crowd of acolytes stood, forty of them, maybe fifty. Other forms moved amongst them, prowling, their movements unnatural, backs heaped and bowed with too much muscle, arms and legs too long for their bodies, mouths and hands razored with tooth and claw that did not belong upon men. More shapes moved in the shadows beyond the torchlight.\n\nDrem did not exaggerate.\n\n\"Can you see your friend, Ulf?\" Sig whispered to Drem.\n\nHe shook his head.\n\nA hush fell and figures emerged from the darkness, a procession, a Kadoshim at its head. He was tall, dark hair sweptback and tied in a knot at the nape, the sharp lines of his face and set of his eyes giving him a reptilian appearance. His nose was a thin line.\n\nA chanting broke out amongst the gathered acolytes as he entered the clearing.\n\n\"Gulla, Gulla, Gulla.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sig slid a hand to Drem and gripped his wrist.\n\n\"Gulla, High Captain of the Kadoshim,\" she hissed. \"Second only to Asroth.\"\n\nThe Captain of the Kadoshim walked through the crowd and it parted for him, his procession following behind: twelve, fourteen figures, Sig counted, all cloaked and hooded. They stopped in the space between the table and boulder, forming a half-circle behind Gulla. Two of them came to stand at his shoulder, casting their hoods back. Like Gulla they were pale-skinned and dark-veined, wings furled, clothed in rusted, iron-grey ringmail and tattered cloaks. But they were different, their heads shaved like the acolytes, and they were shorter and stockier.\n\nWhat are they? Kadoshim? But they look like no Kadoshim that I have ever seen.\n\n\"The tide of the great war turns this night,\" Gulla cried out, voice sinuous and alien. Cheers and growls and hissing approval rang out.\n\n\"My children,\" Gulla called, and the two at his shoulder stepped forwards, striding towards the great boulder.\n\nGulla's children! What foul deed have these Kadoshim committed? The darkness they have brought upon mankind. Afresh anger bubbled in Sig's gut, a desire to rid the world of the Kadoshim's corruption.\n\nThe two half-breeds reached agate in the rock, the clank of chains and creak of iron hinges, then an animal screech. They reappeared with a giant bat held between them, the huge creature writhing and bucking in their grip, its head twisting and snapping at them, but it could not reach them."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gulla's children slammed the bat down onto the table, held it pinned and stretched out by its great wings.\n\nGulla walked to the table, as he did so chanting rose up from the crowd in a tongue few would understand, but Sig knew it all too well.\n\nA hush fell over the crowd.\n\n\"Fuil agus cnámh, uirlisí an cruthaitheoir,\" Gulla cried out.\n\n\"Blood and bone, tools of the creator,\" Sig whispered. Drem was as tense as a drawn bow beside her.\n\nWith along black nail, Gulla slit the bat's throat, its terrified screeching descending into a frothed rattle, the creature's life-blood pouring onto the table, pooling and bubbling as the creature convulsed.\n\n\"Step forward,\" Gulla said to one of the hooded figures that had followed him through the crowd, tall and slim. The figure threw back its hood, head shaved to fair stubble that glistened in the firelight.\n\nA woman? Sig thought, though she was not wholly sure; there was something androgynous about this person. Male or female, it drew a sword from its cloak. A black sword.\n\nThe Starstone Sword!\n\nBeside her Drem hissed, his body jerking and he almost leaped from the roof, only Sig's hand darting out holding him down. He took a deep breath, one hand reaching for his neck, fingers probing.\n\nIs he taking his pulse?\n\nDrem looked at Sig then, and tears were in his eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "RIV\n\nRiv staggered from her bed, the effort almost defeating her, feeling weak as a newborn kitten, but the sight of Garidas dead upon the flagstoned floor, his blood pooling dark and her mam standing over the corpse with her sword in her hand gave Riv the jolt of energy she had been lacking.\n\nShe tugged on breeches and boots, a linen shirt, which caught on her back, grating rough as sandpaper, but she managed to get it on.\n\nAphra ran to Garidas, knelt beside him. She closed his dead, staring eyes. Accusing. Aphra took his hand, smeared with blood, and stared up at her mam.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" Dalmae whispered. Then, louder. \"Forgive me. I had no choice. I would murder the world to protect you and Riv.\"\n\nAphra was silent, her shoulders shaking, and Riv realized her sister was weeping.\n\n\"Mam, why? What is happening?\" Riv slurred. \"I don't understand. ' She was washed with emotions, shock, horror, confusion. Garidas had said so many things, of Kol and Israfil and improper relations.\n\nAphra and Kol, involved, Garidas said. This is Kol's doing. He has broken the Way of Elyon, broken the Lore. And Mam has murdered Garidas! A good, kind man; he was offering to help Aphra somehow.\n\nHer mam did not look at her, would not look at her, only continued to wipe blood from her hands on her cloak.\n\n\"Aphra?\" Riv said, but her sister just stared back at her. The stink of blood filled the room, cloying. The weight of it all, murder, Aphra, Kol, right and wrong; her entire life she had been raised to obey the Lore, wanting to do nothing more than obey it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Purity is removing the ego, Israfil said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What is purity here? What is the right thing to do? She felt breathless, her stomach lurching.\n\nI feel sick. Have to get out of here. And suddenly she knew, she had to see Israfil, to speak to him, to explain Aphra's innocence before this got any worse.\n\n\"Get Mam out of here,\" she blurted to Aphra as she stumbled past them, out of the door and onto a spiral staircase. Her mam and Aphra called out behind her but she did not stop, staggering down the twisting stairs, bumping and banging into the wall on her way down.\n\nShouts echoed up to her, the scrape of swords being drawn. She ran on, behind and above her the slap of boots on stone. Riv almost fell through the door that led into her barracks' feast-hall, saw a sight that made her feel physically sick.\n\nWhite-Wings, close to blows.\n\nGaridas'men, a score or two. They had heard his cry, tried to get to him, and been barred by Aphra's hundred. Some were shouting, pushing, others withdrawn blades, ready, threatening, but holding back from that dread step of slaying their own.\n\nRiv staggered a dozen paces, fell against a high-backed chair, her balance feeling all wrong, as if she were trying to navigate the deck of a storm-racked ship. Faces loomed in and out of focus, thought she saw Jost and Vald but was not sure, blinking, shaking her head.\n\nAphra and Dalmae appeared from the door of the stairwell. They paused, taking in the scene before them.\n\n\"Traitors,\" Dalmae yelled at the top of her voice, \"Garidas is in league with the Kadoshim.\" There was a moment's silence, even the few shouting atone another paused, and then chaos exploded. The sound of steel clashing, screams, blood on the barrack's stone floor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv pushed herself away from the chair and ran through the hall, weaving through a chaotic melee of battle, tripping over fallen bodies, on towards the doorway to the street.\n\nThe doors burst open before she reached them, more of Garidas' men were rushing on, drawing blades. A gust of cold air hit Riv like a slap in the face, rain hitting her as if flung by an angry hand, stinging and refreshing. It helped her to focus fora moment and she ran out into the storm-drenched night, gasping in deep lungfuls of air, feeling as if she were suffocating.\n\nA harnessed wain and half a dozen horses were tethered in the street.\n\nThe ones Garidas brought hereto help Aphra escape. He was a good man, well intentioned, and Mam just murdered him!\n\nShe turned and ran through the empty street, rain sheeting down, the stone dark and slippery. Her back itched and burned, like a scab ready to peel, the sensation of new muscle rippling and bunching disturbing her, and the fog in her mind ebbed and flowed, like the tide rising and falling.\n\nWhat is wrong with me?\n\nTime enough for that later. First, I must do what is right.\n\nAs she turned a corner she heard the sounds of battle spill out from her barrack into the open behind her. Turning down another street, she saw figures, more White-Wings. They were setting oak bars across another barrack's door. Riv recognized Lorina, captain of the other hundred that had marched to Oriens. More of her White-Wings were standing in the shadows, waiting. As Riv ran past, muffled voices cried out, thuds hammering on the far side of the barrack doors."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This is all Kol. Charming, handsome, fascinating Kol. A storm is coming, he said to Aphra. What side will you choose?\n\nKol has been arrested, accused of improper relations, Garidas said. She suddenly remembered Kol's hand upon her cheek, fingers brushing her lips, and she shivered.\n\nHe has made the storm, has planned for this. Sent the giants away, has Lorina with him, and my sister. But Garidas said he had Kol in custody, that he is being taken to Israfil.\n\nIt was all there, in her mind, what was happening, but like a jigsaw the pieces were separate, were not connecting to make the whole picture clear.\n\nOn she ran, towards Israfil's chambers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "DREM\n\nIt's Fritha! Tears burned his eyes, the sense of betrayal hot as bile in his throat.\n\nNot abducted by them, or experimented upon and mutilated by them. She is one of them! Has been one of them all along.\n\nI am the world's greatest fool.\n\n\"It is Fritha,\" he whispered, more in control, now, at least enough to not hurl himself from the roof in an attempt to kill the deceitful, lying witch.\n\nWhat part did she play in my da's death? Was it her that hit me? Took the sword? She certainly has it now.\n\nHe felt his body tense again, but controlled himself. He was not about to commit suicide when the chance of justice or vengeance was so slim.\n\nWait, bide my time. Bethe hunter Da taught me to be. But know this, Fritha– for what you've done, I will kill you.\n\nShe raised the black sword.\n\n\"Fuil agus cnámh, rud éigin nua a dhéanamh,\" Gulla cried, voice filling the clearing.\n\n\"Blood and bone, to make something new,\" Sig whispered beside him.\n\nA silence in the clearing.\n\n\"Do it,\" Gulla snarled.\n\nAnd Fritha cut Gulla's throat, his two half-breed children stepping forwards and helping her catch the slumping body, heaving it limp onto the table, on top of the still-twitching bat. Fritha sheathed her black sword and reached into some kind of bag at her feet.\n\n\"This cannot be?\" Sig muttered besides Drem. \"What are they doing?\"\n\nFritha held something aloft, what looked like a severed hand, fingers bunched into a fist, although it was dark and gleaming, and clearly heavy. She brandished it for all to see, a ripple of muttered awe escaping those gathered before her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fola agus cnámh an Asroth,\" Fritha cried out, and cast whatever it was onto the entwined corpses of Gulla and the bat.\n\n\"Dear Elyon above, no,\" Sig whispered.\n\n\"What?\" Drem hissed.\n\n\"Blood and bone of Asroth,\" she breathed. \"It's Asroth's hand.\"\n\n\"Bheith ar cheann, a bheith rud éigin nua,\" Fritha cried out, the crowd before her joining their voices to hers, ringing out in the winter's night. The two corpses on the table convulsed and heaved, limbs and wings entangling, spasming, merging, flesh softening as if they were melting together, their mixed blood bubbling and seething.\n\n\"Become one, become something new,\" Sig intoned.\n\nSteam spread out from the entwined bodies on the table, a great cloud boiling out and settling upon the clearing. There was a squelching sound, a series of violent cracks ringing out, and then, slowly, the mist evaporated and a silence fell.\n\nWe should get out of here, now, Drem thought. While all are focused on this dread act.\n\nBut he couldn't tear his eyes from the scene before him, his body just as unresponsive.\n\nUpon the blackened timber a body lay, curled like an unborn bairn still in the womb.\n\n\"Behold,\" Fritha cried out in a voice that did not sound like her own. \"The first Revenant!\"\n\nSlowly, as all watched in hushed silence, the body moved, a twitching that became a ripple of limbs and wings, and it stood. Gulla, but different. He seemed bigger, for one, more muscular, a strength barely contained within his frame. And his veins pulsed with a dark light. His head twitched, raptor-like, as he looked about, long fangs curling from desiccated lips."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who shall be my first-born, the first disciple?\" Gulla said, even his voice changed, deeper, more resonant, though more bestial, too.\n\n\"You?\" He pointed at Fritha.\n\nShe stared back at him.\n\n\"I am promised to another,\" she said and, bowing her head, stepped back.\n\nA man leaped forwards from amongst the acolytes that had followed him into the clearing, shrugging off his cloak. Drem recognized him immediately: scar-faced Burg, Wispy's leader.\n\n\"Choose me, Lord, I beg you for the honour,\" he cried out, voice laced with hysteria and wonder.\n\nGulla's wings unfurled with a powerful snap, spreading wide and then curling inwards, wrapping around Burg, pulling him closer to Gulla, whose head dipped down, and then Gulla opened his mouth wide, long canines glinting red in the firelight, and he was biting into Burg's neck.\n\nBurg screamed, a terror-filled shriek that gradually subsided into a weak mewling, slowly overcome by anew sound, a hideous, child-like suckling that echoed around the clearing, making Drem's skin crawl as if a thousand spiders were scuttling over him.\n\nBurg's legs buckled and he slumped, Gulla taking his weight as easily as acorn doll, though Burg was still conscious, his eyes bulging and rapturous.\n\nWith a shudder Gulla disengaged from Burg's neck and lifted his head. He raised Burg up and placed him upon the table, the shaven-haired acolyte twitching and shivering as if he were caught in the grips of a fever. A single drop of blood ran from the puncture wounds in his neck."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Drem,\" Sig whispered. \"We must get back to Dun Seren. Byrne must hear of this, the Order must be warned,\" she said. \"We cannot search for your friend Ulf, this is too important, too dangerous. The fate of the Banished Lands rests upon others knowing of this.\"\n\nDrem nodded, but anew hush had fallen over the clearing as Gulla beckoned another acolyte forwards.\n\nWe need some noise to cover our departure.\n\n\"Is he here?\" Gulla called out to this new acolyte.\n\nThe figure pulled his hood back, another shaven-haired zealot, though this one was older.\n\nIt was Ulf the tanner.\n\n\"Yes, my Lord,\" Ulf said.\n\n\"He's here, somewhere, ' another voice called out from the crowd, stepping forwards. A woman this time, shaven-haired as well. It took a moment for Drem to recognize her.\n\nTyna, Ulf's wife, whom Drem had seen that morning, terrified for her husband's safety.\n\n\"Show him,\" Gulla said to the acolytes spread about the clearing, bloodied lips spread in a sanguine smile.\n\nMore and more acolytes started to push their hoods back, more shaven heads, but they were faces that Drem recognized. Fear seized him, then, a paralysis that threatened to incapacitate him, for they were mostly faces he'd known for the last five years, neighbours, townsfolk, some he'd even considered friends.\n\nIs everything and everyone a lie?\n\n\"It seems that half the town of Kergard is here,\" Drem wheezed, finding it hard to breathe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "BLEDA\n\nBleda sat before the window in his chamber, the shutters rattling with the wind and beating rain. Behind him a few embers glowed on his hearth, all but burned out. He was restless, had been for some days now, and couldn't sleep. He knew the root of it, though it had taken him awhile to admit it to himself.\n\nI am worried about Riv.\n\nFor as long as he could remember, all he had thought about was the Sirak. About his kin, his dead brother and sister, his pride-battered mother. Arcona, the Grass Sea, nursing his grudges, he and Jin feeding each other's flames of hatred, their spite-filled mocking of all things Drassil, their disgust at any who were weak enough to show emotion, their bitter dreams of justice or vengeance, whatever name you gave it.\n\nBut now I am worried about something– someone– else. Riv. My friend.\n\nIt was anew feeling, having a friend. Caring about someone who had not come from the Clans. Especially when that someone was as wild and emotionally unfettered as an unbroken colt.\n\nBut she was his friend, he could as much deny it as deny that water was wet, or the sky was blue. She had done something unprecedented that day when she'd given him his bow. She'd forged a bond with him somehow, across the abyss of his pain and scorn.\n\nSo, she is my friend. I care about her welfare.\n\nAnd that was why he'd rushed after her when he'd seen her carried from the weapons-field, almost a ten-night gone, why he'd hammered on her barrack doors, only to be told to go away, that she was unwell and could not have visitors."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Everyday he had returned, everyday been told the same thing, whether by her mam or sister. Sometimes a different White-Wing. Even by the bull-muscled Vald once. He'd called Bleda back as he had turned to leave.\n\n\"Don't take it personal, \"Vald had said.\"I've not seen her, either. None of us have. Only Aphra and Dalmae. Riv's got some kind of fever, so they're saying.\"\n\nSomehow that had made Bleda feel slightly better.\n\nUntil Jin had spoken to him.\n\nAnd she's not happy, either.\n\nJin had told him in no uncertain terms that he was humiliating her, and himself, with his pathetic fascination for Riv. Jin had called her a bad-tempered barbarian, which had almost made Bleda smile, a twitch of facial muscle that hadn't gone unnoticed by Jin, and had not helped to soothe her mood.\n\nPerhaps Jin's right. I should be more concerned with my training, earning the right to lead my hundred, and their respect. Certainly Old Ellac had looked at him strangely every time that Bleda marched to Riv's barrack, for Ellac would accompany him, saying he was sworn to protect him, and Bleda had no reason to order him not to do so.\n\nBut as Bleda sat herein the dark, thinking these things through, he had come to a conclusion.\n\nI don't care. Not about how I should feel, about how I should behave. Riv is my friend.\n\nHe sighed with that thought, a release of tension, and sat a little straighter in his chair.\n\nA sound drew his attention, standing out from the wind and rain. He opened his shutters a crack and peered outside. A movement in the street below drew his eyes, a flicker through the swirling eddies of rain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A person, weaving through the street as if they had drunk too much wine."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A woman, fair hair plastered to their face.\n\nIs that... ?\n\nHe leaned forwards, pulling the shutters wide.\n\nRiv?\n\nOther forms appeared behind her, following, gaining.\n\nBefore he'd realized what he was doing he'd pulled on his boots and was buckling his weapons-belt on, the familiar weight of his bow and quiver feeling like a missing limb returning. He wrapped a cloak about his shoulders and slipped out of his door."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the story as the writer's narrative assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, demons\nAuthor: John Gwynne\nTitle: A Time of Dread\nChapter: 50"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A person, weaving through the street as if they had drunk too much wine."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A woman, fair hair plastered to their face.\n\nIs that... ?\n\nHe leaned forwards, pulling the shutters wide.\n\nRiv?\n\nOther forms appeared behind her, following, gaining.\n\nBefore he'd realized what he was doing he'd pulled on his boots and was buckling his weapons-belt on, the familiar weight of his bow and quiver feeling like a missing limb returning. He wrapped a cloak about his shoulders and slipped out of his door."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SIG\n\n\"Come out, Drem, trapper's son, forger of the Starstone Sword, \"Gulla called out.\"And you, too, Sig of the Bright Star. I know you are here, somewhere. You cannot think to ride pasta town of four hundred people upon your great bear and go unnoticed. '\n\nLaughter hissed and rippled around the clearing.\n\n\"Long have you been a bane to us, a thorn in our flesh, and now you shall be plucked and thrown upon the fire, and we shall feast upon your bones, upon the flesh of your bear and upon the hearts and organs of your sword-brothers.\"\n\nAs terrified and foolish as Sig felt right now, that made her mad.\n\nThere's a time for stealth, and there's a time to kill.\n\n\"Come out, come out,\" Gulla chanted, laughing, the acolytes taking up the cry, ringing out as they spread through the clearing, turning, searching. A whisper of wings, and Gulla's children took to the air. With a victorious cry they spotted Sig and Drem and sped towards them. One was faster, the female. She thrust a spear down at them. Sig pushed Drem out of its way and grabbed the spear, pulling the half-breed Kadoshim down to her, grabbing a fist-full of leathery wing and then she was dragging herself upright, gripping the wing with both hands, setting her feet and twisting, turning, swinging the half-breed, smashing it with all of her prodigious strength into the roof, an explosion of turf, the creature loose-limbed fora few heartbeats and then Drem kicked it in the stomach, sending it rolling off the roof.\n\nAn ear-splitting shriek and its brother was swooping towards them, wings tight as it dived, a sword in its hand. A whistle of air past Sig's ear and a spear was suddenly sprouting from the half-breed's chest. He swerved away, wings beating weakly, and then the wings folded and he crashed to earth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Below them Gulla screamed.\n\n\"Ulfang!\"\n\nA roar of rage from the acolytes below as they surged towards the building Sig and Drem were standing upon.\n\nSig looked at Drem.\n\n\"Sometimes the only answer is blood and steel,\" he said.\n\n\"Ach, but you're Olin's boy, and no denying.\" Sig grinned.\n\n\"I loved my da,\" Drem said.\n\nSig glanced quickly around, eyes lingering on the dark alleys that led to the wall, only a fast sprint away.\n\nWe could make a break for it. Would just need to get over the wall and to the trees beyond. To Hammer.\n\nThe beating of wings, and Gulla's daughter reappeared, her hand snaking out and grabbing Drem's ankle, heaving.\n\nFora moment he teetered on the edge of the roof, and then he fell.\n\nSig's longsword hissed into her hand.\n\n\"TRUTH AND COURAGE,\" she bellowed as she leaped into the crowd of acolytes surging around Drem, baying for their blood.\n\nShe swung her sword with both hands as she fell, carving a bloody path through leather, flesh and bone, the momentum turning her so that she crashed into anew mass of shaven-haired zealots, flattening some, breaking bones, scattering more. Drem was on the ground, pushing himself to his knees.\n\nSig was on her feet in a heartbeat and began swinging her sword in great two-handed loops. Limbs and heads sprang from bodies, blood jetting in fountains, men and women screaming. Then something else was running at her, something twisted and misshapen, all jutting teeth and hooked talons. She swung at its head but it ducked beneath, raked her with too-long claws as its momentum carried it skidding past her, links in her chainmail shirt shattering, blood welling beneath, then it was twisting on its heels and coming at her again. Sig lunged forwards, sword-tip the focal point of her entire body, like an extension of her, legs, torso, arms all flowing into the lunge. The Feral was coming at her so fast it could not adjust its momentum or trajectory, and so ran onto her sword, skewering itself through its broad chest, Sig's blade bursting out of its back in an explosion of gore."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She ripped her blade free, heard steel clash and glimpsed Drem blocking an overhead strike with a spear he must have wrestled from one of his attackers, twisting away from another acolyte stabbing at him, another circling to his flank."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In two long strides Sig was there, kicking one in the knee, cartilage and bone snapping, and chopping into another's neck, a spray of blood as she wrenched her sword free.\n\nDrem ducked a wild swing from the last one and buried his spear in the man's chest, left it there when it snagged on bone and drew his father's sword with one hand, a short axe in the other.\n\n\"Leave,\" Sig barked at him, \"that way.\" She jerked her head towards shadows and the wall, in the next heartbeat was running, screaming her fury at anew wave of enemy, a looping swing of her sword scattering them, one ducking low beneath her sword and rising within her guard, too close for her sword. The momentum of her blow opened her right side, left her vulnerable, and she knew there was nothing she could do. The acolyte grinned as he stabbed with along knife.\n\nThere was a wet thud and the acolyte dropped to his knees. Drem ran to it, hacked into its head with his sword, shards of bone erupting. He reached down and pulled his short axe from its chest.\n\nHe's supposed to be leaving, not hacking Kadoshim's followers into tiny pieces!\n\nSig ploughed on, knowing to slowdown against numbers like this was to die. She slammed into more acolytes, a concussive impact that sent bodies spinning through the air. She stumbled but kept her feet, continued her relentless assault of stabbing and hacking and lunging, her arms drenched with their blood, and her enemies died about her, falling away screaming or silent, bloody and broken. But more kept coming. Blows rained down upon her, chainmail shirt turning some, a stutter of discordant thuds across her shield, red-fire cuts opening upon arms and legs, a dull thump on her shoulder, something more serious on her hip, a flash of pain and then tingling numbness."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No time for pain. No time for dying. Where's Gulla?\n\nIt was a maelstrom of blood and chaos, and she was the centre of that storm, carving limbs from bodies, trailing scarlet arcs of blood, leaving the dead in her wake. But there were just too many of them. She tried to keep moving, to be the storm personified, but bodies heaped around her, tripping, snaring, hands grabbing, clutching at her, blades stabbing, and slowly she felt her strength leaking from her along with her blood.\n\nA blow across the back of her leg sent her stumbling to one knee, faces lunging at her and she smashed a fist into one, sent the acolyte crashing to the ground with a pulped nose and fewer teeth than he'd had a few heartbeats ago. A sharp pain in her back, someone trying to stab her, though it felt like her shirt of mail held. She blocked a sword-swing with her blade, rolled her wrists and slashed its tip across a throat, the acolyte, a woman this time, stumbling away gurgling, dropping to her knees as she tried in vain to stem the blood pumping through her fingers.\n\nA crunch to her head, white lights exploding before her eyes, and she fell forwards into the snow-slush, churned with blood and mud, lost a grip of her sword. She lifted her head, blood sluicing into one eye, hand reaching blindly for her sword hilt.\n\nA calm came upon her then, legs all around her, figures seeming to slow in their rush to kill her, as if they were wading through water.\n\nThis is my end, she thought, knowing the numbers were too great, even for her and her crew, and she'd given her orders to Cullen and Keld to remain separate, to get Drem out and back to Dun Seren, unless she gave the order, the signal for them to fight. And she hadn't. The numbers were too great alone, without feral man-beasts and whatever in the Otherworld it was that Gulla had become, and was infecting others with."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I hope they got Drem out, she thought as she tried to push herself back to her knees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "RIV\n\nRiv paused before the doors of Israfil's tower, leaning upon a wall fora moment. Lights flickered through shuttered windows, high above. A deep breath and shake of her head and she was running on, shouldering the doors open and stumbling through.\n\nWhere is everybody? His guards? Ben-Elim, White-Wings?\n\nShe hurried up an empty flight of stairs, dragging herself on, ever higher, until she saw agleam of light outlining the chamber doors. Israfil's chambers, unguarded. Riv heard voices, dulled by the oak doors.\n\nA hand clamped upon Riv's shoulder, turning her.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Aphra and her mam hissed at her.\n\n\"It has to end,\" Riv said. \"Kol. He is a poison.\"\n\nHer sister stared at her, face twitching with so many emotions.\n\n\"Israfil must know,\" Riv said.\n\n\"No!\" her mother growled. \"You are sick, your mind clouded. You do not know what you are saying.\"\n\n\"I know exactly what I'm doing, \"Riv said.\"I know right from wrong, ' and she made to goon.\n\nHer mam grabbed her.\n\n\"You are not going in there,\" she said, her eyes blazing.\n\n\"I am,\" Riv grunted, pulling away, but her mother's grip was strong.\n\nAn arrow slammed into the wall between them, thrumming.\n\nBleda stood a score of paces down the stairway, a handful of his honour guard about him, including the old one who was missing a hand.\n\n\"Let goof her,\" Bleda said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dalmae's grip tightened on Riv's arm, her other hand inching to her short-sword.\n\n\"Come away with me,\" Dalmae said. \"It is for your own good.\"\n\n\"I cannot,\" Riv said.\n\n\"The next arrow will pierce your thigh. I will not hit the bone, so you may walk again, if I miss the artery. But you will always limp.\"\n\n\"Mam,\" Riv said, quietly. \"Please. Kol is a poison.\"\n\n\"But I am so scared for you and Aphra,\" her mam said, a quiver touching her voice, so strong and determined until now.\n\n\"Look what he is making us all do. You killed Garidas.\"\n\nShame filled her mam's eyes then, and with a sigh she dropped her head and let goof Riv's wrist.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Riv said and ran on. She reached the doors to Israfil's chamber, glimpsed a hooded figure standing close by in the shadows of an alcove, but raised voices within the chamber drew heron. She rushed through Israfil's doors, the voices became louder, clearer. She staggered through the waiting room and burst into his chamber, the doors swinging wide, crashing into the walls, everyone within turning startled heads to stare at her.\n\n\"It's Kol, \"Riv yelled,\"Kol is the one. '\n\nShe stumbled to a stop.\n\nIsrafil was standing before the dark frame of his open window, his hands clasped behind his back, face a mixture of rage and disgust. At his side stood another Ben-Elim, Kushiel, Riv recognized– one of Israfil's high council. Other Ben-Elim were spread around the room in a loose circle, and in the centre of the room stood Kol, a Ben-Elim either side of him, each gripping one of Kol's arms. White-Wings flanked them, a dozen, Garidas' men, Riv presumed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's Kol, ' Riv whispered.\n\nIsrafil regarded her along moment, his face full of judgement and grief.\n\n\"I know it is Kol,\" Israfil said to Riv. His expression softened fora moment as he looked at her.\n\n\"Sit, Riv. You look as if you are about to drop.\"\n\n\"But there's more, ' Riv said.\n\n\"Yes, there is, far more than I ever would have thought possible. Kol has just confessed all.\"\n\nRiv swayed on her feet, wanted to tell Israfil all she knew, anyway, in case Kol had kept anything back. But a wave of vertigo swept over her, the room tilting and spinning. She reached out a hand, found a chair and slumped into it.\n\n\"So, Kol of the Ben-Elim,\" Israfil said, eyes fixing upon the scar-faced Ben-Elim, any vestige of compassion or kindness swept away by the disgust that filled him now. \"You confess to improper relations with mortals, more than one, over many years.\"\n\n\"I do,\" Kol said.\n\n\"You know the punishment for this crime?\" Israfil said.\n\n\"Crimes,\" Kol corrected. \"More than once, with more than one mortal. Many more. And yes, I know the punishment, though I think we should talk about one more chance.\"\n\nIsrafil barked a shocked laugh.\n\n\"You will not be given a second chance. You will be executed at highsun, your head taken from your shoulders before all who dwell within these walls.\"\n\n\"I wasn't talking about one more chance for me, \"Kol said, no hint of a smile on his face now.\"I was talking about you. '\n\nOne of the Ben-Elim guards holding Kol released him, a glint of something in his fist, astride to the other guard, a thrust, and the guard was collapsing, blood spurting from his throat, the first guard standing with a crimson blade in his fist. He threw the knife into the air and drew his sword, Kol grabbing the knife from the air and leaping with a burst of his wings at Kushiel."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fora moment Israfil was frozen with shock, then he was reaching for his own blade, as in the ring all about him Ben-Elim hurled themselves at their brothers, stabbing, killing.\n\nRiv satin her chair, stunned by what she was seeing, blood everywhere, Ben-Elim snarling, screaming, the White-Wings in the centre of the room forming a loose square, not knowing what to do, who to attack or defend. One of them gathered his wits and shouted a command, and then they were making for Israfil, the Lord Protector.\n\nNo, this is wrong, the whole world is going insane.\n\nShapes surged through the open window, more Ben-Elim, ones that Riv recognized from the circle that had formed around her as she'd sparred with Kol, just before she'd collapsed.\n\nKol was struggling with Kushiel, the two of them spiralling in the air, wings beating furiously, Kushiel gripping Kol's wrist with the knife, pummelling at Kol's face with his other fist. Ben-Elim that had swept in through the window grabbed Kushiel, one hacking at his wing with a sword. A scream, a burst of feathers and Kushiel was falling, Kol ripping his knife free, stabbing it into Kushiel's torso as they fell together, again and again and again.\n\nA hand on Riv's arm: Aphra, with Dalmae behind her, then Bleda and his men. All of them were staring dumbfounded, their cold-faces forgotten. Other figures swept into the room, Ben-Elim, Lorina's White-Wings, some of Aphra's hundred too, all with weapons drawn, joining the fray. Riv glimpsed someone in cloak and cowl."
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"value": "\"Come, Riv,\" Aphra said. \"While we can.\"\n\n\"No,\" Riv snarled, \"we have to help Israfil.\" She surged to her feet, too quickly, her head spun; she swayed, stumbled forwards, pulling out of Aphra's grip, threading her way through the bloodshed and chaos.\n\nIsrafil was trading blows with two Ben-Elim, stabbed one through the shoulder as he rose higher, the other swinging and catching his ankle.\n\nRiv skirted the White-Wings trying to reach Israfil, who was beset by Ben-Elim from above. She crashed into two Ben-Elim, sent them both tumbling to the ground and she reeled away, saw Kol fly at Israfil, slamming into the Lord Protector from behind, slicing at awing, Israfil crying out and falling, crashing to the ground. Kol landed behind him, Israfil trying to rise, one wing twisted and limp, a spray of blood splattering his white feathers. Kol stamped on Israfil's sword hand, the crack of a wrist breaking, and grabbed Israfil's hair, yanking his head high, resting his knife blade against the Lord Protector's throat.\n\nRiv yelled and ran at them, snatching up a short-sword from a dead White-Wing as she ran, raising her blade fora swing that would split Kol's head. Kol heard her scream and stared at her, part-screamed, part-laughed a feral challenge back at her.\n\nSomething crashed into Riv, sent her sprawling to the ground. She rolled, tried to stand, but only made it to all fours, the world a whirling piece of flotsam in a chaotic sea. She blinked, desperate for the spinning to stop, searching for who or what had slammed into her."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was the cowled figure she'd glimpsed as she entered the chamber, striding now to Israfil and Kol. It stopped before them both, threw off its cowl and cloak, revealing a man with two huge wounds upon his back, scabbed, weeping blood and pus.\n\nA Ben-Elim with his wings taken.\n\nAdonai.\n\nHe just stared at Israfil, spoke no words. And then he was drawing a sword and plunging it into the Lord Protector's chest.\n\nRiv screamed.\n\nThis cannot be happening!\n\nSomehow she was on her feet, eyes fixed upon Kol, all else a peripheral blur, anger, no, a white-hot rage at Israfil's murder the only thing keeping her upright and conscious. She swung her blade at Kol. He saw, a flicker of surprise as he twisted, blocked with his knife, sending her blow wide.\n\n\"Stop,\" he said to her. \"It is over, Israfil is dead, there is no more to fear.\"\n\n\"Murderer, Lore-breaker,\" she yelled, stabbing her short-sword at Kol's throat. He swayed, sidestepping her.\n\n\"Don't do this, Riv, \"he said.\"You are distraught, fevered, you do not mean this, and I do not wish to kill you. Great things are ahead, and you can be part of them. '\n\nShe snarled and chopped at his ribs; this time he was too slow, her blade slicing through feathers, its tip grazing a red line across Kol's shoulder as he leaped away.\n\nHe looked at the blood leaking from his wound, glared at her.\n\n\"I'm warning you, girl, you can be as dead as Israfil if you wish. '"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He has changed everything, changed our world, broken every codex of the Lore, for his own selfish desire and to save his skin.\n\nShe lunged at him, a short, powerful stab straight at Kol's heart.\n\nHe deflected her blade with his knife, sent it swinging wide, and backhanded her with a fist, lifting her from the ground, sending her spinning, weightless fora few heartbeats, then slamming back down to earth again. She rolled onto her back, felt her consciousness flutter away on black wings, tried desperately to cling to it, saw Kol stride after her, knife in his hand.\n\n\"So be it,\" Kol snarled at her. \"There are plenty more where you came from.\"\n\nThrough speckled vision Riv saw someone else step between them, attacking Kol, a White-Wing with a short-sword, a flurry of blows, fora dozen heartbeats Kol struggling to defend himself, a red line opening across his cheek, down his arm, white feathers slashed and falling about Riv. He retreated a few steps, beat his wings, rocking his opponent back towards Riv, ducked an off-balance slash and stepped in closer, punching his knife into his attacker's armpit, twisting deeper. A spray of blood as he ripped his blade free, a sigh, and his attacker collapsed, head rolling to stare at Riv with lifeless eyes.\n\nIt washer mam."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "DREM\n\nDrem stared in horror as he saw Sig fall to the ground, one hand grasping blindly for her sword.\n\nNo, she cannot fall. We have only just found each other.\n\nIt was strange, little more than a day shared between them, but Drem felt as if he'd known Sig all of his life, felt she was kin to him, and the pain he experienced at seeing her fall was all the greater because of that.\n\nHe raised his sword over his head and bellowed.\n\n\"TRUTH AND COURAGE,\" his da's battle-cry.\n\nMine, now, he thought, if what Sig and the others said is true.\n\nHe was standing over the body of some half-man beast whose corpse he'd hacked into bloody ruin, the only way to get it to stop trying to bite, claw and chew him. He'd slipped into a frenzy as he had struck it down, fuelled by horror and fear at what was attacking him, felt as if he was walking through some living, waking nightmare.\n\nHe ran towards Sig, or where he thought she was, too many of the enemy swirling around for him to see her in the mad dancing shadows made by the torches and wind and starlight.\n\nAnd he heard his battle-cry echoed back at him.\n\n\"Truth and Courage,\" a voice cried, a figure leaping onto the table of horrors, an acolyte pushing back a hood to reveal a freshly shaven head, sword and shield in his hand.\n\nCullen!\n\nEven as Drem saw him, the young warrior was swinging his sword, dancing along the table, avoiding sword and spear thrusts, grasping hands, snapping jaws and slashing claws, chopping and stabbing as he went, acolytes and Ferals falling, more trying to scramble up with him, Cullen's boot, sword and shield boss slamming into them, denying them. Where Sig slew like a force of nature, a strength and inevitability built into her every move, Cullen fought with a blend of skill and joy, smiling, laughing as he drew blood-soaked lines, a precision and mastery to his every move so that it was almost like watching art. A deadly art."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem reached the acolytes swarming around Sig's prone form, arms rising and falling. He swung his sword and short axe, screams and grunts, blood spraying as he cut and carved his way through them. Then the ones in front of him leaped into the air.\n\nNo, not leaping, thrown.\n\nAnd Sig rose from amongst them, blood sheeting her face, a flap of skin hanging from her cheek, one eye swollen closed, the rest of her body a similar miscellany of wounds, shield upon her back dented and splintered, but she grinned to see him, blood on her teeth, her sword in her fist.\n\n\"You're not supposed to be here, ' she growled.\n\n\"Friends area rare thing,\" he said to her.\n\nThey fought back to back, then, turning, stabbing, cutting, Drem's limbs growing leaden, his very bones aching as blows shivered up his arm, breath a hot rasp in his throat.\n\nGulla's daughter descended upon them, swooping, stabbing, wheeling away. Sig snatched a weighted net from her belt, swinging it around her head like a lasso and releasing. It wrapped around the half-breed, wings and all, the lead weights\" momentum swinging them in snaring loops, and the creature crashed to the ground.\n\nA space cleared around them, hooded, shaven-haired warriors pausing, panting, bleeding. Sig spat a glob of blood. Drem saw a figure on the edge of the clearing, hooded in acolyte's robes, emerging from the shadows and stabbing another acolyte, then slipping back into the darkness.\n\nWhat?\n\nA figure stepped into the space around Sig and Drem, slender and tall, fair hair shaved from her head."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fritha, the Starstone Sword in her hand.\n\nShe stopped before Drem, out of reach of his blade, held a hand up to the acolytes behind her, a command. Fora long moment she regarded Drem with her sheer blue eyes, which he had once thought bright and beautiful. Now he just thought they were cold. A bandage was wrapped diagonally around her shoulder and back.\n\n\"Put your weapons down,\" she said to him. \"You cannot win. Put them down, and live.\"\n\n\"What, to become one of those half-men?\" He shuddered. \"Or like that?\" He nodded to Burg's form on the table, still lying there, curled up like a bairn, twitching and jerking. Cullen fought nearby; silhouetted figures were climbing onto the table, pushing Cullen away from Burg.\n\n\"That would be too great an honour. But no, not a Feral. My shieldman, maybe.\" She smiled at him, then, and it did not have the effect upon him that it used to.\n\n\"You lied tome,\" Drem said, thinking of all the deceptions, the smiles and lies behind those eyes.\n\n\"I saved your life,\" she said. \"I could have killed you, let them slay you in the forest. I forbade them.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I know who you are, Drem. Son of Olin and Neve, nephew to Byrne, High Captain of the Order of the Bright Star. You would be a valued prize, especially if you stood at my side.\"\n\n\"That'll never happen, ' Drem grunted.\n\n\"All you have to do is open your eyes and seethe truth.\"\n\n\"The truth?\" Drem spat.\n\n\"Aye, that all is not as the Ben-Elim tell you. That they are the great evil, not the Kadoshim.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I know the truth well enough when I see it,\" Drem snarled."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Only lies and murder from you, truth and friendship from my friends.\"\n\n\"Ha, you see,\" Fritha said, \"I told you. There is something about you, Drem ben Olin. Something innocent, and loyal. Like a faithful hound. Once you give yourself, your loyalty, it would be unswerving, I think. I would like that. I am destined for great things, you know.\" She smiled again, a hint of the future in it, a promise of glory and greatness.\n\nDrem ben Olin. That is who I am. My father's son.\n\nHe thought of how he had stayed to find her, that day in the forest, instead of leaving with his da. His da had been alive, then, and was dead, now. Because of that decision. Because of her.\n\n\"You area murderer, Fritha, and I am going to kill you for it. Now, or another time.\" He shrugged. \"Justice, for my da.\"\n\n\"A pity,\" she said.\n\n\"And I am going to take that black sword from your dead fingers and use it to carve Asroth's head from his shoulders. '\n\n\"Blasphemy,\" she hissed at him, a crouched snarl, the first real emotion he'd seen from her, and with a wave of her hand the acolytes surged forwards.\n\nDrem stabbed and swung his sword, used his axe more defensively, or to chop at fingers, wrists or arms that came too close in the crush. He was no mighty warrior like Sig or Cullen, but he had spent many years learning how to wield an axe and knife from his da, and the rage he felt for his da's murderer gave him new strength and speed. And these acolytes, while many of them clearly had some blade-craft, they were no weapons-masters like Sig and Cullen. Now that the frenzied blood-rush of battle's first moments had passed, Drem saw that some of them were hesitating, holding back, a glimmer of fear in their eyes. He lunged, stabbed a man through the throat and kicked the body away. It fell back into those behind, a momentary lull, giving Drem a few moments to fill his lungs. A crash drew his eyes to Cullen, still on the table-top, though a Feral man was upon it too. Cullen had kicked one of the torches into the crowd, flames catching in a cloak, spreading, men screaming, and he'd swept up another torch in his shield-hand as the Feral surged at him, all strength and snarl and saliva. Cullen slipped to the side, and as the creature barrelled past him, shoved his burning torch into its torso, flames catching in the tattered rags that passed for clothing, and he pushed it hard with his shield, sending the creature careening from the table into a knot of acolytes. Flames and snarls exploded, acolytes screaming."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cullen grinned, pleased with himself.\n\nSomething moved on the table behind him. A figure shifting, a shadow rising.\n\nBurg.\n\nBut not Burg. He was changed, as Gulla had been, a pulsing, rippling sense of malice and vitality to him, like a black halo.\n\nAnd there is something wrong with his mouth. As if it had grown, too big for his face, teeth appearing sharper, needlelike, and far too many of them.\n\nCullen sensed something, maybe heard a movement, and spun on his feet to face this new foe. Burg took a few steps, unsteady jerks and twitches, and Cullen danced forwards and buried his sword in his belly.\n\nBurg curled around the blade, then grinned, standing tall.\n\nCullen tried to rip his sword free but Burg grabbed his sword hand, a blur of movement, and Burg was grasping Cullen, lifting him high over his head, Cullen smashing his shield into Burg's face, with little effect. And then Cullen was flying through the air, crunching to the ground and rolling, coming to a halt a dozen paces from Drem and Sig.\n\nThey fought their way to him, stood either side, and slowly Cullen rose on shaky legs.\n\n\"Well, he's a lot stronger than he looks. '\n\nDrem gave Cullen his axe and drew his bone-handled seax.\n\n\"You've got the ambush you hoped for, or a trap, at least, ' Sig growled at Cullen as she shrugged her shield from her back onto her arm. They formed a loose circle, Sig and Cullen with shields raised, acolytes all around them, Ferals prowling at the periphery.\n\n\"Aye.\" Cullen grinned. \"And it's one that's busy stabbing them in the arse!\" He lunged forwards adder-fast, axe singing, crunching into the forehead of an acolyte. \"Or the head,\" he amended. \"Though for the life of me I do not know how they can stand this,\" Cullen cried, rubbing the bristles of his shaved head. \"It's so cold! And it's sure as eggs not going to help me with the ladies back in Dun Seren!\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drem felt a laugh bubbling up within him, even with death a heartbeat away.\n\nI like my new family.\n\nHe wasn't too hopeful on how long they'd get to spend in each other's company, though. They'd managed to stay alive this long because of Sig's ferocity and perpetual movement, and Cullen's position upon the huge table, where he'd been able to elude and leap and dance over every lunge and stab at him. Now, however, they were encircled by a crowd of their enemies.\n\nI think we're going to die here."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "BLEDA\n\nBleda stared into what had once been Israfil's chamber, now more akin to a battlefield. Ben-Elim fought Ben-Elim, White-Wings fought one against the other, and in the midst of it, weaving through them all, he'd watched in horror as Riv had hurled herself at Kol. He'd nocked an arrow and aimed, but bodies were swirling around the chamber like twigs in a hurricane.\n\nIn stupefaction he'd watched as Riv's mam and sister leaped into the fray, her mam reaching Riv first, stepping in front of Riv to protect her from a furious Kol. As she fell dead beside her daughter Bleda moved, as if released from a spell. He strode towards the maelstrom, but then a hand grabbed his arm.\n\n\"Stay,\" Old Ellac said to him, half a dozen more of Bleda's honour guard were behind the old warrior. Something had alerted Ellac to Bleda's stealthy exit of their chambers as he'd set out after Riv, and Bleda had not minded their company. Something about this stormy night had felt sinister and laced with malice.\n\n\"I owe her a debt,\" Bleda said, the quickest, no, only way for Ellac to understand what he was doing. He pulled his arm free and padded into the melee, an arrow loosely nocked on his bow. Ellac and the others followed as Bleda weaved through the carnage, the stench of blood and faeces thick in the air. Fora few moments he lost sight of Riv and Kol, then saw Aphra reach them, the warrior throw herself to the ground beside her sister and mother, then lookup at Kol, who was shouting orders to Ben-Elim, orchestrating the madness, though Bleda could tell it was swinging towards Kol and his rebels."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A coup amongst the Ben-Elim, the puritanical Lore-Givers.\n\nNever before had he thought of rival factions amongst the Ben-Elim; it was something that he filed away for further consideration at a more opportune time.\n\nIf I come out of this alive.\n\nHe was close now, could hear Aphra's wail of grief as she held her dead mam in her arms, fora terror-filled moment thought that Riv was dead, too, but then he saw her chest rising and falling, though her eyes were closed tight.\n\nUnconscious, then.\n\nAnd he heard Kol shout orders to Adonai, the wingless Ben-Elim who had killed Israfil.\n\n\"Take that little bitch prisoner,\" he cried, \"throw her in a cell until I have time to deal with her.\"\n\n\"No!\" Aphra yelled.\n\n\"She tried to kill me,\" Kol snarled at her, \"I cannot ignore that. I am the Lord Protector, now.\"\n\nThe dark-haired warrior strode to Riv, bent down and grabbed a fistful of her short hair.\n\nAnd Bleda loosed, his arrow thumping into Adonai's chest. As the Ben-Elim reached to pluck at the feathers, another arrow punched into his throat. Four more arrows slammed into his torso in rapid succession from Bleda's men. Adonai toppled backwards, crashing to the ground.\n\n\"You dare!\" Kol roared.\n\n\"There's another one here for you, ' Bleda snarled, nocking anew arrow.\n\nKol stepped away, into the madness of the battle.\n\n\"Take her,\" Aphra yelled. \"Get Riv out of here.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bleda looked from Kol to Aphra to Riv.\n\n\"Please,\" Aphra cried.\n\n\"Where?\" he said.\n\nTwo White-Wings converged on them, Bleda shifting his aim, but he recognized them as Riv's friends, the bull-man, Vald, and the stick, Jost.\n\nAphra yelled directions to Bleda, and orders to Vald and Jost. Then she stood and drew her sword, stalking into the mayhem. Vald swept Riv up in his arms and turned to Bleda.\n\n\"Lead the way, Dead-Eye.\"\n\nAnd Bleda did, his honour guard driving a wedge through the chamber, and soon they were spilling out into the corridor beyond Israfil's chamber.\n\nThe sounds of battle echoed from all directions, the chamber behind them, the street below.\n\nEllac stepped close, whispered in his ear.\n\n\"We could use this. Strike now...\"\n\nBleda remembered the words of his mother, whispered into his ear on Drassil's weapons-field. He looked at Ellac and his men, at Jost and Vald, finally at Riv.\n\nHe smiled at Riv, an act of will, intentional, knew Ellac and his men would be shocked.\n\n\"I'm taking Riv to safety, ' he said, then turned and led them through the chamber, down a stairwell and out into the din of battle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SIG\n\nFire was blazing through the clearing, great gusts of wind sending flames flaring. They caught in a timber building, roaring into hungry life, blazing red and orange light onto the clearing, clouds of black smoke rolling across them. Between smoke and flame Sig saw Gulla. He was hunched over another acolyte, drinking blood from her throat, as he had done with Burg. Other acolytes were curled upon the floor, spasming and twitching in some convulsion of rebirth while still others were spread about them in a defensive half-circle.\n\nGuarding them while they are vulnerable.\n\nShe glimpsed a shadowed figure on the far side of the table, sprinting towards the boulder that had been turned into gaols for those experimented upon but obviously untrusted. The figure's hood blew back as he ran, another shaved head, but Sig recognized Keld, his beard still wild. He ran to the first gaol, struck at the lock and chain with his axe, a burst of sparks as it shattered, Keld ripping the chain away and hurling the barred door wide. He ran to the next gate and hacked at the lock, this one snapping more quickly, ripped the door open, dashed to the next door as things burst from the open gaols behind him. More cells and chains, more Feral beasts leaping, shambling, snarling from their gaols, throwing themselves into the acolytes that encircled Sig, Drem and Cullen.\n\n\"NOW,\" Sig yelled at the top of her lungs, her voice ringing out, at the same time the three of them surging through a cloud of smoke towards the enemy before them, smashing them to the ground with their shields, trampling over them, carving them to bloody ruin. In the distance Keld's voice was crying out'Truth and Courage, ' taken up by Sig, Cullen and Drem."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The clearing burst into chaos anew, a place of fire and smoke, steel and blood, ringing with the screams and snarls and growlings of half-men and the dying, and through it all Sig and her companions cut a bloody path out of the clearing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Abruptly they found themselves with no enemy before them. Keld erupted from a cloud of black smoke, a wild grin on his face, and then Sig was running, down aflame-lit gap between two buildings, the others close behind.\n\nWithin heartbeats they were at the palisaded wall, Cullen racing up a stairwell, but a burst of wind and Sig's warning shout made him pause– a spear hurled from the sky above thrumming into the stairs just before him. She raised her shield and caught another spear aimed straight at Drem's heart. Sig hacked the shaft away, but the blade still embedded in her shield dragged her arm down. She dropped it on the ground. Gulla's half-breed daughter alighted on the palisade walkway.\n\n\"Not so easily,\" she hissed, voice as twisted as her body.\n\nFeet thudded behind them, Sig turning to see acolytes and Feral men swarming after them. They stopped a dozen paces from Sig and her companions and a figure stepped to their fore, the shaven-haired woman, Fritha, the Starstone Sword in her hand. Wings beat and a Kadoshim landed beside her: Gulla, a spear in his fist, veins in his body dark and bloated, even his wings seeming to be heavy, weighted with the blood he had consumed. Crimson lines trailed down his pale chin.\n\n\"You cannot leave us,\" Gulla said. \"I have someone to introduce you to.\"\n\nBehind the swarming acolytes a dark shadow loomed, wider and taller than Sig. A great bear appeared, muzzle and head emerging from the darkness, a hint of madness in its eyes. And upon its back sat a giant, broad, wrapped in leather and fur, still masked by the shadows. A war-hammer was slung across its back."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Ah, well,\" Sig snarled, \"if it's time for introductions, let me introduce you to Hammer."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "'\n\nSig put two fingers to her lips and whistled, and to her right the palisaded wall burst asunder, timber exploding in a spray of splinters, and Hammer's two front paws crashed into the compound. Her dark fur was covered by a coat of chainmail, harnessed and buckled with leather, gleaming and sparkling in the starlight like a coat of diamonds. She roared a challenge, spraying spittle. Acolytes scattered like flotsam before a tidal wave. With a swipe of her paw she eviscerated one that moved too slowly, her head lunging forwards, jaws grabbing another, the sound of bones cracking, a scream cut short.\n\nThe half-breed on the palisade took to the air as it collapsed beneath her feet and swooped on Hammer, hurling a spear, but it was stopped by her coat of mail, skittering harmlessly away.\n\nThe other bear roared a challenge of its own, the giant upon its back shouting a command, and it lumbered forwards, charging at Hammer, who was in no mind to stand around waiting for it. She leaped into a charge of her own, acolytes diving in all directions to escape being trampled and broken. Sig ran too, a few long steps, but then Gulla was flying at her, acolytes swarming behind him, and she was ducking swords and spears, sweeping blades aside with her own, barrelling her shoulder into one acolyte, throwing him into the side of a building, where he slid to the ground, twitching.\n\nThe two bears came together with bone-crunching force, teeth snapping, claws raking, bellowing. Sig saw Hammer draw first blood, her claws gouging red gullies through the flesh of the other bear's shoulder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All around Sig battle exploded, Cullen, Keld and Drem drawing tight together, defending against Kadoshim from above and acolytes that had managed to find away around the two bears as they were busy turning the encampment into splintered ruin. A building disintegrated as the two animals crashed into it, a fountain of shattered timber raining down upon them all.\n\nSig took the head from a Feral as it leaped at her, body and head spinning indifferent directions, and strode after Hammer, but something slammed into her side, sending her tumbling to the ground, the half-breed, wings flexing. She had a flat, broad face, hair shaved and growing out in dark clumps, her body heavily muscled. She snapped her teeth at Sig, more animal than human.\n\nA hand rested on her shoulder, dragging her back, throwing her into the darkness, and Gulla stepped in front of her.\n\n\"She is mine,\" the Kadoshim growled.\n\nSig made to rise and he kicked her in the head, sending her rolling, grabbed her by her mail shirt and dragged her to her feet, stronger than she would ever have imagined, even fora Kadoshim.\n\n\"I have the blood and bone of Asroth flowing through my body now,\" he snarled, his jaws opening wide, teeth gleaming.\n\nFear hit Sig then, a jolt like jumping into ice-cold water as she knew what Gulla was about to do to her. She struggled but his grip held her, those teeth moving inexorably towards her throat.\n\nAnd then a squawking streak of feathers, beak and talon was hurtling into Gulla's face, Rab scratching, pecking, gouging with beak and claw."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gulla dropped Sig and reeled away, Rab furiously battering at the Kadoshim, raining insults upon him as well as pain. Gulla's hands grabbed at the white crow, but Rab flapped away, something slimy hanging from its beak, Gulla screaming, a handover one eye, blood leaking through his fingers and he stumbled into the shadows. An acolyte moved on Sig as she swept her sword from the ground, a spear stabbing at her heart, but amass of fur and muscle slammed into the acolyte– Fen, taking advantage of the hole Hammer had smashed through the wall. The hound's jaws clamped around the acolyte's throat as they both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs. As they rolled to a stop, Fen stood upon the corpse of her victim, raised his head and howled.\n\nSig heard Hammer cry out in pain. She stumbled after the sound, through a tableau of destruction, buildings flattened, half-torn down, beams and detritus everywhere.\n\nThe two bears were tearing at each other with tooth and claw, Hammer looking much better on that account because of her chainmail coat, though it was torn to strips in places. The other bear was dragging one front leg, its head hanging, spittle and blood dripping, though its spirit was strong and it lifted its head to bite at Hammer's neck. What had caused Hammer's cry of pain was the giant upon the other bear's back as it leaned in its saddle and swung its war-hammer at Hammer's head. She shifted her weight, seeing the blow coming, so that it skimmed her shoulder instead, but there was still power in the blow, and Hammer was battered and bruised, weakening. Slow.\n\nThe giant raised its war-hammer high, over its head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sig swept up a splintered shard of wood, long as a spear and drew her arm back to throw. Aimed, her arm snapping forwards.\n\nThe giant's bear moved, shifting him from the shadows into red-flame light.\n\nIt was Gunil.\n\nIt cannot be!\n\nBut it was, unmistakably. His dark hair, opposite to Varan, his brother, his flat nose from the pugil ring.\n\nThe splintered wood left her hand, flying unerringly towards the giant. Towards Gunil, her friend and lover, whom she had thought dead for sixteen years. The makeshift spear hit him high, in the chest or shoulder, Sig could not tell, only knew that he was hurled from his saddle in a spray of blood, disappearing behind the bear into billowing clouds of smoke.\n\nSig took a step towards him.\n\n\"SIG!\" Keld, screaming for her to come. He was gesturing wildly at her, standing outside the encampment, just beyond the hole in the wall Hammer had made. Cullen and Drem were with him, darkness and freedom beyond, waiting for her. Fora few moments they had a chance to escape, acolytes scattered by Hammer, Fen and the others, Gulla and his spawn nowhere to be seen.\n\nSig looked back to where Gunil had disappeared, no sign of him amongst the smoke and flame, saw his bear stumble and fall before Hammer's clawed blows.\n\n\"HAMMER,\" Sig yelled, \"TO ME,\" and she began to run, back towards Keld and the others, to freedom. The bear took one last contemptuous look at its cowed foe, then turned and ran after Sig, outpacing her, converging on the hole in the wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A figure stepped out in front of Sig, wreathed in smoke and flame, a black sword in her hand.\n\nFritha, Drem called you.\n\nSig ran at her, raised her sword, not breaking her stride. Swung.\n\nFritha moved faster than Sig would have thought possible, twisting away, ducking down, beneath Sig's sword-swing, pivoting around Sig as she hurtled past.\n\nAh, well, it's time to go. We'll be back with Byrne and a thousand Bright Stars for that sword.\n\nSomething slammed into the back of her leg, high, felt like a punch.\n\nShe ran on.\n\nIn front of her Keld's mouth opened, his face twisting. Cullen shouted something. Sig couldn't quite tell what, as her ears were ringing. She felt weak, suddenly, so very tired. Stumbled, used her sword to stay upright, ran on, or tried, her right leg feeling heavy, not doing what she was telling it. She looked down as she stumbled on, saw her leg was drenched with dark blood.\n\nMy blood.\n\nShe could feel the strength leaking from her, stumbled on a dozen paces and fell into Keld and Drem's arms as they ran to her, meeting her in the gap in the shattered wall, only a timber post remaining. The two of them could barely hold Sig up, lowered her gently to the ground. Cullen tore strips from his cloak, tied them high about her thigh, took a sheathed dagger to twist within the knot, afield tourniquet. Keld crouched to look at the wound, his face telling Sig everything.\n\nShe knew, anyway. To bleed like that, the shock she could feel tremoring through her body already, it was one of the killpoints, the artery in the groin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I'm bleeding out."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nothing will stop it. Haven't got long.\n\nHammer's scarred head appeared, muzzle sniffing Sig's face, nudging her to getup.\n\n\"Not this time, my old friend,\" Sig said, tugging on the fur of Hammer's cheeks.\n\n\"Go,\" she said to Keld, Cullen and Drem. \"You must get back to Dun Seren, tell Byrne.\"\n\n\"There's noway in all the seven hells of the Otherworld that we're leaving you here,\" Cullen said.\n\n\"I'm dead, boy, \"Sig snarled, a wave of dizziness rocking her.\"You'll not give your life for someone that's already dead. '\n\n\"No.\" Cullen shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. \"No.\" A denial, not a refusal. Keld just stood, head bowed. Drem looked as if his world had just ended.\n\n\"Dun Seren. It's an order. Hammer can take you all. She's your only chance.\"\n\nShouts and yells from acolytes and Ferals as they gathered, the beat of wings, a spear hissing down at them, Cullen chopping it from the sky.\n\nSig dragged herself to the timber post, began pulling herself up.\n\nShe did not look at her friends, but felt hands helping her regain her feet. It was Drem. \"Unbuckle my sword-belt,\" she said to him, and he did without question. She threaded it around the post and wrapped it around her waist, cinched it tight.\n\n\"Buckle me up,\" she asked, and Cullen did.\n\n\"Sword.\"\n\nKeld put it in her hand.\n\n\"Now get out of here,\" she said to them, patted Cullen's cheek and brushed fingertips across Keld's face. He looked as if he planned on disobeying her last order."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They need you,\" she said, a whisper. \"I'm trusting in you, my friend. '\n\nTears filled Keld's eyes and he swatted them away. A twist of his lips as he nodded. Sig squeezed Drem's hand, then she turned to face the oncoming enemy, her body all but filling the remaining gap.\n\nThe rustle of wings, and Rab alighted upon Sig's shoulder.\n\n\"Poor Sig,\" Rab said. The crow ran a bloodstained beak through Sig's hair.\n\n\"Brave Rab,\" Sig said. \"Guide them home. Make sure Byrne hears of this.\"\n\nRab croaked mournfully.\n\nThe scuff of boots climbing Hammer.\n\n\"Sig,\" Keld called down to her from the bear's back, and she looked back at them, her vision swimming.\n\n\"We shall never forget,\" he said, clenching a fist over his heart.\n\n\"We shall never forget,\" Cullen and Drem repeated.\n\n\"My brothers,\" Sig said, a smile twitching her lips.\n\n\"Hammer,\" she called, loud as she could, even her jaw feeling heavy. \"Take my friends home.\"\n\nThe great bear lifted her head and roared at the night sky, and then she was turning and shambling into the darkness, breaking into a run. Rab launched into the air, quickly disappearing.\n\n\"The trees, where Kadoshim can't follow, ' Sig whispered, then turned to face her enemy.\n\nA shape loomed out of the smoke and flame, a shaven-haired acolyte, sword stabbing for her heart. Somehow Sig managed to swing her blade, up, smashing the sword away and opening the acolyte's face from jaw to ear. He fell away gurgling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Two more, one Sig let the weight of her blade smash into his skull, dropping him without a sound. The second one stabbed Sig in the stomach, Sig headbutting her, nose exploding.\n\nHer fingers were tingling, sword so heavy, and Sig slumped against the belt strapping her to the post. Her head lolled.\n\nFigures gathered before her: acolytes, Fritha, a Feral, growling as it stalked the shadows. Gulla was there, a bandage wrapped around one eye, stained red.\n\nSig smiled to see his wound, felt saliva drool from her mouth.\n\nSomething loomed behind them, taller, broader, a giant stepping close, a bloody wound between shoulder and chest.\n\n\"Gunil,\" Sig whispered.\n\nHe stood and stared at her. There was a glimmer in his eyes that spoke of memory, but it was quickly replaced by something else, a sick half-madness, like his bear's.\n\n\"What have you done to him?\"\n\n\"I found him floating face-down at the bottom of a waterfall, closer to death than I thought possible,\" Gulla said. \"He betrayed you at Varan's Fall. Hated his brother and so gave you up to us. The ambush was his design. '\n\n\"You... lie,\" Sig groaned.\n\nGulla smiled, too many teeth glistening. \"He has been a useful tool since then, and no doubt will be again.\"\n\n\"You could turn her,\" Fritha said to Gulla, her head cocked at an angle, studying Sig. \"Two giants in your service.\"\n\n\"There's no blood left in her to drink, ' Gulla said.\n\nSig's sword slipped from her fingers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Very well, then.\" Fritha stepped forwards and rested the point of her black blade against Sig's sternum.\"Gunil, help me, \"Fritha said. The giant stepped closer and wrapped his huge fist around Fritha's, who looked Sig in the eye and smiled.\n\n\"Gunil,\" Sig whispered, could barely believe that he was standing before her. It gave her more pain than the thousand wounds her body had taken.\n\nFritha laughed, and then she and Gunil pushed on the sword, slowly.\n\nSig hardly felt the blade enter her body. She couldn't feel her hands, arms, legs, everything going numb, drawing into some central point, deep inside. Her vision speckled, darkened at the edges. She felt some pain, then, grunted with it, saw that at least half the blade's length was sheathed inside her flesh.\n\n\"Hold,\" Fritha said, still staring into Sig's eyes, savouring her pain, her death. Gunil stopped.\n\n\"We shall hunt down your friends. Kill them slowly, like this. Or turn them,\" Fritha said, cold as the starlit night.\n\nNo you won't, Sig thought.\n\nShe shouted at Fritha, then, as the world narrowed to a single point of light, though it came from her lips as little more than a whisper.\n\n\"Truth and Courage.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "RIV\n\nRiv opened her eyes. She was lying on her back, looking up. Above, she could seethe thick timber beams of a roof. Abeam of sunlight, motes of dust. She heard birdsong. The familiar creak of branches, scraping, soughing in a breeze.\n\nWhere am I? Not home. Not my barrack. Not even Drassil, I think. Though she was not sure how she knew that.\n\nAnd then the weight of memory fell upon her.\n\nKol, Israfil.\n\nMam.\n\nTears leaked from her eyes, rolled down into her hair. She didn't know how long she stayed like that, crying silent tears, but it must have been awhile, because the beam of sunlight had shifted when next she looked. Then anew sound, a baby crying. She rolled over, onto her side; her back felt odd. Heavy. Numb. A big feather floated close to her face, speckled grey.\n\nA feather-stuffed mattress! No wonder I feel like I've slept fora moon.\n\nShe stretched, muscles shifting, and ran a hand through her hair. It felt longer. The longest it had ever been.\n\nA fair-haired woman was sitting close by, half in shadow, a baby wrapped in swaddling held in the crook of one arm, feeding at her breast.\n\n\"Hello, Riv,\" the woman said.\n\nIt was Fia.\n\nRiv tried to sit up, but her back felt strange, as if it were heavier than it should be, dragging her back onto the bed, and then there was the thud of boots, and hands were taking hers, helping her up, faces dipping into her vision. Vald, grinning, Jost, eyes wider, odd. Staring at her. She looked at herself, saw she was wearing breeches and a linen shirt, baggy and shapeless."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where am I?\" Riv asked, closing her eyes fora moment, feeling light-headed. She blinked them open, realized she felt better, physically, than she had for such along time.\n\nThe fever is gone. And I feel stronger, full of energy.\n\n\"A woodsman's hut, deep in Forn, ' Fia said.\n\n\"Safe,\" Vald said.\n\nJost was still staring at her, all white-eyed wonder.\n\n\"What's wrong? ' she said. He was starting to annoy her.\n\n\"Wrong? Nothing,\" Jost said. He looked away, eyes almost instantly drifting back to her. No, behind her.\n\n\"What is it, then?\" Riv snapped.\n\n\"Well... you've got wings, ' Jost said in wonder.\n\n\"Don't bean idi-' Riv started. Then she stopped. Another feather drifted idly down to the ground. She looked over her shoulder.\n\nThe arch of awing reared there, big. She took a staggering step forwards and the wing followed her. Her head snapped around to the other shoulder, another wing there, too.\n\n\"I've got wings, ' she said, fear and wonder mixed.\n\nWithout knowing how, a subconscious movement, she unfurled them, a shifting of muscle, a ripple of feathers, and her wings snapped wide, almost filling the room.\n\n\"Not inhere!\" Fia laughed as pots and plates went tumbling and smashing, and somehow Riv furled them back in with a snap. Vald and Jostled her outside, Fia following behind her, and Riv stepped out onto a timber porch, a woodland glade around them. The wings felt heavy upon her back, a shifting of weight and balance that she wasn't used to. Horses whickered somewhere nearby and she saw a figure sitting on a tree stump, tending to a bow on his lap."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was Bleda.\n\nHe looked up at her and smiled, and to Riv it looked like the most natural thing in the world. She smiled back at him.\n\nHesitantly, she stepped bare-footed onto cool, soft grass and moss.\n\nThen she unfurled her wings– My wings! – a smooth ripple of muscles expanding, and looked at herself. Her wings were spread wide, almost as wide as the woodsman's hut. They were not gleaming white, like the Ben-Elim, but a soft, dappled grey.\n\nRiv felt a thousand emotions surge through her– amazement, fear, wonder, worry, confusion, a moment of blind terror– all wrapped around the grief of losing her mam, which ran through her like a seam of silver through rock, and then back to wonder again. Because her wings were magnificent. She felt a grin split her face.\n\nAnd then she saw a strange thing in the glade before her. Rows of stone cairns, but miniature, as if it was a burial ground for small animals, like cats, or hares.\n\nOr...\n\nA weight shifted in her stomach, like a snake uncoiling, rippling through her.\n\n\"What is that?\" she said.\n\n\"Those are the cairns of your kind, Riv,\" Fia said behind her. \"A graveyard of bairns, offspring of the Ben-Elim and mortals. You are the first of your kind to live longer than one day.\"\n\nRiv looked from the rows of cairns, so many of them, to the baby in Fia's arms.\n\n\"And this is the second?\" Riv asked.\n\n\"Aye, he is,\" Fia said, a fierce love in her eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Riv just stood there, all of it washing over her, through her, and her friends gathered close about her.\n\n\"Well, what now?\" a voice said, Vald.\n\n\"Now?\" said Riv. She blinked, thinking of her mam and Aphra, of Israfil and of Kol's betrayal. How her world had changed immeasurably. She looked at her friends, at Fia and the baby in her arms, felt a fierce protection for him.\n\n\"We make the world right,\" she snarled, an echo of her old anger. \"But first, I'm going to learn how to use these, ' and with that her wings were beating, swirling forest litter about their feet and she was rising, unsteadily at first, then faster, more confidently. With a shout of joy she burst through the forest canopy, wind ripping tears from her eyes, and she yelled for the sheer joy if it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "JOHN G WYNNE studied and lectured at Brighton University. He's been in a rock'n' roll band, playing the double bass, travelled the USA and lived in Canada fora time. He is married with four children and lives in Eastbourne, running a small family business rejuvenating vintage furniture. His debut novel, Malice, won the David Gemmell Morningstar Award for Best Debut Fantasy."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Work to move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, coming of age, magic\nAuthor: Ursula K. Le Guin\nTitle: A Wizard of Earthsea\nChapter: 3"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only in silence the word, only in dark the light, only in dying life: bright the hawk's flight on the empty sky.\n\n-The Creation of Éa"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "THE ISLAND OF G ONT, A single mountain that lifts its peak a mile above the storm-racked Northeast Sea, is a land famous for wizards. From the towns in its high valleys and the ports on its dark narrow bays many a Gontishman has gone forth to serve the Lords of the Archipelago in their cities as wizard or mage, or, looking for adventure, to wander working magic from isle to isle of all Earthsea. Of these some say the greatest, and surely the greatest voyager, was the man called Sparrowhawk, who in his day became both dragonlord and Archmage. His life is told of in the Deed of Ged and in many songs, but this is a tale of the time before his fame, before the songs were made.\n\nHe was born in a lonely village called Ten Alders, high on the mountain at the head of the Northward Vale. Below the village the pastures and plowlands of the Vale slope downward level below level towards the sea, and other towns lie on the bends of the River Ar; above the village only forest rises ridge behind ridge to the stone and snow of the heights.\n\nThe name he bore as a child, Duny, was given him by his mother, and that and his life were all she could give him, for she died before he was a year old. His father, the bronze-smith of the village, was a grim unspeaking man, and since Duny's six brothers were older than he by many years and went one by one from home to farm the land or sail the sea or work as smith in other towns of the Northward Vale, there was no one to bring the child up in tenderness. He grew wild, a thriving weed, a tall, quick boy, loud and proud and full of temper. With the few other children of the village he herded goats on the steep meadows above the river-springs; and when he was strong enough to push and pull the long bellows-sleeves, his father made him work as smith's boy, at a high cost in blows and whippings. There was not much work to begot out of Duny. He was always off and away; roaming deep in the forest, swimming in the pools of the River Ar that like all Gontish rivers runs very quick and cold, or climbing by cliff and scarp to the heights above the forest, from which he could seethe sea, that broad northern ocean where, past Perregal, no islands are."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A sister of his dead mother lived in the village. She had done what was needful for him as a baby, but she had business of her own and once he could look after himself at all she paid no more heed to him. But one day when the boy was seven years old, untaught and knowing nothing of the arts and powers that are in the world, he heard his aunt crying out words to a goat which had jumped up onto the thatch of a hut and would not comedown: but it came jumping when she cried a certain rhyme to it. Next day herding the longhaired goats on the meadows of High Fall, Duny shouted to them the words he had heard, not knowing their use or meaning or what kind of words they were:\n\nNoth hierth malk man\n\nhiolk han merth han!\n\nHe yelled the rhyme aloud, and the goats came to him. They came very quickly, all of them together, not making any sound. They looked at him out of the dark slot in their yellow eyes.\n\nDuny laughed and shouted it out again, the rhyme that gave him power over the goats. They came closer, crowding and pushing round him. All at once he felt afraid of their thick, ridged horns and their strange eyes and their strange silence. He tried to get free of them and to runaway. The goats ran with him keeping in a knot around him, and so they came charging down into the village at last, all the goats going huddled together as if a rope were pulled tight round them, and the boy in the midst of them weeping and bellowing. Villagers ran from their houses to swear at the goats and laugh at the boy. Among them came the boy's aunt, who did not laugh. She said a word to the goats, and the beasts began to bleat and browse and wander, freed from the spell."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come with me,\" she said to Duny.\n\nShe took him into her hut where she lived alone. She let no child enter there usually, and the children feared the place. It was low and dusky, windowless, fragrant with herbs that hung drying from the crosspole of the roof, mint and moly and thyme, yarrow and rushwash and paramal, kingsfoil, clovenfoot, tansy and bay. There his aunt sat cross-legged by the firepit, and looking sidelong at the boy through the tangles of her black hair she asked him what he had said to the goats, and if he knew what the rhyme was. When she found that he knew nothing, and yet had spellbound the goats to come to him and follow him, then she saw that he must have in him the makings of power.\n\nAs her sister's son he had been nothing to her, but now she looked at him with anew eye. She praised him, and told him she might teach him rhymes he would like better, such as the word that makes a snail lookout of its shell, or the name that calls a falcon down from the sky.\n\n\"Aye, teach me that name!\" he said, being clear over the fright the goats had given him, and puffed up with her praise of his cleverness.\n\nThe witch said to him, \"You will not ever tell that word to the other children, if I teach it to you.\"\n\n\"I promise.\"\n\nShe smiled at his ready ignorance. \"Welland good. But I will bind your promise. Your tongue will be stilled until I choose to unbind it, and even then, though you can speak, you will not be able to speak the word I teach you where another person can hear it. We must keep the secrets of our craft.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Good,\" said the boy, for he had no wish to tell the secret to his playmates, liking to know and do what they knew not and could not.\n\nHe sat still while his aunt bound back her uncombed hair, and knotted the belt of her dress, and again sat cross-legged throwing handfuls of leaves into the firepit, so that a smoke spread and filled the darkness of the hut. She began to sing. Her voice changed sometimes to low or high as if another voice sang through her, and the singing went on and on until the boy did not know if he waked or slept, and all the while the witch's old black dog that never barked sat by him with eyes red from the smoke. Then the witch spoke to Duny in a tongue he did not understand, and made him say with her certain rhymes and words until the enchantment came on him and held him still.\n\n\"Speak!\" she said to test the spell.\n\nThe boy could not speak, but he laughed.\n\nThen his aunt was a little afraid of his strength, for this was as strong a spell as she knew how to weave: she had tried not only to gain control of his speech and silence, but to bind him at the same time to her service in the craft of sorcery. Yet even as the spellbound him, he had laughed. She said nothing. She threw clear water on the fire till the smoke cleared away, and gave the boy water to drink, and when the air was clear and he could speak again she taught him the true name of the falcon, to which the falcon must come.\n\nThis was Duny's first step on the way he was to follow all his life, the way of magery, the way that led him at last to hunt a shadow overland and sea to the lightless coasts of death's kingdom. But in those first steps along the way, it seemed abroad, bright road."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he found that the wild falcons stooped down to him from the wind when he summoned them by name, lighting with a thunder of wings on his wrist like the hunting-birds of a prince, then he hungered to know more such names and came to his aunt begging to learn the name of the sparrowhawk and the osprey and the eagle. To earn the words of power he did all the witch asked of him and learned of her all she taught, though not all of it was pleasant to door know. There is a saying on Gont, Weak as woman's magic, and there is another saying, Wicked as woman's magic. Now the witch of Ten Alders was no black sorceress, nor did she ever meddle with the high arts or traffic with Old Powers; but being an ignorant woman among ignorant folk, she often used her crafts to foolish and dubious ends. She knew nothing of the Balance and the Pattern which the true wizard knows and serves, and which keep him from using his spells unless real need demands. She had a spell for every circumstance, and was forever weaving charms. Much of her lore was mere rubbish and humbug, nor did she know the true spells from the false. She knew many curses, and was better at causing sickness, perhaps, than at curing it. Like any village witch she could brew up a love-potion, but there were other, uglier brews she made to serve men's jealousy and hate. Such practices, however, she kept from her young prentice, and as far as she was able she taught him honest craft.\n\nAt first all his pleasure in the art-magic was, childlike, the power it gave him over bird and beast, and the knowledge of these. And indeed that pleasure stayed with him all his life. Seeing him in the high pastures often with a bird of prey about him, the other children called him Sparrowhawk, and so he came by the name that he kept in later life as his use-name, when his true-name was not known."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the witch kept talking of the glory and the riches and the great power over men that a sorcerer could gain, he set himself to learn more useful lore. He was very quick at it. The witch praised him and the children of the village began to fear him, and he himself was sure that very soon he would become great among men. So he went on from word to word and from spell to spell with the witch till he was twelve years old and had learned from her a great part of what she knew: not much, but enough for the witchwife of a small village, and more than enough fora boy of twelve. She had taught him all her lore in herbals and healing, and all she knew of the crafts of finding, binding, mending, unsealing and revealing. What she knew of chanters' tales and the great Deeds she had sung him, and all the words of the True Speech that she had learned from the sorcerer that taught her, she taught again to Duny. And from weatherworkers and wandering jugglers who went from town to town of the Northward Vale and the East Forest he had learned various tricks and pleasantries, spells of Illusion. It was with one of these light spells that he first proved the great power that was in him.\n\nIn those days the Kargad Empire was strong. Those are four great lands that lie between the Northern and the Eastern Reaches: Karego-At, Atuan, Hur-at-Hur, Atnini. The tongue they speak there is not like any spoken in the Archipelago or the other Reaches, and they area savage people, white-skinned, yellow-haired, and fierce, liking the sight of blood and the smell of burning towns. Last year they had attacked the Torikles and the strong island Torheven, raiding in great force in fleets of red-sailed ships. News of this came north to Gont, but the Lords of Gont were busy with their piracy and paid small heed to the woes of other lands. Then Spevy fell to the Kargs and was looted and laid waste, its people taken as slaves, so that even now it is an isle of ruins. In lust of conquest the Kargs sailed next to Gont, coming in a host, thirty great longships, to East Port. They fought through that town, took it, burned it; leaving their ships under guard at the mouth of the River Ar they went up the Vale wrecking and looting, slaughtering cattle and men. As they went they split into bands, and each of these bands plundered where it chose. Fugitives brought warning to the villages of the heights. Soon the people of Ten Alders saw smoke darken the eastern sky, and that night those who climbed the High Fall looked down on the Vale all hazed and red-streaked with fires where fields ready for harvest had been set ablaze, and orchards burned, the fruit roasting on the blazing boughs, and barns and farmhouses smoldered in ruin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some of the villagers fled up the ravines and hid in the forest, and some made ready to fight for their lives, and some did neither but stood about lamenting. The witch was one who fled, hiding alone in a cave upon the Kapperding Scarp and sealing the cave-mouth with spells. Duny's father the bronze-smith was one who stayed, for he would not leave his smelting-pit and forge where he had worked for fifty years. All that night he labored beating up what ready metal he had there into spear-points, and others worked with him binding these to the handles of hoes and rakes, there being no time to make sockets and shaft them properly. There had been no weapons in the village but hunting bows and short knives, for the mountain folk of Gont are not warlike; it is not warriors they are famous for, but goat-thieves, sea-pirates, and wizards.\n\nWith sunrise came a thick white fog, as on many autumn mornings in the heights of the island. Among their huts and houses down the straggling street of Ten Alders the villagers stood waiting with their hunting bows and new-forged spears, not knowing whether the Kargs might be far off or very near, all silent, all peering into the fog that hid shapes and distances and dangers from their eyes.\n\nWith them was Duny. He had worked all night at the forge-bellows, pushing and pulling the two long sleeves of goathide that fed the fire with a blast of air. Now his arms so ached and trembled from that work that he could not holdout the spear he had chosen. He did not see how he could fight or be of any good to himself or the villagers. It rankled at his heart that he should die, spitted on a Kargish lance, while still a boy: that he should go into the dark land without ever having known his own name, his true name as a man. He looked down at his thin arms, wet with cold fog-dew, and raged at his weakness, for he knew his strength. There was power in him, if he knew how to use it, and he sought among all the spells he knew for some device that might give him and his companions an advantage, or at least a chance. But need alone is not enough to set power free: there must be knowledge."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fog was thinning now under the heat of the sun that shone bare above on the peak in a bright sky. As the mists moved and parted in great drifts and smoky wisps, the villagers saw a band of warriors coming up the mountain. They were armored with bronze helmets and greaves and breastplates of heavy leather and shields of wood and bronze, and armed with swords and the long Kargish lance. Winding up along the steep bank of the Ar they came in a plumed, clanking, straggling line, near enough already that their white faces could be seen, and the words of their jargon heard as they shouted to one another. In this band of the invading horde there were about a hundred men, which is not many; but in the village were only eighteen men and boys.\n\nNow need called knowledge out: Duny, seeing the fog blow and thin across the path before the Kargs, saw a spell that might avail him. An old weatherworker of the Vale, seeking to win the boy as prentice, had taught him several charms. One of these tricks was called fogweaving, a binding-spell that gathers the mists together fora while in one place; with it one skilled in illusion can shape the mist into fair ghostly seemings, which last a little and fade away. The boy had no such skill, but his intent was different, and he had the strength to turn the spell to his own ends. Rapidly and aloud he named the places and the boundaries of the village, and then spoke the fogweaving charm, but in among its words he enlaced the words of a spell of concealment, and last he cried the word that set the magic going.\n\nEven as he did so his father coming up behind him struck him hard on the side of the head, knocking him right down. \"Be still, fool! keep your blattering mouth shut, and hide if you can't fight!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Duny got to his feet. He could hear the Kargs now at the end of the village, as near as the great yew-tree by the tanner's yard. Their voices were clear, and the clink and creak of their harness and arms, but they could not be seen. The fog had closed and thickened allover the village, greying the light, blurring the world till a man could hardly see his own hands before him.\n\n\"I've hidden us all,\" Duny said, sullenly, for his head hurt from his father's blow, and the working of the doubled incantation had drained his strength. \"I'll keep up this fog as long as I can. Get the others to lead them up to High Fall.\"\n\nThe smith stared at his son who stood wraithlike in that weird, dank mist. It took him a minute to see Duny's meaning, but when he did he ran at once, noiselessly, knowing every fence and corner of the village, to find the others and tell them what to do. Now through the grey fog bloomed a blur of red, as the Kargs set fire to the thatch of a house. Still they did not come up into the village, but waited at the lower end till the mist should lift and lay bare their loot and prey.\n\nThe tanner, whose house it was that burned, sent a couple of boys skipping right under the Kargs' noses, taunting and yelling and vanishing again like smoke into smoke. Meantime the older men, creeping behind fences and running from house to house, came close on the other side and sent a volley of arrows and spears at the warriors, who stood all in a bunch. One Karg fell writhing with a spear, still warm from its forging, right through his body. Others were arrow-bitten, and all enraged. They charged forward then to hew down their puny attackers, but they found only the fog about them, full of voices. They followed the voices, stabbing ahead into the mist with their great, plumed, bloodstained lances. Up the length of the street they came shouting, and never knew they had run right through the village, as the empty huts and houses loomed and disappeared again in the writhing grey fog. The villagers ran scattering, most of them keeping well ahead since they knew the ground; but some, boys or old men, were slow. The Kargs stumbling on them drove their lances or hacked with their swords, yelling their war-cry, the names of the White Godbrothers of Atuan:"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Wuluah! Atwah!\"\n\nSome of the band stopped when they felt the land grow rough underfoot, but others pressed right on, seeking the phantom village, following dim wavering shapes that fled just out of reach before them. All the mist had come alive with these fleeting forms, dodging, flickering, fading on every side. One group of the Kargs chased the wraiths straight to the High Fall, the cliff's edge above the springs of Ar, and the shapes they pursued ran out onto the air and there vanished in a thinning of the mist, while the pursuers fell screaming through fog and sudden sunlight a hundred feet sheer to the shallow pools among the rocks. And those that came behind and did not fall stood at the cliff's edge, listening.\n\nNow dread came into the Kargs' hearts and they began to seek one another, not the villagers, in the uncanny mist. They gathered on the hillside, and yet always there were wraiths and ghost-shapes among them, and other shapes that ran and stabbed from behind with spear or knife and vanished again. The Kargs began to run, all of them, downhill, stumbling, silent, until all at once they ran out from the grey blind mist and saw the river and the ravines below the village all bare and bright in morning sunlight. Then they stopped, gathering together, and looked back. A wall of wavering, writhing grey lay blank across the path, hiding all that lay behind it. Out from it burst two or three stragglers, lunging and stumbling along, their long lances rocking on their shoulders. Not one Karg looked back more than that once. All went down, in haste, away from the enchanted place.\n\nFarther down the Northward Vale those warriors got their fill of fighting. The towns of the East Forest, from Ovark to the coast, had gathered their men and sent them against the invaders of Gont. Band after band they came down from the hills, and that day and the next the Kargs were harried back down to the beaches above East Port, where they found their ships burnt; so they fought with their backs to the sea till every man of them was killed, and the sands of Armouth were brown with blood until the tide came in."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But on that morning in Ten Alders village and upon the High Fall, the dank grey fog had clung awhile, and then suddenly it blew and drifted and melted away. This man and that stood up in the windy brightness of the morning, and looked about him wondering. Here lay a dead Karg with yellow hair long, loose, and bloody; there lay the village tanner, killed in battle like a king.\n\nDown in the village the house that had been set afire still blazed. They ran to put the fire out, since their battle had been won. In the street, near the great yew, they found Duny the bronze-smith's son standing by himself, bearing no hurt, but speechless and stupid like one stunned. They were well aware of what he had done, and they led him into his father's house and went calling for the witch to comedown out of her cave and heal the lad who had saved their lives and their property, all but four who were killed by the Kargs, and the one house that was burnt.\n\nNo weapon-hurt had come to the boy, but he would not speak nor eat nor sleep; he seemed not to hear what was said to him, not to see those who came to see him. There was none in those parts wizard enough to cure what ailed him. His aunt said, \"He has overspent his power,\" but she had no art to help him.\n\nWhile he lay thus dark and dumb, the story of the lad who wove the fog and scared off Kargish swordsmen with a mess of shadows was told all down the Northward Vale, and in the East Forest, and high on the mountain and over the mountain even in the Great Port of Gont. So it happened that on the fifth day after the slaughter at Armouth a stranger came into Ten Alders village, a man neither young nor old, who came cloaked and bareheaded, lightly carrying a great staff of oak that was as tall as himself. He did not come up the course of the Ar like most people, but down, out of the forests of the higher mountainside. The village goodwives saw well that he was a wizard, and when he told them that he was a healall, they brought him straight to the smith's house. Sending away all but the boy's father and aunt the stranger stooped above the cot where Duny lay staring into the dark, and did no more than lay his hand on the boy's forehead and touch his lips once."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Duny sat up slowly looking about him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ina little while he spoke, and strength and hunger began to comeback into him. They gave him a little to drink and eat, and he lay back again, always watching the stranger with dark wondering eyes.\n\nThe bronze-smith said to that stranger, \"You are no common man.\"\n\n\"Nor will this boy be a common man,\" the other answered. \"The tale of his deed with the fog has come to Re Albi, which is my home. I have come hereto give him his name, if as they say he has not yet made his passage into manhood.\"\n\nThe witch whispered to the smith, \"Brother, this must surely be the Mage of Re Albi, Ogion the Silent, that one who tamed the earthquake-\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the bronze-smith who would not let a great name daunt him, \"my son will be thirteen this month coming, but we thought to hold his Passage at the feast of Sunreturn this winter.\"\n\n\"Let him be named as soon as maybe,\" said the mage, \"for he needs his name. I have other business now, but I will comeback here for the day you choose. If you see fit I will take him with me when I go thereafter. And if he prove apt I will keep him as prentice, or see to it that he is schooled as fits his gifts. For to keep dark the mind of the mageborn, that is a dangerous thing.\"\n\nVery gently Ogion spoke, but with certainty, and even the hardheaded smith assented to all he said.\n\nOn the day the boy was thirteen years old, a day in the early splendor of autumn while still the bright leaves are on the trees, Ogion returned to the village from his rovings over Gont Mountain, and the ceremony of Passage was held. The witch took from the boy his name Duny, the name his mother had given him as a baby. Nameless and naked he walked into the cold springs of the Ar where it rises among rocks under the high cliffs. Ashe entered the water clouds crossed the sun's face and great shadows slid and mingled over the water of the pool about him. He crossed to the far bank, shuddering with cold but walking slow and erect as he should through that icy, living water. Ashe came to the bank Ogion, waiting, reached out his hand and clasping the boy's arm whispered to him his true name: Ged."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Thus was he given his name by one very wise in the uses of power.\n\nThe feasting was far from over, and all the villagers were making merry with plenty to eat and beer to drink and a chanter from down the Vale singing the Deed of the Dragonlords, when the mage spoke in his quiet voice to Ged: \"Come, lad. Bid your people farewell and leave them feasting.\"\n\nGed fetched what he had to carry, which was the good bronze knife his father had forged him, and a leather coat the tanner's widow had cut down to his size, and an alder-stick his aunt had becharmed for him: that was all he owned besides his shirt and breeches. He said farewell to them, all the people he knew in all the world, and looked about once at the village that straggled and huddled thereunder the cliffs, over the riversprings. Then he set off with his new master through the steep slanting forests of the mountain isle, through the leaves and shadows of bright autumn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "GED HAD THOUGHT THAT AS the prentice of a great mage he would enter at once into the mystery and mastery of power. He would understand the language of the beasts and the speech of the leaves of the forest, he thought, and sway the winds with his word, and learn to change himself into any shape he wished. Maybe he and his master would run together as stags, or fly to Re Albi over the mountain on the wings of eagles.\n\nBut it was not so at all. They wandered, first down into the Vale and then gradually south and westward around the mountain, given lodging in little villages or spending the night out in the wilderness, like poor journeyman-sorcerers, or tinkers, or beggars. They entered no mysterious domain. Nothing happened. The mage's oaken staff that Ged had watched at first with eager dread was nothing but a stout staff to walk with. Three days went by and four days went by and still Ogion had not spoken a single charm in Ged's hearing, and had not taught him a single name or rune or spell.\n\nThough a very silent man he was so mild and calm that Ged soon lost his awe of him, and in a day or two more he was bold enough to ask his master, \"When will my apprenticeship begin, Sir?\"\n\n\"It has begun,\" said Ogion.\n\nThere was a silence, as if Ged was keeping back something he had to say. Then he said it: \"But I haven't learned anything yet!\"\n\n\"Because you haven't found out what I am teaching,\" replied the mage, going on at his steady, long-legged pace along their road, which was the high pass between Ovark and Wiss. He was a dark man, like most Gontishmen, dark copper-brown; grey-haired, lean and tough as a hound, tireless. He spoke seldom, ate little, slept less. His eyes and ears were very keen, and often there was a listening look on his face."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged did not answer him. It is not always easy to answer a mage.\n\n\"You want to work spells,\" Ogion said presently, striding along. \"You've drawn too much water from that well. Wait. Manhood is patience. Mastery is nine times patience. What is that herb by the path?\"\n\n\"Strawflower.\"\n\n\"And that?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Fourfoil, they call it.\" Ogion had halted, the coppershod foot of his staff near the little weed, so Ged looked closely at the plant, and plucked a dry seedpod from it, and finally asked, since Ogion said nothing more, \"What is its use, Master?\"\n\n\"None I know of.\"\n\nGed kept the seedpod awhile as they went on, then tossed it away.\n\n\"When you know the fourfoil in all its seasons root and leaf and flower, by sight and scent and seed, then you may learn its true name, knowing its being: which is more than its use. What, after all, is the use of you? or of myself? Is Gont Mountain useful, or the Open Sea?\" Ogion went on a half mile or so, and said at last, \"To hear, one must be silent.\"\n\nThe boy frowned. He did not like to be made to feel a fool. He kept back his resentment and impatience, and tried to be obedient, so that Ogion would consent at last to teach him something. For he hungered to learn, to gain power. It began to seem to him, though, that he could have learned more walking with any herb-gatherer or village sorcerer, and as they went round the mountain westward into the lonely forests past Wiss he wondered more and more what was the greatness and the magic of this great Mage Ogion. For when it rained Ogion would not even say the spell that every weatherworker knows, to send the storm aside. Ina land where sorcerers come thick, like Gont or the Enlades, you may see a raincloud blundering slowly from side to side and place to place as one spell shunts it onto the next, till at last it is buffeted out over the sea where it can rain in peace. But Ogion let the rainfall where it would. He found a thick fir-tree and lay down beneath it. Ged crouched among the dripping bushes wet and sullen, and wondered what was the good of having power if you were too wise to use it, and wished he had gone as prentice to that old weatherworker of the Vale, whereat least he would have slept dry. He did not speak any of his thoughts aloud. He said not a word. His master smiled, and fell asleep in the rain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Along towards Sunreturn when the first heavy snows began to fall in the heights of Gont they came to Re Albi, Ogion's home. It is a town on the edge of the high rocks of Overfell, and its name means Falcon's Nest. From it one can see far below the deep harbor and the towers of the Port of Gont, and the ships that go in and out the gate of the bay between the Armed Cliffs, and far to the west across the sea one may make out the blue hills of Oranéa, easternmost of the Inward Isles.\n\nThe mage's house, though large and soundly built of timber, with hearth and chimney rather than a firepit, was like the huts of Ten Alders village: all one room, with a goatshed built onto one side. There was a kind of alcove in the west wall of the room, where Ged slept. Over his pallet was a window that looked out on the sea, but most often the shutters must be closed against the great winds that blew all winter from the west and north. In the dark warmth of that house Ged spent the winter, hearing the rush of rain and wind outside or the silence of snowfall, learning to write and read the Six Hundred Runes of Hardic. Very glad he was to learn this lore, for without it no mere rote-learning of charms and spells will give a man true mastery. The Hardic tongue of the Archipelago, though it has no more magic power in it than any other tongue of men, has its roots in the Old Speech, that language in which things are named with their true names: and the way to the understanding of this speech starts with the Runes that were written when the islands of the world first were raised up from the sea.\n\nStill no marvels and enchantments occurred. All winter there was nothing but the heavy pages of the Runebook turning, and the rain and the snow falling; and Ogion would come in from roaming the icy forests or from looking after his goats, and stamp the snow off his boots, and sit down in silence by the fire. And the mage's long, listening silence would fill the room, and fill Ged's mind, until sometimes it seemed he had forgotten what words sounded like: and when Ogion spoke at last it was as if he had, just then and for the first time, invented speech. Yet the words he spoke were no great matters but had to do only with simple things, bread and water and weather and sleep."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the spring came on, quick and bright, Ogion often sent Ged forth to gather herbs on the meadows above Re Albi, and told him to take as long as he liked about it, giving him freedom to spend all day wandering by rain-filled streams and through the woods and over wet green fields in the sun. Ged went with delight each time, and stayed out till night; but he did not entirely forget the herbs. He kept an eye out for them, while he climbed and roamed and waded and explored, and always brought some home. He came on a meadow between two streams where the flower called white hallows grew thick, and as these blossoms are rare and prized by healers, he came back again next day. Someone else was there before him, a girl, whom he knew by sight as the daughter of the old Lord of Re Albi. He would not have spoken to her, but she came to him and greeted him pleasantly: \"I know you, you are the Sparrowhawk, our mage's adept. I wish you would tell me about sorcery!\"\n\nHe looked down at the white flowers that brushed against her white skirt, and at first he was shy and glum and hardly answered. But she went on talking, in an open, careless, willful way that little by little set him at ease. She was a tall girl of about his own age, very sallow, almost white-skinned; her mother, they said in the village, was from Osskil or some such foreign land. Her hair fell long and straight like a fall of black water. Ged thought her very ugly, but he had a desire to please her, to win her admiration, that grew on him as they talked. She made him tell all the story of his tricks with the mist that had defeated the Kargish warriors, and she listened as if she wondered and admired, but she spoke no praise. And soon she was off on another tack: \"Can you call the birds and beasts to you?\" she asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I can,\" said Ged.\n\nHe knew there was a falcon's nest in the cliffs above the meadow, and he summoned the bird by its name. It came, but it would not light on his wrist, being put off no doubt by the girl's presence. It screamed and struck the air with broad barred wings, and rose upon the wind.\n\n\"What do you call that kind of charm, that made the falcon come?\"\n\n\"Aspell of Summoning.\"\n\n\"Can you call the spirits of the dead to come to you, too?\"\n\nHe thought she was mocking him with this question, because the falcon had not fully obeyed his summons. He would not let her mock him. \"I might if I chose,\" he said in a calm voice.\n\n\"Is it not very difficult, very dangerous, to summon a spirit?\"\n\n\"Difficult, yes. Dangerous?\" He shrugged.\n\nThis time he was almost certain there was admiration in her eyes.\n\n\"Can you make a love-charm?\"\n\n\"That is no mastery.\"\n\n\"True,\" says she, \"any village witch can do it. Can you do Changing spells? Can you change your own shape, as wizards do, they say?\"\n\nAgain he was not quite sure that she did not ask the question mockingly, and so again he replied, \"I might if I chose.\"\n\nShe began to beg him to transform himself into anything he wished-a hawk, a bull, afire, a tree. He put her off with short secretive words such as his master used, but he did not know how to refuse flatly when she coaxed him; and besides he did not know whether he himself believed his boast, or not. He left her, saying that his master the mage expected him at home, and he did not comeback to the meadow the next day. But the day after he came again, saying to himself that he should gather more of the flowers while they bloomed. She was there, and together they waded barefoot in the boggy grass, pulling the heavy white hallow-blooms. The sun of spring shone, and she talked with him as merrily as any goatherd lass of his own village. She asked him again about sorcery, and listened wide-eyed to all he told her, so that he fell to boasting again. Then she asked him if he would notwork a Changing spell, and when he put her off, she looked at him, putting back the black hair from her face, and said, \"Are you afraid to do it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No, I am not afraid.\"\n\nShe smiled a little disdainfully and said, \"Maybe you are too young.\"\n\nThat he would not endure. He did not say much, but he resolved that he would prove himself to her. He told her to come again to the meadow tomorrow, if she liked, and so took leave of her, and came back to the house while his master was still out. He went straight to the shelf and took down the two Lore-Books, which Ogion had never yet opened in his presence.\n\nHe looked fora spell of self-transformation, but being slow to read the runes yet and understanding little of what he read, he could not find what he sought. These books were very ancient, Ogion having them from his own master Heleth Farseer, and Heleth from his master the Mage of Perregal, and so back into the times of myth. Small and strange was the writing, overwritten and interlined by many hands, and all those hands were dust now. Yet here and there Ged understood something of what he tried to read, and with the girl's questions and her mockery always in his mind, he stopped on a page that bore a spell of summoning up the spirits of the dead.\n\nAshe read it, puzzling out the runes and symbols one by one, a horror came over him. His eyes were fixed, and he could not lift them till he had finished reading all the spell.\n\nThen raising his head he saw it was dark in the house. He had been reading without any light, in the darkness. He could not now make out the runes when he looked down at the book. Yet the horror grew in him, seeming to hold him bound in his chair. He was cold. Looking over his shoulder he saw that something was crouching beside the closed door, a shapeless clot of shadow darker than the darkness. It seemed to reach out towards him, and to whisper, and to call to him in a whisper: but he could not understand the words."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The door was flung wide. A man entered with a white light flaming about him, a great bright figure who spoke aloud, fiercely and suddenly. The darkness and the whispering ceased and were dispelled.\n\nThe horror went out of Ged, but still he was mortally afraid, for it was Ogion the Mage who stood therein the doorway with a brightness all about him, and the oaken staff in his hand burned with a white radiance.\n\nSaying no word the mage came past Ged, and lighted the lamp, and put the books away on their shelf. Then he turned to the boy and said, \"You will never work that spell but in peril of your power and your life. Was it for that spell you opened the books?\"\n\n\"No, Master,\" the boy murmured, and shamefully he told Ogion what he had sought, and why.\n\n\"You do not remember what I told you, that that girl's mother, the Lord's wife, is an enchantress?\"\n\nIndeed Ogion had once said this, but Ged had not paid much attention, though he knew by now that Ogion never told him anything that he had not good reason to tell him.\n\n\"The girl herself is half a witch already. It maybe the mother who sent the girl to talk to you. It maybe she who opened the book to the page you read. The powers she serves are not the powers I serve: I do not know her will, but I know she does not will me well. Ged, listen tome now. Have you never thought how danger must surround power as shadow does light? This sorcery is not a game we play for pleasure or for praise. Think of this: that every word, every act of our Art is said and is done either for good, or for evil. Before you speak or do you must know the price that is to pay!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Driven by his shame Ged cried, \"How am Ito know these things, when you teach me nothing? Since I lived with you I have done nothing, seen nothing-\"\n\n\"Now you have seen something,\" said the mage. \"By the door, in the darkness, when I came in.\"\n\nGed was silent.\n\nOgion knelt down and built the fire on the hearth and lit it, for the house was cold. Then still kneeling he said in his quiet voice, \"Ged, my young falcon, you are not bound tome or to my service. You did not come tome, but Ito you. You are very young to make this choice, but I cannot make it for you. If you wish, I will send you to Roke Island, where all high arts are taught. Any craft you undertake to learn you will learn, for your power is great. Greater even than your pride, I hope. I would keep you herewith me, for what I have is what you lack, but I will not keep you against your will. Now choose between Re Albi and Roke.\"\n\nGed stood dumb, his heart bewildered. He had come to love this man Ogion who had healed him with a touch, and who had no anger: he loved him, and had not known it until now. He looked at the oaken staff leaning in the chimney-corner, remembering the radiance of it that had burned out evil from the dark, and he yearned to stay with Ogion, to go wandering through the forests with him, long and far, learning how to be silent. Yet other cravings were in him that would not be stilled, the wish for glory, the will to act. Ogion's seemed along road towards mastery, a slow bypath to follow, when he might go sailing before the seawinds straight to the Inmost Sea, to the Isle of the Wise, where the air was bright with enchantments and the Archmage walked amidst wonders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Master,\" he said, \"I will go to Roke.\"\n\nSo a few days later on a sunny morning of spring Ogion strode beside him down the steep road from the Overfell, fifteen miles to the Great Port of Gont. Thereat the landgate between carven dragons the guards of the City of Gont, seeing the mage, knelt with bared swords and welcomed him. They knew him and did him honor by the Prince's order and their own will, for ten years ago Ogion had saved the city from earthquake that would have shaken the towers of the rich down to the ground and closed the channel of the Armed Cliffs with avalanche. He had spoken to the Mountain of Gont, calming it, and had stilled the trembling precipices of the Overfell as one soothes a frightened beast. Ged had heard some talk of this, and now, wondering to seethe armed guardsmen kneel to his quiet master, he remembered it. He glanced up almost in fear at this man who had stopped an earthquake; but Ogion's face was quiet as always.\n\nThey went down to the quays, where the Harbormaster came hastening to welcome Ogion and ask what service he might do. The mage told him, and at once he named a ship bound for the Inmost Sea aboard which Ged might go as passenger. \"Or they will take him as windbringer,\" he said, \"if he has the craft. They have no weatherworker aboard.\"\n\n\"He has some skill with mist and fog, but none with seawinds,\" the mage said, putting his hand lightly on Ged's shoulder. \"Do not try any tricks with the sea and the winds of the sea, Sparrowhawk; you area landsman still. Harbormaster, what is the ship's name?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Shadow, from the Andrades, bound to Hort Town with furs and ivories. A good ship, Master Ogion.\"\n\nThe mage's face darkened at the name of the ship, but he said, \"So be it. Give this writing to the Warder of the School on Roke, Sparrowhawk. Go with a fair wind. Farewell!\"\n\nThat was all his parting. He turned away, and went striding up the street away from the quays. Ged stood forlorn and watched his master go.\n\n\"Come along, lad,\" said the Harbormaster, and took him down the waterfront to the pier where Shadow was making ready to sail.\n\nIt might seem strange that on an island fifty miles wide, in a village under cliffs that stare out forever on the sea, a child may grow to manhood never having stepped in a boat or dipped his finger in saltwater, but so it is. Farmer, goatherd, cattleherd, hunter or artisan, the landsman looks at the ocean as at a salt unsteady realm that has nothing to do with him at all. The village two days'walk from his village is a foreign land, and the island a day's sail from his island is a mere rumor, misty hills seen across the water, not solid ground like that he walks on.\n\nSoto Ged who had never been down from the heights of the mountain, the Port of Gont was an awesome and marvellous place, the great houses and towers of cut stone and waterfront of piers and docks and basins and moorages, the seaport where half a hundred boats and galleys rocked at quayside or lay hauled up and overturned for repairs or stood out at anchor in the roadstead with furled sails and closed oarports, the sailors shouting in strange dialects and the longshoremen running heavy-laden amongst barrels and boxes and coils of rope and stacks of oars, the bearded merchants in furred robes conversing quietly as they picked their way along the slimy stones above the water, the fishermen unloading their catch, coopers pounding and shipmakers hammering and clamsellers singing and shipmasters bellowing, and beyond all the silent, shining bay. With eyes and ears and mind bewildered he followed the Harbormaster to the broad dock where Shadow was tied up, and the Harbormaster brought him to the master of the ship."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With few words spoken the ship's master agreed to take Ged as passenger to Roke, since it was a mage that asked it; and the Harbormaster left the boy with him. The master of the Shadow was a big man, and fat, in a red cloak trimmed with pellawi-fur such as Andradean merchants wear. He never looked at Ged but asked him in a mighty voice, \"Can you work weather, boy?\"\n\n\"I can.\"\n\n\"Can you bring the wind?\"\n\nHe had to say he could not, and with that the master told him to find a place out of the way and stay in it.\n\nThe oarsmen were coming aboard now, for the ship was to go out into the roadstead before night fell, and sail with the ebbtide near dawn. There was no place out of the way, but Ged climbed up as well as he could onto the bundled, lashed, and hide-covered cargo in the stern of the ship, and clinging there watched all that passed. The oarsmen came leaping aboard, sturdy men with great arms, while longshoremen rolled water barrels thundering out the dock and stowed them under the rowers'benches. The well-built ship rode low with her burden, yet danced a little on the lapping shore-waves, ready to begone. Then the steersman took his place at the right of the sternpost, looking forward to the ship's master, who stood on a plank let in at the jointure of the keel with the stem, which was carved as the Old Serpent of Andrad. The master roared his orders hugely, and Shadow was untied and towed clear of the docks by two laboring rowboats. Then the master's roar was'Open ports!\" and the great oars shot rattling out, fifteen to aside. The rowers bent their strong backs while a lad up beside the master beat the stroke on a drum. Easy as a gull oared by her wings the ship went now, and the noise and hurlyburly of the City fell away suddenly behind. They came out in the silence of the waters of the bay, and over them rose the white peak of the Mountain, seeming to hang above the sea. Ina shallow creek in the lee of the southern Armed Cliff the anchor was thrown over, and there they rode the night."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Of the seventy crewmen of the ship some were like Ged very young in years, though all had made their passage into manhood. These lads called him over to share food and drink with them, and were friendly though rough and full of jokes and jibes. They called him Goatherd, of course, because he was Gontish, but they did not go further than that. He was as tall and strong as the fifteen-year-olds, and quick to return either a good word or a jeer; so he made his way among them and even that first night began to live as one of them and learn their work. This suited the ship's officers, for there was no room aboard for idle passengers.\n\nThere was little enough room for the crew, and no comfort at all, in an undecked galley crowded with men and gear and cargo; but what was comfort to Ged? He lay that night among corded rolls of pelts from the northern isles and watched the stars of spring above the harbor waters and the little yellow lights of the City astern, and he slept and waked again full of delight. Before dawn the tide turned. They raised anchor and rowed softly out between the Armed Cliffs. As sunrise reddened the Mountain of Gont behind them they raised the high sail and ran southwestward over the Gontish Sea.\n\nBetween Barnisk and Torheven they sailed with alight wind, and on the second day came insight of Havnor, the Great Island, heart and hearth of the Archipelago. For three days they were insight of the green hills of Havnor as they worked along its eastern coast, but they did not come to shore. Not for many years did Ged set foot on that land or seethe white towers of Havnor Great Port at the center of the world.\n\nThey layover one night at Kembermouth, the northern port of Way Island, and the next at a little town on the entrance of Felkway Bay, and the next day passed the northern cape of O and entered the Ebavnor Straits. There they dropped sail and rowed, always with land on either side and always within hail of other ships, great and small, merchants and traders, some bound in from the Outer Reaches with strange cargo after a voyage of years and others that hopped like sparrows from isle to isle of the Inmost Sea. Turning southward out of the crowded Straits they left Havnor astern and sailed between the two fair islands Ark and Ilien, towered and terraced with cities, and then through rain and rising wind began to beat their way across the Inmost Sea to Roke Island."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the night as the wind freshened to a gale they took down both sail and mast, and the next day, all day, they rowed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The long ship lay steady on the waves and went gallantly, but the steersman at the long steering-sweep in the stern looked into the rain that beat the sea and saw nothing but the rain. They went southwest by the pointing of the magnet, knowing how they went, but not through what waters. Ged heard men speak of the shoal waters north of Roke, and of the Borilous Rocks to the east; others argued that they might be far out of course by now, in the empty waters south of Kamery. Still the wind grew stronger, tearing the edges of the great waves into flying tatters of foam, and still they rowed southwest with the wind behind them. The stints at the oars were shortened, for the labor was very hard; the younger lads were set two to an oar, and Ged took his turn with the others as he had since they left Gont. When they did not row they bailed, for the seas broke heavy on the ship. So they labored among the waves that ran like smoking mountains under the wind, while the rain beat hard and cold on their backs, and the drum thumped through the noise of the storm like a heart thumping.\n\nA man came to take Ged's place at the oar, sending him to the ship's master in the bow. Rainwater dripped from the hem of the master's cloak, but he stood stout as a winebarrel on his bit of decking and looking down at Ged he asked, \"Can you abate this wind, lad?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Have you craft with iron?\"\n\nHe meant, could Ged make the compass-needlepoint their way to Roke, making the magnet follow not its north but their need. That skill is a secret of the Seamasters, and again Ged must say no."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well then,\" the master bellowed through the wind and rain, \"you must find some ship to take you back to Roke from Hort Town."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Roke must be west of us now, and only wizardry could bring us there through this sea. We must keep south.\"\n\nGed did not like this, for he had heard the sailors talk of Hort Town, how it was a lawless place, full of evil traffic, where men were often taken and sold into slavery in the South Reach. Returning to his labor at the oar he pulled away with his companion, a sturdy Andradean lad, and heard the drumbeat the stroke and saw the lantern hung on the stern bob and flicker as the wind plucked it about, a tormented fleck of light in the rain-lashed dusk. He kept looking to westward, as often as he could in the heavy rhythm of pulling the oar. And as the ship rose on a high swell he saw fora moment over the dark smoking water alight between clouds, as it might be the last gleam of sunset: but this was a clear light, not red.\n\nHis oar-mate had not seen it, but he called it out. The steersman watched for it on each rise of the great waves, and saw it as Ged saw it again, but shouted back that it was only the setting sun. Then Ged called to one of the lads that was bailing to take his place on the bench a minute, and made his way forward again along the encumbered aisle between the benches, and catching hold of the carved prow to keep from being pitched overboard he shouted up to the master, \"Sir! that light to the west is Roke Island!\"\n\n\"I saw no light,\" the master roared, but even as he spoke Ged flung out his arm pointing, and all saw the light gleam clear in the west over the heaving scud and tumult of the sea.\n\nNot for his passenger's sake, but to save his ship from the peril of the storm, the master shouted at once to the steersman to head westward toward the light. But he said to Ged, \"Boy, you speak like a Seamaster, but I tell you if you lead us wrong in this weather I will throw you over to swim to Roke!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now instead of running before the storm they must row across the wind's way, and it was hard: waves striking the ship abeam pushed her always south of their new course, and rolled her, and filled her with water so that bailing must be ceaseless, and the oarsmen must watch lest the ship rolling should lift their oars out of water as they pulled and so pitch them down among the benches. It was nearly dark under the stormclouds, but now and again they made out the light to the west, enough to set course by, and so struggled on. At last the wind dropped a little, and the light grew broad before them. They rowed on, and they came as it were through a curtain, between one oarstroke and the next running out of the storm into a clear air, where the light of after-sunset glowed in the sky and on the sea. Over the foamcrested waves they saw not far off a high, round, green hill, and beneath it a town built on a small bay where boats lay at anchor, all in peace.\n\nThe steersman leaning on his long sweep turned his head and called, \"Sir! is this true land or a witchery?\"\n\n\"Keep her as she goes, you witless woodenhead! Row, you spineless slave-sons! That's Thwil Bay and the Knoll of Roke, as any fool could see! Row!\"\n\nSoto the beat of the drum they rowed wearily into the bay. There it was still, so that they could hear the voices of people up in the town, and a bell ringing, and only far off the hiss and roaring of the storm. Clouds hung dark to north and east and south a mile off all about the island. But over Roke stars were coming out one by one in a clear and quiet sky."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "GED SLEPT THAT NIGHT ABOARD Shadow, and early in the morning parted with those first sea-comrades of his, they shouting good wishes cheerily after him as he went up the docks. The town of Thwil is not large, its high houses huddling close over a few steep narrow streets. To Ged, however, it seemed a city, and not knowing whereto go he asked the first townsman of Thwil he met where he would find the Warder of the School on Roke. The man looked at him sidelong awhile and said, \"The wise don't need to ask, the fool asks in vain,\" and so went on along the street. Ged went uphill till he came out into a square, rimmed on three sides by the houses with their sharp slate roofs and on the fourth side by the wall of a great building whose few small windows were higher than the chimneytops of the houses: a fort or castle it seemed, built of mighty grey blocks of stone. In the square beneath it market-booths were setup and there was some coming and going of people. Ged asked his question of an old woman with a basket of mussels, and she replied, \"You cannot always find the Warder where he is, but sometimes you find him where he is not,\" and went on crying her mussels to sell.\n\nIn the great building, near one corner, there was a mean little door of wood. Ged went to this and knocked loud. To the old man who opened the door he said, \"I bear a letter from the Mage Ogion of Gont to the Warder of the School on this island. I want to find the Warder, but I will not hear more riddles and scoffing!\"\n\n\"This is the School,\" the old man said mildy. \"I am the doorkeeper. Enter if you can.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged stepped forward. It seemed to him that he had passed through the doorway: yet he stood outside on the pavement where he had stood before.\n\nOnce more he stepped forward, and once more he remained standing outside the door. The doorkeeper, inside, watched him with mild eyes.\n\nGed was not so much baffled as angry, for this seemed like a further mockery to him. With voice and hand he made the Opening spell which his aunt had taught him long ago; it was the prize among all her stock of spells, and he wove it well now. But it was only a witch's charm, and the power that held this doorway was not moved at all.\n\nWhen that failed Ged stood along while thereon the pavement. At last he looked at the old man who waited inside. \"I cannot enter,\" he said unwillingly, \"unless you help me.\"\n\nThe doorkeeper answered, \"Say your name.\"\n\nThen again Ged stood still awhile; fora man never speaks his own name aloud, until more than his life's safety is at stake.\n\n\"I am Ged,\" he said aloud. Stepping forward then he entered the open doorway. Yet it seemed to him that though the light was behind him, a shadow followed him in at his heels.\n\nHe saw also as he turned that the doorway through which he had come was not plain wood as he had thought, but ivory without joint or seam: it was cut, as he knew later, from a tooth of the Great Dragon. The door that the old man closed behind him was of polished horn, through which the daylight shone dimly, and on its inner face was carved the Thousand-Leaved Tree.\n\n\"Welcome to this house, lad,\" the doorkeeper said, and without saying more led him through halls and corridors to an open court far inside the walls of the building. The court was partly paved with stone, but was roofless, and on a grassplot a fountain played under young trees in the sunlight. There Ged waited alone some while. He stood still, and his heartbeat hard, for it seemed to him that he felt presences and powers at work unseen about him here, and he knew that this place was built not only of stone but of magic stronger than stone. He stood in the innermost room of the House of the Wise, and it was open to the sky. Then suddenly he was aware of a man clothed in white who watched him through the falling water of the fountain."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As their eyes met, a bird sang aloud in the branches of the tree. In that moment Ged understood the singing of the bird, and the language of the water falling in the basin of the fountain, and the shape of the clouds, and the beginning and end of the wind that stirred the leaves: it seemed to him that he himself was a word spoken by the sunlight.\n\nThen that moment passed, and he and the world were as before, or almost as before. He went forward to kneel before the Archmage, holding out to him the letter written by Ogion.\n\nThe Archmage Nemmerle, Warder of Roke, was an old man, older it was said than any man then living. His voice quavered like the bird's voice when he spoke, welcoming Ged kindly. His hair and beard and robe were white, and he seemed as if all darkness and heaviness had been leached out of him by the slow usage of the years, leaving him white and worn as driftwood that has been a century adrift. \"My eyes are old, I cannot read what your master writes,\" he said in his quavering voice. \"Read me the letter, lad.\"\n\nSo Ged made out and read aloud the writing, which was in Hardic runes, and said no more than this: Lord Nemmerle! I send you one who will be greatest of the wizards of Gont, if the wind blow true. This was signed, not with Ogion's true name which Ged had never yet learned, but with Ogion's rune, the Closed Mouth.\n\n\"He who holds the earthquake on a leash has sent you, for which be doubly welcome. Young Ogion was dear tome, when he came here from Gont. Now tell me of the seas and portents of your voyage, lad.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A fair passage, Lord, but for the storm yesterday.\"\n\n\"What ship brought you here?\"\n\n\"Shadow, trading from the Andrades.\"\n\n\"Whose will sent you here?\"\n\n\"My own.\"\n\nThe Archmage looked at Ged and looked away, and began to speak in a tongue that Ged did not understand, mumbling as will an old old man whose wits go wandering among the years and islands. Yet in among his mumbling there were words of what the bird had sung and what the water had said falling. He was not laying a spell and yet there was a power in his voice that moved Ged's mind so that the boy was bewildered, and for an instant seemed to behold himself standing in a strange vast desert place alone among shadows. Yet all along he was in the sunlit court, hearing the fountain fall.\n\nA great blackbird, a raven of Osskil, came walking over the stone terrace and the grass. It came to the hem of the Archmage's robe and stood there all black with its dagger beak and eyes like pebbles, staring sidelong at Ged. It pecked three times on the white staff Nemmerle leaned on, and the old wizard ceased his muttering, and smiled. \"Run and play, lad,\" he said at last as to a little child. Ged knelt again on one knee to him. When he rose, the Archmage was gone. Only the raven stood eyeing him, its beak outstretched as if to peck the vanished staff.\n\nIt spoke, in what Ged guessed might be the speech of Osskil. \"Terrenon ussbuk!\" it said croaking. \"Terrenon ussbuk orrek!\" And it strutted off as it had come.\n\nGed turned to leave the courtyard, wondering where he should go. Under the archway he was met by a tall youth who greeted him very courteously, bowing his head. \"I am called Jasper, Enwit's son of the Domain of Eolg on Havnor Isle. I am at your service today, to show you about the Great House and answer your questions as I can. How shall I call you, Sir?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now it seemed to Ged, a mountain villager who had never been among the sons of rich merchants and noblemen, that this fellow was scoffing at him with his'service\" and his'Sir\" and his bowing and scraping. He answered shortly, \"Sparrowhawk, they call me.\"\n\nThe other waited a moment as if expecting some more mannerly response, and getting none straightened up and turned a little aside. He was two or three years older than Ged, very tall, and he moved and carried himself with stiff grace, posing (Ged thought) like a dancer. He wore a grey cloak with hood thrown back. The first place he took Ged was the wardrobe room, whereas a student of the school Ged might find himself another such cloak that fitted him, and any other clothing he might need. He put on the dark-grey cloak he had chosen, and Jasper said, \"Now you are one of us.\"\n\nJasper had away of smiling faintly as he spoke which made Ged look fora jeer hidden in his polite words. \"Do clothes make the mage?\" he answered, sullen.\n\n\"No,\" said the older boy. \"Though I have heard that manners make the man... Where now?\"\n\n\"Where you will. I do not know the house.\"\n\nJasper took him down the corridors of the Great House showing him the open courts and the roofed halls, the Room of Shelves where the books of lore and rune-tomes were kept, the great Hearth Hall where all the school gathered on festival days, and upstairs, in the towers and under the roofs, the small cells where the students and Masters slept. Ged's was in the South Tower, with a window looking down over the steep roofs of Thwil town to the sea. Like the other sleeping-cells it had no furnishing but a straw-filled mattress in the corner. \"We live very plain here,\" said Jasper. \"But I expect you won't mind that.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, coming of age, magic\nAuthor: Ursula K. Le Guin\nTitle: A Wizard of Earthsea\nChapter: 6"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now it seemed to Ged, a mountain villager who had never been among the sons of rich merchants and noblemen, that this fellow was scoffing at him with his'service\" and his'Sir\" and his bowing and scraping. He answered shortly, \"Sparrowhawk, they call me.\"\n\nThe other waited a moment as if expecting some more mannerly response, and getting none straightened up and turned a little aside. He was two or three years older than Ged, very tall, and he moved and carried himself with stiff grace, posing (Ged thought) like a dancer. He wore a grey cloak with hood thrown back. The first place he took Ged was the wardrobe room, whereas a student of the school Ged might find himself another such cloak that fitted him, and any other clothing he might need. He put on the dark-grey cloak he had chosen, and Jasper said, \"Now you are one of us.\"\n\nJasper had away of smiling faintly as he spoke which made Ged look fora jeer hidden in his polite words. \"Do clothes make the mage?\" he answered, sullen.\n\n\"No,\" said the older boy. \"Though I have heard that manners make the man... Where now?\"\n\n\"Where you will. I do not know the house.\"\n\nJasper took him down the corridors of the Great House showing him the open courts and the roofed halls, the Room of Shelves where the books of lore and rune-tomes were kept, the great Hearth Hall where all the school gathered on festival days, and upstairs, in the towers and under the roofs, the small cells where the students and Masters slept. Ged's was in the South Tower, with a window looking down over the steep roofs of Thwil town to the sea. Like the other sleeping-cells it had no furnishing but a straw-filled mattress in the corner. \"We live very plain here,\" said Jasper. \"But I expect you won't mind that.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm used to it.\" Presently, trying to show himself an equal of this polite disdainful youth, he added, \"I suppose you weren't, when you first came.\"\n\nJasper looked at him, and his look said without words, \"What could you possibly know about what I, son of the Lord of the Domain of Eolg on the Isle of Havnor, am or am not used to?\" What Jasper said aloud was simply, \"Come on this way.\"\n\nA gong had been rung while they were upstairs, and they came down to eat the noon meal at the Long Table of the refectory, along with a hundred or more boys and young men. Each waited on himself, joking with the cooks through the window-hatches of the kitchen that opened into the refectory, loading his plate from great bowls of food that steamed on the sills, sitting where he pleased at the Long Table. \"They say,\" Jasper told Ged, \"that no matter how many sit at this table, there is always room.\" Certainly there was room both for many noisy groups of boys talking and eating mightily, and for older fellows, their grey cloaks clasped with silver at the neck, who sat more quietly by pairs or alone, with grave, pondering faces, as if they had much to think about. Jasper took Ged to sit with a heavyset fellow called Vetch, who said nothing much but shoveled in his food with a will. He had the accent of the East Reach, and was very dark of skin, not red-brown like Ged and Jasper and most folk of the Archipelago, but black-brown. He was plain, and his manners were not polished. He grumbled about the dinner when he had finished it, but then turning to Ged said, \"At least it's not illusion, like so much around here; it sticks to your ribs.\" Ged did not know what he meant, but he felt a certain liking for him, and was glad when after the meal he stayed with them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They went down into the town, that Ged might learn his way about it. Few and short as were the streets of Thwil, they turned and twisted curiously among the high-roofed houses, and the way was easy to lose. It was a strange town, and strange also its people, fishermen and workmen and artisans like any others, but soused to the sorcery that is ever at play on the Isle of the Wise that they seemed half sorcerers themselves. They talked (as Ged had learned) in riddles, and not one of them would blink to see a boy turn into a fish or a housefly up into the air, but knowing it fora schoolboy prank would goon cobbling shoes or cutting up mutton, unconcerned.\n\nComing up past the Back Door and around through the gardens of the Great House, the three boys crossed the clear-running Thwilburn on a wooden bridge and went on northward among woods and pastures. The path climbed and wound. They passed oak-groves where shadows lay thick for all the brightness of the sun. There was one grove not faraway to the left that Ged could never quite see plainly. The path never reached it, though it always seemed to be about to. He could not even make out what kind of trees they were. Vetch, seeing him gazing, said softly, \"That is the Immanent Grove. We can't come there, yet...\"\n\nIn the hot sunlit pastures yellow flowers bloomed. \"Sparkweed,\" said Jasper. \"They grow where the wind dropped the ashes of burning Ilien, when Erreth-Akbe defended the Inward Isles from the Firelord.\" He blew on a withered flowerhead, and the seeds shaken loose went upon the wind like sparks of fire in the sun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The path led them up and around the base of a great green hill, round and treeless, the hill that Ged had seen from the ship as they entered the charmed waters of Roke Island. On the hillside Jasper halted. \"At home in Havnor I heard much about Gontish wizardry, and always in praise, so that I've wanted fora longtime to seethe manner of it. Here now we have a Gontishman; and we stand on the slopes of Roke Knoll, whose roots go down to the center of the earth. All spells are strong here. Play us a trick, Sparrowhawk. Show us your style.\"\n\nGed, confused and taken aback, said nothing.\n\n\"Later on, Jasper,\" Vetch said in his plain way. \"Let him be awhile.\"\n\n\"He has either skill or power, or the doorkeeper wouldn't have let him in. Why shouldn't he show it, now as well as later? Right, Sparrowhawk?\"\n\n\"I have both skill and power,\" Ged said. \"Show me what kind of thing you're talking about.\"\n\n\"Illusions, of course-tricks, games of seeming. Like this!\"\n\nPointing his finger Jasper spoke a few strange words, and where he pointed on the hillside among the green grasses a little thread of water trickled, and grew, and now a spring gushed out and the water went running down the hill. Ged put his hand in the stream and it felt wet, drank of it and it was cool. Yet for all that it would quench no thirst, being but illusion. Jasper with another word stopped the water, and the grasses waved dry in the sunlight. \"Now you, Vetch,\" he said with his cool smile.\n\nVetch scratched his head and looked glum, but he took up a bit of earth in his hand and began to sing tunelessly over it, molding it with his dark fingers and shaping it, pressing it, stroking it: and suddenly it was a small creature like a bumble-bee or furry fly, that flew humming off over Roke Knoll, and vanished."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged stood staring, crestfallen. What did he know but mere village witchery, spells to call goats, cure warts, move loads or mend pots?\n\n\"I do no such tricks as these,\" he said. That was enough for Vetch, who was forgoing on; but Jasper said, \"Why don't you?\"\n\n\"Sorcery is not a game. We Gontishmen do not play it for pleasure or praise,\" Ged answered haughtily.\n\n\"What do you play it for,\" Jasper inquired, \"-money?\"\n\n\"No!-\" But he could not think of anything more to say that would hide his ignorance and save his pride. Jasper laughed, not ill-humoredly, and went on, leading them on around Roke Knoll. And Ged followed, sullen and sore-hearted, knowing he had behaved like a fool, and blaming Jasper for it.\n\nThat night as he lay wrapped in his cloak on the mattress in his cold unlit cell of stone, in the utter silence of the Great House of Roke, the strangeness of the place and the thought of all the spells and sorceries that had been worked there began to come over him heavily. Darkness surrounded him, dread filled him. He wished he were anywhere else but Roke. But Vetch came to the door, a little bluish ball of werelight nodding over his head to light the way, and asked if he could come in and talk awhile. He asked Ged about Gont, and then spoke fondly of his own home isles of the East Reach, telling how the smoke of village hearthfires is blown across that quiet sea at evening between the small islands with funny names: Korp, Kopp, and Holp, Venway and Vemish, Iffish, Koppish, and Sneg. When he sketched the shapes of those lands on the stones of the floor with his finger to show Ged how they lay, the lines he drew shone dim as if drawn with a stick of silver fora while before they faded. Vetch had been three years at the School, and soon would be made sorcerer; he thought no more of performing the lesser arts of magic than a bird thinks of flying. Yet a greater, unlearned skill he possessed, which was the art of kindness. That night, and always from then on, he offered and gave Ged friendship, a sure and open friendship which Ged could not help but return."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet Vetch was also friendly to Jasper, who had made Ged into a fool that first day on Roke Knoll. Ged would not forget this, nor, it seemed, would Jasper, who always spoke to him with a polite voice and a mocking smile. Ged's pride would not be slighted or condescended to. He swore to prove to Jasper, and to all the rest of them among whom Jasper was something of a leader, how great his power really was-someday. For none of them, for all their clever tricks, had saved a village by wizardry. Of none of them had Ogion written that he would be the greatest wizard of Gont.\n\nSo bolstering up his pride, he set all his strong will on the work they gave him, the lessons and crafts and histories and skills taught by the grey-cloaked Masters of Roke, who were called the Nine.\n\nPart of each day he studied with the Master Chanter, learning the Deeds of heroes and the Lays of wisdom, beginning with the oldest of all songs, The Creation of Éa. Then with a dozen other lads he would practice with the Master Windkey at arts of wind and weather. Whole bright days of spring and early summer they spent out in Roke Bay in light catboats, practicing steering byword, and stilling waves, and speaking to the world's wind, and raising up the magewind. These are very intricate skills, and frequently Ged's head got whacked by the swinging boom as the boat jibed under a wind suddenly blowing backwards, or his boat and another collided though they had the whole bay to navigate in, or all three boys in his boat went swimming unexpectedly as the boat was swamped by a huge, unintended wave. There were quieter expeditions ashore, other days, with the Master Herbal who taught the ways and properties of things that grow; and the Master Hand taught sleight and jugglery and the lesser arts of Changing."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At all these studies Ged was apt, and within a month was bettering lads who had been a year at Roke before him. Especially the tricks of illusion came to him so easily that it seemed he had been born knowing them and needed only to be reminded. The Master Hand was a gentle and light-hearted old man, who had endless delight in the wit and beauty of the crafts he taught; Ged soon felt no awe of him, but asked him for this spell and that spell, and always the Master smiled and showed him what he wanted. But one day, having it in mind to put Jasper to shame at last, Ged said to the Master Hand in the Court of Seeming, \"Sir, all these charms are much the same; knowing one, you know them all. And as soon as the spell-weaving ceases, the illusion vanishes. Now if I make a pebble into a diamond\"-and he did so with a word and a flick of his wrist-\"what must I do to make that diamond remain diamond? How is the changing-spell locked, and made to last?\"\n\nThe Master Hand looked at the jewel that glittered on Ged's palm, bright as the prize of a dragon's hoard. The old Master murmured one word, \"Tolk,\" and there lay the pebble, no jewel but a rough grey bit of rock. The Master took it and held it out on his own hand. \"This is a rock; tolk in the True Speech,\" he said, looking mildly up at Ged now. \"A bit of the stone of which Roke Isle is made, a little bit of the dry land on which men live. It is itself. It is part of the world. By the Illusion-Change you can make it look like a diamond-or a flower or a fly or an eye or aflame-\" The rock flickered from shape to shape as he named them, and returned to rock. \"But that is mere seeming. Illusion fools the beholder's senses; it makes him see and hear and feel that the thing is changed. But it does not change the thing. To change this rock into a jewel, you must change its true name. And to do that, my son, even to so small a scrap of the world, is to change the world. It can be done. Indeed it can be done. It is the art of the Master Changer, and you will learn it, when you are ready to learn it. But you must not change one thing, one pebble, one grain of sand, until you know what good and evil will follow on that act. The world is in balance, in Equilibrium. A wizard's power of Changing and of Summoning can shake the balance of the world. It is dangerous, that power. It is most perilous. It must follow knowledge, and serve need. To light a candle is to cast a shadow...\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He looked down at the pebble again. \"A rock is a good thing, too, you know,\" he said, speaking less gravely. \"If the Isles of Earthsea were all made of diamond, we'd lead a hard life here. Enjoy illusions, lad, and let the rocks be rocks.\" He smiled, but Ged left dissatisfied. Press a mage for his secrets and he would always talk, like Ogion, about balance, and danger, and the dark. But surely a wizard, one who had gone past these childish tricks of illusion to the true arts of Summoning and Change, was powerful enough to do what he pleased, and balance the world as seemed best to him, and drive back darkness with his own light.\n\nIn the corridor he met Jasper, who, since Ged's accomplishments began to be praised about the School, spoke to him in away that seemed more friendly, but was more scoffing. \"You look gloomy, Sparrowhawk,\" he said now, \"did your juggling-charms go wrong?\"\n\nSeeking as always to put himself on equal footing with Jasper, Ged answered the question ignoring its ironic tone. \"I'm sick of juggling,\" he said, \"sick of these illusion-tricks, fit only to amuse idle lords in their castles and Domains. The only true magic they've taught me yet on Roke is making werelight, and some weatherworking. The rest is mere foolery.\"\n\n\"Even foolery is dangerous,\" said Jasper, \"in the hands of a fool.\"\n\nAt that Ged turned as if he had been slapped, and took a step towards Jasper; but the older boy smiled as if he had not intended any insult, nodded his head in his stiff, graceful way, and went on."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Standing therewith rage in his heart, looking after Jasper, Ged swore to himself to outdo his rival, and not in some mere illusion-match but in a test of power. He would prove himself, and humiliate Jasper. He would not let the fellow stand there looking down at him, graceful, disdainful, hateful.\n\nGed did not stop to think why Jasper might hate him. He only knew why he hated Jasper. The other prentices had soon learned they could seldom match themselves against Ged either in sport or in earnest, and they said of him, some in praise and some in spite, \"He's a wizard born, he'll never let you beat him.\" Jasper alone neither praised him nor avoided him, but simply looked down at him, smiling slightly. And therefore Jasper stood alone as his rival, who must be put to shame.\n\nHe did not see, or would not see, that in this rivalry, which he clung to and fostered as part of his own pride, there was anything of the danger, the darkness, of which the Master Hand had mildly warned him.\n\nWhen he was not moved by pure rage, he knew very well that he was as yet no match for Jasper, or any of the older boys, and so he kept at his work and went on as usual. At the end of summer the work was slackened somewhat, so there was more time for sport: spell-boat races down in the harbor, feats of illusion in the courts of the Great House, and in the long evenings, in the groves, wild games of hide-and-seek where hiders and seeker were both invisible and only voices moved laughing and calling among the trees, following and dodging the quick, faint werelights. Then as autumn came they set to their tasks afresh, practicing new magic. So Ged's first months at Roke went by fast, full of passions and wonders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In winter it was different. He was sent with seven other boys across Roke Island to the farthest north-most cape, where stands the Isolate Tower. Thereby himself lived the Master Namer, who was called by a name that had no meaning in any language, Kurremkarmerruk. No farm or dwelling lay within miles of the Tower. Grim it stood above the northern cliffs, grey were the clouds over the seas of winter, endless the lists and ranks and rounds of names that the Namer's eight pupils must learn. Amongst them in the Tower's high room Kurremkarmerruk sat on a high seat, writing down lists of names that must be learned before the ink faded at midnight leaving the parchment blank again. It was cold and half-dark and always silent there except for the scratching of the Master's pen and the sighing, maybe, of a student who must learn before midnight the name of every cape, point, bay, sound, inlet, channel, harbor, shallows, reef and rock of the shores of Lossow, a little islet of the Pelnish Sea. If the student complained the Master might say nothing, but lengthen the list; or he might say, \"He who would be Seamaster must know the true name of every drop of water in the sea.\"\n\nGed sighed sometimes, but he did not complain. He saw that in this dusty and fathomless matter of learning the true name of everyplace, thing, and being, the power he wanted lay like a jewel at the bottom of a dry well. For magic consists in this, the true naming of a thing. So Kurremkarmerruk had said to them, once, their first night in the Tower; he never repeated it, but Ged did not forget his words. \"Many a mage of great power,\" he had said, \" has spent his whole life to find out the name of one single thing-one single lost or hidden name. And still the lists are not finished. Nor will they be, till world's end. Listen, and you will see why. In the world under the sun, and in the other world that has no sun, there is much that has nothing to do with men and men's speech, and there are powers beyond our power. But magic, true magic, is worked only by those beings who speak the Hardic tongue of Earthsea, or the Old Speech from which it grew."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is the language dragons speak, and the language Segoy spoke who made the islands of the world, and the language of our lays and songs, spells, enchantments, and invocations. Its words lie hidden and changed among our Hardic words. We call the foam on waves sukien: that word is made from two words of the Old Speech, suk, feather, and inien, the sea. Feather of the sea is foam. But you cannot charm the foam calling it sukien; you must use its own true name in the Old Speech, which is essa. Any witch knows a few of these words in the Old Speech, and a mage knows many. But there are many more, and some have been lost over the ages, and some have been hidden, and some are known only to dragons and to the Old Powers of Earth, and some are known to no living creature; and no man could learn them all. For there is no end to that language.\n\n\"Here is the reason. The sea's name is inien, well and good. But what we call the Inmost Sea has its own name also in the Old Speech. Since nothing can have two true names, inien can mean only'all the sea except the Inmost Sea. ' And of course it does not mean even that, for there are seas and bays and straits beyond counting that bear names of their own. So if some Mage-Seamaster were mad enough to try to lay a spell of storm or calm overall the ocean, his spell must say not only that word inien, but the name of every stretch and bit and part of the sea through all the Archipelago and all the Outer Reaches and beyond to where names cease. Thus, that which gives us the power to work magic sets the limits of that power. A mage can control only what is near him, what he can name exactly and wholly. And this is well. If it were not so, the wickedness of the powerful or the folly of the wise would long ago have sought to change what cannot be changed, and Equilibrium would fail. The unbalanced sea would overwhelm the islands where we perilously dwell, and in the old silence all voices and all names would be lost.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ged thought long on these words, and they went deep in his understanding."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet the majesty of the task could not make the work of that long year in the Tower less hard and dry; and at the end of the year Kurremkarmerruk said to him, \"You have made a good beginning.\" But no more. Wizards speak truth, and it was true that all the mastery of Names that Ged had toiled to win that year was the mere start of what he must goon learning all his life. He was let go from the Isolate Tower sooner than those who had come with him, for he had learned quicker; but that was all the praise he got.\n\nHe walked south across the island alone in the early winter, along townless empty roads. As night came on it rained. He said no charm to keep the rain off him, for the weather of Roke was in the hands of the Master Windkey and might not be tampered with. He took shelter under a great pendick-tree, and lying there wrapped in his cloak he thought of his old master Ogion, who might still be on his autumn wanderings over the heights of Gont, sleeping outwith leafless branches fora roof and falling rain for housewalls. That made Ged smile, for he found the thought of Ogion always a comfort to him. He fell asleep with a peaceful heart, therein the cold darkness full of the whisper of water. At dawn waking he lifted his head; the rain had ceased; he saw, sheltered in the folds of his cloak, a little animal curled up asleep which had crept therefor warmth. He wondered, seeing it, for it was a rare strange beast, an otak.\n\nThese creatures are found only on four southern isles of the Archipelago, Roke, Ensmer, Pody and Wathort. They are small and sleek, with broad faces, and fur dark brown or brindle, and great bright eyes. Their teeth are cruel and their temper fierce, so they are not made pets of. They have no call or cry or any voice. Ged stroked this one, and it woke and yawned, showing a small brown tongue and white teeth, but it was not afraid. \"Otak,\" he said, and then remembering the thousand names of beasts he had learned in the Tower he called it by its true name in the Old Speech, \"Hoeg! Do you want to come with me?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The otak sat itself down on his open hand, and began to wash its fur.\n\nHe put it upon his shoulder in the folds of his hood, and there it rode. Sometimes during the day it jumped down and darted off into the woods, but it always came back to him, once with a woodmouse it had caught. He laughed and told it to eat the mouse, for he was fasting, this night being the Festival of Sunreturn. So he came in the wet dusk past Roke Knoll, and saw bright werelights playing in the rain over the roofs of the Great House, and he entered there and was welcomed by his Masters and companions in the firelit hall.\n\nIt was like a homecoming to Ged, who had no home to which he could ever return. He was happy to see so many faces he knew, and happiest to see Vetch come forward to greet him with a wide smile on his dark face. He had missed his friend this year more than he knew. Vetch had been made sorcerer this fall and was a prentice no more, but that set no barrier between them. They fell to talking at once, and it seemed to Ged that he said more to Vetch in that first hour than he had said during the whole long year at the Isolate Tower.\n\nThe otak still rode his shoulder, nestling in the fold of his hood as they sat at dinner at long tables setup for the festival in the Hearth Hall. Vetch marveled at the little creature, and once put up his hand to stroke it, but the otak snapped its sharp teeth at him. He laughed. \"They say, Sparrowhawk, that a man favored by a wild beast is a man to whom the Old Powers of stone and spring will speak inhuman voice.\"\n\n\"They say Gontish wizards often keep familiars,\" said Jasper, who sat on the other side of Vetch. \"Our Lord Nemmerle has his raven, and songs say the Red Mage of Ark led a wild boar on a gold chain. But I never heard of any sorcerer keeping a rat in his hood!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At that they all laughed, and Ged laughed with them. It was a merry night and he was joyful to be therein the warmth and merriment, keeping festival with his companions. But, like all Jasper ever said to him, the jest set his teeth on edge.\n\nThat night the Lord of O was a guest of the school, himself a sorcerer of renown. He had been a pupil of the Archmage, and returned sometimes to Roke for the Winter Festival or the Long Dance in summer. With him was his lady, slender and young, bright as new copper, her black hair crowned with opals. It was seldom that any woman satin the halls of the Great House, and some of the old Masters looked at her sidelong, disapproving. But the young men looked at her with all their eyes.\n\n\"For such a one,\" said Vetch to Ged, \"I could work vast enchantments...\" He sighed, and laughed.\n\n\"She's only a woman,\" Ged replied.\n\n\"The Princess Elfarran was only a woman,\" said Vetch, \"and for her sake all Enlad was laid waste, and the Hero-Mage of Havnor died, and the island Soléa sank beneath the sea.\"\n\n\"Old tales,\" says Ged. But then he too began to look at the Lady of O, wondering if indeed this was such mortal beauty as the old tales told of.\n\nThe Master Chanter had sung the Deed of the Young King, and all together had sung the Winter Carol. Now when there was a little pause before they all rose from the tables, Jasper got up and went to the table nearest the hearth, where the Archmage and the guests and Masters sat, and he spoke to the Lady of O. Jasper was no longer a boy but a young man, tall and comely, with his cloak clasped at the neck with silver; for he also had been made sorcerer this year, and the silver clasp was the token of it. The lady smiled at what he said and the opals shone in her black hair, radiant. Then, the Masters nodding benign consent, Jasper worked an illusion-charm for her. A white tree he made spring up from the stone floor. Its branches touched the high roofbeams of the hall, and on every twig of every branch a golden apple shone, each a sun, for it was the Year-Tree. A bird flew among the branches suddenly, all white with a tail like a fall of snow, and the golden apples dimming turned to seeds, each one a drop of crystal. These falling from the tree with a sound like rain, all at once there came a sweet fragrance, while the tree, swaying, put forth leaves of rosy fire and white flowers like stars. So the illusion faded. The Lady of O cried outwith pleasure, and bent her shining head to the young sorcerer in praise of his mastery. \"Come with us, live with us in O-tokne-can he not come, my lord?\" she asked, childlike, of her stern husband. But Jasper said only, \"When I have learned skills worthy of my Masters here and worthy of your praise, my lady, then I will gladly come, and serve you ever gladly.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So he pleased all there, except Ged. Ged joined his voice to the praises, but not his heart. \"I could have done better,\" he said to himself, in bitter envy; and all the joy of the evening was darkened for him, after that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "THAT SPRING GED SAW LITTLE of either Vetch or Jasper, for they being sorcerers studied now with the Master Patterner in the secrecy of the Immanent Grove, where no prentice might set foot. Ged stayed in the Great House, working with the Masters at all the skills practiced by sorcerers, those who work magic but carry no staff: windbringing, weatherworking, finding and binding, and the arts of spellsmiths and spellwrights, tellers, chanters, healalls and herbalists. At night alone in his sleeping-cell, a little ball of werelight burning above the book in place of lamp or candle, he studied the Further Runes and the Runes of Éa, which are used in the Great Spells. All these crafts came easy to him, and it was rumored among the students that this Master or that had said that the Gontish lad was the quickest student that had ever been at Roke, and tales grew up concerning the otak, which was said to be a disguised spirit who whispered wisdom in Ged's ear, and it was even said that the Archmage's raven had hailed Ged at his arrival as'Archmage to be.\" Whether or not they believed such stories, and whether or not they liked Ged, most of his companions admired him, and were eager to follow him when the rare wild mood came over him and he joined them to lead their games on the lengthening evenings of spring. But for the most part he was all work and pride and temper, and held himself apart. Among them all, Vetch being absent, he had no friend, and never knew he wanted one.\n\nHe was fifteen, very young to learn any of the High Arts of wizard or mage, those who carry the staff; but he was so quick to learn all the arts of illusion that the Master Changer, himself a young man, soon began to teach him apart from the others, and to tell him about the true Spells of Shaping. He explained how, if a thing is really to be changed into another thing, it must be renamed for as long as the spell lasts, and he told how this affects the names and natures of things surrounding the transformed thing. He spoke of the perils of changing, above all when the wizard transforms his own shape and thus is liable to be caught in his own spell. Little by little, drawn on by the boy's sureness of understanding, the young Master began to do more than merely tell him of these mysteries. He taught him first one and then another of the Great Spells of Change, and he gave him the Book of Shaping to study. This he did without knowledge of the Archmage, and unwisely, yet he meant no harm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged worked also with the Master Summoner now, but that Master was astern man, aged and hardened by the deep and somber wizardry he taught. He dealt with no illusion, only true magic, the summoning of such energies as light, and heat, and the force that draws the magnet, and those forces men perceive as weight, form, color, sound: real powers, drawn from the immense fathomless energies of the universe, which no man's spells or uses could exhaust or unbalance. The weatherworker's and seamaster's calling upon wind and water were crafts already known to his pupils, but it was he who showed them why the true wizard uses such spells only at need, since to summon up such earthly forces is to change the earth of which they area part. \"Rain on Roke maybe drouth in Osskil,\" he said, \"and a calm in the East Reach maybe storm and ruin in the West, unless you know what you are about.\"\n\nAs for the calling of real things and living people, and the raising up of spirits of the dead, and the invocations of the Unseen, those spells which are the height of the Summoner's art and the mage's power, those he scarcely spoke of to them. Once or twice Ged tried to lead him to talk a little of such mysteries, but the Master was silent, looking at him long and grimly, till Ged grew uneasy and said no more.\n\nSometimes indeed he was uneasy working even such lesser spells as the Summoner taught him. There were certain runes on certain pages of the Lore-Book that seemed familiar to him, though he did not remember in what book he had ever seen them before. There were certain phrases that must be said in spells of Summoning that he did not like to say. They made him think, for an instant, of shadows in a darkroom, of a shut door and shadows reaching out to him from the corner by the door. Hastily he put such thoughts or memories aside and went on. These moments of fear and darkness, he said to himself, were the shadows merely of his ignorance. The more he learned, the less he would have to fear, until finally in his full power as Wizard he needed fear nothing in the world, nothing at all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the second month of that summer all the school gathered again at the Great House to celebrate the Moon's Night and the Long Dance, which that year fell together as one festival of two nights, which happens but once in fifty-two years."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All the first night, the shortest night of full moon of the year, flutes played out in the fields, and the narrow streets of Thwil were full of drums and torches, and the sound of singing went out over the moonlit waters of Roke Bay. As the sun rose next morning the Chanters of Roke began to sing the long Deed of Erreth-Akbe, which tells how the white towers of Havnor were built, and of Erreth-Akbe's journeys from the Old Island, Éa, through all the Archipelago and the Reaches, until at last in the uttermost West Reach on the edge of the Open Sea he met the dragon Orm; and his bones in shattered armor lie among the dragon's bones on the shore of lonely Selidor, but his sword set atop the highest tower of Havnor still burns red in the sunset above the Inmost Sea. When the chant was finished the Long Dance began. Townsfolk and Masters and students and farmers all together, men and women, danced in the warm dust and dusk down all the roads of Roke to the sea-beaches, to the beat of drums and drone of pipes and flutes. Straight out into the sea they danced, under the moon one night past full, and the music was lost in the breakers\" sound. As the east grew light they came backup the beaches and the roads, the drums silent and only the flutes playing soft and shrill. So it was done on every island of the Archipelago that night: one dance, one music binding together the sea-divided lands.\n\nWhen the Long Dance was over most people slept the day away, and gathered again at evening to eat and drink. There was a group of young fellows, prentices and sorcerers, who had brought their supper out from the refectory to hold a private feast in a courtyard of the Great House: Vetch, Jasper, and Ged were there, and six or seven others, and some young lads released briefly from the Isolate Tower, for this festival had brought even Kurremkarmerruk out. They were all eating and laughing and playing such tricks out of pure frolic as might be the marvel of a king's court. One boy had lighted the court with a hundred stars of werelight, colored like jewels, that swung in a slow netted procession between them and the real stars; and a pair of boys were playing bowls with balls of green flame and bowling-pins that leaped and hopped away as the ball came near; and all the while Vetch sat cross-legged, eating roast chicken, up in mid-air. One of the younger boys tried to pull him down to earth, but Vetch merely drifted up a little higher, out of reach, and sat calmly smiling on the air. Now and then he tossed away a chicken bone, which turned to an owl and flew hooting among the netted star-lights. Ged shot breadcrumb arrows after the owls and brought them down, and when they touched the ground there they lay, bone and crumb, all illusion gone. Ged also tried to join Vetch up in the middle of the air, but lacking the key of the spell he had to flap his arms to keep aloft, and they were all laughing at his flights and flaps and bumps. He kept up his foolishness for the laughter's sake, laughing with them, for after those two long nights of dance and moonlight and music and magery he was in a fey and wild mood, ready for whatever might come."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He came lightly down on his feet just beside Jasper at last, and Jasper, who never laughed aloud, moved away saying, \"The Sparrowhawk that can't fly...\"\n\n\"Is jasper a precious stone?\" Ged returned, grinning. \"O Jewel among sorcerers, O Gem of Havnor, sparkle for us!\"\n\nThe lad that had set the lights dancing sent one down to dance and glitter about Jasper's head. Not quite as cool as usual, frowning, Jasper brushed the light away and snuffed it outwith one gesture. \"I am sick of boys and noise and foolishness,\" he said.\n\n\"You're getting middle-aged, lad,\" Vetch remarked from above.\n\n\"If silence and gloom is what you want,\" put in one of the younger boys, \"you could always try the Tower.\"\n\nGed said to him, \"What is it you want, then, Jasper?\"\n\n\"I want the company of my equals,\" Jasper said. \"Come on, Vetch. Leave the prentices to their toys.\"\n\nGed turned to face Jasper. \"What do sorcerers have that prentices lack?\" he inquired. His voice was quiet, but all the other boys suddenly fell still, for in his tone as in Jasper's the spite between them now sounded plain and clear as steel coming out of a sheath.\n\n\"Power,\" Jasper said.\n\n\"I'll match your power act for act.\"\n\n\"You challenge me?\"\n\n\"I challenge you.\"\n\nVetch had dropped down to the ground, and now he came between them, grim of face. \"Duels in sorcery are forbidden to us, and well you know it. Let this cease!\"\n\nBoth Ged and Jasper stood silent, for it was true they knew the law of Roke, and they also knew that Vetch was moved by love, and themselves by hate. Yet their anger was balked, not cooled. Presently, moving a little aside as if to be heard by Vetch alone, Jasper spoke, with his cool smile: \"I think you'd better remind your goatherd friend again of the law that protects him. He looks sulky. I wonder, did he really think I'd accept a challenge from him? a fellow who smells of goats, a prentice who doesn't know the First Change?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Jasper,\" said Ged, \"what do you know of what I know?\"\n\nFor an instant, with no word spoken that any heard, Ged vanished from their sight, and where he had stood a great falcon hovered, opening its hooked beak to scream: for one instant, and then Ged stood again in the flickering torchlight, his dark gaze on Jasper.\n\nJasper had taken a step backward, in astonishment; but now he shrugged and said one word: \"Illusion.\"\n\nThe others muttered. Vetch said, \"That was not illusion. It was true change. And enough. Jasper, listen-\"\n\n\"Enough to prove that he sneaked a look in the Book of Shaping behind the Master's back: what then? Goon, Goatherd. I like this trap you're building for yourself. The more you try to prove yourself my equal, the more you show yourself for what you are.\"\n\nAt that, Vetch turned from Jasper, and said very softly to Ged, \"Sparrowhawk, will you be a man and drop this now-come with me-\"\n\nGed looked at his friend and smiled, but all he said was, \"Keep Hoeg for me a little while, will you?\" He put into Vetch's hands the little otak, which as usual had been riding on his shoulder. It had never let any but Ged touch it, but it came to Vetch now, and climbing up his arm cowered on his shoulder, its great bright eyes always on its master.\n\n\"Now,\" Ged said to Jasper, quietly as before, \"what are you going to do to prove yourself my superior, Jasper?\"\n\n\"I don't have to do anything, Goatherd. Yet I will. I will give you a chance-an opportunity. Envy eats you like a worm in an apple. Let's let out the worm. Once by Roke Knoll you boasted that Gontish wizards don't play games. Come to Roke Knoll now and show us what it is they do instead. And afterward, maybe I will show you a little sorcery.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, I should like to see that,\" Ged answered. The younger boys, used to seeing his black temper breakout at the least hint of slight or insult, watched him in wonder at his coolness now. Vetch watched him not in wonder, but with growing fear. He tried to intervene again, but Jasper said, \"Come, keep out of this, Vetch. What will you do with the chance I give you, Goatherd? Will you show us an illusion, a fireball, a charm to cure goats with the mange?\"\n\n\"What would you like me to do, Jasper?\"\n\nThe older lad shrugged, \"Summon up a spirit from the dead, for all I care!\"\n\n\"I will.\"\n\n\"You will not.\" Jasper looked straight at him, rage suddenly flaming out over his disdain. \"You will not. You cannot. You brag and brag-\"\n\n\"By my name, I will do it!\"\n\nThey all stood utterly motionless fora moment.\n\nBreaking away from Vetch who would have held him back by main force, Ged strode out of the courtyard, not looking back. The dancing werelights overhead died out, sinking down. Jasper hesitated a second, then followed after Ged. And the rest came straggling behind, in silence, curious and afraid.\n\n---\n\nTHE SLOPES OF R OKE KNOLL went up dark into the darkness of summer night before moonrise. The presence of that hill where many wonders had been worked was heavy, like a weight in the air about them. As they came onto the hillside they thought of how the roots of it were deep, deeper than the sea, reaching down even to the old, blind, secret fires at the world's core. They stopped on the east slope. Stars hungover the black grass above them on the hill's crest. No wind blew."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged went a few paces up the slope away from the others and turning said in a clear voice, \"Jasper! Whose spirit shall I call?\"\n\n\"Call whom you like. None will listen to you.\" Jasper's voice shook a little, with anger perhaps. Ged answered him softly, mockingly, \"Are you afraid?\"\n\nHe did not even listen for Jasper's reply, if he made one. He no longer cared about Jasper. Now that they stood on Roke Knoll, hate and rage were gone, replaced by utter certainty. He need envy no one. He knew that his power, this night, on this dark enchanted ground, was greater than it had ever been, filling him till he trembled with the sense of strength barely kept in check. He knew now that Jasper was far beneath him, had been sent perhaps only to bring him here tonight, no rival but a mere servant of Ged's destiny. Under his feet he felt the hillroots going down and down into the dark, and over his head he saw the dry, far fires of the stars. Between, all things were his to order, to command. He stood at the center of the world.\n\n\"Don't be afraid,\" he said, smiling. \"I'll calla woman's spirit. You need not fear a woman. Elfarran I will call, the fair lady of the Deed of Enlad.\"\n\n\"She died a thousand years ago, her bones lie afar under the Sea of Éa, and maybe there never was such a woman.\"\n\n\"Do years and distances matter to the dead? Do the Songs lie?\" Ged said with the same gentle mockery, and then saying, \"Watch the air between my hands,\" he turned away from the others and stood still.\n\nIna great slow gesture he stretched out his arms, the gesture of welcome that opens an invocation. He began to speak."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He had read the runes of this Spell of Summoning in Ogion's book, two years and more ago, and never since had seen them."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In darkness he had read them then. Now in this darkness it was as if he read them again on the page open before him in the night. But now he understood what he read, speaking it aloud word afterword, and he saw the markings of how the spell must be woven with the sound of the voice and the motion of body and hand.\n\nThe other boys stood watching, not speaking, not moving unless they shivered a little: for the great spell was beginning to work. Ged's voice was soft still, but changed, with a deep singing in it, and the words he spoke were not known to them. He fell silent. Suddenly the wind rose roaring in the grass. Ged dropped to his knees and called out aloud. Then he fell forward as if to embrace earth with his outstretched arms, and when he rose he held something dark in his straining hands and arms, something so heavy that he shook with effort getting to his feet. The hot wind whined in the black tossing grasses on the hill. If the stars shone now none saw them.\n\nThe words of the enchantment hissed and mumbled on Ged's lips, and then he cried out aloud and clearly, \"Elfarran!\"\n\nAgain he cried the name, \"Elfarran!\"\n\nAnd the third time, \"Elfarran!\"\n\nThe shapeless mass of darkness he had lifted split apart. It sundered, and a pale spindle of light gleamed between his opened arms, a faint oval reaching from the ground up to the height of his raised hands. In the oval of light fora moment there moved a form, a human shape: a tall woman looking back over her shoulder. Her face was beautiful, and sorrowful, and full of fear.\n\nOnly fora moment did the spirit glimmer there. Then the sallow oval between Ged's arms grew bright. It widened and spread, a rent in the darkness of the earth and night, a ripping open of the fabric of the world. Through it blazed a terrible brightness. And through that bright misshapen breach clambered something like a clot of black shadow, quick and hideous, and it leaped straight out at Ged's face."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Staggering back under the weight of the thing, Ged gave a short, hoarse scream. The little otak watching from Vetch's shoulder, the animal that had no voice, screamed aloud also and leaped as if to attack.\n\nGed fell, struggling and writhing, while the bright rip in the world's darkness above him widened and stretched. The boys that watched fled, and Jasper bent down to the ground hiding his eyes from the terrible light. Vetch alone ran forward to his friend. So only he saw the lump of shadow that clung to Ged, tearing at his flesh. It was like a black beast, the size of a young child, though it seemed to swell and shrink; and it had no head or face, only the four taloned paws with which it gripped and tore. Vetch sobbed with horror, yet he putout his hands to try to pull the thing away from Ged. Before he touched it, he was bound still, unable to move.\n\nThe intolerable brightness faded, and slowly the torn edges of the world closed together. Nearby a voice was speaking as softly as a tree whispers or a fountain plays.\n\nStarlight began to shine again, and the grasses of the hillside were whitened with the light of the moon just rising. The night was healed. Restored and steady lay the balance of light and dark. The shadow-beast was gone. Ged lay sprawled on his back, his arms flung out as if they yet kept the wide gesture of welcome and invocation. His face was blackened with blood and there were great black stains on his shirt. The little otak cowered by his shoulder, quivering. And above him stood an old man whose cloak glimmered pale in the moonrise: the Archmage Nemmerle.\n\nThe end of Nemmerle's staff hovered silvery above Ged's breast. Once gently it touched him over the heart, once on the lips, while Nemmerle whispered. Ged stirred, and his lips parted gasping for breath. Then the old Archmage lifted the staff, and set it to earth, and leaned heavily on it with bowed head, as if he had scarcely strength to stand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Vetch found himself free to move. Looking around, he saw that already others were there, the Masters Summoner and Changer. An act of great wizardry is not worked without arousing such men, and they had ways of coming very swiftly when need called, though none had been so swift as the Archmage. They now sent for help, and some who came went with the Archmage, while others, Vetch among them, carried Ged to the chambers of the Master Herbal.\n\nAll nightlong the Summoner stayed on Roke Knoll, keeping watch. Nothing stirred thereon the hillside where the stuff of the world had been torn open. No shadow came crawling through moonlight seeking the rent through which it might clamber back into its own domain. It had fled from Nemmerle, and from the mighty spell-walls that surround and protect Roke Island, but it was in the world now. In the world, somewhere, it hid. If Ged had died that night it might have tried to find the doorway he had opened, and follow him into death's realm, or slip back into whatever place it had come from; for this the Summoner waited on Roke Knoll. But Ged lived.\n\nThey had laid him abed in the healing-chamber, and the Master Herbal tended the wounds he had on his face and throat and shoulder. They were deep, ragged, and evil wounds. The black blood in them would not stanch, welling out even under the charms and the cobweb-wrapped perriot leaves laid upon them. Ged lay blind and dumb in fever like a stick in a slow fire, and there was no spell to cool what burned him.\n\nNot faraway, in the unroofed court where the fountain played, the Archmage lay also unmoving, but cold, very cold: only his eyes lived, watching the fall of moonlit water and the stir of moonlit leaves. Those with him said no spells and worked no healing. Quietly they spoke among themselves from time to time, and then turned again to watch their Lord. He lay still, hawk nose and high forehead and white hair bleached by moonlight all to the color of bone. To check the ungoverned spell and drive off the shadow from Ged, Nemmerle had spent all his power, and with it his bodily strength was gone. He lay dying. But the death of a great mage, who has many times in his life walked on the dry steep hillsides of death's kingdom, is a strange matter: for the dying mangoes not blindly, but surely, knowing the way. When Nemmerle looked up through the leaves of the tree, those with him did not know if he watched the stars of summer fading in daybreak, or those other stars, which never set above the hills that see no dawn."
},
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"value": "The raven of Osskil that had been his pet for thirty years was gone. No one had seen where it went. \"It flies before him,\" the Master Patterner said, as they kept vigil.\n\nThe day came warm and clear. The Great House and the streets of Thwil were hushed. No voice was raised, until along towards noon iron bells spoke out aloud in the Chanter's Tower, harshly tolling.\n\nOn the next day the Nine Masters of Roke gathered in a place somewhere under the dark trees of the Immanent Grove. Even there they set nine walls of silence about them, that no person or power might speak to them or hear them as they chose from amongst the mages of all Earthsea him who would be the new Archmage. Gensher of Way was chosen. A ship was sent forth at once across the Inmost Sea to Way Island to bring the Archmage back to Roke. The Master Windkey stood in the stern and raised up the magewind into the sail, and quickly the ship departed, and was gone.\n\nOf these events Ged knew nothing. For four weeks of that hot summer he lay blind, and deaf, and mute, though at times he moaned and cried out like an animal. At last, as the patient crafts of the Master Herbal worked their healing, his wounds began to close and the fever left him. Little by little he seemed to hear again, though he never spoke. On a clear day of autumn the Master Herbal opened the shutters of the room where Ged lay. Since the darkness of that night on Roke Knoll he had known only darkness. Now he saw daylight, and the sun shining. He hid his scarred face in his hands and wept.\n\nStill when winter came he could speak only with a stammering tongue, and the Master Herbal kept him therein the healing-chambers, trying to lead his body and mind gradually back to strength. It was early spring when at last the Master released him, sending him first to offer his fealty to the Archmage Gensher. For he had not been able to join all the others of the School in this duty when Gensher came to Roke."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "None of his companions had been allowed to visit him in the months of his sickness, and now as he passed some of them asked one another, \"Who is that?\" He had been light and lithe and strong. Now, lamed by pain, he went hesitantly, and did not raise his face, the left side of which was white with scars. He avoided those who knew him and those who did not, and made his way straight to the court of the Fountain. There where once he had awaited Nemmerle, Gensher awaited him.\n\nLike the old Archmage the new one was cloaked in white; but like most men of Way and the East Reach Gensher was black-skinned, and his look was black, under thick brows.\n\nGed knelt and offered him fealty and obedience. Gensher was silent awhile.\n\n\"I know what you did,\" he said at last, \"but not what you are. I cannot accept your fealty.\"\n\nGed stood up, and set his hand on the trunk of the young tree beside the fountain to steady himself. He was still very slow to find words. \"Am Ito leave Roke, my lord?\"\n\n\"Do you want to leave Roke?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"To stay. To learn. To undo... the evil...\"\n\n\"Nemmerle himself could not do that. No, I would not let you go from Roke. Nothing protects you but the power of the Masters here and the defenses laid upon this island that keep the creatures of evil away. If you left now, the thing you loosed would find you at once, and enter into you, and possess you. You would be no man but a gebbeth, a puppet doing the will of that evil shadow which you raised up into the sunlight. You must stay here, until you gain strength and wisdom enough to defend yourself from it-if ever you do. Even now it waits for you. Assuredly it waits for you. Have you seen it since that night?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"In dreams, lord.\" After awhile Ged went on, speaking with pain and shame, \"Lord Gensher, I do not know what it was-the thing that came out of the spell and cleaved tome-\"\n\n\"Nor do I know. It has no name. You have great power inborn in you, and you used that power wrongly, to work a spell over which you had no control, not knowing how that spell affects the balance of light and dark, life and death, good and evil. And you were moved to do this by pride and by hate. Is it any wonder the result was ruin? You summoned a spirit from the dead, but with it came one of the Powers of unlife. Uncalled it came from a place where there are no names. Evil, it wills to work evil through you. The power you had to call it gives it power over you: you are connected. It is the shadow of your arrogance, the shadow of your ignorance, the shadow you cast. Has a shadow a name?\"\n\nGed stood sick and haggard. He said at last, \"Better I had died.\"\n\n\"Who are you to judge that, you for whom Nemmerle gave his life?-You are safe here. You will live here, and goon with your training. They tell me you were clever. Goon and do your work. Do it well. It is all you can do.\"\n\nSo Gensher ended, and was suddenly gone, as is the way of mages. The fountain leaped in the sunlight, and Ged watched it awhile and listened to its voice, thinking of Nemmerle. Once in that court he had felt himself to be a word spoken by the sunlight. Now the darkness also had spoken: a word that could not be unsaid.\n\nHe left the court, going to his old room in the South Tower, which they had kept empty for him. He stayed there alone. When the gong called to supper he went, but he would hardly speak to the other lads at the Long Table, or raise his face to them, even those who greeted him most gently. So after a day or two they all left him alone. To be alone was his desire, for he feared the evil he might door say unwittingly."
},
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{
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"value": "Neither Vetch nor Jasper was there, and he did not ask about them. The boys he had led and lorded over were all ahead of him now, because of the months he had lost, and that spring and summer he studied with lads younger than himself. Nor did he shine among them, for the words of any spell, even the simplest illusion-charm, came halting from his tongue, and his hands faltered at their craft.\n\nIn autumn he was to go once again to the Isolate Tower to study with the Master Namer. This task which he had once dreaded now pleased him, for silence was what he sought, and long learning where no spells were wrought, and where that power which he knew was still in him would never be called upon to act.\n\nThe night before he left for the Tower a visitor came to his room, one wearing a brown traveling-cloak and carrying a staff of oak shod with iron. Ged stood up at sight of the wizard's staff.\n\n\"Sparrowhawk-\"\n\nAt the sound of the voice, Ged raised his eyes: it was Vetch standing there, solid and foursquare as ever, his black blunt face older but his smile unchanged. On his shoulder crouched a little beast, brindle-furred and bright-eyed.\n\n\"He stayed with me while you were sick, and now I'm sorry to part with him. And sorrier to part with you, Sparrowhawk. But I'm going home. Here, hoeg! go to your true master!\" Vetch patted the otak and set it down on the floor. It went and sat on Ged's pallet, and began to wash its fur with a dry brown tongue like a little leaf. Vetch laughed, but Ged could not smile. He bent down to hide his face, stroking the otak."
},
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"from": "human",
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"value": "\"I thought you wouldn't come tome, Vetch,\" he said.\n\nHe did not mean any reproach, but Vetch answered, \"I couldn't come to you. The Master Herbal forbade me; and since winter I've been with the Master in the Grove, locked up myself. I was not free, until I earned my staff. Listen: when you too are free, come to the East Reach. I will be waiting for you. There's good cheer in the little towns there, and wizards are well received.\"\n\n\"Free...\" Ged muttered, and shrugged a little, trying to smile.\n\nVetch looked at him, not quite as he had used to look, with no less love but more wizardry, perhaps. He said gently, \"You won't stay bound on Roke forever.\"\n\n\"Well... I have thought, perhaps I may come to work with the Master in the Tower, to be one of those who seek among the books and the stars for lost names, and so... so do no more harm, if not much good...\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" said Vetch. \"I am no seer, but I see before you, not rooms and books, but far seas, and the fire of dragons, and the towers of cities, and all such things a hawk sees when he flies far and high.\"\n\n\"And behind me-what do you see behind me?\" Ged asked, and stood up as he spoke, so that the werelight that burned overhead between them sent his shadow back against the wall and floor. Then he turned his face aside and said, stammering, \"But tell me where you will go, what you will do.\"\n\n\"I will go home, to see my brothers and the sister you have heard me speak of. I left her a little child and soon she'll behaving her Naming-it's strange to think of! And so I'll find me a job of wizardry somewhere among the little isles. Oh, I would stay and talk with you, but I can't, my ship goes out tonight and the tide is turned already. Sparrowhawk, if ever your way lies East, come tome. And if ever you need me, send for me, call on me by my name: Estarriol.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At that Ged lifted his scarred face, meeting his friend's eyes.\n\n\"Estarriol,\" he said, \"my name is Ged.\"\n\nThen quietly they bade each other farewell, and Vetch turned and went down the stone hallway, and left Roke.\n\nGed stood still awhile, like one who has received great news, and must enlarge his spirit to receive it. It was a great gift that Vetch had given him, the knowledge of his true name.\n\nNo one knows a man's true name but himself and his namer. He may choose at length to tell it to his brother, or his wife, or his friend, yet even those few will never use it where any third person may hear it. In front of other people they will, like other people, call him by his use-name, his nickname-such a name as Sparrowhawk, and Vetch, and Ogion, which means'fircone.\" If plain men hide their true name from all but a few they love and trust utterly, so much more must wizardly men, being more dangerous, and more endangered. Who knows a man's name, holds that man's life in his keeping. Thus to Ged, who had lost faith in himself, Vetch had given that gift only a friend can give, the proof of unshaken, unshakable trust.\n\nGed sat down on his pallet and let the globe of werelight die, giving off as it faded a faint whiff of marsh-gas. He petted the otak, which stretched comfortably and went to sleep on his knee as if it had never slept anywhere else. The Great House was silent. It came to Ged's mind that this was the eve of his own Passage, the day on which Ogion had given him his name. Four years were gone since then. He remembered the coldness of the mountain spring through which he had walked naked and unnamed. He fell to thinking of other bright pools in the River Ar, where he had used to swim; and of Ten Alders village under the great slanting forests of the mountain; of the shadows of morning across the dusty village street, the fire leaping under bellows-blast in the smith's smelting-piton a winter afternoon, the witch's dark fragrant hut where the air was heavy with smoke and wreathing spells. He had not thought of these things fora longtime. Now they came back to him, on this night he was seventeen years old. All the years and places of his brief broken life came within mind's reach and made a whole again. He knew once more, at last, after this long, bitter, wasted time, who he was and where he was."
},
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"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But where he must go in the years to come, that he could not see; and he feared to see it.\n\nNext morning he set out across the island, the otak riding on his shoulder as it had used to. This time it took him three days, not two, to walk to the Isolate Tower, and he was bone-weary when he came insight of the Tower above the spitting, hissing seas of the northern cape. Inside, it was dark as he remembered, and cold as he remembered, and Kurremkarmerruk sat on his high seat writing down lists of names. He glanced at Ged and said without welcome, as if Ged had never been away, \"Go to bed; tired is stupid. Tomorrow you may open the Book of the Undertakings of the Makers, learning the names therein.\"\n\nAt winter's end he returned to the Great House. He was made sorcerer then, and the Archmage Gensher accepted at that time his fealty. Thenceforth he studied the high arts and enchantments, passing beyond arts of illusion to the works of real magery, learning what he must know to earn his wizard's staff. The trouble he had had in speaking spells wore off over the months, and skill returned into his hands: yet he was never so quick to learn as he had been, having learned along hard lesson from fear. Yet no ill portents or encounters followed on his working even of the Great Spells of Making and Shaping, which are most perilous. He came to wonder at times if the shadow he had loosed might have grown weak, or fled somehow out of the world, for it came no more into his dreams. But in his heart he knew such hope was folly.\n\nFrom the Masters and from ancient Lore-Books Ged learned what he could about such beings as this shadow he had loosed; little was thereto learn. No such creature was described or spoken of directly. There were at best hints here and therein the old books of things that might be like the shadow-beast. It was not a ghost of human man, nor was it a creature of the Old Powers of Earth, and yet it seemed it might have some link with these. In the Matter of the Dragons, which Ged read very closely, there was a tale of an ancient Dragonlord who had come under the sway of one of the Old Powers, a speaking stone that lay in afar northern land. \"At the Stone's command,\" said the book, \"he did speak to raise up a dead spirit out of the realm of the dead, but his wizardry being bent awry by the Stone's will there came with the dead spirit also a thing not summoned, which did devour him out from within and in his shape walked, destroying men.\" But the book did not say what the thing was, nor did it tell the end of the tale. And the Masters did not know where such a shadow might come from: from unlife, the Archmage had said; from the wrong side of the world, said the Master Changer; and the Master Summoner said, \"I do not know.\" The Summoner had come often to sit with Ged in his illness. He was grim and grave as ever, but Ged knew now his compassion, and loved him well. \"I do not know. I know of the thing only this: that only a great power could have summoned up such a thing, and perhaps only one power-only one voice-your voice. But what in turn that means, I do not know. You will find out. You must find out, or die, and worse than die...\" He spoke softly and his eyes were somber as he looked at Ged. \"You thought, as a boy, that a mage is one who can do anything. So I thought, once. So did we all. And the truth is that as a man's real power grows and his knowledge widens, ever the way he can follow grows narrower: until at last he chooses nothing, but does only and wholly what he must do...\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, coming of age, magic\nAuthor: Ursula K. Le Guin\nTitle: A Wizard of Earthsea\nChapter: 7"
},
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"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But where he must go in the years to come, that he could not see; and he feared to see it.\n\nNext morning he set out across the island, the otak riding on his shoulder as it had used to. This time it took him three days, not two, to walk to the Isolate Tower, and he was bone-weary when he came insight of the Tower above the spitting, hissing seas of the northern cape. Inside, it was dark as he remembered, and cold as he remembered, and Kurremkarmerruk sat on his high seat writing down lists of names. He glanced at Ged and said without welcome, as if Ged had never been away, \"Go to bed; tired is stupid. Tomorrow you may open the Book of the Undertakings of the Makers, learning the names therein.\"\n\nAt winter's end he returned to the Great House. He was made sorcerer then, and the Archmage Gensher accepted at that time his fealty. Thenceforth he studied the high arts and enchantments, passing beyond arts of illusion to the works of real magery, learning what he must know to earn his wizard's staff. The trouble he had had in speaking spells wore off over the months, and skill returned into his hands: yet he was never so quick to learn as he had been, having learned along hard lesson from fear. Yet no ill portents or encounters followed on his working even of the Great Spells of Making and Shaping, which are most perilous. He came to wonder at times if the shadow he had loosed might have grown weak, or fled somehow out of the world, for it came no more into his dreams. But in his heart he knew such hope was folly.\n\nFrom the Masters and from ancient Lore-Books Ged learned what he could about such beings as this shadow he had loosed; little was thereto learn. No such creature was described or spoken of directly. There were at best hints here and therein the old books of things that might be like the shadow-beast. It was not a ghost of human man, nor was it a creature of the Old Powers of Earth, and yet it seemed it might have some link with these. In the Matter of the Dragons, which Ged read very closely, there was a tale of an ancient Dragonlord who had come under the sway of one of the Old Powers, a speaking stone that lay in afar northern land. \"At the Stone's command,\" said the book, \"he did speak to raise up a dead spirit out of the realm of the dead, but his wizardry being bent awry by the Stone's will there came with the dead spirit also a thing not summoned, which did devour him out from within and in his shape walked, destroying men.\" But the book did not say what the thing was, nor did it tell the end of the tale. And the Masters did not know where such a shadow might come from: from unlife, the Archmage had said; from the wrong side of the world, said the Master Changer; and the Master Summoner said, \"I do not know.\" The Summoner had come often to sit with Ged in his illness. He was grim and grave as ever, but Ged knew now his compassion, and loved him well. \"I do not know. I know of the thing only this: that only a great power could have summoned up such a thing, and perhaps only one power-only one voice-your voice. But what in turn that means, I do not know. You will find out. You must find out, or die, and worse than die...\" He spoke softly and his eyes were somber as he looked at Ged. \"You thought, as a boy, that a mage is one who can do anything. So I thought, once. So did we all. And the truth is that as a man's real power grows and his knowledge widens, ever the way he can follow grows narrower: until at last he chooses nothing, but does only and wholly what he must do...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Archmage sent Ged, after his eighteenth birthday, to work with the Master Patterner."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What is learned in the Immanent Grove is not much talked about elsewhere. It is said that no spells are worked there, and yet the place itself is an enchantment. Sometimes the trees of that Grove are seen, and sometimes they are not seen, and they are not always in the same place and part of Roke Island. It is said that the trees of the Grove themselves are wise. It is said that the Master Patterner learns his supreme magery there within the Grove, and if ever the trees should die so shall his wisdom die, and in those days the waters will rise and drown the islands of Earthsea which Segoy raised from the deeps in the time before myth, all the lands where men and dragons dwell.\n\nBut all this is hearsay; wizards will not speak of it.\n\nThe months went by, and at last on a day of spring Ged returned to the Great House, and he had no idea what would be asked of him next. At the door that gives on the path across the fields to Roke Knoll an old man met him, waiting for him in the doorway. At first Ged did not know him, and then putting his mind to it recalled him as the one who had let him into the School on the day of his coming, five years ago.\n\nThe old man smiled, greeting him by name, and asked, \"Do you know who I am?\"\n\nNow Ged had thought before of how it was always said, the Nine Masters of Roke, although he knew only eight: Windkey, Hand, Herbal, Chanter, Changer, Summoner, Namer, Patterner. It seemed that people spoke of the Archmage as the ninth. Yet when anew Archmage was chosen, nine Masters met to choose him.\n\n\"I think you are the Master Doorkeeper,\" said Ged."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I am."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged, you won entrance to Roke by saying your name. Now you may win your freedom of it by saying mine.\" So said the old man smiling, and waited. Ged stood dumb.\n\nHe knew a thousand ways and crafts and means for finding out names of things and of men, of course; such craft was apart of everything he had learned at Roke, for without it there could belittle useful magic done. But to find out the name of a Mage and Master was another matter. A mage's name is better hidden than a herring in the sea, better guarded than a dragon's den. A prying charm will be met with a stronger charm, subtle devices will fail, devious inquiries will be deviously thwarted, and force will be turned ruinously back upon itself.\n\n\"You keep a narrow door, Master,\" said Ged at last. \"I must sit out in the fields here, I think, and fast till I grow thin enough to slip through.\"\n\n\"As long as you like,\" said the Doorkeeper, smiling.\n\nSo Ged went off a little way and sat down under an alder on the banks of the Thwilburn, letting his otak rundown to play in the stream and hunt the muddy banks for creek-crabs. The sun went down, late and bright, for spring was well along. Lights of lantern and werelight gleamed in the windows of the Great House, and down the hill the streets of Thwil town filled with darkness. Owls hooted over the roofs and bats flitted in the dusk air above the stream, and still Ged sat thinking how he might, by force, ruse, or sorcery, learn the Doorkeeper's name. The more he pondered the less he saw, among all the arts of witchcraft he had learned in these five years on Roke, anyone that would serve to wrest such a secret from such a mage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He lay down in the field and slept under the stars, with the otak nestling in his pocket. After the sun was up he went, still fasting, to the door of the House and knocked. The Doorkeeper opened.\n\n\"Master,\" said Ged, \"I cannot take your name from you, not being strong enough, and I cannot trick your name from you, not being wise enough. So I am content to stay here, and learn or serve, whatever you will: unless by chance you will answer a question I have.\"\n\n\"Ask it.\"\n\n\"What is your name?\"\n\nThe Doorkeeper smiled, and said his name: and Ged, repeating it, entered for the last time into that House.\n\nWhen he left it again he wore a heavy dark-blue cloak, the gift of the township of Low Torning, whereto he was bound, for they wanted a wizard there. He carried also a staff of his own height, carved of yew-wood, bronze-shod. The Doorkeeper bade him farewell opening the backdoor of the Great House for him, the door of horn and ivory, and he went down the streets of Thwil to a ship that waited for him on the bright water in the morning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "WEST OF R OKE INA crowd between the two great lands Hosk and Ensmer lie the Ninety Isles. The nearest to Roke is Serd, and the farthest is Seppish, which lies almost in the Pelnish Sea; and whether the sum of them is ninety is a question never settled, for if you count only isles with freshwater springs you might have seventy, while if you count every rock you might have a hundred and still not be done; and then the tide would change. Narrow run the channels between the islets, and there the mild tides of the Inmost Sea, chafed and baffled, run high and fall low, so that whereat high tide there might be three islands in one place, at low there might be one. Yet for all that danger of the tide, every child who can walk can paddle, and has his little rowboat; housewives row across the channel to take a cup of rushwash tea with the neighbor; peddlers call their wares in rhythm with the stroke of their oars. All roads there are saltwater, blocked only by nets strung from house to house across the straits to catch the small fish called turbies, the oil of which is the wealth of the Ninety Isles. There are few bridges, and no great towns. Every islet is thick with farms and fishermen's houses, and these are gathered into townships each often or twenty islets. One such was Low Torning, the westernmost, looking not on the Inmost Sea but outward to empty ocean, that lonely corner of the Archipelago where only Pendor lies, the dragon-spoiled isle, and beyond it the waters of the West Reach, desolate.\n\nA house was ready therefor the township's new wizard. It stood on a hill among green fields of barley, sheltered from the west wind by a grove of pendick-trees that now were red with flowers. From the door one looked out on other thatched roofs and groves and gardens, and other islands with their roofs and fields and hills, and amongst them all the many bright winding channels of the sea. It was a poorhouse, windowless, with earthen floor, yet a better house than the one Ged was born in. The Isle-Men of Low Torning, standing in awe of the wizard from Roke, asked pardon for its humbleness. \"We have no stone to build with,\" said one, \"We are none of us rich, though none starve,\" said another, and a third, \"It will be dry at least, for I saw to the thatching myself, Sir.\" To Ged it was as good as any palace. He thanked the leaders of the township frankly, so that the eighteen of them went home, each in his own rowboat to his home isle, to tell the fishermen and housewives that the new wizard was a strange young grim fellow who spoke little, but he spoke fairly, and without pride."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was little cause, perhaps, for pride in this first magistry of Ged's. Wizards trained on Roke went commonly to cities or castles, to serve high lords who held them in high honor. These fishermen of Low Torning in the usual way of things would have had among them no more than a witch or a plain sorcerer, to charm the fishing-nets and sing over new boats and cure beasts and men of their ailments. But in late years the old Dragon of Pendor had spawned: nine dragons, it was said, now laired in the ruined towers of the Sealords of Pendor, dragging their scaled bellies up and down the marble stairs and through the broken doorways there. Wanting food on that dead isle, they would be flying forth some year when they were grown and hunger came upon them. Already a flight of four had been seen over the southwest shores of Hosk, not alighting but spying out the sheepfolds, barns, and villages. The hunger of a dragon is slow to wake, but hard to sate. So the Isle-Men of Low Torning had sent to Roke begging fora wizard to protect their folk from what boded over the western horizon, and the Archmage had judged their fear well founded.\n\n\"There is no comfort in this place,\" the Archmage had said to Ged on the day he made him wizard, \"no fame, no wealth, maybe no risk. Will you go?\"\n\n\"I will go,\" Ged had replied; not from obedience only. Since the night on Roke Knoll his desire had turned as much against fame and display as once it had been set on them. Always now he doubted his strength and dreaded the trial of his power. Yet also the talk of dragons drew him with a great curiosity. In Gont there have been no dragons for many hundred years; and no dragon would ever fly within scent or sight or spell of Roke, so that there also they area matter of tales and songs only, things sung of but not seen. Ged had learned all he could of dragons at the School, but it is one thing to read about dragons and another to meet them. The chance lay bright before him, and heartily he answered, \"I will go.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Archmage Gensher had nodded his head, but his look was somber. \"Tell me,\" he said at last, \"do you fear to leave Roke? or are you eager to begone?\"\n\n\"Both, my lord.\"\n\nAgain Gensher nodded. \"I do not know if I do right to send you from your safety here,\" he said very low. \"I cannot see your way. It is all in darkness. And there is a power in the North, something that would destroy you, but what it is and where, whether in your pastor on your forward way, I cannot tell: it is all shadowed. When the men from Low Torning came here, I thought at once of you, for it seemed a safe place and out of the way, where you might have time to gather your strength. But I do not know if anyplace is safe for you, or where your way goes. I do not want to send you out into the dark...\"\n\nIt seemed a bright enough place to Ged at first, the house under the flowering trees. There he lived, and watched the western sky often, and kept his wizard's ear tuned for the sound of scaly wings. But no dragon came. Ged fished from his jetty, and tended his garden-patch. He spent whole days pondering a page or a line or a word in the Lore-Books he had brought from Roke, sitting out in the summer air under the pendick-trees, while the otak slept beside him or went hunting mice in the forests of grass and daisies. And he served the people of Low Torning as healall and weatherworker whenever they asked him. It did not enter his head that a wizard might be ashamed to perform such simple crafts, for he had been a witch-child among poorer folk than these. They, however, asked little of him, holding him in awe, partly because he was a wizard from the Isle of the Wise, and partly on account of his silence and his scarred face. There was that about him, young as he was, that made men uneasy with him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yet he found a friend, a boatmaker who dwelt on the next islet eastward. His name was Pechvarry. They had met first on his jetty, where Ged stopped to watch him stepping the mast of a little catboat. He had looked up at the wizard with a grin and said, \"Here's a month's work nearly finished. I guess you might have done it in a minute with a word, eh, Sir?\"\n\n\"I might,\" said Ged, \"but it would likely sink the next minute, unless I kept the spells up. But if you like...\" He stopped.\n\n\"Well, Sir?\"\n\n\"Well, that is a lovely little craft. She needs nothing. But if you like, I could set a binding-spell on her, to help keep her sound; or a finding-spell, to help bring her home from the sea.\"\n\nHe spoke hesitantly, not wanting to offend the craftsman, but Pechvarry's face shone. \"The little boat's for my son, Sir, and if you would lay such charms on her, it would be a mighty kindness and a friendly act.\" And he climbed up onto the jetty to take Ged's hand then and there and thank him.\n\nAfter that they came to work together often, Ged interweaving his spellcrafts with Pechvarry's handwork on the boats he built or repaired, and in return learning from Pechvarry how a boat was built, and also how a boat was handled without aid of magic: for this skill of plain sailing had been somewhat scanted on Roke. Often Ged and Pechvarry and his little son Ioeth went out into the channels and lagoons, sailing or rowing one boat or another, till Ged was a fair sailor, and the friendship between him and Pechvarry was a settled thing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Along in late autumn the boatmaker's son fell sick. The mother sent for the witchwoman of Tesk Isle, who was a good hand at healing, and all seemed well fora day or two. Then in the middle of a stormy night came Pechvarry hammering at Ged's door, begging him to come save the child. Ged ran down to the boat with him and they rowed in all haste through dark and rain to the boatmaker's house. There Ged saw the child on his pallet-bed, and the mother crouching silent beside him, and the witchwoman making a smoke of corly-root and singing the Nagian Chant, which was the best healing she had. But she whispered to Ged, \"Lord Wizard, I think this fever is the red-fever, and the child will die of it tonight.\"\n\nWhen Ged knelt and put his hands on the child, he thought the same, and he drew back a moment. In the latter months of his own long sickness the Master Herbal had taught him much of the healer's lore, and the first lesson and the last of all that lore was this: Heal the wound and cure the illness, but let the dying spirit go.\n\nThe mother saw his movement and the meaning of it, and cried out aloud in despair. Pechvarry stooped down by her saying, \"The Lord Sparrowhawk will save him, wife. No need to cry! He's here now. He can do it.\"\n\nHearing the mother's wail, and seeing the trust Pechvarry had in him, Ged did not know how he could disappoint them. He mistrusted his own judgment, and thought perhaps the child might be saved, if the fever could be brought down. He said, \"I'll do my best, Pechvarry.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He set to bathing the little boy with cold rainwater that they brought new-fallen from out of doors, and he began to say one of the spells of feverstay. The spell took no hold and made no whole, and suddenly he thought the child was dying in his arms.\n\nSummoning his power all at once and with no thought for himself, he sent his spirit out after the child's spirit, to bring it back home. He called the child's name, \"Ioeth!\" Thinking some faint answer came in his inward hearing he pursued, calling once more. Then he saw the little boy running fast and far ahead of him down a dark slope, the side of some vast hill. There was no sound. The stars above the hill were no stars his eyes had ever seen. Yet he knew the constellations by name: the Sheaf, the Door, the One Who Turns, the Tree. They were those stars that do not set, that are not paled by the coming of any day. He had followed the dying child too far.\n\nKnowing this he found himself alone on the dark hillside. It was hard to turn back, very hard.\n\nHe turned slowly. Slowly he set one foot forward to climb backup the hill, and then the other. Step by step he went, each step willed. And each step was harder than the last.\n\nThe stars did not move. No wind blew over the dry steep ground. In all the vast kingdom of the darkness only he moved, slowly, climbing. He came to the top of the hill, and saw the low wall of stones there. But across the wall, facing him, there was a shadow.\n\nThe shadow did not have the shape of manor beast. It was shapeless, scarcely to be seen, but it whispered at him, though there were no words in its whispering, and it reached out towards him. And it stood on the side of the living, and he on the side of the dead."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Either he must go down the hill into the desert lands and lightless cities of the dead, or he must step across the wall back into life, where the formless evil thing waited for him.\n\nHis spirit-staff was in his hand, and he raised it high. With that motion, strength came into him. Ashe made to leap the low wall of stones straight at the shadow, the staff burned suddenly white, a blinding light in that dim place. He leaped, felt himself fall, and saw no more.\n\nNow what Pechvarry and his wife and the witch saw was this: the young wizard had stopped midway in his spell, and held the child awhile motionless. Then he had laid little Ioeth gently down on the pallet, and had risen, and stood silent, staff in hand. All at once he raised the staff high and it blazed with white fire as if he held the lightning-bolt in his grip, and all the household things in the hut leaped out strange and vivid in that momentary fire. When their eyes were clear from the dazzlement they saw the young man lying huddled forward on the earthen floor, beside the pallet where the child lay dead.\n\nTo Pechvarry it seemed that the wizard also was dead. His wife wept, but he was utterly bewildered. But the witch had some hearsay knowledge concerning magery and the ways a true wizard may go, and she saw to it that Ged, cold and lifeless as he lay, was not treated as a dead man but as one sick or tranced. He was carried home, and an old woman was left to watch and see whether he slept to wake or slept forever.\n\nThe little otak was hiding in the rafters of the house, as it did when strangers entered. There it stayed while the rain beat on the walls and the fire sank down and the night wearing slowly along left the old woman nodding beside the hearthpit. Then the otak crept down and came to Ged where he lay stretched stiff and still upon the bed. It began to lick his hands and wrists, long and patiently, with its dry leaf-brown tongue. Crouching beside his head it licked his temple, his scarred cheek, and softly his closed eyes. And very slowly under that soft touch Ged roused. He woke, not knowing where he had been or where he was or what was the faint grey light in the air about him, which was the light of dawn coming to the world. Then the otak curled up near his shoulder as usual, and went to sleep."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Later, when Ged thought back upon that night, he knew that had none touched him when he lay thus spirit-lost, had none called him back in someway, he might have been lost for good."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was only the dumb instinctive wisdom of the beast who licks his hurt companion to comfort him, and yet in that wisdom Ged saw something akin to his own power, something that went as deep as wizardry. From that time forth he believed that the wise man is one who never sets himself apart from other living things, whether they have speech or not, and in later years he strove long to learn what can be learned, in silence, from the eyes of animals, the flight of birds, the great slow gestures of trees.\n\nHe had now made unscathed, for the first time, that crossing-over and return which only a wizard can make with open eyes, and which not the greatest mage can make without risk. But he had returned to a grief and a fear. The grief was for his friend Pechvarry, the fear was for himself. He knew now why the Archmage had feared to send him forth, and what had darkened and clouded even the mage's foreseeing of his future. For it was darkness itself that had awaited him, the unnamed thing, the being that did not belong in the world, the shadow he had loosed or made. Inspirit, at the boundary wall between death and life, it had waited for him these long years. It had found him thereat last. It would be on his track now, seeking to draw near to him, to take his strength into itself, and suck up his life, and clothe itself in his flesh.\n\nSoon after, he dreamed of the thing like a bear with no head or face. He thought it went fumbling about the walls of the house, searching for the door. Such a dream he had not dreamed since the healing of the wounds the thing had given him. When he woke he was weak and cold, and the scars on his face and shoulder drew and ached."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now began a bad time. When he dreamed of the shadow or so much as thought of it, he felt always that same cold dread: sense and power drained out of him, leaving him stupid and astray. He raged at his cowardice, but that did no good. He sought for some protection, but there was none: the thing was not flesh, not alive, not spirit, unnamed, having no being but what he himself had given it-a terrible power outside the laws of the sunlit world. All he knew of it was that it was drawn to him and would try to work its will through him, being his creature. But in what form it could come, having no real form of its own as yet, and how it would come, and when it would come, this he did not know.\n\nHe setup what barriers of sorcery he could about his house and about the isle where he lived. Such spell-walls must be ever renewed, and soon he saw that if he spent all his strength on these defenses, he would be of no use to the islanders. What could he do, between two enemies, if a dragon came from Pendor?\n\nAgain he dreamed, but this time in the dream the shadow was inside his house, beside the door, reaching out to him through the darkness and whispering words he did not understand. He woke in terror, and sent the werelight flaming through the air, lighting every corner of the little house till he saw no shadow anywhere. Then he put wood on the coals of his firepit, and satin the firelight hearing the autumn wind fingering at the thatch roof and whining in the great bare trees above; and he pondered long. An old anger had awakened in his heart. He would not suffer this helpless waiting, this sitting trapped on a little island muttering useless spells of lock and ward. Yet he could not simply flee the trap: to do so would be to break his trust with the islanders and to leave them to the imminent dragon, undefended. There was but one way to take."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The next morning he went down among the fishermen in the principal moorage of Low Torning, and finding the Head Isle-Man there said to him, \"I must leave this place. I am in danger, and I put you in danger. I must go. Therefore I ask your leave to go out and do away with the dragons on Pendor, so that my task for you will be finished and I may leave freely. Or if I fail, I should fail also when they come here, and that is better known now than later.\"\n\nThe Isle-Man stared at him all dropjawed. \"Lord Sparrowhawk,\" he said, \"there are nine dragons out there!\"\n\n\"Eight are still young, they say.\"\n\n\"But the old one-\"\n\n\"I tell you, I must go from here. I ask your leave to rid you of the dragon-peril first, if I can do so.\"\n\n\"As you will, Sir,\" the Isle-Man said gloomily. All that listened there thought this a folly or a crazy courage in their young wizard, and with sullen faces they saw him go, expecting no news of him again. Some hinted that he meant merely to sail back by Hosk to the Inmost Sea, leaving them in the lurch; others, among them Pechvarry, held that he had gone mad, and sought death.\n\nFor four generations of men all ships had set their course to keep far from the shores of Pendor Island. No mage had ever come to do combat with the dragon there, for the island was on no traveled sea road, and its lords had been pirates, slavetakers, war-makers, hated by all that dwelt in the southwest parts of Earthsea. For this reason none had sought to revenge the Lord of Pendor, after the dragon came suddenly out of the west upon him and his men where they sat feasting in the tower, and smothered them with the flames of his mouth, and drove all the townsfolk screaming into the sea. Unavenged, Pendor had been left to the dragon, with all its bones, and towers, and jewels stolen from long-dead princes of the coasts of Paln and Hosk."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All this Ged knew well, and more, forever since he came to Low Torning he had held in mind and pondered overall he had ever learned of dragons. Ashe guided his small boat westward-not rowing now nor using the seaman's skill Pechvarry had taught him, but sailing wizardly with the magewind in his sail and a spell set on prow and keel to keep them true-he watched to seethe dead isle rise on the rim of the sea. Speed he wanted, and therefore used the magewind, for he feared what was behind him more than what was before him. But as the day passed, his impatience turned from fear to a kind of glad fierceness. At least he sought this danger of his own will; and the nearer he came to it the more sure he was that, for this time at least, for this hour perhaps before his death, he was free. The shadow dared not follow him into a dragon's jaws. The waves ran white-tipped on the grey sea, and grey clouds streamed overhead on the north wind. He went west with the quick magewind in his sail, and came insight of the rocks of Pendor, the still streets of the town, and the gutted, falling towers.\n\nAt the entrance of the harbor, a shallow crescent bay, he let the windspell drop and stilled his little boat so it lay rocking on the waves. Then he summoned the dragon: \"Usurper of Pendor, come defend your hoard!\"\n\nHis voice fell short in the sound of breakers beating on the ashen shores; but dragons have keen ears. Presently one flitted up from some roofless ruin of the town like avast black bat, thin-winged and spiny-backed, and circling into the north wind came flying towards Ged. His heart swelled at the sight of the creature that was a myth to his people, and he laughed and shouted, \"Go tell the Old One to come, you wind-worm!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For this was one of the young dragons, spawned there years ago by a she-dragon from the West Reach, who had set her clutch of great leathern eggs, as they say she-dragons will, in some sunny broken room of the tower and had flown away again, leaving the Old Dragon of Pendor to watch the young when they crawled like baneful lizards from the shell.\n\nThe young dragon made no answer. He was not large of his kind, maybe the length of a forty-oared ship, and was wormthin for all the reach of his black membranous wings. He had not got his growth yet, nor his voice, nor any dragon-cunning. Straight at Ged in the small rocking boat he came, opening his long, toothed jaws as he slid down arrowy from the air: so that all Ged had to do was bind his wings and limbs stiff with one sharp spell and send him thus hurtling aside into the sea like a stone falling. And the grey sea closed over him.\n\nTwo dragons like the first rose up from the base of the highest tower. Even as the first one they came driving straight at Ged, and even so he caught both, hurled both down, and drowned them; and he had not yet lifted up his wizard's staff.\n\nNow after a little time there came three against him from the island. One of these was much greater, and fire spewed curling from its jaws. Two came flying at him rattling their wings, but the big one came circling from behind, very swift, to burn him and his boat with its breath of fire. No binding spell would catchall three, because two came from north and one from south. In the instant that he saw this, Ged worked a spell of Changing, and between one breath and the next flew up from his boat in dragon-form."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Spreading broad wings and reaching talons out, he met the two head on, withering them with fire, and then turned to the third, who was larger than he and armed also with fire. On the wind over the grey waves they doubled, snapped, swooped, lunged, till smoke roiled about them red-lit by the glare of their fiery mouths. Ged flew suddenly upward and the other pursued, below him. In midflight the dragon-Ged raised wings, stopped, and stooped as the hawk stoops, talons outstretched downward, striking and bearing the other down by neck and flank. The black wings flurried and black dragon-blood dropped in thick drops into the sea. The Pendor dragon tore free and flew low and lamely to the island, where it hid, crawling into some well or cavern in the ruined town.\n\nAt once Ged took his form and place again on the boat, for it was most perilous to keep that dragon-shape longer than need demanded. His hands were black with the scalding wormblood, and he was scorched about the head with fire, but this was no matter now. He waited only till he had his breath back and then called, \"Six I have seen, five slain, nine are told of: come out, worms!\"\n\nNo creature moved nor voice spoke fora long while on the island, but only the waves beat loudly on the shore. Then Ged was aware that the highest tower slowly changed its shape, bulging out on one side as if it grew an arm. He feared dragon-magic, for old dragons are very powerful and guileful in a sorcery like and unlike the sorcery of men: but a moment more and he saw this was no trick of the dragon, but of his own eyes. What he had taken fora part of the tower was the shoulder of the Dragon of Pendor as he uncurled his bulk and lifted himself slowly up."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he was all afoot his scaled head, spike-crowned and triple-tongued, rose higher than the broken tower's height, and his taloned forefeet rested on the rubble of the town below. His scales were grey-black, catching the daylight like broken stone. Lean as a hound he was and huge as a hill. Ged stared in awe. There was no song or tale could prepare the mind for this sight. Almost he stared into the dragon's eyes and was caught, for one cannot look into a dragon's eyes. He glanced away from the oily green gaze that watched him, and held up before him his staff, that looked now like a splinter, like a twig.\n\n\"Eight sons I had, little wizard,\" said the great dry voice of the dragon. \"Five died, one dies: enough. You will not win my hoard by killing them.\"\n\n\"I do not want your hoard.\"\n\nThe yellow smoke hissed from the dragon's nostrils: that was his laughter.\n\n\"Would you not like to come ashore and look at it, little wizard? It is worth looking at.\"\n\n\"No, dragon.\" The kinship of dragons is with wind and fire, and they do not fight willingly over the sea. That had been Ged's advantage so far and he kept it; but the strip of seawater between him and the great grey talons did not seem much of an advantage, anymore.\n\nIt was hard not to look into the green, watching eyes.\n\n\"You area very young wizard,\" the dragon said, \"I did not know men came so young into their power.\" He spoke, as did Ged, in the Old Speech, for that is the tongue of dragons still. Although the use of the Old Speech binds a man to truth, this is not so with dragons. It is their own language, and they can lie in it, twisting the true words to false ends, catching the unwary hearer in amaze of mirrorwords each of which reflects the truth and none of which leads anywhere. So Ged had been warned often, and when the dragon spoke he listened with an untrustful ear, all his doubts ready. But the words seemed plain and clear: \"Is it to ask my help that you have come here, little wizard?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No, dragon.\"\n\n\"Yet I could help you. You will need help soon, against that which hunts you in the dark.\"\n\nGed stood dumb.\n\n\"What is it that hunts you? Name it tome.\"\n\n\"If I could name it-\" Ged stopped himself.\n\nYellow smoke curled above the dragon's long head, from the nostrils that were two round pits of fire.\n\n\"If you could name it you could master it, maybe, little wizard. Maybe I could tell you its name, when I see it close by. And it will come close, if you wait about my isle. It will come wherever you come. If you do not want it to come close you must run, and run, and keep running from it. And yet it will follow you. Would you like to know its name?\"\n\nGed stood silent again. How the dragon knew of the shadow he had loosed, he could not guess, nor how it might know the shadow's name. The Archmage had said that the shadow had no name. Yet dragons have their own wisdom; and they are an older race than man. Few men can guess what a dragon knows and how he knows it, and those few are the Dragonlords. To Ged, only one thing was sure: that, though the dragon might well bespeaking truth, though he might indeed be able to tell Ged the nature and name of the shadow-thing and so give him power over it-even so, even if he spoke truth, he did so wholly for his own ends.\n\n\"It is very seldom,\" the young man said at last, \"that dragons ask to do men favors.\"\n\n\"But it is very common,\" said the dragon, \"for cats to play with mice before they kill them.\"\n\n\"But I did not come hereto play, or to be played with. I came to strike a bargain with you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Like a sword in sharpness but five times the length of any sword, the point of the dragon's tail arched up scorpion-wise over his mailed back, above the tower. Dryly he spoke: \"I strike no bargains. I take. What have you to offer that I cannot take from you when I like?\"\n\n\"Safety. Your safety. Swear that you will never fly eastward of Pendor, and I will swear to leave you unharmed.\"\n\nA grating sound came from the dragon's throat like the noise of an avalanche far off, stones falling among mountains. Fire danced along his three-forked tongue. He raised himself up higher, looming over the ruins. \"You offer me safety! You threaten me! With what?\"\n\n\"With your name, Yevaud.\"\n\nGed's voice shook as he spoke the name, yet he spoke it clear and loud. At the sound of it, the old dragon held still, utterly still. A minute went by, and another; and then Ged, standing therein his rocking chip of a boat, smiled. He had staked this venture and his life on a guess drawn from old histories of dragon-lore learned on Roke, a guess that this Dragon of Pendor was the same that had spoiled the west of Osskil in the days of Elfarran and Morred, and had been driven from Osskil by a wizard, Elt, wise in names. The guess had held.\n\n\"We are matched, Yevaud. You have the strength: I have your name. Will you bargain?\"\n\nStill the dragon made no reply.\n\nMany years had the dragon sprawled on the island where golden breastplates and emeralds lay scattered among dust and bricks and bones; he had watched his black lizard-brood play among crumbling houses and try their wings from the cliffs; he had slept long in the sun, unwaked by voice or sail. He had grown old. It was hard now to stir, to face this mage-lad, this frail enemy, at the sight of whose staff Yevaud, the old dragon, winced."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You may choose nine stones from my hoard,\" he said at last, his voice hissing and whining in his long jaws. \"The best: take your choice. Then go!\"\n\n\"I do not want your stones, Yevaud.\"\n\n\"Where is men's greed gone? Men loved bright stones in the old days in the North... I know what it is you want, wizard. I, too, can offer you safety, for I know what can save you. I know what alone can save you. There is a horror follows you. I will tell you its name.\"\n\nGed's heart leaped in him, and he clutched his staff, standing as still as the dragon stood. He fought a moment with sudden, startling hope.\n\nIt was not his own life that he bargained for. One mastery, and only one, could he holdover the dragon. He set hope aside and did what he must do.\n\n\"That is not what I ask for, Yevaud.\"\n\nWhen he spoke the dragon's name it was as if he held the huge being on a fine, thin leash, tightening it on his throat. He could feel the ancient malice and experience of men in the dragon's gaze that rested on him, he could seethe steel talons each as long as a man's forearm, and the stone-hard hide, and the withering fire that lurked in the dragon's throat: and yet always the leash tightened, tightened.\n\nHe spoke again: \"Yevaud! Swear by your name that you and your sons will never come to the Archipelago.\"\n\nFlames broke suddenly bright and loud from the dragon's jaws, and he said, \"I swear it by my name!\"\n\nSilence layover the isle then, and Yevaud lowered his great head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he raised it again and looked, the wizard was gone, and the sail of the boat was a white fleck on the waves eastward, heading towards the fat bejeweled islands of the inner seas. Then in rage the old Dragon of Pendor rose up breaking the tower with the writhing of his body, and beating his wings that spanned the whole width of the ruined town. But his oath held him, and he did not fly, then or ever, to the Archipelago."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "AS SOON ASP ENDOR HAD sunk under the sea-rim behind him, Ged looking eastward felt the fear of the shadow come into his heart again; and it was hard to turn from the bright danger of the dragons to that formless, hopeless horror. He let the magewind drop, and sailed on with the world's wind, for there was no desire for speed in him now. He had no clear plan even of what he should do. He must run, as the dragon had said; but where? To Roke, he thought, since thereat least he was protected, and might find counsel among the wise.\n\nFirst, however, he must come to Low Torning once more and tell his tale to the Isle-Men. When word went out that he had returned, five days from his setting forth, they and half the people of the township came rowing and running to gather round him, and stare at him, and listen. He told his tale, and one man said, \"But who saw this wonder of dragons slain and dragons baffled? What if he-\"\n\n\"Be still!\" the Head Isle-Man said roughly, for he knew, as did most of them, that a wizard may have subtle ways of telling the truth, and may keep the truth to himself, but that if he says a thing the thing is as he says. For that is his mastery. So they wondered, and began to feel that their fear was lifted from them, and then they began to rejoice. They pressed round their young wizard and asked for the tale again. More islanders came, and asked for it again. By nightfall he no longer had to tell it. They could do it for him, better. Already the village chanters had fitted it to an old tune, and were singing the Song of the Sparrowhawk. Bonfires were burning not only on the isles of Low Torning but in townships to the south and east. Fishermen shouted the news from boat to boat, from isle to isle it went: Evil is averted, the dragons will never come from Pendor!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "That night, that one night, was joyous for Ged."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No shadow could come near him through the brightness of those fires of thanksgiving that burned on every hill and beach, through the circles of laughing dancers that ringed him about, singing his praise, swinging their torches in the gusty autumn night so that sparks rose thick and bright and brief upon the wind.\n\nThe next day he met with Pechvarry, who said, \"I did not know you were so mighty, my lord.\" There was fear in that because he had dared make Ged his friend, but there was reproach in it also. Ged had not saved a little child, though he had slain dragons. After that, Ged felt afresh the unease and impatience that had driven him to Pendor, and drove him now from Low Torning. The next day, though they would have kept him gladly the rest of his life to praise and boast of, he left the house on the hill, with no baggage but his books, his staff, and the otak riding on his shoulder.\n\nHe went in a rowboat with a couple of young fishermen of Low Torning, who wanted the honor of being his boatmen. Always as they rowed on among the craft that crowd the eastern channels of the Ninety Isles, under the windows and balconies of houses that lean out over the water, past the wharves of Nesh, the rainy pastures of Dromgan, the malodorous oil-sheds of Geath, word of his deed had gone ahead of him. They whistled the Song of the Sparrowhawk as he went by, they vied to have him spend the night and tell his dragon-tale. When at last he came to Serd, the ship's master of whom he asked passage out to Roke bowed as he answered, \"A privilege tome, Lord Wizard, and an honor to my ship!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So Ged turned his back on the Ninety Isles; but even as the ship turned from Serd Inner Port and raised sail, a wind came up hard from the east against her. It was strange, for the wintry sky was clear and the weather had seemed settled mild that morning. It was only thirty miles from Serd to Roke, and they sailed on; and when the wind still rose, they still sailed on. The little ship, like most traders of the Inmost Sea, bore the high fore-and-aft sail that can be turned to catch a headwind, and her master was a handy seaman, proud of his skill. So tacking now north now south they worked eastward. Clouds and rain came upon the wind, which veered and gusted so wildly that there was considerable danger of the ship jibing. \"Lord Sparrowhawk,\" said the ship's master to the young man, whom he had beside him in the place of honor in the stern, though small dignity could be kept up under that wind and rain that wet them all to a miserable sleekness in their sodden cloaks-\"Lord Sparrowhawk, might you say a word to this wind, maybe?\"\n\n\"How near are we to Roke?\"\n\n\"Better than halfway. But we've made no headway at all this past hour, Sir.\"\n\nGed spoke to the wind. It blew less hard, and fora while they went on fairly enough. Then sudden great gusts came whistling out of the south, and meeting these they were driven back west-ward again. The clouds broke and boiled in the sky, and the ship's master roared out ragefully, \"This fool's gale blows all ways at once! Only a magewind will get us through this weather, Lord.\"\n\nGed looked glum at that, but the ship and her men were in danger for him, so he raised up the magewind into her sail. At once the ship began to cleave straight to the east, and the ship's master began to look cheerful again. But little by little, though Ged kept up the spell, the magewind slackened, growing feebler, until the ship seemed to hang still on the waves fora minute, her sail drooping, amid all the tumult of the rain and gale. Then with a thundercrack the boom came swinging round and she jibed and jumped northward like a scared cat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged grabbed hold of a stanchion, for she lay almost over on her side, and shouted out, \"Turn back to Serd, master!\"\n\nThe master cursed and shouted that he would not: \"A wizard aboard, and I the best seaman of the Trade, and this the handiest ship I ever sailed-turn back?\"\n\nThen, the ship turning again almost as if a whirlpool had caught her keel, he too grabbed hold of the sternpost to keep aboard, and Ged said to him, \"Leave meat Serd and sail where you like. It's not against your ship this wind blows, but against me.\"\n\n\"Against you, a wizard of Roke?\"\n\n\"Have you never heard of the Roke-wind, master?\"\n\n\"Aye, that keeps off evil powers from the Isle of the Wise, but what has that to do with you, a Dragontamer?\"\n\n\"That is between me and my shadow,\" Ged answered shortly, as a wizard will; and he said no more as they went swiftly, with a steady wind and under clearing skies, back over the sea to Serd.\n\nThere was a heaviness and a dread in his heart as he went up from the wharves of Serd. The days were shortening into winter, and dusk came soon. With dusk Ged's uneasiness always grew, and now the turning of each street seemed a threat to him, and he had to steel himself not to keep looking back over his shoulder at what might becoming behind him. He went to the Sea-House of Serd, where travelers and merchants ate together of good fare provided by the township, and might sleep in the long raftered hall: such is the hospitality of the thriving islands of the Inmost Sea.\n\nHe saved a bit of meat from his dinner, and by the firepit afterward he coaxed the otak out of the fold of his hood where it had cowered all that day, and tried to get it to eat, petting it and whispering to it, \"Hoeg, hoeg, little one, silent one...\" But it would not eat, and crept into his pocket to hide. By that, by his own dull uncertainty, by the very look of the darkness in the corners of the great room, he knew that the shadow was not far from him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No one in this place knew him: they were travelers, from other isles, who had not heard the Song of the Sparrowhawk. None spoke to him. He chose a pallet at last and lay down, but all nightlong he lay with open eyes therein the raftered hall among the sleep of strangers. All night he tried to choose his way, to plan where he should go, what he should do: but each choice, each plan was blocked by a foreboding of doom. Across each way he might go lay the shadow. Only Roke was clear of it: and to Roke he could not go, forbidden by the high, enwoven, ancient spells that kept the perilous island safe. That the Roke-wind had risen against him was proof the thing that hunted him must be very close upon him now.\n\nThat thing was bodiless, blind to sunlight, a creature of a lightless, placeless, timeless realm. It must grope after him through the days and across the seas of the sunlit world, and could take visible shape only in dream and darkness. It had as yet no substance or being that the light of the sun would shine on; and so it is sung in the Deed of Hode, \"Daybreak makes all earth and sea, from shadow brings forth form, driving dream to the dark kingdom.\" But if once the shadow caught up with Ged it could draw his power out of him, and take from him the very weight and warmth and life of his body and the will that moved him.\n\nThat was the doom he saw lying ahead on every road. And he knew that he might be tricked toward that doom; for the shadow, growing stronger always as it was nearer him, might even now have strength enough to put evil powers or evil men to its own use-showing him false portents, or speaking with a stranger's voice. For all he knew, in one of these men who slept in this corner or that of the raftered hall of the Sea-House tonight, the dark thing lurked, finding a foothold in a dark soul and there waiting and watching Ged and feeding, even now, on his weakness, on his uncertainty, on his fear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was past bearing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He must trust to chance, and run wherever chance took him. At the first cold hint of dawn he got up and went in haste under the dimming stars down to the wharves of Serd, resolved only to take the first ship outward bound that would have him. A galley was loading turbie-oil; she was to sail at sunrise, bound for Havnor Great Port. Ged asked passage of her master. A wizard's staff is passport and payment on most ships. They took him aboard willingly, and within that hour the ship set forth. Ged's spirits lifted with the first lifting of the forty long oars, and the drumbeat that kept the stroke made a brave music to him.\n\nAnd yet he did not know what he would do in Havnor, or where he would run from there. Northward was as good as any direction. He was a Northerner himself; maybe he would find some ship to take him onto Gont from Havnor, and he might see Ogion again. Or he might find some ship going far out into the Reaches, so far the shadow would lose him and give up the hunt. Beyond such vague ideas as these, there was no plan in his head, and he saw no one course that he must follow. Only he must run...\n\nThose forty oars carried the ship over a hundred and fifty miles of wintry sea before sunset of the second day out from Serd. They came into port at Orrimy on the east shore of the great land Hosk, for these trade-galleys of the Inmost Sea keep to the coasts and lie overnight in harbor whenever they can. Ged went ashore, for it was still daylight, and he roamed the steep streets of the port-town, aimless and brooding.\n\nOrrimy is an old town, built heavily of stone and brick, walled against the lawless lords of the interior of Hosk Island; the warehouses on the docks are like forts, and the merchants'houses are towered and fortified. Yet to Ged wandering through the streets those ponderous mansions seemed like veils, behind which lay an empty dark; and people who passed him, intent on their business, seemed not real men but voiceless shadows of men. As the sunset he came down to the wharves again, and even therein the broad red light and wind of the day's end, sea and land alike to him seemed dim and silent."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where are you bound, Lord Wizard?\"\n\nSo one hailed him suddenly from behind. Turning he saw a man dressed in grey, who carried a staff of heavy wood that was not a wizard's staff. The stranger's face was hidden by his hood from the red light, but Ged felt the unseen eyes meet his. Starting back he raised his own yew-staff between him and the stranger.\n\nMildly the man asked, \"What do you fear?\"\n\n\"What follows behind me.\"\n\n\"So? But I'm not your shadow.\"\n\nGed stood silent. He knew that indeed this man, whatever he was, was not what he feared: he was no shadow or ghost or gebbeth-creature. Amidst the dry silence and shadowiness that had come over the world, he even kept a voice and some solidity. He put back his hood now. He had a strange, seamed, bald head, a lined face. Though age had not sounded in his voice, he looked to bean old man.\n\n\"I do not know you,\" said the man in grey, \"yet I think perhaps we do not meet by chance. I heard a tale once of a young man, a scarred man, who won through darkness to great dominion, even to kingship. I do not know if that is your tale. But I will tell you this: go to the Court of the Terrenon, if you need a sword to fight shadows with. A staff of yew-wood will not serve your need.\"\n\nHope and mistrust struggled in Ged's mind as he listened. A wizardly man soon learns that few indeed of his meetings are chance ones, be they for good or for ill.\n\n\"In what land is the Court of the Terrenon?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"In Osskil.\"\n\nAt the sound of that name Ged saw fora moment, by a trick of memory, a black raven on green grass who looked up at him sidelong with an eye like polished stone, and spoke; but the words were forgotten.\n\n\"That land has something of a dark name,\" Ged said, looking ever at the man in grey, trying to judge what kind of man he was. There was a manner about him that hinted of the sorcerer, even of the wizard; and yet boldly as he spoke to Ged, there was a queer beaten look about him, the look almost of a sick man, or a prisoner, or a slave.\n\n\"You are from Roke,\" he answered. \"The wizards of Roke give a dark name to wizardries other than their own.\"\n\n\"What man are you?\"\n\n\"A traveler; a trader's agent from Osskil; I am hereon business,\" said the man in grey. When Ged asked him no more he quietly bade the young man goodnight, and went off up the narrow stepped street above the quays.\n\nGed turned, irresolute whether to heed this signor not, and looked to the north. The red light was dying out fast from the hills and from the windy sea. Grey dusk came, and on its heels the night.\n\nGed went in sudden decision and haste along the quays to a fisherman who was folding his nets down in his dory, and hailed him: \"Do you know any ship in this port bound north-to Semel, or the Enlades?\"\n\n\"The longship yonder's from Osskil, she might be stopping at the Enlades.\"\n\nIn the same haste Ged went onto the great ship the fisherman had pointed to, a longship of sixty oars, gaunt as a snake, her high bent prow carven and inlaid with disks of loto-shell, her oarport-covers painted red, with the rune Sifl sketched on each in black. A grim, swift ship she looked, and all in sea-trim, with all her crew aboard. Ged sought out the ship's master and asked passage to Osskil of him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Can you pay?\"\n\n\"I have some skill with winds.\"\n\n\"I am a weatherworker myself. You have nothing to give? no money?\"\n\nIn Low Torning the Isle-Men had paid Ged as best they could with the ivory pieces used by traders in the Archipelago; he would take only ten pieces, though they wanted to give him more. He offered these now to the Osskilian, but he shook his head. \"We do not use those counters. If you have nothing to pay, I have no place aboard for you.\"\n\n\"Do you need arms? I have rowed in a galley.\"\n\n\"Aye, we're short two men. Find your bench then,\" said the ship's master, and paid him no more heed.\n\nSo, laying his staff and his bag of books under the rowers'bench, Ged became for ten bitter days of winter an oarsman of that Northern ship. They left Orrimy at daybreak, and that day Ged thought he could never keep up his work. His left arm was somewhat lamed by the old wounds in his shoulder, and all his rowing in the channels about Low Torning had not trained him for the relentless pull and pull and pull at the long galley-oar to the beat of the drum. Each stint at the oars was of two or three hours, and then a second shift of oarsmen took the benches, but the time of rest seemed only long enough for all Ged's muscles to stiffen, and then it was back to the oars. And the second day of it was worse; but after that he hardened to the labor, and got on well enough.\n\nThere was no such comradeship among this crew as he had found aboard Shadow when he first went to Roke. The crewmen of Andradean and Gontish ships are partners in the trade, working together fora common profit, whereas traders of Osskil use slaves and bondsmen or hire men to row, paying them with small coins of gold. Gold is a great thing in Osskil. But it is not a source of good fellowship there, or amongst the dragons, who also prize it highly. Since half this crew were bondsmen, forced to work, the ship's officers were slavemasters, and harsh ones. They never laid their whips on the back of an oarsman who worked for pay or passage; but there will not be much friendliness in a crew of whom some are whipped and others are not. Ged's fellows said little to one another, and less to him. They were mostly men from Osskil, speaking not the Hardic tongue of the Archipelago but a dialect of their own, and they were dour men, pale-skinned with black drooping mustaches and lank hair. Kelub, the redone, was Ged's name among them. Though they knew he was a wizard they showed him no regard, but rather a kind of cautious spitefulness. And he himself was in no mood for making friends. Even on his bench, caught up in the mighty rhythm of the rowing, one oarsman among sixty in a ship racing over void grey seas, he felt himself exposed, defenseless. When they came into strange ports at nightfall and he rolled himself in his cloak to sleep, weary as he was he would dream, wake, dream again: evil dreams, that he could not recall waking, though they seemed to hang about the ship and the men of the ship, so that he mistrusted each one of them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All the Osskilian freemen wore along knife at the hip, and one day as his oar-shift shared their noon meal one of these men asked Ged, \"Are you slave or oathbreaker, Kelub?\"\n\n\"Neither.\"\n\n\"Why no knife, then? Afraid to fight?\" said the man, Skiorh, jeering.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Your little dogfight for you?\"\n\n\"Otak,\" said another who listened. \"No dog, that is otak,\" and he said something in Osskilian that made Skiorh scowl and turn away. Just as he turned Ged saw a change in his face, a slurring and shifting of the features, as if fora moment something had changed him, used him, looking out through his eyes sidelong at Ged. Yet the next minute Ged saw him full-face, and he looked as usual, so that Ged told himself that what he had seen was his own fear, his own dread reflected in the other's eyes. But that night as they lay in port in Esen he dreamed, and Skiorh walked in his dream. Afterwards he avoided the man as best he could, and it seemed also that Skiorh kept away from him, and no more words passed between them.\n\nThe snow-crowned mountains of Havnor sank away behind them southward, blurred by the mists of early winter. They rowed on past the mouth of the Sea of Éa where long ago Elfarran was drowned, and past the Enlades. They lay two days in port at Berila, the City of Ivory, white above its bay in the west of myth-haunted Enlad. At all ports they came to, the crewmen were kept aboard the ship, and set no foot on land. Then as a red sun rose they rowed out on the Osskil Sea, into the northeast winds that blow unhindered from the islandless vastness of the North Reach. Through that bitter sea they brought their cargo safe, coming the second day out of Berila into port at Neshum, the trade-city of Eastern Osskil."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged saw a low coast lashed by rainy wind, a grey town crouching behind the long stone breakwaters that made its harbor, and behind the town treeless hills under a snow-darkened sky. They had come far from the sunlight of the Inmost Sea.\n\nLongshoremen of the Sea-Guild of Neshum came aboard to unload the cargo-gold, silver, jewelry, fine silks and Southern tapestries, such precious stuff as the lords of Osskil hoard-and the freemen of the crew were dismissed. Ged stopped one of them to ask his way; up until now the distrust he felt of all of them had kept him from saying where he was bound, but now, afoot and alone in a strange land, he must ask for guidance. The man went on impatiently saying he did not know, but Skiorh, overhearing, said, \"The Court of the Terrenon? On the Keksemt Moors. I go that road.\"\n\nSkiorh's was no company Ged would have chosen, but knowing neither the language nor the way he had small choice. Nor did it much matter, he thought; he had not chosen to come here. He had been driven, and now was driven on. He pulled his hood up over his head, took up his staff and bag, and followed the Osskilian through the streets of the town and upward into the snowy hills. The little otak would not ride on his shoulder, but hid in the pocket of his sheepskin tunic, under his cloak, as was its wont in cold weather. The hills stretched out into bleak rolling moorlands as far as the eye could see. They walked in silence and the silence of winter lay on all the land.\n\n\"How far?\" Ged asked after they had gone some miles, seeing no sight of village or farm in any direction, and thinking that they had no food with them. Skiorh turned his head a moment, pulling up his own hood, and said, \"Not far.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was an ugly face, pale, coarse, and cruel, but Ged feared no man, though he might fear where such a man would guide him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He nodded, and they went on. Their road was only a scar through the waste of thin snow and leafless bushes. From time to time other tracks crossed it or branched from it. Now that the chimney-smoke of Neshum was hidden behind the hills in the darkening afternoon there was no sign at all of what way they should go, or had gone. Only the wind blew always from the east. And when they had walked for several hours Ged thought he saw, away off on the hills in the northwest where their way tended, a tiny scratch against the sky, like a tooth, white. But the light of the short day was fading, and on the next rise of the road he could make out the thing, tower or tree or whatever, no more clearly than before.\n\n\"Do we go there?\" he asked, pointing.\n\nSkiorh made no answer but plodded on, muffled in his coarse cloak with its peaked, furred Osskilian hood. Ged strode on beside him. They had come far, and he was drowsy with the steady pace of their walking and with the long weariness of hard days and nights in the ship. It began to seem to him that he had walked forever and would walk forever beside this silent being through a silent darkening land. Caution and intention were dulled in him. He walked as in along, long dream, going no place.\n\nThe otak stirred in his pocket, and a little vague fear also woke and stirred in his mind. He forced himself to speak. \"Darkness comes, and snow. How far, Skiorh?\"\n\nAfter a pause the other answered, without turning, \"Not far.\"\n\nBut his voice sounded not like a man's voice, but like a beast, hoarse and lipless, that tries to speak."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, coming of age, magic\nAuthor: Ursula K. Le Guin\nTitle: A Wizard of Earthsea\nChapter: 9"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was an ugly face, pale, coarse, and cruel, but Ged feared no man, though he might fear where such a man would guide him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He nodded, and they went on. Their road was only a scar through the waste of thin snow and leafless bushes. From time to time other tracks crossed it or branched from it. Now that the chimney-smoke of Neshum was hidden behind the hills in the darkening afternoon there was no sign at all of what way they should go, or had gone. Only the wind blew always from the east. And when they had walked for several hours Ged thought he saw, away off on the hills in the northwest where their way tended, a tiny scratch against the sky, like a tooth, white. But the light of the short day was fading, and on the next rise of the road he could make out the thing, tower or tree or whatever, no more clearly than before.\n\n\"Do we go there?\" he asked, pointing.\n\nSkiorh made no answer but plodded on, muffled in his coarse cloak with its peaked, furred Osskilian hood. Ged strode on beside him. They had come far, and he was drowsy with the steady pace of their walking and with the long weariness of hard days and nights in the ship. It began to seem to him that he had walked forever and would walk forever beside this silent being through a silent darkening land. Caution and intention were dulled in him. He walked as in along, long dream, going no place.\n\nThe otak stirred in his pocket, and a little vague fear also woke and stirred in his mind. He forced himself to speak. \"Darkness comes, and snow. How far, Skiorh?\"\n\nAfter a pause the other answered, without turning, \"Not far.\"\n\nBut his voice sounded not like a man's voice, but like a beast, hoarse and lipless, that tries to speak."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged stopped. All around stretched empty hills in the late, dusk light. Sparse snow whirled a little falling. \"Skiorh!\" he said, and the other halted, and turned. There was no face under the peaked hood.\n\nBefore Ged could speak spell or summon power, the gebbeth spoke, saying in its hoarse voice, \"Ged!\"\n\nThen the young man could work no transformation, but was locked in his true being, and must face the gebbeth thus defenseless. Nor could he summon any help in this alien land, where nothing and no one was known to him and would come at his call. He stood alone, with nothing between him and his enemy but the staff of yew-wood in his right hand.\n\nThe thing that had devoured Skiorh's mind and possessed his flesh made the body take a step towards Ged, and the arms came groping out towards him. A rage of horror filled Ged and he swung up and brought down his staff whistling on the hood that hid the shadow-face. Hood and cloak collapsed down nearly to the ground under that fierce blow as if there was nothing in them but wind, and then writhing and flapping stood up again. The body of a gebbeth has been drained of true substance and is something like a shell or a vapor in the form of a man, an unreal flesh clothing the shadow which is real. So jerking and billowing as if blown on the wind the shadow spread its arms and came at Ged, trying to get hold of him as it had held him on Roke Knoll: and if it did it would cast aside the husk of Skiorh and enter into Ged, devouring him out from within, owning him, which was its whole desire. Ged struck at it again with his heavy, smoking staff, beating it off, but it came again and he struck again, and then dropped the staff that blazed and smoldered, burning his hand. He backed away, then all at once turned and ran."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He ran, and the gebbeth followed apace behind him, unable to outrun him yet never dropping behind. Ged never looked back. He ran, he ran, through that vast dusk land where there was no hiding place. Once the gebbeth in its hoarse whistling voice called him again by name, but though it had taken his wizard's power thus, it had no power over his body's strength, and could not make him stop. He ran.\n\nNight thickened about the hunter and the hunted, and snow blew fine across the path that Ged could no longer see. The pulse hammered in his eyes, the breath burned in his throat, he was no longer really running but stumbling and staggering ahead: and yet the tireless pursuer seemed unable to catch up, coming always just behind him. It had begun to whisper and mumble at him, calling to him, and he knew that all his life that whispering had been in his ears, just under the threshold of hearing, but now he could hear it, and he must yield, he must give in, he must stop. Yet he labored on, struggling up along, dim slope. He thought there was alight somewhere before him, and he thought he heard a voice in front of him, above him somewhere, calling, \"Come! Come!\"\n\nHe tried to answer but he had no voice. The pale light grew certain, shining through a gateway straight before him: he could not seethe walls, but he saw the gate. At the sight of it he halted, and the gebbeth snatched at his cloak, fumbled at his sides trying to catch hold of him from behind. With the last strength in him Ged plunged through that faint-shining door. He tried to turn to shut it behind him against the gebbeth, but his legs would not hold him up. He staggered, reaching for support. Lights swam and flashed in his eyes. He felt himself falling, and he felt himself caught even as he fell; but his mind, utterly spent, slid away into the dark."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "GED WOKE, AND FORA longtime he lay, aware only that it was pleasant to wake, for he had not expected to wake again, and very pleasant to see light, the large plain light of day all about him. He felt as if he were floating on that light, or drifting in a boat on very quiet waters. At last he made out that he was in bed, but no such bed as he had ever slept in. It was setup on a frame held by four tall carven legs, and the mattresses were great silk sacks of down, which was why he thought he was floating, and over it all a crimson canopy hung to keep out drafts. On two sides the curtain was tied back, and Ged looked out at a room with walls of stone and floor of stone. Through three high windows he saw the moorland, bare and brown, snow-patched here and there, in the mild sunlight of winter. The room must be high above the ground, for it looked a great way over the land.\n\nA coverlet of downfilled satin slid aside as Ged sat up, and he saw himself clothed in a tunic of silk and cloth-of-silver like a lord. On a chair beside the bed, boots of glove-leather and a cloak lined with pellawi-fur were laid ready for him. He sat awhile, calm and dull as one under an enchantment, and then stood up, reaching for his staff. But he had no staff.\n\nHis right hand, though it had been salved and bound, was burned on palm and fingers. Now he felt the pain of it, and the soreness of all his body.\n\nHe stood without moving awhile again. Then he whispered, not aloud and not hopefully, \"Hoeg... hoeg...\" For the little fierce loyal creature too was gone, the little silent soul that once had led him back from death's dominion. Had it still been with him last night when he ran? Was that last night, was it many nights ago? He did not know. It was all dim and obscure in his mind, the gebbeth, the burning staff, the running, the whispering, the gate. None of it came back clearly to him. Nothing even now was clear. He whispered his pet's name once more, but without hope of answer, and tears rose in his eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A little bell rang somewhere faraway."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A second bell rang in a sweet jangle just outside the room. A door opened behind him, across the room, and a woman came in. \"Welcome, Sparrowhawk,\" she said, smiling.\n\nShe was young and tall, dressed in white and silver, with a net of silver crowning her hair that fell straight down like a fall of black water.\n\nStiffly Ged bowed.\n\n\"You don't remember me, I think.\"\n\n\"Remember you, Lady?\"\n\nHe had never seen a beautiful woman dressed to match her beauty but once in his life: that Lady of O who had come with her Lord to the Sunreturn festival at Roke. She had been like a slight, bright candle-flame, but this woman was like the white new moon.\n\n\"I thought you would not,\" she said smiling. \"But forgetful as you maybe, you're welcome here as an old friend.\"\n\n\"What place is this?\" Ged asked, still stiff and slow-tongued. He found it hard to speak to her and hard to look away from her. The princely clothes he wore were strange to him, the stones he stood on were unfamiliar, the very air he breathed was alien; he was not himself, not the self he had been.\n\n\"This keep is called the Court of the Terrenon. My lord, who is called Benderesk, is sovereign of this land from the edge of the Keksemt Moors north to the Mountains of Os, and keeper of the precious stone called Terrenon. As for myself, herein Osskil they call me Serret, Silver in their language. And you, I know, are sometimes called Sparrowhawk, and were made wizard in the Isle of the Wise.\"\n\nGed looked down at his burned hand and said presently, \"I do not know what I am. I had power, once. I have lost it, I think.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "you have not lost it, or only to regain it tenfold. You are safe here from what drove you here, my friend. There are mighty walls about this tower and not all of them are built of stone. Here you can rest, finding your strength again. Here you may also find a different strength, and a staff that will not burn to ashes in your hand. An evil way may lead to a good end, after all. Come with me now, let me show you our domain.\"\n\nShe spoke so sweetly that Ged hardly heard her words, moved by the promise of her voice alone. He followed her.\n\nHis room was high up indeed in the tower that rose like a sharp tooth from its hilltop. Down winding stairs of marble he followed Serret, through rich rooms and halls, past high windows that looked north, west, south, east over the low brown hills that went on, houseless and treeless and changeless, clear to the sunwashed winter sky. Only far to the north small white peaks stood sharp against the blue, and southward one could guess the shining of the sea.\n\nServants opened doors and stood aside for Ged and the lady; pale, dour Osskilians they were all. She was light of skin, but unlike them she spoke Hardic well, even, it seemed to Ged, with the accent of Gont. Later that day she brought him before her husband Benderesk, Lord of the Terrenon. Thrice her age, bone-white, bone-thin, with clouded eyes, Lord Benderesk greeted Ged with grim cold courtesy, bidding him stay as guest however long he would. Then he had little more to say, asking Ged nothing of his voyages or of the enemy that had hunted him here; nor had the Lady Serret asked anything of these matters."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If this was strange, it was only part of the strangeness of this place and of his presence in it. Ged's mind never seemed quite to clear. He could not see things plainly. He had come to this tower-keep by chance, and yet the chance was all design; or he had come by design and yet all the design had merely chanced to come about. He had set out northward; a stranger in Orrimy had told him to seek help here; an Osskilian ship had been waiting for him; Skiorh had guided him. How much of this was the work of the shadow that hunted him? Or was none of it; had he and his hunter both been drawn hereby some other power, he following that lure and the shadow following him, and seizing on Skiorh for its weapon when the moment came? That must be it, for certainly the shadow was, as Serret had said, barred from the Court of the Terrenon. He had felt no signor threat of its lurking presence since he wakened in the tower. But what then had brought him here? For this was no place one came to by chance; even in the dullness of his thoughts he began to see that. No other stranger came to these gates. The tower stood aloof and remote, its back turned on the way to Neshum that was the nearest town. No man came to the keep, none left it. Its windows looked down on desolation.\n\nFrom these windows Ged looked out, as he kept by himself in his high tower-room, day after day, dull and heartsick and cold. It was always cold in the tower, for all the carpets and the tapestried hangings and the rich furred clothing and the broad marble fireplaces they had. It was a cold that got into the bone, into the marrow, and would not be dislodged. And in Ged's heart a cold shame settled also and would not be dislodged, as he thought always how he had faced his enemy and been defeated and had run. In his mind all the Masters of Roke gathered, Gensher the Archmage frowning in their midst, and Nemmerle was with them, and Ogion, and even the witch who had taught him his first spell: all of them gazed at him and he knew he had failed their trust in him. He would plead, saying, \"If I had not runaway the shadow would have possessed me: it had already all Skiorh's strength, and part of mine, and I could not fight it: it knew my name. I had to runaway. A wizard-gebbeth would be a terrible power for evil and ruin. I had to runaway.\" But none of those who listened in his mind would answer him. And he would watch the snow falling, thin and ceaseless, on the empty lands below the window, and feel the dull cold grow within him, till it seemed no feeling was left to him except a kind of weariness."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So he kept to himself for many days out of sheer misery."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he did comedown out of his room, he was silent and stiff. The beauty of the Lady of the Keep confused his mind, and in this rich, seemly, orderly, strange Court, he felt himself to be a goatherd born and bred.\n\nThey let him alone when he wanted to be alone, and when he could not stand to think his thoughts and watch the falling snow any longer, often Serret met with him in one of the curving halls, tapestried and firelit, lower in the tower, and there they would talk. There was no merriment in the Lady of the Keep, she never laughed though she often smiled; yet she could put Ged at ease almost with one smile. With her he began to forget his stiffness and his shame. Before long they met everyday to talk, long, quietly, idly, a little apart from the serving-women who always accompanied Serret, by the fireplace or at the window of the high rooms of the tower.\n\nThe old lord kept mostly in his own apartments, coming forth mornings to pace up and down the snowy inner courtyards of the castle-keep like an old sorcerer who has been brewing spells all night. When he joined Ged and Serret for supper he sat silent, looking up at his young wife sometimes with a hard, covetous glance. Then Ged pitied her. She was like a white deer caged, like a white bird wing-clipped, like a silver ring on an old man's finger. She was an item of Benderesk's hoard. When the Lord of the Keep left them Ged stayed with her, trying to cheer her solitude as she had cheered his.\n\n\"What is this jewel that gives your keep its name?\" he asked her as they sat talking over their emptied gold plates and gold goblets in the carvernous, candle-lit dining-hall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You have not heard of it?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It is a famous thing.\"\n\n\"No. I know only that the lords of Osskil have famous treasuries.\"\n\n\"Ah, this jewel outshines them all. Come, would you like to see it?\"\n\nShe smiled, with a look of mockery and daring, as if a little afraid of what she did, and led the young man from the hall, out through the narrow corridors of the base of the tower, and downstairs underground to a locked door he had not seen before. This she unlocked with a silver key, looking up at Ged with that same smile as she did so, as if she dared him to come on with her. Beyond the door was a short passage and a second door, which she unlocked with a gold key, and beyond that again a third door, which she unlocked with one of the Great Words of unbinding. Within that last door her candle showed them a small room like a dungeon-cell: floor, walls, ceiling all rough stone, unfurnished, blank.\n\n\"Do you see it?\" Serret asked.\n\nAs Ged looked round the room his wizard's eye caught one stone of those that made the floor. It was rough and dank as the rest, a heavy unshapen paving-stone: yet he felt the power of it as if it spoke to him aloud. And his breath caught in his throat, and a sickness came over him fora moment. This was the foundingstone of the tower. This was the central place, and it was cold, bitter cold; nothing could ever warm the little room. This was a very ancient thing: an old and terrible spirit was prisoned in that block of stone. He did not answer Serret yes or no, but stood still, and presently, with a quick curious glance at him, she pointed out the stone. \"That is the Terrenon. Do you wonder that we keep so precious a jewel locked away in our deepest hoardroom?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Still Ged did not answer, but stood dumb and wary. She might almost have been testing him; but he thought she had no notion of the stone's nature, to speak of it so lightly. She did not know enough of it to fear it. \"Tell me of its powers,\" he said at last.\n\n\"It was made before Segoy raised the islands of the world from the Open Sea. It was made when the world itself was made, and will endure until the end of the world. Time is nothing to it. If you lay your hand upon it and ask a question of it, it will answer, according to the power that is in you. It has a voice, if you know how to listen. It will speak of things that were, and are, and will be. It told of your coming, long before you came to this land. Will you ask a question of it now?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"It will answer you.\"\n\n\"There is no question I would ask it.\"\n\n\"It might tell you,\" Serret said in her soft voice, \"how you will defeat your enemy.\"\n\nGed stood mute.\n\n\"Do you fear the stone?\" she asked as if unbelieving; and he answered, \"Yes.\"\n\nIn the deadly cold and silence of the room encircled by wall after wall of spellwork and of stone, in the light of the one candle she held, Serret glanced at him again with gleaming eyes. \"Sparrowhawk,\" she said, \"you are not afraid.\"\n\n\"But I will not speak with that spirit,\" Ged replied, and looking full at her spoke with a grave boldness: \"My lady, that spirit is sealed in a stone, and the stone is locked by binding-spell and blinding-spell and charm of lock and ward and triple fortress-walls in a barren land, not because it is precious, but because it can work great evil. I do not know what they told you of it when you came here. But you who are young and gentle-hearted should never touch the thing, or even look on it. It will notwork you well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have touched it. I have spoken to it, and heard it speak. It does me no harm.\"\n\nShe turned away and they went out through the doors and passages till in the torchlight of the broad stairs of the tower she blew out her candle. They parted with few words.\n\nThat night Ged slept little. It was not the thought of the shadow that kept him awake; rather that thought was almost driven from his mind by the image, ever returning, of the Stone on which this tower was founded, and by the vision of Serret's face bright and shadowy in the candle-light, turned to him. Again and again he felt her eyes on him, and tried to decide what look had come into those eyes when he refused to touch the Stone, whether it had been disdain or hurt. When he lay down to sleep at last the silken sheets of the bed were cold as ice, and ever he wakened in the dark thinking of the Stone and of Serret's eyes.\n\nNext day he found her in the curving hall of grey marble, lit now by the westering sun, where often she spent the afternoon at games or at the weaving-loom with her maids. He said to her, \"Lady Serret, I affronted you. I am sorry for it.\"\n\n\"No,\" she said musingly, and again, \"No...\" She sent away the serving-women who were with her, and when they were alone she turned to Ged. \"My guest, my friend,\" she said, \"you are very clear-sighted, but perhaps you do not see all that is to be seen. In Gont, in Roke, they teach high wizardries. But they do not teach all wizardries. This is Osskil, Ravenland: it is not a Hardic land: mages do not rule it, nor do they know much of it. There are happenings here not dealt with by the loremasters of the South, and things here not named in the Namers' lists. What one does not know, one fears. But you have nothing to fear herein the Court of the Terrenon. A weaker man would, indeed. Not you. You are one born with the power to control that which is in the sealed room. This I know. It is why you are here now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I do not understand.\"\n\n\"That is because my lord Benderesk has not been wholly frank with you. I will be frank. Come, sit by me here.\"\n\nHe sat down beside heron the deep, cushioned window-ledge. The dying sunlight came level through the window, flooding them with a radiance in which there was no warmth; on the moorlands below, already sinking into shadow, last night's snow lay unmelted, a dull white pall over the earth.\n\nShe spoke now very softly. \"Benderesk is Lord and Inheritor of the Terrenon, but he cannot use the thing, he cannot make it wholly serve his will. Nor can I, alone or with him. Neither he nor I has the skill and power. You have both.\"\n\n\"How do you know that?\"\n\n\"From the Stone itself! I told you that it spoke of your coming. It knows its master. It has waited for you to come. Before ever you were born it waited for you, for the one who could master it. And he who can make the Terrenon answer what he asks and do what he wills, has power over his own destiny: strength to crush any enemy, mortal or of the other world: foresight, knowledge, wealth, dominion, and a wizardry at his command that could humble the Archmage himself! As much of that, as little of that as you choose, is yours for the asking.\"\n\nOnce more she lifted her strange bright eyes to him, and her gaze pierced him so that he trembled as if with cold. Yet there was fear in her face, as if she sought his help but was too proud to ask it. Ged was bewildered. She had put her hand on his as she spoke; its touch was light, it looked narrow and fair on his dark, strong hand. He said, pleading, \"Serret! I have no such power as you think-what I had once, I threw away. I cannot help you, I am no use to you. But I know this: the Old Powers of earth are not for men to use. They were never given into our hands, and in our hands they work only ruin. Ill means, ill end. I was not drawn here, but driven here, and the force that drove me works to my undoing. I cannot help you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He who throws away his power is filled sometimes with afar greater power,\" she said, smiling, as if his fears and scruples were childish ones. \"I may know more than you of what brought you here. Did not a man speak to you in the streets of Orrimy? He was a messenger, a servant of the Terrenon. He was a wizard once himself, but he threw away his staff to serve a power greater than any mage's. And you came to Osskil, and on the moors you tried to fight a shadow with your wooden staff; and almost we could not save you, for that thing that follows you is more cunning than we deemed, and had taken much strength from you already... Only shadow can fight shadow. Only darkness can defeat the dark. Listen, Sparrowhawk! what do you need, then, to defeat that shadow, which waits for you outside these walls?\"\n\n\"I need what I cannot know. Its name.\"\n\n\"The Terrenon, that knows all births and deaths and beings before and after death, the unborn and the undying, the bright world and the dark one, will tell you that name.\"\n\n\"And the price?\"\n\n\"There is no price. I tell you it will obey you, serve you as your slave.\"\n\nShaken and tormented, he did not answer. She held his hand now in both of hers, looking into his face. The sun had fallen into the mists that dulled the horizon, and the air too had grown dull, but her face grew bright with praise and triumph as she watched him and saw his will shaken within him. Softly she whispered, \"You will be mightier than all men, a king among men. You will rule, and I will rule with you-\"\n\nSuddenly Ged stood up, and one step forward took him where he could see, just around the curve of the long room's wall, beside the door, the Lord of the Terrenon who stood listening and smiling a little."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged's eyes cleared, and his mind. He looked down at Serret. \"It is light that defeats the dark,\" he said stammering,-\"light.\"\n\nAshe spoke he saw, as plainly as if his own words were the light that showed him, how indeed he had been drawn here, lured here, how they had used his fear to lead him on, and how they would, once they had him, have kept him. They had saved him from the shadow, indeed, for they did not want him to be possessed by the shadow until he had become a slave of the Stone. Once his will was captured by the power of the Stone, then they would let the shadow into the walls, fora gebbeth was a better slave even than a man. If he had once touched the Stone, or spoken to it, he would have been utterly lost. Yet, even as the shadow had not quite been able to catch up with him and seize him, so the Stone had not been able to use him-not quite. He had almost yielded, but not quite. He had not consented. It is very hard for evil to take hold of the unconsenting soul.\n\nHe stood between the two who had yielded, who had consented, looking from one to the other as Benderesk came forward.\n\n\"I told you,\" the Lord of the Terrenon said dry-voiced to his lady, \"that he would slip from your hands, Serret. They are clever fools, your Gontish sorcerers. And you area fool too, woman of Gont, thinking to trick both him and me, and rule us both by your beauty, and use the Terrenon to your own ends. But I am the Lord of the Stone, I, and this I do to the disloyal wife: Ekavroe ai oelwantar-\" It was a spell of Changing, and Benderesk's long hands were raised to shape the cowering woman into some hideous thing, swine or dog or driveling hag. Ged stepped forward and struck the lord's hands down with his own, saying as he did so only one short word. And though he had no staff, and stood on alien ground and evil ground, the domain of a dark power, yet his will prevailed. Benderesk stood still, his clouded eyes fixed hateful and unseeing upon Serret."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come,\" she said in a shaking voice, \"Sparrowhawk, come, quick, before he can summon the Servants of the Stone-\"\n\nAs if in echo a whispering ran through the tower, through the stones of the floor and walls, a dry trembling murmur, as if the earth itself should speak.\n\nSeizing Ged's hand Serret ran with him through the passages and halls, down the long twisted stairs. They came out into the courtyard where a last silvery daylight still hung above the soiled, trodden snow. Three of the castle-servants barred their way, sullen and questioning, as if they had been suspecting some plot of these two against their master. \"It grows dark, Lady,\" one said, and another, \"You cannot ride out now.\"\n\n\"Out of my way, filth!\" Serret cried, and spoke in the sibilant Osskilian speech. The men fell back from her and crouched down to the ground, writhing, and one of them screamed aloud.\n\n\"We must go out by the gate, there is no other way out. Can you see it? can you find it, Sparrowhawk?\"\n\nShe tugged at his hand, yet he hesitated. \"What spell did you set on them?\"\n\n\"Iran hot lead in the marrow of their bones, they will die of it. Quick, I tell you, he will loose the Servants of the Stone, and I cannot find the gate-there is a great charm on it. Quick!\"\n\nGed did not know what she meant, for to him the enchanted gate was as plain to see as the stone archway of the court through which he saw it. He led Serret through the one, across the untrodden snow of the forecourt, and then, speaking a word of Opening, he led her through the gate of the wall of spells."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She changed as they passed through that doorway out of the silvery twilight of the Court of the Terrenon."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was not less beautiful in the drear light of the moors, but there was a fierce witch-look to her beauty; and Ged knew her at last-the daughter of the Lord of the Re Albi, daughter of a sorceress of Osskil, who had mocked him in the green meadows above Ogion's house, long ago, and had sent him to read that spell which loosed the shadow. But he spent small thought on this, for he was looking about him now with every sense alert, looking for that enemy, the shadow, which would be waiting for him somewhere outside the magic walls. It might be gebbeth still, clothed in Skiorh's death, or it might be hidden in the gathering darkness, waiting to seize him and merge its shapelessness with his living flesh. He sensed its nearness, yet did not see it. But as he looked he saw some small dark thing half buried in snow, a few paces from the gate. He stooped, and then softly picked it up in his two hands. It was the otak, its fine short fur all clogged with blood and its small body light and stiff and cold in his hands.\n\n\"Change yourself! Change yourself, they are coming!\" Serret shrieked, seizing his arm and pointing to the tower that stood behind them like a tall white tooth in the dusk. From slit windows near its base dark creatures were creeping forth, flapping long wings, slowly beating and circling up over the walls towards Ged and Serret where they stood on the hillside, unprotected. The rattling whisper they had heard inside the keep had grown louder, a tremor and moaning in the earth under their feet.\n\nAnger welled up in Ged's heart, a hot rage of hate against all the cruel deathly things that tricked him, trapped him, hunted him down. \"Change yourself!\" Serret screamed at him, and she with a quick-gasped spell shrank into a grey gull, and flew. But Ged stooped and plucked a blade of wild grass that poked up dry and frail out of the snow where the otak had lain dead. This blade he held up, and as he spoke aloud to it in the True Speech it lengthened, and thickened, and when he was done he held a great staff, a wizard's staff, in his hand. No banefire burned red along it when the black, flapping creatures from the Court of the Terrenon swooped over him and he struck their wings with it: it blazed only with the white magefire that does not burn but drives away the dark."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The creatures returned to the attack: botched beasts, belonging to ages before bird or dragon or man, long since forgotten by the daylight but recalled by the ancient, malign, unforgetful power of the Stone. They harried Ged, swooping at him. He felt the scythe-sweep of their talons about him and sickened in their dead stench. Fiercely he parried and struck, fighting them off with the fiery staff that was made of his anger and a blade of wild grass. And suddenly they all rose up like ravens frightened from carrion and wheeled away, flapping, silent, in the direction that Serret in her gull-shape had flown. Their vast wings seemed slow, but they flew fast, each downbeat driving them mightily through the air. No gull could long outmatch that heavy speed.\n\nQuick as he had once done at Roke, Ged took the shape of a great hawk: not the sparrowhawk they called him but the Pilgrim Falcon that flies like an arrow, like thought. On barred, sharp, strong wings he flew, pursuing his pursuers. The air darkened and among the clouds stars shone brightening. Ahead he saw the black ragged flock all driving down and in upon one point in mid-air. Beyond that black clot the sea lay, pale with the last ashy gleam of day. Swift and straight the hawk-Ged shot towards the creatures of the Stone, and they scattered as he came amongst them as waterdrops scatter from a cast pebble. But they had caught their prey. Blood was on the beak of this one and white feathers stuck to the claws of another, and no gull skimmed beyond them over the pallid sea.\n\nAlready they were turning on Ged again, coming quick and ungainly with iron beaks stretched out agape. He, wheeling once above them, screamed the hawk's scream of defiant rage, and then shot on across the low beaches of Osskil, out over the breakers of the sea."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The creatures of the Stone circled awhile croaking, and one by one beat back ponderously inland over the moors. The Old Powers will not crossover the sea, being bound each to an isle, a certain place, cave or stone or welling spring. Back went the black emanations to the tower-keep, where maybe the Lord of the Terrenon, Benderesk, wept at their return, and maybe laughed. But Ged went on, falcon-winged, falcon-mad, like an unfalling arrow, like an unforgotten thought, over the Osskil Sea and eastward into the wind of winter and the night.\n\n---\n\nOGION THE SILENT HAD COME home late to Re Albi from his autumn wanderings. More silent, more solitary than ever he had become as the years went on. The new Lord of Gont down in the city below had never got a word out of him, though he had climbed clear up to the Falcon's Nest to seek the help of the mage in a certain piratic venture towards the Andrades. Ogion who spoke to spiders on their webs and had been seen to greet trees courteously never said a word to the Lord of the Isle, who went away discontented. There was perhaps some discontent or unease also in Ogion's mind, for he had spent all summer and autumn alone upon the mountain, and only now near Sunreturn was comeback to his hearthside.\n\nThe morning after his return he rose late, and wanting a cup of rushwash tea he went out to fetch water from the spring that ran a little way down the hillside from his house. The margins of the spring's small lively pool were frozen, and the sere moss among the rocks was traced with flowers of frost. It was broad daylight, but the sun would not clear the mighty shoulder of the mountain for an hour yet: all western Gont, from sea-beaches to the peak, was sunless, silent, and clear in the winter morning. As the mage stood by the spring looking out over the falling lands and the harbor and the grey distances of the sea, wings beat above him. He looked up, raising one arm a little. A great hawk came down with loud-beating wings and lighted on his wrist. Like a trained hunting-bird it clung there, but it wore no broken leash, no band or bell. The claws dug hard in Ogion's wrist; the barred wings trembled; the round, gold eye was dull and wild."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are you messenger or message?\" Ogion said gently to the hawk. \"Come on with me-\" Ashe spoke the hawk looked at him. Ogion was silent a minute. \"I named you once, I think,\" he said, and then strode to his house and entered, bearing the bird still on his wrist. He made the hawk stand on the hearth in the fire's heat, and offered it water. It would not drink. Then Ogion began to lay a spell, very quietly, weaving the web of magic with his hands more than with words. When the spell was whole and woven he said softly,-\"Ged,\"-not looking at the falcon on the hearth. He waited some while, then turned, and got up, and went to the young man who stood trembling and dull-eyed before the fire.\n\nGed was richly and outlandishly dressed in fur and silk and silver, but the clothes were torn and stiff with sea-salt, and he stood gaunt and stooped, his hair lank about his scarred face.\n\nOgion took the soiled, princely cloak off his shoulders, led him to the alcove-room where his prentice once had slept and made him lie down on the pallet there, and so with a murmured sleep-charm left him. He had said no word to him, knowing that Ged had no human speech in him now.\n\nAs a boy, Ogion like all boys had thought it would be a very pleasant game to take by art-magic whatever shape one liked, manor beast, tree or cloud, and so to play at a thousand beings. But as a wizard he had learned the price of the game, which is the peril of losing one's self, playing away the truth. The longer a man stays in a form not his own, the greater this peril. Every prentice-sorcerer learns the tale of the wizard Bordger of Way, who delighted in taking bear's shape, and did so more and more often until the bear grew in him and the man died away, and he became a bear, and killed his own little son in the forests, and was hunted down and slain. And no one knows how many of the dolphins that leap in the waters of the Inmost Sea were men once, wise men, who forgot their wisdom and their name in the joy of the restless sea."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged had taken hawk-shape in fierce distress and rage, and when he flew from Osskil there had been but one thought in his mind: to outfly both Stone and shadow, to escape the cold treacherous lands, to go home. The falcon's anger and wildness were like his own, and had become his own, and his will to fly had become the falcon's will. Thus he had passed over Enlad, stooping down to drink at a lonely forest pool, but on the wing again at once, driven by fear of the shadow that came behind him. So he had crossed the great sea-lane called the Jaws of Enlad, and gone on and on, east by south, the hills of Oranéa faint to his right and the hills of Andrad fainter to his left, and before him only the sea; until at last, ahead, there rose up out of the waves one unchanging wave, towering always higher, the white peak of Gont. In all the sunlight and the dark of that great flight he had worn the falcon's wings, and looked through the falcon's eyes, and forgetting his own thoughts he had known at last only what the falcon knows: hunger, the wind, the way he flies.\n\nHe flew to the right haven. There were few on Roke and only one on Gont who could have made him back into a man.\n\nHe was savage and silent when he woke. Ogion never spoke to him, but gave him meat and water and let him sit hunched by the fire, grim as a great, weary, sulking hawk. When night came he slept. On the third morning he came into the fireside where the mage sat gazing at the flames, and said, \"Master...\"\n\n\"Welcome, lad,\" said Ogion."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have comeback to you as I left: a fool,\" the young man said, his voice harsh and thickened. The mage smiled a little and motioned Ged to sit across the hearth from him, and set to brewing them some tea.\n\nSnow was falling, the first of the winter hereon the lower slopes of Gont. Ogion's windows were shuttered fast, but they could hear the wet snow as it fell soft on the roof, and the deep stillness of snow all about the house. Along time they sat thereby the fire, and Ged told his old master the tale of the years since he had sailed from Gont aboard the ship called Shadow. Ogion asked no questions, and when Ged was done he kept silent fora longtime, calm, pondering. Then he rose, and set out bread and cheese and wine on the table, and they ate together. When they had done and had set the room straight, Ogion spoke.\n\n\"Those are bitter scars you bear, lad,\" he said.\n\n\"I have no strength against the thing,\" Ged answered.\n\nOgion shook his head but said no more fora time. At length, \"Strange,\" he said: \"You had strength enough to outspell a sorcerer in his own domain, therein Osskil. You had strength enough to withstand the lures and fend off the attack of the servants of an Old Power of Earth. And at Pendor you had strength enough to stand up to a dragon.\"\n\n\"It was luck I had in Osskil, not strength,\" Ged replied, and he shivered again as he thought of the dreamlike deathly cold of the Court of the Terrenon. \"As for the dragon, I knew his name. The evil thing, the shadow that hunts me, has no name.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"All things have a name,\" said Ogion, so certainly that Ged dared not repeat what the Archmage Gensher had told him, that such evil forces as he had loosed were nameless. The Dragon of Pendor, indeed, had offered to tell him the shadow's name, but he put little trust in the truth of that offer, nor did he believe Serret's promise that the Stone would tell him what he needed to know.\n\n\"If the shadow has a name,\" he said at last, \"I do not think it will stop and tell it tome...\"\n\n\"No,\" said Ogion. \"Nor have you stopped and told it your name. And yet it knew it. On the moors in Osskil it called you by your name, the name I gave you. It is strange, strange...\"\n\nHe fell to brooding again. At last Ged said, \"I came here for counsel, not for refuge, Master. I will not bring this shadow upon you, and it will soon be here if I stay. Once you drove it from this very room-\"\n\n\"No; that was but the foreboding of it, the shadow of a shadow. I could not drive it forth, now. Only you could do that.\"\n\n\"But I am powerless before it. Is there anyplace...\" His voice died away before he had asked the question.\n\n\"There is no safe place,\" Ogion said gently. \"Do not transform yourself again, Ged. The shadow seeks to destroy your true being. It nearly did so, driving you into hawk's being. No, where you should go, I do not know. Yet I have an idea of what you should do. It is a hard thing to say to you.\"\n\nGed's silence demanded truth, and Ogion said at last, \"You must turnaround.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Turnaround?\"\n\n\"If you go ahead, if you keep running, wherever you run you will meet danger and evil, for it drives you, it chooses the way you go. You must choose. You must seek what seeks you. You must hunt the hunter.\"\n\nGed said nothing.\n\n\"At the spring of the River Ar I named you,\" the mage said, \"a stream that falls from the mountain to the sea. A man would know the end he goes to, but he cannot know it if he does not turn, and return to his beginning, and hold that beginning in his being. If he would not be a stick whirled and whelmed in the stream, he must be the stream itself, all of it, from its spring to its sinking in the sea. You returned to Gont, you returned tome, Ged. Now turn clear round, and seek the very source, and that which lies before the source. There lies your hope of strength.\"\n\n\"There, Master?\" Ged said with terror in his voice-\"Where?\"\n\nOgion did not answer.\n\n\"If I turn,\" Ged said after sometime had gone by, \"if as you say I hunt the hunter, I think the hunt will not belong. All its desire is to meet me face to face. And twice it has done so, and twice defeated me.\"\n\n\"Third time is the charm,\" said Ogion.\n\nGed paced the room up and down, from fireside to door, from door to fireside. \"And if it defeats me wholly,\" he said, arguing perhaps with Ogion, perhaps with himself, \"it will take my knowledge and my power, and use them. It threatens only me, now. But if it enters into me and possesses me, it will work great evil through me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That is true. If it defeats you.\"\n\n\"Yet if I run again, it will as surely find me again... And all my strength is spent in the running.\" Ged paced on awhile, and then suddenly turned, and kneeling down before the mage he said, \"I have walked with great wizards and have lived on the Isle of the Wise, but you are my true master, Ogion.\" He spoke with love, and with a somber joy.\n\n\"Good,\" said Ogion. \"Now you know it. Better now than never. But you will be my master, in the end.\" He got up, and built up the fire to a good blaze, and hung the kettle over it to boil, and then pulling on his sheepskin coat said, \"I must go look after my goats. Watch the kettle for me, lad.\"\n\nWhen he came back in, all snow-powdered and stamping snow from his goatskin boots, he carried along, rough shaft of yew-wood. All the end of the short afternoon, and again after their supper, he sat working by lampfire on the shaft with knife and rubbing-stone and spell-craft. Many times he passed his hands along the wood as if seeking any flaw. Often as he worked he sang softly. Ged, still weary, listened, and as he grew sleepy he thought himself a child in the witch's hut in Ten Alders village, on a snowy night in the firelit dark, the air heavy with herb-scent and smoke, and his mind all adrift on dreams as he listened to the long soft singing of spells and deeds of heroes who fought against dark powers and won, or lost, on distant islands long ago.\n\n\"There,\" said Ogion, and handed the finished staff to him. \"The Archmage gave you yew-wood, a good choice and I kept to it. I meant the shaft fora long-bow, but it's better this way. Goodnight, my son.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As Ged, who found no words to thank him, turned away to his alcove-room, Ogion watched him and said, too soft for Ged to hear, \"O my young falcon, fly well!\"\n\nIn the cold dawn when Ogion woke, Ged was gone. Only he had left in wizardly fashion a message of silver-scrawled runes on the hearthstone, that faded even as Ogion read them: \"Master, I go hunting.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "GED HAD SET OFF DOWN the road from Re Albi in the winter dark before sunrise, and before noon he came to the Port of Gont. Ogion had given him decent Gontish leggings and shirt and vest of leather and linen to replace his Osskilian finery, but Ged had kept for his winter journey the lordly cloak lined with pellawi-fur. So cloaked, empty-handed but for the dark staff that matched his height, he came to the Land Gate, and the soldiers lounging against the carven dragons there did not have to look twice at him to seethe wizard. They drew aside their lances and let him enter without question, and watched him as he went on down the street.\n\nOn the quays and in the House of the Sea-Guild he asked of ships that might be going out north or west to Enlad, Andrad, Oranéa. All answered him that no ship would be leaving Gont Port now, so near Sunreturn, and at the Sea-Guild they told him that even fishingboats were not going out through the Armed Cliffs in the untrusty weather.\n\nThey offered him dinner at the buttery therein the Sea-Guild; a wizard seldom has to ask for his dinner. He sat awhile with those longshoremen, shipwrights, and weatherworkers, taking pleasure in their slow, sparse conversation, their grumbling Gontish speech. There was a great wish in him to stay hereon Gont, and forgoing all wizardry and venture, forgetting all power and horror, to live in peace like any man on the known, dear ground of his homeland. That was his wish; but his will was other. He did not stay long in the Sea-Guild, nor in the city, after he found there would be no ships out of port. He set out walking along the bay shore till he came to the first of the small villages that lie north of the City of Gont, and there he asked among the fishermen till he found one that had a boat to sell."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fisherman was a dour old man. His boat, twelve foot long and clinker-built, was so warped and sprung as to be scarce seaworthy, yet he asked a high price for her: the spell of sea-safety fora year laid on his own boat, himself, and his son. For Gontish fishermen fear nothing, not even wizards, only the sea.\n\nThat spell of sea-safety which they set much store by in the Northern Archipelago never saved a man from storm-wind or storm-wave, but, cast by one who knows the local seas and the ways of a boat and the skills of the sailor, it weaves some daily safety about the fisherman. Ged made the charm well and honestly, working on it all that night and the next day, omitting nothing, sure and patient, though all the while his mind was strained with fear and his thoughts went on dark paths seeking to imagine how the shadow would appear to him next, and how soon, and where. When the spell was made whole and cast, he was very weary. He slept that night in the fisherman's hut in a whale-gut hammock, and got up at dawn smelling like a dried herring, and went down to the cove under Cutnorth Cliff where his new boat lay.\n\nHe pushed it into the quiet water by the landing, and water began to well softly into it at once. Stepping into the boat light as a cat Ged set straight the warped boards and rotten pegs, working both with tools and incantations, as he had used to do with Pechvarry in Low Torning. The people of the village gathered in silence, not too close, to watch his quick hands and listen to his soft voice. This job too he did well and patiently until it was done and the boat was sealed and sound. Then he setup his staff that Ogion had made him fora mast, stayed it with spells, and fixed across it a yard of sound wood. Downward from this yard he wove on the wind's loom a sail of spells, a square sail white as the snows on Gont peak above. At this the women watching sighed with envy. Then standing by the mast Ged raised up the magewind lightly. The boat moved out upon the water, turning towards the Armed Cliffs across the great bay. When the silent watching fishermen saw that leaky rowboat slip out under sail as quick and neat as a sandpiper taking wing, then they raised a cheer, grinning and stamping in the cold wind on the beach; and Ged looking back a moment saw them there cheering him on, under the dark jagged bulk of Cutnorth Cliff, above which the snowy fields of the Mountain rose up into cloud."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He sailed across the bay and out between the Armed Cliffs onto the Gontish Sea, there setting his course northwestwards to pass north of Oranéa, returning as he had come. He had no plan or strategy in this but the retracing of his course. Following his falcon-flight across the days and winds from Osskil, the shadow might wander or might come straight, there was no telling. But unless it had withdrawn again wholly into the dream-realm, it should not miss Ged coming openly, over open sea, to meet it.\n\nOn the sea he wished to meet it, if meet it he must. He was not sure why this was, yet he had a terror of meeting the thing again on dry land. Out of the sea there rise storms and monsters, but no evil powers: evil is of earth. And there is no sea, no running of river or spring, in the dark land where once Ged had gone. Death is the dry place. Though the sea itself was a danger to him in the hard weather of the season, that danger and change and instability seemed to him a defense and chance. And when he met the shadow in this final end of his folly, he thought, maybe at least he could grip the thing even as it gripped him, and drag it with the weight of his body and the weight of his own death down into the darkness of the deep sea, from which, so held, it might not rise again. So at least his death would put an end to the evil he had loosed by living.\n\nHe sailed a rough chopping sea above which clouds drooped and drifted in vast mournful veils. He raised no magewind now but used the world's wind, which blew keen from the northwest; and so long as he maintained the substance of his spell-woven sail often with a whispered word, the sail itself set and turned itself to catch the wind. Had he not used that magic he would have been hard put to keep the crank little boat on such a course, on that rough sea. On he went, and kept keen lookout on all sides. The fisherman's wife had given him two loaves of bread and ajar of water, and after some hours, when he was first insight of Kameber Rock, the only isle between Gont and Oranéa, he ate and drank, and thought gratefully of the silent Gontishwoman who had given him the food. On past the dim glimpse of land he sailed, tacking more westerly now, in a faint dank drizzle that overland might be alight snow. There was no sound at all but the small creaking of the boat and light slap of waves on her bow. No boat or bird went by. Nothing moved but the ever-moving water and the drifting clouds, the clouds that he remembered dimly as flowing all about him as he, a falcon, flew east on this same course he now followed to the west; and he had looked down on the grey sea then as now he looked up at the grey air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nothing was ahead when he looked around. He stood up, chilled, weary of this gazing and peering into empty murk. \"Come then,\" he muttered, \"come on, what do you wait for, Shadow?\" There was no answer, no darker motion among the dark mists and waves. Yet he knew more and more surely now that the thing was not far off, seeking blindly down his cold trail. And all at once he shouted out aloud, \"I am here, I Ged the Sparrowhawk, and I summon my shadow!\"\n\nThe boat creaked, the waves lisped, the wind hissed a little on the white sail. The moments went by. Still Ged waited, one hand on the yew-wood mast of his boat, staring into the icy drizzle that slowly drove in ragged lines across the sea from the north. The moments went by. Then, far off in the rain over the water, he saw the shadow coming.\n\nIt had done with the body of the Osskilian oarsman Skiorh, and not as gebbeth did it follow him through the winds and oversea. Nor did it wear that beast-shape in which he had seen it on Roke Knoll, and in his dreams. Yet it had a shape now, even in the daylight. In its pursuit of Ged and in its struggle with him on the moors it had drawn power from him, sucking it into itself: and it maybe that his summoning of it, aloud in the light of day, had given to it or forced upon it some form and semblance. Certainly it had now some likeness to a man, though being shadow it cast no shadow. So it came over the sea, out of the Jaws of Enlad towards Gont, a dim ill-made thing pacing uneasy on the waves, peering down the wind as it came; and the cold rain blew through it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Because it was half blinded by the day, and because he had called it, Ged saw it before it saw him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He knew it, as it knew him, among all beings, all shadows.\n\nIn the terrible solitude of the winter sea Ged stood and saw the thing he feared. The wind seemed to blow it farther from the boat, and the waves ran under it bewildering his eye, and ever and again it seemed closer to him. He could not tell if it moved or not. It had seen him, now. Though there was nothing in his mind but horror and fear of its touch, the cold black pain that drained his life away, yet he waited, unmoving. Then all at once speaking aloud he called the magewind strong and sudden into his white sail, and his boat leapt across the grey waves straight at the lowering thing that hung upon the wind.\n\nIn utter silence the shadow, wavering, turned and fled.\n\nUpwind it went, northward. Upwind Ged's boat followed, shadow-speed against mage-craft, the rainy gale against them both. And the young man yelled to his boat, to the sail and the wind and the waves ahead, as a hunter yells to his hounds when the wolf runs in plain sight before them, and he brought into that spell-woven sail a wind that would have split any sail of cloth and that drove his boat over the sea like a scud of blown foam, closer always to the thing that fled.\n\nNow the shadow turned, making a half-circle, and appearing all at once more loose and dim, less like a man, more like mere smoke blowing on the wind, it doubled back and ran downwind with the gale, as if it made for Gont.\n\nWith hand and spell Ged turned his boat, and it leaped like a dolphin from the water, rolling, in that quick turn. Faster than before he followed, but the shadow grew ever fainter to his eyes. Rain, mixed with sleet and snow, came stinging across his back and his left cheek, and he could not see more than a hundred yards ahead. Before long, as the storm grew heavier, the shadow was lost to sight. Yet Ged was sure of its track as if he followed a beast's track over snow, instead of a wraith fleeing over water. Though the wind blew his way now he held the singing magewind in the sail, and flake-foam shot from the boat's blunt prow, and she slapped the water as she went."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fora longtime hunted and hunter held their weird, fleet course, and the day was darkening fast. Ged knew that at the great pace he had gone these past hours he must be south of Gont, heading past it towards Spevy or Torheven, or even past these islands out into the open Reach. He could not tell. He did not care. He hunted, he followed, and fear ran before him.\n\nAll at once he saw the shadow fora moment not far from him. The world's wind had been sinking, and the driving sleet of the storm had given way to a chill, ragged, thickening mist. Through this mist he glimpsed the shadow, fleeing somewhat to the right of his course. He spoke to wind and sail and turned the tiller and pursued, though again it was a blind pursuit: the fog thickened fast, boiling and tattering where it met with the spellwind, closing down all round the boat, a featureless pallor that deadened light and sight. Even as Ged spoke the first word of a clearing-charm, he saw the shadow again, still to the right of his course but very near, and going slowly. The fog blew through the faceless vagueness of its head, yet it was shaped like a man, only deformed and changing, like a man's shadow. Ged veered the boat once more, thinking he had run his enemy to ground: in that instant it vanished, and it was his boat that ran aground, smashing upon shoal rocks that the blowing mist had hidden from his sight. He was pitched nearly out, but grabbed hold on the mast-staff before the next breaker struck. This was a great wave, which threw the little boat up out of water and brought her down on a rock, as a man might lift up and crush a snail's shell."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Stout and wizardly was the staff Ogion had shaped. It did not break, and buoyant as a dry log it rode the water. Still grasping it Ged was pulled back as the breakers streamed back from the shoal, so that he was in deep water and saved, till the next wave, from battering on the rocks. Salt-blinded and choked, he tried to keep his head up and to fight the enormous pull of the sea. There was sand beach a little aside of the rocks, he glimpsed this a couple of times as he tried to swim free of the rising of the next breaker. With all his strength and with the staff's power aiding him he struggled to make for that beach. He got no nearer. The surge and recoil of the swells tossed him back and forth like a rag, and the cold of the deep sea drew warmth fast from his body, weakening him till he could not move his arms. He had lost sight of rocks and beach alike, and did not know what way he faced. There was only a tumult of water around him, under him, over him, blinding him, strangling him, drowning him.\n\nA wave swelling in under the ragged fog took him and rolled him over and over and flung him up like a stick of driftwood on the sand.\n\nThere he lay. He still clutched the yew-wood staff with both hands. Lesser waves dragged at him, trying to tug him back down the sand in their outgoing rush, and the mist parted and closed above him, and later a sleety rain beat on him.\n\nAfter along time he moved. He got upon hands and knees, and began slowly crawling up the beach, away from the water's edge. It was black night now, but he whispered to the staff, and a little werelight clung about it. With this to guide him he struggled forward, little by little, up toward the dunes. He was so beaten and broken and cold that this crawling through the wet sand in the whistling, sea-thundering dark was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. And once or twice it seemed to him that the great noise of the sea and the wind all died away and the wet sand turned to dust under his hands, and he felt the unmoving gaze of strange stars on his back: but he did not lift his head, and he crawled on, and after awhile he heard his own gasping breath, and felt the bitter wind beat the rain against his face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The moving brought a little warmth back into him at last, and after he had crept up into the dunes, where the gusts of rainy wind came less hard, he managed to getup on his feet. He spoke a stronger light out of the staff, for the world was utterly black, and then leaning on the staff he went on, stumbling and halting, half a mile or so inland. Then on the rise of a dune he heard the sea, louder again, not behind him but in front: the dunes sloped down again to another shore. This was no island he was on but a mere reef, a bit of sand in the midst of the ocean.\n\nHe was too worn out to despair, but he gave a kind of sob and stood there, bewildered, leaning on his staff, fora longtime. Then doggedly he turned to the left, so the wind would beat his back at least, and shuffled down the high dune, seeking some hollow among the ice-rimed, bowing sea-grass where he could have a little shelter. Ashe held up the staff to see what lay before him, he caught a dull gleam at the farthest edge of the circle of werelight: a wall of rain-wet wood.\n\nIt was a hut or shed, small and rickety as if a child had built it. Ged knocked on the low door with his staff. It remained shut. Ged pushed it open and entered, stooping nearly double to do so. He could not stand up straight inside the hut. Coals lay red in the firepit, and by their dim glow Ged saw a man with white, longhair, who crouched in terror against the far wall, and another, manor woman he could not tell, peering from a heap of rags or hides on the floor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I won't hurt you,\" Ged whispered.\n\nThey said nothing. He looked from one to the other. Their eyes were blank with terror. When he laid down his staff, the one under the pile of rags hid whimpering. Ged took off his cloak that was heavy with water and ice, stripped naked and huddled over the firepit. \"Give me something to wrap myself in,\" he said. He was hoarse, and could hardly speak for the chattering of his teeth and the long shudders that shook him. If they heard him, neither of the old ones answered. He reached out and took a rag from the bed-heap-a goat-hide, it might have been years ago, but it was now all tatters and black grease. The one under the bed-heap moaned with fear, but Ged paid no heed. He rubbed himself dry and then whispered, \"Have you wood? Buildup the fire a little, old man. I come to you in need, I mean you no harm.\"\n\nThe old man did not move, watching him in a stupor of fear.\n\n\"Do you understand me? Do you speak no Hardic?\" Ged paused, and then asked, \"Kargad?\"\n\nAt that word, the old man nodded all at once, one nod, like a sad old puppet on strings. But as it was the only word Ged knew of the Kargish language, it was the end of their conversation. He found wood piled by one wall, built up the fire himself, and then with gestures asked for water, for swallowing sea-water had sickened him and now he was parched with thirst. Cringing, the old man pointed to a great shell that held water, and pushed towards the fire another shell in which were strips of smoke-dried fish. So, cross-legged close by the fire, Ged drank, and ate a little, and as some strength and sense began to comeback into him, he wondered where he was. Even with the magewind he could not have sailed clear to the Kargad Lands. This islet must be out in the Reach, east of Gont but still west of Karego-At. It seemed strange that people dwelt on so small and forlorn a place, a mere sandbar; maybe they were castaways; but he was too weary to puzzle his head about them then."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: fantasy, coming of age, magic\nAuthor: Ursula K. Le Guin\nTitle: A Wizard of Earthsea\nChapter: 11"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I won't hurt you,\" Ged whispered.\n\nThey said nothing. He looked from one to the other. Their eyes were blank with terror. When he laid down his staff, the one under the pile of rags hid whimpering. Ged took off his cloak that was heavy with water and ice, stripped naked and huddled over the firepit. \"Give me something to wrap myself in,\" he said. He was hoarse, and could hardly speak for the chattering of his teeth and the long shudders that shook him. If they heard him, neither of the old ones answered. He reached out and took a rag from the bed-heap-a goat-hide, it might have been years ago, but it was now all tatters and black grease. The one under the bed-heap moaned with fear, but Ged paid no heed. He rubbed himself dry and then whispered, \"Have you wood? Buildup the fire a little, old man. I come to you in need, I mean you no harm.\"\n\nThe old man did not move, watching him in a stupor of fear.\n\n\"Do you understand me? Do you speak no Hardic?\" Ged paused, and then asked, \"Kargad?\"\n\nAt that word, the old man nodded all at once, one nod, like a sad old puppet on strings. But as it was the only word Ged knew of the Kargish language, it was the end of their conversation. He found wood piled by one wall, built up the fire himself, and then with gestures asked for water, for swallowing sea-water had sickened him and now he was parched with thirst. Cringing, the old man pointed to a great shell that held water, and pushed towards the fire another shell in which were strips of smoke-dried fish. So, cross-legged close by the fire, Ged drank, and ate a little, and as some strength and sense began to comeback into him, he wondered where he was. Even with the magewind he could not have sailed clear to the Kargad Lands. This islet must be out in the Reach, east of Gont but still west of Karego-At. It seemed strange that people dwelt on so small and forlorn a place, a mere sandbar; maybe they were castaways; but he was too weary to puzzle his head about them then."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He kept turning his cloak to the heat. The silvery pellawi-fur dried fast, and as soon as the wool of the facing was at least warm, if not dry, he wrapped himself in it and stretched out by the firepit. \"Go to sleep, poor folk,\" he said to his silent hosts, and laid his head down on the floor of sand, and slept.\n\nThree nights he spent on the nameless isle, for the first morning when he woke he was sore in every muscle and feverish and sick. He lay like a log of driftwood in the hut by the firepit all that day and night. The next morning he woke still stiff and sore, but recovered. He put back on his salt-crusted clothes, for there was not enough water to wash them, and going out into the grey windy morning looked over this place whereto the shadow had tricked him.\n\nIt was a rocky sandbar a mile wide at its widest and a little longer than that, fringed all about with shoals and rocks. No tree or bush grew on it, no plant but the bowing sea-grass. The hut stood in a hollow of the dunes, and the old man and woman lived there alone in the utter desolation of the empty sea. The hut was built, or piled up rather, of driftwood planks and branches. Their water came from a little brackish well beside the hut; their food was fish and shellfish, fresh or dried, and rockweed. The tattered hides in the hut, and a little store of bone needles and fishhooks, and the sinew for fishlines and firedrill, came not from goats as Ged had thought at first, but from spotted seal; and indeed this was the kind of place where the seal will go to raise their pups in summer. But no one else comes to such a place. The old ones feared Ged not because they thought him a spirit, and not because he was a wizard, but only because he was a man. They had forgotten that there were other people in the world."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The old man's sullen dread never lessened."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he thought Ged was coming close enough to touch him, he would hobble away, peering back with a scowl around his bush of dirty white hair. At first the old woman had whimpered and hidden under her rag-pile whenever Ged moved, but as he had lain dozing feverishly in the dark hut, he saw her squatting to stare at him with a strange, dull, yearning look; and after awhile she had brought him water to drink. When he sat up to take the shell from her she was scared and dropped it, spilling all the water, and then she wept, and wiped her eyes with her long whitish-grey hair.\n\nNow she watched him as he worked down on the beach, shaping driftwood and planks from his boat that had washed ashore into anew boat, using the old man's crude stone adze and a binding-spell. This was neither a repair nor a boat-building, for he had not enough proper wood, and must supply all his wants with pure wizardry. Yet the old woman did not watch his marvelous work so much as she watched him, with that same craving look in her eyes. After awhile she went off, and came back presently with a gift: a handful of mussels she had gathered on the rocks. Ged ate them as she gave them to him, sea-wet and raw, and thanked her. Seeming to gain courage, she went to the hut and came back with something again in her hands, a bundle wrapped up in a rag. Timidly, watching his face all the while, she unwrapped the thing and held it up for him to see.\n\nIt was a little child's dress of silk brocade stiff with seed-pearls, stained with salt, yellow with years. On the small bodice the pearls were worked in a shape Ged knew: the double arrow of the God-Brothers of the Kargad Empire, surmounted by a king's crown."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old woman, wrinkled, dirty, clothed in an ill-sewn sack of sealskin, pointed at the little silken dress and at herself, and smiled: a sweet, unmeaning smile, like a baby's. From some hidingplace sewn in the skirt of the dress she took a small object, and this was held out to Ged. It was a bit of dark metal, apiece of broken jewelry perhaps, the half-circle of a broken ring. Ged looked at it, but she gestured that he take it, and was not satisfied until he took it; then she nodded and smiled again; she had made him a present. But the dress she wrapped up carefully in its greasy rag-coverings, and she shuffled back to the hut to hide the lovely thing away.\n\nGed put the broken ring into his tunic-pocket with almost the same care, for his heart was full of pity. He guessed now that these two might be children of some royal house of the Kargad Empire; a tyrant or usurper who feared to shed kingly blood had sent them to be castaway, to live or die, on an uncharted islet far from Karego-At. One had been a boy of eight or ten, maybe, and the other a stout baby princess in a dress of silk and pearls; and they had lived, and lived on alone, forty years, fifty years, on a rock in the ocean, prince and princess of Desolation.\n\nBut the truth of this guess he did not learn until, years later, the quest of the Ring of Erreth-Akbe led him to the Kargad Lands, and to the Tombs of Atuan.\n\nHis third night on the isle lightened to a calm, pale sunrise. It was the day of Sunreturn, the shortest day of the year. His little boat of wood and magic, scraps and spells, was ready. He had tried to tell the old ones that he would take them to any land, Gont or Spevy or the Torikles; he would have left them even on some lonely shore of Karego-At, had they asked it of him, though Kargish waters were no safe place for an Archipelagan to venture. But they would not leave their barren isle. The old woman seemed not to understand what he meant with his gestures and quiet words; the old man did understand, and refused. All his memory of other lands and other men was a child's nightmare of blood and giants and screaming: Ged could see that in his face, as he shook his head and shook his head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So Ged that morning filled up a sealskin pouch with water at the well, and since he could not thank the old ones for their fire and food, and had no present for the old woman as he would have liked, he did what he could, and set a charm on that salty unreliable spring. The water rose up through the sand as sweet and clear as any mountain spring in the heights of Gont, nor did it ever fail. Because of it, that place of dunes and rocks is charted now and bears a name; sailors call it Springwater Isle. But the hut is gone, and the storms of many winters have left no sign of the two who lived out their lives there and died alone.\n\nThey kept hidden in the hut, as if they feared to watch, when Ged ran his boat out from the sandy south end of the isle. He let the world's wind, steady from the north, fill his sail of spell-cloth, and went speedily forth over the sea.\n\nNow this sea-quest of Ged's was a strange matter, for as he well knew, he was a hunter who knew neither what the thing was that he hunted, nor wherein all Earthsea it might be. He must hunt it by guess, by hunch, by luck, even as it had hunted him. Each was blind to the other's being, Ged as baffled by impalpable shadows as the shadow was baffled by daylight and by solid things. One certainty only Ged had: that he was indeed the hunter now and not the hunted. For the shadow, having tricked him onto the rocks, might have had him at its mercy all the while he lay half-dead on the shore and blundered in darkness in the stormy dunes; but it had not waited for that chance. It had tricked him and fled away at once, not daring now to face him. In this he saw that Ogion had been right: the shadow could not draw on his power, so long as he was turned against it. So he must keep against it, keep after it, though its track was cold across these wide seas, and he had nothing at all to guide him but the luck of the world's wind blowing southward, and a dim guess or notion in his mind that south or east was the right way to follow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Before nightfall he saw away off on his left hand the long, faint shoreline of a great land, which must be Karego-At."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was in the very sea-roads of those white barbaric folk. He kept a sharp watch out for any Kargish longship or galley; and he remembered, as he sailed through red evening, that morning of his boyhood in Ten Alders village, the plumed warriors, the fire, the mist. And thinking of that day he saw all at once, with a qualm at his heart, how the shadow had tricked him with his own trick, bringing that mist about him on the sea as if bringing it out of his own past, blinding him to danger and fooling him to his death.\n\nHe kept his course to the southeast, and the land sank out of sight as night came over the eastern edge of the world. The hollows of the waves all were full of darkness while the crests shone yet with a clear ruddy reflection of the west. Ged sang aloud the Winter Carol, and such cantos of the Deed of the Young King as he remembered, for those songs are sung at the Festival of Sunreturn. His voice was clear, but it fell to nothing in the vast silence of the sea. Darkness came quickly, and the winter stars.\n\nAll that longest night of the year he waked, watching the stars rise upon his left hand and wheel overhead and sink into far black waters on the right, while always the long wind of winter bore him southward over an unseen sea. He could sleep for only a moment now and then, with a sharp awakening. This boat he sailed was in truth no boat but a thing more than half charm and sorcery, and the rest of it mere planks and driftwood which, if he let slack the shaping-spells and the binding-spell upon them, would soon enough lapse and scatter and go drifting off as a little flotsam on the waves. The sail too, woven of magic and the air, would not long stay against the wind if he slept, but would turn to a puff of wind itself. Ged's spells were cogent and potent, but when the matter on which such spells works is small, the power that keeps them working must be renewed from moment to moment: so he slept not that night. He would have gone easier and swifter as falcon or dolphin, but Ogion had advised him not to change his shape, and he knew the value of Ogion's advice. So he sailed southward under the west-going stars, and the long night passed slowly, until the first day of the new year brightened all the sea."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Soon after the sun rose he saw land ahead, but he was making little way towards it. The world's wind had dropped with daybreak. He raised alight magewind into his sail, to drive him towards that land. At the sight of it, fear had come into him again, the sinking dread that urged him to turn away, to runaway. And he followed that fear as a hunter follows the signs, the broad, blunt, clawed tracks of the bear, that may at any moment turn on him from the thickets. For he was close now: he knew it.\n\nIt was a queer-looking land that loomed up over the sea as he drew nearer and nearer. What had from afar seemed to be one sheer mountainwall was split into several long steep ridges, separate isles perhaps, between which the sea ran in narrow sounds or channels. Ged had pored over many charts and maps in the Tower of the Master Namer on Roke, but those had been mostly of the Archipelago and the inner seas. He was out in the East Reach now, and did not know what this island might be. Nor had he much thought for that. It was fear that lay ahead of him, that lurked hiding from him or waiting for him among the slopes and forests of the island, and straight for it he steered.\n\nNow the dark forest-crowned cliffs gloomed and towered high over his boat, and spray from the waves that broke against the rocky headlands blew spattering against his sail, as the magewind bore him between two great capes into a sound, a sea-lane that ran on before him deep into the island, no wider than the length of two galleys. The sea, confined, was restless and fretted at the steep shores. There were no beaches, for the cliffs dropped straight down into the water that lay darkened by the cold reflection of their heights. It was windless, and very silent."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The shadow had tricked him out onto the moors in Osskil, and tricked him in the mist onto the rocks, and now would there be a third trick? Had he driven the thing here, or had it drawn him here, into a trap? He did not know. He knew only the torment of dread, and the certainty that he must go ahead and do what he had set out to do: hunt down the evil, follow his terror to its source. Very cautiously he steered, watching before him and behind him and up and down the cliffs on either hand. He had left the sunlight of the new day behind him on the open sea. All was dark here. The opening between the headlands seemed a remote, bright gateway when he glanced back. The cliffs loomed higher and ever higher overhead as he approached the mountain-root from which they sprang, and the lane of water grew narrower. He peered ahead into the dark cleft, and left and right up the great, cavern-pocked, boulder-tumbled slopes where trees crouched with their roots half in air. Nothing moved. Now he was coming to the end of the inlet, a high blank wrinkled mass of rock against which, narrowed to the width of a little creek, the last sea-waves lapped feebly. Fallen boulders and rotten trunks and the roots of gnarled trees left only a tight way to steer. A trap: a dark trap under the roots of the silent mountain, and he was in the trap. Nothing moved before him or above him. All was deathly still. He could go no further.\n\nHe turned the boat around, working her carefully round with spell and with makeshift oar lest she knock up against the underwater rocks or be entangled in the outreaching roots and branches, till she faced outward again; and he was about to raise up a wind to take him back as he had come, when suddenly the words of the spell froze on his lips, and his heart went cold within him. He looked back over his shoulder. The shadow stood behind him in the boat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Had he lost one instant, he had been lost; but he was ready, and lunged to seize and hold the thing which wavered and trembled there within arm's reach. No wizardry would serve him now, but only his own flesh, his life itself, against the unliving. He spoke no word, but attacked, and the boat plunged and pitched from his sudden turn and lunge. And a pain ran up his arms into his breast, taking away his breath, and an icy cold filled him, and he was blinded: yet in his hands that seized the shadow there was nothing-darkness, air.\n\nHe stumbled forward, catching the mast to stay his fall, and light came shooting back into his eyes. He saw the shadow shudder away from him and shrink together, then stretch hugely up over him, over the sail, for an instant. Then like black smoke on the wind it recoiled and fled, formless, down the water towards the bright gate between the cliffs.\n\nGed sank to his knees. The little spell-patched boat pitched again, rocked itself to stillness, drifting on the uneasy waves. He crouched in it, numb, unthinking, struggling to draw breath, until at last cold water welling under his hands warned him that he must see to his boat, for the spells binding it were growing weak. He stood up, holding onto the staff that made the mast, and rewove the binding-spell as best he could. He was chilled and weary; his hands and arms ached sorely, and there was no power in him. He wished he might lie down therein that dark place where sea and mountain met and sleep, sleep on the restless rocking water.\n\nHe could not tell if this weariness were a sorcery laid on him by the shadow as it fled, or came of the bitter coldness of its touch, or was from mere hunger and want of sleep and expense of strength; but he struggled against it, forcing himself to raise up alight magewind into the sail and follow down the dark seaway where the shadow had fled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All terror was gone. All joy was gone. It was a chase no longer. He was neither hunted nor hunter, now. For the third time they had met and touched: he had of his own will turned to the shadow, seeking to hold it with living hands. He had not held it, but he had forged between them a bond, a link that had no breaking-point. There was no need to hunt the thing down, to track it, nor would its flight avail it. Neither could escape. When they had come to the time and place for their last meeting, they would meet.\n\nBut until that time, and elsewhere than that place, there would never be any rest or peace for Ged, day or night, on earth or sea. He knew now, and the knowledge was hard, that his task had never been to undo what he had done, but to finish what he had begun.\n\nHe sailed out from between the dark cliffs, and on the sea was broad, bright morning, with a fair wind blowing from the north.\n\nHe drank what water he had left in the sealskin pouch, and steered around the westernmost headland until he came into a wide strait between it and a second island lying to the west. Then he knew the place, calling to mind sea-charts of the East Reach. These were the Hands, a pair of lonely isles that reach their mountain-fingers northward toward the Kargad Lands. He sailed on between the two, and as the afternoon darkened with storm-clouds coming up from the north he came to shore, on the southern coast of the west isle. He had seen there was a little village there, above the beach where a stream came tumbling down to the sea, and he cared little what welcome he got if he could have water, fire's warmth, and sleep."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The villagers were rough shy people, awed by a wizard's staff, wary of a strange face, but hospitable to one who came alone, oversea, before a storm. They gave him meat and drink in plenty, and the comfort of firelight and the comfort of human voices speaking his own Hardic tongue, and last and best they gave him hot water to wash the cold and saltness of the sea from him, and abed where he could sleep."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "GED SPENT THREE DAYS IN that village of the West Hand, recovering himself, and making ready a boat built not of spells and sea-wrack but of sound wood well pegged and caulked, with a stout mast and sail of her own, that he might sail easily and sleep when he needed. Like most boats of the North and the Reaches she was clinker-built, with planks overlapped and clenched one upon the other for strength in the high seas; every part of her was sturdy and well-made. Ged reinforced her wood with deep-in-woven charms, for he thought he might go far in that boat. She was built to carry two or three men, and the old man who owned her said that he and his brothers had been through high seas and foul weather with her and she had ridden all gallantly.\n\nUnlike the shrewd fisherman of Gont, this old man, for fear and wonder of his wizardry, would have given the boat to Ged. But Ged paid him for it in sorcerers' kind, healing his eyes of the cataracts that were in the way of blinding him. Then the old man, rejoicing, said to him, \"We called the boat Sanderling, but do you call her Lookfar, and paint eyes aside her prow, and my thanks will lookout of that blind wood for you and keep you from rock and reef. For I had forgotten how much light there is in the world, till you gave it back tome.\"\n\nOther works Ged also did in his days in that village under the steep forests of the Hand, as his power came back into him. These were such people as he had known as a boy in the Northward Vale of Gont, though poorer even than those. With them he was at home, as he would never be in the courts of the wealthy, and he knew their bitter wants without having to ask. So he laid charms of heal and ward on children who were lame or sickly, and spells of increase on the villagers'scrawny flocks of goats and sheep; he set the rune Simn on the spindles and looms, the boat's oars and tools of bronze and stone they brought him, that these might do their work well; and the rune Pirr he wrote on the rooftrees of the huts, which protects the house and its folk from fire, wind, and madness."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When his boat Lookfar was ready and well stocked with water and dried fish, he stayed yet one more day in the village, to teach to their young chanter the Deed of Morred and the Havnorian Lay. Very seldom did any Archipelagan ship touch at the Hands: songs made a hundred years ago were news to those villagers, and they craved to hear of heroes. Had Ged been free of what was laid on him he would gladly have stayed there a week or a month to sing them what he knew, that the great songs might be known on anew isle. But he was not free, and the next morning he set sail, going straight south over the wide seas of the Reach. For southward the shadow had gone. He need cast no finding-charm to know this: he knew it, as certainly as if a fine unreeling cord bound him and it together, no matter what miles and seas and lands might lie between. So he went certain, unhurried, and unhopeful on the way he must go, and the wind of winter bore him to the south.\n\nHe sailed a day and a night over the lonesome sea, and on the second day he came to a small isle, which they told him was called Vemish. The people in the little port looked at him askance, and soon their sorcerer came hurrying. He looked hard at Ged, and then he bowed, and said in a voice that was both pompous and wheedling, \"Lord Wizard! forgive my temerity, and honor us by accepting of us anything you may need for your voyage-food, drink, sailcloth, rope,-my daughter is fetching to your boat at this momenta brace of fresh-roasted hens-I think it prudent, however, that you continue on your way from here as soon as it meets your convenience to do so. The people are in some dismay. For not long ago, the day before yesterday, a person was seen crossing our humble isle afoot from north to south, and no boat was seen to come with him aboard it nor no boat was seen to leave with him aboard it, and it did not seem that he cast any shadow. Those who saw this person tell me that he bore some likeness to yourself.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At that, Ged bowed his own head, and turned and went back to the docks of Vemish and sailed out, not looking back. There was no profit in frightening the islanders or making an enemy of their sorcerer. He would rather sleep at sea again, and think over this news the sorcerer had told him, for he was sorely puzzled by it.\n\nThe day ended, and the night passed with cold rain whispering over the sea all through the dark hours, and a grey dawn. Still the mild north wind carried Lookfar on. Afternoon the rain and mist blew off, and the sun shone from time to time; and late in the day Ged saw right athwart his course the low blue hills of a great island, brightened by that drifting winter sunlight. The smoke of hearthfires lingered blue over the slate roofs of little towns among those hills, a pleasant sight in the vast sameness of the sea.\n\nGed followed a fishing-fleet into their port, and going up the streets of the town in the golden winter evening he found an inn called The Harrekki, where firelight and ale and roast ribs of mutton warmed him body and soul. At the tables of the inn there were a couple of other voyagers, traders of the East Reach, but most of the men were townsfolk come therefor good ale, news, and conversation. They were not rough timid people like the fisher-folk of the Hands, but true townsmen, alert and sedate. Surely they knew Ged fora wizard, but nothing at all was said of it, except that the innkeeper in talking (and he was a talkative man) mentioned that this town, Ismay, was fortunate in sharing with other towns of the island the inestimable treasure of an accomplished wizard trained at the School on Roke, who had been given his staff by the Archmage himself, and who, though out of town at the moment, dwelt in his ancestral home right in Ismay itself, which, therefore, stood in no need of any other practitioner of the High Arts. \"As they say, two staffs in one town must come to blows, isn't it so, Sir?\" said the innkeeper, smiling and full of cheer. So Ged was informed that as journeyman-wizard, one seeking a livelihood from sorcery, he was not wanted here. Thus he had got a blunt dismissal from Vemish and a bland one from Ismay, and he wondered at what he had been told about the kindly ways of the East Reach. This isle was Iffish, where his friend Vetch had been born. It did not seem so hospitable a place as Vetch had said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And yet he saw that they were, indeed, kindly faces enough."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was only that they sensed what he knew to be true: that he was set apart from them, cutoff from them, that he bore a doom upon him and followed after a dark thing. He was like a cold wind blowing through the firelit room, like a blackbird carried by on a storm from foreign lands. The sooner he went on, taking his evil destiny with him, the better for these folk.\n\n\"I am on quest,\" he said to the innkeeper. \"I will be here only a night or two.\" His tone was bleak. The innkeeper, with a glance at the great yew-staff in the corner, said nothing at all for once, but filled up Ged's cup with brown ale till the foam ran over the top.\n\nGed knew that he should spend only the one night in Ismay. There was no welcome for him there, or anywhere. He must go where he was bound. But he was sick of the cold empty sea and the silence where no voice spoke to him. He told himself he would spend one day in Ismay, and on the morrow go. So he slept late; when he woke alight snow was falling, and he idled about the lanes and byways of the town to watch the people busy at their doings. He watched children bundled in fur capes playing at snow-castle and building snowmen; he heard gossips chatting across the street from open doors, and watched the bronze-smith at work with a little lad red-faced and sweating to pump the long bellows-sleeves at the smelting pit; through windows lit with a dim ruddy gold from within as the short day darkened he saw women at their looms, turning a moment to speak or smile to child or husband therein the warmth within the house. Ged saw all these things from outside and apart, alone, and his heart was very heavy in him, though he would not admit to himself that he was sad. As night fell he still lingered in the streets, reluctant to go back to the inn. He heard a man and a girl talking together merrily as they came down the street past him towards the town square, and all at once he turned, for he knew the man's voice."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He followed and caught up with the pair, coming up beside them in the late twilight lit only by distant lantern-gleams. The girl stepped back, but the man stared at him and then flung up the staff he carried, holding it between them as a barrier toward off the threat or act of evil. And that was somewhat more than Ged could bear. His voice shook a little as he said, \"I thought you would know me, Vetch.\"\n\nEven then Vetch hesitated fora moment.\n\n\"I do know you,\" he said, and lowered the staff and took Ged's hand and hugged him round the shoulders-\"I do know you! Welcome, my friend, welcome! What a sorry greeting I gave you, as if you were a ghost coming up from behind-and I have waited for you to come, and looked for you-\"\n\n\"So you are the wizard they boast of in Ismay? I wondered-\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I'm their wizard; but listen, let me tell you why I didn't know you, lad. Maybe I've looked too hard for you. Three days ago-were you here three days ago, on Iffish?\"\n\n\"I came yesterday.\"\n\n\"Three days ago, in the street in Quor, the village up therein the hills, I saw you. That is, I saw a presentment of you, or an imitation of you, or maybe simply a man who looks like you. He was ahead of me, going out of town, and he turned a bend in the road even as I saw him. I called and got no answer, I followed and found no one; nor any tracks; but the ground was frozen. It was a queer thing, and now seeing you come up out of the shadows like that I thought I was tricked again. I am sorry, Ged!\" He spoke Ged's true name softly, so that the girl who stood waiting a little way behind him would not hear it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ged also spoke low, to use his friend's true name: \"No matter, Estarriol."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But this is myself, and I am glad to see you...\"\n\nVetch heard, perhaps, something more than simple gladness in his voice. He had not yet let goof Ged's shoulder, and he said now, in the True Speech, \"In trouble and from darkness you come, Ged, yet your coming is joy tome.\" Then he went on in his Reach-accented Hardic, \"Come on, come home with us, we're going home, it's time to get in out of the dark!-This is my sister, the youngest of us, prettier than I am as you see, but much less clever: Yarrow she's called. Yarrow, this is the Sparrowhawk, the best of us and my friend.\"\n\n\"Lord Wizard,\" the girl greeted him, and decorously she bobbed her head and hid her eyes with her hands to show respect, as women did in the East Reach; her eyes when not hidden were clear, shy, and curious. She was perhaps fourteen years old, dark like her brother, but very slight and slender. On her sleeve there clung, winged and taloned, a dragon no longer than her hand.\n\nThey set off down the dusky street together, and Ged remarked as they went along, \"In Gont they say Gontish women are brave, but I never saw a maiden there wear a dragon fora bracelet.\"\n\nThis made Yarrow laugh, and she answered him straight, \"This is only a harrekki, have you no harrekki on Gont?\" Then she got shy fora moment and hid her eyes.\n\n\"No, nor no dragons. Is not the creature a dragon?\"\n\n\"A little one, that lives in oak trees, and eats wasps and worms and sparrows' eggs-it grows no greater than this. Oh, Sir, my brother has told me often of the pet you had, the wild thing, the otak-do you have it still?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No. No longer.\"\n\nVetch turned to him as if with a question, but he held his tongue and asked nothing till much later, when the two of them sat alone over the stone firepit of Vetch's house.\n\nThough he was the chief wizard in the whole island of Iffish, Vetch made his home in Ismay, this small town where he had been born, living with his youngest brother and sister. His father had been a sea-trader of some means, and the house was spacious and strong-beamed, with much homely wealth of pottery and fine weaving and vessels of bronze and brass on carven shelves and chests. A great Taonian harp stood in one corner of the main room, and Yarrow's tapestry-loom in another, its tall frame inlaid with ivory. There Vetch for all his plain quiet ways was both a powerful wizard and a lord in his own house. There were a couple of old servants, prospering along with the house, and the brother, a cheerful lad, and Yarrow, quick and silent as a little fish, who served the two friends their supper and ate with them, listening to their talk, and afterwards slipped off to her own room. All things here were well-founded, peaceful, and assured; and Ged looking about him at the firelit room said, \"This is how a man should live,\" and sighed.\n\n\"Well, it's one good way,\" said Vetch. \"There are others. Now, lad, tell me if you can what things have come to you and gone from you since we last spoke, two years ago. And tell me what journey you are on, since I see well that you won't stay long with us this time.\"\n\nGed told him, and when he was done Vetch sat pondering fora long while. Then he said, \"I'll go with you, Ged.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No.\"\n\n\"I think I will.\"\n\n\"No, Estarriol. This is no task or bane of yours. I began this evil course alone, I will finish it alone, I do not want any other to suffer from it-you least of all, you who tried to keep my hand from the evil act in the very beginning, Estarriol-\"\n\n\"Pride was ever your mind's master,\" his friend said smiling, as if they talked of a matter of small concern to either. \"Now think: it is your quest, assuredly, but if the quest fails, should there not be another there who might bear warning to the Archipelago? For the shadow would be a fearful power then. And if you defeat the thing, should there not be another there who will tell of it in the Archipelago, that the Deed maybe known and sung? I know I can be of no use to you; yet I think I should go with you.\"\n\nSo entreated Ged could not deny his friend, but he said, \"I should not have stayed this day here. I knew it, but I stayed.\"\n\n\"Wizards do not meet by chance, lad,\" said Vetch. \"And after all, as you said yourself, I was with you at the beginning of your journey. It is right that I should follow you to its end.\" He put new wood on the fire, and they sat gazing into the flames awhile.\n\n\"There is one I have not heard of since that night on Roke Knoll, and I had no heart to ask any at the School of him: Jasper, I mean.\"\n\n\"He never won his staff. He left Roke that same summer, and went to the Island of O to be sorcerer in the Lord's household at O-tokne. I know no more of him than that.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Again they were silent, watching the fire and enjoying (since it was a bitter night) the warmth on their legs and faces as they sat on the broad coping of the firepit, their feet almost among the coals.\n\nGed said at last, speaking low, \"There is a thing that I fear, Estarriol. I fear it more if you are with me when I go. Therein the Hands in the dead end of the inlet I turned upon the shadow, it was within my hands' reach, and I seized it-I tried to seize it. And there was nothing I could hold. I could not defeat it. It fled, I followed. But that may happen again, and yet again. I have no power over the thing. There maybe neither death nor triumph to end this quest; nothing to sing of; no end. It maybe I must spend my life running from sea to sea and land to land on an endless vain venture, a shadow-quest.\"\n\n\"Avert!\" said Vetch, turning his left hand in the gesture that turns aside the ill chance spoken of. For all his somber thoughts this made Ged grin a little, for it is rather a child's charm than a wizard's; there was always such village innocence in Vetch. Yet also he was keen, shrewd, direct to the center of a thing. He said now, \"That is a grim thought and I trust a false one. I guess rather that what I saw begin, I may see end. Somehow you will learn its nature, its being, what it is, and so hold and bind and vanquish it. Though that is a hard question: what is it... There is a thing that worries me, I do not understand it. It seems the shadow now goes in your shape, or a kind of likeness of you at least, as they saw it on Vemish and as I saw it herein Iffish. How may that be, and why, and why did it never do so in the Archipelago?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They say, Rules change in the Reaches.\"\n\n\"Aye, a true saying, I can tell you. There are good spells I learned on Roke that have no power here, or go all awry; and also there are spells worked here I never learned on Roke. Every land has its own powers, and the farther one goes from the Inner Lands, the less one can guess about those powers and their governance. But I do not think it is only that which works this change in the shadow.\"\n\n\"Nor do I. I think that, when I ceased to flee from it and turned against it, that turning of my will upon it gave it shape and form, even though the same act prevented it from taking my strength from me. All my acts have their echo in it; it is my creature.\"\n\n\"In Osskil it named you, and so stopped any wizardry you might have used against it. Why did it not do so again, therein the Hands?\"\n\n\"I do not know. Perhaps it is only from my weakness that it draws the strength to speak. Almost with my own tongue it speaks: for how did it know my name? How did it know my name? I have racked my brains on that overall the seas since I left Gont, and I cannot seethe answer. Maybe it cannot speak at all in its own form or formlessness, but only with borrowed tongue, as a gebbeth. I do not know.\"\n\n\"Then you must beware meeting it in gebbeth-form a second time.\"\n\n\"I think,\" Ged replied, stretching out his hands to the red coals as if he felt an inward chill, \"I think I will not. It is bound tome now as I am to it. It cannot get so far free of meas to seize any other man and empty him of will and being, as it did Skiorh. It can possess me. If ever I weaken again, and try to escape from it, to break the bond, it will possess me. And yet, when I held it with all the strength I had, it became mere vapor, and escaped from me... And so it will again, and yet it cannot really escape, for I can always find it. I am bound to the foul cruel thing, and will be forever, unless I can learn the word that masters it: its name.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brooding his friend asked, \"Are there names in the dark realms?\"\n\n\"Gensher the Archmage said there are not. My master Ogion said otherwise.\"\n\n\"Infinite are the arguments of mages,\" Vetch quoted, with a smile that was somewhat grim.\n\n\"She who served the Old Power on Osskil swore that the Stone would tell me the shadow's name, but that I count for little. However there was also a dragon, who offered to trade that name for his own, to be rid of me; and I have thought that, where mages argue, dragons maybe wise.\"\n\n\"Wise, but unkind. But what dragon is this? You did not tell me you had been talking with dragons since I saw you last.\"\n\nThey talked together late that night, and though always they came back to the bitter matter of what lay before Ged, yet their pleasure in being together overrode all; for the love between them was strong and steadfast, unshaken by time or chance. In the morning Ged woke beneath his friend's roof, and while he was still drowsy he felt such wellbeing as if he were in someplace wholly defended from evil and harm. All daylong a little of this dream-peace clung to his thoughts, and he took it, not as a good omen, but as a gift. It seemed likely to him that leaving this house he would leave the last haven he was to know, and so while the short dream lasted he would be happy in it.\n\nHaving affairs he must see to before he left Iffish, Vetch went off to other villages of the island with the lad who served him as prentice-sorcerer. Ged stayed with Yarrow and her brother, called Murre, who was between her and Vetch in age. He seemed not much more than a boy, for there was no gift or scourge of mage-power in him, and he had never been anywhere but Iffish, Tok, and Holp, and his life was easy and untroubled. Ged watched him with wonder and some envy, and exactly so he watched Ged: to each it seemed very queer that the other, so different, yet was his own age, nineteen years. Ged marveled how one who had lived nineteen years could be so carefree. Admiring Murre's comely, cheerful face he felt himself to be all lank and harsh, never guessing that Murre envied him even the scars that scored his face, and thought them the track of a dragon's claws and the very rune and sign of a hero."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The two young men were thus somewhat shy with each other, but as for Yarrow she soon lost her awe of Ged, being in her own house and mistress of it. He was very gentle with her, and many were the questions she asked of him, for Vetch, she said, would never tell her anything. She kept busy those two days making dry wheatcakes for the voyagers to carry, and wrapping up dried fish and meat and other such provender to stock their boat, until Ged told her to stop, for he did not plan to sail clear to Selidor without a halt.\n\n\"Where is Selidor?\"\n\n\"Very far out in the Western Reach, where dragons areas common as mice.\"\n\n\"Best stay in the East then, our dragons areas small as mice. There's your meat, then; you're sure that's enough? Listen, I don't understand: you and my brother both are mighty wizards, you wave your hand and mutter and the thing is done. Why do you get hungry, then? When it comes suppertime at sea, why not say, Meat-pie! and the meat-pie appears, and you eat it?\"\n\n\"Well, we could do so. But we don't much wish to eat our words, as they say. Meat-pie! is only a word, after all... We can make it odorous, and savorous, and even filling, but it remains a word. It fools the stomach and gives no strength to the hungry man.\"\n\n\"Wizards, then, are not cooks,\" said Murre, who was sitting across the kitchen hearth from Ged, carving a box-lid of fine wood; he was a woodworker by trade, though not a very zealous one.\n\n\"Nor are cooks wizards, alas,\" said Yarrow on her knees to see if the last batch of cakes baking on the hearth-bricks was getting brown. \"But I still don't understand, Sparrowhawk. I have seen my brother, and even his prentice, make light in a dark place only by saying one word: and the light shines, it is bright, not a word but alight you can see your way by!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aye,\" Ged answered. \"Light is a power. A great power, by which we exist, but which exists beyond our needs, in itself. Sunlight and starlight are time, and time is light. In the sunlight, in the days and years, life is. Ina dark place life may call upon the light, naming it. But usually when you see a wizard name or call upon something, some object to appear, that is not the same, he calls upon no power greater than himself, and what appears is an illusion only. To summon a thing that is not thereat all, to call it by speaking its true name, that is a great mastery, not lightly used. Not for mere hunger's sake. Yarrow, your little dragon has stolen a cake.\"\n\nYarrow had listened so hard, gazing at Ged as he spoke, that she had not seen the harrekki scuttle down from its warm perch on the kettle-hook over the hearth and seize a wheatcake bigger than itself. She took the small scaly creature on her knee and fed it bits and crumbs, while she pondered what Ged had told her.\n\n\"So then you would not summon up areal meat-pie lest you disturb what my brother is always talking about-I forget its name-\"\n\n\"Equilibrium,\" Ged replied soberly, for she was very serious.\n\n\"Yes. But, when you were shipwrecked, you sailed from the place in a boat woven mostly of spells, and it didn't leak water. Was it illusion?\"\n\n\"Well, partly it was illusion, because I am uneasy seeing the sea through great holes in my boat, so I patched them for the looks of the thing. But the strength of the boat was not illusion, nor summoning, but made with another kind of art, a binding-spell. The wood was bound as one whole, one entire thing, a boat. What is a boat but a thing that doesn't leak water?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I've bailed some that do,\" said Murre.\n\n\"Well, mine leaked, too, unless I was constantly seeing to the spell.\" He bent down from his corner seat and took a cake from the bricks, and juggled it in his hands. \"I too have stolen a cake.\"\n\n\"You have burned fingers, then. And when you're starving on the wastewater between the far isles you'll think of that cake and say, Ah! had I not stolen that cake I might eat it now, alas!-I shall eat my brother's, so he can starve with you-\"\n\n\"Thus is Equilibrium maintained,\" Ged remarked, while she took and munched a hot, half-toasted cake; and this made her giggle and choke. But presently looking serious again she said, \"I wish I could truly understand what you tell me. I am too stupid.\"\n\n\"Little sister,\" Ged said, \"it is I that have no skill explaining. If we had more time-\"\n\n\"We will have more time,\" Yarrow said. \"When my brother comes back home, you will come with him, fora while at least, won't you?\"\n\n\"If I can,\" he answered gently.\n\nThere was a little pause; and Yarrow asked, watching the harrekki climb back to its perch, \"Tell me just this, if it is not a secret: what other great powers are there besides the light?\"\n\n\"It is no secret. All power is one in source and end, I think. Years and distances, stars and candles, water and wind and wizardry, the craft in a man's hand and the wisdom in a tree's root: they all arise together. My name, and yours, and the true name of the sun, or a spring of water, or an unborn child, all are syllables of the great word that is very slowly spoken by the shining of the stars. There is no other power. No other name.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Staying his knife on the carved wood, Murre asked, \"What of death?\"\n\nThe girl listened, her shining blackhead bent down.\n\n\"Fora word to bespoken,\" Ged answered slowly, \"there must be silence. Before, and after.\" Then all at once he got up, saying, \"I have no right to speak of these things. The word that was mine to say I said wrong. It is better that I keep still; I will not speak again. Maybe there is no true power but the dark.\" And he left the fireside and the warm kitchen, taking up his cloak and going out alone into the drizzling cold rain of winter in the streets.\n\n\"He is under a curse,\" Murre said, gazing somewhat fearfully after him.\n\n\"I think this voyage he is on leads him to his death,\" the girl said, \"and he fears that, yet he goes on.\" She lifted her head as if she watched, through the red flame of the fire, the course of a boat that came through the seas of winter alone, and went on out into empty seas. Then her eyes filled with tears a moment, but she said nothing.\n\nVetch came home the next day, and took his leave of the notables of Ismay, who were most unwilling to let him go off to sea in midwinter on a mortal quest not even his own; but though they might reproach him, there was nothing at all they could do to stop him. Growing weary of old men who nagged him, he said, \"I am yours, by parentage and custom and by duty undertaken towards you. I am your wizard. But it is time you recalled that, though I am a servant, I am not your servant. When I am free to comeback I will comeback: till then, farewell.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At daybreak, as grey light welled up in the east from the sea, the two young men set forth in Lookfar from the harbor of Ismay, raising a brown, strong-woven sail to the north wind. On the dock Yarrow stood and watched them go, as sailors' wives and sisters stand on all the shores of all Earthsea watching their men go out on the sea, and they do not wave or call aloud, but standstill in hooded cloak of grey or brown, thereon the shore that dwindles smaller and smaller from the boat while the water grows wide between."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "THE HAVEN NOW WAS SUNK from sight and Lookfar \"s painted eyes, wave-drenched, looked ahead on seas ever wider and more desolate. In two days and nights the companions made the crossing from Iffish to Soders Island, a hundred miles of foul weather and contrary winds. They stayed in port there only briefly, long enough to refill a waterskin, and to buy a tar-smeared sailcloth to protect some of their gear in the undecked boat from seawater and rain. They had not provided this earlier, because ordinarily a wizard looks after such small conveniences byway of spells, the very least and commonest kind of spells, and indeed it takes little more magic to freshen seawater and so save the bother of carrying freshwater. But Ged seemed most unwilling to use his craft, or to let Vetch use his. He said only, \"It's better not,\" and his friend did not ask or argue. For as the wind first filled their sail, both had felt a heavy foreboding, cold as that winter wind. Haven, harbor, peace, safety, all that was behind. They had turned away. They went now away in which all events were perilous, and no acts were meaningless. On the course on which they were embarked, the saying of the least spell might change chance and move the balance of power and of doom: for they went now toward the very center of that balance, toward the place where light and darkness meet. Those who travel thus say no word carelessly.\n\nSailing out again and coasting round the shores of Soders, where white snowfields faded up into foggy hills, Ged took the boat southward again, and now they entered waters where the great traders of the Archipelago never come, the outmost fringes of the Reach.\n\nVetch asked no question about their course, knowing that Ged did not choose it but went as he must go. As Soders Island grew small and pale behind them, and the waves hissed and smacked under the prow, and the great grey plain of water circled them all round clear to the edge of the sky, Ged asked, \"What lands lie ahead this course?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Due south of Soders there are no lands at all."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Southeast you go along way and find little: Pelimer, Kornay, Gosk, and Astowell which is also called Lastland. Beyond it, the Open Sea.\"\n\n\"What to the southwest?\"\n\n\"Rolameny, which is one of our East Reach isles, and some small islets roundabout it; then nothing till you enter the South Reach: Rood, and Toom, and the Isle of the Ear where men do not go.\"\n\n\"We may,\" Ged said wryly.\n\n\"I'd rather not,\" said Vetch. \"That is a disagreeable part of the world, they say, full of bones and portents. Sailors say that there are stars to be seen from the waters by the Isle of the Ear and Far Sorr that cannot be seen anywhere else, and that have never been named.\"\n\n\"Aye, there was a sailor on the ship that brought me first to Roke who spoke of that. And he told tales of the Raft-Folk in the far South Reach, who never come to land but once a year, to cut the great logs for their rafts, and the rest of the year, all the days and months, they drift on the currents of ocean, out of sight of any land. I'd like to see those raft-villages.\"\n\n\"I would not,\" said Vetch grinning. \"Give me land, and land-folk; the sea in its bed and I in mine...\"\n\n\"I wish I could have seen all the cities of the Archipelago,\" Ged said as he held the sail-rope, watching the wide grey wastes before them. \"Havnor at the world's heart, and Éa where the myths were born, and Shelieth of the Fountains on Way; all the cities and the great lands. And the small lands, the strange lands of the Outer Reaches, them too. To sail right down the Dragons\" Run, away in the west. Or to sail north into the ice-floes, clear to Hogen Land. Some say that is a land greater than all the Archipelago, and others say it is mere reefs and rocks with ice between. No one knows. I should like to seethe whales in the northern seas... But I cannot. I must go where I am bound to go, and turn my back on the bright shores. I was in too much haste, and now have no time left. I traded all the sunlight and the cities and the distant lands fora handful of power, fora shadow, for the dark.\" So, as the mage-born will, Ged made his fear and regret into a song, a brief lament, half-sung, that was not for himself alone; and his friend replying spoke the hero's words from the Deed of Erreth-Akbe, \"O may I seethe earth's bright hearth once more, the white towers of Havnor...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So they sailed on their narrow course over the wide forsaken waters."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The most they saw that day was a school of silver pannies swimming south, but never a dolphin leapt nor did the flight of gull or murre or tern break the grey air. As the east darkened and the west grew red, Vetch brought out food and divided it between them and said, \"Here's the last of the ale. I drink to the one who thought to put the keg aboard for thirsty men in cold weather: my sister Yarrow.\"\n\nAt that Ged left off his bleak thoughts and his gazing ahead over the sea, and he saluted Yarrow more earnestly, perhaps, than Vetch. The thought of her brought to his mind the sense of her wise and childish sweetness. She was not like any person he had known. (What young girl had he ever known at all? but he never thought of that.) \"She is like a little fish, a minnow, that swims in a clear creek,\" he said, \"-defenseless, yet you cannot catch her.\"\n\nAt this Vetch looked straight at him, smiling. \"You area mage born,\" he said. \"Her true name is Kest.\" In the Old Speech, kest is minnow, as Ged well knew; and this pleased him to the heart. But after awhile he said in a low voice, \"You should not have told me her name, maybe.\"\n\nBut Vetch, who had not done so lightly, said, \"Her name is safe with you as mine is. And, besides, you knew it without my telling you...\"\n\nRed sank to ashes in the west, and ash-grey sank to black. All the sea and sky were wholly dark. Ged stretched out in the bottom of the boat to sleep, wrapped in his cloak of wool and fur. Vetch, holding the sail-rope, sang softly from the Deed of Enlad, where the song tells how the mage Morred the White left Havnor in his oarless longship, and coming to the island Soléa saw Elfarran in the orchards in the spring. Ged slept before the song came to the sorry end of their love, Morred's death, the ruin of Enlad, the sea-waves, vast and bitter, whelming the orchards of Soléa. Towards midnight he woke, and watched again while Vetch slept. The little boat ran sharp over choppy seas, fleeing the strong wind that leaned on her sail, running blind through the night. But the overcast had broken, and before dawn the thin moon shining between brown-edged clouds shed a weak light on the sea."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The moon wanes to her dark,\" Vetch murmured, awake in the dawn, when fora while the cold wind dropped. Ged looked up at the white half-ring above the paling eastern waters, but said nothing. The dark of the moon that follows first after Sunreturn is called the Fallows, and is the contrary pole of the days of the Moon and the Long Dance in summer. It is an unlucky time for travelers and for the sick; children are not given their true name during the Fallows, and no Deeds are sung, nor swords nor edge-tools sharpened, nor oaths sworn. It is the dark axis of the year, when things done are ill done.\n\nThree days out from Soders they came, following sea-birds and shore-wrack, to Pelimer, a small isle humped high above the high grey seas. Its people spoke Hardic, but in their own fashion, strange even to Vetch's ears. The young men came ashore therefor freshwater and a respite from the sea, and at first were well received, with wonder and commotion. There was a sorcerer in the main town of the island, but he was mad. He would talk only of the great serpent that was eating at the foundations of Pelimer so that soon the island must go adrift like a boat cut from her moorings, and slide out over the edge of the world. At first he greeted the young wizards courteously, but as he talked about the serpent he began to look askance at Ged: and then he fell to railing at them therein the street, calling them spies and servants of the Sea-Snake. The Pelimerians looked dourly at them after that, since though mad he was their sorcerer. So Ged and Vetch made no long stay, but set forth again before nightfall, going always south and east."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In these days and nights of sailing Ged never spoke of the shadow, nor directly of his quest; and the nearest Vetch came to asking any question was (as they followed the same course farther and farther out and away from the known lands of Earthsea)-\"Are you sure?-\" To this Ged answered only, \"Is the iron sure where the magnet lies?\" Vetch nodded and they went on, no more being said by either. But from time to time they talked of the crafts and devices that mages of old days had used to find out the hidden name of baneful powers and beings: how Nereger of Paln had learned the Black Mage's name from overhearing the conversation of dragons, and how Morred had seen his enemy's name written by falling raindrops in the dust of the battlefield of the Plains of Enlad. They spoke of finding-spells, and invocations, and those Answerable Questions which only the Master Patterner of Roke can ask. But often Ged would end by murmuring words which Ogion had said to him on the shoulder of Gont Mountain in an autumn long ago: \"To hear, one must be silent...\" And he would fall silent, and ponder, hour by hour, always watching the sea ahead of the boat's way. Sometimes it seemed to Vetch that his friend saw, across the waves and miles and grey days yet to come, the thing they followed and the dark end of their voyage.\n\nThey passed between Kornay and Gosk in foul weather, seeing neither isle in the fog and rain, and knowing they had passed them only on the next day when they saw ahead of them an isle of pinnacled cliffs above which sea-gulls wheeled in huge flocks whose mewing clamor could be heard from far over the sea. Vetch said, \"That will be Astowell, from the look of it. Lastland. East and south of it the charts are empty.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yet they who live there may know of farther lands,\" Ged answered.\n\n\"Why do you say so?\" Vetch asked, for Ged had spoken uneasily; and his answer to this again was halting and strange. \"Not there,\" he said, gazing at Astowell ahead, and past it, or through it-\"Not there. Not on the sea. Not on the sea but on dry land: what land? Before the springs of the open sea, beyond the sources, behind the gates of daylight-\"\n\nThen he fell silent, and when he spoke again it was in an ordinary voice, as if he had been freed from a spell or a vision, and had no clear memory of it.\n\nThe port of Astowell, a creek-mouth between rocky heights, was on the northern shore of the isle, and all the huts of the town faced north and west; it was as if the island turned its face, though from so faraway, always towards Earthsea, towards mankind.\n\nExcitement and dismay attended the arrival of strangers, in a season when no boat had ever braved the seas round Astowell. The women all stayed in the wattle huts, peering out the door, hiding their children behind their skirts, drawing back fearfully into the darkness of the huts as the strangers came up from the beach. The men, lean fellows ill-clothed against the cold, gathered in a solemn circle about Vetch and Ged, and each one held a stone hand-axe or a knife of shell. But once their fear was past they made the strangers very welcome, and there was no end to their questions. Seldom did any ship come to them even from Soders or Rolameny, they having nothing to trade for bronze or fine wares; they had not even any wood. Their boats were coracles woven of reed, and it was a brave sailor who would go as far as Gosk or Kornay in such a craft. They dwelt all alone here at the edge of all the maps. They had no witch or sorcerer, and seemed not to recognize the young wizards' staffs for what they were, admiring them only for the precious stuff they were made of, wood. Their chief or Isle-Man was very old, and he alone of his people had ever before seen a man born in the Archipelago. Ged, therefore, was a marvel to them; the men brought their little sons to look at the Archipelagan, so they might remember him when they were old. They had never heard of Gont, only of Havnor and Éa, and took him fora Lord of Havnor. He did his best to answer their questions about the white city he had never seen. But he was restless as the evening wore on, and at last he asked the men of the village, as they sat crowded round the firepit in the lodgehouse in the reeking warmth of the goatdung and broom-faggots that were all their fuel, \"What lies eastward of your land?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were silent, some grinning others grim.\n\nThe old Isle-Man answered, \"The sea.\"\n\n\"There is no land beyond?\"\n\n\"This is Lastland. There is no land beyond. There is nothing but water till world's edge.\"\n\n\"These are wise men, father,\" said a younger man, \"seafarers, voyagers. Maybe they know of a land we do not know of.\"\n\n\"There is no land east of this land,\" said the old man, and he looked long at Ged, and spoke no more to him.\n\nThe companions slept that night in the smoky warmth of the lodge. Before daylight Ged roused his friend, whispering, \"Estarriol, wake. We cannot stay, we must go.\"\n\n\"Why so soon?\" Vetch asked, full of sleep.\n\n\"Not soon-late. I have followed too slow. It has found the way to escape me, and so doom me. It must not escape me, for I must follow it however far it goes. If I lose it I am lost.\"\n\n\"Where do we follow it?\"\n\n\"Eastward. Come. I filled the waterskins.\"\n\nSo they left the lodge before any in the village was awake, except a baby that cried a little in the darkness of some hut, and fell still again. By the vague starlight they found the way down to the creek-mouth, and untied Lookfar from the rock cairn where she had been made fast, and pushed her out into the black water. So they set out eastward from Astowell into the Open Sea, on the first day of the Fallows, before sunrise.\n\nThat day they had clear skies. The world's wind was cold and gusty from the northeast, but Ged had raised the magewind: the first act of magery he had done since he left the Isle of the Hands. They sailed very fast due eastward. The boat shuddered with the great, smoking, sunlit waves that hither as she ran, but she went gallantly as her builder had promised, answering the magewind as true as any spell-enwoven ship of Roke."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged spoke not at all that morning, except to renew the power of the wind-spell or to keep a charmed strength in the sail, and Vetch finished his sleep, though uneasily, in the stern of the boat. At noon they ate. Ged doled their food out sparingly, and the portent of this was plain, but both of them chewed their bit of salt fish and wheaten cake, and neither said anything.\n\nAll afternoon they cleaved eastward never turning nor slackening pace. Once Ged broke his silence, saying, \"Do you hold with those who think the world is all landless sea beyond the Outer Reaches, or with those who imagine other Archipelagoes or vast undiscovered lands on the other face of the world?\"\n\n\"At this time,\" said Vetch, \"I hold with those who think the world has but one face, and he who sails too far will falloff the edge of it.\"\n\nGed did not smile; there was no mirth left in him. \"Who knows what a man might meet, out there? Not we, who keep always to our coasts and shores.\"\n\n\"Some have sought to know, and have not returned. And no ship has ever come to us from lands we do not know.\"\n\nGed made no reply.\n\nAll that day, all that night they went driven by the powerful wind of magery over the great swells of ocean, eastward. Ged kept watch from dusk till dawn, for in darkness the force that drew or drove him grew stronger yet. Always he watched ahead, though his eyes in the moonless night could see no more than the painted eyes aside the boat's blind prow. By daybreak his dark face was grey with weariness, and he was so cramped with cold that he could hardly stretch out to rest. He said whispering, \"Hold the magewind from the west, Estarriol,\" and then he slept."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, coming of age, magic\nAuthor: Ursula K. Le Guin\nTitle: A Wizard of Earthsea\nChapter: 13"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged spoke not at all that morning, except to renew the power of the wind-spell or to keep a charmed strength in the sail, and Vetch finished his sleep, though uneasily, in the stern of the boat. At noon they ate. Ged doled their food out sparingly, and the portent of this was plain, but both of them chewed their bit of salt fish and wheaten cake, and neither said anything.\n\nAll afternoon they cleaved eastward never turning nor slackening pace. Once Ged broke his silence, saying, \"Do you hold with those who think the world is all landless sea beyond the Outer Reaches, or with those who imagine other Archipelagoes or vast undiscovered lands on the other face of the world?\"\n\n\"At this time,\" said Vetch, \"I hold with those who think the world has but one face, and he who sails too far will falloff the edge of it.\"\n\nGed did not smile; there was no mirth left in him. \"Who knows what a man might meet, out there? Not we, who keep always to our coasts and shores.\"\n\n\"Some have sought to know, and have not returned. And no ship has ever come to us from lands we do not know.\"\n\nGed made no reply.\n\nAll that day, all that night they went driven by the powerful wind of magery over the great swells of ocean, eastward. Ged kept watch from dusk till dawn, for in darkness the force that drew or drove him grew stronger yet. Always he watched ahead, though his eyes in the moonless night could see no more than the painted eyes aside the boat's blind prow. By daybreak his dark face was grey with weariness, and he was so cramped with cold that he could hardly stretch out to rest. He said whispering, \"Hold the magewind from the west, Estarriol,\" and then he slept."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no sunrise, and presently rain came beating across the bow from the northeast. It was no storm, only the long, cold winds and rains of winter. Soon all things in the open boat were wet through, despite the sailcloth cover they had bought; and Vetch felt as if he too were soaked clear to the bone; and Ged shivered in his sleep. In pity for his friend, and perhaps for himself, Vetch tried to turn aside fora little that rude ceaseless wind that bore the rain. But though, following Ged's will, he could keep the magewind strong and steady, his weatherworking had small power here so far from land, and the wind of the Open Sea did not listen to his voice.\n\nAnd at this a certain fear came into Vetch, as he began to wonder how much wizardly power would be left to him and Ged, if they went on and on away from the lands where men were meant to live.\n\nGed watched again that night, and all night held the boat eastward. When day came the world's wind slackened somewhat, and the sun shone fitfully; but the great swells ran so high that Lookfar must tilt and climb up them as if they were hills, and hang at the hillcrest and plunge suddenly, and climb up the next again, and the next, and the next, unending.\n\nIn the evening of that day Vetch spoke out of long silence. \"My friend,\" he said, \"you spoke once as if sure we would come to land at last. I would not question your vision but for this, that it might be a trick, a deception made by that which you follow, to lure you on farther than a man can go over ocean. For our power may change and weaken on strange seas. And a shadow does not tire, or starve, or drown.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They sat side by side on the thwart, yet Ged looked at him now as if from a distance, across a wide abyss. His eyes were troubled, and he was slow to answer.\n\nAt last he said, \"Estarriol, we are coming near.\"\n\nHearing his words, his friend knew them to be true. He was afraid, then. But he put his hand on Ged's shoulder and said only, \"Well, then, good; that is good.\"\n\nAgain that night Ged watched, for he could not sleep in the dark. Nor would he sleep when the third day came. Still they ran with that ceaseless, light, terrible swiftness over the sea, and Vetch wondered at Ged's power that could hold so strong a magewind hour after hour, hereon the Open Sea where Vetch felt his own power all weakened and astray. And they went on, until it seemed to Vetch that what Ged had spoken would come true, and they were going beyond the sources of the sea and eastward behind the gates of daylight. Ged stayed forward in the boat, looking ahead as always. But he was not watching the ocean now, or not the ocean that Vetch saw, a waste of heaving water to the rim of the sky. In Ged's eyes there was a dark vision that overlapped and veiled the grey sea and the grey sky, and the darkness grew, and the veil thickened. None of this was visible to Vetch, except when he looked at his friend's face; then he too saw the darkness fora moment. They went on, and on. And it was as if, though one wind drove them in one boat, Vetch went east over the world's sea, while Ged went alone into a realm where there was no east or west, no rising or setting of the sun, or of the stars."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ged stood up suddenly in the prow, and spoke aloud. The magewind dropped. Lookfar lost headway, and rose and fell on the vast surges like a chip of wood. Though the world's wind blew strong as ever straight from the north now, the brown sail hung slack, unstirred. And so the boat hung on the waves, swung by their great slow swinging, but going no direction.\n\nGed said, \"Take down the sail,\" and Vetch did so quickly, while Ged unlashed the oars and set them in the locks and bent his back to rowing.\n\nVetch, seeing only the waves heaving up and down clear to the end of sight, could not understand why they went now by oars; but he waited, and presently he was aware that the world's wind was growing faint and the swells diminishing. The climb and plunge of the boat grew less and less, till at last she seemed to go forward under Ged's strong oarstrokes over water that lay almost still, as in a land-locked bay. And though Vetch could not see what Ged saw, when between his strokes he looked ever and again over his shoulder at what lay before the boat's way-though Vetch could not seethe dark slopes beneath unmoving stars, yet he began to see with his wizard's eye a darkness that welled up in the hollows of the waves all around the boat, and he saw the billows grow low and sluggish as they were choked with sand.\n\nIf this were an enchantment of illusion, it was powerful beyond belief; to make the Open Sea seem land. Trying to collect his wits and courage, Vetch spoke the Revelation-spell, watching between each slow-syllabled word for change or tremor of illusion in this strange drying and shallowing of the abyss of ocean. But there was none. Perhaps the spell, though it should affect only his own vision and not the magic at work about them, had no power here. Or perhaps there was no illusion, and they had come to world's end."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Unheeding, Ged rowed always slower, looking over his shoulder, choosing away among channels or shoals and shallows that he alone could see."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The boat shuddered as her keel dragged. Under that keel lay the vast deeps of the sea, yet they were aground. Ged drew the oars up rattling in their locks, and that noise was terrible, for there was no other sound. All sounds of water, wind, wood, sail, were gone, lost in a huge profound silence that might have been unbroken forever. The boat lay motionless. No breath of wind moved. The sea had turned to sand, shadowy, unstirred. Nothing moved in the dark sky or on that dry unreal ground that went on and on into gathering darkness all around the boat as far as eye could see.\n\nGed stood up, and took his staff, and lightly stepped over the side of the boat. Vetch thought to see him fall and sink down in the sea, the sea that surely was there behind this dry, dim veil that hid away water, sky, and light. But there was no sea anymore. Ged walked away from the boat. The dark sand showed his footprints where he went, and whispered a little under his step.\n\nHis staff began to shine, not with the werelight but with a clear white glow, that soon grew so bright that it reddened his fingers where they held the radiant wood.\n\nHe strode forward, away from the boat, but in no direction. There were no directions here, no north or south or east or west, only towards and away.\n\nTo Vetch, watching, the light he bore seemed like a great slow star that moved through the darkness. And the darkness about it thickened, blackened, drew together. This also Ged saw, watching always ahead through the light. And after awhile he saw at the faint outermost edge of the light a shadow that came towards him over the sand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At first it was shapeless, but as it drew nearer it took on the look of a man. An old man it seemed, grey and grim, coming towards Ged; but even as Ged saw his father the smith in that figure, he saw that it was not an old man but a young one. It was Jasper: Jasper's insolent handsome young face, and silver-clasped grey cloak, and stiff stride. Hateful was the look he fixed on Ged across the dark intervening air. Ged did not stop, but slowed his pace, and as he went forward he raised his staff up a little higher. It brightened, and in its light the look of Jasper fell from the figure that approached, and it became Pechvarry. But Pechvarry's face was all bloated and pallid like the face of a drowned man, and he reached out his hand strangely as if beckoning. Still Ged did not stop, but went forward, though there were only a few yards left between them now. Then the thing that faced him changed utterly, spreading out to either side as if it opened enormous thin wings, and it writhed, and swelled, and shrank again. Ged saw in it for an instant Skiorh's white face, and then a pair of clouded, staring eyes, and then suddenly a fearful face he did not know, manor monster, with writhing lips and eyes that were like pits going back into black emptiness.\n\nAt that Ged lifted up the staff high, and the radiance of it brightened intolerably, burning with so white and great alight that it compelled and harrowed even that ancient darkness. In that light all form of man sloughed off the thing that came towards Ged. It drew together and shrank and blackened, crawling on four short taloned legs upon the sand. But still it came forward, lifting up to him a blind unformed snout without lips or ears or eyes. As they came right together it became utterly black in the white mage-radiance that burned about it, and it heaved itself upright. In silence, man and shadow met face to face, and stopped."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aloud and clearly, breaking that old silence, Ged spoke the shadow's name and in the same moment the shadow spoke without lips or tongue, saying the same word: \"Ged.\" And the two voices were one voice.\n\nGed reached out his hands, dropping his staff, and took hold of his shadow, of the black self that reached out to him. Light and darkness met, and joined, and were one.\n\nBut to Vetch, watching in terror through the dark twilight from far off over the sand, it seemed that Ged was overcome, for he saw the clear radiance fail and grow dim. Rage and despair filled him, and he sprang out on the sand to help his friend or die with him, and ran towards that small fading glimmer of light in the empty dusk of the dry land. But as he ran the sand sank under his feet, and he struggled in it as in quicksand, as through a heavy flow of water: until with a roar of noise and a glory of daylight, and the bitter cold of winter, and the bitter taste of salt, the world was restored to him and he floundered in the sudden, true, and living sea.\n\nNearby the boat rocked on the grey waves, empty. Vetch could see nothing else on the water; the battering wave-tops filled his eyes and blinded him. No strong swimmer, he struggled as best he could to the boat, and pulled himself up into her. Coughing and trying to wipe away the water that streamed from his hair, he looked about desperately, not knowing now which way to look. And at last he made out something dark among the waves, along way off across what had been sand and now was wild water. Then he leapt to the oars and rowed mightily to his friend, and catching Ged's arms helped and hauled him up over the side."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ged was dazed and his eyes stared as if they saw nothing, but there was no hurt to be seen on him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His staff, black yew-wood, all radiance quenched, was grasped in his right hand, and he would not let goof it. He said no word. Spent and soaked and shaking he lay huddled up against the mast, never looking at Vetch who raised the sail and turned the boat to catch the northeast wind. He saw nothing of the world until, straight ahead of their course, in the sky that darkened where the sun had set, between long clouds in a bay of clear blue light, the new moon shone: a ring of ivory, a rim of horn, reflected sunlight shining across the ocean of the dark.\n\nGed lifted his face and gazed at that remote bright crescent in the west.\n\nHe gazed fora longtime, and then he stood up erect, holding his staff in his two hands as a warrior holds his long sword. He looked about at the sky, the sea, the brown swelling sail above him, his friend's face.\n\n\"Estarriol,\" he said, \"look, it is done. It is over.\" He laughed. \"The wound is healed,\" he said, \"I am whole, I am free.\" Then he bent over and hid his face in his arms, weeping like a boy.\n\nUntil that moment Vetch had watched him with an anxious dread, for he was not sure what had happened therein the dark land. He did not know if this was Ged in the boat with him, and his hand had been for hours ready to the anchor, to stave in the boat's planking and sink her therein midsea, rather than carry back to the harbors of Earthsea the evil thing that he feared might have taken Ged's look and form. Now when he saw his friend and heard him speak, his doubt vanished. And he began to seethe truth, that Ged had neither lost nor won but, naming the shadow of his death with his own name, had made himself whole: a man: who, knowing his whole true self, cannot be used or possessed by any power other than himself, and whose life therefore is lived for life's sake and never in the service of ruin, or pain, or hatred, or the dark. In the Creation of Éa, which is the oldest song, it is said, \"Only in silence the word, only in dark the light, only in dying life: bright the hawk's flight on the empty sky.\" That song Vetch sang aloud now as he held the boat westward, going before the cold wind of the winter night that blew at their backs from the vastness of the Open Sea."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Eight days they sailed and eight again, before they came insight of land."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Many times they had to refill their waterskin with spell-sweetened water of the sea; and they fished, but even when they called out fisherman's charms they caught very little, for the fish of the Open Sea do not know their own names and pay no heed to magic. When they had nothing left to eat but a few scraps of smoked meat Ged remembered what Yarrow had said when he stole the cake from the hearth, that he would regret his theft when he came to hunger on the sea; but hungry as he was the remembrance pleased him. For she had also said that he, with her brother, would come home again.\n\nThe magewind had borne them for only three days eastward, yet sixteen days they sailed westward to return. No men have ever returned from so far out on the Open Sea as did the young wizards Estarriol and Ged in the Fallows of winter in their open fishingboat. They met no great storms, and steered steadily enough by the compass and by the star Tolbegren, taking a course somewhat northward of their outbound way. Thus they did not comeback to Astowell, but passing by Far Toly and Sneg without sighting them, first raised land off the southernmost cape of Koppish. Over the waves they saw cliffs of stone rise like a great fortress. Seabirds cried wheeling over the breakers, and smoke of the hearthfires of small villages drifted blue on the wind.\n\nFrom there the voyage to Iffish was not long. They came into Ismay harbor on a still, dark evening before snow. They tied up the boat Lookfar that had borne them to the coasts of death's kingdom and back, and went up through the narrow streets to the wizard's house. Their hearts were very light as they entered into the firelight and warmth under that roof; and Yarrow ran to meet them, crying with joy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "ONCE UPON A TIME, A publisher asked me if I'd write a novel for teenagers. \"Oh, no!\" I said. \"No, thanks very much, but I couldn't!\"\n\nIt was the idea of writing with a specific audience in mind or a specific age of reader that scared me off. I'd published fantasy and science fiction, but I was interested in the form itself, not in who read it or how old they were. But maybe my real problem was that I'd spent so many years writing novels, sending them to publishers, and having them comeback with a dull thud on the doormat that I had trouble comprehending that an actual publisher had really asked me to write a book...\n\nHe was Herman Schein of Parnassus Press in Berkeley, the publisher of my mother's books for children. He wanted to begin doing novels for older kids. When I said, \"Oh, no!\" he just said, \"Well, think about it. Fantasy, maybe-whatever you like.\"\n\nI thought about it. Slowly the idea sank in. Would writing for older kids be so different from just writing? Why? Despite what some adults seem to think, teenagers are fully human. And some of them read as intensely and keenly as if their life depended on it. Sometimes maybe it does.\n\nAnd fantasy-pure, old-fashioned fantasy, not mixed with science fiction-I liked the idea. All my life I'd been reading about wizards, dragons, magic spells...\n\nBack then, in 1967, wizards were all, more or less, Merlin and Gandalf. Old men, peaked hats, white beards. But this was to be a book for young people. Well, Merlin and Gandalf must have been young once, right? And when they were young, when they were fool kids, how did they learn to be wizards?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And there was my book.\n\nWell, not instantly, of course. A novel takes awhile to write. This one went pretty quickly and easily, though. I didn't have a plot outlined out when I started, but I knew what the story was. I knew who my Sparrowhawk was, and in a general way I knew where he was going-where he had to go, not only to learn to be a wizard, but to learn to be Ged. Then, as I wrote his story, what he did and said, where he went and the people he met, showed me and told me what he had to do and where he had to go next.\n\nBut where is as important in the realms of pure imagination as it is herein mundanity. Before I started to write the story, I got a big piece of posterboard and drew the map. I drew all the islands of Earthsea, the Archipelago, the Kargad Lands, the Reaches. And I named them: Havnor, the great island at the middle of the world; Selidor, far out in the west, and the Dragon's Run, and Hur-at-Hur, and all the rest. But only as I sailed with Ged from Gont did I begin to know the islands, one by one. With him, I first came to Roke, and the Ninety Isles, and Osskil, and farther east even than Astowell. And with him I first went to the dark, dry country, the place across the wall where the dead must go. A voyage long enough, strange enough, great enough for one book.\n\n---\n\nFANTASY IS NOW A BRANCH of the publishing industry, with many titles, many sequels, great expectations of monster successes and movie tie-ins. In 1967 it was pretty much nowhere. Kid stuff. The only adult fantasy novel most people had even heard of was The Lord of the Rings. There were others, some of them wonderful, but they mostly lurked in small secondhand bookshops smelling of cats and mildew. I miss those bookshops now, the cats, the mildew, the thrill of discovery. Fantasy as an assembly-line commodity leaves me cold."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But I rejoice when I see it written as what it always was-literature-and recognized as such.\n\nWhen A Wizard of Earthsea came out, there had not been a book like it. It was original-something new. Yet it was also conventional enough not to frighten reviewers. It was well received. The Boston Globe– Horn Book Award helped it. And the fact that fantasy isn't'for\" a certain age but is a literature accessible to anybody who reads-that helped too. My wizard never got on the bestseller lists, but he kept on finding readers, year after year. The book has never been out of print.\n\nThe conventionality of the story, and its originality, reflect its existence within and partial subversion of an accepted, recognized tradition, one I grew up with. That is the tradition of fantastic tales and hero stories, which comes down to us like a great river from sources high in the mountains of Myth-a confluence of folk and fairy tale, classical epic, medieval and Renaissance and Eastern romance, romantic ballad, Victorian imaginative tale, and twentieth-century book of fantastic adventure such as T. H. White's Arthurian cycle and Tolkien's great book.\n\nMost of this marvelous flood of literature was written for adults, but modernist literary ideology shunted it all to children. And kids could and did swim in it happily as in their native element, at least until some teacher or professor told them they had to come out, dry off, and breathe modernism ever after.\n\nThe part of the tradition that I knew best was mostly written (or rewritten for children) in England and northern Europe. The principal characters were men. If the story was heroic, the hero was a white man; most dark-skinned people were inferior or evil. If there was a woman in the story, she was a passive object of desire and rescue (a beautiful blond princess); active women (dark, witches) usually caused destruction or tragedy. Anyway, the stories weren't about the women. They were about men, what men did, and what was important to men."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's in this sense that A Wizard was perfectly conventional. The hero does what a man is supposed to do: he uses his strength, wits, and courage to rise from humble beginnings to great fame and power, in a world where women are secondary, a man's world.\n\nIn other ways my story didn't follow the tradition. Its subversive elements attracted little attention, no doubt because I was deliberately sneaky about them. A great many white readers in 1967 were not ready to accept a brown-skinned hero. But they weren't expecting one. I didn't make an issue of it, and you have to be well into the book before you realize that Ged, like most of the characters, isn't white.\n\nHis people, the Archipelagans, are various shades of copper and brown, shading into black in the South and East Reaches. The light-skinned people among them have far-northern or Kargish ancestors. The Kargish raiders in the first chapter are white. Serret, who both as girl and woman betrays Ged, is white. Ged is copper-brown and his friend Vetch is black. I was bucking the racist tradition, \"making a statement\"-but I made it quietly, and it went almost unnoticed.\n\nAlas, I had no power, at that time, to combat the flat refusal of many cover departments to put people of color on a book jacket. So, through many later, lily-white Geds, Ruth Robbins's painting for the first edition-the fine, strong profile of a young man with copper-brown skin-was, tome, the book's one true cover.\n\nMy story took off in its own direction, away from the tradition, also in the whole matter of what makes heroes and villains. Hero tales and adventure fantasies traditionally put the righteous heroin a war against unrighteous enemies, which he (usually) wins. This convention was and still is so dominant that it's taken for granted-\"of course\" a heroic fantasy is good guys fighting bad guys, the War of Good Against Evil."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But there are no wars in Earthsea. No soldiers, no armies, no battles. None of the militarism that came from the Arthurian saga and other sources and that by now, under the influence of fantasy war games, has become almost obligatory.\n\nI didn't and don't think this way; my mind doesn't work in terms of war. My imagination refuses to limit all the elements that make an adventure story and make it exciting-danger, risk, challenge, courage-to battlefields. A hero whose heroism consists of killing people is uninteresting tome, and I detest the hormonal war orgies of our visual media, the mechanical slaughter of endless battalions of black-clad, yellow-toothed, red-eyed demons.\n\nWar as amoral metaphor is limited, limiting, and dangerous. By reducing the choices of action to'a war against\" whatever-it-is, you divide the world into Me or Us (good) and Them or It (bad) and reduce the ethical complexity and moral richness of our life to Yes/No, On/Off. This is puerile, misleading, and degrading. In stories, it evades any solution but violence and offers the reader mere infantile reassurance. All too often the heroes of such fantasies behave exactly as the villains do, acting with mindless violence, but the hero is on the'right\" side and therefore will win. Right makes might.\n\nOr does might make right?\n\nIf war is the only game going, yes. Might makes right. Which is why I don't play war games.\n\nTo be the man he can be, Ged has to find out who and what his real enemy is. He has to find out what it means to be himself. That requires not a war but a search and a discovery. The search takes him through mortal danger, loss, and suffering. The discovery brings him victory, the kind of victory that isn't the end of a battle but the beginning of a life."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "TURN THE PAGE FORA SNEAK PEEK AT THE TOMBS OF A TUAN, THE NEXT ADVENTURE INT HE CYCLE BY URSULA K. LEG UIN!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"COME HOME, T ENAR! COME HOME!\"\n\nIn the deep valley, in the twilight, the apple trees were on the eve of blossoming; here and there among the shadowed boughs one flower had opened early, rose and white, like a faint star. Down the orchard aisles, in the thick, new, wet grass, the little girl ran for the joy of running; hearing the call she did not come at once, but made along circle before she turned her face toward home. The mother waiting in the doorway of the hut, with the firelight behind her, watched the tiny figure running and bobbing like a bit of thistledown blown over the darkening grass beneath the trees.\n\nBy the corner of the hut, scraping clean an earth-clotted hoe, the father said, \"Why do you let your heart hang on the child? They're coming to take her away next month. For good. Might as well bury her and be done with it. What's the good of clinging to one you're bound to lose? She's no good to us. If they'd pay for her when they took her, which would be something, but they won't. They'll take her and that's an end of it.\"\n\nThe mother said nothing, watching the child who had stopped to lookup through the trees. Over the high hills, above the orchards, the evening star shone piercing clear.\n\n\"She isn't ours, she never was since they came here and said she must be the Priestess at the Tombs. Why can't you see that?\" The man's voice was harsh with complaint and bitterness. \"You have four others. They'll stay here, and this one won't. So, don't set your heart on her. Let her go!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When the time comes,\" the woman said, \"I will let her go.\" She bent to meet the child who came running on little, bare, white feet across the muddy ground, and gathered her up in her arms. As she turned to enter the hut she bent her head to kiss the child's hair, which was black; but her own hair, in the flicker of firelight from the hearth, was fair.\n\nThe man stood outside, his own feet bare and cold on the ground, the clear sky of spring darkening above him. His face in the dusk was full of grief, a dull, heavy, angry grief that he would never find the words to say. At last he shrugged, and followed his wife into the firelit room that rang with children's voices."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "ONE HIGH HORN SHRILLED AND ceased. The silence that followed was shaken only by the sound of many footsteps keeping time with a drum struck softly at a slow heart-pace. Through cracks in the roof of the Hall of the Throne, gaps between columns where a whole section of masonry and tile had collapsed, unsteady sunlight shone aslant. It was an hour after sunrise. The air was still and cold. Dead leaves of weeds that had forced up between marble pavement-tiles were outlined with frost, and crackled, catching on the long black robes of the priestesses.\n\nThey came, four by four, down the vast hall between double rows of columns. The drumbeat dully. No voice spoke, no eye watched. Torches carried by black-clad girls burned reddish in the shafts of sunlight, brighter in the dusk between. Outside, on the steps of the Hall of the Throne, the men stood, guards, trumpeters, drummers; within the great doors only women had come, dark-robed and hooded, walking slowly four by four toward the empty throne.\n\nTwo came, tall women looming in their black, one of them thin and rigid, the other heavy, swaying with the planting of her feet. Between these two walked a child of about six. She wore a straight white shift. Her head and arms and legs were bare, and she was barefoot. She looked extremely small. At the foot of the steps leading up to the throne, where the others now waited in dark rows, the two tall women halted. They pushed the child forward a little.\n\nThe throne on its high platform seemed to be curtained on each side with great webs of blackness dropping from the gloom of the roof; whether these were curtains, or only denser shadows, the eye could not make certain. The throne itself was black, with a dull glimmer of precious stones or gold on the arms and back, and it was huge. A man sitting in it would have been dwarfed; it was not of human dimensions. It was empty. Nothing satin it but shadows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alone, the child climbed up four of the seven steps of red-veined marble. They were so broad and high that she had to get both feet onto one step before attempting the next. On the middle step, directly in front of the throne, stood a large, rough block of wood, hollowed out on top. The child knelt on both knees and fitted her head into the hollow, turning it a little sideways. She knelt there without moving.\n\nA figure in a belted gown of white wool stepped suddenly out of the shadows at the right of the throne and strode down the steps to the child. His face was masked with white. He held a sword of polished steel five feet long. Without word or hesitation he swung the sword, held in both hands, up over the little girl's neck. The drum stopped beating.\n\nAs the blade swung to its highest point and poised, a figure in black darted out from the left side of the throne, leapt down the stairs, and stayed the sacrificer's arms with slenderer arms. The sharp edge of the sword glittered in midair. So they balanced fora moment, the white figure and the black, both faceless, dancer-like above the motionless child whose white neck was bared by the parting of her black hair.\n\nIn silence each leapt aside and up the stairs again, vanishing in the darkness behind the enormous throne. A priestess came forward and poured out a bowl of some liquid on the steps beside the kneeling child. The stain looked black in the dimness of the hall.\n\nThe child got up and descended the four stairs laboriously. When she stood at the bottom, the two tall priestesses put on her a black robe and hood and mantle, and turned her around again to face the steps, the dark stain, the throne."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"O let the Nameless Ones behold the girl given to them, who is verily the one born ever nameless. Let them accept her life and the years of her life until her death, which is also theirs. Let them find her acceptable. Let her be eaten!\"\n\nOther voices, shrill and harsh as trumpets, replied: \"She is eaten! She is eaten!\"\n\nThe little girl stood looking from under her black cowl up at the throne. The jewels inset in the huge clawed arms and the back were glazed with dust, and on the carven back were cobwebs and whitish stains of owl droppings. The three highest steps directly before the throne, above the step on which she had knelt, had never been climbed by mortal feet. They were so thick with dust that they looked like one slant of grey soil, the planes of the red-veined marble wholly hidden by the unstirred, untrodden siftings of how many years, how many centuries.\n\n\"She is eaten! She is eaten!\"\n\nNow the drum, abrupt, began to sound again, beating a quicker pace.\n\nSilent and shuffling, the procession formed and moved away from the throne, eastward toward the bright, distant square of the doorway. On either side, the thick double columns, like the calves of immense pale legs, went up to the dusk under the ceiling. Among the priestesses, and now all in black like them, the child walked, her small bare feet treading solemnly over the frozen weeds, the icy stones. When sunlight slanting through the ruined roof flashed across her way, she did not lookup.\n\nGuards held the great doors wide. The black procession came out into the thin, cold light and wind of early morning. The sun dazzled, swimming above the eastern vastness. Westward, the mountains caught its yellow light, as did the facade of the Hall of the Throne. The other buildings, lower on the hill, still lay in purplish shadow, except for the Temple of the God-Brothers across the way on a little knoll: its roof, newly gilt, flashed the day back in glory. The black line of priestesses, four by four, wound down the Hill of the Tombs, and as they went they began softly to chant. The tune was on three notes only, and the word that was repeated over and over was a word so old it had lost its meaning, like a signpost still standing when the road is gone. Over and over they chanted the empty word. All that day of the Remaking of the Priestess was filled with the low chanting of women's voices, a dry unceasing drone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The little girl was taken from room to room, from temple to temple."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In one place salt was placed upon her tongue; in another she knelt facing west while her hair was cut short and washed with oil and scented vinegar; in another she lay facedown on a slab of black marble behind an altar while shrill voices sang a lament for the dead. Neither she nor any of the priestesses ate food or drank water all that day. As the evening star set, the little girl was put to bed, naked between sheepskin rugs, in a room she had never slept in before. It was in a house that had been locked for years, unlocked only that day. The room was higher than it was long, and had no windows. There was a dead smell in it, still and stale. The silent women left her therein the dark.\n\nShe held still, lying just as they had put her. Her eyes were wide open. She lay so fora longtime.\n\nShe saw light shake on the high wall. Someone came quietly along the corridor, shielding a rushlight so it showed no more light than a firefly. A husky whisper: \"Ho, are you there, Tenar?\"\n\nThe child did not reply.\n\nAhead poked in the doorway, a strange head, hairless as a peeled potato, and of the same yellowish color. The eyes were like potato-eyes, brown and tiny. The nose was dwarfed by great, flat slabs of cheek, and the mouth was a lipless slit. The child stared unmoving at this face. Her eyes were large, dark, and fixed.\n\n\"Ho, Tenar, my little honeycomb, there you are!\" The voice was husky, high as a woman's voice but not a woman's voice. \"I shouldn't be here, I belong outside the door, on the porch, that's where I go. But I had to see how my little Tenar is, after all the long day of it, eh, how's my poor little honeycomb?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He moved toward her, noiseless and burly, and putout his hand as if to smooth back her hair.\n\n\"I am not Tenar anymore,\" the child said, staring up at him. His hand stopped; he did not touch her.\n\n\"No,\" he said, after a moment, whispering. \"I know. I know. Now you're the little Eaten One. But I...\"\n\nShe said nothing.\n\n\"It was a hard day fora little one,\" the man said, shuffling, the tiny light flickering in his big yellow hand.\n\n\"You should not be in this House, Manan.\"\n\n\"No. No. I know. I shouldn't be in this House. Well, goodnight, little one.... Goodnight.\"\n\nThe child said nothing. Manan slowly turned around and went away. The glimmer died from the high cell walls.\n\nThe little girl, who had no name anymore but Arha, the Eaten One, lay on her back looking steadily at the dark."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "AS SHE GREW OLDER SHE lost all remembrance of her mother, without knowing she had lost it. She belonged here, at the Place of the Tombs; she had always belonged here. Only sometimes in the long evenings of July as she watched the western mountains, dry and lion-colored in the afterglow of sunset, she would think of afire that had burned on a hearth, long ago, with the same clear yellow light. And with this came a memory of being held, which was strange, for here she was seldom even touched; and the memory of a pleasant smell, the fragrance of hair freshly washed and rinsed in sage-scented water, fair longhair, the color of sunset and firelight. That was all she had left.\n\nShe knew more than she remembered, of course, for she had been told the whole story. When she was seven or eight years old, and first beginning to wonder who indeed this person called'Arha\" was, she had gone to her guardian, the Warden Manan, and said, \"Tell me how I was chosen, Manan.\"\n\n\"Oh, you know all that, little one.\"\n\nAnd indeed she did; the tall, dry-voiced priestess Thar had told her till she knew the words by heart, and she recited them: \"Yes, I know. At the death of the One Priestess of the Tombs of Atuan, the ceremonies of burial and purification are completed within one month by the moon's calendar. After this certain of the Priestesses and Wardens of the Place of the Tombs go forth across the desert, among the towns and villages of Atuan, seeking and asking. They seek the girl-child who was born on the night of the Priestess's death. When they find such a child, they wait and they watch. The child must be sound of body and of mind, and as it grows it must not suffer from rickets nor the smallpox nor any deformity, nor become blind. If it reaches the age of five years unblemished, then it is known that the body of the child is indeed the new body of the Priestess who died. And the child is made known to the Godking in Awabath, and brought hereto her Temple and instructed fora year. And at the year's end she is taken to the Hall of the Throne and her name is given back to those who are her Masters, the Nameless Ones: for she is the nameless one, the Priestess Ever Reborn.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This was all word for word as Thar had told her, and she had never dared ask fora word more. The thin priestess was not cruel, but she was very cold and lived by an iron law, and Arha was in awe of her. But she was not in awe of Manan, far from it, and she would command him, \"Now tell me how I was chosen!\" And he would tell her again.\n\n\"We left here, going north and west, in the third day of the moon's waxing; for Arha-that-was had died in the third day of the last moon. And first we went to Tenacbah, which is a great city, though those who've seen both say it's no more to Awabath than a flea to a cow. But it's big enough for me, there must be ten hundred houses in Tenacbah! And we went onto Gar. But nobody in those cities had a baby girl born to them on the third day of the moon a month before; there were some had boys, but boys won't do.... So we went into the hill country north of Gar, to the towns and villages. That's my own land. I was born in the hills there, where the rivers run, and the land is green. Not in this desert.\" Manan's husky voice would get a strange sound when he said that, and his small eyes would be quite hidden in their folds; he would pause a little, and at last goon. \"And so we found and spoke to all those who were parents of babies born in the last months. And some would lie to us.\"Oh yes, surely our baby girl was born on the moon's third day!\" For poor folk, you know, are often glad to get rid of girl-babies. And there were others who were so poor, living in lonely huts in the valleys of the hills, that they kept no count of days and scarce knew how to tell the turn of time, so they could not say for certain how old their baby was. But we could always come at the truth, by asking long enough. But it was slow work. At last we found a girl-child, in a village often houses, in the orchard-vales westward of Entat. Eight months old she was, so long had we been looking. But she had been born on the night that the Priestess of the Tombs had died, and within the very hour of her death. And she was a fine baby, sitting upon her mother's knee and looking with bright eyes at all of us, crowding into the one room of the house like bats into a cave! The father was a poor man. He tended the apple trees of the rich man's orchard, and had nothing of his own but five children and a goat. Not even the house was his. So there we all crowded in, and you could tell by the way the priestesses looked at the baby and spoke among themselves that they thought they had found the Reborn One at last. And the mother could tell this too. She held the baby and never said a word. Well, so, the next day we came back. And look here! The little bright-eyed baby lying in a cot of rushes weeping and screaming, and allover its body weals and red rashes of fever, and the mother wailing louder than the baby, \"Oh! Oh! My babe hath the Witch-Fingers on her!\" That's how she said it; the smallpox she meant. In my village, too, they called it the Witch-Fingers. But Kossil, she who is now the High Priestess of the Godking, she went to the cot and picked up the baby. The others had all drawn back, and I with them; I don't value my life very high, but who enters a house where smallpox is? But she had no fear, not that one. She picked up the baby and said, \"It has no fever.\" And she spat on her finger and rubbed at the red marks, and they came off. They were only berry juice. The poor silly mother had thought to fool us and keep her child!\" Manan laughed heartily at this; his yellow face hardly changed, but his sides heaved. \"So, her husband beat her, for he was afraid of the wrath of the priestesses. And soon we came back to the desert, but each year one of the people of the Place would return to the village among the apple orchards, and see how the child got on. So five years passed, and then Thar and Kossil made the journey, with the Temple guards, and soldiers of the red helmet sent by the Godking to escort them safely. They brought the child back here, for it was indeed the Priestess of the Tombs reborn, and here it belonged. And who was the child, eh, little one?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Me,\" said Arha, looking off into the distance as if to see something she could not see, something gone out of sight.\n\nOnce she asked, \"What did the... the mother do, when they came to take the child away?\"\n\nBut Manan didn't know; he had not gone with the priestesses on that final journey.\n\nAnd she could not remember. What was the good in remembering? It was gone, all gone. She had come where she must come. In all the world she knew only one place: the Place of the Tombs of Atuan.\n\nIn her first year there she had slept in the big dormitory with the other novices, girls between four and fourteen. Even then Manan had been set apart among the Ten Wardens as her particular guardian, and her cot had been in a little alcove, partly separated from the long, low-beamed main room of the dormitory in the Big House where the girls giggled and whispered before they slept, and yawned and plaited one another's hair in the grey light of morning. When her name was taken from her and she became Arha, she slept alone in the Small House, in the bed and in the room that would be her bed and her room for the rest of her life. That house washers, the House of the One Priestess, and no one might enter it without her permission. When she was quite little still, she enjoyed hearing people knock submissively on her door, and saying, \"You may come in,\" and it annoyed her that the two High Priestesses, Kossil and Thar, took their permission for granted and entered her house without knocking.\n\nThe days went by, the years went by, all alike. The girls of the Place of the Tombs spent their time at classes and disciplines. They did not play any games. There was no time for games. They learned the sacred songs and the sacred dances, the histories of the Kargad Lands, and the mysteries of whichever of the gods they were dedicated to: the Godking who ruled in Awabath, or the Twin Brothers, Atwah and Wuluah. Of them all, only Arha learned the rites of the Nameless Ones, and these were taught her by one person, Thar, the High Priestess of the Twin Gods. This took her away from the others for an hour or more daily, but most of her day, like theirs, was spent simply working. They learned how to spin and weave the wool of their flocks, and how to plant and harvest and prepare the food they always ate: lentils, buckwheat ground to a coarse meal for porridge or a fine flour for unleavened bread, onions, cabbages, goat-cheese, apples, and honey."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The best thing that could happen was to be allowed to go fishing in the murky green river that flowed through the desert a half mile northeast of the Place; to take along an apple or a cold buckwheat bannock for lunch and sit all day in the dry sunlight among the reeds, watching the slow green water run and the cloud-shadows change slowly on the mountains. But if you squealed with excitement when the line tensed and you swung in a flat, glittering fish to flop on the riverbank and drown in air, then Mebbeth would hiss like an adder, \"Be still, you screeching fool!\" Mebbeth, who served in the Godking's temple, was a dark woman, still young, but hard and sharp as obsidian. Fishing washer passion. You had to keep on her good side, and never make a sound, or she would not take you out to fish again; and then you'd never get to the river except to fetch water in summer when the wells ran low. That was a dreary business, to trudge through the searing white heat a half mile down to the river, fill the two buckets on their carrying pole, and then set off as fast as possible uphill to the Place. The first hundred yards were easy, but then the buckets began to grow heavier, and the pole burned your shoulders like a bar of hot iron, and the light glared on the dry road, and every step was harder and slower. At last you got to the cool shade of the back courtyard of the Big House by the vegetable patch, and dumped the buckets into the great cistern with a splash. And then you had to turnaround to do it allover again, and again, and again.\n\nWithin the precincts of the Place-that was all the name it had or needed, for it was the most ancient and sacred of all places in the Four Lands of the Kargish Empire-a couple of hundred people lived, and there were many buildings: three temples, the Big House and the Small House, the quarters of the eunuch wardens, and close outside the wall the guards'barracks and many slaves\" huts, the storehouses and sheep pens and goat pens and farm buildings. It looked like a little town, seen from a distance, from upon the dry hills westward where nothing grew but sage, wire-grass in straggling clumps, small weeds and desert herbs. Even from away off on the eastern plains, looking up one might seethe gold roof of the Temple of the Twin Gods wink and glitter beneath the mountains, like a speck of mica in a shelf of rock."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That temple itself was a cube of stone, plastered white, windowless, with a low porch and door. Showier, and centuries newer, was the Temple of the Godking a little below it, with a high portico and a row of thick white columns with painted capitals-each one a solid log of cedar, brought on shipboard from Hur-at-Hur where there are forests, and dragged by the straining of twenty slaves across the barren plains to the Place. Only after a traveler approaching from the east had seen the gold roof and the bright columns would he see, higher upon the Hill of the Place, above them all, tawny and ruinous as the desert itself, the oldest of the temples of his race: the huge, low Hall of the Throne, with patched walls and flattish, crumbling dome.\n\nBehind the Hall and encircling the whole crest of the hill ran a massive wall of rock, laid without mortar and half fallen down in many places. Inside the loop of the wall several black stones eighteen or twenty feet high stuck up like huge fingers out of the earth. Once the eye saw them it kept returning to them. They stood there full of meaning, and yet there was no saying what they meant. There were nine of them. One stood straight, the others leaned more or less, two had fallen. They were crusted with grey and orange lichen as if splotched with paint, all but one, which was naked and black, with a dull gloss to it. It was smooth to the touch, but on the others, under the crust of lichen, vague carvings could be seen, or felt with the fingers-shapes, signs. These nine stones were the Tombs of Atuan. They had stood there, it was said, since the time of the first men, since Earthsea was created. They had been planted in the darkness when the lands were raised up from the ocean's depths. They were older by far than the Godkings of Kargad, older than the Twin Gods, older than light. They were the tombs of those who ruled before the world of men came to be, the ones not named, and she who served them had no name."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She did not go among them often, and no one else ever set foot on that ground where they stood, on the hilltop within the rock wall behind the Hall of the Throne. Twice a year, at the full moon nearest the equinox of spring and of autumn, there was a sacrifice before the Throne and she came out from the low backdoor of the Hall carrying a great brass basin full of smoking goat's blood; this she must pour out, half at the foot of the standing black stone, half over one of the fallen stones which lay embedded in the rocky dirt, stained by the blood-offering of centuries.\n\nSometimes Arha went by herself in the early morning and wandered among the Stones trying to make out the dim humps and scratches of the carvings, brought out more clearly by the low angle of the light; or she would sit there and lookup at the mountains westward, and down at the roofs and walls of the Place all laid out below, and watch the first stirrings of activity around the Big House and the guards' barracks, and the flocks of sheep and goats going off to their sparse pastures by the river. There was never anything to do among the Stones. She went only because it was permitted her to go there, because there she was alone. It was a dreary place. Even in the heat of noon in the desert summer there was a coldness about it. Sometimes the wind whistled a little between the two stones that stood closest together, leaning together as if telling secrets. But no secret was told.\n\nFrom the Tomb Wall another, lower rock wall ran, making along irregular semicircle about the Hill of the Place and then trailing off northward toward the river. It did not so much protect the Place, as cut it in two: on one side the temples and houses of the priestesses and wardens, on the other the quarters of the guards and of the slaves who farmed and herded and foraged for the Place. None of these ever crossed the wall, except that on certain very holy festivals the guards, and their drummers and players of the horn, would attend the procession of the priestesses; but they did not enter the portals of the temples. No other men set foot upon the inner ground of the Place. There had once been pilgrimages, kings and chieftains coming from the Four Lands to worship there; the first Godking, a century and a half ago, had come to enact the rites of his own temple. Yet even he could not enter among the Tombstones, even he had had to eat and sleep outside the wall around the Place."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One could climb that wall easily enough, fitting toes into crevices. The Eaten One and a girl called Penthe were sitting upon the wall one afternoon in late spring. They were both twelve years old. They were supposed to be in the weaving room of the Big House, a huge stone attic; they were supposed to beat the great looms always warped with dull black wool, weaving black cloth for robes. They had slipped outside fora drink at the well in the courtyard, and then Arha had said, \"Come on!\" and had led the other girl down the hill, around out of sight of the Big House, to the wall. Now they sat on top of it, ten feet up, their bare legs dangling down on the outside, looking over the flat plains that went on and onto the east and north.\n\n\"I'd like to seethe sea,\" said Penthe.\n\n\"What for?\" said Arha, chewing a bitter stem of milkweed she had picked from the wall. The barren land was just past its flowering. All the small desert blossoms, yellow and rose and white, low-growing and quick-flowering, were going to seed, scattering tiny plumes and parasols of ash white on the wind, dropping their hooked, ingenious burrs. The ground under the apple trees of the orchard was adrift of bruised white and pink. The branches were green, the only green trees within miles of the Place. Everything else, from horizon to horizon, was a dull, tawny, desert color, except that the mountains had a silvery bluish tinge from the first buds of the flowering sage.\n\n\"Oh, I don't know what for. I'd just like to see something different. It's always the same here. Nothing happens.\"\n\n\"All that happens everywhere, begins here,\" said Arha."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh, I know...."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But I'd like to see some of it happening!\"\n\nPenthe smiled. She was a soft, comfortable-looking girl. She scratched the soles of her bare feet on the sun-warmed rocks, and after awhile went on, \"You know, I used to live by the sea when I was little. Our village was right behind the dunes, and we used to go down and play on the beach sometimes. Once I remember we saw a fleet of ships going by, way out at sea. We ran and told the village and everybody came to see. The ships looked like dragons with red wings. Some of them had real necks, with dragon heads. They came sailing by Atuan, but they weren't Kargish ships. They came from the west, from the Inner Lands, the headman said. Everybody came down to watch them. I think they were afraid they might land. They just went by, nobody knew where they were going. Maybe to make war in Karego-At. But think of it, they really came from the sorcerers\" islands, where all the people are the color of dirt and they can all cast a spell on you easy as winking.\"\n\n\"Not on me,\" Arha said fiercely. \"I wouldn't have looked at them. They're vile accursed sorcerers. How dare they sail so close to the Holy Land?\"\n\n\"Oh, well, I suppose the Godking will conquer them someday and make them all slaves. But I wish I could seethe sea again. There used to belittle octopuses in the tide pools, and if you shouted \"Boo!\" at them they turned all white.-There comes that old Manan, looking for you.\"\n\nArha's guard and servant was coming slowly along the inner side of the wall. He would stoop to pull a wild onion, of which he held a large, limp bunch, then straighten up and look about him with his small, dull, brown eyes. He had grown fatter with the years, and his hairless yellow skin glistened in the sun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Slide down partway on the men's side,\" Arha hissed, and both girls wriggled lithe as lizards down the far side of the wall until they could cling there just below the top, invisible from the inner side. They heard Manan's slow footsteps coming by.\n\n\"Hoo! Hoo! Potato face!\" crooned Arha, a whispering jeer faint as the wind among the grasses.\n\nThe heavy tread halted. \"Ho there,\" said the uncertain voice. \"Little one? Arha?\"\n\nSilence.\n\nManan went forward.\n\n\"Hoo-oo! Potato face!\"\n\n\"Hoo, potato belly!\" Penthe whispered in imitation, and then moaned, trying to suppress giggles.\n\n\"Somebody there?\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Oh well, well, well,\" the eunuch sighed, and his slow feet went on. When he was gone over the shoulder of the slope, the girls scrambled backup onto the top of the wall. Penthe was pink with sweat and giggles, but Arha looked savage.\n\n\"The stupid old bellwether, following me around everywhere!\"\n\n\"He has to,\" Penthe said reasonably. \"It's his job, looking after you.\"\n\n\"Those I serve look after me. I please them; I need please nobody else. These old women and half-men, these people should leave me alone. I am the One Priestess!\"\n\nPenthe stared at the other girl. \"Oh,\" she said feebly, \"oh, I know you are, Arha-\"\n\n\"Then they should let me be. And not order me about all the time!\"\n\nPenthe said nothing fora while, but sighed, and sat swinging her plump legs and gazing at the vast, pale lands below, that rose so slowly to a high, vague, immense horizon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You'll get to give the orders pretty soon, you know,\" she said at last, quietly. \"In two more years we won't be children anymore. We'll be fourteen. I'll go into the Godking's temple, and things will be about the same for me. But you'll really be the High Priestess then. Even Kossil and Thar will have to obey you.\"\n\nThe Eaten One said nothing. Her face was set, her eyes under black brows caught the light of the sky in a pale glitter.\n\n\"We ought to go back,\" Penthe said.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"But the weaving mistress might tell Thar. And soon it'll be time for the Nine Chants.\"\n\n\"I'm staying here. You stay, too.\"\n\n\"They won't punish you, but they will punish me,\" Penthe said in her mild way. Arha did not reply. Penthe sighed, and stayed. The sun was sinking into haze high above the plains. Faraway on the long, gradual slant of the land, sheep bells clanked faintly and lambs bleated. The spring wind blew in dry, faint gusts, sweet-smelling.\n\nThe Nine Chants were nearly over when the two girls returned. Mebbeth had seen them sitting on the'Men's Wall\" and had reported this to her superior, Kossil, High Priestess of the Godking.\n\nKossil was heavy-footed, heavy-faced. Without expression in face or voice she spoke to the two girls, telling them to follow her. She led them through the stone hallways of the Big House, out the front door, up the knoll to the Temple of Atwah and Wuluah. There she spoke with the High Priestess of that temple, Thar, tall and dry and thin as the legbone of a deer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kossil said to Penthe, \"Takeoff your gown.\"\n\nShe whipped the girl with a bundle of reed canes, which cut the skin a little. Penthe bore this patiently, with silent tears. She was sent back to the weaving room without supper, and the next day also she would go without food. \"If you are found climbing over the Men's Wall again,\" Kossil said, \"there will be very much worse things than this happen to you. Do you understand, Penthe?\" Kossil's voice was soft, but not kindly. Penthe said, \"Yes,\" and slipped away, cowering and flinching as her heavy clothing rubbed the cuts on her back.\n\nArha had stood beside Thar to watch the whipping. Now she watched Kossil clean the canes of the whip.\n\nThar said to her, \"It is not fitting that you be seen climbing and running with other girls. You are Arha.\"\n\nShe stood sullen and did not reply.\n\n\"It is better that you do only what is needful for you to do. You are Arha.\"\n\nFora moment the girl raised her eyes to Thar's face, then to Kossil's, and there was a depth of hate or rage in her look that was terrible to see. But the thin priestess showed no concern; rather she confirmed, leaning forward a little, almost whispering, \"You are Arha. There is nothing left. It was all eaten.\"\n\n\"It was all eaten,\" the girl repeated, as she had repeated daily, all the days of her life since she was six.\n\nThar bowed her head slightly; so did Kossil, as she put away the whip. The girl did not bow, but turned submissively and left."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "After the supper of potatoes and spring onions, eaten in silence in the narrow, dark refectory, after the chanting of the evening hymns, and the placing of the sacred words upon the doors, and the brief Ritual of the Unspoken, the work of the day was done. Now the girls might go up to the dormitory and play games with dice and sticks, so long as the single rushlight burned, and whisper in the dark from bed to bed. Arha set off across the courts and slopes of the Place as she did every night, to the Small House where she slept alone.\n\nThe night wind was sweet. The stars of spring shone thick, like drifts of daisies in spring meadows, like the glittering of light on the April sea. But the girl had no memory of meadows or the sea. She did not lookup.\n\n\"Ho there, little one!\"\n\n\"Manan,\" she said indifferently.\n\nThe big shadow shuffled up beside her, starlight glinting on his hairless pate.\n\n\"Were you punished?\"\n\n\"I can't be punished.\"\n\n\"No.... That's so....\"\n\n\"They can't punish me. They don't dare.\"\n\nHe stood with his big hands hanging, dim and bulky. She smelled wild onion, and the sweaty, sagey smell of his old black robes, which were torn at the hem, and too short for him.\n\n\"They can't touch me. I am Arha,\" she said in a shrill, fierce voice, and burst into tears.\n\nThe big, waiting hands came up and drew her to him, held her gently, smoothed her braided hair. \"There, there. Little honeycomb, little girl....\" She heard the husky murmur in the deep hollow of his chest, and clung to him. Her tears stopped soon, but she held onto Mananas if she could not stand up."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Poor little one,\" he whispered, and picking the child up carried her to the doorway of the house where she slept alone."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He set her down.\n\n\"All right now, little one?\"\n\nShe nodded, turned from him, and entered the dark house."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, surrealism, classic\nAuthor: Lewis Carroll\nTitle: Alice in Wonderland\nChapter: 3"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Curiouser and curiouser!\" cried Alice (she was so much surprised that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English). \"Now I'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good– by, feet! Oh, my poor little feet, I wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about you.\"\n\nJust at this moment her head struck against the roof of the hall; in fact, she was now rather more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden key and hurried off to the garden door.\n\nPoor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more hopeless than ever. She sat down and began to cry again.\n\nShe went on shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all 'round her and reaching half down the hall.\n\nAfter a time, she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance and she hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White Rabbit returning, splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid– gloves in one hand and a large fan in the other. He came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself, \"Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! won't she be savage if I've kept her waiting!\"\n\nWhen the Rabbit came near her, Alice began, in a low, timid voice, \"If you please, sir-\" The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid– gloves and the fan and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go.\n\nAlice took up the fan and gloves and she kept fanning herself all the time she went on talking. \"Dear, dear! How queer everything is to– day! And yesterday things went on just as usual. Was I the same when I got up this morning? But if I'm not the same, the next question is,\" Who in the world am I?\"Ah, that's the great puzzle!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As she said this, she looked down at her hands and was surprised to see that she had put on one of the Rabbit's little white kid– gloves while she was talking. \"How can I have done that?\" she thought. \"I must be growing small again.\" She got up and went to the table to measure herself by it and found that she was now about two feet high and was going on shrinking rapidly. She soon found out that the cause of this was the fan she was holding and she dropped it hastily, just in time to save herself from shrinking away altogether.\n\n\"That was a narrow escape!\" said Alice, a good deal frightened at the sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence. \"And now for the garden!\" And she ran with all speed back to the little door; but, alas! the little door was shut again and the little golden key was lying on the glass table as before. \"Things are worse than ever,\" thought the poor child, \"for I never was so small as this before, never!\"\n\nAs she said these words, her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! she was up to her chin in salt– water. Her first idea was that she had somehow fallen into the sea. However, she soon made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high.\n\nJust then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way off, and she swam nearer to see what it was: she soon made out that it was only a mouse that had slipped in like herself.\n\n\"Would it be of any use, now,\" thought Alice, \"to speak to this mouse? Everything is so out– of– the– way down here that I should think very likely it can talk; at any rate, there's no harm in trying.\" So she began, \"O Mouse, do you know the way out of this pool? I am very tired of swimming about here, O Mouse!\" The Mouse looked at her rather inquisitively and seemed to her to wink with one of its little eyes, but it said nothing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps it doesn't understand English,\" thought Alice. \"I daresay it's a French mouse, come over with William the Conqueror.\" So she began again: \"Où est ma chatte?\" which was the first sentence in her French lesson– book. The Mouse gave a sudden leap out of the water and seemed to quiver allover with fright. \"Oh, I beg your pardon!\" cried Alice hastily, afraid that she had hurt the poor animal's feelings. \"I quite forgot you didn't like cats.\"\n\n\"Not like cats!\" cried the Mouse in a shrill, passionate voice. \"Would you like cats, if you were me?\"\n\n\"Well, perhaps not,\" said Alice in a soothing tone; \"don't be angry about it. And yet I wish I could show you our cat Dinah. I think you'd take a fancy to cats, if you could only see her. She is such a dear, quiet thing.\" The Mouse was bristling allover and she felt certain it must be really offended. \"We won't talk about her anymore, if you'd rather not.\"\n\n\"We, indeed!\" cried the Mouse, who was trembling down to the end of its tail. \"As if I would talk on such a subject! Our family always hated cats-nasty, low, vulgar things! Don't let me hear the name again!\"\n\nAlice At The Mad Tea Party.\n\n\"I won't indeed!\" said Alice, in a great hurry to change the subject of conversation. \"Are you-are you fond-of-of dogs? There is such a nice little dog near our house, I should like to show you! It kills all the rats and-oh, dear!\" cried Alice in a sorrowful tone. \"I'm afraid I've offended it again!\" For the Mouse was swimming away from her as hard as it could go, and making quite a commotion in the pool as it went."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So she called softly after it, \"Mouse dear! Do comeback again, and we won't talk about cats, or dogs either, if you don't like them!\" When the Mouse heard this, it turned \"round and swam slowly back to her; its face was quite pale, and it said, in a low, trembling voice, \"Let us get to the shore and then I'll tell you my history and you'll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs.\"\n\nIt was high time to go, for the pool was getting quite crowded with the birds and animals that had fallen into it; there were a Duck and a Dodo, a Lory and an Eaglet, and several other curious creatures. Alice led the way and the whole party swam to the shore."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were indeed a queer– looking party that assembled on the bank-the birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to them, and all dripping wet, cross and uncomfortable.\n\nThe first question, of course, was how to get dry again. They had a consultation about this and after a few minutes, it seemed quite natural to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them all her life.\n\nAt last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of some authority among them, called out, \"Sit down, all of you, and listen tome! I'll soon make you dry enough!\" They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the Mouse in the middle.\n\n\"Ahem!\" said the Mouse with an important air. \"Are you all ready? This is the driest thing I know. Silence all\" round, if you please! 'William the Conqueror, whose cause was favored by the pope, was soon submitted to by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the Earls of Mercia and Northumbria\"-\"\n\n\"Ugh!\" said the Lory, with a shiver.\n\n\"-\"And even Stigand, the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable\"-\"\n\n\"Found what?\" said the Duck.\n\n\"Found it,\" the Mouse replied rather crossly; \"of course, you know what\" it'means.\"\n\n\"I know what\" it'means well enough, when I find a thing,\" said the Duck; \"it's generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did the archbishop find?\"\n\nThe Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, \"\"-found it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him the crown.\"-How are you getting on now, my dear?\" it continued, turning to Alice as it spoke."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As wet as ever,\" said Alice in a melancholy tone; \"it doesn't seem to dry meat all.\"\n\n\"In that case,\" said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, \"I move that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies-\"\n\n\"Speak English!\" said the Eaglet. \"I don't know the meaning of half those long words, and, what's more, I don't believe you do either!\"\n\n\"What I was going to say,\" said the Dodo in an offended tone, \"is that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus– race.\"\n\n\"What is a Caucus– race?\" said Alice.\n\n\"Why,\" said the Dodo, \"the best way to explain it is to do it.\" First it marked out a race– course, in a sort of circle, and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no'One, two, three and away!\" but they began running when they liked and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out, \"The race is over!\" and they all crowded 'round it, panting and asking, \"But who has won?\"\n\nThis question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought. At last it said, \"Everybody has won, and all must have prizes.\"\n\n\"But who is to give the prizes?\" quite a chorus of voices asked.\n\n\"Why, she, of course,\" said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded 'round her, calling out, in a confused way, \"Prizes! Prizes!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand into her pocket and pulled out a box of comfits (luckily the salt– water had not got into it) and handed them \"round as prizes. There was exactly one a– piece, all'round.\n\nThe next thing was to eat the comfits; this caused some noise and confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. However, it was over at last and they sat down again in a ring and begged the Mouse to tell them something more.\n\n\"You promised to tell me your history, you know,\" said Alice, \"and why it is you hate-C and D,\" she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would be offended again.\n\n\"Mine is along and a sad tale!\" said the Mouse, turning to Alice and sighing.\n\n\"It is along tail, certainly,\" said Alice, looking down with wonder at the Mouse's tail, \"but why do you call it sad?\" And she kept on puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this:-\n\n\"You are not attending!\" said the Mouse to Alice, severely. \"What are you thinking of?\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" said Alice very humbly, \"you had got to the fifth bend, I think?\"\n\n\"You insult me by talking such nonsense!\" said the Mouse, getting up and walking away.\n\n\"Please comeback and finish your story!\" Alice called after it. And the others all joined in chorus, \"Yes, please do!\" But the Mouse only shook its head impatiently and walked a little quicker.\n\n\"I wish I had Dinah, our cat, here!\" said Alice. This caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the birds hurried off at once, and a Canary called out in a trembling voice, to its children, \"Come away, my dears! It's high time you were all in bed!\" On various pretexts they all moved off and Alice was soon left alone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I wish I hadn't mentioned Dinah! Nobody seems to like her down here and I'm sure she's the best cat in the world!\" Poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely and low– spirited. Ina little while, however, she again heard a little pattering of footsteps in the distance and she looked up eagerly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; Alice heard it muttering to itself, \"The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh, my dear paws! Oh, my fur and whiskers! She'll get me executed, assure as ferrets are ferrets! Where can I have dropped them, I wonder?\" Alice guessed in a moment that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid– gloves and she very good– naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be seen-everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished completely.\n\nVery soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, and called to her, in an angry tone, \"Why, Mary Ann, what are you doing out here? Run home this moment and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, now!\"\n\n\"He took me for his housemaid!\" said Alice, as she ran off. \"How surprised he'll be when he finds out who I am!\" As she said this, she came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name'W. RABBIT\" engraved upon it. She went in without knocking and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the real Mary Ann and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves.\n\nBy this time, Alice had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid– gloves; she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves and was just going to leave the room, when her eyes fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking– glass. She uncorked it and put it to her lips, saying to herself, \"I do hope it'll make me grow large again, for, really, I'm quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Before she had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She hastily put down the bottle, remarking, \"That's quite enough-I hope I sha'n't grow anymore.\"\n\nAlas! It was too late to wish that! She went on growing and growing and very soon she had to kneel down on the floor. Still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out of the window and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself, \"Now I can do no more, whatever happens. What will become of me?\"\n\nLuckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect and she grew no larger. After a few minutes she heard a voice outside and stopped to listen.\n\n\"Mary Ann! Mary Ann!\" said the voice. \"Fetch me my gloves this moment!\" Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice knew it was the Rabbit coming to look for her and she trembled till she shook the house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large as the Rabbit and had no reason to be afraid of it.\n\nPresently the Rabbit came up to the door and tried to open it; but as the door opened inwards and Alice's elbow was pressed hard against it, that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to itself, \"Then I'll go 'round and get in at the window.\"\n\n\"That you won't!\" thought Alice; and after waiting till she fancied she heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand and made a snatch in the air. She did not get hold of anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall and a crash of broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a cucumber– frame or something of that sort.\n\nNext came an angry voice-the Rabbit's-\"Pat! Pat! Where are you?\" And then a voice she had never heard before, \"Sure then, I'm here! Digging for apples, yer honor!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Here! Come and help me out of this! Now tell me, Pat, what's that in the window?\"\n\n\"Sure, it's an arm, yer honor!\"\n\n\"Well, it's got no business there, at any rate; go and take it away!\"\n\nThere was along silence after this and Alice could only hear whispers now and then, and at last she spread out her hand again and made another snatch in the air. This time there were two little shrieks and more sounds of broken glass. \"I wonder what they'll do next!\" thought Alice. \"As for pulling me out of the window, I only wish they could!\"\n\nShe waited for sometime without hearing anything more. At last came a rumbling of little cart– wheels and the sound of a good many voices all talking together. She made out the words: \"Where's the other ladder? Bill's got the other-Bill! Here, Bill! Will the roof bear?-Who's to go down the chimney?-Nay, I sha'n\"t! You do it! Here, Bill! The master says you've got to go down the chimney!\"\n\nAlice drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could and waited till she heard a little animal scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her; then she gave one sharp kick and waited to see what would happen next.\n\nThe first thing she heard was a general chorus of'There goes Bill!\" then the Rabbit's voice alone-\"Catch him, you by the hedge!\" Then silence and then another confusion of voices-\"Holdup his head-Brandy now-Don't choke him-What happened to you?\"\n\nLast came a little feeble, squeaking voice, \"Well, I hardly know-No more, thank ye. I'm better now-all I know is, something comes at me like a Jack– in– the– box and up I goes like a sky– rocket!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "After a minute or two of silence, they began moving about again, and Alice heard the Rabbit say, \"A barrowful will do, to begin with.\"\n\n\"A barrowful of what?\" thought Alice. But she had not long to doubt, for the next momenta shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window and some of them hither in the face. Alice noticed, with some surprise, that the pebbles were all turning into little cakes as they lay on the floor and a bright idea came into her head. \"If I eat one of these cakes,\" she thought, \"it's sure to make some change in my size.\"\n\nSo she swallowed one of the cakes and was delighted to find that she began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get through the door, she ran out of the house and found quite a crowd of little animals and birds waiting outside. They all made a rush at Alice the moment she appeared, but she ran off as hard as she could and soon found herself safe in a thick wood.\n\n\"The Duchess tucked her arm affectionately into Alice's.\"\n\n\"The first thing I've got to do,\" said Alice to herself, as she wandered about in the wood, \"is to grow to my rightsize again; and the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other, but the great question is\" What?\"\"\n\nAlice looked all around her at the flowers and the blades of grass, but she could not see anything that looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. There was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as herself. She stretched herself upon tiptoe and peeped over the edge and her eyes immediately met those of a large blue caterpillar, that was sitting on the top, with its arms folded, quietly smoking along hookah and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth and addressed Alice in a languid, sleepy voice.\n\n\"Who are you?\" said the Caterpillar.\n\nAlice replied, rather shyly, \"I-I hardly know, sir, just at present-at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have changed several times since then.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\" said the Caterpillar, sternly. \"Explain yourself!\"\n\n\"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir,\" said Alice, \"because I'm not myself, you see-being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.\" She drew herself up and said very gravely, \"I think you ought to tell me who you are, first.\"\n\n\"Why?\" said the Caterpillar.\n\nAs Alice could not think of any good reason and the Caterpillar seemed to be in a very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away.\n\n\"Comeback!\" the Caterpillar called after her. \"I've something important to say!\" Alice turned and came back again.\n\n\"Keep your temper,\" said the Caterpillar.\n\n\"Is that all?\" said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could.\n\n\"No,\" said the Caterpillar.\n\nIt unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of its mouth again, and said, \"So you think you're changed, do you?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid, I am, sir,\" said Alice. \"I can't remember things as I used-and I don't keep the same size for ten minutes together!\"\n\n\"What size do you want to be?\" asked the Caterpillar."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, I'm not particular as to size,\" Alice hastily replied, \"only one doesn't like changing so often, you know. I should like to be a little larger, sir, if you wouldn't mind,\" said Alice. \"Three inches is such a wretched height to be.\"\n\n\"It is a very good height indeed!\" said the Caterpillar angrily, rearing itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high).\n\nIna minute or two, the Caterpillar got down off the mushroom and crawled away into the grass, merely remarking, as it went, \"One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.\"\n\n\"One side of what? The other side of what?\" thought Alice to herself.\n\n\"Of the mushroom,\" said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it aloud; and in another moment, it was out of sight.\n\nAlice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom fora minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it. At last she stretched her arms 'round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand.\n\n\"And now which is which?\" she said to herself, and nibbled a little of the right– hand bit to try the effect. The next moment she felt a violent blow underneath her chin-it had struck her foot!\n\nShe was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, as she was shrinking rapidly; so she set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin was pressed so closely against her foot that there was hardly room to open her mouth; but she did it at last and managed to swallow a morsel of the left– hand bit....\n\n\"Come, my head's free at last!\" said Alice; but all she could see, when she looked down, was an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of green leaves that lay far below her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where have my shoulders got to? And oh, my poor hands, how is it I can't see you?\" She was delighted to find that her neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. She had just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag and was going to dive in among the leaves, when a sharp hiss made her drawback in a hurry-a large pigeon had flown into her face and was beating her violently with its wings.\n\n\"Serpent!\" cried the Pigeon.\n\n\"I'm not a serpent!\" said Alice indignantly. \"Let me alone!\"\n\n\"I've tried the roots of trees, and I've tried banks, and I've tried hedges,\" the Pigeon went on, \"but those serpents! There's no pleasing them!\"\n\nAlice was more and more puzzled.\n\n\"As if it wasn't trouble enough hatching the eggs,\" said the Pigeon, \"but I must be on the look– out for serpents, night and day! And just as I'd taken the highest tree in the wood,\" continued the Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, \"and just as I was thinking I should be free of them at last, they must needs come wriggling down from the sky! Ugh, Serpent!\"\n\n\"But I'm not a serpent, I tell you!\" said Alice. \"I'm a-I'm a-I'm a little girl,\" she added rather doubtfully, as she remembered the number of changes she had gone through that day.\n\n\"You're looking for eggs, I know that well enough,\" said the Pigeon; \"and what does it matter tome whether you're a little girl or a serpent?\"\n\n\"It matters a good deal tome,\" said Alice hastily; \"but I'm not looking for eggs, as it happens, and if I was, I shouldn't want yours-I don't like them raw.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, be off, then!\" said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled down again into its nest. Alice crouched down among the trees as well as she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After awhile she remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to work very carefully, nibbling first atone and then at the other, and growing sometimes taller and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height.\n\nIt was so long since she had been anything near the rightsize that it felt quite strange at first. \"The next thing is to get into that beautiful garden-how is that to be done, I wonder?\" As she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place, with a little house in it about four feet high. \"Whoever lives there,\" thought Alice, \"it'll never do to come upon them this size; why, I should frighten them out of their wits!\" She did not venture to go near the house till she had brought herself down to nine inches high."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fora minute or two she stood looking at the house, when suddenly a footman in livery came running out of the wood (judging by his face only, she would have called him a fish)-and rapped loudly at the door with his knuckles. It was opened by another footman in livery, with around face and large eyes like a frog.\n\nThe Fish– Footman began by producing from under his arm a great letter, and this he handed over to the other, saying, in a solemn tone, \"For the Duchess. An invitation from the Queen to play croquet.\" The Frog– Footman repeated, in the same solemn tone, \"From the Queen. An invitation for the Duchess to play croquet.\" Then they both bowed low and their curls got entangled together.\n\nWhen Alice next peeped out, the Fish– Footman was gone, and the other was sitting on the ground near the door, staring stupidly up into the sky. Alice went timidly up to the door and knocked.\n\n\"There's no sort of use in knocking,\" said the Footman, \"and that for two reasons. First, because I'm on the same side of the door as you are; secondly, because they're making such a noise inside, no one could possibly hear you.\" And certainly there was a most extraordinary noise going on within-a constant howling and sneezing, and every now and then a great crash, as if a dish or kettle had been broken to pieces.\n\n\"How am Ito get in?\" asked Alice.\n\n\"Are you to get in at all?\" said the Footman. \"That's the first question, you know.\"\n\nAlice opened the door and went in. The door led right into a large kitchen, which was full of smoke from one end to the other; the Duchess was sitting on a three– legged stool in the middle, nursing a baby; the cook was leaning over the fire, stirring a large caldron which seemed to be full of soup."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There's certainly too much pepper in that soup!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alice said to herself, as well as she could for sneezing. Even the Duchess sneezed occasionally; and as for the baby, it was sneezing and howling alternately without a moment's pause. The only two creatures in the kitchen that did not sneeze were the cook and a large cat, which was grinning from ear to ear.\n\n\"Please would you tell me,\" said Alice, a little timidly, \"why your cat grins like that?\"\n\n\"It's a Cheshire– Cat,\" said the Duchess, \"and that's why.\"\n\n\"I didn't know that Cheshire– Cats always grinned; in fact, I didn't know that cats could grin,\" said Alice.\n\n\"You don't know much,\" said the Duchess, \"and that's a fact.\"\n\nJust then the cook took the caldron of soup off the fire, and at once set to work throwing everything within her reach at the Duchess and the baby-the fire– irons came first; then followed a shower of saucepans, plates and dishes. The Duchess took no notice of them, even when they hither, and the baby was howling so much already that it was quite impossible to say whether the blows hurt it or not.\n\n\"Oh, please mind what you're doing!\" cried Alice, jumping up and down in an agony of terror.\n\n\"Here! You may nurse it a bit, if you like!\" the Duchess said to Alice, flinging the baby at her as she spoke. \"I must go and get ready to play croquet with the Queen,\" and she hurried out of the room.\n\nAlice caught the baby with some difficulty, as it was a queer– shaped little creature and held out its arms and legs in all directions. \"If I don't take this child away with me,\" thought Alice, \"they're sure to kill it in a day or two. Wouldn't it be murder to leave it behind?\" She said the last words out loud and the little thing grunted in reply."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"If you're going to turn into a pig, my dear,\" said Alice, \"I'll have nothing more to do with you."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mind now!\"\n\nAlice was just beginning to think to herself, \"Now, what am Ito do with this creature, when I get it home?\" when it grunted again so violently that Alice looked down into its face in some alarm. This time there could be no mistake about it-it was neither more nor less than a pig; so she set the little creature down and felt quite relieved to see it trot away quietly into the wood.\n\nAlice was a little startled by seeing the Cheshire– Cat sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off. The Cat only grinned when it saw her. \"Cheshire– Puss,\" began Alice, rather timidly, \"would you please tell me which way I ought to go from here?\"\n\n\"In that direction,\" the Cat said, waving the right paw \"round, \"lives a Hatter; and in that direction,\" waving the other paw, \"lives a March Hare. Visit either you like; they're both mad.\"\n\n\"But I don't want to go among mad people,\" Alice remarked.\n\n\"Oh, you can't help that,\" said the Cat; \"we're all mad here. Do you play croquet with the Queen to– day?\"\n\n\"I should like it very much,\" said Alice, \"but I haven't been invited yet.\"\n\n\"You'll see me there,\" said the Cat, and vanished.\n\nAlice had not gone much farther before she came insight of the house of the March Hare; it was so large a house that she did not like to go near till she had nibbled some more of the left– hand bit of mushroom."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it; a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep.\n\nThe table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together atone corner of it. \"No room! No room!\" they cried out when they saw Alice coming. \"There's plenty of room!\" said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm– chair atone end of the table.\n\nThe Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this, but all he said was'Why is a raven like a writing– desk?\"\n\n\"I'm glad they've begun asking riddles-I believe I can guess that,\" she added aloud.\n\n\"Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?\" said the March Hare.\n\n\"Exactly so,\" said Alice.\n\n\"Then you should say what you mean,\" the March Hare went on.\n\n\"I do,\" Alice hastily replied; \"at least-at least I mean what I say-that's the same thing, you know.\"\n\n\"You might just as well say,\" added the Dormouse, which seemed to be talking in its sleep, \"that\" I breathe when I sleep'is the same thing as\" I sleep when I breathe!\"\"\n\n\"It is the same thing with you,\" said the Hatter, and he poured a little hot tea upon its nose. The Dormouse shook its head impatiently and said, without opening its eyes, \"Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself.\"\n\n\"Have you guessed the riddle yet?\" the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.\n\n\"No, I give it up,\" Alice replied. \"What's the answer?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I haven't the slightest idea,\" said the Hatter.\n\n\"Nor I,\" said the March Hare.\n\nAlice gave a weary sigh. \"I think you might do something better with the time,\" she said, \"than wasting it in asking riddles that have no answers.\"\n\n\"Take some more tea,\" the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.\n\n\"I've had nothing yet,\" Alice replied in an offended tone, \"so I can't take more.\"\n\n\"You mean you can't take less,\" said the Hatter; \"it's very easy to take more than nothing.\"\n\nAt this, Alice got up and walked off. The Dormouse fell asleep instantly and neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or twice; the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the tea– pot.\n\nThe Trial Of The Knave Of Hearts.\n\n\"At any rate, I'll never go there again!\" said Alice, as she picked her way through the wood. \"It's the stupidest tea– party I ever was at in all my life!\" Just as she said this, she noticed that one of the trees had a door leading right into it. \"That's very curious!\" she thought. \"I think I may as well go in at once.\" And in she went.\n\nOnce more she found herself in the long hall and close to the little glass table. Taking the little golden key, she unlocked the door that led into the garden. Then she set to work nibbling at the mushroom (she had kept apiece of it in her pocket) till she was about afoot high; then she walked down the little passage; and then-she found herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower– beds and the cool fountains."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A large rose– tree stood near the entrance of the garden; the roses growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting them red. Suddenly their eyes chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching them. \"Would you tell me, please,\" said Alice, a little timidly, \"why you are painting those roses?\"\n\nFive and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began, in a low voice, \"Why, the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a red rose– tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and, if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cutoff, you know. So you see, Miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes, to-\" At this moment, Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out, \"The Queen! The Queen!\" and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps and Alice looked'round, eager to seethe Queen.\n\nFirst came ten soldiers carrying clubs, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented allover with diamonds. After these came the royal children; there were ten of them, all ornamented with hearts. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them Alice recognized the White Rabbit. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King's crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and last of all this grand procession came THE KING AND THE QUEEN OF HEARTS.\n\nWhen the procession came opposite to Alice, they all stopped and looked at her, and the Queen said severely, \"Who is this?\" She said it to the Knave of Hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My name is Alice, so please Your Majesty,\" said Alice very politely; but she added to herself, \"Why, they're only a pack of cards, after all!\"\n\n\"Can you play croquet?\" shouted the Queen. The question was evidently meant for Alice.\n\n\"Yes!\" said Alice loudly.\n\n\"Come on, then!\" roared the Queen.\n\n\"It's-it's a very fine day!\" said a timid voice to Alice. She was walking by the White Rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face.\n\n\"Very,\" said Alice. \"Where's the Duchess?\"\n\n\"Hush! Hush!\" said the Rabbit. \"She's under sentence of execution.\"\n\n\"What for?\" said Alice.\n\n\"She boxed the Queen's ears-\" the Rabbit began.\n\n\"Get to your places!\" shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other. However, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began.\n\nAlice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet– ground in her life; it was all ridges and furrows. The croquet balls were live hedgehogs, and the mallets live flamingos and the soldiers had to double themselves up and stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches.\n\nThe players all played at once, without waiting for turns, quarrelling all the while and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time, the Queen was in a furious passion and went stamping about and shouting, \"Off with his head!\" or'Off with her head!\" about once in a minute.\n\n\"They're dreadfully fond of beheading people here,\" thought Alice; \"the great wonder is that there's anyone left alive!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was looking about for someway of escape, when she noticed a curious appearance in the air. \"It's the Cheshire– Cat,\" she said to herself; \"now I shall have somebody to talk to.\"\n\n\"How are you getting on?\" said the Cat.\n\n\"I don't think they play at all fairly,\" Alice said, in a rather complaining tone; \"and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can't hear oneself speak-and they don't seem to have any rules in particular.\"\n\n\"How do you like the Queen?\" said the Cat in a low voice.\n\n\"Not at all,\" said Alice.\n\nAlice thought she might as well go back and see how the game was going on. So she went off in search of her hedgehog. The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other; the only difficulty was that her flamingo was gone across to the other side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying, in a helpless sort of way, to fly up into a tree. She caught the flamingo and tucked it away under her arm, that it might not escape again.\n\nJust then Alice ran across the Duchess (who was now out of prison). She tucked her arm affectionately into Alice's and they walked off together. Alice was very glad to find her in such a pleasant temper. She was a little startled, however, when she heard the voice of the Duchess close to her ear. \"You're thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk.\"\n\n\"The game's going on rather better now,\" Alice said, byway of keeping up the conversation a little.\n\n\"\"Tis so,\" said the Duchess; \"and the moral of that is-\" Oh,\"tis love, \"tis love that makes the world go'round!\"\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Somebody said,\" Alice whispered, \"that it's done by everybody minding his own business!\"\n\n\"Ah, well! It means much the same thing,\" said the Duchess, digging her sharp little chin into Alice's shoulder, as she added'and the moral of that is-\" Take care of the sense and the sounds will take care of themselves.\"\"\n\nTo Alice's great surprise, the Duchess's arm that was linked into hers began to tremble. Alice looked up and there stood the Queen in front of them, with her arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm!\n\n\"Now, I give you fair warning,\" shouted the Queen, stamping on the ground as she spoke, \"either you or your head must be off, and that in about half no time. Take your choice!\" The Duchess took her choice, and was gone in a moment.\n\n\"Let's goon with the game,\" the Queen said to Alice; and Alice was too much frightened to say a word, but slowly followed her back to the croquet– ground.\n\nAll the time they were playing, the Queen never left off quarreling with the other players and shouting, \"Off with his head!\" or'Off with her head!\" By the end of half an hour or so, all the players, except the King, the Queen and Alice, were in custody of the soldiers and under sentence of execution.\n\nThen the Queen left off, quite out of breath, and walked away with Alice.\n\nAlice heard the King say in a low voice to the company generally, \"You are all pardoned.\"\n\nSuddenly the cry'The Trial's beginning!\" was heard in the distance, and Alice ran along with the others."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them-all sorts of little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it. \"I wish they'd get the trial done,\" Alice thought, \"and hand'round the refreshments!\"\n\nThe judge, by the way, was the King and he wore his crown over his great wig. \"That's the jury– box,\" thought Alice; \"and those twelve creatures (some were animals and some were birds) I suppose they are the jurors.\"\n\nJust then the White Rabbit cried out'Silence in the court!\"\n\n\"Herald, read the accusation!\" said the King.\n\nOn this, the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet, then unrolled the parchment– scroll and read as follows:\n\n\"Call the first witness,\" said the King; and the White Rabbit blew three blasts on the trumpet and called out, \"First witness!\"\n\nThe first witness was the Hatter. He came in with a teacup in one hand and apiece of bread and butter in the other.\n\n\"You ought to have finished,\" said the King. \"When did you begin?\"\n\nThe Hatter looked at the March Hare, who had followed him into the court, arm in arm with the Dormouse. \"Fourteenth of March, I think it was,\" he said.\n\n\"Give your evidence,\" said the King, \"and don't be nervous, or I'll have you executed on the spot.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This did not seem to encourage the witness at all; he kept shifting from one foot to the other, looking uneasily at the Queen, and, in his confusion, he bit a large piece out of his teacup instead of the bread and butter.\n\nJust at this moment Alice felt a very curious sensation-she was beginning to grow larger again.\n\nThe miserable Hatter dropped his teacup and bread and butter and went down on one knee. \"I'm a poor man, Your Majesty,\" he began.\n\n\"You're a very poor speaker,\" said the King.\n\n\"You may go,\" said the King, and the Hatter hurriedly left the court.\n\n\"Call the next witness!\" said the King.\n\nThe next witness was the Duchess's cook. She carried the pepper– box in her hand and the people near the door began sneezing all at once.\n\n\"Give your evidence,\" said the King.\n\n\"Sha'n\"t,\" said the cook.\n\nThe King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said, in a low voice, \"Your Majesty must cross– examine this witness.\"\n\n\"Well, if I must, I must,\" the King said. \"What are tarts made of?\"\n\n\"Pepper, mostly,\" said the cook.\n\nFor some minutes the whole court was in confusion and by the time they had settled down again, the cook had disappeared.\n\n\"Never mind!\" said the King, \"call the next witness.\"\n\nAlice watched the White Rabbit as he fumbled over the list. Imagine her surprise when he readout, at the top of his shrill little voice, the name'Alice!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Here!\" cried Alice. She jumped up in such a hurry that she tipped over the jury– box, upsetting all the jurymen onto the heads of the crowd below.\n\n\"Oh, I beg your pardon!\" she exclaimed in atone of great dismay.\n\n\"The trial cannot proceed,\" said the King, \"until all the jurymen are back in their proper places-all,\" he repeated with great emphasis, looking hard at Alice.\n\n\"What do you know about this business?\" the King said to Alice.\n\n\"Nothing whatever,\" said Alice.\n\nThe King then read from his book: \"Rule forty– two. All persons more than a mile high to leave the court.\"\n\n\"I'm not a mile high,\" said Alice.\n\n\"Nearly two miles high,\" said the Queen.\n\n\"Well, I sha'n\"t go, at any rate,\" said Alice.\n\nThe King turned pale and shut his note– book hastily. \"Consider your verdict,\" he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice.\n\n\"There's more evidence to come yet, please Your Majesty,\" said the White Rabbit, jumping up in a great hurry. \"This paper has just been picked up. It seems to be a letter written by the prisoner to-to somebody.\" He unfolded the paper as he spoke and added, \"It isn't a letter, after all; it's a set of verses.\"\n\n\"Please, Your Majesty,\" said the Knave, \"I didn't write it and they can't prove that I did; there's no name signed at the end.\"\n\n\"You must have meant some mischief, or else you'd have signed your name like an honest man,\" said the King. There was a general clapping of hands at this."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Read them,\" he added, turning to the White Rabbit.\n\nThere was dead silence in the court whilst the White Rabbit readout the verses.\n\n\"That's the most important piece of evidence we've heard yet,\" said the King.\n\n\"I don't believe there's an atom of meaning in it,\" ventured Alice.\n\n\"If there's no meaning in it,\" said the King, \"that saves a world of trouble, you know, as we needn't try to find any. Let the jury consider their verdict.\"\n\n\"No, no!\" said the Queen. \"Sentence first-verdict afterwards.\"\n\n\"Stuff and nonsense!\" said Alice loudly. \"The idea of having the sentence first!\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue!\" said the Queen, turning purple.\n\n\"I won't!\" said Alice.\n\n\"Off with her head!\" the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody moved.\n\n\"Who cares for you?\" said Alice (she had grown to her full size by this time). \"You're nothing but a pack of cards!\"\n\nAt this, the whole pack rose up in the air and came flying down upon her; she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face.\n\n\"Wake up, Alice dear!\" said her sister. \"Why, what along sleep you've had!\"\n\n\"Oh, I've had such a curious dream!\" said Alice. And she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange adventures of hers that you have just been reading about. Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what a wonderful dream it had been."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, elves\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: Avempartha\nChapter: 13"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They crossed another narrow bridge that spanned a disturbingly deep gap."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Overhead were several colorful banners with iconic images embroidered on them with large single elven letters. Arista noticed Royce staring at them, his mouth working as if trying to read. On the far side of the bridge, they reached a doorstep where a tall ornately decorated archway was drawn into the stone, but no door was present.\n\n\"Royce, if you wouldn't mind?\"\n\nRoyce stepped forward and laying his hands on the polished stone, pressed.\n\n\"What's he doing?\" Arista asked the wizard.\n\nEsrahaddon turned and looked at Royce.\n\nThe thief stood before them uncomfortably fora moment then said, \"Avempartha has a magical protection that prevents anyone who doesn't have elvish blood from entering. Every lock in the place works the same way. Originally, we thought no one else but I could enter, oh, and Esra, because he had been invited years ago, but it turns out that if an elf invites you that's all that is needed. Esra found the exact elvish wording for me to memorize for the invite. That's how I got you in.\"\n\n\"Speaking of which...\" Esrahaddon motioned toward the stone arch.\n\n\"Sorry,\" Royce said and added in a clear voice. \"Melentanaria, en venau rendin Esrahaddon, en Arstia Essendon adona Melengar.\" Which Arista understood as: Grant entry to the wizard Esrahaddon and Arista Essendon Princess of Melengar.\n\n\"That's Old Speech,\" Arista said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Esrahaddon nodded. \"There are many similarities between Elvish and the Old Imperial.\"\n\n\"Whoa!\" Looking back at the archway Arista suddenly saw an open door. \"But I still don't understand. How is it you can grant us-oh.\" The princess stopped with her mouth still open."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But you don't look at all-\"\n\n\"I'm a mir.\"\n\n\"A what?\"\n\n\"A mix,\" Esrahaddon explained, \"Some elven, some human blood.\"\n\n\"But you never-\"\n\n\"It's not the kind of thing you brag about,\" the thief said. \"And I'd appreciate it if you kept this to yourself.\"\n\n\"Oh-of course.\"\n\n\"Come along, Arista still needs to play her part,\" Esrahaddon said entering.\n\nInside they found a large chamber carved perfectly round. It was like entering the inside of giant ball. Unlike the rest of the tower and despite its size, the room was unadorned. It was merely avast smooth chamber with no seam, crack, nor crevice. The only feature was a zigzagging stone staircase that rose from the floor to a platform that extended out from the steps and stood at the exact center of the sphere.\n\n\"Do you remember the Plesieantic incantations I taught you, Arista?\" the wizard asked as they climbed the stairs, his voice echoing loudly, ricocheting repeatedly off the walls.\n\n\"Um... the ah...\"\n\n\"Do you or don't you?\"\n\n\"I'm thinking.\"\n\n\"Think faster; this is no time for slow wits.\"\n\n\"Yes, I remember. Lord, but you've gotten testy.\"\n\n\"I'll apologize later. Now, when we getup there you are going to stand in the middle of the platform on the mark laid out on the floor as the apex. You will begin and maintain the Plesieantic Phrase. Start with the Gathering Incantation, when you do you will likely feel a bit more of a jolt than you would normally because this place will amplify your power to gather resources. Don't be alarmed, don't stop the incantation, and whatever you do, don't scream.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arista looked fearfully back at Royce.\n\n\"Once you feel the power moving through your body, begin the Torsonic Chant. As you do you will need to form the crystal-matrix with your fingers, making certain you fold inward not outward.\"\n\n\"So with my thumbs pointing out and the rest of my fingers pointing at me, right?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Esrahaddon said irritated. \"This is all basic formations, Arista.\"\n\n\"I know it, I know it-it's just been awhile. I've been busy being Melengar's ambassador, not sitting in my tower practicing conjurations.\"\n\n\"So you've been frivolously wasting your time?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, exasperated.\n\n\"Now, when you've completed the matrix,\" the wizard went on, \"just hold it. Remember the concentration techniques I taught you and focus on keeping the matrix even and steady. At that point, I will tap into your power field and conduct my search. When I do, this room is likely to do some extraordinary things. Images and visions will become visible at various places in the room and you might even hear sounds. Again don't be alarmed, they aren't really here, they will merely be echoes of my mind as I search for the amulets.\"\n\n\"Does that mean all of us will be able to see who the real heir is?\" Royce asked as they reached the top.\n\nEsrahaddon nodded. \"I would like to have kept it to myself, but fate has seen fit to force me a different way. When I find the magical pulse of the amulets I will focus on the owners and they will likely appear as the largest image in the room as I will be concentrating to determine not only who wears them, but where they areas well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The platform was only faintly dust covered and they could easily seethe massive converging geometric lines marked on the floor like rays of the sun, all gathering to a single point in the exact center of the dais.\n\n\"Them?\" Arista asked as she took her position at the central point.\n\n\"There were two necklaces, one I gave to Nevrik which will be the heir's amulet and the other to Jerish which will be the bodyguard's. If they still exist, we should see both. I would ask that you not tell anyone what you are about to see, for if you do you could put the heir's life in immense danger and possibly imperil the future of mankind as we know it.\"\n\n\"Wizards and their drama,\" Royce rolled his eyes. \"A simple please keep your mouth shut would do.\"\n\nEsrahaddon raised an eyebrow at the thief, then turned to Arista and said, \"Begin.\"\n\nArista hesitated. Sauly had to be wrong. All that talk about the heir having the power to enslave mankind was just to frighten her into being their spy. His warnings that Esrahaddon was a demon must be more lies. He was secretive certainly, but not evil. He had saved her life tonight. What had Sauly done? How many days before Braga's death had Saldur known... and done nothing?\n\nToo many.\n\n\"Arista?\" Esrahaddon pressed.\n\nShe nodded, raised her hands and began the weave."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The night wind blew gently across the hilltop. Hadrian and Theron stood alone on the ruins of the manor above what had been a village. A place of countless hopes that lay buried in ash and wreckage.\n\nTheron felt the breeze on his skin and remembered the ill wind he felt the night his family died.\n\nThe night Thrace ran to him. He could still see her as she raced down the slope of Stony Hill, running to the safety of his arms. He had thought that was the worst day of his life. He had cursed his daughter for coming to him. He blamed her for the death of his family. He put on her all the woe and despair that he had been too weak to carry. She was his little girl, the one who always walked beside him wherever he went, and when he shooed her away, as he always did, he would catch her following at a distance, watching him, mimicking his actions and his words.\n\nThrace was the one who laughed at his faces, cried when he was hurt, the one who sat at his bedside when he lay with fever. He never had a good word for his daughter. Never a pat or praise that he could remember. Not once did he ever say he was proud of her. Most of the time he had not acknowledged her at all. But he would gladly give his own life merely to see his little girl run to him again, just once more.\n\nTheron stood shoulder to shoulder with Hadrian. He held the broken blade hidden beneath his clothes, ready to draw it out in an instant to appease the beast if needed. Hadrian held the false blade the dwarf had fashioned, and he, too, kept it hidden explaining that if the Gilarabrywn knew in advance where its prize was, it might not bother with the trade. Magnus and Tobis waited down the hill out of sight behind a hunting blind of assembled wreckage while Tomas worked at making Hilfred and Mauvin as comfortable as possible at the bottom of the hill."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The moon had risen and climbed above the trees and still the beast had not come. The torches Hadrian had lit in a circle around the hilltop were burning out. Only a few remained, but it did not seem to matter, as the moon was bright and with the canopy of leaves gone, they could see well enough to read a book.\n\n\"Maybe it's not coming,\" Tomas said to them climbing up the hill. \"Maybe it wasn't supposed to be tonight or maybe I was just hearing things. I've never been very good with the Old Speech.\"\n\n\"How's Mauvin?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"The bleeding stopped. He's sleeping peacefully now. I covered him in a blanket and created a pillow for him from a spare shirt. He and the soldier Hilfred should-\"\n\nThere came a cry from the tower that turned their heads. To his amazement, Theron saw a brilliant explosion of white light flare at the pinnacle of the tower. It was there one moment and then faded as suddenly as it had appeared.\n\n\"What in the name of Maribor was that?\" Theron asked.\n\nHadrian shook his head. \"I don't know, but if I had to guess I'd say Royce had something to do with it.\"\n\nThere was another cry from the Gilarabrywn, this one louder.\n\n\"Whatever it was,\" Hadrian told him, \"I think it's headed our way.\"\n\nBehind them, they could faintly hear Tomas praying.\n\n\"Putin a good word for Thrace, Tomas,\" Theron told him.\n\n\"I'm putting a word in for all of us,\" the cleric replied.\n\n\"Hadrian,\" Theron said, \"if by chance I don't survive this and you do, keep an eye on my Thrace for me will you? And if she dies too, see to it we are buried on my farm.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And if I should die and you live,\" Hadrian said. \"Make sure this dagger I have in my belt gets back to Royce before the dwarf steals it.\"\n\n\"Is that all?\" the farmer asked. \"Where do you want us to bury you?\"\n\n\"I don't want to be buried,\" he said. \"If I die I think I would like my body to be sent down the river, over the falls. Who knows, I might make it all the way to the sea.\"\n\n\"Good luck,\" Theron told him. The sounds of night went suddenly silent, save only for the breath of the wind.\n\nThis time with no forest in the way, he could see it coming, its wide dark wings stretched out like the shadow of a soaring bird, its thin body curling, its tail snapping as it flew. It did not dive as it approached. It did not breathe fire or land. Instead, it circled in silent flight, arcing in a wide ellipse.\n\nAs it circled, they could see it was not alone. Within its claws, it held a woman. At first, he could not tell who it was. She appeared to be wearing a richly tailored robe but she had Thrace's sandy colored hair. As it circled the second time, he knew it was his daughter. A wave of relief and heightened anxiety gripped him. What had become of the other?\n\nAfter several circles, the beast lowered like a kite and softly touched the ground. It landed directly in front of them not more than fifty feet away on the site of the now collapsed manor house.\n\nThrace was alive.\n\nA massive claw of scale covered muscle and bone tipped with four, foot-long black nails surrounded her like a cage.\n\n\"Daddy!\" she cried in tears."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Seeing her, Theron made a lung forward."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Instantly the Gilarabrywn's claw tightened and she cried out. Hadrian grabbed Theron and pulled him back.\n\n\"Wait!\" he shouted. \"It'll kill her if you get too close.\"\n\nThe beast glared at them with huge reptilian eyes. Then the Gilarabrywn spoke.\n\nNeither Theron nor Hadrian understood a word.\n\n\"Tomas,\" Hadrian shouted over his shoulder. \"What's it saying?\"\n\n\"I'm not very good at-\" Tomas began.\n\n\"I don't care how well you did in grammar at seminary just translate.\"\n\n\"I think it said it chose to take the females because it would create the greatest incentive for cooperation.\"\n\nThe creature spoke again and Tomas did not wait for Hadrian to tell him to translate.\n\n\"It says: where is the blade that was stolen?\"\n\nHadrian looked back at Tomas, \"Ask it: where is the other female?\"\n\nTomas spoke and the beast replied.\n\n\"It says the other escaped.\"\n\n\"Ask it: How do I know you will let us all live if I tell you where the blade is hidden?\"\n\nTomas spoke and the beast replied again.\n\n\"It says it will offer you a gesture of good faith since it knows it has the upper hand and understands your concern.\"\n\nIt opened its claw and Thrace ran to her father. Theron's heart leapt as his little girl raced across the hill to his waiting arms. He hugged her tight and wiped her tears.\n\n\"Theron,\" Hadrian said, \"get her out of here. Both of you get back to the well if you can.\"\n\nTheron and his daughter did not argue and the Gilarabrywn's great eyes watched carefully as Theron and Thrace began to sprint down the hill. Then it spoke again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Now, where is the blade?\" Tomas translated.\n\n---\n\nLooking up at the towering beast and feeling the sweat dripping down his face, Hadrian drew the false blade out of his sleeve and held it up. The Gilarabrywn's eyes narrowed.\n\n\"Bring it tome,\" Tomas translated its words.\n\nThis was it. Hadrian felt the metal in his hands'Please let this work,\" he whispered to himself and tossed the blade. It landed in the ash before the beast. The Gilarabrywn looked down at it and Hadrian held his breath. The beast casually placed its foot upon the blade and gathered it into its long talons. Then it looked at Hadrian and spoke.\n\n\"The deal is complete,\" Tomas said. \"But...\"\n\n\"But?\" Hadrian repeated nervously, \"But what?\"\n\nTomas' voice grew weak. \"But it says, I cannot allow those who have seen even half my name to remain alive.\"\n\n\"Oh, you bastard,\" Hadrian cursed, pulling his great spadone sword from his back. \"Run, Tomas!\"\n\nThe Gilarabrywn rose up, flapping its great wings causing a storm of ash to swirl into a cloud. It snapped forward with its head like a snake. Hadrian dove aside and spinning drove his sword at the beast. Rather than feeling the blade tip penetrate, however, Hadrian's heart sank as the point of the spadone skipped off as if the Gilarabrywn was made of stone. The sudden shock broke his grip and the sword fell.\n\nNot losing a beat the Gilarabrywn swung its tail around in a sharp snap. The long bone blade on the tip hummed as it sliced the air two feet above the ground. Hadrian leapt over it and the tail glanced off the hillside stabbing into a charred timber. A quick flick and the several hundred-pound log flew into the night. Hadrian reached inside his tunic and drew Alverstone from its sheath. He crouched like a knife-fighter in a ring, upon the balls of his feet, waiting for the next attack."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Once more, the Gilarabrywn's tail came at him. This time it stabbed like a scorpion. Hadrian dove aside, and the long point sunk into the earth.\n\nHe ran forward.\n\nThe Gilarabrywn snapped at Hadrian with his teeth. He was ready for that, expecting it, counting on it. He jumped aside at the last minute. It was so close one tooth sliced through his tunic and gashed his shoulder. It was worth it. He was inches from the beast's face. With all his strength, Hadrian stabbed Royce's tiny dagger into the monster's great eye.\n\nThe Gilarabrywn screeched an awful cry that deafened Hadrian. It reared back, stomping its feet.\n\nThe tiny blade pierced the pupil and cut a slice. It shook its head perhaps as much in disbelief as in pain and glared at Hadrian with its one remaining eye. Then it spat out words solaced with venom that Tomas did not need to translate.\n\nThe beast spread its wings and drew itself up in the air. Hadrian knew what was coming next and cursed his own stupidity having allowed the creature to move him so far from the pit. He could never make it therein time now.\n\nThe Gilarabrywn screeched and arched its back.\n\nThere was aloud twack! A wad of rope netting flew into the air like a ball. With small weights tied to the edges that traveled faster than the center, the net flew open like a giant windsock, enveloping the flapping beast even as it tried to take flight.\n\nIts wings tangled in the net, the Gilarabrywn dropped to the hilltop, crashing down with a heavy thud, the impact throwing up bits of the manor house's stairway banister that flew end-over-end before shattering in a cloud of ash."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It worked!\" Tobis shouted as much in shock as in triumph from the far side of the hill.\n\nHadrian saw his opportunity and, spinning around, charged the monster. Ashe did, he noticed Theron following him.\n\n\"I told you to take Thrace and run,\" Hadrian yelled.\n\n\"You look like you needed help,\" Theron shouted back, \"And I told Thrace to head for the well.\"\n\n\"What makes you think she will listen to you anymore than you listen tome?\"\n\nHadrian reached where the Gilarabrywn lay on its side thrashing about wildly, and dove at its head. He found its open eye and attacked, stabbing repeatedly. With a terrible scream, the beast raked back with its legs, ripping the net open, and rolled to its feet again.\n\nHadrian, so intent on blinding the beast, had stepped on the netting. When the monster rose up, Hadrian's feet went out from under him. He fell flat on his back, the air knocked from his lungs.\n\nBlind, the beast resorted to lashing outwith its tail, sweeping it across the ground. Hadrian got caught while trying to stand up. Too close to be hit by the blade, the force of the blunt tail struck him.\n\n---\n\nHadrian rolled and tumbled like a rag doll, sliding across the ash until he stopped in a patch of dirt where he lay, unmoving. Freeing itself fully of the net, the beast sniffed the air and began moving toward the one who had caused it pain.\n\n\"No!\" Theron shouted and charged. He ran for Hadrian, thinking he could drag him clear of the blind beast before it reached him, only the beast was too fast and reached Hadrian the same time Theron did."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Theron picked up a rock and drew forth the broken blade he still carried. He aimed for the exposed creature's side and, using the rock as a hammer, drove the metal homelike a nail.\n\nThis stopped the Gilarabrywn from killing Hadrian, but the beast did not cry out as it had when Hadrian stabbed it. Instead, it turned and laughed. Theron struck the blade with the rock again forcing the metal deep, but still the beast did not cry out. It spoke to him, but Theron could not understand the words. Then, having little trouble guessing where the farmer stood, the Gilarabrywn swiped at him with his claw.\n\nTheron did not have the speed or agility that Hadrian had. Strong as he was for his age his old body could not move clear of the blow in time and the great nails of the beast stabbed into him like four swords.\n\n---\n\n\"DADDY!\" Thrace screamed, running to him. She scrambled up the slope crying as she came.\n\nFrom their blind, Tobis and the dwarf fired a rock at the Gilarabrywn, and managed to hit its tail.\n\nThe beast spun and charged furiously in their direction.\n\nFalling to her hands and knees Thrace crawled to Theron's side and found her father lying broken on the hill. His left arm lay twisted backwards, his foot facing the wrong direction. His chest soaked in dark blood and his breath hitched as his body convulsed.\n\n\"Thrace,\" he managed to say weakly.\n\n\"Daddy,\" she cried as she cradled him in her arms.\n\n\"Thrace,\" he said again, gripping her with his remaining hand and pulled her close. \"I'm so-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "his eyes closed tightly in pain. \"I'm so-pr-proud of you.\"\n\n\"Oh god, Daddy. No. No. No!\" she cried shaking her head.\n\nShe held him, squeezing as hard as she could, trying by the force of her arms to keep him with her. She would not let him go. She could not, he was all there was. She sobbed and wailed, clutching his shirt, kissing his cheek and forehead, and as she held him, she felt her father pass away into the night.\n\nTheron Wood died on the scorched ground in a pool of blood and dirt. Ashe did, the last tiny remnant of hope Thrace had held onto-her last foothold she had in the world-died with him.\n\nThere is a darkness of night, a darkness of senses, and a darkness of spirit. Thrace felt herself drowning in all three. Her father was dead. Her light, her hope, her last dream, they all died with his last breath. Nothing remained upon the world that it had not taken from her.\n\nIt had killed her mother.\n\nIt had killed her brother, his wife, and her nephew.\n\nIt had killed Daniel Hall and Jessie Caswell.\n\nIt had burned her village.\n\nIt had killed her father.\n\nThrace raised her head and looked across the hill at it.\n\nNo one that had been attacked had ever lived. There were never any survivors.\n\nShe stood and began to walk forward slowly. She reached into the robe and pulled out the sword that had remained hidden there.\n\nThe beast found the catapult and shattered it. It turned and blindly began to search its way back down the hillside sniffing. It did not notice the young girl."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The thick layer of ash that it had created quieted her steps.\n\n\"No, Thrace!\" Tomas shouted at her. \"Runaway!\"\n\nThe Gilarabrywn paused and sniffed at the sound of the shout, sensing danger, but unable to determine its source. It tried to look in the direction of the voice.\n\n\"No, Thrace-don't!\"\n\nThrace ignored the cleric. She had passed beyond hearing, beyond seeing, beyond thinking. She was no longer on the hill. She was no longer in Dahlgren, but rather in a tunnel, a narrow tunnel that led inescapably to only one destination... it.\n\nIt kills people. That's what it does.\n\nThe beast sniffed the air. She could tell it was trying to find her; it was searching for the smell of fear it created in its victims.\n\nShe had no fear. It destroyed that too.\n\nNow she was invisible.\n\nWithout hesitation, fear, question, or regret, Thrace quietly walked up to the towering monster.\n\nShe gripped the elven sword in both hands and raised it above her head. Putting the full weight of her small body into it, she thrust the broken sword into the Gilarabrywn's body. She did not have to put so much effort into it, the blade slipped in easily.\n\nThe beast shrieked in mortal fear and confusion.\n\nIt turned, recoiling, but it was already too late. The sword penetrated all the way to the hilt. The essence that was the Gilarabrywn and the forces that bound it shattered. With the snapping of the bonds that held it fast, the world reclaimed the energy in a sudden violent outburst. The eruption of force threw Thrace and Tomas to the ground. The shock wave continued down the hill, radiating out in all directions, beyond the burnt desolation to the forest launching flocks of birds into the night."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dazed, Tomas staggered to his feet and approached the small slender figure of Thrace Wood at the center of a cleared depression where the great Gilarabrywn once was. He walked forward in awe and fell prostrate on his knees before the girl.\n\n\"Your Imperial Majesty,\" was all he said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The sun rose brightly over the Nidwalden River. The clouds had moved off and by midmorning the sky was clear and the air cooler than it had been. Alight wind skimmed across the surface of the river, raising ripples, while the sun cast a brilliant gold face upon the water. A fish jumped above the surface and fell back with a plop. Overhead, birds sang morning songs and cicadas droned.\n\nRoyce and Arista stood on the bank of the river ringing water out of their clothes. Esrahaddon waited.\n\n\"Nice robe,\" the princess said.\n\nThe wizard only smiled.\n\nArista shivered as she looked out across the river. The trees on the far bank looked different than on their side, a different species perhaps. Arista thought they appeared prouder, straighter with fewer lower branches, and longer trunks. While the trees were impressive, there was no evidence of civilization.\n\n\"How do we know they are over there?\" Arista asked.\n\n\"The elves?\" Esrahaddon questioned.\n\n\"I mean, no one has seen an elf-\" she glanced at Royce, \"A pure blood elf-in centuries, right?\"\n\n\"They are there. Thousands of them by now I should think. Tribes of the old names, with bloodlines that can be traced to the dawn of time. The Miralyith, masters of The Art, Asendwayr the hunters, Nilyndd the crafters, Eiliwin the architects, Umalyn the spiritualists, Gwydry the shipwrights, and Instarya the warriors. They are all still there, a congress of nations.\"\n\n\"Do they have cities? Like we do?\"\n\n\"Perhaps, but probably not like ours. There is a legend of a sacred place called Estramnadon. It is the holiest place in elven culture... at least that we humans know of. Estramnadon is said to be over there, deep in the forests. Some think it is their capital city and seat of their monarch, others speculate it is the sacred grove where the first tree-the tree planted by Muriel herself-still grows and is cared for by the Children of Ferrol. No one knows for certain. No human is likely ever to know, as the elves do not suffer the trespasses of others.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Really?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "the princess looked at the thief with a playful smirk. \"Perhaps if I knew that before I might have guessed Royce's heritage sooner.\"\n\nRoyce ignored the comment and turned to the wizard. \"Can I assume you will not be returning to the village?\"\n\nEsrahaddon shook his head. \"I need to leave before Luis Guy and his pack of hounds track me down. Besides, I have an heir to talk to and plans to make.\"\n\n\"Then this is goodbye. I need to get back.\"\n\n\"Remember to keep silent about what you saw in the tower-both of you.\"\n\n\"Funny, I expected the heir and his guardian to be unknown farm boys from someplace-well-\n\nlike this I suppose. Someone I never heard of.\"\n\n\"Life has away of surprising you, doesn't it?\" Esrahaddon said.\n\nRoyce nodded and started to head off.\n\n\"Royce,\" Esrahaddon said softly stopping him. \"We know that what happened last night wasn't pleasant. You should prepare yourself for what you're going to find.\"\n\n\"You think Hadrian's dead,\" Royce said flatly.\n\n\"I would expect so. If he is, at least know that his death may have been the sacrifice that saved our world from destruction. And while that may not comfort you, I think we both know that it would have pleased Hadrian.\"\n\nRoyce thought a moment, nodded, then entered the trees and disappeared.\n\n\"He's definitely elvish,\" Arista said shaking her head and sitting down opposite Esrahaddon. \"I don't know why I didn't see it before. You've grown a beard I see.\"\n\n\"You just noticed?\"\n\n\"I noticed before, been kinda busy until now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I can't really shave, can I? It wasn't a problem while I was in Gutaria, but now-does it look alright?\"\n\n\"You have some grey coming in.\"\n\n\"I ought to. I am nine hundred years old.\"\n\nShe watched the wizard staring across the river.\n\n\"You really should practice your art. You did well in there.\"\n\nShe rolled her eyes. \"I can't do it, not the way you taught me. I can do most of the things Arcadius demonstrated, but it's a bit impossible to learn hand magic from a man without hands.\"\n\n\"You boiled water, and you made the prison guard sneeze. Remember?\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm a veritable sorceress, aren't I?\" she said sarcastically.\n\nHe sighed. \"What about the rain? Have you worked on that incantation anymore?\"\n\n\"No, and I'm not going to. I am the Ambassador of Melengar now. I've put all that behind me.\n\nGiven time, they may even forget I was tried for witchcraft.\"\n\n\"I see,\" the wizard said, disappointed.\n\nThe princess shivered in the morning chill and tried to run her fingers through her hair but caught them in tangles. Stains and wrinkles dotted her dress. \"I'm a mess, aren't I?\"\n\nThe wizard said nothing. He appeared to bethinking.\n\n\"So,\" she began, \"what will you do when you find the heir?\"\n\nEsrahaddon only stared at her.\n\n\"Is it a secret?\"\n\n\"Why don't you ask me what you really want to know, Arista?\"\n\nShe sat trying to look naïve and offered a slight smile, \"I don't understand.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You aren't sitting here shivering in a wet dressmaking small talk with me for nothing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You have an agenda.\"\n\n\"An agenda?\" she asked, not at all convincingly even for her own tastes. \"I don't know what you mean.\"\n\n\"You want to know if what the church told you about your father's death is true or not. You think I used you as a pawn. You are wondering if I tricked you into being an unwitting accomplice to your own father's death.\"\n\nThe act was over. She stared stunned at the wizard's bluntness, barely breathing. She did not speak, but slowly nodded her head.\n\n\"I suspected they might come after you because they are having trouble following me.\"\n\n\"Did you?\" She asked finding her voice. \"Did you orchestrate my father's death?\"\n\nEsrahaddon let the silence hang between them a moment, then at last replied.\n\n\"Yes, Arista. I did.\"\n\nAt first, the princess did not say a word. It did not seem possible that she heard him correctly.\n\nSlowly her head began to shake back and forth in disbelief.\n\n\"How...\" she started to say, \"How could you do that?\"\n\n\"Nothing I, nor anyone else says, can explain that to you-not now at least. Perhaps someday you'll understand.\"\n\nTears welled up in her eyes. She brushed them away and glared at the wizard.\n\n\"Before you judge me completely, as I know you will, remember one thing. Right now, the Church of Nyphron is trying to persuade you that I am a demon, the very Apostle of Uberlin.\n\nYou are likely thinking they are right. Before you damn me forever and run into the embrace of the patriarch, ask yourself these questions. Who approved your entrance into the University of Sheridan? Who talked your disapproving father into letting you attend? How did you learn about me? How was it that you found your way to a hidden prison that only a handful of people knew existed? Why were you taught to use a gemstone lock and isn't it interesting that the very gem you used on your door was the same as the signet ring that unlocked the prison entrance? And how was it that a young girl, princess or not, was allowed to enter Gutaria Prison and leave unmolested, not once, not twice, but repeatedly for months without her activities ever being questioned or reported back to her father the king?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What are you saying?\"\n\n\"Arista,\" the wizard said, \"sharks don't eat seafood because they like it, but because chickens don't swim. We all do the best we can with the tools we have, but at some point you have to ask yourself where the tools came from.\"\n\nShe stared at him. \"You knew they would kill my father. You counted on it. You even knew they would eventually kill me and Alric, and yet you pretended to be my friend, my teacher.\" Her face hardened. \"School's over.\" She turned her back on him and walked away.\n\n---\n\nWhen Royce reached the edge of the burnt forest, he spotted a series of colorful tents setup around the old village common. The tents displayed pennants of the Nyphron Church, and he could see several priests as well as imperial guards. Other figures moved slowly over the hill near the old castle grounds, but nowhere did he see anyone he knew.\n\nHe kept to the cover of the trees when he caught the sound of a snapping twig not too far off.\n\nSlipping around, he quickly spotted Magnus crouched in the underbrush.\n\nThe dwarf jumped in alarm and fell backward at his approach.\n\n\"Relax,\" Royce whispered sitting down next to where the dwarf now lay, nervously watching the thief.\n\nGlancing down the slope Royce realized that the dwarf had found an excellent position to watch the camp. They were on arise behind a series of burnt trees where some of the underbrush had survived. Below they had a perfect view of each of the tent openings, the makeshift horse corral and the latrine. Royce guessed there were about thirty of them.\n\n\"What are you still doing here?\" Royce asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was breaking a sword for your partner. But I'm leaving now.\"\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\n\"Huh? Oh, Theron and Fanen were killed.\"\n\nRoyce nodded showing no outward sign of surprise or grief.\n\n\"Hadrian? Is he alive?\"\n\nThe dwarf nodded, and went onto explain the events that transpired that evening.\n\n\"After it was dead, or dispelled, or whatever, Tomas and I checked on Hadrian. He was unconscious, but alive. We made him comfortable, covered him in a blanket and put a lean-to over him, the Pickering kid, and that Melengarian soldier. Before dawn, Bishop Saldur and his crew returned, dragging two wagons with them. The way I figure it, either Guy reported what happened and he was coming back with help, or they heard it when the beasty died. They pulled in and fast as rabbits, had these tents up and breakfast cooking. I spotted the sentinel in their ranks, so I hid up here. They moved Hadrian, Hilfred, and Mauvin into that white tent and soon after they put a guard on it.\"\n\n\"Is that all?\"\n\n\"Well, they sent a detail out to bury the dead. Most they buried on the hill up there near the castle, including Fanen, but Tomas made some big stink and they took Theron down the road to that last farm near the river and they buried him there.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you forgot to mention how you found my dagger?\"\n\n\"The Alverstone? I thought you had it.\"\n\n\"I do,\" Royce said.\n\nMagnus reached for his boot and cursed.\n\n\"When you investigated my background, you must have stumbled across the fact that I survived my youth by picking pockets.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I remember something about that,\" the dwarf growled.\n\nRoyce pulled Alverstone from its sheath as he glared at the dwarf.\n\n\"Look, I'm sorry about killing that damn king. It was just a job I was hired to do, okay? I wouldn't have taken the job if it hadn't required a uniquely challenging masonry effort. I'm not an assassin. I'm not even good enough to be considered apathetic fighter. I'm an artisan. Truth be told, I specialize in weapons. That's my first love, but all dwarves can cut stone so I was hired to do the tower work, then the job got changed and after half a year's work I was going to be stiffed if I didn't knife the old man. In hindsight, I can see I should have refused, but I didn't. I didn't know anything about him. Maybe he was a bad king; maybe he deserved to die; Braga certainly thought so and he was the king's brother-in-law. I try not to involve myself inhuman affairs, but I was caught up in this one. It's not something I wanted; it's not something I looked for; it just happened. And it's not like someone else wouldn't have done it if I hadn't.\"\n\n\"What makes you think I'm upset you killed Amrath? I'm not even mad that you trapped the tower. Closing the door on me was the mistake you made.\"\n\nMagnus inched away.\n\n\"Killing you would be as easy as-no easier than, slaughtering a fatted pig. The challenge would lie in causing the maximum amount of pain before inflicting the death.\"\n\nMagnus' mouth opened, but no words came out.\n\n\"But you area very lucky dwarf, because there's a man still alive in that tent who wouldn't like it-a man you covered in a blanket and put a lean-to over.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Down below he spotted Arista as she entered the camp. She talked to a guard who pointed toward the white tent. She rushed to it.\n\nRoyce looked back at the dwarf and spoke clearly and evenly. \"If you ever touch Alverstone again without my permission, I'll kill you.\"\n\nMagnus looked at him bitterly then his expression changed and he raised an eyebrow. \"Without your permission? So there's a chance you'll let me study it?\"\n\nRoyce rolled his eyes. \"I'm going to get Hadrian out of there. You are going to steal two of the archbishop's horses and walk them over to the white tent without being spotted.\"\n\n\"And then we can talk about the permission thing?\"\n\nRoyce sighed, \"Did I mention I hate dwarves?\"\n\n---\n\n\"But your grace-\" Deacon Tomas protested as he stood in the large striped tent before Bishop Saldur and Luis Guy. The pudgy cleric made a poor showing of himself in his frock caked with dirt and ash, his face smudged, his fingers black.\n\n\"Look at you Tomas,\" Bishop Saldur said. \"You're so exhausted you look as if you will fall down any minute. You've had along two days, and you've been under tremendous stress for months now. It is only natural that you might see things in the dark. No one is blaming you. And we don't think you are lying. We know that right now you believe you saw this village girl destroy the Gilarabrywn, but I think if you just take a nap and rest, when you getup you'll find that you were mistaken about a great many things.\"\n\n\"I don't need a nap!\" Tomas shouted.\n\n\"Calm down, deacon,\" Saldur snapped, rising abruptly to his feet. \"Remember whose presence you are standing in.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The deacon cowed and Saldur sighed. His face softened to his grandfatherly visage and he put an arm around the man's shoulders, patting him gently, \"Go to a tent and rest.\"\n\nTomas hesitated, turned and left Saldur and Luis Guy alone.\n\nThe bishop threw himself down in the little cushioned chair beside a bowl of red berries some industrious servant managed to gather for him. He popped two in his mouth and chewed. They were bitter and he grimaced. Despite the early hour, Saldur was desperate fora glass of brandy, but none had survived the flight from the castle. Only the grace of Maribor could account for the survival of the camping gear and provisions, all of which they had lazily left in the wagons when they first arrived at the manor. In the turmoil of their exodus, they had given little thought to provisions.\n\nThat he lived at all was a miracle. He could not recall how he crossed the courtyard, or how he reached the gate. He must have rundown the hill, but had no recollection of it. His memory was like a dream, vague and fading. He did remember ordering the coachman to whip the horses. The fool wanted to wait for the archbishop. The old man could barely walk and the moment the flames hit, his servants deserted him. He had as much chance of survival as Rufus.\n\nWith Archbishop Galien's death, the command of the church's interest in Dahlgren fell to Saldur and Guy. The two inherited a disaster of mythic proportions. They were alone in the wilderness, faced with crucial decisions. How they handled them would decide the fate of future generations.\n\nWho actually held authority remained vague. Saldur was a bishop of the church, an appointed leader, while Guy was only an arm of the security branch. Still, the sentinel actually spoke with the patriarch. Saldur liked Guy, but appreciation for his effectiveness would not prevent him from sacrificing the sentinel if necessary. If Guy still had his knights about him, Saldur was certain the sentinel would take command and he would have no choice but to accept it, but the seret were dead and Guy himself wounded. With Galien also dead, a door had opened, and Saldur planned to be the first one through."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Saldur looked at Guy. \"How could you let this happen?\"\n\nThe sentinel who sat with his arm in a sling and his shoulder wrapped in bandages stiffened, \"I lost seven good men, and barely escaped with my life. I wouldn't call that allowing it to happen.\"\n\n\"And how exactly did a bunch of farmers defeat the infamous seret?\"\n\n\"They weren't farmers; two were Pickerings and there was Hadrian Blackwater.\"\n\n\"The Pickerings I can understand, but Blackwater? He's nothing but a rogue.\"\n\n\"No, there's more to him-him and his partner.\"\n\n\"Royce and Hadrian are excellent thieves. They proved that in Melengar and again in Chadwick.\n\nPoor Archibald still has fits over it.\"\n\n\"No,\" Guy said, \"I think they're more than that. Blackwater knows Teshlor combat, and his friend, that Royce Melborn is an elf.\"\n\nSaldur blinked. \"An elf? Are you sure?\"\n\n\"He passes as human, but I'm certain of it.\"\n\n\"And this is the second time we've found them with Esrahaddon,\" Saldur muttered in concern.\n\n\"Is this Hadrian still here?\"\n\n\"He is in the infirmary tent.\"\n\n\"Put a guard on him at once.\"\n\n\"I had him under guard since he was dragged to the tent. What we need to concern ourselves with is the girl. She is going to prove an embarrassment if we don't do something,\" Guy said and slipped his sword partway out of its sheath. \"She is in grief over the loss of her father. It wouldn't be surprising if she threw herself over the falls in a fit of despair.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And Tomas?\" Saldur asked, reaching for another handful of berries. \"It is clear he won't be quiet. Will you kill him too? What excuse will you give for that? And what about all the others in this camp that heard him going on all morning about her being the heir? Do we kill everyone? If we did, who would carry our bags back to Ervanon?\" he added with a smile.\n\n\"I don't seethe humor in this,\" Guy snapped letting his sword slide back down in its sheath.\n\n\"Perhaps that's because you are not looking at it the right way,\" Saldur told him. Guy was a well-trained and vicious guard dog, but the man lacked imagination. \" What if we didn't kill her?\n\nWhat if we actually made her the Empress?\"\n\n\"A peasant girl? Empress?\" Guy scoffed. \"Are you mad?\"\n\n\"Despite his political clout, I don't think any of us, including the patriarch, was particularly happy with the choice of Rufus. He was a fool to be sure, but he was also a stubborn, powerful fool. We all suspected that he might have had to be killed within a year, which would have thrown the infant empire into turmoil. How much better it would be to have an empress that would do whatever she was told right from the very start?\"\n\n\"But how could we possibly sell her to the nobles?\"\n\n\"We don't,\" Saldur said, and a smile appeared on his wrinkled face, \"we sell her to the people instead.\"\n\n\"How's that?\"\n\n\"Degan Gaunt's Nationalist movement proved that the people themselves have strength. Earls, barons, even kings are afraid of the power which that commoner can gather. A word from him could launch a peasant uprising. Lords would have to kill their own people, their own source of revenue, just to keep order. This presents them with the undesirable choice of accepting either poverty or death. The landholders will do almost anything to avoid such an event. What if we tapped that? The peasants already revere the church. They follow its teachings as divine truth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "How much more inspiring would it be to offer them a leader plucked from their own stock?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A ruler who is one of them and able to truly understand the plight of the poor, the unwashed, the destitute. Not only is she a peasant queen, but she is also the Heir of Novron, and all the wonderful expectations that go with that. Indeed, in our greatest hour of need, Maribor has once again delivered unto his people a divine leader to show us the way out of darkness.\n\n\"We could send bards across the land repeating the epic tale of the pure, chaste girl who slew the elven demon that even Lord Rufus was powerless against. We'll call it Rufus\" Bane. Yes, I like it-so much better than the unpronounceable Gilarabrywn.\"\n\n\"But can she be made to play her part?\" Guy asked.\n\n\"You saw her. She's nearly comatose. Not only does she have no place to go, no friends or relatives, no money or possessions, she is also emotionally shattered. She'd slither own wrists, I suspect, if she gets a knife. Still, the best part is that once we establish her as empress, once we have the support of the people so fervently on our side, no noble landholder would dare challenge us. We can do what we planned to do with Rufus. Only instead of a messy murder that would certainly invite suspicion and accusations, with the girl we can simply marry her. The new husband will rule as emperor and we can lock her in a darkroom somewhere, pulling her out for Wintertide showings.\"\n\nGuy smiled at that.\n\n\"Do you think the patriarch will agree?\" Saldur asked him. \"Perhaps we should send a rider back today.\"\n\n\"No, this is too important. I will go myself. I'll leave as soon as I can saddle a horse. In the meantime-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"In the meantime, we will announce that we are considering the possibility that this girl is the heir, but will not accept her unconditionally until a full investigation is conducted."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That should buy us a month. If the patriarch agrees, then we can send out rabble-rousers to incite the people with rumors that the church is being forced by the nobles and the monarchs to not reveal the girl as the true heir. The people will be denouncing our enemies and demanding that she take the throne before we even announce her.\"\n\n\"She will make the perfect figurehead,\" Guy said.\n\nSaldur looked up, picturing the future. \"An innocent girl linked with a mythic legend. Her beautiful name will be everywhere and she will beloved.\" The bishop paused and thought,\n\n\"What is her name anyway?\"\n\n\"I think Tomas called her-Thrace.\"\n\n\"Seriously?\" Saldur grimaced. \"Well, no matter, we'll change it. After all, she's ours now.\"\n\n---\n\nRoyce looked around. There was not a single sentry left outside. Several still moved about on the hilltop, but they were far enough away to ignore. Satisfied, he ducked through the flap of the white tent. Inside he found Tobis, Hadrian, Mauvin, and Hilfred on cots. Hadrian was naked to his waist, his head and chest wrapped in white bandages, but he was awake and sitting up.\n\nMauvin, though still pale, was alert, his bandages bright white. Hilfred lay wrapped like a mummy and Royce could not be sure if he were awake or sleeping. Arista stood bent over his cot checking on him.\n\n\"I was wondering when you would get here,\" Hadrian said.\n\nArista turned. \"Yes, I thought you would have arrived much sooner.\"\n\n\"Sorry, you know how it is when you're having fun. You lose all track of time, but I did locate your weapons, again. You know how upset you get when you don't have your swords. Can you ride?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"If I can walk, why not?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "he raised an arm and Royce offered his shoulder, helping him to stand.\n\n\"What about me?\" Mauvin asked, holding his side and sitting upon his cot. \"You're not going to leave me, are you?\"\n\n\"You have to take him,\" Arista declared. \"He killed two of Guy's men.\"\n\n\"Can you ride?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"If I had a horse under me I could at least hang on.\"\n\n\"What about Thrace?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"I don't think you need worry about her,\" Royce told him. \" I was just by the bishop's tent.\n\nTomas is demanding that they declare her empress.\"\n\n\"Empress?\" Hadrian said, stunned.\n\n\"She killed the Gilarabrywn right in front of the deacon. I guess it made an impression.\"\n\n\"But what if they don't? We can't leave her.\"\n\n\"Don't worry about Thrace,\" Arista said. \"I'll see she's taken care of. Now you all need to get out of here.\"\n\n\"Theron wanted at least one of his children to be successful,\" Hadrian muttered, \"but empress?\"\n\n\"You need to hurry,\" Arista said helping Royce pull Mauvin to his feet. She gave all three of them a kiss and a gentle hug and then pushed them out like a mother sending her children to school.\n\nOutside the tent, Magnus arrived with three saddled horses. The dwarf looked around nervously and whispered. \"I could have sworn I saw guards watching this tent earlier.\"\n\n\"You did,\" Royce replied. \"Three horses-you read my mind.\"\n\n\"I figured I needed one for myself,\" the dwarf replied pointing at the shortened stirrups. He looked at Mauvin with a scowl. \"Now it looks like I'll need to get another.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Forget it,\" Royce whispered, \"Ride with Mauvin. Take it slow and make sure he stays in the saddle.\"\n\nRoyce helped Hadrian up onto a gray mare then started to chuckle to himself.\n\n\"What is it?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"Mouse.\"\n\n\"What's that?\"\n\nRoyce pointed to the horse Hadrian sat on. \"Of all the animals he had to choose from, the dwarf stole Mouse.\"\n\nRoyce led them away from the camp, walking the horses across the scorched land where the ash muffled their movement. He kept a close eye on the distant sentries. No outcry, no shouts, no one appeared to notice and soon they slipped into the leafy forest. Once there he turned back toward the river in order to throw off anyone who might look for their tracks. Once he had them safely in a shallow glen near the Nidwalden, Royce ordered them to stay put while he went back.\n\nHe crept up to the edge of the burned area. The camp was as it had been before. Satisfied they made a clean escape, he walked back toward the river. He found himself on the trail that led to the Wood's farm and the shell of the old building. Inexplicably, the fire never reached this far and it remained untouched. There was one change, however; in the center of the yard where they first saw the old farmer sharpening his scythe, there was a mound of earth. A stack of stones borrowed from the walls of the farmhouse circled the oblong mound. At its head, driven into the ground, was abroad plank and burned into it the words:\n\nTHERON WOOD\n\nFarmer\n\nBelow that, scratched in into the plank, Royce could just make out the additional words: Father of the Empress"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As Royce stood reading the words, he noticed it-a chill making the hair on his skin stand up.\n\nSomeone was watching him. On the edge of his sight, a figure stood in the trees. Another stood to his left. He sensed more behind him. He turned his head, focused his eyes to see who they were-nothing. All he saw were trees. He glanced to his left and again nothing. He stood still listening. Not a twig snapped, nor leaf crinkled, but he could still feel it.\n\nHe moved away from the clearing into the brush and circled around. He moved as quietly as he could, but when he stopped, he was alone.\n\nRoyce stood puzzled. He looked for tracks, where he saw the figures, but none existed, not even a bent blade of grass. At last, he gave up and returned to where he left the others.\n\n\"All's well?\" Hadrian asked, sitting atop Mouse with the sun on his bare shoulders and chest wrapped in broad strips of white cloth.\n\n\"I suppose,\" he said mounting up.\n\nHe led them southwest along the highlands near the falls, following a deer trail that cut through the deep forest. It was the same trail he had found in his hours searching fora tunnel to the tower. Hadrian and Mauvin appeared to be doing better than expected though each of them winced in pain whenever their horse took a misstep.\n\nRoyce continued to look back over his shoulder but nothing was ever there.\n\nBy midafternoon they had cleared the trees and found the main road heading south to Alburn.\n\nHere they paused to check Mauvin's and Hadrian's bandages. Mauvin started to bleed again, but it was not bad and Magnus turned out to be almost as good a nurse as he was a sword smith, fashioning anew pad for his side. Royce searched through the saddlebags and found Hadrian a suitable shirt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We should be fine,\" Royce told them, going through their inventory. \"With a little luck we should reach Medford in a week.\"\n\n\"Ina hurry are you?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"You might say that.\"\n\n\"Thinking about Gwen?\"\n\n\"I'm thinking it's time I told her a few things about myself.\"\n\nHadrian smiled and nodded.\n\n\"You think Thrace will be alright?\"\n\n\"Tomas seems to be watching out for her pretty well.\"\n\n\"Do you think they'll really make her empress?\"\n\n\"Not a chance,\" Royce shook his head and handed the shirt to him.\n\n\"Arista told me you two were with Esrahaddon in the tower last night. She said he needed help with something, but wouldn't tell me what it was.\"\n\n\"He was using the tower to look for the Heir of Novron,\" Royce replied.\n\n\"Did he find him?\"\n\n\"I think so, but you know how he is. It's hard to be sure of anything when dealing with him.\"\n\nHadrian nodded and winced as he pulled the shirt over his shoulders.\n\n\"Having troubles?\"\n\n\"You try getting dressed with broken ribs sometime. It isn't so easy.\" Royce continued to look at him.\n\n\"What is it? Am I that entertaining?\" Hadrian asked.\n\n\"It's just that you've worn that silver medallion ever since I've known you, but you never told me where you got it.\"\n\n\"Hmm? This?\" Hadrian said. \"I've had this forever. My father left it tome.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Support the writer, proceed with the storyline.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, witcher\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: Baptism of Fire\nChapter: 5"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then the soothsayer spake thus to the witcher: \"This counsel I shall give you: don hobnailed boots and take an iron staff. Walk in your hobnailed boots to the end of the world, tap the road in front of you with the staff, and let your tears fall. Go through fire and water, do not stop, do not look back. And when your boots are worn out, when your iron staff is worn down, when the wind and the sun have dried your eyes such that not a single tear will fall from them, then you will find what you are searching for, what you love, at the end of the world. Perhaps.\"\n\nAnd the witcher walked through fire and water, never looking back. But he took neither hobnailed boots nor a staff. He took only his witcher's sword. He obeyed not the words of the soothsayer. And rightly so, for she was wicked.\n\nFlourens Delannoy, Tales and Legends"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Birds were chirping loudly in the undergrowth.\n\nThe slopes of the ravine were overgrown with a dense, tangled mass of brambles and barberry; a perfect place for nesting and feeding. Not surprisingly, it was teeming with birds. Greenfinches trilled loudly, redpolls and whitethroats twittered, and chaffinches gave out ringing \"vink-vink's every now and then. The chaffinch's call signals rain, thought Milva, glancing up at the sky. There were no clouds. But chaffinches always warn of the rain. We could do with a little rain.\n\nSuch a spot, opposite the mouth of a ravine, was a good place fora hunter, giving a decent chance of a kill– particularly herein Brokilon Forest, which was abundant with game. The dryads, who controlled extensive tracts of the forest, rarely hunted and humans dared to venture into it even less often. Here, a hunter greedy for meat or pelts became the quarry himself. The Brokilon dryads showed no mercy to intruders. Milva had once discovered that for herself.\n\nNo, Brokilon was not short of game. Nonetheless, Milva had been waiting in the undergrowth for more than two hours and nothing had crossed her line of sight. She couldn't hunt on the move; the drought which had lasted for more than a month had lined the forest floor with dry brush and leaves, which rustled and crackled at every step. In conditions like these, only standing still and unseen would lead to success, and a prize.\n\nAn admiral butterfly alighted on the nock of her bow. Milva didn't shoo it away, but watched it closing and opening its wings. She also looked at her bow, a recent acquisition which she still wasn't tired of admiring. She was a born archer and loved a good weapon. And she was holding the best of the best."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Milva had owned many bows in her life."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She had learned to shoot using ordinary ash and yew bows, but soon gave them up for composite reflex bows, of the type elves and dryads used. Elven bows were shorter, lighter and more manageable and, owing to the laminated composition of wood and animal sinew, much \"quicker\" than yew bows. An arrow shot with them reached the target much more swiftly and along a flatter arc, which considerably reduced the possibility of its being blown off course. The best examples of such weapons, bent fourfold, bore the elven name of zefhar, since the bow's shape formed that rune. Milva had used zefhars for several years and couldn't imagine a bow capable of outclassing them.\n\nBut she had finally come across one. It was, of course, at the Seaside Bazaar in Cidaris, which was renowned for its diverse selection of strange and rare goods brought by sailors from the most distant corners of the world; from anywhere a frigate or galleon could reach. Whenever she could, Milva would visit the bazaar and look at the foreign bows. It was there she bought the bow she'd thought would serve her for many years. She had thought the zefhar from Zerrikania, reinforced with polished antelope horn, was perfect. For just a year. Twelvemonths later, at the same market stall, owned by the same trader, she had found another rare beauty.\n\nThe bow came from the Far North. It measured just over five feet, was made of mahogany, had a perfectly balanced riser and flat, laminated limbs, glued together from alternating layers of fine wood, boiled sinew and whalebone. It differed from the other composite bows in its construction and also in its price; which is what had initially caught Milva's attention. When, however, she picked up the bow and flexed it, she paid the price the trader was asking without hesitation or haggling. Four hundred Novigrad crowns. Naturally, she didn't have such a titanic sum on her; instead she had given up her Zerrikanian zefhar, a bunch of sable pelts, a small, exquisite elven-made medallion, and a coral cameo pendant on a string of river pearls."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But she didn't regret it."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not ever. The bow was incredibly light and, quite simply, perfectly accurate. Although it wasn't long it had an impressive kick to its laminated wood and sinew limbs. Equipped with a silk and hemp bowstring stretched between its precisely curved limbs, it generated fifty-five pounds of force from a twenty-four-inch draw. True enough, there were bows that could generate eighty, but Milva considered that excessive. An arrow shot from her whalebone fifty-fiver covered a distance of two hundred feet in two heartbeats, and at a hundred paces still had enough force to impale a stag, while it would pass right through an unarmoured human. Milva rarely hunted animals larger than red deer or heavily armoured men.\n\nThe butterfly flew away. The chaffinches continued to make a racket in the undergrowth. And still nothing crossed her line of sight. Milva leant against the trunk of a pine and began to think back. Simply to kill time.\n\nHer first encounter with the Witcher had taken place in July, two weeks after the events on the Isle of Thanedd and the outbreak of war in Dol Angra. Milva had returned to Brokilon after a fortnight's absence; she was leading the remains of a Scoia'tael commando defeated in Temeria during an attempt to make their way into war-torn Aedirn. The Squirrels had wanted to join the uprising incited by the elves in Dol Blathanna. They had failed, and would have perished had it not been for Milva. But they'd found her, and refuge in Brokilon.\n\nImmediately on her arrival, she had been informed that Aglaïs needed her urgently in Col Serrai. Milva had been a little taken aback. Aglaïs was the leader of the Brokilon healers, and the deep valley of Col Serrai, with its hot springs and caves, was where healings usually took place."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She responded to the call, convinced it concerned some elf who had been healed and needed her help tore-establish contact with his commando. But when she saw the wounded witcher and learned what it was about, she was absolutely furious. She ran from the cave with her hair streaming behind her and offloaded all her anger on Aglaïs.\n\n\"He saw me! He saw my face! Do you understand what danger that puts me in?\"\n\n\"No, no I don't understand, \"replied the healer coldly.\"That is Gwynbleidd, the Witcher, a friend of Brokilon. He has been here fora fortnight, since the new moon. And more time will pass before he will be able to getup and walk normally. He craves tidings from the world; news about those close to him. Only you can supply him with that. '\n\n\"Tidings from the world? Have you lost your mind, dryad? Do you know what is happening in the world now, beyond the borders of your tranquil forest? A war is raging in Aedirn! Brugge, Temeria and Redania are reduced to havoc, hell, and much slaughter! Those who instigated the rebellion on Thanedd are being hunted high and low! There are spies and an'givare– informers– everywhere; it's sometimes sufficient to let slip a single word, make a face at the wrong moment, and you'll meet the hangman's red-hot iron in the dungeon! And you want me to creep around spying, asking questions, gathering information? Risking my neck? And for whom? For some half-dead witcher? And who is he tome? My own flesh and blood? You've truly taken leave of your senses, Aglaïs. '\n\n\"If you're going to shout, \"interrupted the dryad calmly,\"let's go deeper into the forest. He needs peace and quiet.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Despite herself, Milva looked over at the cave where she had seen the wounded witcher a moment earlier. A strapping lad, she had thought, thin, yet sinewy... His hair's white, but his belly's as flat as a young man's; hard times have been his companion, not lard and beer...\n\n\"He was on Thanedd,\" she stated; she didn't ask.\"He's a rebel.\"\n\n\"I know not,\" said Aglaïs, shrugging. \"He's wounded. He needs help. I'm not interested in the rest.\"\n\nMilva was annoyed. The healer was known for her taciturnity. But Milva had already heard excited accounts from dryads in the eastern marches of Brokilon; she already knew the details of the events that had occurred a fortnight earlier. About the chestnut-haired sorceress who had appeared in Brokilon in a burst of magic; about the cripple with a broken arm and leg she had been dragging with her. A cripple who had turned out to be the Witcher, known to the dryads as Gwynbleidd: the White Wolf.\n\nAt first, according to the dryads, no one had known what steps to take. The mutilated witcher screamed and fainted by turns, Aglaïs had applied makeshift dressings, the sorceress cursed and wept. Milva did not believe that at all: who has ever seen a sorceress weep? And later the order came from Duén Canell, from the silver-eyed Eithné, the Lady of Brokilon. Send the sorceress away, said the ruler of the Forest of the Dryads. And tend to the Witcher.\n\nAnd so they did. Milva had seen as much. He was lying in a cave, in a hollow full of water from the magical Brokilon springs. His limbs, which had been held in place using splints and put in traction, were swathed in a thick layer of the healing climbing plant– conynhaela– and turfs of knitbone. His hair was as white as milk. Unusually, he was conscious: anyone being treated with conynhaela normally lay lifeless and raving as the magic spoke through them..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well?\" the healer's emotionless voice tore her from her reverie.\"What is it going to be? What am Ito tell him? '\n\n\"To go to hell,\" snapped Milva, lifting her belt, from which hung a heavy purse and a hunting knife. \"And you can go to hell, too, Aglaïs.\"\n\n\"As you wish. I shall not compel you.\"\n\n\"You are right. You will not.\"\n\nShe went into the forest, among the sparse pines, and didn't look back. She was angry.\n\nMilva knew about the events which had taken place during the first July new moon on the Isle of Thanedd; the Scoia'tael talked about it endlessly. There had been a rebellion during the Mages\" Conclave on the island. Blood had been spilt and heads had rolled. And, as if on a signal, the armies of Nilfgaard had attacked Aedirn and Lyria and the war had begun. And in Temeria, Redania and Kaedwen it was all blamed on the Squirrels. For one thing, because a commando of Scoia'tael had supposedly come to the aid of the rebellious mages on Thanedd. For another, because an elf or possibly half-elf had supposedly stabbed and killed Vizimir, King of Redania. So the furious humans had gone after the Squirrels with a vengeance. The fighting was raging everywhere and elven blood was flowing in rivers...\n\nHa, thought Milva, perhaps what the priests are saying is true after all and the end of the world and the day of judgement are close at hand? The world is inflames, humans are preying not only on elves but on other humans too. Brothers are raising knives against brothers... And the Witcher is meddling in politics... and joining the rebellion. The Witcher, who is meant to roam the world and kill monsters eager to harm humans! No witcher, for as long as anyone can remember, has ever allowed himself to be drawn into politics or war. Why, there's even the tale about a foolish king who carried water in a sieve, took a hare as a messenger, and appointed a witcher as a palatine. And yet here we have the Witcher, carved up in a rebellion against the kings and forced to escape punishment in Brokilon. Perhaps it truly is the end of the world!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Greetings, Maria.\"\n\nShe started. The short dryad leaning against a pine had eyes and hair the colour of silver. The setting sun gave her head a halo against the background of the motley wall of trees. Milva dropped to one knee and bowed low.\n\n\"My greetings to you, Lady Eithné.\"\n\nThe ruler of Brokilon stuck a small, crescent-shaped, golden knife into a bast girdle.\n\n\"Arise,\" she said. \"Let us take a walk. I wish to talk with you.\"\n\nThey walked fora longtime through the shadowy forest; the delicate, silver-haired dryad and the tall, flaxen-haired girl. Neither of them broke the silence for sometime.\n\n\"It is long since you were at Duén Canell, Maria.\"\n\n\"There was no time, Lady Eithné. It is along road to Duén Canell from the River Ribbon, and I... But of course you know.\"\n\n\"That I do. Are you weary?\"\n\n\"The elves need my help. I'm helping them on your orders, after all. '\n\n\"At my request.\"\n\n\"Indeed. At your request.\"\n\n\"And I have one more.\"\n\n\"As I thought. The Witcher?\"\n\n\"Help him.\"\n\nMilva stopped and turned back, breaking an overhanging twig of honeysuckle with a sharp movement, turning it over in her fingers before flinging it to the ground.\n\n\"For half a year,\" she said softly, looking into the dryad's silvery eyes,\"I have risked my life guiding elves from their decimated commandos to Brokilon... When they are rested and their wounds healed, I lead them out again... Is that so little? Haven't I done enough? Every new moon, I set out on the trail in the dark of the night. I've begun to fear the sun as much as a bat or an owl does... '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No one knows the forest trails better than you.\"\n\n\"I will not learn anything in the greenwood. I hear that the Witcher wants me to gather news, by moving among humans. He's a rebel, the ears of the an'givare prick up at the sound of his name. I must be careful not to show myself in the cities. And what if someone recognises me? The memories still endure, the blood is not yet dry... for there was a lot of blood, Lady Eithné.\"\n\n\"A great deal.\" The silver eyes of the old dryad were alien, cold; inscrutable. \"A great deal, indeed.\"\n\n\"Were they to recognise me, they would impale me.\"\n\n\"You are prudent. You are cautious and vigilant.\"\n\n\"In order to gather the tidings the Witcher requests, it is necessary to shed vigilance. It is necessary to ask. And now it is dangerous to demonstrate curiosity. Were they to capture me-\"\n\n\"You have contacts.\"\n\n\"They would torture me. Until I died. Or grind me down in Drakenborg-\"\n\n\"But you are indebted tome.\"\n\nMilva turned her head away and bit her lip.\n\n\"It's true, I am, \"she said bitterly.\"I have not forgotten. '\n\nShe narrowed her eyes, her face suddenly contorted, and she clenched her teeth tightly. The memory shone faintly beneath her eyelids; the ghastly moonlight of that night. The pain in her ankle suddenly returned, held tight by the leather snare, and the pain in her joints, after they had been cruelly wrenched. She heard again the soughing of leaves as the tree shot suddenly upright... Her screaming, moaning; the desperate, frantic, horrified struggle and the invasive sense of fear which flowed over her when she realised she couldn't free herself... The cry and fear, the creak of the rope, the rippling shadows; the swinging, unnatural, upturned earth, upturned sky, trees with upturned tops, pain, blood pounding in her temples..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And at dawn the dryads, all around her, in a ring..."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The distant silvery laughter... A puppet on a string! Swing, swing, marionette, little head hanging down... And her own, unnatural, wheezing cry. And then darkness.\n\n\"Indeed, I have a debt,\" she said through clenched teeth. \"Indeed, for I was a hanged man cut from the noose. As long as I live, I see, I shall never payoff that debt.\"\n\n\"Everyone has some kind of debt,\" replied Eithné. \"Such is life, Maria Barring. Debts and liabilities, obligations, gratitude, payments... Doing something for someone. Or perhaps for ourselves? For in fact we are always paying ourselves back and not someone else. Each time we are indebted we payoff the debt to ourselves. In each of us lies a creditor and a debtor at once and the art is for the reckoning totally inside us. We enter the world as a minute part of the life we are given, and from then on we are ever paying off debts. To ourselves. For ourselves. In order for the final reckoning totally.\"\n\n\"Is this human dear to your, Lady Eithné? That... that witcher?\"\n\n\"He is. Although he knows not of it. Return to Col Serrai, Maria Barring. Go to him. And do what he asks of you.\"\n\nIn the valley, the brushwood crunched and a twig snapped. A magpie gave a noisy, angry \"chacker-chacker\", and some chaffinches took flight, flashing their white wing bars and tail feathers. Milva held her breath. At last.\n\nChacker-chacker, called the magpie. Chacker-chacker-chacker. Another twig cracked.\n\nMilva adjusted the worn, polished leather guard on her left forearm, and placed her hand through the loop attached to her gear. She took an arrow from the flat quiver on her thigh. Out of habit, she checked the arrowhead and the fletchings. She bought shafts at the market– choosing on average one out of every dozen offered to her– but she always fletched them herself. Most ready-made arrows in circulation had too-short fletchings arranged straight along the shaft, while Milva only used spirally fletched arrows, with the fletchings never shorter than five inches."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She nocked the arrow and stared at the mouth of the ravine, at a green spot of barberry among the trees, heavy with bunches of red berries.\n\nThe chaffinches had not flown far and began their trilling again. Come on, little one, thought Milva, raising the bow and drawing the bowstring. Come on. I'm ready.\n\nBut the roe deer headed along the ravine, towards the marsh and springs which fed the small streams flowing into the Ribbon. A young buck came out of the ravine. A fine specimen, weighing in– she estimated– at almost four stone. He lifted his head, pricked up his ears, and then turned back towards the bushes, nibbling leaves.\n\nWith his back toward her, he was an easy victim. Had it not been fora tree trunk obscuring part of the target, Milva would have fired without a second thought. Even if she were to hit him in the belly, the arrow would penetrate and pierce the heart, liver or lungs. Were she to hit him in the haunch, she would destroy an artery, and the animal would be sure to fall in a short time. She waited, without releasing the bowstring.\n\nThe buck raised his head again, stepped out from behind the trunk and abruptly turned round a little. Milva, holding the bow at full draw, cursed under her breath. A shot face-on was uncertain; instead of hitting the lung, the arrowhead might enter the stomach. She waited, holding her breath, aware of the salty taste of the bowstring against the corner of her mouth. That was one of the most important, quite invaluable, advantages of her bow; were she to use a heavier or inferior weapon, she would never be able to hold it fully drawn for so long without tiring or losing precision with the shot."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Fortunately, the buck lowered his head, nibbled on some grass protruding from the moss and turned to stand sideways."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Milva exhaled calmly, took aim at his chest and gently released her fingers from the bowstring.\n\nShe didn't hear the expected crunch of ribs being broken by the arrow, however. For the buck leapt upwards, kicked and fled, accompanied by the crackling of dry branches and the rustle of leaves being shoved aside.\n\nMilva stood motionless for several heartbeats, petrified like a marble statue of a forest goddess. Only when all the noises had subsided did she lift her hand from her cheek and lower the bow. Having made a mental note of the route the animal had taken as it fled, she sat down calmly, resting her back against a tree trunk. She was an experienced hunter, she had poached in the lord's forests from a child. She had brought down her first roe deer at the age of eleven, and her first fourteen-point buck on the day of her fourteenth birthday– an exceptionally favourable augury. And experience had taught that one should never rush after a shot animal. If she had aimed well, the buck would fall no further than two hundred paces from the mouth of the ravine. Should she have been off target– a possibility she actually didn't contemplate– hurrying might only make things worse. A badly injured animal, which wasn't agitated, would slow to a walk after its initial panicked flight. A frightened animal being pursued would race away at breakneck speed and would only slowdown once it was over the hills and faraway.\n\nSo she had at least half an hour. She plucked a blade of grass, stuck it between her teeth and drifted off in thought once again. The memories came back.\n\nWhen she returned to Brokilon twelve days later, the Witcher was already up and about. He was limping somewhat and slightly dragging one hip, but he was walking. Milva was not surprised– she knew of the miraculous healing properties of the forest water and the herb conynhaela. She also knew Aglaïs's abilities and on several occasions had witnessed the astonishingly quick return to health of wounded dryads. And the rumours about the exceptional resistance and endurance of witchers were also clearly no mere myths either."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She did not go to Col Serrai immediately on her arrival, although the dryads hinted that Gwynbleidd had been impatiently awaiting her return. She delayed intentionally, still unhappy with her mission and wanting to make her feelings clear. She escorted the Squirrels back to their camp. She gave a lengthy account of the incidents on the road and warned the dryads about the plans to seal the border on the Ribbon by humans. Only when she was rebuked for the third time did Milva bathe, change and go to the Witcher.\n\nHe was waiting for her at the edge of a glade by some cedars. He was walking up and down, squatting from time to time and then straightening up with a spring. Aglaïs had clearly ordered him to exercise.\n\n\"What news?\" he asked immediately after greeting her. The coldness in his voice didn't deceive her.\n\n\"The war seems to becoming to an end,\" she answered, shrugging. \"Nilfgaard, they say, has crushed Lyria and Aedirn. Verden has surrendered and the King of Temeria has struck a deal with the Nilfgaardian emperor. The elves in the Valley of Flowers have established their own kingdom but the Scoia'tael from Temeria and Redania have not joined them. They are still fighting... '\n\n\"That isn't what I meant. '\n\n\"No?\" she said, feigning surprise. \"Oh, I see. Well, I stopped in Dorian, as you asked, though it meant going considerably out of my way. And the highways are so dangerous now...\"\n\nShe broke off, stretching. This time he didn't hurry her.\n\n\"Was Codringher,\" she finally asked, \"whom you asked me to visit, a close friend of yours?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Witcher's face did not twitch, but Milva knew he understood at once.\n\n\"No. He wasn't. '\n\n\"That's good, \"she continued easily.\"Because he's no longer with us. He went up inflames along with his chambers; probably only the chimney and half of the façade survived. The whole of Dorian is abuzz with rumours. Some say Codringher was dabbling in black magic and concocting poisons; that he had a pact with the devil, so the devil's fire consumed him. Others say he'd stuck his nose and his fingers into a crack he shouldn't have, as was his custom. And it wasn't to somebody's liking, so they bumped him off and set everything alight, to cover their tracks. What do you think? '\n\nShe didn't receive a reply, or detect any emotion on his ashen face. So she continued, in the same venomous, arrogant tone of voice.\n\n\"It's interesting that the fire and Codringher's death occurred during the first July new moon, exactly when the unrest on the Isle of Thanedd was taking place. As if someone had guessed that Codringher knew something about the disturbances and would be asked for details. As if someone wanted to stop his trap up good and proper in advance, strike him dumb. What do you say to that? Ah, I see you won't say anything. You're keeping quiet, so I'll tell you this: your activities are dangerous, and so is your spying and questioning. Perhaps someone will want to shut other traps and ears than Codringher's. That's what I think. '\n\n\"Forgive me,\" he said a moment later. \"You're right. I put you at risk. It was too dangerous a task fora-'"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"For a woman, you mean?\" she said, jerking her head back, flicking her still wet hair from her shoulder with a sudden movement. \"Is that what you were going to say? Are you playing the gentleman all of a sudden? I may have to squat to piss, but my coat is lined with wolf skin, not coney fur! Don't call me a coward, because you don't know me!\"\n\n\"I do,\" he said in a calm, quiet voice, not reacting to her anger or raised voice. \"You are Milva. You lead Squirrels to safety in Brokilon, avoiding capture. Your courage is known tome. But I recklessly and selfishly put you at risk-\"\n\n\"You're a fool! \"she interrupted sharply.\"Worry about yourself, not about me. Worry about that young girl! '\n\nShe smiled disdainfully. Because this time his face did change. She fell silent deliberately, waiting for further questions.\n\n\"What do you know?\" he finally asked. \"And from whom?\"\n\n\"You had your Codringher,\" she snorted, lifting her head proudly. \"And I have my own contacts. The kind with sharp eyes and ears.\"\n\n\"Tell me, Milva. Please.\"\n\n\"After the fighting on Thanedd,\" she began, after waiting a moment, \"unrest erupted everywhere. The hunt for traitors began, particularly for any sorcerers who supported Nilfgaard and for the other turncoats. Some were captured, others vanished without trace. You don't need much nous to guess where they fled to and under whose wings they're hiding. But it wasn't just sorcerers and traitors who were hunted. A Squirrel commando led by the famous Faoiltiarna also helped the mutinous sorcerers in the rebellion on Thanedd. So now he's wanted. An order has been issued that every elf captured should be tortured and interrogated about Faoiltiarna's commando. '"
},
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who's Faoiltiarna? '\n\n\"An elf, one of the Scoia'tael. Few have got under the humans'skin the way he has. There's a hefty bounty on his head. But they're seeking another too. A Nilfgaardian knight who was on Thanedd. And also fora...\"\n\n\"Go on.\"\n\n\"The an'givare are asking about a witcher who goes by the name of Geralt of Rivia. And about a girl named Cirilla. Those two are to be captured alive. It was ordered on pain of death: if either of you is caught, not a hair on your heads is to be harmed, not a button maybe torn from her dress. Oh! You must be dear to their hearts for them to care so much about your health... '\n\nShe broke off, seeing the expression on his face, from which his unnatural composure had abruptly disappeared. She realised that however hard she tried, she was unable to make him afraid. At least not for his own skin. She unexpectedly felt ashamed.\n\n\"Well, that pursuit of theirs is futile,\" she said gently, with just a faintly mocking smile on her lips. \"You are safe in Brokilon. And they won't catch the girl alive either. When they searched through the rubble on Thanedd, all the debris from that magical tower which collapsed-Hey, what's wrong with you?\"\n\nThe Witcher staggered, leant against a cedar, and sat down heavily near the trunk. Milva leapt back, horrified by the pallor which his already whitened face had suddenly taken on.\n\n\"Aglaïs! Sirssa! Fauve! Come quickly! Damn, I think he's about to keel over! Hey, you! '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Don't call them..."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There's nothing wrong with me. Speak. I want to know...\"\n\nMilva suddenly understood.\n\n\"They found nothing in the debris!\" she cried, feeling herself go pale too. \"Nothing! Although they examined every stone and cast spells, they didn't find... '\n\nShe wiped the sweat from her forehead and held back with a gesture the dryads running towards them. She seized the Witcher by his shoulders and leant over him so that her longhair tumbled over his paleface.\n\n\"You misunderstood me,\" she said quickly, incoherently; it was difficult to find the right words among the mass which were trying to tumble out. \"I only meant-You understood me wrongly. Because I... How was Ito know she is so... No... I didn't mean to. I only wanted to say that the girl... That they won't find her, because she disappeared without a trace, like those mages. Forgive me.\"\n\nHe didn't answer. He looked away. Milva bit her lip and clenched her fists.\n\n\"I'm leaving Brokilon again in three days, \"she said gently after along, very long, silence.\"The moon must wane a little and the nights become a little darker. I shall return within ten days, perhaps sooner. Shortly after Lammas, in the first days of August. Worry not. I shall move earth and water, but I shall find out everything. If anyone knows anything about that maiden, you'll know it too.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Milva.\"\n\n\"I'll see you in ten days... Gwynbleidd. '\n\n\"Call me Geralt,\" he said, holding out a hand. She took it without a second thought. And squeezed it very hard.\n\n\"And I'm Maria Barring. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A nod of the head and the flicker of a smile thanked her for her sincerity."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She knew he appreciated it.\n\n\"Be careful, please. When you ask questions, be careful who you ask.\"\n\n\"Don't worry about me. '\n\n\"Your informers... Do you trust them?\"\n\n\"I don't trust anyone. '\n\n\"The Witcher is in Brokilon. Among the dryads.\"\n\n\"As I thought,\" Dijkstra said, folding his arms on his chest. \"But I'm glad it's been confirmed.\"\n\nHe remained silent fora moment. Lennep licked his lips. And waited.\n\n\"I'm glad it's been confirmed,\" repeated the head of the secret service of the Kingdom of Redania, pensively, as though he were talking to himself. \"It's always better to be certain. If only Yennefer were with him... There isn't a witch with him, is there, Lennep?\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon?\" the spy started. \"No, Your Lordship. There isn't. What are your orders? If you want him alive, I'll lure him out of Brokilon. But if you'd prefer him dead... '\n\n\"Lennep,\" said Dijkstra, raising his cold, pale blue eyes towards the agent. \"Don't be overzealous. In our trade, officiousness never pays and should always be viewed with suspicion. '\n\n\"Sire,\" said Lennep, blanching somewhat. \"I only-\"\n\n\"I know. You only asked about my orders. Well, here they are: leave the Witcher alone.\"\n\n\"Yes, sire. And what about Milva?\"\n\n\"Leave her alone, too. For now.\"\n\n\"Yes, sire. May I go?\"\n\n\"You may.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The agent left, cautiously and silently closing the oak door behind him. Dijkstra remained silent fora longtime, staring at the towering pile of maps, letters, denunciations, interrogation reports and death sentences in front of him.\n\n\"Ori.\"\n\nThe secretary raised his head and cleared his throat. He said nothing.\n\n\"The Witcher is in Brokilon.\"\n\nOri Reuven cleared his throat again, involuntarily glancing under the table, towards his boss's leg. Dijkstra noticed the look.\n\n\"That's right. I won't let him getaway with that,\" he barked. \"I couldn't walk for two weeks because of him. I lost face with Philippa, forced to whimper like a dog and beg her fora bloody spell, otherwise I'd still be hobbling. I can't blame anyone but myself; I underestimated him. But the worst thing is that I can't get my own back and tan his witcher's hide! I don't have the time, and anyway, I can't use my own men to settle private scores! That's right isn't it, Ori? '\n\n\"Ahem...\"\n\n\"Don't grunt at me. I know. But, hell, power tempts! How it beguiles, invites to be made use of! How easy it is to forget, when one has it! But if you forget once, there's no end to it... Is Philippa Eilhart still in Montecalvo?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Take a quill and an inkwell. I'll dictate a letter to her. I shall begin... Damn it, I can't concentrate. What's that bloody racket, Ori? What's happening in the square?\"\n\n\"Some students are throwing stones at the Nilfgaardian envoy's residence. We paid them to do so, hem, hem, if I'm not mistaken.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh. Very well. Close the window. And have the lads throw stones at the dwarf Giancardi's bank, tomorrow. He refused to reveal the details of some accounts. '\n\n\"Giancardi, hem, hem, donated a considerable sum of money to the military fund.\"\n\n\"Ha. Then have them throw stones at the banks that didn't donate. '\n\n\"They all did.\"\n\n\"Oh, you're boring me, Ori. Write, I said. Darling Phil, the sun of my... Blast, I keep forgetting. Take anew sheet of paper. Ready? '\n\n\"Of course, hem, hem.\"\n\n\"Dear Philippa. Mistress Triss Merigold is sure to be worried about the witcher she teleported from Thanedd to Brokilon, which she kept so secret that even I didn't know anything. It hurt me terribly. Please reassure her: the Witcher is doing well now. He has even begun to send female emissaries from Brokilon to search for traces of Princess Cirilla, the young girl you're so interested in. Our good friend Geralt clearly doesn't know Cirilla is in Nilfgaard, where she's preparing for her wedding to Imperator Emhyr. It's important tome that the Witcher lies low in Brokilon, which is why I'll do my best to ensure the news reaches him. Have you got that?\"\n\n\"Hem, hem... the news reaches him.\"\n\n\"New paragraph! It puzzles me... Ori, wipe the bloody quill! We're writing to Philippa, not to the royal council. The letter must look neat! New paragraph. It puzzles me why the Witcher hasn't tried to make contact with Yennefer. I refuse to believe that his passion, which was verging on obsession, has petered out so suddenly, irrespective of learning his darling's political objectives. On the other hand, if Yennefer is the one who handed Cirilla over to Emhyr, and if there's proof of it, I would gladly make sure the Witcher was furnished with it. The problem would solve itself, I'm certain, and the faithless, black-haired beauty would be on very shaky ground. The Witcher doesn't like it when anyone touches his little girl, as Artaud Terranova discovered on Thanedd in no uncertain terms. I would like to think, Phil, that you don't have any evidence of Yennefer's betrayal and you don't know where she is hiding. It would hurt me greatly to discover this is the latest secret being concealed from me. I have no secrets from you... What are you sniggering about, Ori? '"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, nothing, hem, hem.\"\n\n\"Write! I have no secrets from you, Phil, and I count on reciprocity. With my deepest respect, et cetera, et cetera. Give it here, I'll sign it. '\n\nOri Reuven sprinkled the letter with sand. Dijkstra made himself more comfortable, interlacing his fingers over his stomach and twiddling his thumbs.\n\n\"That Milva, the Witcher's spy, \"he asked.\"What can you tell me about her? '\n\n\"She is engaged at present, hem, hem\"– his secretary coughed– \"in escorting the remnants of Scoia'tael units defeated by the Temerian Army to Brokilon. She rescues elves from hunts and traps, enabling them to rest and regroup into combat commandos... '\n\n\"Refrain from supplying me with common knowledge,\" interrupted Dijkstra. \"I'm familiar with Milva's activities, and will eventually make use of them. Otherwise I would have sold her out to the Temerians long since. What can you tell me about Milva herself? As a person?\"\n\n\"She comes, if I'm not mistaken, from some godforsaken village in Upper Sodden. Her true name is Maria Barring. Milva is a nickname the dryads gave her. In the Elder Speech it means-'\n\n\"Red Kite,\" interrupted Dijkstra. \"I know.\"\n\n\"Her family have been hunters for generations. They are forest dwellers, and feel most comfortable in the greenwood. When old Barring's son was trampled to death by an elk, the old man taught his daughter the forest crafts. After he passed away, her mother married again. Hem, hem... Maria didn't get on with her stepfather and ran away from home. She was sixteen at the time, if I'm not mistaken. She headed north, living from hunting, but the lords'gamekeepers didn't make her life easy, hunting and harrying her as though she were fair game. So she began to poach in Brokilon and it was there, hem, hem, that the dryads got hold of her. '"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And instead of finishing her off, they took her in,\" Dijkstra muttered. \"Adopted her, if you will... And she repaid their kindness. She struck a pact with the Hag of Brokilon, old silver-eyed Eithné. Maria Barring is dead; long live Milva... How many human expeditions had come unstuck by the time the forces in Verden and Kerack cottoned on? Three?\"\n\n\"Hem, hem... Four, if I'm not mistaken... \"Ori Reuven was always hoping he wasn't mistaken, although in fact his memory was infallible. \"All together, it was about five score humans, those who'd gone after dryad scalps most savagely. And it took them along time to catch on, because Milva occasionally carried someone out of the slaughter on her own back, and whoever she'd rescued would praise her courage to the skies. It was only after the fourth time, in Verden, if I'm not mistaken, that someone caught on. \"Why is it?\" the shout suddenly went up, hem, hem, \"that the guide who bands humans together to fight the dryads always gets out in one piece?\" And the cat was out of the bag. The guide was leading them. But into a trap, right into the shooting range of the dryads waiting in ambush... '\n\nDijkstra slid an interrogation report to the edge of his desk, because the parchment still seemed to reek of the torture chamber.\n\n\"And then,\" he concluded, \"Milva vanished into Brokilon like the morning mist. And it's still difficult to find volunteers for expeditions against the dryads in Verden. Old Eithné and young Red Kite were carrying out pretty effective purges. And they daresay that we, humans, invented all the dirty tricks. On the other hand... '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hem, hem?\" coughed Ori Reuven, surprised by his boss's sudden– and then continuing– silence.\n\n\"On the other hand, they may have finally begun to learn from us,\" said the spy coldly, looking down at the denunciations, interrogation reports and death sentences.\n\nMilva grew anxious when she couldn't see blood anywhere near where the buck had disappeared. She suddenly recalled that he had jumped just as she had fired her arrow. Had jumped or was about to; it amounted to the same thing. He had moved and the arrow might have hit him in the belly. Milva cursed. A shot to the belly was a disgrace for any hunter! Urgh, the very thought of it!\n\nShe quickly ran over to the slope of the ravine, looking carefully among the brambles, moss and ferns. She was hunting for her arrow. It was equipped with four blades so sharp they could shave the hairs on your forearm. Fired from a distance of fifty paces the arrow must have passed right through the animal.\n\nShe searched, she found it and sighed in relief, then spat three times, happy with her luck. She needn't have worried; it was better than she had imagined. The arrow was not covered in sticky, foul-smelling stomach contents. Neither did it bear traces of bright, pink, frothy blood from the lungs. What covered the shaft was dark red and viscous. The arrow had gone through the heart. Milva didn't have to creep or stalk; she had been spared along walk following the deer's tracks. The buck had to belying in the undergrowth, no more than a hundred paces from the clearing, in a spot that would be surely indicated by the blood. And after being shot through the heart, he would have started bleeding after a few paces, so she knew she would easily find the trail."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She picked it up after ten paces and followed it, once again losing herself in her reverie.\n\nShe kept the promise she had given the Witcher. She returned to Brokilon five days after the Harvest Festival– five days after the new moon– which marked the beginning of the month of August for people, and for elves, Lammas, the seventh and penultimate savaed of the year.\n\nShe crossed the Ribbon at daybreak with five elves. The commando she was leading had initially numbered nine riders, but the soldiers from Brugge were following them the whole time. Three furlongs before the river they were hot on their trail, pressing hard, and only abandoned their efforts when they reached the Ribbon, with Brokilon looming up in the dawn mists on the far bank. The soldiers were afraid of Brokilon and that alone saved the commando. They made it across. Exhausted and wounded. But not all of them.\n\nShe had news for the Witcher, but thought that Gwynbleidd was still in Col Serrai. She had intended to see him around noon, after a good long sleep so she was astonished when he suddenly emerged from the fog like a ghost. He sat down beside her without a word, watching as she made herself a makeshift bed by spreading a blanket over a heap of branches.\n\n\"You're in a hurry, Witcher, \"she scoffed.\"I'm ready to drop. I've been in the saddle all day and all night, my backside's numb, and my trousers are soaked up to my belt, for we crept our way through the wetlands at dawn like a pack of wolves...\"\n\n\"Please. Did you learn anything?\"\n\n\"Yes I did,\" she snorted, unlacing and pulling off her drenched, clinging boots. \"Without much difficulty, because everybody's talking about it. You never told me your young girl was such a personage! I'd thought she was your stepdaughter, some sort of waif and stray, a star-crossed orphan. And who does she turnout to be? A Cintran princess! Well! And perhaps you're a prince in disguise? '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell me, please.\"\n\n\"The kings won't get their hands on her now, for your Cirilla, it turns out, fled straight from Thanedd to Nilfgaard; probably with those treacherous mages. And Imperator Emhyr received her therewith all ceremony. And do you know what? He's said to bethinking of marrying her. Now let merest. We can talk after I've slept, if you want. '\n\nThe Witcher said nothing. Milva hung her wet footwraps on a forked branch, positioned so that the rising sun's rays would fall on them, and tugged at her belt buckle.\n\n\"I want to get undressed,\" she growled. \"Why are you still hanging about? You can't have expected happier news, can you? You're in no danger; no one's asking after you, the spies have stopped being interested in you. And your wench has escaped from the clutches of the kings and will be declared Imperatoress... '\n\n\"Is that information reliable?\"\n\n\"Nothing is certain these days,\" she yawned, sitting down on her bed, \"apart from the fact that the sun journeys across the heavens from the east to the west. But what people are saying about the Nilfgaardian Imperator and the Princess of Cintra seems to be true. It's all anyone's talking about.\"\n\n\"Why this sudden interest?\"\n\n\"You really don't know? She's said to be bringing Emhyr a goodly acreage of land in her dowry! And not just Cintra, but land on this side of the Yaruga too! Ha, and she'll be my Lady as well, for I'm from Upper Sodden, and the whole of Sodden, it turns out, is her fiefdom! So if I bring down a buck in her forests and they lay hands on me, I can be hung on her orders... Oh, what a rotten world! And a pox on it, I can't keep my eyes open... '"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Just one more question. Did they capture any sorceresses-I mean did they capture anyone from that pack of treacherous sorcerers?\"\n\n\"No. But one enchantress, they say, took her own life. Soon after Vengerberg fell and the Kaedwen Army entered Aedirn. No doubt out of distress, or fear of torture-\"\n\n\"There were riderless horses in the commando you brought here. Would the elves give me one?\"\n\n\"Oh, in a hurry, I see,\" she muttered, wrapping herself in the blanket. \"I think I know where you're planning to... '\n\nShe fell silent, astonished by the expression on his face before she realised that the news she had brought was not at all happy. She saw that she understood nothing, nothing at all. Suddenly, unexpectedly, unawares, she felt the urge to sit down by his side, bombard him with questions, listen to him, learn more, perhaps offer counsel... She urgently ground her knuckles into the corners of her eyes. I'm exhausted, she thought, death was breathing down my neck all night. I have to rest. And anyway, why should I be bothered by his sorrows and cares? What does he matter tome? And that wench? To hell with him and with her! A pox on it, all this has driven the sleep from me...\n\nThe Witcher stood up.\n\n\"Will the elves give me a horse?\" he repeated.\n\n\"Take whichever you please,\" she said a moment later. \"But don't let them see you. They gave us a good hiding by the ford, blood was spilt... And don't touch the black; he's mine... What are you waiting for? '\n\n\"Thank you for your help. For everything.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She didn't answer.\n\n\"I'm indebted to you. How shall I pay you back? '\n\n\"How? By getting out of my sight!\" she cried, raising herself on an elbow and tugging sharply at the blanket. \"I... I have to sleep! Take a horse... and go... To Nilfgaard, to hell, to all the devils. Makes no difference tome! Go away and leave me in peace!\"\n\n\"I'll payback what I owe, \"he said quietly.\"I won't forget. It may happen that one day you'll be in need of help. Or support. A shoulder to lean on. Then call out, call out in the night. And I'll come.\"\n\nThe buck lay on the edge of the slope, which was spongy from gushing springs and densely overgrown with ferns, his neck contorted, with a glassy eye staring up at the sky. Milva saw several large ticks bored into his light brown belly.\n\n\"You'll have to find yourselves some other blood, vermin, \"she muttered, rolling up her sleeves and drawing a knife.\"Because this is going cold. '\n\nWith a swift and practised movement, she slit the skin from sternum to anus, adroitly running the blade around the genitalia. She cautiously separated the layer of fat, up to her elbows in blood. She severed the gullet and pulled the entrails out. She cut open the stomach and gallbladder, hunting for bezoars. She didn't believe in their magical qualities, but there was no shortage of fools who did and would pay well for them.\n\nShe lifted the buck and laid him on a nearby log, his slit belly pointing downwards, letting the blood drain out. She wiped her hands on a bunch of ferns."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She sat down by her quarry.\n\n\"Possessed, insane Witcher,\" she said softly, staring at the crowns of the Brokilon pines looming a hundred feet above her. \"You're heading for Nilfgaard to get your wench. You're heading to the end of the world, which is all inflames, and you haven't even thought about supplying yourself with victuals. I know you have someone to live for. But do you have anything to live on? '\n\nNaturally enough, the pines didn't comment or interrupt her monologue.\n\n\"I don't think, \"Milva said, using her knife to scrape the blood out from beneath her fingernails,\"you have the slightest chance of getting your young girl back. You won't make it to the Yaruga, never mind Nilfgaard. I don't think you'll even make it to Sodden. I think you're fated to die. It's written on your fierce face, it's staring through your hideous eyes. Death will catch up with you, O mad Witcher, it'll catch up with you soon. But thanks to this little buck at least it won't be death by starvation. It may not be much, but it's something. That's what I think. '\n\nDijkstra sighed to himself at the sight of the Nilfgaardian ambassador entering the audience chamber. Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen, Imperator Emhyr var Emreis's envoy, was accustomed to conducting conversations in diplomatic language, and adored larding his sentences with pompous linguistic oddities, comprehensible only to diplomats and scholars. Dijkstra had studied at the Academy of Oxenfurt, and although he had not been awarded the title of Master of Letters, he knew the basics of bombastic scholarly jargon. However, he was reluctant to use it, since he hated with a vengeance pomposity and all forms of pretentious ceremony."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Greetings, Your Excellency.\"\n\n\"Your Lordship,\" Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen said, bowing ceremoniously. \"Ah, please forgive me. Perhaps I ought to say: Your Grace the Duke? Your Highness the Regent? Secretary of State?\"Pon my word, offices are falling on you like hailstones, such that I really don't know how to address you so as not to breach protocol.\"\n\n\"\"Your Majesty\" would be best,\" Dijkstra replied modestly. \"You are aware after all, Your Excellency, that the king is judged by his court. And you are probably aware that when I shout: \"Jump!\" the court in Tretogor asks: \"How high?\"\"\n\nThe ambassador knew that Dijkstra was exaggerating, but not inordinately. Prince Radovid was still a minor, Queen Hedwig distraught by her husband's tragic death, and the aristocracy intimidated, stupefied, at variance and divided into factions. Dijkstra was the de facto governor of Redania and could have taken any rank he pleased with no difficulty. But Dijkstra had no desire to do so.\n\n\"Your Lordship deigned to summon me,\" the ambassador said a moment later. \"Passing over the Foreign Minister. To what do I owe this honour?\"\n\n\"The minister,\" Dijkstra said, looking up at the ceiling, \"resigned from the post owing to his poor state of health.\"\n\nThe ambassador nodded gravely. He knew perfectly well that the Foreign Minister was languishing in a dungeon and, being a coward and a fool, had doubtless told Dijkstra everything about his collusion with the Nilfgaardian secret service during the demonstration of torture instruments preceding his interrogation. He knew that the network established by Vattier de Rideaux, head of the imperial secret service, had been crushed, and all its threads were in Dijkstra's hands. He also knew that those threads led directly to his person. But his person was protected by immunity and protocol forced them to play this game to the bitter end. Particularly following the curious, encoded instructions recently sent to the embassy by Vattier and Coroner Stephan Skellen, the imperial agent for special affairs."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Since his successor has not yet been named,\" Dijkstra continued, \"it is my unpleasant duty to inform you that Your Excellency is now deemed persona non grata in the Kingdom of Redania.\"\n\nThe ambassador bowed.\n\n\"I regret,\" he said, \"that the distrust that resulted in the mutual recall of ambassadors are the consequence of matters which, after all, directly concern neither the Kingdom of Redania nor the Nilfgaardian Empire. The Empire has not undertaken any hostile measures against Redania.\"\n\n\"Apart from a blockade against our ships and goods at the mouth of the Yaruga and the Skellige Islands. And apart from arming and supporting gangs of Scoia'tael. '\n\n\"Those are insinuations.\"\n\n\"And the concentration of imperial forces in Verden and Cintra? The raids on Sodden and Brugge by armed gangs? Sodden and Brugge are under Temerian protection; we in turn are in alliance with Temeria, Your Excellency, which makes an attack on Temeria an attack onus. In addition, there are matters which directly concern Redania: the rebellion on the Isle of Thanedd and the criminal assassination of King Vizimir. And the question of the role the Empire played in those incidents.\"\n\n\"Quod attinet the incident on Thanedd,\" the ambassador said, spreading his arms, \"I have not been empowered to express an opinion. His Imperial Highness Emhyr var Emreis is unaware of the substance of the private feuds of your mages. I regret the fact that our protests are achieving minimal success in the face of the propaganda which seeks to suggest something else. Propaganda disseminated, I daresay, not without the support of the highest authorities of the Kingdom of Redania.\"\n\n\"Your protests greatly astonish and surprise me,\" Dijkstra said, smiling faintly. \"Since the Imperator in noway conceals the presence of the Cintran princess at his court, after she was abducted from the very same Thanedd.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Cirilla, Queen of Cintra,\" Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen corrected him with emphasis, \"was not abducted, but sought asylum in the Empire."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That has nothing to do with the incident on Thanedd.\"\n\n\"Indeed?\"\n\n\"The incident on Thanedd,\" the ambassador continued, his countenance stony, \"aroused the Imperator's horror. And the murderous attack on the life of King Vizimir, carried out by a madman, evoked his sincere and intense abomination. However, the vile rumour being disseminated among the common people is an even greater abomination, which dares to search for the instigators of these crimes in the Empire. '\n\n\"The capture of the actual instigators,\" Dijkstra said slowly, \"will put an end to the rumours, one would hope. And their capture and the meting out of justice to them is purely a matter of time.\"\n\n\"Justitia fundamentum regnorum,\" admitted Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen gravely. \"And crimen horribilis non potest non esse punibile. I affirm that His Imperial Majesty also wishes this to happen.\"\n\n\"The Imperator has it in his power to fulfil that wish,\" Dijkstra threw in casually, folding his arms. \"One of the leaders of the conspiracy, Enid an Gleanna, until recently the sorceress Francesca Findabair, is playing at being queen of the elven puppet state in Dol Blathanna, by the imperial grace.\"\n\n\"His Imperial Majesty,\" said the ambassador, bowing stiffly, \"cannot interfere in the doings of Dol Blathanna, recognised by all its neighbouring powers as an independent kingdom.\"\n\n\"But not by Redania. For Redania, Dol Blathanna remains part of the Kingdom of Aedirn. Although together with the elves and Kaedwen you have dismantled Aedirn– although not a stone remains of Lyria– you are striking those kingdoms too swiftly from the map of the world. It's too soon, Your Excellency. However, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss it. Let Francesca Findabair play at reigning for now; she'll get her comeuppance. And what of the other rebels and King Vizimir's assassins? What about Vilgefortz of Roggeveen, what about Yennefer of Vengerberg? There are grounds to believe they both fled to Nilfgaard following the collapse of the rebellion. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I assure you that is not so,\" said the ambassador, raising his head. \"But were it true, they would not escape punishment.\"\n\n\"They did not wrong you, thus their punishment does not rest with you. Imperator Emhyr would prove his sincere desire for justice, which after all is fundamentum regnorum, by handing the criminals over to us.\"\n\n\"One may not deny the validity of your request,\" admitted Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen, feigning an embarrassed smile. \"However, primo, those individuals are not in the Empire. And secundo, had they even reached it, there exists an impediment. Extradition is carried out on the basis of a judgment of the law, each case decided upon by the Imperial Council. Bear in mind, Your Lordship, that the breaking of diplomatic ties by Redania is a hostile act; it would be difficult to expect the Council to vote in favour of the extradition of persons seeking asylum, were a hostile country to demand that extradition. It would bean unprecedented matter... Unless...\"\n\n\"Unless what?\"\n\n\"A precedent were established.\"\n\n\"I do not understand.\"\n\n\"Were the Kingdom of Redania prepared to hand one of his subjects to the Imperator, a common criminal who had been captured here, the Imperator and his Council would have grounds to reciprocate this gesture of goodwill.\"\n\nDijkstra said nothing fora longtime, giving the impression he was either dozing or thinking.\n\n\"Whom do you have in mind?\"\n\n\"The name of the criminal...\" said the ambassador, pretending to recall it. He finally searched fora document in his saffian portfolio. \"Forgive me, memoria fragilis est. Here it is. A certain Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. Serious gravamina weigh on him. He is being sought for murder, desertion, raptus puellae, rape, theft and forging documents. Fleeing from the Imperator's wrath, he escaped abroad. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"To Redania? He chose along route.\"\n\n\"Your Lordship,\" said Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen, smiling faintly, \"does not limit his interests only to Redania, after all. There is not a shadow of doubt in my mind that were the criminal to be seized in any of the allied kingdoms, Your Lordship would hear of it from the reports of numerous... friends.\"\n\n\"What did you say the name of the felon was?\"\n\n\"Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach.\"\n\nDijkstra fell silent again, pretending to be searching in his memory.\n\n\"No,\" he said finally. \"No one of that name has been apprehended.\"\n\n\"Indeed?\"\n\n\"Regrettably, my memoria is not fragilis in such cases, Your Excellency.\"\n\n\"I regret it too,\" Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen responded icily. \"Particularly since the mutual extradition of criminals seems to be impossible to carryout in such circumstances. I shall not weary Your Lordship any longer. I wish you good health and good fortune.\"\n\n\"Likewise. Farewell, Your Excellency.\"\n\nThe ambassador left, after several elaborate, ceremonial bows.\n\n\"You can kiss sempiternum meam, you sly old devil,\" Dijkstra muttered, folding his arms. \"Ori!\"\n\nHis secretary, red in the face from suppressing his cough, emerged from behind a curtain.\n\n\"Is Philippa still in Montecalvo?\"\n\n\"Yes, hem, hem. Mistresses Laux-Antille, Merigold and Metz are with her.\"\n\n\"War may breakout in a day or two, the border on the Yaruga will soon go up inflames, and they've hidden themselves in some godforsaken castle! Take a quill and write. Darling Phil... Oh, bugger! '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I've written: \"Dear Philippa\". '\n\n\"Good. Continue. It may interest you that the freak in the plumed helmet, who disappeared from Thanedd as mysteriously as he appeared, is called Cahir Mawr Dyffryn and is the son of Seneschal Ceallach. This strange individual is being sought not only by us, but also, it would appear, by the secret service of Vattier de Rideaux and the men of that son-of-a-bitch...\"\n\n\"Mistress Philippa, hem, hem, does not like expressions of that kind. I have written: \"that scoundrel\".\"\n\n\"Let it be: that scoundrel Stephan Skellen. You know as well as I do, dear Phil, that the imperial secret service is urgently hunting only those agents and emissaries who got under Emhyr's skin. Those who, instead of carrying out their orders or dying, betrayed him and their orders alike. The case thus appears quite curious, since we were certain that this Cahir's orders concerned the capture of Princess Cirilla and her delivery to Nilfgaard.\n\n\"New paragraph: I would like to discuss in person the strange, but well-founded suspicions this matter has evoked in me, and the somewhat astonishing, but reasonable theories I have arrived at. With my deepest respect et cetera, et cetera.\"\n\nMilva rode south, as the crow flies, first along the banks of the Ribbon, through Burn Stump, and then, having crossed the river, through marshy gorges covered in a soft, bright green carpet of hair-cap moss. She guessed that the Witcher, not knowing the terrain as well as she did, would not risk crossing onto the human-controlled bank. Taking a shortcut across a huge bend in the river, which curved towards Brokilon, there was a chance she might catch up with him in the region of the Ceann Treise Falls. Were she to ride hard and not take a break, she even stood a chance of overtaking him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The chirruping chaffinches hadn't been mistaken. The sky had clouded over considerably to the south. The air had become dense and heavy, and the mosquitoes and horseflies extremely annoying.\n\nWhen she rode into the wetlands, thick with hazel hung with still-green nuts and leafless, blackish buckthorn, she felt a presence. She didn't hear it. She felt it. And so she knew it must be elves.\n\nShe reined in her horse, so the bowmen concealed in the undergrowth could have a good look at her. She also held her breath. In the hope that she hadn't happened upon quick-tempered ones.\n\nA fly buzzed over the buck, which was slung over the horse's rump.\n\nA rustling. A soft whistling. She whistled back. The Scoia'tael emerged from the brush soundlessly and only then did Milva breathe freely again. She knew them. They belonged to Coinneach Dá Reo's commando.\n\n\"Hael,\" she said, dismounting. \"Que'ss va? '\n\n\"Ne'ss, \"an elf whose name she couldn't recall replied coldly. \"Caemm.\"\n\nOther elves were encamped in the nearby clearing. There were at least thirty of them, more than there should be in Coinneach's commando. This surprised Milva; in recent times, Squirrel units were more likely to shrink than grow in size. In recent times, commandos had become groups of bloodied, nervy ragamuffins who could barely stand or stay upright in the saddle. This commando was different.\n\n\"Cead, Coinneach,\" she greeted the approaching commander.\n\n\"Ceadmil, sor'ca. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sor'ca. Little sister. It's how she was addressed by those she was friendly with, when they wanted to express their respect and affection. And that they were indeed many, many more winters older than she. At first, she had only been Dh'oine– human– to the elves. Later, when she had begun helping them regularly, they called her Aen Woedbeanna,\"woman of the forest\". Still later, when they knew her better, they called her– following the dryads\" example– Milva, or Red Kite. Her real name, which she only revealed to those she was closest to, responding to similar gestures received from them, didn't suit the elves– they pronounced it Mear'ya, with a hint of a grimace, as though in their speech it carried negative connotations. Then they would immediately switch to \"sor'ca'.\n\n\"Where are you headed?\" asked Milva, looking around more intently, but still not seeing any wounded or ill elves. \"To Eight-Mile? To Brokilon?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nShe refrained from further questions; she knew them too well. It was enough to glance several times at their motionless, hardened faces, at the exaggerated, pointed calm with which they were preparing their tackle and weapons. One close look into their deep, fathomless eyes was enough. She knew they were going into battle.\n\nTo the south the sky was darkening, becoming overcast.\n\n\"And where are you headed, sor'ca? ' asked Coinneach, then quickly glanced at the buck slung over her horse and smiled faintly.\n\n\"South,\" she said coldly, putting him right. \"Towards Drieschot.\"\n\nThe elf stopped smiling.\n\n\"Along the human bank?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, witcher\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: Baptism of Fire\nChapter: 6"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sor'ca. Little sister. It's how she was addressed by those she was friendly with, when they wanted to express their respect and affection. And that they were indeed many, many more winters older than she. At first, she had only been Dh'oine– human– to the elves. Later, when she had begun helping them regularly, they called her Aen Woedbeanna,\"woman of the forest\". Still later, when they knew her better, they called her– following the dryads\" example– Milva, or Red Kite. Her real name, which she only revealed to those she was closest to, responding to similar gestures received from them, didn't suit the elves– they pronounced it Mear'ya, with a hint of a grimace, as though in their speech it carried negative connotations. Then they would immediately switch to \"sor'ca'.\n\n\"Where are you headed?\" asked Milva, looking around more intently, but still not seeing any wounded or ill elves. \"To Eight-Mile? To Brokilon?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nShe refrained from further questions; she knew them too well. It was enough to glance several times at their motionless, hardened faces, at the exaggerated, pointed calm with which they were preparing their tackle and weapons. One close look into their deep, fathomless eyes was enough. She knew they were going into battle.\n\nTo the south the sky was darkening, becoming overcast.\n\n\"And where are you headed, sor'ca? ' asked Coinneach, then quickly glanced at the buck slung over her horse and smiled faintly.\n\n\"South,\" she said coldly, putting him right. \"Towards Drieschot.\"\n\nThe elf stopped smiling.\n\n\"Along the human bank?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"At least as far as Ceann Treise,\" she said, shrugging. \"When I reach the falls I'll definitely go back over to the Brokilon side, because... '\n\nShe turned around, hearing the snorting of horses. Fresh Scoia'tael were joining the already unusually large commando. Milva knew these new ones even better.\n\n\"Ciaran!\" she shouted softly, without attempting to hide her astonishment. \"Toruviel! What are you doing here? I've only just led you to Brokilon, and you're already-\"\n\n\"Ess'creasa, sor'ca,\" Ciaran aep Dearbh said gravely. The bandage swathed around his head was stained with oozing blood.\n\n\"We have no choice,\" Toruviel repeated. She dismounted cautiously using one arm, in order to protect the other one, which was still bent in a sling. \"News has come. We may not remain in Brokilon, when every bow counts.\"\n\n\"If I had known,\" Milva said, pouting, \"I wouldn't have bothered. I wouldn't have risked my neck at the ford.\"\n\n\"News came last night,\" explained Toruviel quietly. \"We could not... We cannot leave our comrades in arms at a time like this. We cannot. Understand that, sor'ca. '\n\nThe sky had darkened even more. This time Milva clearly heard thunder in the distance.\n\n\"Don't ride south, sor'ca,\" Coinneach Dá Reo pleaded. \"There's a storm coming. '\n\n\"What can a storm do to...?\" She broke off and looked at him intently. \"Ah! So that kind of tidings have reached you, have they? It's Nilfgaard, is it? They are crossing the Yaruga in Sodden? They are striking Brugge? And that's why you're marching? '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He did not answer.\n\n\"Yes, just like it was in Dol Angra,\" she said, looking into his dark eyes. \"Once again the Nilfgaardian Imperator has you sowing mayhem with fire and sword on the humans\" rear lines. And then he will make peace with the kings and they will slaughter you all. You will burn in the very fire you are starting. '\n\n\"Fire purges. And hardens. It must be passed through. Aenyell'hael, ell'ea, sor'ca? In your tongue: a baptism of fire. '\n\n\"I prefer another kind of fire,\" Milva said, untying the buck and throwing it down onto the ground at the feet of the elves. \"The kind that crackles under the spit. Have it, so you won't fall from hunger on the march. It's of no use tome now.\"\n\n\"Aren't you riding south? '\n\n\"I am.\"\n\nI'm going south, she thought, and quickly. I have to warn that fool of a witcher, I have to warn him about what kind of a turmoil he's getting himself into. I have to make him turn back.\n\n\"Don't go, sor'ca.\"\n\n\"Give me a break, Coinneach.\"\n\n\"A storm is coming from the south,\" the elf repeated. \"A great tempest is coming. And a great fire. Hide in Brokilon, little sister, don't ride south. You've done enough for us, you cannot do anymore now. And you do not have to. We have to. Ess'tedd, esse creasa! It is time we left. Farewell. '\n\nThe air around them was heavy and dense.\n\nThe teleprojective spell was complicated; they had to cast it together, joining their hands and thoughts. Even then, it turned out to be a devilishly great effort. Because the distance was considerable too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Philippa Eilhart's tightly closed eyelids twitched, Triss Merigold panted and there were beads of sweat on Keira Metz's high forehead. Only on Margarita Laux-Antille's face was there no sign of fatigue.\n\nIt suddenly became very bright in the poorly lit chamber and a mosaic of flashes danced across the dark wood panelling. A sphere glowing with a milky light was suspended over the round table. Philippa Eilhart chanted the end of the spell and the sphere descended away from her onto one of the twelve chairs positioned around the table. A vague shape appeared inside the sphere. The image shimmered, as the projection was not very stable. But it quickly became more defined.\n\n\"Bloody hell,\" Keira muttered, wiping her forehead. \"Haven't they heard of glamarye or beautifying spells down in Nilfgaard? '\n\n\"Apparently not,\" said Triss out of the corner of her mouth. \"They don't seem to have heard of fashion either. '\n\n\"Or of make-up,\" Philippa said softly. \"But now hush. And don't stare at her. We must stabilise the projection and welcome our guest. Intensify me, Rita. '\n\nMargarita Laux-Antille repeated the spell's formula and Philippa's movements. The image shimmered several times, lost its foggy vagueness and unnatural gleam, and its contours and colours sharpened. The sorceresses could now look at the shape on the other side of the table even more closely. Triss bit her lip and winked at Keira conspiratorially.\n\nThe woman in the projection had a paleface with poor complexion, dull, expressionless eyes, thin bluish lips and a somewhat hooked nose. She was wearing a strange, conical and slightly crumpled hat. Dark, not very fresh-looking hair fell from beneath the soft brim. The impressions of unattractiveness and seediness were complemented by her shapeless, black, baggy robes, embroidered on the shoulders with frayed silver thread. The embroidery depicted a half-moon within a circle of stars. It was the only decoration worn by the Nilfgaardian sorceress."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Philippa Eilhart stood up, trying not display her jewellery, lace or cleavage too ostentatiously.\n\n\"Mistress Assire,\" she said. \"Welcome to Montecalvo. We are immensely pleased that you have agreed to accept our invitation.\"\n\n\"I did it out of curiosity,\" the sorceress from Nilfgaard said, in an unexpectedly pleasant and melodious voice, straightening her hat involuntarily. Her hand was slim, marked by yellow spots, her fingernails broken and uneven, and clearly bitten.\n\n\"Only out of curiosity,\" she repeated. \"The consequences of which may yet prove catastrophic for me. I would ask for an explanation.\"\n\n\"I shall provide one forthwith,\" Philippa nodded, giving a sign to the other sorceresses. \"But first, however, allow me to call forth projections of the other participants of this gathering and make some introductions. Please be patient fora moment.\"\n\nThe sorceresses linked hands again and together began the incantations once more. The air in the chamber hummed like a taut wire as a glowing fog flowed down from behind the panels on the ceiling, filling the room with a shimmer of shadows. Spheres of pulsing light hung above three of the unoccupied chairs and the outlines of shapes became visible. The first one to appear was Sabrina Glevissig, in a turquoise dress with a provocatively plunging neckline and a large, lace, standing-up collar, beautifully framing her coiffured hair, which was held in a diamond tiara. Next to her Sheala de Tancarville emerged from the hazy light of the projection, dressed in black velvet sewn with pearls and with her neck draped with silver fox furs. The enchantress from Nilfgaard nervously licked her thin lips."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Just you wait for Francesca, thought Triss."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When you see Francesca, you black rat, your eyes will pop out of your head.\n\nFrancesca Findabair did not disappoint. Not by her lavish dress, the colour of bull's blood, nor with her majestic hairstyle, nor her ruby necklace, nor her doe eyes ringed with provocative elven make-up.\n\n\"Welcome, ladies,\" Philippa said, \"to Montecalvo Castle, whither I have invited you to discuss certain issues of considerable importance. I bemoan the fact that we are meeting in the form of teleprojection. But neither the time, nor the distances dividing us, nor the situation we all find ourselves in permitted a face-to-face meeting. I am Philippa Eilhart, the lady of this castle. As the initiator of this meeting and the hostess, I shall perform the introductions. On my right is Margarita Laux-Antille, the rectoress of the academy in Aretuza. On my left is Triss Merigold of Maribor and Keira Metz of Carreras. Continuing, Sabrina Glevissig of Ard Carraigh. Sheala de Tancarville of Creyden in Kovir. Francesca Findabair, also known as Enid an Gleanna, the present queen of the Valley of Flowers. And finally Assire var Anahid of Vicovaro the Nilfgaardian Empire. And now-\"\n\n\"And now Ibid farewell!\" Sabrina Glevissig screamed, pointing a heavily beringed hand at Francesca. \"You have gone too far, Philippa! I have no intention of sitting at the same table as that bloody elf– even as an illusion! The blood on the walls and floors of Garstang has not even faded! And she spilt that blood! She and Vilgefortz!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I would request you observe etiquette,\" Philippa said, gripping the edge of the table with both hands. \"And keep calm. Listen to what I have to say, I ask for nothing more. When I finish, each of you shall decide whether to stay or leave. The projection is voluntary, it maybe interrupted at any moment. All I ask is that those who decide to leave keep this meeting secret.\"\n\n\"I knew it!\" Sabrina jumped up so suddenly that fora moment she moved out of the projection. \"A secret meeting! Clandestine arrangements! To put it bluntly: a conspiracy! And it's quite clear against whom it is directed. Are you mocking us, Philippa? You demand that we keep a secret from our kings and comrades, whom you did not condescend to invite. And there sits Enid Findabair– reigning in Dol Blathanna by the grace of Emhyr var Emreis– the queen of the elves, who are actively providing Nilfgaard with armed support. If that were not enough, I notice with astonishment that we are joined by a Nilfgaardian sorceress. Since when did the mages of Nilfgaard stop professing blind obedience and slavish servility to imperial rule? Secrets? What secrets, I am asking! If she is here, it is with the permission of Emhyr! By his order! As his eyes and ears! '\n\n\"I repudiate that,\" Assire var Anahid said calmly. \"No one knows that I am taking part in this meeting. I was asked to keep it secret, which I have done and will continue to do. For my own sake, as much as yours. For were it to come to light, I would not survive. That's the servility of the Empire's mages for you. We have the choice of servility or the scaffold. I took a risk. I did not come here as a spy. I can only prove it in one way: through my own death. It would be sufficient for the secrecy that our hostess is appealing for to be broken. It would be sufficient for news of our meeting to go beyond these walls, for me to lose my life.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Betrayal of the secret could have unpleasant consequences for me, too,\" Francesca said, smiling charmingly. \"You have a wonderful opportunity for revenge, Sabrina.\"\n\n\"My revenge will come about in other ways, elf,\" said Sabrina, and her black eyes flashed ominously. \"Should the secret come to light, it won't be through my fault or through my carelessness. By no means mine! '\n\n\"Are you suggesting something?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" interrupted Philippa Eilhart. \"Of course Sabrina is. She is subtly reminding you about my collaboration with Sigismund Dijkstra. As though she didn't have any contact with King Henselt's spies!\"\n\n\"There is a difference,\" Sabrina barked. \"I wasn't Henselt's lover for three years! Nor that of his spies, for that matter!\"\n\n\"Enough of this! Be quiet!\"\n\n\"I concur,\" Sheala de Tancarville suddenly said in aloud voice. \"Be quiet, Sabrina. That's enough about Thanedd, enough about spying and extramarital affairs. I did not come hereto take part in arguments or to listen to old grudges and insults being bandied about. Nor am I interested in being your mediator. And if I was invited with that intention, I declare that those efforts were in vain. Indeed, I have my suspicions that I am participating in vain and without purpose, that I am wasting time, which I only wrested with difficulty from my scholarly work. I shall, however, refrain from presuppositions. I propose that we give the floor to Philippa Eilhart. Let us discover the aim of this gathering. Let us learn the roles we are expected to play here. Then we shall decide– without unnecessary emotion– whether to continue with the performance or let the curtain fall. The discretion we have been asked for binds us all. Along with the measures that I, Sheala de Tancarville, will personally take against the indiscreet. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "None of the sorceresses moved or spoke. Triss did not doubt Sheala's warning fora second. The recluse from Kovir was not one to make hollow threats.\n\n\"We give you the floor, Philippa. And I ask the honourable assembly to remain quiet until she indicates that she has finished.\"\n\nPhilippa Eilhart stood up, her dress rustling.\n\n\"Distinguished sisters,\" she said. \"Our situation is grave. Magic is under threat. The tragic events on Thanedd, to which my thoughts return with regret and reluctance, proved that the effects of hundreds of years of apparently peaceful cooperation could be laid waste in an instant, as self-interest and inflated ambitions came to the fore. We now have discord, disorder, mutual hostility and mistrust. Events are beginning to get out of control. In order to regain control, in order to prevent a cataclysm happening, the helm of this storm-tossed ship must be grasped by strong hands. Mistress Laux-Antille, Mistress Merigold, Mistress Metz and I have discussed the matter and we are in agreement. It is not enough tore-establish the Chapter and the Council, which were destroyed on Thanedd. In any case, there is no one left to rebuild the two institutions, no guarantee that should they be rebuilt they would not be infected with the disease that destroyed the previous ones. An utterly new, secret organisation should be founded which will exclusively serve matters of magic. Which will do everything to prevent a cataclysm. For if magic were to perish, our world would perish with it. Just as happened many centuries ago, the world without magic and the progress it brings with it will be plunged into chaos and darkness; will drown in blood and barbarity. We invite the ladies present hereto take part in our initiative: to actively participate in the work proposed by this secret assembly. We took the decision to summon you herein order to hear your opinions on this matter. With this, I have finished.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you,\" Sheala de Tancarville said, nodding. \"If you will allow, ladies, I shall begin. My first question, dear Philippa, is: why me? Why have I been summoned here? Many times have I refused to have my candidature to the Chapter put forward, and I resigned my seat on the Council. Firstly, my work absorbs me. Secondly, I am ever of the opinion that there are others in Kovir, Poviss and Hengfors more worthy of these honours. So I ask why I have been invited here, and not Carduin. Not Istredd of Aedd Gynvael, not Tugdual or Zangenis?\"\n\n\"Because they are men,\" replied Philippa. \"This organisation will consist exclusively of women. Mistress Assire?\"\n\n\"I withdraw my question,\" the Nilfgaardian enchantress smiled. \"It was coincident with the substance of Mistress De Tancarville's. The answer satisfies me. '\n\n\"It smacks tome of female chauvinism,\" Sabrina Glevissig said with a sneer. \"Particularly coming from your lips, Philippa, after your change in... sexual orientation. I have nothing against men. I'd go further; I adore men and I cannot imagine life without them. But... after a moment's reflection... Yours is actually a reasonable proposal. Men are psychologically unstable, too prone to emotions; not to be relied upon in moments of crisis.\"\n\n\"That's right, \"Margarita Laux-Antille admitted calmly.\"I often compare the results of the novices from Aretuza with those of the boys from the school in Ban Ard, and the comparisons are invariably to the girls'credit. Magic requires patience, delicacy, intelligence, prudence, and perseverance, not to mention the humble, but calm, endurance of defeat and failure. Ambition is the undoing of men. They always want what they know to be impossible and unattainable. And they are unaware of the attainable.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Enough, enough, enough,\" Sheala interrupted her, making no effort to hide a smile. \"There is nothing worse than chauvinism underpinned by scholarship. You ought to be ashamed, Rita. Nonetheless... Yes, I also consider the proposed single-sex structure of this... convent or perhaps, if you will, this lodge, justified. As we have heard, it concerns the future of magic, and magic is too important a matter to entrust its fate to men.\"\n\n\"If I may,\" came the melodious voice of Francesca Findabair, \"I should like to cut these digressions about the natural and undeniable domination of our sex short fora moment, and focus on matters concerning the proposed initiative, the goal of which is still not entirely clear tome. For the moment chosen is not accidental and gives food for thought. A war is being waged. Nilfgaard has crushed the northern kingdoms and nailed them down. Is there not then, concealed beneath the vague slogans I have heard here, the understandable desire to reverse that state of affairs? To crush and nail down Nilfgaard? And then to tan the hides of the insolent elves? If that is so, my dear Philippa, we shall not find common grounds for agreement.\"\n\n\"Is that the reason I have been invited here?\" Assire var Anahid asked. \"I do not pay much attention to politics, but I know that the imperial army is seizing the advantage over your armies in this war. Apart from Mistresses Francesca and de Tancarville, who represents a neutral kingdom, all of you ladies represent kingdoms which are hostile to the Nilfgaardian Empire. How am Ito understand these words of magical solidarity? As an incitement to treachery? I'm sorry, but I cannot see myself in such a role. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "On finishing her speech, Assire leant forward, as though touching something which was outside the frame of the projection."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It seemed to Triss she could hear miaowing.\n\n\"She's even got a cat, \"Keira Metz whispered.\"And I bet it's black...\"\n\n\"Quiet,\" hissed Philippa. \"My dear Francesca, most esteemed Mistress Assire. Our initiative is intended to be utterly apolitical; that is its fundamental premise. We shall not be guided by interests of race, kingdoms, kings or imperators, but by the interests of magic and its future.\"\n\n\"While putting magic first,\" Sabrina Glevissig said and smiled sneeringly, \"I hope we will not forget, though, about the interests of sorceresses. We know, after all, how sorcerers are treated in Nilfgaard. We can sit here chatting away apolitically, but when Nilfgaard triumphs and we end up under imperial rule, we shall all look like...\"\n\nTriss shifted anxiously, Philippa sighed almost inaudibly. Keira lowered her head, Sheala pretended to be straightening her boa. Francesca bit her lip. Assire var Anahid's face did not twitch, but a faint blush appeared on it.\n\n\"It will be bad for all of us, is what I meant to say,\" Sabrina finished quickly. \"Philippa, Triss and I, all three of us were on Sodden Hill. Emhyr will seek revenge for that defeat, for Thanedd, for all our activities. But that is only one of the reservations that the declared political neutrality of this convent arouses in me. Does participation in it mean immediate resignation from the active– and indeed political– service we presently offer to our kings? Or are we to remain in that service and serve two masters: magic and kingly rule?\"\n\n\"When someone tells me he is politically neutral,\" Francesca smiled, \"I always ask which politics he specifically has in mind.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And I know he definitely isn't thinking about the one he engages in, ' Assire var Anahid added, looking at Philippa.\n\n\"I am politically neutral,\" Margarita Laux-Antille chimed in, lifting her head, \"and my school is politically neutral. I have in mind every type, kind and class of politics which exists!\"\n\n\"Dear ladies,\" Sheala said, having remained silent for sometime. \"Remember you are the dominant sex. So don't behave like little girls, fighting over a tray of sweetmeats. The principium proposed by Philippa is clear, at least tome, and I still have too little cause to consider you any less intelligent. Outside this chamber be who you want, serve who you wish, as faithfully as you want. But when the convent meets, we shall focus exclusively on magic and its future. '\n\n\"That is precisely how I imagine it,\" Philippa Eilhart agreed. \"I know there are many problems, and that there are doubts and uncertainties. We shall discuss them during the next meeting, in which we shall all participate; not in the form of projections or illusions, but in person. Your presence will be treated not as a formal act of accession to the convent, but as a gesture of goodwill. We shall decide together whether a convent of this kind will be founded at all, then. Together. All of us. With equal rights.\"\n\n\"All of us?\" Sheala repeated. \"I see empty seats and I presume they were not put here inadvertently.\"\n\n\"The convent ought to number twelve sorceresses. I would like the candidate for one of those empty seats to be proposed and presented to us at our next meeting by Mistress Assire. There must beat least one more worthy sorceress in the Nilfgaardian Empire. I leave the second place for you to fill, Francesca, so that you will not feel alone as the only pureblood elf. The third...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Enid an Gleanna raised her head.\n\n\"I would like two places. I have two candidates.\"\n\n\"Do any of you have any objections to this request? If not, then I concur. Today is the fifth day of August, the fifth day after the new moon. We shall meet again on the second day after the full moon, sisters dear, in fourteen days.\"\n\n\"Just a moment,\" Sheala de Tancarville interrupted. \"One place still remains empty. Who is to be the twelfth sorceress?\"\n\n\"That is precisely the first problem the lodge will have to solve,\" Philippa said, smiling mysteriously. \"In two weeks\" time I shall tell you who ought to take their place in the twelfth seat. And then we shall ponder over how to get that person to take it up. My choice will astonish you. Because it is not an ordinary person, most esteemed sisters. It is death or life, destruction or rebirth, chaos or order. Depending on how you look at it. '\n\nThe entire village had poured out of their houses to watch the gang pass through. Tuzik also joined them. He had work to do, but he couldn't resist it. In recent days, people had been talking a great deal about the Rats. A rumour was even going around that they had all been caught and hanged. The rumour had been false, though, the evidence of which was ostentatiously and unhurriedly parading in front of the whole village at this very moment.\n\n\"Impudent scoundrels,\" someone behind Tuzik whispered, and it was a whisper full of admiration. \"Ambling down the main street...\"\n\n\"Decked out like wedding guests...\"\n\n\"And what horses! You don't even see Nilfgaardians with horses like that! '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ha, they're nicked. Nobody's horses are safe from them. And you can offload them everywhere nowadays. But they keep the best for'emselves... '\n\n\"That one up the front, look, that's Giselher... Their leader. '\n\n\"And next to him, on the chestnut, it's that she-elf... they call her Iskra... '\n\nA cur came scuttling out from behind a fence, barking furiously, scurrying around near the fore hooves of Iskra's mare. The elf shook her luxurious mane of dark hair, turned her horse around, leant down to the ground and lashed the dog with a knout. The cur howled and spun on the spot three times, as Iskra spat on it. Tuzik muttered a curse between clenched teeth.\n\nThe people standing close by continued to whisper, discreetly pointing out the various Rats as they passed through the village. Tuzik listened, because he had to. He knew the gossip and tales as well as the others, and easily recognised the one with the long, tousled, straw-coloured hair, eating an apple, as Kayleigh, the broad-shouldered one as Asse, and the one in the embroidered sheepskin jerkin as Reef.\n\nTwo girls, riding side by side and holding hands, brought up the rear of the procession. The taller of the two, riding a bay, had her hair shorn as though recovering from the typhus, her jacket was unbuttoned, her lacy blouse gleamed white beneath it, and her necklace, bracelets and earrings flashed brightly.\n\n\"That shaven-headed one is Mistle...\" someone near Tuzik said. \"Dripping with trinkets, just like a Yule tree.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They say she's killed more people than she's seen springs...\"\n\n\"And the other one? On the roan? With the sword across her back?\"\n\n\"Falka, they call her. She's been riding with the Rats since the summer. She also s'pposed to be a nasty piece of work...\"\n\nThat nasty piece of work, Tuzik guessed, wasn't much older than his daughter, Milena. The flaxen hair of the young bandit tumbled from beneath her velvet beret decorated with an impudently jiggling bunch of pheasant feathers. Around her neck glowed a poppy-red silk kerchief, tied up in a fanciful bow.\n\nA sudden commotion had broken out among the villagers who had poured out in front of their cottages. For Giselher, the one riding at the head of the gang, had reined in his horse, and with a careless gesture thrown a clinking purse at the foot of Granny Mykita, who was standing leaning on a cane.\n\n\"May the Gods protect you, gracious youth!\" wailed Granny Mykita. \"May you enjoy good health, O our benefactor, may you-\"\n\nA peal of laughter from Iskra drowned out the crone's mumbling. The elf threw a jaunty leg over her pommel, reached into a pouch and vigorously scattered a handful of coins among the crowd. Reef and Asse followed her lead, a veritable silver rain showering down on the dusty road. Kayleigh, giggling, threw his apple core into the figures scrambling to gather up the money.\n\n\"Our benefactors!\"\n\n\"Our bold young hawks!\"\n\n\"May fate be kind to you!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tuzik didn't run after the others, didn't drop to his knees to scrabble in the sand and chickenshit for coins. He stood by the fence, watching the girls pass slowly by.\n\nThe younger of the two, the one with the flaxen hair, noticed his gaze and expression. She let goof the short-haired girl's hand, spurred her horse and rode straight for him, pressing him against the fence and almost getting her stirrup caught. Her green eyes flashed and he shuddered, seeing so much evil and cold hatred in them.\n\n\"Let him be, Falka,\" the other girl called, needlessly.\n\nThe green-eyed bandit settled for pushing Tuzik against the fence, and rode off after the Rats, without even looking back.\n\n\"Our benefactors!\"\n\n\"Young hawks!\"\n\nTuzik spat.\n\nIn the early evening, men in black uniforms arrived in the village. They were forbidding-looking horsemen from the fort near Fen Aspra. Their hooves thudded, their horses neighed and their weapons clanked. When asked, the village headman and other peasants lied through their teeth, and sent the pursuers on a false trail. No one asked Tuzik. Fortunately.\n\nWhen he returned from the pasture and went into his garden, he heard voices. He recognised the twittering of Zgarba the carter's twin girls, the cracking falsettos of his neighbour's adolescent boys. And Milena's voice. They're playing, he thought. He turned the corner beyond the woodshed. And froze in his tracks.\n\n\"Milena!\"\n\nMilena, his only surviving daughter, the apple of his eye, had hung apiece of wood across her back on a string, like a sword. She'd let her hair down, attached a cockerel's feather to her woollen hat, and tied her mother's kerchief around her neck. Ina bizarre, fanciful bow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her eyes were green.\n\nTuzik had never beaten his daughter before, never raised his hand against her.\n\nThat was the first time.\n\nLightning flashed on the horizon and thunder rumbled. A gust of wind raked across the surface of the Ribbon.\n\nThere's going to be a storm, thought Milva, and after the storm the rain will set in. The chaffinches weren't mistaken.\n\nShe urged her horse on. She would have to hurry if she wanted to catch up with the Witcher before the storm broke.\n\nI have met many military men in my life. I have known marshals, generals, commanders and governors, the victors of numerous campaigns and battles. I've listened to their stories and recollections. I've seen them poring over maps, drawing lines of various colours on them, making plans, thinking up strategies. In those paper wars everything worked, everything functioned, everything was clear and everything was in exemplary order. That's how it has to be, explained the military men. The army represents discipline and order above all. The army cannot exist without discipline and order.\n\nSo it is all the stranger that real wars– and I have seen several real wars– have as much in common with discipline and order as a whorehouse with afire raging through it.\n\nDandelion, Half a Century of Poetry"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The crystalline clear water of the Ribbon brimmed over the edge of the drop in a smooth, gentle arc, falling in a soughing and frothing cascade among boulders as black as onyx. It broke upon them and vanished in a white foam, from where it spilt into a wide pool which was so transparent that every pebble and every green strand of waterweed swaying in the current could be seen in the variegated mosaic of the riverbed.\n\nBoth banks were overgrown with carpets of knotgrass, through which dippers bustled, proudly flashing the white ruffles on their throats. Above the knotgrass, bushes shimmered green, brown and ochre against spruce trees which looked as though they had been sprinkled with silver.\n\n\"Indeed,\" Dandelion sighed. \"It's beautiful here. '\n\nA large, dark bull trout attempted to jump the lip of the waterfall. Fora moment it hung in the air, flexing its fins and flicking its tail, and then fell heavily into the seething foam.\n\nThe darkening sky to the south was split by a forked ribbon of lightning and the dull echo of distant thunder rumbled over the wall of trees. The Witcher's bay mare danced, jerked her head and bared her teeth, trying to spit out the bit. Geralt tugged the reins hard and the mare skittered backwards, dancing hooves clattering on the stones.\n\n\"Whoa! Whoaaa! Do you see her, Dandelion? Damned ballerina! I'm getting rid of this bloody beast the first chance I get! Strike me down, if I don't swap her fora donkey!\"\n\n\"See that happening anytime soon?\" said the poet, scratching the itching mosquito bites on the nape of his neck. \"This valley's savage landscape indeed offers unparalleled aesthetic impressions, but fora change I'd be happy to gaze on a less aesthetic tavern. I've spent almost a week admiring nothing but romantic nature, breathtaking panoramas and distant horizons. I miss the indoors. Particularly the kind where they serve warm victuals and cold beer. '"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You'll have to carry on missing them a bit longer, \"said the Witcher, turning around in the saddle.\"That I miss civilisation a little too may alleviate your suffering. As you know, I was stuck in Brokilon for exactly thirty-six days... and nights too, when romantic nature was freezing my arse, crawling across my back and sprinkling dew on my nose-Whoaaa! Pox on you! Will you stop sulking, you bloody nag? '\n\n\"It's the horseflies biting her. The bugs are getting vicious and bloodthirsty, because a storm's approaching. The thunder and lightning's getting more frequent to the south. '\n\n\"So I see,\" the Witcher said, looking at the sky and reining in his skittish horse. \"And the wind's coming from a different direction, too. It smells of the sea. The weather's changing, without a doubt. Let's ride. Urge on that fat gelding of yours, Dandelion. '\n\n\"My steed is called Pegasus.\"\n\n\"Of course, what else? Know what? Let's think up a name for my elven nag. Mmm... '\n\n\"Why not Roach?\" mocked the troubadour.\n\n\"Roach,\" agreed the Witcher. \"Nice.\"\n\n\"Geralt?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Have you ever had a horse that wasn't called Roach? '\n\n\"No,\" answered the Witcher after a moment's thought.\"I haven't. Spur on that castrated Pegasus of yours, Dandelion. We've along road ahead of us. '\n\n\"Indeed,\" grunted the poet. \"Nilfgaard... How many miles away, do you reckon?\"\n\n\"Plenty.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Will we make it before winter?\"\n\n\"We'll ride to Verden first. We have to discuss... certain matters there. '\n\n\"What matters? You'll neither discourage me nor get rid of me. I'm coming along! That is my last word.\"\n\n\"We shall see. As I said, we ride to Verden.\"\n\n\"Is it far? Do you know these lands?\"\n\n\"Yes I do. We are at Ceann Treise Falls and in front of us there's a place called Seventh Mile. Those are the Owl Hills beyond the river. '\n\n\"And we're heading south, downriver? The Ribbon joins the Yaruga near the stronghold at Bodrog... '\n\n\"We're heading south, but along the other bank. The Ribbon bends towards the west and we'll go through the forest. I want to get to a place called Drieschot, or the Triangle. The borders of Verden, Brugge and Brokilon meet there.\"\n\n\"And from there?\"\n\n\"Along the Yaruga. To the mouth. And to Cintra.\"\n\n\"And then?\"\n\n\"And then we'll see. If at all possible, force that idle Pegasus of yours to go a little quicker. '\n\nA downpour caught them as they were crossing, right in the middle of the river. First a strong wind got up, with hurricane-force gusts blowing their hair and mantles around and lashing their faces with leaves and branches torn from the trees along the banks. They urged on their horses with shouts and kicks of their heels, stirring up the water as they headed for the bank. Then the wind suddenly dropped and they saw a grey curtain of rain gliding towards them. The surface of the Ribbon turned white and boiling, as though someone were hurling great handfuls of gravel at the river."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Having reached the bank, drenched to the skin, they hurried to hide in the forest. The branches created a dense, green roof over their heads, but it was not a roof capable of protecting them from such a downpour. The rain lashed intensely and forced down the leaves, and was soon pouring on them almost as hard as it had in the open.\n\nThey wrapped themselves up in their mantles, put up their hoods and kept moving. It became dark among the trees, the only light coming from the increasingly frequent flashes of lightning. The thunder followed, with long, deafening crashes. Roach shied, stamped her hooves and skittered around. Pegasus remained utterly calm.\n\n\"Geralt!\" Dandelion yelled, trying to outshout a peal of thunder which was crashing through the forest like a gigantic wagon. \"We have to stop! Let's shelter somewhere! '\n\n\"Where?\" he shouted back. \"Ride on!\"\n\nAnd they rode on.\n\nAfter sometime the rain visibly eased off, the strong wind once again soughed in the branches, and the crashes of thunder stopped boring into their ears. They rode out onto a track among a dense alder grove, then into a clearing. A towering beech tree stood in the middle. Beneath its boughs, on a thick, wide carpet of brown leaves and beechnuts, stood a wagon harnessed to a pair of mules. A wagoner sat on the coachman's seat pointing a crossbow at them. Geralt swore. His curse was drowned out by a clap of thunder.\n\n\"Put the bow down, Kolda,\" said a short man in a straw hat, turning from the trunk of a beech tree, hopping on one leg and fastening his trousers. \"They're not the ones we're waiting for. But they are customers. Don't frighten away customers. We don't have much time, but there's always time to trade! '"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What the bloody hell?\" muttered Dandelion behind Geralt's back.\n\n\"Over here, Master Elves!\" the man in the hat called over. \"Don't you worry, no harm will come your way. N'ess a tearth! Va, Seidhe. Ceadmil! We're mates, right? Want to trade? Come on, over here, under this tree, out of the rain! '\n\nGeralt wasn't surprised by the wagoner's mistake. Both he and Dandelion were wrapped in grey elven mantels. He was also wearing a jerkin decorated with the kind of leafy pattern elves favoured, given to him by the dryads, was riding a horse with typical elven trappings and a decorated bridle. His face was partially hidden by his hood. As far as the foppish Dandelion was concerned, he was regularly mistaken for an elf or half-elf, particularly since he had begun wearing his hair shoulder-length and taken up the habit of occasionally curling it with tongs.\n\n\"Careful,\" Geralt muttered, dismounting. \"You're an elf. So don't open your trap if you don't have to. '\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because they're hawkers. '\n\nDandelion hissed softly. He knew what that meant.\n\nMoney made the world go round, and supply was driven by demand. The Scoia'tael roaming the forests gathered saleable booty that was useless to them, while suffering from a shortage of equipment and weapons themselves. That was how forest trading began. And how a class of humans who earned their living from this kind of trade sprang up. The wagons of profiteers who traded with the Squirrels began appearing clandestinely on forest tracks, paths, glades and clearings. The elves called them hav'caaren, an untranslatable word, but one which was associated with rapacious greed. Among humans the term \"hawker\" became widespread, and the connotations were even more hideous than usual, because the traders themselves were so awful. Cruel and ruthless, they stopped at nothing, not even killing. A hawker caught by the army could not count on mercy. Hence he was not in the habit of showing it himself. If they came across anyone who might turn them in, hawkers would reach fora crossbow or a knife without a second thought."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "So they were out of luck. It was fortunate the hawkers had taken them for elves. Geralt pulled his hood down over his eyes and began to wonder what would happen if the hav'caaren saw through the masquerade.\n\n\"What foul weather,\" said the trader, rubbing his hands. \"It's pouring like the sky was leaking! Awful tedd, ell'ea? But what to do, there's no bad weather for doing business. There's only bad goods and bad money, innit! You know what I'm saying? '\n\nGeralt nodded. Dandelion grunted something from under his hood. Luckily for them, the elves' contemptuous dislike of conversing with humans was generally known and came as no surprise. The wagoner did not put the crossbow down, however, which was not a good sign.\n\n\"Who are you with? Whose commando?\" the hawker asked, unconcerned, as any serious trader would be, by the reticence of his customers. \"Coinneach Dá Reo's? Or Angus Bri-Cri's? Or maybe Riordain's? I heard Riordain put some royal bailiffs to the sword. They were travelling home after they'd done their duty, collecting a levy. And they had it in coinage, not grain. I don't take wood tar nor grain in payment, nor blood-stained clothing, and if we're talking furs, only mink, sable or ermine. But what I like most is common coinage, precious stones and trinkets! If you have them we can trade! I only have first-class goods! Evelienn; vara en ard scedde, ell'ea, you know what I mean? I've got everything. Take a look.\"\n\nThe trader went over to the wagon and pulled back the edge of the wet tarpaulin. They saw swords, bows, bunches of arrows and saddles. The hawker rooted around among them and took out an arrow. The arrowhead was serrated and sawn through."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You won't find any other traders selling this, \"he said boastfully.\"They'd shit themselves if they were to touch'em. You'd be torn apart by horses if you were caught with arrows like that. But I know what you Squirrels like. Customer comes first, and you've got to take a risk when you barter, as long as there's a profit from it! I've got barbed arrowheads at... nine orens a dozen. Naev'de aen tvedeane, ell'ea, got it, Seidhe? I swear I'm not fleecing you, I don't make much myself, I swear on my little children's heads. And if you take three dozen straightaway, I'll knock a bit off the price. It's a bargain, I swear, a sheer bargain-Hey, Seidhe, hands off my wagon!\"\n\nDandelion nervously withdrew his hand from the tarpaulin and pulled his hood further down over his face. Once again, Geralt quietly cursed the bard's irrepressible curiosity.\n\n\"Mir'me vara, \"mumbled Dandelion, raising his hand in a gesture of apology.\"Squaess'me.\"\n\n\"No harm done,\" said the hawker, grinning. \"But no looking in there, because there's other goods in the wagon too. Not for sale, those, not for Seidhe. A special order, ha, ha. But that's enough rabbiting... Show us the colour of your money.\"\n\nHere we go, thought Geralt, looking at the wagoner's nocked crossbow. He had reason to believe the quarrel's tip was barbed too– just like the arrows he'd been so proudly shown moments before– and would, after entering the belly, exit through the back in three or sometimes four places, turning the victim's internal organs into a very messy goulash."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"N'ess tedd, \"he said, trying to speak in a singsong way.\"Tearde. Mireann vara, va'en vort. We'll trade when we return from the commando. Ell'ea? Understood, Dh'oine? '\n\n\"Understood,\" the hawker said, spitting. \"Understood that you're skint. You'd like the goods, you just don't have the readies. Be off with you! And don't comeback, because I'm meeting important parties here. It'll be safer if they don't clap eyes on you. Go to-'\n\nHe broke off, hearing the snorting of a horse.\n\n\"Damn it!\" he snarled. \"It's too late! They're here! Hoods down, elves! Don't move and button your lips! Kolda, you ass, put that crossbow down and fast! '\n\nThe heavy rain, thunder and the carpet of leaves had dampened the thudding of hooves, which meant the riders had been able to ride up undetected and surround the beech tree in an instant. They weren't Scoia'tael. Squirrels didn't wear armour, and the metal helmets, spaulders and hauberks of the eight horsemen surrounding the tree were glistening in the rain.\n\nOne of the horsemen approached at a walk and towered over the hawker like a mountain. He was of impressive height and was mounted on a powerful warhorse. A wolf skin was draped over his armoured shoulders and his face was obscured by a helmet with abroad, protruding nose-guard reaching down to his lower lip. The stranger was holding a menacing-looking war hammer.\n\n\"Rideaux!\" he called huskily.\n\n\"Faoiltiarna!\" replied the trader in a slightly quavering voice."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The horseman came even closer and leant forward."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Water poured down from his steel nose-guard straight onto his vambrace and the balefully glistening point of the hammer.\n\n\"Faoiltiarna!\" the hawker repeated, bowing low. He removed his hat and the rain immediately plastered his thinning hair to his head. \"Faoiltiarna! I'm your man; I know the password and the countersign... I've been with Faoiltiarna, Your Lordship... Here I am, as arranged...\"\n\n\"And those men, who are they?\"\n\n\"My escort,\" the hawker said, bowing even lower. \"You know, elves...\"\n\n\"The prisoner?\"\n\n\"On the wagon. Ina coffin.\"\n\n\"In a coffin?\" The thunder partially drowned the furious roar of the horseman. \"You won't getaway with this! Viscount de Rideaux gave clear instructions that the prisoner was to be handed over alive! '\n\n\"He's alive, he's alive,\" the trader gibbered hurriedly. \"As per orders... Shoved into a coffin, but alive... The coffin wasn't my idea, Your Lordship. It was Faoiltiarna's...\"\n\nThe horseman rapped the hammer against his stirrup, as a sign. Three other horsemen dismounted and pulled the tarpaulin off the wagon. When they had thrown various saddles, blankets and bunches of harnesses onto the ground, Geralt actually saw a coffin made of fresh pine, lit by a flash of lightning. He didn't look too closely, however. He felt a tingling in the tips of his fingers. He knew what was about to happen.\n\n\"What's all this, Your Lordship? \"the hawker said, looking at the goods lying on the wet leaves.\"You're chucking all my gear out of the wagon.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll buy it all. Along with the horse and cart. '\n\n\"Aaah,\" a repulsive grin crept over the trader's bristly face.\"Now you're talking. That'll be... Let me think... Five hundred, if you'll excuse me, Your Nobleness, if we're talking Temerian currency. If it's your florins, then it'll be forty-five. '\n\n\"That's cheap, \"snorted the horseman, smiling eerily behind his nose-guard.\"Come closer. '\n\n\"Watch out, Dandelion,\" hissed the Witcher, imperceptibly unfastening the buckle of his mantle. It thundered once more.\n\nThe hawker approached the horseman, naively counting on the deal of his life. And in away it was the deal of his life, not the best, perhaps, but certainly the last. The horseman stood in his stirrups and drove the point of the hammer down with great force onto the hawker's bald crown. The trader dropped without a sound, shuddered, flapped his arms and scraped the wet carpet of leaves with his heels. One of the men rummaging around on the wagon threw a leather strap around the wagoner's neck and pulled it tight; the other leapt forward and stabbed him with a dagger.\n\nOne of the horsemen raised his crossbow quickly to his shoulder and took aim at Dandelion. But Geralt already had a sword– one of those thrown from the wagon– in his hand. Seizing the weapon halfway down the blade, he flung it like a javelin and hit the crossbowman, who fell off the horse with an expression of utter astonishment on his face.\n\n\"Run, Dandelion!\"\n\nDandelion caught up with Pegasus and leapt for the saddle with a desperate bound. The jump was a tad too desperate, however, and the poet was a tad too inexperienced. He didn't hang onto the pommel and tumbled to the ground on the other side of the horse. And that saved his life, as the blade of the attacking horseman's sword cut through the air above Pegasus's ears with a hiss. The gelding shied, jerked, and collided with the attacker's horse."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They aren't elves!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"yelled the horseman in the helmet with the nose-guard, drawing his sword.\"Take them alive! Alive! '\n\nOne of the men who had jumped down from the wagon hesitated on hearing the order. Geralt, however, had already drawn his own sword and didn't hesitate fora second. The fervour of the other two men was somewhat cooled by the fountain of blood which spurted over them. He took advantage of the situation and cut one of them down. But the horsemen were already charging at him. He ducked under their swords, parried their blows, dodged aside and suddenly felt a piercing pain in his right knee. He could feel himself keeling over. He wasn't hurt; the injured leg, which had been treated in Brokilon, had simply crumpled under him without warning.\n\nThe foot soldier aiming for him with the butt of a battle-axe suddenly groaned and lurched forward, as though someone had shoved him hard in the back. Before he fell, the Witcher saw an arrow with long fletchings sticking out of his assailant's side, driven into halfway up the shaft. Dandelion yelled; a thunderclap drowned out his cry.\n\nGeralt, who was hanging onto one of the cartwheels, saw a fair-haired girl with a drawn bow dashing out of an alder grove. The horsemen saw her too. They couldn't fail to see her, because at that moment one of them tumbled backwards over his horse's croup, his throat transformed into a scarlet pulp by an arrow. The remaining three, including the leader in the helmet with the nose-guard, assessed the danger immediately and galloped towards the archer, hiding behind their horses'necks. They thought the horses\" necks represented sufficient protection against the arrows. They were mistaken."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maria Barring, also known as Milva, drew her bow. She took aim calmly, the bowstring pressed against her cheek.\n\nThe first of her attackers screamed and slid off his horse. One foot caught in the stirrup and he was trampled beneath the horse's iron-shod hooves. Another arrow hurled the second from his saddle. The third man, the leader, who was already close, stood in the saddle and raised his sword to strike. Milva did not even flinch. Fearlessly looking straight at her attacker, she bent her bow and shot an arrow right into his face from a distance of five paces, striking just to the side of the steel nose-guard and jumping aside as she shot. The arrow passed right through his skull, knocking off his helmet. The horse did not slow its gallop. The horseman, now lacking a helmet and a considerable part of his skull, remained in the saddle fora few seconds, then slowly tipped over and crashed into a puddle. The horse neighed and ran on.\n\nGeralt struggled to his feet and massaged his leg which, though painful, fora wonder seemed to be functioning normally. He could stand on it without difficulty and walk. Next to him, Dandelion hauled himself up, throwing off the corpse with a mutilated throat which was weighing down on him. The poet's face was the colour of quicklime.\n\nMilva came closer, pulling an arrow from a dead man as she approached.\n\n\"Thank you,\" the Witcher said. \"Dandelion, say thank you. This is Maria Barring, or Milva. It's thanks to her we're alive.\"\n\nMilva yanked an arrow from another of the dead bodies and examined the bloody arrowhead. Dandelion mumbled incoherently, bent over in a courtly– but somewhat quavering– bow, then dropped to his knees and vomited."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who's that? \"the archer asked, wiping the arrowhead on some wet leaves and replacing it in her quiver.\"A comrade of yours, Witcher? '\n\n\"Yes. His name's Dandelion. He's a poet.\"\n\n\"A poet,\" Milva watched the troubadour wracked by attacks of dry retching and then looked up. \"That I can understand. But I don't quite understand why he's puking here, instead of writing rhymes in a quiet spot somewhere. But I suppose that's none of my business. '\n\n\"It is yours, in a sense. You saved his skin. And mine too.\"\n\nMilva wiped her rain-splashed face, with the imprint of the bowstring still visible on it. Although she had shot several arrows, there was only one imprint; the bowstring pressed against the same place each time.\n\n\"I was already in the alder grove when you started talking to the hawker,\" she said. \"I didn't want the scoundrel to see me, for there was no need. And then those others arrived and the slaughter began. You messed a few of them up very nicely. You know how to swing a sword, I'll give you that. Even if you area cripple. You should have stayed in Brokilon till your peg healed instead of making it worse. You might limp for the rest of your life. You realise that, don't you? '\n\n\"I'll survive. '\n\n\"I reckon you will, too. I followed you to warn you, and to make you turn back. Your quest won't come to anything. There's a war raging in the south. The Nilfgaardian Army are marching on Brugge from Drieschot.\"\n\n\"How do you know?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Just look at them,\" the girl said, making a sweeping gesture and pointing at the bodies and the horses. \"I mean, they're Nilfgaardians! Can't you seethe suns on their helmets? The embroidery on their saddlecloths? Pack up your things, and we'll take to our heels; more of them may arrive any moment. These were mounted scouts. '\n\n\"I don't think they were just scouts, \"he said, shaking his head.\"They were after something. '\n\n\"What might that be, just out of interest?\"\n\n\"That,\" he said, pointing at the pinewood coffin lying in the wagon, now darkened from the rain. It wasn't raining as hard as it had been during the short battle, and it had stopped thundering. The storm was moving north. The Witcher picked up his sword from among the leaves and jumped onto the wagon, quietly cursing because his knee still hurt.\n\n\"Help me get it open.\"\n\n\"What do you want with a stiff...?\" Milva broke off, seeing the holes bored into the lid. \"Bloody hell! Was the hawker lugging alive person around inhere?\"\n\n\"It's some kind of prisoner, \"Geralt said, levering the lid open.\"The trader was waiting for these Nilfgaardians, to hand him over to them. They exchanged passwords and countersigns... '\n\nThe lid tore off with the sound of splitting wood, revealing a man with a gag over his mouth, his arms and legs fastened to the sides of the coffin by leather straps. The Witcher leant over. He took a good look. And again, this time more intently. And swore.\n\n\"Well I never,\" he drawled. \"What a surprise. Who would have thought it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you know him, Witcher?\"\n\n\"By sight.\" He smiled hideously. \"Put the knife away, Milva. Don't cut his bonds. It seems this is an internal Nilfgaardian matter. We shouldn't get involved. Let's leave him as he is. '\n\n\"Am I hearing right?\" Dandelion asked, joining in from behind. He was still pale, but curiosity had overcome his other emotions. \"Are you planning to leave him tied up in the forest? I'm guessing you've recognised someone you have a bone to pick with, but he's a prisoner, by the Gods! He was the prisoner of the men who jumped us and almost killed us. And the enemy of our enemy... '\n\nHe broke off, seeing the Witcher removing a knife from his boot-top. Milva coughed quietly. The captive's dark blue eyes, previously screwed up against the rain, widened. Geralt leant over and cut the strap fastened around the prisoner's left arm.\n\n\"Look, Dandelion,\" he said, seizing the captive's wrist and raising his now-free arm.\"Do you seethe scar on his hand? Ciri did that. On the Isle of Thanedd, a month ago. He's a Nilfgaardian. He came to Thanedd specifically to abduct Ciri and she wounded him, defending herself from being captured.\"\n\n\"But it all came to nothing anyway,\" muttered Milva. \"I sense something doesn't add up here. If he kidnapped your Ciri for Nilfgaard, how did he end up in this coffin? Why was that hawker handing him over to the Nilfgaardians? Take that gag off him, Witcher. Perhaps he'll tell us something.\"\n\n\"I have no desire to listen to him,\" he said flatly. \"My hand is itching to stab him through the heart, with him lying there looking at me. It's all I can do to restrain myself. And if he opens his mouth, I know I won't be able to hold back. I haven't told you everything. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't hold back then. \"Milva shrugged her shoulders.\"Stick him, if he's such a villain. But do it quickly, because time's getting on. As I said, the Nilfgaardians will be here soon. I'm going to get my horse.\"\n\nGeralt straightened up and released the captive's hand. The man immediately loosened the gag and spat it out of his mouth. But he said nothing. The Witcher threw his knife onto the man's chest.\n\n\"I don't know what sins you committed for them to trap you in this chest, Nilfgaardian, \"he said.\"And I don't care. I'll leave you this blade. Free yourself. Wait here for your own people, or escape into the forest, it's up to you.\"\n\nThe captive said nothing. Tied up and lying in that wooden crate, he looked even more miserable and defenceless than he had on Thanedd– and Geralt had seen him thereon his knees, wounded and trembling with fear in a pool of blood. He also looked considerably younger now. The Witcher wouldn't have put him at more than twenty-five.\n\n\"I spared your life on the island,\" he said. \"And I'm doing it again. But it's the last time. The next time we meet I'll kill you like a dog. Remember that. If you persuade your comrades to pursue us, take the coffin with you. It'll come in useful. Let's go, Dandelion. '\n\n\"Make haste!\" Milva shouted, turning away at full gallop from the westward track. \"But not that way! Into the trees, by thunder, into the trees!\"\n\n\"What's going on? '\n\n\"A large group of riders are heading towards us from the Ribbon! It's Nilfgaard! What are you staring at? To horse, before they're upon us!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The battle for the village had been going on for an hour and wasn't showing any signs of finishing soon."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The infantry, holding out behind stonewalls, fences and upturned wagons, had repulsed three attacks by the cavalry, who came charging at them from the causeway. The width of the causeway did not permit the horsemen to gain enough momentum fora frontal attack, but allowed the foot soldiers to concentrate their defence. As a result, waves of cavalry repeatedly foundered on the barricades, behind which the desperate but fierce soldiers were shooting a hail of quarrels and arrows into the mounted throng. The cavalry seethed and teemed under this assault, and then the defenders rushed out at them in a rapid counter-attack, fighting furiously with battle-axes, guisarmes and studded flails. The cavalry retreated to the ponds, leaving human and equine corpses behind, while the infantry concealed themselves among the barricades and hurled filthy insults at the enemy. After awhile, the cavalry formed up and attacked once again.\n\nAnd again.\n\n\"Who do you think's fighting whom? ' Dandelion asked once more, but indistinctly, as he was trying to soften and chew apiece of hardtack he had scrounged from Milva.\n\nThey were sitting on the very edge of the cliff, well hidden among juniper shrubs. They were able to watch the battle without being afraid anyone would notice them. Actually, they could do nothing but watch. They had no choice: a battle was raging in front of them and a forest fire was raging behind them.\n\n\"It's easy to identify them, \"Geralt said, reluctantly responding to Dandelion's question. \"They're Nilfgaardian horsemen. '\n\n\"And the infantry?\"\n\n\"The infantry aren't Nilfgaardian. '\n\n\"The horsemen are regular cavalrymen from Verden,\" said Milva, until then sombre and strangely taciturn. \"They have the Verdenian checkerboard emblem sewn onto their tunics. And the ones in the village are the Bruggian regular infantry. You can tell by their banners.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Indeed, encouraged by another small victory, the infantrymen raised their green standard– with a white cross moline– above the entrenchment. Geralt had been watching intently, but hadn't noticed the standard before. It must have gone missing at the start of the battle.\n\n\"Are we staying here for much longer?\" Dandelion asked.\n\n\"Oh dear,\" muttered Milva \"Here he goes. Take a look around! Whichever way you turn, it looks pretty shitty, doesn't it?\n\nDandelion didn't have to look or turnaround. The entire horizon was striped with columns of smoke. It was thickest to the north and the west, where the armies had set fire to the forests. Smoke was also rising into the sky in many places to the south, where they had been heading when the battle had barred their way. And during the hour they had spent on the hill, smoke had also started rising to the east.\n\n\"However,\" the archer began a moment later, looking at Geralt, \"I'd really like to know what you intend doing now, Witcher. Behind us we've got Nilfgaard and a burning forest, and you can see for yourself what's in front of us. So what are your plans? '\n\n\"My plans haven't changed. I'll wait for this scrap to finish and then I'll head south. Towards the Yaruga. '\n\n\"I think you've lost your mind. \"Milva scowled.\"Can't you see what's happening? It's as clear as the nose on your face that it's not some leaderless band of mercenaries, but something called war. Nilfgaard and Verden are on the march. They're sure to have crossed the Yaruga in the south and probably the whole of Brugge and possibly Sodden are inflames-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have to get to the Yaruga.\"\n\n\"Excellent. And what then?\"\n\n\"I'll find a boat, I'll sail downstream and try to make it to the delta. Then a ship-I mean, hell, some ships must still sail from there-\"\n\n\"To Nilfgaard?\" she snorted. \"So the plans haven't changed? '\n\n\"You don't have to go with me. '\n\n\"No, I don't. And praise the Gods for that, because I don't have a death wish. I'm not afraid, but mind you: getting yourself killed is no claim to fame. '\n\n\"I know,\" he replied calmly. \"I know from experience. I wouldn't beheading that way if I didn't have to. But I have to, so I'm going. Nothing's going to stop me.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" she said, looking him up and down. \"Listen to this hero, his voice like someone scraping a sword across a shield. If Imperator Emhyr could hear you, I'm sure he'd be shitting his britches in terror. \"To my side, guards, to my side, my imperial regiments, oh woe is me, the Witcher's heading for Nilfgaard in a rowing boat, soon he'll be hereto take my crown and life from me! I'm doomed!\" '\n\n\"Give over, Milva.\"\n\n\"I won't! It's time someone finally told you the truth to your face. Fuck me with a mangy rabbit if I've ever seen a stupider clod! You're going to snatch your maid from Emhyr? The same maid Emhyr has got lined up as his Imperatoress? The girl he snatched from Thanedd? Emhyr's got long hands. They don't let goof what they seize. The kings stand no chance against him, but still you fancy yours?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, witcher\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: Baptism of Fire\nChapter: 8"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When they reached the camp the horses snorted and stamped their hooves on the ground.\n\n\"Stand a little downwind, Master Regis,\" Zoltan Chivay said, casting the physician a telling glance. \"The smell of sage frightens our horses, and in my case, I'm ashamed to admit, reminds me unpleasantly of teeth being pulled. '\n\n\"Geralt,\" Zoltan muttered, as soon as Emiel Regis had disappeared behind the flap covering the entrance to the cottage. \"Let's keep our eyes open. There's something fishy about that stinking herbalist.\"\n\n\"Anything specific?\"\n\n\"I don't like it when people spend their summers near cemeteries, never mind cemeteries along way from human dwellings. Do herbs really not grow in more pleasant surroundings? That Regis looks like a grave robber tome. Barber-surgeons, alchemists and the like exhume corpses from boneyards, in order to perform various excrements on them. '\n\n\"Experiments. But fresh corpses are needed for practices of that kind. This cemetery is very old.\"\n\n\"True,\" the dwarf said, scratching his chin and watching the women from Kernow making their beds under some hagberry shrubs growing by the barber-surgeon's shack.\"So perhaps he steals buried treasure from these barrows? '\n\n\"Ask him,\" Geralt said, shrugging. \"You accepted the invitation to stay at his homestead at once, without hesitation, and now you've suddenly become as suspicious as an old maid being paid a compliment. '\n\n\"Er...\" Zoltan mumbled, somewhat tongue-tied. \"There's something in that. But I'd like to have a gander at what he keeps in that hovel of his. You know, just to be on the safe side...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So follow him in and pretend you want to borrow a fork.\"\n\n\"Why a fork?\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\nThe dwarf gave Geralt an old-fashioned look and finally made up his mind. He hurried over to the cottage, knocked politely on the doorjamb and entered. He remained inside for some little time, and then suddenly appeared in the doorway.\n\n\"Geralt, Percival, Dandelion, step this way. Come and see something interesting. Come on, without further ado, Master Regis has invited us in.\"\n\nThe interior of the cottage was dark and dominated by a warm, intoxicating aroma that made the nose tickle, mainly coming from the bunches of herbs and roots hanging from all the walls. The only items of furniture were a simple cot– also strewn with herbs– and a rickety table cluttered with innumerable glass, pottery and ceramic vials. The room was illuminated by the dim glow of burning coals in a curious, pot-bellied stove, resembling a bulging hourglass. The stove was surrounded by a spidery lattice of shining pipes of various diameters, bent into curves and spirals. Beneath one of the pipes stood a wooden pail into which a liquid was dripping.\n\nAt the sight of the stove Percival Schuttenbach first stared goggle-eyed, then gaped, and finally sighed and leapt up in the air.\n\n\"Ho, ho, ho!\" he called, unable to conceal his delight. \"What do I see? That's an absolutely authentic athanor coupled to an alembic! Equipped with a rectifying column and a copper condenser! A beautiful apparatus! Did you build it yourself, master barber-surgeon? '\n\n\"Indeed,\" Emiel Regis admitted modestly. \"My work involves producing elixirs, so I have to distil, extract the fifth essence, and also...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He broke off, seeing Zoltan Chivay catching a drop falling from the end of the pipe and licking his finger. The dwarf sighed and a look of indescribable bliss appeared on his ruddy face.\n\nDandelion couldn't resist and also had ago, tasting and moaning softly.\n\n\"The fifth essence,\" he confirmed, smacking his lips. \"And I suspect the sixth and even the seventh.\"\n\n\"Well...\" The barber-surgeon smiled faintly. \"As I said: a distillate.\"\n\n\"Moonshine,\" Zoltan corrected him gently. \"And what moonshine! Try some, Percival.\"\n\n\"But I'm not an expert inorganic chemistry, \"the gnome answered absentmindedly, examining the details of the alchemical furnace's construction. \"It's doubtful I would be familiar with the ingredients... '\n\n\"It is a distillate of mandrake,\" Regis said, dispelling any doubt. \"Enriched with belladonna. And fermented starch mass.\"\n\n\"You mean mash?\"\n\n\"One could also call it that.\"\n\n\"May I request a cup of some kind?\"\n\n\"Zoltan, Dandelion,\" the Witcher said, folding his arms on his chest. \"Are you deaf? It's mandrake. The moonshine is made of mandrake. Leave that copper alone. '\n\n\"But dear Master Geralt,\" the alchemist said, digging a small graduated flask out from between some dust-covered retorts and demijohns, and meticulously polishing it with a rag. \"There's nothing to be afraid of. The mandrake is appropriately seasoned and the proportions carefully selected and precisely weighed out. I only add five ounces of mandrake to a pound of mash, and only half a dram of belladonna... '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That's not the point, \"the Witcher said, looking at Zoltan. The dwarf understood at once, grew serious and cautiously withdrew from the still.\"The point is not how many drams you add, Master Regis, but how much a dram of mandrake costs. It's too dear a tipple for us.\"\n\n\"Mandrake,\" Dandelion whispered in awe, pointing at the small heap of sugar beet-like roots piled up in the corner of the shack. \"That's mandrake? Real mandrake? '\n\n\"The female form\"– the alchemist nodded– \"grows in large clumps in the very cemetery where we chanced to meet. Which is also why I spend my summers here.\"\n\nThe Witcher looked knowingly at Zoltan. The dwarf winked. Regis gave a half-suppressed smile.\n\n\"Gentlemen, please, I warmly invite you to sample it, if you wish. I appreciate your moderation, but in the current situation there's little chance of me taking the elixirs to war-torn Dillingen. It all would have gone to waste anyway, so let's not talk about the price. My apologies, but I only have one drinking vessel.\"\n\n\"That should do,\" Zoltan said, picking up the flask and carefully scooping up moonshine from the pail. \"Your good health, Master Regis. Ooooh...\"\n\n\"Please forgive me,\" the barber-surgeon said, smiling again. \"The quality of the distillate probably leaves a lotto be desired... It's actually unfinished. '\n\n\"It's the best unfinished product I've ever tasted,\" Zoltan said, gasping. \"Your turn, poet.\"\n\n\"Aaaah... Oh, mother of mine! Excellent! Have a sip, Geralt.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Give it to our host,\" the Witcher said, bowing slightly towards Emiel Regis. \"Where are your manners, Dandelion?\"\n\n\"Please forgive me, gentlemen,\" the alchemist said, acknowledging the gesture, \"but I never permit myself any stimulants. My health isn't what it was. I've been forced to give up many... pleasures.\"\n\n\"Not even a sip?\"\n\n\"It's a principle, \"Regis explained calmly.\"I never break any principles once I've adopted them.\"\n\n\"I admire and envy you your resoluteness,\" Geralt said, sipping a little from the flask and then, after a moment's hesitation, draining it in one. The tears trickling from his eyes interfered a little with the taste of the moonshine. An invigorating warmth spread through his stomach.\n\n\"I'll go and get Milva, \"he offered, handing the flask to the dwarf.\"Don't polish it all off before we get back.\"\n\nMilva was sitting near the horses, bantering with the freckled girl she had been carrying on her saddle all day. When she heard about Regis's hospitality she initially shrugged, but in the end didn't need much persuading.\n\nWhen they entered the shack they found the company carrying out an inspection of the stored mandrake roots.\n\n\"I've never seen it before, \"Dandelion confessed, turning a bulbous root around in his fingers.\"Indeed, it does somewhat resemble a man. '\n\n\"A man twisted by lumbago, perhaps,\" Zoltan added. \"And that one's the spitting image of a pregnant woman. And that one, if you'll excuse me, looks just like a couple busy bonking.\"\n\n\"You lot only think of one thing,\" Milva sneered, boldly drinking from the full flask and then coughing loudly into a fist. \"Bloody hell... Powerful stuff, that hooch! Is it really made from love apples? Ha, so we're drinking a magic potion! That doesn't happen everyday. Thank you, master barber-surgeon.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The pleasure is all mine.\"\n\nThe flask, kept topped up, circulated around the company, prompting good humour, verve and garrulousness.\n\n\"The mandrake, I hear, is a vegetable with great magical powers,\" Percival Schuttenbach said with conviction.\n\n\"Yes, indeed,\" Dandelion confirmed. He then emptied the flask, shuddered and resumed talking. \"There's no shortage of ballads written on the subject. It's well known that sorcerers use mandrake in elixirs, which help them preserve their eternal youth and sorceresses make anointment, which they call glamarye. If an enchantress applies such ointment she becomes so beautiful and enchanting it makes your eyes pop out of your head. You also ought to know that mandrake is a powerful aphrodisiac and is used in love magic, particularly to breakdown female resistance. That's the explanation of mandrake's folk name: love apple. It's a herb used to pander lovers. '\n\n\"Blockhead,\" Milva commented.\n\n\"And I heard,\" the gnome said, downing the contents of the flask, \"that when mandrake root is pulled from the ground the plant cries and wails as though it were alive.\"\n\n\"Why,\" Zoltan said, filling the flask from the pail, \"if it only wailed! Mandrake, they say, screams so horribly it can send you up the wall, and moreover it screams out evil spells and showers curses on whoever uproots it. You can pay with your life taking a risk like that.\"\n\n\"That sounds like a cloth-headed fairy-tale,\" Milva said, taking the flask from him and drinking deeply. She shuddered and added: \"It's impossible fora plant to have such powers. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's an infallible truth! \"the dwarf called heatedly.\"But sagacious herbalists have found away of protecting themselves. Having found a mandrake, you must tie one end of a rope to the root and the other end to a dog... '\n\n\"Or a pig,\" the gnome broke in.\n\n\"Or a wild boar,\" Dandelion added gravely.\n\n\"You're a fool, poet. The whole point is for the mutt or swine to pull the mandrake out of the ground, for then the vegetable's curses and spells fall on the said creature, while the herbalist– hiding safely, faraway in the bushes– gets out in one piece. Well, Master Regis? Am I talking sense?\"\n\n\"An interesting method,\" the alchemist admitted, smiling mysteriously. \"Interesting mainly for its ingenuity. The disadvantage, however, is its extreme complexity. For in theory the rope ought to be enough, without the draught animal. I wouldn't suspect mandrake of having the ability of knowing who or what's pulling the rope. The spells and curses should always fall on the rope, which after all is cheaper and less problematic to use than a dog, not to mention a pig.\"\n\n\"Are you jesting?\"\n\n\"Wouldn't dream of it. I said I admire the ingenuity. Because although the mandrake, contrary to popular opinion, is incapable of casting spells or curses, it is– in its raw state– an extremely toxic plant, to the extent that even the earth around the root is poisonous. Sprinkling the fresh juice onto the face or on a cut hand, why, even breathing in its fumes, may all have fatal consequences. I wear a mask and gloves, which doesn't mean I have anything against the rope method.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Mmmm...\" the dwarf pondered. \"But what about that horrifying scream the plucked mandrake makes? Is that true?\"\n\n\"The mandrake doesn't have vocal chords, \"the alchemist explained calmly,\"which is fairly typical for plants, is it not? However, the toxin secreted by the root has a powerful hallucinogenic effect. The voices, screams, whispers and other sounds are nothing more than hallucinations produced by the poisoned central nervous system. '\n\n\"Ha, I clean forgot,\" Dandelion said, having just drained the flask and letting out a suppressed burp, \"that mandrake is extremely poisonous! And I was holding it! And now we're guzzling this tincture with abandon... '\n\n\"Only the fresh mandrake root is toxic,\" Regis said, calming him down. \"Mine is seasoned and suitably prepared, and the distillate has been filtered. There is no need for alarm.\"\n\n\"Of course there isn't, \"Zoltan agreed.\"Moonshine will always be moonshine, you can even distil it from hemlock, nettles, fish scales and old bootlaces. Give us the glass, Dandelion, there's a queue forming here.\"\n\nThe flask, kept topped up, circulated around the company. Everybody was sitting comfortably on the dirt floor. The Witcher hissed and swore, and shifted his position, because the pain shot through his knee again as he sat. He caught sight of Regis looking at him intently. \"Is that afresh injury?\"\n\n\"Not really. But it's tormenting me. Do you have any herbs capable of soothing the pain? '\n\n\"That all depends on the class of pain,\" the barber-surgeon said, smiling slightly. \"And on its causes. I can detect a strange odour in your sweat, Witcher. Were you treated with magic? Were you given magic enzymes and hormones?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They gave me various medicaments. I had no idea they could still be smelled in my sweat. You've got a bloody sensitive nose, Regis. '\n\n\"Everybody has their good points. To even out the vices. What ailment did they use magic to treat you with?\"\n\n\"I broke my arm and the shaft of my thighbone.\"\n\n\"How long ago?\"\n\n\"A little over a month.\"\n\n\"And you're already walking? Remarkable. The dryads of Brokilon, I presume? '\n\n\"How can you tell?\"\n\n\"Only the dryads have medicaments capable of rebuilding bone tissue so quickly. I can see dark marks on the backs of your hands. They're the places where the tendrils of the conynhaela and the symbiotic shoots of knitbone entered. Only dryads know how to use conynhaela, and knitbone doesn't grow outside Brokilon.\"\n\n\"Well done. Admirable deduction skills. Though something else interests me. My thighbone and forearm were broken, but the strong pain is in the knee and elbow.\"\n\n\"That's typical, \"the barber-surgeon nodded.\"The dryads'magic reconstructed your damaged bone, but simultaneously caused a minor upheaval in your nerve trunks. It's aside effect, felt most intensely in the joints. '\n\n\"What do you advise?\"\n\n\"Unfortunately, nothing. You'll continue to predict rainy weather unerringly fora longtime to come. The pains will grow stronger in the winter. However, I wouldn't recommend that you take powerful painkilling drugs. Particularly steer clear of narcotics. You're a witcher and in your case it's absolutely to be avoided.\"\n\n\"I'll treat myself with your mandrake, then, \"the Witcher said, raising the full flask, which Milva had just handed him. He took a deep swallow and hacked until tears filled his eyes.\"Bloody hell! I'm feeling better already.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm not certain, \"Regis said, smiling through pursed lips,\"that you're treating the right illness. I'd also like to remind you that one should treat causes, not symptoms. '\n\n\"Not in the case of this witcher,\" Dandelion snorted, now a little flushed and eavesdropping on their conversation. \"Booze is just right for him and his worries.\"\n\n\"It ought to do you good, too,\" Geralt said, giving the poet a chilling stare. \"Particularly if it paralyses your tongue.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't especially count on that. \"The barber-surgeon smiled again.\"Belladonna is one of the preparation's ingredients, which means a large number of alkaloids, including scopolamine. Before the mandrake puts you to sleep, you're all sure to give me a display of eloquence. '\n\n\"A display of what?\" Percival asked.\n\n\"Talkativeness. My apologies. Let's use simpler words. '\n\nGeralt mouth twisted into a fake smile.\n\n\"That's right, \"he said.\"It's easy to adopt an affected style and start using words like that everyday. Then people take the speaker for an arrogant buffoon.\"\n\n\"Or an alchemist,\" Zoltan Chivay said, filling the flask from the pail once more.\n\n\"Or a witcher,\" Dandelion snorted, \"who's read a lotto impress a certain enchantress. Nothing attracts enchantresses like an elaborate tale, gentlemen. Am I right, Geralt? Goon, spin us a yarn... '\n\n\"Sit out your turn, Dandelion,\" the Witcher cut in coldly. \"The alkaloids in this hooch are acting on you too quickly. They've loosened your tongue. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's time you gave up your secrets, Geralt, \"Zoltan grimaced.\"Dandelion hasn't told us much we didn't know. You can't help it if you're a walking legend. They re-enact stories of your adventures in puppet theatres. Like the story about you and an enchantress by the name of Guinevere. '\n\n\"Yennefer,\" Regis corrected in hushed tones. \"I saw that one. It was the story of a hunt fora genie, if my memory serves me correctly.\"\n\n\"I was present during that hunt,\" Dandelion boasted. \"We had some laughs, I can tell you...\"\n\n\"Tell them all,\" Geralt said, getting up. \"Tell them while you're sipping the moonshine and embellishing the story suitably. I'm taking a walk.\"\n\n\"Hey,\" the dwarf said, nettled. \"No need to get offended...\"\n\n\"You misunderstand, Zoltan. I'm going to relieve my bladder. Why, it even happens to walking legends. '\n\nThe night was as cold as hell. The horses stamped and snorted, and steam belched from their nostrils. Bathed in moonlight, Regis's shack seemed utterly as if it could have come from a fairy-tale. It could have been a witch's cottage. Geralt fastened his trousers.\n\nMilva, who had left soon after him, coughed hesitantly. Her long shadow drew level with his.\n\n\"Why are you delaying going back?\" she asked. \"Did they really annoy you?\"\n\n\"No,\" he replied.\n\n\"Then why the hell are you standing hereby yourself in the moonlight?\"\n\n\"I'm counting. '\n\n\"Huh?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Twelve days have passed since I set out from Brokilon, during which I've travelled around sixty miles. Rumour has it that Ciri's in Nilfgaard, the capital of the Empire. Which is around two and half thousand miles from here. Simple arithmetic tells me that at this rate I'll get therein a year and four months. What do you say to that? '\n\n\"Nothing,\" Milva said, shrugging and coughing again. \"I'm not as good at reckoning as you. I don't know how to read or write at all. I'm a foolish, simple country girl. No company for you. Nor someone to talk to. '\n\n\"Don't say that. '\n\n\"It's the truth, though, \"she said, turning away abruptly.\"Why did you tally up the days and miles? For me to advise you? Cheer you up? Chase away your fear, suppress the remorse that torments you worse than the pain in your broken peg? I don't know how! You need another. The one Dandelion was talking about. Intelligent, educated. Your beloved.\"\n\n\"Dandelion's a prattler. '\n\n\"That he is. But he occasionally prattles sense. Let's go back, I want to drink some more. '\n\n\"Milva?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You never told me why you decided to ride with me.\"\n\n\"You never asked.\"\n\n\"I'm asking now. '\n\n\"It's too late now. I don't know anymore.\"\n\n\"Oh, you're back at last, \"Zoltan said, pleased to see them, his voice now sounding quite different.\"And we, just imagine, have decided that Regis will continue on our journey with us. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Really?\" The Witcher looked intently at the barber-surgeon. \"What's behind this sudden decision? '\n\n\"Master Zoltan,\" Regis said, without lowering his gaze, \"has made me aware that Dillingen has been engulfed by a much more serious war than I understood from the refugees\" accounts. A return to those parts is totally out of the question, and remaining in this wilderness doesn't seem wise. Or travelling alone, for that matter.\"\n\n\"And we, although you don't know us at all, look like people you could travel with safely. Was one glance enough for you? '\n\n\"Two,\" the barber-surgeon replied with a faint smile. \"One at the women you're looking after. And the other at their children. '\n\nZoltan belched loudly and scraped the flask against the bottom of the pail.\n\n\"Appearances can be deceptive,\" he sneered. \"Perhaps we intend to sell the women into slavery. Percival, do something with this apparatus. Loosen a valve a little or something. We want to drink more and it's taking forever to drip out. '\n\n\"The condenser can't keep up. The liquor will be warm. '\n\n\"Not a problem. The night's cool. '\n\nThe lukewarm moonshine greatly stimulated the conversation. Dandelion, Zoltan and Percival were all ruddy-cheeked, and their voices had altered even more– in the case of the poet and the gnome one could now say that they were almost on the verge of gibbering. Ravenous, the company were chewing cold horsemeat and nibbling horseradish roots they had found in the cottage– which made their eyes water, because the horseradish was as bracing as the hooch. And added passion to the discussion."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Regis gave an expression of astonishment when it turned out that the final destination of the trek was not the enclave of the Mahakam massif, the eternal and secure home of the dwarves. Zoltan, who had become even more garrulous than Dandelion, declared that under no circumstances would he ever return to Mahakam, and unburdened himself of his animosity to its ruling regime, particularly regarding the politics and absolute rule of Brouver Hoog, the Elder of Mahakam and all the dwarven clans.\n\n\"The old fart!\" he roared, and spat into the hearth of the furnace. \"To look at him you wouldn't know if he was alive or stuffed. He almost never moves, which is just as well, because he farts every time he does. You can't understand a word he's saying because his beard and whiskers are stuck together with dried borscht. But he lords it over everyone and everything, and everyone has to dance to his tune... '\n\n\"It would be difficult to claim, however, that Hoog's policies are poor, \"Regis interrupted.\"For, owing to his decisive measures, the dwarves distanced themselves from the elves and don't fight alongside the Scoia'tael anymore. And thanks to that the pogroms have ceased. Thanks to that there have been no punitive expeditions to Mahakam. Prudence in their dealings with humans is bearing fruit. '\n\n\"Bollocks,\" Zoltan said, drinking from the flask. \"In the case of the Squirrels, the old fossil wasn't interested in prudence, it was because too many youngsters were abandoning work in the mines and the forges and joining the elves to sample freedom and manly adventures in the commandos. When the phenomenon grew to the size of a problem, Brouver Hoog took the punks in hand. He couldn't careless about the humans being killed by the Squirrels, and he made light of the repression falling on the dwarves because of that– including your infamous pogroms. He didn't give a damn and doesn't give a damn about them, because he considers the dwarves who've settled in the cities apostates. And as regards punitive expeditions to Mahakam– don't make me laugh, my dears. There's no threat and never has been, because none of the kings would dare lay a finger on Mahakam. I'll go further: even the Nilfgaardians, were they to manage to take control of the valleys surrounding the massif, wouldn't dare touch Mahakam. Do you know why? I'll tell you: Mahakam is steel; and not just any old steel. There's coal there, there's magnetite ore, boundless deposits. Everywhere else it's just bog ore. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And they have expertise and technology in Mahakam,\" Percival Schuttenbach interposed. \"Metallurgy and smelting! Enormous furnaces, not some pathetic smelteries. Trip hammers and steam hammers...\"\n\n\"There you go, Percival, neck that,\" Zoltan said, handing the gnome the now full flask, \"before you bore us to death with your technology and engineering. Everyone knows about it. But not everyone knows Mahakam exports steel. To the kingdoms, but to Nilfgaard too. And should anyone lay a finger onus, we'll wreck the workshops and flood the mines. And then you humans will continue fighting, but with oaken staves, flint blades and asses'jawbones.\"\n\n\"You say you have it in for Brouver Hoog and the regime in Mahakam,\" the Witcher observed, \"but you've suddenly started saying'we\". '\n\n\"I certainly have,\" the dwarf confirmed heatedly. \"There is something like solidarity, isn't there? I admit that pride also plays its part, because we're cleverer than those stuck-up elves. You can't deny it, can you? Fora few centuries the elves pretended there weren't any humans at all. They gazed up at the sky, smelled the flowers, and at the sight of a human averted their vulgarly bedaubed eyes. But when that strategy turned out to be ineffective they suddenly roused themselves and took up arms. They decided to kill and be killed. And we? The dwarves? We adapted. No, we didn't subordinate ourselves to you, don't get that into your heads. We subordinated you. Economically.\"\n\n\"To tell the truth,\" Regis chipped in, \"it was easier for you to adapt than it was for the elves. Land and territory is what integrates elves. In your case it's the clan. Wherever your clan is, that's your homeland. Even if an exceptionally short-sighted king were to attack Mahakam, you'd flood the mines and head off somewhere else without any regrets. To other, distant mountains. Or perhaps to human cities instead. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And why not? It's not a bad life in your cities. '\n\n\"Even in the ghettoes?\" Dandelion asked, gasping after a swig of distillate.\n\n\"And what's wrong with living in a ghetto? I'd prefer to live among my own. What do I need with assimilation?\"\n\n\"As long as they let us near the guilds,\" Percival said, wiping his nose on his sleeve.\n\n\"They will eventually,\" the dwarf said with conviction. \"And if they don't we'll just bodge our way through, or we'll found our own guilds; and healthy competition will decide. '\n\n\"So it would be safer in Mahakam than in the cities, then,\" Regis observed. \"The cities could go up inflames any second. It would be more judicious to see out the war in the mountains.\"\n\n\"Anyone who wishes to can do just that,\" Zoltan said, replenishing the flask from the pail. \"Freedom is dearer tome, and you won't find that in Mahakam. You have no idea how the old bugger governs. He recently took it upon himself to regulate what he calls'community issues\". For example: whether you can wear braces or not. Whether you should eat carp right away or wait until the jelly sets. Whether playing the ocarina is in keeping with our centuries-old dwarven traditions or is a destructive influence of rotten and decadent human culture. How many years you have to work before submitting an application fora permanent wife. Which hand you should wipe your arse with. How faraway from the mines you're allowed to whistle. And other issues of vital importance. No, boys, I'm not going to return to Mount Carbon. I have no desire to spend my life at the coalface. Forty years underground, assuming firedamp doesn't blow you up first. But we've got other plans now, haven't we, Percival? We've already secured ourselves a future... '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"A future, a future...\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "the gnome said and emptied the graduated flask. He cleared his nose and looked at the dwarf with a now slightly glazed expression. \"Don't count our chickens, Zoltan. Because they might still nab us and then our future's the gibbet... Or Drakenborg.\"\n\n\"Shut your trap,\" the dwarf snapped, looking menacingly at him. \"You're blabbing! '\n\n\"Scopolamine,\" Regis mumbled softly.\n\nThe gnome was rambling. Milva was gloomy. Zoltan, having forgotten that he'd already done so, told everyone about Hoog, the old fart and the Elder of Mahakam. Geralt listened, having forgotten he'd already heard it once. Regis also listened and even added comments, utterly unperturbed by the fact that he was the only sober individual in a now very drunk party. Dandelion strummed away on his lute and sang.\n\nNo wonder that comely ladies are all so stuck-up\n\nFor the taller the tree, the harder it is to getup.\n\n\"Idiot,\" Milva commented. Dandelion was undeterred.\n\nSimply treat a maiden as you would a tree\n\nWhip out your chopper and one-two-three...\n\n\"A cup...\" Percival Schuttenbach jabbered. \"A goblet, I mean... Carved from a single piece of milk opal... This big. I found it on the summit of Montsalvat. Its rim was set with jasper and the base was of gold. A sheer marvel...\"\n\n\"Don't give him anymore spirits, ' Zoltan Chivay said.\n\n\"Hold on, hold on,\" Dandelion said, becoming interested, also slurring his words somewhat. \"What happened to that legendary goblet?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I exchanged it fora mule. I needed a mule, in order to transport a load... Corundum and crystalline carbon. I had... Err... Lots of it... Hic... A load, I mean, a heavy load, couldn't have moved it without a mule... Why the hell did I need that goblet? '\n\n\"Corundum? Carbon?\"\n\n\"Yeah, what you call rubies and diamonds. Very... hic... handy...\"\n\n\"So I imagine.\"\n\n\"... for drill bits and files. For bearings. I had lots of them...\"\n\n\"Do you hear, Geralt?\" Zoltan said. He waved a hand and although seated, almost fell over. \"He's little, so he got pissed quickly. He's dreaming about a shitload of diamonds. Careful now, Percival, that your dream doesn't come true! Or at least half. And I don't mean the half about diamonds!\"\n\n\"Dreams, dreams,\" Dandelion mumbled once more. \"And you, Geralt? Have you dreamed of Ciri again? Because you ought to know, Regis, that Geralt has prophetic dreams! Ciri is the Child of Destiny, and Geralt is bound to her by bonds of fate, which is why he sees her in his dreams. You also ought to know that we're going to Nilfgaard to take back Ciri from Imperator Emhyr, who abducted her and wants to marry her. But he can whistle for it, the bastard, because we'll rescue her before he knows it! I'd tell you something else, boys, but it's a secret. A dreadful, deep, dark secret... Not a word, understood? Not one!\"\n\n\"I haven't heard anything, \"Zoltan assured him, looking impudently at the Witcher.\"I think an earwig crawled into my ear. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's a veritable plague of earwigs, ' Regis agreed, pretending to be poking around in his ear.\n\n\"We're going to Nilfgaard... \"Dandelion said, leaning against the dwarf to keep his balance, which turned out to be a bad idea.\"Which is a secret, just like I told you. It's a secret mission!\"\n\n\"And ingeniously concealed indeed,\" the barber-surgeon nodded, glancing at Geralt, who was now white with rage. \"Not even the most suspicious individual would ever guess the aim of your journey by analysing the direction you are headed.\"\n\n\"Milva, what is it?\"\n\n\"Don't talk tome, you drunken fool. '\n\n\"Hey, she's crying! Hey, look... '\n\n\"Go to hell, I said!\" the archer raised her voice, wiping away the tears. \"Or I'll smack you between the eyes, you fucking poetaster... Give me the glass, Zoltan... '\n\n\"I've mislaid it... \"the dwarf mumbled.\"Oh, here it is. Thanks, master barber-surgeon... And where the hell is Schuttenbach? '\n\n\"He went outside. Sometime ago. Dandelion, I recall you promised you'd tell me the story of the Child of Destiny. '\n\n\"All right, all right, Regis. I'll just have a swig... and I'll tell you everything... About Ciri, and about the Witcher... In detail...\"\n\n\"Confusion to the whores\" sons! '\n\n\"Be quiet, dwarf! You'll wake up the kids outside the cottage! '\n\n\"Calm down, archeress. There you go, drink that.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ah, well.\" Dandelion looked around the shack with a slightly vacant stare. \"If the Countess de Lettenhove could see me like this...\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Never mind. Bloody hell, this moonshine really does loosen the tongue... Geralt, shall I pour you another one? Geralt!\"\n\n\"Leave him be,\" Milva said. \"Let him sleep.\"\n\nThe barn on the edge of the village was pounding with music. The rhythm seized them before they arrived, filling them with excitement. They began to sway involuntarily in their saddles as their horses walked up, firstly to the rhythm of the dull boom of the drum and double bass, and then, when they were closer, to the beat of the melody being played by the fiddles and the pipes. The night was cold, the moon shone full and in its glow the barn, illuminated by the light shining through gaps in the planks, looked like a fairy-tale enchanted castle.\n\nA clamour and a bright glow, broken up by the shadows of cavorting couples, flooded out from the doorway of the barn.\n\nWhen they entered the music fell silent, dissolving in along-drawn-out discord. The dancing, sweating peasants parted, leaving the dirt floor, and grouped together by the walls and posts. Ciri, walking alongside Mistle, saw the eyes of the young women, wide with fear; noticed the hard, determined glances of the men and lads, ready for anything. She heard the growing whispering and growling, louder than the cautious skirling of the bagpipes, than the fading insect-like droning of violins and fiddles. Whispering. The Rats... The Rats... Robbers...\n\n\"Fear not,\" Giselher said loudly, chucking a plump and chinking purse towards the dumbstruck musicians. \"We've come hereto make merry. The village fair is open to anyone, isn't it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where's the beer? \"Kayleigh asked, shaking a pouch.\"And where's the hospitality?\"\n\n\"And why is it so quiet here?\" Iskra asked, looking around. \"We came down from the mountains fora dance. Not fora wake!\"\n\nOne of the peasants finally broke the impasse, and walked over to Giselher with a clay mug overflowing with froth. Giselher took it with a bow, drank from it, and courteously and decorously thanked him. Several peasants shouted enthusiastically. But the others remained silent.\n\n\"Hey, fellows,\" Iskra called again. \"I see that you need livening up!\"\n\nA heavy oak table, laden with clay mugs, stood against one wall of the barn. The she-elf clapped her hands and nimbly jumped onto it. The peasants quickly gathered up the mugs. With a vigorous kick Iskra cleared the ones they were too slow to remove.\n\n\"Very well, musicians,\" she said, putting her fists on her hips and shaking her hair. \"Show me what you can do. Music!\"\n\nShe quickly tapped out a rhythm with her heels. The drum repeated the rhythm and the double bass and oboe followed. The pipes and fiddles took up the tune, quickly embellishing it, challenging Iskra to adjust her steps and tempo. The she-elf, gaudily dressed and as light as a butterfly, adapted to it with ease and began moving rhythmically. The peasants began to clap.\n\n\"Falka!\" Iskra called, narrowing her eyes, which were intensified by heavy make-up. \"You're swift with a sword! And in the dance? Can you keep step with me? '\n\nCiri freed herself from Mistle's arm, untied the scarf from around her neck and took off her beret and jacket. With a single bound she was on the table beside the she-elf. The peasants cheered enthusiastically, the drum and double bass boomed and the bagpipes wailed plaintively."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Play, musicians!\" Iskra yelled. \"With verve! And passion!\"\n\nWith her hands on her hips and an upturned head, the she-elf tapped her feet, cut a caper, and beat out a quick, rhythmic staccato with her heels. Ciri, bewitched by the rhythm, copied the steps. The she-elf laughed, hopped and changed the tempo. Ciri shook her hair from her forehead with a sudden jerk of her head and copied Iskra's movements perfectly. The two girls stepped in unison, each the mirror image of the other. The peasants yelled and applauded. The fiddles and violins sang a piercing song, tearing the measured, solemn rumbling of the double bass and keening of the bagpipes to shreds.\n\nThey danced, both as straight as a poker, arms akimbo, touching each other's elbows. The iron on their heels beat out the rhythm, the table shook and trembled, and dust whirled in the light of tallow candles and torches.\n\n\"Faster!\" Iskra urged on the musicians. \"Look lively!\"\n\nIt was no longer music, it was a frenzy.\n\n\"Dance, Falka! Abandon yourself to it!\"\n\nHeel, toe, heel, toe, heel, step forward and jump, shoulders swinging, fists on hips, heel, heel. The table shakes, the light shimmers, the crowd sways, everything sways, the entire barn is dancing, dancing, dancing... The crowd yells, Giselher yells, Asse yells, Mistle laughs, claps, everyone claps and stamps, the barn shudders, the earth shudders, the world is shaken to its foundations. The world? What world? There's no world now, there's nothing, only the dance, the dance... Heel, toe, heel... Iskra's elbow... Fever pitch, fever pitch... Only the wild playing of the fiddles, pipes, double bass and bagpipes, the drummer raises and lowers his drumsticks but he is now superfluous, they beat the rhythm out by themselves. Iskra and Ciri, their heels, until the table booms and rocks, the entire barn booms and rocks... The rhythm, the rhythm is them, the music is them, they are the music. Iskra's dark hair flops on her forehead and shoulders. The fiddles' strings play a passionate tune, reaching fever pitch. Blood pounds in their temples."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Abandon. Oblivion.\n\nI am Falka. I have always been Falka! Dance, Iskra! Clap, Mistle! The violins and pipes finish the melody on a strident, high chord, and Iskra and Ciri mark the end of the dance with a simultaneous bang of their heels, their elbows still touching. They are both panting, quivering, het up, they suddenly cling to each other, they hug, they share their sweat, their heat and their happiness with each other. The barn explodes with one great bellow and the clapping of dozens of hands.\n\n\"Falka, you she-devil,\" Iskra pants. \"When we grow tired of robbery, we'll go out into the world and earn a living as dancers... '\n\nCiri also pants. She is unable to say a single word. She just laughs spasmodically. A tear runs down her cheek.\n\nA sudden shout in the crowd, a disturbance. Kayleigh shoves a burly peasant hard, the peasant shoves Kayleigh back, the two of them are caught in the press, raised fists fly. Reef jumps in and a dagger flashes in the light of a torch.\n\n\"No! Stop!\" Iskra cries piercingly. \"No brawling! This is a night of dance!\" She takes Ciri by the hand. They drop from the table to the floor. \"Musicians, play! Whoever wants to show us their paces, join us! Well, who's feeling brave? '\n\nThe double bass booms monotonously, the long-drawn-out wailing of the bagpipes cuts in, to be joined by the high, piercing song of the fiddles. The peasants laugh, nudge one another, overcoming their reserve. One– broad-shouldered and fair-haired– seizes Iskra. A second– younger and slimmer– bows hesitantly in front of Ciri. Ciri haughtily tosses her head, but soon smiles in assent. The lad closes his hands around her waist and Ciri places her hands on his shoulders. The touch shoots through her like a flaming arrowhead, filling her with throbbing desire."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Look lively, musicians!\"\n\nThe barn shudders from the noise, vibrates with the rhythm and the melody.\n\nCiri dances.\n\nA vampire, or upir, is a dead person brought to life by Chaos. Having lost its first life, av. enjoys its second life during the night hours. It leaves its grave by the light of the moon and only under its light may it act, assailing sleeping maidens or young swains, who it wakes not, but whose blood it sucks.\n\nPhysiologus\n\nThe peasants consumed garlic in great abundance and for greater certainty hung strings of garlic around their necks. Some, womenfolk in particular, stopped up their orifices with whole bulbs of garlic. The whole hamlet stank of garlic horrendus, so the peasants believed they were safe and that the vampire was incapable of doing them harm. Mighty was their astonishment, however, when the vampire who flew to their hamlet at midnight was not in the least afraid and simply began to laugh, gnashing his teeth in delight and jeering at them.\n\n\"It is good,\" he said, \"that you have spiced yourselves, for I shall soon devour you and seasoned meat is more to my taste. Apply also salt and pepper to yourselves, and forget not the mustard.\"\n\nSylvester Bugiardo, Liber Tenebrarum, or The Book of Fell but Authentic Cases never Explained by Science\n\nThe moonshines bright,\n\nThe vampire alights\n\nSwish, swish goes his cloak...\n\nMaiden, are you not afeared?\n\nFolk song"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As usual, the birds filled the grey and foggy dawn with an explosion of chirruping in anticipation of the sunrise. As usual, the first members of the party ready to set off were the taciturn women from Kernow and their children. Emiel Regis turned out to be equally swift and energetic, joining the others with a travelling staff and a leather bag over one shoulder. The rest of the company, who had drained the still during the night, were not quite so lively. The cool of the morning roused and revived the revellers, but failed to thwart the effects of the mandrake moonshine. Geralt awoke in a corner of the shack with his head in Milva's lap. Zoltan and Dandelion lay in each other's arms on a pile of mandrake roots, snoring so powerfully that they were making the bundles of herbs hanging on the walls flutter. Percival was discovered outside, curled up in a ball under a hagberry bush, covered by the straw mat Regis normally used to wipe his boots on. The five of them betrayed distinct– but varied– symptoms of fatigue and they all went to soothe their raging thirst at the spring.\n\nHowever, by the time the mists had dissipated and the red ball of the sun was blazing in the tops of the pines and larches of Fen Carn the company were already on their way, marching briskly among the barrows. Regis took the lead, followed by Percival and Dandelion, who kept each other's spirits up by singing a two-part ballad about three sisters and an iron wolf. After them trudged Zoltan Chivay, leading the chestnut colt by the reins. The dwarf had found a knobbly ashen staff in the barber-surgeon's yard, which he was now using to whack all the menhirs they passed and wish the long-deceased elves eternal rest, while Field Marshal Windbag– who was sitting on his shoulder– puffed up his feathers and occasionally squawked; reluctantly, indistinctly and somewhat half-heartedly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Milva turned out to be the least tolerant to the mandrake distillate."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She marched with visible difficulty, was sweaty, pale and acted like a bear with a sorehead, not even responding to the twittering of the little girl with the plaits who was riding in the black's saddle. Geralt thus made no attempt to strike up a conversation, not being in the best of shape himself.\n\nThe fog and the adventures of the iron wolf sung in loud– though somewhat morning-after– voices meant that they happened upon a small group of peasants suddenly and without warning. The peasants, however, had heard them much earlier and were waiting, standing motionless among the monoliths sunk into the ground, their grey homespun coats camouflaging them perfectly. Zoltan Chivay barely avoided whacking one of them with his staff, having mistaken him fora tombstone.\n\n\"Yo-ho-ho!!\" he shouted. \"Forgive me, good people! I didn't notice you. A good day to you! Greetings! '\n\nThe dozen peasants murmured an answer to his greeting in an incoherent chorus, grimly scrutinising the company. The peasants were clutching shovels, picks and six-foot pointed stakes.\n\n\"Greetings,\" the dwarf repeated. \"I presume you're from the camp by the Chotla. Am I right? '\n\nRather than answering, one of the peasants pointed out Milva's horse to the rest of them.\n\n\"That black one,\" he said. \"See it?\"\n\n\"The black,\" affirmed another and licked his lips. \"Oh, yes, the black. Should do the job.\"\n\n\"Eh?\" Zoltan said, noticing their expressions and gestures. \"Are you referring to our black steed? What about it? It's a horse, not a giraffe, there's nothing to be astonished about. What are you up to, my good fellows, in this burial ground?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And you?\" the peasant asked, looking askance at the company. \"What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"We've bought this land, \"the dwarf said, looking him straight in the eye and hitting a menhir with his staff,\"and we're pacing it out, to check we haven't been swindled on the acreage. '\n\n\"And we're hunting a vampire! '\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"A vampire,\" the oldest peasant repeated emphatically, scratching his forehead beneath a felt cap stiff with grime. \"He must have his lair somewhere here, curse him. We have sharpened these here aspen stakes, and now we shall find the scoundrel and run him through, so he will never rise again!\"\n\n\"And we've holy water in a pot the priest gave us! \"another peasant called cheerfully, pointing to the vessel.\"We'll sprinkle it on the bloodsucker, make things hot for him!\"\n\n\"Ha, ha,\" Zoltan Chivay said, with a smile. \"I see it's a proper hunt; full scale and well organised. A vampire, you say? Well, you're in luck, good fellows. We have a vampire specialist in our company, a wi...\"\n\nHe broke off and swore under his breath, because the Witcher had kicked him hard in the ankle.\n\n\"Who saw the vampire?\" Geralt asked, hushing his companions with a telling glance. \"Why do you think you should be looking for him here?\"\n\nThe peasants whispered among themselves.\n\n\"No one saw him,\" the peasant in the felt cap finally admitted. \"Or heard him. How can you see him when he flies at night, in the dark? How can you hear him when he flies on bat's wings, without a sound? '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We didn't seethe vampire, \"added another,\"but there are signs of his ghastly practices. Ever since the moon's been full, the fiend's murdered one of our number every night. He's already torn two people apart, ripped them to shreds. A woman and a stripling. Horrors and terrors! The vampire tore the poor wretches to ribbons and drank all their blood! What are we to do? Stand idly by fora third night?\"\n\n\"But who says the culprit is a vampire, and not some other predator? Whose idea was it to root around in this burial ground?\"\n\n\"The venerable priest told us to. He's a learned and pious man, and thanks be to the Gods he arrived in our camp. He said at once that a vampire was plaguing us. As punishment, for we've neglected our prayers and church donations. Now he's reciting prayers and carrying out all kinds of exorcismums in the camp, and ordered us to search for the tomb where the undead fiend sleeps during the day. '\n\n\"What, here?\"\n\n\"And where would a vampire's grave be, if not in a burial ground? And anyway it's an elven burial ground and every toddler knows that elves area rotten, godless race, and every second elf is condemned to damnation after death! Elves are to blame for everything!\"\n\n\"Elves and barber-surgeons,\" said Zoltan, nodding his head seriously. \"That's true. Every child knows that. That camp you were talking about, is it far from here? '\n\n\"Why, no...\"\n\n\"Don't tell them too much, Father, \"said an unshaven peasant with a shaggy fringe, the one who had previously been unfriendly.\"The devil only knows who they are; they're a queer-looking band. Come on, let's get to work. Let them give us the horse and they can goon their way. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Right you are,\" the older peasant said. \"Let's not dilly-dally, time's getting on. Handover the horse. That black one. We need it to search for the vampire. Get that kid off the saddle, lassie.\"\n\nMilva, who had been staring at the sky with a blank expression all along, looked at the peasant and her features hardened dangerously.\n\n\"Talking tome, yokel?\"\n\n\"What do you think? Give us the black, we need it.\"\n\nMilva wiped her sweaty neck and gritted her teeth, and the expression in her tired eyes became truly ferocious.\n\n\"What's this all about, good people? \"the Witcher asked, smiling and trying to defuse the tense situation.\"Why do you need this horse? The one you are so politely requesting? '\n\n\"How else are we going to find the vampire's grave? Everybody knows you have to ride around a cemetery on a black colt, as it will stop by the vampire's grave and will not be budged from it. Then you have to dig up the vampire and stab him with an aspen stake. Don't argue with us, for we're desperate. It's a matter of life and death here. We have to have that black horse! '\n\n\"Will another colour do?\" Dandelion asked placatingly, holding out Pegasus's reins to the peasant.\n\n\"Not a chance.\"\n\n\"Pity for you, then,\" Milva said through clenched teeth. \"Because I'm not giving you my horse. '\n\n\"What do you mean you won't? Didn't you hear what we said, wench? We have to have it!\"\n\n\"You might. But I don't have to give it to you. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We can solve this amicably,\" Regis said in a kind voice. \"If I understand rightly, Miss Milva is reluctant to handover her horse to a stranger...\"\n\n\"You could say that,\" the archer said, and spat heartily. \"I cringe at the very thought.\"\n\n\"Both the wolves have eaten much and the sheep have not been touched,\" the barber-surgeon recited calmly. \"Let Miss Milva mount the horse herself and carryout the necessary circuit of the necropolis.\"\n\n\"I'm not going to ride around the graveyard like an idiot! '\n\n\"And no one's asking you to, wench! \"said the one with the shaggy fringe.\"This requires a bold and strong blade; a maid's place is in the kitchen, bustling around the stove. A wench may come in handy later, true enough, because a virgin's tears are very useful against a vampire; for if you sprinkle a vampire with them he burns up like a firebrand. But the tears must be shed by a pure and untouched wench. And you don't quite look the part, love. So you're not much use for anything. '\n\nMilva took a quickstep forward and her right fist shot out as fast as lightning. There was a crack and the peasant's head lurched backwards, which meant his bristly throat and chin created an excellent target. The girl took another step and struck straight ahead with the heel of her open hand, increasing the force of the blow with a twist of her hips and shoulders. The peasant staggered backwards, tripped over his own feet and keeled over, banging the back of his head with an audible thud against the menhir.\n\n\"Now you see what use I am,\" the archer said, in a voice trembling with fury, rubbing her fist. \"Who's the blade now, and whose place is in the kitchen? Truly, there's nothing like a fist-fight, which clears everything up. The bold and strong one is still on his feet, and the pussy and the milksop is lying on the ground. Am I right, yokels?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The peasants didn't hurry to answer, but looked at Milva with their mouths wide open. The one in the felt cap knelt down by the one on the ground and slapped him gently on his cheek. In vain.\n\n\"Killed,\" he wailed, raising his head. \"Dead. How could you, wench? How could you just up and kill a man?\"\n\n\"I didn't mean to, ' Milva whispered, lowering her hands and blenching frightfully. And then she did something no one expected.\n\nShe turned away, staggered, rested her forehead against the menhir and vomited violently.\n\n\"What's up with him? '\n\n\"Slight concussion,\" the barber-surgeon replied, standing up and fastening his bag. \"His skull's in one piece. He's already regained consciousness. He remembers what happened and he knows his own name. That's a good sign. Miss Milva's intense reaction was, fortunately, groundless.\"\n\nThe Witcher looked at the archer, who was sitting at the foot of the menhir with her eyes staring into the distance.\n\n\"She isn't a delicate maiden, prone to that sort of emotion, \"he muttered.\"I'd be more inclined to blame yesterday's hooch. '\n\n\"She's puked before, \"Zoltan broke in softly.\"The day before yesterday, at the crack of dawn. While everyone was still asleep. I think it's because of those mushrooms we scoffed in Turlough. My guts gave me grief for two days.\"\n\nRegis looked at the Witcher from under his greying eyebrows with a strange expression on his face, smiled mysteriously, and wrapped himself in his black, woollen cloak. Geralt went over to Milva and cleared his throat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How do you feel?\"\n\n\"Rough. How's the yokel? '\n\n\"He'll be fine. He's come round. But Regis won't let him getup. The peasants are making a cradle and we'll carry him to the camp between two horses.\"\n\n\"Take mine.\"\n\n\"We're using Pegasus and the chestnut. They're more docile. Getup, it's time we hit the road. '\n\nThe enlarged company now resembled a funeral procession and crawled along at a funereal pace.\n\n\"What do you think about this vampire of theirs?\" Zoltan Chivay asked the Witcher. \"Do you believe their story?\"\n\n\"I didn't seethe victims. I can't comment.\"\n\n\"It's a pack of lies, \"Dandelion declared with conviction.\"The peasants said the dead had been torn apart. Vampires don't do that. They bite into an artery and drink the blood, leaving two clear fang marks. The victim quite often survives. I've read about it in a respectable book. There were also illustrations showing the marks of vampire bites on virgins'swanlike necks. Can you confirm that, Geralt?\"\n\n\"What do you want me to confirm? I didn't see those illustrations. I'm not very clued up about virgins, either.\"\n\n\"Don't scoff. You can't be a stranger to vampire bite marks. Ever come across a case of a vampire ripping its victim to shreds?\"\n\n\"No. That never happens.\"\n\n\"In the case of higher vampires– never, I agree,\" Emiel Regis said softly. \"From what I know alpors, katakans, moolas, bruxas and nosferats don't mutilate their victims. On the other hand, fleders and ekimmas are pretty brutal with their victims'remains.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Bravo,\" Geralt said, looking at him in genuine admiration. \"You didn't leave out a single class of vampire. Nor did you mention any of the imaginary ones, which only exist in fairy-tales. Impressive knowledge indeed. You must also know that ekimmas and fleders are never encountered in this climate. '\n\n\"What happened, then?\" Zoltan snorted, swinging his ashen staff. \"Who mutilated that woman and that lad in this climate, then? Or did they mutilate themselves in a fit of desperation?\"\n\n\"The list of creatures that may have been responsible is pretty long. Beginning with a pack of feral dogs, quite a common affliction during times of war. You can't imagine what dogs like that are capable of. Half the supposed victims of chaotic monsters can actually be chalked up to packs of wild farmyard curs. '\n\n\"Does that mean you rule out monsters?\"\n\n\"Not in the least. It may have been a striga, a harpy, a graveir, a ghoul...\"\n\n\"Not a vampire?\"\n\n\"Unlikely.\"\n\n\"The peasants mentioned some priest or other,\" Percival Schuttenbach recalled. \"Do priests know much about vampires?\"\n\n\"Some are expert on a range of subjects, to quite an advanced level, and their opinions are worth listening to, as a rule. Sadly, that doesn't apply to all of them. '\n\n\"Particularly the kind that roam around forests with fugitives,\" the dwarf snorted. \"He's most probably some kind of hermit, an illiterate anchorite from the wilderness. He dispatched a peasant expedition to your burial ground, Regis. Have you never noticed a single vampire while you were gathering mandrake there? Not even a tiny one? A teeny-weeny one? '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No, never,\" the barber-surgeon gave a faint smile."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But no wonder. A vampire, as you've just heard, flies in the dark on bat's wings, without making a sound. He's easy to miss. '\n\n\"And easy to see one where it isn't and has never been, \"Geralt confirmed.\"When I was younger, I wasted my time and energy several times chasing after delusions and superstitions which had been seen and colourfully described by an entire village, including the headman. Once I spent two months living in a castle which was supposedly haunted by a vampire. There was no vampire. But they fed me well. '\n\n\"No doubt, however, you have experienced cases when the rumours about vampires were well founded,\" Regis said, not looking at the Witcher. \"In those cases, I presume, your time and energy were not wasted. Did the monsters die by your sword?\"\n\n\"It has been known.\"\n\n\"In any event,\" Zoltan said, \"the peasants are in luck. I think we'll wait in that camp for Munro Bruys and the lads, and a rest won't do you any harm either. Whatever killed the woman and the boy, I don't fancy its chances when the Witcher turns up in the camp. '\n\n\"While we're at it, \"Geralt said, pursing his lips,\"I'd rather you didn't bruit who I am and what my name is. That particularly applies to you, Dandelion. '\n\n\"As you wish,\" the dwarf nodded. \"You must have your reasons. Lucky you've forewarned us, because I can seethe camp. '\n\n\"And I can hear it,\" Milva added, breaking a lengthy silence. \"They're making a fearful racket. '\n\n\"The sound we can hear,\" Dandelion said, playing the wiseacre, \"is the everyday symphony of a refugee camp. As usual, scored for several hundred human throats, as well as no fewer bovine, ovine and anserine ones. The solo parts are being performed by women squabbling, children bawling, a cock crowing and, if I'm not mistaken, a donkey, who someone's poked in the backside with a thistle. The title of the symphony is: A human community fights for survival.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The symphony, as usual, can be heard and smelled,\" Regis observed, quivering the nostrils of his noble nose. \"This community– as it fights for survival– gives off the delicious fragrance of boiled cabbage, a vegetable without which survival would apparently be impossible. The characteristic olfactory accent is also being created by the effects of bodily functions, carried out in random places, most often on the outskirts of the camp. I've never understood why the fight for survival manifests itself in a reluctance to dig latrines. '\n\n\"To hell with your smart-arsed chatter,\" said Milva in annoyance. \"Three dozen fancy words when three will do: it stinks of shit and cabbage!\"\n\n\"Shit and cabbage always go hand in hand,\" Percival Schuttenbach said pithily. \"One drives the other. It's perpetuum mobile. '\n\nNo sooner had they set foot in the noisy and foul-smelling camp, among the campfires, wagons and shelters, than they became the centre of interest of all the fugitives gathered there, of which there must have been at least two hundred, possibly even more. The interest bore fruit quickly and remarkably; someone suddenly screamed, someone else suddenly bellowed, someone suddenly flung their arms around someone else's neck, someone began to laugh wildly, and someone else to sob wildly. There was a huge commotion. At first it was difficult to workout what was happening among the cacophony of men, women and children screaming, but finally all was explained. Two of the women from Kernow who had been travelling with them had found, respectively, a husband and a brother, whom they had believed to be dead or to missing without trace in the turmoil of war. The delight and tears seemed to be never-ending.\n\n\"Something so banal and melodramatic,\" Dandelion said with conviction, indicating the moving scene, \"could only happen in real life. If I tried to end one of my ballads like that, I would be ribbed mercilessly.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Undoubtedly,\" Zoltan confirmed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Nonetheless, banalities like these gladden the heart, don't they? One feels more cheerful when fortune gives one something, rather than only taking. Well, we've got rid of the womenfolk. We guided them and guided them and finally got them here. Come on, no point hanging around.\"\n\nFora moment, the Witcher felt like suggesting they delay their departure. He was counting on one of the women deciding it would befitting to express a few words of gratitude and thanks to the dwarf. He abandoned that idea, though, when he saw no sign of it happening. The women, overjoyed at being reunited with their loved ones, had completely forgotten about Geralt and his company.\n\n\"What are you waiting for?\" Zoltan said, looking at him keenly. \"To be covered in blossom out of gratitude? Or anointed with honey? Let's clear off; there's nothing for us here.\"\n\n\"You're absolutely right. '\n\nThey didn't get far. A squeaky little voice stopped them in their tracks. The freckle-faced little girl with the plaits had caught them up. She was out of breath and had a large posy of wildflowers in her hand.\n\n\"Thank you,\" she squeaked, \"for looking after me and my little brother and my mummy. For being kind to us and all that. I picked these flowers for you.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" Zoltan Chivay said.\n\n\"You're kind, \"the little girl added, sticking the end of her plait into her mouth.\"I don't believe what auntie said at all. You aren't filthy little burrowing midgets. And you aren't a grey-haired misfit from hell. And you, Uncle Dandelion, aren't a gobbling turkey. Auntie wasn't telling the truth. And you, Auntie Maria, aren't a slapper with a bow and arrow. You're Auntie Maria and I like you. I picked the prettiest flowers for you.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, witcher\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: Baptism of Fire\nChapter: 10"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Milva did not have time to reach the horses and save them. She was a witness to their theft, but a helpless one. First she was swept along by the frantic, panic-stricken crowd, then the road was obstructed by careering wagons, and finally she became stuck in a woolly, bleating flock of sheep, through which she had to force her way as though it were a snowdrift. Later, by the Chotla, only a leap into the tall rushes growing in the marshes by the bank saved her from the Nilfgaardians' swords as they ruthlessly cut down the fugitives crowded by the river, showing no mercy either to women or children. Milva jumped into the water and reached the other bank, partly wading and partly swimming on her back among the corpses being carried by the current.\n\nAnd she took up the hunt. She remembered the direction in which the peasants who had stolen Roach, Pegasus, the chestnut colt and her own black had fled. And her priceless bow was still attached to her saddle. Tough luck, she thought, feet squelching in her wet boots as she ran, the others will have to cope without me for now. I must get my damn bow and horseback!\n\nShe freed Pegasus first. The poet's horse was ignoring the heels digging into his sides. He was paying no heed to the urgent shouts of the inexperienced rider and had no intention of galloping; instead he trotted slowly through the birch wood. The poor fellow was being left along way behind the other horse thieves. When he heard and then saw Milva over his shoulder, he jumped off without a second thought and bolted into the undergrowth, holding up his britches with both hands. Milva did not pursue him, overcoming her seething desire to exact some serious revenge. She leapt into the saddle in full flight, landing heavily and making the strings of the lute fastened to the saddlebags twang. A skilled horsewoman, she managed to force the gelding to gallop. Or rather, to the lumbering canter that Pegasus considered a gallop."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But even this pseudo-gallop was enough, for the horse thieves'escape had been slowed by another tricky mount."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Witcher's skittish Roach, the infuriating, sulky bay mare Geralt had so often sworn he'd exchange for another steed, whether it bean ass, a mule or even a billy goat. Milva caught up with the thieves just as Roach, irritated by a clumsy tug of the reins, had thrown her rider to the ground. The rest of the peasants had dismounted and were trying to get the frisky and excitable mare under control. They were so busy they only noticed Milva when she rode among them on Pegasus and kicked one of them in the face, breaking his nose. When he fell to the ground, howling and calling upon the Gods, she recognised him. It was Cloggy. A peasant who clearly had no luck in his dealings with people. Or, more particularly, with Milva.\n\nUnfortunately, luck deserted Milva too. To be precise, it wasn't her luck that was to blame, more her own conceit and her conviction– based on shaky practical evidence– that she could beat up any brace of peasants she happened to meet, in whatever manner she chose. When she dismounted she was punched in the eye and found herself on the ground. She drew her knife, ready to spill some guts, but was hit over the head with a stout stick so hard that it broke, blinding her with bark and rotten wood. Stunned and blinded, she still managed to grab the knee of the peasant beating her with the remains of the stick, when he unexpectedly howled and keeled over. The other yelled too, bringing both hands up to protect his head. Milva rubbed her eyes and saw that he was protecting himself from a rain of blows from a knout, dealt by a man riding a grey horse. She sprang up, dealing a powerful kick to the neck of the prostrate peasant. The rustler wheezed and flailed his legs, leaving his loins unprotected. Milva took advantage of that at once, channelling all her anger into a well-aimed kick. The peasant curled up in a ball, clamped his hands on his crotch and howled so loudly leaves fell from the birch trees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Meanwhile, the horseman on the grey was busy with Cloggy, whose nose was streaming blood, and with the other peasant– he chased them away into the trees with blows from the knout."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He returned in order to thrash the one on the ground, but reined in his horse; Milva had managed to catch her black and was holding her bow with an arrow already nocked. The bowstring was only pulled halfway back, but the arrowhead was pointing directly at the horseman's chest.\n\nFora moment, they looked at each other: the horseman and the young woman. Then, with a slow movement, he pulled an arrow with long fletchings from his belt and threw it down at Milva's feet.\n\n\"I knew I'd have the chance to give you back your arrow, elf, ' he said calmly.\n\n\"I'm not an elf, Nilfgaardian. '\n\n\"And I'm not a Nilfgaardian. Put that bow down, will you? If I wished you ill, I could have just stood by and watched those peasants kick you around. '\n\n\"The devil only knows,\" she said through her teeth, \"who you are and what you wish for me. But thanks for saving me. And for my arrow. And for dealing with that good-for-nothing I didn't hit properly the other day. '\n\nThe roughed-up horse thief, still curled up in a ball, choked back his sobs, his face buried in the leaf litter. The horseman didn't even look at him. He looked at Milva.\n\n\"Catch the horses,\" he said. \"We have to getaway from the river, and fast too; the army's combing the forests on both banks. '\n\n\"We have to?\" she said, grimacing and lowering her bow. \"Together? Since when were we comrades? Ora company?\"\n\n\"I'll explain, \"he said, steering his horse and grabbing the chestnut's reins, \"if you give me time.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The point is, I don't have anytime."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Witcher and the others-'\n\n\"I know. But we won't save them by letting ourselves get killed or captured. Catch the horses and we'll flee into the forest. Hurry!\"\n\nHis name's Cahir, Milva recalled, glancing at her companion, with whom she was now sitting in the pit left by a fallen tree. A strange Nilfgaardian, who says he isn't a Nilfgaardian. Cahir.\n\n\"We thought they'd killed you, \"she muttered.\"The riderless chestnut came running past us... '\n\n\"I had a minor adventure,\" he answered drily, \"with three brigands, as shaggy as werewolves. They ambushed me. The horse got away. The brigands didn't, but then they were on foot. Before I managed to get anew mount, I'd fallen far behind you. I only managed to catch up with you this morning. Right by the camp. I crossed the river down in the gully and waited on the far bank. I knew you'd head east. '\n\nOne of the horses concealed in the alder wood snorted and stamped its hooves. Dusk was falling. Mosquitoes whined annoyingly around their ears.\n\n\"It's quiet in the forest, \"Cahir said.\"The armies have gone, the battle is over. '\n\n\"The slaughter's over, you mean. '\n\n\"Our cavalry...\" he stammered and cleared his throat. \"The imperial cavalry attacked the camp, and then troops appeared from the south. I think it was the Temerian Army.\"\n\n\"If the battle's over, we should go back. We should search for the Witcher, Dandelion and the others. '\n\n\"It would be better to wait until nightfall.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There's something horrible about this place, \"she said softly, tightening her grip on the bow.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's such a bleak wilderness. It gives me the shivers. Apparently quiet, but there's always something rustling in the bushes... The Witcher said ghouls are attracted to battlefields... And the peasants were telling stories about a vampire... '\n\n\"You aren't alone, \"he replied under his breath.\"It's much more frightening when you're alone. '\n\n\"Indeed.\" She nodded, empathising with him. \"After all you've been following us for almost a fortnight, all alone. You've been trudging after us, while surrounded by your people-You might say you're not a Nilfgaardian, but they're still yours, aren't they. Devil take me if I understand it; instead of going back to your own you're tracking the Witcher. Why?\"\n\n\"It's along story. '\n\nWhen the tall Scoia'tael leant over him Struycken, who was bound to a pole, blinked in fear. It was said there was no such thing as an ugly elf, that every single one of them was comely, that they were born beautiful. And perhaps the legendary commander of the Squirrels had been born beautiful. But now that his face was gashed by a hideous diagonal scar deforming his forehead, eyebrow, nose and cheek, nothing remained of his elven good looks.\n\nThe elf with the disfigured physiognomy sat down on a fallen tree trunk.\n\n\"I am Isengrim Faoiltiarna,\" he said, leaning over the captive once again. \"I've been fighting humans for four years and leading a commando for three. I have buried my brother, who fell in combat, four cousins and more than four hundred brothers in arms. In my struggle, I treat your imperator as my ally, as I have proved several times bypassing intelligence to your spies, helping your agents and eliminating individuals selected by you. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Faoiltiarna fell silent and made a sign with his gloved hand. The Scoia'tael standing alongside picked up a small birchbark canteen. The canteen gave off a sweet aroma.\n\n\"I considered and consider Nilfgaard anally,\" the elf with the scar repeated, \"which is why I did not, initially, believe my informant when he warned that a trap was being laid for me. That I would receive instructions fora private meeting with a Nilfgaardian emissary, and that I would be captured then. I didn't believe but, being cautious by nature, I turned up for the rendezvous a little earlier than expected and not alone. Much to my surprise and dismay, instead of the said emissary, there were six thugs waiting with a fishing net, ropes, a leather mask with a gag, and a straitjacket fastened with straps and buckles. Standard equipment used by your secret service during abductions I would say. Nilfgaard wanted to capture me, Faoiltiarna, alive, and transport me somewhere, gagged and securely fastened in a straitjacket. A curious affair, I would say. And one requiring some elucidation. I'm delighted that I managed to take alive at least one of the thugs who had been set on me– no doubt their leader– who will be able to furnish me with that elucidation.\"\n\nStruycken gritted his teeth and turned his head away, in order not to look at the elf's disfigured face. He preferred to look at the birchbark canteen, and the two wasps buzzing around it.\n\n\"And now,\" Faoiltiarna continued, wiping his sweaty neck with a scarf, \"let's have a little chat, Master Kidnapper. To make the conversation flow, let me clarify a few points. There is maple syrup in the canteen. Should our little chat not proceed in a spirit of mutual understanding and complete frankness, we shall copiously anoint your head with the aforementioned syrup, paying very close attention to your eyes and ears. Then we shall place you on an anthill, this one hereto be precise, over which these charming, hardworking insects are scurrying. Let me add that this method has already proved its worth in the case of several Dh'oine and an'givare who evinced great stubbornness and alack of candour. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am in the imperial service!\" the spy screamed, blanching. \"I am an officer of the imperial military intelligence, a subordinate of Lord Vattier de Rideaux, Viscount of Eiddon! My name is Jan Struycken! I protest-\"\n\n\"What awful luck,\" the elf interrupted him, \"that these red ants, greedy for maple syrup, have never heard of the viscount. Let us begin. I shall not ask who gave the order for my abduction, because it is obvious. So my first question shall be: where was Ito betaken?\"\n\nThe Nilfgaardian spy struggled against the ropes and jerked his head, for it seemed to him the ants were already crawling over his cheeks. But he remained silent.\n\n\"Too bad,\" Faoiltiarna said, breaking the silence and gesturing to the elf with the canteen. \"Apply the syrup.\"\n\n\"I was to transport you to Nastrog Castle in Verden!\" Struycken yelled. \"On the orders of Viscount de Rideaux!\"\n\n\"Thank you. And what awaited me there?\"\n\n\"An interrogation...\"\n\n\"What was Ito be asked about?\"\n\n\"About the events on Thanedd! Untie me, I beg you! I'll tell you everything! '\n\n\"Of course you will,\" the elf sighed, stretching. \"Particularly since we've already made a start, and in matters like these that's usually the most difficult part. Continue.\"\n\n\"I was ordered to make you confess where Vilgefortz and Rience are hiding! And Cahir Mawr Dyffryn, son of Ceallach!\"\n\n\"How comical. A trap laid to ask me about Vilgefortz and Rience? Whatever would I know about them? What could link me with them? And Cahir? That's even more comical. I sent him to you, did I not? Just as you requested. In fetters. Are you saying the package didn't arrive?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The unit which was sent to the designated rendezvous point was slaughtered..."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cahir was not among the dead...\"\n\n\"Ah. And Lord Vattier de Rideaux became suspicious? But instead of sending another emissary to the commando and asking for an explanation, he immediately laid a trap for me. And ordered me dragged to Nastrog in chains and interrogated about the incidents on Thanedd.\"\n\nThe spy said nothing.\n\n\"Didn't you get it? \"the elf said and bent his head, bringing his hideous face towards Struycken.\"That was a question. And it ran: what's this all about?\"\n\n\"I don't know... I don't know, I swear...\"\n\nFaoiltiarna beckoned with a hand and pointed. Struycken howled, thrashed around, swore on the Great Sun, pleaded his innocence, wept, tossed his head about and spat out the syrup, which had been thickly smeared over his face. Only when he was carried over to the anthill by four Scoia'tael did he decide to talk– although the consequences of speaking were potentially more dreadful than the ants.\n\n\"Sire... Should anyone find out about this, I'm dead meat... But I shall disclose it to you... I've seen confidential orders. I've eavesdropped... I'll tell you everything...\"\n\n\"Of course you will.\" The elf nodded. \"The record on the anthill is an hour and forty minutes, and belongs to a certain officer from King Demavend's special forces. But even he talked in the end. Very well, begin. Quickly, coherently and to the point. '\n\n\"The Imperator is certain he was betrayed on Thanedd. The traitor is Vilgefortz of Roggeveen, a sorcerer, and his assistant Rience. But mostly Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. Vattier... Viscount Vattier is not certain whether you Scoia'tael also had a hand in the treachery, if only unwittingly... Which is why he ordered you to be seized and delivered in secret to Nastrog Castle... Lord Faoiltiarna, I've been working in the secret service for twenty years... Vattier de Rideaux is my third boss...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"More coherently, please. And stop shaking. If you're frank with me, you'll still be able to serve a few more bosses.\"\n\n\"Although it was kept absolutely confidential, I knew... I knew who Vilgefortz and Cahir were supposed to capture on the island. And it looked like they had succeeded. Because they brought that... you know... that princess from Cintra to Loc Grim. I thought they'd pulled it off and that Cahir and Rience would become barons, and that sorcerer a count at least... But instead the Imperator summoned Tawny Owl– I mean, Lord Skellen– and ordered him and Lord Vattier to capture Cahir... And Rience, and Vilgefortz... Anyone who might know anything about Thanedd and that incident was to be tortured... Including you... It didn't take much to guess, you know, that it was treachery. That a sham princess had been brought to Loc Grim...\"\n\nThe spy struggled to breathe, nervously gasping for air through lips covered with maple syrup.\n\n\"Untie him,\" Faoiltiarna ordered his Squirrels. \"And let him wash his face.\"\n\nThe order was carried out immediately. A moment later the mastermind of the unsuccessful ambush was standing with head lowered before the legendary Scoia'tael commander. Faoiltiarna looked at him indifferently.\n\n\"Scrape the syrup thoroughly from your ears,\" he finally said. \"Then prick them up and listen carefully, as befits a spy with many years\" experience. I shall give you proof of my loyalty to the Imperator. I shall give you a thorough account of the matters that interest him. And you will repeat everything, word for word, to Vattier de Rideaux. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The spy nodded eagerly.\n\n\"In the middle of Blathe, which according to your reckoning is the beginning of June,\" the elf began, \"I was contacted by Enid an Gleanna, the sorceress also known as Francesca Findabair. Soon after, on her orders, a certain Rience came to my commando. He was said to be the factotum of Vilgefortz of Roggeveen, also a sorcerer. A plan of action was drawn up in utter secrecy, with the aim of eliminating a number of mages during the conclave on the Isle of Thanedd. The plan was presented as one having the full support of Imperator Emhyr, Vattier de Rideaux and Stephan Skellen; otherwise I should not have agreed to collaborate with Dh'oine– sorcerers or not– for I have seen too many entrapments in my life. The involvement of the Empire was confirmed by the arrival of a ship at Cape Bremervoord. Onboard was Cahir, son of Ceallach, equipped with special authorisation and orders. According to those orders I selected a special squad from the commando, which would be answerable only to Cahir. I was aware that they were trusted to capture and remove a... certain individual... from the island. '\n\n\"We sailed to Thanedd,\" Faoiltiarna began again after a pause, \"on the ship which had brought Cahir. Rience had some amulets and he used them to surround the ship with a magical fog. We sailed into the caverns beneath the island. From there we proceeded to the catacombs under Garstang. There we realised at once that something wasn't right. Rience had received some telepathic signals from Vilgefortz. We knew we'd have to start fighting any minute. Fortunately, we were ready, because the moment we left the catacombs we were plunged into hell.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The elf contorted his mutilated face, as though the recollection pained him.\n\n\"After our initial successes, matters became complicated. We were unable to eliminate all the royal sorcerers, and we took heavy casualties. Several mages who were party to the conspiracy also perished, while others began to save their skins and teleport away. All of a sudden Vilgefortz vanished, then Rience, and Enid an Gleanna soon followed suit. I treated that final disappearance as the conclusive signal for our withdrawal. I did not, however, give the order, but waited for the return of Cahir and his squad, who had set off at once to carryout their mission. When they did not return, we began to search for them.\"\n\n\"No one,\" Faoiltiarna said, looking the Nilfgaardian spy in the eyes, \"survived from that squad; they were all brutally slaughtered. We found Cahir on the steps leading to Tor Lara, a tower which exploded during the battle and ended up as a heap of rubble. He was wounded and unconscious; it was clear he had not accomplished the mission he had been assigned. There was no sign of his target anywhere and royal troops were already pouring out of Aretuza and Loxia. I knew there was noway Cahir could fall into their hands, because it would have been proof of Nilfgaard's active involvement in the operation. So we took him with us and fled back to the catacombs and then the caverns. We boarded the ship and sailed away. Twelve remained of my commando, most of them wounded. '\n\n\"The wind was at our backs. We landed to the west of Hirundum and hid in the forest. Cahir was trying to tear off his bandages and was yelling something about an insane girl with green eyes, about the Lion Cub of Cintra, about a witcher who had massacred his men, about the Tower of Gulls and a mage who flew like a bird. He demanded a horse and ordered us to return him to the island, citing the imperial orders, which under the circumstances I had to treat as the ravings of a madman. As we knew, war was already raging in Aedirn, so I considered it more important to swiftly rebuild my depleted commando and resume the fight against the Dh'oine. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Cahir was still with us when I found your secret order in a dead drop. I was astonished. Although Cahir had clearly not completed his mission, there was nothing to suggest he was guilty of treachery. But I did not ponder over it for long, judging that it was your business and that you ought to clear it up. Cahir put up no resistance to being tied up, he was calm and resigned. I ordered him to be placed in a coffin and with the help of a hawker acquaintance delivered to the location designated in the letter. I was not, I admit, inclined to further deplete my commando by providing an escort. I don't know who murdered your men at the rendezvous point. But only I knew where it was. So if this version of the totally random extermination of your unit doesn't suit you, search for traitors among your own, because only you and I knew the time and place.\"\n\nFaoiltiarna stood up.\n\n\"That is all. All the information I have given here is true. I would not supply you with anything more in the dungeons of Nastrog. The lies and confabulations with which I might try to satisfy the investigating officer and his torturers would actually do more harm than good. I do not know anything more. In particular I don't know Vilgefortz and Rience's whereabouts, and neither do I know if your suspicions of betrayal are justified. I also emphatically declare that I know nothing about the princess from Cintra, the genuine or the sham one. I have told you everything I know. I trust that neither Lord de Rideaux nor Stephan Skellen will want to set anymore traps for me. The Dh'oine have been trying to capture and kill me fora long, longtime, so I have adopted the custom of ruthless extermination of all trap setters. I shall not, in the future, investigate to check if one of the trap setters is, by chance, a subordinate of Vattier or Skellen. I do not have the time nor the desire to make such an investigation. Do I make myself clear? '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Struycken nodded and swallowed.\n\n\"Now take a horse, spy, and get the hell out of my forest.\"\n\n\"You mean they were delivering you to the gallows?\" Milva mumbled. \"Now I understand some of it, but not everything. Why, instead of holing up somewhere, are you following the Witcher? He's really got it in for you... And he's spared your life twice...\"\n\n\"Three times.\"\n\n\"I saw two of them. Though you weren't the one who beat the shit out of the Witcher on Thanedd, as I first thought, I don't think you ought to get in the way of his sword again. There's a lot about your feud I don't understand, but you saved me and you've got an honest face... So I'll tell you, Cahir, bluntly: when the Witcher talks about the men who took his Ciri to Nilfgaard, he grinds his teeth until sparks fly. And if you spat on him, he would steam.\"\n\n\"Ciri,\" he repeated. \"Sounds nice.\"\n\n\"Didn't you know? '\n\n\"No. My people always called her Cirilla or the Lion Cub of Cintra... And when she was with me– for she was once... she didn't say a single word. Even though I saved her life. '\n\n\"Only the devil himself could grasp all this,\" Milva said, exasperated. \"Your fates are all entangled, Cahir, knotted and mixed up. It's too much for my head. '\n\n\"And what's your name? ' he suddenly asked.\n\n\"Milva... Maria Barring. But call me Milva.\"\n\n\"The Witcher's heading the wrong way, Milva, \"he offered a moment later.\"Ciri isn't in Nilfgaard. The kidnappers didn't take her to Nilfgaard. If it was a kidnap at all. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"It's along story. '\n\n\"By the Great Sun,\" Fringilla said, standing in the doorway, tilting her head and looking in astonishment at her friend. \"What have you done to your hair, Assire?\"\n\n\"I washed it,\" Assire var Anahid replied coldly. \"And styled it. Come in and sit down. Get out of that chair, Merlin. Shoo!\"\n\nThe sorceress sat down in the chair the black cat had reluctantly vacated, her eyes still fixed on her friend's coiffure.\n\n\"Stop staring,\" Assire said, touching her bouffant and glistening curls. \"I decided to make a few changes. Why, I just took your lead.\"\n\n\"I was always taken as an oddball and a rebel,\" Fringilla Vigo chuckled. \"But when they see you in the academy or at court...\"\n\n\"I'm seldom at court, \"Assire cut her off,\"and the academy will have to get used to it. This is the thirteenth century. It's high time we challenged the superstition that dressing up is proof of an enchantress's flightiness and the superficiality of her mind. '\n\n\"Fingernails too,\" Fringilla said, slightly narrowing her green eyes, which never, ever, missed anything. \"Whatever next, darling? I hardly recognise you.\"\n\n\"A simple spell,\" the enchantress replied coolly, \"ought to be enough to prove it's me and no doppelgänger. Cast the spell, if you must. And then let's move onto the matter in hand. I asked something of you...\"\n\nFringilla Vigo stroked the cat, which was rubbing himself against her calf, purring and arching his back, pretending it was a gesture of friendship and not a veiled hint that the black-haired sorceress should getup from the armchair."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The same thing Seneschal Ceallach aep Gruffyd asked of you,\" she said, without raising her head.\n\n\"Indeed,\" Assire confirmed in hushed tones, \"Ceallach visited me, distraught, and asked me to intercede to save his son. Emhyr has ordered him to be captured, tortured and executed. Who else could he turn to except a relative? Mawr, Ceallach's wife and Cahir's mother, is my niece, my sister's youngest daughter. In spite of all that I didn't promise him anything. Because my hands are tied. Certain circumstances took place recently which do not permit me to draw attention to myself. I shall elucidate. But only after you've given me the information I asked you to gather. '\n\nFringilla Vigo furtively sighed with relief. She had been afraid her friend would want to get involved in the case of Cahir, son of Ceallach, which had \"gallows\" written allover it. And equally afraid she would be asked for help she couldn't refuse.\n\n\"Around the middle of July,\" she began, \"the entire court at Loc Grim had the opportunity to marvel at a fifteen-year-old girl, supposedly the Princess of Cintra, whom Emhyr insisted on referring to as'Your Majesty\" during the audience and was treated so kindly there were even rumours of a quick marriage.\"\n\n\"So I heard,\" Assire said, stroking the cat, which had given upon Fringilla and was trying to occupy her own armchair instead. \"This doubtlessly political marriage is still talked about.\"\n\n\"But more discreetly and not so often. For the Cintran was moved to Darn Rowan. Prisoners of state, as you know, are often kept in Darn Rowan. Potential imperatrices much less often.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Assire didn't comment. She waited patiently, examining her freshly filed and varnished fingernails.\n\n\"You must remember,\" Fringilla Vigo continued, \"how Emhyr summoned us all three years ago and ordered us to establish the whereabouts of a certain individual. Within the Northern Kingdoms. You must also recall how furious he became when we failed. Albrich– who explained it was impossible to detect anything from such a distance, never mind bypassing protective screens– was severely reprimanded. But that's not all. A week after the aforementioned audience in Loc Grim, when victory at Aldersberg was being celebrated, Emhyr noticed myself and Albrich in the castle chamber. And graced us with his conversation. The gist of his speech, only somewhat trivialising it, was: \" You're all of you leeches, spongers and idlers. Your conjuring tricks cost me a fortune and there's nothing to show for it. The task which your entire lamentable academy failed to achieve was carried out in four days by an ordinary astrologist. '\n\nAssire var Anahid snorted disdainfully and continued to stroke the cat.\n\n\"It was easy to discover,\" Fringilla Vigo went on, \"that the miracle worker was none other than the infamous astrologist Xarthisius.\"\n\n\"I take it the subject of the search was the Cintran candidate for the position of Imperatrice. Xarthisius found her. And then what? Was he appointed Secretary of State? Head of the Department of Unfeasible Affairs?\"\n\n\"No. He was thrown into a dungeon the following week.\"\n\n\"I fear I fail to understand what this has to do with Cahir, son of Ceallach.\"\n\n\"Patience. Don't make me get ahead of myself. This is crucial. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I beg your pardon."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Goon.\"\n\n\"Do you remember what Emhyr gave us when we began our search three years ago?\"\n\n\"A lock of hair.\"\n\n\"Precisely,\" Fringilla said, reaching fora small, leather purse. \"And this is it. A few blonde hairs belonging to a six-year-old girl. I kept the remnants. And it's worth your knowing that Stella Congreve, Countess of Liddertal, is looking after the Cintran princess who is being kept in isolation in Darn Rowan. Stella happens to be indebted tome for various reasons, so it was easy for me to come by a second lock of hair. And this is it. Somewhat darker, but hair darkens with age. Nonetheless, the locks belong to two totally different people. I've examined them and there is no doubt in this respect.\"\n\n\"I had expected a revelation of this kind,\" Assire var Anahid admitted, \"when I heard that the Cintran had been shut up in Darn Rowan. The astrologer either fouled up completely or is implicated in a conspiracy that planned to supply Emhyr with a bogus individual. A conspiracy which will cost Cahir aep Ceallach his head. Thank you, Fringilla. Everything is clear.\"\n\n\"Not everything,\" the sorceress said and shook her head of black hair. \"First of all, it wasn't Xarthisius who found the Cintran or took her to Loc Grim. The astrologist started on his horoscopes and astromancy after Emhyr realised he had a bogus princess and begun an intensive search for the real one. And the old fool ended up in the dungeon because of a simple mistake in his art or fraud. For he had established the whereabouts of the person Emhyr sought with a radial tolerance of approximately one hundred miles. And that region turned out to be a desert, a savage wilderness somewhere beyond the Tir Tochair massif and the riverhead of the Velda. Stephan Skellen, who was sent there, found nothing but scorpions and vultures. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I wouldn't have expected much more from Xarthisius. But that won't affect Cahir's fate. Emhyr is quick-tempered, but he never sentences anyone to torture or death just like that, without evidence. Someone, as you said yourself, made sure the bogus princess was taken to Loc Grim in place of the real one. Someone came up with a double. So there was a conspiracy and Cahir became mixed up in it. Possibly unwittingly. Which means he was used. '\n\n\"If that was the case, he would have been used until the goal was reached. He would personally have delivered the double to Emhyr. But Cahir has vanished without a trace. Why? His disappearance was sure to have aroused suspicions. Did he fear Emhyr would notice the deception at first glance? For he did. He couldn't fail to, after all he had a-'\n\n\"A lock of hair,\" Assire cut in. \"A lock of hair from a six-year-old girl. Fringilla, Emhyr hasn't been hunting for that girl for three years, but for much longer. It looks as though Cahir has become embroiled in something very nasty, something which began when he was still riding a stick horse and pretending to be a knight. Mmm... Leave me those strands of hair. I'd like to test them both thoroughly.\"\n\nFringilla Vigo nodded slowly and narrowed her green eyes.\n\n\"I will. But be cautious, Assire. Don't get mixed up in any dirty business, because it might draw attention to you. And at the beginning of the conversation you hinted that attention would be inconvenient to you. And promised you'd reveal why.\"\n\nAssire var Anahid stood up, walked over to the window and stared at the spires and pinnacles of Nilfgaard– the capital of the Empire, called the City of the Golden Towers– shimmering in the setting sun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You once told me and I remembered it,\" she said, without turning around, \"that no borders should ever divide magic."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That magic should have the highest values, be above all divisions. That what was needed was some kind of... secret organisation... Something like a convent or a lodge...\"\n\n\"I am ready,\" said Fringilla Vigo, Nilfgaardian sorceress, breaking the short silence. \"My mind is made up and I am ready. Thank you for your trust and the distinction. When and where will this lodge meet, my mysterious and enigmatic friend?\"\n\nAssire var Anahid, Nilfgaardian sorceress, turned away. The hint of a smile played on her lips.\n\n\"Soon,\" she said. \"I'll explain everything to you soon. But first, before I forget... Give me the address of your milliner, Fringilla. '\n\n\"There isn't a single fire, \"Milva whispered, staring at the dark bank beyond the river, gleaming in the moonlight,\"or a living soul there, I reckon. There were two hundred refugees in the camp. Has no one got off scot-free? '\n\n\"If the imperial troops won, they took them all captive,\" Cahir whispered back. \"If your boys got the upper hand, they took the refugees with them when they moved on.\"\n\nThey neared the riverbank and the reeds covering the marsh. Milva trod on something and sprang back, suppressing a scream, at the sight of a stiff arm, covered in leeches, sticking out of the mud.\n\n\"It's just a dead body, \"Cahir muttered, grabbing her hand.\"One of ours. A Daerlanian. '\n\n\"Who is he?\"\n\n\"One of the Seventh Daerlanian Cavalry Brigade. Seethe silver scorpion on his sleeve...\"\n\n\"By the Gods...\" The girl shuddered and gripped her bow tightly in her sweating fist. \"Did you hear that noise? What was it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A wolf.\"\n\n\"Or a ghoul... Or some other hell spawn. There must be a whole load of dead bodies in the camp... A pox on it, I'm not crossing that river at night! '\n\n\"Fine, we'll wait until dawn... Milva? What's that strange...?\"\n\n\"Regis...\" the archer said, stifling a shout at the scent of wormwood, sage, coriander and aniseed. \"Regis? Is that you?\"\n\n\"Yes, it's me, \"the barber-surgeon replied, noiselessly emerging from the gloom,\"I was worried about you. But you're not alone, I see.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" Milva released Cahir's arm, noticing he had already drawn his sword.\"I'm not alone and he's not alone anymore. But that's along story, as some people would say. Regis, what about the Witcher? And Dandelion? And the others? Do you know what's happened to them? '\n\n\"Indeed I do. Do you have horses?\"\n\n\"Yes, they're hidden in the willows... '\n\n\"Then let's head southwards, down the Chotla. Without delay. We must reach Armeria before midnight. '\n\n\"What about the Witcher and the poet? Are they alive?\"\n\n\"Yes. But they're in a bit of difficulty. '\n\n\"What kind of difficulty?\"\n\n\"It's along story. '\n\nDandelion groaned, trying to turnaround and get into a slightly more comfortable position. It was, however, an impossible task for someone lying trussed up like a ham to be smoked in a pile of softwood shavings and sawdust and."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They didn't hang us right away, \"he grunted.\"There's hope for us still. We aren't done for yet... '\n\n\"Would you mind shutting up?\" the Witcher said, lying back calmly and looking up at the moon, visible through a hole in the roof of the woodshed. \"Do you know why Vissegerd didn't hang us right away? Because we're to be executed publicly, at dawn, while the entire corps are mustered before moving out. For propaganda purposes.\"\n\nDandelion did not respond to that. Geralt only heard him panting with worry.\n\n\"You still have a chance of dodging the drop,\" he added, trying to reassure the poet. \"Vissegerd simply wants to exact his own private revenge on me; he hasn't got anything against you. Your friend the count will get you out of trouble, you'll see.\"\n\n\"That's crap, \"the bard replied, to the Witcher's astonishment calmly and quite reasonably. \"Crap, crap, crap. Don't treat me like a child. For one thing, two hanged men are better for propaganda purposes than one. For another, you don't let a witness to private revenge live. No, brother, they'll stretch us both. '\n\n\"That's enough, Dandelion. Lie there quietly and think up a plan. '\n\n\"What bloody plan?\"\n\n\"Any bloody plan.\"\n\nThe poet's idle chatter prevented the Witcher from gathering his thoughts, and he had no time to waste. He expected that men from Temerian military intelligence– some of whom must have been present in Vissegerd's corps– would burst into the woodshed at any moment. Intelligence officers would surely be interested in asking him about various aspects of the events in Garstang on the Isle of Thanedd. Geralt hardly knew any of the details, but he was confident that he would be feeling very, very poorly indeed before the agents accepted this. All his hopes depended on Vissegerd, blinded by the lust for revenge, not having made the Witcher's capture public. Intelligence officers might want to free the captives from the clutches of the furious marshal in order to take them to headquarters. Or, to be more precise, take whatever was left of them after the first round of interrogation."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The poet, meanwhile, had come up with a plan.\n\n\"Geralt! Let's pretend we know something important. That we really are spies or something like that. Then-'\n\n\"Dandelion, please.\"\n\n\"No? So we could try to bribe the sentries. I have some money hidden away. Doubloons, sewn into the lining of my boot. Fora rainy day... We'll summon the sentries... '\n\n\"Who'll take all you have and then beat you up for good measure. '\n\nThe poet grumbled, but stopped talking. From the field they heard shouts, the patter of hooves and– what was worse– the smell of army pea soup. At that moment, Geralt would have given all the sterlets and truffles in the world fora bowl of it. The sentries standing outside the shed were talking lazily, chuckling and, from time to time, hawking up and spitting. The sentries were professional soldiers, which could be discerned by their remarkable ability to communicate using sentences constructed entirely of pronouns and coarse expletives.\n\n\"Geralt?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I wonder what's happened to Milva... And Zoltan, and Percival and Regis... Did you see them? '\n\n\"No. We can't rule out their being hacked to death or trampled by horses during the skirmish. The camp was knee-deep in corpses. '\n\n\"I can't believe, \"Dandelion declared resolutely and with a note of hope in his voice,\"I can't believe that crafty buggers like Zoltan and Percival... Or Milva...\"\n\n\"Stop deluding yourself. Even if they did survive, they won't help us. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why not?\"\n\n\"For three reasons. Firstly, they have their own problems. Secondly, we're lying tied up in ashed in the middle of a camp of several thousand soldiers. '\n\n\"And the third reason? You mentioned three.\"\n\n\"Thirdly,\" the Witcher replied in a tired voice, \"the monthly quota on miracles was used up when the woman from Kernow found her missing husband.\"\n\n\"Over there,\" the barber-surgeon said, indicating the small dots of campfires, \"is Fort Armeria, at present the camp of the Temerian Army concentrated at Mayena.\"\n\n\"Are the Witcher and Dandelion being held prisoner there?\" Milva asked, standing up in her stirrups. \"Ha, then things are bad... There must be hordes of armed men and guards everywhere. Won't be easy sneaking in there. '\n\n\"You won't have to, \"Regis responded, dismounting from Pegasus. The gelding gave along snort and pulled his head away, clearly disgusted by the barber-surgeon's herbal odour, which made his nostrils tingle.\n\n\"You won't have to sneak in, \"he repeated.\"I'll take care of it. You'll be waiting with the horses where the river's sparkling, do you see? Beneath the brightest star in the Seven Goats. The Chotla flows into the Ina there. Once I've got the Witcher out of trouble I'll point him in that direction. And that's where you'll meet.\"\n\n\"How arrogant is that?\" Cahir muttered to Milva when they came close to each other, dismounting. \"He'll get them out of trouble by himself, without anyone's help. Did you hear that? Who is he?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"In truth, I don't know, \"Milva muttered back.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But when it comes to impossible tasks, I believe him. Yesterday, in front of my very eyes, he got a red-hot horseshoe out of afire with his bare hands... '\n\n\"Is he a sorcerer?\"\n\n\"No,\" Regis answered from behind Pegasus, demonstrating his exceptionally sensitive hearing. \"But does it really matter who I am? After all, I haven't asked for your personal details. '\n\n\"I am Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach.\"\n\n\"I thank you and am full of admiration.\" The barber-surgeon's voice had a slight note of scorn.\"I heard almost no Nilfgaardian accent when you pronounced your Nilfgaardian surname. '\n\n\"I'm not-'\n\n\"Enough!\" Milva cut him off. \"This isn't the time for arguing or hesitating. Regis, the Witcher's waiting to be rescued.\"\n\n\"Not before midnight,\" the barber-surgeon said coldly, looking up at the moon. \"So we have sometime to talk. Who is this person, Milva?\"\n\n\"That person,\" the archer replied, a little angry and standing up for Cahir, \"rescued me from a tight spot. That person will tell the Witcher, when he meets him, that he's going in the wrong direction. Ciri's not in Nilfgaard.\"\n\n\"A revelation indeed,\" the barber-surgeon said, his voice softening. \"And its source, Sir Cahir, son of Ceallach?\"\n\n\"It's along story. '\n\nDandelion had been silent fora longtime when one of the sentries suddenly stopped talking in the middle of a curse and the other rasped, or possibly groaned. Geralt knew there had been three on guard, so he listened intently, but the third didn't utter even the slightest sound."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Witcher waited, holding his breath, but what came to his ears a moment later was not the creaking of the door to the woodshed being opened by their rescuers. Not in the least. He heard even, soft, choral snoring. The sentries were quite simply asleep on duty.\n\nHe breathed out, swore silently, and was just about to lose himself in thoughts about Yennefer when medallion around the Witcher's neck suddenly vibrated and the air was filled with the scent of wormwood, basil, coriander, sage, aniseed, and the devil only knew what else.\n\n\"Regis?\" he whispered in disbelief, ineffectually trying to lift his head from the wood shavings.\n\n\"Regis,\" Dandelion whispered back, moving around and rustling. \"No one else reeks like that... Where are you? I can't see you-'\n\n\"Be quiet!\"\n\nThe medallion stopped vibrating, Geralt heard the poet's relieved sigh and immediately after the soft hiss of a blade cutting his ropes. A moment later Dandelion gave a moan of pain as his circulation returned, but dutifully tried to suppress it by sticking his fist into his mouth.\n\n\"Geralt,\" the barber-surgeon said, his vague, wavering shadow materialising at the Witcher's side, and immediately began to cut his bonds.\"You'll have to get past the camp guard yourselves. Head towards the east and the brightest star in the Seven Goats. Straight to the Ina. Milva's waiting for you therewith the horses. '\n\n\"Help me getup...\"\n\nHe stood first on one leg and then on the other, biting his fist. Dandelion's circulation was already back to normal. A moment later the Witcher was also ready for action."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How are we going to get out?\" the poet suddenly asked. \"The sentries at the door are snoring, but they may...\"\n\n\"No, they won't, \"Regis interrupted in a whisper.\"But be careful when you leave. It's a full moon and the field's lit by campfires. In spite of it being night the entire camp is bustling, but perhaps that's a good thing. The corporals of the guard are bored of challenging the sentries. Out you go. Good luck.\"\n\n\"What about you?\"\n\n\"Don't worry about me. Don't wait for me and don't look back. '\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Dandelion,\" the Witcher hissed. \"You've been told not to worry about him, got it? '\n\n\"Out you go,\" Regis repeated. \"Good luck. Until the next time, Geralt.\"\n\nThe Witcher turned around.\n\n\"Thank you for rescuing us,\" he said. \"But it would be best if we never met again. Am I making myself clear?\"\n\n\"Absolutely. Don't waste time. '\n\nThe sentries were sleeping as they had fallen, snoring and smacking their lips. Not one of them even twitched when Geralt and Dandelion squeezed out through the slightly open door. Neither did any of them react when the Witcher unceremoniously pulled the thick homespun capes from two of them.\n\n\"That's no ordinary sleep, ' Dandelion whispered.\n\n\"Of course it isn't, \"Geralt said. Hidden in the dark of the woodshed's shadow, he looked around.\n\n\"I see.\" The poet sighed. \"Is Regis a sorcerer?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No. No, not a sorcerer.\"\n\n\"He took that horseshoe from the fire. Put the sentries to sleep...\"\n\n\"Stop wittering and concentrate. We aren't free yet. Wrap that cape around you and let's cross the field. If anyone stops us we're pretending to be soldiers. '\n\n\"Right. If anything happens I'll say-'\n\n\"We're pretending to be stupid soldiers. Let's go.\"\n\nThey crossed the field, keeping their distance from the soldiers crowded around glowing braziers and campfires. Soldiers were roaming about here and there; two more weren't conspicuous. They didn't arouse anyone's suspicions; no one questioned them or stopped them. They passed beyond the stockade quickly and without any difficulty.\n\nEverything went smoothly; in fact, too smoothly. Geralt became anxious, since he instinctively sensed danger and his anxiety was growing– rather than diminishing– the further they moved from the centre of the camp. He repeated to himself that there was nothing strange in that: they hadn't drawn attention to themselves in the middle of a military camp that was busy even at night, and the only danger had been that of the alarm being raised, should someone notice the sleeping sentries at the door to the woodshed. Now, however, they were approaching the perimeter, where the sentries had– by necessity– to be vigilant. The fact that they were heading away from the centre of the camp could not be helping them. The Witcher recalled the plague of desertion in Vissegerd's corps and was certain the guards had orders to watch carefully for anyone trying to abandon the camp.\n\nThe moon was shining brightly enough for Dandelion not to have to grope his way. This amount of light meant the Witcher could see as well as during the day, which enabled them to avoid two sentry posts and wait in the bushes fora mounted patrol to pass. There was an alder grove directly in front of them, apparently outside the ring of sentry posts. Everything was still going smoothly. Too smoothly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Their ignorance of military customs proved to be their undoing.\n\nThey were tempted by the low, dark clump of alders, because of the cover it offered. But since time immemorial there have always been soldiers who lie in the bushes when it is their turn to be on guard duty, while the ones who aren't asleep keep an eye both on the enemy and on their own bloody-minded officers, should any of the latter descend on them with an unexpected inspection.\n\nGeralt and Dandelion had barely reached the alder grove before several dark shapes– and spear blades– loomed up in front of them.\n\n\"Password?\"\n\n\"Cintra!\" Dandelion blurted out without hesitation.\n\nThe soldiers chuckled as one.\n\n\"Really, boys,\" one of them said, \"is that the best you can do? If only someone would come up with something original. But no, nothing but'Cintra\". Missing home, are we? Well, the fee's the same as yesterday. '\n\nDandelion audibly ground his teeth. Geralt weighed up the situation and their chances. His assessment: decidedly crap.\n\n\"Come on,\" the soldier said, hurrying them. \"If you want to get through, pay up and we'll turn a blind eye. And quickly, because the corporal of the guard will be here any second. '\n\n\"\"Owd on, \"the poet said, changing his accent and mode of speech.\"I'll just sit down and get me boot off, because there's... '\n\nHe didn't manage to say anything else. Four soldiers threw him to the ground. Then two of them, each one seizing one of his legs between theirs, pulled off his boots. The one who'd asked for the password tore the lining from the inside of a bootleg. Something scattered around with a jingle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Gold!\" the leader yelled. \"Pull the boots off the other one! And summon the corporal!\"\n\nHowever, there was no one to do any boot-pulling or summoning, because half the guard dropped on their knees to search for the doubloons scattered among the leaves while the other half immediately began fighting furiously over Dandelion's second boot. It's now or never, Geralt thought, punching the leader in the jaw and then kicking him in the side of his head as he fell. The soldiers who were searching for gold didn't even notice. Dandelion needed no encouragement to spring up and dash through the bushes, his footwraps flapping. Geralt ran after him.\n\n\"Help! Help!\" the leader of the watch bellowed from the ground, his voice soon after joined by his comrades. \"Cooorporaaal!\"\n\n\"You swine!\" Dandelion yelled back as he fled. \"Knaves! You stole my money!\"\n\n\"Save your breath, dolt! See that forest? Make for it.\"\n\n\"Stop them! Stop theeem!\"\n\nThey ran. Geralt swore furiously, hearing shouts, whistles, neighing and the thudding of hooves. Behind them. And in front of them. His astonishment didn't last long; one careful look was enough. What he had taken fora forest and a safe haven was an approaching wall of cavalry, surging towards them like a wave.\n\n\"Stop, Dandelion!\" he shouted, then turned back to the patrol galloping in their direction and whistled piercingly through his fingers.\n\n\"Nilfgaard!\" he yelled at the top of his voice. \"Nilfgaard are coming! Back to the camp! Get back to the camp, you fools! Sound the alarm! Nilfgaard!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The leading rider of the patrol pursuing them reined his horse to a rapid stop, looked towards where Geralt had pointed, screamed in terror and was about to turn back."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But Geralt decided he had already done enough for the Cintran lions and Temerian lilies. He leapt at the soldier and dragged him from the saddle with a dextrous tug.\n\n\"Jump on, Dandelion! And hold tight!\"\n\nThe poet didn't need to be told twice. The horse sagged a little under the weight of an extra rider, but spurred on by two pairs of heels was soon galloping hard. The approaching swarm of Nilfgaardians now represented a much greater threat than Vissegerd and his corps, so they galloped along the ring of sentry posts, trying to escape from the area where the two armies would clash at any moment. The Nilfgaardians were close, however, and had seen them. Dandelion yelled, then Geralt looked around and saw the dark wall of Nilfgaardian troops beginning to extend black tentacles of pursuit. Without hesitating he steered the horse towards the camp, overtaking the fleeing guards. Dandelion yelled once again, but this time there was no need. The Witcher could also seethe cavalry charging at them from the camp. Having been alerted, Vissegerd's corps had mounted at admirable speed. And Geralt and Dandelion were caught in a trap.\n\nThere was noway out. The Witcher changed the direction of their flight once more and urged from the horse all the speed it could muster, trying to slip out of the dangerously narrowing gap between hammer and anvil. When hope dawned that they might just make it, the night air suddenly sang with a whistle of fletchings. Dandelion yelled, this time very loudly indeed, and dug his fingers into Geralt's sides. The Witcher felt something warm dripping onto his neck.\n\n\"Hold on!\" he shouted, catching the poet by his elbow and drawing him closer to his own back. \"Hold on, Dandelion!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They've killed me!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"the poet howled, impressively loudly fora dead man.\"I'm bleeding! I'm dying! '\n\n\"Hold on!\"\n\nThe hail of arrows and quarrels, which was raining down on both armies and had proved to be so disastrous for Dandelion, was also their salvation. The armies under fire seethed and lost momentum, and the gap between the front lines which had been about to draw together remained open just long enough for the heavily snorting horse to whisk the two riders out of the trap. Geralt mercilessly forced his steed to ride hard, for although the trees and safety were looming up in front of them, hooves continued to thunder behind them. The horse grunted and stumbled, but did not stop and they might have escaped had not Dandelion suddenly groaned and lurched backwards, dragging the Witcher out of the saddle with him. Geralt unintentionally tugged on the reins, the horse reared, and the two men tumbled to the ground among some very low pines. The poet thudded onto the dirt and lay still, groaning pathetically. His head and left shoulder were covered in blood, which glistened black in the moonlight.\n\nBehind them, the armies collided with thuds, clangs and screams. But despite the raging battle, their Nilfgaardian pursuers hadn't forgotten about them. Three cavalrymen were galloping towards them.\n\nThe Witcher sprang up, feeling a swelling wave of cold fury and hatred inside him. He jumped out to meet their pursuers, drawing the horsemen's attention away from Dandelion. But not because he wanted to sacrifice himself for his friend. He wanted to kill.\n\nThe leading rider, who had pulled ahead, flew at him with a raised battle-axe, but had noway of knowing he was attacking a witcher. Geralt dodged the blow effortlessly and seized the Nilfgaardian leaning over in the saddle by his cloak, while the fingers of his other hand caught the soldier's broad belt. He pulled the rider from the saddle with a powerful wrench and fell on him, pinning him to the ground. Only then did Geralt realise he had no weapon. He caught the man by the throat, but couldn't throttle him because of his iron gorget. The Nilfgaardian struggled, hit him with an armoured gauntlet and gashed his cheek. The Witcher smothered his opponent with his entire body, groped for the misericord in the broad belt, and jerked it out of its sheath. The man on the ground felt it and howled. Geralt fended off the arm with the silver scorpion on the sleeve that was still hitting him and raised the dagger to strike."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Nilfgaardian screamed.\n\nThe Witcher plunged the misericord into his open mouth. Up to the hilt.\n\nWhen he got to his feet, he sawhorses without riders, bodies and a cavalry unit heading away towards the battle. The Cintrans from the camp had dispatched their Nilfgaardian pursuers, and had not even noticed the poet or the two men fighting on the ground in the gloom among the low pine trees.\n\n\"Dandelion! Where were you hit? Where's the arrow? '\n\n\"In my head... It's stuck in my head... '\n\n\"Don't talk nonsense! Bloody hell, you were lucky... It only grazed you... '\n\n\"I'm bleeding... '\n\nGeralt removed his jerkin and tore off a shirtsleeve. The point of the quarrel had caught Dandelion above the ear, leaving a nasty-looking gash extending to his temple. The poet kept bringing his shaking hand up to the wound and then looking at the blood, which was profusely spattering his hands and cuffs. His eyes were vacant. The Witcher realised he was dealing with a person who, for the first time in his life, had been wounded and was in pain. Who, for the first time in his life, was seeing his own blood in such quantities.\n\n\"Get up,\" he said, wrapping the shirtsleeve quickly and clumsily around the troubadour's head.\"It's nothing. Dandelion, it's only a scratch... Getup, we have to get out of here fast... '\n\nThe battle on the field raged on in the dark; the clatter of steel, neighing of horses and screams grew louder and louder. Geralt quickly caught two Nilfgaardian steeds, but it turned out one was sufficient. Dandelion managed to getup, but immediately sat down again, groaned and sobbed pitifully. The Witcher lifted him to his feet, shook him back to consciousness and hauled him into the saddle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Geralt mounted behind the wounded poet and spurred the horse east, to where– above the already visible pale blue streaks of the dawn– hung the brightest star of the Seven Goats constellation.\n\n\"Dawn will be breaking soon,\" Milva said, looking not at the sky but at the glistening surface of the river. \"The catfish are tormenting the small fry. But there's neither hide nor hair of the Witcher or Dandelion. Oh, I hope Regis didn't mess up-\"\n\n\"Don't tempt fate, ' Cahir muttered, adjusting the girth of the recovered chestnut colt.\n\nMilva looked around fora piece of wood to knock on.\n\n\"... But it does seem to be like that... Whoever encounters your Ciri, it's as though they've put their head on the block... That girl brings misfortune... Misfortune and death.\"\n\n\"Spit that out, Milva.\"\n\nShe spat obediently, as superstition demanded.\n\n\"There's such a chill, I'm shivering... And I'm thirsty, but I saw another rotting corpse in the river near the bank. Phooey... I feel sick... I think I'm going to throw up...\"\n\n\"There you go,\" Cahir said, handing her a canteen. \"Drink that. And sit down close tome, I'll keep you warm. '\n\nAnother catfish struck a shoal of minnows in the shallows and they scattered near the surface in a silver hail. A bat or nightjar flashed past in abeam of moonlight.\n\n\"Who knows,\" Milva muttered pensively, cuddling up to Cahir, \"what tomorrow will bring. Who'll cross that river and who'll perish.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What will be, will be. Drive those thoughts away.\"\n\n\"Aren't you afraid? '\n\n\"I am. What about you?\"\n\n\"I feel sick.\"\n\nThere was a lengthy pause.\n\n\"Tell me, Cahir, when did you meet Ciri?\"\n\n\"For the first time? Three years ago. During the fight for Cintra. I got her out of the city. I found her, beset by fire. I rode through the fire, through the flames and smoke, holding her in my arms. And she was like aflame herself.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"You can't hold aflame in your hands. '\n\n\"If it isn't Ciri in Nilfgaard, \"she said after along silence,\"then who is it? '\n\n\"I don't know. '\n\nDrakenborg, the Redanian fortress converted into an internment camp for elves and other subversive elements, had some grim traditions, which had evolved during its three years of operation. One of those traditions was dawn hangings. Another was gathering all those under death sentences in a large, common cell, from which they were led out to the gallows at daybreak.\n\nAbout a dozen of the condemned were grouped together in the cell, and every morning two, three– or occasionally four– of them were hanged. The others waited their turn. Along time. Sometimes as long as a week. The condemned were called Clowns. Because the mood around the death cell was always jolly. Firstly, at meals prisoners were served very thin, sour wine nicknamed \"Dijkstra Dry\" in the camp, as it was no secret that they could enjoy it at the behest of the head of the Redanian secret service. Secondly, no one was dragged to the sinister, underground Wash House to be interrogated any longer, nor were the warders allowed to maltreat the convicts."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The tradition was also observed that night."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was merry in the cell being occupied by six elves, a half-elf, a halfling, two humans and a Nilfgaardian. Dijkstra Dry was poured onto a single, shared tinplate and lapped up without the use of the arms, since that method gave the greatest chance of at least some intoxication by the gnat's piss. Only one of the elves, a Scoia'tael from Iorweth's defeated commando, recently severely tortured in the Wash House, retained his composure and dignity and was busy carving the words'Freedom Or Death'on a post. There were several hundred similar inscriptions on the posts around the cell. The remaining condemned convicts, also in keeping with tradition, sang the Clowns\" Anthem over and over again, a song composed in Drakenborg by an unknown author. Every convict learned the words in the barracks, as the song drifted to them at night from the condemned cell, knowing that the day would come when they would join the choir.\n\nThe Clowns dance on the scaffold\n\nRhythmically twitching and jerking\n\nThey sing their song\n\nOf sadness and beauty\n\nAnd the Clowns have all the fun\n\nEvery corpse will recall\n\nWhen the stool's kicked away\n\nAnd his eyes roll up to the sun.\n\nThe bolt rattled, the key grated in the lock and the Clowns stopped singing. Warders entering at dawn could only mean one thing: in a moment the choir would be depleted by several voices. The only question was: whose?\n\nThe warders entered together. All were carrying ropes to tie the hands of the convicts being led to the scaffold. One sniffed, shoved his cudgel under his arm, unrolled a scroll of parchment and cleared his throat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Echel Trogelton!\"\n\n\"Traighlethan,\" the elf from Iorweth's commando corrected him softly. He looked at the carved slogan once more and struggled to his feet.\n\n\"Cosmo Baldenvegg!\"\n\nThe halfling swallowed loudly. Nazarian knew Baldenvegg had been imprisoned on charges of acts of sabotage, carried out on the instructions of the Nilfgaardian secret service. However, Baldenvegg had not admitted his guilt and stubbornly maintained he had stolen both cavalry horses on his own initiative to make some money, and that Nilfgaard had nothing to do with it. He had clearly not been believed.\n\n\"Nazarian!\"\n\nNazarian stood up obediently and held his hands out for the warders to bind. When the three of them were being led out, the rest of the Clowns took up the song.\n\nThe Clowns dance on the scaffold\n\nMerrily twitching and jerking\n\nAnd the wind carries their song\n\nThe chorus echoing all around...\n\nThe dawn glowed purple and red, heralding a beautiful, sunny day.\n\nThe Clowns'Anthem, thought Nazarian, was misleading. They could not dance a jaunty jig, since they were not hanged from a gibbet with across beam, but from ordinary posts sunk into the ground. They didn't have stools kicked from under them, but practical, low birch blocks, bearing the marks of frequent use. The song's anonymous author, who had been executed the previous year, could not have known that when he composed it. Like all the other convicts, he was only acquainted with the details shortly before his death. In Drakenborg the executions were never carried out in public. They were a just punishment and not sadistic vengeance. Those words were also attributed to Dijkstra."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, witcher\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: Baptism of Fire\nChapter: 12"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Bullshit,\" the ferryman groaned."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Red Port is ahead of us... There's abridge there! And shallows! The ferry will get stuck... If they overtake us, they'll be waiting for us...\"\n\n\"The Nordlings won't overtake us, \"Regis said, pointing at the left bank from the stern.\"They have their own worries. '\n\nIndeed, a fierce battle was raging on the right bank. Most of the fighting took place in the forest and only betrayed itself by battle cries, but here and there the black and colourfully uniformed horsemen were delivering blows to each other in the water near the bank. Bodies were splashing into the Yaruga. The tumult and clang of steel quietened, and the ferryboat majestically, but quite quickly, headed downstream.\n\nFinally no soldiers could be seen on the overgrown banks, and no sounds of their pursuers could be heard. Only when Geralt was starting to hope everything would end well did they see a wooden bridge spanning the two banks. The river flowed beneath the bridge, past sandbars and islands, the largest of which supported the bridge's piers. On the right bank lay the timber port; they could see thousands of logs piled up there.\n\n\"It's shallow all around, \"the ferryman panted.\"We can only get through the middle, to the right of the island. The current is carrying us there now, but grab the poles, they might help if we get stuck... '\n\n\"There are soldiers on the bridge,\" Cahir said, shielding his eyes with his hand. \"On the bridge and in the port...\"\n\nThey could all seethe soldiers. And they all saw the band of horsemen in black and green cloaks flooding out of the forest behind the port. They were even close enough to hear the noise of battle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Nilfgaard,\" Cahir confirmed drily. \"The men who were pursuing us. So the men in the port are Nordlings...\"\n\n\"To the poles!\" the ferryman yelled. \"Maybe we'll sneak through while they're fighting!\"\n\nThey did not manage to. They were very close to the bridge when it suddenly began to shake from the boots of running soldiers. The footmen were wearing white tunics, decorated with red lozenges over their hauberks. Most of them had crossbows, which they rested on the railing and aimed at the ferryboat approaching the bridge.\n\n\"Don't shoot, boys! \"Dandelion yelled at the top of his voice.\"Don't shoot! We're with you! '\n\nThe soldiers did not hear, or did not want to hear.\n\nThe salvo of quarrels turned out to have tragic results. The only human to be hit was the ferryman, who was still trying to steer with his pole. A bolt pierced him right through. Cahir, Milva and Regis ducked down behind the side in time. Geralt seized his sword and deflected one quarrel, but there were too many of them. By an inexplicable miracle Dandelion, who was still yelling and waving his arms, was not hit. However, the hail of missiles caused real carnage among the horses. The grey slumped to its knees, struck by three quarrels. Milva's black fell, kicking. Regis's bay too. Roach, shot in the withers, reared and leaped overboard.\n\n\"Don't shoot! \"Dandelion bellowed.\"We're with you!\"\n\nThis time it worked.\n\nThe ferryboat, carried by the current, ploughed into a sandbank with a grinding sound and came to rest. They all jumped onto the island or into the water, escaping the hooves of the agonised, thrashing horses. Milva was the last, for her movements had suddenly become horrifyingly slow. She's been hit, the Witcher thought, seeing the girl clambering clumsily over the side and dropping inertly on the sand. He leapt towards her, but the vampire was quicker."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Something's broken off in me, ' the girl said very slowly. And very unnaturally. And then she pressed her hands to her womb. Geralt saw the leg of her woollen trousers darkening with blood.\n\n\"Pour that over my hands,\" Regis said, handing Geralt a small bottle he had removed from his bag. \"Pour that over my hands, quickly.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"She's miscarrying. Give me a knife. I have to cut open her clothes. And go away. '\n\n\"No,\" Milva said. \"I want him to stay...\"\n\nA tear trickled down her cheek.\n\nThe bridge above them thundered with soldiers' boots.\n\n\"Geralt!\" Dandelion yelled.\n\nThe Witcher, seeing what the vampire was doing to Milva, turned his head away in embarrassment. He noticed soldiers in white tunics rushing across the bridge at great speed. An uproar could still be heard from the right bank and the timber port.\n\n\"They're running away, \"Dandelion panted, running to him and tugging his sleeve.\"The Nilfgaardians are already on the right bridgehead! The battle is still raging there, but most of the army are fleeing to the left bank! Do you hear? We have to flee too! '\n\n\"We can't, \"he said through clenched teeth.\"Milva's miscarried. She can't walk. '\n\nDandelion swore.\n\n\"We'll have to carry her then, \"he declared.\"It's our only chance...\"\n\n\"Not our only one,\" Cahir said. \"Geralt, onto the bridge.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"We'll hold back their flight. If those Nordlings can hold the right bridgehead long enough, perhaps we'll be able to escape by the left one.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How do you plan to do it?\"\n\n\"I'm an officer, don't forget. Climb up that pier and onto the bridge!\"\n\nOn the bridge, Cahir demonstrated that he was indeed experienced at bringing panicked soldiers under control.\n\n\"Where are you going, scum? Where are you going, bastards?\" he yelled. Each roar was accompanied by a punch, as he knocked a fleeing soldier down onto the bridge's boards.\"Stop! Stop, you fucking swine! '\n\nSome– but far from all– of the fleeing soldiers stopped, terrified by the roaring and flashing of the sword Cahir was whirling dramatically. Others tried to sneak behind his back. But Geralt had already drawn his sword and joined the spectacle.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" he shouted, catching one of the soldiers in his tracks in a powerful grip. \"Where? Stand fast! Get back there!\"\n\n\"Nilfgaard, sire!\" the soldier screamed. \"It's a bloodbath! Let me go! '\n\n\"Cowards!\" Dandelion roared in a voice Geralt had never heard, as he clambered onto the bridge. \"Base cowards! Chickenhearts! Would you flee to save your skins? To live out your days in ignominy, you varlets?\"\n\n\"They are too many, Sir Knight! We stand no chance!\"\n\n\"The centurion's fallen... \"another of them moaned.\"The decurions have taken flight! Death is coming! '\n\n\"We must run!\"\n\n\"Your comrades,\" Cahir yelled, brandishing his sword, \"are still fighting on the bridgehead and at the port! They are still fighting! Dishonour will be his who does not go to their aid! Follow me!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dandelion,\" the Witcher hissed. \"Get down onto the island. You and Regis will have to get Milva onto the left bank somehow. Well, what are you waiting for?\"\n\n\"Follow me, boys!\" Cahir repeated, whirling his sword. \"Follow me if the Gods are dear to you! To the timber port! Death to the dogs!\"\n\nAbout a dozen soldiers shook their weapons and took up the cry, their voices expressing very varied degrees of conviction. About a dozen of the men who had already runaway turned back in shame and joined the ragtag army on the bridge. An army which was suddenly being led by the Witcher and the Nilfgaardian.\n\nThey might really have set off for the timber port, but the bridgehead was suddenly black with the cavalrymen's cloaks. The Nilfgaardians broke through the defence and forced their way onto the bridge. Horseshoes thudded on the planking. Some of the soldiers who had been stopped darted away, others stood indecisively. Cahir cursed. In Nilfgaardian. But no one apart from the Witcher paid any attention to it.\n\n\"What has been started must be finished,\" Geralt snapped, gripping his sword tightly. \"Let's get them! We have to spur our men into action. '\n\n\"Geralt,\" Cahir said, stopping and looking at him uncertainly. \"Do you want me to... to kill my own? I can't... '\n\n\"I don't give a shit about this war, \"the Witcher said, grinding his teeth.\"This is about Milva. You joined the company, so make a choice. Follow me or join the black cloaks. But do it quickly. '\n\n\"I'm coming with you. '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And so it was that a witcher and a Nilfgaardian roared savagely, whirled their swords and leapt forward together without a second thought– two brothers in arms, two allies and comrades– in an encounter with their common foe, in an uneven battle. And that was their baptism of fire. A baptism of shared fighting, fury, madness and death. They were going to their deaths, the two of them. Or so they thought. For they could not know that they would not die that day, on that bridge over the River Yaruga. They did not know that they were both destined for other deaths, in other places and times.\n\nThe Nilfgaardians had silver scorpions embroidered on their sleeves. Cahir slashed two of them with quick blows of his long sword, and Geralt cutup two more with blows of his sihil. Then he jumped onto the bridge's railing, running along it to attack the rest. He was a witcher and keeping his balance was a trifle to him, but his acrobatic feat astonished the attackers. And amazed they died, from blows of his dwarven blade, which cut through their hauberks as though they were made of wool, their blood splashing the bridge's polished timbers.\n\nSeeing their commanders' valour the now larger army on the bridge raised a cheer, a roar which expressed returning morale and a growing fighting spirit. And so it was that the previously panicked fugitives attacked the Nilfgaardians like fierce wolves, slashing with swords and battle-axes, stabbing with spears and halberds and striking with clubs and maces. The railing broke and horses plunged into the river with their black-cloaked riders. The roaring army hurtled onto the bridgehead, pushing their chance commanders ahead of them, not letting Geralt and Cahir do what they wanted to do. For they wanted to withdraw quietly, return to help Milva and flee to the left bank."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A battle was still raging at the timber port. The Nilfgaardians had surrounded and cutoff the soldiers– who had not yet fled– from the bridge. Those in turn were defending themselves ferociously behind barricades built from cedar and pine logs. At the sight of the reinforcements the handful of soldiers raised a joyful cry. A little too hastily, however. The tight wedge of reinforcements swept the Nilfgaardians off the bridge. But now a flanking cavalry counter-attack began on the bridgehead. Had it not been for the barricades and timber port's woodpiles, which inhibited both escape and the cavalry's momentum, the infantry would have been scattered in an instant. Pressed against the woodpiles, the soldiers took up a fierce fight.\n\nFor Geralt it was something he did not know, a completely new kind of fighting. Swordsmanship was out of the question, it was simply a chaotic melee; a ceaseless parrying of blows falling from every direction. However, he continued to take advantage of the rather undeserved privilege of being the commander; the soldiers crowded around him covering his flanks, protected his back and cleared the area in front of him, creating space for him to strike and mortally wound. But it was becoming more and more cramped. The Witcher and his army found themselves fighting shoulder to shoulder with the bloody and exhausted handful of soldiers– mainly dwarven mercenaries– defending the barricade. They fought, surrounded on all sides.\n\nAnd then came fire.\n\nOne side of the barricade, located between the timber port and the bridge, had been a huge pile of pine branches, as spiky as a hedgehog, an unsurmountable obstacle to horses and infantry. Now that pile was on fire; someone had thrown a burning brand into it. The defenders retreated, assaulted by flames and smoke. Crowded together, blinded, hampering each other, they began to die under the blows of the attacking Nilfgaardians."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cahir saved the day. Making use of his military experience, he did not allow the soldiers gathering around him on the barricade to be surrounded. He had been cutoff from Geralt's group, but was now returning. He had even managed to acquire a horse in a black caparison, and now, hacking in all directions with his sword, he charged at the flank. Behind him, yelling wildly, halberdiers and spearmen in red-lozenged tunics forced their way into the gap.\n\nGeralt put his fingers together and struck the burning pile with the Aard Sign. He did not expect any great effect, since he had been forced to make do without his witcher elixirs for several weeks. But he succeeded nonetheless. The pile of branches exploded and fell apart, showering sparks around.\n\n\"Follow me!\" he roared, slashing a Nilfgaardian's temple when the man was trying to push his way onto the barricade.\"Follow me! Through the fire! '\n\nAnd so they set off, scattering the still-burning pyre with their spears, throwing the flaming brands they had picked up with their bare hands at the Nilfgaardian horses.\n\nA baptism of fire, the Witcher thought, furiously striking and parrying blows. I was meant to pass through fire for Ciri. And I'm passing through fire in a battle which is of no interest tome at all. Which I don't understand in anyway. The fire that was meant to purify me is just scorching my hair and face.\n\nThe blood he was splattered with hissed and steamed.\n\n\"Onward, comrades! Cahir! Tome!\"\n\n\"Geralt!\" Cahir shouted, sweeping another Nilfgaardian from the saddle. \"To the bridge! Force your way through to the bridge! We'll close ranks... '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He did not finish, fora cavalryman in a black breastplate, without a helmet, with flowing, bloodied hair, galloped at him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cahir parried a blow of the rider's long sword, but was thrown from his horse, which sat down on its haunches. The Nilfgaardian leant over to pin him to the ground with his sword. But he did not. He stayed his thrust. The silver scorpion on his breastplate flashed.\n\n\"Cahir!\" he cried in astonishment. \"Cahir aep Ceallach!\"\n\n\"Morteisen...\" no less astonishment could be heard in the voice of Cahir, spread-eagled on the ground.\n\nA dwarven mercenary running alongside Geralt in a blackened and charred tunic with a red lozenge didn't waste time being astonished by anything. He plunged his bear spear powerfully into the Nilfgaardian's belly, unseating the enemy with the impetus of the blow. Another leapt forward, stamping on the fallen cavalryman's black breastplate with a heavy boot, and thrust his spear's blade straight into his throat. The Nilfgaardian wheezed, puking blood and raking the sand with his spurs.\n\nAt the same moment the Witcher received a blow in the base of his spine with something very heavy and very hard. His knees buckled beneath him. Falling, he heard a great, triumphant roar. He saw the horsemen in black cloaks fleeing into the trees. He heard the bridge thundering beneath the hooves of the cavalry arriving from the left bank, carrying a banner with an eagle surrounded by red lozenges.\n\nAnd thus, for Geralt, ended the great battle for the bridge on the Yaruga. A battle which later chroniclers did not, of course, even mention.\n\n\"Don't worry, my lord, \"the field surgeon said, tapping and feeling the Witcher's back. \"The bridge is down. We aren't in danger of being attacked from the other bank. Your comrades and the woman are also safe. Is she your wife? '"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No.\"\n\n\"Oh, and I thought... For it's always dreadful, sire, when pregnant women suffer in wars... '\n\n\"Be silent. Not a word about it. What are those banners?\"\n\n\"Don't you know who you were fighting for? Who would have thought such a thing were possible... That's the Lyrian Army. See, the black Lyrian eagle and the red Rivian lozenges. Good, I'm done here. It was only a bump. Your back will hurt a little, but it's nothing. You'll recover. '\n\n\"Thanks.\"\n\n\"I should be thanking you. Had you not held the bridge, Nilfgaard would have slaughtered us on the far bank, forcing us back into the water. We wouldn't have been able to flee from them... You saved the queen! Well, farewell, sire. I have to go, others need me to tend to their wounds. '\n\n\"Thanks.\"\n\nHe sat on a login the port, weary, sore and apathetic. Alone. Cahir had disappeared somewhere. The golden-green Yaruga flowed between the piers of the ruined bridge, sparkling in the light of the sun, which was setting in the west.\n\nHe raised his head, hearing steps, the clatter of horseshoes and the clanking of armour.\n\n\"This is he, Your Majesty. Let me help you dismount...\"\n\n\"Thtay away.\"\n\nGeralt lifted up his eyes. Before him stood a woman in a suit of armour, a woman with very pale hair, almost as pale as his own. He saw that the hair was not fair, but grey, although the woman's face did not bear the marks of old age. A mature age, indeed. But not old age."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The woman pressed a batiste handkerchief with lace hems to her lips. The handkerchief was heavily blood-stained.\n\n\"Rise, sire,\" one of the knights standing alongside whispered to Geralt. \"And pay homage. It is the Queen.\"\n\nThe Witcher stood up. And bowed, overcoming the pain in his lower back.\n\n\"Did you thafeguard the bridge?\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon?\"\n\nThe woman took the handkerchief away from her mouth and spat blood. Several red drops fell on her ornamented breastplate.\n\n\"Her Royal Highness Meve, Queen of Lyria and Rivia,\" said a knight in a purple cloak decorated with gold embroidery, standing beside the woman, \"is asking if you led the heroic defence of the bridge on the Yaruga?\"\n\n\"It just seemed to happen.\"\n\n\"Theemed to happen?\" the queen said, trying to laugh, but not having much success. She scowled, swore foully but indistinctly, and spat again. Before she had time to cover her mouth he saw a nasty wound, and noticed she lacked several teeth. She caught his eye.\n\n\"Yes,\" she said behind her handkerchief, looking him in the eye. \"Thome thon-of-a-bitch thmacked me right in the fathe. A trifle.\"\n\n\"Queen Meve,\" the knight in the purple cloak announced, \"fought in the front line, like a man, like a knight, opposing the superior forces of Nilfgaard! The wound hurts, but does not shame her! And you saved her and our corps. After some traitors had captured and hijacked the ferryboat, that bridge became our only hope. And you defended it valiantly...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Thtop, Odo."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What ith your name, hero?\"\n\n\"Mine?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" the knight in purple said, looking at him menacingly. \"What is the matter with you? Are you wounded? Injured? Were you struck in the head?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Then answer the Queen! You see, do you not, that she is wounded in the mouth and has difficulty speaking!\"\n\n\"Thtop that, Odo.\"\n\nThe purple knight bowed and then glanced at Geralt.\n\n\"Your name?\"\n\nVery well, he thought. I've had enough of this. I will not lie.\n\n\"Geralt.\"\n\n\"Geralt from where?\"\n\n\"From nowhere.\"\n\n\"Has no one bethtowed a knighthood on you?\" Meve asked, once more decorating the sand beneath her feet with a red splash of saliva mixed with blood.\n\n\"I beg your pardon? No, no. Nobody has. Your Majesty.\"\n\nMeve drew her sword.\n\n\"Kneel.\"\n\nHe obeyed, still unable to believe what was happening. He was still thinking of Milva and the route he had chosen for her, fearing the swamps of Ysgith.\n\nThe queen turned to the Purple Knight.\n\n\"You will thpeak the formula. I am toothleth.\"\n\n\"For outstanding valour in the fight fora just cause,\" the Purple Knight recited with emphasis. \"For showing proof of virtue, honour and loyalty to the Crown, I, Meve, by grace of the Gods the Queen of Lyria and Rivia, by my power, right and privilege dub you a knight. Serve us faithfully. Bear this blow, shirk not away from pain.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Geralt felt the touch of the blade on his shoulder. He looked into the queen's pale green eyes. Meve spat thick red gore, pressed the handkerchief to her face, and winked at him over the lace.\n\nThe Purple Knight walked over to her and whispered something. The Witcher heard the words: \"predicate\", \"Rivian lozenges\", \"banner\" and \"virtue\".\n\n\"That ith tho,\" Meve said, nodding. She spoke more and more clearly, overcoming the pain and sticking her tongue in the gap left by missing teeth. \"You held the bridge with tholdierth of Rivia, valiant Geralt of nowhere. It jutht theemed to happen, ha, ha. Well, it hath come tome to give you a predicate for that deed: Geralt of Rivia. Ha, ha.\"\n\n\"Bow, sir knight,\" the Purple Knight hissed.\n\nThe freshly dubbed knight, Geralt of Rivia, bowed low, so that Queen Meve, his suzerain, would not seethe smile– the bitter smile– that he was unable to resist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gavin Guile sleepily eyed the papers that slid under his door and wondered what Karris was punishing him for this time. His rooms occupied half of the top floor of the Chromeria, but the panoramic windows were blackened so that if he slept at all, he could sleep in. The seal on the letter pulsed so gently that Gavin couldn't tell what color had been drafted into it. He propped himself up in bed so he could get a better look and dilated his pupils to gather as much light as possible.\n\nSuperviolet. Oh, sonuva-\n\nOn every side, the floor-to-ceiling blackened windows dropped into the floor, bathing the room in full-spectrum light as the morning sun was revealed, climbing the horizon over the dual islands. With his eyes dilated so far, magic flooded Gavin. It was too much to hold.\n\nLight exploded from him in every direction, passing through him in successive waves from superviolet down. The sub-red was last, rushing through his skin like a wave of flame. He jumped out of bed, sweating instantly. But with all the windows open, cold summer morning winds blasted through his chambers, chilling him. He yelped, hopping back into bed.\n\nHis yelp must have been loud enough for Karris to hear it and know that her rude awakening had been successful, because he heard her unmistakable laugh. She wasn't a superviolet, so she must have had a friend help her with her little prank. A quick shot of superviolet luxin at the room's controls threw the windows closed and set the filters to half. Gavin extended a hand to blast his door open, then stopped. He wasn't going to give Karris the satisfaction. Her assignment to be the White's fetch-and-carry girl had ostensibly been intended to teach her humility and gravitas. So far that much had been a spectacular failure, though the White always played a deeper game. Still, Gavin couldn't help grinning as he rose and swept the folded papers Karris had tucked under the door into his hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He walked to his door. On a small service table just outside, he found his breakfast on a platter. It was the same every morning: two squat bricks of bread and a pale wine in a clear glass cup. The bread was made of wheat, barley, beans, lentils, millet, and spelt, unleavened. A man could live on that bread. In fact, a man was living on that bread. Just not Gavin. Indeed, the sight of it made his stomach turn. He could order a different breakfast, of course, but he never did.\n\nHe brought it inside, setting the papers on the table next to the bread. One was odd, a plain note that didn't look like the White's personal stationery, nor any official hard white stationery the Chromeria used. He turned it over. The Chromeria's message office had marked it as being received from'ST, Rekton\": Satrapy of Tyrea, town of Rekton. It sounded familiar, maybe one of those towns near Sundered Rock? But then, there had once been so many towns there. Probably someone begging an audience, though those letters were supposed to be screened out and dealt with separately.\n\nStill, first things first. He tore open each loaf, checking that nothing had been concealed inside it. Satisfied, he took out a bottle of the blue dye he kept in a drawer and dribbled a bit into the wine. He swirled the wine to mix it, and held the glass up against the granite blue sky of a painting he kept on the wall as his reference.\n\nHe'd done it perfectly, of course. He'd been doing this for almost six thousand mornings now. Almost sixteen years. Along time fora man only thirty-three years old. He poured the wine over the broken halves of the bread, staining it blue-and harmless. Once a week, Gavin would prepare a blue cheese or blue fruit, but it took more time."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He picked up the note from Tyrea.\n\n\"I'm dying, Gavin. It's time you meet your son Kip.-Lina\"\n\nSon? I don't have a-\n\nSuddenly his throat clamped down, and his chest felt like his heart was seizing up, no matter that the chirurgeons said it wasn't. Just relax, they said. Young and strong as a warhorse, they said. They didn't say, Grow a pair. You've got lots of friends, your enemies fear you, and you have no rivals. You're the Prism. What are you afraid of? No one had talked to him that way in years. Sometimes he wished they would.\n\nOrholam, the note hadn't even been sealed.\n\nGavin walked out onto his glass balcony, subconsciously checking his drafting as he did every morning. He stared at his hand, splitting sunlight into its component colors as only he could do, filling each finger in turn with a color, from below the visible spectrum to above it: sub-red, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, superviolet. Had he felt a hitch there when he drafted blue? He double-checked it, glancing briefly toward the sun.\n\nNo, it was still easy to split light, still flawless. He released the luxin, each color sliding out and dissipating like smoke from beneath his fingernails, releasing the familiar bouquet of resinous scents.\n\nHe turned his face to the sun, its warmth like a mother's caress. Gavin opened his eyes and sucked in a warm, soothing red. In and out, in time with his labored breaths, willing them to slow. Then he let the red go and took in a deep icy blue. It felt like it was freezing his eyes. As ever, the blue brought clarity, peace, order. But not a plan, not with so little information. He let goof the colors. He was still fine. He still had at least five of his seven years left. Plenty of time. Five years, five great purposes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Well, maybe not five great purposes.\n\nStill, of his predecessors in the last four hundred years, aside from those who'd been assassinated or died of other causes, the rest had served for exactly seven, fourteen, or twenty-one years after becoming Prism. Gavin had made it past fourteen. So, plenty of time. No reason to think he'd be the exception. Not many, anyway.\n\nHe picked up the second note. Cracking the White's seal-the old crone sealed everything, though she shared the other half of this floor and Karris hand-delivered her messages. But everything had to be in its proper place, properly done. There was no mistaking that she'd risen from Blue.\n\nThe White's note read, \"Unless you would prefer to greet the students arriving late this morning, my dear Lord Prism, please attend me on the roof.\"\n\nLooking beyond the Chromeria's buildings and the city, Gavin studied the merchant ships in the bay cupped in the lee of Big Jasper Island. A ragged-looking Atashian sloop was maneuvering into dock directly at a pier.\n\nGreeting new students. Unbelievable. It wasn't that he was too good to greet new students-well, actually, it was that. He, the White, and the Spectrum were supposed to balance each other. But though the Spectrum feared him the most, the reality was that the crone got her way more often than Gavin and the seven Colors combined. This morning she had to be wanting to experiment on him again, and if he wanted to avoid something more onerous like teaching he'd better get to the top of the tower.\n\nGavin drafted his red hair into a tight ponytail and dressed in the clothes his room slave had laid out for him: an ivory shirt and a wellcut pair of black wool pants with an oversize gemstudded belt, boots with silverwork, and a black cloak with harsh old Ilytian runic designs embroidered in silver thread. The Prism belonged to all the satrapies, so Gavin did his best to honor the traditions of every land-even one that was mainly pirates and heretics."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He hesitated a moment, then pulled open a drawer and drew out his brace of Ilytian pistols."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were, typical for Ilytian work, the most advanced design Gavin had ever seen. The firing mechanism was far more reliable than a wheellock-they were calling it a flintlock. Each pistol had along blade beneath the barrel, and even a beltflange so that when he tucked them into his belt behind his back they were held securely and at an angle so he didn't skewer himself when he sat. The Ilytians thought of everything.\n\nAnd, of course, the pistols made the White's Blackguards nervous. Gavin grinned.\n\nWhen he turned for the door and saw the painting again, his grin dropped.\n\nHe walked back to the table with the blue bread. Grabbing one use-smoothened edge of the painting, he pulled. It swung open silently, revealing a narrow chute.\n\nNothing menacing about the chute. Too small fora man to climb up, even if he overcame everything else. It might have been a laundry chute. Yet to Gavin it looked like the mouth of hell, the evernight itself opening wide for him. He tossed one of the bricks of bread into it, then waited. There was a thunk as the hard bread hit the first lock, a small hiss as it opened, then closed, then a smaller thunk as it hit the next lock, and a few moments later one last thunk. Each of the locks was still working. Everything was normal. Safe. There had been mistakes over the years, but no one had to die this time. No need for paranoia. He nearly snarled as he slammed the painting closed."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, martial arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Blackflame\nChapter: 2"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To the nameless minions who give their lives in my books to make the heroes look better.\n\nWe will always forget you."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Information requested: the Path of Black Flame.\n\n[WARNING: Significant deviations detected. Report accuracy compromised. Recommend renewed contact with Iteration 110 to restore functionality.]\n\nBeginning report...\n\nFor over five centuries, the Blackflame family held their empire by virtue of unstoppable force. Before facing a single Blackflame sacred artist, an entire sect would surrender.\n\nAll across the Empire's lands, rebel strongholds and rival Schools were burned in dark fire. None stood against the Blackflames because none dared; to be suspected of insurrection was to be destroyed.\n\nThe Path of the Unstained Shield excels in protection, the Path of a Thousand Hands in versatility. The Path of the Cloud Hammer is respected for mobility and force, the Path of Silver Grace for its elegance. The many Paths of the Redflower family grow food and bring rain throughout the Empire, and the Path of Jade Eyes is unmatched in healing.\n\nThe Path of Black Flame was stolen from ancient dragons. It is the art of pure destruction.\n\nBut mortal humans are not suited for the power of dragons. Slowly, the Blackflame family declined, their minds and bodies eroded by the destructive power of their sacred arts. Eventually, even the citizens at the heart of the Empire thought of the imperial family as symbols and legends.\n\nMore and more of the day-to-day workings of the Empire were left to the Blackflames' traditional servants: the Naru clan. They became the face of the Blackflame Empire, with their loyal reputation and shining emerald wings, and the people grew to know and trust them.\n\nFifty years ago, when the Blackflame family had faded to ashes and myths, the Naru quietly ascended the throne.\n\nThe first Naru clan empress has since moved into private seclusion, and her son now rules the Empire."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As for the Blackflame family themselves, most died out decades ago, gradually eaten from the inside out by their own madra."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The only remaining Blackflames are[DATA NOT FOUND] .\n\nIf their family and their Path are revived, the consequences could be-\n\nConnection severed.\n\nRestoring connection...\n\nConnection failure.\n\n[Archived information regarding Cradle remains accessible, but analysis of current conditions and projections into the future will be disabled until contact with Iteration 110 is restored.]\n\nReport complete.\n\n---\n\nGoldsteel tongs poised, Lindon knelt over the carcass of a twisted wolf.\n\nThe dreadbeast looked as though it had been subjected to dissection and decay already, its skin bloody red with spots of diseased black, but it had looked that way even before death. It was cobbled together from mismatched parts, a botched and diseased creation.\n\nHe might have passed out from the smell if not for the perfume-soaked cloth wrapped over the lower half of his face, and even so he tried to breathe through his mouth.\n\nLindon had already made his incision down the ribs of the creature, pinning flaps of skin back to get a look inside. He'd had to saw through a layer of meat and tendons, and his gloved hands were speckled with foul blood.\n\nNow he tried not to choke on perfumed air as he took a deep breath to steady himself.\n\nFisher Gesha loomed over him, a disapproving presence. Gesha was possibly the oldest person he'd ever seen, like a shriveled pile of wrinkles packed into a sacred artist's robes. Her gray hair was tied into a tight bun on the top of her head, and eight legs of mechanical Forged madra stuck out of the bottom of her robes, lifting her high enough to see over his shoulder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Carefully, now, carefully,\" she directed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You hit the binding at the wrong angle, you'll chip it like a teacup.\"\n\nLindon dipped his head slightly in lieu of an apology, then slid his hand into the wound.\n\nBack home, he'd helped his father clean meat from a hunt, but this body had started to rot even before its death, and Lindon struggled not to gag.\n\nHe could only get two fingers past the ribs, but they quickly ran into amass of sharp, solid edges, as though someone had glued broken glass into a fist-sized bundle of shards. He hardly brushed the binding with his fingers for fear of shattering it.\n\nHe withdrew his hand most of the way, holding open the incision.\n\n\"Ina Remnant, the binding would be easier to remove,\" Fisher Gesha told him, still watching from the side with hands clasped behind her back. \"No muscle to cut through, hm? Simple, simple, simple to remove. But dreadbeasts keep their souls in their bodies, nasty little things, so they leave no Remnants. Their techniques grow in them like this, alongside their organs.\"\n\nShe was trying to cram as many lessons into him as she could before Eithan took him away, so that the Underlord couldn't say she'd been neglecting his education. While Lindon appreciated the effort, it was something of a distraction to have to listen when he was trying to remove a delicate piece of Forged madra from a corpse.\n\nInserting his tongs, he got a solid grip on the binding. Madra could react unpredictably with physical objects, but goldsteel was a unique substance. His tongs looked like ordinary gold until the light caught them, and then they flashed pure white.\n\nGoldsteel could get a firm grip on virtually any kind of madra, which was why it was often used for Soulsmith tools and defenses against hostile Remnants. He held the binding firmly in place, careful not to squeeze too hard and shatter it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then he slid two fingers back into the dreadbeast, next to the trapped binding. He pinched a bundle of slick muscle.\n\nAnd, cycling madra to Enforce his fingers, he tore it away from the binding. It was like pulling apart warm bread.\n\nHe would never have been able to tear meat so easily only a week ago, before advancing to Iron. And the dreadbeast was dead, so it was no longer Enforcing itself with its own madra supply.\n\nAfter he had ripped free every connection from the binding to the surrounding body-and tilted his tongs a few degrees in every direction, to make sure it could move freely-he gradually slid the binding out.\n\nIt was a ball of jagged spikes, the yellow of its material barely visible beneath blood and bits of tissue.\n\nHe wasn't sure how the madra of such a binding would interact with the physical body, but he still winced at the sight. This had been inside a living creature. It must have caused agony every time the beast moved.\n\nThen again, the binding may not have Forged itself into existence until the wolf died. And it wasn't as though Lindon cared for the suffering of a dreadbeast anyway.\n\nHe dropped the blood-soaked binding onto a tray that Fisher Gesha had prepared for the purpose, then something caught his eye. He turned back to the wolf's body, inserting the tongs once again.\n\nThere was a glimmer of something behind the wet space where the binding had once rested, a speck of white too bright and clean to be bone. He pushed some of the muscle away, though he found himself leaning at an awkward angle to get around the ribs.\n\nThe white object was a tiny spiral no bigger than his thumbnail, but it was warped out of shape, like a half-melted wax seashell. The white was speckled with a rainbow of other colors-and, of course, drenched in blood-but he reached the tongs in for it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At the first touch, the binding dissolved like chalk in rain.\n\nFisher Gesha smacked him on the side of the head. Before his advancement to Iron, she might well have killed him.\n\n\"You don't touch madra you know nothing about,\" she warned, shaking a finger at him. \"Very dangerous.\"\n\nLindon bobbed his head to indicate he'd heard her, but he couldn't just leave it alone. \"But honored Fisher, I believe I saw one of those before.\"\n\nIn fact, he suspected he had one in his pack. His white spiral binding was large and pristine, whereas the one in the dreadbeast had been small and shot through with other colors, but he thought they maybe the same crystallized technique. The same technique that had gone into the Jai Ancestor's Spear, allowing it to steal madra.\n\nShe slapped him again, on the other side of the head this time.\n\n\"You've seen one? I have seen a thousand. Spent my life hunting these woods, you think there are surprises here for me?\" She jabbed a finger in the direction of the corpse. \"When a dreadbeast eats an animal, the meat goes to its stomach. When it eats a Remnant, the madra goes there.\"\n\nLindon brightened. \"If this can steal and process madra, like the Ancestor's Spear does, doesn't that make this a treasure? Every dreadbeast has the material fora new spear!\"\n\nHe was working himself up with every word, envisioning himself standing in an arena against Jai Long with a white spear of his own. And a core bursting with stolen madra.\n\nGesha brushed her hands off on the front of her robes, though she hadn't touched anything. \"In my grandmother's day, they tried such a thing. Used those bindings to make weapons and take power from the ones they killed. But it did to men the same things it did to... them. Everyone who used such weapons became monsters, hideous and deformed.\" She shuddered. \"If we could make the spear of the Jai ancestor ourselves, why would we prize it so highly, hm?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Clearly, she didn't know what he'd taken from the Soulsmith foundry at the top of the Transcendent Ruins. \"But Fisher Gesha... I have the notes from the ones who made the spear.\" He watched her as he spoke, anticipating her shock.\n\nWithout changing expression, she reached into the pocket of her outer robe and pulled out a wooden document case. \"You mean these notes? Yes, you left them out the other night. These are ancient, you should be more careful with them.\"\n\nHe would have reached for them if not for the gore on his hands. \"I'm sorry, I was overeager.\"\n\n\"Mm. These are brilliant; they will provide you with years of study and inspiration.\" She tucked them back into her pocket. \"Someday. First, you must learn the basics.\"\n\nDisappointment tightened into panic-he had wanted to use knowledge of the spear as a trump card against Jai Long. \"If I may speak openly, honored Fisher: I was hoping to create a weapon according to those notes.\"\n\n\"If an infant wishes to forge a sword of his own, should his interest be encouraged? Hm? No. I will return these to you when you have learned to stand on your own feet as a Soulsmith, and not before.\"\n\nLindon wanted to argue, but he was unlikely to earn anything more than another hit on the head. And the smell was getting worse every second he knelt over the dreadbeast's corpse.\n\nReluctantly, he let the topic slip away.\n\nHe dropped the tongs onto the tray next to the one binding they had secured, then staggered away to take a deep breath. They had left their belongings many paces away, to avoid the mess and stench-Lindon's carried in a bulky pack that he normally wore on his back, and Gesha's in a sealed chest of polished wood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lindon stopped to remove his bloody gloves and rinse his hands at a station he had setup for this exact purpose."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With a wisp of his spirit, he activated a blocky blue construct that he'd nailed to a tree.\n\nBlue liquid trickled from the box, madra Forged into water by a binding inside. Not real water, but anything would do to wash off this tainted blood.\n\nIt was only a crude device, barely worth calling a construct at all, as Gesha had repeatedly reminded him. But it worked, and water madra was common herein the Desolate Wilds, as the disciples of the Purelake School outnumbered most everyone else in the region.\n\nGiven that most of the nearby trees were at least spotted with black corruption if not entirely black, and the wildlife seemed to share the affliction, Lindon could see why pure water might be a valuable enough commodity to support a powerful School of the sacred arts.\n\nWhen he'd cleaned his hands, Gesha had already rinsed off the binding and stripped away the extra muscle, leaving the Forged madra exposed: a spiked crystal of yellow madra, streaked with layers of deep red and pale orange.\n\nMost other Forged madra tended to be one solid color, but this chaotic blend seemed to suit the dreadbeasts. They gave off a riot of conflicting auras, as though different powers warred within them.\n\nLindon thanked Fisher Gesha as he reached for the tray. \"Are you sure you want to guide me so far? Rinsing a binding for me, that could be considered holding my hand.\"\n\nIt was only intended as alight joke. Those had been Eithan's words when he sent Lindon out to train his Soulsmithing with Gesha: \"Don't guide him too far, if you wouldn't mind. I don't need someone who can't walk without his handheld.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Thus far, Gesha had taken the Underlord's instructions seriously, refusing to even carry her own trunk out into the forest and making Lindon haul it himself. But she'd seemed to relax as they'd hunted over the last two days, so he thought a small joke might ease the remaining tension.\n\nApparently he'd judged wrong.\n\nHer face darkened, and she shoved the tray at him with enough force that he stumbled back. Despite her age, she was still a Highgold, and he was only an Iron.\n\n\"You want to report me to the Underlord, hm? You want to waste his time? Well, see if I help you any further!\" She turned to shout at the air, as though she suspected Eithan was hiding close by and listening. \"Not a finger more, you see? Not a breath!\"\n\n\"Forgiveness, honored Fisher, forgiveness. This one intended no offense.\"\n\n\"Offense? No offense, but see if I risk landing in a boiling kettle with the Underlord just to help you. If a dreadbeast comes up to nibble your toes, see if I pull you out of the fire. \"You told me not to help him,\" that's what I'll tell him.\" Ina quieter voice, she added, \"... and I told you to stop with \"this one, that one.\" That is what offends me.\"\n\nLindon gave her a shallow bow and then turned to her trunk, throwing it open. On the top level were all her most common Soulsmith's tools save her drudge, on which she stood. The spider-construct had identified the location of the binding in the dreadbeast's body, and it would take much of the guesswork out of building a construct, but he wouldn't have access to a drudge until he built one himself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The tools all had components of goldsteel or halfsilver, the gold surfaces flashing white and the silver ones embedded with stars."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They weren't made entirely from the exotic metals, but there was still enough inside the trunk to count as a fortune back in Sacred Valley. Here, where the materials were even more rare, they might qualify as a sect's treasure. He was lucky the Fishers had allowed Gesha to take them out... although, with Eithan Arelius standing behind Lindon, they may not have had a choice.\n\nBefore selecting his tools, he ran his madra through the binding. It drew one of his cores almost dry, using it to launch a technique. A knuckle-sized bolt of golden light blasted from the binding, tore through the leaves and earth, and smacked into the tree, chipping away apiece of bark.\n\n\"Striker binding,\" Gesha said immediately. \"Aspects?\"\n\n\"At least earth,\" Lindon said. The color reminded him of earth aura, so he went with his instincts. \"Maybe force? Some wind? If you could take a look with your drudge, we could know for sure.\"\n\n\"Not for sure. A drudge only checks for what you tell it to check for. There is no substitute for experience. Now then, what would you do with this binding?\"\n\nA construct, essentially, was a puppet with a single technique embedded in it. The binding was the technique. Scripts could tweak the specifics, but the bulk of a construct's abilities were determined by the power of the dead matter in its shell and the binding at its heart.\n\nLindon reached into his pack and slid out a book Gesha had given him only three nights before: The Combination of Spirits. It was written by hand, rather than printed by construct like most of the books from Sacred Valley, but he found the observations of ancient Soulsmith teachers fascinating. \"I haven't had time to study in depth, but I had some inspiration. You see, here it mentions a Striker construct that won't activate until a certain amount of time passes. You could put one circle on an arrowhead-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Launcher,\" Fisher Gesha interrupted. \"You think my question did not have a correct answer, hm? It does. The correct answer is: a basic launcher construct.\"\n\nLindon hesitated. \"I'm sure that would work, but the binding serves the same basic purpose already.\" A launcher construct was little more than a container with a Striker binding in it.\n\nAs far as constructs went, launchers were boring. Nothing of what they did amplified or enhanced the binding's technique in anyway. In Lindon's opinion, you might as well just keep a Striker binding in a script-sealed box and take it out when you needed it.\n\nGesha reached into the pocket of her outer robe and pulled out a second book: Soulsmithing for Coppers. On its cover was a picture of a smiling tree holding hands with a friendly-looking Remnant.\n\n\"You forgot one of your new books, hm? Lucky I grabbed it before we left.\"\n\nShe tossed it to him, and he forced a smile. \"Thank you for correcting my careless oversight, Fisher Gesha.\"\n\n\"Mm. You'll find instructions fora launcher inside.\"\n\nLindon peeled open the book, flipping past overly large illustrations of children putting simple constructs together. It was a grating reminder that he had first Forged madra only a few weeks before.\n\nTechnically he supposed he was at the level of these children, but he was pushing himself in every other aspect of his sacred arts. Why did he have to start from the beginning only here, as a Soulsmith?\n\nBut Gesha's stern gaze did not relent, so he sighed and walked back over to her trunk, removing the claw of an earth-Remnant, which still twitched with life if he held it too close to the ground. It would serve as the ideal body for this weapon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With a goldsteel scalpel, he split it open, placing the binding within.\n\nHe ran his spirit over the loose construction, letting his power drift into the dead matter. With focus and a few deep breaths, he took control of the Remnant pieces.\n\nThe claw began to shine again, like it had when it was part of a Remnant. Lindon felt when his spirit filled the dead matter and the binding equally, empowering them both.\n\nThen he fused them together.\n\nThe claw shrunk, compressed, and reshaped itself slightly. The binding melded into the substance of the claw, sealed inside so it was all one piece.\n\nAnd that was all.\n\nNow it was a shining yellow rod tipped with claws, which would launch a blast of rock-hard energy when provided with madra. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it counted as a success nonetheless.\n\nAll the Soulsmiths in Sacred Valley had been Forgers because the process of creating a construct was similar to Forging: you take control of power and give it form. Lindon could have re-formed the dead matter to look more like a sword, or a box, or most anything else, but he hadn't bothered. It was just a launcher.\n\nMore than Forging ability, Lindon had learned, crafting a construct required compatibility. The power of the Soulsmith soaked into the power of the construct, and some aspects of madra did not blend well. In those cases, the Soulsmithing process could result in a useless product, or a deadly mistake.\n\nPure madra was compatible with everything, but it was also weak. It added nothing. Fisher Gesha's madra was attractive-as in, it literally pulled objects together-and that meant she could fuse dead matter to bindings with no trouble at all, and her madra was still compatible with most everything. There were a few powers she couldn't re-Forge without danger, but she had a drudge to identify exactly when those were present."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pure madra wasn't the best for any given construct-it weakened the original power of the madra like water added to wine. But it did technically work with anything.\n\nLindon would take any advantage he could get.\n\nBack in Sacred Valley, every Forger thought they knew something about Soulsmithing, because making a construct was fairly easy. But making one safe? One that performed as intended every time, and lasted for as long as possible?\n\nYou had to measure the dead matter and the binding precisely to avoid unexpected interaction, handle the materials correctly, dissect the Remnant properly, and know how to customize and tweak the functions with scripts afterward.\n\nUnless you were making a launcher.\n\nGesha nodded approvingly. \"You move quickly, and with confidence. This is good. Only another week or two, and we will take further steps.\"\n\nHe tried to keep most of the disappointment out of his voice as he said, \"A week?\"\n\nGesha's hand struck like a hawk taking a mouse, slapping him on the back of the head. This time, it really stung. \"Keep your eyes on the present, not the future, hm?\" Her spider legs shuffled, turning her back on him.\n\n\"Your instruction has been invaluable, honored Fisher,\" Lindon said, although in truth she hadn't taught him much at all before the last few days. It seemed that his endorsement from Eithan had promoted him from'servant'to'student. ' \"I bow to your wisdom.\"\n\nShe reached over her shoulder, resting a hand on the hilt of her hook. Like all the members of the Fisher sect, she carried a giant bladed fishhook as a weapon, sharp on the inside. Hers was plated with goldsteel, and he'd personally seen her dissect all sorts of Remnants with it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You wish to run before you can stand up straight,\" Gesha said firmly. \"You do not travel any Path by skipping steps.\"\n\nHe had skipped every step he could, and ever since leaving Sacred Valley, he had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.\n\nBut he didn't say that out loud.\n\n\"The honored Fisher is wise.\"\n\n\"Mm. You are blind.\"\n\n\"Yes, Fisher Gesha.\"\n\n\"Oh, you know this?\"\n\n\"Yes, Fisher Gesha.\"\n\n\"That is strange tome. A man who knows he is blind would be very careful of his surroundings, lest he betaken by surprise.\"\n\nSomething grabbed Lindon's ankle and pulled him off balance.\n\nBefore his Iron body, slamming his chin against the hard-packed earth would have blinded him with pain, and perhaps lost him a tooth. Now, he only felt pressure hitting his jaw, and he instantly twisted to see what had snared him.\n\nAline of purple madra stuck to his ankle like spider's silk, stretching back to a figure of purple light lurking in the trees. Like all Remnants, it looked like a collection of brush-strokes, as though someone had painted it into existence. This one was tall and sunken, with inhumanly long limbs and the gaping face of a fish. Its thin, webbed fingers were tipped in claws, and its blank purple eyes were fixed on Lindon.\n\nHis heart hammered, and he had to focus to keep his breath even and steady so that his madra didn't slip out of control. Not long ago, he would have panicked at this sudden attack.\n\nBut that was before Eithan had locked him in a stone ruin alone for two weeks. Panic could wait until the fight was done."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The spirit was still two dozen yards away, but it already had him. The purple string fastened to his ankle stretched back to the Remnant's outstretched hand.\n\nLindon filled his hand with madra and struck out, driving an Empty Palm into the string... but the line only quivered. It remained fastened to his ankle, one end stuck as though it had grown out of his skin.\n\nThe Remnant made a sound like a bubble popping, and the line started dragging Lindon across the forest floor.\n\nHis breath came in ragged gasps, and he was having more trouble keeping his breathing technique steady. When he tried to grab the string and pull, his hand passed right through the madra.\n\nGesha was drifting alongside him, the legs of her spider-construct matching his pace. \"You think too highly of yourself, and this is what comes. A Jade would have sensed my approach when I returned to camp. A Jade would have felt this fellow coming.\"\n\n\"Honored Fisher,\" Lindon grunted, straining to reach one of the goldsteel tools that remained on the dirt. \"Help me, please!\"\n\n\"An Iron child in these woods should have no more pride than a mouse, no more courage than a rabbit. But you have your eyes on the future. You stare only at your goal faraway, so you miss the traps before your feet.\"\n\nMustering all his strength, Lindon Enforced his arms, driving his hands into the soft earth. The Remnant pulled him through the dirt for another moment, plowing two furrows before his momentum stopped.\n\nGesha stopped as well, still speaking idly. \"This is a lesson for all sacred artists, not just Soulsmiths. A snake who tries to swallow an elephant will only choke.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon may have been too preoccupied with the Remnant trying to eat him than with Gesha's instruction, but he couldn't see how her lesson applied to his current situation. Certainly, he should have taken the time to put down some sort of alarm circle around the camp before he started working on his construct. But he didn't see what that had to do with his unauthorized Soulsmith experiments.\n\nAnd did they have to have this talk now? He was face-down in the dirt, clinging desperately to earth with arms outstretched, shoulders aching so badly they were starting to shake.\n\nOut of the corner of his eye, he saw Gesha slowly draw her hook and examine it in the light. Clearly, she was in no rush to help him.\n\n\"You are always trying to skip steps, yes? To cheat. This is carelessness, and it will land you in more trouble than this.\"\n\n\"I understand, Fisher Gesha,\" Lindon gasped. \"Please, let me free.\"\n\nSomething grabbed him by the right hip, and then by the back of the neck. More webs, stretching out from the purple Remnant.\n\n\"Maybe you do, maybe you don't.\" Fisher Gesha beckoned with her left hand, and a purple line appeared between her fingers and the Remnant. \"One way or the other, do not tell the Underlord I helped you out of danger.\"\n\nShe heaved on her line, and the Remnant was jerked off its feet as though it weighed nothing, tumbling over the ground as her purple string shortened. When it was dragged to her feet, she swept her goldsteel hook through the spirit's neck.\n\nBright sparks of violet essence sprayed into the air like blood, and the Remnant's head fell away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The force pulling on Lindon released, and he sagged into the ground, his arms and shoulders crying out in relief. \"This one humbly thanks you, Fisher Gesha.\"\n\n\"Not this one,\" she said. \"Before we return, tell me what you have learned today.\"\n\n\"I am careless. I overstep myself, leaping forward when I should progress slowly and carefully.\"\n\n\"Mm. So long as you have learned.\"\n\nHe didn't tell her what he had really learned.\n\nHe would have caught the Remnant's approach if he were Jade. And she, a Highgold, had swatted it like a fly.\n\nThat was the real lesson: if you were powerful enough, you could accomplish anything."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tears glistened in Jai Chen's eyes as Jai Long held her hand. \"Kral died fighting beside me,\" he told her. \"He went quickly and courageously. He died a hero.\"\n\n\"The Underlord... killed him?\" his little sister asked. She labored to push her voice out, every breath a fight against the invisible weight on her chest.\n\nJai Long squeezed her hand a little harder, but restrained himself so as not to hurt her. \"A boy he brought with him. Just an Iron.\"\n\nJai Chen's eyes opened wide, and her arms fluttered as though she'd tried to raise them. \"An Iron?\"\n\n\"He struck like a coward. From behind, with a stolen weapon. Even another Highgold couldn't have faced Kral and lived.\"\n\nThe tears welled up again, and Jai Chen sniffled. \"Young master Kral...\" She couldn't seem to choke out the rest of the words.\n\nJai Long smoothed her bedsheets. \"I would have told you before, but I've had many preparations to make.\"\n\nHe reached down, unlatching a scripted case. From within, he produced his surprise: the Ancestor's Spear, a glowing shaft of Forged white madra scratched lightly with lines of script. Jai Chen struggled upwards in bed to get a look, straining to push herself upright.\n\n\"From the very top of the Transcendent Ruins,\" he told her, as she extended hesitant fingers to touch it. She looked at him for permission, and only rested her hand upon it when he nodded.\n\n\"It's warm...\"\n\n\"It draws madra from others into me,\" Jai Long said, and she jerked her hands back. \"No no, you can touch it. It only means I'll become stronger for every clan member I... defeat.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then you'll avenge young master Kral?\" she asked quietly.\n\nHe placed the spear back into its case, latching it back, so the precious madra didn't dissipate. The scripts on the spear prevented madra decay, but the Sandviper Soulsmiths couldn't say by how much. It was always best to be careful-if he lost this weapon, there was no replacement.\n\n\"I would have avenged him on the spot, if not for the Underlord.\" He patted her arm. \"But the Arelius family is not entirely without honor. They will allow me to face him in the arena, in one year's time.\"\n\nSadness crept over her face, but it took her a few full breaths before she could speak. \"Back to the Empire? But we... we...\" He waited patiently as she focused on her breathing. \"... we were going to leave. Do... do you... want to go back?\"\n\nOnly to butcher them, he thought, but he spoke calmly. \"The Jai clan has refiners and Soulsmiths. If I break into their vaults, perhaps I could heal you myself. Even if that doesn't work, I could earn the support of the Naru or the Kotai. Or one of the Schools; they say the pills of the Jade Eyes can even restore the freshly dead.\"\n\nHer smile was twisted by pain and bitterness. \"You don't... think we can... leave?\"\n\nHe patted her arm to buy himself time to think before he answered. \"When I'm finished, there will be no one left to follow us.\"\n\nThe topic had grown much darker than he'd planned, but they talked for an hour afterwards of lighter and happier things: food, gossip, memories of Kral. When her exertions took their toll and she fell asleep, he picked up his case and excused himself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Leaving her behind him, etched with the scars of his failure. Her body was perfectly healthy, damaged only by years of weakness and isolation. On good days, her smile was so wide and open that it almost made him forget anything was wrong.\n\nHer spirit told the real story.\n\nDespite himself, he swept his spiritual perception over her, lighting her spirit in his mind's eye. Fora moment, he took in the wreckage left by the monster that had rampaged through her soul.\n\nHer madra channels, which should have spread throughout her body in clean, even loops, were twisted and broken. Half of the passages were dim, blocked, and the other half too bright as madra built up in the wrong places. Her core was wrapped in a web of cracks, leaking light like a broken lantern.\n\nEnough madra trickled through her ruined spirit that she could just barely move. Even that much was a miracle, the result of healers working day and night fora week after her accident.\n\nThe culprit lay coiled in his core even now, the Remnant's madra blending with his own as it gradually dissolved, its memories and sensations lurking at the back of his mind. By the time he reached Truegold, he would have digested it completely.\n\nIt was the most total, thorough revenge he could imagine.\n\nHe had been exiled from the main branch of the Jai clan because the Remnant was from a different Path, and he'd brought his sister along because she had no one left to support her.\n\nThe clan could have restored her. It might have cost them some rare materials, but they could have done it. They didn't, because she was of no value to them.\n\nWhich had shown him the extent of the clan's loyalty. Why should he be loyal in return?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He shut the door of his sister's cabin gently, so as not to wake her, nodding to the Lowgold Sandvipers standing guard on either side. These were warriors he'd selected personally, and they knew they answered to him. They would die at their posts.\n\nThough that loyalty might soon be tested, judging by the green banner flying over the Sandviper camp. Jai Long gripped his case more tightly and looked to one of the guards.\n\n\"He's back?\"\n\n\"His bats landed only minutes ago,\" the guard confirmed. He exchanged glances with his partner, and Jai Long knew their thoughts as clearly as if they'd spoken aloud.\n\nWould the Sandviper chief blame Jai Long for his son's death?\n\nJai Long found the newly returned group of Sandvipers clustered around a repurposed stable, a cluster of filthy, fur-clad men and women he could smell halfway down the street. They had been in the Wilds for months, too far to respond to the call of the Transcendent Ruins, and now they had arrived to find the heir to their sect murdered.\n\nDays ago, Jai Long had ordered this stable cleared out and cleaned, prepared to host Sandviper Kral's body. The corpse was preserved by rare medicines, waiting fora mourning father.\n\nThe Sandvipers parted to allow Jai Long to pass, though their Goldsigns were not so courteous. The miniature sandviper Remnants on their arms coiled and hissed, reflecting their hosts' anger.\n\nJai Long pushed open the door and slipped inside, holding his polished spear-case. He was already primed to tear the Ancestor's Spear free in an instant; Gokren was a Truegold, and more than capable of killing Jai Long if he reacted poorly. The weapon might be the difference between defeat and survival."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Gokren, chief of the Sandvipers, was a wiry man with slicked-back gray hair and a pair of short, one-handed spears crossed on his back."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He wore furs from chin to toe, with the shed skin of some great snake wrapped around his neck like a scarf.\n\nHe was not a tall man, and Jai Long was used to him standing with his spine rigidly straight, looking down an upraised chin as though everyone else stood beneath him.\n\nNow he'd collapsed on the floor like a child, sobbing. He gripped his head in both hands, nails driven into his scalp. His reptilian Goldsign let out along, crooning cry.\n\nJai Long let the door slide shut behind him, unaccountably disturbed. Somehow, he had pictured a man of Gokren's power and dignity standing over his son's body with arms folded, demanding recompense from those responsible. Maybe a single tear would roll down his face, or his commanding voice would catch for an instant, as a brief acknowledgement of human grief.\n\nHe had never expected Gokren to weep as though an enemy had torn out his own heart.\n\nJai Long had pushed his feelings aside in favor of action, but now his own grief stirred from where it had settled. Gokren had crumpled at the base of along table, on which a pile of mismatched furs rested. One of those furs had been flipped back, revealing a paleface and a curtain of dark hair that spilled over the edge of the table.\n\nSandviper Kral had been the first one to welcome Jai Long when he and his sister had been exiled to the Wilds. He had been the only one to look Jai Long in the eyes instead of staring at the crimson bandages wrapping his face, the only one to visit Jai Chen and tell her stories of the outside world. He was the only one who tried to give two exiles a home."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And there he was, cold on a table.\n\nBecause of a spoiled Underlord's whim and the tricks of his pet Iron.\n\nWhen the anger slipped its bonds and burned through him, hot and hungry, Jai Long's hand tightened on his spear-case until the scripted wood creaked and threatened to crack.\n\nGokren must have heard, because he turned toward Jai Long for the first time, eyes red and face soaked in tears. His voice scraped out wet and raw: \"Tell me. Please.\"\n\nJai Long wasn't sure he'd ever heard the Sandviper chief make a request of anyone.\n\n\"It was the Arelius Underlord,\" Jai Long said. Gokren stared blankly at the floor, so that Jai Long wasn't sure if he'd heard. He continued the story anyway. \" He approached us in disguise, slipping into the Ruins as a worker. Once inside, he freed himself and his followers, leading them to the prize. He beat us to it by minutes, and we would have surrendered the prize to him if he had only told us his name.\n\n\"While I fought his disciple, he distracted Kral so that an Iron child could stab him in the back with some kind of hidden weapon. We believe it was developed by the Fisher Soulsmiths, but an Underlord could have any number of tricks.\"\n\nJai Long watched Gokren for any reaction, keeping his perception open in case the Truegold prepared an attack out of rage. But Gokren only sat there, watching the ground.\n\n\"I would have killed him if the Underlord hadn't revealed himself,\" Jai Long said. It sounded like an excuse, but it was only the truth. \"But he has no affection for the Iron. He allowed me to take a prize from the Ruins, and he gave me a year. At the end of that time, I will meet his Iron in a duel, and he will not interfere.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"... where are they now?\" Gokren asked.\n\n\"The Fishers are keeping their borders tight, but they should have left days ago,\" Jai Long said. His information was sadly lacking, but he was confident in his conclusion. The Arelius Underlord had no reason to linger in the Desolate Wilds an hour longer than he had to.\n\n\"An Iron,\" Gokren mumbled. He pressed one hand against his eyes. \"My son... an Iron. They left him no pride when they killed him.\"\n\nFor his sister, Jai Long had played up Kral's death in battle to make it seem as though he had meta respectable end. That wouldn't work for Gokren, so Jai Long stayed quiet.\n\nGokren took a moment to master himself, then rose. He cast one last glance at Kral's body, brushing hair away from the pale forehead.\n\n\"I know you will avenge him,\" Gokren said quietly. Jai Long had come inhere expecting a battle, but there was no fight in this man. At least not directed at him. \"Ina year, you will take back his honor, and I must only endure.\"\n\nGokren straightened, and a shadow of the Sandviper chief's poise returned. \"But I know you will not spend this time idly. What is your plan?\"\n\nJai Long hadn't been sure how to approach this topic. He had feared that Gokren might learn about the Ancestor's Spear from one of the Sandvipers and decide to take it away. He wasn't worried about that possibility anymore.\n\nPlacing the long wooden case on the floor, Jai Long flipped it open and revealed the shining white weapon.\n\nGokren clenched and unclenched his fists, watching the spear. Minutes rolled by as he stared, the acid-green Sandviper on his arm hissing every now and then."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're going back to your clan?\"\n\nJai Long said nothing, which was answer enough.\n\n\"Will Jai Daishou stop you?\"\n\nThe Underlord Patriarch of the Jai clan was a legend; with his own hands, he had built the Jai from a remote clan in the wilderness to an Imperial power. If he acted, Jai Long's dreams of revenge would melt like snow in the summer sun.\n\n\"To him, propriety is the highest virtue,\" Jai Long said, bitterness in the words. If the Patriarch had been the slightest bit flexible, Jai Long and his sister would still belong to the head family. \"Every step must betaken in its proper order, and he will defend that order to the death. He will not act until his Highgolds, Truegolds, elites, and Elders have all fallen.\"\n\nGreen light dripped from Gokren's body, half-Forged madra from the Path of the Sandviper, but he didn't seem to notice. \"They will feed themselves to you, one by one.\"\n\n\"And by the time Jai Daishou reveals himself, I will be more than his match.\" The Underlord had once groomed Jai Long to be his replacement, after all. The Ancestor's Spear would allow him to close the gap on his own.\n\nBut Chief Gokren shook his head. \"The gulf between Gold and Lord is wider than you imagine. It requires a certain insight that I've never gained.\" He flexed his hand into a claw. \"If it was only a matter of power, I would have broken through long ago. But you may not need to face him. Rumor says he is dying; is this true?\"\n\nReflexively, Jai Long remained quiet. Those were clan matters, and not to bespoken of before outsiders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "That thought was replaced by disgust in an instant."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Years away from the main Jai clan, and Jai Long was still keeping their secrets. How deep their poison sinks.\n\n\"Unless they've discovered a miracle cure, he won't live five more years.\"\n\n\"You only have to avoid him for one. By the time you kill the Iron, you'll have gutted the Jai clan. Then you retreat west, back here, and we'll hide you until the Underlord dies.\"\n\nJai Long searched for words, but none came. At best, he had expected the Sandviper chief to berate him for leaving. He'd even come prepared fora fight.\n\nHe'd never dared to hope that Gokren would break along-standing alliance for him. He was tempted to tell the grieving father to reconsider, that he was risking the future of his sect for personal vengeance.\n\nBut the truth was, Jai Long needed every ally he could get.\n\nThe Sandviper crossed the room and grabbed Jai Long by both shoulders. His grip was painfully tight, his eyes fevered. Jai Long had to suppress the instinct that told him to break the hold and escape.\n\n\"You were a brother to my son,\" Gokren said. \"Your enemies are mine.\"\n\nJai Long's eyes welled up, but he pressed fists together and bowed.\n\nGokren squeezed his arms one more time and then released. \"Unless they've fled already, some of those enemies are right herein camp. Let's see if you can't test out that new spear.\"\n\nHe threw the stable doors wide open, and the Sandvipers at the entrance straightened in respect. These were the veterans of their sect, the oldest and most loyal warriors. Kral's death would stain them all. They simmered with suppressed anger, eager fora chance to vent their pain and shame."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We march with Jai Long against his clan,\" Gokren announced, tearing one of his short spears free. \"Sandvipers! We hunt.\"\n\nJai Long was prepared for hateful looks cast his way, for words of hesitation and blame, for the Sandvipers to turn their anger on him.\n\nOnce again, he saw how deeply he had misunderstood his allies.\n\nThey roared in agreement with their leader's words, their sandviper Goldsigns shrieking to the heavens. They clapped him on the back as they passed him, whispered words of encouragement, or pressed their foreheads against his for an instant before rushing off to battle. Not an instant of hesitation, not a word of blame.\n\nWith anew family at his side, Jai Long marched to destroy his old one.\n\n---\n\nLindon had to spend one more night in the woods, scripting their camp against Remnants and dreadbeasts and curling up in a crude tent only yards away from Fisher Gesha's. After the day's attack, he had woken with every cracking twig and gust of wind, groping for his launcher construct.\n\nBut dawn broke without event, so he and Gesha returned to the Five Factions Alliance camp with the rising sun. He read as they walked, committing simple scripts to memory.\n\n\"Put that away and listen tome,\" Gesha ordered as they approached the camp walls. \"You are no longer a Copper with one friend and no enemies. You should learn to conduct yourself as a member of a great family, hm?\"\n\nLindon opened his pack and slid Soulsmithing for Coppers inside, resting it beside the Sylvan Riverseed's glass case. \"I await your instruction.\"\n\nHer mouth tightened and guilt flashed across her face. \"I did not teach you well before Eithan Arelius took you in.\" He started to disagree-a polite fiction, because she really had been a terrible teacher before the past few days-but she cut him off. \"It's true, and I'm not afraid of the truth. You were never my disciple before the Underlord picked you up, no matter what I told you. But I could never treat a member of the Arelius family so disrespectfully as to ignore them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Gratitude."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Your instruction is appreciated, but I have no voice in the Arelius family. Nothing you say tome will reflect on them.\"\n\nThat wasn't entirely true, and they both knew it; before he was attached to Eithan Arelius, Gesha could have cut his head off in broad daylight and the passersby would have simply stepped around his bleeding trunk. Now, she'd have to answer to an Underlord.\n\nBut Eithan didn't have time to listen to Lindon's petty complaints. Lindon wasn't some spoiled noble's son with a doting father; in fact, he wouldn't be surprised if the Underlord cast him out of the family on a whim.\n\nGesha sighed. \"This is a lesson for you, as you travel into the wider world. Reputation is a sacred artist's greatest treasure. If the Underlord hears that I have disrespected you, he will take that to mean that I do not respect him. You see? The powerful have no mercy for those who step on their reputations.\"\n\nTheir conversation stopped as they passed through the entrance of the guarded wooden wall and into the Alliance camp, walking down hard-packed dirt roads past buildings that had been hurriedly tossed together from raw lumber and bare stone.\n\nThey had a few moments before they were alone again, so Lindon had sometime to think. Gesha was trying not to say it out loud, but Eithan frightened her. She was terrified that something Lindon said might lead to her execution.\n\nLindon knew that Fisher Gesha was a Highgold who could twist him into a knot without ever touching him, but she was still a four-foot-tall old woman who could have been his grandmother. His heart softened when he saw her careful and afraid. \"I won't carry news back to him, I swear it,\" Lindon said. \"He won't hear anything from me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She gave him a grateful look, clearly relieved that she hadn't had to spell it out. Then she gave a brief chuckle. \"He's an Arelius,\" she said dryly. \"If the rumors are true, then he'll hear about it regardless.\"\n\nLindon laughed along, but she seemed half-serious.\n\nThat made him consider her fears again. If Eithan was really that dangerous, maybe he should reconsider accepting his invitation.\n\nThen again, this could be the one area where he had more experience than Fisher Gesha.\n\nEithan maybe an Underlord, with a level of power Lindon could scarcely imagine, but he'd seen Suriel with his own eyes. He wasn't sure how far she ranked above an Underlord, but he was certain Eithan couldn't hold a candle to her.\n\n\"He hasn't descended from the heavens,\" Lindon said, smiling slightly. \"He can't see everything.\"\n\n\"Not everything,\" Eithan said.\n\nLindon stumbled back, bumping into a wooden wall at the side of the street. More gracefully, Fisher Gesha hopped down from her spider-construct and sunk to her knees, pressing her forehead against the ground.\n\nAll around them, sacred artists of all ages dropped to the dirt as well. At first, only a few had caught sight of Eithan, but more and more people noticed. In only a breath, the sparse crowd of perhaps two dozen people had all fallen to their knees with heads bowed. Only Lindon and Eithan remained standing.\n\nThis was the Fisher section of the Alliance encampment, so most of the people were Fishers or their allies, but it was still disturbing to see all these people recognize Eithan on sight. Only a few days ago, Eithan had pushed through a bustling crowd a hundred times this size without interruption."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "For his part, Eithan stood in the center of the road as though he'd waited there all along, though he certainly hadn't been there a moment before."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His yellow hair fell past his shoulders, and his smile was broad and cheery. He kept his eyes on Lindon and Gesha, as though the strangers didn't exist. Today, he wore a teal outer robe embroidered with golden fish leaping and playing among the waves.\n\n\"Your unworthy servant greets the Underlord,\" Gesha said, and there was a murmur of agreement through the crowd.\n\n\"Underlord,\" Lindon said, hurriedly sketching a bow of his own. \"Forgive me, I was... startled.\"\n\nEithan brushed that away with a gesture. \"There will be no forgiveness. To the blood pits with you!\"\n\nGesha trembled on her knees, and Lindon laughed awkwardly.\n\nThe Underlord looked at them, gauging their reactions, and eventually shrugged. \"Not every joke is appreciated in its time. Tell me, Soulsmith Gesha, would you mind if I borrowed my little brother here? Feel free to say no, although of course I will have your corpse mounted on a flagpole for the slightest defiance.\"\n\n\"The will of the Underlord be done,\" Gesha said from the ground, her face still in the dirt. Her shaking had grown more noticeable.\n\nNone of the strangers dared to make a single sound.\n\nLindon passed a handover his face. With lowered voice, he said, \"Please, Underlord.\"\n\nEithan's eyes widened. \"Am Ito be condemned because she takes things too... no, fine, all right.\" He knelt at Fisher Gesha's side and spoke in a much gentler voice. \"I beg your pardon, Soulsmith. Please rise and address me face-to-face.\" He raised his voice. \"All of you, on your feet and on your way.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With the speed of Gold sacred artists, the crowd vanished. It was as though the breeze had blown them all away.\n\nGesha rose, but she did not face him.\n\n\"On my word as an Underlord, you will not be punished for anything you say here or have said today,\" Eithan said impatiently. \"Now follow my instructions, Highgold.\"\n\nFinally she let out a breath and met his eyes. \"Thank you for your mercy, honored Underlord. Tell me how I might serve you.\"\n\nEithan looked to Lindon. \"You see how much faster it is when I just tell them what to do? It's infuriating. I don't want to phrase everything as a command for the rest of my life.\"\n\n\"It sounds hard on you, Underlord,\" Lindon said carefully.\n\n\"Yes, the endless subservience and instant obedience wear on me. But if you call me anything other than \"Eithan\" again, I'll have you sleep in a cave full of bats.\" He stroked his chin fora moment, considering. \"You could call me'brother' instead, if you preferred. Yes, that would be-\"\n\n\"Thank you, Eithan,\" Lindon cut in.\n\n\"Hmmm. Well, as I was saying: Fisher Gesha, I must borrow your pupil for an hour or six. I'll return him to you in one or more pieces.\"\n\n\"As you will, Underlord.\"\n\n\"And I had something to ask you as well.\" Eithan drew himself up and addressed the old Soulsmith with full authority. \"You will not be punished for any decision you make here, on my word and the honor of my family. We depart for one of my homes in the Empire very soon, perhaps today. I would be honored to have you accompany Lindon as his Soulsmith tutor, but you are free to decline and stay with your sect. There will be no repercussions of any-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I decline,\" Gesha said instantly. She didn't even look at Lindon. He hadn't expected any different, but it still stung.\n\nEithan clapped his hands. \"A firm decision! Wonderful. Then, good-bye!\"\n\nHe extended an arm to shepherd Lindon and turned as though to continue walking down the road, but Gesha had already scurried away. A wooden door slammed shut; Lindon wondered if she'd escaped into a random nearby building.\n\n\"Fora woman her age, she really is spry. Good for her. Not everyone keeps up with their physical exercises as they get older, and a healthy spirit lives in a healthy body.\"\n\nLindon adjusted his pack, hitching it upon his shoulders. \"I'd like a chance to bathe before I continue my training, if you don't mind. I've been in the forest for three days, and water is scarce.\"\n\nEithan turned to him with an expression of obvious disappointment. \"Do you think you'll be able to defeat a Truegold in a year with such halfhearted resolve? How much valuable training time do you plan to waste on baths?\"\n\nLindon bowed hurriedly. \"Forgiveness, please, I spoke out of turn.\"\n\n\"No, I was pulling your strings again. But you really shouldn't waste soap on yourself yet, you filthy mud-caked animal. After a day of this training, you'll be covered in sweat. And probably some blood.\"\n\nEithan considered for another moment as they walked. \"In fact, it would be best to expect the blood.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eithan led him all the way across the territory of the Five Factions Alliance, the ramshackle encampment that had sprouted up after the Transcendent Ruins rose from the ground. The cobbled-together buildings of stone and lumber leaned up against the base of the Ruins like roots at the foot of a great tree.\n\nLindon hadn't been back inside since Eithan had rescued him from Jai Long's wrath. He fervently wished never to go back; fifteen days trapped in darkness was enough fora lifetime.\n\nThe pyramid dwarfed everything else for miles around, like a mountain made of stacked blocks. Its bottom tier took up more space than the rest of the encampment, and its top tier scraped the clouds. Now that the Soulsmith foundry at the top was open, the scripts powering the Ruin had settled into equilibrium. They no longer had to draw vital aura from miles around; instead, it relied on a steady trickle from its immediate surroundings.\n\nIn Lindon's Copper sight, each block of the pyramid looked like a softly yellow-glowing cube of golden lightning. That would be the earth aura in the stone itself; the same power that ran through the ground beneath his feet, just far more concentrated. Whenever he looked down into the earth, he had the dizzying sensation of staring into a yellow ocean filled with glowing, crackling bolts.\n\nAura empowered the entire world with strokes of color: the wind blew hazy green, the sun's rays were a gold richer than the earth, and the broad lake next to the pyramid shone with vivid blue-green ripples. Each person was amass of color with vibrant green and bloody red predominating.\n\nIt was like staring into a world of fractured rainbows.\n\nLindon had to close off his senses before his head began to throb. Focusing on any aura gave him information about that aura's aspect, so opening his aura sight was like staring into the sun and reading a hundred books at the same time. A headache followed in seconds."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The thousands of sacred artists who had gathered to explore the benefits of the Ruins had started to drift away as soon as the pyramid stopped drawing in aura."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now, only three days later, half of these newly built buildings were abandoned. The dirt paths leading allover the Alliance encampment were all but empty, not choked with traffic as they had been only half a week before.\n\nBut news had already traveled fast. Everyone they spotted on the road bowed at the sight of Eithan, murmuring respect as he passed. Usually seconds before scurrying out of their way, lest the Underlord become displeased.\n\nEithan continued to ignore everyone, chatting with Lindon and occasionally stopping to sweep dust from a windowsill or snip a branch from a bush with the black iron scissors he seemed to carry everywhere. He never glanced at anyone else, whether they bowed or not, and many of the strangers looked relieved by that fact.\n\nLindon knew better.\n\nEithan didn't look at them because he didn't need to.\n\nThey finally arrived at the end of Fisher territory, amid a collection of wooden buildings that looked as though they had been builtin a day and abandoned just as quickly. A bucket of nails rested on a half-finished fence, and a hand plane sat abandoned in the grass.\n\nEithan gestured to the biggest building, which smelled of fresh-cut wood and satin abed of sawdust and wood chips. \"Behold,\" he said, \"your new training hall! The crew started and finished it last night.\"\n\nIt was a barn. Fisher Gesha's foundry looked almost exactly the same, except this one was unpainted.\n\nWhy was Eithan having new buildings constructed? Weren't they leaving soon?\n\n\"I'm eager to see what's inside,\" Lindon said diplomatically.\n\n\"Are you? That's strange. I designed it to look as uninteresting as possible.\" Eithan swept up the plane and the bucket of nails, placing them next to a pile of other tools. \"I'm sure Yerin's reaction was much more entertaining.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon resisted the urge to apologize, instead approaching the barn.\n\nThere was an average-sized door on the side, obviously made for foot traffic, and broad doors in the middle designed for livestock. Although if it was built only a day ago as a training hall, why would there be animals here at all?\n\nAfter a second's indecision, Lindon hitched up his pack and hauled with both hands on the livestock door.\n\nYerin sat inside, legs crossed, with a white-bladed sword across her knees. She was roughly Lindon's age, about sixteen, but while Lindon had been raised among the comforts of civilization, Yerin looked like she'd grownup in a never-ending knife fight.\n\nBlades had left their tracks in the pale scars on her face and hands, in the tattered edges of her coal-black sacred artist's robe. She cut her hair with her sword madra, so it ended in absolutely straight lines across her eyes and above her shoulders.\n\nThe rope tied around her waist was the red of spilled blood, but Lindon couldn't bear to look directly at it. There was something alive about that belt, as though it could slither away at any moment.\n\nHer Goldsign grew from behind her shoulder, a silver arm ending in a blade like a scorpion's stinger. Even seated on the floor in a cycling position, she looked deadly, as though she were poised to dive back into a battle.\n\nShe nodded a greeting to Lindon, but addressed Eithan. \"Daylight's wasting. Am I going back to cycling, or are we going to start hitting these guys?\"\n\nShe jerked a thumb behind her, and Lindon took a glance over her shoulder. Except for the beams supporting the roof, the barn was wide open from wall to wall. And filling that space was a circle of eighteen wooden dummies."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They were only crude outlines of men: rough shapes of ahead and torso, with boards sticking out like arms."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had no legs, only a single pole driven through the floorboards beneath them.\n\nBut what drew Lindon's attention, and made him walk forward fora closer look, were the runes carved into those boards. The dummies had been arranged all around a script-circle the size of the barn, and it was one of the most intricate circles he'd ever seen. There were two lines of script circling the dummies, one on the inside and one on the outside, and the runes were packed small and tight; each symbol was only the size of his thumb. He picked out a rune he recognized here and there, but a circle like this was far beyond him.\n\nA second circle, much smaller, overlapped at the far end of the barn. It was only big enough fora single person to stand inside, and a wooden podium rested in the center. Lindon guessed that those were the controls.\n\nEithan put his hands on his hips and looked over the eighteen dummies with the smile of a proud father. \"Six Soulsmiths worked alongside the carpenters all night for this, and I have to say, I think they did a wonderful job.\"\n\nLindon could tell that the runes had been carved quickly, but he was still having trouble accepting that this had been done in one night.\n\n\"This is a traditional training method from my homeland,\" Eithan said, walking over to standby one of the dummies. \"I've seen similar setups elsewhere, but I'm partial to this design. Yerin, did your master ever take you through one of these?\"\n\n\"Master wouldn't let me draw my sword on a wooden man,\" Yerin said with a shrug. \"If it didn't bleed, it wasn't good enough training.\"\n\n\"I suspect that, in a few years, you'll have drawn enough blood to satisfy even your master. No need to start too early.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yerin looked pleased by the compliment, but Lindon was wondering what exactly the Underlord had planned for them over the next few years.\n\nEithan moved on. \"These dummies are more than wood, you see. They are moved by small constructs inside, and are used to practice basic steps in combat.\"\n\nYerin's face fell, her disappointment clear. Lindon perked up.\n\nShe might not need such simple instruction, but Lindon was looking forward to his turn in the circle of wooden men. He was lacking in many areas, and hand-to-hand combat was one of them. As an Unsouled, he had been encouraged to practice the simple exercises of the Wei clan, but never trained fora real fight.\n\nEithan strode over to the podium at the center of the control circle, pointing a finger at Yerin while moving his other handover the podium. \"I know how you feel, but be patient. I'm making a point.\"\n\nThe air between Eithan's hand and the podium rippled. The smaller circle around Eithan lit up white, then the light flowed into the bigger circle. Soon, the entire barn was lit with pale runelight.\n\nSuddenly, one of the wooden dummies spun on its axis. A previously invisible circle of runes lit upon its left arm-green-then in its lower torso-blue-then on its face-white. The lights faded away in seconds.\n\n\"Hit the circles as they light up. Simple, isn't it? If you do it correctly, and your strikes carry enough madra, the circles will stay lit instead of dying out. When all three circles on all the dummies remain active at the same time, you have won.\"\n\nAir rippled between his hand and the controls again, and a deafening chime sounded from all the dummies at once. They each spun in place, and the three circles on their bodies continued to shine instead of dying out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eithan stepped away from the controls, though the circles in the floorboards remained lit.\n\nThe dummies stayed bright fora handful of seconds, their three rings shining, before finally going dark.\n\n\"Yerin, if you wouldn't mind demonstrating for Lindon how the system works, I'd like to see you defeat the dummies. As quickly as possible, please.\"\n\nYerin stepped between two of the mannequins, tucking her sword-arm closer to her shoulder so it didn't catch on a wooden head. \"I just have to hit them when they light up?\"\n\n\"In the correct timing. If you miss one, the target will go dark again, and you'll have to start over.\"\n\nShe nodded, approaching a dummy. \"How do I start?\"\n\nWhen she stepped closer, a green circle of runes lit on the wooden plank it used as an arm. Before Lindon had fully registered the light, Yerin had already struck it dead-center. The arm swiveled back from the force...\n\n... and the other arm came to life, swinging at the back of her head.\n\nShe caught the blow with her left hand, striking at the dummy's torso with her right in the instant the blue circle appeared. The wooden man bowed in the middle to deliver a headbutt, but she sidestepped as though she could see it coming, her sword-arm whipping forward to strike the white circle.\n\nBefore the chime sounded, signaling that she'd beaten the first dummy, she was already stepping up to the second.\n\nIf Lindon hadn't attained the Iron body, he wouldn't be able to catch her movements. The three strikes would have looked like one motion. He'd seen his clansmen punch through walls and dodge arrows, but he'd never seen anyone move so quickly, so easily."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not up close, anyway. He'd watched Yerin fight before, but when she was in an actual battle, her movement seemed... rougher. More natural, somehow. This was smooth and practiced, like she was executing a routine for the hundredth time.\n\n\"This is her first try?\" Lindon asked, as Yerin stopped a separate strike with each hand while delivering a kick that lit up a green circle. She'd taken down three dummies already.\n\n\"This much is expected,\" Eithan said, examining his fingernails. \"Jai Long could clear this course with his eyes closed.\"\n\nLindon slipped his hand into the pocket where Suriel's marble rested-a transparent orb about the size of his thumbnail with a single blue candleflame burning within. Its warmth comforted him, reassured him.\n\nEithan flashed him a smile. \"Don't worry,\" he said. \"The heavens are on your side.\"\n\nLindon started. Did Eithan know about Suriel? Lindon wasn't particularly afraid of the story getting out, since no one would believe it anyway, but how had Eithan found out? Had Yerin told him?\n\nCould the Underlord read minds?\n\n\"... because the heavens sent you tome,\" Eithan went on. \"That's nothing if not a miracle.\"\n\nSlowly, Lindon let out a breath.\n\nThe eighteenth chime sounded, and all the dummies glowed softly. Yerin slid backwards and came to a stop in the center, her breathing a little ragged.\n\n\"Fifteen seconds,\" Eithan announced. \"Not bad for your first time. The dummies are set to delay you more than injure you, but after a week or two, you'll go through this like wind through a forest.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, martial arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Blackflame\nChapter: 7"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon leaned on a wooden dummy to prop himself up, catching his breath and staring at the door as though it might open and drag him out into open air.\n\nWood creaked, and he turned to seethe backdoor swinging open. Eithan stuck his head in, smiling.\n\n\"A good morning to you!\" he said cheerily. \"Come join us for breakfast.\"\n\nLindon took a deep breath before answering. \"You didn't leave me.\" He closed his eyes and took another breath. \"This one thanks you, honored Underlord.\"\n\n\"I kept an eye on you after I left. I could tell you'd made up your mind, so when you didn't make it on time, I decided to drag you along.\"\n\nFollowing the Underlord, Lindon pushed open the backdoor of the flying barn. It swung open into bright lights and furious wind, but there was another door only afoot or two away. This door was painted dark blue, with a black crescent at eye level, and the frame was all white. The colors of the Arelius family.\n\nBetween him and the door was a stretch of dense blue cloud. To the left and right, he saw nothing but endless sky and white fluff. Beneath him, a soft blue carpet.\n\nLindon hesitated, but Eithan didn't. He was already striding across the cloud with full confidence, his steps pressing down as though he walked across a mattress.\n\nIt's a Thousand-Mile Cloud, Lindon reassured himself, just... bigger. Big enough to carry two buildings.\n\nIf he'd needed an illustration of the Arelius family's wealth and power, this would do.\n\nEithan held the door for him as Lindon fought the wind to enter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He stepped into a cozy sitting room, all decorated in Arelius colors. Dark blue chairs and couches were arranged into a half-circle around a fireplace of black metal. A spiral staircase led up to a second story, and a pair of tall, arched windows spilled sunlight into the whole space.\n\nThrough an open doorway against the other wall, Lindon saw into a second room, this one surrounded entirely in glass that looked out over the clouds. Cassias stood in the glass room over a podium that looked like the control panel for the training course. As Lindon watched, he spread his hand and injected a pulse of madra speckled with silver. Circles lit up one after another on the polished board.\n\nThe house veered to the right, cutting through the clouds like a ship through waves.\n\nYerin had her legs crossed on one fluffy chair, her hands on her knees and breathing measured. When Lindon crossed the doorway, she cracked her eyes open and gave him a little smile.\n\n\"Sharp decision,\" she said.\n\n\"I fell asleep.\"\n\nEithan hopped over the polished wooden counter that separated the rest of the room from a wall of brightly colored bottles, then started fixing himself a drink. \"This is Sky's Mercy, the personal cloudship of the family's Patriarch. It serves us as a mobile base when we need to take our business outside of the usual territory.\"\n\nCassias didn't turn from his controls, shouting over his shoulder to Lindon. \"We stay as high as we can, for the sake of stealth. Sometimes we must fly lower, when there are dangers in the skies or the vital aura runs low. That's when we risk being spotted.\"\n\nLindon took a few more seconds to process the sea of gleaming clouds outside the windows. \"The Cloud Hammer School spotted you, then?\" They were the ones who had first spread the word of the Arelius family's coming."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I passed through a group of their disciples cycling up here,\" Cassias responded."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm sure they intended no harm, but there's no such thing as a secret.\"\n\nThe floor rose and dipped slowly, as though the cloud breathed beneath them. At the bar, Eithan was pouring two bottles into a third. He didn't spill a drop.\n\nLindon turned to the Underlord, imagination wrestling with the possibilities of flying buildings. \"You lifted the entire barn off the ground?\" If the family could build this, he could only imagine what other treasures they were hiding.\n\n\"I dropped quite a few scales for the Fisher to build that training facility,\" Eithan said, flipping the bottles into the air and catching all three. \"It would be a waste to just leave it behind. We had to expand the cloud base a bit, but it's well within acceptable limits.\"\n\n\"Not well within,\" Cassias responded, but Eithan pointed to the top of the staircase.\n\n\"And look who else came with us! Fisher Gesha, how are you feeling?\"\n\nA few hairs had come loose from the old woman's bun, her wrinkled face looked pale, and she rested heavily on the bannister, which was shaped like a serpentine dragon's head. She didn't look as though she had the strength to walk down the stairs, but she was standing on her drudge. The eight long spider legs dragged her down the stairs smoothly, as though she were gliding down.\n\n\"I apologize for showing you this sight, Underlord,\" she panted. When she saw Lindon staring, a drop of acid entered her voice, and she snapped, \"Can't stand boats, can I? I stay off the water, thank you very much, and sailing on the clouds is just the same assailing anywhere. Hm? You have something to say?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lindon leaned closer to her, more concerned about her presence than her tone."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fisher Gesha, did you... choose to come along?\" He didn't want to say too much, because Cassias and Eithan could hear him perfectly well, but he could too-easily picture Eithan snatching up the Soulsmith on a whim.\n\nShe studied him fora moment, then reached up and patted his cheek. \"I must look like a disaster, to have an Iron worry about me. No, the Underlord told me to think about it, didn't he? Well, I did. I've lived my life among the Fishers, and it's been along life. It's about time I seethe wider world, perhaps bring something back, hm? A little knowledge, perhaps.\"\n\nOne of the spider legs reached up to poke Lindon in the stomach. \"And I can't leave a half-grown cub to stumble around in the wild on its own, can I? No, I can't.\"\n\nLindon's throat tightened, and he blinked rapidly. She had stayed with him. He bowed as deeply as he could without going to his knees. \"Thank you, Fisher Gesha.\"\n\nShe stayed silent.\n\nWhen he finally raised his head, she was gone.\n\nOne of the tall windows had swung open on its hinges, and Gesha dangled half-outwith her head in the rushing wind. She retched, the spider legs stretched out as far as they would go to keep her tall enough to reach the window.\n\nEithan was sipping something from a shallow bowl. \"It can take a few days to adjust, if you have a tender stomach,\" he said. \"But we'll have plenty of time together. It will take a month to reach our destination, which we will put to good use.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Yerin woke from her cycling meditation again, cracking her eyes."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You finally bothering to teach us?\"\n\nEithan hopped up to sit on the bar, taking another drink from his bowl. \"The question is, are you ready for me to teach you?\" He let that hang fora second as he took another sip, then added, \"And the answer is no, you're not ready, so I'm going to spend this month trying to prepare you.\"\n\nHe nodded to Yerin. \"First, I'd like you to take turns on the training course. Yerin, you will try to beat your previous time...\"\n\nShe rose from her seat, ready to try immediately.\n\n\"... using only your Goldsign.\"\n\nThe bladed metal arm hanging over her shoulder twitched. She turned to stare at him in disbelief. \"I'd have a better chance of clearing it with my bright smile and winning personality.\"\n\nEithan turned to Lindon. \"And Lindon-\"\n\n\"Oy. Hey. Don't ignore me.\"\n\n\"I at least expect you to clear all eighteen dummies after a month. Don't worry about your time, for now. While you're working on that, you can bring your second core up to Iron, and brush upon your Soulsmithing. Fisher?\"\n\nGesha leaned back inside, shutting the window with one hand and dabbing at her mouth with a cloth in the other. When she spoke, her voice had an extra rasp. \"You should be able to identify all the properties of the seven basic aspects of Forged madra, as well as their combinations. I have the books with me.\"\n\nYerin slapped the flat edge of her bladed Goldsign against the wooden bar. \"You want me to fight with this thing? Why don't I just tie a knife to the end of a string and use that?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eithan studied her over the rim of his bowl. \"You think, perhaps, that I don't know what it takes to reach Highgold?\"\n\n\"No, that's not...\" Yerin's ears started turning red. \"I'm the last one who would...\"\n\n\"You think you know better than I do which exercises will allow you to integrate your Remnant's skills and abilities into your own? If your master left you a more complete training regimen for you to follow after Lowgold, then by all means use that.\"\n\nYerin's ears had turned bright red. \"I didn't aim to say that, Underlord.\"\n\n\"Hmm.\" He smiled. \"You're young, and I'm unaccustomed to explaining myself. I'll try to be clearer in the future, but do as I tell you.\"\n\nShe kept her eyes on the floor, tilted away from Lindon, but she nodded. \"It's not so far apart from what my master used to have me do.\"\n\n\"The only difference,\" Eithan said, \"is that you trusted him. Trust comes with time. And during that time, you will clear that course with your Goldsign or I'll tie you to a string and drag you behind the house like a kite.\"\n\nShe straightened and marched for the door.\n\nLindon started to follow her, but Eithan stopped him. \"Before you do your morning cycling, take...\" – he reached behind the bar with one hand, balancing his bowl in the other, and rummaged around in a drawer-\"Aha! Take this.\" Eithan tossed Lindon a pill the size of his knuckle. It was smooth, with swirls of blue and white mingled together. \"Behold, the Four Corners Rotation Pill.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yerin stopped with her hand on the door.\n\n\"It's a pill to make your madra easier to cycle, and it should help you raise your second core to Iron fairly quickly.\"\n\nLindon itched to write the name of the pill down in his notes. He had to record every step of his advancement in The Path of Twin Stars manual. Which brought him a moment of panic, as he realized he didn't have his pack with him.\n\nHe let out a breath of relief as he spotted his pack-with the manual inside-leaning up against the wall. A polished wood-and-jade chest leaked wisps of red from the closed lid, so he assumed his Thousand-Mile Cloud was inside.\n\n\"Use the pill together with your parasite ring,\" Eithan said, pouring himself another drink. \"The effects should complement one another, so that it feels like cycling normally, but you'll see twice the benefit. By the time we land, I hope to be able to take you straight to Jade.\"\n\nLindon cradled the pill in both hands as though it was his key into the heavens. It smelled like honey and rainy days, and the only thing stopping Lindon from popping it into his mouth was his desire not to waste a single second of its effect.\n\nYerin had already turned from the door to look at Eithan. \"How far did that lighten your wallet, would you say?\"\n\nEithan shrugged, but Cassias called back, \"About five thousand scales, the way they measure them out here.\"\n\nFisher Gesha's eyes bulged.\n\n\"Well, that's a gem and a half,\" Yerin said. \"You got one for me?\"\n\nEithan waved that away. \"It's just a fundamental training pill. Lindon will betaking one of these everyday, but I have some more interesting supplements for you. Right now, your best advancement material is your master's Remnant.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yerin grimaced, but accepted it. She would have preferred a pill of her own, Lindon knew, but at least Eithan's reasons were good ones.\n\nLindon could barely pry his eyes away from the Four Corners Rotation Pill. This was worth more than every year's end gift he'd ever gotten from his parents, and he was supposed to take one everyday. Eithan was like an endless treasure box.\n\nCassias stepped away from his controls, walking out of the glass room and toward the Underlord. \"I would urge you to remember what happened when you took over the training of our family Coppers.\"\n\n\"Oh, that's nothing to worry about.\"\n\nCassias turned to Lindon. \"I personally rescued a girl who ran from his training into a place called the Thousand Beast Forest. She survived by hiding from two-headed bears. I found her crouched in a cave, dirty and bleeding, but she begged me to leave her rather than take her back to train.\"\n\nLindon moved his gaze from the pill to Eithan and back. \"That does seem... harsh. Perhaps she may have been pushed a little too hard, don't you think?\"\n\n\"Don't worry, I don't train my students like that anymore,\" Eithan said, holding up a bottle to the light. \"I was far too lenient before. After weeks of my training, that girl should have been fighting those bears. With her fists.\"\n\nYerin shrugged and opened the door. The wind grabbed the tattered edges of her outer robe, making them trail behind her like smoke. Her red rope-belt, tied in abroad bow behind her, was untouched by the wind.\n\n\"If you don't feel like you're going to die when you're training, then you're doing it wrong,\" she said, and stepped outside."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cassias nodded to her back as though acknowledging the point, Eithan laughed, and Fisher Gesha gave an approving grunt.\n\nLindon swallowed his own misgivings, pushing aside the sinking feeling in his stomach. This was the attitude of the strong. He had to focus on that, and not on what he imagined Eithan's training had done to the poor Copper girl.\n\nPopping the blue-and-white pill in his mouth, he followed Yerin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jai Long entered his sister's cabin to find her struggling into a set of sacred artist's robes. She pushed her arm through one sleeve, trembling with effort, and cinched her robe with both hands as though the cloth belt was made of heavy chain.\n\nShe dipped her head when she saw him, though she had to grip her wardrobe to stand upright again.\n\nHe tried to sound cold, but instead his voice came outwith a sigh. \"What are you doing?\"\n\n\"Going... with you.\" She spoke as firmly as she could, but she was looking at the ground, unable to meet his eyes.\n\nEven before the accident, she'd always been shy. And stubborn at inconvenient times.\n\n\"I have four Sandvipers staying behind to take care of you,\" Jai Long said, gently taking her by the shoulder to lead her back to bed. \"You'll have to stay with the Purelake School fora while, in case anyone from the clan comes looking for you.\"\n\nShe remained standing, and he was afraid to put too much pressure on her shoulder. Jai Chen glanced up at him like a guilty puppy.\n\n\"We don't... have to... go,\" she said, each breath drawn with difficulty.\n\nHe couldn't move her without her cooperation, so he folded his arms. \"I've already jumped off the cliff. Six Lowgolds and an elder came to the camp looking for me last night, and none of them left.\"\n\nShe didn't need to know that they'd been looking for him because he'd been killing Jai clansmen in their homes. There were no civilians in the Five Factions Alliance; everyone who had come to the Transcendent Ruins had done so to try and pull profit from the jaws of danger. Those were sacred artists and warriors that he'd killed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Though most of them hadn't died like it.\n\nBut he didn't need to tell his sister exactly how dirty his hands were. That didn't matter; she was staying out of it.\n\n\"We could... go west,\" she suggested hopefully.\n\nHe started to tell her no, but hesitated. She was referring to a legend. In the mountains to the west of the Desolate Wilds, there was supposed to be a hidden valley that occasionally emerged to trade with the outside. The inhabitants were weak, but protected by a curse.\n\nJai Chen had been obsessed with the legend since she was a girl. It seemed ideal to her: a hidden safe place.\n\nIn his experience, there were no safe places. He immediately wondered what terrible dangers lurked in the valley no one entered.\n\nBut even if the valley didn't exist, the mountains were at the very western edge of the Blackflame Empire, and no one had actively controlled that border for fifty years. It was so remote that even maps drawn in his father's day hadn't bothered to include it.\n\nThe lands west of the Wilds were unknown to him, but they certainly wouldn't have a Jai clan.\n\n\"We can hurt the clan if we go east,\" he said. \"We can take revenge for Kral. Do you really want to go west instead?\"\n\nThe day before, he wouldn't have asked her such a question. He wasn't assure of his course as he had been yesterday.\n\nHe had burned to avenge himself on the Jai clan for years, but now that he had the means, he was starting to realize what a monumental task he'd begun. To abandon it now, before he'd gone too far, had a certain appeal.\n\nIf they left, this would end as one minor attack on a branch of the clan. No one would look into it too closely, and in five years, no one would remember he or his sister were ever here."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jai Chen surveyed the floor, clenching her hands together as she thought. Finally, she straightened her back and spoke with resolve.\n\n\"I will... go with you. No... running... away.\"\n\nHe gave her awry smile, though she couldn't see it. \"It will take weeks to get there, and we don't have a cloudship this time. It will be painful, and messy, and you'll hate every inch of the journey.\"\n\n\"If you... hear me... complain,\" she said, \"leave me... behind.\"\n\nOnce she was packed, he carried her outside, where Gokren had a motley collection of flying creatures assembled. Thousand-Mile Clouds, collared Remnants, strange constructs that looked like wide broomsticks, a sacred eagle with feathers like dawn, a hovering leaf wider than a man, a huge levitating cauldron, and two dozen gray-white bats.\n\nSome of the sacred bats had been taken from the Jai clan, but the Sandvipers had a colony of the same breed of bat, and two of their trainers used to work for the Jai clan.\n\nGokren was supervising the collection of mounts and vehicles. He turned, smoothed back his gray hair with one hand, and eyed Jai Chen. After a moment he gestured to a white Thousand-Mile Cloud.\n\n\"Load her up,\" he said, looking up to Jai Long. \"We'll get a canopy rigged to hold off the wind and give her some privacy.\"\n\nJai Long bowed his thanks and settled his sister onto the cloud.\n\nBy the time he'd finished, the sun was setting, and most of the vehicles had gathered a load of packs and bags. Gokren lit his pipe, holding it between his teeth as he pressed the end of a scripted lighter into the bowl."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You could fly me there and return,\" Jai Long said, hating himself with every word. He needed their help; he shouldn't be turning them down. \"You don't have to risk their lives for my revenge.\"\n\nGokren let out a mouthful of smoke. \"I'm not an idiot, son.\" He paused as though he'd said something profound, letting bluish haze drift skyward. \"I don't throw my sect away for nothing.\"\n\nHe took another breath, let it out. \"Old powers like the Jai clan areas traditional as they come. After you hit them, they'll send a Highgold after you. When you beat him, it'll be a group of Highgolds next. Then whichever Truegold ranks the lowest, and only then will the elders start to move.\"\n\nIf it weren't for the Ancestor's Spear, that plan would eventually work. The clan could afford to slowly drown him in sacred artists.\n\nWith the spear, he would feed on whoever they sent. To him, every Jai clan enemy was a treasure chest of scales and elixirs.\n\n\"I won't reach Underlord that way,\" Jai Long said, though Gokren knew that better than he did. If advancing from Gold to the Lord realm was simply a matter of stockpiling power, no one would ever be stuck at Truegold.\n\n\"That's true enough, but I think I can get you there.\" Gokren watched the best of his sect saddling their mounts and preparing to leave their home. \"Took me forty years to reach Truegold. I'll never bean Underlord, not in my lifetime... but I understand somethings. By the time Jai Daishou moves himself, you'll either be Underlord or the next thing to it.\""
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "That was Jai Long's plan, though he had expected it to take years. He had meant to wage along, secret war against the clan, stealing their madra and slowly advancing. Once he could face Jai Daishou as a fellow Underlord, the game would change.\n\nWith Gokren's help, his chances improved dramatically, and his timeline shot up. He might reach the peak of Truegold before the end of the year.\n\n\"It's still a roll of the dice for you,\" Jai Long pointed out. He had to be honest with anyone willing to risk their life for him.\n\nGokren removed his pipe, gazing into the bowl as though it would tell him the future. \"I might be gambling,\" he said, \"but I'd say I'm backing the favorite.\"\n\n---\n\nOn the fourth day after they left, Sky's Mercy had to duck down to the ground to let the constructs recharge. The house landed in an open field, the blue cloud slowly dying away until both Sky's Mercy and the training barn had settled safely onto the grass.\n\nThe barn creaked and moaned as it came to a rest, but the main house remained solid and silent. Lindon was glad he'd taken Cassias\" advice and stayed out of the barn during the landing process, or he would have feared for his life.\n\nThe second they landed, everyone left the cloudship and returned to the wonderful embrace of solid ground.\n\nEithan allowed Gesha and Lindon to look at the scripts and constructs sustaining the giant Thousand-Mile Cloud. It was intriguingly simple. Only one circle on the bottom of the main house to guide levitation, and four pillars-one at each corner-to produce and control the cloud madra. The controls were more complicated than the actual mechanism for flight."
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"value": "But the madra involved...\n\nBoth of Lindon's cores added together would only add up to a normal Iron sacred artist, but compared to his old self, he was a powerhouse. Even so, he couldn't activate any of the scripts involved if he drained all the madra in his body.\n\nThe house drew vital aura from the sky to keep itself powered, but it could only drain so much while in flight. Cassias activated the collection script, and ribbons of white and green aura-visible only in Lindon's Copper sight-streamed into the four pillars of the house. The only script Lindon had ever seen consume more power was the one that had activated the Transcendent Ruins.\n\nLindon had peeked inside earlier, and besides the Forged madra devices that produced the cloud, each pillar held a crystal flask the size of his head. The aura ran inside those crystals, condensing and processing into the madra that powered the cloud.\n\nIt would take three days to fill up the crystals, Cassias said. He had made it to the Desolate Wilds in a month, but that had been carrying one person. Not five people and an extra building.\n\nIf they had to spend three days drawing aura for every three days flying, it would take them twice as long to return.\n\nEithan assured them that he intended to make it back in a month, but they would still spend one day grounded for every three in the air. No one asked him how he planned to recharge their power reserves-he was the Underlord, so he knew what he was doing.\n\nHe spread out a blanket and had a nap in the sun, but the rest of them were expected to spend the day doing chores. Lindon regarded the idea with dread: if he was hauling water or scrubbing floors, then he wasn't training. He wasn't getting any closer to defeating Jai Long."
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"value": "But just because he wasn't practicing sacred arts didn't mean he couldn't improve.\n\nWhen he was sent to fill a man-sized wooden tub with water, and then bring it back to Sky's Mercy to fill up their reservoir, he refused to Enforce himself with madra.\n\nHe didn't know any real Enforcer techniques, but everyone used madra to reinforce their body to some degree. Cycling madra to tired limbs, focusing it to lift something heavy-Lindon had been doing that since he'd learned to walk.\n\nThis time, he kept the madra firmly in his core, relying solely on the strength of his Iron body.\n\nBefore he'd carried the tub downhill for two miles, filled it up with water, and carried it two miles back, he'd never appreciated just how heavy water could be. The tub was big enough that he could bathe in it comfortably, big enough that he looked like an ant carrying a grasshopper carcass as he made his way back. Without his Iron body, he would have collapsed halfway up, even using his madra.\n\nHe arrived red-faced and sweating, limbs shaking, and his breathing disordered. But after ten minutes of letting his Bloodforged Iron body restore his fatigue, he set off again.\n\nThis might not improve his sacred arts, but at least he could build his muscles. \"A healthy spirit lives in a healthy body,\" as his clan used to say.\n\nAfter four trips, the reservoir was full, and Gesha was impatiently waiting on him. They needed dead matter for his Soulsmith practice, so Lindon, Yerin, and Gesha went out to track and kill a wild Remnant.\n\nGesha found her prey within two hours, but Lindon stopped Yerin from killing it. Forcing his trembling hands to be still, he looked down on a giant frog that seemed to be made from blue-green blocks."
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"value": "\"Let me try first,\" he said, affecting a casual tone.\n\nFisher Gesha's eyebrows went up.\n\nYerin put her sword away. \"Scream and bleed when you need help.\"\n\nLindon learned some valuable lessons that day. First, he learned that the Empty Palm blasted a chunk out of Remnants, who were made of solid madra. That would surely come in useful later.\n\nSecond, he saw how strong Remnants were in the outside world.\n\nYerin was true to her word, blasting the frog into a pile of blocky dead matter the second he screamed and bled. She tied the pieces of the spirit's corpse together and dragged the bundle back, while Fisher Gesha carried Lindon.\n\nHis Bloodforged Iron body had restored him enough that he could walk on his own by the time they reached Sky's Mercy, though one of his cores was empty and the other only half-strength.\n\nBack in Sacred Valley, an Iron would be enough to fight anything but a very advanced, intelligent, or strange Remnant. Those were children compared to these.\n\nIn the Transcendent Ruins, he had battled Remnants most everyday for two weeks... but he hadn't battled them, had he? Not really. He had used traps, and script-circles, and ambushes. Even when he'd personally killed a few, he had used weapons, or fought them together with Yerin and Eithan.\n\nNow that he thought of it, this may have been the first Remnant that he'd stood and fought, relying on nothing but his sacred arts. And it had driven a two-inch spike through his calf.\n\nIt showed him how far he had to go. As though he needed another reminder."
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"value": "After they'd brought the Remnant inside, the sun was setting. Eithan finally woke up, stretched, and saw that the stream of aura flowing into the four pillars had slowed to a trickle.\n\nHe opened up one of the columns at the corner of the house, revealing that the green-and-white madra swirling inside the crystal flask had only filled it a third of the way. \"Good enough,\" he said. \"I'm on a schedule.\"\n\nThen he carefully rolled up one gilt-edged sleeve and pressed his hand to the collection script, which gathered up aura and distributed it to the four crystals.\n\nThe script took in the proper aspects of aura automatically, but it could accept virtually any madra. It would take that madra, purify it, and use it to reinforce the existing cloud madra, but the efficiency was terrible.\n\nThanks to Fisher Gesha's tutelage, he could calculate exactly how terrible: cloud madra was the best to fill the flasks, twice as much pure madra would achieve the same result, and any other aspect would take four times as much power to generate the cloud and lift both buildings into the air.\n\nEithan filled all four crystals in seconds. Dark blue clouds popped out of each of the four corners, swelling and lifting both buildings off the ground. The levitation circle on the bottom shone bright, showing that it was at capacity and ready to be used.\n\nThe Underlord shook one hand as though it had fallen asleep and then walked inside.\n\nCassias and Yerin treated this as normal, but Lindon and Fisher Gesha had exchanged astonished-and somewhat fearful-glances before heading in. Gesha had confided in him later that she, a Highgold, would have taken four or five days to fill up the circle."
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"value": "Lindon wondered how long it would be before he could do something like that.\n\nThree days later, Lindon had gained anew appreciation for elixirs.\n\nThe Four Corners Rotation Pill doubled the speed at which he cycled his madra and expanded his core, noticeably speeding his advancement. Unlike the orus fruit or the Starlotus bud, it didn't provide much external power, but the cycling effect alone was invaluable.\n\nWhen he put on his parasite ring, it usually felt like he was hanging weights on his spirit, slowing his cycling but filtering the quality of the madra. With the ring and the pill together, he could cycle at his full normal speed, but his madra would still be filtered. Twice the result for the same effort.\n\nHe brought his second core up to Iron by the seventh day, which was actually something of a disappointment.\n\nHis Copper core had compressed to a brighter, higher-quality core with ease, matching the second ball of pure madra floating in his spirit. He had confided to Yerin that he'd hoped fora second Iron body, but she'd looked at him as though he wished he'd sprouted a third eye.\n\n\"How many bodies do you have? One? Well, there you go, then.\"\n\nEithan had been prepared to give him a pill a day, but thus far it took Lindon two days to process the energy of each pill. Ina week, he'd only used three, with a bit of energy leftover.\n\nStill, that was fifteen thousand scales. He pictured the Sandviper wagon he'd seen stuffed with boxes of scales back in the Desolate Wilds, and wondered if all of those together had added up to fifteen thousand. How many scales had they mined from the Transcendent Ruins everyday? It couldn't be too much more than fifteen thousand, and that was a whole sect of Golds working together."
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"value": "In the training course, he could clear six of the wooden dummies every time before he messed up: he either missed a step and took a blow or ran out of madra in one of his cores.\n\nThat wasn't enough to dampen his enthusiasm, because he was improving. His movements were sharper and faster than they had been the week before, and his madra control was getting better. Every time he struck a target, he had to inject the exact right amount of madra on contact-too little, and the circle wouldn't light up; too much, and the extra energy would be wasted. His Empty Palm was therefore improving by leaps and bounds, as he learned to project his madra more efficiently and precisely.\n\nCassias and Fisher Gesha praised his progress, but he wasn't satisfied. After the first few days, he'd taken to wearing his parasite ring while training.\n\nThe ring was meant to bean aid in cycling to grow his core, not in combat, and it hampered his control over every Empty Palm. It was like trying to practice swordplay with a heavy rock strapped to the end of his blade, and he was tempted to tear the ring off with every strike.\n\nBut when he returned to defeating six dummies consistently, even with the parasite ring on, he finally felt as though he was making real progress.\n\nYerin, in her turns on the course, was frustrated that her progress using only her Goldsign was slower than Lindon's with his entire body. She could only light up four dummies before she was forced to block a blow on her shoulder, or she injected too little madra through the silver limb and a circle failed to light.\n\nShe seemed to feel that she had fallen behind Lindon somehow, even though she had literally tied both of her hands behind her back. And she took out her frustration on him, which he felt was hardly fair. Why was it a mark against him that he was finally a little stronger than her Goldsign?"
},
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"value": "His training as a Soulsmith was still in its infancy, though Fisher Gesha tutored him every night before his evening cycling."
},
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"value": "One night, she spread seven boxes out before him, flipping open their lids and revealing seven different types of Forged madra. They were all indifferent forms-one a liquid, one a sludge, one a collection of irregular chunks like pebbles, one a quivering pile of glass-like shards-and each a different color.\n\n\"These are the seven most common aspects of madra, you see,\" Fisher Gesha said, pointing to each in turn. \"Fire, earth, wind, water, force, blood, and life.\"\n\nHe had studied these aspects before. There were other types of madra that he felt should have been equally common, but these seven were most widespread because they were the easiest types of aura to cultivate. Light aura was everywhere, but it was difficult to convert to madra, and required special techniques to harvest.\n\nThe surge of pride Lindon felt when he heard that had surprised even him. His Wei clan practiced a Path of dreams and light, and now it seemed that might bean impressive combination, even by Gold standards.\n\n\"You will re-Forge each of these aspects into discs,\" Fisher Gesha continued. \"Solid discs, don't just move them into a circle, you hear me? I had a disciple once... troubled girl. Anyway, reshaping madra besides your own is the fundamental skill of a Soulsmith. If you can't do that, you can't do anything. Bring your discs tome, and if I approve them, then we'll try Forging them into needles.\"\n\nBy then, Lindon had grown used to setting extra challenges to push himself, so he decided to skip the discs and dive straight into Forging needles.\n\nOver the next few days, he bent all of his time and effort to the task, eventually succeeding... with six of the seven aspects."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Even water madra could be forced into a solid shape if he focused himself, though it wouldn't stay there, but life... he spent an entire extra day focused on Forging life madra, skipping his training, before he finally gave up and returned to Fisher Gesha in shame.\n\n\"It's impossible,\" she said, eyeing his seventh box. \"Life madra on its own is a liquid, and that's the end of it. Even life Remnants are giant blobs of ooze. I didn't tell you because I wanted you to say you couldn't do it, hm? Thought it might get you to think about your limitations.\"\n\nShe looked over the other six needles, which were supposed to have been simple discs. \"Doesn't seem to have worked, did it?\"\n\nOn the night of their eighth day, he was cycling power into his core, using up the last of the Four Corners Rotation Pill before he snatched a few hours of sleep. He breathed evenly in the pattern Eithan had taught him, building up his power one step at a time and slowly pushing the bounds of his core.\n\nAfter about an hour, he slowly opened his eyes.\n\n... to see Eithan peeking in through a crack in his door.\n\nThe first few times Eithan popped up unexpectedly, Lindon's reactions had been entertaining enough that the Underlord kept trying to catch him off guard.\n\nBut you could get used to anything if it happened often enough.\n\n\"What can I do to serve the Arelius family?\" Lindon asked, rising from his bed. Eithan had done so much for him already, the least he could do in return was ignore the Underlord's... quirks.\n\nEithan kicked the door open and grinned like a child playing a prank. \"Cycle! Now!\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Lindon reasoned that Eithan had also earned a measure of trust, so he dropped to his knees, hands in his lap, and began to cycle. Just as Eithan had shown him in the Transcendent Ruins.\n\nAt first, every breath using this cycling technique had felt like trying to inhale water. But he'd grown soused to it over the following weeks that he rarely had to consciously think his way through the technique anymore.\n\nEithan tapped his fingers together as he waited for Lindon to settle into a cycling rhythm. When Lindon's breathing evened out, Eithan's grin broadened.\n\n\"Now,\" he said, \"close your eyes. I'm going to teach you a trick.\"\n\nI should trust him, Lindon reminded himself. I owe him.\n\nOnce he'd returned to the position he'd held before he was interrupted, Eithan's voice cut in. \"Madra is very responsive to your imagination. It's part of you, just like your thoughts. So as you study more advanced techniques, you'll find that holding a clear mental picture is just as important as moving your madra in certain patterns.\"\n\nThat fit Lindon's experience. Ashe advanced, his madra was easier to visualize, and he was better able to get the power to do what he wanted without forcing it into a pattern.\n\n\"I'm going to teach you a cycling technique. Once you've mastered it, this method will take you to Jade and beyond.\"\n\nLindon leaned forward eagerly, eyes squeezed shut, suddenly afraid to miss a word.\n\n\"This is a technique for processing your madra, not for battle,\" Eithan went on. \"If you try to fight while cycling like this, you might as well tie your ankles together.\""
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"value": "Lindon wondered if he should betaking notes.\n\n\"In your mind, focus on your core. Ah, I mean one core. Pick one.\"\n\nThe core that had reached Iron first was brighter and more solid than the other, so he focused on it, letting the bright blue-white ball fill his vision as the other one fell behind into irrelevance.\n\nAshe breathed, his madra cycled, spinning out from his core to run out to the rest of his body and then swirling back.\n\n\"Your core is made of stone. Picture it as a huge, stone wheel. It's all you can see. It's like a wall of heavy, solid stone.\"\n\nLindon focused on that image, superimposing it over the blue-white sun.\n\n\"Now, as you exhale and cycle madra through your body, the stone grinds away at the edges of your core. It's heavy, and it rolls slowly, pushing your core outward.\"\n\nThat was harder to hold. Madra usually flew out from his core freely, but he had to slow it down, forcing his core to rotate and running power through it a scant inch at a time.\n\nHe felt like he was pushing that stone wheel up a hill with all his strength, all while trying to keep madra from slithering through his grip. If he lost concentration for one second, the strings of madra would escape and the wheel would fallback down, crushing him.\n\nThe effort of moving his madra in such an unnatural pattern caused his channels to strain, as his spirit groaned under the effort. Sweat dripped over his eyelids as he concentrated, and each exhalation was agonizingly slow.\n\n\"Now, when the madra comes back in, spiraling from your limbs to your core, the stone wheel shifts. It slowly rolls back the other way, grinding your core again.\""
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"value": "It was like letting the wheel roll downhill, only to haul it to a stop and pull it backup again. He poured all his madra into the effort, controlling his spirit with every ounce of his concentration.\n\nThere was an instant in the middle where he felt like he was manually stopping his own lungs. He gaped like a fish, his lungs frozen as though the stone wheel sat on his own chest, before he finally got it moving the other way.\n\nEithan waited for him to get himself under control before graciously reminding him that he still had to hold his previous cycling pattern. It took Lindon another half an hour to match the old timing, and by that time his soul felt like he'd pounded it flat. Only minutes of cycling, and he was more exhausted than he would have been after hours of practicing in the dummy course.\n\nBut Eithan wasn't finished.\n\n\"Once you have a grip on that, you want your wheel to spin as slowly as possible without stopping. Breathing in the same pattern, I want to see how slowly you can move your madra, how heavily that wheel turns, how that huge stone wheel is almost stopped and your madra is just crawling along.\n\n\"Then you exhale, and it goes back the other way.\"\n\nOnly two more minutes, and Lindon began to seriously wonder if he was going to pass out. He couldn't wait for Eithan to leave so that he could take areal breath.\n\n\"This technique is called the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel,\" Eithan said, and Lindon felt his weight settle onto the end of the bed. \"It has along and fascinating history.\"\n\nLindon would have cried, but he couldn't spare the breath.\n\n\"I'll spare you the details.\" Lindon almost let out a sigh of relief. \"But to reach Jade, you need to form a spiral in your core. The spinning motion will condense the quality of your madra, increase your receptivity to spiritual forces, speedup madra recovery, help your control... all sorts of benefits. Eventually, the suction force will become strong enough to contain a Remnant.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Though he itched to take notes, Lindon would lose the breathing technique if he so much as opened his eyes. And that would be disrespectful to the Underlord who had gone through the trouble of teaching him a technique.\n\nIf only he would leave.\n\n\"Every Path has their own Jade cycling technique, and it emphasizes certain aspects of the spirit. Some are particularly good at processing aura efficiently, others help you recover your madra in minutes, and soon. It's a deep and varied field. But I selected this technique just for you!\"\n\nLindon tried to thank him, but grunting out a single syllable almost lost him control of the revolving stone wheel.\n\n\"The Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel slowly grinds away at your core's borders, focused entirely on improving your capacity to contain madra. It does what you tried to do by Forging and swallowing your own scales: it uses temporary power to push at the bonds of your core, expanding your ability to permanently store power. But while swallowing scales loses some energy in the Forging process, this keeps the entire cycle contained, so there's no loss. It's also slow, difficult to practice, and you will feel like you're choking and dying.\"\n\nLindon nodded and almost choked.\n\n\"But it works with any madra, including pure. If you fill your second core with another Path, this technique will work for that too. And your Path of Twin Stars breaks one normal-sized core into two smaller cores, so without special elixirs or a technique specifically focused on capacity, you'd never get even one of your cores up to its normal size.\"\n\nLindon finally lost the technique. His madra slipped out of his control, he gasped as though he were coming up for air, and the power he'd been damming up in his core surged through his body. His eyes snapped open, and he jerked to his feet like a puppet with strings pulled."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eithan nodded. \"That can happen.\" He rose, brushing his robe off as though preparing to leave. \"All cycling methods have tradeoffs, so if after a few days you have objections, I can recommend a different technique. But control can be learned, quality can be improved with elixirs, collecting aura only takes patience, and as for recovery... why would you need to recover madra quickly when you have more than you could ever use?\"\n\nLindon was still trying to recover his breath, but he swiped his sleeve across his sweaty forehead and bowed slightly. \"I won't give up, Underlord. I trust your wisdom.\"\n\n\"Underlord isn't my name,\" Eithan said, before pointing to Lindon's pocket. \"You might want to avoid wearing that ring of yours for the time being. This technique is hard enough without hobbling yourself.\" He touched his forehead and nodded. \"Well then. A goodnight to you.\"\n\nThe door shut behind him.\n\nAnd then immediately opened again. Eithan poked his head back in. \"You're going to keep cycling, aren't you? You're not going to slack off while my back is turned?\"\n\n\"Your back is never turned,\" Lindon said, voice dry.\n\n\"And don't forget it.\" Eithan widened his eyes, staring at Lindon intently as he slowly shut the door.\n\nLindon took a few moments to breathe before sitting down on the bed. He had started to picture the stone wheel before he slipped his hand into his pocket and ran into the cold circle of halfsilver.\n\nEithan had said not to use the parasite ring, but Lindon was trying to push himself beyond what his teachers required. Then again, the thought of trying that cycling technique with the additional burden of the ring physically made him shudder. It was like wrapping his lungs in bands of iron."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was pulling his handout of the pocket, leaving the ring behind, when he brushed past another small object: a slightly warm ball of smooth glass.\n\nLindon gripped it in his fist, picturing the steady blue candle flame. Jade wasn't his goal. Jai Long wasn't his goal. Even Underlord wasn't his goal.\n\nIf Eithan could have saved Sacred Valley, then Suriel would have shown him a vision of Eithan. He had to reach further than Eithan thought possible.\n\nHe settled into a cycling position and slipped on his ring."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "When the moon rose on their thirty-second night of traveling, Cassias Arelius walked away from the control board of Sky's Mercy. The script didn't need constant maintenance, but he felt better with someone watching the sky. If a Three-Horned Eagle rose out of the clouds, they would be in trouble without someone close enough and quick enough to steer out of the way.\n\nNot that any Arelius would miss the approach of a threat like that, even with his eyes closed. His web of madra showed him nothing but clouds and empty air fora quarter-mile around them.\n\nAnd the Arelius Underlord was aboard. Even the wind couldn't sneak upon Eithan.\n\n\"Would you like to take the last shift?\" he asked Eithan, who was sprawled out on the couch with a book in hand.\n\nIn less than ten hours, they would arrive at Serpent's Grave. If he could have drained his core dry to push Sky's Mercy any faster, he would have-his wife and son were waiting for him down there. They'd left their home back in the capital to follow him, and then he'd abandoned them for two months to chase down their delinquent Underlord.\n\nThis was his job now, however much it strained him to be away for so long. Eithan was the reason he'd been able to marry Jing in the first place; only an Underlord's word had convinced their families to agree to the match. Even putting up with Eithan for the rest of his life wouldn't be enough to repay that favor.\n\nThough he had taken Cassias' place.\n\nCassias was born to be Patriarch of the Arelius family. He was a direct descendant of the bloodline, his appearance and conduct were impeccable, and from an early age he had impressed everyone with his skill in the sacred arts."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But none of that had been good enough for Jing's family before Eithan took his side."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He'd traded away his position as Patriarch's heir with a smile on his face, but the occasional reminder could still... sting.\n\nEithan yawned and shut the book. \"Nothing but clear sky between us and a safe landing.\"\n\nA web of invisible power stretched throughout Sky's Mercy, bringing Cassias little snippets of information: Fisher Gesha's sheets rustling as she turned, Yerin's eyelids crinkling in a disturbing dream, Lindon's chest rising and falling evenly. There was no privacy when an Arelius was around, but it was polite to act otherwise.\n\nEveryone knew what the Arelius could do, but they didn't know about the limitations. Publicly, the family liked to pretend they had none.\n\nNow that he'd confirmed the outsiders were asleep, Cassias spoke freely. \"They can't hear us. Tell me when we're really close enough for you to guide our landing, please.\"\n\nHe'd known Eithan for six years now, and worked closely with him for most of that time. He could tell when the man was bluffing. Usually.\n\nAnd one of Cassias'first tasks after Eithan's arrival had been to determine the limit of the Underlord's senses.\n\nStretching, Eithan spoke through another yawn. \"My father used to say the First Patriarch could watch over his descendants from another continent. Maybe even from... beyond the grave.\" Eithan waggled his eyebrows up and down.\n\n\"Do you often listen to myths?\" Cassias asked lightly.\n\n\"Yes. That's the secret to reaching Underlord: studying old tales. That, and bladder health.\" Eithan headed to the back, to the side of the bar. \"If you'll excuse me, the house can fly itself fora moment.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cassias was left alone in the central room of Sky's Mercy. It had been his home for the last two months, and over the course of his life he'd spent even longer inside, but he'd grownup expecting it would belong to him.\n\nNow, it was Eithan's. Cassias was only borrowing it.\n\nEverything in life was a trade.\n\nBefore heading upstairs to his own bedroom-there were six aboard Sky's Mercy, as well as the washroom, the bar, a training room, and a silent chamber for cycling-he stopped.\n\nOver the month since departing the Desolate Wilds, he'd built up a certain curiosity. Now that the other three were asleep, and the two children had both left the circle of wooden dummies alone, he had a perfect opportunity to indulge that curiosity.\n\nEithan would know what he was doing, of course, but it was best to operate as though Eithan knew everything. The Underlord could stretch his web to a target miles away, if he was focused on a specific spot, but he saw everything within a hundred yards without even trying.\n\nCassias pushed the door open, took two stepson cloud through the bitter, cutting wind, and entered the repurposed barn.\n\nOnly slanting bars of moonlight cut through the shadows, but Cassias could see all eighteen dummies with his bloodline powers. An arm here, a slice of head there, apiece of a circle, but it was enough for him to fill in the gaps. Ashe moved, strands of his detection web swept through each of the dummies in turn. It was as though he could run his fingertips over everything in the room, slowly gaining a picture.\n\nHe finished in a few seconds, confirming what he'd suspected. Because he knew Eithan was listening, he shook his head and sighed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're not trying to kill him?\"\n\nWhen here-entered Sky's Mercy, he found Eithan standing at the control panel. \"Of course I'm not,\" the Underlord responded. \"When a mother bird pushes a chick from the nest, is she trying to kill her child?\"\n\n\"That's a Lowgold course,\" Cassias said, his tone dry. \"I trained on something similar until only a few years ago.\"\n\n\"It should be similar indeed. I took the plans from your training room back in the main house.\"\n\nCassias cast his web back over to the barn, sweeping his sensations through the dummies. It wasn't as quick or as detailed as it had been when he was standing an arm's length away, but it was still thorough.\n\nWith very little surprise, he realized Eithan was telling the truth: the two courses were virtually identical. It would be a relief if he ever caught the man in a lie instead of a half-truth, bluff, or exaggeration.\n\n\"You're teaching a child to wrestle by locking him in a closet with a wolf,\" Cassias said. His tone straddled the line between polite subordinate and stern caretaker.\n\nHe had gotten to know Lindon over the last few weeks-the boy was earnest, quick, and almost entirely ignorant about the sacred arts. Cassias didn't want to see him hurt.\n\nSomeone had raised him completely disconnected from the real world, and he needed a thorough, solid education. It would take years to prepare him with all the knowledge he needed to face society, especially as a representative of the Arelius family. Their enemies would tear him apart, if he weren't ready.\n\nEithan seemed determined to cram those skills into him in a matter of months. That wouldn't help him or stretch him; it would burn him up like dry tinder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Jai Long is dangerous, even fora Highgold."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Best to start Lindon on something as safe as a wolf, wouldn't you say?\" Eithan was sitting on the control panel, reading his book again as the night sky stretched out the windows behind him. He didn't even bother to face the glass.\n\n\"You really want him to fight against a former Jai clan heir? Still?\" It wasn't technically proper to question the Underlord, not even in private, but Eithan had never been one to lean on propriety. Besides, dealing with him was atrial that would stretch anyone's manners.\n\nEithan flipped a page. \"You've been watching Lindon and Yerin both. What do you think?\"\n\n\"Yerin is a treasure vault,\" Cassias said immediately. \"I can't imagine completing a Lowgold training course using a Goldsign like hers, but she almost has it. Her madra is incredibly stable if she really reached Lowgold only a few months ago, and at this rate she could reach Highgold inside a year. She was born for the sword arts.\"\n\n\"Not just born,\" Eithan said. \"Made. And Lindon?\"\n\n\"He's... talented,\" Cassias said hesitantly. In truth, he didn't know what to make of Lindon's ability. His mind and attitude were admirable enough, but his spirit...\n\nHe had two half-sized cores filled with Iron-quality pure madra, a few very interesting trinkets in his pack that Cassias had respected his privacy enough to ignore, and an Iron body that was far beyond his capacity to support.\n\nHe knew Eithan must have led Lindon to that particular Iron body, but he didn't know why. Lindon having to carry that body was like a child trying to control an Underlord's weapon; they might be able to flail it around a little, but in the end, it would do more damage to them than to anyone else."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He's a mess,\" Eithan said, flipping another page.\n\n\"I wouldn't put it quite like that,\" Cassias said, but he was relieved he hadn't had to spell it out.\n\n\"His Bloodforged Iron body takes too much madra to sustain, and he's weak as it is. No matter how physically resilient he becomes, he's no more than half a sacred artist.\" Eithan looked over his shoulder and showed Cassias a grin. \"Have I hit the mark?\"\n\nCassias lowered his voice. They were still all sleeping, but this was the sort of subject matter that should be discussed discreetly. \"Why train him, then? The branch heads will worship you for bringing home the Sage's apprentice. You don't need a second disciple. And I can name you a dozen sacred artists Lindon's age with twice his skill.\"\n\nEithan hopped down, tossing his book onto the control panel. He walked over and threw an arm across Cassias' shoulder. Then he turned so they were both looking out over the night.\n\n\"Imagine with me, will you?\" Eithan extended his freehand as though presenting a glorious future. \"Imagine if he could restore each of those cores to full size and raise them to Lowgold. With pure madra in one, he'd be a unique resource, and he could still follow a combat Path in the other. That's two full cores, so he could bring out the full capabilities of the Bloodforged body with energy to spare.\"\n\n\"It's a delightful vision,\" Cassias said. \"He would throw the Lowgold rankings into chaos. In tenor fifteen years, he could grow into a pillar of our Arelius family, and follow me and Jing to the top of the Truegolds.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cassias shrugged out of Eithan's arm and turned to look him in the eye."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But he won't be ready in a year. Even if he were, he would be no match for the Jai clan exile.\"\n\nEithan's eyes sparkled. \"But you haven't heard about his second Path.\"\n\nWhen Eithan told him, Cassias was speechless fora moment. After a pause, he forced himself to start breathing. The Underlord was just needling him again, to watch him squirm.\n\n\"Please don't worry me like that,\" he said at last. \"I almost believed you.\"\n\n\"Then you were almost correct.\"\n\nThe horrifying possibilities of Eithan's plan started to creep into Cassias\" mind one by one, but he refused to consider them. \"He's not born of the Blackflame line. He couldn't handle the madra.\"\n\n\"Didn't you wonder why I'd given him atop-grade Bloodforged Iron body?\"\n\n\"But you can't get him the aura though, surely, unless you've tucked a dragon away... in the...\"\n\nHe trailed off. Horror dawned on him as he realized where they were going.\n\nEithan beamed. \"Serpent's Grave. We're heading right into the dragon's mouth, as it were.\"\n\n... that might work.\n\nHeavens help him, but that might actually work.\n\n\"No,\" Cassias said, still refusing to acknowledge the truth. \"The branch heads will never allow it. The Skysworn will never allow it. The Emperor will never allow it!\"\n\n\"There's an old saying about asking forgiveness rather than permission,\" Eithan said, \"but the essence of it is,\"I'm going to do what I want.\"\"\n\nCassias had given up his spot in the family for Eithan. He'd suffered for Eithan's mistakes, taken the heat of the family's anger over Eithan's childish whims, and hauled his family halfway across the Empire to Serpent's Grave... and then left them again, because Eithan had wandered off."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But even he had limits.\n\nHis shouts woke Fisher Gesha. She made it to the top of the stairs to seethe Underlord with a handover Cassias' mouth, stopping him from calling out to Lindon.\n\nCassias hadn't even gotten a chance to draw his sword; Eithan had seen every movement coming, broken his techniques before they formed, broken his stance, and broken the flow of his madra. It had taken him no more effort than scooping up a kitten.\n\nCassias stopped struggling, his shoulders slumped. There was no standing against an Underlord.\n\nAs Lindon and the entire Arelius family would soon realize.\n\n---\n\nIt was their last day before landing in the Blackflame Empire, and Lindon was up early to train. Not earlier than Yerin, who was sitting with legs crossed outside the circle of wooden dummies at dawn, already cycling.\n\nAnd now, this was to be his final attempt at the eighteen-man course before landing in Serpent's Grave. He slipped the parasite ring into his pocket and cycled his madra, standing in front of the first dummy.\n\nHe glanced at Yerin so that she would start counting. She nodded. \"Run it.\"\n\nLindon moved with a speed born of habit, striking at the targets on the right arm, torso, left arm. Without looking, he raised his forearm to block the counterstrike.\n\nHe could hear the bone creak.\n\nThe sudden pain was a flash of lightning down his arm, but he'd already moved to the second dummy. The injury cooled just as quickly, his Bloodforged Iron body drawing his madra directly to fuel his recovery.\n\nIt had been impossible for him to complete the course. Even if he'd executed each step perfectly, every hit that landed on him took too much of his madra. He'd asked if he could stop the drain, and Eithan had looked at him as though he were crazy. \"Can you stop your body from healing? No. That's what bodies do. Yours just does it a little too well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With two Iron cores and three weeks of training under the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel, he could barely, just barely, finish the eighteenth dummy.\n\nThis run went smoothly all the way up to number sixteen, where he placed his foot too wide and didn't have the footing to take the overhead blow. He blocked with both arms crossed, but he was supposed to stay on his feet. This time, thanks to his misstep, he went down to a knee.\n\nHe couldn't allow his last attempt to end in a failure.\n\nLindon slammed the heel of his hand into the dummy's chin, pushing an Empty Palm through the bottom of the circle and into the center. The madra penetrated, even though the hit had been off-center, and the circle glowed.\n\nHe lunged for the next dummy, clearing the last two without incident.\n\nAs soon as the last bell rung and the last light shone, he draped himself over the wooden frame, panting and sweating. Both his cores were weak and empty, and it would take him half an hour to refill them even under the effects of the pill.\n\nBut that wasn't the important part. He looked to Yerin expectantly.\n\n\"Twenty-one, by my count.\" She chuckled at his relief as he sagged off the dummy, collapsing to the floor. \"That's more than nothing. I'd have been proud of that at Iron.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you had a course like this when you were Iron,\" Lindon said, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.\n\n\"No, I had to fight half a dozen starving wolves with a shaving-razor.\" She sighed and moved into the center of the ring. \"You got a count going?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He hesitated. \"Yerin, we're already there. I don't mean to suggest anything...\"\n\n\"Start the count,\" she said, steel in her voice.\n\nHe started counting.\n\nShe leaned into the first dummy, her Goldsign blurring silver. First target green, second target blue, third target white. One-two-three and she was onto the next one. Even with just the bladed arm, she was faster than Lindon.\n\nYerin complained that she couldn't make the Goldsign do what she wanted it to. Over and over she said that, until Lindon was sick of hearing it. To him, she always looked incomplete control.\n\nShe reached the ninth dummy in seven seconds, and this one had a target low in the abdomen-where the core would be, in any sacred artist but Lindon-one in the chest, and one in the center of its head. It was one of Lindon's favorites, because it only moved its arms defensively; it never hit him back.\n\nYerin struck the lowest circle easily, the second a little slow, and her third blow was knocked aside by a wooden hand.\n\nAll the previous eight dummies, which had remained lit until then, dimmed slowly as though the light leaked out of them.\n\nShe stood there panting, glaring at her wooden enemy, and Lindon thought the red rope around her waist had brightened from dark red to the pure crimson of fresh blood.\n\nFinally, she screamed, her Goldsign striking forward and taking the dummy's head.\n\nShe didn't look at Lindon or excuse herself, dropping to the floor right there and beginning to cycle. Her cheeks and throat were flushed with anger, her scars standing out in stark contrast to her redskin.\n\nLindon was already walking to a box in the corner, which was filled with replacement heads. They'd picked up some extra wood on one of their landings, and every time Fisher Gesha said he needed practical experience, he hollowed one out and filled it with the simple scripts and basic constructs the dummies needed to function."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The outer scripts and core constructs of each dummy were all unique, but the heads were the same, which fortunately made them easy to replace.\n\nHe screwed it on-the original wood was lighter than the replacement, and he would need to carve a target circle onto it. He pulled out a short-bladed knife to start, but Eithan threw open the door.\n\n\"Twenty-one seconds is fairly good,\" Eithan said with abroad smile. \"Now, if you'd gotten below twenty seconds, then you'd have done something.\"\n\nLindon bowed, accepting what little compliment there was. After weeks of working with Eithan, he'd started to realize exactly how high the Underlord's standards were. If he used a technique to blow a hole in the moon, Eithan would ask why he hadn't taken care of the sun, too.\n\n\"As for you, Yerin...\" She didn't open her eyes at Eithan's words, apparently still cycling, but Lindon was sure she was listening. He'd gotten to know her better over the last few weeks too.\n\n\"... you're still trying to get your Remnant to guide you. You're making things harder for yourself.\"\n\n\"He's talking tome,\" Yerin said stubbornly, eyes still closed. \"If I could hear him clear, I'd be two stages stronger by now.\"\n\nEithan's smile was filled with pity, as though he looked down on a dying old woman. \"No will of your master remains in the Remnant. You're hearing impressions that echo from his remaining memories.\"\n\n\"It's him, so I'm listening.\"\n\n\"The easiest way to reach Highgold is to breakdown your Remnant for power. You are staring at a feast from afar while wondering why you're so hungry. All other paths to Highgold are-\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Serve as the author's scribe, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, martial arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Blackflame\nChapter: 14"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The five caves dug into the side of the black cliff were each identical. They were just deep enough to provide shelter from the rain-though not the wind-and they were stocked with a single reed mat and blanket each.\n\nYerin took the first one they came across, stabbing her row of swords into the soil outside the cave's mouth so that they would start gathering aura. Lindon had no need to do anything of the sort-the vital aura was thick with the power of Blackflame here. He felt like he would harvest it if he took a deep enough breath.\n\nAfter placing his pack into the cave next to Yerin's, Lindon went into the other three caves and gathered the extra mats and blankets, bringing them back to his cave. Might as well have spares. Then, together, he and Yerin explored their basin.\n\nIt didn't take them long. They were restricted to an alcove against the side of the mountain containing the five caves, a waterfall and pond, and twenty-four dark, thorny bushes with black-veined red berries that burned to the touch.\n\nThe pond and waterfall were warm and tasted of sulfur, but after a short examination, Yerin said the falling water should be safe to drink.\n\nWhile Lindon took his own turn inspecting the water, Yerin nudged him. \"Looks like we won't be alone after all,\" she said, pointing to the cliff wall.\n\nMud-brown crabs the size of dogs clung to the rock, so dark that they almost blended into the black rock. At first he only saw the one she'd pointed out, but his Jade sense weighed on him until he could feel more sets of eyes on him. He looked more closely, and realized that dozens of the crabs were clustered allover the wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As if it had sensed the attention of humans, one of the crabs peeled its legs away and scuttled down the wall, sliding into the pool beneath the waterfall and vanishing.\n\nLindon scooted away from the water.\n\n\"He said we'd find food and water inside,\" Yerin said. \"Guess we have. I'll leave it to you to roast one of them up, when we get hungry.\"\n\n\"Then I'll leave it to you to bring it down, when the time comes,\" Lindon responded. He thought he could capture one, but he couldn't rid himself of a vision of all those dozens of crabs swarming down the cliff at once, crashing into him like a many-legged wave.\n\nWhich made him realize there was no stone to block the cave entrance. He'd have to find away to keep the giant crabs out while he slept.\n\nOnce they had inspected the camp to their satisfaction, they moved back to the red archway.\n\nYerin and Lindon stood side-by-side, looking through. Beyond was a dense forest of smooth pillars, packed close enough together that Lindon could see nothing else between them but shadows. They stretched up to the height of the rocky cliffs above, where they merged with the black stone.\n\nJust on the other side of the archway, between them and the pillars, there were two other objects.\n\nOne, a rectangular slab standing roughly Yerin's height, was etched with writing and pictures too distant to read. The second was a waist-high pedestal holding a gray crystal ball.\n\nLindon had left his pack back in the cave, and now he slid off his parasite ring and put it into his pocket next to Suriel's glass marble. His madra immediately moved more easily with the parasite ring gone, the Blackflame power burning merrily within him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This is the first Trial, I'd guess,\" Yerin said.\n\nLindon nodded to the two characters painted on the archway pillar, above the dragon design: \"Trial One.\"\n\n\"That, or they're playing a sadistic trick onus.\"\n\nThey traded a look and then, together, stepped through the archway. Sure enough, there was a script embedded between the pillars: he could feel it ignite as they stepped forward. Icy power washed over his skin, and then he was through.\n\nHe stood before the stone tablet, which was crammed with diagrams and ancient characters. Lindon examined it fora few long breaths, committing segments to memory and wishing he'd brought paper and ink.\n\nYerin cleared her throat. \"What's it saying to you?\"\n\nLindon scooted over, making room for her at the tablet. He gestured to the outline of a man, filled entirely with intricate loops. \"This looks like the madra pattern for their Enforcer technique.\" He brushed dust from the four characters comprising the name. \"Black... fire... fierce... outer robe?\"\n\n\"That has a nice sound to it, doesn't it? The legendary Black Fire Fierce Outer Robe technique.\"\n\n\"Well, what would you call it?\"\n\nWith a thumb, she rubbed a scar on her chin. \"Couldn't tell you. Can't read a word of it.\"\n\nShe sounded defiant, as though daring him to make a comment about it, but he was immediately ashamed. \"Forgiveness. I was fortunate enough to learn the basic characters of the old language as a child. It's not so different from our language, though it looks much more complicated. You see-\"\n\nHe was about to point out some of those similarities when she interrupted him. \"Doesn't make a lick of difference. Can't read my own name.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon stared at her for too long before realizing how awkward that must be for her, then he shifted his gaze and pretended he'd been examining the stone all along. \"That's... ah, I'm sorry. Did the Sword Sage not...\"\n\n\"Not much writing to be done with a sword,\" she said, in a deliberately casual tone.\n\nIn the Wei clan, everyone learned to read before they learned their first Foundation technique. But it fell to the individual families to teach their children; he'd never considered what it might be like for someone raised outside a family.\n\n\"Well, ah... this section at the top is a simple sequence. It explains the history of the Blackflames.\"\n\nHis fingers brushed the vertical lines of writing, each column separated by pictograms: a dragon flying over a human, then a human standing over a dragon, then a human with a dragon on a leash.\n\n\"When the humans came to this land, the dragons ruled. They burned through all opposition, ignoring all defenses. No one could stand against them. Finally, a... I think this means \"great disaster\"... came to this land from the west, bringing the dragons down from the sky.\"\n\nThat was interesting; Sacred Valley and the Desolate Wilds lay to the west. There were no pictures illustrating the great disaster, to his disappointment.\n\n\"Once they fell, the humans began to learn the sacred arts of the dragons. It helped to even the score, but their understanding was incomplete. While they were still studying the arts, the dragons discovered away to...\"\n\nLindon hesitated. \"It says here they leashed the humans, but it seems to imply that the humans were the ones to benefit. Maybe a deal? A contract.\"\n\nUnderstanding sparked. The first Blackflames, at least, had bound themselves to the dragons just as he had done with Orthos."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Some Paths bind their kids to sacred beasts,\" Yerin said. \"It's like gluing a sword to your hand so you don't drop it, if you ask me.\"\n\nLindon spent a moment wondering if she was trying to insult him before he realized she didn't know. He hadn't seen her since making his contract with Orthos... who was drifting around the mountain as the mood took him. If Lindon wasn't mistaken, Orthos would probably check on him before he finished the Trials.\n\n\"Not to ask too much of you, but if you happen to see a giant, flaming turtle wandering around out here... please don't attack it.\"\n\nYerin stared at him like he'd started babbling nonsense.\n\n\"Well,\" Lindon continued, \"it seems that the remaining dragons linked themselves to the Blackflame ancestors for some reason. With the power of the dragons...\"\n\nHe tapped a picture of a man with a dragon standing over a large crowd of humans, and Yerin nodded. \"Yeah, I can figure that one.\"\n\nThere was a line of text just beneath the story, separated from everything else. These words were engraved more deeply, so the passage of time had hardly touched them.\n\n\"The dragon advances,\" he said aloud.\n\n\"That's along stretch better than'Fierce Robe Burning Fire, ' true?\"\n\n\"It's not a technique name. It looks like their family words, or maybe the philosophy of the Trial.\"\n\nYerin looked bored, so he moved down to the next section.\n\n\"Now it's talking about the Trials, and the language gets harder. The Blackflame ancestors placed three Trials here for the three basic techniques of the Path, that much is clear. This one is the... you know, the Fierce Fire Robe. It's their Enforcer technique. Seems like it burns...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He trailed off.\n\n\"You'd expect fire madra to burn,\" Yerin said.\n\n\"No, that's... ah, it seems to burn away the body of the user.\" He searched his mind for another interpretation, but came up with nothing. That would explain why Eithan thought he needed the Bloodforged Iron body to handle the Path, but he wasn't exactly enthusiastic about burning himself from the inside out.\n\n\"That's a gem for you, isn't it?\" Yerin asked. \"If a technique costs you something, means it must be a good one.\"\n\nLindon grunted noncommittally and gestured to the smoky crystal ball on the pedestal. \"I'm supposed to run the technique through the crystal, and that will activate the Trial. Apologies, but it looks like we can't move on until I'm familiar with it.\"\n\nShe folded her arms. \"I'll wait.\"\n\nHe looked from the madra diagram to her. \"This could take me days.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Yerin tapped a knuckle against the illustration of the madra channels. \"This?\"\n\nThe diagram seemed to require him to make dozens of small directions and adjustments to his madra flow with every breath. To use it without thought in a fight would take him months.\n\n\"I defer to your experience,\" he said, \"but I think three or four days is reasonable.\"\n\nYerin slid her sword around on her belt, then plopped down to the ground. She patted the dirt in front of her. \"I'll be buried and rotten if I let you take days for something that simple. Have a seat, I'll walk you through it.\"\n\nLindon took one final glance at the diagram and then sat with his back to the stone, his knees against Yerin's. Once again, he wished he'd brought paper and ink; tracing the madra pattern would have helped commit it to memory."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Do what I tell you, when I tell you, you hear me?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When Lindon nodded, Yerin straightened her back. \"Close your eyes.\"\n\nHe did so.\n\n\"We're keeping this to a crawl, now. Deep breath in, and picture your madra running like tree roots through your whole body. You inhale, and the roots spread.\"\n\nIt was the same sort of visualization Eithan had mentioned while teaching him the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel. He followed along, and his madra responded with surprising ease.\n\n\"Exhale, and burn it all up. There's afire consuming those roots, you're burning them, and that fire is the fuel that drives you.\"\n\nWhen Lindon focused on the fire, it was as though the Blackflame madra leaped forward like a hungry beast. It spread from his spirit and sunk into his body, but the sensation was painless, just a hot and disturbing tingle as though his muscles were slowly fizzing away to nothing.\n\nHe opened his eyes. \"As expected of the Sword Sage's disciple,\" he said, saluting her with fists pressed together. \"I almost felt it work. A few more tries, and I think... what?\"\n\nShe was wearing a smug smile. \"Almost?\" The silver blade over her shoulder inched forward, leaving a polished steel surface in front of his face. \"Do it with your eyes open this time.\"\n\nIt was harder to picture his madra flow with his eyes open, so this attempt took him longer. But this time he was watching when his madra flared and the tingling sensation washed through his veins.\n\nThe reflection of his face was suddenly blurred by a haze of red-and-black fire.\n\nLindon almost fell backwards.\n\nYerin gestured to him. \"That covers you allover, like burning smoke. It's got a menacing look to it, I'll tell you true. Jai Long will have to bring a diaper to the fight.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He rose to his feet."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How? So quickly?\"\n\nShe drew her sword so that she could reach the stone tablet with its tip, pointing to little symbols next to the madra pattern. Lindon had taken them for reading directions in the ancient script.\n\n\"Can't read a word, but you'd see these pictures on most old Path manuals. I had more talks about cycling theory with my master than we had hot meals.\" She shrugged. \"You're just moving your own spirit around, aren't you? The feeling does you more good than remembering some directions.\"\n\nShe'd left her Goldsign in place as a mirror, so Lindon flared the technique again. This time, he got a clearer look: a thin aura of black and red rose around him in a haze of power. He would be shrouded in Blackflame madra when he used this technique.\n\n\"What does it do?\"\n\n\"Ask your... stone book, there.\" She scratched her nose, then added, \"But I could take a guess. Looks tome like a basic full-body Enforcement. Works different depending on your madra, but basically every Path has something like it. Your body's protected and powered by madra while you use it, until you run out of madra or have to drop it.\"\n\nHe studied the stone, which seemed to agree with her. As far as he could tell. \"If it's so simple, then why did they record it here?\"\n\n\"You're asking me, but who am I supposed to ask? Not every Path has complicated techniques-sometimes they're stone simple, and it's all about how you use them. Or maybe this was the Trial they gave to Copper kids.\"\n\nFrom the tone of the tablet, Lindon doubted this was something so frivolous as a playground for children. And Eithan would never have sent him somewhere easy, he was sure of that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon flared the aura again, trying to see how long the sensation of painless, corrosive heat would last. He couldn't hold it longer than a blink before the technique fell apart; he'd need to work on keeping his madra control steady and predictable. \"It protects me, you say?\"\n\n\"It Enforces you-figure you know what that means by now. But every Path's madra does something different. You'll have to play around with it.\" She hopped up, brushing her knees clean. \"Hit me.\"\n\nHe looked at her sword.\n\n\"Got to tryout your shiny new technique, don't you? Hit me.\"\n\nNot fora moment did Lindon think he'd hurt her. Quite the opposite, in fact: he was worried her counterattack would slice off his arm. \"I will do as you say, then. Excuse me.\"\n\nThe technique flared, and as soon as he felt the heat and saw the black-and-red haze around his body, he kicked off from the dirt. He'd been used to Enforcing himself with pure madra, and he had a sense of how strong his Iron body could be.\n\nWhen he kicked off, it sent a pain flaring in his knees. The ground exploded behind him and wind rushed by his ears as he launched into the air.\n\nLindon had an instant to scream before he slammed face-first into the packed dirt a dozen feet behind Yerin.\n\nDirt ground into his eyes, into his lips, between his teeth. His body slapped down to the earth a second behind his head, and a brief moment passed before he could lift his face enough to spit out a mouthful of dirt.\n\nHe groaned as he rose to his knees. It hadn't hurt as much as he'd expected, as though he'd taken a hit on a suit of armor instead of to his flesh."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Worse was the internal strain. His knees ached and the bottom of his feet felt bruised.\n\nYerin gave a low whistle. \"Well, isn't that a kick in the pants? You always have to get used to anew Enforcer technique, but... bleed me like a pig, it looked like you strapped a couple of lightning bolts to your legs.\"\n\nThat felt about right. His Bloodforged Iron body had already come to life, draining Blackflame madra to heal his strained knees.\n\nIn fact... he hadn't noticed it before, but madra was trickling into every corner of his body for healing. His black-and-red core was already guttering like a spent candle.\n\nHad he really spent his madra so quickly?\n\nAfter a moment of thought, he realized the reason: the Enforcer technique strained his joints and burned away at his muscles, and his body responded by drawing on madra to heal him. He'd drain himself dry in five breaths.\n\n\"What's got your tongue?\" Yerin asked, walking over to him. \"Didn't bite it, did you?\"\n\n\"This Fierce Burning Outer Robe costs me more than I thought.\"\n\n\"First thing, we're not calling it that.\" She chewed on her lip as she thought. \"Burning Cloak,\" she said at last.\n\nHe cast a glance at the stone. \"The \"fierce\" character is core to the reading of the name, and there's a different symbol fora rain cloak than fora sacred artist's outer robe-\"\n\n\"Burning Cloak,\" she said, more firmly. \"That's areal technique name. You want to call it Fierce Burning Clothes on Fire in your own head, that's on your account, but I'll cut you every time you say it out loud.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It will bean honor to use the Burning Cloak technique,\" Lindon said with a little bow.\n\n\"True enough, it will.\" She jumped, casually clearing fifteen feet and landing next to the stone. \"Now, fire up that crystal ball and let's test the edge of this Trial.\"\n\nIf Lindon spent anymore madra, he would be crawling in the dirt instead of fighting. \"Lend me a moment to cycle, if you don't mind.\"\n\nShe gave him awry look, but her scars lent it a sinister, threatening cast. \"I'm not throwing you into a tiger's den, I just want a look at the enemy. We don't like what we see, we backup.\"\n\nShe had a point. The arch hadn't closed when they passed through it, and there was nothing preventing them from heading back to their caves at the first sign of danger.\n\nBesides, he was curious himself. There might be prizes to this Trial beyond simple knowledge.\n\nHe walked over to the crystal ball, cycling the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel to replenish his madra. It strained his spirit and his lungs, and he couldn't tell if it restored anything at all-sure enough, the technique was trash for refilling a core.\n\nLindon rested his hand on the warm, smoky ball that sat on the pedestal. Now that he was close enough, he could see threads of red running through the gray, like the crystals he'd seen in Orthos\" chamber.\n\n\"The tablet says nothing about what we'll face when I start the Trial,\" he warned, but Yerin gave a heavy sigh.\n\n\"Jabber jabber jabber, we're burning time. Light that candle.\"\n\nOne breath in, one out, and a black-and-red nimbus flared around Lindon's entire body."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When the crystal touched that light, it flared red.\n\nBeneath the ground, a script kindled to life.\n\nThough Lindon saw nothing, he could feel it, like a circle of fire ten feet beneath his shoes. He was aware of it in the same way he was aware of his own limbs.\n\nYerin drew her white blade. \"Eyes up.\"\n\n---\n\nCassias followed Eithan, because he had no other choice. The Underlord had seized his Thousand-Mile Cloud, and it was either climb on behind him or be left behind in the tunnel.\n\nAs soon as Cassias set foot on the cloud, Eithan took off, sending the construct straight up and out of the valley. Sheer black walls passed them on either side, but with an Underlord's madra propelling them, they reached the peak in seconds.\n\nThis was really a secondary peak of Shiryu Mountain. The Jai clan main complex occupied the highest peak with the living quarters for the head family and their subordinates. Cassias could see glimpses of their palaces high above and almost a mile away.\n\nSerpent's Grave proper spread out far beneath them, a mound of bones in an ocean of yellow sand. But Eithan didn't take them down; instead, he flew them around this peak, overlooking the valley where the two children would live for the next few weeks.\n\nThere was a temple carved into this peak. Not sitting on top, where it would be visible from miles around, but carved as though to seem part of the stone. Only from the back could you seethe stairs leading up, the braziers resting to either side of the entrance, the polished archway leading into shadows deeper within. From any other angle, this place would be invisible."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Cassias ran webs of Arelius power over the whole place, astonished."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It seemed that this was connected to the Blackflame Trials below, but while the heads of the family had always known about the Trials, Cassias had never even heard rumors of something like this temple.\n\nHow could there be secrets on Arelius grounds?\n\nEithan landed the dark blue cloud at the top of the stairs, hopping out and strolling inside without a word. After taking another few seconds to scan the premises, Cassias followed.\n\nThe room inside the temple was small and almost empty. Light streamed in from the far wall, which was made of glass-it angled slightly downward, which meant it wouldn't gleam and reveal its presence to Lindon and Yerin. A massive script-circle was etched into the glass, taking upmost of the window, and abroad table of gold and ivory spread out beneath it. Dozens of smaller scripts covered the table, which told Cassias it must be a control array of some kind. A cheap wicker chair-obviously a recent addition-gave the person manning the table a place to sit.\n\n\"What is this, Eithan?\" Cassias asked wearily.\n\nEithan turned to face him; Cassias knew it was no accident that he was standing in the very center of the room. \"Familiarize yourself with this room, because it will be your sole responsibility for the next... well, quite awhile.\"\n\nCassias ran strands of detection over the controls, as well as his spiritual perception. \"This course operates independently. It doesn't need controls.\"\n\n\"While that is indeed what we have always told the imperial clan when they used this course to train their students, it is not strictly true.\" He looked so pleased with himself that Cassias already missed the uncertain, vulnerable Eithan from the mountain below."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This-\" Eithan spread his hands to indicate the whole room. \"-is the control center for the Blackflame Trials. The courses will run themselves, but they will not carryout detailed or advanced maneuvers. With supervision and direction, the Blackflame elders could truly test their juniors far below.\"\n\n\"I am to have authority over their training?\" Cassias asked. If it were up to him, neither of the children would be here: the course was too advanced for Yerin alone, and Lindon's presence would only hinder her, if anything.\n\n\"If you would like the authority to decide between making the course slightly more difficult than usual or truly sadistic, then yes. That is entirely within your power.\"\n\nCassias continued scanning the control circles. \"And if I wanted to deactivate portions of the Trials?\"\n\n\"That, happily, does not fall inside your purview. You can choose when and how to lend your power to certain constructs, or you can choose to do nothing, at which point the Trials will operate at their standard level of difficulty.\n\nEithan gestured, releasing some madra, and the script-circle in the glass flared. Suddenly, the view at the window showed Lindon reaching for the activation crystal with Yerin standing beside him. As though they were only feet outside.\n\nFascinated, Cassias ran a strand of his bloodline power through the glass. Scripts only manipulated madra; they wouldn't be able to change the magnification of glass. Unless...\n\nHe found it only a breath after he started looking for it. Alight-aspect binding intended to allow vision of faraway objects. The script merely activated it and applied its effects to the window.\n\nThat was still an incredible feat of Soulsmithing and scripting, though. How had Eithan managed to restore it? Surely a setup like this one, centuries old, would have decayed by now."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eithan looked fondly through the glass. \"It will rest upon you to test the children. Push them. Hold them in the fire and hammer them, that they might be forged.\"\n\nCassias straightened himself, waiting for the Underlord to turnaround and meet his eyes. \"I will not be part of breaking members of our own family. If you adopted them only to abuse them, I will report to the branch heads and have them removed from Serpent's Grave.\"\n\nEithan didn't respond, so Cassias continued.\n\n\"Besides, the Arelius cannot spare my absence. Not in times like these. The Jai clan will have free reign of our lands.\"\n\nEithan rested a comforting hand on Cassias' shoulder. \"I go to deal with the Jai clan myself.\"\n\nThat really was comforting, though Cassias didn't say so out loud.\n\n\"In the meantime, I will make you a deal. If you manage to push Lindon and Yerin so hard that either of them gives up, I will release them from the Trials. And Lindon from his obligation to Jai Long. In that case, you will also be allowed back to your normal duties in the shortest time possible.\"\n\nEithan beamed at him. \"So you see, the most prudent and merciful course of action is really to come at them with everything you have.\"\n\nA fist clenched Cassias'gut, but he couldn't argue. There was a fine line between preparing the young fora harsh world and abusing them, but it shouldn't be too hard to get them to surrender quickly. Lindon, at least. Once they did, Eithan would honor his word.\n\nThe Underlord patted the ivory table. \"Now, it seems we're in luck. They are trying the course for the first time. Let me show you how this works.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon hefted the crystal ball in his palm, Blackflame madra swirling around his body, and the crystal flared with a dark, bloody light. He faced the thick forest of stone pillars as scripts ignited all through the ground.\n\nDark gray shapes started condensing in the shadows, like gravel pulled together by an unseen force to slowly build a larger figure. They gained definition as they formed, until they looked like statues of ancient soldiers: bulky, clad in layered armor, and carrying thick shields and swords or spears.\n\nThree of them were almost finished forming, but there were other half-assembled shapes in the darkness behind them.\n\nYerin raised her sword.\n\nLindon bolted for the pillars.\n\nWhether these were constructs or impossibly solid Remnants, his task remained the same. He had to keep the Burning Cloak up in order to keep the crystal active, and his Blackflame core was already on the verge of emptying itself again.\n\nBut these soldiers were taking their time to form, so what would happen if he just... skipped them?\n\nHe leaped over the first rank of soldiers, pain lancing through his ankles and calves, and the power of his jump almost carried him face-first into a pillar. He stumbled to an awkward landing but kept running, ducking around columns whenever he would run into a half-formed soldier.\n\nIt was working. The soldiers at the front formed faster than the ones behind, so he could outrun the Trial.\n\nEven with the enhancement of the Burning Cloak, it took him five or six slow breaths to reach the end of the columns. When he did get past them, they vanished abruptly, leaving him standing in the sunlight again.\n\nAnother arch stood before him. It was a twin to the original entrance, with two exceptions."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "First, the air between wasn't clear. It was opaque and smoky, so he couldn't see what waited beyond. Second, the paint on the support said, \"Trial Two\" instead of \"Trial One.\"\n\nA sense of warning shook his soul as he considered that gray area in the center of the arch, which he took as an alarm from his new Jade senses. He slowed, examining the smoke more closely. It was dense aura that sent a shiver through his rib cage.\n\nHe didn't know what aspect of aura that was, but he could be sure of one thing: he wasn't touching it.\n\nLindon scooped up a handful of gritty dirt and tossed it at the barrier between the arch. The dirt sizzled and disappeared.\n\nHe turned back to hear Yerin's shout, the sounds of metal clashing against stone, and a roar like rocky plates grating against one another.\n\nForged gray madra started to gather itself in front of the arch. If the cores of the others had been pebbles, this one was a boulder, and in seconds it had formed into a towering stone giant with a horned helmet and a pair of tridents, one in each hand.\n\nIt planted its feet firmly on the ground, and behind it, the aura barrier in the arch flickered and disappeared.\n\nLindon had a fingernail-thin grip on his remaining madra, and the crystal in his hand was starting to dim. Nonetheless, when the giant struck at him with its trident, he had to do something.\n\nRoots of Blackflame madra slid through his channels, then they all exploded, igniting a shot of blazing hot power. The Burning Cloak flared higher, the air around his body crackling black and red, and he slapped the trident away with the back of his fist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The repelled trident dug a ten-foot groove in the ground, sending black dirt spraying everywhere, but he barely felt the impact-the strain on his elbow and wrist from moving his arm so quickly was far more painful than the little slap of the weapon.\n\nLindon was in love. This was it-a power so great it required his Iron body to withstand. His elbow blazed with pain as though he'd torn it, but it was already healing.\n\nBut he couldn't exult in his power-he had a test to pass. The barrier had opened, which meant he could finish the Trial.\n\nThen he kicked the ground to move forward, and his Blackflame core guttered out.\n\nThe crystal ball in his hand went dark. The aura barrier flared to life again in the arch. His legs collapsed, but he switched to drawing madra from his pure core before he buckled to the ground.\n\nAnd the giant soldier dissolved. Gray madra faded to essence and blew away, half-visible sparks on the wind.\n\nA brassy gong sounded from somewhere, its sound echoing through the canyon, and Lindon had to assume it meant defeat.\n\nLindon spent a moment regretting that he hadn't passed on the first try, but the promise of Blackflame was like a sun that burned all disappointment away. He turned back to the columns, whistling and tossing the crystal ball in one hand.\n\nHe'd already started cataloguing everything he needed to improve the Burning Cloak. It was good for explosive bursts of movement-punching, jumping, kicking-anything where a sudden burst of force would help. But for steady strength, for lifting or carrying or running long distances, he would need a different technique.\n\nTo optimize the Burning Cloak, he wanted pills to refine his Blackflame madra base so that he could activate the technique more easily, practice keeping it active longer, and training to answer specific questions: how fast could he move? How much strain could his body withstand? Could he channel the technique through only a single part of his body at a time?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This could be exactly the tool he'd needed to keep up with Yerin. He just needed to master it.\n\nAs soon as he had the thought, he realized that he could still hear a battle: shouts, stone on metal, and heavy crashes.\n\nLindon picked up the pace, jogging through the columns. The back ranks of stone soldiers had started to dissolve, and ignored him, but the ones closer to Yerin weren't banished yet. She was still fighting.\n\nThen he saw her.\n\nHe hadn't even reached Copper when he'd watched her fight the Remnant of her master back in Sacred Valley. He had lacked the senses to truly appreciate the fight.\n\nNow, he lost track of his surroundings as he watched in awe.\n\nShe fought an army. Two soldiers whipped their swords at her with blurring speed, one fell toward her at the end of a leaping strike, and two pushed at her with shields in one hand and spears in the other. Javelins rained down at her from soldiers in the distance. Stone hands reached up from the ground beneath her, snatching at her ankles.\n\nAll at the same time.\n\nYerin turned them all.\n\nInvisible blades shredded the hands at her feet, churning the earth. Her Goldsign met one of the swords, her freehand the other, and her sword skewered the falling soldier and slammed him down like a hammer on the head of his comrade. He hadn't seen her use her Striker technique at all, but silver slashes of sword-light struck the javelins from the air, and a pair of kicks caught two enemies on their shields and launched them through the air to shatter on pillars.\n\nHow long would it be before he could fight like that?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "An attack he hadn't seen slammed into his skull in a burst of pain and white light."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His Bloodforged Iron body drained power, and he rolled to his feet in an instant, pulling the halfsilver dagger from his pocket.\n\nHe could feel the presence of the gray soldier even as it dipped behind a nearby column. He would feel its attack coming, but whether his reflexes could keep up was another matter.\n\nAnd what he felt of the construct was even more interesting. Ina way he couldn't entirely articulate, the soldier felt... mindless. He sensed no life within it. It was simply amass of madra, acting according to direction.\n\nBut not even the most complex construct ever designed could fight as a living creature without someone controlling it. At least, not as he understood constructs.\n\nThe soldier ducked out, avoided his slash with the halfsilver dagger, and struck him a heavy blow on the shoulder with the butt of its sword. His madra drained again to his Iron body, until even his pure core darkened.\n\nThe spiritual exhaustion was like a gaping hole inside him, leaving him limp and twitching on the floor. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, but instead he kept them wide, watching for the next blow that would land on his helpless body.\n\nInstead, the soldier withdrew. It joined the others in attacking Yerin.\n\nHe couldn't seethe fight except for an occasional flash of black or silver, but after a few minutes Yerin let out a pained shout and hit the ground with an audible thud.\n\nThe soldiers retreated, ignoring them both, and dissolved in the shadows of the stone forest. The script beneath them powered down.\n\nLindon spoke into the dirt. He didn't have the strength to move, and he knew Yerin would hear him. \"At least they didn't kill us.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yerin groaned.\n\n---\n\n\"In that case,\" Eithan said, \"I didn't have to do much. I could have directed more of the soldiers to stop Lindon, but there was no need.\"\n\n\"Maybe you should have sent more against Yerin,\" Cassias said, wishing he had a dream tablet handy to record the memory while it was fresh. As a sword artist himself, he was left in awe at the level of skill and control she'd already displayed at the Lowgold stage. He bitterly regretted that he couldn't meet her master.\n\n\"She could reach Highgold any day now, if she could let goof that death-grip she's got on her Remnant,\" Eithan said with a sigh. \"She might out-rank you fairly soon.\"\n\nCassias watched the girl in the tattered robe as she sprawled out on the dirt, each breath rough and heavy. \"Considering what it's costing us to run these Trials, I'd be disappointed if she didn't at least take my place in the rankings.\"\n\nEithan gently pushed him into the chair in front of the control array. \"The course only runs while the sun is up. Tonight, you can go back to your family. If you'd like to retire early, then by all means... push them until they break.\"\n\nCassias gave him awry look, but his spiritual perception was already moving over the console. If he was going to run these Trials, he needed to know the controls like his own sword.\n\n---\n\nThe crab meat tasted like ash and scorched oil. Yerin almost spat it out, but she'd choked down worse food out of necessity. She separated herself from the taste to chew and swallow out of pure discipline."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon did spit it out, making a retching noise. \"That... that cannot be food,\" he said.\n\n\"It's the fire that's rotten,\" Yerin said, ripping off another piece of vile meat with her teeth.\n\nIt had taken Lindon until well into the night to start the tiny campfire that now smoldered outside their caves. He'd used Blackflame madra to ignite the tinder, and now that power lingered; the aura wasn't the healthy red-and-orange of a natural blaze, but was tinted with bloody scarlet and corrosive black. The flames gave off too little light, too much smoke, and a taste like burnt death.\n\nBut Yerin had experienced the consequences of eating raw meat in the wild. Even a corrupted flame like this one was better than nothing-there was no telling what sort of diseases or parasites these wild creatures carried.\n\nLindon popped another one of those red-veined blackberries into his mouth, wincing as he chewed. Yerin had found them even less tolerable than the meat. They burned her tongue, leaving it unable to taste anything... although that might bean advantage, considering the crab.\n\nShe was sure the berries must below-grade spirit-fruits that would burn away impurities in madra, but she didn't have the energy to put up with a burned tongue on top of everything else.\n\nLindon set aside his cracked crab claw, staring into the flames. \"I'm sure we weren't meant to succeed on our first try,\" he said.\n\nYerin's grip tightened around her own segment of crab. The shell cracked. \"You'd contend so, huh? You think areal enemy would be soft enough to give you a second shot?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His eyes widened at her tone, but she wasn't feeling charitable enough to apologize. It wasn't fair to him, likely-he may not have grownup on the battlefield, but he'd faced plenty of real enemies just in the few months they'd known each other.\n\n\"We'd have some information about areal enemy,\" he said reasonably. \"That's all we were doing-gathering information. We have to know how that construct works if we want to defeat it.\"\n\nShe shoved another strip of revolting crab meat into her mouth, tossing the empty shell in the fire. \"Not a construct,\" she said, around the mouthful of food.\n\nHe leaned forward, interested. \"A Remnant, then? Compelled by the script?\"\n\n\"You're Jade now. Did that feel like a Remnant to you?\"\n\n\"That that exhausts the possibilities I'm aware of, though my experience pales next to yours. If it's not a Remnant, and it's not a construct...\"\n\nYerin gulped water from a hollowed-out crab shell she'd filled at the waterfall earlier, trying to rinse the taste out of her mouth. She spat to one side of the fire. \"It's a Forger technique.\"\n\n\"A technique?\"\n\n\"Sure. Probably stole the binding out of some advanced Remnant, strapped it into a script circle, and tied it to that crystal.\"\n\nLindon pulled out a brush, dipped it in ink, and began taking notes. What was he even writing down? This was the basic of basics.\n\n\"Jai Long does it,\" she said. \"Fought him fora breath or two in the Ruins, and his moves looked like snakes.\"\n\nHe nodded along with her words, still writing. \"How can a technique have a mind of its own?\" He stopped, brush poised, waiting for her answer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Plenty of the really powerful sacred artists can Forge something that looks like it's alive."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Carries apiece of their Remnant with it, or so they say, but I can't speak to the details of it. My master could Forge a sword that would fly around and chase an enemy until they died or broke the technique.\"\n\nLindon's brush dashed over the page. \"So all we have to do is break the technique.\"\n\n\"All we have to do,\" Yerin muttered. \"Listen. Whoever left that binding behind was at least as powerful as Eithan. Better, more than likely. And it's meant to test your Enforcer technique, meaning you're intended to tear through it. That's a tall order when I've got to fight by myself.\"\n\nShe slammed the shell full of water down next to her so that it sloshed up and over her wrist.\n\nHe blinked, eyes wide and innocent as a child's. \"You were amazing today; I've never seen anything like it. I would only have gotten in the way.\"\n\nThat was the attitude that scraped her nerves. You couldn't always fight when you had a plan or a secret weapon. Nobody ever waited for you to sleep a full night, have a hot meal, and cycle your madra before they attacked you. No, you were more than likely to fight half-asleep, with a bleeding arm and a gut full of poison.\n\nWhen she'd fought Jai Long herself, she'd just cut her way through a pyramid filled with dreadbeasts and crazed Remnants. Did he do her the favor of waiting until she was in her best condition? No, and neither would anybody else.\n\n\"If I waited to fight until I was ready,\" Yerin said, \"my bones would be rotting in Sacred Valley right now. You have to dive in there, or you might as well scamper back home.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Well, at least he had the grace to look embarrassed. \"I didn't expect we would fight right away.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you thought the Blackflame Trials might be testing your foot speed?\"\n\n\"I was hoping to gather information. If we could just run past it, we might have been able to walk through to the next Trial. Wouldn't Eithan be amazed if we left here only a day after we started?\"\n\nYerin gaped at him. \"You think Eithan wants us to run out of here quick? You don't think he'd drop us right back at the entrance if we didn't learn the lesson?\"\n\nLindon flushed, examining his inkwell as though it held the deepest wisdom of the sacred arts. \"No, of course, but surely there's not just one way to solve a problem. If we come up with a solution on our own, then...\"\n\nYerin stood up, brushing herself off. \"I'm going to cycle,\" she said abruptly, cutting him off.\n\nShe walked off, storming past the swords thrust into the ground in front of her cave. The vital aura had finally started to gather around them, generating enough sword aura for her to harvest.\n\nYerin knelt just inside, calming her breathing to cycle the aura steadily. It had the effect of calming her down as well, leaving her alone with her thoughts.\n\nLindon hadn't lost the fight for her.\n\nSure, it would have been nice to have a second person fighting alongside her, if only to split the enemies. As it was, she had been on the defensive the entire time, battling as hard as she could just to survive fora while longer. That was noway to win a match, and she knew it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But she'd had no choice. Her madra was squirming out of her control.\n\nNot due to her uninvited guest-it was quiet and placid for the moment, content without straining against the Sword Sage's knot.\n\nNo, it was the Sword Sage himself who was causing this problem.\n\nShe had to force her Goldsign to defend her when all it wanted was to strike at the enemy. Her master had left her a second, buried set of instincts inside her that kept trying to teach her how to attack. Her master had been a predator for most of his life. It wasn't in his nature to stand back and protect himself in front of an enemy. Ever since she'd absorbed his Remnant, she'd only felt fully in control when she was attacking all-out.\n\nEithan might be right that cracking open her master's Remnant was the fastest way to Highgold, but that meant there were other ways. Slower ones. As long as she worked hard enough, she could stay a step ahead of her unwelcome guest and keep her master's voice around at the same time.\n\nHer master was trying to teach her a lesson. And he was going to keep his hand on her sword, pulling her his way, until she learned what he wanted to teach.\n\nThis washer last chance to learn from the Sword Sage. She couldn't waste that opportunity just because Eithan told her to.\n\nBesides.... she wouldn't admit this out loud, but if she tapped into her master's Remnant, his voice would go away. It would just be her and her unwelcome guest in her head. Alone again.\n\nYerin continued cycling, focusing on her breath to calm her frustration. She still had plenty of time to reach Highgold. This impatience could only hurt her progress."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "Besides, she'd get another crack at the Trial tomorrow.\n\n---\n\nIteration 217: Harrow\n\nSuriel landed on hard-packed sand next to a lake-sized plate of chrome. In Limit, this had been apiece of a giant machine. In Harrow, a desert.\n\nWhen Limit lost its grip on the Way and slammed into Harrow, the two worlds merged together and split the difference.\n\nOn the horizon, mountains flickered in and out of existence, as they tried to stabilize in one Iteration or the other. Here, Suriel's presence was stability itself. Her connection to the Way anchored the world around her to order.\n\nFor the most part.\n\nA fractal distortion in space unfolded into afield of impossible shapes before blooming into a two-story creature of dark glass. It had the legs of an origami centipede and the body of a black mirage, and it strained her human senses just by its proximity.\n\nThe creature of corruption reared over an upturned iron wagon, which had been half-buried in the sand. A woman crouched beneath it, filthy and ragged, having sheltered therefor the better part of two weeks as reality crumbled around her.\n\nDrawn to her sentience, the monster would have devoured her to remove her connection to the Way and to extend its own existence in the material world.\n\nSuriel drew her Razor, now a meter-long rectangular shaft of blue metal, and blasted the creature apart. It dispersed into hissing shards of chaos that were difficult to perceive-they looked like burning nightmares.\n\nSuriel activated one of the many functions in her Razor and the armored wagon dissolved, leaving a terrified woman huddled in the sand, surrounded by what looked like a nest of garbage."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Something hissed at the edge of Suriel's awareness, trying to get her attention, but she ignored it.\n\n[Mu Bak Ti Yan,] Suriel's Presence said, and the woman's head jerked up at the sound of her name. [You have been chosen to live. You will begin on anew world, where you will work to settle a wilderness. Do you accept this task?]\n\nMu Bak Ti Yan stared at the Presence, a gray figure of smoke on Suriel's shoulder. Then she stared at Suriel.\n\nIn her original world, Suriel had been a pale, scrawny woman with hairlike seaweed and eyes that took up half her face. That woman was still there, only... perfected.\n\nHer hair was the color of sunlit emeralds, her skin ivory, her eyes a bright violet etched with vivid runes of Fate. Her childhood friends would have said she had the body of an immortal-flawless and statuesque-which was only appropriate, since they had died of old age more than four thousand years before.\n\nShe wore the armor of the Abidan, smooth and absolutely white, as though it had been poured into place. Her correlation lines looked like smoke trailing from the fingertips of her left hand up to the back of her neck, though they functioned more like an instrument's strings. And, of course, she had just used the meter of blue metal clipped to her hip to blast apart an incomprehensible creature of madness.\n\nIn Limit, there were beings called Terava, which looked like perfect human men and women but possessed godlike power. The Teravan were natural energy projections that only took human form to feed, but Limit had never learned that.\n\nMu Bak Ti Yan, born in the dead world of Limit, must have thought she looked like a Terava."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Suriel raised one gauntleted hand in a gesture of peace, but the woman spooked and ran. She kicked up sand and fell to her hands and knees, still trying to crawl.\n\nFor the past two weeks, Suriel had been trying to track the human living in this desert. Most of the planet was clear already-its population dead or rescued-and this was the only inhabited planet in this universe.\n\nAs the sentient population fell, the power of chaos grew stronger. And the Way more distant.\n\nWhich made precisely pinpointing anyone's location almost impossible, at least for an Abidan. She had relied on her old powers, following the trail of Mu Bak Ti Yan's life-force, but the corruption of reality interfered with that as well.\n\nHunting one elusive prey through twenty thousand square kilometers of madness was more difficult than she remembered. Maybe she relied on the power of the Way too much; she was growing rusty.\n\nSuriel waved her hand, and a blue-edged portal flared into being just in front of Mu Bak Ti Yan. It showed a grassland on the newly formed world of Pioneer 8089, where clusters of crude huts surrounded a great silver bird.\n\nThe woman stumbled through the portal, and the silver bird crowed, alerting the rest of the population. A tiny orange moon shone alone in the night sky; none of the stars had formed yet.\n\nThat was normal. Iterations started from clustered world fragments and grew outward, like seeds.\n\nSuriel cutoff the portal, and the door through the Way vanished, leaving Mu Bak Ti Yan trapped in a world far from her own. She had never gotten verbal agreement for the relocation, which was against Abidan protocol, but people usually only refused resettlement until they realized that staying meant horrifying death or mutation."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "Of the two-point-one million survivors that had remained human through the merge and corruption of Limit and Harrow, she had saved one-point-four million in the half of a standard year since she'd been working here. The others had either died or evaded her notice long enough that she had no hope of finding them before the end.\n\nOn the first day, she'd sent half a million people to Pioneer 8089. They'd had to form orderly lines through the portal. By now, she was lucky to find one a week.\n\nAnd this world didn't have a week left.\n\nShe could feel it: the Way was losing its grip on this Iteration. Before she could locate anyone else, Harrow and Limit would accompany one another into the void.\n\nSuriel lifted herself into the atmosphere, the land below her shifting from continent-sized machine to desert and back again. The atmosphere was even more chaotic than the surface, twisting like six hurricanes at war with one another, but she felt nothing inside the bubble of her isolation shell. She dove into stars under its protection; wind was not a worthy opponent.\n\nFrom above, the world was a rapidly shifting mass of images and impressions, like a nonsense puzzle with pieces that randomly rearranged themselves. It was straining at the Way, ready to break.\n\nAnd Suriel finally turned her attention to the hissing that had tried to grab her earlier. It sounded like a whisper just at the edge of hearing, like someone trying to call her name from a dream.\n\n[Further contact established,] her Presence reported. [Transmission location still unknown.]\n\n\"Best guess,\" Suriel said. She liked talking to her Presence, and had chosen its form for that reason: it almost looked like a person. She enjoyed conversation, and that simple psychological trick was enough to cutaway the pressure from the isolation of her job."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "Usually.\n\n[The most recent transmission raises estimate accuracy to fifty-four percent.]\n\nIt was better than the last three times she'd tried to find the source of the transmission. It sounded like an Abidan beacon, as though someone had left a call for help, but Sector Twenty-One Control would have heard about it before she arrived. And it should have been as clear as a voice in her head.\n\nIt was quiet and hidden behind static, which meant that either it was not an Abidan beacon, or it had been broken during the violence of the merge.\n\nSuriel blasted through the atmosphere toward the coordinates her Presence indicated, not bothering to keep herself subsonic. No one would notice, and this world no longer had a connection to Fate that could be disturbed by legends of a flying goddess.\n\nShe could have bent space and arrived directly there, but direct spatial travel was imprecise, better suited for very short travel-like range of sight-or very long travel where precision mattered little.\n\nBesides, the beacon had persisted for months in the most chaotic environment possible. It would last a few more seconds before she arrived.\n\nThe flight brought her to an ocean. It had been an ocean in both worlds, so it was still an ocean, even if the chaos meant that it sloshed like a cup of water on a flying dragon's back.\n\nThe whisper did seem a little louder here, though no more clear, so she dropped into the water.\n\nAs soon as she did, a signal reached her Razor. This beacon triggered in response to her weapon, then, though she could choose if she allowed the Razor to respond.\n\nCurious, she let it transmit back, and a green light appeared in her vision. Coordinates a few hundred kilometers away, still within the ocean. Though her Presence warned her that finding something specifically keyed to heron the surface of a random dying world was dangerously suspicious, she followed it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There was only one person who would leave her a message here."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "This might even be Ozriel's hiding place.\n\nThat would be just like him: predict where she would end up, and then hide there, waiting for her. Waiting on a dying world would just add style, as he saw it.\n\nShe tore through the water, but was forced to stop in less than a second. A spatial crack the size of a finger stretched vertically for hundreds of meters, its edges sputtering with chaos, and its heart looking into the void. Water gushed through it in an endless waterfall, but that wasn't what concerned her.\n\nCracks like these were often left behind after an Abidan's battle.\n\nExtending her senses as far as she could, she found other cracks, getting wider and wider as they drifted into the sky. With the chaotic interference, she couldn't detect anything further than about a kilometer, but they might very well keep going. If this had been a battle between Judges, the spatial cracks could have gotten wide enough to swallow suns.\n\nThere was no testing that now. This Iteration's stars had already vanished-there had only been one inhabited planet in each universe, so it was the last to disappear before the world fragmented.\n\nShe flew on, dodging other spatial cracks. If not for the chaos of the merged worlds and Limit's corruption, she would have sensed these the second she landed in this reality.\n\nFinally, beneath a storm of spatial cracks, she found the location of the beacon.\n\nIt waited for her beneath a city-sized dome of stone.\n\nThere was Abidan technology here, because the dome remained stable and unaffected despite the chaos of the water above and the world outside. She slipped lower, but as she got closer, a hole opened in the stone.\n\n[It would be wiser to alert Sector Control,] her Presence said."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "If it really was Ozriel down there, and she turned him in before hearing what he had to say, he would never forgive her. She drifted in through the hole.\n\nThe inside of the dome was very simple. It was all a single room, its structure reinforced by the Way to add stability, and big enough to swallow a city.\n\nBut there were no streets or buildings inside.\n\nOnly pods.\n\nTransparent, organic pods in rows for hundreds of kilometers. All filled with people, sleeping and drifting in liquid.\n\nThe pods had been arranged in grids with space between them, so the people emerging could leave and walkaway, but there were no other facilities. No shelters, no water, no plants. Each pod gave off a slight radiance, but that was the only light.\n\n[Twelve million, four hundred forty-five thousand, six hundred thirty-two people,] her Presence reported. [And some shipping crates containing culturally significant icons.]\n\n\"Point of origin?\"\n\n[Iteration Two-one-six: Limit.]\n\nOf course. The Abidan had evacuated the elite of Harrow, and she herself had saved a million and a half survivors of the combined world, but no one had saved the population of Limit. Their world was destined to end, so the Abidan had allowed it.\n\nExcept for Ozriel. He'd saved enough to preserve the unique genetics and cultures of a doomed world.\n\nBut there was one more feature of the space inside the dome: spatial cracks, which buzzed like a storm in the air. The structure of the building and the pods were still intact, but Ozriel must have protected them. Otherwise, the void would have swallowed them by now.\n\nEven so, the chaotic interference was so strong here that the air crackled with it, and Suriel had to move carefully around each crack. Not that they would threaten her, but she might stick to them like iron to a magnet."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The cracks were thickest surrounding a door at the far end of the compound... a door marked with the image of a scythe.\n\nWell, that was simple enough.\n\nWith one hand, she shoved the heavy stone door aside, and the chaos hither like a stench. The room on the other side of the door was only as large as a one-room office, and positively black with spatial cracks, so that it looked like the weapons of two Judges had clashed inhere.\n\nExcept that a conflict like that would have destroyed this shelter and most everyone else in Limit.\n\nShe couldn't see much in the room past the nest of hissing cracks in reality, but half of a desk remained in the center. A fist-sized ball glowed blue on that table: a beacon, though all the chaos inhere must have degraded it. And on the far wall, a spray of ancient blood and flesh, as though a man had exploded right before the door was sealed fora century.\n\n[Impossible to identify remains,] her Presence reported. [Chaos and time have destroyed them beyond the point of analysis.]\n\nThe beacon was still resonating with her Razor, indicating that it held a message. She reached out to accept it, but hesitated.\n\nNot out of reason, or to buy herself a moment to think. She was scared.\n\nOzriel had come hereto prepare for Limit's death. He had left this message here for her after a battle... or had he prepared the message before the battle began, stretching out past the planet?\n\nEither way, it wasn't good news. This message was not about to tell her that Ozriel was safe, happy, and ready to return to work.\n\nShe was afraid for herself, afraid for the Abidan, and afraid for the man she'd known even before she'd joined the Abidan Court. He had always been Ozriel to her, but there had been a time before she was Suriel, the Phoenix. They had been friends."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She accepted the message, and her senses were consumed in endless white.\n\nThis was a perfectly ordinary way to send a message in Sanctum, headquarters of the Abidan. Sharing senses and experiences was common, and crafting an experience like this would have taken Ozriel seconds. But the world of this message crackled, tarnished by damage and chaos. The world of white was speckled with imperfection, as though she watched it through grainy film, and interference was a constant hiss in her ears.\n\nAt least she wasn't alone.\n\nOzriel stood before her in his polished black armor, the Mantle of Ozriel streaming behind him like a boiling cape of shadow, and the white hair running down his back. But it was all fuzzy, like a half-forgotten dream. His face blurred, though she could fill in the gaps from memory: cold and distant and grim.\n\nIn person, he had more of a sense of humor than any other Abidan she'd ever met, but he always wore an expression like a man bracing himself for terrible news.\n\n\"Sur... looking lovely... get to the point, because... murdered.\" He was speaking, speaking to her, because he'd known she would find this. Of course he had. But whatever he'd predicted, it hadn't included a battle in this room ruining his message.\n\nThe scene congealed fora moment, until she could almost believe he was really standing in front of her. \"... didn't abandon you. I've identified the sixteen worlds... a facility like this one...\" She could make out his lips moving now, but it was as though she'd gone deaf.\n\n\"... sure you'll... quarantine. I sh-... actually kills me.\"\n\nHis expression darkened, and he looked over her shoulder. The Scythe appeared in his hand: along, curved blade like an obsidian scimitar. At least, that was how it presented itself."
},
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"from": "human",
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"value": "She was sure this was the heart of the message, but she heard nothing but a whisper of static. Finally, his voice faded back in, just on the edge of her hearing.\n\n\"... if I didn't act, it would all stay the same. I don't-\"\n\nThe dreamworld squealed with feedback, and colors twisted in her eyes as the message's recording was violently cutoff.\n\nThat wasn't interference. He'd been attacked while speaking, ending the message.\n\nSo the battle had started here, but continued off into the world. Or had he recorded it elsewhere and the beacon survived the battle?\n\n... survived a battle that he, perhaps, had not.\n\n\"Presence,\" Suriel ordered verbally. \"Reconstruct the probable content of Ozriel's message. Authorization Suriel zero-zero-six.\" The Presence was more than capable of simple predictions, but interactions between Judges usually required verbal confirmation. Sanctum wanted any jurisdictional overlap to be well documented.\n\n[Incomplete information supplemented with standard Ozriel prediction model. Best recreation follows.]\n\nThe message was audio-only, but it was as though Ozriel was speaking right into her ear. The voice of her friend, full of weary humor.\n\n\"Suriel. You're looking lovely today, I'm sure. I'll get to the point, because I have an unexpected visitor who needs murdered: I did not abandon you. I have identified the sixteen worlds that will be corrupted while I'm gone, and I've prepared a facility like this one in each. I'm sure Makiel will send Gadrael, and then you'll volunteer. If I'm still gone, chaotic interference makes it impossible to predict beyond sixteen, so go ahead and initiate quarantine. I shouldn't take much longer, unless this actually kills me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His voice turned serious."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We have to change, Suriel. If I didn't act, it would all stay the same. I don't-\"\n\nThe sound cutoff.\n\nOf their own accord, her eyes slid back to the blood on the walls. He'd seen her standing here. From hundreds of years ago, he'd seen her.\n\nHe was still watching out for her, if not for himself.\n\nHer heart hammered in her ears, her respiration sped up a fraction, and her adrenal glands squeezed hormones into her bloodstream. She chose not to cutoff the physical responses.\n\nLet her feel fear for her friend."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "On the fourth morning since starting the Trials, Lindon slid the Sylvan Riverseed's case out of his pack, holding out a pair of freshly Forged scales.\n\nThe Sylvan waved at him, smiling cheerily.\n\nHe stared back.\n\nSomeone had replaced his tiny, faceless spirit with a miniature woman Forged out of water madra. Until she opened her mouth at the sight of Lindon's scales, waiting to be fed, he suspected it was a different creature entirely.\n\nWhere once she had been a translucent bright blue doll, now she was a deep azure woman with long, flowing hair, a dress that swirled around hidden feet, teeth that showed clearly when she smiled, and curious eyes.\n\nThose eyes were now scrunched closed as she held open her mouth, waiting for her meal. Lindon thought he could see her tongue.\n\nShe had a tongue now. And eyelids.\n\nDazed, he ran his eyes along the edges of the case, looking for changes. He found one immediately: a spot in the corner where the scripted glass didn't fit perfectly together.\n\nThat was certainly a change. He'd spent hours searching the tank for any imperfections, trying to figure out away to open it without breaking the glass. He ran his thumb along the flaw, and that corner of the case popped open. He repeated the process on the other side, and the lid of the case rose.\n\nThe Sylvan was still begging for food, so he slipped the madra coins inside without taking his eyes from the case itself. They dissolved as soon as they reached the Sylvan, flowing down her throat in streams of light.\n\nEithan. Eithan did this.\n\nEither he had to accept that the Sylvan had drastically changed her form in the week since he'd fed her-and that someone else had figured out how to open her case and then closed it again-or the Underlord had done something. But what? And why?"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was itching to investigate, but he wasn't even sure what questions to ask. If he had a drudge, he could examine the composition of her madra and see what had changed. Fisher Gesha could tell him, but if he left the mountain, he was considered to have given up.\n\nIn the absence of any clear answers, he placed her back into his pack. He'd inspect her more closely later, to see if Eithan had left any obvious hints for him.\n\nPutting the Sylvan out of his mind, he and Yerin challenged the Enforcer Trial a second time.\n\nLindon cradled the red-and-black crystal in his arms, dashing through the stone forest with Burning Cloak active. Every second sizzled as his muscles burned from the Blackflame madra, every step sent dirt flying behind him and drove splinters of pain through his knees, and every breath came slow and heavy, as though he were trying to suck air through a wet blanket.\n\nIt was like running through a nightmare: gray shapes chased him from every direction as pain wracked his body. Though he knew he was moving faster than he ever had before, he still felt as though he were slogging through mud.\n\nFinally he dropped the breathing technique, heaving a deep breath of pure air that sent sweet life flowing through his veins, but then his madra channels couldn't handle the burden of the Burning Cloak. It flickered and died, the seal dimmed, and a soldier's blade knocked the crystal from his hands.\n\nA silver blade of madra blasted from the woods, slashing the soldier in half, but the gong had already sounded: failure.\n\n---\n\nThe soldiers changed.\n\nThey always carried stone weapons, but sometimes those weapons blazed with sword aura until they could take a slice out of the surrounding pillars."
}
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[
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"value": "Helping the author, keep the tale going.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, martial arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Blackflame\nChapter: 16"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was itching to investigate, but he wasn't even sure what questions to ask. If he had a drudge, he could examine the composition of her madra and see what had changed. Fisher Gesha could tell him, but if he left the mountain, he was considered to have given up.\n\nIn the absence of any clear answers, he placed her back into his pack. He'd inspect her more closely later, to see if Eithan had left any obvious hints for him.\n\nPutting the Sylvan out of his mind, he and Yerin challenged the Enforcer Trial a second time.\n\nLindon cradled the red-and-black crystal in his arms, dashing through the stone forest with Burning Cloak active. Every second sizzled as his muscles burned from the Blackflame madra, every step sent dirt flying behind him and drove splinters of pain through his knees, and every breath came slow and heavy, as though he were trying to suck air through a wet blanket.\n\nIt was like running through a nightmare: gray shapes chased him from every direction as pain wracked his body. Though he knew he was moving faster than he ever had before, he still felt as though he were slogging through mud.\n\nFinally he dropped the breathing technique, heaving a deep breath of pure air that sent sweet life flowing through his veins, but then his madra channels couldn't handle the burden of the Burning Cloak. It flickered and died, the seal dimmed, and a soldier's blade knocked the crystal from his hands.\n\nA silver blade of madra blasted from the woods, slashing the soldier in half, but the gong had already sounded: failure.\n\n---\n\nThe soldiers changed.\n\nThey always carried stone weapons, but sometimes those weapons blazed with sword aura until they could take a slice out of the surrounding pillars."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not all the soldiers ever carried the gleaming silver weapons, but Yerin preferred the ones that did. She could sense them coming thanks to the aura gathering around their weapons, and the Endless Sword technique would mince them. When those showed up, she could eliminate them in a blink, and she and Lindon could make it deep into the columns before a living statue slipped past her and caught him.\n\nBut they never made it any further.\n\nThe frustration grew until she wanted to take a sword and carve her way out of this valley by pure fury. She could do so much better than this. If she could use her true ability, she would split every single sword-carrying soldier open on their own aura and then carry Lindon through to the end like a baby.\n\nNot that Lindon was a burden anymore, which was enough shock fora lifetime in itself. He had surprised and impressed her in the days since they'd started the Trial. The Burning Cloak fit him like a good sheath, giving him everything he'd lacked before: explosive speed, bursts of strength, and enough confidence to stand against his enemies fist-to-fist.\n\nTruth was, fighting next to him was a treat, now that he could keep up with her. They could only challenge the Trials every three or four days, when they were in their best condition: his spirit didn't recover as fast as hers, and her injuries stuck around longer than his did. She looked forward to the Trial days, because that meant fighting together, as a pair.\n\nIf she could have used her full skills, fighting next to Lindon as they learned to train and grow as a team, she'd have been on holiday. It would have been the best time in her life since the Sword Sage plucked her out of the ashes of her childhood home.\n\nBut she was hobbled. Weighted down."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her uninvited guest strained against its seal, gaining on her day after day as she remained stuck at the barrier to Highgold. She had to dedicate half her attention to keeping it under control, so it didn't squirm further into her core. Every night she tied the bow tighter around her waist, trying to reinforce the Sword Sage's seal, feeling the bloodthirst of the red rope seeping into her.\n\nOn its own, that wouldn't be enough to cripple her-she'd dealt with this parasite most of her life. But now even her own madra was fighting her.\n\nHer Goldsign still slipped through her control sometimes, lunging against enemies when she wanted it to pullback. If anything, it was getting worse; now her own techniques were also trying to defy her. Her master's instincts, buried inside her along with his Remnant, would tell her to Enforce herself and run into battle. Madra she'd been preparing to hurl at her enemies would flow into her sword instead, sharpening her weapon. She had to switch tactics, adapting to her master's lesson and costing precious seconds in battle.\n\nTogether, it was like trying to fight with someone else's hands. Some days it felt like she couldn't take two steps without her own body betraying her.\n\nShe could tap into the silver Remnant in her core, and sometimes she was tempted. But even when he was stealing her madra, ruining her chance at passing the Trial, it was still another chance at hearing his voice.\n\nShe couldn't give that up. And any insight into the Path of the Endless Sword was rarer than diamonds for her; without her master's voice, she would be the only expert remaining on her Path.\n\nShe'd crossover to Highgold eventually, even without silencing her master again, she was sure of it."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Everyday, the gong seemed to grow louder.\n\n---\n\nLindon knelt, driving an Empty Palm deep into the ground. He'd raised his pure core to Jade, and the technique penetrated deeper than he'd dared to hope, almost disrupting the script that powered the Trial. If he could break it, that would disrupt the function of the Trial long enough for them to pass through.\n\nBut it wasn't enough. The soldiers swarmed him, beating him until he dropped the crystal. He screamed as the gong sounded.\n\nThe cool winter breeze that had once flowed into the valley had long since grown hot. Lindon and Yerin gathered food with wordless efficiency now, choking down the oily, gritty crab meat and retiring to their own caves to cycle.\n\nLindon cycled Blackflame for two hours every night, drawing aura of heat and destruction into his endlessly grinding stone wheel.\n\nIt would burn everything, that aura. Lindon came to think of it as a hungry power: the blazing drive for more, more, more. It filled him as he cycled, until he wanted to tear the Enforcer Trial apart with his teeth.\n\nThe dragon advances. That was what the Enforcer tablet had said, and those seemed like the words of the Blackflame madra itself. It wanted to advance like a furious dragon, tearing apart everything before it.\n\nIf only he could.\n\nThe parasite ring weighed down his spirit. He knew that in the long run it would help his training, but everyday he almost threw it into the pool.\n\nThe Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel made his breath so heavy and long that it burned his lungs, every cycle of madra so torturously slow that his spirit ached like muscles cramped and trapped. Whenever he caught a normal breath, free of the technique, he almost sobbed with relief."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His own Blackflame madra ate away at his madra channels, leaving black residue like soot in his spirit. If he didn't cleanse it, he'd be leaving injuries and blockages in his soul, harming his future development. After using Blackflame too much, he had to spend several hours cycling pure madra to clean out his madra channels. It was hard to sit there all afternoon, cleaning his spirit, and not feel like he was wasting time.\n\nReal Blackflames probably had a method to deal with that problem, but he had no one to ask. Orthos had kept his distance, circling through the mountain but never intruding on their Trial grounds. Sometimes Lindon felt him in the distance, his spirit burning with madness, and other times he was calm as a dying fire. In both states, he stayed away.\n\nThe Sylvan Riverseed's appetite had increased since her transformation. She begged him for pure madra even when he was exhausted and could barely push his spirit through a single cycle.\n\nThe Burning Cloak had cost him weeks of training before he could use it naturally. The explosive bursts of strength and speed it provided meant he had to learn to do everything over again: run without hurling himself into a tree, throw a punch without breaking his own elbow, cut food without slicing off his own fingers. Yerin had even set him up with a juggling routine until he could keep three stones in the air without losing the Burning Cloak, dropping a stone, or hurling one of the pebbles out of the valley. Everyday they spent perfecting his precision felt like a day lost; a day when he could have been challenging the Trial.\n\nEven his body betrayed him, leeching his core every time he was wounded, draining him dry and leaving him limp and powerless on the ground. The Bloodforged Iron body was the only reason they could challenge the course as often as they did, but it also crippled him after every failure."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Over it all, Jai Long loomed like a specter. This Trial was supposed to be the first step to defeating him, but Lindon had tripped and fallen at the first stair.\n\n... though as painful as each day was, as miserable as he felt in those nights when he wept alone in his damp cave, he couldn't deny the results.\n\nAfter months of work, his Burning Cloak covered him in a thick blaze of red and black. He could keep it active for twenty minutes, so long as nothing cut him and activated his Iron body, and he could drive his fist straight through a Forged soldier.\n\nHis cores felt like a pair of lakes now, where they'd once been buckets. They didn't look any larger than before, but they felt deeper, like the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel had drilled down to profound depths. He spent more madra in a single Trial attempt now than his entire spirit could have contained only months before.\n\nThe improvement kept him going, got him out of his cave in the morning, kept him from abandoning his breathing technique as a trap, made him pickup the Trial's activation crystal again and again even though he'd sooner embrace a venomous snake.\n\nContinuing meant taking another step forward. Giving up meant accepting death at Jai Long's spear.\n\nBetween them, he and Yerin were now destroying fifteen or sixteen soldiers every run, getting closer and closer to the end of the Trial.\n\nBut they never made it.\n\nHe'd tried every answer he could think of: hurling the crystal, digging to break the script, building a simple construct out of half-formed soldier parts, running straight through the columns without stopping, altering the script that ran the Trial. Nothing worked. It seemed the Soulsmiths who built this course had thought of everything."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Time blurred and faded away. Only the endless cycle of day and night mattered, because the Trial only worked during the day.\n\nHe stopped hearing the gong. When the soldiers caught him or his Burning Cloak flagged, he simply walked away.\n\n---\n\nIt had been four months since Eithan had first opened the temple at the top of the mountain, and Cassias had grown used to his duties.\n\nSince Yerin and Lindon usually needed two or three days of rest between attempts, he could bring his work with him. He'd moved a table up to this peak, writing letters and reading reports while keeping half of his detection web on the children. After sixteen weeks, this hidden temple looked more like an office than his actual office did.\n\nCassias spent most of his time alone with paperwork or his own training. He found he enjoyed it; letting Eithan handle the bulk of Arelius affairs suited him. He'd needed a break.\n\nIn contrast, the children were having the most stressful experience of their lives.\n\nHe sipped tea as he watched the children cycle in the morning, through the scripted window. He no longer expected they would give up-if they hadn't done so by this point, they likely never would. They would die in an accident during the Trials before they surrendered.\n\nCassias had given himself over to that prospect with weary acceptance. In four months, you could grow used to almost anything.\n\nSomewhere in the back of his mind, he still hoped that today would be the day Eithan would grow tired of this project and pull him away. Almost half of the allotted time to Jai Long's duel had passed, and even a blind Copper could see that Lindon wasn't ready.\n\nCertainly, he'd improved during his time in the Trials. Cassias almost couldn't believe a Jade could improve so fast. Yerin was straining against the limits of Lowgold, perfecting both her skill and her advancement, but Lindon was reaching the point where he could almost-fora brief breath or two, with the Burning Cloak active-match her in a fight."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That itself was a feat worthy of pride, but he was far from defeating Jai Long. In fact, if Yerin could finally breakthrough that last barrier to Highgold, Cassias would suggest that Eithan pit her against the Jai exile instead. She would still be a stage behind him in advancement, but Cassias wasn't sure that would matter.\n\nHe could recognize a prodigy when he saw one.\n\nStill, neither of them had received any instruction in the last months, besides whatever was written on that tablet the Blackflames had left behind.\n\nCassias wasn't sure exactly what date Eithan had in mind for the duel, but Lindon had at most seven months remaining. Even with a teacher, Cassias couldn't imagine a favorable outcome for them.\n\nWithout one, Lindon would certainly die.\n\nCassias gave a heavy sigh and sipped his tea. He would have to appeal to the branch heads, get them to rein in Eithan's... enthusiasm about this duel. But he doubted they would go against the Underlord for the sake of a Jade. Cassias himself would have thought the same, if he hadn't spent so much time in the last half a year watching the children struggle. Now, he couldn't help but wish them success. No matter how unlikely it was.\n\nWhen Yerin and Lindon had finished their morning meal and cycling session, Cassias set down his tea and prepared himself. They would be challenging the Trial now.\n\nBut instead of dragging himself through the archway, as he usually did on Trial days, Lindon went back into his cave like he'd forgotten something.\n\nA few breaths later, he dashed back out, seizing Yerin by the arm and dragging her inside.\n\nCassias extended his awareness, reaching into watch the cave."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "---\n\nLindon pulled Yerin inside and gestured to the Sylvan Riverseed, who scampered around the cave, curiously examining his bedroll and the occasional rock.\n\n\"Did she breakout?\" Yerin asked uncertainly.\n\n\"No, she's... it's... watch my soul!\" Lindon wouldn't have understood what happened if he hadn't seen it for himself. Instead of explaining, he called Blackflame into his channels.\n\nBut instead of guiding it, he let it rampage through his spirit. The result was an uncomfortable spiritual pain, like a red-hot iron pressed against his stomach while a bird screeched next to his ear.\n\nIt was only a little madra, and it burned out quickly, but he hadn't controlled it at all. His madra channels felt scorched at several points, and a black substance had built up like rubble in a tunnel. This was the effect of Blackflame corrosion, and the reason why he had to cleanse his spirit with pure madra everyday.\n\nWhen the madra was controlled, the blockage wouldn't buildup so quickly. But if he slipped, it would happen in seconds.\n\nYerin glared at him and snatched her arm out of his grip. \"Are you cracked? Now I have to burn my time away while you sit there and cycle your spirit clean.\"\n\nLindon reached his handout to the Sylvan.\n\nGrinning like they were playing a game, the Riverseed darted up and slapped her palm against his. A blue presence dripped into his spirit, rolling through his madra channels.\n\nWherever that deep blue light ran, the corrosion of Blackflame vanished. Even his madra channels felt refreshed, as though they'd never been scorched by out-of-control power."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "The spirit paled to the color of a summer sky, leaning against Lindon's shin to stay balanced. With one hand, she pointed to her gaping mouth, and he fed her a fistful of pure scales that he'd prepared for that purpose.\n\nAfter using her power, she grew pallid and weary on her own, and then demanded even more scales. She would sap all the power in his pure core and then beg for more before she was back to her usual state.\n\nIn seconds, Yerin went from irritated to speechless, which gave Lindon more than a little satisfaction. He had almost collapsed when the Sylvan had reached up and grabbed his fingertip while he fed her, scrubbing his spirit clean.\n\nSomehow, it felt better not to be the only one surprised.\n\nYerin darted over to the Riverseed, scooping her up in her bare hands.\n\nThe spirit squirmed out of her grip, scuttling over to hide behind Lindon's leg. She bared her teeth at Yerin in a threatening grimace.\n\nYerin's face fell. \"She doesn't like me?\"\n\nLindon was as surprised as she was. The Sylvan had never interacted with anyone but him, as far as he'd seen, but she'd always seemed active and curious. Whenever she saw Yerin through the glass of her case, she had pointed and waved.\n\nHe extended his perception to the Sylvan. A sacred artist would feel a scan as alight brush, but it usually seemed to comfort her. She was weaker after expending her power, but she had enough madra fora second attempt.\n\n\"Go to Yerin,\" he said, gesturing. \"Goon. Do to her what you did tome.\""
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"value": "The Riverseed shuffled a few steps forward, but turned over her shoulder to give Lindon a doubtful look.\n\n\"It's okay. I'm right here.\"\n\nThe Sylvan dragged herself over to Yerin, keeping her eyes on the stone floor. When Yerin stuck out a hand, the spirit slapped her finger once and then scampered back to Lindon, climbing up to sit on his shoulder. She had lightened some more, and she swayed as though dizzy.\n\n\"It's only been a few days since she would come out of her case,\" he said apologetically. \"Did it work?\"\n\n\"I feel like I should be more than a little hurt right now,\" Yerin said, eyeing the Sylvan. \"Worked, though, true and stable.\"\n\nYerin had built up a slight blockage in her own soul-one of the hazards of cycling within such an ocean of Blackflame aura. It was nothing compared to Lindon's, but she took longer to get rid of it.\n\nLindon patted the Sylvan on the head with a finger. He wouldn't have to control his Blackflame madra so carefully during the Trial, and he could dive right back into another attempt without cycling pure madra to cleanse his channels.\n\nOriginally, he hadn't even had enough madra to support one attempt, much less two. But after months of cycling the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel, he had the madra for two, maybe three attempts if he stretched it. The major bottleneck now was how much time it took for his madra channels to recover after being strained and scorched by Blackflame.\n\nWhich, now that they had the Sylvan Riverseed, was no time at all.\n\n\"If we don't get hurt too badly...\" he began, but Yerin cut him off."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If I don't hurt myself, that's what you're saying. It's true. Long as I'm not cut too deep, I'll be ready fora second try two breaths after the first one. If we don't have to wait for you to coddle your spirit anymore, we can get some real work done.\"\n\nShe was grinning by the end, but Lindon braced himself. Two attempts in a row.\n\nTogether, they walked through the archway.\n\n---\n\nCassias fixed most of his attention on Yerin. She slaughtered the formation's soldier projections, tearing them apart with her white blade, her Goldsign, her mastery of the sword aura. Any soldier he empowered with his own madra was only destroyed faster; their weapon gathered sword aura more efficiently, so Yerin's Endless Sword tore them up.\n\nWithout the ability to empower the soldiers, he could only guide them. At the moment, his most efficient tactic was simply to throw projections at Yerin, hoping to bog her down.\n\nWhen Lindon barreled through the middle, diving through the forest of pillars, Cassias was caught off guard. But only fora moment.\n\nIf he could bring down Yerin early today, he could take care of Lindon without much care. So he diverted two soldiers to slow Lindon down.\n\nCassias was so consumed by his task that he forgot his original goal. He had grownup a genius of the Arelius family, its heir, and he had won virtually every competition he'd ever entered. Even giving up his position in the family to Eithan hadn't felt like a loss so much as a trade.\n\nBut he wasn't used to losing. After four months, even the idea of letting the children win on purpose had entirely faded away."
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"value": "He needed to make them give up.\n\n---\n\nThe two soldiers pincered Lindon, each driving a silver-gleaming sword at him from a different direction. On a previous run, they had pierced through his hand, and it had taken his Bloodforged Iron body a week to restore the damage.\n\nBut this time, Lindon wasn't trying to reach the goal.\n\nAny formation like this one had to draw power from the local aura, which meant it took time to recharge. The more energy he could draw out of it this time, the weaker the Trial would be for their second attempt.\n\nWell, the weaker it should be. The theory was sound, but they'd never been able to challenge it twice in the same day before.\n\nHe smashed the seal down on a soldier's head, Burning Cloak flaring around him. The projection burst apart, leaving a Forged sword to dissolve on the ground.\n\nA sword pricked him over the shoulder blade, but with Blackflame madra roaring through him, he barely felt it. He turned with such speed that it wrenched something in his back, seizing that soldier's face in his palm.\n\nLindon hadn't learned any Striker techniques on the Path of Black Flame yet, but he'd worked with the power enough over the last few months that he'd grasped a few basic tricks. He could kindle a black fire, though it was loose and uncontrolled, only spraying a few inches from his hand.\n\nIn this case, that was enough. He gripped the soldier and sent Blackflame madra flooding into it.\n\nThis was the most primitive Striker technique possible; it was more like an Empty Palm than a hurled fireball, but red-and-black power surged into the soldier, dissolving it, burning it to gray essence in seconds."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Without hesitating, Lindon advanced. Between his Iron body and the Burning Cloak, his spirit was burning down quickly, and he had to make sure the course spent more energy than he did.\n\n---\n\nCassias couldn't project new enemies fast enough to deal with Yerin. She had given up any idea of moving forward, pouring everything she had into shredding her opponents. Even some of the stone pillars had been shattered, collapsing in a pile of boulders.\n\nThere were some earth-aspect Ruler constructs built into the course that could rebuild those columns, but they would take even more of the course's stored power. Even if Cassias provided madra of his own, rebuilding the battlefield wouldn't be cheap.\n\nBut the Trial had built up enough momentum. Yerin was on the defensive, Lindon was forced back, and they were surrounded by gray soldiers.\n\nOnce again, it was his victory. They wouldn't surrender the Trial after this, but they were one step closer.\n\nAs Lindon dropped the activation crystal and held up his hands, Cassias leaned back in his chair. They'd given up especially quickly today, despite causing more damage to the course than average. Maybe they really were getting frustrated.\n\nHe found himself a little disappointed. They had learned and grown as sacred artists over the last four months, and it really would be for the best if they quit and trained normally from now on... but part of him had been hoping they would succeed.\n\nCassias sighed and triggered the course's repair function. The stored energy would dip unusually low, but two days of drawing on the mountain's powerful aura would restore it. Even if they tried again tomorrow, he would be able to funnel some of his own madra into the course to makeup the difference."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "Once it was done, he slid the chair over to his desk and began his paperwork. He'd have the rest of the day to himself, and there were work orders to be filled.\n\n---\n\nAfter about an hour of cycling, Yerin walked over to Lindon's cave. He was sitting with legs crossed into a cycling position, breathing evenly. His little pet Sylvan sat on his head, mimicking his posture and playing with his hair.\n\nThe spirit grimaced when she saw Yerin, giving her a suspicious look.\n\nThat was more than a little unfair, in Yerin's view. She'd never drawn swords on the spirit, nor even said a harsh word. Maybe Yerin should feed her, like a skittish dog.\n\nLindon hadn't reacted to Yerin's presence yet, his breaths still steady and measured. In her spiritual perception, he gave off the warm impression of a cycling fire artist, with the added air of danger that came from Blackflame. His jade badge hung from a shimmering silk ribbon and rested against his chest.\n\nNow that they'd spent so long running up against the Blackflame Enforcer Trial, he looked like areal sacred artist. He'd burned off the last bit of softness left from his clan upbringing, his frame hardening and filling out. He was covered by a layer of dirt and ash from their run of the course earlier, his hair messy, his sacred artist robes torn, tattered, and singed.\n\nHe showed a sharp difference from the boy she'd met in Sacred Valley. He still had along stretch of road left to travel, but now she could actually see herself fighting alongside him. Not just in the Trials, either; when she thought of her own violent, uncertain future, she could picture him standing next to her."
},
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"from": "human",
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"value": "Nothing but wishful thinking on her part. If odds played out, he'd be killed by Jai Long and she'd end up as a snack for her unwelcome guest. No sense in planning for anything else until the knives weren't quite so close to their throats.\n\nShe kicked his knee, and he blinked awake. \"Oi. Get Little Blue to scrub me clean, and then let's go.\"\n\nHe was still gathering his thoughts after having broken out of his cycling trance. Now that she looked for it, he was breathing a little heavy, and his skin had alight sheen of sweat. Whatever cycling technique Eithan had taught him, it must have some weight.\n\n\"Little Blue?\" he asked.\n\n\"Can't keep calling her the Riverseed. She's got a face.\"\n\nLindon lifted his eyes as though trying to seethe Sylvan sitting on top of his head. \"Ah, you're right. We should name her.\"\n\nYerin rolled up her sleeve and held out a wrist. \"Call her what you want, but get her to hop on over here.\"\n\nIt took Lindon almost a minute to coax the Riverseed onto Yerin, and she scurried off as soon as her job was done. Once again, even a spark of her power was enough to scrub Yerin's spirit clean of the Blackflame aura buildup. On top of that, her spirit was peaceful and refreshed, like she hadn't fought in days. Yerin couldn't feel a particular aspect to the madra, but it was calm and soothing.\n\nIf only Little Blue didn't hate her so much. Maybe it wasn't her; maybe Sylvans could smell the unwelcome guest inside her.\n\nYerin adjusted her blood-red belt. Would only make sense, if spirits didn't like that. Meant Little Blue had good taste, more than anything."
},
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"from": "human",
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"value": "That was an answer she could live with.\n\n---\n\nCassias vaulted out of his chair and over the table, landing in front of the wooden console. The script in the window flared with the touch of his spirit, showing him a heaven-down view of Lindon and Yerin fighting their way through half-formed soldiers. The smoky gray crystal in Lindon's hand pulsed red, and they'd made it further into the course than they had in the morning: most of the soldiers still hadn't formed, including the giant guardian in front of the exit.\n\nIt was only a half-hearted scan of his spirit that had let Cassias know the course was active. Yerin and Lindon had never attempted two runs of the Trial in the same day, and the ancient training course simply wasn't designed for it. Its power was already running dangerously low, and there were clear consequences: the soldiers were forming much more slowly, and their combat power was weaker. Lindon smashed through one in a single punch, moving into the latter half of the pillars.\n\nIf Cassias had been any slower to notice, they would have torn through the unsupervised and weakened Trial, and they might have passed before Cassias realized anything was wrong.\n\nWell, not any longer.\n\nCassias poured his madra into the correct scripts, the interlocking circles carrying his power down and into the Trial itself. His core, usually shining silver with the light of sword madra, dimmed-transferring his power down through so many scripts was terribly inefficient. He would save more power by hopping down there and fighting them both in person, two against one.\n\nBut he couldn't let it be said that Naru Cassias Arelius picked on the weak.\n\nHis power flooded into the projections, making the soldiers form faster, Enforcing their weapons. He strained his spirit."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Slowly, Lindon and Yerin's advance ground to a halt.\n\n---\n\nLindon turned in midair, kicking off a pillar and launching himself higher. An archer clung to the stone fifteen feet up to snipe at him from above; he grabbed it by the throat and dragged it down to the ground, slamming it into the earth, ignoring the silver arrow that had pierced all the way through his thigh. Blood ran down his leg, costing him a bolt of pain with every step, but the burn of the Blackflame madra and the rush of his Bloodforged body let him ignore it.\n\nThe columns thinned, revealing the red arch of the exit.\n\nThree soldiers stood between him and the gateway, spreading out and keeping their sabers level-they were getting smart now, moving to encircle him, to keep him trapped. They knew where he was going.\n\nOr they thought they did.\n\nThe fury of Blackflame filled Lindon. He tore the arrow from his leg, hurling it at the nearest warrior, who knocked it out of the air with a gray shield.\n\nBut it cost the soldier a moment of its attention. Lindon had dashed after the Forged weapon, projecting a pulse of Blackflame madra into the soldier's midsection. It blew apart like an over-inflated bladder.\n\nThe next one closed the distance to swat the crystal from his hand with its sword, but Lindon seized a dissolving blade from the broken enemy, snatching the blade from midair and using it to knock aside the other weapon's attack.\n\nThen he gripped the sword and drove it through the soldier with sheer force, pinning it to the ground.\n\nThe third and final enemy dropped its sword and shield fora spear, which it could use to keep him at a distance and poke holes in him until he ran out of madra. If he let it get that far."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Flaring the Burning Cloak, he leaped. His legs screamed at the strain, but the ground beneath him exploded.\n\nAt the top of his jump, he twisted to grab the soldier's head with one hand, and his momentum continued carrying him forward. The Forged warrior smashed into a stone column, bursting with the force, dissolving in his hand.\n\nLindon shouted with the exhilaration of the moment, landing on both feet. Soldiers collected themselves in chunks of gray madra, and he ground his teeth, ready to tear them apart.\n\nThe dragon advances.\n\nHe could seethe exit, and his Blackflame madra was ready to push him forward still, Orthos' core pulsing with the eagerness of a predator before the kill.\n\nBut the huge stone giant with the spiked helmet still stood in front of him, a trident in each hand.\n\nYerin stumbled up next to Lindon, scratched and bloody, panting in the even rhythm of a cycling technique, pale sword clutched in her hand.\n\nHe looked at her and they both nodded, turning to face the giant together.\n\nThen Lindon let the crystal ball fall to the ground, and the test ended.\n\n\"Looked a lot shabbier that time, that's a truth,\" Yerin said, resting drawn blade on her shoulder.\n\nLindon's Blackflame core was down to one smoldering red-and-black ember. \"I think I can manage one more.\"\n\n\"Third try,\" Yerin said. \"Let's go.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Panting, Cassias fell back against the wicker chair. He'd exhausted his madra so quickly that his soul felt numb, and his limbs trembled.\n\nFour months. The Enforcer Trial was only supposed to take a few weeks, but considering the circumstances, Cassias would find it hard to say they'd failed.\n\nEven after the fall of the Blackflame family, the Naru used this course to train their disciples. But they only ever trained teams.\n\nThis Trial had been built to test a single disciple on the Path of Black Flame, fighting with four of their closest protectors. None of the participants would be higher than Lowgold, but the five would have been trained to cooperate since childhood.\n\nThe bodyguards would fight as a unit to keep the soldiers away so that the Blackflame could concentrate on holding their Enforcer technique-what Lindon and Yerin called the Burning Cloak-for the duration of the course.\n\nIn this Trial, the Blackflame was never supposed to fight. It was a test of teamwork and spiritual endurance.\n\nNo one had ever thought to make it a rule that you couldn't challenge the Enforcer Trial twice in one day. Theoretically, it was impossible: the Burning Cloak put too much of a strain on the body to maintain for long, and even the Blackflame family had to cleanse their madra channels after an attempt. When you added in the injuries that a team would inevitably collect during a run of the course, it was a rare five-man squad that could complete a Trial run once a day.\n\n\"The dragon advances\" was the advice for anyone attempting the Trial: they had to act so that the dragon, the Blackflame sacred artist, continually advanced. If they slowed, they would inevitably get bogged down in combat and lose control of the Burning Cloak."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon and Yerin had evidently interpreted that advice differently. They relentlessly advanced until the Trial broke before them.\n\nAny Blackflame Highgold would have had the skill and power to do the same, of course, as would many of the top-tier geniuses from the clan... but none of them would have needed a second attempt. Endurance didn't come into it when you blew through the Trial on your first try.\n\nBut Lindon and Yerin had challenged the course until the course gave up. Yerin was a Sage's disciple, so she should be expected to produce miracles, but Lindon? How did he have the madra capacity to fuel both his Bloodforged Iron body and the Burning Cloak? While carrying the crystal and fighting at the same time? Even accepting that, how had he cleansed the damage that Blackflame madra must have done to his madra channels?\n\nWhat had Eithan done to him?\n\nWhen Cassias thoughts turned to Eithan, his heart sank. He was not looking forward to bringing Eithan the news.\n\nThe Underlord would be insufferable after this.\n\n---\n\nLindon and Yerin both collapsed after completing the Enforcer Trial, bleeding into the dirt.\n\nNow that they had reached the Striker Trial, they could walk back through the stone columns freely without the Enforcer Trial coming to life and spitting out soldiers. Once Lindon could move again, he resolved to spend an hour doing nothing but walking through the empty Enforcer Trial, just to prove he could.\n\nThe Striker Trial itself was an open field of scorched, blasted soil, with another red arch in the distance. Another stone tablet and pedestal waited for them near the entrance, and Lindon wanted to drag his broken body over and start reading the introduction to the Striker technique."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "But Yerin had already begun limping back toward their caves, so Lindon followed her. The slab of rock would be there when the wound in his thigh closed.\n\nAnd now, though Lindon had prepared to challenge the Enforcer Trial for several more days in a row, they were back home so easily.\n\nThe Blackflame-scorched crab meat and fiery berries had never tasted so good.\n\n\"... they tried to bury me with their bodies,\" Yerin said, waving a stick in the air like a sword. Her forearm was wrapped in white bandage, as washer entire left eye and her right leg, but none of it affected her motion with the stick. \"Had to scrape and claw my way out. Toward the tail end of it, I had my master's sword in this hand, a soldier's sword in this one, and my Goldsign launching every technique I could. My madra's going out like a river, and I can barely see. I think for sure they're going to bring me down again.\"\n\nShe tossed her stick into the fire, grinning. \"And then two of them turn like they hear something. They're off like arrows, and that's the straw that tips it. I cut through the rest and come through, looking for you, just in time to see you smack one to pieces against a pillar. If that's not a story worth crowing about, I've never heard one.\"\n\nLindon's pride helped distract him from the throbbing pain in his thigh and shoulder. He pressed his fists together, looking at her. \"I would never have passed without you taking more than your share. Gratitude.\"\n\nShe half-heartedly kicked dirt at him. \"I don't need that. Not like it was your Trial alone, was it? Goldsign did what I wanted it to that time, and I'm this close to Highgold. I know it. Didn't have to crack my master open or anything.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A drop of rain hissed as it fell into the fire."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Another sent up a puff of dirt as it landed nearby, but he was sitting with his back to the cave. An outcropping of stone kept him dry.\n\nLindon stared into the remaining flames, thoughts growing heavy. Yerin stuck a handout, testing the rain, and then slipped over to his side of the fire to join him.\n\nShe sat with him, shoulder to shoulder, fora minute or two before speaking out. \"A worry shared is a worry halved.\"\n\nEven halved, he had enough worry for both of them.\n\n\"Still along way to go before Truegold,\" he said, voice dry. \"What do I have left, six months?\"\n\n\"I'd be cracked in the head if I said I was going to hit Truegold in six months,\" Yerin agreed. \"Especially if I was starting from Jade. There are ways to pump you upon the day, just for one fight, but none of them are stable for your health.\"\n\n\"Then... what am I doing?\"\n\nShe stayed quiet, looking into the fire with him. The rain picked up, slowly dousing the campfire, turning the dark, greasy flames to smoke.\n\n\"Back home, they'd have named me heir to the clan by now,\" Lindon said. \"Jade before seventeen summers. They'd call me a genius, or blessed by the heavens. But that's not enough to keep me alive.\"\n\nShe leaned her shoulder into his. \"Back in your home, they stacked up pebbles and called them mountains. When you left, you slipped out of a trap. As for dying...\" She gave a soundless laugh. \"Not your problem alone, is it? Eithan's to blame for dangling you over the fire; he'll have to do his share of pulling you out.\""
},
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yerin slipped her hand into his and gave him a squeeze. Her fingers were rough and callused. \"I'm here too, for all that's worth. Don't want to see you buried yet.\"\n\nLindon's heart hammered, and he had to concentrate to control the flow of his madra. He had lived in this valley with Yerin for the past half a year, but the contact between them had been almost entirely related to the sacred arts-she would give him pointers during practice, or discuss that day's attempt at the Trial, or help him catch food. They had both been aimed at the Trial like a pair of hawks unleashed for the hunt.\n\nNow, this simple contact felt like sinking into a warm bath after along day working in the snow. He squeezed her hand back without a word, and she left it there as they leaned against each other.\n\nTogether, they sat and watched the rain.\n\n... until they heard the scream.\n\nIt started as a distant shriek, but rapidly grew closer. Yerin was on her feet with weapon in hand instantly, her silver Goldsign arched and poised.\n\nLindon rose more roughly, favoring his wounded leg, but he had recovered enough Blackflame madra to begin cycling for the Burning Cloak. If this was a fight, maybe some unexpected beginning to the Striker Trial, he would be ready.\n\nEithan slammed into the ground a second later, face-first, kicking up a cloud of dust.\n\nBoth Lindon and Yerin took a step back, coughing and waving dust away. When the cloud cleared, the Underlord was still lying there spread-eagle, turquoise-and-gold robes settling into the dirt, his yellow hair a mess around him.\n\nHe suddenly convulsed, making a choking sound as he sat bolt upright. An instant later he hacked a mouthful of mud onto the ground, grimacing at the taste."
},
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That was more of a-ah, let's say-rapid descent than I intended,\" Eithan said, rubbing dirt from his face with the heel of his hand.\n\nThe top of the cliff loomed over them, scraping the sky. He had to have fallen over a hundred feet, if not more. \"Underlord, are you... are you all right?\"\n\nYerin folded her arms. \"Takes more than that to ruffle your feathers, doesn't it, Eithan?\"\n\nEithan spat some more mud onto the ground. \"I'm not so sure. My feathers might be intact, but my ribs are going to have some complaining to do for the next morning or two.\" He coughed loudly into his hand, and then inspected his palm.\n\n\"It's a pleasure to see you, after all this time,\" Lindon said. \"Are you here because we passed the Trial?\"\n\n\"You mean, why did I fallout of the sky and onto my face just now?\" Eithan asked, rising to his feet and brushing himself off. \"A wise question. I've been keeping an eye on you, as I promised, and now that you've cleared the Enforcer Trial-none too soon, I might add-I decided to pay you a visit. And as I was making my way to you, I...\" He coughed once more, more lightly this time. \"... slipped.\"\n\nYerin looked him up and down. \"Underlords slip off rocks everyday, do they?\"\n\n\"I don't make a habit of it, but it was a steep descent, as you can see.\" He gestured to the cliff, which was the next best thing to a sheer wall. \"Even I make mistakes from time to time. Anyway, I was waiting for the most appropriate time to make my entrance, and... well, it was raining.\" He held out a hand. \"Looks like that's cleared up, and just in time!\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "His grin returned in full force, and he bulled forward before Lindon could ask anymore questions about his entrance. \"Half of your year remains, as I'm sure you know, so I come bearing gifts.\" He turned to Yerin, giving a shallow bow. \"For you, little sister, I have located that greatest of rarities: a Spirit Manifestation pill.\"\n\nYerin stared blankly at him. \"If you're expecting me to start dancing for joy...\"\n\n\"The Spirit Manifestation pill is very delicate and expensive, refined from some of the most valuable herbs and blood essences on the continent. It takes decades to finish, and each individual elixir can be considered a refiner's masterpiece!\" Yerin didn't seem impressed, but Lindon was leaning forward, eyes wide.\n\nIf Yerin's gift was so rare and valuable, he could only imagine what was coming his way.\n\n\"Each pill is customized to the individual consuming it,\" Eithan said proudly. \"In this case, it will fill you with enough sword madra to help you break open the boundary to Highgold... without disturbing your master's Remnant in the slightest.\"\n\nNow Yerin's face paled, and a hand moved down to the red rope wrapped around her waist. Lindon always tried to avoid looking at the belt; it seemed to squirm in the corner of his eye, and in his spiritual senses, the rope felt like it was soaked in blood.\n\n\"Light dawns! Yes, you can stay ahead of your... rude lodger, there... and keep your master's memories for as long as you like.\"\n\nYerin drifted toward him as though sleepwalking. \"Do you have that pill tucked away? No, not unless you've put a veil over it. Where did you leave it?\" She looked like she was going to seize him by the collar and start shaking."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "He held up a hand. \"It has taken me months of hunting, bartering, and begging to secure a half-finished pill, and it has to be completed to your personal specifications. I have the best refiner in the family working on it whenever he's not occupied with other matters, but it will still be many months before it is finished. However, when it is complete...\" He folded his hands together respectfully. \"... well, I regret that the honored Sage of the Endless Sword will not be thereto witness your glory.\"\n\nYerin stalked away, leaning with one hand against the cave wall, breathing heavily. Lindon wished there was something he could say to her, but he was still wondering about her'lodger.\"\n\nIn spite of himself, he was somewhat disappointed by that. She knew all about Suriel, but she hadn't trusted him enough to tell him her secret. It wasn't as thought he had any right to know, but would have been nice.\n\n\"And for you, Lindon,\" Eithan said, interrupting his thoughts. \"I've located a Blackflame Truegold's scales. Pure scales are useful to anyone, as you know, but scales from the Path of Black Flame could save you months of cycling.\"\n\nThe implications of that were not lost on Lindon, and he dropped to his knees, bowing deeply. \"This one cannot express his appreciation, Underlord.\"\n\nEithan waved at him irritably. \"None of that. I need you with a straight spine, not a bent one. Stand up.\"\n\nLindon did so, but he still pressed his fists together in a salute.\n\n\"The scales are up for auction in three months' time, after which I will bring them back to you,\" Eithan continued. \"I will hold it as a reward for completing the third Trial. With the aid of the scales, you could reach the peak of Jade in an instant, and then Orthos could take you to Gold. Lowgold fighting against Truegold...\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He rubbed his chin. \"... well, it's not as though it's never happened. Your Path is suitable, and a heron could technically kill a lion, if it poked the beast's eyes out at exactly the right moment. But, ah, I still wouldn't bet on the heron.\"\n\nThat dampened Lindon's enthusiasm considerably. Judging from the Underlord's words, advancing to Lowgold was the best he could hope for, and it still wouldn't change his fate.\n\n\"If you can complete the two remaining Trials in six weeks each-much, much faster than this one-you'll have plenty of time to process those scales! So now that you're properly motivated: fight, fight, fight!\"\n\nLindon sat staring at nothing for long after Eithan left.\n\nSuddenly the future looked so bleak.\n\n---\n\nLindon knelt in front of the Striker tablet while Yerin stood over him, listening.\n\n\"With the power of the dragons, the Blackflames destroyed their enemies. Their allies feared them, but...\" Lindon hesitated in front of a group of four characters stacked together. They seemed to be some sort of idiom, maybe a proverb that had once been common.\n\nAfter he thought he had it, he continued. \"A ruthless enemy is a reliable ally. When their enemies were no more, they had peace.\"\n\nAnd that was the legacy he was inheriting now: a Path of ruthless destruction. It was a sobering thought.\n\nHe ran his finger down the tablet, skipping past the madra diagram and the description of the Striker technique-he would need Yerin to help him decipher those anyway. He landed on the words in the center of the stone.\n\n\"The dragon destroys,\" he said aloud."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The dragon advances.\n\nThe dragon destroys.\n\n\"Makes you ask what the third stone says,\" Yerin said. \"The dragon dances, maybe. The dragon naps. The dragon takes a break because he already killed everybody.\"\n\nLindon skipped to the Striker technique. \"Fierce... River of... Fierce Flowing Breath. I'm fairly sure that's what it means. They certainly say \"fierce\" twice.\"\n\nYerin folded her arms. \"It's dragon breath.\"\n\nShe pointed to the pictogram of a man projecting a line of fire from his hands. It was next to a picture of that same technique streaming from a dragon's open jaws. \"Maybe they called it Fiercely Fierce Breath, but everybody knows what comes out of a dragon's mouth.\"\n\nLindon looked at the loops indicating the madra flow, and at the characters floating over it. \"Would you mind teaching me, then?\"\n\nShe rapped her knuckles against the stone. \"I could tell you without reading them. Cycle your madra to the palms of your hands and keep it there. Let it build and build like you've stopped up a river, and when it's just about to burst, push it out.\" She shrugged. \"My Striker technique starts the same way, except through a sword. And mine has three more steps.\"\n\nLindon looked at his hands, gathering madra into his palms while trying to focus on maintaining his breathing and cycling according to the diagram all at the same time.\n\nYerin grabbed him by the arm. \"Maybe take a step or two back, if you don't mind. I'm not looking to roast today.\"\n\nLindon bowed in apology, moving ten steps to the right and contemplating the broad, blackened expanse of hardened dirt that was the Striker Trial. He was itching to see what they'd have to face in the Trial itself, but one step at a time; he wouldn't even be able to start without the ability to execute a Striker technique."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He steadied his breath, focusing first on the madra diagram, making sure that his madra was flowing through the right channels. Then, once he had his madra moving in the right direction, he ignored it.\n\nIn the last few months, he'd gotten something of a sense for the nature of Blackflame madra. He could move by feel, without relying on convoluted patterns, gathering power in his palms and letting it pool there. He had done something similar with the soldier earlier, pouring raw power into the projection and letting it explode.\n\nHe held both hands out toward the empty space. Nothing visible changed, but he could feel the madra building and building, the pressure growing, until his hands felt like they would dissolve from the inside.\n\nIn that moment, he gathered the force of his spirit and shoved.\n\nWhen Lindon had first learned the Burning Cloak, the technique had started thin, weak, and inefficient. He had worked for months to increase its potency, to use its power effectively. He had expected something similar with the Striker technique: this first attempt might produce nothing more than a tiny tongue of flame, but he would build it up to a roaring dragon's breath.\n\nSo when the madra burst out of him in a furious, flaming storm of black and red, scorching the air in an explosion that sent him tumbling backwards ten feet and coming to rest in a tangle of limbs, he was... surprised.\n\nYerin waited for him to stumble to his feet and press his hand to his skull, checking for bruising, before she nodded sagely. \"Yeah, that's how it happens.\"\n\nThe dirt was blasted away in a starburst pattern where Lindon had been standing. It wasn't deep-the soil here was packed tight, and had been charred over and over for years-but it stood out. The aura seethed in his Copper sight, the black and red powers boiling, but they slowly calmed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It didn't get very far,\" Lindon noted, steadying himself against the cliff wall. That explosion had singed his hands, even though it came from his own madra-it must have ignited the air. His Bloodforged Iron body was already drawing power to the injury, sapping his core further. That one technique had taken more out of him than five minutes with the Burning Cloak.\n\n\"River doesn't get too far without banks,\" Yerin said. \"Out of control, it's just a flood. Spills everywhere. You want it to go where you want it to go, you have to guide it.\"\n\nShe tapped the stone again. \"There's a pointer here. Push it outside your body, but keep it under control.\" She held her hands a few inches apart as though cupping an invisible ball, and swirls of sharp silver energy began collecting in the air between them. They whirled and slashed in bright flashes, as though she'd contained a dozen blades of light.\n\n\"Pack it together,\" she continued. The silver light bunched up into a ball the size of his thumb, but she kept pouring more madra into it. \"Then, when you can't keep it dammed up anymore...\" A wild, spiraling blaze of silver light whirled between her hands. \"... let it go.\"\n\nThe ball flew out of her hands, a silver fist-sized spiral of sword madra. It spun erratically in the air, going no more than a yard or two before it slammed into the ground.\n\nThe technique exploded.\n\nA thousand sword slashes detonated in all different directions, slicing the air, carving hundreds of crisscrossing grooves in the earth. Some of them looked deeper than the length of his hand.\n\nThe storm of sword energy faded, leaving Lindon stunned. \"Have you used that technique before?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She shrugged. \"Pulled that out of thin air. Not really a winner for me; it only goes a step or two, see, and I could do it faster with my sword. Sword madra likes to move, not to be bunched up like that. Should be stable enough for fire madra, though.\"\n\nIt hadn't looked anything like the diagram: she'd fired a twisting ball, not a stream of energy that struck in a line. But different aspects of madra should be expected to work differently, and this technique had been developed for Blackflame.\n\nLindon was expectant as he held his hands about six inches apart. Even if he ended up with an explosive fireball instead of a dragon's breath, that was a more devastating weapon than he had now.\n\nCycling his madra according to the Striker technique's pattern, he gathered power in his palms. Then, focusing on the space between his hands, he let the power flow out.\n\nThe air between his hands blew apart.\n\nThis time it wasn't enough to knock him away, but he did stumble back a few steps, his hands scorched. The front of his outer robe had started to unravel, and his belt was singed.\n\n\"You've got to keep hold of it,\" Yerin said.\n\n\"That's what I'm trying to-\" he said, before his second attempt exploded.\n\nAfter three more failed attempts, Lindon eyed the far side of the Striker Trial grounds. They were mostly identical to the Enforcer grounds, with one notable exception: there was no crystal ball on the pedestal next to the tablet, and no pedestal on the other side. Obviously he wasn't supposed to carry anything across.\n\nJudging by the nature of the Trial, he had to assume he was intended to launch a technique all the way over there. But if he wanted to extend his Striker range from a few inches to over a hundred yards, then he had to hope his talent as a Striker exceeded his talent as an Enforcer."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I can practice tonight,\" Lindon said, putting his hand on the pedestal. \"Let's get started.\"\n\nYerin rubbed a thumb along one of the fresh scars on her jaw. \"Looks like you're trying to fly before you grow wings, if you ask my opinion.\"\n\nLindon was already gathering madra into his hand. One hand, this time. \"We have to see how far we have yet to fly, don't we?\"\n\n\"Truth.\" She drew her sword eagerly-he'd known he wouldn't have to do much to convince her. \"Light this fire,\" she said.\n\nIt took him a few more seconds to push the madra through his palms, and this time his madra was recognizable as fire. It spilled allover the pedestal, doing no damage whatsoever to the smoky crystal or the stone, and only knocked Lindon's arm back instead of his entire body.\n\nThe technique didn't stretch any further, but progress was progress.\n\nAs soon as his madra entered the crystal, circles came to life allover the Trial grounds. The ground rumbled, and afield of hazy gray light sprang up in the center of the field.\n\nThere was some good news: at least he didn't have to hold the technique this time, as he had for the Enforcer Trial.\n\nThe scripts continued working, making more changes, but Yerin reached down and hefted a rock twice the size of her fist. With a casual flip of the wrist, she hurled it half the length of the grounds, into the gray wall.\n\nThe rock sizzled and disappeared.\n\n\"As you'd expect, they won't let you just walk through.\" She flicked her sword, and a rippling wave of silver-tinged light sliced through the air. It passed through the gray field intact; Lindon could sense its energy streak past the aura barrier."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So madra passed through, but not solid objects. Fascinating.\n\nShadows gathered past the gray wall, visible as though through dirty glass, but Lindon jogged up to the transparent wall itself. \"Is this a technique, do you think, or some kind of script?\"\n\nYerin had followed him, though she watched the shadowy figures gathering on the other side rather than the wall. \"Could be either one, I'd say. Gathers up destruction aura into one place, leaves madra alone.\"\n\nLindon opened his Copper sight, and sure enough, the entire wall was a hazy mass of black, twisting lines that carried the meaning of destruction, dissolution. They meant \"the end.\"\n\nHe focused back on the physical world, looking for the edges of the wall, sending out his spiritual sense to probe for the script that had projected it. \"Blackflame has a destruction aspect. I wonder if I could-\"\n\nYerin shoved him aside as something heavy passed through the air where his head had just been.\n\nHe caught a glimpse of the weapon as he fell to the dirt: a heavy stone spear.\n\nMore spears flew out of the gray wall, flicking out in rapid succession, each aimed at Yerin. She moved quicker than Lindon could follow without the Burning Cloak active, ducking one spear, knocking a second off course with her Goldsign, and sidestepping the third.\n\nThe spears flew back to the end of the grounds, clattering to the ground just before the entrance arch.\n\nThe instant Lindon started backing away from the wall, a spear struck like a lightning bolt, flying straight at him.\n\nThe Burning Cloak ignited, and he shattered the spearhead with his fist.\n\nChunks of stone started dissolving as soon as the spear broke-Forged madra, then. Just like the soldiers."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was a relief. Real stone would have been much more difficult to deal with than a Forger technique.\n\nHe waited a breath for another spear, but none came. Then he took a step back.\n\nTwo spears flew at him, one on top of the other.\n\nEven in the Burning Cloak, he couldn't keep up, smashing one aside but taking a grazing cut to the inside of his arm from the second. And the Cloak would fall any second; he didn't have the madra to maintain it, not after botching all those attempts at the Striker technique.\n\nHe froze in place, trying to conserve madra and movement, and no more spears followed those two.\n\nA steady stream of spears flew out at Yerin, who slowly retreated.\n\n\"Stop moving!\" Lindon called, and Yerin froze after snatching two spears out of the air.\n\nThe remaining spears clattered to the ground, blood flowed down Lindon's arm to drip from his fingertips, and Yerin stood panting with a spear in each hand.\n\nThe wall remained still.\n\nCautiously, Lindon let the Burning Cloak drop. The blazing black-and-red energy around his body faded.\n\nThough it was difficult to see through the cloudy wall of gray aura, he could make out a few shapes: three irregular balls of shadow, each floating in midair, clustered in a rough triangle with about twenty feet between them. The balls were only the size of his head-at least, as far as he could tell-but they bobbed and flowed like liquid.\n\nWhile moving his body as little as possible, Lindon raised his voice. \"I see three dark spots. Do you think they could be the source of the spears?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Targets, I'd say,\" Yerin responded.\n\n\"Could be both.\"\n\nVery slowly, Yerin hefted one of her spears. \"Let's test it.\"\n\nIn one smooth motion, she hurled the spear.\n\nAnother spear shot out at her, but she ducked and let it pass over her head. At first Lindon thought the weapon she'd thrown would dissolve into the gray wall, but then he remembered it was Forged madra: the destruction aura would just ignore it.\n\nBut it was also a moving object.\n\nAnother spear launched from the other side, striking Yerin's spear with a sound like a tree splintering. They clattered to the ground, slowly breaking apart.\n\n\"That's a neat little trick,\" Yerin said, still crouching with her one remaining spear.\n\nLindon thought he had the measure of it now. The wall was to keep them from closing the distance, to force them to use Striker techniques, and the spears were to keep pressure on them. They needed to knock the three targets down without attracting the attention of the spears, so they needed to be fast without much movement.\n\nHe could seethe path laid out for him: he'd have to throw fire quickly and precisely, while still defending himself from the spears. It would take months of rigorous practice to train his reactions, not to mention building up his spirit. But Eithan had only allotted him six weeks for this Trial.\n\nHe needed a shortcut.\n\nLindon wanted to go back to the cave and start working, but he was stuck frozen in the center of the Trial grounds. He hated to ask, but with his madra as weak as it was, he could only think of one way out. \"Forgiveness, but... do you think you could cover meas I run?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If I can't, worst thing that could happen is a spear through the back.\"\n\nShe said it like a joke, but he was already picturing a spear thick as his wrist impaling him through the ribs. Even his Bloodforged Iron body couldn't keep up with that.\n\nHe stayed still. \"I'm sure that a spear to the back is nothing to you, but even with my Iron body, I'm not sure if I want to-\"\n\n\"Start running, Lindon.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "After a week, Lindon could almost form a ball of Blackflame between his hands. It would explode immediately, so he'd taken to practicing bare-chested; otherwise, he would have burned away his outer robe on the second day.\n\nTheir attempts on the Striker Trial had been less than successful, as they had quickly realized that Yerin couldn't destroy the targets. The black blobs floating behind the hazy wall of aura would just re-form if they were cut.\n\nTo destroy the targets, they needed Blackflame.\n\nLindon condensed another blob of dark fire, casting his palms in a deep crimson radiance. His mind and spirit were drawn to a point, utterly focused on his task, as beads of sweat rolled down his face.\n\nThe ball of burning madra between his palms swelled, growing until it was almost the size of a fist-a little more, and he could consider the first stage of the technique passed.\n\nWhen he sent one more pulse of madra into the ball, it exploded.\n\nHe flipped onto his back, slamming his skull against the hard-packed earth and staring up into the blue strip of sky he could see through the opening to his canyon. His breaths came heavily as he tried to find his cycling rhythm, pulling his madra together for another attempt.\n\nA red-tinged shadow loomed over him, and blazing red circles on fields of darkness swiveled to meet his eyes.\n\n\"Orthos,\" Lindon panted, gingerly climbing to his feet so that he could bow. \"It has been too long.\"\n\nThe giant turtle grumbled something that might have been agreement. \"I am not pleased,\" he declared, snapping up a small boulder.\n\nLindon hurriedly pulled his sacred artist's robe backup; he'd pushed it down to the waist, which was not a polite way to meet a guest. \"Pardon, honored Orthos. I was not expecting a visitor.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had sensed Orthos'presence growing closer, but the turtle had gotten close to the canyon many times over the last few months. He'd never entered. Besides, Lindon's attention was devoted entirely to his half-formed Striker technique.\n\n\"With so much attention on your training,\" Orthos said, \"you should be making progress.\" The last word was packed with such spite and rage that Orthos' eyes went from red to the bright orange of an open flame. Lindon felt the radiance of the anger in his spirit, and he took a step back, instinctively cycling his madra fora fight.\n\nOrthos snapped his head to one side, bottling up the anger again, mastering himself. \"You see?\" he said at last. \"The pure madra I took from you is not enough to balance the corrosion any longer. I need to pour more power into you, and you are not ready. I am displeased.\"\n\nOrthos' spirit was in better shape than when Lindon had first sensed it; the painful, burning heat was better contained, and now it moved in regular cycles instead of a wild mass of flames.\n\nBut it still felt like a volcano on the verge of erupting. \"If you need some scales, I've Forged a few more,\" Lindon said. He'd left his pack a few feet away, and he dug through it fora handful of blue-and-white translucent coins. He tossed them to Orthos, and they dissolved into pale blue streams in midair that sank into the turtle's body.\n\nIf they made a difference, Lindon couldn't see it.\n\n\"That will not be enough,\" Orthos rumbled. \"If it were, the Arelius family would have healed me already. They can afford more than a few low-grade scales.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, martial arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Blackflame\nChapter: 20"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In Yerin's view, you never got used to the fear of death, but you could ignore it. It didn't go away, but when you'd spent more nights in swordfights than in soft beds, you learned to shove the fear into the dark corner where it belonged.\n\nBut facing the hulking, burning, armored beast that loomed over her and struck with a fury that singed her skin, that fear was creeping out of its corner and showing its ugly face.\n\nOrthos was overwhelming her with the sheer power of his madra. He would smash down with an Enforced paw that cracked the ground, cough up a tongue of abyssal flames, and rush forward to crush her with his body weight, all in the space of a breath. She dodged what she could, but some attacks had to be turned, and it took everything she had to shove one of his blows to the side.\n\nHer master's voice was finally starting to scrape her nerves. She'd learned so much from the instincts bubbling up from his Remnant that she couldn't believe Eithan had ever told her to get rid of him, but now he was starting to feel like a burden. Her Goldsign twitched like her master wanted her to cut the turtle in half; well, that would be just fine, if it weren't a turtle. There was a big mound of shell in the way.\n\nThe Sword Sage didn't seethe problem. That was a stable enough move if it were him in the flesh; he could cut a mountain in half without a sword in his hand. But she was still a Gold, ten leagues and two oceans behind his stage of advancement. She couldn't cut through that shell if Orthos stood quietly and let her... but her Goldsign was still pulling her to try it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If not for Lindon, she'd be dead already; when she saw him catch a gap in Orthos\" defense and rush into hammer it, she was prouder than a hen with six eggs. Good thing he was there, because he could take hits from Blackflame madra without dissolving like salt in water.\n\nOrthos hadn't gathered himself fora big show like that Striker technique that had pierced the clouds-and a good thing too, or he'd bring the canyon walls down-because he didn't have the presence of mind for it. Best he could manage was belching a few black flames, which Lindon could swat away with his own madra and keep fighting. She had to meet each of those techniques with her sword, or risk losing an arm.\n\nBut every time Lindon did that, his power dimmed like a dying light. He was faltering, that was plain to see.\n\nIf she didn't win this fight in the next two breaths, he wouldn't get a third.\n\nSmoke and red-tinged light rose from Orthos'shell as he stomped around, swiveling his head to point at Lindon. The turtle's jaw gaped, and his eyes blazed with what she'd call hatred.\n\nThere was a mountain of shell between her and Lindon, but there was one last thing she could try.\n\nWith all the strength of her Steelborn Iron body, Yerin hurled the sword between Orthos'legs. It stuck into the earth beneath the turtle, buried up to the hilt, and Orthos didn't notice.\n\nDead on target.\n\nYerin gathered all the sword aura she could pull onto her Goldsign, and even the edge of her fingernails. Sword aura showed its power in motion; when she swung them all forward, she struck with the Endless Sword technique."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Her Goldsign rang like a bell."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her fingernails echoed, tiny chimes, as they popped and sprayed blood into the air.\n\nAll the sword aura resonated in a twenty-foot radius around her, the technique spreading out in a wave and looking for other swords. When it hither master's blade, the ringing sounded like the gong that announced victory or failure in the Blackflame Trials.\n\nSword aura burst out of the buried weapon, a wave of dirt spraying everywhere, and blasted the turtle's underbelly. She had been hoping to split Orthos from bottom to top, but she could feel when the aura didn't bite. It slammed into his belly, lifting him six inches off the ground and making him roar... but it barely cut him. She'd gotten worse from sharp twigs.\n\nIn that half-second while all four paws were off the ground, she saw one more chance, but she didn't have the strength to followup on it. If she had her sword, sure. But she was unarmed, bleeding from all ten fingernails, and low on madra to top it off.\n\nShe opened her mouth to shout, hoping Lindon would catch this chance before it passed.\n\nBefore a sound left her lips, Lindon moved.\n\nThe months of training together finally showed their worth. Lindon, heavens bless him, saw the opportunity. He slid closer to Orthos and reached down, fist flaring with the black-and-red light of the Burning Cloak.\n\nHis uppercut caught the turtle on the edge of his shell, sending Orthos flipping upside-down.\n\nThe sacred beast slammed into the earth a moment later, spraying Blackflame madra from its mouth and roaring. Yerin clambered closer, snatching the hilt of her sword away-only luck had stopped him from landing right on the blade."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Another benefit of working with Lindon: she knew exactly where he'd be without looking.\n\nShe tossed the white sword into the air over Orthos, and Lindon-already at the height of a jump-snatched it out of the air.\n\nHis thoughts were the same as hers, she knew. They didn't want to kill Orthos, because they'd have to fight his Remnant, but heaven strike her down if she could see a better way. Besides, Lindon could adopt the Remnant; he might not have been instructed through that process, and he may not have been quite ready for it, but that would be better than another fight to the death.\n\nLindon landed on Orthos' belly, swaying like a man on the deck of a ship. He reversed the sword, raised it in both hands...\n\n... and he switched cores.\n\nHis presence went from a fiercely burning fire to a calm, almost invisible lake. He was a Jade on a different Path.\n\nAnd before he killed the sacred beast, something caught her attention.\n\nWhen did he have full strength in both his cores?\n\nShe'd never noticed much of a difference, since he'd grown so slowly, and he only switched to his Twin Stars madra once in a blue moon. But he used to feel like half a Jade. Now, she'd never know he had a split core without scanning his spirit closely.\n\nHis core still wasn't the deepest, but compared to how he was before, the difference was like heaven and earth. Just the core he was showing now wouldn't embarrass a Jade back in Sacred Valley, and she'd eat her sword if his Blackflame core wasn't a notch wider.\n\nHis cycling technique. Eithan taught it to him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lindon had never made a secret of that, but Yerin hadn't given it two thoughts before."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was just a cycling technique; every Path had one. Lindon had complained about how difficult his Heavenly Whatever Wheel was, but he was new to the sacred arts. Everything was difficult to him.\n\nShe'd been jealous of the personal attention Eithan had paid him, but if she was honest, he needed it more than she did. But Yerin had never thought Eithan was teaching him anything great because-to cut right down to the bone-Eithan wasn't treating them like real disciples. He hadn't even told them the name of his Path.\n\nBut... what if he did think of Lindon as a disciple? What if he was actually passing along his sacred arts to Lindon?\n\nBecause if that cycling technique had made up for his lack of madra, it wasn't some half-baked technique that Lindon had found in an old scroll. It was on the same stage as the cycling technique her master had passed to her.\n\nShe expected afresh surge of envy, but what passed through her instead was relief. A large slice of a sacred artist's future could be told from the quality of their Path.\n\nYou could get to Truegold without a perfect Iron body, but then your flesh wouldn't survive the advancement to Underlord. Same story for spirits: without a solid Jade cycling technique, your soul would get shakier and shakier at each stage until you couldn't advance any further.\n\nThe more solid your foundation, the further you could go.\n\nWhen Eithan told them he wanted to take them all the way to the end, he hadn't just been spitting in the wind.\n\nOf course, they wouldn't take one step out of the valley if Orthos\" Remnant killed them both. The fight wasn't over.\n\nLindon pulled his freehand back fora strike and drove an Empty Palm down into the turtle's midsection, and Yerin could feel the creature's madra going wild. It screamed like an earthquake, so loud she had to cycle madra to her ears to stop her eardrums from bursting. It bucked like a ship in a storm, trying to shake Lindon off."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But it couldn't Enforce its body anymore. Orthos\" quick, graceful movements were gone, and he was just a big turtle.\n\nLindon raised the Sword Sage's blade and threw it to one side.\n\nYerin gaped at him. Every rosy thing she'd thought about him flew away and died.\n\nLindon's knees almost buckled when he hopped off the turtle and hit the ground, and he braced himself against the side of Orthos\" shell for balance. \"Forgiveness, but he doesn't deserve to die here. And the Sylvan might help him.\"\n\nFor once, the three voices in her head were all in agreement. Her unwelcome guest, her master's Remnant, and Yerin all told her to kill the enemy before this idiot could ruin everything.\n\n\"I'm not saying to gut him for the thrill of it. You kill enemies, you hear me? If you don't, they come up behind you and stab you in the back.\"\n\nLindon looked ashamed, but he didn't pick the sword backup. \"I have to go get my pack.\"\n\nYerin marched over and snatched her master's weapon from the dirt as Orthos squirmed to right himself. Her bloody fingernails sent sharp pain up her arms, but nothing she couldn't ignore. \"If you were making this mistake alone, I'd let you. But you're not.\" She leaped over the turtle, landing next to its head, and raised her blade. Her madra flowed into it, gathering along its edge, gathering aura.\n\nThe target's black-and-red eyes rolled in their sockets, searching. Not furious any longer.\n\nLost.\n\nThey stared at her as though begging for an answer. A low groan rumbled in the turtle's throat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do... what... you... must...\" the sacred beast said, in a voice both ancient and heavy.\n\nYerin paused with her white blade against the black, leathery throat. Everything in her told her to split the turtle's neck.\n\nShe sheathed her sword and jogged back to Lindon. He started running for his pack, and she joined him.\n\n\"Not even an enemy, really, is he?\" she muttered, as they ran side by side.\n\n\"I've never thought so, no.\"\n\n\"The Path makes him crazy?\"\n\n\"His mind can't compete with the feelings in his spirit.\" He gave a sheepish smile. \"That's the impression I get.\"\n\n\"Well, if it happens to you, I will cut your head off.\"\n\nThe Sword Sage taught her not to show mercy to her enemies, but he also taught her to act in away she wouldn't regret. Well, if his bloodthirsty Remnant and her blood madra parasite agreed on something, she could bet she'd regret it sooner or later.\n\nThey spent more than a minute chasing Little Blue around the cave and scooping her back into the tank. Otherwise, packing up was easy as a breath; Lindon kept his stuff so organized it would make a librarian jealous, and Yerin didn't have anything. Everything she owned, she kept on her body.\n\nThey returned to the Ruler Trial, Lindon cupping a quivering Sylvan in his hands. He was certain the Riverseed's power could calm Orthos\" spirit, but Yerin kept a grip on her sword.\n\nShe didn't want to kill someone she'd just spared, but Lindon could be too trusting.\n\nWhen they returned and found Orthos gone, he tucked the Sylvan away as though he'd expected as much, and she breathed a sigh of relief."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Nothing left for us here,\" she said, grabbing him by a shoulder and dragging him toward the exit. When he didn't move fast enough to suit her, she pulled him into a run.\n\n\"I doubt we can clear the Ruler Trial now,\" Lindon said as they ran, looking like a turtle himself with the pack bouncing on his back.\n\n\"I'm feeling a little doubt myself,\" Yerin said, voice dry. A chunk of the ninety-nine dummies had been ravaged by the aftermath of their battle, either destroyed by Blackflame or shredded by the Endless Sword. Good thing for them that the course hadn't activated, or the mannequins might have joined in.\n\n\"You think Eithan will understand us leaving early?\" He sounded anxious.\n\nYerin was still picking up flares of chaos from the city. They'd been driven out of the Trials by a wild sacred beast while Serpent's Grave was breaking into a war zone. Eithan was cracked in the head if he expected them to stay where they were.\n\nThe exit arch was black, not red, but its script flared at the touch of Lindon's Blackflame madra. It took him visible effort to activate the circle, and his core felt like the spark at the end of a fizzling incense stick.\n\nNot that she was in much better shape herself. Madra sloshed in her core like the last drops at the bottom of a bottle, and her fingers throbbed like she'd run over her hands with a wagon.\n\nThey emerged onto a cliff overlooking Serpent's Grave. A path cut into the rock sloped steadily downward.\n\nBut they both froze at what they saw. And what they felt.\n\nAs she'd expected, war had come to the city."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Streaks of deadly white light tore through homes."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The dragon bone held up, but even at this distance, they could see holes in everything else: wood, plaster, and paint showed smoking gaps where they'd been torn apart by the sacred arts.\n\nGouts of stone, blasts of wind, and flares of color marked sacred artists fighting all through the streets. The ceaseless ringing of bells reached them even upon the cliff, along with the occasional drifting scream. Smoke hungover everything, and the vital aura of blood, fire, and destruction spread through the city like red and black ink seeping into a painting. Here and there, Remnants crawled over and through buildings.\n\nLindon looked horrified, clutching the jade badge hanging from his neck as though for comfort. Yerin loosened her own grip on her sword, because she was squeezing blood from her fingertips.\n\n\"Eithan's not in the city,\" she said.\n\n\"How can you be sure?\"\n\n\"This wouldn't be happening. There'd be heaps of dead Jai clansmen piled up allover the city.\"\n\n\"We can go back through the Trials,\" Lindon said, voice low and determined. \"Circle around. We'll come out in the back of Arelius territory. Eithan or Cassias will find us first, we can be sure of that.\"\n\nYerin patted her pockets, making sure she still had a flask of water, a wrapped packet of dry food, her knife, and the gold badge her master had left her. Those, her robes, and her sword were the only belongings she needed.\n\n\"We should get started for the capital,\" she said. \"Never been to Blackflame City, but I've been everywhere else, and a couple of sacred artists with no name, no clan, and decent Paths can find work anywhere.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Eithan wouldn't be too happy about that, I'm sure,\" Lindon said carefully.\n\nThat was something to chew on. If anyone could track them down in the mass of a big city, Eithan could.\n\n\"That's sharp thinking, but he couldn't blame us for striking out on our own after... this.\" She swept her arm to encompass the ruined city. \"Somebody wants to fight with me and mine, you know I'll draw swords. But the Arelius family hasn't given us so much that I'd want to die on their account. Nobody there would shed a tear if they saw my Remnant.\"\n\nFor most of her life, the only one who would remember her at all would have been her master. Now... Lindon would cry for her when she was gone. He'd remember her name.\n\nEven more reason not to go down there.\n\n\"We should go back to the Trials,\" Lindon said at last, though he didn't sound too happy about it.\n\n\"Big turtle's somewhere back there,\" she pointed out. \"If it goes crazy onus again, we're-\"\n\nHer spirit warned her, and she shoved Lindon back against the rocks.\n\nTwo sacred artists landed in front of her, their backs to the cliff, but there were more up above who hadn't shown themselves. One was a man about her height, packed tight like a coiled spring, draped in black fur. His gray hair was slicked back with grease, a pair of spear butts poked up over his shoulders, and he glared at Lindon in away that reminded her of a snake baring fangs.\n\nNext to him, ahead taller and wrapped in red, stood Jai Long. Last time she'd seen him, his spirit felt deadly but contained, like a sheathed sword. Now the sheath had been removed-not only was he Truegold as well, with power that pressed against her senses, he felt dangerous. Like he'd cut her just by standing near."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The strips of red cloth covered his face, each bandage filled with flowing script. Dark eyes glittered in the center of the mask.\n\nThis time, he carried no spear.\n\nTwo Truegolds. \"Show me a fair fight,\" her master used to say, \"and I'll show you an opponent who has lost his mind. ' Even so, there were rigged games, and then there was suicide.\n\nThe old Sandviper snarled and swept his hand through the air. A handful of finger-length needles, Forged of acid-green madra, flew out in a spray.\n\nCirculating the Rippling Sword technique, Yerin stepped forward to meet him.\n\nHer core might have been filled with hopes and wishes and nothing else, but she squeezed out every drop of power she could get. The needles crashed against her arching sword like a wave against stone, but that wasn't the end of her technique.\n\nHer madra flashed out, a crescent-shaped slash of colorless power sheathed in silver aura. Fora moment, shock flashed across the Sandviper Truegold's face, and he pulled spears into his hands with blurring speed.\n\nThen Jai Long was there, his hand glowing white and crashing into her technique. The Rippling Sword broke like a bubble, sword aura dispersing into the air.\n\n\"Yerin Arelius,\" Jai Long said evenly. \"Disciple of the Sword Sage. The Underlord told me who you were. If you'd told me last time, I would never have drawn weapons, out of respect for your master.\"\n\n\"The \"Arelius\" part is still all shiny and new,\" Yerin said, still channeling the dregs of her madra into her sword. \"Guess you might say I was adopted. If you wanted to use words instead of weapons this time, I could show mercy and let you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Sandviper lifted a spear, eyes glued to Lindon, and Jai Long started cycling madra. In that blink where they weren't focused on her, Yerin spun.\n\nShe kicked Lindon in the chest, sending him back into the tunnel and closer to the Trial. A Sandviper technique shattered into green light on bare rock where Lindon had been standing, and the gray-haired man was dashing past her, a frustrated growl turning into a shout as he ran.\n\nAbove her, the other nearby Sandvipers grew closer.\n\nShe turned back, and Jai Long had already charged.\n\nYerin had a clear obstacle. She had a fight. Now, she just had to do as her master taught her... and cut right through it.\n\nIn the dark shadows of her mind, the fear of death reared its head again.\n\n---\n\nJai Daishou, Patriarch of the Jai clan, stared through the bubble of aura at the blurred figure with yellow hair and blurred robes.\n\nOrdinarily, sound would not travel well through this boundary formation, but Eithan would be able to see him and hear him. He raised the spear of his honored ancestor, displaying it before the enemy.\n\nThen he shook his head, showing sadness on his face to mask the triumph in his heart. \"Your path of recklessness led us here, Eleven. You have done as you wished, acting on the whims of youth without respect or consideration. This is a harvest you have planted.\"\n\nThe elders around him nodded along. They'd gathered close to the Underlord, like children gathering around their father.\n\nWell, let them. This was Jai Daishou's moment of victory, and the more people who witnessed it, the better."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eithan's face was unreadable through the haze of the aura. He held his broom out to one side; it was hard to make out details, but it didn't seem to be a weapon or a construct. Just a broom.\n\nJai Daishou's grip on his spear tightened as he grew irritated. \"You could hear me if I were on the other side of the mountain, Eleven. Speak like a grown man, for once in your life, and perhaps we can come to an accord.\"\n\nEithan spun the broom in a lazy circle, like a staff, and still didn't speak.\n\nFinally, Jai Daishou's self-restraint broke. For the past six years, since he came from the other end of the world, Eithan Arelius had been a walking disaster. He'd disrespected the Jai clan, ignored the words of his betters, and insulted Jai Daishou to his face. In front of the Emperor once, and the honored Emperor had said not a word.\n\nA man could tolerate only so much before patience reached its end.\n\nJai Daishou leveled the Ancestor's Spear, shifting his stance and letting madra flow freely into his limbs. \"Then you'll forgive me for testing the skills of the youngest Underlord in the Empire.\"\n\nThis formation had been designed with Eithan in mind. No one knew what Path he used, but there were no reports of his ever using a Striker technique. Most reports agreed that he used a Path focused on Enforcement, probably focused on the force aspect. He might have even trained with the Cloud Hammer School, though he lacked their Goldsign.\n\nEithan's hair blew behind him in the wind generated by the force of the boundary formation. He faced Jai Daishou squarely, until the Jai Patriarch was sure they were locking gazes. The Arelius held the broom in one hand, pointing it toward one of the Jai elders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "No, not to the elder."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To the boundary flag.\n\n\"Whose idea was the boundary?\" Eithan asked, and though the words sounded distorted, Jai Daishou could hear them clearly.\n\n\"I knew I would need something to prevent you from running for your life,\" he said. The truth was, this barrier would allow the passage of madra. He intended to skewer Eithan with Striker techniques while the Underlord couldn't fightback.\n\nJai Daishou had spent most of his life building up a reputation of honor and respect that anyone in the Empire would envy, but as death approached, he found that saving face in the eyes of his peers had less and less appeal.\n\nWhat could their ridicule do to him? Ruin his clan? His clan would fall apart the moment he was buried. Now, only results mattered.\n\nThe Jai Patriarch's spearhead blazed like a white sun as he prepared a Star Lance. The other elders spread out around the dome, doing the same.\n\nEithan nodded. \"Thank you,\" he said. \"Now there are no witnesses.\"\n\nA dull gray spark passed from the middle of the broom where Eithan gripped it, washing along to both ends. Soulfire: the signature of an Underlord. Where the blaze passed, the broom's color darkened, remade in the fires of condensed vital aura. It would conduct energy almost perfectly now, and would be tougher than steel. All the best weapons were imbued with a Lord's soulfire.\n\nThat was all within Jai Daishou's calculations. And it was still just a broom.\n\nJai Daishou hesitated before launching his Striker technique. Maybe Eithan Arelius really was arrogant to the point of madness. The young Underlord had always seemed brash with the overconfidence of youth, combined with pride in his admittedly high natural gifts, but now..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "No Truegold was a match for an Underlord, certainly. Soulfire itself, and the process of weaving it from vital aura, gave Lords powers that no Gold could access.\n\nBut it wasn't as though a Truegold could do nothing. Where alone wolf was only prey, a pack of wolves could bring down a tiger. Skilled as they were, these six Truegold elders working together could bring Eithan down on their own. With Jai Daishou added in, the Arelius Underlord was already dead.\n\nHe was just speaking out of pride, that was all.\n\nJust pride.\n\n---\n\nAs Lindon stumbled back through the Trial gate, slapping his hand against the script to reactivate the aura barrier, he tried to remember how many times Yerin had knocked him out of danger.\n\nIt had to beat least six by now, he was sure. It wounded his dignity, being kicked away like a wild dog, but if he had to choose between wounded dignity and a spear through the chest, he knew which he'd pick.\n\nAll those times, and what could he do when she was in danger? Nothing. Just run.\n\nHating himself, Lindon ran back into the Ruler Trial. His first hope was dashed when he realized Orthos wasn't there; he was still nearby, but he could be anywhere in the Trial grounds or back in the tunnels.\n\nA green flash of light shattered the aura barrier and the gray-haired Sandviper crashed through, a short spear in each hand. Endless Sword madra still flickered outside, so Yerin was fighting, and at least she didn't have to face two Truegold opponents at once.\n\nLindon ran for the Trial entrance. If he could make it back to the Enforcer course, he could hide in the rubble of the columns that Orthos had left behind. Then-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A nail drove through his calf, and he went down. He caught himself with both hands and rolled before hitting the ground, so the green Forged nail intended to go through his other leg hit the dirt instead.\n\nHis Blackflame core was hopelessly empty, and his Bloodforged Iron body was draining pure madra to his calf like a bucket with a hole in it. He pinched the needle with two fingers-the Sandviper madra stung his skin like acid-and pulled it out.\n\nThen he let his pack slide to the ground, turning to face his pursuer.\n\n\"My name is Wei Shi Lindon, honored Truegold,\" Lindon said, spreading his hands. \"As you can see, I'm only a Jade, and surely I have nothing to interest an elder of your caliber.\"\n\n\"Sandviper Gokren,\" he growled. \"Kral's father.\"\n\nWhen the spear came in, Lindon instinctively tried to form the Burning Cloak. Of course, nothing happened-he was cycling pure madra, and it had to be handled differently. But he clumsily Enforced his arms anyway, managing to knock the thrust off course.\n\nThe second spear followed instantly, and he had to step back to stop it. Which meant putting weight on his bleeding calf.\n\nHe tried to stop the scream, but when he faltered and took a spearhead to the shoulder, he screamed all the same.\n\nLindon covered his face with his hands as another technique came in, but the spray of needles covered him from head to hips. At first, he trusted in the power of his Iron body and his Enforcer technique to save him, but the strength of a Truegold overwhelmed him. Every wound burned with poison, and his body leaked madra trying to counteract the Sandviper venom."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His lungs locked up. He couldn't get a breath. His madra channels flickered and went dark, the pain overwhelming him as his Enforcer technique broke.\n\nGokren was shouting something, face purple with rage, but Lindon didn't hear a word of it. He was drifting away, his flesh distant, as darkness crept into the corners of his vision.\n\nOrthos hit Gokren like a landslide.\n\nThe turtle's roar shook the canyon. Foreign anger echoed in Lindon's soul, and Blackflame power flared against acid-green light. Rocks cracked, men shouted, and fire crackled.\n\nThe fight continued, but all the other details faded with Lindon's consciousness.\n\nTime passed in a haze of pain as the ground shook beneath him. He came back to himself choking on a mouthful of dirt and ash. He was riddled with holes, blood still seeping out of him, and he was starting to shiver. But the Bloodforged Iron body had done its job; at least venom no longer crawled through his veins.\n\nHe spat out bloody mud and rolled his eyes in his sockets, craning fora sight of Sandviper Gokren.\n\nTwilight had passed, the stars bright pinpricks against the dark.\n\nHe could see no one. He strained his spiritual perception, and sensed...\n\nNothing.\n\nHe tried again, taking deep breaths despite the pain, quieting his spirit as best he could. The world remained dead around him. He opened his eyes, staring beyond what he could see, looking to open his Copper sight and catch a glimpse of aura.\n\nNo color. The world was gray and lifeless, and his limbs now trembled with creeping cold."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Calming his panic, he focused on his madra. His core was drained, but he could fix that by cycling. He braced himself for the pain as he tried to push himself upon his elbows.\n\nIn the dirt, he saw his arms twitch. He felt nothing.\n\nPanic rose into his throat again, throwing off his breathing, and he tried to picture the heavy stone wheel in his core. He didn't feel anything; not a spark.\n\nHis Bloodforged Iron body had drained everything.\n\nThough the pain made his vision swim, and fear weighed him down, he managed to shimmy closer to his pack. It had fallen close to him, and there might be a Four Corners Rotation Pill or some scales inside. At least he could see what he had available, take stock.\n\nHe inched closer, seizing the corner of the pack with his teeth. Through pure will, he managed to slide his hand to the hook at the top. The hook held only a loop of cloth; all he had to do was slide that loop off, and the pack was open. He edged his thumb into the gap.\n\nIt didn't take.\n\nHe tried again and again, despair growing like mold in his chest, until finally he caught the loop. With a limp finger, he pulled it open.\n\nThe pack tipped.\n\nIts contents tumbled onto the ground, pelting his face and hand with junk. The pack must have been jostled around during the fight, because even somethings that should have been secured in inside pockets had come free: his Path of Twin Stars manual, his Soulsmith primer, a sealed inkwell, a handful of halfsilver chips. It all spilled around him like trash.\n\nIn his hazy awareness, Lindon could only latch onto one thought: he had to put everything back where it was supposed to go. He pushed his hand, trying to keep his precious Path manual out of the dirt. Without madra, his arm might as well have been a dishrag."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was empty.\n\nThe canyon had always been dark, allowing only a strip of light in from the sky, but at night the darkness surrounded him.\n\nSo when the light came, it hurt his eyes.\n\nThe blue light seemed blinding at first, even with his eyes closed, but when he swiped muddy tears from his eyelids and squinted into the shadows, his eyes quickly adjusted.\n\nHe stared into an azure candle flame, burning steadily at the heart of a glass marble. The flame was smooth and bright, the glass flawless.\n\nAs Lindon bled into the dirt, he stared at the ball of glass and fire. Just stared.\n\nIn the visions Suriel had shown him, he had died... but not here. Not alone in the dark.\n\nHe had along way to go yet.\n\nLindon slapped one hand down on the marble, feeling its warmth. He hadn't been able to cycle before, but given that he wasn't dead yet, he had to think there was some power left in his soul. If he bled to death, he'd do it while cycling.\n\nIf that didn't work... well, he'd climbed his way up from powerless before. He could do it again.\n\nLindon tried to draw on his Blackflame core, though it was like trying to inhale wood. There was nothing there. But if he could reclaim some shred of power, Blackflame was what he wanted. Pure madra wouldn't do him much good if Gokren came back.\n\nThe thought made him shiver with fear, but he steadied his breath again and started cycling according to the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel. The pain in his lungs almost made him return to his earlier, simpler Foundation technique, but he persevered. Eithan had told him to practice this cycling technique, and at least no one could say he'd given up."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Breath after agonizing breath passed, each one feeling like it hadn't delivered enough air, but he kept going until he started to feel something. An approaching flame, a slight red light, and a tingling feeling on his skin.\n\nHis eyes snapped open to find that he was staring straight into black eyes with irises the color of shining blood.\n\nOrthos."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yerin dashed up the black slope, headed for the other peak, but Jai Long followed her.\n\nHe was playing with her, she could see that clear as glass. Maybe he wanted to hammer out anew technique, and maybe he thought she wasn't worth his best. Whatever the truth, it stung.\n\nShe had clawed the last drop of madra from her core, and was running on prayers. But there was amass of silver power left in her spirit, and she begged it for more power.\n\nHer master's instincts told her to attack.\n\nI can't, she thought. Give me something, and I'll use it.\n\nThe Remnant had no other advice for her. Just a few wispy memories of running straight at an enemy, weapon and techniques primed and ready.\n\nSomeone else had a word for her, though.\n\nHer long-time guest, unwelcome and uninvited, sat therein her core in a knot of deadly power. If she unleashed it, it could save her. If she released it, she could save herself.\n\nAs always, she reminded herself what would happen if she released her guest. Unless Eithan popped out of the ground, her guest would destroy everything. And everyone, probably including her. Unless it hollowed her out and used her as a husk, which was worse.\n\nNo, she didn't need that parasite's help. She needed her master to step up.\n\nA twisting snake shot out from Jai Long's palm, and she met it with the edge of her master's sword. Only the sheer quality of the weapon saved her, because she had no madra left to pour into it. Her bloody fingernails drummed with pain to the beat of her heart."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Show me what to do, Yerin begged.\n\nThe Remnant still urged her to attack. The unwelcome guest still pleaded for freedom.\n\nAnd Yerin's heart bled, because she finally accepted the truth: this wasn't her master. Breaking him open wouldn't be a betrayal, it wouldn't mean abandoning him. If she dug into the Remnant and sucked its power dry, she wouldn't be losing her master's voice.\n\nShe'd lost that almost a year ago, in Sacred Valley.\n\nSo, as Jai Long kicked her body down the mountain with a bored sigh, Yerin reached inside herself. Her master's Remnant was just amass of silver power in her core, but she visualized it as it had appeared when she adopted it: a ghost of silver chrome, armed with six bladed limbs.\n\nShe reached for that ghost and crushed it with the power of her will.\n\nAs though she'd lit a beacon, the aura around her ignited. Silver light blazed into the sky, a column of razor-sharp power that turned all the vital aura in the area to sword aura.\n\nBeneath her feet, a thousand invisible blades slashed at the stone, pebbles whipping up to sting her skin. Even the air whistled by her ears as it was cut, the wind lashing at her hair and her robe.\n\nAs the power of the sword raged within and without, she was devoured by a memory.\n\nThe girl stood before the Sword Sage amidst the wreckage of what had once been a prosperous family.\n\nHer power blazed in his spiritual sense, half of it raw and unshaped, half bloody and murderous. She was only seven or eight and scrawny, and she looked like she'd missed more than her share of meals. Ragged hair hung into her eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She hauled on a rope of blood madra that stretched from her stomach as though the far end was tied to a runaway horse."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her bare feet were planted, her teeth gritted, arms straining against the power of the parasite.\n\nWhich stretched out, its end forming into a blade, trying to cut him. She had managed to halt it while the blade was still an inch from his throat.\n\nThe world came back into focus as Yerin found herself scraped and bloody and surrounded by a furious storm of silver light. Even the droplets of blood running from her wounds splashed up, sliced by aura, covering her with a scarlet mist.\n\nA column of light rose into the air from her body, like she was a falling silver star.\n\nShe grasped at the Sword Sage's memory like the fading edges of a dream; her master remembered that moment more vividly than she did. That moment: their first meeting. When she'd tried to save him from the power of her unwelcome guest.\n\nJai Long stood over her, and she found enough energy to stare defiantly back. He was far enough back that the sword energy didn't cut him, but he was a sword artist himself-he could fight through the violent storm of her advancement to continue the fight while she was vulnerable.\n\nBut he merely crossed his arms and waited.\n\nHe could defend himself from this weapon, this seed of a true Blood Shadow, with only a fraction of his madra. He was in no danger.\n\nBut she didn't know that. And she forced her body to its limit, muscles straining, blood running from the lip she was biting to keep the parasite from stretching any closer to him.\n\nHe was a stranger to her. The Blood Shadow had already consumed everyone she knew. All the others he'd seen in her position had given up-they had lost all reason to live, and thus all reason to fight. Their parasites thrived in such situations, filling their bodies like husks, stealing their power to bring it away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And here, a little girl fought with all her body, mind, and spirit. She held on, her eyes furious and determined, resisting to the end.\n\nAnd the fragment of a Dreadgod was no easy foe.\n\nYerin climbed to her feet, madra filling her, seeping into her weapon. Sword aura was so thick in the air, bright silver even to the naked eye, that it had started gathering on the edges of her blade. With half the effort it normally took, she executed her weapon Enforcer technique: the Flowing Sword. The technique collected aura with every slash and thrust, making the weapon stronger as it moved.\n\nEverything in the Path of the Endless Sword revolved around vital aura. Most sword Paths could be used without a sword-their madra itself was sharp enough to cut old oak, so who needed the weapon itself? You could Forge whatever you needed fora fight.\n\nOn her Path, every technique was half a Ruler technique. Made her more powerful, gave her techniques extra heft... so long as she held a sword. If she didn't have a weapon with a sharp edge, she was worthless than any other sacred artist.\n\nThat's what her Goldsign was for.\n\nLooking down on her, Jai Long must have felt the power building to a crescendo. He stood just beyond the silver light that poured as a torrent into the sky, and debris scattered by aura blades crashed against his chest.\n\nStill he waited, arms crossed. Obviously, he expected more.\n\nHe had come to kill her, but here was a child who stood against a Dreadgod's madra. She had power of her own-otherwise, the parasite would have chosen someone older-and enough resolve to keep on fighting even when the battle was lost, when she had no one left, when there was no hope of victory and nothing to fight for."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was perfect.\n\nHer master's memories and attitudes soaked into her, washing over her with a palpable sense of his presence. He had chosen her because she fought to the last breath. Because, when backed into a corner and given no path to victory, she would still attack.\n\nThe Path of the Endless Sword had no defense. Sword aura could not shield her, it could only cut.\n\nWhether she fought to escape, to kill her opponent, to protect herself, or to save someone else, she had to do so by attacking. That was the one weapon in her arsenal, the one road forward.\n\nShe'd studied the Path of the Endless Sword for years, and she knew exactly what it could do, but now she felt it. Bone-deep.\n\nThe silver light around her faded from ablaze to a halo and then died. Pebbles and droplets of blood, held aloft by the force of her spirit, scattered on the ground. The vital aura had carved out a smooth crater in the stone beneath her, and many of the rock pieces now drifted in the air as a fine dust.\n\n\"Congratulations,\" Jai Long said, in his flat voice.\n\nYerin stretched her second bladed arm, which loomed over her other shoulder. With the pair of them, she looked like she'd glued a couple of steel fishing rods to her back and strapped knives to the end.\n\n\"Highgold,\" she said, feeling the new resonance of her spirit. \"Well, that's got a kick to it.\" She pressed her fists together, a sacred artist's salute, and noticed her fingernails had stopped bleeding-Lowgold to Highgold wasn't a big advancement, but advancing always did the body good. \"Thanks for waiting.\"\n\n\"I need an opponent,\" he said softly. \"Not a victim.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Madra flooded through her flesh and into her skin, fueling her Steelborn Iron body, sinking into her muscles like water into thirsty soil.\n\nShe kicked off, and the leap took her over Jai Long's head. He lashed outwith a hand glowing like a star, but her Goldsign blurred and met his technique. They clashed with a sound like steel on steel.\n\nHer second Goldsign whipped out, and he had to turn it with his other hand. When she followed up with a hit from her white sword, he took a step back.\n\nAura flashed out from her sword, slashing one of the strips of cloth from around his face, and he backed up again.\n\nThis time, he thrust a palm forward, and a Forged snake flashed through the air to bare fangs of light in her face.\n\nHe was following up with more snakes, defense and offense in one, and his spirit still hummed against her senses. She was far from being able to compete with him in raw power.\n\nAt least, as far as madra went.\n\nWhile she was suffering through the birth of her Steelborn Iron body, her master had painted a rosy picture of its future. \"It grows with you,\" he'd said.\"Our body Enforcement techniques aren't worth a chip of rust, see. So you need a body that Enforces itself.\" She'd seen him bend a steel door in half and crush a rock to powder.\"You won't notice at first, but it'll be sharper every stage. '\n\nFor the first time, Yerin could feel the gift her master had left for her.\n\n---\n\nSomething had changed for Yerin at Highgold, and it wasn't her spirit. Jai Long had fought dozens if not hundreds of Highgolds, and it wasn't that her spirit was so much stronger than usual."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Her techniques became sharper, like she'd spent a month practicing, but Jai Long could understand that."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Highgold was a journey through the skills and experiences embedded in the Gold Remnant, so she'd have inherited some insight from her master.\n\nIt washer sheer physical strength that baffled him as she crushed his serpents, shoved his attacks aside, and matched his movements even through Flowing Starlight.\n\nShe drove his Enforced punches apart with her twin Goldsigns, which now moved as quick as her hands. He ducked her sword stroke, which she'd telegraphed by shifting her weight... but then she caught him in the side with a kick.\n\nThe force of it strained his Iron body and sent him rolling; he gathered himself and vaulted over from one peak to another. Now he was on the slopes of Shiryu Mountain's main peak, beneath the Jai family palaces.\n\nWhen she saw how far she'd kicked him, she looked more stunned than he was.\n\nJai Long's whole purpose in allowing her to reach Highgold had been to measure himself against her. He was still ahead. The power of his techniques, his precision and timing, his speed: these were all beyond her.\n\nBut they should be. He was Truegold.\n\nHe shouldn't feel any pressure from her attacks, but he did. He should be so much faster with his Flowing Starlight that she couldn't keep up, and yet she did. She shouldn't be able to threaten him except with her weapon, but that kick had nearly broken his ribs.\n\nThere was less of a distance between them now than there had been six months ago. He'd used the Ancestor's Spear to gain power faster than any other sacred artist could, and she was still closing the gap.\n\nFear crawled up his spine, and for the first time, he focused his full power. He had to kill her now."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If he didn't, then the next time they met, she would kill him.\n\nHe gathered points of light on the tips of his hands, forming Star's Edge techniques. It would have been more effective with a weapon, but he worked with what he had.\n\nYerin leaped over to the slope with him, slashing out in a Striker technique. He broke it with one Star's Edge, sending a Serpent's Shadow at her to cover her movement as he leaped up the slope.\n\nShe followed, of course. Only when he reached the cliff and stood beneath the Jai clan homes did he turn and wait for her.\n\nWhen she landed on the cliff, tattered black robes fluttering in the breeze, she sheathed her sword.\n\n\"You'll need that,\" he warned her.\n\nShe shrugged. \"Still better armed than you are.\"\n\nA hand-sized Striker technique shot out from one of her Goldsigns, and though he crushed the madra immediately, she'd closed the gap.\n\nHe drove a Star's Edge at her throat.\n\nThey exchanged a dozen blows in an instant, his Enforcer techniques crashing against her Goldsigns. His core had finally started to weaken, dimming from a bright moon to a fading star, and hers couldn't have been much better. Her breaths were still in a cycling rhythm, but they were ragged.\n\nShe flicked her eyes to his hands, watching for his next attack, and he took the opening. He squeezed one last burst of speed out of Flowing Starlight, dashing behind her.\n\nThis was his chance. He didn't have the power fora prolonged battle with her, certainly not without a weapon. She wasn't even a priority target; if he'd known she would grow so fast, he would have taken Gokren's suggestion and crushed her with the full power of their numbers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had one chance to end the threat she represented, and this was it.\n\nHer back was open and unprotected. In one invisible motion, he slashed a razor-sharp Enforced palm at the back of her neck to sever her spine.\n\nAshe moved, his spirit cried a warning. He leaped back as the air rippled, and sword aura tore the space where he had just been standing.\n\nYerin's Goldsign had twisted behind her, launching a Ruler technique in her blind spot.\n\nShe spun, face red with anger-at herself for letting him get behind her or at him for trying to stab her in the back, he wasn't sure-and sent another rippling slash at him. With his Star's Edge, he broke that technique, and the next one, but she seemed to be trying to empty her core in one breath. The Striker techniques kept coming.\n\nHis Star's Edge shattered too early.\n\nThere was still a rippling silver-edged distortion in the air, heading right at his face. He needed a moment to call his Enforcer technique back, but he didn't have time.\n\nBefore he had time to think, he acted on instinct.\n\nJai Long used his Goldsign.\n\nHis jaw unhinged like a snake's, tearing the red bandages away from his face. He bared a mouth full of glowing white fangs: his inheritance from the serpentine Remnant that had nearly taken his sister's life. They twisted his face, reshaping his jaw, and anytime he opened his mouth he looked like a nightmare.\n\nHe opened his mouth wide and bit down on the rippling slash of energy, his teeth shattering the technique like glass. The shards of madra slashed at his cheeks, tearing the rest of his mask away, and he glared at Yerin with open hatred."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She kept her eyes on his, hand on her sword."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her spirit's power was fading, but she was the picture of resolve, prepared to keep fighting.\n\nJai Long cast his perception back over the city. The tide was turning against them, he could feel it in the ebb of Stellar Spear madra throughout Serpent's Grave.\n\nShame overcame him in a moment. The Jai clan had lost a battle in their own city.\n\nBut as much as it pained him, he was part of the clan again. His oath tugged at him, pulling him to do the responsible thing, to preserve himself for the family's sake. He was wasting too much time on an uncertain battle, and fair fights were a fool's game.\n\nAs soon as the clan regrouped, Jai Long intended to suggest that Jai Daishou kill Yerin personally.\n\nBecause Jai Long wasn't sure he was up to the task.\n\nWith one last glance at the Sword Sage's apprentice, he leaped off the cliff to regroup with his family.\n\n---\n\nEven with her core emptied for the second time that evening, and both her spirit and body aching with exhaustion, Yerin tried to follow Jai Long.\n\n\"Get back... here, you...\" Her voice was mumbled, and she wasn't even sure the sounds that came out were real words.\n\nShe staggered after the enemy until her knees buckled, and then she sank to the rock, panting. The energy that came to her from her master's Remnant would return, but for now, it was tapped out. Her brief burst of clarity and insight was already fading away like a dream. There was more to gain from the Remnant, but that sense of his presence had gone.\n\nLeaving only a memory."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She was exhausted in body, mind, and spirit, and saying goodbye to the Sword Sage a second time struck her like a physical wound."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His absence tore through her.\n\nAnd thereon the mountain, she wept again for her master's death.\n\n---\n\nOrthos was wounded. His skin oozed dark blood, and Lindon could feel the pain of venom working its way through the turtle's blood and spirit. His spirit was in chaos, and Lindon couldn't sense whether Orthos' mind was in control or not.\n\nA massive black paw, the size of Lindon's entire torso, smashed down onto his stomach, slamming his back against the ground.\n\nLindon tried to scream, but it came out as a rush of air. He clawed at the leathery leg, but he might as well have been slapping a tree.\n\nThe great turtle stretched out his neck, looking Lindon in the eye. He growled and choked into Lindon's face, as though trying to speak, but no words came. The sacred beast gave a great scream of frustration that tore Lindon's face.\n\nHe squeezed his eyes shut. Some deaths had to be faced with eyes open, but this was not one of them.\n\nHis core flared with a dark, bloody light.\n\nBlackflame raced through his madra channels, scouring him from the inside out, making him gasp.\n\nIs this what it's like to leave a Remnant? he wondered. He'd always imagined it as a sensation of the spirit tearing itself away from the body, which was exactly what this felt like.\n\nHis spirit burned hotter and hotter, Blackflame racing along his channels, until he could bear it no longer. He screamed, and Orthos screamed with him, dark fire racing from the turtle's mouth and scorching stone.\n\nLindon cycled furiously, trying to digest some of the power-not Eithan's Purification Wheel, but the simplest, fastest breathing technique he could. He ignited the Burning Cloak, which raged around him, giving him the strength to lift Orthos\" paw and throw it off him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But Orthos roared in response. A red-and-black corona flared around him, and suddenly the leg was pressed back down like a mountain collapsing, claws digging into Lindon's chest.\n\nLindon built up power in his hands, pushing rivers of Blackflame out through both of his palms. The Burning Cloak raged, and he could feel red and black aura flaring all around him.\n\nThe power was too much for him, he could feel it; his channels and his core were stretched to the point of bursting. He hadn't reached the end of Jade-his spirit wasn't mature yet.\n\nSo he clawed at his pack, searching for the one thing that might help him: the Sylvan Riverseed.\n\nHe tore at his pile of belongings like a man on fire looking fora bucket of water. Tongues of Blackflame licked at the fabric of his pack, scorching away chunks, but he couldn't care.\n\nThe glass case tumbled out and the Riverseed rubbed her head, as though she'd knocked a skull she didn't have. Lindon didn't wait to get her attention and draw her in; he felt as though his spirit was shriveling and blackening.\n\nInstead, Blackflame burned through the side of the glass. It didn't melt; it hissed and blew away in a cloud of grit like fine dust.\n\nLindon stretched out trembling fingers, and the Sylvan Riverseed cocked her head to look at him. Fora second, she seemed uncertain, like she didn't recognize him.\n\nThen, firmly, she seized his middle finger in both hands.\n\nA surge of liquid blue flowed through his madra channels, quieting the flow of dark madra and soothing his channels like cool water on a burn. Blackflame madra kept coming, and Lindon kept cycling, but the Riverseed poured all she had into him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Finally, the flow of fire slackened. Orthos pulled his paw from Lindon's core and staggered away, unspeakably weary.\n\nThe Sylvan Riverseed sprawled on her back, chittering like a frustrated wind chime. She had lightened to the blue of a robin's egg, and after a moment she squirmed back into his pack and started digging around for scales.\n\nAnd Lindon lay there panting, spirit and body aching. Much of Orthos'madra had been diverted into his Bloodforged Iron body, so Lindon's smallest wounds had closed and the venom in his veins had been burned away, but he still hurt like he'd been beaten allover with hammers.\n\nThen Gokren stumbled back through the exit, hair wild and furs burned off. He stared wildly around, fixing his gaze on Orthos, and leveled his spear.\n\nFour Sandvipers entered behind him, moving to flank the turtle.\n\nLindon's spirits fell like a sack of bricks. It just wasn't fair. Suriel was playing a trick on him-surely every mortal's trials had to end sometime.\n\n\"The dragon advances,\" Orthos declared, eyeing Gokren. Lindon could feel the turtle's spirit, strained to its limits, but he still roared and lumbered toward the Sandviper.\n\nLindon started to gather Blackflame madra between his palms, but he froze. His pure core was still empty.\n\nHe couldn't make a shell around the Striker technique.\n\nOrthos took a hit from the side and screamed, while Lindon hunkered behind the stone tablet explaining the Ruler technique, trying to condense Blackflame madra.\n\nThe Riverseed whined, shaking his knee with both her hands and pointing to Orthos, trying to get him to help."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon tuned out Orthos'screams and the Riverseed's pleas, focused on the black fire flickering between his hands. This was a dragon's technique. He needed to think about it like a dragon.\n\nHe poured more power into the ball, and when he felt himself about to lose control, he forced it into place. A dragon wouldn't try to bend or shape its power; a dragon would make the power submit.\n\nThe dragon conquers.\n\nWhen he finally succeeded, he almost didn't realize it, dripping sweat over a fireball twice as big as his fist. He stumbled out from the shelter of the stone tablet, watching Orthos withdrawing all his limbs into his shell.\n\nSandviper madra crashed on the outside without leaving a mark, but Lindon knew the fight was over. Orthos would never have hidden unless he was prepared to die. His spirit was a mournful song, an aching wound of injured pride.\n\nThere was nothing in Lindon's mind except his desire to push the enemy away from his partner. He shoved both hands forward, releasing the madra he'd stored up into a Striker technique.\n\nIf he could knock Gokren off-balance, even a weakened Orthos might be able to kill him. Maybe they could escape. But that assumed that Lindon's pitiful Jade technique could even wound a Truegold.\n\nAn arm-thick bar of Blackflame madra streamed toward Sandviper Gokren, the technique dense and liquid smooth. The Truegold condensed a green spear out of madra, slamming his Forged weapon against the spike. Truegold Sandviper madra met Lindon's Blackflame.\n\nThe dark fire washed over Gokren's defense, taking his hand off at the wrist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He stumbled back, eyes wide as he stared at the place where his hand used to be. Lindon stared, just as stunned. He had put everything he had into that Striker technique, to the degree that he was feeling dizzy from the strain on his spirit, but he had only hoped to take some pressure from Orthos. Even the Lowgold Sandvipers stepped back, turning their focus from the turtle to Lindon.\n\nOrthos poked his head out of his shell. In the stunned, frozen moment after Lindon's Striker technique, he extended the remainder of his madra. Lindon sensed what he was doing through their contract, but he didn't comprehend it until he opened his Copper sight.\n\nThe red-and-black aura was rising like a tide, spreading to encompass all the Sandvipers.\n\nThe Sandvipers came to their senses, running from Orthos' ruler technique, but Gokren bared his teeth and swung the spear in his remaining hand down. It glowed green, shining with toxic madra.\n\nLindon shouted, spraying Blackflame madra in his direction. It didn't even come close to reaching-he hadn't taken the time to concentrate the technique and keep it under control. But Gokren, who had just lost a hand to Lindon's deadly Path, flinched. His spear wavered.\n\nAnd Orthos activated his Ruler technique.\n\nFive roses of fire bloomed out of nowhere, centered on each of the remaining Sandvipers. The golden-orange flames flared, spotted with inky black and bloody red, devouring five bodies in an instant.\n\nNot one of them managed to scream as the Void Dragon's Dance consumed them.\n\nThe fight was over almost too quickly.\n\nFive minutes later, Lindon still didn't believe his own memories. First, the madra had obeyed him more easily than it ever had before. Then, his technique had worked on someone at the peak of Gold. Based on everything Lindon knew, the force of Gokren's madra alone should have been enough to block anything a Jade could do."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Orthos dragged his massive body over to Lindon, chewing on a mouthful of bones as he went. \"You're not a Jade,\" he announced. \"I gave you more of my power than a Jade could handle.\"\n\nLindon looked at the turtle, then down at his jade badge, then scanned his own spirit. \"I'm stronger, certainly, but I don't feel so different. Nothing like when I advanced to Iron or Jade.\" The stone wheel at the center of his Blackflame core might have spun a little faster, and his spirit cycled with the force of a raging river instead of a trickling stream.\n\nBut Iron had come with anew body, and Jade with anew soul. Compared to those changes, this felt too simple. Maybe if he had adopted a Remnant, instead of taking in power through a contract, he would have seen areal difference.\n\nOrthos gingerly stretched out a leg, wincing at the pain. \"Humans make every stage into a legend. A Lowgold is just a Jade with teeth. The only difference between Jade and Gold is a mountain of power.\" He gave Lindon a look that radiated smug pride. \"Now you seethe real glory of Blackflame.\"\n\nLindon was still dazed, but he couldn't argue with reality. Sandviper Gokren's legs-the largest remaining parts of him-lay a few dozen yards away. His skull was sliding down Orthos' gullet.\n\nLindon was Lowgold now. Areal Gold.\n\nThis was the power of Gold.\n\nBut Orthos' soul still pained him-if his condition went untended, he would lose himself again. That was a problem Lindon thought he could solve.\n\nHe placed the Riverseed on Orthos'head and, after a moment of panic, the spirit placed both hands on the turtle's skin. Blue light flowed into a Blackflame spirit, smoothing and calming as it went."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Orthos shouted like a man doused in icy water. The Riverseed gave a terrified peep, scuttling backup Lindon's arm. She stumbled at his shoulder, her skin pale, and collapsed on his head to curl up in his hair. \"Forgiveness,\" Lindon said, bobbing a bow. \"I didn't think to warn you.\"\n\n\"The insect stung me!\" Orthos said, gnashing his jaws. The Sylvan trembled against Lindon's scalp. He swept his perception through her and confirmed what he'd suspected: the tiny spirit was exhausted.\n\nOrthos'madra already flowed more smoothly, even weak as it was, and his madra channels didn't pain him as badly as before. It looked as though it had calmed his soul without diluting his madra, and allowed his channels to repair themselves.\n\nThe damage would have returned in days, if he hadn't shared his power with Lindon. Combined with their contract, the Sylvan's attention might be able to-overtime-make some real improvement in the turtle's soul.\n\n\"You should feel a little better at least,\" Lindon said, knowing he did.\n\n\"I have survived three hundred winters and the fall of the Blackflames,\" Orthos grumbled. \"I would have survived this.\"\n\nOn his behalf, Lindon patted the Sylvan on the head with one finger.\n\nLindon extended his perception, and it unspooled much more easily than before, his perception floating over the mountain. He caught a trail of sensations that felt like Yerin, as though her voice still echoed behind her, but not her.\n\n\"While you were out there...\"\n\nOrthos finished the thought. \"I felt her in battle on the main peak. Not now, but her spirit is likely weak.\" Laughter rumbled out of his chest like aftershocks. \"There is another familiar soul in that direction as well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon let his perception float, and he sensed exactly what the turtle meant: Eithan was no longer bothering to veil his power, and the full force of an Underlord shone like a signal-fire only a short distance away.\n\nAs Orthos insisted he could walk, Lindon slid his pack on and headed in that direction. Where Eithan was, and where they'd last seen Yerin.\n\nThe Sylvan Riverseed rode on his head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jai Daishou was living a nightmare.\n\nHe and his Truegold elders launched their Striker attacks together, streams of white light that should have pierced the enemy from seven different angles.\n\nThen, to his eyes and senses both, Eithan vanished.\n\nOne moment he was standing thereon the other side of a distorted aura barrier, holding a broom in his hands, and the next...\n\n... the next an elder's skull was crushed like an eggshell outside the boundary formation. His body toppled as Eithan stood over him, broom bloodstained. Jai Daishou reacted before any of the elders could, blasting a Star Lance in Eithan's direction, but he slipped back into the formation like a fish into water.\n\nThat was impossible. The boundary stopped everything physical from passing. Pushing through it like that was like pushing through a burning wall. Even if his body was so monstrously strong that he could do it, the formation should have crumbled. Only madra could pass.\n\nEithan's upper body popped out of a different side of the bubble, seizing another elder and dragging him back inside. There came a crunch and a scream, and a spray of blood was stopped by the aura.\n\nOnly one possibility made sense: he could be covering his body in a shell of madra to pass through the formation. But it would be easier to Forge a human-sized ball and roll through: the amount of power it would take to slip in and out while covering every inch of his body would beggar even an Underlord. Jai Daishou himself might have been able to do it once, if he could control his madra precisely enough, but he wouldn't befit to fight on the other end.\n\nEither this was a trick, or an illusion, or Eithan had madra reserves that the Jai Patriarch could only describe as monstrous. Maybe he had stolen award key, somehow."
}
] |
[
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"from": "system",
"value": "Co-writing with the writer, continue the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, martial arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Blackflame\nChapter: 22"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jai Daishou was living a nightmare.\n\nHe and his Truegold elders launched their Striker attacks together, streams of white light that should have pierced the enemy from seven different angles.\n\nThen, to his eyes and senses both, Eithan vanished.\n\nOne moment he was standing thereon the other side of a distorted aura barrier, holding a broom in his hands, and the next...\n\n... the next an elder's skull was crushed like an eggshell outside the boundary formation. His body toppled as Eithan stood over him, broom bloodstained. Jai Daishou reacted before any of the elders could, blasting a Star Lance in Eithan's direction, but he slipped back into the formation like a fish into water.\n\nThat was impossible. The boundary stopped everything physical from passing. Pushing through it like that was like pushing through a burning wall. Even if his body was so monstrously strong that he could do it, the formation should have crumbled. Only madra could pass.\n\nEithan's upper body popped out of a different side of the bubble, seizing another elder and dragging him back inside. There came a crunch and a scream, and a spray of blood was stopped by the aura.\n\nOnly one possibility made sense: he could be covering his body in a shell of madra to pass through the formation. But it would be easier to Forge a human-sized ball and roll through: the amount of power it would take to slip in and out while covering every inch of his body would beggar even an Underlord. Jai Daishou himself might have been able to do it once, if he could control his madra precisely enough, but he wouldn't befit to fight on the other end.\n\nEither this was a trick, or an illusion, or Eithan had madra reserves that the Jai Patriarch could only describe as monstrous. Maybe he had stolen award key, somehow."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "Jai Daishou ordered his remaining four men back, adjusting his tactics. If Eithan was using speed and mobility against them, he could compete with raw power.\n\nHe had no use for this mountainside anyway.\n\nHis spear thrummed with power, a fan of Forged spears hovering in the air above him. Each weapon held the full power of his madra and blazed with sword aura; they would hit like bombs, and even if they missed by three feet, the aura alone could peel meat from bone.\n\nBut that wasn't enough. He tapped into the soulfire he'd stockpiled over the past decades, channeling the faded flames into each spear. The power sunk into them until the air around them shook.\n\nThese were seven deadly attacks capable of drilling through steel plate, spread out to cover every angle of escape. Each technique launched with a split-second difference in timing, to cover any openings and preventing the enemy from grasping the timing.\n\nEithan would meet a wall of unstoppable spears, burning heat, and slashing blades. He may as well have been nailed to aboard.\n\nThe cliff shone with white light like a dawning star, invisible gouges appeared in the dirt from the force of his sword aura, and his spiritual sense trembled with the power of his seven spears. Jai Daishou used this technique to level fortress walls, not to kill individual enemies.\n\nThis was the culmination of all the individual spear arts passed down among the Jai for generations. Jai Daishou called it the Fall of Seven Stars.\n\nHe thrust his spear forward, unleashing a stream of deadly white madra and six Forged missiles that screamed as they blasted through the air. The pale, deadly lights washed over the cliffside like a shining wave, the air between each light churning with sword aura that chewed up pebbles and spat dust."
},
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"value": "Utter devastation scoured the cliff, shredding the boundary flags and dispersing the formation, churning the fallen bodies of the two elders into bloody mist."
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"value": "The technique plowed through stone and soil, and when the cloud of dust cleared, the entire half of the outcropping where Eithan once stood was completely gone. A chunk had been gouged out of the mountain, and a chunk of night sky replaced what had been rock a moment before.\n\nJai Daishou took a deep breath of satisfaction and let his madra begin to cycle. He had strained his spirit too much for this, but at least-\n\nHis spirit shouted at him, and he spun, leaping in the air and readying the Ancestor's Spear in both hands.\n\nWith his broom, Eithan had swept a Truegold's ankles out from under him. While the old man was still in the air, the broom's handle crashed down on his back.\n\nThere was a crack as the man's spine snapped.\n\nThe wooden broom stayed intact.\n\nEithan hadn't escaped the Fall of Seven Stars unscathed: blood trickled down into one eye, which was stuck closed, there was a bloody slash across his left shoulder, and his fine blue robe was half-shredded. But he had escaped, and that was frightening enough.\n\nJai Daishou shouted to draw Eithan's attention, and to give his three remaining elders time to run. He whipped Stellar Spear madra in a line-the Star Lance was the simplest Striker technique possible, but also the fastest. No matter how quickly Eithan could move, he couldn't dodge this. It was practically instantaneous.\n\nA technique of this degree couldn't kill an Underlord, but it could pin him down, keep him from chasing the remaining Truegolds and butchering them one by one.\n\nEithan raised his hand like a man blocking out the light of the sun."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "And when the Stellar Spear madra came within afoot of his hand, the madra dispersed. It dissolved. It vanished, as though the Underlord were simply wiping out his technique.\n\nJai Daishou landed, his metal hair flogging his back like chains, and began channeling Flowing Starlight. He needed to devote everything he had to speed if he wanted to keep up.\n\nThough if he couldn't figure out Eithan's Path, speed might not matter. The man could eat his techniques.\n\nEithan blurred and moved again, but with the Flowing Starlight running through him, Jai Daishou tracked his movements. He kicked madra behind him and launched, intercepting Eithan's broom with his spear before the man could crush a fourth elder's ribs.\n\nThey strained against each other for an instant that lasted three full breaths, the world around them crawling. Even the fastest Truegold elder seemed as though he was moving through water as he dashed madly away, the white lines of Flowing Starlight sliding over his limbs.\n\nJai Daishou had the full force of his body and his Enforcer technique pushing Eithan's broomstick back, but the blond Underlord pushed against him just as heavily.\n\nEithan's jaw was set, his one open eye blazing with fury, sweat trickling down his jaw. He trembled with the effort.\n\nBut Jai Daishou was using a legendary weapon forged by his ancestor. Eithan was using a broom.\n\nHe may have imbued it with soulfire, but every significant artifact had that treatment. The Ancestor's Spear would have been tempered in soulfire many times.\n\nDespite the difference in their weapons, Eithan was still holding him off."
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"from": "human",
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"value": "His body is younger, but my spirit is stronger. He channeled a Forger technique, and a fan of needles longer than his forearm condensed over his head. One by one, they launched themselves at Eithan to break the deadlock.\n\nA pulse of madra flooded out of the Arelius Patriarch's entire body. Jai Daishou felt nothing on his skin, but his Forged needles melted like ice in the summer sun.\n\nFinally, he got a good sense of Eithan's power.\n\nJai Daishou shoved, pushing his opponent away, and spoke in confusion. \"Pure madra? Who uses pure madra?\"\n\n\"It has... its uses,\" Eithan panted, leaning heavily on his broom and flashing a smile.\n\nNow Jai Daishou had to make it out alive. He'd read a dozen theories about the mysterious Eithan Arelius\" Path, and all of them were wrong. Bringing this information back to the clan was the only way to bring the Arelius family down.\n\nWorse, none of the Truegolds would have heard him. They were too faraway.\n\nEven so, despite what his perception told him, he still wondered if it was some kind of trick, maybe a Soulsmith's device hidden on Eithan's body. Eithan had Enforced an ordinary broom-even one washed in soulfire-to survive contact with the spear of an ancient Jai Matriarch. He had suspected madra of earth or force, to be so effective at hardening a weapon.\n\nTo do that with pure madra... it would be the least efficient technique possible. He must be gushing madra into that broom just to keep it from exploding.\n\nAll his senses told him Eithan was ordinary, if any Underlord could be considered ordinary. He was ranked eleventh, putting him near the bottom of all the active Lords in the Empire."
},
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"value": "His only two extraordinary aspects were his senses-as expected of an Arelius-and, apparently, the depth of his madra.\n\nThat shouldn't be enough.\n\nSudden fear tickled his spine and trembled in his gut. Fear that he hadn't faced since he transcended Gold: fear of an unknown opponent. Fear for his own survival.\n\nHe stiffened his spine and burned that fear for anger.\n\nHe was the Patriarch of the ancient Jai clan. He would bow to no man. Not even in his own mind.\n\nEven if it crippled him, he had to win tonight. Jai Daishou unleashed his full power, his core blazing, his Flowing Starlight technique shining in blinding lines on his skin. Even Eithan seemed to crawl now, and the young man's blue eye widened in surprise.\n\nLike every aspect, pure madra had its strengths and weaknesses. It was second to none for attacking and defending the spirit, but it had no ability to interact with the physical world.\n\nEithan had no power over the forces of nature. So he was helpless before the techniques of a Ruler.\n\nThere were no Ruler techniques on the Path of the Stellar Spear, but the decades Jai Daishou had spent perfecting his own sacred arts were not wasted. Stellar Spear madra was a blend of the sword and light aspects, so he focused on his spear, staring into the white-and-silver aura braided along its edge.\n\nHe seized that silver power, spreading the aura into a blade the width of an axe. He activated the aura, and it shone silver.\n\nLike this, he could slice through a tree with no more effort than cutting tofu. And there was nothing Eithan could do about it: he had no authority over sword madra, and noway to stop a blade."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Jai Patriarch had burned through too much of his madra too quickly, but this would end it. He thrust his spear with all his strength, though the aura-empowered blade would slice through Eithan's body even if a child pushed it.\n\nEithan dropped the broom, which fell so slowly it seemed to hang in the air, and reached into the pocket of his outer robe.\n\nJai Daishou watched everything as though it played out for him at half speed: the silver blade of aura sliced through strands of yellow hair, piercing the silk threads of Eithan's robe. The Arelius Underlord was leaning back, away from the strike, but not fast enough.\n\nHis hand emerged from the pocket. The silver blade drew blood from Eithan's cheek, spilling red droplets that drifted lazily up.\n\nEithan sliced open the back of his hand as he slid it in front of his face, holding what he'd drawn from his pocket as though it were a talisman that could ward off the spear's approach.\n\nAs Eithan held it into the path of the silver blade, Jai Daishou saw what it was: a pair of black scissors.\n\nOrdinary scissors with long blades, of the sorta tailor might use to cut fabric. He sensed nothing unusual about them whatsoever-they weren't even made of goldsteel. Just, as far as he could tell, iron.\n\nHe had to assume they had been washed in soulfire, which would make them stronger and allow them to conduct madra and aura more efficiently, but there was only so much an Underlord's blessing could do to mundane materials.\n\nThe aura crashed into the scissors and, instead of slicing them in half, split like a wave running against the rocks."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jai Daishou was so committed to his attack that he could only watch in horror as the blade of silver light split around the scissors, dispersing, spraying immaterial aura light to either side of Eithan's face. A few more blond hairs fell to the ground, but no more blood spilled.\n\nThe spearhead reached the black blade, and Eithan gripped his scissors in both hands, shoving Jai Daishou's full-power strike to one side.\n\nAs the Jai Patriarch staggered, the Arelius bent over, breathing heavily, scooping up his broom. \"Close one,\" he said, between ragged breaths.\n\nHe straightened with a tailor's scissors in one hand and a janitor's broom in the other, standing over the lord of a warrior clan whose spear had failed.\n\nJai Daishou wondered when someone would wake him from this nightmare. Even using soulfire, it was impossible to Enforce ordinary iron to that degree using pure madra. Impossible. It would empty Jai Daishou's core three times over.\n\n\"Tell me how,\" he demanded, looking up at his rival.\n\nThen black scissors met his throat, and the pain blasted away his Enforcer technique. Time staggered back into focus.\n\nEithan considered a moment. \"I'll tell your Remnant,\" he said.\n\n---\n\nLindon found Eithan sprawled out on his back at the edge of a cliff. Yellow hair fanned out behind him, his blue robe looked like he'd fed it to a gang of dogs, and he was bleeding from half a dozen wounds that Lindon could see. Just out of reach of his outstretched hands lay a broom and a pair of scissors."
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"value": "\"Are you hurt?\" Lindon asked, sliding his pack down to pullout the bandages. It almost slipped out of his grip-one of the straps had been burned halfway through by a tongue of Blackflame.\n\nEithan cracked one eye, though he might have tried to open both; one was gummed shut by amass of blood. \"I am taking a break and enjoying the brisk night air. You look like you were beaten with clubs while climbing through an erupting volcano.\"\n\nOrthos was still picking his way through the debris between the two cliffs, his frustration echoing through the contract, but neither he nor Eithan seemed to expect another attack.\n\nLindon extended his perception and felt a handful of very alarming spirits on the slopes above him. \"They aren't going to attack us, are they?\" he asked.\n\nEithan barked out a laugh, then winced. \"Oh, that's... that's tender. No, after the show I gave them, they wouldn't come near me if I had a spear through my chest and was begging for death. Couldn't say if any Skysworn were watching us, but I suspect my ranking among Underlords is about to be adjusted.\"\n\nA feather's weight lifted from Lindon's head, and the Sylvan Riverseed hopped to his shoulder, sliding down his arm, ocean-blue hair drifting behind her. She jumped off his hand, landing on Eithan's chest.\n\nThe Underlord raised an eyebrow. \"Why, hello there.\"\n\nShe walked up to kneel on his forehead, looking down curiously. Then she rubbed his head with one hand, whistling like a flute in away that Lindon suspected was meant to be comforting.\n\n\"Your power can't help me,\" Eithan said, flinching as he sat up. The Riverseed scurried up to sit on top of his head, still making a sympathetic face. \"Madra doesn't get anymore pure or gentle than mine.\" He looked to Lindon as though something had just occurred to him. \"Speaking of which, I see you're making good use of my cycling technique. Reliable, isn't it? No fun to practice, but there are always tradeoffs.\""
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"from": "human",
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"value": "\"Yes,\" Lindon agreed immediately, \"I couldn't be more grateful. Without...\" The implications of Eithan's statement caught up to him a second later. \"... ah, pardon, but when you say \"your\" cycling technique...\"\n\n\"I mean mine,\" Eithan said cheerily. \"The one I'm using right now. It was in the family library, but everybody else can supplement their cores by cycling aura. Focusing on capacity is inefficient, unless-as you've experienced-you can't add to your power with vital aura. Pure madra Paths aren't as rare as everyone seems to think they are.\"\n\n\"You...\" Lindon began to express suspicion, but there was a more polite way to confirm. He extended his perception, scanning Eithan's spirit. This time, the fog that usually covered Eithan's core was lifted.\n\nAnd he felt a pool of pure blue-white power, just like his own.\n\n\"I didn't pick you up because of your impeccable fashion sense,\" Eithan said, touching two fingers to the corner of his blood-stuck eye. \"Hm. I think this is swelling. Anyway, a pure core is one of two ways in which we are similar, so I thought I might be able to provide you with some unique guidance. And that you might help meas well, in the long run.\"\n\nLindon was sure he was supposed to ask, but he played his role anyway. \"What's the second way?\"\n\n\"You left it back in the Trials after you advanced to Gold,\" Eithan said. \"It happens. Advancement can play havoc with the memory, especially when the process is traumatic. It should belying in the dirt, but it followed you. Now it's in your right pocket.\"\n\nLindon reached into his pocket, knowing what he would find, and withdrew Suriel's marble. The ball of pure glass sat on his palm, its sapphire flame steady, casting blue light over him."
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"value": "\"Do you know what this is?\" Lindon asked, and he wasn't sure if he was afraid or excited.\n\n\"I wasn't sure at first,\" Eithan said, reaching into his own pocket. \"Not everything that blocks my senses is from the heavens.\" He pulled out his own glass marble the size of a thumbnail. \"And yours looks somewhat different from mine.\"\n\nInside the hollow shell was a ball of perfectly round darkness. It looked endlessly deep, like a bottomless hole suspended in glass.\n\nEithan held it up to one eye, inspecting it. \"Maybe they're like coins,\" he mused. \"This could be the celestial equivalent of tossing a scale to a servant.\"\n\nLindon had so many questions that they all tried to exit his mouth at once. They came out together, so they sounded like, \"Bluh.\"\n\nEithan nodded as though that was exactly the question he'd expected. \"Yes. Precisely. Well, let's trade stories while we're not surrounded by hostile strangers.\" He slipped his black marble into his pocket and pulled something else out: a gold plate slightly bigger than his palm, set with white, dark blue, and a black crescent in the center.\n\n\"This is the authority of the Arelius clan's Patriarch,\" he said, tossing it to Lindon. \"You'll need that to run a quick errand for me.\"\n\nLindon cradled the ornate emblem in both hands. \"It would bean honor,\" he said, still trying to catch up to the rest of the conversation.\n\n\"Above us, you'll find the homes of the Jai family. One of the homes has a decorative tower on the grounds, a tree with pink leaves, and the statue of a crane and a dragon locked in combat. Break into that house and search fora girl named Jai Chen.\""
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"value": "\"Should I bring her back here?\"\n\nEithan's grin widened. \"That's Jai Long's sister, held captive by the Underlord to ensure his cooperation. In all the confusion, I'm afraid she's been left alone.\"\n\n\"Really,\" Lindon said, and Blackflame surged in him.\n\nEithan snapped and pointed to him. \"That! When you are stopped by Jai clan members, show them the emblem, look them straight in the eyes, and do that. If they don't listen to you then, I'll come kill them.\"\n\n\"I'm... sorry, look them in the eye and do what?\" Lindon asked. He'd done nothing but cycle.\n\n\"You don't need a Remnant to have a Goldsign,\" Eithan said, then lifted the Sylvan Riverseed on his palm. She hopped back over to Lindon, who settled heron his shoulder. \"Now, go. Go!\"\n\nWhen Orthos felt that Lindon had changed direction, his spirit surged with irritation, and he reluctantly turned to follow.\n\n---\n\nJai Chen was trapped in a room nicer than any she'd seen since she was a child. The Patriarch had locked her here, but he hadn't bothered to tie her-there was no need. She lay in bed as though a great weight pressed down on her limbs, focusing the full force of her spirit just to breathe. As always.\n\nShe'd considered killing herself. Jai Daishou had to be using her against her brother, or she wouldn't be here, and killing herself would burn one of the cards in his hand.\n\nBut it wouldn't change anything. Jai Daishou was an Underlord; he would get what he wanted with or without a hostage."
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"value": "Instead, she focused on cycling. Some of the medical experts who had examined her over the years had suggested that she might eventually regain partial function in her spirit if she diligently exercised, so she spent most of her day attempting to cycle. It was like jogging on broken legs, but she persevered, shoving madra through shattered channels.\n\nIf the cracked madra paths were the only problems, she would have been thankful. But her power squirmed away from her direction, fighting every cycling technique, slithering against her will. The same power that brought her brother's techniques to life polluted her spirit, keeping her core out of her control.\n\nShe tried anyway.\n\nA wave of heat washed against her face, and her eyes snapped open in time to catch the door to her room dissolving.\n\nJai Chen pulled sheets up to her chin as though they could protect her from enemies, rooting under her pillow with a half-asleep hand. She only found the knife when she cut her finger on its edge.\n\nShe held out the weapon with both hands as dark fire consumed her door. It dissolved the painted wood like black acid, sending a cloud of dust and ash billowing over her.\n\nA massive black shadow blackened the area past the door, its eyes burning circles of red. She let out a squeak, arms trembling as she held out the knife.\n\nThe shadow passed, moving away from her door, and she almost let out a breath of relief.\n\nBut it had left someone behind.\n\nA man stood in her room, and he had eyes like a death Remnant. They were black all around, with rings of blood red shining in the center. With those eyes, he could be nothing but a monster, come to kill her... and black fire still played around his fingers."
},
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"value": "Her arms were too heavy to keep holding in the air, and it was taking all her focus to gasp in enough air to breathe. All she could see were his eyes.\n\nThe man bowed at the waist. \"Forgiveness, please, I thought you were deeper in the house.\"\n\nThe fire faded from his hands, and the darkness from his eyes bled away like paint in water. They were perfectly normal eyes now, staring at her intently.\n\nNow that he didn't have the gaze of a soul-eating monster, she got a look at the rest of him. He was a tall young man, about her age, broad-shouldered and wearing a bulky pack that must weigh more than she did. His outer robe was smudged and stained with mud, ash, and probably blood, until she couldn't make out its original color. A jade medallion hung on his chest from a dark silk ribbon, etched with the image of a hammer.\n\nHe seemed like a perfectly normal sacred artist, though he stared at her like he never intended to blink. With his other eyes, the look would have given her nightmares.\n\nBut her bed shook, and a growl echoed around the hallway. There was something else in the house, not just him: something with the silhouette of a giant beast and another pair of evil eyes.\n\n\"I'm so sorry I frightened you, that was not my intention. I'm hereto take you out of here.\"\n\nJai Chen's breath was finally catching up with her fright, but she still couldn't respond.\n\n\"I assume the Jai clan is keeping you hostage so your brother will cooperate,\" he went on, looking a little pleased with himself. \"I can take you away.\"\n\n\"Eyes,\" she said at last. \"Your... eyes.\""
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"value": "After a moment of confusion, he picked up a nearby hand-mirror. \"My eyes?\" He glanced into the mirror, saw they were normal, and turned his gaze back on her.\n\nShe didn't take the time to explain. Maybe it was just his Goldsign.\n\nJai Chen shook her head to signal a change in topic. \"Can't... leave. They... will... kill... him.\" Not that she would go with this stranger and his demonic beast anyway.\n\nHe seemed stumped by this response, but sighed and moved toward her anyway. \"I know you don't know me, but you're in more danger if you stay. Excuse me for my rudeness, please.\"\n\nBefore he could grab her, she slid out of the bed-embarrassed for an instant, as she realized that she was wearing only her bedclothes-and stood on her own shaky feet. With both hands, she drove the dagger into his chest.\n\nIt pierced his outer robe and then fell, bloodless, to the ground.\n\nThat was all the strength she could muster. Another instant and her knees gave out, though he grabbed her under the shoulders before she could collapse.\n\nInstead of throwing her over his shoulder, as she had expected, he gently lowered her to the floor. His gaze was still wide and intense, but now he looked concerned.\n\nAn instant later, as she was trying to gather enough madra to stand, she felt a shiver in her spirit as his scan passed through her.\n\n\"Pardon my curiosity, but what happened to your spirit?\""
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"from": "human",
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"value": "She took a few heavy breaths before answering. She considered refusing, but it wasn't a secret. \"Remnant... fed on... my spirit.\" A few more gulps of air. \"Brother... killed him... halfway.\"\n\nHe nodded, chin in his hand, frowning like she'd given him a riddle. \"You had to have seen healers. What did they try?\"\n\nWas he some kind of... traveling spirit-healer? With eyes that could turn black, and a beast rattling around in the other room?\n\nOr was he trying to get to know her so that she would agree to leave?\n\nShe debated fora long moment, but eventually told him. If he meant her any harm, he could have killed her without lifting a hand. \"Channels... core, need... repaired. Expensive... elixir. Then... pure madra... for core.\"\n\nJai Long usually gave her longer breaks between sentences, and he and Sandviper Kral were the only ones whoever talked to her. She cycled madra to her lungs as best she could, though the energy tried to squirm out of her grip.\n\nHe knelt in front of her, pulling his pack off and setting it down. This close, she could see black scorch-marks on the canvas.\n\nIna low, crooning voice she couldn't hear, he murmured to something inside the pack. Was there an animal in there? She flinched back against the bed, imagining the sandvipers from the Desolate Wilds. They would crawl into packs sometimes. Or boots. Or beds.\n\nA moment later, a girl the size of a hand popped out of the pack. She looked like a Remnant of water madra, blue the color of a sunlit lake, but far more solid and detailed. Her head bobbed as sapphire eyes scanned Jai Chen from head to toe."
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cute. Fora moment, she wondered if this man would let him pet the little Remnant.\n\n\"What do you think?\" he murmured, and it took Jai Chen a breath to realize he was talking to the spirit. The miniature woman pulled herself entirely out of the pack, her legs flaring into an azure dress-Jai Chen wasn't sure if she was wearing a dress, or if her bottom half just fluttered out.\n\nThe spirit considered her fora second, then jogged up to Jai Chen. They locked eyes fora moment, and she lowered a hand to pat the little woman on the head.\n\nThe Remnant hopped onto her palm and scurried up her arm. Jai Chen barely had time to gasp before the spirit slapped heron the cheek. It was like being slapped by a raindrop.\n\nBut the real surprise came from her spirit. A deep blue power rolled through the madra channels in her head, sliding through her like mercury. Her madra tried to squirm away, but it couldn't escape: the blue power slid through it...\n\n... and where the tiny spirit's azure power passed, she regained control of her madra. She must have jerked like a spooked horse, because the man looked concerned, but she couldn't explain. Her power still moved, it still slithered in away that normal madra didn't, but it washers again.\n\nThen the liquid blue spark ran into a broken madra channel, and Jai Chen slammed against the floor. Her consciousness dimmed, and a sharp pain rang through her spirit. The foreign light faded as it tried to push through her broken channel, like it expended something of itself to drill through.\n\nHer limbs started twitching, but she was afraid the blue light would stop. Go, she urged it. Breakthrough."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I need another one,\" the man said distantly, and there came a sound like muffled bells."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know you're tired, and I'm sorry. I'll feed you scales until you explode.\"\n\nJai Chen cracked an eye to seethe spirit returning to her, tiny blue fingers extended. She looked more pale than earlier, like a winter sky.\n\nA second sapphire light joined the first, then a third. They drilled through her channels, shaking her limbs until he had to hold her down, but they were doing it. They were drilling new connections through her madra channels. Where they passed, the loops of light were connected again, healthy and free.\n\nThe first light was soon extinguished, but when the second and third converged on the core, she blacked out.\n\n... only for an instant, it seemed, because she woke up to the same situation and a man's voice saying, \"Forgiveness. I only know how to do this as an attack.\"\n\nShe braced herself before a hand struck her in the stomach.\n\nThe blow itself was light, but a rush of madra flooded into her, scattering her core, forking like lightning through her channels in reverse. Her madra was scattered, her circulation broken, and even her living madra seemed stunned.\n\nBut more madra came in behind it, like a tide. The first pulse had broken the damage, and now his energy filled her, settling into her new channels. It filled her, stretching her core, soaking into her spirit. This must be pure madra, because her soul accepted it gladly, even her serpentine power not resisting at all.\n\nAs a test, she cycled madra to her lungs, trying to Enforce herself as she usually did to breathe.\n\nOpening her mouth, she took her first full breath in years.\n\nHer spirit was weak, her core tiny and dim, and her madra channels felt tender as burned skin. Her entire soul ached, and spiritual pain was deeper than physical."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But she could cycle now. Madra ran from her core in loops, flooding her body, bringing life, and returning to the core unobstructed. She lifted her hand, and it didn't feel like trying to lift a brick with a willow switch. She could move.\n\nThe blue spirit curled upon the man's shoulder like an exhausted dog. She was shivering and almost white, and the broken door was visible through her body.\n\nThe man rose, standing over Jai Chen. He scanned her again, letting out a breath of relief. \"My name is Wei Shi Lindon. I can leave you behind, if you tell your brother what happened tonight. Will you do that?\" She was focused on breathing. How much sheer joy could be packed into a single breath?\n\n\"Lindon,\" he repeated. \"Will you remember that? Do you want me to write it down?\"\n\n\"Wei Shi Lindon,\" she said, and she didn't have to pause to gulp down air between each word. \"Yes. I will remember, and I'll tell him, I...\"\n\nShe trailed off as she realized her hair was a mess, her bedclothes were askew, and she was huddling on the floor in front of him. They were back in the real Empire now-appearances would matter to this young man.\n\nJai Chen straightened, hurriedly smoothing out her clothes, but her legs were still unsteady. She caught herself on the edge of a desk, and avoided his gaze; she didn't want to see him judging her. \"My name is Jai Chen. I've never hosted a guest, so I'm not sure what I can... but I don't want to be rude to...\"\n\nLindon held up both hands to stop her. \"No, please. I can't stay long anyway; I told the old men outside I was on Arelius family business, but they could come inhere with spears at anytime.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But he didn't leave. He paused awkwardly, as though he meant to say something else. Her spirit shivered again.\n\nJai Chen risked a glance up at his face and realized he was staring intently, almost glaring, at her stomach. Which was only covered by a thin layer of silk.\n\nShe didn't want to be rude, but... Slowly, she moved her hands to cover her stomach.\n\nHis head jerked up. \"What? Ah, excuse me.\" His eyes climbed away from her until he was staring at the ceiling. \"I was looking at your core. This might be a rude question, but is your madra alive?\"\n\nHer madra was still as animated as before, but this time it was on her side. Her spirit didn't fight her anymore; it was almost as though it fought for her, slithering along according to her cycling technique.\n\n\"It used to fight me,\" she told him. \"I think your Remnant brought it under my control. Thank her for me, if you would.\"\n\nHe returned to looking at her stomach, realized what he was doing, and jerked his eyes to the side. \"Her madra cleanses and restores, I think. She helped me too.\" He patted the sleeping spirit on his shoulder.\n\n\"Ah, I have to go. Please tell your brother: I'm Wei Shi Lindon, and I'd be much happier if we didn't have to fight.\"\n\nShe felt dazed, wondering if this was somehow a trick and her spirit would collapse into wreckage again. If she didn't, then she owed him a debt she didn't know how to repay.\n\nBecause she didn't know how else to express that, she bowed. \"Thank you,\" she said at last."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon was staring at her again, but at least it was at her face this time. \"This may sound terrible, but have we met before? If I've forgotten you, I apologize, but you seem familiar tome.\"\n\nJai Chen had heard about him from her brother, but she'd never seen him in her life. \"Maybe I look like...\" She cut herself off before realizing what she'd been about to say.\n\n\"No, I've never seen his face,\" Lindon said. He shook his head. \"Anyway, if you'll excuse me.\" He gave a little smile, bobbed his head, and started to walkout.\n\nWithout knowing why, Jai Chen spoke to his retreating back. \"Um... did you kill young master Kral?\"\n\nHe stopped, hitching up his pack. The heavy monster in the other room growled again.\n\n\"It was a pleasure to meet you, Jai Chen,\" Lindon said, without turning around. \"If I've done anything wrong, or if you need her help again...\" He patted the sleeping woman on his shoulder. \"... then you can find meat the Arelius family. I'm sorry for disturbing your night.\"\n\nHe walked out, pausing briefly in the dusty wreckage of what once had been the door to her room. A moment later, he opened the front door, and she got a glimpse of the outside world through the hole in her bedroom wall.\n\nA Jai clan warrior in blue held a spear at Lindon's chest, while an elder to the left looked nervous.\n\nLindon turned his head, meeting the elder's eyes, and the old man flinched visibly. Jai Chen could understand; if his eyes had turned black and red again, the elder could be forgiven for thinking he was a death Remnant inhuman skin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Then Lindon dipped into a bow, his pack bobbing behind him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you for your patience,\" he said, and walked away.\n\nA giant turtle followed him, big as a horse, munching on a chair as it left-a couple of painted legs disappeared into its lips as it rounded a corner. The doorway was already damaged where the sacred beast passed through earlier, and the frame shattered further this time.\n\nSmoke rose from the giant turtle's shell, and the cracks between the plates smoldered red. The sacred beast growled in Lindon's wake, snorting black fire at the elder on the outside. The old man yelped and hopped back in time to avoid burning his toes.\n\nAfter a moment of debate, the Jai clan members shut the remainder of the front door without asking her a word.\n\nJai Chen sat down on the edge of her bed, stunned. So much had happened in such a short time that she felt like she'd been slapped in the face. Now that she thought of it, she had been slapped in the face.\n\nBut she could move again.\n\nOrdinarily, she had to be careful when she opened her wardrobe, so she didn't strain herself. Now, she opened and closed the door. Open and closed. Open and closed.\n\nHer brother found her half an hour later, standing on her own two feet and opening and closing her wardrobe.\n\nHis mask had torn, exposing the lower half of his face. His skin was pale and tinged with blue, his jaw swollen and misshapen, and light leaked from between his lips as he spoke. \"What did they do to you?\"\n\nHe sounded ready to find someone to murder.\n\nJai Long was standing in the ashes of what had once been her doorway. She must have looked insane, standing in her bedclothes with her wardrobe door in one hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And tears were running down her cheeks."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her eyes were swollen, her nose stuffed, and she'd been sobbing. When had she started crying?\n\nJai Long walked over to her, gently guiding her closer to bed, but she pushed back against him. He noticed her strength and his eyes widened between the remaining strips of his mask. \"Tell me what happened,\" he demanded, and her spirit shivered at the touch of his scan.\n\nHer voice was quivering, and she was still uncertain about many of the details.\n\nBut she told him.\n\n---\n\nJai Daishou woke on a crumbling, icy cliff inside a pile of moon-white Remnant parts. They were already dissolving in streams of essence, so he must look like he was bathed in stars.\n\nWhich was no comfort to a man who had just died.\n\nHis limbs trembled as he hauled his way to his feet, his joints screaming like he'd packed them with broken glass. Every breath was agony, and his vision blurred.\n\nHe pushed the palm of his hand against his aching head, trying to shake loose his memory.\n\nAn image snapped into place: Eithan Arelius, standing over him with face bloody, hair blowing in the wind, scissors held against Jai Daishou's throat.\n\nSnip.\n\nPain, blood, absolute exhaustion... and something breaking in his soul.\n\nHe ran a thumb over the fresh, tender scar on his throat and shivered despite decades of self-control. Without his good fortune years ago, he would have lost his life tonight.\n\nThe Underlord plunged his awareness into his spirit, looking fora black-and-red ornate box that usually floated above his core. The Heartguard Chest was a spiritual object, a treasure he'd plundered from an ancient clan of Soulsmiths, but it had an invaluable function."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It contained enough blood and life madra to save you from death once. And only once. He'd thought it might prolong his lifespan fora few months, when time eventually claimed its due.\n\nSure enough, the box was open, and the Chest itself melting away to nothing. Jai Daishou had spent months filling it with a decoy Remnant, one convincing enough to fool-it seemed-even Eithan Arelius himself.\n\nHe coughed heavily into his hand, the force rattling his bones, and he was surprised when he didn't find blood in his palm. Even with the healing of the Heartguard Chest, his body was finished. He was held together by little more than hope and wishes.\n\nIf he lived out the year, it would be because the heavens smiled on him.\n\nHe cycled what little madra remained, his channels burning, his core throbbing like a bruised muscle. He needed his remaining elders to find him alive.\n\nBefore Eithan Arelius did.\n\nBecause Jai Daishou was the only one in the Empire to know the truth about the Arelius family Underlord. Pure madra. He'd always thought of Eithan as nothing but an overgrown child, and he was more right than he could have known.\n\nHe wouldn't die until he could plant that knowledge like a dagger in Eithan's heart.\n\n---\n\nIteration 216: Limit\n\nIteration 217 Harrow\n\nTERMINATED\n\nAs Harrow and Limit dissolved and crumbled away into the void, Suriel witnessed once again the death of an Iteration.\n\nThe endless darkness of empty space had pared away first, like black wallpaper peeling away... only to reveal an even deeper hole beneath. The void surrounded them, infinite nothing dotted with swirling balls of color, like a rainbow of distant fireflies dancing in the night."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The planet itself faded away like a ghost, leaving fragments: pieces of the world with a strong enough identity to hold together even in the chaos of the void. There, a disc of earth holding a forest spun into the distance, its trees frozen in a wind that no longer blew.\n\nTime worked strangely in the void. Fragments tended to either live the same moments in a loop or to freeze entirely, waiting to join back into an Iteration. Fragments with inhabitants crawled along, their time drifting slowly forward, but the inhabitants tended not to farewell.\n\nShe had sent Ozriel's population shelter straight to Pioneer 8089. With a population of over thirteen million, they had good odds of surviving until their world stabilized into a true Iteration.\n\nOf course, if the Abidan didn't survive Ozriel's absence, it wouldn't matter.\n\nIterations were like fruits, and the Way was the vine. So long as the worlds were healthy and connected to the Way, they enjoyed luxuries like causality and existence. As a world's population shriveled, that strained its connection to the Way, which invited infection.\n\nWhenever a corrupted world-like Limit and Harrow-broke into fragments, those pieces still contained some of their corruption. Corrupted fragments were like parasites, drifting up and down the vine, looking for healthy fruits to infest. When that world was corrupted, it broke into diseased fragments as well, and the corruption spread exponentially.\n\nA few thousand standard years ago, the Abidan could only care for two hundred and fifty Iterations. That was as far as they could stretch their forces, because they had to protect each world from the chaos-tainted fragments that hunted the edges of the Way.\n\nWhen Ozriel appeared, someone who could dispose of a corrupted world without breaking it into toxic pieces, the Abidan went through a period of explosive growth. They stitched healthy fragments together into new Iterations, spinning out new universes that they could protect."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Without infected world fragments flying around, they could expand without worry."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And they did.\n\nSuriel and her predecessor had known the danger of putting the weight of their entire system on a single component-Ozriel-but they were saving lives. Every Iteration under Abidan protection was another reality not left to the ravages of chaos or the Vroshir.\n\nAnd everyone agreed: they would replace Ozriel as soon as they found another candidate.\n\nThe problem was, they had never found one. And they'd kept expanding.\n\nThey held ten thousand worlds now, with only enough Abidan to secure two and a half percent of that number. If any of the other Judges had gone missing, they could have found someone else to fill their function, but not Ozriel. He was irreplaceable.\n\nAnd now, in all likelihood, dead.\n\n[The probability of Ozriel's death is unknown,] her Presence said, its voice robotic and cool. [If he is capable of hiding from the Court of Seven, he is capable of faking his own death.]\n\nHe had left a fractured message behind with just enough information to allow her to reconstruct its contents. And a body's worth of unidentifiable blood and decay staining the walls. And evidence of a battle that had conveniently not spilled over into the room where the rescued inhabitants of Limit lay sleeping.\n\nBut there was no reason to fake his death. Makiel wouldn't believe it, so Suriel couldn't call off the search. And if he were pretending to be dead, he wouldn't have left her instructions on what to do in his absence.\n\nHe had most likely been attacked while preparing to disappear, and either been killed or driven deeper into hiding.\n\nShe had to assume he was dead. If he was still alive and hiding even from her, she'd never find him until he wanted her to. The only logical step was to proceed as though he had been killed here."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His death was another weight on her soul. She had known everything: the pressure they put on him, his desire to change the restrictive rules of the Abidan, Makiel's refusal to listen. She could have joined him, lobbied for change.\n\nAnother chunk of the planet crumbled to nothing, leaving a loose collection of fragments drifting in an ocean of nothing. A slice of city spun away, all but frozen in time. A great machine of springs and copper gears kept pumping away as it tumbled into the distance, and a hundred-kilometer mass of flesh and limbs drifted away.\n\nEverything else, everything too insignificant to persist as a fragment, dissolved into nonexistence.\n\nOzriel had finally taken matters into his own hands, as he always did. He'd manipulated Fate so that no one could see his departure coming-if anyone could twist the future to such a degree, Ozriel could. He'd prepared to minimize the damage of his absence, though he'd been caught in the middle of that work.\n\nBut who had caught him?\n\n[Entities confirmed capable of killing Ozriel, while he is fully armed and aware: NOT FOUND.]\n\nWell, that was telling.\n\n[Entities possibly capable, though not confirmed:]\n\nThe possibilities spooled out in Suriel's consciousness, a mix of images, text, and memory.\n\nInformation requested: Judge Killers\n\nBeginning report...\n\nVroshir:\n\nOur information on Vroshir worlds is limited, so the capabilities of the Vroshir themselves are largely unknown. Only a handful are projected to possess combat power that rivals a Judge.\n\nThe Silverlords gather armies from the worlds they conquer. Between them, they may have found a combination of specialists and assassins capable of catching Ozriel unaware."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Horseman rides from world to world, gathering energy systems and replicating their effects. He has demonstrated capabilities from at least thirteen dead worlds, and under certain conditions, he could have bypassed Ozriel's protection.\n\nThe Mad King hosts an entity that has killed Judges before, but the Court would have been notified if he had left his Iteration. If he has found away to cross the Way without alerting Sector Control, then he represents a Class One threat.\n\nThe Angler has stolen six weapons from Abidan Iterations, and she remains at large. Her confirmed arsenal holds nothing that could threaten the Reaper, but she certainly possesses other weapons beyond the knowledge of the Court.\n\nFiends of Chaos:\n\nTrue Fiends defy classification by nature, and the only individuals known capable of threatening Judges remain imprisoned in Asylum. Also, no Fiend has ever demonstrated the ability to pass into existence without disturbing the Way, and the Spider Division has reported no such violation near Harrow or Limit prior to Limit's expiration.\n\nIf a Fiend capable of doing battle with Ozriel has passed through the Way undetected, current quarantine levels are insufficient. Contact the other Judges to prepare for system collapse.\n\nAbidan:\n\nFor security reasons, each Judge's combat potential is not available for access. However, inferences can be made from publicly available data.\n\nRazael, the Wolf, has expressed a personal grudge against Ozriel since the creation of the Reaper's office. She was capable of depopulating an Iteration even before her first conscious contact with the Way, and Razael's Sword was designed for the execution of Judges and Class One threats. The Wolf Division contains many destructive powers that are not public record, and Ozriel may have underestimated them.\n\nMakiel, the Hound. As the Judge of Fate, he is the only individual whose prediction skills rival Ozriel's. In combat power alone, he was once considered capable of assuming the role of Razael, though he declined the mantle. He has attempted to replace Ozriel many times, fought to deny Ozriel the rank of Judge, and led the opposition to all Ozriel's proposed modifications to the Eledari Pact. With the Reaper gone, he will propose an imperfect replacement within the standard year, and unofficial reports suggest he has been developing his own Scythe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Due to the personal biases involved, an encounter between Makiel and Ozriel is virtually guaranteed to end in conflict.\n\nReport complete.\n\nAs the report faded away, so did Harrow. Suriel drifted in a black nothingness like the darkness of space, with swirling balls of color instead of stars. They were world fragments-one of the closer spots carried the fractured black tower from Harrow. Another fragment was a shining blue bubble with an island floating inside; water streamed down from the island and hit the bubble, looping up the inside to fall as rain.\n\nThe power of the Way was weak here, where chaos thrived. Each fragment was a little pocket of order and energy, which could someday be combined once again into anew Iteration.\n\nWith Gadrael's isolation gone, her information requests arrived from Cradle one after the other:\n\nLindon and Yerin, together, left Sacred Valley and went into the Desolate Wilds.\n\nHe was trained by a local Soulsmith in the very basics of the art.\n\nThey encountered the Transcendent Ruins, where they were the first to retrieve the treasure at the top.\n\nLindon killed a Highgold, initiating a rivalry with a young man named Jai Long. Good. Pressure would help him grow. Jai Long's sister was more interesting: she would have met Lindon in a few more years, if not for Suriel's interference.\n\nThe exact nature of their relationship would have changed depending on several factors, but the destiny between them must have been quite strong to survive Lindon's divergence.\n\nA minor point of interest, nothing alarming. Fate adjusted for such small variations as a matter of course.\n\nAfter a few moments of reviewing her Presence's predicted future for Lindon and Jai Long, Suriel noticed a handful of gaps. She reviewed the data, pulling up extra information, comparing the reports."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Finally, she found what her automated requests had overlooked.\n\nThe Arelius family.\n\nA young Underlord had found Lindon and Yerin, adopting them, and taken them back into the Blackflame Empire for training.\n\nSuriel frowned. That could be a problem. She was familiar with the Arelius family-or rather, their ancestors-and they hadn't come anywhere near Lindon in any of her projections. Why would they? He was a weak child from nowhere.\n\nShe tore open a blue hole in the void, stepping into the Way: the power of order washed over her, soothing and empowering, soaking her body and mind in comfort.\n\nHere, she was close to every Iteration of reality. She could get some answers.\n\nThrough her Presence, she reached out to Cradle, requesting information on Wei Shi Lindon.\n\n[Significant deviations detected,] her Presence announced. [Entity Wei Shi Lindon has deviated from primary course. Any analysis of current conditions or projections of future activity will have a low degree of accuracy.]\n\nShe'd made a mistake somewhere, but a quick review of her actions found nothing to account for this degree of change. She'd altered his future, true, but she should still be able to call up information about his current status.\n\nIf her Presence couldn't even connect to the fate of Cradle, then something was badly off-course. None of her assumptions were reliable any longer.\n\nAnd all of her predictions were wrong.\n\nIrritation growing, she requested general information about the status of Iteration One-one-zero.\n\n[Iteration One-one-zero has deviated from primary course. Any relevant information will have a low degree of accuracy. Direct contact with Iteration is recommended to ensure precision.]"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Suriel cutoff her physical reactions before she could feel irritation, anger, and uncertainty.\n\nAbidan were allowed a certain degree of autonomy when responding to a spatial or temporal violation, especially Judges. She was permitted to alter the course of many individual lives, so long as the fate of the world remained intact.\n\nNothing she'd done should have violated those restrictions. Even if Wei Shi Lindon defied all odds and transcended Cradle, it would only mean one more potential Abidan recruit. On a cosmic scale, that was virtually irrelevant. Cradle wouldn't notice when he was gone.\n\nSomething else had changed.\n\nThe Hound Division would have seen this. She had to go back to Cradle and determine the origin of this deviation before-\n\nAn eyeball the size of her head popped into being in front of her. A human eye, in appearance: pure white sclera, black pupil, purple iris ringed with symbols like a Cradle script-circle.\n\nIt looked very much like one of her eyes, in fact, only larger.\n\n[Judge designation zero-zero-six, Suriel,] Makiel's Presence said, byway of greeting. [Please travel to the following coordinates. Judge designation zero-zero-one, Makiel, requests a meeting.]"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Years ago, when Renfei had first earned her way into the Skysworn, her instructor had congratulated her with these words:\n\n\"You'll stop rebels, rivals, and runaway killers allover the empire, and you'll do great service to the emperor. But somewhere, someday, you'll run across somebody trying to revive the Path of Black Flame.\" He'd chewed on a straw as he spoke, tapping the burned half of his face. \"When the Blackflame returns, that's when you'll really stretch your oath. Can't help but wonder if you'll fight, or if you'll leave your honor behind.\"\n\nThe challenge had hovered over her, unanswered, for twelve years. She had fought with the Kotai clan against walking sharks on the beaches of the Trackless Sea, executed exiled criminals trying to sneak in across the eastern border, and returned runaways to the Stonedeep Mines. But, though she had kept her spirit open in special vigilance, she had never encountered a Blackflame.\n\nUntil a week ago.\n\nShe and her partner had been patrolling near Serpent's Grave, keeping an eye on the battle in the city with their spiritual perception. They wouldn't interfere in the battle; a clan was well within their rights to pass judgment on citizens in their territory. But conflicts led to crimes, so they remained vigilant wherever swords were drawn.\n\nOf the many things they sensed that night, one in particular had drawn them to Serpent's Grave like flies to rotting flesh: the power of Blackflame.\n\nThe Arelius turtle, Orthos, was known to them. His madra had flared during the battle, which was to be expected, but what they hadn't anticipated was a second source of the Path of Black Flame."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As they had for the past seven days, Renfei drifted next to Bai Rou over the dragon-bone city, dodging horned skulls and yellow ribs that clawed the sky."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They flew on emerald green Thousand-Mile Clouds: the symbols of the Skysworn.\n\nOver this week, they'd sensed occasional flares of Blackflame through the city, but not much they could track.\n\n\"South-southeast?\" Bai Rou asked, his voice coming from the shadow beneath his broad bamboo hat. His great bulk was shrouded by a huge, heavy coat that covered him from shoulders to toes, and his eyes-his Goldsign-shone yellow from within the shadows over his face.\n\nShe extended her own perception and checked. Not a Blackflame, just afire artist practicing. \"No. Two more days, and then we confront the Jai Underlord.\"\n\nRenfei had come to her own conclusion: their mysterious source wasn't a sacred artist at all. Rather, it must be a Blackflame weapon that one of the two Serpent's Grave Underlords had unearthed for their battle. The hints they'd gotten since then were only the weapon being transported throughout the city.\n\nThey had planned to confront both Underlords once they had evidence of the weapon's existence, but thus far, they'd found none. And the Arelius Patriarch had fled the city before the Skysworn arrived. That suggested a guilty conscience to Renfei, but she needed more than suspicions to pursue claims against a Lord.\n\nSo if they found no more trace of the weapon soon, they would take Jai Daishou's testimony anyway.\n\nBai Rou wordlessly agreed-he was only twenty-eighth among the Skysworn Truegolds, while she was rank thirteen and a disciple of the prestigious Cloud Hammer School. While they were assigned together, her opinion would override his.\n\nDeadly heat flashed in the direction of the great black mountain that loomed over the city, and she started to call its position to Bai Rou."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then flames blasted into the sky from Mount Shiryu's peak.\n\nThe fire was streaked with red and black, and Blackflame aura gushed into the sky. Allover the city, scripts flared to life, as sacred artists scrambled to defend themselves from another attack.\n\nRenfei and Bai Rou streaked toward the dark peak, their clouds leaving green trails behind them.\n\n\"Testing,\" Bai Rou said, voice hollow.\n\nShe agreed. Someone had decided to test the weapon; it must be based around a Ruler binding, based on the vital aura and flame that erupted from the mountain.\n\nAs part of standard procedure, the Skysworn each veiled their spirits, suppressing their power so they wouldn't be detected as they approached. An Arelius would see through it, but Naru Cassias Arelius was with his family at the moment, and Eithan Arelius was gone.\n\nThey hovered over the mountain until they looked down into a canyon. The same narrow canyon that contained the Black Dragon Trials.\n\nRenfei had checked this location as soon as they had arrived, finding no extra lingering Blackflame power, but obviously someone had managed to hide the weapon from her. It was their own foolishness that they had revealed it so soon.\n\nShe and Bai Rou flew over a circle of ninety-nine black, scripted dummies. The Ruler Trial. No better place to test out a Blackflame Ruler weapon than the course that taught them to use their Ruler technique.\n\nWarm air still gushed from the canyon, buffeting their clouds, but it only took a minor expenditure of madra to stay steady.\n\nThere were two people inside the canyon, neither of whom Renfei had seen before. One, a shrunken old woman with gray hair in a bun crawling around on spider's legs. She had a goldsteel bladed hook on her back, and she was tinkering with one of the dummies, exposing the construct inside. A Soulsmith, then, in charge of the course's operation."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The other must be the one using the weapon, but his hands were empty."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was tall and looked stern despite his age, and a very careful scan of his spirit didn't pickup anything of his madra.\n\nShe couldn't check him more thoroughly without alerting him to their presence, but he must be very skilled to have veiled his spirit from even a cursory scan. His madra almost felt pure, which was a testament to the power of his veil.\n\nCurrently, he was sitting in a cycling position, a tiny blue Remnant on his lap.\n\n\"The weapon?\" Bai Rou asked, but she shook her head. There was noway to make Blackflame madra look so much like pure water. If she had to guess, she'd say that was a natural spirit. Maybe it helped activate the weapon.\n\n\"We'll wait until they draw it again,\" she said, as the young man stood up. \"It shouldn't be too-\"\n\nThe young man's spirit changed.\n\nHis veil must have dropped, because his soul suddenly burned like a hungry flame. His eyes turned black with shining blood-red irises-that wasn't the Goldsign from the Path of Black Flame she remembered, but otherwise his power felt just like a black dragon's.\n\n\"A Blackflame in the wild,\" she muttered.\n\nBai Rou's yellow eyes flared. \"Who would be this stupid?\"\n\nAura gathered like clay, wrapped around the activation crystal for the course, and then flared to black-and-red light. The Ruler Trial began.\n\nOne dummy came to life, drawing an orange bow and firing a blast of light at the young Blackflame. A lance of sword energy followed, and then a fireball, then a crystal of dark ice stabbed up from the earth beneath his feet.\n\nThe course was designed to keep its participants on the defensive, pressuring them so they couldn't hold onto their Ruler technique. When the Blackflames had taken these Trials, their guardians had countered the techniques while the one on the Path of the Black Flame readied the Void Dragon's Dance."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But this boy...\n\nBlack-and-red madra covered him like blazing fog, and he dodged the arrow of light, took a cut from the sword energy, shattered the fireball on his fist-which must have left burns on his hand-and broke the ice with a kick.\n\nAll the while, his madra was still gathering vital aura, scooping it up like piles of gold. He took control of all the Blackflame aura he could, building a mountain over the dummies.\n\nHe fought as the attacks continued, dodging with his Enforcer technique active, blasting projectiles from the air with short bursts of dark fire, and taking cuts to the body that should have stopped him in his tracks. He was a bloody mess, and his core should have gone dry in seconds-he only felt like a Lowgold, and not a strong one.\n\nBut he kept going. In Renfei's Copper sight, the canyon looked like a seething mass of red-tinged darkness.\n\nFinally, long after she thought he should have collapsed, he ignited that pile of aura.\n\nThe entire top of the mountain rose in a column of black-spotted fire.\n\nRenfei had never considered taking shelter. Her Cloud Hammer madra spread into a haze around her, shielding her from the heat and the impact.\n\nThe shock hither harder: this was areal Lowgold on the Path of Black Flame. One of the living weapons that had carved out an empire using sheer power. Even though he wasn't much yet, the Schools and sects and clans would fight to control his future.\n\nThe firestorm had died almost as quickly as it was born, but fora moment, it had looked as though Mount Shiryu were transformed into a volcano."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Even this wasn't enough to pass the Ruler Trial."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A true Void Dragon's Dance should have devoured the dummies and nothing else; the tower of flame rising into the air was just wasted energy.\n\nBut he was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, and his spirit was veiled again. She sensed madra flowing to his flesh, his wounds drinking it up... and closing. Visibly healing before her eyes, no life madra required.\n\n\"Someone,\" Bai Rou said, \"is making a monster.\"\n\nRenfei released her aura and flew down into the canyon, her partner flying with her. A raincloud hovered over her head: the Goldsign of the Cloud Hammers. Her actual hammer rested at her side, and if the Blackflame boy showed the slightest intention to resist, she'd draw it.\n\nThe old woman scurried up to the young man, and they both looked up in shock. The boy's eyes weren't dark anymore, Renfei noticed. They were ordinary, human eyes.\n\nA clever deception.\n\nThe two in the canyon were bowing and sweating by the time the Skysworn landed. That showed wisdom, but Renfei still considered striking the Lowgold Blackflame dead.\n\nIt would certainly simplify matters in the future.\n\nBut in the end, her honor won out: Truegolds did not strike down Lowgolds to make their lives easier.\n\n\"Name, sect, and rank,\" she demanded.\n\n\"I am Gesha of the Fishers,\" the old woman said. \"A guest of the honored Arelius family. As for my rank, I-\"\n\n\"Not you,\" Bai Rou said, his burning yellow eyes on the boy.\n\nSweat dripped from the young man's forehead, and he didn't dare to glance up at the two Skysworn. \"This one is Wei Shi Lindon, an adopted disciple of the Arelius family. This one apologizes, but he can't be sure of his rank. Among the outer disciples, this one believes he is ranked second, but he is only aware of two in total.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Arelius family has thousands of outer family disciples,\" Renfei said, her voice dry. If he was trying to deceive her by saying he didn't know his rank, he wasn't working hard enough. \"Who is your master?\"\n\n\"This one is honored to be the disciple of Eithan Arelius, though regrettably, this one's master is not in the city at the moment. He has gone to the capital. This one would be honored to lead you to-\"\n\nShe interrupted him. \"Wei Shi Lindon Arelius, in the name of the Emperor, the Skysworn are taking you into custody. You will not be tried or punished until a representative of your clan can be found to speak for you.\" That was the end of what she was required to say, but she added, \"Eithan Arelius has no authority in this matter-we speak with the voice of the Emperor himself. A Blackflame cannot be allowed to run wild.\"\n\nLindon looked distinctly uncomfortable, like a child caught in a lie, and only then did Renfei remember how young he was. Not even eighteen, she was sure.\n\nWhich made him all the more dangerous.\n\n\"Excuse me if this one misled you, but this one has only recently begun learning the Path of Black Flame, with the guidance of the Patriarch. This one is not a member of the Blackflame family.\"\n\n\"You might as well be,\" Bai Rou muttered.\n\nThey shackled his spirit, reducing his power. He was more cooperative than most of Renfei's prisoners, though he did repeatedly insist that they tell his family what happened to him.\n\nHe might as well not have bothered; the Arelius family never needed to be informed about anything. Renfei's only report would go straight to the Emperor."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, progression fantasy, martial arts\nAuthor: Will Wight\nTitle: Blackflame\nChapter: 24"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Arelius family has thousands of outer family disciples,\" Renfei said, her voice dry. If he was trying to deceive her by saying he didn't know his rank, he wasn't working hard enough. \"Who is your master?\"\n\n\"This one is honored to be the disciple of Eithan Arelius, though regrettably, this one's master is not in the city at the moment. He has gone to the capital. This one would be honored to lead you to-\"\n\nShe interrupted him. \"Wei Shi Lindon Arelius, in the name of the Emperor, the Skysworn are taking you into custody. You will not be tried or punished until a representative of your clan can be found to speak for you.\" That was the end of what she was required to say, but she added, \"Eithan Arelius has no authority in this matter-we speak with the voice of the Emperor himself. A Blackflame cannot be allowed to run wild.\"\n\nLindon looked distinctly uncomfortable, like a child caught in a lie, and only then did Renfei remember how young he was. Not even eighteen, she was sure.\n\nWhich made him all the more dangerous.\n\n\"Excuse me if this one misled you, but this one has only recently begun learning the Path of Black Flame, with the guidance of the Patriarch. This one is not a member of the Blackflame family.\"\n\n\"You might as well be,\" Bai Rou muttered.\n\nThey shackled his spirit, reducing his power. He was more cooperative than most of Renfei's prisoners, though he did repeatedly insist that they tell his family what happened to him.\n\nHe might as well not have bothered; the Arelius family never needed to be informed about anything. Renfei's only report would go straight to the Emperor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Blackflames had returned.\n\n---\n\nEmperor Naru Huan spread his wings as he walked through an ornate doorway. He had a fifteen-foot wingspan, but all the doors in the palace were made to accommodate the Goldsign of the Path of Grasping Sky. Etiquette dictated that he brush both sides of the frame with his outer feathers, demonstrating that anyone else would have to give way. When two members of the Naru clan met in a doorway, the lower-ranked had to defer.\n\nNo one had walked past Naru Huan in almost twenty years.\n\nServants closed the door behind him as he entered his home, a luxurious complex of black wood, red paint, and golden dragon statues. He had three joined towers within the imperial palace, all for himself, his wives, and his servants. Palaces within palaces.\n\nHe still remembered a time when it had been his job to scrub these floors.\n\nNaru Huan paused on the inside of the doorway. Ordinarily, three servants were stationed hereto take his robes of office, his slippers, and the heavy circlet woven into his hair in lieu of the imperial crown.\n\nHe opened his Copper sight, which was tuned to wind after his long years on his Path. The entire complex was a placid lake of pale green.\n\nThe air was still. No one moved inside.\n\nMadra spun within him, faster and faster. He had no need to call his guards; anyone who could sneak into his home was a greater opponent than they could handle.\n\nGreen swirled as the wind stirred. He raised a hand.\n\nA man walked around the corner, where he'd been seated and still a moment before. Long, yellow hair streamed behind him, and his outer robe was threaded in intricate patterns of blue silk. He was fifteen years younger than the Emperor, though they both looked about thirty: Overlords aged even more slowly than Underlords."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eithan Arelius grinned and plucked a grape from a bunch that he must have stolen from Naru Huan's table. He popped it into his mouth.\n\n\"Welcome home,\" Eithan mumbled through a mouthful of grape.\n\nNaru Huan glared at him. \"Where are Our loyal servants?\"\n\nHe usually had people to ask questions for him-Emperors were never supposed to demonstrate alack of knowledge.\n\n\"Someone altered the schedule last night,\" Eithan said, shaking his head. \"It seems everyone believes it is someone else's shift.\"\n\nThe Emperor had never expected his security to holdup to Eithan Arelius; it had been a joke for generations that if the Arelius family wanted the throne, they would have it. Their bloodline gifts were so dangerous that, if they hadn't shown such a complete lack of ambition, one of the Blackflame Emperors would have exterminated them centuries ago. Total awareness combined with access to the Empire's maintenance facilities gave them the keys to all secrets on the continent.\n\nBut the Emperor should never be left unattended because of a shift change. He'd have to order some adjustments to security.\n\n\"We are not pleased at the disrespect you have shown,\" Naru Huan announced, his tone a dire pronouncement. \"Our office is nothing-\"\n\n\"No one's listening,\" Eithan assured him, eating another grape.\n\nNaru Huan's eyes flicked to the nearest bedroom, where he still saw no movement in the air. Which meant anyone inside was either unconscious or dead.\n\nHis calculated anger started to turn real, and the air of the hallway began to thicken.\n\nEithan held up his hands, the bunch of grapes dangling from one thumb. \"Wait, wait, wait! She's shopping, you hear me? Shopping! She's with your sister, who owed me a favor.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Naru Huan let out a breath, finally relaxing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He tugged the replacement crown out of his hair, tossing it onto a nearby table that existed solely for that purpose. \"You could have warned me, Eithan. You can't just popup anywhere you want to.\"\n\n\"It's better when I don't explain how I do it,\" Eithan said, sighing around another grape. \"Explanations ruin my all-knowing mystique.\"\n\n\"If anyone knew you had entered the palace without my permission, I would have to take action against your family. When a Patriarch acts recklessly, he is not the only one to pay the price.\"\n\n\"If I thought an official message would get mean invitation in a timely fashion, I would have sent you a message,\" Eithan pointed out.\n\nEvery message the Emperor received became common knowledge in Blackflame City within a day. Every message he responded to became apolitical talking-point. \"Inviting the Arelius Underlord to the palace would be a rebuke against the Jai clan,\" Naru Huan said, struggling out of his heavy robes of office-never easy, thanks to the wings. \"For now, we still need them to hold the west.\"\n\n\"As long as you don't need them to have an Underlord,\" Eithan said, pulling a grape off with his teeth. \"He initiated an open attack against me in Serpent's Grave, and I was forced to takeout the broom.\"\n\n\"I've never heard that expression. I assume you mean an actual broom.\"\n\n\"Of course I do. What better weapon is therefor an Arelius Patriarch?\" He squinted into the distance, thinking. \"Maybe I could have the Soulsmiths make me a better one...\"\n\n\"Well, if you had to fight him, you should have killed him,\" Naru Huan said, sliding out of his slippers and walking around Eithan to get to the dining room. \"I could have assigned you as the temporary guardian of the western territories while the Jai dissolved to infighting.\" He stopped as he realized Eithan hadn't followed him, turning on his heel to see what had happened. \"What is it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The bunch of grapes hung forgotten from Eithan's fingers."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His smile was gone, and he stared at the Emperor as though ready to do battle on the spot.\n\nWhich would result in nothing more than a dead Underlord, so Naru Huan folded his arms and waited.\n\n\"I did kill him,\" Eithan said.\n\nThe Emperor raised both eyebrows. \"I have a dream tablet from him that arrived yesterday, demanding I punish you for your insolent actions in Serpent's Grave, and requesting imperial assistance in establishing his authority over the city.\"\n\nEithan looked like he'd accidentally killed his own mother. He paled, braced himself against the wall, his eyes distant and unfocused.\n\n\"Am Ito understand that I just received accurate information before the Arelius Underlord? Let me just...\" Naru Huan took a deep breath. \"... breathe it in. This is a good day.\"\n\nHe continued walking to the dining room, where a table was laden with fruit and delicacies. Eithan staggered after him like an animated corpse. \"I killed him, Huan. I killed him myself.\"\n\n\"You left an enemy alive,\" the Emperor said in disbelief, pouring himself a glass of wine. \"Do you know how to tell whether someone is dead? Would you like me to teach you?\"\n\nEithan dropped the grapes, snatched the pitcher of wine away from Naru Huan, and started pouring it into his mouth. He only stopped to come up for air.\n\n\"I haven't made a mistake like that in... no, it's never happened. Well, I'm going to need anew plan now.\"\n\nThat reminded Naru Huan of another matter-one he had planned to visit the Arelius family to address personally. His mood instantly soured.\n\n\"What part of that plan involves reviving the Path of Black Flame?\" the Emperor asked, his tone dark."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eithan waved a hand. \"Oh, that.\"\n\n\"That? I need an explanation, if only to know what you could possibly have thought you were doing. You had to realize I would take him from you immediately.\"\n\n\"Teaching someone the Path is not illegal.\"\n\n\"Neither is hanging yourself, but that doesn't make it wise. He's going to be isolated both for his own safety and to stop him from causing a panic, Eithan.\" Naru Huan slammed his glass down, remembering at the last second to cushion it in wind madra so it didn't shatter.\n\nEithan sighed and replaced the pitcher on the table. \"That does bring us around to the reason I'm here. I have a request.\"\n\nThat was about as surprising as the sun rising in the east: no one ever came to seethe Emperor without a request. \"The Skysworn already have him in custody. I can't let a Blackflame go, Eithan. He'll cause a riot.\"\n\n\"Let him go? No, no, not at all.\" His smile returned. \"I want you to make sure he still has to fight.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Support the writer, proceed with the storyline.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 4"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He released along, slow sigh, empty of all feeling save loss. \"I cannot pretend that the world fails to turn for lack of my hand upon it.\"\n\nHari nodded. \"Shit just turns out that way sometimes,\" he said. \"You should be used to it by now.\"\n\n\"Should I?\" Tan'elKoth came to a halt; he appeared to study the urine-stained wall at his side. \"And how is it that I should find my defeat more tolerable than you have your victory?\"\n\nHari snorted. \"That's easy: you can blame it on me,\" he said. \"Who do I blame?\"\n\nChocolate brows canted upward over his enormous liquid eyes as Tan'elKoth considered this. \"Mm, just so,\" he admitted at last, nodding to himself with a rueful half smile. \"It is a curiously consistent characteristic of yours, Caine, that you always seem to be just a bit smarter than I anticipate.\"\n\n\"Yeah, sure. I'm a genius with a capital J.\"\n\nTan'elKoth laid one finger alongside the bend in his nose where Caine had broken it: the only flaw in his classically perfect features. \"Do you know why I have never had this repaired?\" he asked. He opened his hand as though releasing a butterfly. \"For the same reason that I changed my name.\"\n\nHari squinted at him again, narrowing his eyes to overlay his vision with the memory of this man as he'd been in the days he had ruled the Ankhanan Empire, as Emperor and living god. In those days, he had called himself Ma'elKoth, a phrase in Paquli that translates, roughly, as I Am Limitless. Ma, in Paquli, is the present nominative case of to be; tan is its past tense."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I Was Limitless.\n\n\"So that every time I hear my name-every time I see my reflection-\" Tan'elKoth continued, \"I am reminded of the penalty for underestimating you.\"\n\nHis tone was distantly precise. Well rehearsed. More and more, during these Earthbound years, Tan'elKoth seemed to be talking for someone else's benefit-as though he was playing to an audience that existed only in his mind.\n\nHari grunted. \"Flatterer.\"\n\n\"Mmm. Perhaps.\"\n\n\"Is that why you've never made a try for me?\"\n\nTan'elKoth began walking again. \"Revenge is an occupation of inferior minds,\" he said meditatively. \"It is the shibboleth of spiritual poverty.\"\n\n\"That's not an answer.\"\n\nTan'elKoth only shrugged and walked on. After a moment, Hari followed him. \"Perhaps I have not destroyed you,\" the ex-Emperor murmured, \"because it is more enjoyable to watch you destroy yourself.\"\n\n\"That's about right,\" Hari said with a snort. \"Everything I've done my whole life has been somebody's entertainment.\"\n\nTan'elKoth hummed a neutral agreement.\n\nHari rubbed the back of his neck, but his fingers couldn't loosen the knots that had tied themselves there. \"Maybe that's part of what's so hard to take, at the end of the day. I've done a lot of shitty things in my life. I've done some pretty good things. But when you come right down to it, none of that matters. Everything I've done, everything that's been done tome-win, lose, love, hate, who gives a fuck?-it all only counts as far as it helps some bastard I've never met while away a couple idle hours.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We are indeed a pair,\" Tan'elKoth mused."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Our wars long fought, our glories passed. Is it truly that your life was mere entertainment which troubles you-or is it that your life is no longer so entertaining?\"\n\n\"Hey, that reminds me,\" Hari said. \"I don't think I've invited you lately to go fuck yourself.\"\n\nTan'elKoth smiled indulgently. \"I wept because I had no shoes, until I meta man who had no feet.\" He nodded down the sidewalk, at a ragged legless beggar dozing in his ancient manual wheelchair. \"Consider this man: I have no doubt he would give up his very hope of the afterlife to walk-even so badly as you walk-for one single day.\"\n\n\"So?\" Hari said. \"So he's more crippled than I am. So what?\"\n\nTan'elKoth's smile turned cold. \"You have a much nicer wheelchair.\"\n\n\"Oh, sure,\" Hari said. He grunted a bitter laugh. \"Rover's areal treat.\"\n\n\"Rover?\" Tan'elKoth said. One eyebrow arched more steeply. \"You gave a name to your wheelchair? I hadn't thought you the type.\"\n\nHari shrugged irritably. \"It's a command code, that's all. It lets the voice-control software know I'm talking to it.\"\n\n\"And Rover is a dog's name, is it not? Like Faithful-mm, Fido?\"\n\n\"It's not a dog's name,\" Hari said, disgusted with himself. \"It's a joke, that's all. It started as a bad joke, and I just never bothered to change it.\"\n\n\"I don't seethe humor.\"\n\n\"Yeah, me neither.\" He shrugged dismissively. \"I know you don't watch a lot of net. You know anything about twentieth-century serial photoplays?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Little, save that they tend to be infantile.\"\n\n\"Well, there was one called The Prisoner. Ever hear of it?\"\n\nTan'elKoth shook his head.\n\n\"It's kind of too complicated to really explain,\" Hari said. \"Rover was... a very efficient prison guard. That's all.\"\n\n\"Mmm,\" Tan'elKoth mused. \"I think I see-\"\n\n\"Don't go wise and philosophical on me-every time you pull that shit, I start to regret I didn't kill you when I had the chance.\"\n\n\"Just so.\" Tan'elKoth sighed. \"Sometimes I do, too.\"\n\nHari looked at him, trying to think of something to say; after a moment, he just nodded and started walking again, and Tan'elKoth fell in at his side.\n\nThey walked together in silence for sometime.\n\n\"I suppose... the actual question is, What, in the end, does one want?\" Tan'elKoth asked finally. \"Do we want to become happy with the lives we have, or do we want to change our lives-into lives with which we will be happy? After all, to content yourself with your current situation is a simple matter of serotonin balance: it can be accomplished by medication.\"\n\n\"Drugs won't change anything but my attitude.\" Hari shrugged, dismissing the idea. \"And changing? My whole life? This was what I was fighting for.\"\n\n\"Was it?\"\n\n\"I won, goddammit. I beat Kollberg. I beat you. I got everything I goddamn wanted: fame, wealth, power. Shit, I even got the girl.\"\n\n\"The problem with happy endings,\" Tan'elKoth said, \"is that nothing is ever truly over.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fuck that,\" Hari said. \"I am living happily ever goddamn after. I am.\"\n\n\"Ah, I see: It is happiness which has brought you to these streets, at this hour, with me,\" Tan'elKoth murmured. \"I have always supposed living happily ever after at four A. M. would somehow involve lying in bed, asleep, with one's wife.\"\n\nHari looked at the filthy pavement beneath his feet. \"It's just... I don't know. Sometimes, y'know, late at night...\" He shook his head, driving away the thought. He took a slow breath, and shrugged. \"I guess I'm not handling getting old so well, that's all. This is... Ahh, fuck it. Midlife crisis bullshit.\"\n\nTan'elKoth stood silently at Hari's side, motionless, until Hari looked up and found the ex-Emperor staring at him like he'd bitten into something rotten that he couldn't spit out. \"Is this the name you give to your despair? Midlife crisis bullshit?\"\n\n\"Yeah, all right, whatever. Call it whatever the fuck you want-\"\n\n\"Stop,\" Tan'elKoth rumbled. He put a hand the size of a cave bear's paw on Hari's shoulder and gave him a squeeze that stopped just short of crushing bone. \"You cannot trivialize your pain with nomenclature. You forget to whom you speak, Caine.\"\n\nTan'elKoth's gaze smoked; it held Hari as tight as his smothering grip did. \"In this way, we are brothers; I have felt what you feel, and we both know that no mere word can compass and contain this injury. We are wounded, you and I: with a hurt that time cannot heal. Like a cancer, like gangrene, it grows worse with each passing hour. It is killing us.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hari lowered his head. The pain in his chest allowed him no answer; he could only stare, grip-jawed and silent, at the faint bands of soft color across his knuckles.\n\nDrunken voices slurred from behind them, \"Hey, you fuckers! Hey, shitheads!\"\n\nHari and Tan'elKoth turned to find two men lurching toward them along the street: the pair of drunks Tan'elKoth had shouldered off the sidewalk. As they wove unsteadily through a pool of mercury-argon lampglow, Hari could seethe length of pipe in one's hand. In the hand of the other, two decimeters of blade gleamed steel-bright.\n\n\"Who th'fuck y'think y'are?\" the one with the knife asked owlishly; he turned his head from side to side as though searching for an angle that might clear his vision. \"Who y'think y'r shovin\"?\"\n\nThe knife guy was in the lead; Hari took one step forward to intercept him. He could read this bastard like a street sign. The knife was for show-for intimidation, for self-respect: eight inches of steel penis, bright and hard.\n\nHari saw three ways he could settle this right down. He could apologize, maybe buy them a drink, cool them off a little, let them feel like they mattered-that's all they really wanted. Or he could pullout his palmpad and key the Social Police, then point out to these guys that he's an Administrator and Tan'elKoth's a Professional, and they were looking at life under the yoke if they didn't back off. Simplest would be just to tell them who he was. Laborers areas celebrity-struck as anybody else, and unexpectedly meeting Caine himself on the street would dazzle them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Instead, he angled the right side of his body slightly away from the guy, presenting about a three-quarter profile, his hands boneless at his sides, a bright tingle beginning to sizzle along his nerves. \"Y'know, you shouldn't pull a knife unless you're gonna use it.\"\n\n\"Who says I'm not planning to-\"\n\nHari leaned into a lunge, his left hand becoming a backfist as it blurred through a short arc from his thigh to the guy's nose. It struck with a wet whack like the snap of a soaked towel, and tilted the drunk's head back to the perfect angle for Hari's right cross to take him precisely on the point of the chin.\n\nHari staggered a little, grimacing-his bypass's secondhand footwork left him off balance, open fora countering slash of the knife-but it didn't matter: the drunk fell backward like a toppling pole and stretched his length on the pavement.\n\n\"It's not about what you're planning,\" Hari said.\n\nBoth his fists burned and stung.\n\nIt was a good pain, and he welcomed it.\n\n\"Fuck my mother,\" the other drunk breathed, the pipe hanging forgotten by his side. \"You-I know you-you are, aren't you? I mean, aren't you Caine?\"\n\n\"I used to be,\" Hari said.\n\n\"I'm a big fan-\"\n\n\"Thanks. Take a fucking hike.\"\n\n\"No, I mean it, I really am-\"\n\n\"I believe you. Now get out of here before I kill you.\"\n\nThe drunk stumbled off, muttering to himself, \"Shit, holy shit, holy son of a motherfucking shit...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tan'elKoth nodded down at the man who lay on the street. \"Is he dead?\"\n\n\"Maybe.\" Hari shrugged. \"Probably not.\"\n\nHari's combat rush faded as fast as it had risen, leaving him bleak and bitter and slightly sick. His hands throbbed and his mouth tasted of coffee grounds. So, here I am, thirty years later: still beating up drunks in the Mission District.\n\nWhy not just go ahead and roll him for loose change?\n\n\"You asked me what I want. I can tell you...\" Hari said slowly. \"I can tell you exactly what I want.\"\n\nHe nudged the drunk with his toe, not even really seeing the man anymore; in this drunken, bleeding Laborer lying in the street, his face busted up because he was too stupid to back off, he was looking at himself.\n\n\"I want to find out who it is that keeps reaching down into my life and turning everything I touch into shit,\" Hari said. \"I want to meet him. I'm not asking for much: I want to share a little bit of pain with him, that's all.\" He pressed his fists against his legs, and said through his teeth, \"I want to get my hands on the motherfucker.\"\n\n\"Mm. This is a dream I can share with you, Caine.\" Once again, Tan'elKoth laid his hand across Hari's shoulder like a blanket, and through that physical connection sparked a current of understanding.\n\nHari pulled away.\n\nTan'elKoth kept his hand in the air, turning it over as though to read his own palm. He loomed over Hari, blank, impenetrable, inhumanly solid: a sarsen stone outlined against the dawn-lit clouds above."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Be careful for what you wish,\" he said softly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Avery wise man of your world has observed that when the gods would punish us, they answer our prayers.\"\n\nTHE GOD OF DUST and ashes had slept for an age, fitful in slow, infinite starvation, restlessly gnawing on the bleak cinder that had been its world.\n\nThough the god slumbered, its merest dream maintained its dominion, for it was attended by priests who never guessed at its existence. It had a church that did not seem to be a church, had a religion that did not know it was a religion, and had followers that prayed to other gods, or to no god at all. Years passed while it awakened-but when it finally roused, men leaped to serve it, though they thought they served only themselves.\n\nFor this is the power of the god of dust and ashes: to weave the lives of its followers so that the fabric thus created has a pattern none of them intend."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "TWO\n\nAS THE CRISP late-summer afternoon faded to evening, the shadow of the God's Teeth mountains stretched to the east and swallowed first the mines, erasing their billowing towers of smoke, then wiped across the Northwest Road and engulfed Thorncleft, the tiny Transdeian capital city.\n\nThe Monastic Ambassador to Transdeia, a young man the world named Raithe of Ankhana, satin a straight-backed, unadorned, unpadded, and exceptionally uncomfortable chair, staring out at the shadow's grope with blank unseeing eyes.\n\nMost unsettling, those eyes were: the pale blue grey of winter ice, set in a face as dark and leathery as that of a Korish desert tribesman. The startling contrast made his stare a disturbing, almost dangerous thing; few men could bear to match his gaze. Fewer still would care to try, if they knew just how deeply those pale eyes could see.\n\nLate in the afternoon, five elves had come to Thorncleft. Raithe had seen them first from this very window: dusty, in clothing travel-worn and stained, mounted on horses whose ribs showed even under their mantles of green and black. Those mantles had been embroidered with the star-browed raven that was the standard of House Mithondionne.\n\nRaithe had stared at them, memorizing every discernable curve of shoulder and tangle of hair, every faded patch where the sun had bleached color from their linen surcoats, all the details of posture and gesture that made each of them individual, as the elves walked their horses up high-sloping Tor Street. He had stepped from the shadow of the half-built Monastic embassy into the street, shielding his eyes against the lowering sun, had watched them answer the challenge at the vaulted gate of Thornkeep, had watched as the gate swung wide and the elves led their horses within."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then he went back into the embassy, into his office, and satin this chair so that he could see them more clearly.\n\nHe held himself perfectly erect and controlled his breathing, timing it by the subtle beats of his own heart: six beats in, hold for three, nine beats out, hold for three. As his heart slowed, so did the cycle of his breath. He built their image in the eye of his mind, drawing details of their backs from his trained memory, since their backs were what he had seen most clearly: a spray of platinum hair pricked through by the barest hint of pointed ears, a diagonal leather thong to support a waterskin, the inhuman grace of stance, the way shoulders move when hands swing in small, light gestures.\n\nSlowly, slowly, with infinite patience, he fed details into the image: the dark curls hand-tooled into their belts, the lace of scar tissue across one's forearm, the sideways duck of another's head as he whispered to one of his companions. These were details he had not seen, could not have seen; these were details that he created in his powerful imagination. Yet as he refined them, and brought them more vividly before his mind's eye, they became plastic, shifted, and finally organized into plain, visible truth.\n\nNow ghosts of their surroundings materialized in his mind: the marble floor, deeply worn but highly polished, on which their boots made almost no sound, the long tongue of pale blue carpet that entered the doorway before them. He got a vague sense of huge, high-vaulted space, oaken beams blackened by years of smoldering torches below.\n\nHe hummed satisfaction under his breath. This would be the Hall of State.\n\nHe had been inside that hall many times in the few months since he'd been posted here from Ankhana; using his recollection of the details of the hall brought the scene inside it into sharper and more brilliant focus than he could have seen with the eyes of his body-from the glittering steel of the ceremonial weapons that bedizened the walls to the precise color of the sunlight that struggled through the smoke-darkened windows. There before the elves was the Gilt Throne, and upon it lounged Transdeia's lazy, spineless puppet lord: Kithin, fourteenth Duke of Thorncleft. Raithe could see even the stitching on Duke Kithin's shirt of maroon and gold; with that as a mental anchor, he swung his perception to seethe room as Kithin saw it. Now, for the first time, he could get a good look at the faces of the elves."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He didn't trouble to study these faces too closely; elvish features lack the creases that time and care paint upon human physiognomy, and thus reveal nothing of their character. Elves, in Raithe's experience, looked very much alike.\n\nHe was rather more interested in what had brought them to Thorncleft, and so he studied the silent motions of lips and tongue; though he spoke little Primal, they would be conversing in Westerling for the benefit of Duke Kithin, and lipreading is easy, when practiced through the pristine vision of his mindeye.\n\nHis mindeye had always been one of his most useful talents.\n\nRaithe had been only a boy when he'd discovered his gift: thirteen years old, barely into adolescence. One golden morning he had lain in bed, in his room above his father's tiny smithy, slowly awakening from a dream. In the dream, he'd kissed Dala, the raven-haired sixteen-year-old girl who sold sticky buns on the corner of Tanner and the Angle; as he lay in bed fingering the erection this dream had given him, he'd imagined her rising for the morning and pulling her nightdress off over her head, imagined her round, swelling breasts bouncing free, her nipples hardening as she splashed herself with water from the pitcher beside her bed. In his mind, he saw her stand naked before the mirror, braiding her hair in anew way, coiling it into a gleaming black helmet instead of the long strands she usually allowed to trail down her back; he imagined that she chose her oldest blouse to wear that day, the one he loved the best, its fabric so worn and supple that it clung to her curves and gave a hint of the dark circles of her nipples.\n\nSheer fantasy, of course: the vivid daydreams of an imaginative boy in lust."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But when he'd gone that morning to buy buns for his father's dinner, blushing so that he hardly dared even to look at her, he'd found that she was wearing that very blouse, and she had chosen that morning to coil her hair up in anew style, tight and shining around her head-exactly as he had imagined it.\n\nThat had been Raithe's first hint that he was destined for greatness.\n\nMastering his gift had not come easily. In the days and weeks that followed, as he spied on Dala's naked body at every opportunity, he found that his vivid imagination was more hindrance than help. Too often, his mental image of her would lift hands to breasts, to fondle and squeeze them as he wanted to do. Too often, he would fantasize one hand creeping down to the silky nest between her legs... and the vision would scatter into the random eyelights of total darkness. He discovered that clear imaging required a certain coldness of mind, a detachment; otherwise, his sight became murky, clouded with his own desires, with ghosts of wish-fulfilling fantasies.\n\nThose wish-fulfilling fantasies had a power of their own, though, as he discovered one day when Dala met his eye with ashy smile, when he gazed at her while he held a perfectly formed mental image of their naked limbs entwined in a tangle of sheets-and she reached out, took his hand, and led him to her room on a clear, hot summer's afternoon, and took his virginity with exactly that same shy smile.\n\nThat had been the sweet brush of his destiny's lips, as well.\n\nHe'd entered his novitiate at fourteen, using the advanced education available only at the Monastic Embassy to sharpen his powers; the Esoteric training of both body and mind gave him the self-discipline to ruthlessly strangle those desires that crippled his gift. Now he used his mind as another friar might wield a sword: as a weapon, sworn in the service of the Human Future."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At twenty-five, he was the youngest full Ambassador in the Monasteries'six-hundred-year history-and not even the Council of Brothers could guess how much their decision might have been influenced by the subtle power of a young friar's dreams.\n\nNow in Thorncleft a haze began to obscure his vision, as though he peered through a twisty veil of gauze, while the great doors of the hall swung wide and in marched a double column of the Artan Guards, their curious springless pellet bows held at ready aslant their scarlet-armored chests. They spread out into the wide arc of an honor guard.\n\nThe elves gazed at them with bald curiosity, not yet aware of their import. Lord Kithin, for his part, sprang hastily from the Gilt Throne and dropped to one knee, inclining his head to welcome the Artan Viceroy, Vinson Garrette. Lord Kithin could be trusted only to handle situations of purely ceremonial nature. No business of import could be conducted in Transdeia without the presence of the representative of this land's true rulers.\n\nRaithe's heart began to pound.\n\nGarrette seemed to speak cordially to the elves as he walked among them. Raithe felt a surge of anger at the mental haze that prevented him from fully experiencing the meeting-if he could only hear what Garrette said, perhaps he could understand the import of these legates. He burned for that understanding.\n\nWith a need as sharp and immediate as hunger to a starving man, he ached to understand where, in all this, was the connection to Caine.\n\nBut his sudden swell of desire ruptured his concentration and scattered his vision; now he saw only the view from this window in the half-completed embassy. He snarled at himself, then shut his eyes, laid his hand across them, and forced himself to concentrate once more. He slowed his breathing, a measured count of nine to inhale, hold for three, exhale for twelve, and the Hall of State began to coalesce once more inside his skull."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Headache, Master Ambassador?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "asked a greasily solicitous voice nearby. \"Would you like a cup of willowbark tea? I'm having one.\"\n\nRaithe's view of the hall vanished as he opened his eyes and glared at Ptolan, the fledgling embassy's Master Householder, a fat and perpetually befuddled Exoteric who seemed perfectly content to pass his fading years humming tunelessly to himself and tending the last few strands of his unruly steel-spring hair. Ptolan stood in the archway, not too far from the small iron stove he kept lit beside his desk for warmth-his sluggish nature made even this late summer afternoon too chill for his sagging, repellently pale flesh. He smiled at Raithe expectantly as he poured water into a teapot from a small brass carafe.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Raithe said icily, \"no.\"\n\n\"It'll put a little color in your cheeks,\" Ptolan said, in what the fat fool must have imagined was an encouraging tone. His own cheeks sported blotches red as a whore's mouth. \"Two brew as easy as one, y'know. It's a, well, a sharing, y'know? Brotherhood and all that. I know you began as an Esoteric, but we in the public services do things a bit differently...\"\n\nInstead of a reply, Raithe gave him a chilly stare-one of those steady bleached-out gazes that he used to intimidate weaker men. Ptolan swallowed and looked away, chuckling nervously in the back of his throat. \"Please yourself, haha, you usually do, I suppose. I'll, ah, I'll just-\" He rubbed his hands together, and chuckled some more. \"I'll just, ah, go ahead for two, and if you change your mind-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't bother-\" Raithe began.\n\n\"Oh, it's no bother-\"\n\n\"I was saying-\" He bared his teeth. \"-don't bother me.\"\n\nHe set his head against the uncomfortable scrollwork of the chair's high back and shut his eyes. \"Go away.\"\n\nFora brutally long moment, the only image he could summon was of Ptolan standing in the archway, his slack thick-lipped mouth opening and closing with the soundless dismay of a hungry chick. Then hesitant footfalls faded toward the outer chamber, and Raithe regulated his breathing; soon, the interior of the Hall of State took hazy shape once more.\n\nThough Garrette stood beside the Gilt Throne, where Lord Kithin sat, there was no question as to who was the true ruler of Transdeia. The Artan Viceroy projected a calm authority that was unmistakable; Lord Kithin himself never spoke without first glancing to Garrette to search his long gaunt face for any sign of disapproval.\n\nStill Raithe's concentration was too scattered to pickup their words, but his hazy perception of Garrette's face let him read one word from the Viceroy's lips: Diamondwell.\n\nRaithe nodded to himself and let his vision dissolve into a random scattering of eyelights. So the Mithondionne legates had come about Diamondwell; he had warned Garrette that Mithondion would respond-all subs stick together, in the end-but the Viceroy had firmly refused to worry about that possibility until it presented itself.\n\nDiamondwell had been a dwarfish reservation in the Transdeian hills that had styled itself, with typical subhuman arrogance, as a'freehold.\" The trouble had begun nearly a year ago-before Raithe had been posted here as Ambassador-when the dwarfs'children and elderly began to fall ill. Having been born and bred to mining, the dwarfs had soon recognized the symptoms of metals poisoning. Viceroy Garrette himself had generously-over generously, in Raithe's considered opinion-ordered an investigation, using Artan resources to find the cause. When this cause turned out to be runoff from Artan smelters leaching into the Diamondwell groundwater, Garrette-again overgenerously-had offered to resettle the dwarfs in anew reservation, higher in the mountains and farther away from the Artan mining operations."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The dwarfs had refused, citing some sentimentalized twaddle about their ancestral lands. They had instead chosen, foolishly, to begin a guerrilla campaign of sabotage against the Artan mining machinery and smelting plants, hoping to make mining and smelting in those hills so expensive that the Artans would move their operations, instead. They had failed in the most basic principle of warfare: Know your enemy.\n\nArtan military technology was even more advanced than their mining technology; to march into Diamondwell and arrest the entire population turned out to be much less expensive than moving the mining operations would have been. Those who came peacefully had been rewarded with tasks in the mines, clean food and water, and comfortable cots on which to rest; those who resisted had been slaughtered like the animals they were.\n\nIt had been a messy situation, one that Raithe privately believed could have been much more simply resolved: merely adding a more potent poison to the Diamondwell groundwater would have settled the issue with great swiftness and economy. Garrette's pretense of good nature and helpfulness, the facade of concern for the dwarfs\" troubles he had presented, had only made the situation worse: it had emboldened the dwarfs, and allowed them to wreak considerable havoc upon the mines before they were finally contained.\n\nRaithe imagined that something similar was going on in the Hall of State even now. Garrette was probably hemming and hawing, trying to allay any suspicions the elvish legates had developed; he couldn't understand how much trouble he was already in. He had no conception of the power that Mithondion still could wield if a war should come-of course, conversely, neither did the Mithondionne elves have any idea of the power of the Artan rulers of Transdeia."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It seemed to Raithe that there was avast opportunity here-but opportunity for what, and how should he approach grasping it?\n\nOnce he understood how all this related to Caine, he would know what to do.\n\nANYONE WHO IS of a thoughtful, philosophical cast of mind will occasionally be struck by the appearance of certain organizing principles of history. The form these principles seem to take inevitably depends upon one's specific obsession. Fora monarchist, history might be a story of the clash of great leaders; fora socialist, history is a struggle of classes in economic civil war. An agriculturalist sees the dynamic of populations, land, and availability of food; a philosopher might speak of the will to power or the will to synthesis; a theologian of the will of God. Raithe was not by nature a thoughtful man, but the events of his time had conspired to make him aware of one of these vast organizing principles, one so powerfully obvious that he was consistently amazed that no one but him seemed aware of it.\n\nA lifetime ago-when he had been a young, hopeful, passionately dedicated friar, just entering the Esoteric Service in Ankhana-that governing principle of history had intervened and shattered Raithe like overfired pottery. Piece by piece, he had rebuilt-reforged-himself; but the man who emerged from that crucible was no longer Raithe of Ankhana, though he still answered to that name.\n\nIn those days, Creele of Garthan Hold had been the Ambassador to Ankhana. Raithe could still see him as clearly as though he stood before him now: a man of grace and beauty, eyes constantly sparkling with his extraordinary wit, a brilliant thinker, an intellect like fire leaping from root to branch. Ambassador Creele had taken an interest in young Raithe, had made clear that his career was upward bound. Creele had encouraged Raithe in his study of the Esoteric arts of fighting and espionage, and the skills of mind that were now his greatest weapon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Raithe had watched in helpless horror as Creele had died by Caine's hand.\n\nOn that day, Raithe had sworn to Caine's face that there was no place the murderer could hide to escape Monastic vengeance. But after Creele's murder, the Ambassadorial post had been taken by that plodding hypocrite Damon, who had muddied and confused the issue before the Council of Brothers-not that it had mattered, in the end; for by that time, Caine was widely supposed to be dead.\n\nCreele's murder had been the opening tap of Raithe's destruction; like the first rap of a carpenter's hammer, it had seated the nail firmly fora single, final blow. Because Creele had died that day-because the embassy had been in great turmoil-Raithe had been on extra duty on that fateful noon five days later. He had been sitting at a writing table in the scriptorium, surrounded by spineless Exoterics, while he painstakingly lettered the fifth copy of his report on Creele's murder.\n\nIf Caine hadn't murdered Creele, Raithe would have been in Victory Stadium: beside his father, the honest, pious blacksmith, who'd been proud of his position as the house farrier at Janner's Livery; beside his mother, the quiet, faithful wife and homemaker whose loving arms had always circled Raithe like a mystic ring against the hurts of the world.\n\nHis parents had been early converts to the Church of the Beloved Children; his mother, especially, had been passionately devoted to Ma'elKoth. And so of course they both had stood cheering in the stands, when Ma'elKoth's procession had entered Victory Stadium. Cheering-until the riot had begun, and the cheers had turned to screams."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "If Raithe had been there, he would have fought for them."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He would have saved them. But he wasn't there. Because of Caine.\n\nHis parents died in the riot. Slaughtered like animals.\n\nBecause of Caine.\n\nBecause of Caine, he had reforged himself into a weapon.\n\nIn the years that followed he had devoted himself to the study of Caine and his people, the alien race of Aktiri. He became the Monasteries' leading expert not only on Caine, but on the Aktiri and their world. It had been Raithe himself who had discovered the origin of the mysterious Artans, the outlanders who ruled Transdeia; shortly thereafter, Raithe had persuaded the Council of Brothers to make him the first Ambassador to the Artan court.\n\nThe world believed what the Church told them, that Caine had died on the sand at Victory Stadium. Raithe knew better. Somewhere, somehow, the murderer of his parents lived in the smug enjoyment of his rancid victory; Raithe could see him in his dreams. And in every dream, Raithe renewed his promise.\n\nI will teach you my name.\n\nHe would teach the world his name; but the name he would teach it was not Raithe. The name Raithe was now a mask, a costume he wore to conceal his true face. Raithe had been brittle, fragile enough to shatter under a single sharp blow-a bit of pottery, no more. The man who now wore his face was a weapon, a blade of tempered steel gleaming from the forge. Only in his deepest, most cherished dream of dreams, in the stories he whispered to himself in the darkest midnights, when his ghosts all crowded round his heart, did he dare to call himself by his true name."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had become the Caineslayer.\n\nChildish? He knew it was-but he had been a child when he'd sworn himself to it. Now, seven years later, he could make his cheeks burn merely by imagining the humiliation of anyone ever learning how much he still cherished this adolescent melodrama... but that only made him clutch it evermore tightly to his heart.\n\nIn swearing himself to that name, he had made avow that would never be broken. Now he kept perfect vigilance, waiting.\n\nIn comparing Caine's history to those of others in the Monastic Archives, he had discovered what he'd come to think of as Caine's defining characteristic. In each of his recorded endeavors, from the smallest assassination to the epic undertaking that had crushed the Khulan Horde at Ceraeno, there would always come a fulcrum, one defining point of balance, where a mere shift of Caine's weight toppled history in an unexpected direction.\n\nCaine was, somehow, behind every twist of history in Raithe's short lifetime. This lesson had been burned into him like a brand upon the inside of his skull.\n\nHow had the Empire come to be? Caine saved Ankhana at Ceraeno, and Ma'elKoth triumphed over the superior forces of Lipke in the Plains War. How had Ma'elKoth come to be? Caine delivered up unto Ma'elKoth the crown of Dal'Kannith. How had Raithe come to be the Caineslayer? How had the Caineslayer come to be the Monastic Ambassador to the Artans?\n\nThe answer to every question led back to Caine.\n\nRaithe had made it his personal rule of thumb, as private as his darkest fantasies, never to act until he understood how an event was connected to Caine. This rule had been his guidepost of destiny for nearly seven years. The connection might be distant, tenuous, tortuous-but it had always been there. This was how he maintained his perfect vigilance."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This was no longer a matter of vengeance; oh, certainly, he had started along this path seeking revenge, but revenge was a crippling desire, one of those that he had sloughed away like a snake shedding its skin. Caine need not be punished. He must be extinguished.\n\nIt wasn't personal, not anymore.\n\nAfter all, was not Caine as much a pawn of destiny as Raithe himself? Caine had not intended to kill his parents; it had been purely an act of fate: as though all the universe conspired to create the Caineslayer.\n\nRaithe thought of himself, of his mission-of his dream of the Caineslayer-as a metaphor, now; just as Caine had become a metaphor. To the Church of the Beloved Children of Ma'elKoth, Caine was the Prince of Chaos, the Enemy of God. He had become a symbol for all of humanity's basest instincts of low selfishness, greed, and aggression; a symbol for everything against which stood the Church. He represented that part of human nature that set man against man, woman against woman, the self-destructive bloody-mindedness that was the single greatest threat to the Human Future.\n\nThis was the fundamental error of the Church: by elevating Caine to the status of the Enemy of God, they gave power to his legend. Raithe was a loyal elKothan himself, as his parents had been; he found it astonishing that the Church would admit of anyone or anything that could oppose the power of Ma'elKoth. Though it was Church doctrine that Caine's opposition to God had, against his will, served the greater glory of Ma'elKoth, Raithe sometimes suspected that it might be the other way around.\n\nCaine was slippery that way."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So all this led to a single, simple terminus. To act properly on this matter of the Mithondionne legates, he had to know: Where was the connection to Caine?\n\nFor one awful, dizzying moment, he wondered if perhaps there might not be any connection to Caine at all; black doubt yawned beneath him, and only a frantic mental scramble brought him back from a lethal fall. There was a connection. There would be. And he would find it. He had to.\n\nIt was his destiny.\n\n\"M MM, MASTER R AITHE?\" The greasy voice of Ptolan once again shattered his concentration.\n\nRaithe opened his eyes; full night stared back at him through the open window, spangled with hazy stars. How many hours had he sat here, dozing away his opportunity? He twisted, rising from his chair, suddenly red-faced with fury. \"Rot your guts, Ptolan-I told you not to bother-\"\n\n\"Sorry, uh, sorry, Brother, really I am-but Brother Talle has come up saying the lamp on the Artan Mirror glows, and your instructions were that, no matter what you're doing, or what time of day it might be, or-\"\n\n\"All right,\" Raithe snarled. \"Jhantho's Faith, can't you shut up? I'm on my way.\"\n\nDAMON OF J HANTHOGEN Bluff, the Acting Monastic Ambassador to the Infinite Court, looked out over the teeming ballroom and allowed himself to feel moderately pleased. The orchestra played with spectacular skill; across the broad expanse of dance floor hundreds of couples swayed, while through the crowded fringe and the smaller side rooms wove dozens of young, white-robed friars bearing trays of cocktails and appetizers. The general light came from no specific source, making the air itself seem to glow and pulse gently in time with the rhythm of the waltz, casting a glamour subtler and more enticing than mere lamp flame-making the men more dashing, the women more beautiful, the setting absolutely flawless."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Over Damon's six-year tenure as Acting Ambassador, the Monastic Ball had become the premier diplomatic event of the Ankhanan social calendar."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Damon himself was a stolid, pragmatic man, with little time for social niceties and no liking for parties at all, but the value of an event such as this could not be denied. The Monasteries formed a sovereign nation, but it was a nation without borders, one that spread across every known land. On this most neutral of all neutral ground, representatives of every government across the civilized world could meet and partake of each other's company without the interference of protocols of national precedence and the like.\n\nHere within his view stood two perfect examples: the Lipkan Ambassador traded slightly sodden jokes with his Paqulan counterpart, as they leaned on each other in drunken friendship despite the ongoing privateer raids between Paquli and the Lipkan Empire; and on the dance floor, the jel'Han of Kor in his outlandish gold-embroidered bearskin roared with laughter as Countess Maia of Kaarn lowered him into a very competent dip. Damon's normally expressionless face bent into a small grim smile of satisfaction; he reflected that he would never know how many wars and assassinations and diplomatic conflicts of all descriptions had been averted by parties just like this one.\n\nHe had not sought this post, nor did he enjoy it-but the job was his to do, and he could take some satisfaction in having done it well.\n\nFaintly through the music and laughter, Damon heard voices raised in anger. They seemed to becoming from beyond the ballroom, perhaps from the Gate Hall, outside the thrice-manheight doors, and were angry enough that they might signify violence. The friars who served as the embassy's security staff were all blooded veterans and experts in unarmed combat; they could stop any fight without unnecessary injury or insult to the participants, and so Damon was not overly concerned-until the orchestra fell silent in a chaotic tangle of flattening notes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A man in the gold-and-blue dress livery of the Eyes of God stood beside the conductor, gesturing emphatically."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The ballroom poised momentarily in apprehensive silence.\n\nA white-robed junior friar had forced his way through the press, and now he bowed jerkily to Damon and spoke far too loudly, his breathless words ringing in the quiet. \"Master Damon-the Patriarch, he-the Eyes, the Grey Cats, they've arrested Hern, and Jento, and, and, and Vice Ambassador t'Passe!\"\n\nA bitterly cold shock went through Damon, and fora blank instant he could neither move nor speak.\n\nThe ballroom burst into uproar as Ambassadors and delegates and entourages from every nation sought each other, gathering themselves into self-protective knots. The orchestra struck up the Imperial anthem, \"King of Kings,\" and as the first strains entered the general roar, the ballroom doors swung back. Through them flooded hard-faced men in grey leather, swords in hand. Behind the leather-clad warriors walked a dozen Household Knights in their full blood-colored battle armor, escorting a small group of Eyes of God.\n\nIn their midst limped the stocky, dark-clad figure of the Patriarch of Ankhana.\n\nDamon's paralysis broke. \"Summon Master Dossaign to my office, boy. Tell him to get on the Artan Mirror to the Council of Brothers, with the word that we have been attacked, and the embassy has been occupied by Imperial forces.\"\n\nThe young friar hesitated. \"But I don't understand! How could even the Patriarch dare-?\"\n\n\"You need not understand,\" Damon snapped. \"You need only obey. When the Master Speaker has sent the message, have him disconnect the Mirror and hide it, so that it is never seen by unsworn eyes. Now go!\"\n\nHe jumped like a startled rat and scampered away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Grey Cats fanned out through the crowd, their ready blades persuading all and sundry that the wisest course would be to wait silently, and watch, and hope that the Patriarch had not come for any of them.\n\nDamon caught the eyes of several nearby friars. They moved toward him, opening a path through the press. Damon stepped into the gap and waved to the orchestra, which now fell silent. In the breathless quiet, he met the colorless gaze of the Patriarch of Ankhana.\n\nThe Patriarch was a man of somewhat less than average size; his face was pale and heavily scored by the burdens he bore. Damon was personally aware that the Patriarch never spent less than twelve hours a day laboring at the business of the Empire-and those twelve-hour days often extended to twenty. The hair that strayed from beneath his flat cap of soft black velvet was the same neutral, undefinable grey brown as his eyes-eyes that now gazed upon Damon with the same expressionless dispassion they had held in the days when the Patriarch had been the Duke of Public Order.\n\nThat had been before the Assumption of Ma'elKoth; in the chaos that followed the Emperor's transfiguration, the Duke of Public Order had seized the reins of power, bullying the nobility into confirming him as the Steward of the Empire. Shortly after solidifying his Stewardship, the former Duke had proclaimed the Doctrine of elKothan Supremacy and had named himself the first Patriarch of the Church of the Beloved Children of Ma'elKoth.\n\nBy acting always in the name of the Divine Ma'elKoth, the Patriarch had gathered to himself greater political power than the Emperor Himself had wielded; Damon privately considered that Toa-Sytell, former Duke, now Steward and Patriarch, was the most dangerous man alive."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Your Radiance,\" Damon said in atone of flatly correct courtesy."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He did not genuflect, or even offer the slightest incline of his head fora bow; he was the sovereign of this tiny nation bounded by the embassy walls, and he owed no deference to any invader. \"I presume there is some explanation for this outrageous conduct. Your armed invasion of these premises, and your detention of Monastic citizens by threat of force, are acts of war.\"\n\nToa-Sytell's only response was a slight preliminary compression of the lips.\n\nDamon drew himself up and said with clipped, ominous precision, \"You are not the first ruler to delude himself into believing he had the power to violate Monastic sovereignty.\"\n\n\"I apologize,\" the Patriarch said blandly. \"No one has been harmed, and it was not the Empire's intention to give offense. The Empire does not invade. The Empire does not attack. Those detained will be released, once it can be established that they are Monastic citizens in truth, and not terrorist criminals engaged in high treason against the Empire: offenses against God Himself. The matter will be explained fully in Our formal apology to the Council of Brothers. Perhaps we could continue this discussion in your office, Excellency?\"\n\n\"Perhaps His Radiance could explain now, in the presence of all here,\" Damon said grimly, \"how he could come to believe that one of my Vice-Ambassadors might not be a Monastic citizen?\"\n\nThe Patriarch did not so much as glance at the breathless crowd that hung upon his every word. \"The woman calling herself t'Passe of Narnen Hill,\" he said imperturbably, \"has associated herself with Cainists, and has herself been heard to espouse political views tantamount to Cainism.\"\n\nThis brought gasps and indignant whispers from the assembly-the astonishing effrontery of this man, Patriarch or no-and a number of outraged and disbelieving looks directed both at the Patriarch and at his attending Grey Cats."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Damon's face remained impassive, but inwardly he raged at his underling for her foolishly idealistic nature, and at himself for forbearing to beat that out of her. He said calmly, \"This would be disturbing, if true-but only disturbing, not criminal. To the best of my knowledge, holding Cainist views does not constitute high treason.\"\n\n\"The best of your knowledge,\" the Patriarch said, with a quiet exactitude that touched on subtle irony, \"is sadly out of date.\"\n\nHe let those words fall into the silence fora long, long moment.\n\n\"On this, the Eve of Saint Berne, let it be known: There is no safety for the enemies of God. Traitors and terrorist criminals cannot take shelter behind diplomatic convention. When the welfare of the Beloved Children of Ma'elKoth is threatened, even Our well-known respect for Monastic dignity must give way. Monastic sovereignty is temporal; the power of Ma'elKoth eternal. Ma'elKoth is supreme!\"\n\nThe Patriarch, the Household Knights and every Grey Cat struck their chests with closed fists, as though each drove a dagger into his own heart, and then opened their hands as though offering their hearts' blood to their Lord: the primary gesture of their faith.\n\nToa-Sytell nodded briskly to Damon and limped beyond him toward the doors that led into the embassy's interior, rocking from side to side on his crippled leg. Ashe passed, he said softly, \"Your office, Damon. Now.\" Four Household Knights trailed in his wake.\n\nDamon stood motionless for an endless second, his mind boiling; finally he pulled himself together enough to speak.\n\n\"This matter,\" he said, not loudly but with a crisp, penetrating tone so that all could hear, \"is between the Empire and the Monasteries, and shall be settled as such. Let it not interfere with your evening's entertainment.\" He waved to the conductor, and the orchestra struck up a sprightly reel. Without waiting to see if anyone would actually join the dance, Damon turned and followed the Patriarch."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Before he left the ballroom, he signaled to six of the embassy's security staff. All six were Esoterics, each man a specialist in personal combat against an armored opponent. He had no illusions that he or his embassy could survive a violent encounter with the might of the Empire-but he intended to ensure that the Patriarch would not survive it either. If he could not settle this matter peacefully, it would be settled in blood.\n\nTOA-S YTELL EASED HIS aching joints in the high-backed chair at Damon's enormous, scarred writing table in the Ambassador's office. One hand massaged his crippled knee, while with the other he held a snifter of fine Tinnaran brandy he'd found in a chest beside the table. He took along, delightfully aromatic sip and gazed across the snifter's lip at Damon, a slight tilt of his head taking the place of a smile. \"Are you certain you won't join me?\"\n\nThe Acting Ambassador only stared at him stonily.\n\nToa-Sytell sighed. \"Oh, unbend a little, Damon. I'm sorry for the show in the ballroom. That was only to make a point-it's a tale that will spread far beyond the Empire's borders before the week is out, as was intended. Meanwhile, I'll let your people go, and the Church will pay whatever reparations the Council requires. All right? I will exonerate your underlings, and deliver a formal apology for the affront to your office-with the codicil that had your people been found to be Cainists, they would have received the same Imperial justice meted out to all enemies of God. But that's only a detail. Have a drink.\"\n\nDamon released along breath, shaking his head, but he stepped over to the liquor cabinet, took a glass, and poured himself three fingers of Korish cactus whiskey. \"I cannot say what the Council's response to this will be,\" he said, \"but they have ever been open to reparations; they will want war no more than does the Empire.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Toa-Sytell nodded approval and waved his snifter at the furnishings of the office: an expensive array of delicately carved hardwoods, in the light and airy open style that defined recent Ankhanan craftsmanship. \"I see you still have Creele's furniture.\"\n\nDamon shrugged. \"I am only Acting Ambassador. I have no authority to make changes.\"\n\n\"Mmm, yes-no one really trusts you, do they? None of the Council factions has the power to get their own toady inhere, and so they leave you in place: perhaps the only honest man in the Monastic diplomatic corps.\" Toa-Sytell found himself chuckling at the thought of an honest ambassador. \"I've always admired you, do you know that?\"\n\nHis friendly tone had its effect: the tension began to drain out of Damon's face, and the Acting Ambassador lowered himself onto a lovely embroidered settee. The wariness was still there, but wariness was acceptable, so long as Damon was relaxed enough not to do something foolish-such as order those friars outside to attack the Household Knights who guarded the doorway. Toa-Sytell wondered in passing if Damon might be feeling as much disappointment as relief; the Ambassador had clearly nerved himself up fora noble martyrdom.\n\n\"Honesty is not such a virtue,\" Damon said tiredly. He took a sip of his whiskey and went on. \"I tell the truth because that is my nature. I don't incline to the lie. It's like the color of my hair, or my height: neither good nor bad. It simply is.\"\n\n\"Mm, you just do what you do, is that it?\" Toa-Sytell murmured, mildly amused. \"That makes you sound like a bit of a Cainist yourself.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Damon grunted, and shook his head."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm not political.\"\n\n\"Neither are they, to hear them tell it. They're philosophical.\"\n\nDamon's mouth set into a grim line. \"You should tell me why you've come here. I shouldn't think it's to discuss the finer points of Cainism.\"\n\n\"Well, my friend, there you would be wrong,\" Toa-Sytell said. He drained his snifter and poured himself another drink before continuing. \"Tomorrow is the Feast of Saint Berne. Assumption Day is only three months away, Damon. This will be the seventh Festival of the Assumption, by the will of Ma'elKoth.\"\n\nHe lifted the glass to the small elKothan shrine that occupied one corner of the office and drank to his god. \"It will be the single most important day of my Patriarchy. There are those, among the more gullible of Our Beloved Children, who expect Ma'elKoth Himself to return on that day.\"\n\nDamon nodded. \"I've heard this tale.\"\n\n\"It is only a tale,\" Toa-Sytell said. \"The Ascended Ma'elKoth will not return in the body; He is transcendent, immanent, omnipresent. He has no need of a physical form. But the Empire, on the other hand-the Empire has a great need fora flawless Festival of the Assumption, do you understand? It is crucial symbolism of the doctrine of elKothan supremacy.\" Glass in hand, he made a gestural sketch of offering his heart's blood toward the shrine.\n\n\"I begin to see,\" Damon said. \"You expect that Cainists will attempt to interfere.\"\n\n\"Of course they will,\" Toa-Sytell said wearily. \"How can they not? The opportunity is too good to resist. To disrupt the Festival seems a small enough matter-but to make the Imperial Church appear weak and foolish threatens the very existence of the Empire.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Once again, he drained his glass. He told himself he should not have another; he was so tired the brandy was already making his head swim. The room seemed to press in more closely around him, and the air became thicker, harder to breathe.\n\n\"By the Festival, Cainism will be only a memory; whatever Cainists who survive will be too worried about living out the day to risk embarrassing the Imperial Church. I've been lax, Damon. I've let them go too far, and they have become bold. Now they must be crushed before they do us real harm.\"\n\nDamon's response was a grim stare. Toa-Sytell often surmised that the Ambassador had personal reservations about the value of the Empire in the pursuit of the Monasteries\" overall goal of ensuring the permanent ascendance of humanity; he was consistently silent on the subject. The Council of Brothers openly supported the Empire as humankind's brightest hope. Damon's steadfast devotion to the Monasteries wouldn't let him publicly disagree with the Council, but his fundamental bedrock of honesty wouldn't let him pretend to agree-and so he never said anything at all.\n\nToa-Sytell sighed and poured himself another brandy. It was unexpectedly relaxing, to sit herewith a man who-though not quite a friend-was someone he had no need to manipulate, with whom he was not required to maintain his exhausting facade of Patriarchal infallibility. He decided that once he finished his business here, he would go straight back to the Colhari Palace and sleep until dawn. \"Do you know,\" he said slowly, \"that it was in this very room that I first met him? Caine. Right here.\"\n\n\"I recall,\" Damon said grimly.\n\n\"Of course, of course. You were here, weren't you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Their eyes met, and they shared a glance that skated across the open expanse of carpet between them. Nearly seven years ago, they had stood in this room and watched Ambassador Creele lie on that carpet as the light slowly faded within his eyes: as his heart failed, after Caine had broken his neck.\n\nToa-Sytell often wondered how the world might be different today, if he had done the wise thing that night: ordered Caine shot down like the mad dog he so obviously was. \"It's because of him that you have this post,\" he mused. \"You took the Acting Ambassadorship after he murdered Creele-\"\n\n\"Executed him,\" Damon said firmly.\n\nToa-Sytell ignored the correction. \"In fact, it's because of him that you still have it. When you testified on the murder before the Council, neither Creele's friends nor his enemies liked what you had to say. You ended up in the middle, with both sides against you-a precarious position, but you have proved to possess exceptional balance.\"\n\n\"I told the truth,\" Damon said with a shrug; then he cocked his head curiously. \"How do you know of my testimony? Proceedings of the Council of Brothers are-\"\n\n\"Secret, yes, yes,\" Toa-Sytell said, waving the question aside. \"I simply find it a subject for curious contemplation, from time to time. Caine himself truly was the precise definition of evil, as he is named by the Church: an indiscriminate slaughterer who cared nothing for the lives he shattered in the pursuit of whatever happened to catch his fancy of the moment. He betrayed Our Lord, yet it was through his betrayal that Ma'elKoth was transfigured. He crippled me-shattered my knee beyond even magickal repair, so that I am reminded of him by the pain that wrenches my every step-yet gave me rulership of the Ankhanan Empire. He sparked riots that nearly burned the city to the ground, civil war-the First Succession War as well as the Second, in fact.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Toa-Sytell's chest clutched with suddenly remembered grief; Tashinel and Jarrothe, his sons whom he had loved beyond all measure, his only children, had died in the First Succession War. He shook this aside-it was an old, familiar pain, flooding back now on arising tide of alcohol-and went on. \"Yet he also saved Ankhana at the Battle of Ceraeno. His murders were countless... but one cannot forget that he also did our land the very great favor of killing that madman Berne.\"\n\n\"It's your Church that names Berne a saint,\" Damon pointed out.\n\n\"Not mine. Ma'elKoth's.\" Toa-Sytell made another sketch of a salute toward the corner shrine. \"You forget: I knew Berne. What we celebrate tomorrow is his sacrifice for God, not his character. As a man, he was a rapist and a murderer-worse even than Caine, and I don't mind saying so. Privately.\"\n\nDamon smiled painfully, as though bending his lips made his face hurt. \"You sound a bit like a Cainist, too.\"\n\n\"Ah, it's the brandy,\" Toa-Sytell said, tilting his glass high to catch the last drops before pouring himself another. \"It must be made clear, Damon. Cainism is treason. Adherents of Cainism openly declare themselves the enemies of society, and of God. It will not be tolerated within the Empire's bound-not even from Monastic diplomats.\"\n\nDamon frowned. \"You cannot expect to dictate the politics and philosophies of Monastic citizens,\" he said stiffly.\n\nThis, too, Toa-Sytell waved aside with a weary pass of his snifter. \"I don't. What I do expect is that the Council of Brothers will find it expedient to post holders of such views elsewhere-to avoid the appearance of deliberate offense to the Empire and the Church. After all,\" he said reasonably, \"the Cainist heresy can't be very popular with the Council, either; if Caine had not died at Victory Stadium, I'm sure you would have found it necessary to kill him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Damon stared gloomily down into his glass and swirled the whiskey within it. \"There are some who say that Caine survived-that he waits beyond the world, and that when Ma'elKoth returns Caine will as well, for their final battle.\"\n\n\"Primitive superstition,\" Toa-Sytell snorted. \"This kind of \"final conflict'myth will always be popular among the ignorant-and it is the Cainists who spread it, no doubt. I intend to ensure that the Cainists never get the chance to fulfill their false prophecies. This is why I now speak with you privately, herein your office, Damon. I want you to understand that what I do is in the same service of humanity to which you and every friar are sworn; Cainism is our common enemy, and it can only be defeated by our common effort.\"\n\nThe wariness he had earlier seen in Damon's face now returned with redoubled force. \"I am not yet convinced that Cainism is our common enemy,\" he said. \"What common effort do you expect? What is it you want from us?\"\n\n\"From you, specifically, Damon,\" Toa-Sytell said easily. \"Time grows short; I do not have the month or six weeks to spare as couriers travel beyond the Empire's borders and return. I wish to converse with Raithe of Ankhana, the current Ambassador to the Duchy of Transdeia.\"\n\n\"Speak with...?\" Damon stiffened. \"How do you-\"\n\n\"You have a device-the Artan Mirror, I believe it's called-that you acquired from these Artans who now rule Transdeia. It's generally used herein this room, your office. I don't know how it is operated; if you would be so kind as to use it to make contact with Ambassador Raithe, I would be most appreciative.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But, but, it's impossible that you should-\"\n\n\"Know of this secret device?\" Toa-Sytell sighed and drained his snifter one last time. \"After a lifetime spent in the gathering of secrets as a profession, I find it has become something of a relaxing pastime in itself-a welcome diversion from the heavy cares of church and state.\"\n\nHe allowed himself a rare, lazy smile as he fisted his chest then spread his hand before him. \"The Eyes of God see all, you know. Ma'elKoth is supreme.\"\n\nTOA-S YTELL WATCHED ATTENTIVELY as the Artan Mirror was setup for use. He'd had report of this device, but he had never seen it, nor did he know how it worked.\n\nThe Artan Mirror was a valise-sized box that the Master Speaker, Dossaign of Jhanthogen Bluff, situated upon Damon's writing table. The Master Speaker then attached a thin, flexible cord of some kind to another that came unobtrusively in through the office window. It was faced with a very ordinary-looking mirror that appeared to be merely silvered glass, and on its side was a ring-shaped handgrip that seemed to be made of gold. Having joined the cords together in some fashion Toa-Sytell couldn't quite appreciate-he seemed to simply jam the end of one into the end of the other, like a branch grafted onto a fruit tree-the Master Speaker retired. One of his assistants-called a Speaking Brother-took hold of the handgrip and briefly closed his eyes.\n\nAlong, long moment passed in silence, then the Speaking Brother opened his eyes and said, \"I am received.\"\n\nDamon took the seat, facing into the Artan Mirror; the Speaking Brother took his hand. \"Greetings from Ankhana,\" Damon said. \"Ambassador Damon calls upon Ambassador Raithe.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Toa-Sytell shifted his weight forward, peering at the box-shaped device; to his eye, it seemed that Damon looked solely at his own reflection, and spoke to himself.\n\nAnother long moment passed in silence, then Damon said, \"Not well, Master Raithe. This is not a personal call. I have with me here His Radiance the Patriarch of Ankhana, who wishes to converse with you.\"\n\nAfter a pause, Damon said severely, \"But he does know. And it would serve you well, Raithe, to remember that the Patriarch once directed the King's Eyes. I chose not to insult him with disingenuous pretense, and I suggest that you follow my example... Very well. Yes, I recall, and you maybe certain that the Patriarch does, as well. Bide a moment.\"\n\nHe let goof the Speaking Brother's hand and turned to Toa-Sytell. He said with quiet irony, \"Master Raithe bids me remember how busy he is, in his duties as Ambassador.\" He rose, and offered his seat to Toa-Sytell.\n\nThe Patriarch sat down and regarded himself in the mirror. The deepening creases that accompanied the developing slackness of jowls along his jawline, and the near-black swipes of exhaustion under his eyes, made him wince and promise himself to take along-needed vacation once the Festival was safely and successfully complete. He sighed-it seemed that he had been promising himself a vacation for seven years.\n\nHe forced his attention back to his purpose. \"How is this used?\"\n\nThe Speaking Brother extended his hand. \"Your Radiance need only join grips with me, and speak as though Brother Raithe is here within this room.\"\n\nScowling, Toa-Sytell took the Speaking Brother's hand. His scowl deepened further when his face in the mirror blurred and faded into greyish mist, which then coalesced into anew image: a thin, sharp-faced man with a pointed chin and skin like tight-stretched leather, a nose like a knife blade dividing rather close-set eyes as penetrating as an eagle's. His tonsured head sprouted a fringe of lank brown hair, and he wore the rich blood-colored robes of a Monastic Ambassador. And those eyes-they were decidedly disturbing: pale, almost colorless blue grey against his swarthy skin, flat and clouded as chips of ice set into his skull."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 9"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I believe I will have the countervirus prepared within four days.\"\n\n\"So they would have a chance. That's a chance I can take,\" Deliann said, rising. \"So? What's the catch?\"\n\nThe goddess shook her head sadly. \"This is the catch, Kris.\" She gestured toward the bodies. \"Two of these four have yet enough strength to be saved; if I strengthen their hearts, and speed the work of their livers to breakdown the poison, it will wash from them before it can kill them.\"\n\n\"Two?\" Deliann said. \"Only two?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"That man-\" Pischu, on the bed. \"-had a weak heart. He is already dead. And this treetopper-\"\n\nTup... Oh, Kierendal, how will you stand it?\n\n\"-her metabolism was too fast; she died only a moment after she drank. So, Kris Hansen: your friend may not thank you for calling her back from death. Can you help her live with what she has done?\"\n\nDeliann looked down at Kierendal.\n\nIf I'm wrong, there's plenty of poison left. Once she understands what's going on, she can make her own choice.\n\nHe nodded: to the goddess, and to himself. \"Yes,\" he said. \"Yes, I can.\"\n\n\"Then it is done,\" the goddess said.\n\nThat simply: without a gesture, without even the faintest flicker of the light around them. Kierendal's shallow hitching breath deepened toward the slow rhythm of sleep.\n\nNow he found that he had recovered the strength to cry.\n\n\"My father...\" he murmured painfully. \"My family-Mithondion... When you have the countervirus-all of Mithondion will be infected by now...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Mithondion is beyond my reach,\" the goddess said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My power is that of the river-beyond the bound of my watershed, I am blind and deaf, and largely powerless. If they are to be saved, the cure must be carried to them, even as was the disease.\"\n\n\"How did you-I mean, when did-\" Torronell, his heart whispered, breaking. If she had come two weeks ago, even a week...\"I mean, where have you been?\" His heart cried his real question: Why did you wait so long?\n\n\"I was on Earth,\" she said simply. \"As you named me, I am also the Aktir Queen. You called, and I came.\"\n\n\"I... called? You mean, with J'Than? The Aktir?\"\n\nHer luminous, liquid eyes gazed deeply into his. \"Hari Michaelson asked to be remembered to you,\" she said.\n\nShe stepped sideways, and reality warped around her: in the barest blink of an eye, perspective distorted so that it seemed she had moved half a mile away while still remaining within the room; with another step, she was gone.\n\nDeliann stood rooted to the carpet, shaken, gasping.\n\nHari... Michaelson?\n\nAt his feet Kierendal stirred, whimpering; Deliann instantly knelt beside her and cradled her head on his knees. \"Shh,\" he whispered. \"Shh. It's all right. I'm here. It's all right.\"\n\nAnd fora time, he believed he might be telling the truth.\n\nTHERE WAS, IN those days, a man who had been a god. Though a god no longer, he still saw with a more than mortal eye, shaped with a more than mortal hand, and thought with a more than mortal mind. He saw the war made by the dark angel, and he saw the acolytes of dust and ashes, but he did not seethe god who lay behind them both. To save his onetime children from this war, he shaped himself anew destiny."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But he was a god no longer; even his more than mortal mind could not guess the limits of his vision, his strength, and his wisdom."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Thus did he open the tale of his own destruction.\n\nOthers had brought war against the god of dust and ashes, many others, more than can be counted on worlds beyond number. Among its enemies on this world had been Jereth Godslaughterer, Panchasell the Luckless, and Kiel Burchardt. Among its enemies on the other had been Friedrich Nietzsche, John Brown, and Crazy Horse.\n\nEach had fallen to its patient, infinite hunger. It had killed them in its sleep.\n\nOn the day the dark angel went forth to war, the man who had been a god took counsel with the acolytes of dust and ashes-\n\nAnd persuaded them to wake it up."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SEVEN\n\nTAN'EL K OTH SAT ALONE in the stony gloom of the Curioseum. Motionless, his eyes glittered in the flickering glow from the mirror that served him as a deskscreen. His fingers were steepled before his impassive face. The ground floor of his apartment had no windows; though it was late afternoon outside the Curioseum, black shadows crowded close around him. He was consumed with the task of waiting.\n\nHe had been waiting for this moment for nearly seven years.\n\nThe mirror on his desk glowed with a special edition of Adventure Update. Tan'elKoth had watched the recording that Clearlake played fora worldwide audience. With his usual canny political touch for self-preservation, Clearlake had seamlessly edited the recording to eliminate every suggestion that the Studio itself might be somehow responsible for the outbreak, thus protecting himself from any charge of corporate slander; other than that, the recording ran uncensored, and unrelievedly gruesome. Tan'elKoth stabbed the cutoff. He'd seen enough.\n\n\"One supposes the Bog has, as well,\" he murmured.\n\nHe composed himself to wait.\n\nSeconds ticked by more swiftly than the beating of his heart.\n\nHe waited.\n\nThen he waited longer.\n\nAnd longer.\n\nStill no chime from his annunciator.\n\nThose fractal tree branch world-paths replayed within his mind. No new flowering, no unexpected crook or twist presented itself: this sprouting future was precisely as it had been, in the moment he laid his will upon it.\n\nBut still they did not call.\n\nThat he had miscalculated was impossible. Even an idiot could now see how easily they had been outmaneuvered; even an idiot could now see that they had only one choice. Even the stupidest fish can feel the hook when it's lodged in its throat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He thrust himself to his feet and prowled the limits of his cage. He paced up the broad curve of stairs that led through the light trap to his personal quarters, humming distractedly to himself. The voices of the men within him murmured that there was something he'd overlooked.\n\nHe climbed the final flight, up to his studio. The skylight showed only the low bloodlit gloom of night clouds over the city. This was where he'd spent most of the past six years-now nearly seven-molding in clay and casting in bronze the interior shapes of his private reality.\n\nIt had been a brutal, bitter, soul-searing struggle, teaching his hands to bring forth the shapes within his heart; every time a casting cooled unevenly and cracked, every time he scraped thin grey curls of clay from beneath his fingernails, every time he so much as touched a knife or a trowel, he was forced to confront memories of being Ma'elKoth, of constructing His Great Work: memories of ordering reality with nothing more than the power of his mind. Memories of how far he had fallen-\n\nAnd yet, working with his hands had taught him things that working only with his mind could never have: had taught him that materials are not infinitely malleable, nor should they be-that to overwork apiece is to destroy it. Materials have shapes of their own. True art is a negotiation, a struggle, even a dance, between the will of the artist and the intrinsic form-the physical properties of strength and balance, the fundamental possibility-that defines his chosen medium.\n\nHe passed a study for his most famous sculpture, The Passion of Lovers. Passion was not his best work; it was merely the most accessible to the limited tastes of his audience. Cast in monumental bronze, two men stand tangled in an intimate embrace, their forms stylized, abstracted into the essence of their desire for each other until they flow together and join as one. One holds a sword that pierces the other through the groin, its blade emerging from that one's back; the sword-pierced figure holds smaller blades in each hand, one seeking his lover's heart, the other buried in the top of his lover's skull."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Obvious."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even trite.\n\nHe turned aside from Passion and pulled the shroud from his current work, his David. He had finally allowed himself to attempt a full figure in marble, a material far more exacting than bronze. Larger than life-size, to the same scale as Michelangelo's, the half-completed sculpture rested on a large reinforced dolly with swivel-mounted wheels-locked now-so that he could at need shift the tons of stone to examine it in differing angles of sunlight.\n\nThe figure had begun to emerge from its prison of creamy stone. Tan'elKoth surveyed it critically, walking around it, sighing; he struggled to live through his eyes, to forget his tension, his frustration. Even to pickup a chisel in his current emotional turmoil would bean invitation to disaster. He was not unmindful of what historians termed Michelangelo's Struggle series-each tortured and twisted figure abandoned after a single flawed stroke.\n\nTan'elKoth's David would be greater than Buonarroti's; instead of the perfection of masculine beauty sought by the Earth artist, Tan'elKoth had taken for his model an older, more seasoned man, a man on the descending curve of his life-a man whose face and form would show in every line the soul-crushing burden of being the Beloved of God, and yet would also show pride, tempered strength, unbendable will. One would seethe beauty of the youth he had been, and see that the scars etched by time's acid had made him more beautiful still.\n\nBut now, as he examined the emerging figure, he could see that it would develop not precisely as he had envisioned it. Already the gestural line of its stance had diverged from his intention, as though its form was becoming a vector of two convergent images. As though there is already at work here a will that is not my own."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "Tan'elKoth's eyes went wide and round, and he lost a moment in sheer marvel."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Somewhere, somewhere within this revelation was the fault line that had shifted beneath his certainty-\n\nHe had always been a composite entity. Any memories of having but a single mind had been relegated to the ghost-forms that peopled his inner world. From the moment of Ma'elKoth's self-creation in a flare of power from the crown of Dal'kannith, he had been the master of a choir of interior voices. Through the years that choir had swelled to a symphony, of which he was the conductor: many voices, many minds, many lives, but a single organizing will.\n\nHe was Ma'elKoth no longer; his latest act of self-creation had reduced the god he had once been to merely the greatest of the shades in his internal Tartarus. Despite the self-deprecation of his new name, Tan'elKoth knew that he was more than even Ma'elKoth had been: more human, more connected to the currents of time and flesh that rule the lives of mortals. And a better artist-which may, in the end, have been the most important difference.\n\nArt had always been his ruling passion.\n\nHannto the Scythe had been an obsessive collector from his earliest years; he had in truth become a necromancer in service to this obsession. The skill of necromancy consists primarily in coaxing forth the remnants of the patterns that consciousness imprints upon the Shells of corpses-capturing the fading echoes of the mind that had once been expressed by the meat. A skilled necromancer can temporarily tune his own mind, his own Shell, closely enough to these residual vibrations that he can access the occasional tatter of the memories they represent.\n\nMany artists conceal works that they do not feel are up to their personal standards; many of these works maybe lost forever if the artist leaves behind no record. Hannto had used his power to summon forth memories from the very bones of the great, and eventually his personal collection had swelled with uncataloged works by major artists. He could provide no provenance for any of them, and thus could never receive the full value of a painting or sculpture in a sale, but what mattered that?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had never intended to sell them.\n\nHannto had his own feelings about art. Art was not merely the creation of beauty, for him; neither was it merely a reflection of reality. It was not even the depiction of truth.\n\nArt was the creation of truth.\n\nIt is a truism that when one is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. The glory of art is that it can show this proverbial hammer how everything looks to a screwdriver-and to a plowshare, and to an earthenware pot. If reality is the sum of our perceptions, to acquire more varying points of view is to acquire, literally, more reality.\n\nHannto had wanted to own the universe.\n\nThe precise point where he had passed from collector to creator was a mystery. Perhaps truly passionate collectors are always artistes manqués: perhaps they choose to buy what they have not the gifts to create. Perhaps touching the minds of all those countless artists had molded him in someway; perhaps seeing the world through the dream-eyes of artists had given him, overtime, some vision of his own.\n\nTan'elKoth was more than the sum of his experiences; he was the grand total of the sums that were the men who lived within his mind. For fifteen years and more he had lived by his absolute control of these self-created shades. What will could possibly have touched this sculpture, other than his own? What will could have altered the curve of his David's stance, could have angled the line of his David's jaw down toward resignation and defeat? What will could possibly drive his mallet to his chisel without his consent-without even his awareness?\n\nFaintly, distantly, muffled in the depths of his apartment below, the annunciator on his deskscreen chimed."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "TAN'EL K OTH FAIRLY FLEW down both flights of stairs into the darkness of the ground floor; he skidded to a halt in front of the desk, then spent a bare moment to order the lights on and straighten his clothing.\n\nThe Adventures Unlimited logo flashed in the message box of his screen.\n\nWith ponderous dignity, he lowered himself into his chair. \"Iris: Acknowledge,\" he murmured. \"Audiovisual.\"\n\n\"Professional Tan'elKoth. You are instructed to remain at your current screen. Hold for voice communication from the Adventures Unlimited Board of Governors.\"\n\nThe screen wiped to the Adventures Unlimited logo: the armored knight upon the winged horse, rampant.\n\n\"Professional Tan'elKoth.\" A subtle change in the voice: where before it had been purely mechanical, now it had the faintest hint of self-awareness, the consciousness of power.\n\nThere came next from the speakers deep in the floor beneath his desk a recording of Tan'elKoth's own voice. \"Tell your Board of Governors this: in exchange for certain considerations, I shall undertake to solve their Michaelson problem.\"\n\nTan'elKoth smiled.\n\nThe voice of the Board of Governors said, \"What considerations?\"\n\nSo: no preamble, no throat-clearing. Clean and direct without a wasted word. Tan'elKoth nodded to himself. He could do business with men such as these. \"An alliance, gentlefolk. Return me to my land. Leave the Empire and my people tome; you may use the rest of my world as you desire. Within the Imperial bound, your interests will be better served by the power of Ma'elKoth than by the weak minds and wills of your Earth-bred satraps. We have a common goal, do we not? To ensure the future of humanity, both here and on my world.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And in exchange?\"\n\nTan'elKoth shrugged. \"As I said: I shall undertake to solve your Michaelson problem.\"\n\n\"Our Michaelson problem is hardly worth such a price.\"\n\nHe snorted. \"Come, gentlefolk. This protest is fatuous; were the problem in question so insignificant, we would not behaving this conversation.\"\n\n\"Michaelson is no one. We created him. He is exactly what we made him: nothing. A cripple, wholly owned by the Studio.\"\n\nTan'elKoth let a smile creep into his voice. \"And yet, within a handful of hours, this wholly owned cripple has ripped your plans asunder and cast their shreds to the winds of the Abyss.\"\n\n\"You are overdramatizing. This is no more than a public-relations gaffe.\"\n\n\"You,\" Tan'elKoth replied with clinical exactitude, \"are fools.\"\n\nOnly silence greeted this pronouncement; apparently, the Board of Governors was unused to hearing the truth. \"Caine is against you, now,\" Tan'elKoth said. \"Without my help, you are lost.\"\n\n\"You fear Michaelson so much?\"\n\n\"Bah.\" How do men of vision so limited come to wield power so vast? \"I fear Michaelson not at all. Michaelson is a fiction, you fools. The truth of him is Caine. You do not comprehend the distinction; and so he will destroy you.\"\n\n\"We are gratified by your concern for our welfare.\"\n\n\"I care nothing for your welfare,\" he said through his teeth. \"I want my Empire back.\"\n\n\"This seems a steep price for so small a service: to crush a powerless cripple.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Doubly fools,\" Tan'elKoth said. They were repeating themselves; redundancy is the hallmark of muddy thinking. \"He does have power. One power: the power to devote himself absolutely to a single goal, to be ruthless with himself and all else in its pursuit. It is the only power he needs-because, unlike the great mass of men, he is aware of this power, and he is willing, even happy, to use it.\"\n\nTan'elKoth leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers before his face; he had been a professor for enough years that he fell into his lecture mode without thinking. \"Men like Caine-and, if I may say so, myself-exert a certain pressure upon history; when we set ourselves a goal and extend our energies to achieve it, the force of history itself organizes into a current at our backs. You might call it destiny, though that is an inadequate word fora power of this magnitude. On Overworld, one can even see it: a dark stream in the Flow that organizes the interplay of historical necessities-the interplay which the ignorant call chance.\"\n\n\"Then we need do nothing at all; he is one, we are... several; if what you say is true, we can think him to death.\"\n\nTan'elKoth clenched his jaw. Could they possibly guess how this sophistic jabber wore on his nerves? \"Will without action is mere daydreaming; it is as useless as the blind spastic twitching that is action without will-which, I might add, accurately sums up your efforts so far.\"\n\nHe leaned toward the screen and lowered his voice as though sharing a friendly confidence. \"You are helpless before him. He demonstrates this even as we speak. You would have stopped that broadcast if you could; I know that your machines monitor the net, and intercept even private messages that might so much as hint at what that recording explicitly spells out. How, then, did you come to fail? Do you think that recording reached a worldwide audience by chance?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Coincidence. A meaningless blip of probability.\"\n\nTan'elKoth forebore to point out that coincidence is only another name for bad luck: the eternal excuse of the loser. \"You may scoff at the power of Caine,\" he said, \"but there is one whose power demands your respect: one who can stop you with a mere gesture. I speak, of course, of Pallas Ril.\"\n\n\"Pallas Ril-Shanna Michaelson-is merely a woman, while hereon Earth. She can be easily dealt with.\"\n\n\"Mmm, true,\" Tan'elKoth said slowly. \"And you could have done so, had you not awakened Caine. Pray, tell me now: Where is this mere woman at this moment, as we speak?\"\n\n\"She is appearing at a convention in Los Angeles.\"\n\n\"Is she? Are you certain?\"\n\n\"What are you saying?\" For the first time, Tan'elKoth thought he might even be able to detect a hint of expression in the digitized voice-and the emotion thus expressed warmed him inside. \"She is on Overworld? Impossible. Her next shift isn't until September twenty-first.\"\n\nIn answer, Tan'elKoth gave them only a tiny smug smile.\n\n\"She must be found. She must be stopped.\"\n\n\"And how, precisely, will you do this? She is already beyond your reach; there, she is a goddess, and as near to omnipotent as any living creature has ever been, including myself. You have been completely outfought,\" Tan'elKoth said. \"Caine is too fast for you; your corporate groupthink is slow and innately predictable. But your difficulty is by no means insoluble.\"\n\n\"What solution do you propose?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He straightened again, and let agleam of his passion flash into his eye. \"You must submit yourselves to a single organizing will-give over the direction of your campaign to one lightning mind. To put it bluntly: Your only hope is to call upon me.\"\n\n\"Why you?\"\n\n\"I am, false modesty aside, Earth's leading expert on Caine and Pallas Ril. I have in my library every cube either of them has ever recorded; the primary use of my ammod harness is to allow me to leave the Curioseum long enough to review their Adventures. I daresay I know more about their abilities-and their psychologies-than they do themselves.\"\n\n\"Knowledge is meaningless without power.\"\n\nTan'elKoth sat silently fora long moment, staring fixedly at the mirror as though some message could be read between the reflected pixels. Finally he said, \"Indeed.\"\n\nHe shifted his weight and allowed some of the fire in his heart to reach his eyes. \"To amend my previous statement: Pallas Ril is beyond your reach-but not yet beyond mine. I can stop her for you, gentlefolk. Give me the opportunity, and I shall.\"\n\n\"At what price?\"\n\n\"Her I would kill for free; I despise her. Breaking Caine, however-that will be expensive. Caine's innate ruthlessness makes him extremely dangerous. In his limited fashion, he is frighteningly resourceful, and an exceptionally flexible thinker. In any situation that he can frame in terms of combat, he will not lose.\"\n\n\"A substantial claim.\"\n\n\"Is it? Let me provide a salutory example: one that is-I think pardonably-still fresh in my heart. Once, not so long ago, he set his will upon the life of Pallas Ril. Though a living god stood against him on one side-\" He modestly placed his palm against his chest, then opened it toward the screen. \"-and the most powerful bureaucracy this world has ever known stood against him on the other, he-one single, solitary man-overcame us both.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There were special circumstances-\"\n\n\"Puffery. Mere details. When saving the life he willed to save required that he defeat in single combat the greatest warrior of his time, he did so. Forget that this man was Caine's master in every form of battle; forget that Berne, even unarmed, could have killed him in his sleep without breaking the rhythm of his snoring. Remember that Berne wielded a weapon that was legendary: Kosall, the unstoppable blade. Remember that Berne was Gifted with Strength far beyond human, and defenses that could make his skin impervious as steel. Remember that when Caine faced him he was bruised, and battered, half crippled-and poisoned-and still...\" Tan'elKoth let his voice trail away significantly.\n\n\"Luck.\"\n\n\"Luck.\" Tan'elKoth spat the word with vehemence surprising even to himself. \"Luck is a word the ignorant use to define their ignorance. They are blind to the patterns of force that drive the universe, and they name their blindness science, or clear-headedness, or pragmatism; when they stumble into walls or falloff cliffs, they name their clumsiness luck.\"\n\n\"We can settle for removing Pallas Ril; perhaps a median price can be negotiated.\"\n\nTan'elKoth snorted. \"Clearly, you surmise that killing her will save you and your plans-but the truth is precisely opposite. I stand before you as a testament to this. You wish to interfere with Pallas Ril? Destroy Caine first.\"\n\n\"And again, why do we need you for this?\"\n\nSurely even men as dense as these should see a simple truth, when it is painted before their eyes. \"Because,\" he said patiently, \"there is no one else who truly understands what Caine is. Without me, you will learn, but too late. He himself will teach you-but it is knowledge you will carry to your graves. You will die cursing your own foolishness, should you reject my offer. Hmp. You wish to understand the fate of those who set themselves against Caine? Ask Arturo Kollberg.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Arturo Kollberg?\" There came along, long considering pause-far too long in response to a rhetorical question.\n\n\"The perfect choice,\" his interlocutor said. \"We will.\"\n\nARTURO K OLLBERG CLUTCHED the melamine surface of his workspace, sweat trickling from the scars that pitted the remains of his hairline. His skin had gone to paper these past years: age-yellowed pulp, dry and crumpled over the bones of his face. Only his spoiled-liver lips retained their rubbery thickness, and the teeth around which they tightened were traced with carious brown.\n\nI am dreaming, he thought. This can only be a dream.\n\nA shining disk blinked in the mailbox corner of his screen. Within the disk, an armored knight rode a winged horse, rampant. A message from the Studio.\n\nThis must be a dream.\n\nBut it didn't seem like a dream. The cubicles here-in Patient Processing-were crystal clear, and bitterly familiar. The moaning of patients in the examining rooms came thinly through the walls, and someone sobbed with endless psychotic monotony in the lobby. A pair of enormous houseflies, grown fat and clumsy on a diet of blood, buzzed lazily across the fluorescent bands of ceiling lights.\n\nHe risked a glance to either side, after first checking that his supervisor wouldn't catch him looking away from his work. At their adjoining cubicles, the clerks beside him hunched over their keyboards, ticking frantically away. Herein the Mission District Labor Clinic, the data entrars were paid by piecework: one-tenth of a mark for each completed form. They stared with manic fixity at their screens, and the room reeked with their acid, frightened sweat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His years in the Temp ghetto had sucked the meat from his dead-stick arms and twisted his once-nimble fingers into arthritic claws; he barely recognized the hand that he moved to shift the cursor into his mailbox, because for this single, long, achingly sweet moment, he remembered what he had once been.\n\nWhat he had once been-\n\nHe remembered sitting in Corporate Court, watching the evidence mount against him, watching the parade of Actors and technicians, Social Police and rival Administrators as they each came to throw their handful of earth into his living grave. He remembered watching Ma'elKoth testify against him; he remembered the imperious disdain, the impenetrable dignity, the thundering moral righteousness of the ex-Emperor's denunciation.\n\nDuring those endless hours of humiliation, Kollberg had been able to do nothing save sit at the defense table, numb and hopeless. He'd known full well he would be destroyed: the Studio-the power that could have saved him, that could have stood by his side, could have rewarded his devotion and selfless service-had turned against him. To save itself, it had savaged him. Raped him. Gutted his life. It had stripped away everything that gave his existence meaning, and had cast him into the gutters of a Temp slum.\n\nHe keyed the icon, and a dialog box unfolded in the center of his screen.\n\nLABORER ARTURO KOLLBERG: YOU ARE INSTRUCTED TO REMAIN AT YOUR CURRENT SCREEN. HOLD FOR COMMUNICATION FROM THE ADVENTURES UNLIMITED BOARD OF GOVERNORS.\n\nKollberg could no longer breathe.\n\nThey remember. They've come for me, after all these years. A progress bar flicked into existence in the center of his deskscreen, filling slowly from left to right as something large downloaded from the net. They've come for meat last."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Six years-nearly seven-on the Temp boards. Six years.\n\nSix years of standing inline at a public access terminal, begging for work, lucky to get four or five days a month; six years of standing inline at slop kitchens, to act grateful as his bowl was filled with his daily share of the befouled swill that he must choke down quickly or gag on the taste of rot; six years of being shoved and jostled and pawed by people who stank, whose breaths reeked of cheap liquor and tooth decay, whose clothes had the barnyard odor of days-old sweat and imperfectly wiped assholes; six years of hot-bunking at a Temp flophouse, time-sharing a single bed in eight-hour shifts with two other Laborers, sleeping on sheets damp with their polluted sweat and the stains of their diseased bodily fluids.\n\nKollberg's ragged fingernails scritch ed across his workspace, and his lips curled into knots against his teeth.\n\nThe progress bar was nearly full.\n\nIf this is a dream, Kollberg decided, it will end when the progress bar fills. That's how I'll know.\n\nSoon-too soon, bitterly soon-he would be jerked or slapped awake, to find himself in his tiny cubicle at the Labor Clinic, facing his flickering, blurred deskscreen. He'd have to look atone of the Labor trash who were his coworkers and shrug apologetically, would have to smile sheepishly and mumble something about insomnia last night. Or, worse yet, he might wake up to find his office manager leaning over him, that stuck-up Artisan bitch with the plastic tits, the cracks in her face spackled with the makeup she troweled on every morning. That vicious cunt would dock his pay an hour for sleeping, even if he'd only nodded off ten minutes ago."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For this was his life.\n\nAfter five years of enduring the soul-killing humiliation of the Temp boards, Kollberg had found a job, areal job. It paid less per hour than Temping, but it was steady; over the course of the sixty hours he spent each week inside his cubicle entering patients'data into the Labor Clinic's main core, he made enough to rent himself a room at an SRO only three blocks from the clinic, to rent a netscreen, and even to buy private food three or four times a week. He was, in the brutally limited way only another Temp would really understand, making something of himself.\n\nBut now, he somehow knew, he was entering anew world: a world of dream, where all his hopes and his childhood imaginings might still come to pass.\n\nHe remembered getting stiffly out of his bed, throwing the bedclothes on the floor, dressing leadenly in yesterday's shirt and pants. No shower: freshwater showers at the SRO cost three marks for ten minutes, and he could only afford two each week. Saltwater was cheaper, but it came untreated straight from the Bay; it made him itch and stink worse than he would if he didn't bother to wash at all. He'd used a cream depilatory to smooth his stubbled cheeks, and only then had he realized he'd overslept by half an hour. He'd raced to the clinic without breakfast, and had been able to slide into his cubicle and logon with a full minute to spare; this had allowed him the luxury of answering the Artisan cunt's fisheye with a slightly smug smile.\n\n\"Arthur,\" she'd begun sternly.\n\nKollberg had hunched over his keyboard, drawing breath for his automatic correction, but he saw the lift of her eyebrow and the compression atone corner of her mouth that said she was waiting for his correction, hoping he would remind her that his name was Arturo, purely so that she could call him Arthur again: another demonstration of how easily she could trample on whatever little dignity he thought to retain. He'd refused to give her the satisfaction. Instead, he had closed his eyes fora moment, gathered his composure, and said politely, \"Yes, Artisan?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Arthur,\" she repeated heavily, \"I know you're aware that Clinic policy requires data entrars to be on the premises fifteen minutes before log-on. Don't think that you'll be able to sneak away for coffee or to use the bathroom before your 0930 break. You should have arrived early enough to take care of that before you sat down.\"\n\n\"Yes, Artisan.\"\n\n\"I'll be watching you.\"\n\nHis cheeks flamed; he could feel the sneaking stares of the other clerks even through the cubicle walls; he could picture them paused, holding breath, leaning slightly, fingers silently poised above keypads, heads cocked as they listened raptly to his humiliation. \"Yes, Artisan.\"\n\nKollberg suffered in the ringing silence.\n\nFinally, the Artisan cunt had swept her eyes around at the other clerks, and the muffled thuttering of keystrokes had begun to spread throughout the terminal suite, and he had been able to breathe again. It was at that point, Kollberg decided, that he must have fallen asleep; up to then, it had been a perfectly unexceptional day.\n\nThe progress bar filled, and vanished.\n\nFor an instant the screen flashed pure white, as though its crystals were breaking down. The flash hurt-hurt his face, his temples, hurt his ears, hurt like it had reached inside his skull and squeezed his eyeballs together.\n\nKollberg gasped, for from the pain blossomed a vision, unfolding as though it downloaded directly into his brain: he saw himself recasted as an Administrator, returned to the arms of the Studio in triumph, carried through the iron gates on the shoulders of cheering undercastes.\n\nFlash-\n\nNot only recasted, but up casted: Businessman Kollberg, at the podium in One World Center in New York, accepting the Studio Presidency from Westfield Turner."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Flash-\n\nLeisureman Kollberg, retiring from the Studio to his private island in the Ionian Sea, to finish his alloted span in a life of sybaritic comfort and satyric pleasures unimaginable to the undercastes...\n\nAnd that was when he knew. This was more than a vision: it was an offer.\n\nAnd it was a test.\n\nHe had been seven years in the desert, and now he was being offered dominion overall the kingdoms of the Earth. There was more here than any burst-feed from the net into his brain. This was an offer of power unimaginable: the power of a god.\n\nHe muttered, through teeth clenched hard enough to make his gums bleed, \"Get thee behind me, Satan.\"\n\nWhere the progress bar had vanished, in the middle of his screen, now stood a menu box with two radio buttons:\n\nSERVICE SELF\n\nKollberg set his jaw and straightened his spine. With pride in himself and in his calling, with pure, unshakable determination, he moved the cursor to SERVICE, and hit RETURN.\n\nHis annunciator chimed, and the menu box disappeared. His screen wiped to brilliant, eye-piercing white that cast black shadows behind him and fogged his vision as though he stared into the sun.\n\nHis breath caught and his stomach twisted: something huge and foul forced its way into his mouth, into his throat-tears swam in his eyes, and his face burned with agony as the light charred his flesh. But still, somehow, through the blinding light and the unbearable pain, he could read one last message, written in stark black upon the blazing white.\n\nTHOU ART MY OWN SON, WHOM I LOVE. WITH THEE I AM WELL PLEASED."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then it entered him with power: into his eyes, down his throat, in through his nose, his ears, ripping open his rectum and jamming up the length of his shriveled penis, forcing into him with howling lust; it filled him to bursting, swelling him from within, stretching him thinner and thinner like a weather balloon expanding toward destruction, while it dissolved and digested his guts, his heart, lungs and bones, everything within the stretching membrane of his skin. His eyeballs expanded, threatening to burst from his face, to explode from the pressure that built within them.\n\nHe screamed in pain as he squeezed his eyelids shut, trying to keep his eyes in their sockets by sheer strength-and as though that sudden shriek had broken the spell, the pain vanished without even the faintest twinge to mark its passing.\n\nHe opened his eyes again. Everyone was staring at him, leaning out of their carrels or peering meekly over the dividers, showing nothing but greasy hair and curious eyes. The Artisan cunt looked distinctly alarmed.\n\n\"Arthur,\" she said severely. \"I hope there is some explanation for this... for this breach of discipline. If you're ill, you should have reported to the Physician before your scheduled log-on. If not...\" She let the sentence trail off into unspecified threat.\n\nHis screen was dark. It gave back a faint reflection of his face, and he could see that nothing of this ordeal had marked him: he looked exactly the same as he had one minute before. But now he felt suspended, floating at equilibrium, airy and filled with light. He understood now: yes, he was dreaming.\n\nThis was a dream, all of it.\n\nIt would always be a dream.\n\nHe would never have to wake up."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Marie...?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He murmured languidly. Marie was the Artisan cunt's name. \"I think I'm going to fuck you.\"\n\nOne side of her mouth spasmed down toward her hard jaw as though she'd suffered a paralytic stroke. She backed away from him, making guttural uhm, mm, erm noises deep in her throat; then she said something unspecific about a breakdown, and something else about calling a Physician.\n\nKollberg slid the tip of his tongue in a slow meaty circuit around his slack lips. He became aware, looking at her, that she and he were not truly distinct individuals; that, in fact, he was a more potent expression of an energy that they both shared. She was a leaf, but he was the tree... No, that wasn't right. The concept continued to organize itself within him-or, perhaps, he around it. More like: she was a building, and he was the city.\n\nShe was human, and he was humanity.\n\nHe saw where she fit into him, and he into her, and now he could feel the lives of the Laborers around him: their cool firefly sparkles fed his landscape of light. He knew them thoroughly, inside and out, their petty hungers and their pale lusts, their tiny pathetic hopes and their private niggard fears. The wavefront of his expanding consciousness outrippled with geometric acceleration, swelling the more with each mind that he swallowed: through the building, through the block, reaching out into the city. Here and there he tasted lives that were familiar: the fetid swamps of the useless on the streets of the District; the ugly fantasies of his SRO roommate, masturbating at a public urinal; the smug self-righteous timidity of his onetime secretary Gayle Keller; the blank wirehead dedication of Studio techs and the delicious devotion of Worker secmen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And perhaps this wasn't a dream, after all; perhaps the life of Arturo Kollberg had been a dream, from his childhood disgraced by the miscegenation of his mixed-caste parents, through his spectacular rise to the Studio Chairmanship and his still-more-spectacular fall.\n\nPerhaps he was only now waking up.\n\nHe touched the scattered sparks that were the individual lives of the Board of Governors. He gifted them all with a small portion of his gratitude and gave them each the interior warmth and satisfaction of seeing a well-done job come to its fruition. They, in turn, gladly gave up the devotion that he required of them. His loyal priesthood had brought him forth in the body; he loved them for it, and they him.\n\nWith echoes of power ringing in his head, Kollberg wondered what he should do now-and the answer was obvious.\n\nWhatever I want.\n\nJoined with that vast sea of human minds, the choice of service and self vanished: there could be no difference between them. His gaze fell once more upon Marie, and sharpened its focus, and he offered his carious teeth to her in a shit-colored smile.\n\n\"You stay right there,\" she ordered, pale as milk. \"Take one step out of your cubicle, and I'll call the Social Police.\"\n\n\"No need,\" Kollberg said, drawing out the word into a drawl of happy lust. \"They're already here.\"\n\nThe office door slammed open as though kicked, and Social Police flooded the room, a riot platoon in full combat gear: twenty-five mirror-masked officers in ballistic armor, power rifles slanted across their chests, shock batons dangling from their belts. Everyone but Kollberg froze in place at their desks; in a sudden accession to their ancestral herd instincts, the data clerks understood that to move was to set oneself out from the crowd. To set oneself out from the crowd was to be marked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They knew: the Artisan supervisor, she had been marked.\n\nKollberg moved to the center of the room, seeing his own face reflected in every single one of the mirror masks. Those reflections smiled upon him, and he upon them. The nearest officer inclined his head, just a trifle. \"At your will,\" his digitized voice confirmed flatly.\n\n\"Seal the room,\" Kollberg murmured. Then a better idea floated up from the hollow core of what had once been his brain. \"No-seal the building.\"\n\nThe officer crossed his arms to tap out orders on his suit's forearm keypads.\n\nKollberg turned, his movement graceful and effortless, a weightless ballet. He met the eyes of the Artisan cunt, and his penis stiffened so suddenly that his breath came thick and hot. His testicles burned. \"Her,\" he said, pointing.\n\nShe made a gagging noise, deep in her throat, and turned as though to bolt toward the inner offices. Two soapies sprang after her and tackled her to the floor. She moaned, and cried, and begged. Kollberg stepped over and stood above the three of them.\n\n\"Her clothes.\"\n\nOne of the officers held her pinned, grinding her face into the filthy polyester shag of the carpet, while the other unfolded a pocketknife and sliced away her clothes. Her flesh was pale and slack, pockets of fat bulging across her ass, down the sides of her thighs. Kollberg opened the fly of his dungarees, and his penis sprang out. \"Turn her over. She has to kiss me when I come.\"\n\nThe officers rolled her onto her back, and one of them forced her legs apart. Her breasts spread huge and limp along her ribs, her nipples like used condoms pointing toward her elbows. Hmp, Kollberg thought. Not plastic, after all. He lowered himself between her knees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had to spit on her crotch for lubrication.\n\nHis penis slid into her, and he humped her thoughtfullly, dispassionately, regarding her anguished sobbing struggle with a detached interest as she thrashed under him, held by the relentless grip of the Social Police. Fucking her was interesting, in an abstract sort of way; because they were one, he was also fucking himself-and he was watching himself fuck her through the eyes of his stunned coworkers. Like masturbating while looking in a mirror.\n\nThis, he felt, was the ideal way to getup in the morning.\n\n\"And, you know what?\" he said. \"I woke up hungry.\"\n\nHe lowered his head and sank his teeth into her breast. Her flesh was tough, stringy and old, and she struggled harder and screamed more, but after a bit of work he managed to tear a chunk free. He chewed it slowly, interested in its delicate flavor and rubbery texture, but in the end it meant no more to him than if he'd bitten off a hangnail. He licked her blood from his lips, nodded to himself, smiled, then bent his head for another bite.\n\nTHE LIVE SPECIAL report of Adventure Update gleamed and flickered in the mirror on Tan'elKoth's desk. Jed Clearlake had caught up with Hari Michaelson at a convention in Los Angeles and was now conducting alive interview from the convention floor-giving Michaelson a worldwide audience to make his case about the'HRVP crisis on Overworld\"-while in the background hundreds of bizarrely dressed fans capered and cavorted for the video pickups.\n\nThough the spectrum of costumes reflected admiration for hundreds of Actors active, retired, and dead, the majority of those picked out by the cameras advertised Caine's continuing popularity. Dozens were costumed as Caine himself, many as Pallas Ril, some as Berne or Purthin Khlaylock or the Khulan g'Thar; some few-generally poorly groomed and enormously fat-had costumed themselves as Ma'elKoth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tan'elKoth gave only a fraction of his attention to the report; mostly, he studied his visitors.\n\nArturo Kollberg sat at the ex-Emperor's side, staring at the screen with monomaniac fixity; his rubbery piscine mouth hung open, and he made half-audible panting noises like a tomcat in rut. He had arrived in the company of a four-man enforcement squad of the Social Police. The four officers boxed Kollberg and Tan'elKoth, standing at riot-ready around them, hands on shock batons and power pistols. The mirrored face shields of their helmets glinted with the reflections of the Adventure Update report, and with pinpoint distortions of Kollberg's and Tan'elKoth's screen-lit faces.\n\nSo far, Tan'elKoth had been unable to determine if they were Kollberg's jailers, or his bodyguards.\n\nThe call from the Board of Governors had come only minutes before Kollberg's arrival. You are acquainted with Laborer Arturo Kollberg. Laborer Kollberg has our full confidence in this matter. Treat with him as you would with us.\n\nHe knew that dangerous forces interacted here below his level of perception, like predatory sharks jockeying for position around a sinking boat. The Social Police officers did not defer to Kollberg, nor did they seem to direct him; in fact, Kollberg had spoken only to Tan'elKoth since their arrival, and the soapies had remained facelessly silent. He also couldn't guess if any of them realized that their powered weapons were perfectly useless in the Curioseum's ON field; without its nerve-tangling discharge, a shock baton was no more lethal than a whiffle bat.\n\nAs Tan'elKoth studied them, he flicked his vision into mindview now and again; this he could do as effortlessly as an ordinary man blinks. When he did so quickly enough, cycling back and forthwith ordinary vision, he could sometimes catch glimpses of some strange energy that surrounded all five of them. Not their Shells-they didn't even seem to have Shells in the ordinary sense-but rather a strange colorless distortion. This odd energy or distortion would vanish as soon as he fixed his gaze upon it; he saw it only as fleeting twists of reality in his peripheral vision."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Kollberg had changed beyond recognition in the six years since his trial."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Had Tan'elKoth not been told to expect him, he would have had no idea who this thin, somnolent, ill-looking man might be. Their arrival had brought with it a smell: blood and more than blood, thick and meaty and sweetly rank: the fermenting shit of a carnivore. In the near darkness of the apartment it was difficult to tell, but Tan'elKoth thought the bloody stench might emanate from Kollberg himself-what remained of the man's hair seemed to be caked with something, and his face bore either some kind of birthmark or a smear of filth.\n\n\"The ultimate goal of your masters has never been a mystery tome,\" Tan'elKoth said byway of a preamble. \"It was instantly clear that this release of HRVP was a ploy to increase the Earth presence on Overworld.\"\n\n\"Was it?\" Kollberg said tonelessly. His voice was thick and meaty, inhuman, as though the choking stench that cloaked him had itself somehow spoken aloud. \"Clear?\"\n\n\"Of course. That's why you target the elves: They're cute. Cute creatures dying horrible deaths are ideal tools to mobilize public opinion. Once a few thousand elves die, the entire Leisure caste will clamor fora massive relief effort; the staunchest rock-ribbed Hands Off advocates on the Leisure Congress will be the first to insist that hundreds of thousands of your people should be shipped to Overworld to combat the disease. Within days, weeks at most, your people are fully in place across the entire continent. It is easy enough to invent excuses to remain, once there-and suddenly, Earth is no longer restricted to a tiny mining colony in the mountains. Suddenly there is cropland, forests for timber, uncontaminated fisheries, billions of tons of coal, crude oil, and space-simple space, to relieve the pressure of fourteen billion lives on Earth. This is how I know that HRVP is merely a dodge; in fact, I anticipate that your epidemic will mysteriously blow itself out, not long after your relief effort reaches its peak. It's clear that your Bog must have some method for controlling the infection-uncontrolled, it would destroy too many profitable ecosystems. The Board of Governors would not damage something as valuable as the Studio System, did they not anticipate decades and centuries of ever-increasing returns.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're very perceptive,\" Kollberg murmured.\n\n\"I am Tan'elKoth.\" And yet-a niggling worm of doubt slithered through the back of his mind-he did not say I was correct.\n\n\"What do you propose?\"\n\n\"An alliance. As I told your masters,\" Tan'elKoth said, \"we have a common goal. Humanity has been locked in a struggle against extinction on my world fora thousand years; we vie with elves, dwarfs, krr'x, and ogrilloi for living space; we struggle against dragons in the mountains and leviathans at sea. In the midst of all this, we continue to war upon each other, giving aid to our enemies. With the power of Earth, we could overwhelm our enemies and ensure our survival-ha, I would not even need your technology: send me ten percent of your Labor caste and I could drown our foes with sheer number.\"\n\n\"So,\" Kollberg said flatly. \"It's clear what we can do for you. Make me understand what you have to offer us.\"\n\nThat worm of doubt began to wriggle through the gates of Tan'elKoth's mind, as though Hannto were trying to gain his attention; there was something about the way Kollberg spoke, something eerily familiar about his affectless voice and academic diction. Tan'elKoth stepped on that worm and ground it beneath his mental heel; he had no leisure for second thoughts.\n\nHe spread his hands. \"In my role as the rightful ruler of Ankhana-who is also a citizen of Earth-I can petition the Leisure Congress for the aid of the Overworld Company. I can invite you into the Empire. I can ensure that your bleeding hearts, as you call them, support your occupation, instead of oppose it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You may perhaps be useful, after all.\"\n\n\"I am more than useful. I am necessary. Without me, your plans cannot even be initiated.\" Tan'elKoth gestured to the mirror that flickered upon his desktop. \"Have you forgotten Caine?\"\n\nMichaelson was saying, \"Of course, that recording was never intended for public release. We didn't want a panic. I've directed Studio Security to open an investigation into the source of the leak. There's been a lot of outcry already, but it's important for your viewers to understand that-thanks to an immediate, aggressive response by the Studio itself-the crisis is already under control.\"\n\n\"And what was the Studio's response, Administrator?\"\n\n\"Well, I guess I can take some of the credit for that myself. When you're married to a goddess-\" He gave a brief, self-deprecating, professionally charming chuckle. \"-a lot of problems just aren't as impossible as they might look.\"\n\nKollberg grunted wordlessly at the screen.\n\n\"Do you understand yet how thoroughly your masters have been outfought?\" Tan'elKoth asked. \"You cannot even retaliate; not only is he once again a public hero, he is surrounded by thousands of his most devoted admirers-anything that happens to him will be witnessed by all Earth. By the time this convention has ended, it will be too late. Pallas Ril will have utterly destroyed your plan.\"\n\nKollberg only grunted again. His shoulders flexed, and his hands worked back and forth across the front of his pants. Tan'elKoth noted with swift distaste that the man had an erection-and he was rubbing it through his dungarees.\n\nClearlake continued to lob Michaelson his lines with clean-cut good nature. \"Did you ever consider that this might have been nothing but a hoax?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sure. Sitting here, on Earth, we can't possibly know the truth. It could be a hoax-or it could be a catastrophe. Sending Pallas to Overworld is a measured response-if this is a hoax, it hasn't cost anybody much. If this is areal crisis, she can handle it. Speaking strictly for myself, I believe that elf was telling the truth. Look at him. Listen to his voice. You'll believe him, too. You know my philosophy: hope for the best, but plan for the worst.\"\n\n\"There's been some public speculation that this outbreak might not have been an accident,\" Clearlake said, \"that it was deliberately inflicted on Overworld by a terrorist group, or some kind of psychopathic personality within the Overworld Company, or even the Studio itself.\"\n\n\"I'm inclined to doubt it,\" Michaelson said seriously, \"but the possibility must be investigated. I'm told the Overworld Company's Internal Security unit is already looking into this, but I believe that a situation as potentially grave as this one requires a response by the Studio itself. I've already spoken with Studio President Businessman Turner and offered my own services as a special envoy fora fact-finding mission to Transdeia. I've, ah, offered to go over on ammod. As you know, my thoughtmitter is still in place; on ammod, everything I see will be transmitted and recorded instantly on Earth. There'd be no possibility of mistake, or question of concealment-I'd be like a Registered Witness. The whole world would see how committed the Studio-and the Overworld Company-is to the welfare of the natives of Overworld.\"\n\nClearlake had given one of his familiar suave, knowing chuckles. \"Ever the man of action, eh, Hari? Showing a little of that old Caine spirit?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, Jed-\" An answering chuckle. \"-sometimes a little of that old Caine spirit is exactly what we need.\"\n\nAnother chuckle from Clearlake, this timeless knowing, more openly appreciative. \"Well, I for one would certainly pay a mark or two to see Caine back on-line. How can the Studio resist?\"\n\nTan'elKoth allowed himself a grim smile.\n\nMichaelson went on, \"And an investigation should be opened hereon Earth, as well. We need to know how this happened. We need to make sure it can never happen again.\"\n\n\"Do you see?\" Tan'elKoth said to Kollberg. \"Do you seethe avalanche as it descends upon you?\"\n\nKollberg nodded. \"He must be stopped.\"\n\n\"You must understand that you cannot simply kill him. Not now. His energies have already been directed against you and your masters; his sudden death-even by accident or \"natural causes\"-will result in an explosively destructive release of those energies.\"\n\nKollberg's head swiveled as though mounted on gimbals, and his gaze met Tan'elKoth's with the blank incuriosity of a lizard's. \"Expand on this.\"\n\nTan'elKoth compressed his lips. \"Consider only the most obvious, surface level of the effect: Anything that happens to Michaelson will betaken by Caine's admirers as hard evidence of a sinister conspiracy-and there are many admirers of Caine sitting on the Leisure Congress itself. The best you could hope for would be a public investigation into the practices of the Studio and the Overworld Company. You would bring about precisely the events that you hope to avert.\"\n\n\"I do not see how this is related to Michaelson's so-called energies.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I am not responsible for the limitations of your vision,\" Tan'elKoth said sourly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Those energies have little to do with Michaelson. They are Caine's. It is not Michaelson who is beloved by a billion fans and more. And even that love is the merest iceberg tip-but how can you comprehend the enormity that lies below the surface, when you are blind to the decimus in plain view?\"\n\n\"What solution do you propose?\"\n\nThat worm of doubt wriggled beneath Tan'elKoth's mental heel, and suddenly grew into an icy serpent: he realized why Kollberg's manner was so eerily familiar. He spoke exactly like a meat-and-bone version of the Board of Governors.\n\nA premonition of disaster rose up in his throat like vomit.\n\n\"The key to the successful solution of your Michaelson problem is analysis,\" he said briskly, to cover his momentary lapse. \" Reduce the problem to its components, so that the necessities involved in successful resolution become clear. The Michaelson problem breaks down neatly into two components: dealing with Pallas Ril, and dealing with Caine. Dealing with Caine also breaks down into two components: the public and the personal.\n\n\"The public side of the Caine component is his popularity: the attention-and even love-he commands worldwide. This is more susceptible to resolution than it may at first appear; one must simply be conscious of what it is, after all, that Caine's fans love. It is not Caine himself, despite what they may claim, and even believe. What they value so highly is the myth of Caine: the drama and adventure he has brought into their dull workaday lives. Thus: the necessary resolution of the public component must have a certain high drama-a sort of poetic thunder that will satisfy his fans.\"\n\nKollberg said flatly, \"They won't mind that he dies, so long as he dies well.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Precisely."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It must have every necessary element of a Caine tale: villains and heroes, a struggle against hopeless odds, and an apocalyptic denouement.\"\n\n\"This can be done?\"\n\nTan'elKoth met his blank gaze without hesitation. \"It can. Most of these elements are already in place; success is only a matter of the proper orchestration. It requires, if I may extend the metaphor, the proper conductor.\"\n\n\"This being you.\"\n\n\"This being me.\" He nodded to himself; he liked the way this was going, now-despite Tan'elKoth's misgivings, Kollberg seemed eminently pragmatic and accessible to reason. \"Caine's public energies are not the only energies at his command. The private component deals with his will itself-one might call it his rapier, by contrast with the more public bludgeon.\"\n\nTan'elKoth rose restlessly and began to pace: a tiger prowling the limits of a cage marked by the silent, motionless Social Police officers. \"The successful resolution of the private component-blunting, as it were, Caine's rapier-involves diverting him, scattering his energies, overwhelming him with multiple problems until he cannot focus on any single one. It is insufficient to defeat him objectively-we must beat him subjectively. We must demonstrate to him beyond any shadow of dispute that he is helpless. We must teach him to think of himself as a defeated man.\"\n\nA hint of a smile began to twitch the corners of Kollberg's thick, dead-meat lips. \"You want to break him before you kill him.\"\n\nTan'elKoth halted his pacing and met Kollberg's empty eyes. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Is this a true necessity? Or is this revenge?\"\n\n\"Does it matter?\" Tan'elKoth shrugged. \"In this case, the concatenation of necessity and pleasure is fortuitous-which is to say: yes, we must do this... and yes, I shall enjoy it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The liver-colored tip of Kollberg's tongue circled his lips. \"I approve,\" he said.\n\nTan'elKoth gave him a slim smile. \"Now, we turn to the Pallas Ril component. This breaks down neatly into another pair, as well: the mystic and the physical. The physical difficulties are obvious, I think. Pallas Ril is a creature of nearly unlimited power, able to sense-and theoretically to affect-every living thing in the entire Great Chambaygen watershed; she can act at nearly any distance. She can stride the length of the Empire in a single hour; even granting the ability to defeat her, she cannot even be located unless she wishes to be found.\"\n\n\"You make her sound invincible.\"\n\n\"No one is invincible,\" Tan'elKoth said darkly, \"as I have learned to my eternal shame. It is a matter of selecting the proper weapon.\"\n\nKollberg's eyes were flat and dull as chips of slate. \"Goon.\"\n\n\"The mystic component is still more parlous. To simply slay her is not enough; she has imposed her will upon Chambaraya to the extent that the death of her body would do far more harm than good, insofar as the success of your plans is concerned.\"\n\nHis great hands knotted behind his back, but his tone remained dry, precise, clinical: the clipped delivery of the professional lecturer. \"Consciousness is a patterning of energy; infused with the power of Chambaraya, her consciousness cannot be overcome by a merely physical death. Willis expressed through a body, and is to some extent limited by the body that expresses it. To merely destroy Pallas Ril's body would release her consciousness-and that consciousness could pattern the river itself, the entire Great Chambaygen watershed, as its body. We would have made of our enemy a god in truth, instead of apart-time Actress playing with unearned power.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He turned and regarded Kollberg with a trace of a smile. \"On the other hand, she is the only part of Chambaraya that cares a whit whether the races of Overworld live or die. To Chambaraya, life is life: the maggots that would feed upon their corpses are every bit as precious as elves and dwarfs and even human beings slain by your disease. So the solution is obvious: we must separate her from the river. In this fashion-only in this fashion-can the Pallas Ril component be successfully resolved.\"\n\nKollberg's reptilian gaze never wavered. \"How will this be accomplished?\"\n\n\"Not by me personally, you maybe assured,\" Tan'elKoth said. \"She would become aware of me with my first breath of Home air, and would be on her guard. No more must Caine be aware that my hand is against him-to give him a clear vision of his enemy is to hand him victory.\"\n\nTan'elKoth allowed his smile to sharpen to a razor edge. \"The components have been analyzed; the true measure of success shall be the elegance of their solution. We have regarded them individually. We must resolve them simultaneously.\"\n\n\"You say you can do this,\" Kollberg murmured tonelessly.\n\n\"I can.\"\n\n\"Then do it.\"\n\nTan'elKoth leaned comfortably back in his chair, taking a deep, slow, easeful breath. He glanced at the four distorted reflections of his face in the mirror masks of the Social Police, then let his gaze slide back to Kollberg.\n\n\"First-as Caine would say-let's talk deal.\"\n\nVINSON G ARRETTE, VICEROY of Transdeia, leaned forward onto the table, holding his cut-crystal wineglass before his eyes, examining the way the rich cabernet shaded to rusty earth tones at the intersection of wine and glass. \"What if we-the Artan rulers-as a gesture of good faith,\" he said slowly, meditatively, \"to cement our... relationship... with the Monasteries, were to give you something that you want? Hypothetically. Something of small value to us, but substantial value to the Monasteries. To you personally, Your Excellency.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Raithe folded his skeletal hands and stared past his own wineglass, untouched on the table."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What-hypothetically-would we be talking about, Your Highness?\"\n\n\"What would it be worth to you, for example-\" Garrette leaned back into his ornately carved chair at the head of the table. \"-to get your hands on Caine?\"\n\nRaithe sat motionless as a lizard fora very longtime; he did not even blink.\n\nThen he reached out and grasped his wineglass, and raised it slowly to his lips.\n\nASH IS RADIANCE Toa-Sytell, Patriarch of the Ankhanan Empire, stared at the image of Ambassador Raithe in his Mirror, he wondered if the young Ambassador had any idea how much the Empire was already learning of the inner secrets of the Monasteries.\n\nIn only a month, the Artan Mirror had revolutionized communication in the Empire. Now there were at least one or two Artan Mirrors in every major city and not a few of the minor ones; each major military outpost had its own. Only three days ago, a young thaumaturge in the service of the Eyes of God had reported that he had discovered away to eavesdrop on Mirrored conversations without the knowledge of the speakers at either end.\n\nToa-Sytell used his freehand to mop faint beads of sweat from his upper lip; he'd been feeling a bit under the weather fora day or two, and now it seemed he might be developing a fever. His discomfort made it difficult to fix his attention on the young Ambassador's words.\n\n\"-as you know,\" the Ambassador was saying, \"the Council of Brothers supports fully the Empire and the elKothan Church. The gesture we are prepared to make, we offer without any expectation of return.\"\n\nToa-Sytell flicked a glance at the Eye Mirror-speaker, whose hand he held. The Eye nodded, indicating that the Ambassador was telling the truth as he knew it. This was another of the innovations from the Eyes of God researchers: the Eye would have heard the untruth of any lie. \"All very heartwarming,\" the Patriarch responded with his characteristic dry irony, \"but I was told this is some sort of emergency?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is urgent, Your Holiness, is our need for reassurance that our gift will be put to its proper use.\"\n\n\"And that use would be?\"\n\n\"It is a gift for the Festival of the Assumption, Your Holiness. Avery, very special gift, to honor the Empire, and the Church.\"\n\nAgain, the Mirror-speaker nodded.\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" Toa-Sytell said testily. \"Goon; what is it?\"\n\n\"What, if you had the power,\" Raithe said with a secretive smile, as though he already knew the answer, \"would you do with Caine?\"\n\nToa-Sytell jumped, and his eyes took fire. \"Caine...\"\n\n\"Caine was never officially sentenced for his murder of the late Ambassador Creele. He is, insofar as the Monasteries are concerned, a freeman, innocent of any crime,\" Raithe said. \"However, I believe his status with the Empire is rather different.\"\n\nToa-Sytell barely heard the words; he found himself on his feet, trembling, crushing the Mirror-speaker's hand until the poor man blanched. \"You can give me Caine?\"\n\nWithin his head roared the flames of a Festival auto-da-fé; in his nostrils the scent of Caine's burning flesh; in his ears the cheers of Beloved Children around the world; around his heart coiled the old, cold serpent that whispered sweet revenge.\n\nRaithe smiled. \"If I can?\"\n\n\"I swear-We swear, I and God Himself-\" Toa-Sytell said, forcing the words from his breathless chest, \"you will not be disappointed.\"\n\nTHE FACE OF the woman on the screen was attractive, even without makeup, even puffy with interrupted sleep, even though past seventy without ever indulging in the vanity of cosmetic surgery. Along straight nose, planar cheeks, strong jaw, eyes the crystal blue of a Nordic winter sky; her hair was cut to a uniform half inch, a skullcap the color of steel. Only her mouth marred her classic beauty: it was a thin, lipless gash like a hatchet wound in her face."
}
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"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 11"
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"value": "Berne's case was empty. It stood on its pedestal in the archway of the exhibition hall, vacant as a corpse's eyes.\n\nHari's bowels dissolved into ice water that drained into his legs. He couldn't move, couldn't speak-he was afraid to turn his head, because he knew with irrational certainty that as soon as he looked, he'd find Berne waiting for him, standing in the shadows with Kosall poised to strike, and he'd collapse and start to scream like a stolen baby.\n\nDead is dead, Hari told himself. He'd jammed a knife through the top of Berne's skull and scrambled the bastard's brains. You don't get any deader than that.\n\nAfter repeating this to himself a few times, he found that he could breathe again. When he finally decided he could trust his voice, he said, \"All right. I've seen it. Now tell me what it means. Who would steal Berne's body?\"\n\nTan'elKoth turned, half his face bleached white in the emergency lights, the other half lost in shadow. \"Studio security. Your own secmen, Caine.\"\n\nHari winced. He didn't like this already, and he knew it was going to get worse.\n\nTan'elKoth went on. \"I was engaged in my usual research this evening after closing, developing anew lesson for my Applied Magick seminar, when I heard the noise of what turned out to be five secmen opening this case. I enquired what they were doing-perfectly innocently, I might add, I had assumed they were acting upon your orders. Their response was to place me under arrest and hold me incommunicado in the security office detention center until perhaps half an hour ago.\"\n\n\"When you called me.\""
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"value": "\"Yes.\"\n\nTan'elKoth moved slowly, almost meditatively, down the long gallery and stopped in front of the empty case. He pressed one enormous hand against the armorglass, like a lover waving good-bye through a car window, and bent his head fora moment as though weary, or in pain. As Hari joined him there, Tan'elKoth turned and seated himself on the case's pedestal, leaned his forearms on his knees, and folded his hands.\n\n\"My first thought,\" Tan'elKoth said, \"was that this was some stroke of yours-some plot to wound me by a further desecration of the corpse of my most faithful servant. As if what you had done to him already were not enough.\"\n\n\"Hey, don't try to splash me with that shit,\" Hari said. \"Putting his body on display was Wes Turner's idea.\"\n\n\"A puerile evasion,\" he said darkly. \"This crime was an act of the company that employs you. You cannot exculpate yourself by claiming the boss made me do it. The nature of your masters has never been a mystery to you, yet you have continued to take their money and enjoy the borrowed status they lend to you. You areas guilty as they.\"\n\n\"You're gonna debate morality with me? You? You're the only sonofabitch I ever met who's murdered more people than I have,\" Hari said through his teeth. \"What about the body?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" He met Hari's gaze with a level stare. \"No long interval passed before I realized this could not be your doing. You area walking catastrophe of Biblical proportion; this type of petty, emotionally wounding revenge has never been your style.\"\n\n\"I don't give a rat's ass how you knew it wasn't me. I already know it wasn't me, goddammit. Who was it?\""
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"value": "\"This is not the central question; the thieves were Studio secmen, acting upon orders from above. Who gave those orders is peripheral-a mere detail. The central question is for what would they want it?\"\n\nHari ground his teeth together and resisted the impulse to break the bastard's nose again. \"Tan'elKoth,\" he said tightly, \"on my best days, I'm not a patient man. This is not one of my best days. Drop the fucking games.\"\n\n\"Just so.\" He rose, towering over Hari, starkly outlined against the emergency floodlight. \"I can tell you precisely why the Studio would take Berne's body.\"\n\n\"Christ, I hope so.\"\n\n\"They intend to use him to kill Pallas Ril.\"\n\nLooking up into Tan'elKoth's black-shadowed face, Hari could feel the strength leaving his knees as though it trickled out a pair of spigots on his heels. \"I don't understand,\" he said numbly.\n\n\"I found it obvious.\" Tan'elKoth walked away again, into the Caine Hall, heading for his apartment door. \"Berne was stolen by the Studio. Pallas Ril is the only obstacle to the success of the Studio's plans for my world.\"\n\nHis voice boomed off the walls of stone. \"Berne was the finest swordsman of his age-perhaps of any age. Combat skill-like any other physical skill, even walking and talking-is a matter of reflex conditioning. An animated corpse of Berne would still have the skills of a superior swordsman, even without the higher cognitive functions that govern tactics. And, of course, they also took Kosall.\"\n\nHari, following, had to stop suddenly: his back ached fiercely at that name."
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"value": "The scene, the wax-figure diorama in the middle of this hall, was of that moment on the sand of Victory Stadium, on that hot Ankhanan noon seven years ago. High above, figures of Ma'elKoth and Pallas Ril were locked in deific combat. In the center of the display, Caine brandished a pair of knives while he leaped onto the unstoppable point of the sword in Berne's hand.\n\nIf the Curioseum had had power, the scene would have been lit by the white blaze that would radiate from the figure of Pallas Ril. Herein black-shadowed semidarkness, the scene had an eerie, nightmarish life. Darkness hid the wires; fora disorienting, hallucinatory second, Hari wasn't sure whether he was the one standing out here looking at the display or if he was the leaping figure within it.\n\n-and fora moment he could feel again that harsh buzzing in his teeth from Kosall's vibrating edge when the blade had slid, smooth as butter, through his spine-\n\nHe rubbed his head as though he could massage meaning in through his skull, and he snarled at himself to pull it together. \"An animated corpse-?\"\n\nTan'elKoth stopped at his doorway and sighed like an exasperated professor. \"Must I forge every single link in this chain of reasoning? Here then, simply: Pallas Ril-Chambaraya-is a god of life. No living thing can approach her undetected, however it maybe concealed. If, on the other hand, a potent magickal weapon is borne by, shall we say, an unliving thing...? Need I say more?\"\n\nThe face of the wax Berne above him seemed to shift in the black wash of shadow. The glass eyes glittered with malice; they seemed to turn from the figure of the wax Caine before it and fix upon Pallas Ril high above. In that final instant-the most famous sequence of the most famous Studio Adventure of all time-Caine had thrown himself upon Berne's sword, for that was his only hope of saving Pallas Ril."
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"value": "Hari's chest ached with helpless rage.\n\nSure, he thought. Sure, that makes sense.\n\nThe people behind this could have chosen any random corpse for their weapon; they wouldn't even need to dig one up-they could lease one from the Working Dead in Ankhana's Warrens. But instead, they took Berne. So Hari would know it was coming.\n\nSo he'd know there was nothing he could do to stop it.\n\nBack in the bad old days, when he and Shanna hadn't been able to open their mouths to each other without sparking a shouting match, she had constantly accused him of being obsessively self-absorbed; she liked to tell him that something or other isn't about you. Not everything in the bloody world is about you!\n\nYeah, maybe not, he thought. But this is. I don't know why, or how, but you can't getaway from it. This is about me.\n\nHe'd been told: the greatest skill of the successful Administrator is to know when to do nothing.\n\nJust like Dad: I can't fucking learn to shut up.\n\n\"I am no great admirer of Pallas Ril, as you know,\" Tan'elKoth said as he fished out his keys-the ON field disabled palmlocks as efficiently as it did Hari's bypass; all the Curioseum's interior doors had Overworld-style manual locks with physical keys. \"Nonetheless, she is the sole shield between my Children and the masters of this... this death cult you calla Studio. Is there anything you can do?\"\n\nHari shook his head, mouth twisted against a taste of metal and bitter ash. \"If I can get a message to her, somehow... She can handle pretty much anything if she knows it's coming.\" He turned up his palms helplessly. \"But the Studio is gonna be ahead of me on this, too.\""
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"value": "He could taste defeat already. He had been hit too hard, from too many directions at once. He'd lost already.\n\nShe would die.\n\nStanding at the freemod dock: You get in trouble over there this time, I can't come and bail you out.\n\nHow had he ended up so useless, and so guilty?\n\nHis head hammered; he pressed the heel of his hand to his temple and squeezed shut his eyes. It felt like a steel band ratcheted tighter and tighter around his skull: at any second the bone would crack and his brains would squirt out his eye sockets.\n\n\"I shall do what I can, but first-\" Tan'elKoth circled a hand at the particolored light and shadow of the power-dead Curioseum. \"-I must find a place to stay. The power cells in these harnesses of yours are not inexhaustible. Amplitude decay is-as you have reminded me many times-an ugly way to die.\"\n\n\"Where will you go?\"\n\nTan'elKoth shrugged. \"My art has garnered admirers among the Leisurefolk-some few of them have ON vaults not unlike the one you maintain at the Abbey, only larger, to hold collections of artifacts brought to Earth by Actors that they sponsor. I am certain one or more can be persuaded to accommodate me until this-\" Again, the circular gesture. \"-situation can be resolved.\"\n\nHe turned to the door to his apartment. \"Once I have my spare harness, I will be off.\"\n\nHe pushed the door open-and every light in the Curioseum burst to life.\n\nHari jumped as though the sudden glare was a stroke of nearby lightning. Overhead, the figure of Pallas Ril blazed like a fusion torch, and the simulated power of the simulated Ma'elKoth became a jet of fire that joined them breast to breast. Hari clenched his teeth until the stuttering of his heart settled into a steady rhythm. \"Looks like you won't have to move after all,\" he said."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't bean idiot,\" Tan'elKoth said as he disappeared within his apartment.\n\nHari went to the door. \"But with the power back on-\"\n\nTan'elKoth stood at his desk, his back to Hari. \"You're still walking.\" His voice was rich with dark-roasted contempt.\n\n\"Huh.\" Hari scowled thoughtfully as he paced through the door. \"That doesn't make any goddamn sense.\"\n\nThe Curioseum's ON field generator was hardwired into the Studio grid-which was energized by the Studio's transfer pump. It should have been impossible for the power to be on down here without the field returning as well.\n\nIn fact, there was no reason why the damn power should have been off in the first place. There were backup generators, and as a third failsafe the Curioseum would self-connect to San Francisco's civic grid-the Curioseum's collection was irreplaceable, and much of it would vanish into amplitude decay in goddamn short order if the field didn't comeback up. If he hadn't been distracted by all the shit that had hit him today, he would have seen it already: the only reason to turnoff the power was to turnoff the ON field.\n\nBut why would somebody want to do that? Was he just being paranoid, or did this smell of enemy action? It's not whether I'm paranoid, he thought. It's whether I'm paranoid enough.\n\nNow, with the power back on, but still no field-\n\nHari frowned down at the floor. \"What's this crap?\"\n\nTan'elKoth's athletic shoes had left tracks, faint but definite, even across the area rug that defined his'living room\"-slipper shapes where his tread had disturbed some kind of fine silvery dust that was spread allover the floor and the furniture, like pesticide left behind by a careless exterminator. \"What the hell is this dust?\" Hari asked Tan'elKoth's back. \"You working in marble these days?\""
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"value": "\"Mmm,\" Tan'elKoth agreed distractedly, while he thumbed through an old-fashioned bound-paper address book he'd pulled from a drawer of his desk. \"But this is not marble dust-my pneumatic chisel has a vacuum hose that's vented to the outside. There are several fairly serious varieties of lung damage, as well as systemic disturbances, that are caused by the inhalation of marble dust; even with the hose, I wear a self-contained breathing apparatus while I work. Ah, there he is,\" he said smugly, holding his place in the address book with one sausage-sized finger. \"Rentzi Dole. He has several of my pieces, and has invited me to Kauai on any number of occasions. And-most important-he is no friend of this Studio.\"\n\nHari's answering nod was equally distracted. He knew all about Leisureman Dole-his late aunt had been Shanna's Patron for many years. Rentzi Dole was one of Hari's least favorite people; the Leisureman had defied the explicit terms of his aunt's will and terminated Shanna's patronage.\n\nHari had something else on his mind: a thought that was beginning to take shape, still misty around the edges, kind of foggily inchoate as it organized itself-his brain wasn't accustomed to doing this kind of work anymore. \"Uh, Tan'elKoth?\" Hari began uncertainly. Why would someone have the power on but the ON field off?\n\nClearly, they wanted to run some kind of equipment that requires both power and Earth-normal physics. Something electronic. Like a deskscreen. \"Tan'elKoth,\" Hari said, \"don't make that call.\"\n\n\"Don't be ridiculous. What choice do I have?\""
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"value": "No electronics work in the ON field-not even, say, the voice-recognition chips built into palmlocks.\n\n\"I'm telling you,\" Hari said, stronger, more urgently, \"don't do it. You have to listen tome.\" He started toward the ex-Emperor, his handout as though to grab the bigger man and haul him away from the desk by force.\n\nVoice-recognition chips aren't restricted to operating palmlocks or controlling access to netsites; they can be used to trigger almost any kind of device-\n\n\"Nonsense,\" the ex-Emperor said, thumbing the mike key next to the speaking tube.\n\n-like a detonator.\n\n\"Don't do it-\"\n\nTan'elKoth continued, \"Iris: initiate telecommunications. Exec-\"\n\nA shattering roar obliterated the rest of the word.\n\nTHE BLAST HURLED Tan'elKoth backward into Hari, flattening them both like they'd been hit by a freightliner. Hari might have lost consciousness fora second or two; he found himself on his hands and knees, shaking his head, thunder rolling on and on in his ears, joined by a high, singing whine that made his teeth ache. Some kind of thick greyish chemical smoke burned the back of his throat and punched hacking coughs out of his lungs. All that was left of Tan'elKoth's beautiful rolltop desk was a knee-high bonfire-the oil-and varnish-impregnated wood pumped out black smoke of its own, but that didn't worry him.\n\nWhat worried him was how bright it was inhere.\n\nWhite as lightning, the glare hurt-and it grew brighter and brighter until he felt like somebody was driving nails into his eyeballs. With the light came heat: searing radiance like a sun-lamp strapped onto his face."
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"value": "The whole apartment was on fire.\n\nEven the stone of the floor burned: outspreading rings of white flame hissed sparks at the ceiling. In the center of each widening ring was a smoldering splinter of wood-pieces of the desk, flaming, blown everywhere by the bomb. And the hissing, spark-showering rings of fire grew slowly, spreading like ripples in a pond of molasses, and the stone in their wake glowed red-white like slag from a blast furnace.\n\nThat fucking dust-\n\nSomebody'd sprayed it allover the goddamn place. Thermite, maybe a magnesium compound, maybe something new he'd never heard of-it didn't matter. What mattered was getting out of here.\n\nHolding a fold of his tunic across his mouth and nose against the smoke, he snaked over to Tan'elKoth. The big man lay on his back, limbs splayed bonelessly, out cold. His black sweater had been blown to rags, and the chestplate of the ammod harness looked like the front end of a car after a disagreement with the pylon of a suspension bridge. His face was scorched, his eyebrows burned off; embers still crawled through his hair, making it crinkle and spit smoke.\n\nHari spent an eternal five seconds feeling fora pulse between the windpipe and the massive cords of Tan'elKoth's neck; he wasn't sentimental enough to get his ass cooked trying to rescue a corpse.\n\nOne, two, three, four-son of a bitch if the big bastard wasn't still alive after all. Now all Hari had to do was figure out how a 170-pound middle-aged man who was not in the best shape of his life was gonna get out of here hauling this fucking behemoth who was way too goddamn close to three times his weight. This, Hari thought concisely, is gonna suck."
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"value": "He grasped Tan'elKoth's ankles and started dragging him toward the door, but as soon as he stood the smoke blinded and choked him; he had to sit down and push himself across the floor crabwise, and his soft boots could get little purchase-slow going, at best.\n\nThat high, singing whine began to overpower the rolling thunder in his ears, and he recognized it now: muffled by his stunned eardrums, he was hearing the blare of the Curioseum's alarm-but it wasn't the rising wail of the fire alarm.\n\nIt was the tooth-grinding screech of the intruder alarm.\n\n\"Motherfucker!\" Hari threw himself backward into a shoulder-roll that brought him up in a low crouch facing the door-\n\nJustin time to seethe security gate ratchet down the last few inches and lock in place.\n\nThe intruder alarm kept on screeching, and no fire alarm sounded at all-which meant he couldn't expect any help from the Curioseum's fire-suppression system. Or from San Francisco Fire and Rescue. The security gate was a flex-linked grid of half-inch hardened steel bars: no getting past that without a cutting torch or a hydraulic jack, and the second-floor windows would be gated by now as well. \"Okay, I was wrong,\" he muttered, hacking on the smoke and wiping at tears that streamed from his stinging eyes. \"This already sucks.\"\n\nThough the rings of flame grew wider, growing toward intersection, the smoke didn't seem to be thickening at all-in fact, now that he'd noticed, he could see that the smoke was being drawn upward along the broad sweep of stairs, as though the light traps in the middle of the second floor and the third formed an accidental chimney."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yeah-there'd be ventilators up there, to clear the area of solvent fumes and marble dust. They would be useless for escaping: the Curioseum's outside vents were less than afoot in diameter and heavily baffled-something to do with maintaining the ON field-\n\nThe skylight, Hari thought. No need fora security gate: the armorglass skylight was fused with the stone of the roof. It'd take tools to cut it open-but the third floor was Tan'elKoth's sculpture studio. Full of tools.\n\nIt was also two goddamn tall floors straight up through a column of toxic smoke, and Hari's sonofabitching legs only half worked.\n\nAnew swirl of that smoke choked him, and when he coughed he tasted blood. Tan'elKoth had said something about a self-contained breathing apparatus; that was all he needed to makeup his mind.\n\nHe grabbed Tan'elKoth's ankles again, took a deep breath and a glance to orient himself, then squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath as he stood up and leaned against Tan'elKoth's weight, dragging the huge man toward the stairs. Heat knocked the strength out of him like a blow from a club. He could barely pull the ex-Emperor along the floor; how in the name of Christ was he supposed to haul this 400-pound gorilla up three fucking floors?\n\nHari left him half on the stairs, head at the bottom to keep him below the worst of the smoke, and sprinted upward empty-handed.\n\nThe smoke scalded his eyeballs, blinding him with tears before he'd made it halfway to the second floor. He sagged against the railing-gagging, spitting blood-but shook himself and kept on, driving his failing legs up the steps, hauling himself handover hand along the rail. When he reached the second floor, he fell outward into the clearer air of Tan'elKoth's bedchamber and lay there, gasping, just long enough to catch a breath that didn't make him convulse, then pulled himself back to his feet."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "He shut his eyes again and pounded up the last flight of stairs, holding his breath."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He staggered into the sculpture studio; hypoxia made his head swim and turned his knees to jelly, but right next to the wheeled hydraulic scaffolding that surrounded a sculpture in progress, he found Tan'elKoth's respirator mask and slapped it over his face.\n\nHe spent a grateful ten seconds just breathing; air came hard and slow through the regulator, but it was clean enough to taste like wine. The faceplate cleared, and now he could see, as well.\n\nA quick glance around the smoke-filled studio gave him half a solution: a crane was mounted on a pivot so that it would swing out over the light trap, bearing a pulley and cable attached to a hand-winch, for lifting Tan'elKoth's raw materials-steel, bronze, and enormous blocks of marble-up to here from the ground floor.\n\nIt was half a solution because there was only one respirator. Hauling Tan'elKoth slowly up through the ascending column of smoke would suffocate him; if Hari left the respirator on Tan'elKoth, he didn't think he could make it up the stairs a second time to crank the damn winch-and the growing heat that blasted up through the light traps might roast Tan'elKoth anyway. What I really need is speed, Hari told himself. Speed is what I really need.\n\nThat thought rang in his head like a mantra by Dr. Seuss, and then he had it. The enormous half-finished marble statue within the hydraulic scaffolding...\n\nThe idea came to him whole, perfectly formed, audacious enough to make him laugh out loud: because the marble statue stood on a low, square dolly with swivel-mounted wheels.\n\nHe swung the crane arm out over the light trap and knocked loose the winch's ratchet gear so that the cable twisted downward. He let the cable spool out-he couldn't seethe first floor through the smoke, and he didn't want to get down there and find out he hadn't left himself enough slack. Tan'elKoth-Mr. Efficient-had marked the cable with a big piece of colored duct tape; when that reached the pulley, Hari figured he'd let out enough."
},
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"value": "Tan'elKoth's pneumatic chisel, pressure tank fully charged, rested on one of the scaffolds; Hari ripped the vacuum hose off the chisel and pulled the scaffold over to the winch."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A couple of chisel strokes neatly parted the cable strands a few meters back around the spool. Hari hauled the free end over to the statue; then he looped the cable under the marble arms and tied it off to itself with a simple loop knot. He skirted the statue once around, unlocking each of the dolly's wheels, and everything was ready to go. He stood back for one moment to look it over and reassure himself that this was gonna work-and found himself staring, mouth hanging open within the respirator mask.\n\nThe figure that struggled free from the block of marble was that of a middle-aged, rather ordinary, conservative-looking man. Something in the texture of the sculpted hair suggested a scatter of grey, and jowls were beginning to soften his jawline. But what held Hari was the look on its face: the sad knowledge within its eyes, a sort of settled melancholy that wasn't even potent enough to be dignified as despair. The statue looked like a man who knows too well he has lost the promise and possibility of youth, who has found nothing with which to replace them-and who doesn't seem to mind all that much. It was the image of a man who'd settled into a comfortable failure.\n\nHoly crap, Hari thought. It's me.\n\nThe block of marble was labeled in black wax pencil on the side, in Tan'elKoth's bowl scrawl: David the King.\n\nI don't get it.\n\nWas he wrong? Was it an accidental resemblance?\n\nNo-on the scaffolding that surrounded it were dozens of black-and-white printouts of digigraphs, everything from Caine's first publicity headshots to stills from Studio security cameras showing Hari from every conceivable angle and in every possible posture. What the fuck is going on here?"
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"value": "And with that mental question, another tendril of smoke drifted before his eyes and reminded him of the immediate answer. He'd worry about Tan'elKoth's goddamn art after he'd saved the bastard's life.\n\nHe sprinted to the stairwell and threw himself into it, sliding down the railing with exhilirating speed. He hit the second floor and sprang to the next flight-the flames below crept closer and closer to Tan'elKoth's side as he stirred now, dazedly-and Hari swung himself onto the rail again and skidded down to stop beside him. Tan'elKoth couldn't even look at him; he was too busy coughing blood and trying to wipe smoke from his eyes.\n\nThe cable hung down the middle of the light traps; a few meters of it were coiled within one of the spreading rings of flame-some of it had melted from contact with the white-hot floor near the rim. Hari sprang high over the spitting flame, hooked the cable with his elbow and sprang back again, letting the cable slide through the crook of his arm so he wouldn't take up any slack.\n\nEven that brief instant in contact with the heated stone was too much for his boots: they burst into flame. He kicked them off, but they had already ignited the dust that impregnated the fabric of his pants; an instant later his shirt had caught as well. He swore and held the cable with his teeth while he wildly ripped away his burning clothes; they shredded in his hands and he threw them aside, but not before they'd seared his skin. Smoke rose from his flesh like overdone barbecue. That's okay, he told himself. So long as I get out of here before I go into shock.\n\nNaked now, he brought the cable's hot end to Tan'elKoth. The ex-Emperor was trying to sit up, mumbling something about all this being wrong, that this wasn't what was supposed to happen. \"If we start worrying about what's supposed to happen,\" Hari shouted through the mask above the fire's roar, \"we're both gonna die inhere? Hold still!\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your clothes...\" Tan'elKoth said blankly. \"You're naked.\"\n\n\"Now I know why everybody says you're a genius,\" Hari told him. \"Don't move.\" Working swiftly, he looped the cable under Tan'elKoth's armpits.\n\n\"What...? What are you doing? This fire-what? This hurts...\"\n\nHari grinned as he tightened the knot. \"Yeah.\"\n\nThe ex-Emperor coughed, spraying blood; tears streamed down his face. \"What are you doing?\"\n\n\"Saving your life. You ever hear of a guy who called himself Batman?\"\n\n\"Batman?\" Tan'elKoth frowned dazedly, as though he couldn't quite make his eyes focus. \"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"You will,\" Hari said, and leaped into the air. Past the top of his leap, already coming down, he doubled his legs up under him and grabbed onto the cable.\n\nHigh, high above, through the pulley on the crane, the cable pulled David the King rolling on its dolly toward the light trap.\n\nIt reached the railing at the rim, and tipped. For one awful moment, Hari feared he'd mis-estimated the statue's center of gravity-but then it tipped farther, and farther, leaning over like a toppling drunk. For half a second it hung there, balanced on the rail... then it slid out into space.\n\nHari said: \"Going up!\"\n\nThe statue came down like a boulder off a cliff.\n\nHari and Tan'elKoth shot upward.\n\nThe statue swung wide, jerking and bouncing, raking across the light trap and threatening to tangle the cable upon itself. Hari swore as he watched the statue hurtle down at his head like a giant's flyswatter. Okay, so I didn't really think this through-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He swung his legs high, like a pole vaulter, and met the rim of the descending statue's dolly with the soles of his feet, kicking himself and Tan'elKoth wide-and it gave him a twinge, it really did, seeing his middle-aged self in marble sail into the depths of the column of smoke below.\n\nThen they were past, yanked up onto the studio-Hari let goof the cable to catch the crane arm-and the statue slammed into the ground floor far below and shattered. One arm hooked over the crane, Hari grabbed frantically for the cable, expecting Tan'elKoth to drop like a stone, gritting his teeth against the anticipated pain of having the cable slice to the bone of his hand as Tan'elKoth's weight pulled it through-\n\nBut Hari's kickoff the statue had set the two of them swinging like a pendulum; as the statue pulled the moment-arm of their pendulum short, the angle of their swing increased-like a yo-yo going Over the Falls-and swung Tan'elKoth just barely wide enough that he could latch onto the rail of the light trap with one massive hand. He slammed hard into the cutaway floor, but managed to hang on while Hari scrambled down off the crane and got thereto help him over the rail.\n\nCoughing convulsively, tears streaming down his face, smoke still spitting from the embers that crawled through his hair, Tan'elKoth roared furiously, \"You are... incapable... of doing anything... the easy way!\"\n\n\"Shut up and haul in that fucking cable!\" Hari shouted back. \"We're not out of here yet!\"\n\nHe rolled the hydraulic scaffold-the one that held the pneumatic chisel-over so that it spanned one corner of the light trap, then locked its wheels and cranked it up to its full extension, which took it nearly to the ceiling. He swarmed up the side ladder, picked up the chisel, and jammed its cutting edge against the armorglass on one side of the arched skylight. When he squeezed the trigger handle, the chisel roared to lifelike a jackhammer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Working as fast as he could, he scored a manhole-sized circle in the armorglass-the pressure in the chisel's tank was dropping rapidly. Tan'elKoth coughed his way up beside him, carrying the cable coiled in his fist, as the chisel slowed. Its strokes weakened and finally stopped.\n\nHari put his shoulder against the scored circle of armorglass and shoved, but he might as well have been pushing a mountain. Tan'elKoth caught his elbow and pulled him aside; then the big man lifted the chisel's pressure tank like a Social Police battering ram and slammed its curved end against the scoring. A tracery of cracks bloomed from the point of impact like lightning crawling the face of a thunderhead.\n\nTan'elKoth slammed it again, a quarter of the way around the circle, and again, and again. His face had gone from bright red to purple, and he hit the circle one more time, in the middle, and the disk of armorglass popped out like the lid of a vacuum pack.\n\nHari made Tan'elKoth go out first, and Tan'elKoth turned back to help him through the hole so he didn't cut himself on its razor-sharp edges.\n\nOnce out in the cool darkness of the roof, Hari stripped off the respirator mask and crouched next to Tan'elKoth, who lay on the roof, still coughing, wiping his eyes. Smoke boiled out the skylight behind him, along column twisting up toward the gibbous moon.\n\nHari's hands were shaking, and the inside of the respirator mask was spattered with blood. \"Goddamn,\" he said softly, to himself. \"Goddamn if I didn't pull it off.\"\n\nHE LAY DOWN on the roof beside Tan'elKoth and let the heat of his burns drain into the night-cool stone. The pain was only beginning, and he knew it would be bad. Still, though, for this one moment, he was content to lie hereunder the stars and luxuriate in the sensation of being alive."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Why?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tan'elKoth said; his voice was thick, as though he held back a sob. \"Why? I am your enemy. Why did you do this?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" Hari answered. \"I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time.\" He rolled his face toward Tan'elKoth, smiling with his bloody lips. \"Maybe I just wanted to hear you say thanks.\"\n\nTan'elKoth turned away. \"My David,\" he murmured. \"Oh, my David-\"\n\n\"What, is this about the fucking statue?\" Hari made himself sit up. \"Your life or the statue,\" he said. \"Which would you rather save?\"\n\nTan'elKoth buried his face in his hands. \"This is a choice no artist should ever have to make.\"\n\n\"You didn't,\" Hari reminded him. \"Nobody asked you.\"\n\n\"No more did I ask for your help,\" Tan'elKoth said bitterly. \"No more shall I give you my thanks.\"\n\nAnd while Hari sat there, staring at the ex-Emperor, he realized he wasn't interested ingratitude.\n\nOld, tired, whipped by life, one leg tied behind his back-\n\nI've still got it.\n\nHe showed his teeth to the moon.\n\nI've still fucking got it.\n\nThat feeling was worth everyone of his burns.\n\n\"Come on, get moving,\" he said abruptly. \"Tie the damn cable to something up here so we can get off this roof.\"\n\nWhile Tan'elKoth slid a loop over one merlon of the Curioseum's crenellated roof and walked himself backward down the wall, handover hand along the cable, Hari Michaelson triaged the casualties of his life."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Duncan was beyond help; the bulldog jaws of the Social Police had locked upon him, and his life bled out through their teeth. Faith would keep; bad as her situation was, alone and probably frightened among strangers, she was in no immediate danger. Shanks wasn't the type to torture and kill a helpless child just for fun; she only tortured and killed helpless children when she had something to gain from it. Tan'elKoth didn't need anymore help; warned now, aware of the danger he faced, he could go to his Leisure friends for protection.\n\nAnd Hari himself-\n\nTo save himself would cost more than his life was worth.\n\nTan'elKoth called up to him from the sidewalk below. \"I'm down!\"\n\nInstead of answering, Hari walked past the smoking skylight to another one a few yards away; he leaned on it, pressing his palms against the armorglass, and looked down past the actinic blaze from the Pallas Ril figure, down to where the wax Caine leaped upon the blade of the wax Berne. He'd relived that instant so many times in the past seven years that he no longer knew if he remembered it for itself, or if he only remembered remembering; he'd never quite had the courage to play the secondhander cube, to check his recollection.\n\nHe did know this, though, beyond a dream of doubt: on that day, on that sand, knowing he was about to die, he had been as close to happy as he'd ever come.\n\nAll right, he thought, staring down at the wax Caine. All right. I understand now.\n\nCaine had died, on the arena sand that hot autumn noon. For seven long years, Hari had been no more than Caine's rotting corpse."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fuck it. If dying were anything special, they wouldn't let everybody do it.\n\nTan'elKoth called from below. \"I'm down! Are you coming?\"\n\nHari went to the edge of the Curioseum's roof. Out across the carhive between the Curioseum and the Studio, security vans roared toward them, and high against the stars wailed approaching fire and emergency rescue vehicles. He looked down at Tan'elKoth. \"You haven't seen me,\" he said as he pulled the cable up, coiling it around his arm. \"I was never here. You got out on your own. You hear me?\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"No time to explain. I gotta go save the world.\"\n\nHe pulled the last of the cable up and slipped the loop off the merlon. From below, Tan'elKoth said, \"Caine?\"\n\nHe almost answered with his reflexive Call me Hari, goddammit, but he changed his mind. He stood absolutely still for one long second, savoring the feeling.\n\nThen he leaned out over the battlement. \"Yeah?\" he said. \"What?\"\n\n\"It's my world, too, Caine,\" Tan'elKoth said. \"Good luck.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\" Looking down, he touched his brow in a sketch of a salute. \"Same to you,\" he said, then turned and ran like hell, streaking across the roof, heading for the skywalk that connected to the Studio.\n\nTHE RESCsUE SQUAD paramedic piled out of the emergency services vehicle before the turbines had even spun down; he staggered through the backblast to reach the side of Tan'elKoth. \"Are you hurt, sir?\" he shouted over the declining roar of the turbines. \"Do you need medical attention?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, I do,\" Tan'elKoth said grimly. \"But more than that, I need your palmpad.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nTan'elKoth seized the paramedic's shoulder in one titanic hand, his grip so sudden and powerful that it short-circuited the startled man's will; he didn't even try to move while the ex-Emperor yanked the palmpad from his belt holster. Tan'elKoth shoved the man stumbling backward and gave him a volcanic glare that told him to keep his distance. \"Initiate telecommunications,\" he spat into the device's microphone. \"Studio two five X-ray zulu four. Execute.\"\n\nA moment later, the tiny screen shimmered with a view of Kollberg's wasted, leering face. \"Well?\"\n\n\"Not at all well,\" Tan'elKoth growled. \"To what manner of fool did you assign this task? I was nearly killed, as was he-mortal danger to us both was never part of the plan.\"\n\n\"Mortal danger makes it convincing,\" Kollberg said. \"Don't presume to lecture me on the mechanics of entertainment.\"\n\n\"This is not entertainment-\"\n\n\"Of course it is.\"\n\n\"Your incompetence nearly destroyed the entire-\"\n\n\"Did it work?\" Kollberg interrupted hungrily.\n\n\"Are you listening tome?\"\n\n\"Only cowards and weaklings whine about what almost happened,\" Kollberg said. \"Is he coming?\"\n\nRising fury swelled the flesh around Tan'elKoth's eyes; he had made similar pronouncements himself in the past, and he discovered that he disliked them profoundly from this side.\n\n\"Yes,\" he said slowly. \"Caine is on his way.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "INSIDE THE STUDIO, Hari discovered that his priority override codes still operated the palmlocks. He slipped into the deserted infirmary and treated his burns to a liberal dosing of anesthetic salve and himself to a couple of potent analgesic caps; after a moment's thought, he picked up the whole bottle, two extra squeeze tubes of the burn ointment, and a bottle of broad-spectrum antibiotics.\n\nThey think they have me, he thought. They think I'm trapped.\n\nHe piled his loot onto the seat of a wheelchair and pushed it out into the hall, jogging along briskly toward the elevator. Inside the elevator, he swiftly tucked the stuff into the magazine pockets alongside the wheelchair's arms, because he was gonna need to sit in this thing in a minute or two.\n\nHis next stop was the Studio ON vault.\n\nThe vault's armored door swung open with a barely audible whirr of actuators. Hari sat down before he rolled inside. The twitching and jerking of his legs as the boundary effect shutdown his bypass didn't matter a damn; he had more important things on his mind.\n\nHe picked out a sturdy leather tunic and pants, a pair of boots that didn't fit him too well-which, after all, wasn't really important; you don't get blisters when you can't walk. He found a knapsack full of jerky, hard biscuits, and dried fruit belonging to a swordsman called Masric, and took his canteen as well. Abroad belt with a couple of large sheath-knives strapped to it turned out to have five gold royals in the concealed coin pouch sewn inside it. A quick rifling of the rest of the costumes produced three more royals, seventeen silver nobles, and a double handful of copper peasants."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I'm rich, he thought.\n\nHe held all this in his hands a moment, grimly reflecting how Caine had once taken pride in the fact that though he might be a killer, he'd never been a thief. Things change, I guess.\n\nHe rolled back out of the vault, closed it behind him, then went to the greenroom lavatory to reboot. It was a little bit complicated, with Rover still in L. A.-he had to access Rover's controls over the net through his palmpad, and route the return commands through the appropriate subdirectory-but it only took him about three minutes, all told, before he could walkout of the bathroom and dress in his stolen clothes. He filled the canteen and put it in the knapsack along with the medicines, and all the coins that wouldn't fit in the belt's concealed pouch.\n\nWhen he went to pull on the boots, he was slowed fora moment by the sight of the Mantrak bracelet around his ankle. Designed for durability, the Mantrak had come through the fire with only a little surface blackening. Its diode winked at him like an eye, reminding him of everything he had posted for his bail.\n\nEverything he was about to throwaway.\n\nWink: there goes the job you paid for with your legs and yourself-respect, Chairman Michaelson. Wink: there goes the caste you clawed your way up to, Administrator Michaelson. Wink: there goes every goddamn mark Caine's blood and pain and sweat and courage and rage and joy and victory and defeat ever gave you. Wink: there goes the Abbey, built from your dreams, the perfect symbol of everything you have achieved in your life, the only home your daughter has ever known.\n\nHari thought it over, just fora second; then he shrugged."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "None of that shit ever made me happy, anyway.\n\nHe pulled the knives from their sheaths. He examined the gleam that ran like water along their edges-fresh and keen, no nicks-and spun them through his fingers, leather-wrapped hilts cool and soft against his skin. He checked their balance, decided they were throwable, if less than ideal; he swung his arms back and forth, loosening his shoulders, then turned the motion into a liquid kali flurry that transformed the blades into arcs of barely visible silvery flickers. He resheathed the knives, warm now from the heat of his palms, and rested his hands upon their pommels for just a moment, allowing himself half a smile. Like a chance meeting with an old friend, it was bittersweet: memories of better days.\n\nHe saw in his mind Tan'elKoth's statue David the King. He saw again that middle-aged jowliness, the bags of defeat below the tired eyes, the aura of comfortable failure. You, he said to the image in his mind-the image of Administrator Hari Michaelson, Chairman of the San Francisco Studio-can fuck off.\n\nHe walked out of the greenroom, strong and sure, but they were waiting for him in the corridor.\n\nBY THE TIME the first shock baton swung at his ribs, Hari was already beaten. He never had a chance, but that didn't stop him. It didn't even slow him down.\n\nThe baton sparked, whistling toward him just as he cleared the greenroom door. The instincts of a lifetime moved him faster than thought: his hand slashed down, striking the gauntleted wrist, bending its arc below his ribs to miss his thigh and trigger harmlessly against the doorjamb. His hand stayed with the wrist as though it was glued there, turning it over so that he could lever his other forearm against the elbow in an arm bar. He yanked back on the wrist as he shoved with the forearm, and the elbow snapped with a splintery crunch-muffled by the blue body armor even as the grunt of shock and pain was muffled by the mirror-masked helmet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That's when Hari figured out he'd just broken the arm of a Social Police officer-and there were five more of them bracketing him in the corridor. Assaulting an officer of the Social Police is a capital crime.\n\nIf I wasn't already fucked, he thought, I'd be pretty upset about this.\n\nHe lunged back for the greenroom door, where they could only come at him one at a time, but the soapy whose arm he'd broken sagged against him, clawing with his good arm and letting the rest of his body go limp so that Hari had to shove him off. In that half second when his hands were busy a shock baton triggered against his lumbar vertebrae.\n\nRight over his bypass.\n\nHis legs went dead, and he dropped like a sack offish, flopping and twitching uncontrollably. Only his left arm still worked a little; he snarled a wordless wolverine growl and dragged one of the knives from his belt, but the officer that stood over him slapped it away with another stroke from a shock baton. Enough charge was conducted through the blade to make his arm flail wildly and send the knife skittering down the corridor.\n\n\"Hit him again.\" This was a human voice, not the digitized soapy drone. The sound of it scorched Hari's throat with vomit; the voice hurt him, burned him like acid poured into his ear.\n\nHe had spent too many years listening to it tell him what to do.\n\nThe soapy gave him another shot with the baton, and Hari bucked and thrashed like a depressive taking ECT. Darkness closed in around his vision, narrowing the lights of the corridor to a shrinking pool of fluorescent white. A wasted scarecrow caricature of Arturo Kollberg stepped into the pool."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hari moaned. Kollberg licked his lips like a bum at a Dumpster. \"Give him another.\"\n\nHari could no longer feel the shock of the baton; he was barely even aware of his own convulsions. As the light of the world slipped away from his eyes, Arturo Kollberg bent low and kissed him on the mouth.\n\n\"You know what?\" Kollberg said, making a face. \"You don't taste good. I'm not even getting hard.\"\n\nMUCH OF THE Curioseum's menagerie was devoted to species that once had roamed the land and sky and seas of Earth. Shuffled among the wyverns and draconymphs, the griffins and the unicorns were creatures now nearly as exotic, nearly as much the stuff of legend: otters and seals, frogs and salamanders, wolves and foxes and hawks, cougars and lions, elephants, an eagle, even two small inbred whales and a pod of dolphins. The menagerie occupied the central rotunda within the Curioseum's arboretum, beneath an immense dome of armorglass that allowed a pale filtering of moonlight to trickle wanly over the cages. But that greasy light was the limit of the menagerie's contact with the environment of Earth; even those creatures capable of surviving without the trace Flow available within the Overworld-normal field would not have found healthful what passed for air outside.\n\nAscent hung in the recirculated, chemically scrubbed atmosphere, even through the acidic back-of-the-throat sizzle remaining from last night's fire: a trace of musk and dung and urine that interlaced the perfumes of chokeweed and marsh poppy and complemented the constant chuckle of living voices, from the chirps of otters and belches of frogs to the whistle of the songtrees and the hissing snarl of a wyvern in rut."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To Tan'elKoth, it smelled almost like home.\n\nHe stood in the center of it all, his mighty arms spread wide, his Shell agape like the mouth of a hungry chick, drinking every flutter of wings and rustle of leaves and splash of fins or tail, for in this place was the greatest concentration of the life of his world-and the life of his world breathed out Flow. He was battered and burned, bruised and bandaged; though he had cutaway his long chocolate curls that had been scorched to black crinkles, the smell of smoke clung to him. His mighty chest was wrapped tightly to keep his sprung ribs in place, and his fashionable, freshly dry-cleaned clothes bulged oddly here and therewith the bulk of burn dressings beneath. An ordinary man would have required potent narcotics to dull the pain of his burns; Tan'elKoth did not. All he needed to salve his wounds, he could draw from the Flow.\n\nThough the Flow here was but a trickle, he was Tan'elKoth. For Tan'elKoth, a trickle would suffice.\n\nAt his feet knelt Gregor Hale Prohovtsi, twenty years old, the finest student ever to participate in Tan'elKoth's Applied Magick seminar, a slim intense youth with long dark hair and penetrating hazel eyes. His Shell shimmered bright with the saturated spring green of transcendent concentration, and it grew larger, brighter, and more vivid as Tan'elKoth fed it power. Gregor knelt with his head lowered, his hands folded before him on the inverted hilt of abroad-bladed bastard sword, its tip grounded into the marble tile of the rotunda, staring at the cruciform guard like a Knight Templar at prayer.\n\nThis blade was Kosall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Beside Gregor's knees was a small paintpot of liquid silver-it looked black, in suspension. A small brush of ash and sable lay across the paintpot's open mouth, the end still dark with paint. The liquid silver had been used to paint the gleaming runes that spidered down both flats of the blade, not quite connecting at the tip.\n\nTan'elKoth stroked an image into shape with the pale fingers of his mind: the last five runes, interlinked and joining the patterns on the two faces of the blade. He affixed this image to his student's Shell and added power to burn it in; Prohovtsi would be able to see this image overlaying the blade as long as he remained in mindview. Slowly, carefully, minding his breathing, Prohovtsi lifted the brush, dipped it into the liquid silver, and began to trace the mental image onto the steel.\n\n\"Well done, Gregor,\" Tan'elKoth murmured, watching. \"Well done, indeed. If anything, your hand is more sure even than my own.\"\n\nWithout the Flow of home to energize them, these runes were as silent as was Kosall itself. On Overworld, they would spring to eldritch life when the touch of flesh linked their patterns through the conductive salts of living tissue; with one cut of the irresistible blade, the runes would inescapably trap the consciousness that flees as the body dies-a quite simple variant of the spell that Ma'elKoth had used to capture Lamorak, and so many others.\n\nEven as magick had been scribed in patterns along the blade, so, too, had magick been scribed in Prohovtsi's mind; at the touch of the proper trigger, Prohovtsi would speak the proper words-in a language he does not understand-and his body would perform the proper gestures. Hours had passed in intensive mindwork under the yellow glare of the caged wyvern, as Tan'elKoth had meticulously, painstakingly layered and sequentialized each syllable, each turn of the palm and cant of the head; it was, not to put too fine a point on it, a masterwork. Tan'elKoth was certain that no other man alive could have equaled this feat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This was an exquisitely satisfying process; infinitely more so than creating sculpture over which the ignorant wealthy might coo could ever be.\n\nHe had made of Prohovtsi a puppet-no, more precisely, a waldo: an engine through which his will would work, even at a distance. Submerging his student's will beneath his own had required only the slightest effort; through the months of the Applied Magick seminar, Prohovtsi had been ineluctably conditioned to accept Tan'elKoth's orders without question. By now, he could not even dream of resistance. Almost as though I have planned for this all along, Tan'elKoth thought. Curious.\n\nThis was the fulfillment of his bargain with Kollberg and the Board of Governors: he would gift them with the destruction of Caine and the death of Pallas Ril. Occasionally, he allowed himself the luxury of hoping that the Board would keep their own end of the bargain, but he did not rely upon it. Their perfidy had peeked around the corner of their proclamations last night. Perhaps they would not murder him outright-rather like Caine, ironically enough, he had many admirers among the Leisurefolk, and some few in the Leisure Congress itself-but the Board obviously did not place a high value on his life, or their word.\n\nThis distressed him not one whit. He had seen this fork in the fractal branches of the world-tree that he tended with his will, and he had prepared already the graft that would bear the fruit of his desire.\n\nWhile Prohovtsi brushed the runes onto Kosall, Tan'elKoth turned and walked briskly away. Consumed by the challenging-for him-task of maintaining mindview while painting, Prohovtsi would never notice his teacher's absence. The ubiquitous Social Police, attached to him like limpets since the fire, had been temporarily banished; Tan'elKoth had been able to claim, entirely truthfully, that their mass of electronic gear and armor and weaponry would interfere with the delicate traceries of Flow in the menagerie. Kollberg had ordered them to stay away from him until the spellcasting-spell programming-was complete."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So now, if only for the nonce, Tan'elKoth was free.\n\nHe slipped through the arboretum to its twinned field-lock doors of armorglass, then out into the vacant echoic space of the Curioseum's atrium, beyond the ON field. Carbon-fiber bomb shutters were in place across the public accessways, englooming the atrium with artificial twilight; the entire Curioseum was closed during the make-believe'internal arson investigation\" of last night's fire. Tan'elKoth paced past the vast empty ring of information and ticket booths to the bank of public screens that filled the wall beside the coat check.\n\nLamorak's memory provided the Shanks private code: thus this call would be billed to SynTech, and any security captures set to monitor Tan'elKoth's communications would continue their peaceful slumber on the net, undisturbed. He smiled when the personal acknowledgment came back. He had no desire to leave a recorded message. This matter was somewhat too delicate to be committed to a datacore.\n\nAvery Shanks herself answered; her predatory gaze cycled from blankly hostile suspicion through recognition to open hatred. She was really very attractive, he decided. Stark, forbidding, all sharp edges and bleak contrast, yet somehow perfect, as though nature had intended her as precisely this: like a mountain on the Moon. \"You,\" she said flatly.\n\n\"Me,\" Tan'elKoth agreed. \"I'm gratified that you know me, Businessman.\"-and thus have no need to speak my name, he thought. The Studio's security captures would certainly register any mention of his name; should the phrase Tan'elKoth bespoken, he would instantly close the conversation with the blandest of trivia, and sign off."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How did you get this code?\"\n\n\"You know how,\" Tan'elKoth reminded her gravely. \"You must have seen some of Kollberg's trial.\"\n\nHer gaze lost its needle focus, and for an instant the hard lines of her face softened toward an actual human expression of grief, but for an instant only. \"Yes, I did.\" Her eyes iced over. \"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Tomorrow morning, within an hour or so of dawn, your granddaughter will suffer a traumatic shock entirely unlike anything you can imagine. It may manifest as schizophrenia, autism, even catatonia-I cannot say precisely. What I can say, however, is that there is no one on Earth who will be able to help her-\" Tan'elKoth tilted his head just slightly, a barely perceptible nod to his presumption. \"-except me.\"\n\n\"How do you know this?\"\n\n\"I am who I am, Businessman.\"\n\n\"What kind of trauma?\"\n\nShanks'glare was so direct and levelly hostile that Tan'elKoth felt an absurd desire to apologize for the implausibility of what he was about to say. He set his teeth and spoke with the full conviction of truth. \"You have had the child for two days. Surely, by now, you are aware of her connection to the river?\"\n\n\"I am aware of the ridiculous, pernicious fantasy with which her parents have poisoned her mind, yes. She is forbidden to speak of it.\"\n\nAs though that will make it go away, Tan'elKoth thought. Typically Business. \"Hardly a fantasy, Businessman,\" he said smoothly. \"Tomorrow morning, her mother will die.\"\n\nThe Businessman's eyes sharpened like a knife, but she said nothing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Faith will experience her mother's death in a fashion so intimate as to defy description."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I cannot predict with any precision what form her reaction will take. I can say only that it will be extreme, certainly irreparable. Possibly fatal. You will want my help.\"\n\nShanks'eyes drifted closed fora moment, as she appeared to think this over, but when they opened again he read nothing but flat rejection. \"Neither I nor my granddaughter have any need of your help,\" Shanks said, crisp as winter's first frost. \"Do not use this code again. It will be canceled within the hour. Do not attempt to make contact with me, her, any member of my clan, or any Shanks affiliate. If you do, I shall file stalking and caste-violation complaints with the Social Police. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"As you will,\" Tan'elKoth said with an expressively liquid shrug. \"You know where I can be reached.\"\n\nThe corners of Shanks'mouth drew down, and her voice went even colder. \"You're not getting this, are you? You will never speak tome or my granddaughter again. You think that I don't know about your... prank... the other night-the call, the picture. But I do. I'm not a damned idiot. The only reason I haven't had you arrested for impersonating a Businessman is that you handed me a stick I could hit Michaelson with. And this is the limit of my gratitude: I have let you use me to take your own revenge. Because it suits me. I enjoyed it. You gave me the chance to hurt him almost as badly as he hurt me, so I let you getaway with it. Don't push your luck.\"\n\n\"Businessman,\" Tan'elKoth began, but the screen was already blank.\n\nHe shrugged at his dark reflection in the midnight grey of the screen. This particular branch of his fractal world-tree was growing precisely in its predicted curve. He had successfully planted the idea; now it would grow, watered by Faith's coming distress and the ferocious mother-tiger instincts that were the very core of Avery Shanks\" being. Lamorak had schooled him well in the art of dealing with his mother; Tan'elKoth had not the slightest doubt of eventual success."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The god within him throbbed with desire. Soon, he promised Ma'elKoth for the thousandth time. Soon you shall live again, and our world shall be saved.\n\nFor Faith could touch the river; through her, he could touch it, too. Once he tapped the river's power, not all the Kollbergs and Governors and Studios in the world could stop him from going home.\n\nHe turned away from the bank of screens, and only the massive exercise of a level of self-restraint not accessible to lesser mortals enabled him to suppress what might otherwise have been the leap and snarl of a startled panther when the screen behind him crackled to life, and Kollberg's voice called his name.\n\nHis heart thudded like punches against his chest. He strangled a suicidal urge to stammer out a hasty explanation for his presence in the atrium. All this passed in the merest blink; he was, after all, Tan'elKoth. \"Yes, Laborer?\" he said with magisterial dignity. \"How may I be of service to the Board?\"\n\n\"How goes the work with the blade?\"\n\n\"It is prepared. Prohovtsi is ready, as well. I will send the blade with him to the docks as soon as I return. All is precisely as I have agreed with the Board.\"\n\n\"I'm not calling for the Board,\" Kollberg said in a friendly enough tone-though there was something undefinably strange in his voice, as though he spoke words memorized phonetically in a language he could not comprehend. \"The Board doesn't need you right now.\"\n\nThe Laborer gazed from the screen without expression. Slowly, he tilted his head to one side, as though abstractly curious about how Tan'elKoth might look from a different angle. Kollberg seemed reduced, refined, somehow less even than he had on their initial meeting two days ago, as though some inexorable erosion continued to scour away what little humanity had survived his downcasting. His unblinking eyes, with their cold unquenchable hunger, reminded Tan'elKoth of a dragon's. And yet, Tan'elKoth thought, I have faced a true dragon with more ease than I feel right now."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"In fact,\" Kollberg said with eerily disconnected cheerfulness, \"I called to offer a service."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We have a transmission coming through that I think you'll find, ah, entertaining.\"\n\nIna single lightning-strike flicker, every screen in the atrium flared, from the public screen banks to the touchscreen infopods to the towering jumbotrons hung like canopies from the ceiling. Every screen showed the same scene-something perhaps from one of those motion picture entertainments of which Caine was so fond-a Western, possibly: the interior of a railcar, low mountains passing outside, beyond a window stained grey-brown with coal smoke.\n\nBut none of the five visible passengers wore guns or broad-brimmed hats or any of the other standard appurtenances Tan'elKoth had come to expect from such fare. In fact-Tan'elKoth realized with a mildly disorienting shock-four of them wore the customary dark robes of Monastic ordinaries, while the fifth wore the gold-stitched scarlet of a full Ambassador.\n\nHe frowned. \"What is this?\"\n\n\"This,\" Kollberg replied, \"is what the Studio is currently receiving from Hari Michaelson's thoughtmitter.\"\n\nAn epithet borrowed from Caine thumped inside Tan'elKoth's skull: Holy freaking crap... It stole his breath; clutching at his chest as though in pain, he murmured, \"Through his eyes-you can show me the death of Pallas Ril through his eyes-\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" Kollberg agreed, and there was an ugly suggestion of mutual lust in his voice, like a dealer in child pornography warming up a potential customer. \"Wouldn't you like to watch?\"\n\nThe prospect stunned him; fora moment, he was closer to speechless than at anytime in his entire life. \"I, ah, Laborer, perhaps-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tan'elKoth told himself that he should be above such things; he told himself that he had done what he had done not for revenge-not to injure the enemies who had destroyed him, not to satisfy any of the myriad such base urges that Ma'elKoth had buried along with the eidolon of Hannto the Scythe-but to save his world.\n\nAnd yet-\n\nKollberg might as well have reached into his chest and taken hold of his heart. The force that tugged him toward the nearest screen was far beyond any concept of resistance. He found himself leaning against the glass, staring hungrily, almost panting.\n\n\"Laborer,\" he said thickly, \"I wouldn't miss it for the world.\"\n\nTHERE IS A cycle of tales that begins long, long ago, when the human gods decreed that all their mortal children shall know sorrow, loss, and defeat in the course of the lives they were given. Lives of pure joy, of perfect sufficiency and constant victory, the gods reserved for themselves.\n\nNow, it came to pass that one particular man had run nearly his entire alloted span, and he had never known defeat. Sorrows he had, losses he had taken, but reversals that other men would call defeats were to him no more than obstacles; even the worst of his routs was, to him, merely a strategic withdrawal. He could be killed, but never conquered. For him, the only defeat was surrender; and he would never surrender.\n\nAnd so it soon followed that the king of the human gods undertook to teach this particular man the meaning of defeat.\n\nThe king of the gods took away this man's career-took away his gift for the art that he loved and that had made him famous-and this particular man did not surrender."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The king of the gods took away this man's possessions-took away his home, his wealth, and the respect of his people-and still this particular man did not surrender.\n\nThe king of the gods took away this man's family, everyone that he loved-and still this particular man did not surrender.\n\nIn the final story of this cycle, the king of the gods takes away this man's self-respect, to teach him the meaning of the helplessness that goes with defeat.\n\nAnd in the end-the common end, for all who contend with gods-this particular man surrenders, and dies."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 13"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Small wonder that fire was humanity's first and most persistent god.\n\nThe chair in which Deliann sat was almost comfortable, despite its rude construction. The wool blanket he held around his shoulders prickled his chilled, damp skin like nettles, but he didn't mind. He felt disconnected-floating, drifting away-and nothing really mattered too much right now. He'd put himself entirely in Tommie's hands; drifting along in someone else's wake was surprisingly calming.\n\nDeliann was pretty sure that the room to which Tommie had led him was somewhere in the Warrens. He guessed he should have been paying closer attention, but walking head down through the bone-chilling rain, he had needed all his concentration to maintain mindview; only by continuously pulling Flow could he dull the pain from his legs.\n\nThe crooked streets of Alientown had given way at some point to the broad blank facades of Industrial Park manufactories and warehouses, and eventually Tommie and he had threaded twisting alleyways between sagging tenements of moldy plaster framed with rotting, warped timbers. Many of these timbers still showed streaks of blackened char; in the Warrens, little ever went entirely to waste. Even a building that burns to the ground will have a few surviving timbers that can still bear weight.\n\nTommie squatted by the fire, rubbing his hands together and grimacing against the heat. Deliann watched him blankly while his own shivering gradually subsided. Soon, Tommie dragged a chair over to the fire, reversed it, and straddled it with his back to the flames. \"Gotta dry my ass,\" he said apologetically. \"Sittin'around in wet pants'll gimme the piles somethin' fierce.\"\n\nHe settled himself in, squirming as though his rear didn't quite fit on the seat, and rested his chin on the chair's back. \"These friends of mine, they're gonna be here before too long. You're gonna tell them your story-heh, I could stand to hear the whole thing, myself. Then we're all gonna talk about what we want to do about it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There's nothing to do about it,\" Deliann said dully."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's beyond anything you or I or anyone but Eyyallarann herself can do.\"\n\n\"Sure it is, you take the whole thing at once. I don't know all about it, but like I was tellin'you, I pay attention, so I got a pretty good idea. Trick to dealin'with the big problems is to chop them down into bite-size pieces. Like, all right, I can't save the city. If you're right, I can't even save myself, huh? I've got it, and I'm gonna die. But maybe I can save my wife and my boy.\"\n\nDeliann looked away. \"I hope so.\"\n\n\"Yeah, thanks. Savin'my family: this is what I want. Talkin\" to you, this is part of what I'm doin\" to get what I want, you follow? If anybody can give me a clue how to save my family, it's you.\"\n\n\"I, ah...\" Deliann coughed harshly, to force the tightness out of his throat. \"I'll do what I canto help you, Tommie.\"\n\n\"I believe you. And that's why I'm tryin' to help you.\"\n\nThe firelight behind him haloed his thinning hair, and a pool of red-rimmed shadow crawled across his face.\n\nDeliann squinted at him, but his eyes were lost in the shadow. \"Help me do what?\"\n\nTommie chuckled. \"Well, that's the question, huh? Listen, somethin\" else I learned from Caine-wanna hear it?\"\n\nDeliann shrugged.\n\n\"It's this,\" Tommie said. \"There's only really two things about a man that matter: what he wants, and what he'll do to get it. Everythin\" else we pretend is important-whether you're tough, or good-lookin\", smart, stupid, honorable, whatever-that's just details.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He became very still, and from within that shifting shadow that pulsed in the middle of his face Deliann could feel Tommie's eyes upon him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He brushed the edges of mindview and found Tommie's Shell to be streaked with spirals of brilliant green: tight-wound vortices like the symbols that the First Folk use to mark the dillin, the gates between the worlds.\n\nTommie's voice was low and tight. \"So. What do you want?\"\n\nDeliann's reply was a blank stare.\n\n\"C'mon,\" Tommie said with an encouraging nod. \"Simple enough question, huh? What do you want?\"\n\n\"I, uh... I guess I don't really understand what you're asking me...\"\n\n\"Sure you do.\"\n\nDeliann shook his head helplessly. \"With everything that's happened-everything I've done to... to Kier... and Alien Games, and the city, to... to you, even though you saved my life-I've, I guess I've... killed everyone...\"\n\n\"Listen, I'm tryin\" to teach you somethin' here. Pay attention, huh? What do you want?\"\n\nDeliann pulled the prickly wool blanket higher around his neck and hung his head. \"What do you want me to say?\"\n\n\"Not that,\" Tommie said, chuckling and shaking his head. \"Sometimes it's you bright guys that have the hardest time followin\" this. All right, look: What I'm askin\" is for you to make a decision. Make a choice. Decide what you want. Shit, you don't even have to tell me, you don't feel like it; just decide. Two hours ago, you were tellin' me you wanted to die. Was that true? Is that what you want?\"\n\nDeliann offered a weak smile. \"I'd settle for it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tommie shook his head again, but this time there was no amusement in the gesture or his voice. \"This ain't about what you'll settle for. It's about what you want.\"\n\nDeliann shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it trickle out again. \"I suppose what I really want is for none of this to have ever happened. I want to wake up and find out it's all been a bad dream.\"\n\n\"Mm, sorry, man,\" Tommie said with true regret. \"You can't unring the bell. The past is what it is; all you can change is what you think of it. The future, though, that's a story that ain't been written yet, y'know? You were talkin' about justice awhile ago, too. How about that?\"\n\n\"You said you don't believe injustice.\"\n\nTommie shrugged. \"Depends. You gotta be a little more specific-gotta get right down to dowels and dovetails, Changeling. Don't say justice, say:\"The guy who stole my purse, I want him locked up, \"or'The guy who raped my sister, I want him dead. \"That I can believe in. You see what I'm sayin\"? You gotta be specific. Listen, didn't you ever want somethin'so bad you didn't care what it took to get it?\"\n\nWith sudden, overpowering, inexpressible pain, Deliann thought: I want to be a primal mage.\n\nStaring into the pool of shadow on Tommie's face, more than a quarter century of Deliann's life was wiped away. Hari Michaelson asked to be remembered to you, the goddess had told him, in the bedchamber where she had brought Kierendal back from the brink of death, and then she had warped reality around her and stepped outside the world..."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What a strange place his life had become.\n\n\"Yes,\" he murmured in answer to Tommie's question. \"Once, along time ago, I wanted something so much I did some very bad things to get it.\"\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\nDeliann lowered his eyes. \"I got it. Sort of. It didn't turnout quite the way I was expecting.\"\n\n\"Nothin'ever does, huh? That's no reason to bitch. Listen, dintcha ever do somethin'where shit just went way wilder than you coulda ever guessed? Y'know, somethin' little that turned out huge?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said, his throat knotted with pain, thinking of a dead primal village in the eastern foothills of the God's Teeth-of stealing in at twilight with his bow in his hand, of a feyal's corpse on the ground with maggots on its tongue. How could he possibly have known where those few short steps from the village edge to its center would lead him?\n\nTommie shook his head, chuckling. \"Nah-I can see that's an ugly story, just from your look. Go the other way. Find a good story.\"\n\nDeliann closed his eyes. \"I don't know any good stories.\"\n\n\"Sure you do, ya lyin'bastard. They just don't look so sweet right now. Think about it.\"\n\n\"No. It's...\" He shook his head helplessly. \"Even the best thing that ever happened tome-my Adoption-even that turned hideous. If I wasn't a Mithondionne prince, I would never have been on that expedition. I would never have gone into the village. I wouldn't have carried this disease down the river-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're a prince?\" Tommie asked, squinting at him sidelong.\n\n\"Sounds unlikely, doesn't it? It's... I don't know. It wasn't something I planned on. I just fell into it, I guess.\"\n\n\"That sounds like a good story. Got at least a laugh or two, huh?\"\n\n\"You think so?\" Deliann looked down at the blanket; without meaning to, he'd twisted its ends into ropes knotted between his fists. Torronell... ah, gods, Rroni, if only you could be here now...\n\nTorronell would have known how to turn this story into something darkly comic. With his dry, ironic wit, he could spin the most bitter thread into pretty cloth; he had a genius for it. Rroni could take the sting out of a knife wound. Deliann had no such gift. The bitter, aching futility of existence-that's what this story was about, really. Try to raise a laugh with that.\n\nBut Tommie's kind eyes never wavered, and after a moment, Deliann cast a sigh into the air between them. \"The finniannàr,\" he said. \"Have you heard that word before?\"\n\nTommie shrugged. \"It's, like, the elvish code of hospitality, right?-er, primal, sorry.\"\n\nDeliann waved this aside. \"It's a complex system of obligation, very formal and so ancient that it's almost a natural law. It spells out-specifically and in detail-what the duties are of a guest to his host, and of the host to his guest, and the guest of someone you have hosted in the past, and the host of someone for the second time without a return invitation, and soon and so forth until it's hard to believe that anyone can actually keep them all straight. I became a prince of House Mithondionne because I thought I understood the finniannàr well enough to get clever with it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He remembered entering the Heartwood Hall, that long low cavern of oak that served as the throne room of the Living Palace; he remembered the glittering infinity of the ranked primal nobility-and the hush as they stared at his ragged, travel-stained clothing, and at the hooded figure of Torronell who trembled by his side, who clutched Deliann's hand with both of his own.\n\nHe'd reached the small open disk of floor called the Flame, ten paces from the Burning Throne; then he'd raised his head and had met the fierce falcon eyes of T'farrell Ravenlock, the Twilight King. At the age of twenty-three, Deliann had spent more than a quarter of his life preparing for this moment.\n\nHe could not possibly have guessed how unready he was.\n\nThe voice of the King had seemed to come from the high-sloping walls of the hall, as though the Living Palace itself asked the questions in the Ravenlock's heart. And he'd had his answers ready: his tale of being a weary traveler, asking only hospitality for the night, but bringing one humble gift that he begs the King to accept-\n\n\"I gave the King a present,\" Deliann said, staring past Tommie into the fire. \"Something, ah, I was afraid he'd refuse, if it was offered in any ordinary way, so... I framed it as a guesting gift, which the finniannàr requires him to accept. His response was... extravagant.\"\n\n\"I'd say so,\" Tommie grunted. \"He adopted you? Over a gift?\"\n\n\"It was a pretty good gift,\" Deliann admitted. \"I gave him back his youngest son.\"\n\nTommie squinted at him silently."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I met him twenty-five, maybe twenty-six years ago, when I was working at Kierendal's old place, the Exotic Love-I kind of had your job in those days, I guess: I was Kier's best thug. No offense.\"\n\nTommie shrugged. \"You don't often see primal royalty in the whorehouses around here.\"\n\n\"It was... ah, a special circumstance. It doesn't bear explaining.\"\n\nThe special circumstance had been that the Youngest of the Twilight King had been a lacrimatis addict, pale and twitching and semipermanently divorced from reality, and he'd fed his habit by working as one of Kierendal's whores. He'd been with her for half a century, and he'd had a substantial following among the whip-and-branding-iron crowd. He had been famous, legendary; he'd had third-generation clients-men of particular tastes brought to him by their fathers, who had in turn been brought by their own fathers. He had been a bottomless abyss of self-loathing covered by a shield of impenetrably dry, occasionally savage wit, and he'd been entirely successful in erasing his past; no one suspected his true identity-no one suspected he'd ever had any identity other than the whore's face he showed the world.\n\nBut he couldn't hide from Deliann's flash.\n\nWith scorching grief, Deliann recalled his slow months-long persuasion, the gradual erosion of Torronell's determination never to make contact with his family again. He remembered-with the kind of piercing clarity that seems reserved for bitter hindsight-Torronell sitting on a tangle of bloodstained satin sheets, the floor around him strewn with brightly studded leather straps and boots and collars and harnesses, twisting a black silk hood between his fists."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I can't go home,\" Torronell had said, his eyes spilling first one tear, then another, and one single tear more. \"I can't ever go home. Don't you understand? This-\" A despairing wave of the hood took in this suite of opulent decadence, the Exotic Love, the whole life that Torronell led. \"-is what I like. This is what I'm good for-all that I am good for. How can I live at Mithondion? How can I meet my father's eye? I'm sick, Deliann. That's why I cannot go home. I can never go home, because I'm sick.\"\n\nAnd Deliann had been so reasonable, Deliann had been so rational, so patient and understanding... so persuasive...\n\n\"Sure, I knew the King had to reciprocate,\" Deliann said to Tommie, in a distant, abstracted tone bleached clean of pain, \"but I was half expecting his return gift would be a swift boot in the ass on my way out the door. From what Torronell had told me, he hadn't been welcome at court for something like three hundred years. The whole idea had been to box the Ravenlock into a corner, so that he'd have to let Rroni come home whether he wanted to or not. What neither of us could have known was that the scandal that had ruined Rroni's life had blown over centuries ago; the Ravenlock had been looking for an excuse to overturn the banishment for decades.\"\n\n\"So,\" Tommie said, \"that's a pretty good story, huh? Happy endin\", anyway.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Deliann said. \"If you end it there. But the problem is, it's a true story.\" He closed his eyes. \"All true stories end in death.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Though Deliann could seethe scene in memory as clearly as if it were a Fantasy of his own creation, he could not hear the voices, the cheers that had arisen from the assembled Court when Torronell had lowered his hood and revealed himself to his father. This memory was as silent as Kierendal's message stick.\n\nThat message stick had shown him the end of the road he had followed for twenty-five years, from those very first days on foot out of Ankhana, holding Torronell as he sweated and shivered and vomited through his lacrimatis withdrawal. It had shown him the end of the months and years of the pain-filled bond with that profoundly unhappy fey; he had had nothing to offer Torronell save his understanding and his friendship, to which Torronell had responded with loyalty so fierce it had become a byword at court. No one had dared breathe any word against Deliann where the faintest hint of it might reach Torronell's ears. Fora quarter of a century they had been inseparable; Deliann and Torronell had become a single word.\n\n\"Here's the real end of the story,\" Deliann said slowly. \"Because I knew Kierendal all those years ago, I came here. I brought my disease to Alien Games. And because I was his best friend, his brother, Torronell caught my disease from me, and he carried it back to Mithondion. The real end of the story is Tup is dead, and Pischu, and the others.\" He stared bleakly into the fire. \"And my whole family.\"\n\n\"Your family?\"\n\n\"Yes. Between the two of us, Rroni and I, we have wiped out the entire royal line of the First Folk.\" He met Tommie's eyes, daring him to answer. \"How happy is that?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tommie gave him a sidelong look."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No shit? The whole House Mithondionne? You sure about that?\"\n\n\"That's what Kierendal thought. That's what the message stick seemed to be telling us,\" Deliann said brokenly. \"I can only pray that I'm wrong.\"\n\n\"Well, spank me purple,\" he said, shaking his head. \"Talk about shit goin' bone wild.\"\n\n\"What? What are you talking about?\"\n\nHe spread his hands. \"Maybe I'm wrong,\" he said. \"I'm no friggin' expert on this Folk shit.\"\n\n\"Expert on what shit?\"\n\nTommie started and stopped and started again; he scratched his thinning hair, frowned, and cleared his throat a couple of times. Finally, he managed, \"Don't this, well, I mean...\" He made a face as if to say, You don't have to tell me how silly this sounds. \"Don't this make you the, like, the king of the elves?\"\n\nDeliann stared.\n\nTommie shrugged at him. \"Hey, like I said, I'm no expert.\"\n\nDeliann's voice came out so stunned and tiny that it could barely be heard above the crackle of the brick-ringed fire.\n\n\"Oh,\" he said. \"Oh, my god.\"\n\nSOMETIME LATER, people began to join them in that small windowless room. A nondescript knock, a grunt of'Whaddaya want?\" from Tommie, a brief reply, and another manor woman would sidle through the half-opened door. Some were large and hard-looking like Tommie; some were smaller, softer, clerkish types; a couple could have been respectable shopkeepers; one might be plump and solemn, the next skinny and full of laughter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They had in common a certain presence: an air of being profoundly engaged in whatever it was they did, whether talking to each other, or staring at him, or simply warming their hands at the fire."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They didn't appear to bethinking about where they would be later tonight, or whatever might have happened this morning, or how their clothes looked, or whether the person to whom they spoke liked them or thought they were witty.\n\nAll they were doing was what they were doing.\n\nThey reminded Deliann of a saying Hari Michaelson had liked to quote sometimes, all those years ago: When you eat, eat. When you sleep, sleep. When you fight, fight.\n\nSlowly, through the dazed whirl of his fever and everything that had happened that day, Deliann pieced together a pattern in the responses to Tommie's growled Whaddaya want? at the door. Each answer had been different, which was why Deliann hadn't noticed the pattern at first. One said, I want to come in; another simply said, A choice. A third had said, A big fire and a comfortable chair; a fourth, A good father for my children.\n\nWhat Deliann gradually came to realize was this: Tommie's grunt was more than a rude greeting. It was a question. The same question he had asked Deliann.\n\nIt was a recognition code.\n\n\"This room,\" Deliann said wonderingly. \"That's why this room has no windows...\"\n\nTommie grinned at him. \"Well, sure. It's not too healthy for us all to be seen together these days.\"\n\n\"You're Cainists...\" Deliann breathed.\n\n\"Like I tolja before,\" Tommie said, chuckling, \"sometimes it's you bright guys that have the hardest time figurin\" shit out.\"\n\nThe laughter this brought from the group was warm as a hug. Another knock came, and Tommie growled, \"Whaddaya want?\" and the reply that came back wasn't an answer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It's Caja, Tommie."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Let me in.\"\n\nThe room fell deadly silent.\n\nTommie sighed. \"Shit, they broke him,\" he said, and the door shattered open and shouting men in grey leather flooded the room, firing crossbows in a stuttering drumroll as they came. Quarrels hit chests and faces and heads from so close that they burst out the far sides in sprays of blood and splinters of bone. The impact slammed men and women into each other, going in screaming tangles to the floor, and Deliann could only stare, his mouth shaping a silent No.\n\n\"Get down get down get down get down!\" screamed the men in grey. \"On the floor hands insight get down!\"\n\nDeliann found his voice, and the voice he found said, \"No.\"\n\nNow more men came through the door, and crossbows swung to cover him. \"On the floor!\"\n\nDeliann rose from his chair, and the fire at his back haloed him with a red-gold gleam. \"There's been too much killing.\"\n\n\"There'll be more if you don't lie down,\" one of them said.\n\n\"I suppose you're right,\" he said sadly, as the fire behind him roared up from its ring of brick and spread phoenix wings that spanned the room: wings that enfolded him, and held him in an embrace of flame.\n\nQuarrels leaped from crossbows, and Deliann did not lie down.\n\nTHE SLOW, STICKY drizzle was just strong enough to keep the birds off Tup's corpse.\n\nIt was an old, tired, swampy kind of rain, warm as spit, dirty and half jellied with the ash and smoke it halfheartedly tried to wash from the sky. It left faint wandering rings of grey like reverse-image sweat stains across the white cotton of Deliann's tunic. The rain sank into the Great Chambaygen with barely a ripple; here at the downstream fringe of Alientown, the river was permanently oiled with industrial sludge and grease and human waste. The Chambaygen's surface looked slick and flexible; it shifted and rolled like a plastic bag full of guts."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Deliann stood on the sand of Commons'Beach, a few steps outside the cordon of PatrolFolk that closed off the ceremony."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Their line blocked the whole width of the beach and sealed the mouths of both Ridlin Street and Piper's Alley-a living barrier of alternating scarlet and black bodies, keeping at bay the mass of curious humanity that peered toward the funerary barge. Here and there along the cordon Deliann could see a face he recognized-but he always glanced away before eye could meet eye, and pulled his broad-brimmed hat a touch lower over his brow.\n\nThe PatrolFolk-alternating human Knights of Cant with unhuman Faces-were armored, and bore staves bound with bright brass rings for crowd control. Each also carried a personal sidearm slung to his or her belt: broadswords, axes, maces, and warhammers were all in evidence, and the gleam in many a coldly suspicious eye was a clear invitation to bloodshed. They looked chilled and wet and miserable, and they were begging each and every unwelcome human gawker to give them any excuse.\n\nBeyond the PatrolFolk, the entire west end of Commons'Beach was scattered with Faces and AG staffers: knots of grieving primals and stonebenders, a few ogres, some humans, ogrilloi, and six or seven sleepy trolls who scowled and rubbed their eyes, uncomfortable with even the dim light leaking through the heavy overcast. The biggest knot clustered around Kierendal's canopied sedan chair.\n\nBeneath the canopy, Kierendal held a handkerchief to her mouth. Her eyes were dry, unblinking, and her face might have been carved from pale grey ice. Each time she moved the handkerchief from her mouth to her forehead to mop the fever-sweat from her brow, she revealed sharp predator's teeth through which she panted shallowly, like a cat in pain. Many of the AG staffers wept openly; Kierendal stared at the clouds with black rage, as though she believed eagles might answer the intensity of her need."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With his dirty cloak-already soaked with the ashy drizzle-thrown about his shoulders, and his rumpled broad-brimmed hat drawn low, Deliann looked less like a large, broad-shouldered primal than a small slim human. To come here today, to share even his limited, disconnected sense of Tup's loss, he'd had to pretend to be exactly what he was.\n\nThis irony made him feel only a little filthier than the sand beneath his feet.\n\nHe had been on the run ever since that night in the Warrens, hiding, moving, trusting no one, huddling in alleys, crawling under collapsed roofs of fire-gutted buildings, never sleeping, foraging for scraps. He was closer to starvation than he had been even in his first days on the planet, but he didn't really care.\n\nFever had stolen his appetite.\n\nThe pocket of infection within his thigh had swelled, and now sent streaks of red up through his hip, reaching for his heart. He drew Flow constantly, holding down the pain, trying to slow the infection's progress, but it was a losing battle; he needed professional healing, but he had no money. Any who once might have healed him for free worked for Kierendal.\n\nHis exhaustion sent his fever flashing and flickering from memory to fantasy and back again; sometimes he could make out a hallucinatory scene, and sometimes all he had were screams and the silhouettes of shapes seen dimly through a curtain of flame.\n\nIf he so much as closed his eyes-\n\n-the fire bursts out from within its ring of brick and the whole room starts to go up like a torch and the Cats fallback as Deliann and Tommie scramble out a window, but there's more of them outside waiting in the street and both ends of the alley and Deliann's flame springs out an instant too late as a crossbow quarrel goes through Tommie's guts, missing the bone and ripping straight through his stomach and out a kidney, and Deliann's answering flame ignites buildings on all sides. \"See?\" Tommie coughs, palm pressed against the spurting hole in his belly, \"guess I don't have to worry about your HRVP after all...\" and Deliann is carrying him, holding him up with one arm around his shoulders, limping along the alleyway, clearing the Cats from around them with blasts of flame, and Tommie's saying, \"Neela... gods, Neela, take the money, go... at least try...\" when another crossbow bolt that should have hit Deliann in the neck takes Tommie in the back of the head. His skull is strong enough to stop the forged steel vanes so it doesn't go all the way through-its barbed head pokes out through his eye socket with his eyeball punctured and dangling on his cheek-and he starts to convulse and Deliann can't hold him anymore and the last thing he says is\"... shit goes bad by itself... Neela...\" and he dies in the mud with the fire roaring all around them-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "-and he swayed and almost fell, thereon the beach, and the sudden motion jerked open his eyes. He swiped his sleeve across his brow, gasping.\n\nThe rain on the beach was solidifying now, turning from a misty spray to a thicker drizzle that splashed on the sand. Deliann pulled his cloak up, and snugged his hat lower on his head.\n\nThe sand of the Commons' Beach half covered a scatter of greasy food wraps, fish heads, and splintered poultry bones with a dusting of damp shit-brown. Deliann had tried to scuff some of the litter away, to find a relatively clean place to stand, but each swipe of his sandals only revealed anew layer of trash.\n\nTup's funerary barge was barely the width of Deliann's outstretched arms, and less than twice that long. Built of plaited reeds, it was already softening and pulling apart like a straw hat left in the rain. She should have been suspended high in an oak, but no trees grow on the bank of the Great Chambaygen at Ankhana; the compromise Kierendal had settled upon was to join the treetopper custom with that of the First Folk, and so the corpse that once had housed the life of Tup lay on this disintegrating raft in the river, a fish-oil lamp sizzling at each of its four corners.\n\nThe mortal remains of the little treetopper were staked in the center of the barge; thin cords-no more than bits of string-tied her ankles to one stake, and her wrists to another above her head. Her tiny mouth gaped darkness, and her eyes stared unblinking up into the rain. Gaping also was the long slice that opened her belly from the yellow-red bone of her sternum all the way to her brush of feathery pubic hair. The lips of this gash were threaded with coarse black stitching; to these stitches were knotted further threads of black that spread fanlike to either side of the corpse; tied to the reeds of the barge, the fans of black thread held the gash-lips wide, fully exposing their mouthful of intestine, liver, and stomach."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Bits of metal, tiny mirrors, and jewels of glass made a carefully arranged starburst around her, salted with bits of raw meat gone already high."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The sparkle and the scent of emergent rot should have drawn crows and vultures, perhaps even an eagle, to feed on the exposed entrails, and so properly begin the body's dissolution into the earth that had borne it, even as the life that had animated it had now dissolved into the Flow-but the tainted rain kept the scavengers away.\n\nDeliann didn't know if Kierendal could survive this.\n\nThe slowly twisting knife of Kierendal's pain turned within his guts; he stared from beyond the cordon, suffering with her. The ache in his chest was like the stroke of a lash over salted cuts: more pain than he could stand, but less than he deserved.\n\nThere was a sort of current in the knots of Folk gathered on the beach; they seemed to cling together, sharing their grief and their memories of Tup, but every once in awhile someone-a primal here, a stonebender there, even the occasional ogrillo or human-would break off from one of the knots and join another; that knot, larger now, would soon spawn offspring of its own, eddies of grief that brought each of them into contact with each other. The contact might be as intimate as a sobbing embrace, or as brief and distant as a nod of the head and a shared grimace of sympathy.\n\nHe ached to join those eddies of grief; if he could touch someone and be touched by them, even for an instant, he would not feel so hideously alone. He tried to summon Tup's living face, tried to hold a memory of her, tried at least to feel some real respect for the loss that her friends and lover had suffered, but he couldn't. Standing in the rain, head bent, hating himself, he could only really think about how much he hurt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And could he be that shallow, after all?\n\nAgain he swayed, dizzy, weakening, and his eyes drifted closed-\n\n-he leans his simmering forehead against the cool strap of iron that binds together the door slats of an apartment in the Industrial Park. \"No,\" he says, \"no, don't open the door. Get your mother. I need to talk to your mother,\" and he sags against the iron, turning his face to bring his cheek against it, using the chill to shore up his crumbling courage. When the woman's voice comes hesitantly through the door, \"Tommie? What's going on? Who are you? Where's Tommie? Has something happened to my husband?\" all he can say is, \"Don't open the door. There's afire,\" he says. \"There's afire, and you have to get out.\" Her voice goes shrill, \"What do you mean, afire? Where's Tommie?\" and finally he has to say it: \"Tommie's dead, Neela. He's dead and you have to go,\" and she says'I don't understand! How can he be dead?\" and all he can say is, \"There's afire,\" and as he says it he makes it so: curls of smoke leak from the slats of the door beneath his palms. \"Go out the back. Take your clothes and all the money and go,\" he tells her, and she shrieks back at him, \"Who are you? What happened to Tommie? Who are you?\" and he says, \"Nobody. I'm nobody at all,\" as he thinks I'm the king of the elves-\n\n-and that thought shocked him awake on the sand, staggering, grasping a nearby shoulder for support. The shoulder belonged to a stranger, another of the onlookers, a woman, and she struck his hand away, then delivered a stinging slap across his face. She paused one more second, to spit a bigot's epithet, then shoved away through the crowd."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Deliann shook his head, rubbing his stinging cheek. His wish had been granted: to touch, and be touched.\n\nHow is it that everything I do comes out backward?\n\nAt this thought, he glanced over his shoulder involuntarily, reflexively-\n\nAnd so was the first of the onlookers at Tup's funeral to seethe massed infantry squares marching toward them, along the beach from Nobles\" Way.\n\nHe could not tell if they were real, or phantoms born of his exhaustion and fever, and did it matter?\n\nHis only answer was flame.\n\nFire was so easy, so fast: a reflexive spurt of power that pulsed down his arms to spray from his fingertips, a kundalini roar from the base of his spine. With a gesture, he could draw down the arrows of the sun.\n\nWith real screams and real blood, the fever dream unfolds-\n\nThe infantry marches along Commons'Beach, and there are archers behind them. The PatrolFolk who had cordoned Tup's funeral unlimber their weapons, and the human onlookers surge against each other in cross-rippling waves, trying all at once both to see what is happening and to get out of its way, and Deliann, crushed among them, thinks It's just like Tommie, but this time I won't run. I can't run. I am their king, and this is my place, and with his gesture a sheet of flame roars from the sand toward the grey-leaking clouds, a towering ragged-fringed bastion of fire from the buildings to the river, but the infantry keeps marching and now arrows begin to fly, catching fire as they pass phffthp through the flame, and when they strike flesh, clothing burns and now the beach sizzles with screaming burning wounded people scattering: sparks from a kicked-over bonfire."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Deliann clears Piper's Alley with a gout of fire two hundred yards long, sending the troops that had filled it scrambling away coughing blood out of scorched lungs, and the panicked Folk upon the beach flow toward the alley mouth like water toward the breach in a river dam. Deliann swings himself back to the east, to turn his fire upon the advancing infantry in truth now, to roast them within their armor and fill the Ankhanan skies with the smoke of burning corpses, and a hand like the claw of an Ilmarinen MachineWorks steam shovel falls upon his shoulder. He looks back and up into protuberant fist-sized yellow eyes shot through with red, and Rugo the ogre slobbers regretfully around his brass-capped tusks: \"Knew I s'oulda kiltya before. Now I'm gonna get in s'it with Kier,\" and the last Deliann sees is a barrel-sized fist scaled with grey-greenhorn descending toward his face like a boulder off a cliff.\n\nTHE MAN WHO had been a god paused upon the mountaintop, victorious. He had gained these heights by wit and will, and from here he could see before him the promised land.\n\nHe could see from where he had come, he could see where he wished to go, but he failed to see where he was; for though he had been a god, he was now a man.\n\nFrom his very first step down the far side of the mountain, he began to learn what it is to be human."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "ELEVEN\n\nTHE STORY TRICKLED onto the nets inexactly the kind of dribs and drabs most likely to keep the cauldron of public prurience at a rolling boil. First the fire at the Curioseum, and the suggestion of sabotage and arson by a shadowy group of eco-terrorists, the Green Knights; then came the Where is Caine? stories, as a source within MicroNet confirmed that Hari Michaelson's Mantrak anklet had vanished from the satellite position grid and the courts had presumptively seized his house and all his assets.\n\nThe investigation of the Green Knights led the CID to one Administrator Kerry Voorhees, the head of Biocontainment for the San Francisco Studio. Professional Voorhees was unavailable for comment-but a few of her associates in Biocontainment were extensively interviewed, and they spoke of certain behavioral changes that seemed to have begun with Voorhees\"\"friendship\" with Shanna Leighton. When CID searched Administrator Voorhees\" Oakland apartment, coded documents relating to the Green Knights were found in her desk's datacore, as was a journal that suggested her relationship with Shanna Leighton went somewhat beyond friendship.\n\nThe real fury began when a reliable source within the Studio leaked clips from the security records of the Curioseum fire, when the public learned how close the world had come to losing Caine forever-and when an enterprising reporter uncovered the enlightening fact that the Studio had bought Michaelson's house and the rights to his Adventures back from the civic treasury.\n\nThe mystery of Michaelson's disappearance now took on massive conspiratorial overtones, with rumors of secret missions and Studio-sponsored death squads. Had the Studio killed him? There was, for the space of twenty-four hours, a rumor that Michaelson had been seen entering a backstreet cosmetic surgery clinic in Kabul; was he truly on the run, or had the Studio sent him undercover to strike back at the eco-terrorists? And what, in all this, was the connection to the HRVP outbreak on Overworld, and the-by now popularly confirmed-homosexual love affair between Pallas Ril and the terrorist Kerry Voorhees?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "After two days, the partially decomposed body of Administrator Voorhees was found floating in the Bay; in the datacore of her palmpad was a full confession. She had dusted supplies waiting for transshipment to the Transdeian mining colony with test samples of several different HRVP strains. This was done, her obviously unbalanced account claimed, to draw public attention to the dangers of Earth exploitation of Overworld resources.\n\nShe had made this recording in the depths of guilt and the agony of having been betrayed, when she realized that her lover, Shanna Leighton-her mentor, her idol-had deceived her. Entertainer Leighton had never intended to halt the outbreak; she instead had sworn to go to Overworld and, as Pallas Ril, carry on the fight against any who would harm the natural world-against any who would till the earth for crops to feed a family, against any who would so much as gather fallen wood fora fire.\n\nKerry Voorhees could not live with having done the unthinkable. And the unthinkable had been done-as Jed Clearlake himself notably observed with the sort of tragi-ironic bon mot of which most net reporters can only dream-for love of Pallas Ril.\n\nIn the furor of the search for Caine, Gayle Keller became an instant celebrity and came off quite well on his many netshow interviews. His somewhat oily facade of unrevealable inside knowledge was nicely balanced by his staunch defense of Chairman Michaelson: loyalty is a primary virtue in an Artisan. He repeatedly insisted that Chairman Michaelson was devoted to his job, to the Studio, and to the world-that he was areal team player. The Chairman had acted hastily, true, in sending Pallas Ril to Overworld without first investigating the source of the outbreak, but you have to remember who he had been, don't you? Caine was a man of action; Chairman Michaelson had seen a chance to end the crisis almost instantly, and at virtually no cost to the Studio. That was responsible Administrating, no matter the unfortunate outcome. He certainly could not have known how unbalanced his wife had become, nor could he have had any idea what she was planning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What man, after all,\" Keller pointed outwith awry shrug, once in each interview, \"ever really knows what a woman is thinking?\"\n\nWhen the mystery of Michaelson's disappearance was finally solved, it fell to Studio President Businessman Westfield Turner to break the tragic news to a shocked and saddened public. At a press conference with the Roman facade of the Leisure Centre in Geneva fora backdrop, Businessman Turner spoke to the world.\n\n\"Late last week, San Francisco Studio Chairman Administrator Hari Michaelson-courageously, and without consideration for his personal safety-consented to join with the Studio and the Overworld Company in a clandestine effort to combat the most terrible threat that the people of Overworld have ever faced: the cowardly, vicious bio-terrorist who infected that pristine and innocent place-killing hundreds, perhaps thousands, and placing millions at risk-the ruthless Pallas Ril.\n\n\"The effort was successful, the danger averted. Pallas Ril and her savage terrorist organization can never again threaten the safety of the innocent millions of Overworld. But this victory has come at a terrible price.\"\n\nBusinessman Turner paused here and could be seen to take a deep, slow breath: clearly moved, and steeling himself for what he must next reveal. \"It is my sad duty to inform you all that Administrator Michaelson-along with Administrator Vinson Garrette, Professionals Gregor Prohovtsi and Nicholas Dvorak-gave his life in this effort.\"\n\nBusinessman Turner went onto touch briefly upon some of Michaelson's accomplishments, his rise from the Temp slum of San Francisco's Mission District to the Chairmanship of the jewel in the Studio's crown, his services to the Studio and to the world as Caine.\n\nOperations were now underway to recover his body, lost in the cliffs below Khryl's Saddle. According to Chairman Michaelson's expressed wishes, his remains would not be returned to Earth, but would be transported to the city he loved best, Ankhana, for burial. The San Francisco Studio-already shutdown fora security review in the wake of the terrorist attack on the Curioseum-would remain shuttered fora month in respect for his memory, and Studios around the world would close for three days of official mourning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The job Hari started isn't over; there is work still to be done, to protect Overworld from the scourge of HRVP. Even as I speak, the Adventures Unlimited Biocontainment Administrator is organizing the largest and most comprehensive antiviral relief effort in the history of mankind. As Studio President, I offer my personal word that the Studio is in this to the very end. The job Hari gave his life to begin, I swear that we will finish.\"\n\nBusinessman Turner slicked his snowy hair back with one palm and took another deep breath to steady his voice; his barely restrained tears picked up the glare of the klieg lights and made his eyes sparkle like tiny daggers. \" In closing, I would like to urge Leisurefolk the world over to support the Studio's petition before the Leisure Congress. In the name of the Studio, I ask that Chairman Administrator Hari Khapur Michaelson be posthumously awarded Earth's highest civilian honor: the Medal of Freedom.\n\n\"And finally, on behalf of all the peoples of Overworld, and all the people of Earth-\n\n\"Good-bye, Caine. Thank you. You will be missed.\"\n\nFinally overcome, Businessman Turner waved aside all questions and left the podium, mopping at his eyes; he was seen weeping openly as he was led away by his aides.\n\nThe newsworks had obviously been prepared for this announcement: they had an array of recorded reactions from a variety of Michaelson's friends and associates. Of them all, perhaps Leisureman Marc Vilo-in his own rough-hewn way-said it best. \"Hari was always the guy you could count onto do what had to be done. Sure, he loved her; everyone remembers his final Adventure. But she crossed the line. Like he always said:\"A man's gotta shoot his own dog.\" When you comedown to it, I guess that's what he did.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "THERE WERE TOO many loose ends, and the Studio's PR line was too convenient, too neat; competing stories ran wild through the net. The Studio fell officially silent, and that silence only fed the flames-if they're not talking, the theory ran, there must be something they're not talking about. It was generally agreed that the'something\" was most likely the full extent of the HRVP outbreak. Within days, hundreds of netsites were filled with speculation; the first hint of hard news came, unsurprisingly, through Adventure Update, when the show broadcast a leaked internal Studio report that HRVP had been identified in the Ankhanan capital. Eventually, the Studio confirmed these reports.\n\nThe Ankhanans, on the other hand, seemed to believe that the spasm of random violence that had overtaken the capital was part of a concerted terror effort by Cainists, in response to recent mass arrests and detentions. Patriarch Toa-Sytell had declared a state of martial law, and the army was currently engaged in rounding up the remaining Cainists and their sympathizers and collaborators-and apparently anyone else that someone had taken a particular dislike to-all in preparation fora barbaric auto-da-fé that was planned for the fast-approaching Festival of the Assumption. It hadn't been difficult to locate a suitably large number of victims; this was not so different from the reign of terror in Ma'elKoth's final days. As many of the commentators gleefully pointed out, Ankhanans had developed a certain taste for witch-hunts.\n\nMore disturbing were reports that came from Actors in the capital, along with some spectacular recordings. Open warfare had erupted in the subhuman ghetto of Alientown, pitting the Ankhanan constabulary and some elements of the imperial infantry against a large paramilitary organization of subhumans, most likely members of the transplanted Warrengang known as the Faces. When the mundane Ankhanan constables found themselves overmatched by the potent magicks of the subhumans, they had responded by summoning the Grey Cats and the capital contingent of the Thaumaturgic Corps."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The battle raged for more than a day through the streets of the ghetto, leaving nearly a sixth of the city in rubble and flames, but it had ended with the Imperial forces firmly in control."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mop-up operations were being directed by the Grey Cats, and commentators on the nets spent several days shaking their heads, tsk-tsking the savagery of the conflict, and arguing whether blame for the massacre lay with the'semicivilized fringe elements and squatters\" or with the'small faction of irresponsible witch-hunters driving public policy.\"\n\nPublic interest in Studio affairs hit a seven-year high; not since For Love of Pallas Ril had a situation on Overworld so captured the public's imagination. The Studio's in-house profit projections were so outrageously positive that representatives of Studio President Turner publicly announced he would be entering binding arbitration on anew contract, expected to nearly double his current salary.\n\nAmid all this furor, it was-perhaps inevitably-Jed Clearlake who scored the journalistic prize of the year: alive interview with the former Emperor of Ankhana himself.\n\n\"It is clear,\" Tan'elKoth said darkly, turning slightly so that the light would properly halo his magnificent profile, \" that the Studio has not told the entire story. Consider: less than seven years ago, Caine destroyed my government-sparking a bloody war of succession-to save the life of Pallas Ril. I do not believe he would act against her, no matter what the provocation.\n\n\"That she was mad, and a threat to every living soul on my world, I do not deny; as you may recall, I fought her hand-to-hand-and mind-to-mind. I knew her better than did even her husband, I believe. But nothing I could say would ever sway him in the least, not when it touched upon Pallas Ril. He claimed once that to save her, he would burn the world.\n\n\"This, I believe, is precisely the truth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He is that wayward, that selfish, that scornful of the needs of society and civilization.\n\n\"And this drivel about his request to be buried in Ankhana? It's ridiculous. Ankhana was not his home; it was where he worked. He loves it no more than a clerk loves his cubicle.\"\n\nAt this point, Clearlake smoothly picked upon something that the viewing public might not have noticed: that Tan'elKoth still spoke of Chairman Michaelson in the present tense.\n\n\"Of course I do,\" Tan'elKoth said with his characteristically suave cool. \"I do not believe that Caine is dead.\"\n\nClearlake sputtered like a faulty datacore; Tan'elKoth only smiled into the video pickup. When Clearlake finally managed to stammer out his question, Tan'elKoth replied without hesitation.\n\n\"Certainly President Turner lied. Studio executives always lie; it is for this that they are paid. The question is, What was it, precisely, that he was lying about? If Caine is dead, where is the body? \"Lost in the cliffs below Khryl's Saddle, \"indeed,\" he said scornfully. \"Is it truly Khryl's Saddle-or is it Reichenbach Falls?\"\n\nHe turned and faced the entire world through the netcamera pickup. \"Until I see Hari Michaelson's corpse with my own eyes-until I hold his cold, unbeating heart in my own hand-I will never believe that Caine is dead.\"\n\nHe opened his hands before his face, not an appeal but a conjurer's flourish. \"Show me the body, President Turner. Show the body to us all. Either show us the body, or admit the truth: somewhere, somehow, Caine lives.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Entertainer Clearlake was no stranger to controversy; some said that he had built his dream home within the eye of a hurricane. There is, however, a clear difference between riding out a storm and twisting a dragon's tail. Wisely, he let that line of questioning drop, favoring instead a neutral wrap-up: \"And what now for you, Professional? Back to work in your own private studio?\"\n\n\"I think not. My people-my world-are still threatened by the disease this madwoman inflicted upon them. The elimination of Pallas Ril does not save my world. The Studio and the Overworld Company have begun a massive containment operation, putting at risk thousands of lives and costing billions of marks, with every probability of failure, while they ignore an option that is obvious, effective and inexpensive.\n\n\"They can send me back.\n\n\"Back to my world. Back to my people, who cry out for me in their anguish. I can do in truth what Pallis Ril only pretended: wipe out HRVP on Overworld-at a cost to the Studio of precisely zero.\"\n\nHe turned to the video pickup, speaking again to the whole world. Some trick of the light made his eyes seem to burn from within, as though a crust of stone had broken to reveal an unexpected flow of lava below. \" This is your choice: Spend billions and fail, or save the world for free. If Caine is dead in truth, can you so insult his memory? Let him have died in vain? Do not make his sacrifice go for naught. You know what must be done.\n\n\"Send me home.\"\n\nTHE DOORS OF the Social Police riot van opened onto full night on a rooftop landing pad, floodlit a pale frog-belly white. Tan'elKoth shook a fist-sized knot of tension from his massive shoulders and stepped out onto the weather-cracked asphalt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He breathed slowly and deeply, consciously forcing himself to stay loose, relaxed, ready. Mental preparedness was the key: he must be ready to react smoothly and naturally to any eventuality. Though this would be easier, he reminded himself mordantly, if he had one bloody idea what he might be preparing for.\n\nThe riot van had been waiting for him on the landing pad outside the Adventure Update soundstage, where he had expected to find a Studio limousine; now, looking back on it, he found ominous the manner in which Entertainer Clearlake had wished him luck before signing off the live interview. That slight squint before he had spoken, that faint glazing of the eye-had a warning come over his earpiece? Had some whispering tech hinted that Tan'elKoth had fallen afoul of Soapy?\n\nA cold suspicion settled onto the back of his neck. He had watched on a security monitor as Kollberg and the Social Police had ambushed Caine.\n\nThis landing pad was on the roof of a low building surrounded by looming residential domes. The riot van rested squarely at the crux of a large cross of paint that had once been red, but now had faded to a scuffed and dirty pastel pink, within a wide circle of sooty grey. This was some kind of hospital, then.\n\nHad been some kind of hospital, Tan'elKoth corrected himself. The rooftop was now ringed with Social Police riot vans identical to the one in which he had arrived, turrets bristling with cannon that pointed outward and below, fanned to coverall approaches.\n\nOr, perhaps, all exits.\n\nOne of the faceless officers gestured toward an open access door across the rooftop, and Tan'elKoth started toward it, sliding his thumbs beneath the bandolier straps of his ammod harness. It must be binding him up, somehow, or perhaps he had fastened it too tightly over his heavy sweater; he was having a certain difficulty drawing breath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The access door opened onto an unlit stair: a dark rectangular recession into oblivion. It exhaled a breath of acid sweat, ammoniac urine and bubbling green decay, as though the stairwell were the throat of a scavenger slowly dying of some awful necrosis of the bowels.\n\nTan'elKoth paused. Hannto the Scythe-Hannto the timid, the weakling, the coward-had somehow struggled to the very gates of Tan'elKoth's mind. Or perhaps not so much the coward: Hannto urged Tan'elKoth to turn upon the Social Police officers beside him, to attack, to crush and kill them, and to be cut down in turn. Better a clean death, up herein this gritty smog-choked simulacrum of open air, than to be swallowed by that unimaginable throat.\n\nNearly all the lives within him wept with fear; Ma'elKoth, the god himself-even He counseled caution. Lamorak had nothing to say; that dark shade huddled in wordless terror in some black and forgotten corner, for the breath of the stairwell smelled of the Donjon, of the Theater of Truth.\n\nIt smelled of the Shaft.\n\nOne of the soapies reached toward him, and Tan'elKoth tensed, expecting a stroke from a shock baton; instead, he was astonished to find that the soapy only touched his arm with one gauntleted hand and leaned toward him to speak softly through his digitizer.\n\n\"Goon in,\" the soapy said, with as close to a human tone as Tan'elKoth had ever heard from one of them. \"It's better if you don't keep him waiting.\"\n\nThe other soapies turned helmets toward each other, nodding infinitesimal agreement; their gauntlets twisted upon their weapons as though their hands ached too much to find a comfortable grip. That transitory brush with the humanity behind those silver masks, so unexpected, turned the twist of nerves in Tan'elKoth's stomach into an icy dread that settled into his bones; it was terrifying to imagine that Social Police might feel some kinship of apprehension."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As though what awaited him below frightened even them.\n\nWith a deep, shuddering breath, Tan'elKoth descended the stair, and was swallowed by darkness.\n\nBELOW, HE FOUND a nightmare of baffled, terrified Laborers and Adminstrators and Physicians, of blood and sobs and shit and screams, of silver-masked Social Police standing robotic guard. Within, the only light came from the bleached wash of emergency floods. The acid stink of human fear mingled with the mildew that leached from the filthy carpet beneath his feet, nearly overpowering the sweet metallic earth-smell of blood and shit.\n\nHe moved through the reeking shadows of along, narrow corridor, and out into an open space that had been some kind of office; the wreckage of several desks lay among the tumbled carpet-covered panels that Tan'elKoth assumed had once been cubicle walls. Here and there were knots of wretched people in the tattered remnants of Laborer dress-some clutched desperately at each other, some sobbed softly, and some merely stared blankly at the brown stains on the walls.\n\nAlso among the wreckage were pieces of what had probably been at least three people: a severed hand here, there ahead pulped like a hammered watermelon, a tangled knot of intestine looped over the remains of a water cooler. The ferric slugs from power rifles littered the floor, and one office wall was now only a tattered framework of slug holes. More corpses, here and there, were half buried in the broken ruin of office furniture; something had been chewing on them, gnawing at their flesh-not to feed, but rather out of some restless urge to use its jaws: a dog mindlessly worrying a marrow bone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "An infant, teething.\n\nThe shootings had been only the beginning. Someone had been playing among the corpses: someone had braided their guts into tangled ropes, had popped out their eyeballs and disjointed the mangled bodies like a bored child pulling apart its dolls. Tan'elKoth had no doubt who this bored child was. He could see him.\n\nIn the middle of the floor, his dungarees down around his knees, buttocks pulsing between the thighs of a woman with empty eyes and a mouth like a smear of blood. His pitted scalp was unmistakable.\n\nKollberg.\n\nThe woman's only clothing was a brown-crusted bandage that covered the flat wound where her right breast had once been. Even as Tan'elKoth watched, Kollberg lowered his face to her one remaining breast and sank his teeth into her nipple. Blood spurted up across his eyes. The woman only grunted, likely near death from shock. Kollberg dug his face in, chewing deeper and deeper into her, and Tan'elKoth had to lower his eyes.\n\nThe other chewed-upon corpses... those that were female, the breasts had been torn away. Each corpse that had been male now had only ragged bite wounds in place of its penis. With their equally flat chests and equally empty groins, the corpses bore a gruesome, crudely chopped resemblance to each other: they had been surgically homogenized by a blunt scalpel of rotten teeth.\n\nAnd this, Tan'elKoth thought emptily, is what I chose for anally, against Caine and Pallas Ril.\n\nOabandoned gods, what have I done?\n\nKollberg looked up from the shuddering death spasms of the woman and caught Tan'elKoth's eye. He stretched his neck ophidically: a snake basking in warm tropic sun. \"Welcome to my home,\" he said. \"Do you like it? I furnished it myself.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tan'elKoth held his silence.\n\nKollberg pushed himself up to his knees, off the woman's corpse; he stuffed his penis back inside his dungarees without so much as wiping off the half-clotted blood that caked it. \"You,\" he said thoughtfully, still squatting, \"are not a team player.\"\n\nHE ROSE, AND approached Tan'elKoth closely enough that the ex-Emperor had to turn aside from the reek of his breath. \"I think your heart's mostly in the right place, you understand, but there are one or two things that you don't seem to understand.\"\n\nHow much does he know? How much does he know about Faith? The myriad that populated the ex-Emperor's mind gibbered and cringed, but he was more than they: he was Tan'elKoth, and he would not flinch. \"I understand this: You dare not harm me,\" he said firmly. \"I am no common Laborer, who can be made to disappear without uproar and alarm. Your best hope of life is to release me and pray that I hold my tongue.\"\n\nKollberg stretched up onto his toes, until the top of his head nearly reached Tan'elKoth's chin; he swiveled his head and angled his face so that his fetid breath wafted upward as he spoke. \"You still don't understand.\"\n\nTan'elKoth took a step backward-no amount of fortitude could enable him to stomach that stench-and he would have taken another, but that first step had brought his back into solid contact with one of the soapies who stood immovably behind him. \"I have friends and admirers upon the Leisure Congress itself, do you understand? I can no more be detained or harmed than could Caine. Your own Board of Governors oversees my welfare-and I imagine that they would be... disturbed... by your lifestyle.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kollberg took a step back, still on his toes, his head cocked, squinting at the ex-Emperor so tightly that it pulled up the corners of his rubbery lips into a humorlessly acquisitive smile. \"Let me explain.\"\n\nA sharp stroke from a shock baton across the back of Tan'elKoth's neck: he collapsed into the bloody muck that covered the floor, twitching spastically. One of the Social Police officers kicked him precisely in the groin, another in the ribs, and a third in the kidneys while the fourth went to work on his head. He could do no more to defend himself than writhe; the charge from the shock baton had shutdown his peripheral motor nerves, and his limbs would not obey his will.\n\nTan'elKoth gasped with every kick, and his gasps might have been sobs, if he'd had strength to cry. A shock went through him at each blow, a wave of impact that carried the impersonal malice of the Social Police through his every defense. Helplessness wriggled in through his skin, into his blood, between the cords of his muscle like screwworms digging down to the bone.\n\nThe Social Police facelessly inflicted a dispassionate, thoroughly professional stomping. One of these soapies had, only minutes ago, touched him as one man does another; in away, that made it worse.\n\nHE MUST HAVE lost consciousness, perhaps more than once. Some indefinable interval later, the beating had ceased.\n\nAwareness gathered within him, correlating with the surge of sense impressions that grew as though he had reached out and toggled up the volume on the world. A mild discomfort, of the sort he might have suffered while he sat too long motionless in meditation, swelled into a burning, throbbing ache along his ribs, into his kidneys; at his groin it became a spike driven into his testicles-sharp and dull simultaneously, familiar already, but still twisting his guts until he might vomit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Light now: a dim bloody glow through closed lids. Squinting against it tightened flesh across his raw and swollen face and screwed down a band of pain across his brow. Someone cradled his head on a lap warm and wet; he feared to open his eyes. And the smell-that feculent carnivorous stench-\n\nThe smell told him more than he could bear to see.\n\n\"Do you understand now?\" Kollberg asked, stroking Tan'elKoth's face like Mary in the Pieta. \"Are we on the same page?\"\n\nTan'elKoth flinched.\n\nHe couldn't help himself.\n\nHis face flushed with sudden shame, with the humiliation of discovering himself to be so fragile. Some dispassionate part of his mind considered this, abstractly wondering at the emotional power of a merely physical beating.\n\nKollberg waited with reptilian patience, but Tan'elKoth could not answer. \"Well,\" Kollberg said vacantly. \"You might guess that I didn't find your interview with Entertainer Clearlake very funny. Not funny at all. You think that I might not come through on my half of our bargain. That's insulting. You think that you can use public opinion and political pressure to make me do what you want. That's more insulting.\"\n\nHe bent his neck over Tan'elKoth's immobile face, close enough to kiss. \"Don't insult me. I don't like it.\"\n\nTan'elKoth tried to speak, but the residue of the shock baton's randomizing pulse allowed only a thick'Nnnh... nnnh...\" to pass his lips.\n\nIt was as well; he was not yet insufficient command of himself. He thought of Faith, of her link to the rivergod, and hugged that thought to himself. If he could hold onto that, keep it safely buried behind his eyes, he could still come through this. All he had to do was survive. He would be Ma'elKoth again, and on that day he would have the power to repay abuse a hundredfold."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But that wasn't what really made me angry.\" Kollberg didn't sound angry. He didn't sound human. \"I got angry when you started that drivel about Michaelson being still alive. Then, when we reveal that he is still alive, you have the public's confidence. You thought that was very clever. It was very clever. There is another thing you need to understand about me.\"\n\nHe leaned forward and took Tan'elKoth's wrist. \"Clever people make me hungry.\"\n\nHe lowered his face as though he might chastely and reverently kiss the ex-Emperor's hand-but instead, he closed his lips upon Tan'elKoth's smallest finger, sucking it fully into his mouth like a five-copper whore warming up fora blowjob. Tan'elKoth tried to speak, but still he could produce only a series of bestial grunts.\n\nKollberg bit down.\n\nTan'elKoth said\"... gunhg... guhh...\"\n\nKollberg chewed on the finger, worrying it, cracking the bone like a dog sucking marrow; he turned his head to one side, wedged the finger back between his molars, bit down again, and yanked his head from side to side until the bone splintered at the knuckle and he could rip it free. Blood sprayed, and Kollberg fixed his lips to the wound, sucking greedily.\n\nTan'elKoth's guts spasmed, and he retched rackingly across Kollberg's knees. Thin, clear vomit came out of the emptiness of his unused stomach, trailed down his legs, and trickled into his shoes. Kollberg shrugged and let Tan'elKoth slide to the floor; one of the officers took his hand and pressed a rag to the spurting stump."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Aid the author by keeping the plot going.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 15"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He tucked the case under his arm and stepped out into the slanting sunlight on deck. Around him, the deckers and poleboys worked at their own simpleminded tasks, casting only the occasional incurious glance his way. Ashe stood therein the doorway, a decker shambled up to him sullenly. \"Leaving? Done with shelter?\"\n\n\"With this?\" the Caineslayer said distantly, moving away. \"Yes. I am done with shelter.\"\n\nYet he could not make himself carry the case off the barge. Certainly, the simplest course would have been to slip into the city, to find himself a private room in some random tavern, a room with a lock on its door-the simplest course, but not easy. Not easy at all. Somewhere deep within his bowels lurked a dread of what he was about to do, as though this sword might have a power over him not unlike that of the Caine Mirror. Hereon the barge, he still had some control.\n\nHolding the case tight in his armpit, he folded his fingers together in a specifically complex knot, breathed deeply three times, and vanished from the consciousness of the barge crew. Any whose eye fell upon him forgot his existence an instant later; any who thought of him assumed he had left the barge with the triumphal parade. He slipped onto the afterdeck, knelt, and crawled into a narrow tunnel formed by untidily stacked cargo crates bound for the Teranese Delta, where the Great Chambaygen emptied into the sea.\n\nHe knelt, and lay the case on the deck before his knees. He shut his eyes reverently, opening the case's latches by feel, then swung back the case's lid. He covered his face with his hands, breathing into his palms until he felt himself to becalm; then slowly he opened his eyes and took his hands away and looked upon the naked blade within its bed of crushed blue velvet. The shadows of the crates that surrounded him were striped with sunlight leaking through their slats: one single shaft shone the length of Kosall, bringing it to golden life."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Long, a handbreadth wide at the quillons, straight grey steel painted with silver runes, now dark with the brown splashes of the Aktir Queen's blood-he had not wiped the blade, for fear of disturbing the unknown magick bound into the painted runes, and for the same reason had not returned it to a scabbard.\n\nKosall.\n\nThe blade of Saint Berne.\n\nIts hilt was a span and a half, wrapped with sweat-stained leather, pommel a plain steel knob; his hands trembled, fluttered near and away again like anxious moths. Dare he lift it this onetime?\n\nCould he not?\n\nHe laid his fingers, delicate as a kiss, upon a quillon. He stroked the chill steel, then took it hard into his hand. As his hand closed around the leather-wrapped hilt, the blade came to life. Warm, humming with power, it left him weak with desire. He pulled the sword up from its bed and raised it before his eyes.\n\nThis blade had parted the flesh of Caine.\n\nHolding leather stained with the sweat of Saint Berne, he could feel it: could feel the slide of buzzing steel through lips of skin into the hard muscle of Caine's abdominal wall, through the writhe of intestine into the sizzle at the base of his spine.\n\nBreathless, trembling, he reached forthwith his mind and touched the steel, searching its energies for memories of Caine's blood and bone. With his power, he looked within the blade-\n\nAnd something within the blade seized him, gripped his eyes, his heart, his limbs. From his throat came the hope of a scream, strangled to a convulsive gasp; his back arched and his irises rolled up to disappear within his skull."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He pitched backward into darkness."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he hit the deck, he bounced like a doll carved of greenwood.\n\nTHE DRAGONESS WAS human, but no less a dragoness.\n\nMuch has been written elsewhere of the nature of dragonkind. Most of it is wrong. Dragons are not, as a species, creatures of evil bent upon wanton slaughter; nor are they merely great winged lizards asleep upon mounds of treasure. They are neither elemental forces of nature nor repositories of supernatural wisdom.\n\nMostly, they are individuals. The essential nature of one may vary widely from that of the next.\n\nThere are, however, certain assertions that may truthfully be made of dragons as a species. They tend to be acquisitive, vengeful, jealous of their lands and possessions, and surpassingly fierce in their defense. Though slow to anger, they can be extremely dangerous when roused, and none more so than a dragoness defending her young. In these ways, dragonkind is very like humankind.\n\nThis is why the dragoness could be human, but no less a dragoness.\n\nThe dragoness had lived her life according to the custom of her kind; she patiently oversaw her possessions, slowly extending their borders by gradual effort over many years. She tended her flocks, and added to her wealth by the occasional raid upon an unwary neighbor.\n\nShe kept almost entirely to herself; she had little interest in the events of the wider world, and so would likely have never entered this story, save that on one raid-a raid of vengeance, upon her most hated enemy-she had taken the child of the river.\n\nThe child of the river was pursued by the god of dust and ashes.\n\nAnd thus the dragoness became part of this story."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "THIRTEEN\n\nAVERY SHANKS DABBED blood from the cut on her lower lip, looked upon her granddaughter, and pondered the fundamental unpredictability of existence.\n\nThis was an unaccustomed pastime for her, and she found it both difficult and uncomfortable. She thought of herself as active, rather than contemplative: a doer, a decider. An operative principle. A verb.\n\nYet now, unexpectedly, reality had jumped her from behind and knocked her over; this verb had become an object, held down and pummeled by a force that was beyond her capacity to resist. This force cared nothing for herself-image of ruthless decisiveness; it permitted only an arbitrarily limited range of decision, rigidly bounded by the fortress walls of her heart. She-who had lived her life in simple declaratives-must now accept a conditional, no matter how it stung.\n\nShe might possibly love this child.\n\nFew who knew Avery Shanks would ever guess that she was capable of such an emotion. If asked, she would deny it. For her, love was less an emotion than a pressure: a physical compression that seized her heart, her lungs, every part of her, and punished her mercilessly. In the wilder moments of hallucination occasionally brought on by her overindulgence in sedatives and alcohol, she saw a monster that rode behind her shoulder, its tentacles sliding into her chest through puckered mouths that had opened upon her skin; this monster used its hideous grip to drive her this way and that, to force her into unwise choices and ridiculous actions, and sometimes, simply and purely, maliciously, to inflict pain. This, to Avery Shanks, was love.\n\nShe had loved Karl.\n\nSeven years of brutal self-denial had shrunk the monster that had tortured her since his death, carved away its power over her, until it could produce only the odd twinge, here and there. But now, fear pooled in Avery Shanks' belly when she looked at her granddaughter. The monster might becoming back."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And it wore the face of a child she had never seen until just a week ago.\n\n\"Faith,\" she said firmly, though her hand reached outwith timid gentleness to the girl's flaxen hair-hair so much like Karl's had been, at this age. \"Faith, you must lie still. Lie still for Grandmaman, mm?\"\n\nFaith's response was a slow calming, a shuddering release of tension like abridge cable being unwinched to slack; she had barely spoken for two days now, and her eyes remained empty as a midsummer's sky.\n\nThe room was walled, floored, and ceilinged with soft, resilient, featureless white plastic. SynTech had the contract to produce Social Police holding cells-through Petrocal, the company SynTech had acquired through Avery's marriage to the father of her children, the late Carlton Norwood-and so retro-fitting this room in Avery's Boston mansion had been swift and relatively inexpensive. A screen wider than Faith's outstretched arms dominated one wall, but it remained deliberately detuned so that it showed pulsing electronic snow; oceanic white noise hissed from its concealed speakers.\n\nSince Sunday morning, this room had been the only place in which Faith could open her eyes without screaming.\n\nThe technician nodded his thanks to Avery and lifted a gunmetal tiara from which sprouted the fine, nearly invisible hairs of neural probes. \"Okay, Businessman. Let's try this again, shall we?\"\n\nAvery sighed. \"Yes. But for the last time.\" She stroked Faith's arms and clasped her wrists firmly. \"Lie still, now, Faith. This will not hurt, I promise you.\"\n\nDozens of tests had been run on the child since Sunday-every single neurological indicator that could betaken while she was under sedation. Not a single abnormality had been found. Professional Lieberman, her staff Physician, had smugly diagnosed'chronic idiopathic catatonia.\" When Avery had consulted a dictionary and discovered that this clinical diagnosis meant, in plain language, \"she won't move and she won't talk, and I don't know why,\" she had fired the man on the spot."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The next Physician to examine Faith, having failed to find any organic cause for this behavior, suggested that the child might have some sort of emotional disturbance. Avery's reply had been a tight, lipless snarl that she did not need a hundred-mark-an-hour neurospecialist to tell her that a child who alternates catatonia and convulsion might be emotionally disturbed.\n\nFinally, desperately, Avery had decided to have the child fitted with an array of neural probes that function rather like a nonsurgical version of a thoughtmitter; she felt that if she could only see what Faith saw, feel what Faith felt, she might be able to gain some understanding of what it was that caused the child so much suffering.\n\nShe feared that she understood already. This neural probe washer last tight-lipped attempt to convince herself that she was wrong.\n\nThe process of fitting and adjusting the neural probe distressed Faith to the point of convulsive seizure, despite the use of powerful tranquilizers. They had tried making the preliminary adjustments with the child under sedation, but when she had awakened, the seizures had redoubled. Any attempt to restrain Faith by any means beyond the touch of Avery's hand had shown similar results.\n\nAnd so: their final attempt would be made with only Avery's touch and voice to keep the child calm. Avery held the child's wrists and murmured alien words in her ear, phrases that came awkwardly from her hard mouth: \"Shh, Faith. No one will hurt you. Grandmaman is here, and everything will be all right.\"\n\nIf this didn't work, she would have to call in Tan'elKoth after all.\n\nHer silver crew cut drew down as her face twisted into a scowl that left her mouth hard and sharp as the edge of a scalpel. She had promised herself that she would exhaust every other option first. She had second-handed For Love of Pallas Ril far too many times; she knew too well that Tan'elKoth was not to be trusted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not one little bit.\n\nAvery's grip tightened upon Faith's wrists as the technician made the attempt to slip the tiara once again around the child's hairline. The previous round of convulsions had been violent enough that Faith had even begun to flail with her left arm-her left arm that, like her legs, she had barely moved since her initial attack. This unexpected use of the left had slipped in the punch that had given Avery her fat lip with its trickle of blood.\n\nMuch of Saturday afternoon, on the flight home and after, Avery had busied herself with the necessary arrangements: boarding school; a governess; a court order granting her title to all of Faith's clothing, toys, and other possessions from Michaelson's house; and a stream of outside salesfolk coming by the Shanks mansion with the array of clothing and accessories proper to a young Businessman's first months at school. She had spent more of the day with Faith herself than was, perhaps, absolutely necessary; she found that she took unexpected pleasure in the child's company. Her obedience that was never subservient, her clear and level gaze, her serene acceptance of Avery's every word coupled with fearless boldness and self-assurance-in nearly every way, Avery had thought wistfully, this was the child that she should have had for her own.\n\nInstead she had been saddled with three vicious weaklings: sons that tormented each other-and her-with their backbiting and petty betrayals, their bootlicking and maneuvering for her favor. Even Karl, her precious golden Karl, the youngest and brightest of her sons-even he had not quite lived up to the Shanks name. Oh, he had come closer than his brothers, it was true: in defying her explicit wishes and entering the Studio Conservatory to pursue an Acting career, he was the only one of her children who had shown any spine at all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It washer own fault: she had married badly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her husband's company, Petrocal, had concealed its financial weakness until after the ceremony that had brought him and it under the aegis of the Shanks empire. If she had known how weak the company truly was, she never would have married him. The strength of one's corporation is the strength of one's character.\n\nBut when she looked upon Faith, she wondered if perhaps she had asked too much of Karl; perhaps the true steel of the Shanks character skips a generation. Perhaps the Shanks for which the world had been waiting was this golden-haired girl.\n\nThis was an outrageously romantic fantasy-the sort of smoke-and-moonbeam dream for which one of her children would have received, at the very least, astern scolding-but it was, by all signs, possible; and the possibility alone had been intoxicating. For that one Saturday night, despite the dire tone of her conversation with Tan'elKoth, Avery Shanks came dangerously close to being happy.\n\nBut Sunday morning-\n\nHari-Hari, I'm hurt. You have to help me. Hari, Hari, please...\n\nAnd that innocently romantic dream for which Avery Shanks had allowed herself to hope-however briefly-had, in that moment, burned her heart to ashes. She knew, in the darkness beneath those smoldering embers, that this new wound to the Shanks future was somehow Michaelson's fault, as well.\n\nThe child had spent the rest of that day under sedation; whenever she woke up, the screaming and thrashing would begin again. Physician Lieberman had surmised that the convulsions were triggered by sudden stimulus: any kind of noise, or movement, or touch. She was calm enough while left by herself in a lightless, silent room-but Avery could not allow that. She had been through such confinements herself, as a child; the closet had been her father's standard punishment for misbehavior. Avery had thought herself kindhearted, when disciplining her own children, for forgoing the closet in favor of the belt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Later Sunday night, as Avery had made ready to retire, she'd found herself thinking about the child: a nagging, recurrent image of Faith sobbing in the dark. Two cocktails, a double dose of Teravil, and even extended, athletic sex with Lexi, her current houseboy, while she waited for the Teravil to work its chemical massage upon her jangled nerves, had all failed to erase the imagined quiet hitching sobs.\n\nEven if the child was crying, Avery had little reason to care, as she had been reminding herself over and over again through that long and grueling day. Despite being Karl's daughter, the child was of use, primarily, as a weapon against Michaelson. Faith had been damaged, probably irreparably, by her early upbringing in that perverse distortion of a proper household. If the child must pass a truncated existence under permanent sedation, little would be lost.\n\nShe refused to allow herself to become attached to the child. She had learned long ago that the sacrifice of sentiment is merely part of the cost of being Business. But the hollow mental echo of a child crying, in the dark, would not let her sleep.\n\nFinally-with a sigh and a mental note to switch to anew brand of sedatives-she had disentangled herself from Lexi's muscular limbs, belted her dressing gown of hand-woven natural silk about her waist, and tramped down the stairs to take a pair of IR goggles from the mansion's first-floor security office. After canceling the lights in the upstairs hallway, she had opened the door to Faith's darkened room-and found the child peacefully asleep. As was the nurse: slumped in a chair with her own goggles pushed up onto her forehead. The room reeked of urine.\n\nThe child had wet the bed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Three rigid steps into the room, Avery had thrown the whole strength of her arm behind a ringing slap that nearly dislocated the jaw of the sleeping nurse. The slap was followed by a clipped, precise stream of invective that had delineated in broad terms the nurse's myriad failures as an Artisan and as a human being, and had finished with a religious admonition: she instructed the nurse to get down on her knees and pray that she would still have a trade in the morning.\n\nAnd of course all this unseemly commotion had woken the child, who began shrieking again, and when the nurse hurriedly ordered on the lights and tried to remove Faith from the tangle of soiled bedcovers, the child had yowled and clawed and scratched like a panicked cat, tearing away from the nurse and scrambling across the room-\n\nTo throw her arms around Avery's legs, and hold on tight.\n\nAvery was too astonished to do more than clutch at the child to keep her own balance. Eyes squeezed shut, face pressed hard against Avery's hip, Faith had quieted her shrieks to gentle sobs, and the thin wires of muscle in her trembling arms and legs had slackened toward some kind of ease, and Faith had spoken her only words since breakfast: a tiny, abject whisper.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Grandmaman,\" she'd murmured, barely audible. \"I'm sorry...\"\n\n\"Shh, Faith, shh,\" Avery had said awkwardly, the words stumbling from her half-numbed lips. Perhaps betrayed by the combination of alcohol and sedatives, she found herself suddenly overwhelmed, close to unexpected, astonishing tears. \"It's all right, girl. It's all right.\"\n\n\"It's just so empty inhere...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Faith's tears had soaked through the silk of Avery's dressing gown and touched her aged skin, warm as a kiss."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The gown would be irreparably stained, but Avery had not been able to make herself push the child away; she could only stand, and hold Faith, and gnaw on her lower lip until the pain drove her own tears away.\n\nBy the time the sheets were changed, and Faith had been sponged off and dressed in a clean nightgown, it had become clear to Avery that the child was calm only when in her presence. Over the following days-as Avery fed Faith, and bathed her, and changed disposable diapers on her like an infant-Faith would sometimes speak disconnectedly, offering faint, ambiguous clues to the unguessable mental world into which she had retreated, and sometimes she even relaxed into a smile that was in this household more rare, and more precious, than any diamond.\n\nProviding this constant care was a tremendous burden upon Avery-it interfered drastically with the conduct of SynTech business, as she could work only sporadically, over the net-and was one that she resented mightily. But she never took this out on the child; Faith needed her, depended on her, in away no one ever had. Her own children had been reared by their governesses and the masters of their boarding schools-but Faith could not be so lightly shoved aside. There was no one else who could help her.\n\nIt was exhausting, physically and emotionally draining, and infuriating. It had even cost her the gratifying sexual gymnastics of Lexi: Last night, when Avery had collapsed into bed, still smelling of the antiseptic soap she'd used to wash Faith after the child's latest round of incontinence, he had made some childish remark about Avery's lack of interest in lovemaking. \"It's that child,\" he'd said petulantly. \"That downcaste creature has turned you into an old woman.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She'd looked at her hands, then at the ceiling, then finally at his artfully tanned, synthetically rugged face."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'm tired of you, Lexi,\" she had said. \"Go home.\"\n\nHis face took on the pinched, almost prim pucker that was how Lexi registered his displeasure. \"All right,\" he said. \"I'll be in my room.\"\n\n\"Only to pack.\" She laid her arm over her eyes to shutout the sight of his extraordinary physique. \"You're fired. Severance will be credited to your account.\"\n\n\"You can't-\"\n\n\"I can.\"\n\nHe had stood in the doorway, posing, and she couldn't help but take one last look. He really was a magnificent animal.\n\n\"You'll miss me,\" he had said. \"You'll think of everything we've done together, and you'll be sorry.\"\n\nShe sighed. \"I'm never sorry. Go pack.\"\n\n\"But you love me-\"\n\n\"If you're still here when I wake up, I'll have you shot.\"\n\nAnd that had been that: it would give her more time to devote to Faith.\n\nShe was intellectually honest enough to admit that she would not have so extended herself for one of her own children; she rationalized her effort by insisting privately that this was merely the most temporary thing-some kind of shock brought on by Faith's finding herself in such radically altered circumstances-and the doctors would either cure her, or her difficulty would pass on its own in a day or two.\n\nShe needn't have worried.\n\nAs the tech fitted the gunmetal circlet around Faith's brow and she began once again her spasms and guttural coughing moans, there came a subtle change in the quality of light. The light of the stark white room had taken on a faint peachy tone: a little warm, a little golden, a little like sunlight. Not at all the usual chilly glow of the overhead tubes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The white electronic surf from the wallscreen's speakers faded into expectant silence. Avery slowly made herself turn to look at the screen, half flinching; she had somehow become ten years old again, afraid of a sudden slap from her father.\n\n\"Businessman Shanks. How pleasant to see you.\"\n\nThe voice was toneless, as mechanical as an antique voder. The face on the screen was desiccated, skeletal, skin of yellowed parchment crumpled over protruding bones, brown-traced teeth exposed by a mouth like a cut in a chunk of raw liver.\n\nAvery swung herself around to face the screen squarely. \"Who the devil are you?\" she demanded. \"How did you get this code?\"\n\n\"That would be Faith on the table behind you, hm? Excellent.\"\n\nOne quick stride brought Avery to the wallscreen's keypad, and she stabbed the CANCEL sharply.\n\nThe face on the screen smiled.\n\nShe stabbed the key again, and again, and pounded it with her fist. Faith's moans became louder, more insistent.\n\n\"How did you get this code?\" she snarled. How could anyone get this code? The screen had been operational for less than a day-Avery herself didn't have its code! How could he override a cancel command? She made a fist once more, and raised it as though to smash the screen itself.\n\n\"I am hurt that you don't recognize me, Businessman. Hurt, and dismayed. I am Arturo Kollberg.\"\n\nHer fist opened nervelessly, as did her mouth. \"How-?\"\n\n\"Thank you for looking after Faith for us. She'll be going now.\"\n\n\"Going...? You can't-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"On the contrary,\" Kollberg said, and the screen flickered back to its detuned speckling snow.\n\nFaith's moans turned to sobs. The technician stood at the head of the bed, the gunmetal tiara useless in his hands. Avery glared at the white screen, grinding her teeth.\n\nTentative knocking on the door-\"Businessman?\" came the hesitant voice of her head butler.\n\n\"Go away.\"\n\n\"Businessman, it's the Social Police. They say they've come for the young mistress.\"\n\nAvery lowered her head.\n\nBehind her, Faith began to scream.\n\nAVERY SHANKS WAS not blind to the irony: The Social Police had arrived with a custody order ceding Faith to their control. She was forced to stand, blinking back helpless tears, as the Social Police loaded Faith into the rear of a riot van.\n\nIn the days that followed, she found herself thinking of Michaelson with unexpected envy. He, at least, had raged and fought and threatened. He had taken up the gauntlet of his life and cast it at the feet of his enemy, for love of this child.\n\nAvery had done nothing but stand on the landing pad, and try to take her loss like a Businessman.\n\nThe image haunted her, awake and asleep: Faith on a psych-ward stretcher, anesthetized, under restraint. She should have been deep into unconsciousness, but instead she struggled in slow spastic motion against the padded sheath that bound her to the stretcher, and she moaned, deep and dark, in the back of her throat. Somehow, even through the blanket layers of drug that enwrapped her, Faith had known she was being taken from her home."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Can't you see what you're doing to her? Avery's heart had cried out, again and again, though the words never touched the bitter silence that sealed her lips. Can't you see that this child needs me?\n\nRising up her throat like vomit was the sickening conviction that a society where such things can happen is in someway fundamentally, ineradicably wrong. There was an old, old saying, going back hundreds of years-she had known of it since before she could remember-but only now did she understand how true it was.\n\nA liberal, the old saying went, is a conservative who just got arrested.\n\nThe first day passed with no word. SynTech's legal staff could not help her here; Donner Morton, the head of the Leisure clan to which the Shanks were affiliated, promised to look into the matter, but the best even he was likely to be able to do was find out where Faith had been taken.\n\nShe didn't understand even the broadest outlines of whatever might be going on, but she was certain it all came back to Tan'elKoth. He had made the call that had given her Faith. He had been in the Curioseum on the night of the fire, and Pallas Ril had apparently died according to his precise prediction.\n\nShe knew where Faith must be now.\n\nThe second day passed, and the third. She ignored her duties as SynTech CEO; she abused her executives, snarled at her house staff, rejected all contact with her father and her surviving sons; she refused even to dress for dinner, taking meals in her room. She spent these days pestering her Business Tribune, aggravating her Leisure affiliate, filing motions in civil court, and shopping her story around the newsnet sites in hopes some influential reporter might interview her. In that short span she made herself a nuisance to the Leisure Congress, an embarrassment to the Business caste, and a humiliating liability to the Shanks chemical empire."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "After three days, she flew to San Francisco personally, thinking to badger and bully her way into the Curioseum, and at least confront that treacherous creature face-to-face-but she found that the streets around the Studio had been blocked by barricades, manned by joint forces of the Social Police and Studio Security; even its airspace was restricted to official security traffic.\n\nWithout hesitation, she returned to her campaign.\n\nShe knew the damage she was doing, but the monster that rode behind her shoulder had her fully in its slimy grip; she was helpless to resist, and she drove herself even harder than she did anyone else. And so, when she was finally-inevitably-detained by the Social Police, it came as a decided relief to everyone concerned.\n\nEven to her.\n\nNever having had any dealings with the Social Police, Avery had no idea what to expect; arraignment, perhaps, on charges real or fabricated or both, perhaps detention without trial, interrogation, perhaps even torture-the uglier rumors of such things, which Avery had always dismissed as undercaste rubbish, are far more convincing, more threatening, when one is riding in the back of a riot van with one's wrists stripcuffed together behind one's back.\n\nThere had been no charges, so far, no warrant-she wasn't even officially under arrest. The officers who had come for her had allowed her to pack an overnight bag before leading her away. She suffered dreadful fantasies of simply disappearing, vanishing into the bowels of the legal system, never to be seen again.\n\nBut never in her wildest fantasy did she anticipate being delivered directly to the Studio Curioseum.\n\nTHE SOCIAL POLICE pulled her swiftly but without violence through the Curioseum, lights blinking on as they entered each room and then blinking off behind them. They drew her through the riot of unfamiliar form and color and odor that was the arboretum: purple-veined chokeweed crashed against its restraining nets, chartreuse and pink-branched songtrees whistled shrilly, marsh-poppy pods jetted soporific pollen across their paths. They skirted the howls and snarls and chatter of the menagerie, and finally brought her into a large, bare rectangular room, its only light what leaked through the broad, bright window at the far end."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Silhouetted against that light was a huge hulking man with hands clasped behind his enormous back, staring down through abroad plate glass window. I knew it, she thought. By size alone, this could only be Tan'elKoth.\n\n\"I cannot imagine what you hope to gain by this,\" she snapped at the back of his head.\n\nEyes shifted in his ghostly reflection. \"Businessman Shanks,\" he said in a half-whispered murmur, like a distant turbojet. \"Thank you for coming.\"\n\n\"Don't waste your courtesy on me, Professional-\"\n\n\"Courtesy is never wasted. Please release her, officers-and then please leave us. The Businessman and I must confer in private.\"\n\n\"Confer-?\" Avery began, astonished. \"This is ridiculous. What have you done with Faith?\"\n\n\"Officers? If you would be so kind?\"\n\nOne of the officers buzzed, \"I'm not sure this is a good idea, leaving you two alone.\"\n\n\"What, precisely, do you fear?\" Tan'elKoth's voice sounded eminently reasonable, though still thin and whispery, as though he struggled with laryngitis. \"The sole exit from these two rooms is the door through which you came. Or perhaps you think that I and the Businessman will concoct some nefarious conspiracy in your absence?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid,\" came the toneless reply, \"that he won't like it.\"\n\n\"Then go and ask him.\" Tan'elKoth turned toward them now, and there was something lumpish, disturbingly misshapen, in the curve of his silhouette. \"Meanwhile, please do as I request. I believe that you are to comply with my wishes insofar as they do not conflict with your-\" Avery got the impression that the ex-Emperor chose this next word with great care. \"-duty.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "One of the officers took a small manual snipper from a belt and clipped the stripcuff apart."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Avery shook her hands free and smoothed down the sleeves of her Business suit, then folded her arms and stood, waiting. The four officers seemed to confer in some inaudible fashion, then all turned as one and marched out of the small room. The door closed behind them.\n\nIn the first instant that they were alone, Avery snapped, \"Why have you brought me here?\"\n\n\"I did not bring you, Businessman. The Social Police did. They do not, as you may have observed, come and goat my order. Join me here at the window. We must talk.\"\n\n\"I have nothing to say to you.\"\n\n\"Don't bean ass; you've said a great deal already. Come.\"\n\nAvery reluctantly paced toward him. Tan'elKoth towered over her like some kind of beast that should be extinct in the wild. She did not want to get too close; she could not guess what he might do, but she was frighteningly sure that she could not stop him. When the Social Police had zipped the stripcuffs tight around her wrists, she had been yanked out of the world she knew. Here, her wealth and power and status meant nothing; all that mattered was that she was thin and frail and no longer young, and in the presence of something brutal, massive, and possibly predatory.\n\nBut she was still a Shanks. Though society might fail her, pride would endure.\n\nAt the window, she placed herself deliberately within the reach of his huge arm, and just as deliberately refused to look at him, gazing instead down into the room beyond-\n\nAt a small child with golden hair strapped down to a steel table in a blank white room.\n\n\"Faith!\" She gasped and pressed her hands against the glass. \"Oh, my god, Faith!\" An overpowering vision of Faith in convulsion, pounding her skull and spine against this unpadded stainless steel torture rack, nearly paralyzed her; she could hardly speak. \"What have you done to her? What have you done?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tried to protect her, as best I can,\" Tan'elKoth replied grimly.\n\n\"Protect her?\" Avery could not tear her eyes away from the horror of that small sterile room. \"This is how you protect her?\"\n\n\"I can do no better,\" Tan'elKoth said. \"Businessman, look at me.\"\n\nShe ignored him, staring through the glass at the only meaning all this had for her: Faith was breathing, she was still breathing. \"You must get her out of here!\"\n\nOne huge hand caught her shoulder and turned her toward him like a child, so overpowering that she could not even dream of resistance. \"Look at me,\" he repeated, his whisper-hoarse voice now a fierce rasp. \"My status here is written upon my face.\"\n\nAvery gaped openly, seventy years of proper Business reserve and decorum wiped away in an instant.\n\nShe remembered that he had once been beautiful.\n\nHis face looked like a handful of spoiled hamburger, with bulbous growths of moldy yellow and purple and green interpenetrating and overlapping; one eyebrow had been shaved, a vertical wound across it held closed with black insectile stitches, the eye below it swollen shut like a mouth held primly pursed over a tennis ball; a similarly stitched line climbed over the curve of his forehead into a shaved-back hairline; one side of his mouth hung loose and bulbous, two curves of stitches trailing from its corner, one up and one down, giving him a cartoon smile and frown simultaneously.\n\nHis left hand still clutched her shoulder; he lifted his right, to show her the bandage that blanketed a stomach-churning absence where his smallest finger should have been. He said, \"If you only knew what I have endured, to protect that child.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Protect her from what?\" Avery said, now as hoarse as he. \"Tan'elKoth, you must tell me what is happening!\"\n\n\"Do you know where we are? This is the Curioseum menagerie, Businessman. This is the veterinary center. Specifically, the surgery. If you cannot or do not help me help Faith, this is where the creature who prisons us all will rape her, kill her, and dissect her body.\" Tan'elKoth's face compressed with pain. \"And likely eat the pieces.\"\n\n\"You can't expect me to... This isn't possible! You cannot possibly be serious!\"\n\n\"No?\" Tan'elKoth lifted his maimed hand and held it out for her inspection.\n\nAvery stared at it, unable to speak, her own hand slowly coming up to cover her mouth. \"What-what creature? Who is behind all this? Does this have something to do with Kollberg?\"\n\n\"It is better that you do not know; you have seen too much already. Some ignorance is a kindness, Businessman-some ignorance may, in this matter, save your life.\"\n\n\"And so you won't tell me.\"\n\n\"You would not believe me if I did.\"\n\nSlowly, stiffly, feeling now her years, Avery straightened, and she let her hand fall. She looked up into the ex-Emperor's one open eye, and her mouth returned to its customary knife-slash line. \"And why?\" she asked steadily. \"Why should I help you?\"\n\n\"I am not asking you to help me. I am asking you to help Faith.\"\n\n\"Why should I believe you? I admit that your... injuries... shocked me, but how am Ito know how you got them? You could have been in a car accident. You could have been mugged.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Heat surged up into her face; anger filled every part of her that dread and horror had emptied."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She clenched fists tightly against her thighs, livid. \"You area liar. A murderer. You tied my son to across. Did you think I would forget that? Did you think I could forgive it? Do you think I don't know who called me that night? Do you think I don't know who pretended to be...\"\n\nWords failed her; the grief that cut her heart would admit no expression. Karl... oh, Karl, she thought, and hot needles of tears pricked at her eyes. \"You scum,\" she whispered. \"You vile, manipulative peasant of a man-\"\n\n\"Businessman,\" Tan'elKoth said softly, kindly, his voice warm as a hug, \"there was no pretense. Ina way more real than I fear you can ever understand, I am your son.\"\n\n\"I saw,\" she said through teeth grimly clenched. \"I saw your... your act... at Kollberg's trial. You are not Karl.\"\n\n\"Not all of me, no; but all of him. Karl is here, within me. He is frightened, and sad, and he misses you very much.\"\n\nShe lowered her head and tried to stop her tears by pressing the edge of her hand against her face, as though stanching blood from open wounds. \"How dare you...\" Her whisper was barely audible. \"How dare you even speak his name?\"\n\n\"Mother...\" her son's voice said softly. \"Mother, close your eyes, and I'm here. Maybe just fora little, fora little while-but I'm here. I need you, Mother...\"\n\nGrief sawed through her knees, and she sagged against his chest. \"Oh, Karl... How can you do this? How can you do this tome?\"\n\nInhumanly powerful arms encircled her, but there was comfort in giving herself over to their unguessable strength. Fora cold moment, she could imagine that she had become once again a moody, difficult little girl, finally getting an embrace from a father far kinder than the one with which fate had cursed her. A maimed hand stroked her brush of steel-colored hair."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Mother, please-you have to help her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You don't know what they want to do to her. We-you and all of us-we're her only hope. She's my daughter, Mother. You promised-when I left for the Conservatory, remember? You promised you'd always be therefor me. Please-you know I'd never ask if we didn't need you-\"\n\nAvery took a deep, shuddering breath and gathered the ragged remnants of her strength. She straightened, and she pushed herself away from those encircling arms. She had to stare at her fists fora long moment before she could bear the sight of Faith strapped to the surgical table of stainless steel. \"Swear-swear that you will...\" she said hoarsely, and stopped, struggling with herself-command.\n\nCords jumped beside her jaw.\n\n\"Swear that you will never do that tome again-\" she rasped, staring at her reflected ghost within the glass. \"Swear it, and I will do whatever you ask.\"\n\nFAITH COULD BE almost content when she was nothing at all.\n\nHer eyes would go away, and some other little girl would see what was inside them, all the cold lights and bright shiny metal shapes and the big mirror that was part of one wall; her ears could go to some other place, and a second little girl heard the whisper of the vents and the sounds of the door opening and somebody talking that real quiet way Daddy always did around Grandpa; a third little girl felt cold metal beneath her legs and head, and the thin white plastic of her hospital gown; a fourth smelled the hospital smell.\n\nAnd her remembery had gone to someone else, too-that fifth girl was the unhappiest of them all, because the little fifth girl had to look at the bad thing that made her scream and scream and scream."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But Faith, though, she wasn't any of those little girls."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She was pretty much nothing at all. She was here, safe in the big dark hush, and she kept finding ways to make it darker, and even hushier, because she was pretty sure that if she could make it dark enough, and hushy enough, to where none of those other little girls could bother her anymore ever again, she might even be able to hear the river.\n\nBecause that was the only trouble; that was how she kept having to be almost nothing, instead of really nothing.\n\nIf she was really nothing, she wouldn't be so lonely.\n\nNow the rumbly man was coming back. He stomped through her quiet place, shouting at her. He was so loud. He couldn't see her, not as long as she didn't move and didn't answer. She knew he didn't mean to be loud; she could tell from the half-whispery, kind of wheedly voice he was using, the way he kept calling her honey and asking her to take his hand.\n\nShe didn't like the rumbly man-she remembered him from back when she was something, onetime when Daddy had taken her to the Curiemuseum. He'd scared her a little then-with his great big hands and hungry eyes, like the troll under the bridge from Billy Goats Gruff-but not too much, because Mommy wasn't afraid of him, and neither was the river.\n\nBut now she was all alone in the hushy dark, and he was coming closer and closer. She tried to push him away, to hold him on the outside of the dark, and fora little while it seemed like it was working. She could use the dark to hold him outside; the darker she made it, the farther away he got. She'd done it before, but he kept oncoming back, and she was getting so tired-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tired from pushing him, tired from pushing the five little girls, tired from hanging onto the dark and the hush, and he never seemed to get tired at all-\n\n\"Faith? Faith, child, can you hear me?\"\n\nAnd she couldn't, not really-it was another little girl, the second one, who heard Grandmaman's voice; the third little girl felt Grandmaman's hand on her hair; the first other little girl could see Grandmaman in the bright hard light, and the fourth could smell her musty Grandpa-smelling breath.\n\n\"Faith, you must listen to Grandmaman, now. This is important.\"\n\nMommy had told her, way way back ago, that she was to mind Grandmaman until Daddy came for her. No good pretending anymore; Mommy was never fooled by pretending. Faith could pretend so hard that she pretty much believed herself, but Mommy always knew better-and Mommy had told her to mind Grandmaman.\n\nWith a little shuddering sigh, Faith let goof the hush, and stopped pretending there was a second little girl who had her ears; she let goof the dark, and stopped pretending about the other little girls who had her eyes, and her nose and her hands and her mouth and practically everything else.\n\nGrandmaman stood over her in the white room, and her hair was sparkly in the bright lights. Faith didn't remember where the white room was, or why it was different from some other white room that she didn't really remember; she didn't remember how she had gotten here, or why Grandmaman should look so upset, because she was still holding onto the last little girl, the fifth one, the little girl who had Faith's remembery. As long as she could hold onto the last little girl, the others didn't really matter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The last little girl was the one who kept screaming, way off in the hushy dark.\n\nGrandmaman leaned down and kissed heron the forehead. \"Faith, you have to-have to-\" She looked back at the big rumbly man, who stood over by a little door with his great big troll arms crossed over his great big troll chest.\n\n\"Tell her to stop hiding,\" the big rumbly man said in his big rumbly voice. \"Tell her to come to the front of her head.\"\n\n\"Faith, you must stop hiding. Come to the front of your head.\"\n\nThat she could hear Grandmaman and the big rumbly man both meant she was already at the front of her head, all alone where it was loud and bright and cold and really scary. Faith blinked and tried to not-tried to be brave-but a tear leaked out anyway and trickled down into her ear. \"It's too empty up here,\" she told Grandmaman in a little tiny whispery voice. \"It's lonely.\"\n\n\"Tell her,\" said the big rumbly man, \"that if she takes my hand, inside her head, she will never be lonely again.\"\n\nNever be lonely again... Faith heard that echo and echo and echo, and it didn't even fade away: again again again. She let herself fallback down into the dark, and started to feel around for the rumbly man's hand.\n\n\"Faith, did you hear him? I want you to do what he says, do you understand? Take his hand, Faith. Faith?-Tan'elKoth, I feel completely ridiculous. What is this supposed to mean, take your hand inside her head? This is a foolish waste of time.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She couldn't seethe big rumbly man, but she could feel him all around her, as though he was made out of really thick fog and she was walking through him, except fog is kind of cold and wet and icky, and the big rumbly man was really warm and dry and kind of, kind of, almost, friendly. Like he liked her. Like he maybe even loved her a little bit.\n\n\"You surrender too easily. Not only does she hear you, she struggles to comply. I can see it.\"\n\nHe didn't love her the way Mommy did, of course, it wasn't the same thing, but more like the way she loved her lemon-and-green toga that Daddy had bought her in Chicago: the way you love something that you figure is not really smart enough to love you back.\n\nThat was okay with her. She didn't want to have to love him back. When you love them back, you end up like the little fifth girl.\n\n\"See? What is thereto see?\"\n\n\"You have first-handed a thaumaturge; Karl himself was somewhat adept. You must remember how the Shell appears to one in mindview-even now, the child crudely and clumsily tunes her Shell to match the frequencies mine generates.\"\n\nShe couldn't find the big rumbly man's hand, but she got herself to just about where it ought to be, and she reached out and sort of imagined his hand. Kind of like when you're having a dream and you're lost in a big dark building that you've never seen before, but you decide that it's really your house, and somehow you know it is even though it doesn't look like it at first: she just took hold of the fog and the dark and the big dry warmth and decided that this was his hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're in mindview? Right now? Don't you have to concentrate?\"\n\n\"I am concentrating.\"\n\n\"Then how can you still talk?\"\n\n\"I am Tan'elKoth.\"\n\nAnd when she kept on imagining-kept on deciding-the fog got to be more and more like a hand, got bigger and warmer and drier, until it was sort of really pretty solid.\n\n\"She's tuning her Shell? Like an adept?\"\n\n\"Not like an adept. Like a child. All children have some skill with magick. The primary function of pedagogy, in your society, is the murder of this ability.\"\n\nShe didn't know what any of that was supposed to mean, but that was okay, because she was really mostly paying attention to the hand. So far, it looked kind of like a cartoon hand, you know, the right number of fingers and stuff but it didn't look like it really belonged to anybody. It was just real big.\n\nBut she hung on and kept on deciding-areal hand would have some wrinkles on the knuckles, and some more on the palm here, and it would have little bulgy things at the bottom of each finger, and of course since the big rumbly man was a grown-up there'd be a little bit of hair on the back-\n\nAs the hand got to be really pretty real, the hushy dark wasn't so hushy anymore: She could hear somebody talking, somebody saying in a little tiny squeaky voice Be careful-oh, please be careful. Pretty soon she could see him, and the more she listened, the clearer he got. This was somebody she didn't know, some little old man, all wrinkled and bent over, and he looked like he wouldn't smell very good."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There were other people here now, lots of people, all dressed funny-not like real Administrators or Artisans or anybody else-all dressed like they were going to some kind of grown-up costume party, or maybe to a convention, like Fancon. And they all came crowding up around, and they were all talking at once, and it was pretty scary but none of them really looked mean or anything. There was one man who looked kind of like the big rumbly man, except he was a lot bigger, and he had really long wavy hair and a huge bristly beard. And there was another big man with golden hair and beautiful blue eyes, and he came right up close to her and kneeled down and looked like he was going to cry.\n\nFaith? Do you know me, Faith? Do you know who I am?\n\nShe really hated when grown-ups asked that kind of question, because usually you didn't, and then they seemed kind of disappointed and sometimes even hurt. So she didn't really want to answer him, even though he had really nice hair and really nice eyes, and he looked pretty upset. He put his handout and touched her arm and said Faith: Faith, honey-\n\nAnd the big rumbly man shouted inside her head: BACK! DOWN, YOU JACKALS! BACK WITHIN THE GATES. THIS ONE IS MINE!\n\nHe must have done something to all the people that scared them and maybe even hurt, because they all went away a lot faster than they had come, and the big rumbly man was so loud, and so angry, and kind of mean-sounding that she started to cry, and as soon as she started to cry she wanted Mommy to be here, and as soon as she wanted Mommy to be here she forgot to pretend about the little fifth girl."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her remembery came back, and she remembered that she was the little fifth girl all along.\n\nShe started to scream, and scream, and scream-and the big rumbly man was squeezing her hand, and it hurt, and she wanted Mommy or Daddy or anybody to come and make him stop, but then he snatched her other hand, too, and squeezed them both together, squeezed them both together, SQUEEZED them both TOGETHER-\n\nNow she didn't even have hands anymore-the big rumbly man had squeezed them until they turned into just one wrist, like her arms were a big wishbone, and her one big wrist just connected right with the big wrist of the rumbly man and she could feel his blood pumping in through her arms and hers pumping out through his.\n\nThe big rumbly man bared his big sharp teeth down at her. Now, child: Where is the river?\n\nFaith could only shake her head dumbly; she couldn't stop looking at where his big hairy wrist melted into her two little smooth ones. Something seemed to be caught in her throat, like she'd swallowed some kind of little rat and it was climbing backup out of her stomach with its little needly claws scratching little pieces out of her and making her taste blood like that time she fell down and her tooth went through her lip-\n\nThe river, child, the big rumbly man-Tan'elKoth, she knew his name now, it flowed into her with his blood-said, louder. I have not come so far only to be denied.\n\nHe was getting angry, too, really angry, and the anger was hurting her, burning her wrists and her arms and scorching her chest and making the rat in her throat struggle harder and harder to get out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "WHERE IS THE DAMNED RIVER? WHY CAN'T I FEEL THE RIVER?\n\nAnd he was so angry that he made her even more scared, and then the rat finally made it all the way up to her mouth. It pushed out through her teeth and it wasn't really a rat at all.\n\nIt was a scream.\n\nScream and scream and scream and scream.\n\nBecause she would never be alone inhere again.\n\nFAITH'S SCREAM REBOUNDED off the surgery's walls and reflected upon itself until it spiraled up like a feedback shriek. It made Avery want to cover her ears and crumple into a corner; instead she yanked on Tan'elKoth's arm. It felt like a concrete lamp pole. \"Stop it!\" she shouted. She could barely hear her own voice. \"Stop! You're hurting her!\"\n\nHe snarled an incomprehensible reply and made an impatient shrugging twitch of the arm that shook her off and sent her spinning against a wall with shocking force. Half stunned, she came back at him anyway, snarling, her fingers hooking toward his eye. He caught her arm absently-most of his attention was still on Faith-and held her with irresistible strength.\n\n\"Stop it!\" Avery shouted again. \"Hurt her again and I'll see you dead! You hear me? I'll see you dead for this!\"\n\nControlling her effortlessly with his grip on her wrist, he could ignore her. Faith kept screaming, and he bared his teeth as he leaned over her, as if he wanted to bite her face. Avery struggled desperately, uselessly, until she realized that Tan'elKoth had caught her with his maimed hand. She made a fist and slammed it onto the bandaged nub that was all that remained of his little finger."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He gasped, and his hand sprang open."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She swung her fist again, overhand like she was serving at tennis, right into the swollen mass of bruise over his eye. \"Leave her alone!\"\n\nHe didn't even wince. Before she quite understood what was happening he had her by the throat. He lifted her off the floor and held her at arm's length; she scrabbled uselessly at his iron fingers. His maimed hand became a fist. \"I can kill you,\" he said. \"Do you comprehend this?\"\n\nHis grip on her throat choked off any possible response; she couldn't even nod. \"How can you help this child if you are dead?\" he asked in a simple and reasonable tone, and he held her there while he waited for some kind of answer.\n\nAvery closed her eyes, and her hands fell to her sides.\n\nIf Tan'elKoth killed her now, at least this madness that had overwhelmed her life would end. Instead, he set her down gently and released his grip on her throat.\n\n\"Calm the child, Businessman. She may injure herself.\"\n\nAvery summoned the strength to stay on her feet, to open her eyes and walk unsteadily to the table where Faith convulsed against the restraints. \"Hush, Faith,\" she murmured, stroking the child's face. \"Shh, girl. Grandmaman is here. Grandmaman is here, and all is well.\"\n\nA tear rolled over her sharp cheekbone and dropped into Faith's hair.\n\nFaith's struggles soon quieted, and when Faith slipped back into her silent unconsciousness, Avery's strength deserted her. She sagged against the stainless steel lip of the surgical table, but even with that support she could not hold her feet; she dropped to her knees, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Businessman,\" Tan'elKoth said gently, \"please... Avery, please don't cry.\"\n\nHis huge warm hands took her shoulders and gently lifted her from the floor; he guided her to the surgery's single chair, and when she sank into it, he knelt at her side.\n\n\"Please, Avery,\" he murmured, sliding his arm around her. \"There is enough of... of Karl in me that I cannot bear your tears...\"\n\n\"What is happening tome?\" Avery whispered brokenly through her covering hands. \"This is not me. This is not who I am. I don't understand what is happening...\"\n\n\"Where love advances, reason retreats,\" he said kindly. \"It is not unusual to find the corpses of our illusions left to rot on that particular field.\"\n\n\"I won't let you hurt her,\" Avery said. She took her hands away from her face and met his eyes. \"You can kill me. But while I'm alive, I'll do whatever it takes to stop you.\"\n\n\"I understand you. You must understand me.\" Tan'elKoth rose and went to the surgical table. His hand hovered an inch above Faith's hair, as though he feared to touch her.\n\n\"What you feel for this child, I feel for each of my Children,\" he said. \"There are millions, Businessman. Each is precious tome in ways that surpass description. My dreams are filled with echoes from their future. Those echoes are of screams.\"\n\nHe turned back to her and spread his hands in appeal. \"What would you not do, to protect your grandchild? What should I not do, to protect my Children?\"\n\n\"I won't let you hurt her,\" Avery repeated.\n\nHis gaze shifted fractionally, as though his eye had been drawn to some movement in the room beyond. His face twisted through a brief, almost invisible spasm: loathing, disgust-and, shockingly, fear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Avery trembled, suddenly chilled to the bone. What could frighten Tan'elKoth, she didn't ever want to know.\n\n\"It's not me,\" he said slowly, \"who will hurt her, Businessman.\"\n\nHesitantly, afraid of what she would see, she followed his gaze.\n\nPressed against the surgery's window, face slack with the blankly ravenous desire of a starving Temp outside a butcher shop, was Arturo Kollberg.\n\n\"HOW LONG WILL he stand there?\" Avery asked softly.\n\nKollberg had pressed himself silently against the window for hours, now; for how many hours, Avery could not say. She paced back and forth, hugging herself against constant shivering, though the room was not cold.\n\nTan'elKoth sat on the chair, facing away from the window, leaning over Faith in an attitude of concentration. \"It is impossible to predict,\" he said, his tone distant, bleached free of emotion. \"Sometimes he stays fora few minutes. Once for nearly a day. Laborer Kollberg comes and goes at his own pleasure; what may spark this pleasure is not only unknowable, but repellent to speculate upon.\"\n\n\"Are you making any progress?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"No. I had expected to find the link as soon as I established contact with her mind, but I did not. I presume that the trauma of her mother's murder caused her to wall off that part of her consciousness, not unlike the dissociative reaction that sometimes creates a splinter personality.\"\n\n\"You knew,\" she said. \"You knew about the murder in advance.\"\n\n\"You will recall that I tried to warn you.\"\n\n\"Did you try to warn her? Pallas? What did you say to her?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She and Caine both understood their risk,\" he said, then added in a bitter undertone, \"-better, perhaps, than did I.\"\n\n\"What happens if you can't find this link of yours?\"\n\n\"As I explained: the sole way we can protect this child is to make her useful to the creature that once was Kollberg. If we fail in that, then we, too, will be superfluous. Death follows hard upon that state, Businessman.\"\n\n\"There are worse things than death,\" Avery said.\n\n\"Indeed,\" he agreed. \"And you will likely become intimately acquainted with several of them. I have recounted how Kollberg passes his leisure time.\"\n\nAvery looked through the window into those empty, hungry eyes; she began once more to shiver. \"Is there anything more we can be doing?\"\n\nTan'elKoth shrugged dispiritedly. \"I can only inspect the resonances of mind that might theoretically have produced her link to the river. You might say that I am searching for the link, but you must understand that the mind-even the mind of a child-is, metaphorically speaking, a very large place.\"\n\nAvery nodded toward Kollberg. \"Does he understand that?\"\n\n\"I cannot say what he does and does not understand.\"\n\n\"He doesn't even seem human anymore,\" she said.\n\n\"He is profoundly human,\" Tan'elKoth said. \"He is humanity concentrated and distilled: refined to its essential core. What you mean to say, I think, is that he is no longer a man.\"\n\n\"You're saying he's more than a man.\"\n\n\"On the contrary. He's quite a bit less.\"\n\nShe thought about that fora longtime.\n\nLater, she asked, \"And what happens once you find the link?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tan'elKoth turned his gaze aside from Faith's sleeping face, and he sighed. \"That, at least, is no mystery. Life-existence itself-is a pattern of Flow; everything, living or otherwise, is a patterning of the primodial energy of the universe. We see things as discrete individuals only because we are trained so. All that exists is, in the end, knots within the weave that is the universe.\"\n\nTan'elKoth's tone remained dry and precise, but his face grew evermore grim. \"Chambaraya is, one might say, a smaller knot of mind within the Worldmind: what the elves call T'nnalldion. Through Faith, the Bog can get its corporate fingers into that knot, unbind it, and tie it again in their own image.\"\n\nAvery shook her head blankly, uncomprehending. Tan'elKoth's expression was bleak as an open grave. \"They'll make of it a world like this one.\"\n\n\"Is that all?\" Avery asked, frowning. \"You make it sound like a catastrophe.\"\n\n\"It will bean Armageddon unimaginable; it will be genocide on a scale of which Stalin could not have dreamed.\"\n\n\"Wiping out magick doesn't seem like such a bad thing.\"\n\n\"Businessman,\" Tan'elKoth said patiently, \"you don't understand. Magick has not been wiped out on Earth; it is a function of Flow, which is the energy of existence itself. But its state can be altered. And it has been. Once, Earth was home to fully as many magickal creatures as was Overworld: dragons and sea serpents and mermaids, rocs and djann and primals and stonebenders and all. But creatures such as these require higher levels of certain frequencies of Flow than does humanity; as the pattern of Earth degraded, these creatures not only died, but their very bones gave up their integrity. They vanished into the background Flow of your universe.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You're saying magick works on Earth?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Avery said skeptically.\n\n\"Magick works, as you say, everywhere. But the manner in which magick works on Earth is a local aberration; the physics of this planet and its spatial surrounds have been altered to conditions that favor the ascendance of humanity.\"\n\n\"And what's wrong with that?\"\n\n\"I did not say it was wrong. I do not debate morality. In my zeal to protect my Children, I once favored such a fate for my own world. But it is unnatural. It is both the cause and the result of the ugly twisting of human nature that we see around us, and of the society in which you force yourselves to live.\"\n\n\"Earth's not so bad-\"\n\n\"How would you know?\" Tan'elKoth said acidly. \"It is only in these past few days that you have had contact with the actual realities of Earth. Are you having fun?\" He waved toward the window, where Kollberg now had one hand openly kneading his groin while he leaned one cheek and the side of his open mouth against the glass. Avery flinched and looked away.\n\nShe hugged herself more tightly. \"I don't understand. If you hate what they're going to do, why are you helping them?\"\n\n\"I am not helping them!\" Suddenly he was on his feet, towering over her, shaking an enormous fist. \"I am helping you. I am helping Faith. I am...\" The passion drained out of him as swiftly as it had arisen. He let his fist open and fall limp against his thigh. \"I am trying to go home.\"\n\nOutside the window, Kollberg panted like an overheated dog.\n\n\"Well,\" Avery said finally. \"I'm afraid you're out of luck.\"\n\n\"How do you mean?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She shook her head. \"You're such a man, Professional. That's why you can't find this link of yours.\"\n\n\"I do not understand.\"\n\n\"Of course you don't. That's what I mean: You're a man. You think this link is with the river. It wasn't. Faith spoke of it, in the car on our way back to Boston when I first picked her up. She was quite clear about it. Her link was never with the river. It was with her mother.\"\n\n\"Her mother-?\"\n\n\"Her dead mother, now.\"\n\nTan'elKoth's eyes narrowed. \"I have been a fool,\" he said. He spun and seated himself once again at Faith's side, bending over her with redoubled energy. \"Power,\" he murmured. \"All that is required is a usable source of power-\"\n\n\"What are you doing? She's dead, Tan'elKoth. There is no link.\"\n\n\"Dead, yes-but the pattern of her consciousness persists, even as your son's does within me. It was trapped at the instant of her passing. It is powerless, yes-having nobody to inform it with will. It is analogous to a computer program stored on disk, you might say: a structure of information that requires only a computer on which to run, and the necessary power to activate.\"\n\n\"What kind of power?\"\n\nFrom the doorway behind her, the soulless rasp of Arturo Kollberg said, \"My kind of power.\"\n\nDURING HIS YEARS of walking the world, the crooked knight came to find himself bemazed within a dark and trackless wood. In this wood, all paths led equally to death.\n\nThe crooked knight did not lose hope; he turned to various guides for help and direction. His first guide was Youthful Dream. Later, he turned to Friendship, then Duty, and finally Reason, but each left him more lost than had the one before."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So the crooked knight gave himself up for dead, and simply sat.\n\nHe would be sitting there still, but fora breeze that came upon him then: a breeze that smelled of wide-open spaces, of limitless skies and bright sun, of ice and high mountains.\n\nIt was the wind from the dark angel's wings."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 17"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So the crooked knight gave himself up for dead, and simply sat.\n\nHe would be sitting there still, but fora breeze that came upon him then: a breeze that smelled of wide-open spaces, of limitless skies and bright sun, of ice and high mountains.\n\nIt was the wind from the dark angel's wings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "FOURTEEN\n\nA FEW DAYS before the Festival of the Assumption, anew report detonated like a suitcase nuke in the heart of the net. Actors in Ankhana had witnessed the riverboat arrival of a Monastic delegation, an entourage of dozens of functionaries, and servants, and heavily armed friars with the sword-edged eyes of combat veterans. The delegation had been met at the Industrial Park docks by an honor guard suitable for vassal kings and the entire capital army band; the assemblage had formed a huge parade, a processional that surrounded a large wheeled cart drawn by four humpbacked oxen.\n\nThe band had struck up a solemn hymn, \"Justice of God,\" a standard of the Church of the Beloved Children of Ma'elKoth. The parade marched north up Rogues\" Way, through the midst of the Industrial Park on its broadest boulevard, Artisans'Angle, then south along Nobles\" Way, past the makeshift barricades that sealed the smoldering ruins of Alientown, across the rebuilt Knights'Bridge into Old Town, and on down Nobles\" Way to the South Bank, west the length of Dukes'Street and north along Rogues\" Way once again, crossing onto Old Town before turning east along the grand central artery of Gods' Way.\n\nThe entire circumference of this rough spiral was lined with cheering, jeering, hooting crowds, drawn by the thundering music and the triumphant proclamations of the heralds that preceded the parade, trumpeting the announcement of the capture of the Enemy of God.\n\nOn the cart was a tall platform; on the platform was chained a medium-sized, rather unremarkable-looking man with dark hair and a ragged tenday's growth of black beard. By midnight, nearly everyone on Earth had heard the news."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Caine was alive.\n\nHIS RADIANT HOLINESS Toa-Sytell, Patriarch of Ankhana and faithful Steward of the Empire, leaned on the chill stone of the windowsill and stared at the eastward sweep of Gods' Way. With the sun westering toward twilight, the shadowy room had grown cool. Only the lightest brush of autumnal ochre warmed the top of the Sen-Dannalin Wall, but the gold-leafed spires of the neighboring Temple of the Katherisi blazed like bonfires; Toa-Sytell shaded his eyes against the glare.\n\nAn occasional wind-shift brought twists of smoke past this window: smoke from buildings that still smoldered in Alientown. The Patriarch hated that smoke. It seemed to fill his head in choking billows that strangled his thoughts. And below the ruins of Alientown, the fighting still continued.\n\nThinking about it made him queasy. He had been troubled in both stomach and head of late, as though he had become the city that he ruled, and the conflict had given him fever. He was acutely, almost painfully aware of the fighting that might be going on now, in the caverns below the city-below, perhaps, the palace itself. Even after these several days of what the army had begun to call the Caverns War, he couldn't get used to it. It made the earth itself seem unsteady, temporary, dangerously frangible, as though any street where he walked was only a soap bubble, decaying in the sunlight, and at any second it might vanish and he would fall, and fall, and fall.\n\nSo he no longer left the palace.\n\nDown on Gods'Way, an avenue so broad it was almost a plaza, the people of Ankhana crowded shoulder to shoulder in bright festival colors, a tightly woven carpet of knobbled heads and hats and hair planed almost smooth by range and elevation. No sign yet of the triumphal procession that brought Caine in public disgrace to the Donjon-but faintly to the Patriarch's ear came the distance-thinned strains of'Justice of God,\" and he allowed himself a slim smile as chill as the stone on which he leaned."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Three respectful paces behind Toa-Sytell's left shoulder, His Grace the Honorable Toa-M'Jest, Duke of Public Order, coughed into his fist.\n\n\"Join me here, M'Jest,\" Toa-Sytell said informally. \"He should be arriving soon. Don't you want to watch?\"\n\n\"If it's all the same to you, Radiance-\"\n\n\"It isn't. Join me.\"\n\nToa-M'Jest ducked his head and surreptitiously mopped sweat from his brow with his sleeve; the Patriarch pretended that he did not see. When the Duke came to the window, the Patriarch could smell him-a sour, slightly rank sweat smell, with a taint of the outhouse to it that cut through the Duke's expensive perfume. Toa-M'Jest took the Patriarch's casually offered hand; the Duke's fingers were clammy, chill like raw meat off a butcher's iceblock, and they trembled, ever so slightly.\n\nWhile the Duke lowered dry lips to his master's fingers, the Patriarch stared into the empty distance above Ankhana's towers. \"Seven years ago next tenday, I stood at this very window with the Count-shortly thereafter Saint-Berne,\" he mused. \"Then, too, we watched for sight of Caine approaching along Gods' Way. Then, too, we thought he had been taken, chained, rendered harmless.\"\n\nThe Patriarch took the Duke's chin in his hand and raised it so that their eyes could meet. \"Then, too,\" he said, \"we did not learn how wrong we were until far too late.\"\n\nToa-M'Jest swallowed. \"I don't know what you mean, Holiness.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Of course you do."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Don't bean ass.\" The Patriarch sighed. \"I know that you once counted Caine your friend-that you even go so far, privately, as to credit him for your current position. I know that you will be inclined to aid him. I tell you plainly, Toa-M'Jest: This inclination may cost your life.\"\n\n\"Radiance-\"\n\nThe Patriarch waved the objection aside; Toa-M'Jest could have nothing of interest to say on the subject. \"How goes the mopping up?\"\n\nThe Duke took a breath to gather his wits. \"Better, Your Radiance, but still slowly. We hold the Alientown surface from Commons'Beach to the north shanties. I think we'll have everything locked down within a tenday.\"\n\n\"So long?\" the Patriarch murmured. \"The Festival of the Assumption sprints toward us, Toa-M'Jest. This situation must be resolved.\"\n\n\"It's the caverns-the rock cuts off Flow,\" the Duke reminded him. \"The Thaumaturgics are short of griffinstones. It's bad enough, sending men down there against ogres and trolls without magickal cover, but stonebenders? You can't fight stone-benders in those caverns, Your Radiance. Not without griffinstones. It's suicide.\"\n\n\"You understand, do you not, that your failure to arrest Kierendal is of especial concern now? She was once your lover; sent against her by my order, you failed-\"\n\nThe Duke bristled. \"The kind of magick those fuckers throw around?\" he snapped, relapsing into the gutter talk of his former life. \"We had to fallback. You should have seen the shit they were throwing-like goddamn Ma'elkoth, excuse the profanity. How many soldiers did you want to lose?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The circumstances of their resistance are irrelevant. Half the Alientown Patrol are Knights of Cant; you should have been better prepared.\"\n\n\"She's not going anywhere. She'll either surrender with the rest or die where she is.\"\n\n\"Nonetheless. Your record against your former... associates... is less than stellar, M'Jest. We can afford no similar, mm, errors... in dealing with Caine.\"\n\n\"There won't be any,\" the Duke promised grimly.\n\n\"I understand you have already financed a private cell for him.\"\n\nToa-M'Jest settled into himself as though anticipating a blow. \"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you have an explanation for this which might allay my fears...?\"\n\n\"Isn't it obvious?\"\n\nThe Patriarch allowed himself another thin, cold smile. \"Several conflicting explanations are, I think, equally obvious. I am curious which you will select.\"\n\n\"He's crippled,\" the Duke said simply. \"Berne put Kosall through his spine. The Pit's full of street scum. He wouldn't last a day down there, maybe not even an hour-everybody'd want to be the Man Who Killed Caine. Not to mention that most all of them are facing execution on charges-mmm, you might say dubious charges-of Cainism. I don't think anyone'll care to stand up for him.\"\n\n\"I see,\" the Patriarch said. \"So your sole concern is to ensure that he lives long enough to be executed.\"\n\nToa-M'Jest turned his face toward the window, looking out over the broad parade route below. \"Yeah,\" he said slowly. \"It's not easy to admit, y'know? But I got a position, now; I got responsibilities. I love the guy like my own brother, but every time he comes to town we end up in a fucking war.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Patriarch's eye was caught by the scarlet flash of the afternoon sun off the halberd blades of the Household Knights as the parade turned the corner from Rogues\" Way onto Gods'Way and began its final triumphal leg."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Far, far below, he could barely make out the limp figure on the rack above the dungcart's bed.\n\n\"Yes,\" he murmured. He ran his tongue around lips that had become dry and cracked and hot. \"Yes, we do.\"\n\nTHE IMPERIAL D ONJON of Ankhana began its existence as the final line of defense for the river pirates who had founded the city more than a thousand years ago. In those days, what would later become Ankhana was nothing more than a simple fort of stone and a cluster of huts, enclosed by a wooden stockade wall at the west end of the island that would later be called Old Town.\n\nBelow the fort lay a natural cleft in the limestone that was the predominant geological formation of the area; this cleft led far below the river itself, into a bewildering three-dimensional tangle of caverns and passages, including one that was a straight vertical chimney down to another river, underground, that paralleled the Great Chambaygen above. This cleft became known satirically as the Donjon, in the sense of stronghold, from its use as the escape route when the fort above fell to siege.\n\nThe Donjon's actual use as the Ankhanan civic dungeon did not begin until nearly a hundred years after the Liberation, when Ankhana's stand against the armies of Panchasell the Luckless and his Folk allies had assured the city's dominance over the surrounding lands. At that time, the pirate chieftains of Ankhana had taken to calling themselves kings; kings are perpetually in need of secure places in which to deposit those enemies who would be inconvenient to kill.\n\nThe Donjon was a place of deep shadow and bad air, rank with fermenting exhalations of decayed lungs filtered through mouthfuls of rotting teeth."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Pit was an already-large natural cavern that had been enlarged and altered over the years, first crudely-by inexpert human engineers-and later with astonishing skill by teams of convict stonebenders. By the morning on which Hari Michaelson, the man who had once been Caine, was carried down the stairs from the Courthouse, the Pit was fully forty meters across, ringed by an overhanging balcony cut from the stone ten meters above the floor. A single stairbridge, hinged to the balcony, could be lowered on winched chains to deliver new prisoners to the Pit floor. The prisoners' daily rations were lowered by hand in cheaply woven baskets, and eaten without the benefit of utensils.\n\nNewer features included a tic-tac-toe square of plank-floored catwalks crisscrossing the Pit at the same ten-meter height as the balcony, suspended from the arched stone ceiling by heavy chains. On chains as well were five enormous brass lamps-each the size of a washtub, with a wick as thick as a man's arm-that provided the constant light. They burned without interruption, their oil replenished and wicks replaced as necessary by the crossbow-armed Donjon guards who paced the catwalks.\n\nIn the Pit, darkness would be a luxury.\n\nIn years past, the Pit had been a temporary holding area, a pen of stone for prisoners awaiting trial and convicts awaiting transportation to frontier garrisons, or to the mines of the high desert, or to the galleys of the Ankhanan navy out of the port city of Terana.\n\nThings were different, now.\n\nOn Saint Berne's Eve-slightly more than two months ago-the army and the constabulary had begun a systematic program of mass arrests of Cainists and Cainist sympathizers. Holding areas had been prepared to house the detained Cainists outside the Donjon, but soon they had all been filled, many of them with varieties of subhumans who required specially prepared cages: ogres, trolls, treetoppers, and stonebenders, each of whom presented their own particular difficulties as prisoners. Ogres and trolls are predatory carnivores, enormous and incredibly strong, as well as naturally armed with huge hooked tusks and steel-hard talons; treetoppers are tiny, hardly larger than birds, and not only can they fly, but they have the inborn thaumaturgic ability to Cloak themselves, which can render them effectively invisible; stonebenders are able to shift and shape stone, metal, and earth with their bare hands. Not that all or even most of these subhumans were actual Disciples of Caine, of course; but the Empire and the Church found it expedient to pretend that they were, so that they might all be executed in the mass auto-da-fé planned by the Patriarch to celebrate the seventh Festival of the Assumption of Ma'elKoth."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The climax of the festival-the grand finale of the grandest festival, the pinnacle of the celebration of the seventh anniversary of Ma'elKoth's transfiguration from mortal god to Ascended Godhead in truth-would be the burning of the Enemy of God: the Prince of Chaos himself.\n\nThe Pit was now filled with the less problematic overflow of the street sweeps: humans, primals, and ogrilloi. Not that all or even most of these were Cainist either; on the contrary, the majority of them were merely the sort of street trash, thugs, and minor criminals that the constables could easily lay hands upon and thus demonstrate to the Church their zealous prosecution of their duties.\n\nThe Pit could hold four hundred prisoners in something resembling comfort; perhaps six or seven hundred in what would be called dangerous overcrowding. On the day that the aforementioned Prince of Chaos was carried down the long, straight stairway cut through the living rock below the Courthouse that was the Donjon's sole entrance or exit, nearly fifteen hundred souls were crammed into this overflowing jar of flesh. There was nowhere one could sit or stand or lie without touching another living creature. The flesh-to-flesh contact that could be such a comfort in the harsh chill of the outside world became a positive horror in this damp bowl of rock, where the walls dripped with the endless meaty condensation of living breath; the Pit was as warm and moist as the inside of somebody else's mouth.\n\nThe Pit's sole supply of freshwater flowed through three trenches, each a hand-span wide; they curved out across the floor from a single source in one wall and converged again to empty into a single sump in the opposite wall. These trenches also served as the Pit's cloaca.\n\nThe politics of the Pit were simple: the healthiest, strongest, most privileged of the prisoners sat or lay nearest to the source. The internal pecking order described a strict geographic descent from that position to the opposite end: to those who through helplessness and timidity were forced to drink the urine-and-shit-fouled wastewater that drained from the happier climes forty meters upstream."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hari Michaelson was to be secured in a cell along one of the corridors that radiated from the Pit balcony like spokes of a crooked wheel. Strapped to a litter, unable to move, he lay back silently, not even turning his face to see where he was being taken; he had been here before, and he remembered how it looked. The smell told him everything else he could possibly have wanted to know.\n\nThe Donjon guards who bore his litter carried it swiftly around the balcony, but his arrival did not go unremarked. The Pit itself fell silent, as hundreds of eyes tracked his passage; no sound could be heard above the low hush of massed breath and the gurgle of water slithering along trenches of stone.\n\nRumors of the eventual coming of the Enemy of God had whispered themselves from mouth to mouth on twilit street corners, around low fires, and within darkened pubs for months now. The Ascended Ma'elKoth was expected to return as well, and the two were to meet in final battle at noon of the seventh Assumption Day, just as their initial great conflict had occurred on the first. There were competing rumors, too: that Caine had been no more than a man, just as Ma'elKoth had been only a man, and that any'final battle\" on Assumption Day would be merely a dumbshow to impress the gullible masses, a parable of Good versus Evil played out by mummers in Church employ; these rumors were popularly dismissed as Cainist propaganda.\n\nNewer tales had been told, too, of the capture of Caine by the heroic friar Raithe of Ankhana. Raithe, it was said, had conjured the spirit of Saint Berne to sustain him in pitched battle against the Prince of Chaos and his whore-consort, the Aktir Queen once known as Pallas Ril. The epic battle had been fought from peak to peak in the distant mountains of the God's Teeth: the Aktiri legions had attacked with weapons of lightning and flame, against which the small band of friars led by young Raithe could set only their strength of purpose, their purity of heart, and their faith in the justice of Ma'elKoth."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "It was told that the Aktir Queen had been slain in that battle by Raithe himself, even as Jereth Godslaughterer had been slain by Jhantho the Founder at Pirichanthe; it was told that the touch of Raithe's hand had reopened the wound of the Holy Stroke upon the Enemy of God, and that the Caine who approached Ankhana in chains was no more than a broken cripple. It was told that the Patriarch himself considered already the question of Raithe's possible sainthood.\n\nAmong the hundreds of pairs of eyes that tracked the litter's progress around the balcony were those of a former member of the Monastic diplomatic delegation to the Infinite Court: t'Passe of Narnen Hill, onetime Vice Ambassador to Damon of Jhanthogen Bluff. T'Passe was a thick-bodied, plain-faced woman whose eyes held a curiously unchanging expression, both manic and contemplative at once.\n\nShe had been among the very first of the Cainists to be arrested, at the embassy itself, on Saint Berne's Eve. Only a few days later, all the Monastics who had been arrested were officially freed; their status as diplomatic delegates of a sovereign nation demanded it. No fuss came from the Church over this; neither the Church nor the Empire had ever intended the detained Monastics to be imprisoned long enough to require a Monastic response.\n\nT'Passe, however, had refused to leave the Donjon. Threatened with forcible ejection by the civil authorities-to avoid a confrontation with the Monasteries-she had resigned her post on the spot. She would have surrendered her Monastic citizenship as well, had not Acting Ambassador Damon assured her that the Monasteries would make no special effort to have her freed, now that she no longer filled a diplomatic position with the embassy."
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If to speak the truth is a crime, then I shall always be a criminal,\" she'd said. Now, as she watched Caine's progress on his litter, she might have been carved of the same rough stone as the Donjon itself.\n\nThe first words to break the silence were a murmur from an unidentifiable mouth. \"He looks so helpless...\"\n\nAnother soft voice said, \"Maybe it's not him,\" probably a Cainist's, from its hopeful tone. \"It's not, huh? It can't really be him, can it?\"\n\n\"It is he,\" t'Passe said stolidly. \"I saw Caine at the Ceremony of Refusal after the Battle of Ceraeno.\"\n\n\"But that was, like, twenty years ago-\" someone objected, and t'Passe answered the objection with a flat shake of her head.\n\n\"I am not mistaken.\"\n\nA hulking young ogrillo smirked around his tusks. \"Kinda shoots yer whole theology in the ass, dun it?\" he asked as he coolly examined his wickedly hooked fighting claw. Snickers came from his small circle of toadies.\n\n\"Cainism is not theology, Orbek,\" t'Passe responded with her customary mild courtesy. \"It is philosophy.\"\n\n\"And you can calla turd a sandwich, but it still tastes like shit, hey?\"\n\n\"I bow to your superior experience,\" t'Passe replied, \"regarding the flavor of shit.\"\n\nThe ogrillo took this with a widened grin and a nod of the head. \"Yeah, arright,\" he said in a friendly enough way. \"But one of this day, this moutha yours-it gonna get busted, hey?\"\n\n\"At your convenience.\" T'Passe stared calmly at him until he finally shrugged, laughed, and turned away, shouldering through the close-packed mass of prisoners with his toadies in his wake."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "After he left, t'Passe turned once again to the conversation that Caine's arrival had interrupted. Her interlocutor was abroad-shouldered fey, tall for his folk, who was folded into a sitting position beside one of the water trenches. One of his thighs looked subtly wrong, as though something malign grew within, and the shin of the other leg was knobbed a few inches below the knee, as though it had been broken and never properly healed.\n\nHe clasped his knees to his chest and looked up at the former Vice Ambassador with great golden eyes, their vertically slit pupils spread wide in the murk of the Pit. Despite the eyes, despite the thick brush of platinum-colored hair that stood stiffly out from his scalp to the length of the first joint of his finger, he did not look entirely elvish; his face had been scoured into a map of age, a contoured terrain of harsh living, until he looked almost human-almost like a man fast approaching his fiftieth birthday. \"Why do you bait him like that?\" said the elf who looked like a man. \"What do you get out of it?\"\n\n\"My desires are of no concern to you, unless they either coincide with or conflict with your own,\" she said severely; then she shrugged and hunkered down beside him. She lowered her voice and kept her face near his, so that they could converse softly through the constant general buzz of voices around them. \"That is the dogma, at least. In truth, I enjoy the banter. It's a verbal display of dominance; you may have noticed that I am an intellectual bully.\"\n\n\"There is dogma? Cainist dogma?\" the man-elf asked. \"How can there be Cainist dogma?\"\n\n\"Dogma in the sense of a set of shared premises, from which we reason. But you are avoiding the subject, Deliann. We were talking about what you want.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know,\" Deliann sighed. \"That's just the problem.\"\n\n\"You must want something...\"\n\n\"I want a lot of things.\" He lifted one shoulder, dropped it again. \"I want my brother to be alive. I want my father to be alive. I want-\"\n\nShe raised a hand. \"You can't unring the bell, Deliann.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he said. \"I've heard that.\"\n\n\"The question is not what you hope might happen, or what you wish had happened differently. Tell me what you want to do.\"\n\nHe lowered his face to his knees. \"What I want doesn't matter,\" he said, his voice half muffled by his legs. \"You're wasting your time with me, t'Passe. Ask a dying man what he wants, he'll tell you he wants to live. You say, \"Oh, sorry. What's your second choice? \"\" He made a twitching gesture with his head, as though he wiped his eyes against the scraps of his trousers. \"I'm just sitting here waiting to die.\"\n\n\"We can each sit and wait to die, from the very day of our births. Those of us who do not do so, choose to ask-and to answer-the two questions that define every conscious creature: What do I want? and What will I do to get it? Which are, finally, only one question: What is my will? Caine teaches us that the answer is always found within our own experience; our lives provide the structure of the question, and a properly phrased question contains its own answer.\"\n\n\"I need you to leave me alone, t'Passe,\" Deliann said, his mouth pressed to his knees as though he would gnaw his own flesh. \"I can't... talk about this right now. Please.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She rocked back on her heels, her mouth a thin horizontal line; then she nodded."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps we can take this up again later, when you're feeling better.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Deliann said. \"Maybe later.\"\n\nShe could hear in his voice that he did not expect her to live that long.\n\nDELIANN LIFTED HIS head as t'Passe delicately stepped from bit to bit of open floor, her broad back stiffly erect, her shoulders square as cut stone. Most of the prisoners in the Pit passed their days sitting or lying down; he could follow her with his eyes until she found a place to squat, among a knot of fellow Cainists beneath one of the hanging lamps.\n\nDeliann had flashed on her when they had first met, shortly after he had been prodded down the stairbridge by the bluntly insistent business end of a Donjon guard's iron-bound club. His flash had shown him more than he wanted to know of her.\n\nHe had learned how it felt to have been a girl of plain, square face, a teenager with a sturdy, strictly functional body as graceless as a mallet, but cursed with a nature as sensitive as her mind was sharp. He had learned how it felt to use a bitter tongue to turn men aside before she could even look for any spark of interest in their eyes. Before she could be wounded by its absence.\n\nHe had learned how it felt to turn to the Monasteries, because she'd believed they were a different world, a separate reality where mind counted above beauty, scholarship above flattery-and how it felt to age slowly in a minor diplomatic post, while smaller, duller minds, those more facile with hypocrisy, those that chanced to inhabit more attractive bodies, received promotion and honor that should have been hers.\n\nHe had seen how it felt to devote one's entire life to the Future of a Humanity one has discovered, too late, that one despises."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cainism answered needs she'd never even known she had. As a philosophy, it was elitist, radically individualistic; such a brilliant woman, who had taken such bitter disappointment from every form of society, could not possibly resist. Perhaps Cainism was purely a philosophy, as she constantly reminded everyone in the Pit-but for her, it was theology, too.\n\nShe needed it to be true.\n\nWhen he had asked her, shortly after she had begun her explication of Cainist philosophy, the most obvious question, \"What if everyone behaved that way? What if everyone just made up their own rules as they went along?\" she had only shaken her head sadly.\n\n\"What if everyone could shoot lightning bolts from their arses?\" she'd countered. \"It's a specious question; very few people are capable of behaving this way. It's like asking, What if everyone had perfect pitch? Oran eidetic memory? The capacity for personal freedom is a rare talent. Talents exist to be used. We do not ask the sheep to be wolves; we, the wolves, do not ask ourselves to be sheep. Sheep can make such rules as happen to suit them-but it's foolishly naive to expect wolves to obey.\"\n\nAnd in the name of this gospel of freedom, she had imprisoned herself; in the name of'living life honestly,\" she would go to her death. It was, he supposed, the only way she could make herself feel special.\n\nDeliann trailed his fingers in the befouled water that trickled along the trench beside him. He could not discuss Cainism with t'Passe; he had known what he wanted, and had done everything he could think of to make it happen. The outcome had been, would be, unimaginably hideous death on a scale this world had never seen."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Whenever Deliann looked up, all he could see was a roomful of corpses.\n\nThere's where your whole system breaks down, t'Passe. In this room, we're all dead. Free or slave, hero or victim-dead is still dead.\n\nWhen he brought his damp fingers to his lips, he could smell the urine and feces that stained the water. He was desperately, bitterly thirsty, but he couldn't summon the energy to come to his feet and struggle through the mass of prisoners toward the cleaner water near the source. When he got there, the group of Serpents-members of a Warrengang who had taken over that prime real estate-would make him beg on his knees fora drink of pure water. Or worse: begging was innocuous enough that most of the prisoners no longer minded, and the Serpents seemed to have gotten bored with such petty, everyday humiliations.\n\nNo chance of help from above; the Donjon guards left the Pit entirely alone, so long as nothing reached the point of open riot. Even murder was tolerated-roughly once a day, the stairbridge would come clanking down and a team of litter-bearing guards would descend, covered by crossbows from above, to clear away the accumulated corpses. Not that most of these died by violence-disease and malnutrition were the prime killers in the Pit-but the guards made no distinction for cause of death. Starved or strangled, a corpse was a corpse.\n\nIn the past day or so, the price of water seemed to have risen from begging to the kissing of bared asses; an hour or so ago, a desperate woman had given one of the Serpents oral sex in exchange fora single drink. Deliann had turned away, sickened; he hadn't had the courage to look back since. He couldn't face whatever the current asking price was going to be."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He let his fingers trail in the water beside him once more, as though he could soak enough moisture through his skin to take the edge off his bitter thirst. Those Serpents, it seemed to him, were a clear example of what Cainism really was: they had the power to make their own rules, and look what they did with it.\n\nOn the other hand, he seemed to hear t'Passe's voice whisper in his ear, Cainism also says that you can fight them, if you choose. Might doesn't make right; this isn't a question of right; it's a question of what you want to do.\n\nAnd what did he want to do? Everyone kept asking him that, just as though it were important.\n\nMY CELL IS just down one of the corridors that radiate off the Pit. They keep a lamp inhere, but I can't light it; it's on the little writing desk across the room from my cot, and I don't have the energy to drag my dead legs over there. Besides, enough dull orange glow trickles through the window vent in the door-leakover from the big brass lamps that light the Pit-that I can see better than I really want to, anyway.\n\nI am haunted by that statue of me Tan'elKoth made, his David the King. I can see every sagging line of its jowl, every defeated droop of the bags under its eyes. A calculated, deliberate insult: he used my image for an icon of comfortable failure. The slow slipping-down life of a finally insignificant man.\n\nIf only I could have understood...\n\nHe knew better than I did, all along.\n\nI would give anything if I could be that insignificant, comfortably failed man one more time.\n\nThat image wasn't an insult. It was advice."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was, You have better than you deserve. Be grateful, and don't rock the fucking boat.\n\nDAY AND NIGHT have no meaning in the Pit. New prisoners were shoved down the bridge now and then; occasionally guards would descend to remove corpses and those who would soon be corpses. Fora longtime, the only benchmark had been the arrival of Caine. They'd been fed a few times since then, but Deliann found he couldn't remember if the food baskets had been lowered four times, or six... or two...\n\nHis fever worsened. He'd thought he was getting better for his first few days in the Pit, but that was only because the forced inactivity had taken the edge off his exhaustion. Deliann slept when he could no longer keep his eyes open, and he woke when jostled or kicked.\n\nThough he was well downstream of the Pit's midpoint, and he no longer risked the brutally whimsical Serpents who guarded the source of clean water, he'd managed to keep his thirst mostly at bay; he'd found that by sniffing fingers he'd trailed in the water trench, he could tell when the incoming flow was relatively free of the shit of upstream prisoners, and he would then risk a swallow or two. He imagined that he was exposing himself to infections that could range from hepatitis to cholera, but he couldn't make himself care.\n\nDuring most of his waking hours, he passed the time by listening to t'Passe and her growing band of Cainists proselytize the other prisoners and argue with each other; there were almost as many different interpretations of Cainism as there were Cainists. T'Passe's position seemed to carry a certain authority, though; her fierce intellect was supported by an extremely penetrating voice and an aggressive temper, and few dared to argue with her."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She would from time to time cast a glance in Deliann's direction, implicitly asking permission to approach him once more; he rarely met her eyes. Like right now: someone objected that the goal of Cainism was mere anarchy, and she stared directly at Deliann as she answered. \"Cainism is not anarchy, but autarchy,\" she said. \"Not the absence of rule, but self-rule.\"\n\n\"It's the same thing.\"\n\n\"It may appear so,\" t'Passe allowed serenely, \" if you think of Cainism as advocating autarchy; but we do not. We do not advocate, we merely describe. Autarchy is simple fact. Everyday, every thinking creature decides which rules to follow, and which to break. Our reasons for following or breaking these rules maybe wildly different, but the fact of choice is identical. Perhaps the only difference between a Cainist and anyone else is that we make these choices consciously, instead of allowing habit to guide us along with the herd. The elKothan Church says: Obey. Love each other. Serve the good of your neighbor. Do not lie. Do not steal. Do not kill.\n\n\"It is certainly possible fora Cainist to be a faithful elKothan, and a \"good person\" by the standards of the Church-the only difference being that the Cainist is aware he is making a choice. He does not obey Ma'elKoth or His Church, he obeys himself.\"\n\nT'Passe spread her hands, and from across the Pit offered Deliann a gently knowing smile. \"You might say that the real key to Cainism is nothing more than paying attention.\"\n\nLYING IN THE cell, staring at the rock above my cot-\n\nMy legs rotting like week-old hamburger-"
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Coughing up blood-\n\nAnd the worst part is that I can still hear that fucker yapping about Cainism.\n\nI can't tell if this particular fucker is a manor a woman or something roughly in between; all I know is, this fucker has a voice that can chip my goddamn teeth. All the fleshy jabber from the Pit, all the muttering and grunting and farting and the occasional scream, this voice slices through like a knife, but I'm the bone.\n\nIf there's anything that hurts worse than steel on bone, I don't want to know about it. It's a pain so intense you can't even feel it at first; it's a searing numbness, a shivering empty shock that ripples along your nerves and turns your body to jelly. That's what this fucker is doing tome, every time I hear that goddamn voice remind somebody that Cainism is not theology, but philosophy.\n\nI got some philosophy for that fucker, and plenty of it: the trusty hasn't been around to empty my bedpans in two days.\n\nJesus, it stinks inhere.\n\nIsn't your nose supposed to numb out after awhile? Mine did before, waking up in bed with the goddamn spinal bypass fritzed out, not being able to smell whether I'd crapped the sheets. But this place smells like a slaughterhouse.\n\nSome of the burns on my legs have gone necrotic, soppy with greyish goo. That's gonna be a pretty good joke on Raithe and the Church, if gangrene kills me before the execution. And it might not be gangrene that kills me, the way I've been coughing; I was bringing up a lot of bloody snot fora few days, but now I just keep coughing and nothing much comes out. I'm guessing it's chemical pneumonia from breathing the smoke from whatever that incendiary dust was."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I don't really mind any of this. It just means that I'm gonna die pretty soon, and I'm all for it. It's the only thing I've been looking forward to since they murdered Shanna.\n\nBut for for some reason I keep on living, and I don't know why.\n\nIt's not that hard to kill yourself, even fora paraplegic. I've got plenty of strength left in my arms and hands; it'd be easy enough to tear this sheet into strips and braid them into a reasonable facsimile of rope. The inside of the bronze-bound wooden door that seals my cell has a couple of age-warps gapping the timbers that an experienced climber could wedge his fingers into, to pull himself up high enough to slip a rope around one of the bars in the small window vent. Then when I tie the rope around my neck, I can haul myself up, hold my breath long enough to tie off the rope-then I'll strangle fast enough that I probably won't even have time to change my mind.\n\nBut I don't do it. I can't.\n\nI can't seem to make myself give up.\n\nOh, I can come close enough-I can make myself lie here and do nothing but smell the goo from my festering wounds; I can make myself stare emptily at the trusty when he comes to exchange my uneaten dinner fora fresh meal that I will also not eat; I can lie in my own filth and remorselessly enumerate all the multiple uselessnesses of my existence.\n\nI can hate myself, and the world, and everything in it.\n\nBut in the end, Shanna's still dead and I'm still alive, still locked alone in this stone box, still lying on this goddamn cot, still listening to that fucker in the Pit yap about the'core of all freedom.\""
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's that voice, the quiet inner whisper of intransigence, that anyone can hear if one listens hard enough. It's the voice that whispers My will, or I won't. That is the voice of the Caine Within: it is not the Caine's voice, but it is the voice of that small part of each of us that is the Caine.\"\n\nDoes this fucker have any idea what an idiot he is?\n\nTyshalle, if my prayer swings any weight with you at all, kill that yappy sonofabitch. Hurt him some, first.\n\nBut despite my prayers, he keeps talking and I can't stop listening.\n\nYou could work a thousand years and never come up with a more perfect hell.\n\nDELIANN OPENED HIS eyes when the shouting started, and he managed to lever his aching back far enough off the stone to see that the guards were lowering food baskets from the catwalk again. He had some impression that it had been along time since the last feeding, and his stomach confirmed this hypothesis with an unhappy snarl.\n\nThe healthiest and strongest of the prisoners had already mobbed the baskets. Deliann stayed on the floor; he wasn't at all sure that he'd be able to walk that far. The rock of the Donjon impedes Flow, and his degrading health made mindview difficult. He was no longer able to suppress the infection within the meat of his thigh, and the constant pain wore on him even more than his gnawing hunger did.\n\nThe only other prisoners who did not scramble for food were those too weak to do so-and, of course, the Serpents who guarded the water source. This enterprising group had found that there were plenty of prisoners who would enthusiastically serve their every whim in exchange for more frequent drinks of the cleanest water; the Serpents had taken to letting these volunteers compete with each other for this privilege. Those who offered the largest and most appetizing morsels from the food baskets got the longest and deepest drinks of water. A particularly choice hunk of sausage, and the Serpents might even allow the supplicant to wash himself-an almost unimaginable luxury. The Serpents never had any shortage of eager auxiliaries."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Often, now, the only way to get more than just a mouthful of food was to fight for it.\n\nDeliann also feared that if he did manage to struggle over in time to grab a bite or two before everything was gone, he might return to find someone had taken his spot beside the water trench. Reasoning that, on balance, dying of thirst would be swifter and uglier than starvation, he lay back down on the cold damp stone and closed his eyes.\n\nSome undefinable time later, a soft voice at his side spoke his name.\n\nHe opened his eyes. T'Passe stood beside him, a fist-sized crust of bread in one hand and a chunk of hard cheese in the other. \"Here,\" she said, offering him both. \"Can I buy the chance to talk with you?\"\n\nDeliann sighed and struggled into a sitting position. He bent his neck to lookup at her; she was perceptibly thinner now, as though the Donjon carved away her flesh, but her eyes gleamed even brighter. She had been having more than a little success in her evangelizing of the other prisoners; she had a sizable following now-the Cainists were almost as numerous as the Serpents, and Deliann more than half expected to see a power struggle develop between the two groups for control of the Pit-but she had never given upon her attempts to win him over.\n\n\"What is it about me, t'Passe?\" he asked slowly. \"Why am I so important to you?\"\n\nShe squatted beside him and placed the bread and cheese in his lap. \"I don't know,\" she said. \"You're so profoundly unhappy... I think there's something wrong with the world, that a person like you should be in so much pain.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And you want to use food to bribe me to cheer up,\" he said, smiling wistfully at the recollection of scrambled eggs at the stall on Moriandar Street. \"You know what? That's how I got into this place.\" A strengthless wave of his hand indicated the Pit. \"I let somebody cheer me up.\"\n\nAND I SLEEP and wake and sleep again, my bedpan is emptied and I refill it, and still that fucker in the Pit just never seems to shut up. \" Consider, fora moment, the lazy blacksmith: In shoeing a horse fora stranger, he finds that he is one nail short. Rather than trouble to make another, he leaves the last shoe without its last nail. Is his laziness good, or is it evil?\n\n\"Then follows the rhyme that we all know:\n\nFor want of the nail, the shoe was lost,\n\nFor want of the shoe, the horse was lost,\n\nFor want of the horse, the rider was lost,\n\nFor want of the rider, the battle was lost,\n\nFor want of the battle, the kingdom was lost.\n\n\"His laziness was evil, then, unless-for the sake of argument-the stranger is not a courier of his own king, but a spy of the enemy; so that the kingdom which was lost is the enemy kingdom. Then, to have done a \"good\" job might have cost this blacksmith and his people all they have, perhaps even their lives.\n\n\"The lesson here is this: The consequence of even the simplest action cannot be reliably predicted over any long term. One cannot control how events unfold, and whether any action is \"good\" or \"evil\" can only be judged in terms of its consequence-and even that judgment will alter, overtime. An action initially judged to be \"good\" may later be found to have \"evil\" effects-which eventually maybe seen, in fact, to be \"good.\" Good and evil are, after all, only code words for outcomes we either favor, or of which we disapprove. We all must accept that anything we do, however \"good\" it seems at the time, might have consequences that will be too horrible to contemplate."
},
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What then, is the answer? To do nothing? But even inaction has consequences. The essence of Cainism is this: The truly freeman chooses his own goals and seeks his own ends, purely for the joy of the choice and the seeking.\"\n\nAnd this is the one that I can't get out of my head. I can lie here for hours and argue with my memory of that voice, but I go to sleep hearing it, and I hear it when I wake up, and I guess I'm not really registering it as meaning anymore.\n\nIt's soaked in, somewhere. I've sucked it in through my pores, and I can't sweat it out. I stare at the ceiling fora day or two, counting the cracks in the stone by the unchanging glow from the Pit lamps.\n\nI will go to my grave with the vision of her bright eyes staring, washed clean by the spray from that waterfall at the headwaters of the Great Chambaygen, the blade of Kosall driven through her skull down into the stone beneath her head-I did the right thing, and it came out wrong, and I should have known better.\n\nBut I didn't.\n\nI once murdered an old man-the Khulan G'thar-and saved maybe a million lives, when the Khulan Horde collapsed at Ceraeno. Later, I murdered another old man-Prince-Regent Toa-Phelathon-and turned a series of minor border skirmishes with Lipke into the First Succession War.\n\nAnd maybe that fucker down therein the Pit is right. Maybe there's no telling which way shit will break. If I listen hard enough, I can hear that voice: that small quiet whisper in the back of my head that keeps on insisting My will, or I won't. But the fucker in the Pit is dead wrong about it: it is Caine's voice."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's my voice.\n\nI keep thinking about the Assumption Day Festival. I keep thinking about how they're gonna wheel me over to the Cathedral of the Assumption in that tumbrel of theirs, then put me upon a pyre and burn me to death to amuse a few thousand Beloved Children.\n\nI am so tired of my life and death being somebody else's entertainment.\n\nAnd, that simply, my mind is made up.\n\nUp thereat Khryl's Saddle, it took me too long to realize I should have killed myself. That's a mistake I won't make twice. Suicide isn't my trip-but there are other ways to die.\n\nI get the jitters, waiting. By the time the trusty comes again, swinging wide the door of my cell, shuffling in with lowered head to empty my brimming bedpans into his tumbrel, I have to cough the tremors out of my voice before I can speak to him.\n\n\"Tell the sergeant-Habrak, is that his name?-you tell him Caine wants to seethe Duke of Public Order.\"\n\nThe trusty's eyes roll at me, wondering just how mad I am.\n\n\"You tell him, that's all. Tell him to get a message to Toa-M'Jest that Caine wants to see him. The Duke will make it worth his while. And yours, too.\"\n\nThe trusty's head bobs, once, and he wheels his tumbrel away down the hall.\n\nFuck being helpless.\n\nThere's nothing I can do from the inside of this goddamn cell. But get me out in the Pit, out there among the criminals, malcontents, and troublemakers, and I will show them something I can do."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I will rip the head off their precious Assumption Day, and I will shit down its fucking neck.\n\nDELIANN COULD TELL something important was about to happen from the way the Donjon guards were turning up the lamps.\n\nHe folded his arms behind his head and watched as a little group of them went from lamp to lamp around the tic-tac-toe square of the overhead catwalks. One of the group had a pole with a little Y-hand on the end; he'd catch the lamp chain in the Y and use the pole to push the lamp over to where another guard could grab it by the big brass handles that were welded in a ring around each lamp's barrel. A third guard would use a snuffer the size of a helmet to douse the flame, then he'd use his knife, inserted flatwise through the grey arm-thick hawser that served as a wick, to pull the wick farther out through the green-scaled brass lamp mouth, to make it burn higher and cast more light.\n\nHis fever had surged lately, and he rode its waves, drowsing and waking and drowsing again through dreams of deserts and ovens, summer noons and slow-twisting flame, and he fancied in a vaguely amused way that each time they relit one of the big brass lamps, the Donjon guards were turning up the heat inside his head.\n\nFora time he lay on his back, staring up at the lamps, reflecting upon fire: light and heat, safety and destruction. He'd always had a gift for flame; it was the core of his magickal skill. He could do things with fire that an ordinary mortal could barely imagine. He thought now that perhaps fire was the central metaphor of his existence-like fire itself, he had been a perfectly faithful servant, but once set free of his master's control, he'd burned down the world-"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He never did learn what the something important was; by the time the balcony and catwalks filled with crossbow-armed guards and the sergeant roared for the prisoners to rise at the entry of His Grace Toa-M'Jest, Duke of Public Order-and had the guards shoot one prisoner who appeared prepared to insult His Grace by remaining seated-Deliann was fast asleep upon the stone, his recumbent form screened from view by the close knot of Cainists that t'Passe had gathered around him.\n\nDeliann never saw the Duke; he was dreaming of fire.\n\nMAJESTY COMES THROUGH the door of my cell like a fox with hounds baying inside his head. He shifts inside his clothes like something's crawling on his skin, and he licks sweat from his upper lip. These past few years have been hard on him: He's gained a lot of weight, but his cheeks sag anyway and the flesh under his eyes is dark. His hairline has retreated somewhere north of the White Desert. A couple Eyes of God officers flank him.\n\n\"Caine, I have come here out of respect for the fact that you once saved my life,\" he says, the second finger of his right hand scratching the corner of his mouth. \"But we are not friends, and you can expect no consideration from me. When you turned against Our Lord Ma'elKoth, you sacrificed our friendship as well.\"\n\nThe finger-scratch at the corner of his mouth is part of the Quiet Cant, the gestural code of the Warrengang he once ran. This gesture means Hostiles present. Play along. Using the second finger means two-he's saying both of these Eyes of God officers are spies, and he has to play nice in front of them.\n\nFrom his sweats and jitters, it's not too much of a stretch to figure that he's in the early stages of HRVP-which means this bit about the officers being against him might be nothing but a paranoid fantasy. On the other hand, Toa-Sytell used to run the Eyes; it's also not too much of a stretch to assume that he'd have informers among the officer corps."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fuck friendship,\" I tell him. A slight motion brings together the tips of my left thumb and forefinger against the blanket that covers my legs: I read you. \"I want to make a deal.\"\n\n\"There is no deal you can make which will save your life,\" he replies, scratching the other corner of his mouth with his left thumb: the signal for truth. \"You will die on Assumption Day, as planned.\"\n\nYeah, well, to tell you the truth, I'm looking forward to it; the prospect of having years and years to pick through the wreckage of my life is not a cheerful one.\n\nBut I will choose my death.\n\nI will not have my death chosen for me.\n\n\"I can tell you lots of things,\" I offer. \"I can tell you why people are killing each other allover this city, and why it's gonna get a lot worse. I can tell you what you can do about it.\"\n\nNow that thumb that had just scratched his mouth taps the same spot twice: Truth?\n\nI just stare at him. Let him fucking wonder.\n\n\"And what do you want for this information?\"\n\nI take a deep breath and lace my fingers together on the pretext of cracking my knuckles. \"I want to go out the same way I came in: right past the Pit.\" My thumbs are touching each other for the words I want to go, then separated for out the same way I came, together for in, separate right past, together the Pit.\n\nMajesty squints at me narrowly while he parses the interaction of signal with word: I want to go in the Pit. His eyes bulge like overboiled eggs. \"Are you insane?\"\n\nHe recovers swiftly and gives me the I read you while he smoothly works his reaction into our little vaudeville. \"You are the Enemy of God, Caine. It'd take an order from His Radiance himself to set you free. I can't believe you would ask such a thing.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I pretend to scratch my chin with my left hand, while I make the truth sign. \"Maybe you oughta go ask him, then. You got a monster shitstorm spinning up, Majesty, and I'm the only one who can smell it.\"\n\n\"Toa-M'Jest,\" he corrects me absently, and glances from one Eye officer to the other like he can't figure out what to do. They both stand at a relaxed parade rest, pretending they're not paying attention. \"How am I supposed to bring this crap before the Patriarch?\" he asks, rubbing his hands together nervously. \"You insult me, to even make the suggestion.\"\n\nHis thumbs brush each other on the words insult me.\n\nOkay, I get the picture.\n\n\"That's it?\" I say, blinking disbelief at him. \"That's what saving your worthless ungrateful butt buys me? \"Kiss off, see you in your next life?\" When did you turn into such a suckass?\"\n\n\"Mind your tone,\" he says frostily. \"You are speaking to a Duke of the Empire-\"\n\n\"Duke of the Empire, horseshit. I'm speaking to a fucking ass-bandit. How'd you get Toa-Sytell's shit stains off your nose? With your tongue?\"\n\nHe turns red. \"Caine-\" he begins, but I'm allover this.\n\n\"I can guess how you got into the Cabinet. You think if I give that zombie-faced cocksmoke a rimmer every night, he'll make me a Duke, too? You ever have to play Guess What the Patriarch Had for Dinner?\"\n\nThe Eyes of God guys make noises like they're strangling, and they start toward me, but Majesty beats them to it. He leaps forward and gathers my stained tunic in both fists, yanking me up off the cot. \"Say what you want about me,\" he snarls in my face, \"but never insult the Patriarch. Never, you understand? It is only by his leave that I could give you this cell-otherwise you'd be in the Pit. Is that what you want?\" He gives me a pretty violent shake, then another. \"Is it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your hospitality can suck shit out of my ass-nah, sorry, don't want to ruin your appetite before Vespers, huh?\"\n\nHe throws me back onto the cot hard enough to bounce my head against the wall and shoot stars across my vision. \"You have an unusual way of persuading a friend to do you a favor,\" he says coldly. \"I think I have done you one too many already.\"\n\nHe turns to one of the Eyes. \"Tell the sergeant of the guard that I will pay for this man's cell no longer. They can throw him in the Pit with the rest of the scum.\"\n\n\"Hey-\" I say uncertainly, \"hey, c'mon, Majesty, I was only kidding-\"\n\n\"My name is Toa-M'Jest,\" he says, \"not that you'll have occasion to use it again. I'll see you on Assumption Day, Caine.\" He does a pretty fair military about-face and stalks out of the cell.\n\n\"Hey, come on,\" I call after him pleadingly as the Eyes follow him out. \"Can't you take a fucking joke?\"\n\nThey lock the cell door and swing the bar into place.\n\nIt's good to have friends.\n\nTHE ROAR OF the flames on Commons'Beach, in the Warrens, around Alien Games, and on the deck of the riverbarge all converged into the purifying blaze of a village high in the God's Teeth and fused itself with the voice of a mob, of an army, of all the prisoners in the Pit suddenly starting to yell at once, and Deliann discovered that he was awake.\n\nHe rubbed at his face, trying to clear eyes that did not focus well; his skin was hot to his touch. The prisoners around him were standing, shouting, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. \"What's happening?\" he asked thickly of no one in particular. \"Why is everyone shouting?\""
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "T'Passe looked down when he spoke, and she squatted beside him so that she could be heard above the shouting. \"You might want to see this,\" she said, waving one hand toward the balcony around the Pit while with the other she took his arm to help him up.\n\nNumbly, he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, though his legs ached fiercely to betaking his weight once more. Where t'Passe pointed, a pair of guards pumped the rocker arms on the winch, clanking the jointed pawls in and out of ratchet teeth to lower the stairbridge on its long chains. Prisoners pressed aside as its foot settled to the stone floor; at the stairtop stood a pair of grey-robed Donjon trusties, bearing a litter on which lay a dark-haired man. \"That's Caine,\" t'Passe said. Her voice hummed with astonished reverence. \"That's Caine. They're bringing him down.\"\n\nDeliann swayed, feverish; the moment oozed, gooey and labile, between the beats of his pulse. Stung, almost blinded, rapt with a shivering perception of being present at an event of unexplainably transcendent significance, as though he had fallen right out of his life and landed inside an epic that no one had read fora thousand years, he leaned on t'Passe's arm as the trusties turned and slowly bore the litter down the stairbridge.\n\nThe man on the litter was dark of hair and swarthy of skin, of athletic build but no longer young: a scatter of grey marbled his ragged black beard. He lay still, eyes closed, limp as a corpse, and the grey cotton pants that covered his motionless legs were stained here and therewith crusted blotches of brown and red. This could not be Caine, not truly: he looked so fragile."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "So human.\n\nThe surge of the shouting took on an ugly edge.\n\nDeliann swung his head from side to side in blank denial; he could not speak, could barely think, his breath strangled by crushing déjà vu. He had seen this man before-\n\nAs though all the tales he'd heard of Caine had solidified somehow inside his head, so that he'd somehow known already that the Enemy of Ma'elKoth was only a slender dark-haired man in the grip of middle age, of completely unextraordinary appearance.\n\nBut he hadn't...\n\nIn his heart, had he ever troubled to examine it, he had carried the same icon of Caine as had everyone else who had listened to the legend but never seen the man: fists like steel gauntlets that can break stone with a single blow, shoulders an axe-handle wide, muscles like boulders, eyes like torches in a cave, the grin of a predator fed upon human blood-\n\nHow was it, then, that he could look at this man and feel that he somehow knew him?\n\nHe breathed himself into mindview, searching for that current of black Flow of which Kierendal had spoken. At first he could see only scarlet swirls ghosting outward from the shouting prisoners: their mob-anger energy drifting toward the man upon the litter. The man on the litter, impossibly, seemed to have no Shell of his own-but those swirls of scarlet found something to latch onto around him, some shadowy pulse in the air, a vague darkening that deepened as though it fed upon the anger from below.\n\nThe shadow didn't look like a Shell at all; instead of the almost gelatinous solidity that Deliann could usually see filling the air around a living creature, this was smoke and ghost-shade, shifting and twisting, half imaginary, as though it were a trick of his fever-hazed eyes. With concentration, his disciplined mind could struggle through his haze to draw it gradually into focus... But as it came clear-swirls of opalescent grey and white within the black, like a semisubstantial gemstone-the Shells of the other prisoners, of the trusties and the guards and Deliann himself, all faded into only a vivid memory."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Flow is Flow: all the colors and shapes of magick are finally one single force, even as all the shapes and colors of energy, from light to steel to the neutron-soup of a collapsar, are finally and fundamentally energy. But even as energy can have wildly differing properties according to its state, so, too, do the states of Flow. The limestone from which the Donjon was carved impedes and reflects the states of Flow used by human and primal thaumaturges, rendering them powerless; but that rock has a Flow of its own, its own note within the song of the Worldmind.\n\nThis small dark broken man, it seemed, inhabited a Flow state of a different order than that of those around him.\n\nDeliann stared at the currents of black Flow that surrounded this man. He had heard of such things-had heard of men whose Shells showed black-but he had never seen one; and even as he stared, the small dark broken man stirred and spoke to the trusties who bore his litter. Halfway down the stairbridge, the trusties paused.\n\nThe angry, ugly shouting welcome of the prisoners turned to jeers, hoots, and mocking singsong invitations: the baying of human hounds who believe they smell fear.\n\nCa-aine! Hey, Ca-aine!\n\nHungry, Caine? I got something to feedja!\n\nLookit them pants-wet himself already.\n\nI gotcher Holy Stroke right here!\n\nCome on, bring him down! someone shouted at the trusties. Bring him down! and more prisoners took up the call, and more, until their voices washed together into an oceanic roar.\n\nDeliann barely heard it; he was fascinated by the swirl of black Flow. It darkened visibly around the small dark broken man until Deliann wondered if he might have been able to see it even with his normal sight. It poured in through the walls of the Pitas though the rock were empty air, and the small dark broken man seemed to draw it into himself, inhaling it as though taking a deep, deep breath of power."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He used one hand against the litter pole at his side to lever himself up into a sitting position, and he looked down into the jeering, hooting mob of the Pit.\n\nAnd he smiled.\n\n\"Oh, my god,\" Deliann whispered. \"Oh, my sweet loving god-\"\n\nIt was the smile that did it: the white teeth wolflike within the fringe of ragged black beard, the eyes that burned with a cold dark flame like obsidian ice.\n\nYou are just begging me to kick your fucking ass.\n\nYes, in fact, I am. That's exactly right.\n\nAnd the identical grin, the identical cold dark flame within the eyes, undimmed in a memory more than a quarter of a century old: I'm into it.\n\nThe shock of recognition drove him right out of mindview. The instant staggering pain from his legs unstrung him, and he sagged against t'Passe's arm. \"What's wrong, Deliann?\" she asked. \"What happened? Are you all right?\"\n\nThe goddess had spoken of this man, and told Deliann that he wanted to be remembered to him-but Deliann had never dreamed of being reminded like this. He couldn't even make himself think the name. \"That's not Caine,\" Deliann gasped. \"It's not Caine.\"\n\n\"It is,\" t'Passe assured him stolidly.\n\nThe small dark broken man lifted his freehand as a fist and slowly, deliberately, as though savoring the sweetness of one moment's surpassing joy, he turned the back of his fist toward the Pit. He grinned down on the hostile mob.\n\nAnd then he gave them the finger.\n\nThere came a second of silence, as though everyone together had drawn a single breath, and in that silence his voice could be heard clearly: cheerfully brisk, hard as flint and dark as burnt coffee. \"Fuck you all, shitheels,\" he said. \"You want some of this? Step up and take a fucking bite.\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Deliann barely heard the howls that answered; that voice struck sparks within his mind, and Deliann flashed on him.\n\nTHE FLASH TOOK him instantly, involuntarily: it crushed his bones between its teeth and sucked out their marrow, shattered his skull like a nutshell, drew out his guts with strokes of a barbed-wire tongue. Kris Hansen had written, What the life you have chosen to lead will cost you, I can't begin to imagine.\n\nHe no longer had to imagine.\n\nThe flash whipped him to a day years before: it crumpled him on arena sand with a cooling corpse beneath his back and a sword through his spine. With one hand he took the hilt of that sword to trigger its magick, while with the other he pulled the neck of a traitor across the blade. The traitor's head came off in his hand, and he flipped the head like a ball into the lap of the god who knelt alongside. The god stammered out the words Hari had died to hear, the words that would save him and the goddess he loved-and as the prismatic haloes of the Winston Transfer limned the edges of the world, to draw him and anyone he touched back into hell, he reached out... and took that kneeling god's hand.\n\nWhy?\n\nTo this day, Hari had never thought to wonder.\n\nIn the answer to that simple question might be the central truth of his life.\n\nDeliann remembered, all those years ago, feeling that this man had been more real than he, that the murderous, charismatic streetpunk he had known was in touch with some fundamental structure of existence; he recalled dreaming of touching that reality himself. Now he had: a spiral galaxy of pain and loss wheeled within his chest."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 18"
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "And he'd been about to goon and explain why these two statements were not contradictory, but he'd lost Hari again to a sudden scuffle between an ogrillo and two primals, and after that was settled Hari had managed to find business more important than returning to a conversation that hadn't interested him in the first place. Deliann had gone too far afield with this; it was too abstract. Hari was a nuts-and-guts man. No conversation would hold his attention that wasn't about something he could bite, or that could bite him.\n\nNow Deliann watched the dancing game, within its shifting ring of hooting, clapping prisoners. He recognized some of what the dancers were learning from his old HTH classes at the Conservatory, and still more from Hari's own tutorials: the small movements, shifts of weight to alter the point of impact of a blow that cannot be dodged, the sliding footwork that gracefully flanks one's opponent with deceptive speed, the focus on joint destruction-especially of the elbow and knee-and the use of headlocks for more than just control. These headlocks were for throws, for cracking the skull and breaking the neck.\n\nFor killing.\n\nDeliann saw clearly what Hari planned. He had always had good eyes. Maybe that was his only real talent: to see, and understand.\n\nAll right, time to getup, he thought. Last chance to save the world.\n\nTOA-S YTELL HAD BEGUN to suspect that the whole world had a fever very much like his own.\n\nFrom the window of his bedchamber, on the ninth floor of the west wing of the Colhari Palace, the soldiers on the walls of Old Town looked like dolls. They seemed to walk with an unnatural, artificial gait as though they were some badly shapeshifted creatures impersonating men."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Across the river, in the splay of ruins that still smoldered where Alientown had once stood, the antisprite netting that draped over the command posts was clearly designed as an arcane code: Toa-Sytell couldn't read it, but the troops down there were definitely sending some kind of signal. Something to be read by griffins, or dragons passing overhead, or some invisible spirit of the air.\n\nPerhaps the same spirit of the air that had crept in through his nostrils while he slept, and given him this awful fever. How lucky he was to have awakened before the spirit had consumed him entirely!-though he knew the spirit still lurked about, just out of the corners of his vision, slipping into shadows behind his bedcurtains before he could quite make out its shape.\n\nHe could defeat it easily: it only had power when he slept.\n\nSo he did not sleep.\n\nBehind him, the Eye of God droned on with his interminable report. Exactly as the Patriarch had predicted, Caine had crushed every threat against him-and had finally given Toa-Sytell the proof he required.\n\nFar, far below, figures moved among the troop tents pitched on what once had been the streets of Alientown. One of them was Toa-M'Jest himself. That one, in the scarlet doublet. Or was he the one in the dark cape? Perhaps he was the slimmer, smaller man nearby; as the Patriarch watched, that tiny figure called others to him. They gathered in a knot and whispered together, thinking that they could conceal their treason from him with lowered voices. They didn't know how much he could hear.\n\nHe could hear everything.\n\nAll across the city-across the Empire-his subjects whispered against him. They all thought he didn't know. They all thought they were safe. \"Arrest him.\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your Radiance?\"\n\n\"Toa-M'Jest. The Duke of Public Order. Draft a warrant. He is hereby relieved of his duties and placed under arrest.\"\n\n\"Your Radiance?\" the officer repeated blankly. \"On what charge?\"\n\n\"It doesn't matter. Conspiracy with the Enemies of Humanity.\"\n\n\"But, but, Your Radiance-he's prosecuting the Caverns War with great success against the subs-\"\n\n\"That's part of his plan.\" Toa-Sytell sighed, exasperated. How could this man have risen to his rank in the Eyes of God, when he was so thick he could not comprehend the plain truth? \"He does not conspire with the elves and the dwarfs and the ogrilloi. He conspires with Caine.\"\n\n\"I, er, with Your Radiance's pardon, I find that difficult to accept,\" the officer said. \"The Duke had Caine put in the Pit.\"\n\nToa-Sytell slicked back his thinning hair with the sweat from his palms. \"That's exactly where Caine wanted to be, don't you understand?\"\n\n\"No, Holiness. I don't.\"\n\nToa-Sytell waved an irritable hand. He could not be troubled to explain the bleedingly obvious.\n\nThe officer ventured, \"I'm certain the Duke is loyal, Holiness.\"\n\nToa-Sytell turned from the window. His eyes burned, but they were so scratchy that blinking hurt. So he no longer blinked.\n\nThe Eye of God looked distinctly uncomfortable.\n\n\"Are you?\" Toa-Sytell asked. \"Certain?\"\n\n\"I... I believe...\"\n\n\"Do you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Eye of God swallowed and did not answer.\n\n\"Arrest the Duke,\" Toa-Sytell said, and this time the officer did not argue.\n\n\"The, ah,\" the officer said hesitantly, \"the official charge, Your Radiance?\"\n\nToa-Sytell shrugged. \"Cainism, I suppose.\"\n\nFar, far below, the river itself seemed to writhe and boil, as though it had a fever, too.\n\nThe officer turned to leave. Toa-Sytell extended a hand. \"No, wait. Not yet. We don't know yet what Toa-M'Jest is planning. Watch him. Discover his confederates. Just watch them all, and be ready. When he makes his move, take him.\"\n\nThe officer nodded, clearly relieved. \"Yes, Your Radiance.\"\n\n\"But Caine...\" the Patriarch said. \"Caine. He is one traitor we know already. Our coddling of the Enemy of God is at an end.\"\n\nHis teeth showed yellow and savage, and his stare was filled with blood.\n\n\"Put him in the Shaft.\"\n\nI DON'T EVEN see Deliann coming until he stumbles and almost goes down. One of the prisoners nearby catches him and tries to steady him on his feet, but Deliann shoves the guy off and keeps moving. \"Orbek,\" I say quietly. \"Getup close on him. He looks like he needs some help.\"\n\nThat's massively understated: he looks like he needs a couple weeks in a hospital with an IV-drip of broad-spectrum antibiotics. He manages to stagger along one of the walkways the boys keep clear, and he stops in front of me, swaying. \"I know what you're doing,\" he says."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I give Orbek a look, and he nods. He pushes himself to his feet and works his way around behind Deliann, to where he might be able to catch him if the poor bastard collapses. If Deliann sees him move, he doesn't show it.\n\nHe's so shiny with sweat that his skin looks like wet porcelain, and his eyes are red-rimmed pools of bruise. His handshakes when he goes to slick back his hair, and he says, \"You're teaching them to kill Donjon guards.\"\n\n\"You think you could say that a little fucking louder?\" I ask him. \"For shit's sake, Kris.\"\n\n\"I've seen it before,\" he insists drunkenly. \"You angle in under the club; you take the middle of the club on your shoulder instead of the end of the club on your head. Break his arm, because chainmail doesn't have any joint support. I've seen it. I know what you're doing.\"\n\n\"Kris, man, sit down.\" I pat the stone ledge beside me. \"Come on. Sit down before you fall down.\"\n\nHe shakes his head. \"No. No, this is hard enough. Standing up helps me think.\" He clenches his teeth, and makes a fist, and says tightly, \"This is a mistake. What you're doing is all wrong. It's all backward.\"\n\n\"I don't need your approval,\" I remind him.\n\n\"It's wrong-\"\n\n\"My whole life has been somebody's entertainment,\" I say through my teeth. \"My death won't be. Neither will theirs.\"\n\nHe flinches like he's too close to afire that scorches his face. \"Hari-but-\"\n\n\"No. We're gonna make them earn it. When those bastards come for us, they are gonna get the surprise of their fucking lives.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Orbek folds his arms so that his splinted fighting claw rests in the crook of his other elbow, and I can read stolid approval in his yellow eyes."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "We splinted his broken claw in full extension. It must hurt like hell, but he'll be able to fight. He doesn't follow the entertainment crap, but the rest makes perfect sense to him: May you die fighting is how ogrilloi wish each other luck.\n\n\"No no no,\" Deliann insists. He squeezes his eyes shut like he's afraid they'll pop out of his head, and speaks very slowly and clearly. \"You're preparing to lose, don't you understand? You're preparing to lose. All this?\" He waves a handover his shoulder, eyes still shut, indicating the whole Pit and my fighters and dismissing them all at the same time. \"All you're doing is practicing dying.\"\n\n\"Maybe I need the practice,\" I tell him. \"I haven't had a lot of luck with it so far.\"\n\nOrbek snickers-that's his kind of line-but Deliann's concentrating too hard on what he's trying to say even to acknowledge it. \"Ask t'Passe,\" he says. \"My will or I won't: you've got the I won't, but you're leaving out the my will. Half right is all wrong, Hari.\"\n\nFrom where I sit, I've got a clear view of the wide bronze-bound door on the balcony that seals the stairshaft down from the Courthouse. The door swings open; armored men file through from above. They carry crossbows at full cock, and they start to fan out around the balcony. They're looking at me.\n\nI guess half right is all I'm gonna have time for.\n\n\"Should've had this talk yesterday, Kris.\" I meet Orbek's grim stare. \"You ready for this?\"\n\nOrbek shows me his fighting claws. \"Born ready, boss.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Go get t'Passe.\"\n\nHe nods, and when he swings around to walkaway there's a hard-rubber bounce in his step; he prickles fierce anticipation like an electric charge. Prisoners fall silent as he passes. Everybody starts by looking up at the crossbows; after that, they just look at me.\n\n\"What do you want, Hari? What do you want?\" Kris says. \"Ask for more, Hari. You don't aim high enough.\"\n\n\"I live a little closer to the ground, these days.\"\n\nThe floor detail forms upon the balcony: six full-armored guards bearing only clubs. Nobody with a bow or an edged weapon ever leaves the balcony. The floor detail guys wear plate mail, instead of the chain hauberks the rest of the guards have on. The crossbows the others carry are underpowered, designed specifically for Donjon work; their X-head quarrels won't penetrate steel.\n\nThey made this change after the last time I came through here. I and a dead girl named Talann showed these fuckers what happens when prisoners get their hands on full-powered crossbows.\n\nDeliann weaves close and takes me by the wrist. \"What if you could live?\"\n\n\"Why would I want to?\"\n\nOrbek comes back with t'Passe. She looks as grim as I feel.\n\n\"It seems early. I thought we had more time,\" she says. \"I could use another two or three days.\"\n\n\"Pretty much everybody feels that way on the steps of the gallows, huh?\"\n\nShe nods.\n\n\"When I give the word, mob the floor detail. Three on one or better,\" I tell her. \"Use your weakest guys-all they have to do is draw a flight of quarrels.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The guards overhead won't have to be shy about shooting; that's why the crossbows are underpowered. Those X-heads won't punch through armor, but they'll chop up flesh and bone like an industrial meat grinder. \"That's where I need the extra days,\" t'Passe says. \"They're just not ready. If one or two break, the rest might fold as well.\"\n\n\"Then pick some that won't break. You know who they are, t'Passe: the ones who don't want to livelong enough to be executed.\"\n\n\"None of us want to livelong enough to be executed, Caine.\"\n\n\"Yeah, no shit. Don't even think about jumping in yourself. I need you for floor marshal. Keep people organized once the shit starts flying. Keep them moving up the stairs.\" Crossbows take time to reload. I've never seen a guy recock and reset afresh quarrel in under five seconds in perfect conditions; the stress of combat should at least double that time.\n\nThe stairbridge is only a gnat's ass over forty meters long.\n\n\"Orbek, you take Dinnie, Fletcher, Arken, and Gropaz-\" Two of the youngest, meanest ex-Serpents, and two cheerfully savage ogrilloi. \"-and hit the stairs as soon as the bowmen let loose on our mobbers. You are third up the stairs, you hear me? Third. Serpents in front; we can spare Dinnie and Fletcher easier than your boys. We gotta take that winch-if those stairs go backup, the party's over. You're topside marshal. Don't waste time killing the guys on the winch. Just toss'em over the rail; we'll take care of them down here.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Like you say, boss.\"\n\n\"T'Passe, we'll need another screen of mobbers right behind Gropaz; the next flight of quarrels will go toward the winch. After that, it's hand to hand.\"\n\n\"Hari, stop,\" Deliann says. \"Think fora minute-think! You can do better than this.\"\n\nOrbek answers for me, through a wide grin around his tusks. \"There is nothing better than this.\"\n\nThe guards on the winch start cranking down the bridge. It drops in arrhythmic clanking jerks. I nod at Orbek. \"Get your boys together and get close to the foot of the bridge.\"\n\n\"Like you say, boss.\" He jogs off.\n\n\"T'Passe-\" Deliann begins, but the empty focus in her eyes stops him. She's ready to die.\n\n\"I'll stall as long as I can,\" I tell her. \"Get your mobbers ready, t'Passe. We don't have much time.\"\n\nShe nods and starts to turn away, but she changes her mind and gives me a level look, her mouth a hard flat line. \"It's an honor,\" she says.\n\nI mirror her. \"The honor's mine.\"\n\nShe actually cracks a smile, and then she's gone, moving through the prisoners, taking one and then another by the shoulder and leading them away.\n\nDeliann turns back tome desperately and takes me by the wrist; his hand is blazing hot and slick with sweat. \"Hari, you have to aim higher. You have to try for more. Dying is easy! You've said it yourself. Since when does Caine take the easy way out?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The foot of the stairbridge is only a couple of meters from the floor, and I just don't have time for this shit."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I yank my hand away from him and snarl, \"Caine is just a character, goddammit. I made him up. He's fictional. I'm not the Blade of goddamn Tyshalle, I'm just Hari fucking Michaelson. I used to be a pretty good Actor, and now I'm a middle-aged paraplegic with a few minutes to live.\"\n\n\"If, Hari! What if?\"\n\n\"What if what?\"\n\n\"What if everyone's right about you? What if the stories about you are true? What if you are the Blade of Tyshalle?\" Deliann asks. \"What if you are the Enemy of God?\"\n\n\"So? What then? You want me to just shrug and grin? Okay, I'm crippled. Okay, Shanna was butchered. Okay, I had to lie in her smoking blood? Okay, my father's dead, okay, Faith is gone, and o-fucking-kay, I don't fucking care? I'm supposed to just get over it?\"\n\n\"No,\" he insists, urgently, shaking his head like he's rattled his brain loose and he's trying to roll it back into place. \"No no no no no no no! No one gets over anything, don't you understand? Everything that happens in your life-every single thing-leaves a scar. A permanent scar. You're not supposed to get over it. To get over something-to erase the mark it left on you-erases part of who you are.\"\n\nHe leans close and grabs my arm with both hands. He's shaking with fever; his eyes roll above a twitch in his cheek. \"Scars are the key to power,\" he says. His breath smells of ace-tone and rotten fruit. \"Scars are the map of beauty.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He's close enough to kiss me when he whispers: \"Each of us is the sum of our scars.\"\n\nThe floor detail starts marching down the stairs.\n\nI shake off his grip and push him back. \"They're coming. You better dodge out while you still can.\"\n\n\"What if,\" he says, \"it's Hari Michaelson who is the fictional character? What if the middle-aged paraplegic is just a role that Caine plays, so that he can get along on Earth?\"\n\nThe floor detail leaves the stairbridge behind. They prod prisoners out of the way with their clubs and breast toward me. The floor detail officer has a swagger that I know too well: he's expecting a fight. He just doesn't have a fucking clue what kind of fight.\n\n\"No more talking, Kris. Dodge out,\" I snarl, and enforce my advice with a sharp shove that sends him staggering sideways to collapse on the floor. I have to shut my eyes against the hurt that cascades over his face.\n\nWhen I open my eyes again, the floor detail is standing in a knot in front of me. Orbek and his boys are ten feet from the foot of the stairbridge. T'Passe stares expectantly at me from a few yards away, her signal hand motionless at chest level, waiting for my nod. The floor detail officer flips up his visor, shakes out a pair of rusty manacles, and says, \"We're getting reports that you're a potential problem down here.\"\n\nOh. Oh, shit, I get it.\n\nI understand, now.\n\nThis isn't about the Festival of the Assumption; that's still days away. This is about me. I'm a potential problem, they say, and to tell you the truth, I can't really argue with them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Problems from the Pit go into the Shaft.\n\nThis is gonna make my life fucking complete.\n\nI look at Deliann.\n\nIf, his wounded eyes whisper.\n\nAnd all around stand people who are ready to die for me-\n\nI hold my arms out and turn my wrists up, and sigh as the floor detail officer locks the manacles around them.\n\n\"Yeah, all right, whatever,\" I say. \"Let's go.\"\n\nWITH A GUARD holding each shoulder, their hands jammed hard into my armpits, they haul me up the stairbridge. I can hear my dragging toes slap each step, but I can't feel them.\n\nThe Pit watches me go, echoing with stunned silence. Nobody can believe I'm letting them take me away.\n\nI've always been full of surprises.\n\nUp to the balcony: I start talking while everybody can still hear me. \"Keep your shit together,\" I tell the prisoners. The guards drag me along a catwalk, past the long, long file of men cradling crossbows. \"Keep working-keep dancing. Stay alert. All three rules still go.\"\n\nI say this generally; to address Orbek or t'Passe directly would mark them for the guards, and they'd end up chained next tome in the Shaft. \"When I comeback, you all need to be ready to party.\"\n\nWe stop in front of the Shaft door. The crack beneath it exhales madness and corruption and lunatic screams.\n\nThe detail officer picks up a lamp from the lightstand by the door and touches its wick to the standlamp's flame, and a couple of his men do the same. The officer smirks at me while he unbars the door. \"You're pretty tough, huh?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I don't bother to answer.\n\n\"Y'know what?\" he goes on. \"Lotsa guys are pretty tough, up herein the light.\"\n\nHe swings the door wide. The air that rises from the Shaft is wet and sloppy and so thick it's like the tongue of a week-dead cow jammed into my mouth. It's not just old meat and bad air down there; it's the breath of people who've gone so crazy they eat their own shit until their teeth rot.\n\nThe Shafters chained to walls on either side squirm and hide their faces against the weak light leaking in from the Pit; farther down the dark throat of the Shaft a few still have enough energy to scream. The walls are beaded with the condensation from their breath: the beads themselves are grey with the filth the Shafters exhale. The step-cut floor slopes down into infinite black, and it's wet and slick with human waste.\n\nI remember the last time I was here. I remember the people who had lined the Shaft as Talann and I picked our way down the treacherously slippery stairs to the sump, carrying Lamorak on my back. Most of them were too far gone even to beg. They had been reduced to objects, not even animal: mere bundles of shattered nerves and dripping gangrene, whose sole remaining function was to experience the slow shit-slickened slide into death.\n\nJust walking by was as much as I could take-and I was younger then, and a hell of a lot tougher.\n\nNow I don't walk anymore.\n\nIt's a good thing I don't have to go down hereunder my own power. I'm not sure I could make it.\n\nAs they drag me in, all I can think about are the festering burns on my legs, and what they'll look like after a few days of lying in other people's shit-but when we pass the door there's a dark notch, just about two fingers wide, on its latch edge."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I remember:\n\nThe throwing knife from between my shoulder blades will serve perfectly. I pull it out and feel for the crack of the door, slip the blade within it, and pound it home with the pommel of my fighting knife. It's just like pennying shut a door in the apartments where I grew up. It won't stop the guards when they come for us, but it'll slow them down and give us a little warning-we'll hear them pry it open.\n\nI lift a handover a guard's shoulder and brush that notch with my fingertips as we pass. Seven years soaking up the dank fungal exhalations of the Shaft have darkened it to the same greenish black as the rest of the wood, but that's the mark that Caine put there.\n\nThat I put there.\n\nThe detail officer scowls. \"What are you grinning at, asshole?\"\n\nI turn the grin on him. \"Fuck off.\"\n\nHe whacks me one: a looping overhand right that splits my lip, loosens a couple teeth, and shoots stars down into the black abyss before me. I keep smiling. Smiling hurts, but so what?\n\nIt always did.\n\n\"When I comeback,\" I tell him thickly through my smash-numbed lips, \"I'm gonna teach you Rule One.\"\n\nHe snorts. \"When you comeback, shit,\" he says. \"You ain't comin\" back. You're gonna die down there.\"\n\n\"All right.\" I twist my head far enough around to catch Deliann's eye, far below. I remember sitting across a table from him in the cafeteria, more than twenty-five years ago. I remember him saying Forget whether you think it's possible. What do you want? Like the monkey's paw, he took my answer and gave me more than I asked for."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I give him a nod: my oldest friend. Like him or not, the best friend I ever had.\n\n\"All right,\" I say again. \"If I comeback.\"\n\nTHE PART-TIME GODDESS thought she was dead. She was right.\n\nShe was dead right.\n\nBut this was a time of unquiet dead, when spirits and corpses walked the earth, separately and together. Among gods, death and rebirth is a natural cycle. When the man who had been a god called upon her spirit, he was sure she would answer.\n\nHe was dead sure.\n\nHe commanded the power of legions: at his back stood the myriad that he encompassed, and all the billions of the god of dust and ashes, and the power of the goddess herself.\n\nAgainst them all stood one solitary man, and he said, \"No.\"\n\nWith all their power, the gods could not break him. They could only hope to transform that No into Yes.\n\nThey were deadlocked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SIXTEEN\n\nTIME.\n\nLongtime.\n\nLong, long, longtime.\n\nAwareness.\n\nAwareness of alack: something was not there.\n\nEverything.\n\nEverything was not there.\n\nEverything with a name, everything that had a word to describe it, was not there. Not even darkness. Not even nothingness. Not even absence.\n\nOnly awareness.\n\nAt play upon the field of awareness, one random thought:\n\nWhen I got there, there wasn't any'there\" there.\n\nWith that thought came understanding, and with that understanding came memory, and with that memory Pallas Ril wished she had a mouth, because she really, really, really needed to scream.\n\nBut a mouth and a scream both have words to describe them, and there were none of such things.\n\nOVERNIGHT, ANEW immersion game had sprung up like mushrooms, suddenly appearing on sites allover the net. Called Sim-River™, it was an extension of the classic world-building series, with a couple of original twists. At its heart, it was very straightforward: The player takes on the persona of the overseeing god of an Overworld river valley. The goal was to promote the growth of a high civilization among the tiny simulated farmers and miners that form the valley's population base. The path to that high civilization was fraught with dangers, however, from simple drought and flood cycles to natural disasters such as tornados, earthquakes, and even volcanoes; from crop disease and equipment failure up to marauding dragons and invasions by hostile elves and dwarfs. The player accessed the game through a second-hander sim helmet, the same one used to replay recorded Adventure cubes, and so the immersive experience was very intense, detailed, and realistic. None of that was particularly original, or very different from dozens, if not hundreds, of similar games."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The original twists, however, brought the game to a whole new level of popularity."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One was that this game was interactive: Every person logged on worldwide played together in real time, all participating in pursuing their collective goal. The actions of the river god represented the average of their intended moves. Further, the more people who were logged on at any given time, the more powerful the god became-this was the trade-off for the reduction of individual choice in the specific moves.\n\nFinally, the game was based on reconstructed Studio Adventure files, taken from the Adventures of areal Overworld river goddess, Pallas Ril. More than simply watching its effects, a player could feel the power of being a god.\n\nIt was overwhelmingly addictive. In only a few days, the hardest-core of the hard-core players had adopted a nickname: they called themselves godheads.\n\nEveryone played it. Marc Vilo played it while he recovered from the implant surgery that had linked him with the electronic group-identity that was the Board of Governors. Avery Shanks would have played it, even through her Teravil-induced haze, had her Social Police guards allowed her into the Earth-normal areas of the Curioseum. Perhaps even Duncan Michaelson might have played it, save for the cyborg yoke that shorted out his higher brain functions; he now existed only as an organic switching nexus for the net lines hardwired into his brain's sensory cortex.\n\nThe creature that had been Arturo Kollberg played it, though he had no need to; it amused him to pretend to be only a peripheral part of a grand mass-consciousness, instead of its focal node. He, alone of all the players on Earth, actually understood the game's true function: to gather and concentrate the attention of billions of people at once. To make them all think about the same thing, in the same terms, at the same time-to align and synchronize the patterns of their consciousness into a single shared intention-and to feed all of that mental energy into the net, structured in away that made it extremely convenient to use. He, alone of all the players on Earth, could feel the progress of the game without resorting to technological resources."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had only to close his eyes.\n\nHe was not the recipient of that energy, however. The energy of concentrated attention is essentially magickal; use of magickal energy is best left to an expert. The energy was directed precisely, surgically, fora single purpose: to enhance and strengthen a tiny white pinpoint of a star upon the brow of Tan'elKoth's mental image of Faith Michaelson.\n\nChanneling the energy through the boundary effect between Earth-normal and Overworld-normal fields had originally presented something of a problem; Tan'elKoth had to remain in the Overworld-normal sections of the Curioseum for his personal powers of magick to function, yet to receive the energy coming to him, he must also be linked to the net.\n\nAnd so, as Tan'elKoth knelt in a meditative posture beside the bed into which Faith Michaelson had been strapped, he would occasionally rub the shaved-bald patch on his skull, just behind and above his left ear, and finger the neat arc of stitching that held the flesh closed. Beneath that stitching was a thoughtmitter: proprietary Studio technology orginally designed as a data and energy link between the differing physics of Earth and Overworld.\n\nFor days he sat, motionless in concentration; he would not allow mere mortal exhaustion to limit him. The child, lacking his resources, was kept continuously medicated. A cycle of stimulants and hypnotics maintained her in a dreamlike state of semi-awareness. Periodic injections allowed her to enter REM sleep for half an hour or more-the REM state was close enough to waking consciousness for Tan'elKoth's purposes-but to allow her to fall deeper than that would risk all they had so far gained.\n\nShe never achieved real rest, but neither did he."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "All would be worthwhile, if he could only touch the river's power."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The irony of so extending himself to summon back the shade of Pallas Ril made him occasionally smile; but, in the end, were they not both gods? He had spoken of this to no one; he did not dare even think it too clearly. But he knew, within his heart of hearts, that once he joined with the rivergod, all would be different. There would be no more beatings, no more torture and humiliation at Kollberg's hands.\n\nKollberg, he told himself with a trace of contempt, believed Pallas Ril would be trouble.\n\nThat vile little man had no conception of what real trouble was. Once the link to the rivergod had been completed, Tan'elKoth would undertake to teach him.\n\nSHE REMEMBERED THE point of Kosall ramming between her eyes, remembered the sound when the frontal bone of her skull splintered around it, remembered the brief instant of humming buzz that made her whole body burn as oblivion swallowed her.\n\nBut something had changed. Something had touched her within the vast lack that washer death; something must have, or she wouldn't have recovered awareness. Perception filtered through her, slow and pure as springwater through limestone: She was not alone.\n\nA body, living breath and blood and bone-a body that washers, but not hers: hard and lean, tanned suede and knotted rope, a hand that clutched steel wrapped in sweat-damp leather, a shaven skull-\n\nShe clutched at that body, poured herself into it, howling. But this was no empty vessel; an ego held this body already, an ego with an identically fierce need to exist-a mind disciplined and directed, that struck back at her with the force of absolute terror: a rejection so utter that her grip upon the body burned her like the heart of the sun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But she could not let go.\n\nEven agony was welcome, after the lack.\n\nShe shrieked pain and rage, and the other shrieked pain and rage, and the battle was joined.\n\nA DECKER FINALLY found him there among the cargo crates, two days downriver from Ankhana. This particular decker had been troubled ever since the barge had undocked with a peculiar, intermittent buzzing in his ears. He could hear it only when he chanced to be on watch in the quietest quiet of night; even the faintest breeze would bury the sound, to say nothing of the daylight chatter of deckers and crew, and the sonorous chanteys the poleboys used to keep themselves instep.\n\nFinally, half through his watch in the small hours of moonless morning, the decker reached the end of his patience; he took his lamp, left his post, and began to explore. It was neither a swift nor an easy search, especially since his natural initial assumption was that the humming buzz must becoming from within one of the crates; he spent nearly an hour pressing his ear to the splintered slats of one crate after another.\n\nFinally, his wavering lamp flame picked out the shape in its cramped tunnel, deep within the least tidy of the stacks. One look at the rigid body of the young man lying on the deck, corded tendons standing out from collar to jaw, both hands locked around the hilt of a sword-the edges of whose blade seemed to fade into a shady nonexistence-and he went right back out and woke the afterdeck second.\n\nThe afterdeck second was less cautious. He crawled in beside the young man, scowling at him. He sat, and scowled at the way the young man's back was arched, bridging above the deck. He scowled at the rictal terror locked onto the young man's face, and he scowled at the bands of white across the knuckles of the young man's hands. \"Maybe I should give him a kick or something,\" he told the decker. \"See if I can wake him up.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The decker shook his head."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What if he don't wannabe kicked?\"\n\nThe afterdeck second's scowl darkened. \"What's that friggin' noise?\"\n\nHe was referring to the peculiar sizzling hum that seemed to come from the young man's vicinity, the same hum that had finally drawn the decker within. \"I think,\" the decker answered hesitantly, \"I think it's the sword...\"\n\nThe afterdeck second pushed himself back, pressing against the crate behind him. It was an open secret, whom they'd carried from Harrakha down the river to Ankhana. The decker could be right. This could be the Sword of Saint Berne.\n\n\"Get a poleboy down here,\" he said. \"Right now. Get a couple of poleboys and shift some of these crates. But quietly, for the love of fuck-wake the captain, and you'll be swimming to Terana.\"\n\nThe poleboys were ogres; a pair of them were able to swiftly and quietly enlarge the space where the young man lay. Once done, the afterdeck second instructed one of them to give the young man a poke with his pole-thirty feet of sturdy oak, as big around as a man's knee. The poleboy gave the young man a hesitant nudge on the shoulder.\n\nThe young man writhed, and the humming buzz got briefly louder and lower in pitch, and the pole was now twenty-seven and a half feet of stout oak; its terminal thirty inches rolled slowly across the deck and came to rest against the afterdeck second's feet.\n\nThe afterdeck second recalled that he had been considering giving the young man a kick, and he imagined what the rest of his life would have been like if thirty inches had come off his leg.\n\n\"Go wake the captain,\" he said grimly. \"Tell him we gotta send somebody backup to Ankhana, to the Monastic Embassy. Right now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "IN SILENCE SO absolute that he had no memory of sound, the Caineslayer fought for his life.\n\nAt its most basic level, this was a battle for the physical territory of his nervous system. From her beachhead in the palm of his left hand, she scaled his nerves like leprosy: tiny incremental snippets of death creeping beneath his skin. He fought back with a fiercely vivid mindview image of his body, but-\n\nHe could no longer imagine his left hand.\n\nIntellectually, he could remember details: the curve of anew hangnail on his little finger, the arc of a scar across one knuckle, the deep-etched battle cross in the center of his palm-but these had become mere description, abstract and juiceless. He could no longer put them together into the image of how his hand had looked. His self-image ended at his wrist. The hand beyond had become a clouded shape, mostly undefined... but slim and long and clearly a woman's. Seen with physical eyes, the hand would appear unchanged; but within, where it counted, the life of that hand now resonated to a different mind.\n\nShe had taken his hand and made it her own.\n\nAt its broadest, most metaphysical level, this battle was symbolic. The Caineslayer had made of himself a knot: a gnarl of memories and intentions, of love and rage, hate and fear and desire. She enclosed the knot, turning it this way and that, teasing out its raveling ends, patiently untying him. He clenched himself against her every touch: this knot was the pattern of his identity, the structure of consciousness maintained by the resonance of his nervous system. Maintained by the runes painted upon the blade they both now held. To be untied would be to vanish into undifferentiated Flow. It would be death."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Absolute death. Consciousness and identity extinguished.\n\nThe permanent lack.\n\nUp and down the spectrum between these two extremes their battle raged, and their primary weapon was the logic of pain: This hurts, doesn't it? How about this? Don't you know how easy it is to stop the pain? Just let go-\n\nHe hither with his father's fist; she tore his belly with child-birth; he scorched her with the humiliation of Dala's scorn, when the woman who had taken his virginity had laughingly called him a child in the presence of her new man; she smothered him with the drowning grief of knowing she would always come second in her husband's heart. In sharing pain, he learned her, and she him; they became more intimate than husband and wife, or parent and child, and this intimacy made their fight more savage. They fought with the passionate frenzy of betrayed lovers.\n\nAnd the Caineslayer was losing.\n\nSucked into the darkness-\n\nEaten by the Aktir Queen.\n\nOn one thing, the antagonists were perfectly agreed. When he felt an approach of any kind, he lashed out wildly, and she helped guide his hand. If his concentration were to break, she would eat him whole. If hers faltered, he would cast her back into the outer darkness. Only gradually did he come to realize that his eyes were squeezed shut, that the sense he used to detect intrusions was not his, but hers: some malign perception of the life that animated the meat around him, and made it men.\n\nThat was when he knew she had taken too much of him already. If he had seen one slim chance of survival, he might have clawed for it in wild panic, but he had no chance at all. He became calm. Even serene."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In that serenity, he found strength.\n\nHe would go down into the darkness, but he would go down fighting.\n\nHis own powers of mind gave him unexpected resources: just as she fought to tune his nerves to resonate with the pattern of her mind, he could tune his own mind to hers. He drove his attention into the void that had been his left hand, and he found her perception there. He felt the barge captain and the deckers and the poleboys and the wider sweep of illness and burgeoning insanity that was the city upstream; he felt the fish in the river, and he felt the weeds and algae on which they fed.\n\nNow, he understood her. The theft of his body was not her goal, it was only a stepping-stone, a staging area. She wanted the river, and more than the river: She wanted all that the river touched and all that touched the river. She wanted the Flow of life that sluiced through him. She wanted to hold him under that river until all that they both were had been washed away.\n\nAmong the lives he could now feel, he sought one that might capture even a fringe of the Aktir Queen's attention: anything that might turn the edge of her scalpel mind. Far, faraway-muffled yet painful, a splinter in a frostbitten finger-so distant and faint that he doubted the Aktir Queen could have felt it without the focused refinement of his own powers of mind, he detected a tiny wail of absolute terror.\n\nIt was a little girl, screaming for her mother.\n\nDOSSAIGN OF J HANTHOGEN Bluff, Master Speaker of the Monastic Embassy in Ankhana, had setup the Artan Mirror atop its own brass-bound carrying case within a small shelter on the barge's deck. The shelter was made of crate slats and tar paper, hastily appended to the similar structure the barge crew had constructed to keep the autumn rains off the rigid form of Ambassador Raithe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Around Raithe circled four Esoterics armed with staves; at intervals, one or more of the Esoterics extended his staff. None ever came closer than arm's length before the humming blade flashed out and sheared away the staff's tip. Raithe's eyes never opened, and his catatonia never altered, save for the instant convulsive slash that met each approach.\n\nThe deck was littered with small cylinders of fresh-cut wood. Just inside the door stood two more friars, each bearing an arm-load of fresh staves. Just outside the door stood another four friars, who grimly barred the shelter's entrance to the curious barge crew and the increasingly belligerent captain.\n\nDossaign glumly looked askance at his two lieutenants-a Keeping Brother and a Reading Brother-who responded with uncertain shrugs. Dossaign rubbed his eyes exhaustedly; the jarring bouncing coach ride from Ankhana to where the riverbarge had moored had taken more than a day and had left him exhausted and feverish. He suspected that he might becoming down with the same fever that had kept Acting Ambassador Damon in bed in the embassy, despite the Acting Ambassador's express desire to come here personally and seethe situation with his own eyes.\n\nDamon had been obsessive in his search for his Transdeian counterpart ever since Ambassador Raithe had failed to present himself at the embassy days before. He had spoken privately to Dossaign of his growing conviction that something was going hideously wrong in Ankhana, in the Empire as a whole, and that Raithe was somehow at the center of it. He had mumbled disjointedly of Caine and the Patriarch and how he felt the surreptitious gathering of enemies around the Monasteries and around himself personally, and Master Dossaign had successfully dismissed all this as fever-induced raving-right up to the point when he'd boarded the barge."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Certainly he'd never suspected the bargeman's wild story might be exactly true. Finding that unlikely truth had made him uneasily worry that some of Damon's mutterings might have more truth to them than a reasonable man would reasonably expect.\n\nDossaign had already Mirrored the embassy, and had been given assurance that Damon himself would be on hand to receive his next transmission.\n\nReluctantly now he began the cycle of breath that tuned his Shell to match the power of the griffinstone within this Mirror; a moment more, and his Shell tuned their shared energy to the specific color and shape of the Artan Mirror's Shell in the Ankhanan Embassy. His own image in the Mirror was replaced by that of a Speaking Brother from Ankhana; Dossaign greeted him formally and asked for Acting Ambassador Damon.\n\nDamon's hair was rumpled and his brows slick with sweat; his eyes looked like scalded oysters, and he seemed unwilling to meet Dossaign's gaze squarely.\n\n\"We have made our first inspection, Master Ambassador. The circumstance is-\" Dossaign shifted uncomfortably. \"-exactly as the bargeman described. Ambassador Raithe is locked in some kind of rictus. He does not speak or move, except to lash outwith the sword he holds when anyone attempts to approach him. Our antimagick net is useless, and now needs repair; on our attempt to net him, he cut through the net before it could enclose him.\"\n\nDamon coughed harshly and wiped his mouth. \"And the sword?\"\n\nDossaign turned to the Keeping Brother. \"The Acting Ambassador wishes your assessment of the sword. Take my hand and look into the Mirror.\"\n\nAs the Keeping Brother complied, Dossaign watched the focus of his eyes shift from seeing his own reflection to the image of Damon. The Keeping Brother twitched with an imperfectly suppressed flinch at what he saw, and spoke uncomfortably. \"The Reading Brother and his assistant both agree with my provisional assessment-barring closer, uh, study of this, mmm, situation. This is most probably, almost certainly, the enchanted blade Kosall-now known as the Sword of Saint Berne-though there is no record of a possessive or an, er, a convulsive effect in the history of this particular blade, which is, as you might imagine, extensive. This is, in itself, a contraindication; also, the figures on the blade, which appear to be a runic or magickal script of some sort, which we have been, as you might imagine, unable to examine closely-well, Kosall is known to appear as plain steel. Other than that, however-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So,\" Damon said solidly, his voice strong and dark despite his illness. \"You don't know what is happening to Brother Raithe, and you don't know what can be done to stop it, or even if such an attempt should properly be made.\"\n\n\"I, ah, well...\" The Keeping Brother swallowed. \"Mm, no. But-\" He waved weakly toward where Raithe lay rigid upon the deck. \"-Brother Raithe's, er... radius of reaction... continues to increase, as it has ever since we began the examination this morning. We expect his reaction-radius to stabilize at five to six feet, this being the maximum reach he can achieve with the blade, unless he somehow manages to get to his feet.\"\n\n\"And if he does reach his feet?\"\n\n\"I, ah, well-\"\n\nDamon scowled. \"You believe this to be a magickal effect?\"\n\nThe Keeping Brother nodded. \"Both of our available mindview-capable friars have confirmed it-although their reports present some difficulties of their own. While he clearly manifests an abnormal Shell pattern-indicating probable magickal causation-there is no discernable current in the Flow-surround; which is to say, if it is a magickal effect, we cannot say from whence the power might becoming.\"\n\nDamon sighed. \"There is only one solution. We must put him, sword and all, into the Secure Vault.\"\n\nDossaign understood Damon's thinking. The Secure Vault was part of the Keeping Brother's domain within the embassy: abasement room built entirely of plated steel, with a door two feet thick. Carefully shielded against Flow, it was the storage vault for dangerous magickal artifacts. The vault itself-and its doorway-were quite large; it might be possible for Raithe to be brought into it without triggering his deadly defensive reflex. Within, Raithe would be entirely sealed off from the general Flow, and he might be able to break the hold of whatever magick gripped him now."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But, but, but,\" the Keeping Brother protested, \"how are we to get him to the embassy? We can't even move him off the barge!\"\n\n\"First,\" Damon said, \"we need not move him off the barge-we need only move the barge.\"\n\n\"The captain will be difficult, Damon,\" Dossaign murmured. \"He is fractious already, and muttering of reparations from the Monasteries for the days he's lost. I think if he could have, he would have simply dropped Ambassador Raithe in the river and continued to Terana.\"\n\n\"Buy his cargo,\" Damon said. \"Buy his damned ship, if need be. Get Raithe back here. I don't know what is happening, but I do know that Raithe is at the center of it.\"\n\n\"But-but, the expense-\" the Keeping Brother protested.\n\n\"Ambassador Raithe is a Monastic citizen in distress,\" Damon said through clenched teeth. \"Do as you are told.\"\n\n\"But,\" Dossaign said mildly, \"assuming the Ambassador's situation is unchanged when we arrive, we still have noway to get him off the barge.\"\n\n\"That's not your concern. Get him here.\"\n\nThe connection was broken.\n\nDossaign sighed. \"Well, then. We're on our way back to Ankhana.\"\n\nIN THE END, it was what They were doing to the little girl that turned Hannto the Scythe against Them.\n\nHe had decided, in the vague and foggy muddle that passed for thought among the shades, that he would have melted the damned crown of Dal'kannith down for scrap metal, had he known that transforming himself into Ma'elKoth would bring him here: a ghost within his own skull, and an unwilling participant in the permanent, infinite rape of this innocent child."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sometimes, Hannto felt as though he were part of a great sticky web of mucus-glassine slime that clung to the naked body of this little girl, dripping on her eyes, forcing itself into her mouth, her nose, her ears, every drop searching for the orifice that would let it leak into the river. At other times, it felt as though the child had been slit open through the belly, and he drew her entrails out one slow length at a time, examining every inch in turn for any hint of her link with the mind of Chambaraya. Sometimes it had been a pure and simple rape, a punishing insertion, inflicting agony to force surrender: Let us into the river.\n\nSometimes it felt as though the child had been skinned, and her living flesh draped around him like a costume, as though he might gain the river by a grotesque imposture.\n\nHannto was not conscious, exactly; he was a personality, but not a person, in any real sense. Like many of the shades, he was a group of interrelated experiences and memories, attitudes and habits of mind, that Tan'elKoth maintained to attend to particular tasks that might otherwise occupy too much of his attention. Hannto in particular was a specialized subroutine that Tan'elKoth used to access the art-and esthetics-related subset of his stolen memories and skills.\n\nBut he was also more than this: he was the baseline, the original, the core of the creature that had become the god Ma'elKoth. Hannto, when he could think, liked to think of himself as Ma'elKoth's soul.\n\nHannto the Scythe had never been a pursuer of women, or of men; lusts of the body meant little to him. He had never pursued wealth, for wealth was at best only a tool, never a goal. He was not a lover of ease and leisure, not interested in a life of endless play; he did not seek power over others."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His sole passion had been beauty.\n\nPerhaps this had come of being saddled by the circumstance of his birth with a twisted body that inspired only pity, with a face that women compared unfavorably with horse turds; perhaps. He had never cared to analyze the roots of his obsession. It was a simple fact of his existence, like the sun and the wind and his crooked spine. He had never been able to concern himself with right and wrong, good and evil, truth and lie. Beauty was his life's sole meaning.\n\nNot long after he had taken the enormous step from mere acquisition to true creation, he had even created anew self: he had made of himself the icon of beauty and terror that was Ma'elKoth. But even at his most terrible, there had been nothing of ugliness about him. Until now.\n\nIt was this that made what had been done to Faith Michaelson so repugnant to Hannto the Scythe. It was ugly.\n\nOverwhelmingly, irredeemably, fatally ugly.\n\nHe could not close his eyes, for he had no eyes; he could not turn his head, for he had no head. Due to the peculiar specifics of his existence, there was noway he could avoid a savagely intimate knowledge of the endless rape of this child. Hannto found this unendurable, but he could not in anyway affect it; he was only a set of traits, skills, and memories, after all. He had no will of his own. He was a personality, not a person.\n\nAll the shades resonated with loathing; poor Lamorak could do nothing but sob. Even Ma'elKoth-formerly a god, now merely the splinter personality charged with securing the link to the river-seemed to hate the whole process, but he, too, had no choice."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It had become so crowded inhere.\n\nTan'elKoth's mental world was crammed to bursting with innumerable, almost insignificant lives: the faceless traces of the faceless masses of Earth, tiny bits of virtually will-free mind.\n\nBut virtually is not the same as entirely; their sheer numbers made the power of their aggregate will overwhelming. Hannto felt sure that Tan'elKoth would never have continued to brutalize this child, if not for their ceaseless pressure; but whatever scruple might still have existed within him had drowned in an ocean of people-the ocean of people that Hannto had come to call Them.\n\nTan'elKoth could no more resist Them than he could turn back the tide.\n\nEveryone of Them was hungry for the river, for what it represented: open space, breathing room. Wealth. Land. Clean water, clean air. Fresh food-real fruit right off the tree, real vegetables, real meat. And They didn't care how They got it.\n\nIndividually, perhaps, They might have been repulsed by the thought of harming a child, any child-but each of Them could blame her pain on millions and billions of others as well as themselves, and so each was willing to pour himself into this little girl until their combined pressure ripped her to bloody rags.\n\nOne ten-billionth of the guilt for her terror and agony was easy enough to bear.\n\nAnd so, when the tiny searing pinpoint of the link had opened upon her forehead, like a single star in avast black sky, Hannto had discovered that one does not need eyes in order to weep. From his rage and despair, from his love of beauty, from somewhere beyond the wall between the worlds, he found an unfamiliar strength. He found, for the first time, the power to say no."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Privately, hugging the thought to himself, shielding it from Ma'elKoth and Lamorak and all the other shades and all the countless, countless blank-faced billions of Them, he said: I won't.\n\nHe was only one against the billions, but he could wait, and he could watch.\n\nIf any chance came, he could act.\n\nFOR TWO DAYS, the riverbarge had toiled back upriver, pushed by chanting poleboys and pulled by the ox-teams that Master Dossaign had hired along the way. Now it was moored against the foot of the Old Town wall just upstream of Knights' Bridge.\n\nTo get the myriad necessary Imperial permissions had taken nearly a day and a half; over the last few hours, a team of Monastic engineers had hurriedly constructed the enormous swivel-mounted crane that towered above the wall's top. A double-sheaf block was lashed to the outer timber of the crane's arm, setup as a luff tackle; from the single-sheaf block at its lower end hung four chains. Each chain attached to a large wooden hook, nailed foursquare around the area on the barge's deck where Raithe still lay, still twisted in unnatural rictus, the sword still clutched in his hands.\n\nThe deck shelter had been cleared away, and now a magick-capable friar worked his way from corner to corner, slicing out the section of deck where Raithe lay with one of the embassy's prized relics: a Bladewand, recovered from the river six years before, believed to have once belonged to Pallas Ril.\n\nDamon leaned through a crenel of the wall, the embassy's Master Keeper beside him. Damon picked obsessively at his fingertips, the skin dry, cracked, and oozing blood. He was aware of the sidelong looks from the Master Keeper, but he could not make himself care. The man was an idiot, and he'd always been against Damon-just another of the petty voices who whispered together behind his back. They both silently watched the blue-white plane of energy flicker in and out of existence from the Bladewand's focal crystal."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The stone of the merlon beside him was moist and cool with dew. Damon leaned his face against it to let it draw some of his fever. Since this morning, he had had little to drink; his throat pained him, making swallowing a chore.\n\nThe barge captain stood nearby, wringing his hands, muttering under his breath.\n\n\"An inelegant solution,\" the Master Keeper murmured for perhaps the hundredth time.\n\nDamon grunted. Yes, his solution was not elegant; neither was it cheap. But it should get Raithe into the Secure Vault without any loss of life.\n\n\"I say just shoot the son of a bitch,\" the barge captain growled from behind them. Between the damage done to his deck and being pushed around for four damn days by a bunch of Monastics who all acted like they owned the damn world, he had swallowed about as much crap as anyone man can. \"A couple guys with crossbows could settle that little cock right down. Whyn'tcha just shoot him?\"\n\n\"Because he is a Monastic citizen in distress,\" Damon said without turning, \"and as such, he is by right entitled to whatever aid I can lawfully offer.\"\n\n\"What about my rights?\" the captain said. \"I got rights, too!\"\n\n\"Do you?\"\n\nThe captain looked at the back of Damon's head, then at the several heavily armed friars who stood in various postures of attention around him on the wall. Some of them stared back at him with disturbingly expressionless faces.\n\nDamon said, \"Perhaps you would care to enumerate these rights?\"\n\nThe captain lowered his head and stalked away, grumbling under his breath. \"Sure, fine, go ahead and serve your goddamn Human Future, who cares if you're buttfuckin\" people along the way.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The friar on deck below stood and stepped back, waving the depowered Bladewand three times over his head. The men who held the ropes hauled away, and the section of deck upon which Raithe lay lifted clear, swinging gently and twisting in the late afternoon sunlight.\n\nThey'd raise him, deck and all, up over the wall and lower him on the other side, directly onto the bed of a cart that waited in the alley below, with a team already harnessed. Then a slow, careful journey across the cobbled streets of Old Town to the rear of the Monastic Embassy, where ten more friars waited near the loading dock; they would carry the section of deck on their shoulders, slowly and gently, all the way into the Secure Vault, without ever coming close enough to the stricken Raithe to place themselves in danger from the deadly blade.\n\nThis operation had garnered a large crowd of curious onlookers, both on the docks opposite and lined up along the stone rail of Knights' Bridge. As the section of deck went higher and higher along the tall curve of the Old Town wall, spontaneous applause broke out here and there.\n\nDamon barely heard it. He was mesmerized by Raithe's stillness-even a corpse would have relaxed from rigor long ago.\n\n\"He's been like this for days,\" Damon muttered to no one in particular. \"How can he keep going? I'm exhausted just looking at him.\"\n\nThe Master Keeper shook his head. They had speculated endlessly about this, and no one had a reasonable answer. \"Effort like that over this length of time-over half this length of time-would kill any ordinary man. I cannot imagine what he's using for strength.\"\n\n\"Whatever it is, he uses it still,\" Damon said grimly. \"He's moving again.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Perhaps it was something in the motion of the piece of deck that had roused him, something in the gentle swing and sway as it rose beside the black stone of the wall; perhaps it was the laughter and applause from the crowd."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For all Damon would ever know, it might have been some arcane perception of the plan to move him into the Secure Vault.\n\nSomethings are destined to remain mysteries.\n\nAll Damon knew was that something made Raithe roll, and brought the edge of Kosall against one of the chains that supported the deck; the chain parted with the bright schinnng of sandpaper scraping a silver bell.\n\n\"Haul away!\" Damon shouted. \"Haul, rot your eyes!\"\n\nThe section of deck swung a little farther than it had before. Two more friars leaped to the rope, yanking on it desperately to get him up and over the wall, but Raithe rolled to the next corner and Kosall sheared the next chain. The crowd yelled in alarm as the deck section swung down like the trapdoor of a gallows and Raithe tumbled insensibly toward the deck of the barge some sixty-odd feet below.\n\nDamon tracked his fall with grim eyes.\n\nWhen Raithe missed the deckrail by inches and hit the water with a mighty splash, the crowd cheered again. The Master Keeper waved his arms and shouted, \"Divers! Divers, go!\" Friars on deck started toward the rail until Damon overpowered the uproar with a shockingly loud, \"Hold your posts! That's an order!\"\n\nThe Master Keeper turned on him. \"Master Ambassador, you cannot-\"\n\n\"I can. It is you who can't. I am in authority here. Never presume to issue orders in my operation.\"\n\n\"But he might still be alive! He can still be saved!\"\n\n\"Not by us,\" Damon said. He opened a hand down toward the impenetrably murky waters of the Great Chambaygen. \"You would send men into that? And what will happen to those who are unlucky enough to find him?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I-I...\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In Damon's eyes, the Master Keeper could seethe reflection of severed staff ends clattering across the barge's deck, and the image struck him speechless. \"I am sorry, Master Ambassador,\" he gasped, when he had finally recovered his voice. \"I wasn't thinking.\"\n\nDamon said, \"Fortunate for them that I was,\" and turned away. He leaned over the retaining wall and looked down at the roiled murk of the river for any sign that Ambassador Raithe might still be alive.\n\nMinutes passed, and the stricken Ambassador never surfaced.\n\nDamon closed his eyes.\n\nSometime later, the Master Keeper asked in a very soft and thoroughly chastened tone, \"Do you think we might try divers now? He's surely drowned, and we must recover the sword. We cannot risk that it should fall into unwary hands.\"\n\n\"I am not at all sure he is dead,\" Damon said. \"He should have been dead hours ago, or days. I do not know what sustained him then; I do not know that it does not sustain him still.\"\n\n\"What, then, shall we do?\"\n\n\"What we would have done from the beginning, had I not been so enamored of my own cleverness,\" he said stolidly. \"We shall wait, and watch, and guard.\"\n\n\"Huh,\" the barge captain grunted from his place along the wall. \"Woulda been simpler, you just shot him like I said, huh?\"\n\n\"Simpler, yes,\" Damon agreed. He gave a heavy sigh. \"You should go now. I find myself tempted to simplify the problem I have with you.\"\n\nAT THE BOTTOM of the river, he drowned in the Aktir Queen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The river itself could not harm him, for the Aktir Queen defended his body with her power; like a child in the womb, breath was unnecessary while the living water flowed around and through him.\n\nHe fought as stubbornly and savagely as ever, though he knew he was dying. She continued to hurt him, and he continued to hurt her back. Her endurance was illimitable and her power overwhelming-but he could himself draw upon the power that sustained her, and use it to resist.\n\nSo the murder was taking along, longtime.\n\nA day passed, and another; through the goddess' river-born senses, he could feel the slow wheel of the sun. There may have been more days, or less; though he could sense whether day or night clothed the world above, he could no longer remember if it had done so once, or three times, or five, or a dozen.\n\nSlice by onion-skin slice, she cutaway his life.\n\nThe final turning point came when some disconnected part of his brain wondered why, exactly, he was putting himself through this. What, exactly, did he have to live for?\n\nTo watch Caine die? He had taken his revenge. He had wounded Caine as deeply as he himself had been wounded; he had proved to the world that the Enemy of God was no more than a man.\n\nHe discovered that he was no longer interested in Caine's death. Now, with the final darkness closing in around his mind, he discovered that he was no longer interested in anyone's death.\n\nPerhaps he was the Caineslayer no longer.\n\nPerhaps he had never been.\n\nHe remembered vividly Caine's despair, his fantasies of oblivion, visions of death seductive and sweet. He thought of how Caine had longed for the emptiness, and the end of pain. The billowing clouds of darkness that would fade until light and dark were no longer even memory-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Here, at the final link of his long and tangled chain of destiny, he found, unexpectedly, a choice.\n\nHe chose.\n\nIt's better this way, he thought, and let himself fall into the infinite lack.\n\nLATE IN THE dark of autumn, under stone-grey clouds that bleached sunlight to the color of dust, new grass sprang up from the banks of the Great Chambaygen. Among that ankle-high jungle of brilliant young green, crocuses raised their faces and unfolded like warm snowflakes toward an invisible sun. Trees creaked and shivered as new leaves opened like fists that had been held closed against the approach of winter.\n\nThe hills below Khryl's Saddle echoed with the gunshot reports of bighorns clashing in rut, and birds proclaimed their territory with bursts of song; along the river's length, horses kicked and bucked, cats howled, dogs chased one another through the unseasonably warm breeze. Even slower, duller species such as humanity felt a quickening surge in the blood: the intoxicated fizz inside the head that says It's spring.\n\nAnd so it was: all of spring in a single day.\n\nThe streets of Ankhana suddenly burgeoned with young corn twisting upward from horse turds; flagstones cracked and split into green-swarmed rubble. Oak and ash, maple and cottonwood splashed out from seeds that should have drowned within the river itself, curling branches up the outer walls of Old Town and twining the piles that supported Ankhana's bridges. Window-boxes became cascading riots of new greenery, and trellises vanished under the sudden spread of climbing vines. In moments Ankhana could have been a city abandoned to jungle decades before: a skeleton giving shape to the verdant explosion that consumed it."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 20"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Here, at the final link of his long and tangled chain of destiny, he found, unexpectedly, a choice.\n\nHe chose.\n\nIt's better this way, he thought, and let himself fall into the infinite lack.\n\nLATE IN THE dark of autumn, under stone-grey clouds that bleached sunlight to the color of dust, new grass sprang up from the banks of the Great Chambaygen. Among that ankle-high jungle of brilliant young green, crocuses raised their faces and unfolded like warm snowflakes toward an invisible sun. Trees creaked and shivered as new leaves opened like fists that had been held closed against the approach of winter.\n\nThe hills below Khryl's Saddle echoed with the gunshot reports of bighorns clashing in rut, and birds proclaimed their territory with bursts of song; along the river's length, horses kicked and bucked, cats howled, dogs chased one another through the unseasonably warm breeze. Even slower, duller species such as humanity felt a quickening surge in the blood: the intoxicated fizz inside the head that says It's spring.\n\nAnd so it was: all of spring in a single day.\n\nThe streets of Ankhana suddenly burgeoned with young corn twisting upward from horse turds; flagstones cracked and split into green-swarmed rubble. Oak and ash, maple and cottonwood splashed out from seeds that should have drowned within the river itself, curling branches up the outer walls of Old Town and twining the piles that supported Ankhana's bridges. Window-boxes became cascading riots of new greenery, and trellises vanished under the sudden spread of climbing vines. In moments Ankhana could have been a city abandoned to jungle decades before: a skeleton giving shape to the verdant explosion that consumed it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This was no false spring; for, after all, spring is precisely the earth's echo of a goddess, when she shouts I AM ALIVE.\n\nDARKNESS IS THE greatest teacher.\n\nA tribe of the Quiet Land once had a rite of passage in which the aspirant was buried alive, deep beneath the earth, where no light could find him and no ear could hear his sobs and his screams. This was the final rite; after a span of days spent in such a coffin the aspirant was released, and numbered among the wise.\n\nThey did this because they knew:\n\nDarkness is a knife that peels away the rind of what you think you know about yourself. The shades of your pretenses, the tones of your illusions, the layers of deception that glaze your life into the colors that tint your world-all mean nothing in the darkness. No one can see them, not even you.\n\nDarkness hides everything except who you really are."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SEVENTEEN\n\nTHEY CARRY ME down the steps until they find a Shafter who doesn't move when the officer kicks her; good odds she's dead, from the bloat of her belly, but it's hard to be sure. There's so much filth caked on her skin that the lamp can't pickup postmortem lividity. She might only be catatonic. They unlock her wrist from its wall shackle, and drag her down toward the sump at the foot of the Shaft.\n\nThe officer notices my gaze following her. He smirks.\n\n\"Yeah, I heard,\" he says smugly. \"That's how you got outlast time. That's probably how you'll go out this time, too-it's just that they got iron bars set in the stone down there now. With just about this much space between them.\" He shows me with one hand, like he's holding a loaf of invisible French bread. \"So we got anew piece of equipment, too, right next to the sump: a sausage grinder. One of those bigass ones. We bought it off Milo, the livery guy. Big enough to take a half-ton porker. Plenty big enough for you.\"\n\nSooner than I would have liked, the gleam from the guard's lamp picks up the grinder's black-crusted shape: a stone idol, maw open for offerings. The guard shoves the woman in head-first and inches the wheel ahead a few times until the teeth engage in her hair; then he lets goof her torso and cranks for all he's worth. It's geared way down, to be used by one man, so he has to yank that wheel around a few times before the meat paste it makes of her starts to churn out its ass end and drip into the sump."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The hot billow of stench that rolls up the Shaft is actually a little comforting: at least I know she was already dead.\n\nThe detail officer unlocks my manacles and says, \"Strip down,\" and then he whacks me one after I again suggest he should fuck off. He cuts away my shirt with a small hooked knife that might have been designed for exactly that use, and then we have a bit of low comedy while they try to strip the breeches off my useless dangling legs, until the officer slaps their hands aside and goes after my pants with the knife. If I had a sense of humor left, I'd get a chuckle out of the look on his face when he discovers another layer under the breeches: those burlap bandages of Deliann's, now dark and stiff with dried pus. He cuts those off as well, then makes one of his flunkies bundle them up and carry them. \"Right-handed or left?\"\n\nThis time, I don't even have to speak: the look on my face is eloquent enough to earn me another whack.\n\nThey drop me in a heap in the dead woman's muck, lock the wall shackle around my right wrist, and tramp off up the broad, shallow steps of stone, taking their lamp's paltry glow with them. The last of the light vanishes above, leaving me in the dark with the whimpers and screams and soft hoarse giggling.\n\nAnd the smell.\n\nI know this smell.\n\nI have drowned in this before.\n\nIt's the smell of 3F in the Mission District: third floor in the back, farthest from the stairwell, two rooms and one walk-in closet barely big enough for an eight-year-old boy to have a cot."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's the smell of the chemical toilet inside Rover's seat.\n\nIt's Dad's smell.\n\nThe slow shit-slickened slide-\n\nI have been eaten by my nightmare.\n\nThe mouth of Hell has yawned beneath my feet, and I will fall forever.\n\nI SEETHE darkness of the hours and days before me, identical to whatever hours and days behind: no light to define the world, no silence. Eternal night with staring eyes, straining against the shimmering dark. Sometimes people talk tome, and sometimes I answer.\n\nNot people. Shafters. We're none of us people anymore. The next guy upslope has dysentery, and every time he lets go more acid shit he starts to cry. He keeps telling me how sorry he is.\n\nI tell him we're all sorry.\n\nI don't tell anyone who I am. Who I was.\n\nI mean, how can I?\n\nHow do I know?\n\nNo sleep. No sleep ever again: the screaming never stops. They will scream until their anguish erodes the last of my sanity. That's what I tell myself, but I know I do sleep...\n\nBecause every once in awhile, I awaken from a memory of light.\n\nI awaken from the touch of my daughter's hand, from the scent of my wife's skin. I awaken to the endless night and stench and screams. Sometimes beside me there is a wooden trencher with broth-soaked bread or a bit of cheese, that I can find by touch over the stone. I eat with shit-caked hand.\n\nOnce or twice I'm awake when the trusty slouches down the stairs with his lamp in hand: he's some kind of wetbrain, mismatched drooping eyes and a line of drool trailing from slackly open lips. He looks at us, but I cannot imagine what his semi-functional brain makes of what he sees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Herein the Shaft, I might slip from life to death seamlessly, never realizing that I have passed; how should death be different? The funny thing is, I'm pretty much okay with this. More than okay.\n\nThis is no demon-drained numbness. This isn't even a grip-jawed I can handle it. It's a feeling warm and chill, a tingling of skin and sweet taste on the tongue, an expansion of heart within my chest so alien tome that some hours or days or years pass before I can really figure out what it is.\n\nIt's happiness, I guess.\n\nI can't remember the last time I felt this good.\n\nI am, right now-lying naked in the pool of a dead woman's shit, chained to stone, gangrene eating my rotten-meat legs-as happy as I have ever been.\n\nMaybe it's the smell.\n\nNOW THAT THE stench of the Shaft-of my life-lives inside my nose and my mouth, now that it's soaked in through my pores and oozed around my cortical folds, I don't really mind it.\n\nIt reminds me...\n\nI can't draw the memory all at once. I tease it out, bit by bit. After a day or a month, I have it all together. I remember what the smell reminds me of.\n\nIt reminds me of the day I came home walking funny.\n\nThis is the smell of 3F that day when I slunk through the door, maybe thirteen years old, with a severely bruised rectum and a storm-surge of tears gathering behind my eyes.\n\nDad was having one of his better days, and he was trying to clean out the room off the kitchen where he slept. He'd been in one of his paranoid delusional phases fora while, saving his shit in plastic bags because he was afraid his'enemies\" had been trapping the hall toilet we shared with 3A, B, C, D, E, and G. He thought these imaginary bad guys could separate out his stools and use some kind of whackass SF machine to analyze them until they could tell what he'd been thinking; he was convinced they would steal the ideas of some book he was secretly writing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That day he was pretty lucid: he'd been trucking the bags down to the storm drain in the alley below the aluminum sill of my window. I guess even his imaginary bad guys would have a hard time figuring out which shit was his, once it was down in the sewer.\n\nAnyway, one of the bags had ripped open and slopped across the kitchen floor, and when I came in he was trying, in his dizzy, blurred, ineffectual way, to scoop up the turds with a dustpan and pour them into another bag. All I wanted that day was to make it to my little closet and curl upon my cot and forget how scared I was fora while, but somehow I'm never that lucky.\n\nOr maybe I'm always luckier than that.\n\nAfter a few years, it gets hard to tell the difference.\n\nDad grabbed me when I tried to hustle past and told me I had to help him clean this up. I remember vividly the pain of trying to get down on my hands and knees, and even as crazy as Dad was, my screwed-shut face and old-man moves woke something inside him. He put his arms around me and held me to his chest and asked me what had happened in areal calm, gentle voice like he really cared about the answer, and I burst into tears.\n\nThere was this kid named Foley. Toothpick Foley. Big kid, maybe sixteen or seventeen, twice my size. He was a courier fora black-market chit trader named Jurzscak, which made him kind of a big deal on my block. Foley always had a couple of guys hanging around him, trying to pickup the odd food or booze chit by gophering and general stooging.\n\nI thought, in those days, that Foley had a pretty good line of work; I'd been supporting Dad and myself as a burglar, being small and agile and not overly concerned with the niceties of personal property, but it doesn't take too many close calls with big mean drunk Laborers coming through the front door while you go out the back window to make a guy think that there's gotta bean easier way to make a living."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "So I went to work for Jurzscak."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "My whole life, nobody ever called me lazy; I hustled my ass off for that guy, and he was starting to toss some of the perks and goodies my way that used to go toward Toothpick, and Toothpick took exception to this.\n\nHe and a couple of his boys cornered me in an alley and got me down on the pavement.\n\nI don't remember Foley's first name. Everybody called him Toothpick-I think it was for his skinny little needledick, but I never knew for sure. When he realized he was never gonna be able to shake the name, he'd decided to attach it to something else: he started carrying around this bigass sheath knife, with a blade something like nine or ten inches long, and started calling it his toothpick.\n\nThat's what he tried to jam up my ass.\n\nHe didn't bother to take down my pants; this was just a warning. While his boys held me down, he took the point of the sheathed blade and stuck it against my asshole and just leaned on it. It's a pain that does not bear describing.\n\nHe told me in very clear words of one syllable that I should get my ass off Jurzscak's team, or next time he sees me, he sticks it in up to the hilt.\n\nNo sheath.\n\nI don't think I ever did manage to explain it to Dad. I couldn't get the whole story out between my sobs, and anyway there were no words for how scared I was. The whole long limping walk home, I couldn't think about anything but the ice-slide of razor-sharp steel up my butt, slicing through me from the inside out-\n\nI've never been so afraid of anything in my life, before or since."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dad just held me, and rocked me in his crazy stinking shit-smeared arms until I was almost calm again. Then he asked me what I was going to do about it. I told him I was going to quit. What else could I do? I had to quit, because if I didn't, Toothpick would kill me. What Dad said then changed my life.\n\nHe said, \"He might kill you anyway.\"\n\nI thought about that fora while, until I started to shake allover again. I had just barely enough control of my voice to ask Dad what I should do.\n\n\"Do what you need to do, Hari,\" he said. \"Do what will let you look in the mirror and like what you see. This boy might kill you. He might not. A building might have fallen on him on his way home tonight. Tomorrow, you might get caught in a crossfire, and then you'll never have to worry about Toothpick again. You can't control the future, Killer. All you can control is what you do, and the only thing that's important is that you feelgood about it. Life's hard enough without going through it ashamed of yourself. Do something you can be proud of, and let the rest go.\"\n\nThe words of a madman.\n\nBut he was my father, and I believed him.\n\nThe next day I reported into Jurzscak as usual. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. And instead of hustling straight out, I hung around fora few minutes until Toothpick showed up.\n\nI'll never forget the look on his face.\n\nHe stared at me, blank as the moon. He couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. He was four years older than me, he outweighed me by a hundred pounds, and he'd seen that unmistakable stark terror on my face just the day before. He couldn't bend his mind around a reality in which I wasn't running away from him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "While he stood there trying to figure out what the hell was going on, I pulled two and a half feet of copper pipe out of my pants and played teeball with his kneecap.\n\nHe went down screaming; Jurzscak popped up yelling; Jurzscak's boys all jumped at me; I was spinning and swinging my pipe and howling that if anybody wanted some of this, they should step up to the plate. Toothpick managed to get his blade out and lunged at me off his good leg. I let him have another stroke right on the top of his head and he went down hard, writhing and moaning, blood going allover the damn place, and Jurzscak finally managed to get the pipe out of my hand and he hit me in the belly with it hard enough to fold me over gagging.\n\n\"Michaelson, you crazy little fuck,\" he said breathlessly, \"what in the name of crap is going through that shithouse rat you use fora brain?\"\n\nWhen I got half my own breath back, I told him. \"Toothpick said the next time he saw me he'd jam his blade up my butt,\" I said. \"I believed him.\"\n\nSo Jurzscak had a talk with Toothpick, which ended up with Toothpick's shattered kneecap bearing the weight of Jurzscak's shoe and Toothpick finally mumbling out the truth through tears as bitter as mine had been the day before. \"But it was just a joke,\" he sobbed. \"We was just kidding around.\"\n\n\"You were?\" I said, thinking Ask my asshole how funny it was. \"Hey, me, too. Just kidding, Toothpick. No hard fucking feelings, huh?\"\n\nThen Jurzscak turned on me, weighing that pipe with his hand. \"I won't say you didn't have reason,\" he told me a little sadly, apologizing in advance for the stomping he was about to inflict, \"but that don't mean I can let it go, either. You know the rules, Michaelson: Two of my boys have a problem, they bring it tome.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nothing Jurzscak could do scared me half as much as what I'd faced to walk in there that day. So I looked him in the eye and said, \"Isn't that what I just did?\"\n\nHe thought about that fora little while; then he nodded. \"I guess you coulda snuck him, you wanted. But why the pipe, kid? Why not just tell me?\"\n\n\"My word against his?\" I asked. \"You would have believed me?\"\n\nHe didn't answer, but then he didn't have to.\n\n\"The pipe,\" I told him, \"was to let you know I was serious.\"\n\nI worked for Jurzscak for most of the next year, until he pissed off the wrong guy and Soapy broke up his gang and put him under the yoke. Toothpick was, as they say, a dead issue: In the Mission District Labor Clinic-the same one where my mother died-the meditech got so interested trying to reconstruct Toothpick's knee that she missed the slow hemorrhage inside his skull, and Toothpick shuffled off this mortal coil about three the next morning.\n\nToothpick Foley was the first guy I ever killed. Didn't even mean to; it just happened that way. I knocked him on the head, and a few hours later he died. Like the Cainists say, you can't unring the bell. Not that I'd want to.\n\nChrist, I was strong in those days.\n\nWhat the hell happened tome?\n\nTHAT STATUE STAYS in my head: that David. The more I think about it, the more it makes a creepy kind of sense. David was, after all, the Beloved of God, who fell from grace-\n\nOver a woman."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's not exactly a secret that Tan'elKoth's always had a little thing for me.\n\nNot sexual-I'm pretty sure that sex was one of those things, like eating and sleep, that he gave up to become Ma'elKoth. But I know he is capable of love; he loved Berne. And he hinted tome, all those years ago, that he'd turned to Berne because he couldn't find me. He hinted that I'd been his first choice, all along. And, Jesus, the way Shanna felt about him, you could say she was jealous. And he despised her; he never even tried to pretend he didn't.\n\nIs that what built this whole pile of shit? A goddamn love triangle?\n\nIt makes a certain amount of sense.\n\nEven in For Love of Pallas Ril, you can see it: He was trying to get me to choose him over her-over anyone. And on Earth he moved into that Other Woman position in our lives-\n\nNow that I think about it, he could be behind the whole goddamn thing. The way Garrette was reading off those cards-that stuff sounded like it might have come right out of Tan'elKoth's mouth. He could have done it all out of jealousy and revenge. It hangs together.\n\nBut, you know what?\n\nAll these stories-the stories that I tell myself, to try and understand why what happened happened; the stories that are all I have of my life-\n\nThey all hang together.\n\nThe longer I think about it, the more different ways I can tell it. It's like what Raithe was talking about: He had found away to trace everything in his life, good or bad, back to Caine. He could just as easily have turned it sideways, and traced everything back to Ma'elKoth, or to Pallas Ril, or to the goddamn weather twenty-seven years ago Sunday."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sure, this could have happened because the big bastard was in love with me. I can also swing the same facts around and make it all happen because I wanted to play at being Caine. I can make it all happen because Raithe wanted revenge for his parents. I can make it all happen because a pack of damn fools decided that Caine was really the Devil, or because Kris Hansen wanted to turn himself into a goddamn elf.\n\nShit, I can make it all happen because Toothpick Foley bruised my butthole.\n\nLike that statue: It's an insult. It's apiece of advice. It's a love letter. What it means is a function of who I am when I look at it.\n\nWhat anything means depends on how you tell the story.\n\nJESUS, I REMEMBER-\n\nI remember crouching in the supply closet inside the Language Arts shitter, waiting for Kris'setup to draw in Ballinger. I remember how dark it was-just a single line of white light under the door from the shitter's fluorescents-and the smell, the opposite smell from the Shaft: harsh chemical tang of cleaning solvents leaching from the ruck of mops and brooms and the rag-draped bucket. I remember having to keep still, so I wouldn't knock anything over or kick something and give the game away; we couldn't clear a space for me in there, because open floor inside that crowded supply closet might look suspicious to an investigator. I remember how hard it was to breathe in therewith the smothering walls close around my face, and how I started doing long slow-motion kneebends to keep my legs from cramping up.\n\nI remember the prickly ball of needles that rolled over my whole body when I heard Ballinger's voice, and the hot drop of my stomach when I realized he'd brought backup."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I remember thinking, So: there's four of them. All right. Four Combat cavemen against a pair of Shitschool pussies; we were probably both gonna die, and who cares? Nothing they could do tome would be as bad as Toothpick's knife going into my asshole. And I knew that if I stayed in that closet and listened to Kris die, I could never look myself in the mirror and like what I saw.\n\nIf I ever get a chance, I should tell him the story of how my father and Toothpick Foley saved his life. Shit. I wish I could tell Dad that story, too.\n\nIf any of that other shit hadn't happened tome-if my father hadn't gone crazy, if my mother hadn't died and left me running wild on the District streets, if Dad hadn't beat the snot out of me every other day, if Toothpick hadn't gone for me, basically my whole fucked-up life-I would have stayed in there. All the bad shit that ever happened tome had made me into a nineteen-year-old kid who could jump out against four guys without even thinking about it.\n\nAnd I knew it. In those days, I knew it. I even said it to Kris once: I had a great childhood. That's what Kris was talking about-that's exactly what Kris was talking about. Scars are the key to power.\n\nEach of us is the sum of our scars.\n\nBecause if any of it had been any different, I never would have gotten the chance to be Caine.\n\nKris had it right. I should have taken my own goddamn advice. I never wanted to be a fucking Actor, not really. All I ever wanted to be was Caine.\n\nHow's this for irony: I can see now that Caine is who I already was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "That scene with Jurzscak and Toothpick Foley?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Caine, right down to the dialogue. At the Conservatory, Kris could see it already. \"When you think about hurting people, when you really let your passion run, you want to do it by hand.\"\n\nHe understood me better than I did.\n\nHe probably still does.\n\nI mean, is that fucker ever wrong about anything?\n\n\"No, no, no. You ended up here because you were trying to not be Caine.\n\n\"What if it's Hari Michaelson who is the fictional character? What if the middle-aged paraplegic is just a role that Caine plays, so that he can get along on Earth?\"\n\nDAMN.\n\nGoddamn.\n\nThat Kris, he is one scary son of a bitch.\n\nBecause when I think about it that way, I can see it perfectly. I can seethe exact moment when Hari Michaelson was born.\n\nI was just out of my freemod debriefing: two weeks of interrogation by Studio brainsuckers going over everything that had happened tome over my almost three years of freemod training at Garthan Hold abbey and elsewhere. I wasn't the first Actor to study with the Monasteries, but I was the first to be sworn to Brotherhood. They made mean Esoteric even though I sucked at mindview. I didn't need magick to be good at stealing stuff and hurting people.\n\nSo the Studio decided they wanted me to rise within the Monasteries fora while. They wanted to feature meas an assassin. I wasn't into this shit at all; I've never been good at taking orders. I wanted to do straight Adventures, explore, see strange creatures, and hunt for treasure and all that kind of crap. I was even thinking about maybe going pirate-y'know, the high seas and shiver me timbers and island girls and shit. But the Studio wanted an assassin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I was more than half ready to tell them to fuck off. Assassins are boring. I'd known a couple of contractors when I was little, and meta few more while I worked for Vilo. It's plodding, methodical work. Real killers are not stylish, or dashing, or even imaginative. They're more like accountants with guns. If you do your job right, there's no drama in it at all. Who wants that kind of life?\n\nThey and Vilo had a lot of money invested in me, and I figured that gave me enough leverage to get what I wanted. Then Vilo took me fora ride in his Rolls and explained how the world works.\n\nHe started off trying to placate me. The Studio didn't want me to be areal assassin, he tells me. They wanted me to be a Hollywood-style assassin: kind of a high-fantasy James Bond. Sure, they say that now, I'm thinking, but five years down the road, when my audience numbers suck wind from all the Monastic scutwork I'm doing, they won't be talking tome about James Bond anymore. They won't be talking tome at all.\n\nBeing generally full of piss in those days, I wasn't gonna do it. Let them shitcan me; who cares? Contract violation would get me busted back to Labor, but that didn't scare meat all. Shit, with the skills I'd learned between the Conservatory and the Garthan Hold abbey, I could drop right back into the District and make a solid living as freelance muscle, maybe end up a neighborhood boss and not have to kiss any Studio ass in the first place.\n\nVilo, though, didn't get to be the Happy Billionaire by being stupid. He had me tagged and bagged before I even knew I was hurt. The Rolls touched down in a nice, quiet Labor neighborhood, mostly twencen sixflats and courtyard buildings-light-years better than a Temp ghetto like the District-and took me to Dad's apartment."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I hadn't seen Dad in six years, since I blew the District when I was sixteen to go work for Vilo."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The last time we'd been in a room together, it was a roach-infested shithole, garbage six inches deep covering the floors, one whole room converted into Dad's personal septic tank and the damn place only had three rooms to begin with. The last time we'd been in a room together, he'd tried to open my skull with a pipe wrench.\n\nWhere he lived now was a pristine one bedroom, with cream walls and honest-to-Christ wooden molding around the doors and windows. Curtains. Furniture. A dining-room table. A refrigerator with real food in it, a kitchen sanitary as a surgical theater. A bathroom-his own private toilet, right inside the apartment, and even a stall that would measure out ten minutes of hot shower everyday.\n\nAnd Dad.\n\nDad: shaved and dressed in clothes that were clean and whole, if not actually new. With hair gone entirely grey and cut close to his scalp, and the light of reason in his eyes. Dad: who could shake my hand and tell me he hoped we could get to know each other again, now that he was sane. Who could put his arms around me and smell like a man, instead of a slaughterhouse.\n\nI don't even remember what we talked about that day; I was lost in marveling at this man who was simultaneously so Dad and so alien. He almost made me feel like I was five years old again, like he was normal and Mom might just walk into the room and give me a hug.\n\nAfter we left, Vilo took off his velvet glove.\n\nVilo, y'see, took real good care of his undercastes. He was famous for it. He'd started looking after my father only a few months after I went to work for him. Turned out that Dad's condition wasn't curable, but it was treatable; with the right combination of drugs and therapy, he was able to hold down a steady job as a net research assistant-could pay for that apartment and even get a decent meal at a diner every once in awhile."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Vilo explained tome that Dad's employment was contingent upon mine."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If I screwed him on my contract, he'd cut Dad loose. It wouldn't take a week for Dad to be back in 3F, or worse.\n\nSo I swallowed my piss and did what I was told. It was the only way I could keep that smell out of my head.\n\nThat's who Hari Michaelson is, I guess: he's the guy who will do anything to stay out of 3F.\n\nNo, Hari's more than that. He's the good guy, I think.\n\nHe's the guy who thinks that if he does what he's told, the people he loves will all be okay. He's that profoundly unhappy man who sits at his desk at 3 A. M. , head full of bitter smoke from the ashes of his heart. He's the guy that Shanna wanted me to be.\n\nHe's the model for David the King.\n\nFunny: Shanna fell in love with Caine, but she couldn't live with him. She could live with Hari. Did she love him? I really can't remember.\n\nIf only I could ask her.\n\nALL THE DAMAGE we did each other-\n\nChrist, I remember the first time I saw her: at the table in that conference room at Studio Center. I had just come off back-to-back megahits, Retreat from the Boedecken and Last Stand at Ceraeno; and I had just been approached by Hannto the Scythe to locate and recover Dal-kannith's crown. Kollberg had decided to put together a serial Adventure, a multiparter featuring an entire team of Actors with me playing lead. There were six of us, and Kollberg had even setup a romance for me-he was always on my back to put more sex into my Adventures. I was supposed to spend my idle hours dallying with Olga Bergman, a big gorgeous Nordic blonde who played a Khryllian knight named Marade. Olga was a good kid, arising star with a booming laugh and a spectacular Ms. Olympia physique, and she was more than willing to play along."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "But Shanna was sitting at the end of that table.\n\nShe was shy for an Actor, at least in those days. Reserved. Intense. A little spooky.\n\nLuminous.\n\nThey all knew me, of course; I was the hottest property in the whole Studio System. They'd all rented Last Stand, and everyone of them had to tell me how great they thought it was. Standard showbiz stroke-up. All through the whole meet-and-greet, they were laughing and joking and asking each other which was their favorite part. All but Shanna. She never said a word.\n\nWhen Kollberg himself finally pushed heron it, she said quietly, \"My favorite part isn't on the cube.\"\n\nShe blushed, and dropped her eyes like she was embarrassed. Kollberg didn't letup. Finally, she revealed her shameful secret: \"My favorite part is thinking about all the people in Ankhana who get to go to bed at night, who get to getup in the morning, who get to kiss each other and hug their children. All the people who will never know what you did to save their lives.\"\n\n\"Ah, grow up,\" I told her. \"I didn't do it for them. I did it for audience share.\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"They'll never know that, either,\" she said, and gave me that incendiary little half smile of hers that made my chest go tight and my heart stutter, and I was pretty well done for.\n\nThe shitty thing is, we never had a chance. If we'd lived together fora hundred years, she never could have comprehended 3F. I look back on my life with her, and I cannot believe I didn't understand what was happening tome."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I wanted a world where there is no such thing as 3F-where it belonged to the frozen past, entombed in millennial dust, never to rise again. I wanted my world forever purged of that smell.\n\nSo I built my own 3F and called it the Abbey, and locked myself in, and tried to pretend I was happy about it. Shit, the Abbey was worse. My old room was something I could run from. I could fight the smell.\n\nThe Abbey had me fighting to stay there.\n\nNow that I'm down here, now that 3F is my whole reality in the bottomless stench of the Shaft, I'm so much happier it makes me want to laugh out loud. I can't remember the last time I was this happy.\n\nNo, wait: Yes, I can.\n\nI remember-\n\nA FEW OF the costumed mock revelers see me now, and still themselves, hands drifting toward folds of clothing for the weapons concealed there.\n\nI keep walking toward them, slowly, offering a friendly grin.\n\nThe golden sand of the arena crunches as it shifts slightly under my boot heels. The sun is hot, and it strikes a reddish glow onto the upper reaches of my vision, where it glistens in my eyebrows.\n\nAll my doubts, all my questions flyaway like doves in a conjurer's trick. Adrenaline sings in my veins, a melody as familiar and comforting as a lullaby. The thunder of blood in my ears buries all sound except for the slow, measured crunchch... crunchch of my footsteps.\n\nToa-Sytell sees me now; his pale eyes widen and his mouth works. He tugs upon Ma'elKoth's arm, and the Emperor's head swivels toward me with the slow-motion menace of the turret of a tank-"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was the last time I was truly, utterly, completely happy: seven years ago, on the sand at Victory Stadium.\n\nHappy. For the same reason I'm happy now.\n\nI knew I would die there.\n\nIt's not death that cheers me, though; it's not death that draws a stinging smile from my battered mouth. It's that I get to die on Overworld. It's that I don't have to go home.\n\nI'll never have to go home again.\n\nShit, y'know what?\n\nI even kinda like the smell.\n\nIt smells like running the streets on a San Francisco summer night; it smells like stickball and fistfights, like rolling ragfaces for loose change and dodging down blind alleys to skip over a fence one step ahead of the cops.\n\nThat's why I'm happy.\n\nOh, Shanna...\n\nIf only-\n\nThat's one bell I wish I could unring.\n\nI wish I could have gotten to this while Shanna was still alive. I wish I could have shared it with her. She might not have understood-shit, I know she wouldn't have understood-but I'd like to think she would have been glad to see me happy.\n\nI'm gonna die a freeman. Is anything better than that?\n\nI'm free.\n\nI THINK OF Kris, and his stuff about names. I think I understand a little better what he meant. Dad once told me that I am more than Caine, and he was right. But he didn't understand that I am more than Hari Michaelson, as well. Hari was a good guy. He loved his wife, loved his daughter, loved his father and this world. He was in over his head, that's all. This wasn't his fault. He didn't have a talent for it."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He never really had a chance.\n\nI never gave him one.\n\nThe corner of the manacle around my right wrist makes an imperfect tool, and I have no light by which to work. On the other hand, I have nothing but time. The wall of the Shaft is that same porous limestone, much softer than the iron that binds me to it. I work slowly, and do a good job, even though I'm working entirely by feel.\n\nOnce in awhile the trusty comes by with the soaked bread that passes for dinner, and by the dim flicker from his lamp's flame I can see my handiwork grow.\n\nIt reads simply:\n\nHARI MICHAELSON\n\nAnd a pair of dates.\n\nThe first is the day Vilo took me to see my father.\n\nThe second is my best guess at today's.\n\nHe deserves an epitaph, but I don't scratch one in the stone.\n\nI am his epitaph.\n\nTHE WORLD WANTS to call me Caine. But that does not encompass me. I must remember that Caine is the name for only part of what I am. Someday, that name will grow to name me more truly. Right now, it names all of me that I need. Caine is an Actor. An actor.\n\nOne who acts.\n\nI need something to work on. Something to try to do.\n\nTo be shackled herein the Shaft, dying-it's a gift: I don't have to waste time trying to makeup my mind. There is only one thing I can even try.\n\nKris said that black Flow comes through even this Donjon stone. That it comes through everyone; that we draw it and direct it without even knowing what we do. That it is energy in its most fundamental form. Energy is energy, he said. No reason why Flow can't go through wires and microcircuits, I guess. It only needs to be properly tuned."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Calling upon skills buried fora quarter of a century, I curl both of my hands into the Three Finger mudra and begin to cycle my breathing in that ancient, ancient rhythm. Mindview won't come right away, but Caine can find it. Years and years ago, he was trained for it. I was trained for it.\n\nI will find it.\n\nThat middle-aged paraplegic was just apart I played, so I could get along on Earth. I don't need him anymore.\n\nI will move my fucking legs.\n\nTHE PART-TIME GODDESS passed into the lands of the dead, and there she strove with monsters. She brought with her the dark angel's spawn, and the man who had been a god. They fought sometimes beside her, and sometimes against her, for in that land of shadow and illusion one cannot always distinguish friend from foe.\n\nIn the lands of the dead, there is only one certainty. It is the certainty of self. This is why tales and legends people those lands with monsters.\n\nIt has been written that when one contends with monsters, one risks becoming a monster. This is not true.\n\nThe true risk is that one might discover the monster one has always been."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "EIGHTEEN\n\nA NKHANA EMBRACED DAMON of Jhanthogen Bluff with a jungle of dreams.\n\nAn oak shouldered him aside as it lashed upward from a crack in the flagstone dockside, shoving him stumbling into ahead-high corn patch; the stalks crackled and burgeoned with young ears that grew from fingerlings to the size of his hand while he stood and watched with open-mouthed awe. Pumpkin and watermelon vines snaked along the stone and coiled around his ankles. Intertangled apple and peach and willow leaped from the Chambaygen so fast that the reeds festooning their upper branches dripped chill river water onto Damon's feverish brow. Barges and boats and floating piers were shoved and twisted and overturned.\n\nIn minutes the river had become a marsh, and the great wall of Old Town had become a vertical forest of leaves and brilliant blossoms.\n\nI have done this, Damon thought.\n\nThe buzzing in his veins-a strange fizzy bubbling up and down his neck that swirled into his head and out again-had started as a tiny hiss, but had boiled and burst since the green had come to devour the city. He walked in a dream, and knew it was a dream; this could not happen, except in a dream.\n\nThe friars Damon had detailed to patrol the dockside and watch for any sign of Master Raithe and the Sword of Saint Berne were all Esoterics: veterans, experts in covert operations skills ranging from hand-to-hand combat to demolitions to magickal counterespionage. At the first creak and rustle of the foliage that sprang to life around them, they had scattered and taken cover like the professionals they were."
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was alone.\n\nDamon couldn't see them anywhere within the riot of waving, weaving green, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. He wasn't sure of anything. I've been sick, he thought. I've had a fever.\n\nI must still have a fever; this must be a fever dream.\n\nHe'd been at the dockside for days, he guessed. He couldn't bear to be away. He'd posted his guards and watchmen, but he couldn't trust them to watch and guard, not really; whenever he left the riverside he was tormented by visions of Raithe slipping away, sneaking, escaping-\n\nAnd Raithe, he knew, was at the core of what was happening to Ankhana; let him go, and all hope of answers would be lost with him. So Damon always came back, to pace and brood and contemplate the river, because the only man in Ankhana he could still trust was himself.\n\nBecause this is my dream.\n\nHis stomach had been troubling him, and now in the green storm his guts twisted, and he retched: a brown-traced milky fluid spilled from his lips. How long had it been since he'd last eaten?\n\nWhat had he last eaten?\n\nThe streaks of brown in his vomitus looked like blood.\n\nHe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and its touch stung him sharply. His lips had cracked and split and smeared his hand with fresher blood. He was thirsty, dreadfully thirsty... He knelt and cupped river water to his mouth, but his tongue turned the cool water to nails and broken glass. He could feel it tearing open his throat, shredding him inside-"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maybe what I need isn't water.\n\nHe looked back at the pool of his vomit, at the swirls of brown; he looked down at the smear of red across the back of his hand. Blood, he thought.\n\nBlood.\n\nHe would have to hunt.\n\nA flash of furtive motion caught his eye. He rose to a stalking crouch, parting reeds with his hands, then slipped forward through the stand of corn. There it was again-was it again? Was it the first time? Had he seen this before, or was he remembering an older dream?\n\nThe flash of a boot heel, as it vanished behind the trunk of an ash; a startled glimpse of a woman's face, eyes wide and staring for one brief second until screened by rustling corn, the smell of unwashed crotch and armpit, the mouthwatering earthmetal savor of blood-\n\nHis dreaming jungle was full of people.\n\nSlowly, his jungle came to life in his ears. Grunts and growls, screeches and screams, all manner of bellows and howls and shrieks echoed near and far: calls not of beasts, but of men. Calls of the beasts that men had always been.\n\nHe followed a crackle of motion and was brought up short by a yell that was chopped to a thin moan. Thrashing a clearing in the reeds was a tangle of human flesh: a man and a woman and a knife struggled together near the river, and Damon couldn't make his eyes interpret who was doing what to whom. He could see only limbs, and metal, and blood.\n\nBlood-\n\nThe blood pulled him forward, and he followed, thirsting. This was only a dream, after all."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He entered the reeds, and something struck him from behind.\n\nOverborne, crushed to the ground, he tasted the viny resin of the broken reeds that jabbed his face, while what might have been a knee dug painfully into his back and frantic hands scrabbled at his clothing. He lay unresisting, abstractly wondering how this happenstance figured into his dream, until dully ripping teeth latched into the joining of his neck and shoulder and gnawed at his flesh. The pain-real pain, too-real pain-woke him from his daze. This is no dream of mine.\n\nDamon reached back and gripped with one hand the head of the man who chewed on him, while his other hand sought the man's eyes with stiffened fingers. The fellow grunted into Damon's trapezius, and his fists flailed ineffectually. Damon's fingers drove slowly deeper into his eyes, and the man stopped punching and started trying only to getaway, thrashing and pushing and moaning. Damon let him go, and heard a grunt of impact and a wet gurgle; before he could rollover and sit up, one of his Esoterics had tackled the man, pinned him, and cut his throat.\n\n\"Master Damon!\" the Esoteric gasped, springing to Damon's side with his bloody knife still in hand. \"Master Ambassador, I'm sorry-I couldn't get to you-all this-\" He waved his bloody knife at the riot of green around them.\n\nDamon couldn't take his eyes off the knife: rivulets of red trickled from the blade along the friar's wrist. It looked so warm, so... satisfying-\n\nHe had to remind himself that this was not merely a dream. He still had duties here. \"I'm hurt,\" he said distantly. He took his hand away from the bite wound on his shoulder, and more blood spilled down his robe. \"This must be washed, and bandaged.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The young friar gasped, reaching for Damon's shoulder to examine the wound, but Damon pulled away."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your knife,\" he said, averting his face.\n\n\"Master?\"\n\n\"Clean your weapon, Brother,\" Damon said thickly. \"First, clean your weapon. Always.\"\n\nThe friar flushed. \"I, I, I'm sorry, Master-\" he stammered. \"It's just-\" His defeated wave took in the jungle around them, the towering cliffside forest of the wall, the throat-cut corpse two steps away, the man who lay on the riverbank with a knife handle sticking out from his eye socket, the bloody trail of broken reeds that led to where a woman lay pumping out the last of her life a few yards away. \"-everything's so crazy... What's happening-it's driven everyone mad.\"\n\n\"What's happening has driven no one mad.\" Damon pushed himself exhaustedly to his feet, and the fizzy buzz in his head got louder and louder. \"It's merely given us permission.\"\n\n\"It's like a dream,\" the young friar said helplessly.\n\n\"Yes,\" Damon said. \"But not my dream. Or yours.\" The buzz in his head fizzed louder still, bubbling in his arteries, gurgling through his heart.\n\n\"Yes, that's it,\" the younger man murmured. \"That's exactly it. We're not even real. We're trapped in someone else's dream.\"\n\n\"Getup. Gather the others. We still have duty, here.\"\n\n\"Duty? What duty can we have in a dream?\"\n\n\"This is a dream. It is also real. It is the dream of a god, and the gods dream reality.\"\n\nThe buzz became a growl, then rose to a grinding whine.\n\n\"What god?\" The young friar grimaced disbelief. \"What god would dream this-this insanity?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "For answer, Damon pointed out over the river.\n\nThe long grey blade snarling in his hand, water streaming from his buckskin tunic and pants, Raithe of Ankhana strode along the surface of the river as though the rippling waters were carved of stone. He walked awkwardly, half stumbling, his legs barely able to support his weight. He headed upstream, and on his face was thunder.\n\nDamon said, \"That one.\"\n\n\"... SO BEAUTIFUL...\"\n\nAvery Shanks rolled over and locked her jaw against a groan. The expanded-foam pallet that had been her bed on the cold tile floor of the veterinary surgery had been comfortable enough to let her sink into occasional periods of exhausted sleep, but every time she awoke she felt as though someone had removed all her cartilage and replaced it with industrial-grade sandpaper.\n\nHer sleep had been plagued by nightmares of being seized and fondled, her elbows and knees and hips grabbed by bony fingers fleshed with rotting meat, her breasts and buttocks and crotch squeezed and rubbed by amass of Laborers who crowded around her, stealing her air with their horrible breath, and all of their faces had Kollberg's empty leer. She rubbed grit from her eyes and tried to remember what had awakened her.\n\n\"I never knew...\"\n\nIt was Tan'elKoth: a reverent whisper. Avery took her hands away from her face, and caught her breath.\n\nAnew light had entered the surgery: alight softer, more full, more golden than had been seen on this planet in a thousand years: as though someone had captured the first breaking dawn of a preindustrial May, bottled it like brandy, and decanted it only now, aged and mellowed and purified into aglow that shouldn't exist outside of sonnets and fairy tales: alight that is felt with the heart more than seen with the eye, alight that draws the spirit upward beyond the dull confines of Earth. It was the light that poets write of, when they describe the transfiguring brilliance of a lover's smile; it was the light that painters dimly echo with the secondhand image called the halo."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "This light shone from Tan'elKoth's face.\n\n\"Is it done, then?\" Avery whispered, afraid to speak aloud. \"Have you done it? Is she safe?\"\n\nTan'elKoth's gaze was farther away than miles can measure: he looked into a different universe. \"How could I have dreamed-?\"\n\nAvery's eye, though, was drawn to the slow writhe of Faith, where she lay strapped to the table, an IV drip keeping her in permanent nightmare. \"Is it over?\" she asked, more insistently. \"Can she rest now? Tan'elKoth, can she rest?\"\n\nSlowly Tan'elKoth's gaze returned from that unimaginable distance, and to his lips came a smile of gentle satisfaction that threatened to become triumph.\n\n\"Soon, Businessman,\" he murmured. \"Soon.\"\n\nTHE ONLY LIGHT in the techbooth that served the Interlocking Serial Program came from the heart of Ankhana itself, translated into the cold electronic glare of eleven POV screens. In the center of the booth sat the creature that had been Arturo Kollberg; its eyes could have been mouths, swallowing the raw uptangling of Ankhana's unnatural spring.\n\nThe creature never moved as the techbooth's door opened behind its chair. The Social Police officers who ushered Tan'elKoth inside said nothing, nor did the creature acknowledge this arrival. The door closed again.\n\nElectronic screens gleamed moss green and sky blue and stone brown.\n\nTan'elKoth said, \"It is done.\"\n\nThe creature closed its eyes fora moment, enjoying the fountain of power it could taste flowing into Tan'elKoth and out again.\n\n\"It is well,\" Tan'elKoth said, \"that you have sent for me now. We have much of which to speak.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A filth-crusted hand waved at a screen, where a skeletal young man armed with a shimmering sword walked unsteadily upon the surface of a river, between trunks of saplings that twisted out from the water as though in pain. \"Have you seen this?\"\n\n\"Seen it?\" Tan'elKoth snorted. \"I created it.\"\n\nEyes closed and opened again: chewing.\n\n\"The goddess walks within that body,\" Tan'elKoth said. \"By my will she died; by my will, she lives again.\" His voice carried subterranean echoes of triumph. \"It is time, I believe, to renegotiate our deal.\"\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"I pledged to neutralize both Caine and Pallas Ril. This I did. You pledged to return me to my people. This you did not. Instead, I was kidnapped. Threatened. Beaten. And maimed. Had I known your nature, there would have been no agreement between us. Now, though-now!\" The triumph rose from the caverns beneath his tone into full dark malice. \"Now the goddess walks the fields of home. Forewarned. Forearmed. Unbeatable. Your only hope is to deal with me. Only I can influence her. Only I can counter her power. Only I can save you.\"\n\n\"Where is Avery Shanks?\" the creature said tonelessly.\n\n\"With the child.\" Tan'elKoth made a slicing gesture with the edge of his hand, dismissing any possible threat. \"Businessman Shanks gives you no leverage. Your sole hope of success is the link I have with the goddess through the child. This link depends entirely upon the child's well-being: It is a function of a certain configuration of her nervous system, both physical and chemical. If Faith even falls too deeply asleep, the link will be severed; more convulsions-of the sort that separating her from Avery Shanks seems to cause-may destroy the link altogether. Permanent brain changes result from even mild emotional trauma; the effect on the link would be entirely unpredictable. You cannot risk harm to any of us.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The creature did not answer.\n\n\"Further, you dare not delay. The goddess' connection to the river is also a function of nervous configuration-right now, this connection is tenuous and unreliable, but it will become progressively less so as she reconfigures the body she has possessed. With the power she already has, she can reshape the body she now wears, or duplicate her former one: at that time, she will have regained all of her former power. Even I, perhaps, could no longer resist her.\"\n\n\"Then now is the time to act.\"\n\n\"There will be no better time. With every minute of delay, your task grows more nearly impossible.\"\n\n\"All right. I'm convinced.\"\n\nTan'elKoth scowled; it seemed he had not expected to win so easily. \"These, then, are my demands-\"\n\n\"Screw your demands,\" the creature said, its voice gathering humid lust.\n\nTan'elKoth shook his head pityingly. \"Do you understand anything of what I've said?\"\n\nThe creature rose, and offered the chair to Tan'elKoth. \"Sit.\"\n\n\"Don't think that you can continue to bully me,\" Tan'elKoth began, but the creature walked to one of the techbooth's control boards.\n\n\"Stand, then,\" it said emptily. \"Here, look at this.\"\n\nTan'elKoth glanced reflexively at the bright bank of screens. The creature touched a control stud, and from each screen lanced a searing blade of light. Tan'elKoth shielded his eyes against the glare, but from inside his skull, just beneath that short arc of stitching that circled behind his left ear, a burst of power slashed his brain to ribbons, and he fell facefirst to the techbooth floor."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The creature looked down at his twitching body as though it wanted to say something, but could not remember what.\n\nSHATTERED, SLASHED AND burned, broken, deep in the shadowed retreats of his mind, Tan'elKoth at last began to seethe truth.\n\nI have been a fool.\n\nThe implanted thoughtmitter was doing something to him-doing something to his mind, to his spirit-calling to him, revealing both itself and him in away that the limitations of his physical senses would never have allowed him to perceive. The blades of light had sliced away his eyes, but in robbing him of sight they had gifted him with vision.\n\nHe saw, vague as a half-remembered dream, the Face in the Lesser Ballroom of the Colhari Palace: the Face that had been the highest, purest expression of the dreams of a sleepless god. That Face had been a jigsaw sculpture, pieced together of the clay-formed shapes of his Beloved Children, layered and built one laboriously perfect figure at a time, into a face. A Face: the Face of Ma'elKoth. His greatest work: The Future of Humanity.\n\nNow, as he reached forth his metaphoric hand toward that icon of his vanished godhead, he saw that his art had been instead prophecy. This hand, with which he reached for that ghost of a dream, was no hand of flesh and bone, but was some shifting agglomeration of tiny figures, thousands of them, naked and clothed, birthing and dying, eating, screwing, shitting, killing.\n\nThose tiny shapes had become his flesh and bone.\n\nHe had become a hive of humanity, a structural framework that organized and shaped and gave purpose to the millions of tiny lives that fed him their devotion. A dizzy shift of perspective brought him an inch closer to the truth: The jigsaw figures were fully life-sized. He himself was an unimaginable giant, built of a dozen million people, twenty million, more-"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Laborers and Leisuremen, Investors and Artisans, all burning fora taste of Home. Their hunger overpowered him, left him shivering, gasping, sweating tears of human blood.\n\nHe had been blinded by his eyes: This world of gleaming steel and glass, of toxic sludge and chirping electronic voices, was a fraud. A confidence game. A sucker play. The institutionalized alienation that was the metastructure of modern Earth had deceived him into believing himself an individual-a deception directed not specifically at him, but generally, over each and everyone of the millions who together made him what he was.\n\nEach of the millions who organized themselves into his body wore blank white fabric tied across their faces: Magritte's lovers, kissing through eyeless hoods.\n\nThey could not even guess that they were each part of one greater form; they had been veiled so that they could not see what they had become. Those sheets were tied about each neck with a hangman's noose. Tan'elKoth felt about his own neck an identical noose, even as he became aware of an identical sheet tied over his own head.\n\nHe lifted his agglomerate hands and tore the veil from his eyes.\n\nHe found that he, himself, was only a small part of something as much greater than he as he was greater than the man who formed a curl of hangnail upon his thumb: a titanic shapeless mountain of blind humanity, and more than a mountain. Tan'elKoth was himself a mountain-\n\nThis amorphic pulsing mass was the size of a planet.\n\nThe size of Earth.\n\nAnd in its roiling, shifting pseudolife, it shaped itself into a Face of its own, a face with blankly staring eyes like lakes of people, nostrils greater than whole nations, a mouth like the ocean, wide with an idiot's gape."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "A face like Kollberg's.\n\nAnd the hoods that cloaked the uncountable billions comprising this amoebic groping Kollberg-mass covered only their individual eyes: their tens of billions of mouths were open, and every single one of them howled to be fed. This was the shared hunger for Home that burned within him: not homesickness, but starvation indeed. That bright, sweet world on which he'd built his Face, was to this great hungry mass only food.\n\nHow bitter, bitter, to be so easily deceived-\n\nHe had thought he was leading them; he had thought he was deceiving them; he had thought he was entering an alliance of convenience... But in truth, he had surrendered himself years before he ever came to this world; he was only an expression of this blind god writ small. He was nothing more than a link between this conglomerate creature and its supper: a hand, a tongue-\n\nHow has this happened, that I must feed my world to the monster I have become?\n\nHe stood upon the blind god's finger, as it lifted toward its slack oceanic mouth. He was finally-inarguably, revoltingly-only a crust of snot that this creature had picked from its nostril and was now about to consume once more. Those gargantuan writhing lips closed around him.\n\nThe blind god licked him from its finger, chewed him up, and swallowed him.\n\nThe god who had been a man opened the eyes of its new body, where it lay on the techbooth's floor. Kollberg sat on the edge of the control board, swinging his bare feet and holding his hands clasped between the knees of his filth-and bloodstained dungarees.\n\nTan'elKoth's prophecy had come fully to pass: The god within him lived."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "For one long, long suspension of movement, Kollberg stared at Ma'elKoth, and Ma'elKoth returned his gaze: the blind god regarded itself thoughtfully, like a man gazing at his image in a mirror-except that here, the mirror gazed back.\n\nPALLAS R AITHE STUMBLED forward, driven by screams.\n\nShe-for Pallas Raithe was female in ways more profound than any detail of anatomy-clung fora moment to the branch of a willow that had sprung from the river's bed only minutes ago, and that already suffered the slow murder of drowning. She held the buzzing blade of the sword out away from her stolen body and wrapped her other arm around the branch to keep herself upright on the river's shifting surface. Her halting spray of melody within the Song of Chambaraya limped painfully among the contrapuntal shifts of harmony and rhythm; it lurched from offbeat to discordant and back again, a squeal of random noise that befouled the music, tainted and twisted it.\n\nShe pressed her palm against her ear and pushed as though she could squeeze the screaming out of her head.\n\nHer spring had quickened the virus as well.\n\nBecause each life within the city was its own motif within the Song of Chambaraya, Pallas Raithe was acutely aware of each cold slide of steel into flesh, of each crunch of bone beneath a hammer, of each panted breath half held behind a barricaded door, each erratic drumbeat of a terrified heart. She ached for everyone, and she could help none of them. Those screams were only human.\n\nIn the symphony of agony that was the Great Chambaygen, they were barely a whisper.\n\nOne can think of an individual mind as a specific radio signal within the broadcast spectrum that is the universe; following the same metaphor, a living nervous system is a receiver, tuned by birth and experience to capture just that signal. In seizing Raithe's body, Pallas had been able to detune his nervous system so that it no longer captured his signal; she had warped it close enough to her own frequency that it could receive hers."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Like a detuned radio, where one signal bleeds over another, it received her badly indeed, through bursts of static and waves of interference that made her blast at shrieking overdriven volume one moment, while in the next she was buried in a white hissing wash. Her feedback shrieks had transformed Chambaraya's Song from stately Bach to a postmodernist screech of pain.\n\nShe spun crazily from the willow to a nearby oak, then threw herself into the cattail thicket along the bank. She fell to her knees, clutching the cattail stalks to her hard, breastless chest, and vomit clawed up her throat.\n\nMommy... Mommy, why won't you help?\n\nSomething was happening to Faith, something Pallas Raithe had not the power to comprehend. This body limited her perception until she could barely make out her daughter's voice.\n\nTouching the river through Raithe was analogous to broadcasting alive netshow over an antique voice-only radio: information could be exchanged, but only in the most limited way. To reconstruct him for the necessary range of broadband infinite-speed access, she would have to steal everything about him that made him who he was, replace each piece with anew creation, and make everything fit and work together in a viable living creature. Simpler to build herself a whole new transceiver.\n\nSimpler, to build herself.\n\nShe knelt with her knees still in the water, and dug a trembling hand into the clay: drawing forth minerals into the crystalline structure of bone. Even as she shaped the bone into vaguely female form, she gathered amino and aliphatic acids from the unnatural plant life around her. The river's water itself would serve for blood and bile and lymph.\n\nKosall within it contained the perfect template of her mind at the instant of her death. Mind and body are expressions of each other; the pattern stored within the blade was a template fora new body, as well."
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"value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 21"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Like a detuned radio, where one signal bleeds over another, it received her badly indeed, through bursts of static and waves of interference that made her blast at shrieking overdriven volume one moment, while in the next she was buried in a white hissing wash. Her feedback shrieks had transformed Chambaraya's Song from stately Bach to a postmodernist screech of pain.\n\nShe spun crazily from the willow to a nearby oak, then threw herself into the cattail thicket along the bank. She fell to her knees, clutching the cattail stalks to her hard, breastless chest, and vomit clawed up her throat.\n\nMommy... Mommy, why won't you help?\n\nSomething was happening to Faith, something Pallas Raithe had not the power to comprehend. This body limited her perception until she could barely make out her daughter's voice.\n\nTouching the river through Raithe was analogous to broadcasting alive netshow over an antique voice-only radio: information could be exchanged, but only in the most limited way. To reconstruct him for the necessary range of broadband infinite-speed access, she would have to steal everything about him that made him who he was, replace each piece with anew creation, and make everything fit and work together in a viable living creature. Simpler to build herself a whole new transceiver.\n\nSimpler, to build herself.\n\nShe knelt with her knees still in the water, and dug a trembling hand into the clay: drawing forth minerals into the crystalline structure of bone. Even as she shaped the bone into vaguely female form, she gathered amino and aliphatic acids from the unnatural plant life around her. The river's water itself would serve for blood and bile and lymph.\n\nKosall within it contained the perfect template of her mind at the instant of her death. Mind and body are expressions of each other; the pattern stored within the blade was a template fora new body, as well."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "A single human body is not such a complex thing, when compared to a full ecosystem.\n\nShe built the body from within, beginning with the brain and spinal cord; the more properly tuned nerve tissue she had, the more power she could draw to speed herself-creation. She began to experience a certain doubling of perception: a blurred parallax, like the vision of a person partly blind in one eye.\n\nWith the clearer perception of the brain and nerves that lay half complete within their cradle of clay, she felt the blind god enter her.\n\nIT FLOWED INTO her like oil. She choked on grease that seeped in through her nostrils, that slid between her lips and poured like poison into her ears, that cupped her breasts and slipped up through her rectum and oozed into her vagina. At the same instant, it seemed a huge abscess had burst within her belly, spilling pus and yellowish corruption; the oil in her mouth and nose and between her legs oozed out from within her, poisoning the world.\n\nThere was no mystery for her here: she comprehended instantly what this suppuration truly was. She knew the blind god, and the blind god knew her. The channel that joined them was an inextricable part of what she was; through this channel the blind god poured itself into the Song.\n\nThis was what had been making Faith scream.\n\nThe blind god flooded into and through her, and Pallas cried out as she opened Raithe's eyes. The blind god looked out upon the jungle Ankhana had become, and within her it murmured in Ma'elKoth's baroque contrabasso. Mmm, spectacular. We love what you've done with the place.\n\nFor an answer, she lashed back with the scream of the river's agony."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Please, dear girl. The suggestion of a wince: not of pain, but of distaste. This jungle is merely random; of course it hurts. Growing pains, no more. Just imagine what you might do if you act, instead, with purpose.\n\nImages clustered thickly, visions in her mind's eye. Every puddle became a rice paddy. Every field burgeoned with corn and wheat. Fish swarmed the river so thickly that men lined the banks to catch them with their hands. Cattle and swine bore fat healthy young at need, all year round.\n\nIs lumber needed for the building of homes? Acorns scattered in a patch of dirt became mature oaks in days-in an hour, just like this tangled spring of her creation.\n\nIs the air dirty? Overnight, a billion new trees-a rain forest to order.\n\nYour river alone could support BILLIONS.\n\nAnd you'll kill billions to give it to them, she replied. She summoned sharp-edged images of the primal village filled with bloating corpses, and filled their depths with the onslaught of murder in Ankhana itself.\n\nAh, yes, the disease. Sorry about that.\n\nSorry? SORRY?\n\nQuite. You must understand, dear girl, this was an instinctive-ah, shall we say, preconscious?-maneuver on Our part. From the days when the appellation'blind\" was more than a metaphor. An image grew within her of a newborn infant, eyes not yet open, groping for the tit. This is the great advantage of having allowed Ma'elKoth into Our Union: His vision makes things rather dazzlingly clear.\n\nThink of the disease this way: She saw an oak spring from fertile soil, saw the sapling shoot forth branches and the branches open leaves to the sun-leaves that shaded the ground beneath it, so that by the time the tree was mature, all the other little trees beneath its limbs had died for lack of light. Purely natural. Nothing malicious in the slightest."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "On the other hand, one cannot argue with success, can one? Rather clears the board atone swipe. Ah, well: We would take it back if We could-but this is a difficulty you have already addressed, is it not?\n\nAnd you killed me for it!\n\nNot at all. We killed you because you opposed us. We killed you because you are selfish and willful. We killed you because your opposition would kill Us. We killed you, justifiably, in self-defense.\n\nLook at this: Within her consciousness wheeled the globe of Earth, spinning silently in space: a tiny island in avast and hostile ocean: an island jammed with fourteen billions already, and more on their way every second. Earth passed the brink of ecological collapse two hundred years ago. Only an extravagant waste of irreplaceable resources has allowed the human race to continue thus far; only a die-off comparable to the Cretaceous can save it now. Five years from now, ten at the most, the die-off will begin.\n\nThis is why We killed you: because you would deny the human race what it needs to survive. Can you say We were wrong?\n\nShe could not even hope that this was a lie. The truth streamed into her. Twelve billion people would die. Possibly more. She could not imagine it, not even with the power of the god: a planet carpeted inhuman corpses.\n\nNow see Overworld: Imagine anew Earth, untouched. Imagine Earth as if it had always been in the care of a kindly goddess. With you and your power to guide Us, We could make of this world a perpetual garden.\n\nShe could not even lift her head to summon a response.\n\nShe was drowning in the truth.\n\nShe clung to a single strand of resistance: the distant howls of her daughter's anguish."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "AH, YES, FAITH. A writer of your world-Our world-once posed the problem this way: If you could ensure the future survival and happiness of all humanity by allowing one single wholly innocent, utterly inoffensive being to be tortured to death, would you do it? This is a conundrum only when faced by mortals. For gods, the answer is clear. Obvious. You find the stories wherever you look: Attis, Dionysios, Jesus Christ-the Wicker Man, by any other name.\n\nBut Faith-Pallas began to recover some scraps of her outrage. She's my DAUGHTER.\n\nBut, dear girl, it was you who gave her over to this torture. We merely use the tool you have crafted for Us.\n\nFaith? Shh, Faith, I'm here. It's all right.\n\nBut Faith could only sob. She was, after all, just a little girl: yet another in the endless litany of innocents violated by a god. By two gods, Pallas thought. The blind god, and me.\n\nShe could have sung Faith a human life; instead, she had sung her own dream: complete, perfect union with one she loved.\n\nThe cruelty of what she had done had never occurred to her.\n\nHow could I have known?\n\nNow within her she saw Ma'elKoth in all his majesty: the chiseled face, the glorious sweep of hair, chest like a barrel and shoulders like wrecking balls; she saw the limpid purity of his eye, the transcendent nobility of his brow. At his side stood Faith, naked, sobbing; the two of them were joined somehow, in someway that she couldn't make her mind clearly resolve: as though Faith's two hands had melted together within Ma'elKoth's grip. She need not suffer so; it is you who prolongs and compounds her suffering. It is you who can release her this very instant."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "I can save her?\n\nThe image of Ma'elKoth extended his other hand toward Pallas, in a gesture of peace. Of friendship. Of union. All you must do, he told her, is take Our hand.\n\nBut Pallas Raithe turned away.\n\nShe didn't even know why.\n\nTAKE IT, THE image of Ma'elKoth insisted. Does your daughter's suffering mean so little to you? Take Our hand, and We no longer have need of the child. We will have no reason to harm her.\n\nPerhaps she had lived with Hari for too long; perhaps that was it. And you'll have no reason not to.\n\nThe image of Ma'elKoth rolled and shifted, rippling from within like a reflection in a water pot gone to boil. For an instant another face showed through Ma'elKoth's classic beauty: a skull stretched with parchment and raddled with mold and rot, tangled teeth stained grey-brown, eyes glaring with an endless, limitless hunger that terrified her. Yes, apart of Us desires her suffering. The love of cruelty is as human as is the love of a mother for her child. But when you join us, your desires will color Ours. You have learned this from the river; does not your will color its Song? Join Us.\n\nPallas wept. I can't.\n\nThe blind god showed her a girl child, perhaps eight years old, crouched in an alley behind a Manhattan Labor tenement. She smeared snot from her lip with a dirty hand, and coughed thickly into a drizzle of grey rain that raised blisters on her exposed neck. Can you look at this child and say she has no right to breathe clean air? No right to eat fresh food? Can you tell her she has no right to be free?"
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The girl picked listlessly through a mound of garbage, only to cry out in joy at finding a dirt-greyed chicken leg with yet a few scraps of meat upon it.\n\nI serve the river, Pallas answered hesitantly, searching her feelings. She's not my responsibility-\n\nBut she is. You know of her suffering, and you have the power to save her. What crime has she committed, that you can condemn her to the life you know she must live?\n\nShe's living in the world you made-\n\nAnd We have accepted responsibility for that. We are fighting to change it. What are you fighting for?\n\nShe summoned an image of the headwaters of the Great Chambaygen before the days of the Khryl's Saddle railway: the pristine crystal trickle over mossy stones among the majesty of the God's Teeth. She summoned the rolling waves of virgin forest below the mountain slopes, the slow curve of an eagle riding a thermal, the splash of a grizzly haggling salmon-\n\nCome now, dear girl. This is fatuous. Consider this bear of yours fora moment: Should this bear threaten the life of that young girl, you would kill it without hesitation.\n\nShe insisted, desperately obstinate, I will not have your faceless billions unleashed upon my world.\n\nBut they are not faceless, not at all. \"Faceless billions\" is only a phrase. It's a slogan that you invent to dehumanize them: as abstractions, it is easy to condemn them to their hideous fate. But they are not abstract. Each is a human being, who loves and hates, who cries when he is hurt and laughs when she is happy. All of them are right here. Every single one has a face. Would you like to tell them, in your own words, why they must choke to death on the ruined cinder of Earth?"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Don't pretend you care!\n\nYou know We care. You can feel it. Each of them is apart of Us; how can we not care? We care precisely as much as they do.\n\nShe had run out of answers; even in this new aspect, Ma'elKoth remained remorselessly logical. She could not imagine allowing ten billion people to die for the sake of bears and elk and trees. But still, she resisted, and still, she did not know why. Perhaps because Overworld was so beautiful, and Earth was so... ugly.\n\nOnly because We were too young-too blind-to shape it properly. Overworld need not suffer the same fate. Again, a vision blossomed: a city surpassing Athens of the Golden Age; surpassing Imperial Rome; a city emcompassing the best of London, Paris, St. Petersburg; a city with the grace of Angkor Wat, the majesty of Babylon.\n\nEven those bears for which you seem to care so much, and all the trees-every creature, in fact, that grows in the earth or walks upon it, swims the waters or soars the air-can remain. And everywhere she looked, the city opened itself to parks and woodlands, stretches of prairie and silver curves of rivers.\n\nOverworld need not be a second Earth. Between Us, We can make it a second Eden: where women bring forth young in comfort, and men no longer water their fields with the sweat of their brow. Where all that is, and all that ever shall be, is peace.\n\nAnd this was the world of which she had always dreamed, wasn't it? Maybe that's why she and Hari couldn't ever quite manage to be happy: that dreamworld of hers wouldn't interest Hari one little bit. He'd hate it."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "He'd say, \"Eternal peace?"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That's for dead people.\"\n\nHe'd say, \"Sure, to you it's a city. Tome, it looks like a hog farm.\"\n\nOf course, the blind god told her with a hint of irony. In Our second Eden, there is no place fora Caine.\n\nSHE REMEMBERED SITTING in Shermaya Dole's simichair, running the cube of For Love of Pallas Ril. \"Fuck the city,\" Caine had said. \"I'd burn the world to save her.\" And she had never understood how he could say that.\n\nAnd yet, the answer is so simple. He is evil. From the raddled memory that rode the brain within the body that she now wore rose another memory: Hari again, older now, grey in his hair, no beard, only a smear of time-salted stubble along a jawline threatening to become jowls, shrugging in a sedan chair at the rim of a crater high in the Transdeian mountains, near Khryl's Saddle. \"The Future of Humanity,\" Hari had said, slowly, a little sadly, as though he were recounting an ugly but unavoidable truth, \"is gonna have to fuck off.\"\n\nHow could he say that? Could he really believe it?\n\nYou see? We are not your enemy. He is. He is evil incarnate. Shall We list some of his crimes?\n\nOathbreaker. She saw his face through Faith's eyes of memory, as he struggled in the grip of the Social Police and swore that he would save her. Ashe swore he would make everything turnout right.\n\nLiar. Images cascaded from For Love of Pallas Ril, as Caine ruthlessly and repeatedly lied, even manipulating the King of Cant-his closest friend-into risking his own life and the lives of every man he led."
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"value": "Murderer. She experienced again finding him in a dank back alley of Ankhana, at the end of Servant of the Empire. She experienced again holding him in her lap as he bled out his life from a deep belly wound, left by the sword of a guard outside the bedchamber of Prince-Regent Toa-Phelathon. She experienced again the shock and sickness of recognizing that the rag ball on the cobbles nearby was no rag ball, but was the blood and shitstained head of the Prince-Regent, murdered in his bed.\n\nShe could not argue with any of these charges, and yet-\n\nAnd yet-\n\nCaine-\n\nIn the instant she thought his name, she felt his rhythm in the Song: a savage throb of rage and despair masked with dark cheer. She could feel him where he sat at this very instant: chained to a sweating limestone wall, naked in his own shit, gangrene eating his useless, lifeless legs.\n\nShe saw the star of absolute white she had glimpsed once before, in the Iron Room, as she had lain bound upon an altar while he bargained with a god for her life. He burned: raw surging energy, sizzling, profoundly alive.\n\nThat star-\n\nShe remembered facing the god Ma'elKoth in the battle that had raged across the skies above Victory Stadium, seven years ago. She could have crushed him-the river had sung power unimaginable-but the cost of that victory would have been the deaths of tens of thousands of his Beloved Children and untold millions of the trees and grasses, fish and otters and lives of all kinds that fed the river's Song. So she had offered up her life, and Hari's, for the sake of those numberless others."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "All these years she had blamed him for turning away from her. But it was I who turned away. He was less important tome than creatures I had never seen, and who had never seen me. How, then, can I claim to have loved him? With the love of a goddess, perhaps: the love that cherishes all lives equally, but none especially. Being both goddess and woman has made me a poor goddess, and a worse woman.\n\nNow the choice she faced was a mirror-reversal of that one: She could take the offered hand-she could cooperate, instead of kill-and in so doing save not only the massed billions of Earth, but save her daughter as well.\n\nAnd still, she did not.\n\nCould not.\n\nCould not forget what they had done to Faith. Could not reward them for it. Could not become an accomplice to her daughter's rape.\n\nCould not, finally, do as she was told.\n\nBecause she didn't like them.\n\nIllumination dawned within her, and in the new light she saw what had held her back.\n\nIt was Raithe.\n\nShe had reconfigured his body-and his body had reconfigured her. It shaped the way her will could be expressed; it shaped even herself-image, and the way she thought. She was now something other than she had been, before. She was now a little more human.\n\nMore like Caine.\n\nThere had burned in Raithe a star of his own.\n\nNow at last she could understand why Hari would get so angry when she would ask him to release his unhappiness and flow with the river. She thought wonderingly, I suppose that if it's wrong to be unhappy, human beings wouldn't be so good at it."
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"value": "But this is only a reflex, dear girl; an artifact of the body you have seized. If you take a different body, your answer may change.\n\nThis body is my body. This answer is my answer.\n\nThe stakes are too vast to be settled by an accident of biology.\n\nAre they? Then, I suppose you would have to call this-She allowed herself a bitter interior smile.-bad luck.\n\nShe resummoned the blind god's world-Rome, that Edenic city of peace overspreading the whole of Overworld. She sent their joint vision soaring through its skies and diving among its shining white buildings, through its streets and rivers, into its gardens and parks, among its pools and trees, through bedrooms and dens, searching the whole of the blind god's fond future.\n\nWhat do you seek?\n\nShe found bakers and butchers, scribes and dustmen, farmers and gleaners, teachers, storytellers, playful children, and amorous lovers. She found carters and coopers and masons and millers; she found housekeepers, potters, glaziers, and smiths. She found every sort of human being save one.\n\nWhat? For what do you search?\n\nI am looking fora white star.\n\nThink not of beauty; beauty is a seducer. There are lives at stake. What of the children?\n\nA wise man once told me, she thought succinctly, that compassion is admirable, in mortals. In gods, it is a vice.\n\nYou would kill the human race for the sake of one man?\n\nNo, I suppose I wouldn't. A slow certainty grew within her heart and swelled until it spread out among the trees in the newborn Ankhanan jungle. But who says it's one or the other?"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "You serve either life, or you serve death.\n\nWhat kind of life? This fight isn't between life and death. It's between your life and his life. Guess what? I like his better.\n\nHe is evil. You have seen his evil, and know its truth.\n\nAnother wise man once told me that when somebody starts talking about good and evil, I should keep one hand on my wallet.\n\nShe felt awash of quiet resignation that was almost a shrug, and then a darkening of tone to bleakly impersonal threat. If you are not with Us, you are against Us.\n\nShe passed one infinite instant examining herself for fears and second thoughts. She found several of the former, but of the latter none at all. Let it be so.\n\nThere came along, considering pause.\n\nThen:\n\nWe have your daughter.\n\nAnd she is your only weapon, Pallas answered with all the coldness of Raithe's wintry stare. You dare not harm her.\n\nPerhaps so. You, on the other hand-\n\nYou, We can hurt.\n\nA UNIVERSE AWAY, in the cool green glow of electronic screens that showed a thin young man kneeling on the surface of a river with a sword in his hand, the body that had once contained Ma'elKoth rumbled, \"It is better this way.\"\n\nThe body that had once contained Arturo Kollberg replied, \"More fun.\"\n\n\"Yes, fun. Like the Labor clinic.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nIn perfect unison, they murmured, \"It's a pity there's noway to tell Caine that we're raping his wife.\"\n\nIN THAT INSTANT, Pallas Raithe began to die."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "All across Ankhana, trees and grasses and flowering plants sagged, wilted, softening and decaying, dripping stinking black goo while still on the vine. This black goo had a chemical reek, of acids and metals and burning oil, and where it dribbled over stone and wood it left vividly permanent stains. Ivy that had scaled the heights of the Colhari Palace wilted, sweating the black oil; corn that had sprung from city streets curled and withered and bled across the stones. Where the oil drained into the river, it killed fish and smothered reeds; in the stables where oat bins had become burgeoning gardens, it flowed around the lips of stamping horses, who choked and vomited and fell kicking to the earth.\n\nThe black oil burned Pallas Raithe where it oozed across her skin. The burns swelled with blisters that blackened and burst to release oil of their own that burned her burns again, sizzling deeper and deeper into her flesh. She pushed herself out from among the rotting cattails, back into the river, letting the water close over her, but it could not wash away this acid. It wasn't on her skin; it came through her skin.\n\nFrom the inside.\n\nShe clutched at the dying willow, shaking. She drew the river's power-her power-to heal this body that she wore, to build it afresh and renew flesh and bone, but that only brought forth a thicker flow of the black oil; the black oil was part of her, part of the river, part of her power, and it ate Pallas Raithe's flesh as fast as she could heal. The river howled her pain in a voice of human screams and bird cries, of cat snarls and the shrieks of wounded rabbits, and only a tiny fraction of this pain was physical."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I might pray for help-but to whom?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Whom does the goddess ask for help? What am I supposed to do?\n\n-you can fight-\n\nThe remembered voice was Hari's, of course; what other advice did he ever offer? Fighting was his whole life.\n\n-quit whining get off your ass and fucking FIGHT-\n\nShe could never make him understand. Somethings cannot be fought; somethings just are. Day and night. The turn of seasons. Life. Death.\n\nHorseshit, she remembered him saying. What the fuck is a house, then? It's how you fight the seasons. What's a campfire? It's how you fight the night. What's medicine? It's how you fight death. That's what love is, too. Just because you're not gonna win is no fucking reason to give up.\n\nAll right, she exhaustedly told that remembered voice, surrendering. All right. But you have to help me. Hari, I need your help.\n\n-I AM helping you, goddammit-\n\nWhich was so like him that it made her smile while the river's oil-fouled current washed away her tears.\n\nShe pulled herself up from the water, carrying Kosall, climbing one-handed the branches of the dying willow. Muscles shivered with oncoming shock; blister-scarred palms blistered anew, swelling into solid boils of blackened corruption. She turned back to the half-formed body she had builtin the cradle of the Great Chambaygen's clay. As she feverishly willed that body into existence, building it of clay and stone and river water, the blind god entered her more fully, more roughly, thrusting itself into her with the overpowering force of billions of desperate lives. It would let her rebuild herself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It wanted her to.\n\nAlready she could feel, with the half-formed nerves of the Pallas Ril body in the clay beside her, the searing poison of the black oil up and down the river. The more life she summoned, the more death it produced. The more one they became.\n\nShe could see, now, through the eyes of the Kollberg and Tan'elKoth bodies in the techbooth in San Francisco: could feel the avid lust with which they watched heron the POV monitors: could feel the anticipation of victory building like an orgasm, as they breathlessly watched her create a woman's body from the earth. She looked down at the half-shaped clay, at its swell of breast and curve of hip, and then she turned away.\n\nShe could not do this to her river.\n\nShe could focus her power upon the sword itself, one swift twist of will destroying it and herself together-but that would release her pattern from the blade into the river. Destroying the sword would flood her river with her consciousness, and the blind god would ride that flood forever.\n\nThe blind god had her in Chinese handcuffs: every move she made tightened its hold upon her.\n\nShe had to retreat: to throw herself into the lack, become nothing in that sea of nonexistence. Unmake herself. Using the partial nervous system she had created in the riverbank, she began to restructure Raithe's nervous system to its original resonance.\n\nThe blind god hummed its satisfaction, like a chess player who has caught his opponent in a particularly gratifying fork. Through the two sets of eyes in the Studio's ISP booth, she saw the swing of Actors\" POVs and understood the blind god's new pleasure. Actors closed in upon her, crept closer and closer, their breath going short, penises stiffening and labia moistening with the blind god's lust. These Actors were tools of the blind god already; once she was again nothing more than a pattern bound in the magick of the sword, she could not stop any new hand upon its hilt from calling her forth-but she would not come forth the same."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A different hand upon Kosall would bring a different goddess: one bent already to the blind god's will.\n\nThe ring of Actors closed around her. She could feel them with the blind god's perception: she knew precisely where each one was, knew his name, her history, the whole of everyone of them. She gathered power in the river: she could destroy them with a gesture-and the blind god laughed. Let her kill them.\n\nIt had many, many Actors.\n\nAnd even this shrug of power had quickened the venom that poured through her. Already the river stank of death fora mile downstream; already trees upstream sweated pinpricks of black oil, pocking their trunks with growing lesions of dead bark.\n\nPlease, she begged herself. A little inspiration, that's all I ask. She dived deeper into the Song, begging the river itself for any clue it might offer. Even just a hint.\n\nAnd a small, timid voice with the querulousness of nervous exhaustion whispered from the far side of Faith's tears: Well, if all you're worried about is Aktiri, I think I maybe able to help you.\n\nTHE SHADE OF Hannto the Scythe wasted no time trying to form thoughts and words and explanations: he knew They would come for him, and he knew Their billions were an ocean in which he would drown. Instead, he took his understanding of a technique of Ma'elKoth's and passed it through the link. It was a slight-even minuscule-alteration of local physics, a tiny shift in the resonance of reality itself that could be made self-sustaining.\n\nHe felt her puzzlement as though it were a question in reply, but They were closing in, sucking him down, and he had time to offer her only a fading memory of the Colhari Palace, and a reminder that Ma'elKoth had once suffered an Aktir problem, too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And then the sea of lives dragged him under, and swallowed him.\n\nHOLDING HER NERVES of clay in mindview, Pallas built the image at the forefront of her mind: a spherical lattice of shimmering violet, as the shade had shown her. It was an elegant variant of a simple Shield, retuned to near-ultraviolet from its usual warm gold. As she channeled the river's power into it, it vanished from her mindview: it had reached frequencies she could no longer perceive.\n\nIts centerpoint hovered an inch behind the forehead of the Pallas Ril of clay that grew upon the riverbank, an inch above the midpoint between her eyes. She sang its melody into the Song, and it expanded like a slow-motion shock wave, enclosing all that it touched: the dockside, the warehouses, the caverns below, Old Town behind her, the Warrens, Alientown, and even the South Bank across the river: a million, two million, ten million times the volume of the field Ma'elKoth had set about the Colhari Palace, and more.\n\nThe clay Pallas shifted and bubbled, and smoke rose from its eyes. The unfinished nerves within that body of clay were less than ideally efficient, and to overpower any circuit beyond its efficiency causes energy to be lost as waste heat.\n\nShe stripped herself from Raithe's body, and his nerves spasmed with shock and agony. In so doing, she rewrote herself within the sword, overlaid her pattern therewith the memories she shared with Raithe; should a mind ever draw her back to consciousness again, she would remember all they had learned.\n\nShe could not return him to himself entirely; she could heal neither the burns of his body nor the memories she had scorched into his brain, but what she could do, she did. And she left within him the answer he would require, should he choose to fight on in this war against the blind god: the hiding place of her weapon. It was the only way she could thank him for saving her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She knit one final command into his brain, hardwired it like an instinct-\n\nDefend the sword.\n\n-then she poured what was left of her will into the clay.\n\nThe final burst of power that made her elegant invisible Shield self-sustaining detonated the clay half-body of Pallas Ril in an explosion that left a smoking crater on the dockside and blew Raithe spinning backward through the air all the way across the river.\n\nThe sword fell from his hands, splashed into the oil-fouled waters of the Great Chambaygen, and vanished into their oil-sealed murk; Raithe crashed into one of the enormous limestone blocks that formed the base of the Old Town wall, then he, too, fell into the river. He floated facedown, limp as the wilted leaves of the trees that rotted around him.\n\nAnd the black oil that leaked from those trees burned like gasoline.\n\nA HUNDRED YARDS downstream, a man called J'Than-or Francis Rossi, depending on which world he walked-crouched behind the gunwale of a boat canted half-over in the branches of a dying willow. In the narrow brick right-of-way between the Palnar Drygoods warehouse and the steelworks, a likewise dual-named woman-Cholet or Tina Welch-pressed herself against a wall, gasping. On the roof of that same warehouse, a pair of experienced thieves from out of town-from way, way out of town-suddenly paused in the act of belaying a rope they had planned to use to rappel down to the dockside.\n\nEach of these-and seven more like them-had been creeping toward the man on the river, had been watching intently the shimmering sword in his hand, had come closer and closer while the eldritch jungle sprang to life unheeded around them, had slid untouched past the weeping black oil to approach their goal."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And all of them had felt a prickling, tingling wave pass over and through them, an instant before the riverside erupted in a gout of power that spread flames over the oil-flames that sped outward, reaching hungrily toward them and the black oil that dripped from the jungle on all sides."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Each of them felt as though he or she now awakened from a bad dream, a dream that had carried them toward this moment without volition. Each of them said to himself or herself, with minor variations according to their individual usages, What the fuck was I THINKING?\n\nAnd all of them, finding their wills now their own, ran like hell.\n\nIN THE TECHBOOTH of the Interlocking Serial Program, the blind god talked to itself.\n\nIt had two mouths here. The voice from one was deep and round and mellow as honey; the voice from the other was a harsh cindery rasp. Which voice spoke mattered not at all, because it was only talking to itself.\n\n\"A setback,\" one murmured, as the POV screen that had shown a view of Ankhana's decaying-jungle dockside inflames flickered to white static. \"Only a setback.\"\n\n\"Not even serious,\" one replied, as another screen that showed the black oil burning on the surface of the river went white, and another.\n\nThe booth became brighter and brighter as the POV screens exchanged views of Ankhana inflames for rectangles of featureless electronic snow. The blind god understood what Pallas had done as completely as Pallas had comprehended the blind god, and it was not in the least dismayed. The link to the river shutdown only an instant after the last of the screens blanked, and Faith Michaelson sobbed in some remote corner of the blind god's mind.\n\nThe city was now sealed against the Winston Transfer.\n\n\"Do we need Actors to get the sword?\"\n\n\"I should say not. We have troops. Combat troops. Social Police. Armed men. We can take the city, if we want.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We want.\"\n\n\"Yes. We need a story. We need a story to keep the people behind us. To keep everyone onboard.\"\n\n\"Nothing could be simpler. We can tell them we have to invade.\"\n\n\"The city's inflames.\"\n\n\"We don't have any choice.\"\n\n\"Of course we don't have any choice.\"\n\n\"It's the only way to save Caine.\"\n\n\"That's true. It's the only way to save Caine.\"\n\nThe hiss of electronic snow from the techbooth speakers was joined by awash of rusty, breathless cackles-innumerable MIDI files of canned laughter culled from netshows around the globe-which was the blind god snickering at its own joke.\n\nTHERE IS A sense in which the matrix of stories that we call history is itself a living thing. There is a structure to it, a shape, that we call its body; it has certain habitual progressions that we call its movement. We say history advances, or retreats, that it recalls this and forgets that; we look to it as a teacher, as a parent, as an oracle.\n\nWe say and do these things, and somehow we still delude ourselves that we are speaking metaphorically.\n\nHistory is not only alive, it is aware.\n\nIt meets every test of consciousness. History anticipates. History intends. History wills.\n\nIts anticipation, intention, and will are the sums of ours; it vectors our hopes and fears and dreams with the stern logic of the inanimate. And there are times when history lifts the hammer, and times when it bends the bow, and there are times when it draws along, long breath."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "NINETEEN\n\nWITHIN ITS SMOTHERING blanket of sudden jungle, Ankhana writhed.\n\nThis was an instant holiday, a festival, a Carnevale: a suspension of the ordinary rules of life and society. How could one go to work or to the market, when the streets were choked with trees? Grain bins had burst across the city as mills vomited sprouts, and shoots sprang from drying seeds. Door planks shot forth branches that burgeoned with leaves; dungheaps transformed instantly into high-mounded gardens.\n\nFor some it was a time of joy and release and childlike play, to dance among the waves of new-sprung life; for others, it was a time of profound contemplation, a time to wonder at the irreducible strangeness of the universe. For most, it was a time of terror.\n\nMost people cannot face a world without rules.\n\nThose rules of life and society-rules that are so often railed against as stifling and degrading-serve a profound purpose: they provide patterns of behavior that allow one the comfort of believing one understands the rules of the game. Without rules, there is no game. There is only the jungle.\n\nThis particular jungle swarms with tigers.\n\nHumanity is the only species that is its own natural enemy. The virus that had eaten its way into so many brains had digested already most of the inhibitions and repressions that make civilization possible. The instant jungle dissolved the final trace of even the most elemental animal caution, which had been the last restraint.\n\nNow was the time to hunt and feed.\n\nTwo types of people best dealt with the sudden jungle. The first were the sort for whom rules never change. To a bishop of the Church of the Beloved Children of Ma'elKoth, for example, the laws of his god transcended any temporal consideration, even such a shattering transformation as this; to the soldiers finally charged with the arrest of Duke Toa-M'Jest, orders were orders, whether issued in a garrison, a tent, or the branches of an oak that had sprung from bare earth ten minutes before."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The second were the type of people for whom there never had been any rules: the ones who had always lived in the jungle.\n\nThe last few Cainists still at liberty banded together to defend their families at a warehouse in the Industrial Park, waiting grimly with spear and sword and bow, dispatching each human tiger who hunted too near; His Grace the Honorable Toa-M'Jest, Duke of Public Order-who had once been His Majesty the King of Cant, and before that had been Jest, a young pickpocket, petty thief, and aspiring thug-scented the approach of pack hunters with instinctive animal wariness.\n\nHe, like the others of the second type, actually felt safer now than he had before, when he'd still had to pretend to be following the rules.\n\nFor the rest of Ankhana, there was only the jungle.\n\nWHEN HE FIRST glimpsed the line of infantry picking their way through the rubble-choked streets of Alientown toward his improvised stockade, Toa-M'Jest realized that he'd held on too long.\n\nThe stockade wall on which he stood rose from the ruins of what once had been a dry goods store at the corner of Moriandar Street and Linnadalinn Alley. It was overspread by abroad canopy of antisprite netting, now burdened with anew growth of spreading hemp leaves sticky with resin; Toa-M'Jest parted the jungle of dangling weighted ropes and squinted at the advancing troops.\n\nIn their vanguard strode an officer in the formal dress-blues of the Eyes of God.\n\nToa-M'Jest clenched his teeth to keep a string of curses behind them. He knew exactly what was going on, and it was bad. Their orders must have come from the Patriarch himself, and he had a pretty damned good idea what those orders were."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The crazy old bastard had fucked him.\n\nThe Duke turned to the Grey Cat alpha at his side. The alpha, like the pride he commanded, wore the latest in experimental antimagick combat technology: a full bodysuit of overlapping jointed steel plates, painted with protective runes of silver. It made the usually lithe and nimble Cats lumber like overweight bears, but in the close-quarters combat of the war in the caverns below the city, mobility counted for less than did protection.\n\n\"This is what I've been worried about,\" Toa-M'Jest said grimly. \"Looks like the elves have taken control of those officers.\"\n\n\"Your Grace?\" the alpha said blankly, his voice muffled within his steel helm.\n\n\"Nobody gets inhere, you understand? We can't trust anyone but ourselves. Those poor bastards out there probably think we called for reinforcements. They might even think they're acting at the order of the Patriarch himself. But no matter what they say, we can't let them inside the stockade.\"\n\n\"But, Your Grace,\" the alpha said dubiously, \"what if their orders do come from the Patriarch?\"\n\n\"We can sort all that out in a day or two, after things calm down.\" Toa-M'Jest waved a hand at the jungle that choked the ruined city. \"You've seen what the damned elves have done to us. We will take no more chances. No one enters. That's an order.\"\n\nHe turned away and clambered down the ladder before the alpha could reply. He had three more alphas-the commanders at each wall-who needed the same order, and pretty fucking soon, too.\n\nHe winced as he scrambled through the rubble that choked what once had been Moriandar Street. He hated that his feet must touch the ground; every step brought a nervous grimace. The fuckers were still fighting down there. How could they keep on? His men had taken prisoners-he had interrogated some himself-ragged and malnourished, untreated wounds inflamed and suppurating, most of them sick with the fever and raving. Any second he expected the cobbles to sprout a thicket of clawed hands-for the street to liquefy beneath him and then close over his head like quicksand as those hands drew him down, and down, and down-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But as soon as he moved clear of the canopy of antisprite netting, he worried less about the caverns beneath than what might come at him from above."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Damned sprites-\n\nShit, he hated those little fuckers.\n\nNow and again, treetoppers had slipped out of concealed cavern exits and taken a terrible toll with their yard-long birdlances of needle-pointed steel. The sprite attacks were only occasionally fatal, but this was cold comfort. The damned sprites were naturally Cloaked; you don't even know you're under attack till you feel the lance jam into your eye. Usually your right eye. It was their favorite target.\n\nToa-M'Jest paused fora moment when he came within sight of the wreckage of Alien Games. This was where Kierendal's Faces had fought their last desperate rearguard action, to cover a retreat into the caverns. For more than an hour, the air around AG had been an inferno of lightning and flame as the Thaumaturgic Corps attacked and elvish mages within answered with power of their own. At the last, the mages had detonated the building itself to seal the cavern entrance below; now, days later, the flattened rubble still smoldered.\n\nThe Duke was captured not by memories of the battle, though, but by his wistful recollection of all the happy hours and days he had passed here. Didn't know how good I had it, he thought. Kier, if you're still alive down there, I wish I could tell you how much I miss you. He shook his head and moved on.\n\nClinging to the past was not a survival trait.\n\nNone of his troops here had understood, when he had put his men to the task of constructing this stockade of stone. Some had questioned the utility; their enemies, after all, had been driven underground. From whom did he expect attack on the surface?\n\nHe hadn't bothered to explain; as the Patriarch sometimes liked to say, he did not require their understanding, only their obedience."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He certainly wasn't going to tell them that the whole Empire was tumbling down a giant pissoir. He certainly wasn't going to tell them that Toa-Sytell had gone crazy. He certainly wasn't going to tell them that he planned to hunker down here fora few days, then step out once Toa-Sytell collapsed, and end up in charge. It looked now, though, like he'd been a little too optimistic.\n\nHe should have cut his losses and bolted days ago.\n\nWishful thinking, that's what it was. He'd decided he could stay and make things workout because that's what he wanted to happen. He liked being a Duke; he liked being a confidant of the Patriarch, the head of the Eyes of God, wealthy and respected and getting more tail than a man his age has any right to dream of, let alone expect. And he'd really thought he could do some good, too. He had a talent for bringing order out of chaos; he'd shown that during the Second Succession War, when his Knights of Cant had become the capital's unofficial police force. When this shitstorm finally ebbed, he might be the only one left who could put everything back together again.\n\nSo he'd hung on, waiting, hoping fora break, while everything slid down the pissoir all around him. He couldn't even count on his own men. There had been fights, with fist and sword; there had been surreptitious knifings in the dark, and even one wild brawl between a pride of Cats and two T-Corps mages that had ended with five Cats and both thaumaturges dead.\n\nStill he had held on. He might be the last sane man in the government. If he ran, who would take care of the Empire?\n\nBut the world, he reminded himself as he slipped under the anti-sprite canopy that sheltered the north wall of the stockade, doesn't give trophies for good intentions. He had a motto, one that had kept him alive through many a dangerous time: When the prize is survival, second place is dead last."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "These words echoed inside his head as he heard a starchy voice from beyond the wall proclaim loudly that it was in possession of an Imperial Warrant for the arrest of Toa-M'Jest, formerly Duke of Public Order, on charges of treason, conspiracy, and crimes against the Empire. \"Shit,\" he muttered. \"Time to go.\"\n\nNo point troubling with either of the other walls; this was obviously a coordinated operation. There was only one direction left.\n\nDown.\n\nWithout another word to anyone, he ran.\n\nHis instincts told him he might be able to bargain with Kierendal and her subs; those same instincts warned him not to bluster or bluff or argue with these soldiers, and so when they met in the center of the stockade, searching for him, he was long, long gone, down into the caverns his erstwhile gang had ruled: a hare down its warren-run, five steps ahead of the hounds.\n\nNIGHT FELL ON Ankhana.\n\nIt was a night without a moon, and rolling clouds smothered the stars. Some scarce unshuttered windows-even scarcer open doors-sparked yellow lamplight here and there across the city, but the only real light as dusk dissolved to full black night was the bloody snarl of flame on the dockside.\n\nIn that hellglow, men and women pounced and fled and fought and died; in that hellglow constables pounded heads and backs and occasionally each other. In that hellglow, soldiers marched out through a dying jungle, and pike brigades became bucket brigades.\n\nThe river burned along with the buildings, and water was useless: it only spread the oil so much the faster. Soldiers with shovels scratched for dirt and sand to throw on the flames. Soon officers gave over shouting orders and encouragement, and seized shovels and buckets of their own."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sixteen kilometers upstream from Ankhana, one hundred meters north of the Great Chambaygen's bank, a cube of twilit air shimmered itself into a prismatic spray. The burst of dusk-darkened color resolved itself into twelve men who wore armor of metalized ballistic cloth over semirigid carbon-fiber ceramic leaves backed with Sorbathane. Their helmets were made of identical carbon-fiber ceramic, and each helmet had a full face shield of smoked armorglass inlaid with hair-fine silver wires.\n\nInstantly they marched toward the river, and the cube of air shimmered once more behind them.\n\nThe first man to reach the river laid his microfiber pack on the bank, unzipped its plastic sealer, and pulled a clear nylon lanyard. With a hiss, the pack unfolded itself and inflated to become a large boat, into which the balance of the dozen men began stowing their gear in Velcro-lined pouches along the gas cells. Precisely five meters upstream, the leader of the second dozen began to unzip his own pack. A third dozen marched toward a point five meters farther upstream, while a fourth shimmered into existence.\n\nOf all the men on that riverbank that night, four wore different armor. The design of their armor differed only in that the ballistic cloth was not metalized, and the smoked glass of their visors had no lacing of silver wires. The boats were lashed together in groups of three; one of these four men took his place at the stern of the lead boat of each group and held a staff in the water, trailing behind like a rudder. Each of these four men produced a large piece of polished quartz, held it in his other hand, and concentrated.\n\nThe boats slipped silently into the gathering darkness."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the city that was their destination, friars choked and died in the river as they struggled to retrieve the body of a fallen Ambassador.\n\nBelow that city, down in the dark, beneath the sheltering stone-\n\n-A killer chained to a limestone wall stared unseeing, and touched with his mind strands of darkness deeper than the absolute night in which he lay.\n\n-A human who had been a prince of the First Folk lay twisting in mortal fever, hours from death.\n\n-A former duke wandered, lost, in permanent impenetrable black.\n\nAnd a man named Habrak-who had been Sergeant of the Guard in the Donjon for twelve years with only a single stain upon his record; who was a man of the first type, for whom the rules never change; who had faced the sudden jungle and the surge of black oil and now the flames that threatened to swallow his city with the same stolid, profound, unimaginative devotion to his duty; who had believed, in his heart, that in his thirty-seven years of military service he had done so much and seen so much more that he was no longer surprised by anything-could only stare with mouth agape when His Radiant Holiness, the Patriarch Toa-Sytell himself, limped down the Courthouse stairs to the basement guardroom.\n\nTHE PATRIARCH'S SKIN had gone slack and corpse-waxy, and his eyes drowned in pools of bruise; his lips were cracked, seeping blood that trailed down his chin. His robe of office was torn, stained with food and blood and vomit, and embers climbed its hem along a patch of the black oil. He had for escort six nervous, sweating, lip-licking Eyes of God officers who wore full hauberks and chain coifs under steel helms, who walked with bared swords in unsteady hands."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Habrak finally remembered himself and sprang from his desk chair to attention."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Patriarch leaned upon the gate between them as though only those steel bars kept him on his feet.\n\n\"Sergeant,\" the Patriarch croaked. \"It's time.\"\n\nHe paused, and glared at Habrak expectantly, waiting fora response. \"Come here, man. Don't make me shout. My throat hurts. Didn't you hear me? It's time.\"\n\nHarbrak swallowed. He moved away from his desk, closer to the gate, stopping a respectful arm's length away. \"Time for what, Your Radiance?\" he said carefully.\n\n\"Time to kill Caine.\"\n\n\"Your Radiance?\"\n\nThe Patriarch mopped his raddled brow with a shaking hand. \"It was the fire, you see? That's how I knew. Foolish. I was so foolish. I thought I could be clever. I thought I could use him, but he has used me. Just like before. The city burns. Burns-it burns like before. You remember? You remember before? You remember the city inflames?\"\n\n\"I do, Radiance,\" Habrak said grimly.\n\n\"Go, then. Handle it yourself.\" That shaking hand shot forth between the bars of the gate and seized Habrak's shoulder. \"You're a good man. I can trust you. I've always known I can trust you.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Radiance.\"\n\n\"What-\" The Patriarch's eyes drifted closed, and Habrak thought the man might be about to faint, but even as he lifted a hand to catch his sovereign, those blackened eyes popped open again and fixed him with a glare as sharply inhuman as an eagle's. \"What is your name, again?\"\n\n\"Habrak, Radiance. Sergeant Habrak.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Habrak, don't try to be clever. Keep it simple. That was my mistake. I thought I was clever enough that I didn't have to keep it simple.\"\n\n\"Keep what simple, Radiance?\"\n\n\"Killing Caine.\"\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\nToa-Sytell gripped Habrak's other shoulder as well, and drew him close to the bars that kept them apart. His breath stank of corruption. \"Do it yourself, Habrak. Do it. Take your club. Go down into the Shaft. Bash in his skull. Do you understand?\"\n\nHabrak stiffened. He had never questioned an order in his life. \"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"And when you're done, feed his body to the grinder.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Bash him. Bash him good. Grind him up. Bash him, and grind him. You will do that? You will bash him and grind him?\"\n\nHabrak saluted. \"Yes, sir. But, sir-?\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"What about Assumption Day, sir?\"\n\n\"Forget about Assumption Day,\" the Patriarch muttered acidly. \"Everyone else has.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"You're a good man, Habrak. You are about to save the Empire. And his head. Save his head, too. Just like the Empire.\"\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\n\"We'll need his head. For the pole.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"You will not leave the Donjon without Caine's head. Give him your key,\" the Patriarch said, indicating one of the Eyes. \"The key to this gate.\"\n\nHabrak dutifully removed it from his large iron ring and handed it through the bars to the Eye of God. The officer clutched it stiffly."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The next thing to pass through this gateway will be Caine's head, do you understand?\" the Patriarch said to the Eye. \"No one enters. No one leaves. This gate will not be opened until someone comes up those stairs out of the Donjon and hands Caine's head to you. Do you understand?\"\n\nThe officer said, \"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"If this gate opens for any other reason, all six of you will have your heads on poles instead. I don't care if Ma'elKoth Himself orders you to open this gate. He may punish you in your next life, but I can kill you in this one.\"\n\nThe officers eyed each other nervously.\n\nHe turned back to Habrak. \"And do not hope that they will falter, or that some other may open this gate. I have dismissed the guards in the Courthouse above. They could not be trusted. Above you now there are only the Eyes of God. They will be watching.\"\n\nThe Patriarch nodded as though agreeing with some inaudible comment. \"I'll be in the chapel.\"\n\nThen he turned and limped backup the stairs.\n\nHabrak stared after him fora moment, then fora moment longer he looked at the Eyes of God, who looked back at him and at each other, and who seemed decidedly frightened. He picked up his ring of keys in one hand, slung the thong of his iron-bound club around the other, and unlocked the iron-barred door that closed the stairway down to the Donjon.\n\n\"Hmp,\" he muttered under his breath. He'd almost left without a knife. Can't cut somebody's head off with a club, can you? From a drawer of his desk he got a large, single-edged dirk and stuck it behind the belt that girdled his armor."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then he tromped down the stairs to kill Caine.\n\nJEST HAD BEEN deep in the darkness fora long, longtime.\n\nBy the time claws had finally reached out of the infinite midnight of the caverns, seized him, and dragged him into this larger darkness, Jest knew exactly who he was and what he would do. He was a survivor. He would survive.\n\n\"I'm unarmed. I surrender,\" he repeated, as he had ever since he had escaped into the caverns a step ahead of the Eyes of God. He'd said it again and again, over and over, endlessly, for what must have been days, his throat dry, his lips cracking, his eyes so long benighted that he had lost the memory of light. \"I'm unarmed, and I surrender.\"\n\nHe continued until his silence was invited by a cuff to the back of his head.\n\nThis darkness was textured with sound: shufflings and grunts and snorts and sniffles, the occasional metallic rustle of armor or the scrape of a blade on a stone.\n\nHis Grace the Honorable Toa-M'Jest, Duke of Public Order, would in similar circumstances have been inclined to bluster: to remind his captors of his importance, and hint at Imperial reprisals for any harm he might suffer. His Majesty the King of Cant would have been inclined to bargain: to invite his captors to set a price for his freedom, to negotiate a deal and then honor it or not, as suited his advantage. But both of those men had been eaten by the darkness.\n\nHere there was only Jest, as his mother had named him: a cruel joke played on her by her body and the world.\n\n\"Welcome, Your Grace, to my humble home.\"\n\nThe voice was Kierendal's, though he wasn't sure that voice was the right word. It was curiously toneless, clear and soft, and sounded so near that he should have been able to feel her breath upon his neck. But he could feel only rough claws that dug into his arms and held him upright. He could see only the geometric flicker and amorphic pulse of his eyelights. And this place smelled like the fucking Shaft. \"Kier-\" he began."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Hsst!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Don't say that name! Don't ever say that name.\" The voice slid from cold panic to a cynical drawl. \"It's bad luck to name the unquiet dead.\"\n\n\"Dead-?\"\n\n\"Thrice dead. That feya died by her own hand: she drank poison. Then, some days later, she died of grief, at Commons' Beach. Finally, later still, she gave her life to protect her people, fighting the might of the Empire in the burning ruins of her own home.\"\n\n\"Three times dead and still kicking,\" Jest said softly, without mockery. \"She must be tough.\"\n\n\"Once, perhaps. No more.\"\n\n\"If, ah, that lady is dead, then who am I talking to?\"\n\nThe darkness replied, \"I am that unhappy feya's vengeful corpse.\"\n\n\"Huh. I thought your voice sounded a little funny,\" he ventured, but received no answering chuckle.\n\n\"It is not my voice you hear.\"\n\n\"Yeah, all right,\" he said, thinking, Fuck me, she's as crazy as Toa-Sytell. But he had no other hope. \"I want to make you an offer.\"\n\n\"Of course you do.\"\n\n\"I can tell you where the Cats, the Eyes, and the Thaumaturgic Corps are stationed-positions and numbers. I can tell you where our weapons and supplies are. I can map out our patrol routes through the caverns. I personally drew up the plans for the main assault-\"\n\n\"And what good is this information tome?\"\n\nShe couldn't be so crazy as that. Could she? \"It'll win your war for you,\" he said patiently.\n\n\"There is no war.\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lady, it sure as fuck looked like a war from our side.\"\n\nSilence.\n\nMore shufflings and shiftings of weight.\n\nThick, wet drips and drops: perhaps the drool of something large and hungry.\n\n\"Your army-those human troops of whom you speak-\" the voice finally said, dark and slow and empty, \"have other concerns, more pressing than who might range these caverns. Your human city burns, and human ghouls stalk its ruin.\"\n\n\"Listen,\" Jest said, licking his lips. How much of this was madness? He didn't know how long he'd been down in the dark; Ankhana might as well have been on the far side of the world. Her raving could have truth in it, and he'd never know.\n\n\"Listen, the Patriarch's gone crazy. He thinks I'm a goddamn Cainist. I would have maybe stuck it out and fought back, but there's nobody I could really trust. Everybody's gone strange-and I mean strange.\" He softened his tone, made his voice warmer, more inviting. \"You and I, what we had was never about trust. I help you; you help me. Favors given for favors received.\"\n\nHe took a deep breath. \"I was thinking we could maybe work something out.\"\n\n\"Is that what you want? Is that what has brought you here? You are once again interested in my favors?\"\n\n\"I, ah-\" Damp as these goddamn caverns were, how could his lips be so fucking dry? He licked them again, and said, \"Hey, I won't pretend I haven't missed you.\"\n\n\"Have you?\"\n\n\"I mean, think about it: you and I? In someways, we were made for each other.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I remember...\" that eerily toneless simulacrum of Kierendal's voice murmured. \"I remember what it is to be desired.\"\n\n\"And I,\" Jest ventured, sensing an opening, \"remember what it is to desire you. We were great together. You know we were. No other woman has ever made me feel-\"\n\n\"I am not a woman.\"\n\n\"No female of any species,\" Jest amended smoothly. \"No human, no primal or stonebender or whatever, has brought out of me what you did. I dream about you at night, and wake up in a sweat. I panic when I think I might never see you again.\"\n\n\"To see me? Is this your wish?\"\n\n\"That, and more,\" he asserted. \"I mean, we could turn all this around. There are still men loyal tome within the Eyes, and the Cats are mine to a man. Not only that, but I know where the Thaumaturgic Corps stockpiles their remaining griffinstones-\"\n\n\"There is nothing to turn.\"\n\n\"Well, then...\" Jest tried a smile. Could she see him that clearly? \"Then maybe we can just... be together again. You know?\"\n\n\"So.\" Her voice came back languid and earthy. \"You wish once again to touch my breast, to lay your hand along my hip.\"\n\n\"More than anything else in the world,\" he said, thinking, except maybe getting out of here alive.\n\n\"Very well: I accept your devotion. Kiss me once, and it is done.\"\n\nHands like branches of a winter-killed tree seized his face and held him motionless. Something crusted and hard pressed against his mouth, oozing with a thick coppery goo like-no, not like anything; it was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Half-clotted blood.\n\nThe crust parted into needle teeth that pierced his lower lip. A tongue like a bark-covered stump forced its way into his mouth, and it tasted like this cavern smelled: old meat, black and webbed with decay. The rough claws released him, and Jest sank to his knees, gagging, both hands at his throat.\n\n\"My kiss no longer wakes that familiar passion?\" the voice asked with blank mockery.\n\n\"No, I ah...\" Jest coughed, and coughed again. \"No. You startled me, that's all. I was just startled. I didn't know you were already so, ah, close tome. I can't tell where your voice is coming from.\"\n\n\"This isn't my voice. It comes from inside your ear. I no longer speak.\"\n\n\"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"Of course you don't. Understanding is my curse. My gift.\"\n\nA brighter patch gathered itself within the darkness: shapeless still, but slowly self-defining as the illumination grew.\n\n\"It was the gift of an old, old friend,\" the voice murmured. \"He, too, once desired me. He gave me understanding at the same time he gifted me with death.\"\n\nAs it brightened, the shape seemed to resolve into a gruesomely mutilated spider: some sort of emaciated arachnoid creature with half its limbs cutoff. The spider-shape's head tilted slowly, hypnotically, back and forth, as though it worked to swallow some half-choking chunk of meat.\n\n\"Can you imagine,\" the voice continued, \"what it is to go mad, and to know you are going mad? Can you imagine understanding precisely what makes you want to murder your friends and eat their corpses-and yet to want it anyway?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 24"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could feel other ghosts as well: terrified ghosts, cringing behind locked shutters; lunatic ghosts, giggling with gore-smeared mouths; even a few stolid, comfortably ignorant ghosts, snoring within bedlinens never tangled by any troubling dream, far from the fires and the madness that gripped the city.\n\nAnd he could feel ghosts below him: unhuman ghosts that boiled through the caverns, terrified and savage; he felt their mad queen and heard the thump of her murderous command echo in the heart of ogre and primal, troll and treetopper. He could seethe image of their destination and feel their bloody intention, and he knew that if he delayed, Caine might have no blood left with which to save the world.\n\nAnother part of what frightened him was what he saw across the street: The Courthouse doors were open, and on the verandah at the top of abroad sweep of stairs, two armored officers of the Eyes of God stood guard.\n\nThe facade of the Courthouse pulsed orange with reflected firelight and gleamed with black oil; the ivy that once had climbed its walls had become a jungle of knotted woody vines that now rotted and dripped oil that flowed across the broad railed verandah in syrupy waves. The Eyes of God officers shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep their boots out of the oil, and threw many nervously longing glances toward the crowded street, as though only fear of something worse than fire kept them at their posts.\n\nThe rest of what frightened Raithe was that he knew what frightened them. He could feel it.\n\nWith the same sense that tracked the approach of the Artan Guard along the river and through the outlying streets, he felt something huge and dark and rabid within the Courthouse: a wounded beast that licked itself in hungry silence. These Eyes of God feared this beast, not knowing that they themselves were parts of its limbs; Raithe feared the beast, for he knew that he was."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He felt the dark power's flow through the sword into his brain, and with his own powers of mind he seized upon it. Power is power, he thought. I need all I can get.\n\nHe felt the gate that the goddess had closed in his mind, the gate that his touch upon the sword had reopened. He turned his will upon that gate, and shattered it so that it would never close again. He would bear the ache, the legion of rats that chewed into his guts. He would bear the black-oil stigmatum.\n\nSmall enough penance, for his great sins.\n\nHe shifted his grip upon Kosall so that he held it by one quillon, and its eldritch hum died. He still could make a fist of his left hand, and his left leg still held his weight. Slowly, careful not to brush the sword's hilt, he slid the naked blade behind his belt. \"Damon,\" he said. He yanked the semiconscious man to his feet and shook him roughly. \"Damon, come up. Now. That's an order.\"\n\nSlowly the Acting Ambassador's eyes drifted into focus.\n\n\"Yes.\" Damon's face was blank with returning pain. He hugged his bare, burned chest as though he were chilled. He wore only his breeches and boots. \"Yes-Raithe? Aren't you Raithe? What-what-? I'm hurt, Raithe,\" Damon said, blankly plaintive. \"I must get to the embassy. I'm hurt, and they need me.\"\n\nRaithe laced his fingers together into a specific knot, which tuned his mind in a specific way. The oil from his left handmade the skin of his right sizzle and smoke, but his mind was master of his flesh; he could accept this pain, too, even welcome it, and in doing so he found he could accept his fear as well. His fear, like his pain, became a mere fact."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You will stay here and await the embassy's soldiers,\" he said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When they arrive, you will take command. Secure the Courthouse. Take it, and hold it. You will allow no one to enter until you are so ordered, by either myself or another who, to your certain knowledge, wields the full authority of the Council of Brothers. Do you understand these orders?\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Do you understand these orders?\"\n\n\"Yes. Yes, sir. Yes. But-but-\"\n\nRaithe left him in the doorway and strode out into Ten Street. Most people in the crowds gave way before him; those who didn't, he brushed with a fingertip of his left hand. Their screams and the smoke that rose from their burns were more than enough to convince everyone else to let him pass.\n\n\"But-\" Damon called after him. \"What you have ordered-it's an act of war!\"\n\n\"This is already a war,\" Raithe said softly, more to himself than to Damon. \"And it is time for us to act.\"\n\nHe mounted the Courthouse steps, to face the Eyes of God.\n\nAS R AITHE CLIMBED the steps, one of the officers said, \"You can't come up here.\"\n\nRaithe reached the oil-stained verandah and stopped anon-threatening five paces from the door. \"Why not?\" he asked mildly.\n\n\"Goon, back into the street, chummie,\" the other guard told him, pointing down into the mass of people with his sword. \"Nobody's allowed on the steps.\"\n\n\"But I want to go in.\"\n\n\"Back on the street,\" the officer insisted. He took a step toward Raithe and lifted his sword. \"Courthouse's been closed since dusk. Get moving.\"\n\n\"But the door is open.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That's not your concern-\" the officer began, but Raithe again knotted his fingers together, again ignored the sizzle of the skin on his fingers, and interrupted.\n\n\"Tell me why the door is open,\" he said.\n\n\"Because the Patriarch has a thing about doors, these days,\" the officer said. \"He doesn't like doors closed on him when he's inside-\"\n\nHis partner gaped at him. \"Dorrie! Are you mad?\"\n\nThe officer looked back, puzzled. \"What?\"\n\nRaithe said, \"The Patriarch?\"\n\n\"Dorrie, shut up,\" the other officer said. He stepped in front of his partner and pointed his own sword at Raithe's belly. \"And you, get out of here. You didn't hear anything, you understand? The Patriarch isn't anywhere near here, and if you say otherwise, I'll find you and kill you.\"\n\nBut he didn't sound ascertain of that as he might, and his eyes were fixed upon Raithe's oil-covered left hand. \"You-uh,\" he said, with a frown that was half a wince, \"and you, you better wash your hands. I mean-don't you know that stuff is dangerous?\"\n\nFar better than you, Raithe thought. He reknotted his fingers. \"I am Ambassador Raithe of the Monasteries. The Patriarch sent for me. You will direct me to him at once.\"\n\n\"I, uh, I uh...\" the officer stammered. \"Your Excellency, your clothes, I didn't-\"\n\n\"At once,\" Raithe repeated. Without waiting for an answer, he swept past the officers and entered the darkened Courthouse.\n\n\"The chapel,\" the officer called from behind him. \"He's in the chapel. I'd-uh, I have to stay on post, I'm-\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I can find it,\" Raithe said, and strode into the darkness.\n\nThe atrium of the Courthouse was an immense vault of shadow, striped with dancing orange crosses cast through the cruciform slot– windows by the flames that approached outside. Raithe limped through the atrium, his boot heels clacking cavernously. He'd been inside the Courthouse dozens of times; in boyhood, he'd worked as a page for the Imperial Messenger-News to help his father pay for the cost of his education at the embassy school. But seeing it gloomed inflame-tattered shadow-and the smell-\n\nThe Courthouse had always had a peculiar odor of its own: the colognes and powders and flower-oil sachets of the noble judges half captured by the fear-sweat of guilty men, then soaked permanently into the limestone. That blend of perfume and guilt had always been, for Raithe, the smell of justice.\n\nNow the Courthouse smelled only of rotting plants and burning oil.\n\nThe chapel had once been a shrine to Prorithun, the sky god who was the keeper of men's oaths and the defender of Ankhanan law. Here the judges would pray and purify themselves before presiding in court. A Prorithar priest had always been present, empowered by the sky god to bestow upon the judges His Blessing, to render them temporarily proof against persuasive or compulsive magicks. Though Prorithun no longer reigned in Ankhanan courts, the chapel remained. Now it was a shrine to Ma'elKoth.\n\nHere, too, the door stood open, flanked by Eyes of God.\n\n\"Hey, you,\" one of them said, intense but low, as though he feared to be overheard. \"I don't know how you got inhere, but you have to leave. Get out.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Raithe stopped in a column of firelight that painted half of him scarlet and left the rest in black shadow."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He knotted his fingers. \"I am Ambassador-\"\n\n\"I don't give a squirt who you are, pally.\" The officer paced forward, stripes of firelight rippling over him as he approached up the long dark hallway. \"If you're still here when I count three, I'll kill you. One.\"\n\nRaithe frowned. Could some of Prorithun's influence still linger? Again, he knotted his fingers. \"Put away your sword,\" he said.\n\n\"Two.\"\n\n\"Goon, get out of here,\" the other officer said. \"He means it.\"\n\nRaithe settled into himself. He sighed, and shifted his balance forward onto the balls of his feet. Reluctantly, he put his right hand near the hilt of Kosall. \"I don't want to fight.\"\n\n\"That makes one of us.\" The officer took another step; now one long stride from Raithe, he said, \"Three.\"\n\nYet he did not strike. Perhaps from this close, he could see death in Raithe's sad, wintry eyes.\n\n\"Your Radiance?\" Raithe called, pitching his voice to carry. \"Your Radiance, it's Raithe-Ambassador Raithe.\"\n\n\"Sure you are,\" the officer said.\n\n\"Your Radiance, I must speak with you.\"\n\nFrom beyond the chapel's open door came a sepulchral croak that hummed with the resonance of an empty room. \"Go away.\"\n\n\"You heard the man, pally,\" the officer said, edging even closer. He raised his sword like a boy cocking a stick to threaten a strange dog.\n\n\"Your Radiance, it's about Caine,\" Raithe said. \"I must speak with you about Caine.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fora long-stretched moment, no one moved.\n\n\"Let him pass.\"\n\nThe officer took a step back, and swung his sword to wave Raithe on. Raithe passed him without a glance, but as he did, he felt a shift of weight in that hungry wounded beast.\n\nHe said, \"Don't.\"\n\nHe stopped, waiting. Oil from his left fist gathered into thick droplets that spattered on the floor.\n\nThe guard at his back slowly lowered the sword he had swiftly raised. \"You can't scare me.\"\n\n\"No,\" Raithe agreed, without turning. \"But I can kill you, though I would rather not.\"\n\nHe felt again the shift of that hungry wounded beast-this time a settling back, a slow uncoiling. He nodded to himself, and walked on.\n\nTHE HIGH VAULT of the chapel glowed with faint, reflected firelight; it leaked through the colored glass from the airshaft outside and rippled on the rows of padded knee-benches to either side of the aisle. The shift and pulse of the reflected light gave an eerie aspect of life to the stone Ma'elKoth that stood, double manheight, in the chancel. A bundle of filthy rags, stinking of oil and smoke, lay at the foot of the altar.\n\nRaithe stood motionless in the transept, staring up at God.\n\nA tear rolled from his right eye, tracing the fold beside his mouth to fall silently from his chin. Slowly, feeling suddenly old, ancient, Raithe dropped to one knee and lowered his head. He made a fist of his clean right hand. He struck himself on his chest, above his heart, and opened his palm toward the image of his god. Father, forgive me, he prayed. I have no choice."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "More tears pricked his eyes.\n\nForgive me.\n\nYet somewhere in his heart, a secret flame burned. Even his tear felt forced-felt performed-as it rolled down his cheek. What have I become?\n\n\"Raithe...\"\n\nThe voice came from the chancel. He lifted his head to find that the bundle of rags at the foot of the altar had opened to reveal a fatigue-seamed face smeared with muck. The rags shifted and moved in unpleasantly liquid ways, as though they covered some soft-boned sea creature that was barely more than a sac of jelly.\n\n\"Your Radiance,\" Raithe said. \"Thank you for receiving me.\"\n\nThe bundle of rags shook itself and gradually unfolded to the height of a man. \"I know why you're here.\"\n\nI doubt it, Raithe thought. Remaining on one knee, he said, \"I have come to save the city, and the Empire.\"\n\n\"Don't lie tome, Raithe.\" The rags shambled toward him along the nave. \"Everyone lies tome. I can't understand why everyone thinks I don't already know the truth.\" A hand like that of a corpse in rigor extended from the rags, pointing with immobile fingers. \"You've come for Caine. You were in this with him from the beginning.\"\n\n\"Your Radiance, I can help you. I have a cure. I can make you well.\"\n\n\"Don't lie tome!\" The hand jerked at him as though casting a curse. \"You came tome with this idea-this plan to bring him here. You came with him. You inflicted him upon me, and upon my city. All this-\" The hand circled high, drawing in the boundless ravage of the city and the Empire around it. \"All this is your doing. You made this happen, Raithe!\" White flecks of spittle sprayed. \"You! You! You!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Each shout brought the swing of the accusing hand a step closer."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Raithe could only lower his head once more; eyes directed at the ragged oil-stained hem that half masked a pair of cut and bleeding bare feet, he said, \"Your Radiance, please-\"\n\nThe shouts became a screech for the Eyes of God; a rattle of boots answered-many boots.\n\n\"Your Radiance, there is a cure. You can be saved. The Empire can be saved-\"\n\nThe rigored hand swung down to point. \"Arrest this man! Arrest him and kill him!\"\n\nRaithe finished softly, \"Humanity can be saved...\"\n\nNow leather boots that sprouted leggings of chain shuffled into place around him. \"All right, pally-that's it for you. Let's have that sword.\"\n\nRaithe stood.\n\nFive Eyes of God surrounded him, swords at the ready. Three more waited behind. The beast had him in its grasp. \"The sword, pally. You can't fight all of us.\"\n\nRaithe raised his black-gleaming left hand, and his right hovered an inch from Kosall's hilt. \"Yes, I can.\"\n\n\"You'll lose.\"\n\nRaithe flicked his left hand at the officer who had spoken, and droplets of the black oil spattered across his face; at the same moment he seized Kosall and turned the awakening blade so that it sliced instantly through his belt. One officer fell backward, howling as flames burst around his eyes; another stared dumbly at the stub of his sword, sheared off a finger's breadth above the guard.\n\nBut as they fell back, others came forward.\n\n\"I have your deaths on my conscience already,\" Raithe said. \"Killing you all costs me nothing. But if you would live a little longer, leave now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The voice of the beast spoke from the rags. \"Any man who crosses that threshold while this traitor lives shall feel the full weight of Imperial justice.\"\n\n\"There is no Imperial justice,\" Raithe told them. \"And this man will not live to see you punished. Go.\"\n\nTheir response was a single shared glance, to coordinate their rush.\n\nAs a swordsman, Raithe was only competent, but Kosall was a singularly forgiving weapon. Its irresistible edge took no account of shield or parrying blade, and armor provided only barely more resistance than naked flesh. His sense of the beast let Raithe meet attacks before they were even begun: in seconds the aisle around him was littered with bits of sliced-off swords and pieces of cloven shields. To pass within Kosall's reach on his right was to bleed; to close with Raithe from the left was to burn.\n\nBut he was one, and they were six. Raithe bled as well: from along slash on his thigh and a deep stab below his ribs. Despite his words, he killed no one. These were the same men he was fighting to save-and he was uncertain what taking a life with Kosall might do to the goddess within its blade.\n\nNow knives replaced broken swords, but the Eyes hesitated. To attack a sword-armed man with a knife is foolish; to do the same to a man armed with Kosall is suicidal.\n\nA moment fell, and another, and another.\n\n\"Cowards!\" hissed the beast. The rags shouldered through the officers. \"Cowards! Traitors! Villains! Here is how We deal with traitors!\" A pair of knives blossomed from tattered sleeves and swung wide, and the Patriarch sprang upon him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Raithe's reaction had been trained into him by years in the abbey school, by hours on the diskmat and days spent hammering millions of punches into leather-wrapped bags of sand. Kosall shifted instantly from his right hand to his left; his left foot swung out a precise handspan, and his weight transferred smoothly onto it from his right while the knuckles of his right fist described an invisible wall exactly at the point of the Patriarch's chin. Chin met wall, bone to bone-\n\nAnd Toa-Sytell collapsed.\n\nI've knocked out the Patriarch, Raithe thought blankly.\n\nThe Eyes of God officers stared, uncomprehending; they could no more believe what Raithe had done than he could himself. He repeated silently, I've knocked out the Patriarch, as though thinking the words again could make the act more real.\n\nWhat have I become?\n\nHe lifted his eyes to the Eyes of God.\n\n\"Run,\" he said.\n\nThey ran.\n\nRAITHE STARED DOWN at the crumpled form of the unconscious Patriarch, terrified by how good he felt. Not happy-he could never be happy again-but calm. Centered. At peace.\n\nIn control.\n\nAs though his own chin had met the same wall his knuckles had described against Toa-Sytell's, a stunning impact had knocked things loose inside him, and now, for the first time, he began to understand-\n\nAlone in the chapel, amid the dancing glass-stained firelight, Raithe turned once more to pray. But he did not pray from his knees, with bent neck and lowered eyes, as he had been taught. Instead he stood like a man and met the stone eyes of the icon of his god. He struck his breast again, and again opened his hand in offering."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But this was his left, and it opened upon the blind god's black venom.\n\nI am Your Beloved Child, he thought. I will always honor You. Now, and forever, you have my love, my devotion. My worship.\n\nBut not my obedience.\n\nI will always be Your Child, but I am a child no longer.\n\nThere are too many children; too many grow old but never grow up. I think I would have liked to be one of them, but that does not seem to be my fate. My destiny.\n\nHe allowed himself a bitter smile.\n\nFather, forgive me, for I finally know what I'm doing.\n\nTHE CLAMOR FROM the guardroom reached Raithe even up in the broad hall outside the chapel: shouted threats and tearful pleas, roars of rage and shrieks of pain. In the stairwell, it was painfully loud. Kosall in one hand, leash in the other, Raithe rounded the last bend in the stairway.\n\nIn the small antechamber below, six men in chainmail that bore the emblem of the Eyes of God paced back and forth, gesturing as though they argued invoices that could not be heard above the clamor. The clamor rose from beyond the steel gate-within the guardroom itself-which was packed solid with desperate, panicked men in the gear of the Donjon Guard. The men of the Guard struggled and clawed and bit each other, fighting to get to the gate; an anemone-spray of arms waved between the bars, fingers clutching futilely toward the Eyes of God beyond.\n\nRaithe watched fora moment, then he nodded to himself and thoughtfully brought Kosall's forte against the corner of stone beside him. Kosall bit into the stone with an earsplitting squeal. Below him, men jumped and flinched and covered their ears. He turned the blade slowly, carving a chunk from the wall as though the stone were hard cheese. The chunk rattled down the steps to the anteroom floor, skittered slowly across it with a fading chikchikchik, and then there was silence."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Raithe pointed Kosall at the Eyes of God. \"You can go.\"\n\nThey stared at him, taking in his tattered clothes that dripped black oil down one side, while the other side hung thick and red, soaked in the blood that still pulsed from both the slice on his thigh and the stab wound below his ribs. One of the Eyes straightened and stepped forward. \"We are ordered to hold this gate-\"\n\n\"I don't care. Go.\"\n\n\"Toa-Sytell himself-\"\n\nRaithe drew on the leash in his other hand.\n\nAround the bend of the stairway, leashed by the prisoner collar locked around his neck, hands bound and mouth gagged with strips torn from his own robes, came His Radiant Holiness Toa-Sytell, Steward of the Empire and Patriarch of the Church of the Beloved Children of Ma'elKoth.\n\nHis gaze was fixed, unseeing; as Raithe descended the last few steps to the anteroom, the Patriarch stumbled and half fell, striking his knees hard upon the stone floor. He knelt there abjectly, a low animal whine leaking around his gag. Tears rolled from his blankly staring eyes.\n\nKosall's whine hummed through the autumnal rustle of in-drawn breath.\n\nRaithe said, \"Go.\"\n\nThe officers, with many an exchanged glance, slowly and carefully circled around him, then backed up the stairs.\n\n\"Hey,\" a Donjon Guard said from beyond the gate. \"Hey, what about us? You can't leave us-you don't know what's going on down there-!\"\n\n\"Enlighten me.\"\n\nFrom many voices in conflicting babble, Raithe was able to piece together an impression of a riot in the Pit below. He thought, Caine, and remembered the boil of unhuman ghosts through the caverns: caverns that connect to the Donjon, through the Shaft."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He took along stride forward and swung Kosall overhand. The men beyond shoved themselves frantically back from the bars. Sparks flew from the gate's lock as the blade sheared it through, and the gate swung open. Raithe stepped to one side, shortening Toa-Sytell's leash as though the Patriarch were an unruly dog, and silently watched the rush of guards on their way up and out.\n\nThe guardroom went quiet. The Donjon door stood open. The stairwell beyond was dark as an open mouth. Raithe took one deep breath, staring down, then shrugged. Drawing the Patriarch after him, he went down.\n\nAshe descended, the living ghosts that had peopled the back of his mind slowly faded; fading likewise was his sense of the methodical approach of the Artan forces, both overland and along the river. By the time he reached the lower landing he was, for the first time in what could have been forever, alone inside his head. Even Kosall's whine trailed away to silence.\n\nHe stopped, frowning.\n\nIf there was indeed a riot beyond these doors, he could not hear it. The loudest sound in the stairwell was the shuffle of the Patriarch's battered and bleeding feet. Scant light trickled from the guardroom; Raithe could discern only the faintest gleam from the studs that fastened the brass bindings on this door. He glanced at the featureless silhouette of Toa-Sytell, and found no advice in his silent shape.\n\nHe cautiously pulled the door handle. The doors were locked-or possibly held from the far side. He pressed his ear against the door. Now he could hear voices, many voices, from the Pit beyond, though he could make out no words among the general quiet murmur. He allowed himself a slow sigh, and nodded to himself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He breathed himself into his Control Discipline and built within his mindeye an image of Caine as he had last seen him, chained to the dungcart, drawn away in the processional while the Imperial Army Band played'Justice of God.\" He detailed the image with every scar he had seen in five days of study on the barge, with every sweat streak that striped the travel dust on his skin; he laid strands of grey along his temples, and imaged perfectly the white-salted stubble that had coated his cheeks and chin.\n\nNow from this image he stripped away the sunlight and the music; he erased the dungcart and the shackles; finally even the tunic and pants of rough homespun evaporated from his consciousness. Then there was only Caine.\n\nAnd Raithe saw him. Vaguely, blurrily, fading in and out of view, as if through a mist.\n\nHe sat upon a pile of rags and tattered clothing that somehow, beneath him, was a throne; he wore an age-greyed tunic, frayed at the hem and worn thin enough to be translucent, that became armor polished like the sun. At his feet lay a dying elf; at his side knelt a massively muscled ogrillo who tied strips of rag around Caine's raddled legs with hands that were themselves heavily bandaged; before him stood a thick-bodied woman, hands folded behind her like a student reciting in abbey school. Caine's hair had gone whiter than Raithe remembered it, and his beard had grown in full and shaggy; his cheeks had sunk close upon his teeth; hunger and illness had drawn his eyes deeper within his skull.\n\nBut those eyes still gleamed like embers at the back of a cave.\n\nHe shook his head to wipe the vision from his mind, and he passed the sleeve of his sword arm across his brow. Raithe had seen Caine not as he is, but as Raithe needed him to be: beclouded in a fog of legend. More than human: a hero: a myth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Probably, he thought, he is dead. Many will be dead, and many more injured. But: someone may have touched his blood. Someone may have tasted it, if it ran in the water, or was splashed from a wound. This maybe enough.\n\nIt will have to be.\n\nHe tried to summon the power of his mindhand, to manipulate the lock upon these doors as he had those in Garrette's office a lifetime ago, but his power had deserted him. He had a vague recollection-something about the rock from which the Donjon is carved-but he did not trouble to pursue it; he had another option.\n\nHe pushed Kosall's point between the doors and slid it downward until it met resistance. By extreme concentration, he was able to direct a shudder of power into the blade; it rattled to life, sank, then swung free before falling silent once more. Gasping, Raithe was forced to lean on the stone fora moment, to regather the shreds of his strength. When he pulled the door handle with the hand that held the Patriarch's leash, the door opened.\n\nFramed in the stairshaft's shadow, Raithe found an array of crossbows centered upon his breast, held steadily by men and elves on the far side of the balcony, a hundred feet away. A voice closer at hand but out of sight said firmly, \"Onto the balcony. Nice and slow.\"\n\nRaithe moved into the light.\n\nA few paces to his right, another small group of mingled species held cocked and leveled crossbows, near enough that the curve of the balcony's retaining wall could offer no protection. \"Put down the sword,\" one of them ordered.\n\nRaithe ignored them. He took one step closer to the retaining wall and looked down into the Pit. On a pile of rags and clothes become a throne, wearing a grey ragged tunic that should have been polished steel-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gathered round him: elf, ogrillo, human-\n\nGaze as solid as the Donjon stone: a state of being in which the unexpected receives barely a blink of recognition.\n\n\"Raithe.\"\n\nRaithe said, \"Caine.\"\n\nAlong, slow, measuring stare: a whole conversation passed in the meeting of eyes of grey ice with those of black fire. Raithe had to lower his head.\n\n\"Can you give me one reason,\" Caine said, \"why I shouldn't have you shot where you stand?\"\n\nRaithe tugged on the leash, drawing Toa-Sytell to the retaining wall where Caine could see him. The Patriarch moaned into his gag.\n\nCaine said, \"Well.\"\n\nHe seemed to ponder this development fora moment; then he folded his arms and cocked his head fractionally to one side. \"That,\" he said, \"buys you a trip down here, to tell me what the fuck you're up to.\"\n\nOne of the crossbowmen on the balcony said, \"He's armed.\"\n\nCaine nodded, and spoke softly to the elf who seemed to be drowsing at his feet; the elf lifted his head and opened eyes so fever-shot that to Raithe, even dozens of yards away, they looked like bloody eggs. Those raw eyes swallowed Raithe whole.\n\nHe swayed.\n\nThe elf said something to Caine that Raithe could not hear, then laid his head upon his bed of rags and closed his eyes once more. Caine said to the crossbowmen, \"Don't worry about it. Let him come.\"\n\nRaithe led Toa-Sytell around the long curve of the balcony and down the straight span of the stairbridge. The mass of prisoners parted before him so that he could lead the Patriarch to Caine's feet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He felt the pressure of their massed stare like a yoke across his shoulders, its weight compressing his spine, anchoring his feet to the stone. The ogrillo hulked nearby-closer to Raithe than to Caine-wearing a glare that invited violence. The woman mirrored him, saving only that her gaze was one of dispassionate measurement rather than threat. Blood trickled down his leg, and he could clearly hear the slow drop of the black oil from his left hand.\n\nCaine said expressionlessly, \"That's Kosall.\"\n\nRaithe lifted the sword. The ogrillo shifted his weight onto his forepads.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"You've been using it.\"\n\nRaithe looked at the slow pulse of blood soaking down his clothing. \"Not well.\"\n\nCaine did not respond.\n\n\"I have-\" Raithe began weakly, then coughed, sighed a deep breath, and continued with more strength. \"I have come to ask you to save the world.\"\n\nCAINE OFFERED A smile that was cold, remote, and thin as the arc of a saber. \"Yeah?\"\n\n\"In your blood,\" Raithe said, \"there is a, a countervirus-\" He stumbled over the unfamiliar word. \"-that is the cure for Garrette's disease.\"\n\n\"In my blood?\"\n\nCaine rocked back on his throne of rags, and his eyes fixed upon something that was not there.\n\n\"Yes,\" Raithe said.\n\n\"In my blood...\" Caine repeated, but now with atone of slow, wondering discovery, as though this explained some long-standing mystery.\n\n\"Yes,\" Raithe said again. \"The tiniest drop will save a man, and then he himself will carry this cure, and can pass it on-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know how it works,\" Caine said. The wonder drained from his face, leaving only flat, cold stone. \"What do you want me to do about it?\"\n\nRaithe stared.\n\nCaine stared back.\n\nRaithe gave his head a tiny disbelieving shake. He drew Toa-Sytell up beside him. \"A drop of your blood, Caine. That's all I ask. One drop. You can save his life.\"\n\nCaine lifted his right hand and examined it as though it were some piece of exotic machinery, unfamiliar in design and uncertain of use. He watched his knuckles as he made a fist; then he opened his fingers again. He met Raithe's gaze, shrugged, and turned his handover, palm up. \"What's in it for me?\"\n\n\"Caine,\" Raithe said patiently, \"he's the Patriarch. The Empire needs him.\"\n\n\"Fuck the Patriarch.\" Caine pushed himself forward and took his weight elbow-to-knee. \"The last time I was this close to that little cocksucker, he knifed me. Fuck the Empire, too. And, while you're at it, fuck yourself.\"\n\nRaithe knew better than to waste breath on argument or plea; he was, after all, the world's leading expert on Caine. \"What do you want?\"\n\nCaine's smile sharpened. \"First,\" he said with dark satisfaction, \"though I know it's the worst kind of manners to mock a guy when he's down, I want to remind you: You told me that nothing, ever again, would be about what I want.\" He showed his teeth. \"Shit, kid, thinking about that makes me all warm and fuzzy inside, like I just ate a kitten. Second?\" He opened his other hand. \"Make mean offer.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your freedom-\" Raithe began, nodding back toward the Donjon stairway above.\n\nThat open hand waved a contemptuous dismissal. \"My freedom has nothing to do with you.\"\n\nRaithe swayed. The corners of the room dimmed, darkening into a tunnel that stretched ever longer, and the only light at the distant end was the face of Caine.\n\n\"Anything, then,\" he said tiredly. \"Even my life.\"\n\n\"Your life? Look around you, pinhead.\" Five or six of the crossbowmen took more careful aim. \"I have your life already. I just haven't decided what I want to do with it.\"\n\n\"Then what, Caine?\" Raithe asked quietly, eyes drifting closed, dizzy with blood loss and defeat. \"What? Tell me. Say it, and if it is within my power-\"\n\n\"When I makeup my mind,\" he said, leaning back once more. \"Start by telling me what the fuck happened to you.\"\n\nRaithe stared at him blankly, uncomprehending. Words echoed along the dark tunnel in his head without releasing meaning.\n\n\"How'd you get inhere?\" Caine said, explaining. \"Where'd you get those wounds? What happened to your face? You look like you got boiled in oil. How in hot staggering fuck did you get the Patriarch on a prisoner leash? And what's that shit allover your hand?\"\n\nRaithe lifted Kosall. The hanging lamps rippled orange light along its silver-painted design. He let the blade swing down by the quillon so that he could reverse it; he took again its hilt and spent the last of his strength to bring the blade to life, then drove its point into the stone. He let go and stepped back, leaving the sword to gently sway between them, and turned his hand as though to offer Caine its hilt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I-\" His voice thickened, and he coughed apologetically to clear it; the pressure of his cough shot colored sparks curling through the tunnel that stretched ever farther, ever darker.\n\n\"I found out what those runes were for,\" he said, and fainted.\n\nON THE DAY the dead man named himself, that naming became a clarion, calling the heroes to battle. They came severally, one by one and together: the mad queen and the dead goddess, the faithful steward and the dark angel's spawn, the crooked knight, the dragoness, the child of the river, and the god who had been a man.\n\nWhen the dead man named himself, that naming shredded all veils. None could now deny their natures; now was the test of their truths. They had come to fight the war between the dead man and the god of dust and ashes.\n\nFor the dead man's grave had been unsealed. From that mortal cocoon arose a butterfly; from that tomb of flesh, a dark angel, come with a flaming sword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "TWENTY-TWO\n\nTHAT FUCKING SWORD-\n\nA steel crucifix, head wrapped in sweat-stained leather-\n\nIt swung like that-inexactly that gentle arc-through the waterfall's spray below Khryl's Saddle. Mist collected into droplets and trickled down the blade, and washed her staring eyes-\n\nThey wouldn't even let me wash off her blood...\n\nI can still taste it.\n\nI carry the countervirus. She must have created it in her own bloodstream. Shit, it makes sense. That's why nobody in the Pit has HRVP.\n\nThat changes things. That changes a lot of things.\n\nSitting around here waiting for somebody to comedown and kill us is no longer an option.\n\n\"You.\" I jab a finger at Toa-Sytell, who's twitching like a panicked dog and whining through his gag. \"Sit.\"\n\nThe stupid fuck looks fora chair.\n\n\"Right where you are, shithead. Sit. Dinnie, get the leash.\"\n\nThe nearest Serpent takes the prisoner leash, and Toa-Sytell lowers himself to the floor, slow and stiff like an arthritic old man. And who am Ito criticize? He moves better than I do.\n\n\"Orbek.\"\n\n\"Little brother?\"\n\n\"Take ten guys and reconnoiter upstairs. Nobody armed but you.\"\n\nHe looks a question at me. I answer, \"You're not going up thereto fight. You meet any resistance at all, get your ass back down here. If the place is empty, see what your boys can scrounge for weapons and armor. Take one of them along.\" I wave a hand at the six Donjon guards we captured, tied up near the foot of the stairbridge. \"They'll know where the emergency shit is kept.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He nods."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Like you say, little brother.\"\n\nI dismiss him. \"T'Passe, see what you can do for Raithe. At least stop the bleeding.\"\n\nShe blinks at me, which is what passes on that bulldog face of hers fora gape of astonishment.\n\n\"Did I stutter? And be careful of that black shit on his hand-I don't like the looks of that at all. Some of those wounds could be chemical burns.\"\n\nShe nods, and kneels beside him, and her strong square hands go to work tearing the rags from my pallet into strips she can bind around his wounds.\n\n\"T'Passe-\" She looks back at me. \"Tie him up first,\" I tell her. \"That fucker's dangerous.\"\n\n\"He's barely even breathing-\"\n\n\"Do it.\"\n\nShe shrugs, and the first of her bandages goes instead to restrain his ankles; then she pauses to consider how she can tie his wrists without getting that oily stuff on her hands.\n\nAnd I can't stop looking at the sword.\n\nI keep seeing it sway above me in time with my breathing. I keep feeling its brain-freezing icicle spear me to the sand. I keep feeling it hum inside my spine while I pull Karl's neck against its edge-\n\n\"Deliann?\"\n\nHe lies still at my side, eyes closed, breath hitching, face dry and corpse-pale. \"Kris, come on, man. Stay with me. I need you.\"\n\nHis eyes don't open, exactly; it's more like they kind of roll forward from the back of his head. \"Yes, Hari...\" he murmurs. \"I hear you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You got something off Raithe, right? You flashed on him?\"\n\n\"Yes...\"\n\n\"I need to know. He's out cold, Kris. I need to know what the hell is going on.\"\n\n\"I can't... It's too much,\" he says, faintly. \"Words-I could... in the Meld, I could share-we can Meld-\"\n\nChrist, he's raving again. \"Come on, Kris, snap out of it. You can't Meld with a human.\"\n\nNow his eyes do open, and a distant smile creases his lips. \"Hari, I am human.\"\n\nUh, right.\n\nI roll my shoulders to untie the knots that are cramping all the way up the side of my neck. \"Do it, then.\"\n\n\"You won't like it.\"\n\n\"Shit, Kris, it's a little late to start worrying about what I won't like.\"\n\n\"There are things-things about the goddess-\"\n\n\"I'm not worried about the goddess. Shanna's dead.\"\n\nHis gaze drifts out of focus. \"Mostly.\"\n\nA thrill trickles down my spine and congeals into an iceball in my guts. \"You better tell me what you mean by that.\"\n\n\"I can't.\" His voice is weakening; I can hear how much effort speaking costs him. \"I can only show you.\"\n\n\"All right,\" I say solidly. \"I'm ready.\"\n\n\"No, you're not. You cannot possibly be.\" He takes a deep breath, then another, and another, gathering his strength. \"Find mindview.\"\n\nIt takes some doing, but in a few minutes I can pick out some of those black threads twisting insubstantially through the air; a few minutes after that, they solidify from mere imagining to actual hallucination. Another light gathers in the Pit, too, now: a soft but penetrating glow, like a full harvest moon. It draws in around us, until it seems to cradle Deliann's head. That soft glow wells into his face from some unimaginable spring, brims him full of moonlight, then reaches out and stabs me through the eye."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The light eggshells my head and blows out my brains.\n\nThen, into where I used to be, he sluices Raithe's life.\n\nAh-\n\nfuck-\n\nfuck me...\n\n... hhurrr...\n\nA LOT OF it isn't so bad.\n\nToa-Sytell's chin against my knuckles... caustic oil leaching from the pores of my fist... flames on the dockside... drowning in Shanna... the logic of pain... the hum of Kosall, warm in my hand, there between the crates on the deck of the barge...\n\nIt's the other shit I can't take.\n\nIt's the-\n\nWhat they did-\n\nWhat they're doing-\n\nI can't even think it; the briefest flash of the image rips me inside out and slams me to the cold stone of the Pit floor, puking.\n\n\"Caine?\" This from t'Passe, close by. \"Caine, do you need help?\"\n\nVomit claws out of me, slashing at my throat, drenching my mouth with blood. It takes along time. A lot longer than I would have guessed. Dry heaves keep twisting my guts, and that's okay.\n\nSaves me from having to talk.\n\nI manage to get my eyes open. The pool of my vomit spreads toward one of my hands. I don't move. Compared to my hands, my vomit is clean.\n\nI force myself to examine the black crust along Kosall's blade. Dried blood. Her blood. Half of her falling away from the other half. The blade chopping into her face. That brief buzz as her life drains through the sword-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Drains into the sword.\n\nI can handle this. I can take it. I'd rather look at these crusted remains of Shanna's life than think about what those soulless shitbag child molesters are doing to Faith.\n\nMy traitor heart ignores my desire. I can hear her scream. I can taste her tears. Faith-\n\nMy god, Faith-\n\nWhack\n\nA sharp sting from my right hand: I stare at it numbly, for it has become a fist, and a thin line of blood trickles from my knuckles, and only then do I understand that I have punched the stone floor beneath me.\n\nThis is the kind of pain I can handle.\n\nThis is the kind of pain I like.\n\nSo I do it again.\n\nWhack\n\nThe calluses that once protected my knuckles faded years ago, but my bone density must still be good; my knuckles don't break. The flesh peels back over them, exposing red-streaked ivory like a pair of dice in sockets of raw meat.\n\n\"What is he doing?\" t'Passe says. \"Why is he doing that?\"\n\nWhack\n\n\"Hari, stop,\" Kris says from the floor beside me.\n\nI turn my head and meet his eyes. They brim with compassion. So much compassion that there's no room for mercy. He won't spare me this. He'll hurt for me, hurt with me, but he won't spare me.\n\nWhack\n\nI leave a couple bone chips behind in the pool of vomit.\n\n\"There's something wrong with him,\" t'Passe says. \"He needs help. Make him stop.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "People come close, hands out to offer me aid, to offer me comfort."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To offer me life. \"Touch me,\" I force through my teeth, \"and I'll kill you.\"\n\nEveryone stares at me. I lift my fist, and shrug an apology. Blood trails down my forearm and drips from my elbow.\n\n\"My daughter,\" I say byway of explanation, and they seem, somehow, to understand. But they all keep staring; Deliann, t'Passe, the Cainists and Folk and Serpents, even Toa-Sytell-and slowly it gets through tome what they want.\n\nThey want me to be the guy who knows what to do next.\n\nAnd I am.\n\nI can see it: the smart move. The responsible thing. Slip away through the caverns. Run downstream. Defend the sword. Gather allies, fight a guerrilla war. Seek among the great mages of the Folk fora way to cleanse the blind god's taint from the sword and from the river. I can see it, but I can't say it. I can't put words to it and make it into a plan.\n\nBecause to do that would leave Faith in the hand of my enemy.\n\nWhack\n\nI stare at the chipped bone of my knuckles. It's starting to show hairline fractures of black scaling through the blood-washed ivory. It hurts. It hurts a lot.\n\nPain is a tool. Nature's tool. It's nature's way of saying Don't do that, dumbshit. My enemy is a universe away; I can't get to him. But now I know who he is. What he is. And I can make him come tome.\n\nThen I'll let nature take its course.\n\nOrbek and his detail tumble out of the Courthouse stairs onto the balcony in a Mack Sennett tangle. \"Boss! Hey, Boss!\" Orbek shouts. \"Goddamn Courthouse's full of fuck-me Monastics!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I lift my head."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know.\"\n\nThe lunatic jumble Deliann poured into me clicks into place inside my head, faster and faster as I start to see how everything connects with each other and with itself: Shanna and Faith, Tan'elKoth and Kollberg, the Monastics who come at us from above and the Folk from below, the ring of Social Police troops that tightens around the city. Raithe. Deliann.\n\nMe.\n\nThis has a shape.\n\nOur lives ride an infernal tornado, a vortex that draws us, each and all, down to its single point of central calm. I can see it coming: the shape of the future. That shape gives me all the strength I need.\n\n\"All right,\" I say, my voice hoarse and thick. I say it again, louder. \"All right. Shut up and listen. You want to know what we're gonna do? I'll fucking tell you what we're gonna do.\"\n\nI look at t'Passe, and twitch my bloody fingers at Raithe. \"Wake him up.\"\n\n\"Caine-\"\n\n\"Wake him up,\" I repeat. \"I have something he wants-\" I lift my hand and watch the gather of scarlet become a drop that falls into the filth beneath me. \"And there's something I want from him.\"\n\nI make that hand into a fist, and squeeze out a thicker flow, rich and round and red. I can taste it.\n\n\"I'm gonna offer him a deal.\"\n\nAT THE RECTUM of the Shaft, below the crusted gape of the sausage grinder, the iron grate that seals the sump is set into stone. A stonebender rockmagus did the work, under contract to the Imperial Constabulary. Her song had softened the stone to the consistency of warm tallow; once the grate had been pressed into place, the stone had closed around it like living lips, and the silent melody of the rockmagus had hardened the limestone to the solidity of granite."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the Shaft, the human eye can find only darkness, but that is not because there is no light; eyes that see deeper into the lower frequencies of the spectrum might find the Shaft illumined with the dim thermal glow of living bodies, and the brighter plumes they exhale. Had such eyes looked upon the sump grate now, they would have seen stubby fingers wriggle upward through the bars like pale grubs twisting from black soil; had ears sharper than human listened, they would have heard a dark hum that pulsed with the millennial patience of the limestone itself. More fingers joined, and large hands pushed at the middle of the grate, and the iron squeezed free from the limestone's softened kiss.\n\nThe grate was passed silently from hand to hand down the sump all the way to the underground river below; an altered hum rehardened the stone lips of the sump, and two rockmagi climbed out. They were followed by a pair of hulking lambent-eyed trolls, then more stonebenders, some primals, more trolls, a few clumsy night-blind ogres, and even some treetoppers who had made the long climb up the sump with their birdlances strapped across their backs.\n\nMany had armor; all had weapons. Each of the primals carried a small griffinstone, looted from the secret caches of the Thaumaturgic Corps, and many had magickal weapons to use the power the griffinstones provide. One of the ogres took along whiff of the Shaft's wet stench and murmured that he was hungry; a troll replied that the place was usually lined with humans chained to the walls: a homophage's dream buffet.\n\nBut the Shaft was empty.\n\nUp the long, long step-cut slope, there was nothing to be found save shackles left open, discarded, dangling by their chains from the thick bolts that anchored them to the limestone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One of the rockmagi said grimly, \"Might be trouble, this. Get moving.\" The rockmagus pointed the length of the Shaft. \"Up there, have business, we.\"\n\nBut when they broke through the door into the Pit, the Donjon was as deserted as the Shaft had been.\n\nTreetoppers, primals, ogres, trolls, stonebenders, and ogrilloi ranged throughout the concentric rings of tunnels lined with private cells, searching everyone. The sole inhabitants of the Donjon were the corpses stacked at the downstream end of the Pit.\n\nThe doors that led toward the Courthouse above could not be forced, even by the strength of ogres. Someone suggested the doors might be magically held, and fora time there was debate whether the doors should be chopped through with axes, burned through by griffinstone-powered flame, or removed by a rockmagus softening the stone in which they were set. While this debate grew more and more heated, tangles of demented illogic twisting like threads drawing violence from thin air, Kierendal arrived.\n\nShe'd gotten the news by treetopper, and she came through the Shaft door cradled in the arms of Rugo the ogre, who peered around nervously, tongue shooting up along the curve of his tusks, because he had a sick suspicion that maybe that little fey fucker, that Changeling, had survived the battle on Commons\" Beach, too, and he didn't want to get in trouble again with Kier for letting him live. He was pretty relieved to find the place as empty as the treetopper had said.\n\nAlongside Rugo paced Jest, at heel like a dog, eagerly obedient to the prods and growled commands of the armored ogrillo, Tchako, who guarded him. Blood still beaded from the tooth punctures on his lower lip, and when he looked down from the balcony at the stack of bodies against one wall of the Pit, his mouth hurt worse. He thought his friend Caine's corpse was probably lying down there within that stack like a login a rick of firewood, and reflected, Better him than me."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And when Kierendal and Rugo and Jest and Tchako came in, the primals and stonebenders and ogres and all started to jabber at once, everyone trying to explain why the doors should be broken this way, or that way, or some other way, and there came angry snarls, and shoving, and the rasp of steel on steel.\n\nSome of the clouds of fever had begun to part within Kierendal's mind; in the hours since Jest's capture, she had even begun to doubt Caine's guilt. She was unaccountably relieved to find the Pit deserted. This relief troubled her more than her fever had, and sharpened the edge of her Fantasy-voice as she hissed inside all their heads. \"He is not here. We are too late. To force the door is fruitless-we cannot fight the whole army above. We have lost him.\"\n\nThey fell silent while they considered the consequences of losing Caine.\n\nAs though the silence was itself a signal, the door to the Courthouse stairs swung open. In the doorway stood a huge, vicious-looking ogrillo with bandaged wrists, wearing a hauberk three sizes too small and carrying a Donjon guard's club. His lip flaps drew back in an approximation of a human's smile, and he waggled his tusks invitingly. \"Hey, you fuckers,\" he said. \"You looking for Caine? There's a party in the Hall of Justice, hey? Big party. Invites all around.\"\n\n\"What?\" Kierendal rasped painfully, surprise drawing a word from her throat instead of her mind. \"What?\"\n\n\"Come on,\" he said, beckoning. \"Don't be late. Everybody come.\"\n\nKierendal, naked and trembling, a half-dead, mutilated, spiderish thing, said, \"Caine wants me to come to a party?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You gotta come, Kierendal,\" the ogrillo said seriously."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're the guest of honor, hey?\"\n\nYOU GET INTO the Hall of Justice from the second floor of the Courthouse. It's a vaulted auditorium, where the King-later the Emperor, and until a couple days ago the Steward-of Ankhana sat to try cases that came before his personal judgment. Its design dates from the days when some civil cases were decided by combat; the circular expanse of floor where the litigants stand is still walled, still traditionally strewn with clean sand. Still called the arena. One thing I can say about arenas in general: Better to be up here looking down, than down there looking up.\n\nBelieve me.\n\nOn abroad dais above the arena stands the Ebony Throne, brother to the Oaken Throne in the Great Hall of the Colhari Palace. Since the Assumption of Ma'elkoth, though, the Patriarch has passed judgment from a smaller, unadorned, unassuming chair-the Steward's Seat-on a dais of its own, below and to the right: the proper place for he who is only a servant of the God above.\n\nBut the Ebony Throne has a better view.\n\nIt's pretty comfortable, too.\n\nI sit with the blade of Kosall naked across my knees, and survey my new kingdom.\n\nThe seating sweeps upward in a steep bowl, broken by an imposing prow of limestone that rises behind the Ebony Throne fully to the vault overhead. This big-ass wedge had once been carved with the figure of Prorithun, but now bears the current face of Ankhanan Justice, such as it is: Ma'elKoth. Only Ma'elKoth can look over the shoulder of whatever judge might sit below.\n\nBig bastard always did like to kibitz."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Row after row of those cut-stone benches are filled with my people, sitting, watching silently."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Waiting for the show to begin. Almost two thousand, all told, human and primal and ogrillo, from the Pit and from the private cells. A few from the Shaft. Of those two thousand, maybe five hundred really feel like they owe me something, like they owe each other something. Of those five hundred, there's maybe fifty I can count on, when the shitstorm breaks. Maybe fifty, if I'm lucky.\n\nMaybe twenty will actually fight.\n\nThe others just want to get the hell out of here. They want to live. I can't blame them. I don't blame them.\n\nI don't need them.\n\nFor fighters, I've got those guys on the sand.\n\nA hundred and fifty armed friars, at least a quarter of them Esoterics. They bristle with swords and spears and carry short compound-recurved bows, and who knows how many wands and magicked crystals and crap like that. Shit, I'd match them against the Cats, and put three-to-one on the friars.\n\nCash.\n\nThe guy that Raithe speaks quietly with, down therein the middle-Acting Ambassador Damon-is twitchy as a street Temp on crank, but Raithe tells me he's solid. They all are. That's Monastic training for you: homicidal paranoia doesn't really get in the way. Might even bean advantage.\n\nYou have to be crazy, to fight the Social Police.\n\nRaithe mounts the steps of the dais slowly, a little unsteadily. He's weak, shaky with blood loss, but his Control Disciplines keep him moving: biofeedback maintains his blood pressure, and he can mentally goose his endocrine system to release hormones that give him strength and suppress the pain. He can walk, talk, even fight, right up till he passes out again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He gets close and nods tome. \"They will perform as required,\" he says softly. \"Damon is a good man. He knows how to follow orders.\"\n\nI squint at him. \"That's your definition of a good man?\"\n\nHis wintry eyes meet mine steadily. \"What is yours?\"\n\nInstead of answering, I look down into the five-gallon tureen somebody snagged from the commissary. It sits on the side table to my right, half full of water, warm as spit, in which my right hand soaks. I work my hand into a fist and out again. Ragged flaps of my knuckle skin drift like scraps of jellyfish, trailing straw-colored billows of blood.\n\n\"All right,\" I tell him, pulling my handout. \"Take it.\"\n\nOn the dais at my left side, I have Toa-Sytell, still chained, a huddled ball of feverish misery. Every once in awhile he writhes, or makes a little whimpering noise; sometimes a tear or two trickles down his cheeks. Raithe makes a complicated gesture, knotting and unknotting his fingers like a cat's cradle of flesh and bone, and Toa-Sytell relaxes into unconsciousness.\n\nRaithe unties the gag and gently frees it from Toa-Sytell's slack mouth; slowly, almost reverently, he rinses the rag in the blood-tinged water of the tureen, then wrings it out before retying it between the Patriarch's teeth.\n\nI wave a hand at the tureen. \"Here, take the soup down to your boys there. It's time for them to get to work.\"\n\nExpressionlessly, he picks it up and carries it down to the arena. \"Lineup,\" he says. \"By rank. Damon: you are first.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Acting Ambassador steps up obediently. Slowly, with a kind of ritualistic solemnity, he cups some of the water in one hand and brings it to his lips, then steps aside to let the next friar come. Yeah, he'll take Raithe's orders.\n\nRaithe will take mine.\n\nVoluntarily.\n\nFaithfully.\n\nThat's our deal: his obedience for my blood. And he is a man of honor. What does that say about me, if I can trust my enemies more than my friends?\n\nRaithe sits on the dais below me, pressing a hand against the wound in his side. \"It is done, then,\" he says, dark and doom-haunted. \"It is done. I am yours.\"\n\n\"Relax, kid,\" I tell him. \"It's not like you sold me your soul.\"\n\nHis gaze is bleak as tundra. \"What is a soul?\"\n\nORBEK COMES THROUGH the arch at the back of the Hall at the head of a gaggle of Folk. He flicks a tusk back toward the corridor behind and gives me a nod.\n\n\"Stay calm,\" I say generally. \"Let them come.\"\n\nFolk flood through the door: a spume of madness white-capped with the foam that trickles from their mouths. A lot of them are pretty far gone, so deep in the dementia that it's jangling their nerves, making them twitch and limp, stagger and spastically jerk. It's a testimonial to Kierendal's leadership that they haven't turned on each other; somehow she holds them together, somehow she directs their HRVP-spawned lunacy outside their group: toward the Imperials. Toward the humans."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Toward me.\n\nAnd they smell: they carry a stink of bad meat and acid urine, of unwashed armpit and rotten teeth. It precedes them, an oily wave that flows into the Hall of Justice and fills it and closes over our heads. We could drown in this stench like rats in a rain barrel.\n\nThey smell like Dad.\n\nTwo weeks ago, that alone could have beaten me.\n\nFunny how things change.\n\nI lean to my right so I can see Kris in the Steward's Seat below, a step above and to the left of where Raithe sits. \"Showtime.\"\n\nHe makes no answer. Only the irregular hitching of his breath shows he's alive. \"Hey,\" I mutter. \"Come on, Kris. The party's starting.\"\n\nHis eyes roll open, and he offers me a weak smile.\n\n\"How're you doing?\"\n\nHis answer has the spooky distance of mindview. \"Better. Much better, Hari. Up here-\" A limp gesture takes in the whole world outside the Donjon. \"-I can draw Flow to manage my fever. I am... grateful... that you brought me out of there.\"\n\n\"How's the leg?\"\n\n\"It hurts,\" he admits with a wistful shrug, still smiling. \"But only down in the bone, where it has always hurt. The flesh above... well-\"\n\nI get the picture. It's ugly. \"Can you fix it?\"\n\n\"You see here-\" He lays a hand upon the pus-soaked rag that serves as a bandage over the gaping abscess on his thigh. \"-the result of my healing skill.\"\n\n\"Hold your shit together. I need you lucid. None of this can work without you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Frankly, Hari-\" He coughs, and turns up his palm in a shrug of apology. \"-I don't see how it can work with me. You haven't even said what you want me to do-\"\n\n\"Too late to argue about it now,\" I tell him, because here comes Kierendal, cradled like a bundle of sticks in an ogre's bridge-girder arms. She's naked, wasted, starved, smeared with filth. Her hair, her signature, that elaborate platinum coif, has become the straggled, finger-ripped wisps of a cartoon witch; what remains of it is plastered wet and greasy down the sides of her face. Her eyes like tarnished coins flick with foggy wariness. She didn't expect to find me waiting for her, and in her world, there's no such thing as a pleasant surprise.\n\nThen I watch her eyes track the leash that stretches from the arm of the Ebony Throne to the prison collar, and I watch her squint, and blink, and bring a trembling skeletal hand to her eyes to see if she can wipe away the image of Toa-Sytell chained to my chair like a dog. Her whole body starts to shake.\n\nThat, right there, is a good sign: some rationality remains. She's sane enough to be freaked out by how crazy this all is.\n\nAt the ogre's heel comes Majesty, arms bound behind him, prodded along by an ogrillo bitch whose neck is bigger around than my thigh. Dried blood flakes across his chin. His eyes bulge and he mouths silently: Caine. Hot staggering fuck.\n\nI acknowledge him with a glance, and squeeze my eyes into half a smile at Kierendal. \"Have a seat, Kier,\" I say. \"Tell your people to make themselves at home.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 25"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Frankly, Hari-\" He coughs, and turns up his palm in a shrug of apology. \"-I don't see how it can work with me. You haven't even said what you want me to do-\"\n\n\"Too late to argue about it now,\" I tell him, because here comes Kierendal, cradled like a bundle of sticks in an ogre's bridge-girder arms. She's naked, wasted, starved, smeared with filth. Her hair, her signature, that elaborate platinum coif, has become the straggled, finger-ripped wisps of a cartoon witch; what remains of it is plastered wet and greasy down the sides of her face. Her eyes like tarnished coins flick with foggy wariness. She didn't expect to find me waiting for her, and in her world, there's no such thing as a pleasant surprise.\n\nThen I watch her eyes track the leash that stretches from the arm of the Ebony Throne to the prison collar, and I watch her squint, and blink, and bring a trembling skeletal hand to her eyes to see if she can wipe away the image of Toa-Sytell chained to my chair like a dog. Her whole body starts to shake.\n\nThat, right there, is a good sign: some rationality remains. She's sane enough to be freaked out by how crazy this all is.\n\nAt the ogre's heel comes Majesty, arms bound behind him, prodded along by an ogrillo bitch whose neck is bigger around than my thigh. Dried blood flakes across his chin. His eyes bulge and he mouths silently: Caine. Hot staggering fuck.\n\nI acknowledge him with a glance, and squeeze my eyes into half a smile at Kierendal. \"Have a seat, Kier,\" I say. \"Tell your people to make themselves at home.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She glazes over like I hither with a club. \"Caine-\" she croaks through the general rumble and mutter. \"I don't-how did you-why have-I don't understand!\"\n\n\"It's not that complicated,\" I tell her. \"I'm doing some business in Ankhana right now, and I can't get it done with you trying to slip a knife in me every time you see my back. We need to reach an understanding.\"\n\nI can read her lips. \"You know-?\" she breathes. \"You know I came hereto kill you?\"\n\n\"You came to the Donjon to kill me. Here? You came because I invited you.\"\n\n\"I-I don't-\"\n\n\"Look, it's simple,\" I tell her. \"We're all here. We have maybe half an hour to settle this shit. Before anybody leaves this room, you and I need to be on the same side.\" I can't feel the Social Police closing in around the city-not like Raithe can-but I know they're there, closer every minute. Half an hour might be optimistic.\n\n\"You-you're asking me to join you?\"\n\n\"Asking, shit. We need you. We need your people. I'd be on my knees begging, but you might have heard my legs don't work so well.\"\n\n\"You think I will accept this? Are you so naive?\" Her voice has lost the croak, taking on instead a weird echoic nondirectional resonance, as though she's talking from inside my skull. She's recovering herself-possession in a hurry, and her eyes rake the room disdainfully. \"To join you would make mean accomplice to your crimes.\"\n\n\"Let's not start about my crimes, huh?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Is that why you have brought me here?\" she resonates acidly. \"To protest your innocence?\"\n\n\"Fuck my innocence.\" I'm losing patience with this; maybe I didn't have much to begin with. \"Are you willing to stand and listen to what we're up against? Yes or no. That's all I need out of you right now. Yes or no or shut up and fight.\"\n\n\"Don't think you can bully me, Caine. I know what you are. Murderer. Liar. Aktir.\"\n\nI can feel the blood coming up my neck. \"As long as we're calling names, why don't you try traitor on for size, you fucking slag?\"\n\nThis generates a warning rumble from the Folk she brought with her. \"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"Treason,\" I say. \"Your treason.\"\n\nThe rumble gets louder, but that weird voice of hers overrides it effortlessly. \"Is treason really the word you want to use, Caine? When you have the Steward of the Empire chained like a dog?\"\n\nI shrug. \"He's not my king. On the other hand-\" I nod toward Kris in the Steward's Seat, who goggles back at me in open horror, mouthing Hari, don't! \"-Deliann, here, is yours.\"\n\n\"You must be joking.\"\n\n\"Yeah, that's me: a laugh a minute. We could all use a chuckle. Go ahead and tell everybody how you tried to murder the Mithondionne.\"\n\nThat warning rumble from the Folk thickens, but it's met by a colder, darker growl from our guys, Folk and human alike: Kris is a popular guy. Kierendal's nonvoice overrides the swell of anger. \"He is no king. He's a vile, murdering Aktir-as are you!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yeah. So what? He's also the Youngest of the Twilight King, and you fucking know it. You knew it then. You knew he was the last Mithondionne, and you ordered him killed.\"\n\n\"He's not even primal,\" she snarls. \"He's a human in disguise!\"\n\n\"You've got it backwards,\" I tell her. \"The human is the disguise.\"\n\nDeliann crumples on the Steward's Seat as though something is eating his guts from the inside out and covers his face with his hands. \"Hari,\" he murmurs, lost and empty and for my ears alone. \"Hari, how can you do this tome?\"\n\n\"It's midnight, Kris,\" I tell him simply. \"That's all.\"\n\nHe lifts his head and shows me the question in his eyes.\n\nI explain, \"Takeoff your mask.\"\n\nHis eyes go wide and fill with sick pain. \"They will never accept me.\"\n\n\"Who gives a rat's ass what they accept? You know what you are. Fucking act like it.\"\n\nHis gaze retreats inside his head, and I lift my eyes to meet Kierendal's disdainful stare. \"I know you're not yourself these days, Kier. I know you've been sick, and it's hard for you to get shit straight in your head. This is your chance to make good. If you're willing to help, we can use you.\"\n\nHer eyes shimmer like fish scales. \"And what's in it for me?\"\n\nI shrug. \"Your life.\"\n\n\"Is that all you have to offer?\" she says with scalding contempt.\n\nRaithe casts a surreptitious glance toward me from the arena floor. I give it back expressionlessly, then return to Kierendal. \"I don't know what the penalty for attempted regicide is supposed to be among your people, but you're not among your people now. This is my court. You have a choice to make, Kier. Right now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"My people are ready to die for me, Caine."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "How many of these... creatures... are ready to die for you?\"\n\nAnd that, I guess, pretty much says it all.\n\n\"There's one way to find out,\" I say evenly.\n\nHer hands coil. \"I do not bluff, Caine.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I've heard that about you.\" Then simply, coldly, finally, all I have to say is: \"Raithe.\"\n\nHe claps his hands together as though he dusts sand from them in her direction. A spray of black droplets falls before him. Kierendal tries to speak, but her voice becomes a thick gargling roil of bodily sounds. She gapes at me for half of one blankly astonished second; then a rusty hinge-squeal hacking comes from her throat. Her sides heave, and she vomits blood down the legs of the ogre who holds her.\n\n\"You bazztidz!\" the ogre cries as though its heart is breaking. \"You bazztidz-whaddid you do to Kier?\" It falls to its knees and cradles Kierendal like an infant to its breast.\n\nThroughout the hall, my guys are on their feet. Below me, Raithe issues soft-voiced instructions to the friars; they spread out, closer to the cover of the arena wall, checking their weapons. He mutters at me over his shoulder, \"Have you ever done anything that did not end in violent death?\"\n\n\"Sure, lots of stuff,\" I tell him. \"I just can't think of any right now.\"\n\nThis is gonna be one fucking ugly brawl. And maybe I knew it was gonna come to this. Maybe I was looking forward to it.\n\nMaybe I am what they say I am."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But anew light grows within the Hall of Justice, paler, steadier than the lamp flames and the scarlet flicker of the fires outside: a softly penetrant moonglow that does not admit of shadow. It gathers strength, intensifies, and the hall falls quiet as it touches each and all among us here, and every eye turns to find its source.\n\nIt's coming from Deliann.\n\nHe rises from the Steward's Seat, slow with infirmity. In the throbbing quiet, his voice is soft enough to break my heart. \"No. No fighting. Not among us. No killing. I can't stand it.\"\n\nHe sounds like he's standing at my shoulder. I have a feeling he sounds like he's standing at everybody's shoulder. The light gathers itself into a shining cloud around him and wreathes his brow with cold coronal flame. Then that light from his face flares out and grabs us all by the brain.\n\nFor one infinite second that light drowns me with everything everyone else is feeling: pain and fear and bloodlust and anguish and fierce fighting joy and everything else, and the light makes them feel what I'm feeling, and all of us feel the lives of each of us and together we make a world of pain that he somehow draws out and ties together into a giant ball of misery, and he hugs it and holds it and that doesn't make it okay-it's not like that, nothing could ever make all this okay-but somehow it's not so bad, now, because it's spread out a little, shared a little, and no matter how alone we all are he knows exactly, exactly, what we're going through, how scared and hurt we all are, and he kind of says-\n\nAll right, you're scared and hurt. It's okay to be scared, and it's okay to be hurt, because your life is a scary, painful place."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Deliann says softly, \"Rugo.\"\n\nThe ogre lifts his head.\n\n\"She need not die,\" Deliann says. \"But there is only one hope of life for her. She must be restrained from any interference in the battle to come. She must betaken into the Donjon, and placed in a cell, and kept there until what is to come has passed over us all. Will you do that?\"\n\nRugo turns his face away. \"I do thizz, she lives? You promizz?\"\n\n\"I have said so.\"\n\nRugo's neck bends, and tears streak the globular surface of his eyes. \"I guezz-she can't hate me more than zzhe doezz already.\"\n\nDeliann searches the hall like he's expecting to see someone he can't find; after a second or two, he nods to himself. \"Parkk,\" he says to a rugged-looking stonebender up in back, not far from where Majesty stands. \"Save her. Stay with her in the Donjon, and tend her when she wakes.\"\n\nThe stonebender holds his place sullenly fora long moment like he's expecting a trick; then he shrugs and nods and makes his way to Kierendal's side. Stonebender magick should work even in the Donjon.\n\nDeliann lowers his head like he can feel my disapproval against the back of his neck. \"Is it so wrong,\" he says softly, \"that I would not have my first act asking be the execution of a friend?\"\n\n\"Did I say anything?\"\n\n\"No,\" Deliann replied. \"But you were thinking very loudly. What do you want me to do, now?\"\n\nAll her people are still standing, staring, waiting. I can still use their help, if Deliann can get it for me. \"You could start,\" I offer, \"by telling everybody what the hell is going on.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell-?\" he murmurs faintly. \"How can I possibly tell? It's so huge-there's too much. How can I know what's important, and what's just detail?\"\n\n\"You don't have to know,\" I say. \"Just decide.\"\n\nHis feathery brows pull together.\n\n\"I-\" Pain twists his face, and it's not physical pain. \"I think I see-\"\n\n\"Goon, Kris. You've got the floor, man. Use it.\"\n\nSuffering shines from him like the eldritch light from his face. He lowers his head, closing his eyes against his own light, and begins to speak.\n\nHE STOOD IN the center of the arena. Fireglow that leaked down from the clerestory of the vaulted ceiling shaded his penetrant shine toward a pale peach. Though his voice had never been strong, and now was weaker still with his infirmity, all could hear-his meaning, if not his words.\n\nAll within that room were touched by his Meld.\n\nThe spider-tangle of black threads he could see flowing into Caine knotted together in a flare of white fire within Caine's chest-white fire that Deliann could touch, white fire from which Deliann had drawn the power to tune his Meld in a wholly new way. His shine resonated with the Shells of primals, gaining strength and the colors of life; it flowed into the Shells of stonebenders, and out again to blend into ogres and trolls; the shimmer of ogre brought it to frequencies that might touch the ogrilloi, and the ogrilloi shaded it enough to slide within the consciousness of Flowblind humanity.\n\nHe neither orated nor exhorted, but merely spoke. \"This is the truth,\" he said, and through the Meld all knew it. He held onto what he knew was true, and let the story tell itself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Some of you,\" he said, \" believe you are here because you were imprisoned for the crime of thinking for yourself; you are mistaken. Some of you believe you are here because you were falsely accused of treason; you, too, are mistaken. Some of you believe you are victims of political oppression, or official misconduct, or simple bad luck. Some of you think you came to revenge yourselves on your enemies, or to standby your friends.\n\n\"You are all mistaken.\n\n\"What brings all of us here is not Cainism, or human prejudice; it is not greed, or lust for power, or blind chance.\n\n\"What brings all of us here is a war.\n\n\"This is a war that is fought everyday in every land; this is a war that began with the birth of life itself. This is a war the best of us fight in our hearts: a war against to get along, you go along. A war against us and them. A war against the herd, against the cause. Against the weight of civilization itself.\n\n\"This war cannot be won.\n\n\"Should not be won.\n\n\"But it must be fought.\n\n\"Here is the truth: We are offered a gift.\n\n\"That we are here this night is the gift of T'nnalldion-what in the human tongue is Home, or the World. This is the great gift of Home: that once in an age, she brings forth this secret, silent war into the full light of day. This gift is the opportunity to stand as her shield; to see plain our enemy; to strike a blow face-to-face and hand-to-hand.\n\n\"She held out this gift to my grandfather Panchasell, more than a thousand years ago. In accepting, he named himself Luckless, for he knew the doom he chose."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This was the first engagement in our theater of this war: when Panchasell Mithondionne closed the dillin that joined us to the Quiet Land. He fought the war in secret for two hundred years; when Home brought the war into the open day, Panchasell the Luckless and House Mithondionne took arms and led the Folk Alliance against the Feral Rebellion.\n\n\"Almost nine hundred years ago, barely a bowshot from where we now stand, Panchasell the Luckless fell in battle.\n\n\"On the day my grandfather was killed, Home held out this gift to my father, T'farrell Ravenlock. My father refused, and named himself the Twilight King; he wished the bright day of the First Folk to draw slowly to a close, instead of suffering the sudden nightfall of extinction.\n\n\"He led our people away from the daylit war, ceding the open lands of Home to the enemy, and retired to the deepwood to preside over our long slow slide into history. This has come more swiftly than his darkest dream: We few, here today, maybe the last of the Folk to stand together against our enemy.\n\n\"More than four hundred years were to pass before Home offered her gift again. This time it was to the race of the enemy, many of whom had come to love her as deeply as any of the Folk; this time the gift was offered to a human named Jereth of Tyrnall.\n\n\"Jereth Godslaughterer fought the enemy in each of its shadow-forms: as Rudukirisch and Dal'kannith, Prorithun and Kallaie, and in all the other names that humans give to the shared dreams that pool their collective desires. Like my grandfather, Jereth fell in battle-but it was a battle won: from it came the Covenant of Pirichanthe, which binds the human gods beyond the walls of time, and defends Home from their irrational whims of power."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Now, five hundred years have come and gone since the days of the Godslaughterer, and Home once more offers her gift.\n\n\"Our enemy has struck already. He struck without challenge, as a poisoner strikes, against whom no armor may suffice. His blow has slain House Mithondionne, of whom I alone survive. Each of us in this room bears wounds from his hand. His weapon is madness, the same madness that some of us-here, tonight-feel coursing our veins. But against such an invisible sword, we now have a silent shield. T'Passe?\"\n\nT'Passe, pragmatic as a shovel, tromped down the aisle to the arena; Deliann gestured to Raithe, and Raithe put the tureen into her hands. T'Passe shrugged, and ducked her head toward the contents of the bowl. \"A little drink, that's all,\" she said heavily. \"Even a sip.\" She handed the bowl to a human, one of the Cainists who sat on the floor in the aisle. Though already carrying the countervirus as did all the former inmates of the Pit, she dipped her hand, and brought it cupped to her lips; like all Monastics, she had a profound respect for the power of ritual.\n\nThe Cainist who held the bowl scowled down into the straw-colored liquid within. \"What is it?\"\n\nShe looked at Deliann, who gravely inclined his head.\n\n\"Water,\" she said. \"Water, with a little blood in it.\"\n\nAgain, she looked at Deliann; his expression never altered, nor did the angle of his nod. She shrugged.\n\n\"It's Caine's blood.\"\n\nA general murmur stirred the room."
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Deliann said, \"Choose.\"\n\nThe Cainist still scowled, but he dipped his hand and drank, and held the bowl so that those beside him could do the same, before he passed it onto a nearby woman.\n\n\"In accepting the gift of Home, you bind yourself to fight in our war,\" Deliann said. \" I know that many are without weapons, and more are without armor. Many-perhaps most-of you do not call yourselves warriors.\n\n\"But as Caine has said: There is fighting, and there is fighting.\n\n\"By this he means: It is not demanded of each of you that you take up a sword and slay. That is the task for warriors. Some may bind wounds, and comfort the injured. That is the task for healers. Some may cook food and carry water. Some may leave here this night, and never look behind.\n\n\"Let each of us fight in our own way, according to our own gifts. A cook who pretends to be a warrior endangers his comrades; a warrior who pretends to be a cook ruins food we need for the strength to fight on.\n\n\"Only this do I ask of you: I, not Home. Those of you who leave this place tonight, do not surrender to our enemy. Know that the shield of Home defends you, and can defend all whom you love. This shield does not move of its own. It does not grow unaided. It can truly defend only when passed from heart to heart, and flesh to flesh. To bring anyone or anything within the shield of Home requires only a kiss. Your choice can save more than you dream. It is the most important choice you will ever make.\n\n\"Some here do not have that choice.\"\n\nA vague wave of his hand might have indicated the Patriarch, bound and leashed to the Ebony Throne, or the friars who stood on the arena sand, or both."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But we do.\n\n\"We can choose to stand against the blind god.\n\n\"We can choose to stand for Home.\n\n\"We can-\"\n\nHe broke off, and fora moment lowered his head; when he looked up once more, he wore a small, melancholy smile, full of resigned self-knowledge.\n\n\"I should say, you can choose.\n\n\"My choice is made already. I have made the choice of Panchasell. The choice of the Godslaughterer.\n\n\"The choice of Caine.\n\n\"I am Deliann, the Mithondionne. Here I will stand. Here I will fall.\n\n\"I am Deliann, the Mithondionne. I set my name to this.\"\n\nHe fell silent, and his light faded, and with it the Meld; after a moment he lowered his head.\n\nTHEY'RE ALL FILING out, the Cainists and the Serpents and the Folk. After a minute, some clever guy gets a bright idea, and brings the tureen up to the arch where everybody can take a sip as they go out. Pretty soon somebody's at each of the other exits with a helmet upside down in their hands, holding a few cups scooped from the tureen, and the hall clears out faster. Most of them are heading for the Pit, where they'll go back the way they came: down the Shaft sump and out, to scatter across the Empire, and beyond. Stonebenders to the White Desert and the northern God's Teeth, ogrilloi to the Boedecken, treetoppers south to the jungles of lower Kor.\n\nPrimals to the deepwood, and whatever's left of Mithondion."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And that's it, then. Here, in this eerie muttering quiet, I'm looking at Shanna's victory. She and I and Deliann-and Raithe, too, can't leave that fucker out of it-we just beat HRVP.\n\nSure, the disease has a big lead, but it's slow, and random. The countervirus is fast, and will be purposeful: with a few hundred people fanning out of here, spreading Shanna's countervirus every time they sneeze, or piss in a river, or share a cup of wine, we'll overtake it.\n\nScore one for the good guys.\n\nWhich is all the enthusiasm I can muster; it's kinda anticlimactic. I guess it's because HRVP was just for openers-just alight jab to probe our defenses, and it too fucking nearly punched our lights out. Like Tan'elKoth used to say: You can win every battle and still lose the war.\n\nOn the other hand, Kris'story was a good one; sometimes making a good story is winning, too. Spartacus. The knights of the Round Table. The Alamo. That's victory, of a sort.\n\nShit, I hope so. It's the only kind we're gonna get.\n\nA couple of feys who used to do healing for the rough-trade girls at Alien Games work on my legs a little, scraping out the jelly of dead muscle and infected pus, and run some Flow in thereto pump strength into the muscle.\n\nAbout the time they finish up, Majesty threads his way down to the arena. Somebody cut him loose after that ogrillo bitch went off with the ogre and the dwarf to look after Kierendal. He rubs the rope burn on his wrists, and he's covered in filth, but he looks pretty cheerful: his smile cracks the dried blood on his chin, and it flakes away as he scrubs at it with the back of his hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Damn, Caine,\" he says as he vaults into the arena. \"Fuck a goat if you don't always find away to come out on top.\" He bounces across the sand and climbs the dais, right up next to Toa-Sytell, and grins down at him. \"Hey there, you shit-crazy cock,\" he says, and draws back his foot fora kick.\n\n\"Don't.\"\n\nHe looks at me and finds no room for argument in my eyes. He shrugs. \"You're the boss, I guess,\" he says.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nThe feys give him hard looks as they pack their shit and go. He ignores them. \"What now, buddy? What's our next move?\"\n\n\"My next move,\" I tell him heavily, \"is to send those friars down there out to fight some troops that are coming after me. Troops from my world.\"\n\n\"Your world?\" Majesty breathes. \"Fuck me-it's true, then. It's true. It's always been true. You are an Aktir.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Fuck me,\" he repeats, but then he spreads his hands and smiles at me. \"Hey, Aktir or not, you always knew who your friends were, right?\"\n\n\"Your next move-\" I nod toward the back of the hall. Toward the door. \"-is to follow those guys up there. Clear your ass out of town.\"\n\n\"Huh?\" Wariness sparks deep within his eyes. \"I don't get you.\"\n\n\"You're not popular with the Folk, Majesty. I'd lay odds the only reason you're still alive is that most of them aren't quite sure who you are.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hey, c'mon, Caine. Aren't you the stag, here? You're saying you can't protect me?\"\n\n\"No,\" I tell him. \"I'm saying I won't.\"\n\nHis smile cracks like the blood on his chin. \"Hey-hey, Caine, c'mon-\"\n\n\"You're why Kierendal had to be locked up. You killed half her people. The only family she had. You and Toa-Sytell. Your fucking Caverns War.\"\n\n\"But, but, hey, I didn't have anything against her,\" he says, licking his lips. \"Shit, Caine. This whole Caverns War-that was Toa-Sytell's thing. It was politics, that's all. Business. It wasn't personal-\"\n\n\"It was for her.\" I nod toward the door one more time. \"You better go now, while I still remember how much I used to like you.\"\n\nHe leans toward me confidentially. I can see sweat leaking out of his skin. \"Come on, Caine. This is me. Even in the Donjon, didn't I help you out? Huh? Didn't I?\" He reaches for my arm as though his touch will remind me of our friendship.\n\nI brush Kosall's hilt with my fingers. Its blade buzzes a rattlesnake's warning against the arm of the throne. Majesty's hand freezes, and he takes a cautious step back down the dais stairs. \"Yes,\" I say. \"You did. That's what buys you the chance to walkout.\"\n\n\"But, but, hey, I mean, where am I supposed to go?\" he says plaintively. If I didn't know him so well, I could almost feel sorry for him. Majesty's a weed; he'll flourish wherever he falls. \"Where can I go? What am I supposed to do?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't care,\" I tell him, \"so long as you don't do it here. Go.\"\n\nHe backs away one more step. \"Caine-\"\n\nI point Kosall at him. The blade snarls. \"Five seconds, Majesty.\"\n\nHe turns and scampers down the dais, across the sand. He forces his way into the outgoing stream of humans and Folk and exits the Hall of Justice without looking back. I watch him go, remembering all the good times we've had together, but they don't mean much tome right now. There was a time I considered him my best friend.\n\nAnd I can't remember why.\n\nDown on the sand, Raithe gives his instructions-my instructions-to the friars, detailing them in squads to intercept and harass the approaching Social Police: just my way of saying hello. Pretty soon the friars go, and t'Passe heads off to coordinate the Folk and Serpents and Cainists who want to stay here and fight; Orbek takes Toa-Sytell's leash and drags him off to keep his Patriarchal ass out of mischief, and in all the whole Hall of Justice it's now just Raithe, and Deliann, and me.\n\nFrom the arena below, Raithe stares after Orbek and Toa-Sytell with those deep-winter eyes. He's wrapped pretty tight; he sizzles with the effort he's expending to hold himself still and silent. \"What are you going to do with the Patriarch?\"\n\n\"Nothing you need to know yet,\" I tell him. \"Kris-?\"\n\nHe stands in the center of the arena, lost in some infinite distance. \"Kris-?\" I say again, then more sharply, \"Deliann.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Slowly, his gaze gathers focus and finds me. \"Yes, Caine?\"\n\n\"Let's do this thing.\"\n\n\"Here?\"\n\nI nod up toward the titanic figure of Ma'elKoth carved into the wedge of limestone towering over us. \"You got a better place?\"\n\nHe thinks about it, his face alien, unreadable. Then his eyes close and open again in a motion too slow and deliberate to be called a blink, and he says, \"No. I suppose I don't.\"\n\n\"What do you need from me?\"\n\n\"I'll explain as we go along,\" he says, mounting the dais to stand at my side. \"Find mindview.\"\n\nI breathe myself into it; it only takes a second or two, and then twisting corded nets of black ropes web the Hall of Justice like it's the lair of spiders the size of horses. \"I can see it,\" I tell him, and I can. Even though I'm talking, I can hold the image.\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"It's easier now. Easier than it was even when I used to practice this. Back in school.\"\n\nHe offers me a smile of sad understanding. \"Among the First Folk, we are taught that the path of power is measured by self-knowledge. To use magick, one must know oneself, and the world, and the identity they share.\"\n\nI am at the center of that black and tangled web. It pulses into the base of my spine; strength and feeling swells in the muscles of my back and legs.\n\nDeliann turns to Raithe. \"Kneel here, facing him,\" he says, indicating a spot an arm's length in front of my knees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Raithe looks at me.\n\n\"Do as he says,\" I tell him, and he does.\n\nA different kind of glow surrounds Deliann now, a bluish Saint Elmo's fire kind of thing. That aura grows a limb-a pseudopod, an arm-and grabs onto something white in the middle of my guts. Lightning snaps backup that insubstantial blue and sparks it to a searing arc-welder blaze. It'd be painful, if I were seeing it with my eyes.\n\nHe reaches for Raithe, and Raithe gasps as the colors blossom around him.\n\n\"This will be a form of Meld,\" Deliann says. \"It's a little like a Fantasy, except we will all be creating it together as we go along. Don't be alarmed at what you might see; none of us might look like we do now, but we'll know each other anyway. It's a... metaphoric level of consciousness, like a dream.\"\n\n\"And we can't lie,\" I murmur.\n\nDeliann nods. \"This is a state of consciousness where deception is impossible. Concealment, though, isn't difficult. It is simply a refusal to share. It is the same as you should do if any of these Powers tries to join with you, or enter your body. They cannot do so without your cooperation-but they can be very persuasive.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"What Powers?\" Raithe says, staring raptly at whatever Deliann's touch upon his mind is showing him. \"You still haven't told me what we are doing.\"\n\nI bare my teeth. \"We're gonna have a little chat with Ma'elKoth.\"\n\nA SOFT, HEARTH-WARM glow appeared, neither close nor distant, in no particular direction: near, far, before, behind, above, or below-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "None have meaning in the infinite lack.\n\nAs patiently irresistible as gravity, the light drew her forward, or upward: in whatever direction from her that it lay. Without volition to resist its pull, she drifted toward it.\n\nShe came to understand that this light was the sun, and not the sun. It was a star, burning in the heavens of the lack, giving light and life and reason to the boundless nothing of her death-but it was also a man, with elven features and a mane of platinum hair that twisted outward in streamers of fire along the solar wind. The sun man held a bow of fusing hydrogen, and carried arrows of light.\n\nWill gathered within her, strengthening with her approach as though she drew it from this man's light; she exerted this will to slow herself, gaining in caution as her awareness congealed. Somehow she knew: This was enemy territory.\n\nShe said to the sun: I know you. You are Kris Hansen.\n\nThe sun replied: I am Deliann.\n\nFar, far above her-for now, imperceptibly, up and down had come to the lack-circled a bird of prey, soaring upon gleaming wings, proud and lonely. A falcon-perhaps an eagle-\n\nPerhaps the phoenix.\n\nIt struggled toward the sun, drawn forever by light and warmth-only to fall forever back, crippled by a wound to its wing. Its cry echoed in her heart, for it was she who had given that wound. She could feel the wound herself-her arm burned as though she held it in a furnace-yet she knew it was his.\n\nWithin herself, she said, You are the Caineslayer.\n\nThe bird replied, I am Raithe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now on fields that rolled forever beneath that sun she found others: a great dire wolf with dewclaws cut, limping in pain but still fierce and deadly; a woman of volcanic basalt thrust freshly up from the earth, sharp edges not yet rounded by millennial erosion. She found trees and flowers and cats and mice, snakes and toads and fish-\n\nAnd she found a man. He sat on a rock, elbows on knees, staring at her.\n\nShe knew every inch of him.\n\nThe glossy black hair, sprung grey at the temple above the salted black of his beard: her fingers knew that texture. His darkly gleaming eye, the slanted scar across his twice-broken nose-she had felt these with her lips. Those hard and lethal hands had cupped her breasts and stroked warmth along her thighs.\n\nHe wore a loose black leather tunic open in front, faded and cracked, white salt rings of ancient sweat circling the armpits. His soft black breeches were covered with cuts and tears crudely sewn. Coarse brown thread showed like old bloodstains against the leather.\n\nHer heart sang, and she flew to him.\n\nSlowly, deliberately, his right hand went inside his tunic, and when it came out again it held along, keen fighting knife.\n\n\"That's close enough,\" he said.\n\nShe stopped, puzzled, hurt sparking somewhere behind what on a mortal body would have been her ribs. Hari-\n\n\"Hari's dead.\" He pointed the knife at her eye. \"So are you. Let's skip the happy-to-see-you bullshit, huh?\"\n\nHari, I don't understand-why won't you let me touch you?\n\nHe flicked the point of the knife toward the circling bird of prey. \"Because I have too fucking good an idea what can happen if you do.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I only want to share with you."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To join with you.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nWe can be one, here. We can truly share. We can love each other-\n\n\"Not like that.\"\n\nAll I want is to be together-\n\n\"Tough shit.\"\n\nYou treat me like an enemy.\n\nHis eyes glittered black and hard: chips of obsidian. \"Yeah.\"\n\nHari-Caine-Her mental voice roughened, and deepened; she tried to cough it clear, but instead it swelled within her chest to Ma'elKoth's subterranean rumble. Caine, I love you. We love you.\n\n\"Holdout your hand.\"\n\nShe hesitated.\n\n\"Come on,\" he said. \"We're a little past playing shy, huh? Your hand.\"\n\nAll right.\n\nShe reached out a hand that had the shape of her own, but the size of Ma'elKoth's-and had Kollberg's oiled-parchment skin and arthritis-knobbed joints. He shook his head and pointed to her left-her wounded, burning, all-too-human hand.\n\n\"That one.\"\n\nShe drew back.\n\n\"Don't you trust me?\" His wolf-grin said he didn't really care about her answer.\n\nShe found, astonished, that she didn't-and at first she couldn't say why.\n\nShe didn't trust him; she couldn't trust him. She had been deceived by him before, hurt by him, destroyed by him. He had lied and lied and lied to her, and his lies had savaged her life; he was the source of all her unbearable suffering these long seven years. He had threatened her, and mocked their lawful caste relationship. He had struck her: he had broken her nose, had kicked her in the balls-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the balls? she thought. Hey, wait.\n\nBefore the other two of the three she was could stop her, she putout her hand. Faster than their eyes could follow, his knife flashed underhand and drove up between the bones to jut through her palm: a conjured apparition of steel, welling black blood from its base.\n\nThe searing ice-steel spike turned to white-hot iron as he twisted it to wedge the blade against the bone; then he used the blade to wrench their handover sideways and pull them off balance. They gasped in shock that was yet too fresh to be pain, and gaped in astonishment at the blood of black oil that rolled down the blade and dripped from the point.\n\nWhere the black oil touched, the grass beneath their feet curled and blackened and began to smoke.\n\nWhat are you DOING?\n\nHis wolf-grin answered. \"Holding you steady.\"\n\nIn the far black distance above, the sun drew an arrow of light back to his heart, and let it fly.\n\nThe arrow's meteor-streak drove through the injured wing of the phoenix and struck heron the hand, where Caine's knife had pierced her. It flashed into her and through her, through the god at her back and the god behind him, joining all of them with the phoenix along a dazzling line of blue-white Cerenkov radiation.\n\nPower pulsed up the line toward the phoenix, and it gave a heartbreaking cry. From its injured wing, black blood sprayed like rain overall the world.\n\n\"This is a metaphor, you understand,\" Caine said. \"I imagine if you concentrate, you can feel what's really happening.\"\n\nShe felt-\n\nFrom the spring near the crest of Khryl's Saddle, a trickle of black oil joined the sewage runoff of the rail camp. In the great forest of the north, needles of spruce and aspen withered and blackened, and the amber that swelled from gaps in bark was black as onyx. In the Boedecken Waste, oil bubbled up out of the buried depths of the marshes and spread necrotic swathes through the living green."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her horror spread to the others who shared her consciousness. Stop it-you have to stop it!\n\n\"No,\" Caine said. \"I don't.\"\n\nHari-Caine, please! Stop it now!\n\n\"No.\"\n\nShe could feel the life draining from her already, deadness climbing her fingers like leprosy. Caine-you'll kill me-\n\nHis wolf-grin widened, and lost any trace of humor. \"You're already dead. We're killing the river.\"\n\nYou can't! You can't do this!\n\n\"No?\" He barked a harsh laugh. \"Who are you talking to?\"\n\nEveryone-everything-will die! All of it-every living creature-\n\n\"That's right. Then what good does your fucking link do you? You'll have nothing. Shit, you'll have less than you started with. Think about it, Ma'elKoth: How many Beloved Children are gonna survive this? What happens to your precious godhood when all your worshipers are dead?\"\n\nAnd that was when Pallas Ril understood. Imaginary tears poured from her imaginary eyes. Her eyes said Thank you, but only her eyes.\n\nHis wolf-grin thawed a little. \"I told you to trust me.\"\n\nOther words held her lips. This is a bluff.\n\n\"Sure it is.\"\n\nYou'll kill yourself along with the river; this poison will slay you as surely as any salmon or hawk.\n\nCaine's smile warmed even more. \"Ever play Chicken?\"\n\nOutrage gathered within her, but the outrage was not hers. The voice from her lips said, This is no game. Not when the stakes are the lives of all within the Chambaygen's bound."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "His smile went hot."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I wouldn't have come to the party if I didn't want to dance.\"\n\nIt seemed then that along time passed, in which the only sound was the distant, thin sobs of a young girl. We still have Faith.\n\n\"Yeah?\" His tone was square and warm, but ice in his eyes froze his smile into a mask. \"And what can you do to her that's worse than what you're doing right now?\"\n\nYou are beyond ruthless. You are beyond criminal. You area monster-\n\nCaine's presence solidified beyond his mask of ice: he became dark and gleaming, diorite in motion, absolute, unanswerable. \"You should have thought of that before you hurt my daughter.\"\n\nStop this. You must stop this!\n\n\"Make me,\" he said, and vanished.\n\nWith him went the phoenix, and the sun, and the meadow, the world and all the stars.\n\nShe did not fall into the lack. The channel of venom pouring into the river was enough of a living connection to sustain her consciousness. She was herself the universe: vast and minute together, and empty of all save pain and creeping death.\n\nAnd hope.\n\nTHE SOCIAL POLICE officer at the door to the surgery had stood so still for so long that when he finally moved, Avery Shanks flinched; a tingling shock from the middle of her back shot painfully out into her fingers and toes. She clenched her stinging fingers into fragile, futile fists and hunched her shoulders around the hammering of her heart. All this from the smallest gesture: the officer did no more than step to one side and open the door.\n\nThrough the door came Tan'elKoth, with two more officers behind."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Something-some subtle difference in his face, his bearing, something bleak and impersonal-brought a sick darkness to her chest. Her mouth tasted of tin. \"Tan'elKoth,\" she said, still uncertain enough to hope that she was wrong. \"Is it over? Is it finally over?\"\n\nHe loomed over her like a granite cliff. \"Gather your belongings. We leave within the hour.\"\n\n\"Leave?\" she repeated stupidly. She made her aching joints move enough to let her sit up. \"Tan'elKoth-?\"\n\n\"Ma'elKoth,\" he corrected dispassionately.\n\nAvery trembled. \"I don't understand-\"\n\nHe had already turned away. He stood beside the table to which Faith was bound, undoing her straps. A pair of Social Police officers pulled Faith's IV and catheter-line relief bags from their hooks on the table and hung them on an odd device nearby. This device looked rather like a levichair, but instead of magnetic suspensors, it rode on wheels: two large spoked wheels in back and a pair of smaller ones in front. Tan'elKoth lifted Faith from the table and began to strap her into the wheeled chair.\n\nAnd that was the subtle change: she saw it now. He no longer seemed aware of the Social Police, nor they of him, but both worked with common purpose in mechanical coordination, requiring neither word nor gesture.\n\n\"What are you doing? Tan'elKoth-Ma'elKoth-she's too weak! You can't move her, she'll die!\"\n\nHe reached her side in a single step, gathered her shirt into one hand, and lifted her to her feet, neither roughly nor gently-more with a kind of impersonal dispassion, as though she were so alien that he could not conceive what might cause her either pleasure or pain. \"You will not let her die,\" he said. \"You will provide whatever care she requires.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I-I...\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tears gathered in her eyes, and she could not speak.\n\nShe was stretched too thin; she had lived in this tiny room before the silvered masks of the Social Police for too long; she had charred her heart with too many acid hours helplessly witnessing Faith's endless nightmare.\n\nShe longed for the bottle of Teravil that was still in her bag; chemical comfort was the only kind of which she could still dream. But she hated herself enough already. If she were to give herself rest while Faith stayed there, stayed strapped to that steel table, stayed in the twilight fever dream of the drugs that dripped into her arm, she could never live with herself.\n\nWould never live with herself.\n\nShe had already decided that when she could no longer resist the pull of the sedatives, she would use them all. When she could find anyway out from under the inhuman silver gaze of the Social Police, she would share them with Faith.\n\nBecause she could never leave her here alone.\n\nShe said, finally, softly, \"Yes. Whatever she requires.\"\n\nBehind him, the Social Police strapped a gleaming metallic harness over Faith's chest.\n\n\"But-but, where are we going?\"\n\n\"Home,\" he said, and turned away once more to adjust the harness.\n\n\"Home?\" she repeated, horrified. \"Overworld? What has happened to you? Why are you acting like this? You can't just move her like furniture-she won't live a day!\"\n\n\"A day,\" Ma'elKoth said distantly, \"will be enough.\"\n\nTHE WAR OF the dark angel and the god of dust and ashes came to turn upon a question of battle.\n\nOf the outcome, there could belittle doubt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The soldiers of the god of dust and ashes had weapons of unimaginable power. They were the best trained, most disciplined fighters this world had ever seen. Their officers were competent, and their morale was unbreakable.\n\nThe allies of the dark angel were starving and sick, wounded, disorganized, and distrustful of each other.\n\nYet there is fighting, and there is fighting: some weapons are more useful than others, and not all battles must be won."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "TWENTY-THREE\n\nTHE FIRST AMBUSH was, in broad outline, representative of all the encounters between the friars of the Ankhanan Embassy and the Social Police. It came as the last boats of the Bauer Company of the 82nd Force Suppression Unit cleared Fools' Bridge.\n\nThe boats had proceeded without haste but steadily, threading their way through the dead and burning trees that studded the river; a man in the lead boat of each lashed-together triad held a large canister of pressurized foam that could be sprayed liberally onto any burning oil that came too close. The rest crouched watchfully, weapons at the ready.\n\nThe friars who lay in ambush had no time to make a concerted plan, but what they lacked in coordination they made up for in firepower. The men in the lead boats had no chance.\n\nAs the first triad of lashed-together boats hummed silently toward Knights' Bridge, close along the sheer Old Town wall, a shimmering blue-white plane of energy flared out from the dockside. This plane of energy fanned horizontally for barely a second, but in that time it sliced neatly through the heads and shoulders of several of the dozen riflemen in the first boat, and sheared exactly in half, just below the navel, the mage who guided the boat. His torso slid backward and toppled into the river, and the power he had been channeling through his staff exploded into a jagged ball of lightning that conducted well enough through wire-inlaid armor to roast several more riflemen.\n\nInstantly the other three triads turned for the dockside, but the two remaining boats from the first triad drifted powerlessly while riflemen within them frantically pulled collapsible oars out from storage pockets. Before they could use them effectively, ionizing radiation made a laser-straight blue line from the arch of Knights' Bridge to the surface of the river."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Spreading in a fan upstream from where that line touched, the water instantly congealed to frosted glasslike solid that looked like ice, but was warm to the hand. The boats stuck fast within it, and now nut-sized pellets streaked toward them from several directions. These pellets stuck to what they struck, and an instant later they erupted in gouts of flame intense enough to melt the plastic components of the rifles, set fire to the ballistic cloth that covered the riflemen's armor, and ignite the flesh beneath it.\n\nHowever, the thin line of radiation also marked its point of origin and gave the riflemen their first target.\n\nTheir reply was a stackfire volley from a double handful of Heckler-Colt MPAR-12 assault rifles. These rifles were a century and a half out of date, requiring manual sighting and carrying only sixteen stackfire cartridges in each of their dual magazines, but since a stackfire cartridge comprised a tube of eight 5.52 millimeter solid-block caseless rounds that fire sequentially in slightly more than a tenth of one second, a single volley proved adequate.\n\nThe friar who stood on Knights' Bridge, whose staff flamed with the power that had gelled the river, was exposed over the low retaining wall from his groin to the crown of his head. The exposed parts of him vanished into a spray of bloody mist and bone fragments, and his legs fell in opposite directions. The detonation of his staff bit a buckboard-sized chunk out of the stone arch; the river below melted into ordinary water and flowed once more.\n\nBefore the lead boat of the second trio could reach the bank, it was seized as though by a giant invisible hand and yanked into the air. The adept and most of the riflemen bailed out, but a few unfortunate soldiers had gotten their gear tangled in the boats' nylon-net storage pockets, or had foolishly chosen to hang on, and were hurled hundreds of yards up into the night sky."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the boats fell, still lashed together, the rope that joined them caught on a bartizan of the Old Town wall; they swung down and slammed against the wall like clappers of a giant stone bell, crushing the men inside. Other men fell from the sky to their deaths on the streets; some landed on rooftops or in the branches of burning trees.\n\nThe Telekinesis that had seized the boat was invisible to ordinary eyes, but to an adept in mindview it blazed with furious light-as did the stream of Flow that poured through the hand sculpted of diamond that a friar, hidden around the corner of a warehouse, used to create it. The three surviving Artan adepts communicated his location, and a scant second later that location was the intersection of three expanding spheres, each comprising several thousand sewing-needle-sized flechettes, produced by three RG 2253A antipersonnel rifle grenades in simultaneous airbursts at an altitude of precisely 3.5 meters.\n\nWhat remained of the friar was not recognizable as human.\n\nThe other two triads had reached the docks, and seventy riflemen fanned out among the burning trees that were the last of the unnatural jungle that still stood, here at the epicenter from which the fire had spread. Those riflemen who had bailed into the river were left to swim as best they could; they made inviting targets for the ambushers, and now each time magick flared the man who used it could be located and killed.\n\nBauer Company methodically and deliberately secured the dockside. They were in no particular hurry; they knew, as their opponents did not, that they were only the first of the 82nd's reinforced rifle companies to enter Ankhana. The whole of their job was to spring ambushes and probe the strength of resistance, and they had done it well."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The surviving friars fell back individually, winding through the streets and alleys toward the Courthouse, harassing the riflemen at every opportunity."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They, too, had done their job well.\n\nEARLY ENCOUNTERS BETWEEN Ankhanan citizenry and the advancing elements of the Social Police 82nd Force Suppression Unit were bloody. So many voices shouted in the streets that even the fluent Westerling commands and curses of the irregulars went unheeded, and the various companies of the 82nd were forced to resort to nonverbal means of clearing their respective paths.\n\nOn Earth, the hammer of automatic rifle fire aimed over the head is universally understood, but Ankhanan citizens, inexperienced with chemically propelled projectile weapons, could not interpret the loud but apparently harmless noise and flashes coming from these odd broken-crossbow-like devices. By lowering their point of aim a few degrees, the Social Police undertook to educate them.\n\nBut each lesson sufficed only upon those near enough to seethe blood spurting from shattered limbs and riddled torsos, and to smell the voided bowels; thus, the lesson was regularly repeated as the Social Police advanced. Through the streets and along the gutters, blood and oil swirled red and black, immiscible, tracing fractal geometries of turbulence.\n\nIt was one of the irregulars who suggested the use of concussion grenades. This was more successful; not only does the airburst of such a device resemble a mage's fireball closely enough to send magick-leery Ankhanans diving for cover, these devices are so loud and so bright as to trigger the human animal's instinctive panic response: run and hide.\n\nThe 82nd now made better time.\n\nThe various companies converged, following the lead of one or more irregulars, each of whom carried some variety of seeking item: graven crystals and divining wands, runestaves and silver stilettos, needles that swung on balance points, pendula of crystal, copper, gold, andiron."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some of these items were sensitive enough to trace the path of Kosall back to the mountains; some were sensitive enough to indicate the location of every hand that had ever touched its hilt. These items had been tuned, detuned, and retuned to filter out the mutilated barge that had been the blade's home, the rocks where it had rested on the river's bed, the headless corpse of a man who had once borne it, now buried in the potter's field southwest of the Cathedral of the Assumption.\n\nNow, the seeking items all pointed toward the Courthouse.\n\nONLY MORGAN COMPANY-approaching from the southwest, through the stately homes of the South Bank-encountered resistance from the Ankhanan Army. When they reached the foot of Kings'Bridge, a mailed officer ordered them to halt; his order was backed up by a triple row of shoulder-to-shoulder pikemen supported by archers farther up the bridge's arch.\n\nInvisible fingers poked dozens, then hundreds, of sudden holes in breastplates and helms, making a rattle like a bucket of stones emptied onto a griddle. Bloody wads of flesh burst from the Ankhanans as they danced to a clattered half rhythm of rifle fire. The survivors chose to allow Morgan Company to pass without further interference.\n\nOnce in Old Town, however, their progress became much more dangerous, as they came under magickal fire from a small contingent of friars who were somewhat more successful at keeping themselves undercover. Slowly, mechanically inexorable, Morgan Company beat back their attackers.\n\nMorgan Company was the first unit to reach the Courthouse. Riflemen methodically began to disperse the crowds while the irregulars loudly announced that Kings' Bridge was now open, which produced a tidal surge toward the east and south. A hastily assembled column of Ankhanan infantry was scattered by two grenades and several well-aimed bursts that shredded their standard and their officers. The panic of fleeing men-at-arms was sufficient to awaken the caution of the other infantry columns; their commanders decided to delay engagement with these invaders until the situation could be investigated."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Shortly, the survivors of Bauer Company suppressed the flames of Knights' Bridge with foam spewed from handheld canisters and marched across. No one challenged them.\n\nThe Social Police owned Ten Street, and the balance of the 82nd was mere minutes away.\n\nThose friars who had been cutoff on their retreat toward the Courthouse now slipped away into the flame-smeared night, descending the mucker shafts alongside each public pissoir. At the bottom, they were met by the Folk who had waited below, and were led swiftly through the caverns.\n\nDESPITE THE URGINGS of caution from the irregulars attached to his command, the 82nd's brigadier ordered a standard attack.\n\nInitially, all went as expected. A handheld launcher lobbed a shaped sticky-charge across Ten Street; the charge flattened against the Courthouse's bronze double doors, and three seconds later detonated with a resounding whang! that blew the doors into twisted hunks of fist-sized shrapnel.\n\nIt also managed to ignite the black oil that painted the building, and set the Courthouse on fire. Antipersonnel grenades arced up through the flames to explode above the roof.\n\nSeveral canisters of airborne nerve agent sailed through the doorway, to finish up whatever hostiles the shrapnel may have missed. Chemically propelled grapnels shot toward the roof from the street, the Old Town wall behind, and the roof of the nearby Ankhanan officers' quarters. While their power-reels would notwork in Overworld conditions, these soldiers were in superb physical condition, and teeth on their gloves meshed with the toothed cords to provide an effortless slip-proof grip. Handover hand, they walked up the Courthouse wall at the speed of a moderate trot, while below fifty riflemen rushed the atrium."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This might have worked as a surprise attack; but the Social Police were part of the field of power that was the blind god, and Raithe of Ankhana could feel their every step.\n\nThey never had a chance.\n\nThe first hint that this operation may not go smoothly was the empty atrium itself. The riflemen found nobodies, no blood-only a stone floor littered with chunks of bronze, spent and flattened slugs, and chips of rock. The white vapor that served as a visual marker for the nerve agent hung in the air, swirling slowly; it had not dispersed farther into the Courthouse, nor did it eddy back toward the blown-open doorway.\n\nThe second hint was somewhat more dramatic.\n\nAs the riflemen who had reached the roof gathered themselves into order and approached the access stairs, some of the more sensitive among them noted a vibration-like a subaural hum-that seemed to come through their boots. Before they could call others' attention to this, the stone beneath their feet softened, and sagged, then bellied downward like an overloaded trampoline, sweeping the whole group off their feet into a muddled pile at the bottom; the stone then ruptured and dumped them in an unceremonious tangle on the floor of a small room below. The roof continued to collapse, pouring into the room like mud down a funnel.\n\nAs this mud fell upon the riflemen and oozed under and around them, the humming rose in both pitch and volume as the four stonebender rockmagi sang the mud back into stone once more. None of the riflemen managed to stand up before the stone closed over their faces; they barely had time to scream.\n\nThe riflemen in the atrium found all the doors to be closed, and sealed, by some invisible force that prevented them from even getting their hands within a span of the handles. Further, they found the blown-open doorway to be sealed by a similar force. The same inlay of silver wire that rendered them resistant to many forms of magick also rendered most magick quite invisible; they could not seethe Shields that trapped them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Most primals can make light: it's a simple enough conversion of Flow. As they become more skilled, they can make light in specific colors, from indigo far down into the reds; a mere extension of this ability enables them to produce electromagnetic radiation at a substantially lower frequency: that of microwaves.\n\nCoherent beams of microwaves heated several earthenware pots that had been looted from the Courthouse's commissary. Within these pots was lamp oil. As the lamp oil boiled, it released a considerable amount of aromatic volatiles into the Shield-sealed atrium. The riflemen, wearing self-contained breathing apparatuses to protect them from the nerve agent, had no warning at all before the team of microwave-producing primals turned their attentions to a small piece of wood that lay on the floor near the center of the atrium. The wood caught, sparked the oil vapor, and turned the atrium into a homemade, crude-but effective-fuel-air bomb.\n\nBits and pieces of the riflemen returned to the street riding a shattering blast of flame.\n\nHaving kept, as any good commander would, men in place to observe the results of his probing attack, the brigadier now decided it was time to enlist local aid. He instructed his irregulars to approach the officers of the encircling Ankhanan Army under flag of truce.\n\nHe needed troops who had more experience with magick: troops who had thaumaturges of their own.\n\nFOR THE TABERNACLE: a Mylar dome tent of stainless white, standing in the fireglow of the Financial Court, stretched over gracefully arched poles of black graphite fiber.\n\nFor the congregation: the commanders of the Ankhanan army, met under flag of truce with Artan officers.\n\nFor the priest: an Artan adept stripped of armor and cloaked in cloth of gold, a bishop's vestments from the Church of the Beloved Children of Ma'elKoth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Within the tabernacle, the congregation knelt, for God was among them.\n\nTaller than the moon, He stood upon a sapphire sky, and the stars played about His shoulders. His face was the sun: blindness threatened any impertinent stare. His voice thrummed in their blood; it spoke with their heartbeats; it was the voice of life itself.\n\nLIVE EACH FOR ALL, His voice told them. EACH OF YOU BELONGS TO ALL OF YOU. LOVE EACH OTHER, AND AWAIT MY RETURN.\n\nAnd His voice told each of them, severally and together: THOU ART MY OWN BELOVED CHILD; IN THEE I AM WELL PLEASED.\n\nWithin the tabernacle, Ankhanan commanders embraced officers of the Artan force that had invaded their city, that had slaughtered their men and the citizens those men had been sworn to defend. They received Artan embraces in return without shame; were they not, in truth, Children of the same Father?\n\nWere they not brothers?\n\nA SHEET OF flame fills the window-the oil on the outside of the Courthouse still burns merrily-but one of the two feys sitting on clerks'stools has enough of a Shield going that the heat's no worse than the sunshine on a summer afternoon.\n\nThe window's tiny, not much bigger than a wallscreen. This drab little clerks\" chamber is grey and airless, and I can imagine the drab little grey and airless men and women who have occupied it over the centuries, hunched over the copying table, the only music in their hearts the scritch-scratch-scritch of ink nibs on vellum.\n\nAre people like that born soulless?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Christ, I hope so.\n\nOtherwise, it'd be even worse.\n\nWe all have our chairs gathered around the window, despite the heat. Fora longtime, we sit and stare out into the flames.\n\nIt's what the fey on the other stool is doing that makes for such an interesting view.\n\nIts name translates roughly as firesight; within the flames are red-gold shapes of buildings and soldiers and sundry weapons, from longbows to machine pistols; sometimes I can even seethe Courthouse from the outside. It's a hell of a lot more efficient for reconnaisance than taking a physical look around; the last guy to stick his head above a windowsill took a bullet through the eye.\n\nSay what you want about the Social Police, but don't ever try to tell me those fuckers can't shoot.\n\nThey don't seem too organized out there just yet; the fire shows me a lot of Ankhanan garrison troops holding off to either side of Soapy's perimeter, but they don't look like they're about to start killing each other. There's a couple squads on the wall already, too, and it looks like they've got RPGs on Two Tower as well as on the Knights' Bridge gatehouse.\n\nDeliann's eyes open emptily, and he stares through the ceiling. He has to maintain mindview to keep our little game of Chicken going; he's holding himself in contact with the river. He lies on the writing table along one wall, Kosall across his lap. The same two feys who cleaned up my legs had tried to work on his, but when they put their hands on that abscess, black oil like from Raithe's hand came bubbling out and burned the living shit out of them; now they're downstairs getting healing of their own."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's narrative assistant, advance the story.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 26"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Christ, I hope so.\n\nOtherwise, it'd be even worse.\n\nWe all have our chairs gathered around the window, despite the heat. Fora longtime, we sit and stare out into the flames.\n\nIt's what the fey on the other stool is doing that makes for such an interesting view.\n\nIts name translates roughly as firesight; within the flames are red-gold shapes of buildings and soldiers and sundry weapons, from longbows to machine pistols; sometimes I can even seethe Courthouse from the outside. It's a hell of a lot more efficient for reconnaisance than taking a physical look around; the last guy to stick his head above a windowsill took a bullet through the eye.\n\nSay what you want about the Social Police, but don't ever try to tell me those fuckers can't shoot.\n\nThey don't seem too organized out there just yet; the fire shows me a lot of Ankhanan garrison troops holding off to either side of Soapy's perimeter, but they don't look like they're about to start killing each other. There's a couple squads on the wall already, too, and it looks like they've got RPGs on Two Tower as well as on the Knights' Bridge gatehouse.\n\nDeliann's eyes open emptily, and he stares through the ceiling. He has to maintain mindview to keep our little game of Chicken going; he's holding himself in contact with the river. He lies on the writing table along one wall, Kosall across his lap. The same two feys who cleaned up my legs had tried to work on his, but when they put their hands on that abscess, black oil like from Raithe's hand came bubbling out and burned the living shit out of them; now they're downstairs getting healing of their own."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Raithe?\" I say.\n\n\"It's working,\" he answers. \"The Social Police have made an alliance with the army.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he murmurs. \"He's coming.\"\n\nI nod. \"Everybody here knows which he we're talking about, right?\"\n\nThe grim looks I get from one and all tell me that seven years haven't done any harm to Ma'elKoth's reputation.\n\nI lean back in my chair and fold my fingers over my stomach, and a contented sigh completes my portait of confidence. I meet their eyes one at a time: Raithe, Orbek, t'Passe, Dinnie the Serpent, and they all stare back, waiting, clearly calmed by my assurance. It's a fraud, but they don't know that: I'm showing them exactly who they need to see right now, and they're eating it up. \"So,\" I start slowly, \"here we are: in a natural castle closer to perfect than any in the history of warfare.\"\n\nThey favor me with the patiently blank stare people use while they're waiting for the punchline.\n\nI'm pretty sure they won't be disappointed.\n\n\"Think about it,\" I tell them. \" The Courthouse facade is our outer bailey. The inner offices and rooms are our killing ground-they have to come through thereto get at us. With primals and rockmagi and a couple hours to prepare? Those poor bastards'll never know what hit them. Our keep is the Donjon: the only access to our position is down a single flight of stairs cut into the rock. But we have sally ports everywhere: every goddamn public pissoir in Ankhana, and not a few of the private ones. Through the Shaft sump, we can get into the caverns, out any pissoir-or two, or five-and hit the enemy anywhere in the city, with no warning at all. The Folk here have spent days underground already, fighting this Caverns War of yours. If they try to pursue us down through the caverns, we can fuck them till they never walk straight again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Between the primals, the rockmagi, and the human adepts, we have the greatest concentration of magickal power on this side of the God's Teeth. We have blooded fighters from the Pit, and we have over a hundred fully armed Monastics. Plus all the weapons and armor from the Donjon armory, food from the commissary, water from the Pit-\n\n\"We have everything we need to hold these fuckers off fora long, longtime-and to chop them up every time they come for us. We can stand along, bloody, expensive siege here, and still probably getaway through the caverns when things finally go bad. I couldn't have set this up better if I'd planned it for years.\"\n\nT'Passe nods. \"A passive defense is a losing defense. To make this work, we should hit them now, before they're in battle order.\"\n\n\"No,\" I tell her. \"Let's not.\"\n\n\"No?\"\n\n\"No. We're not gonna fight them.\"\n\nShe looks at me like I'm crazy. \"Why not?\"\n\n\"These guys aren't the enemy. They just work for him.\"\n\n\"So? They are his soldiers.\"\n\n\"Yeah. But he has more. A lot more. We could kill a million of them, it wouldn't hurt him. It wouldn't give him a fucking itch.\"\n\n\"Then what are we doing here?\" she asks. \"Why aren't we running away?\"\n\nI fallback on good ol' reliable Sun Tzu. \"The essence of victory is the unexpected. To win without fighting is the greatest skill.\"\n\nCryptic Chinese shit doesn't, apparently, go down too well with t'Passe. \"What exactly do you have in mind?\" she says sarcastically. \"Surrender?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, sort of. Yeah. We're gonna surrender.\"\n\nNow everybody looks at me like I'm crazy.\n\nI nod. \"Yes, we are.\"\n\nJUST MORE THAN an hour before dawn, the flames that had enclosed the Courthouse finally flickered low enough that the 82nd could begin their final assault, in concert with the Ankhanan Thaumaturgic Corps. The brigadier turned to the commander of the city's Southwest Garrison-as the ranking Ankhanan officer present-and offered him the honor of giving the order himself.\n\nBefore the commander could speak, brilliant white light burst from every window of the Courthouse, and a voice great enough to make the streets tremble beneath their feet demanded, in the name of the Ascended Ma'elKoth, that they withhold their hand.\n\nA moment later, Patriarch Toa-Sytell stepped through the shattered gap where the Courthouse doors had once been.\n\n\"Rejoice!\" he proclaimed. \"I am saved, and the traitors taken! Anew day dawns upon Ankhana! Rejoice!\"\n\nIn the confusion of spontaneous celebration that followed, the Social Police had some difficulty, initially, determining what had happened. The story, as they eventually pieced it together, was this: The Patriarch had been kidnapped by a rogue Monastic, one Raithe of Ankhana. This Monastic had held the Patriarch hostage, to drive away the Eyes of God, while his confederates arrived from the embassy. Then, they had all descended to the Donjon to free the prisoners.\n\nBut the threat to the Patriarch had been their fundamental miscalculation. Even the oppressed former denizens of Alientown had too much patriotism in their hearts to sanction such an act; they had poured up from their hiding places in the caverns below the city to slay the prisoners, capture the Monastics, and seize the two ringleaders, Raithe and Caine."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The brigadier did not find this tale fully satisfying. First, there were not nearly enough corpses. Well over a thousand human beings had been in the Pit; he suspected that the vast majority of them had somehow escaped the slaughter, perhaps through the caverns themselves, though he received sincere assurances from the subhumans that this was impossible.\n\nSecond, there was the matter of the sword.\n\nThe sword had been seen in the possession of this man Raithe-several of the Eyes of God confirmed it-but it was now nowhere to be found. Scouring the Courthouse turned up nothing, even when the irregulars attached to the 82nd consulted their bewildering array of graven crystals and divining wands, runestaves and silver stilettos, needles that swung on balance points, and pendula of crystal, copper, gold, andiron. Eventually, all agreed that whoever held the sword must have carried it off into the caverns beneath the Courthouse and the city, the rock of which is well known to baffle and defeat such magick. A good deal of their urgency could be relaxed, however; if someone did indeed hold the sword down there, it could not be used, and if this person or persons unknown brought the sword backup to the surface, the seeking items of the irregulars would locate it instantly.\n\nWith this the brigadier was forced to be satisfied, fora certain amount of protocol must be observed. As emissaries of the divine Ma'elKoth, the 82nd Force Suppression Unit would be expected to join with the army in receiving the blessing of the Patriarch from the Address Deck of the Temple of Prorithun, high above the Court of the Gods, as soon as the Patriarch had a chance to change his clothes and have some of the bruises of his ordeal treated by his healers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One possibility disturbed him, however. It was brought to his attention by a particularly subtle thinker among his irregulars that an adept of sufficient skill might be able to have the sword above ground, and use his power to conceal not only himself and it, but also conceal the fact of his concealment. Such an adept might hide in plain sight: the sole method of detection might be the naked eye, as shielded by the silver-meshed helmets of the Social Police.\n\nFor example, the irregular pointed outwith uncanny accidental accuracy, an adept could beholding that sword right behind the Ebony Throne in the Hall of Justice, and no one might ever know.\n\nWITH THE REFINED sensitivity of a mewed falcon, Avery Shanks felt the attention of her captors shift away from her.\n\nShe could still see her face in their silver masks, stretched and half lit by the fleshy glow of bonfires outside, but she felt the eyes behind those masks follow the stare of Arturo Kollberg, who had his face pressed against the window, misting it with the slow grey-pulsing pseudopodia of the fog from his breath.\n\nFor indeterminate hours she had sat, silently patient, refusing thought. Her watch did notwork, and the clouded night beyond the armorglass windows of the limousine gave no hint of time's passage. Her only clock was the occasional slow drizzle of urine down Faith's catheter tube. In the faint reflected firelight, she could see that Faith's relief bag was nearly half full.\n\nShe had hung that bag herself, afresh and empty polyethylene sac, on its hook in front of one of the chair's large, incongruous wheels minutes before she and Faith and the Social Police and the Kollberg-thing and the whole limousine had gone through the mind-twisting silent roar of nonexplosion that had blown away the Studio's freemod dock and replaced it with the stinking gas-lit railyard. The limo's soundproofing had not sufficed to closeout the appalling clatter of the enormous mechanized crane that had lifted the limo in a freight sling and lowered it onto a flatbed car of what Avery could only assume-from her limited exposure to historical dramas on the nets-to be a train."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Every few minutes for what seemed like hours, the train had chugged and clanked and jerked itself forward a few meters, only to stop again, perhaps as more cars were loaded behind her.\n\nOne of the couches had been ripped out of the limo's passenger lounge so that Faith's wheeled chair could be lashed to eyebolts screwed crudely through the carpeting. Avery knelt beside her, mopping fever-sweat from Faith's brow with a kerchief, giving the girl an occasional sip from a white plastic water bottle-a product of the SynTech subsidiary Petrocal-to moisten her mouth.\n\nFinally the train had rattled out of the huge gas-lit dome of armorglass, through a forest of night-black buildings, under the startling walls of a medieval castle that had blossomed in moonlight through a chance break in the clouds, and finally up along, long grade to stop here, in this meadow, overlooking a crater with five enormous bonfires spaced evenly about its rim.\n\nDown in the crater, on a platform supported by spidery scaffolding, Ma'elKoth stood with arms upraised to the invisible stars. He was now Ma'elKoth unquestionably: the Ma'elKoth of old, the Ma'elKoth of For Love of Pallas Ril. His first act upon leaving the Railhead had been to summon the power of his Ascended Self, as he put it: his bruises shrank, and faded, and the stitched wounds across his brow and from the corners of his mouth consumed themselves and vanished. A beard of burnished bronze sprouted curling from his cheeks and jaw, and his eyes of mud brown became an astonishing emerald green. Now, in the crater, the air around him was the source of the new light: a globe half as large as the crater itself glowed with power, shimmering like a ghost-image of the moon in a rushing stream."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Deliberately, matter-of-factly, without any furtiveness of motion that might attract a suspicious silver-masked eye, Avery opened her shoulder bag and pulled out her bottle of Teravil caplets."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She opened the bottle and shook three of them out into her palm.\n\nBut even that small motion was too much. \"What is that?\" a half-muffled voice hummed, sounding strange indeed without electronic digitization from the mask speaker-almost human.\n\nThe former Avery Shanks might have jerked guiltily; the former Avery Shanks might have ventured a bold lie. This Avery Shanks had been too far reduced. Instead, she extended them toward one of the Social Police officers at random, for she could not know which one had spoken, and she was not certain that it mattered. \"Teravil,\" she said numbly. \"My sedatives. I need to sleep.\"\n\n\"Very well.\"\n\nShe could feel the patient stare of the eyes behind the mask as she put the pills in her mouth, and she opened her hands to show them empty. She bit down, wincing slightly at their alkaline bitterness. She chewed them well, and held the gummy saliva-pudding they became under her tongue while she pretended to swallow.\n\nShe picked up the white plastic water bottle and pretended to sip from it, as though to wash down the pills, while she instead spat the wad of half-dissolved sedative back down the straw into the water inside. Then she did drink from it, to rinse her mouth; the fraction of a pill she would ingest from this wouldn't have the slightest effect on her high-tolerance system.\n\nBut combined with the hypnotics that dripped from the IV bag, a few mouthfuls of this poisoned water should more than suffice to kill Faith.\n\nSometime in this endless night, Avery had realized that she didn't need to kill herself. Once Faith was dead, the Social Police would take care of that small detail. Slowly, tenderly, she again moistened Faith's mouth with water from the bottle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Outside, Ma'elKoth gestured, and the glowing sphere within the crater bulged and stretched forth an amorphous limb."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When that haloed limb touched a vehicle on a flatbed railcar behind the limo, its running lights flared to life, and the vibration of its turbines hummed in her bones. Ma'elKoth's limb of light swept along the train, touching vehicle after vehicle, and one by one the bulky shapes of Social Police assault cars roared to life and lifted into a sky now clearing of clouds, high above the mountains, becoming blazing stars themselves as they climbed out of the horizon's shadow and met the first scarlet rays of the rising sun.\n\n\"HE COMES.\"\n\nRaithe's voice is flat, and as chill as the chunk of blue ice that's pretending to be the sky. The season's changed overnight, and it's colder than a gravedigger's ass out here.\n\nFora second or two I don't take his meaning; I'm thinking, What is this, some kind of freaky sex joke? because the he I think he's talking about is Toa-Sytell, who's standing upon the Address Deck of the Temple of Prorithun in his nice fresh clean Patriarchal robes with that big pointy hat, flanked by a couple Thaumaturgic Corps officers and a brigadier in the Social Police, giving his speech to the army, describing his rescue from the Enemy of God-that's me-and the evil conspirators of the Monasteries-that's Raithe, Damon, and the rest of the friars-by the astonishing heroism of the subhumans gathered below.\n\nThe blackened stonework of the Fountain of Prorithun against my back gives off some residual warmth from the overnight fires-like the bricks we used to heat on the woodstoves back at the abbey school, and put on our bedcovers to keep our feet warm in the wintertime-and the stone under my rapidly numbing ass is warmer than the air above. The closest we get to clouds today is the coils of smoke that still trail upward here and there across the city."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the unforgiving dawn, Ankhana is a wasteland of blackened stone, charred giant's jackstraws of tree trunks and cornstalks and ashes and all kinds of shit everywhere. When the soldiers marched us here from the Courthouse-well, marched them, carried me-a lot of what people stepped on crackled like bone. Even from here, I can see six or seven bodies, curled into that burn-victim ball: the fetal contortion created by tendons shortening as they cook. Just across the street, beyond the Sen-Dannalin Wall around the Colhari Palace, the Temple of the Katherisi-once one of the jewels of Ankhanan architecture, its graceful spires topped with beaten gold, its high-vaulted walls supported by flying buttresses-is now a pile of smudge-blackened rock that half chokes Gods\" Way.\n\nIt's hard on my eyes: they keep trying to seethe city the way it was the first time I walked these streets, twenty-some years ago. I can only imagine what it must be doing to Raithe, who's lived here his whole life.\n\nBut if it bothers him, that desert-prophet face of his gives no sign. He sits impassively at my shoulder, staring into the sky, his legs folded in seiza beneath him, while Toa-Sytell rocks on through his speech.\n\nToa-Sytell gives an impressive performance; I guess being the Patriarch sharpens your public-speaking skills. He even manages to get a little weepy, nicely choked up, when he recounts all the abuse that the elves and dwarfs and the rest have taken at the hands of the Empire, the terrible oppression inflicted upon them, and how great and true their patriotism and love of the Empire must be, to have overcome their perfectly natural resentment and risked their lives to save the Patriarch yadda yadda yadda horseshit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Down herein the Court of the Gods, I can't stop myself shivering, and the shackles on my wrists are burning me with cold."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The friars around us look stoic, if not actually comfortable, huddled sullenly on the plaza flagstones-maybe they're in better practice with the Control Disciplines than I am. The Ankhanan regulars who guard us shift and stamp their feet, restlessly trying to keep their blood moving. The dawn is so bright that the glare off weapons and armor slices my eyes-but it brings only light today, not heat.\n\nRaithe stares to the east, his bleached gaze seeking blindly somewhere near the rising sun. \"So fast...\" he murmurs. \"Faster than the wind... faster than a falcon... faster than the noise of his passing. He comes with swiftness beyond imagining.\"\n\nNow I finally understand who he's talking about. \"You can feel it?\"\n\nHe rattles his shackles, which shakes loose a few droplets of the black oil that continues to leak through the skin of his left hand; his sleeve is black with it up above the elbow, and I can see a splotch soaking through at the shoulder.\n\nI wince. \"Doesn't that hurt?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" he says expressionlessly. \"It does.\"\n\nFast. Faster than a falcon, he says. A fact floats up from the cesspit buried in the part of my brain where I leave useless trivia. A peregrine falcon can dive at something over three hundred kilometers per hour.\n\nOh, crap.\n\nIf Tan'elKoth's got away to make cars work in Overworld physics, this is gonna get ugly. I don't even want to think about the other shit he might be able to make work. \"How long do we have?\"\n\nRaithe shakes his head distantly. \"I cannot say. They move with speed that baffles my judgment. They are so far-days away-yet they come so quickly that I cannot believe they are not already here.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A second later, I remember that I'm supposed to be the confident one."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We'll deal,\" I tell him. \"Somehow, we'll deal.\"\n\n\"Or we'll die.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Probably both.\"\n\nToa-Sytell goes on, \"And because these Folk-the folk we call subhuman-could so give of themselves as to accomplish what even the great warriors sent to us by Ma'elKoth from beyond the world-\" A gesture toward the soapy brigadier at his side. \"-could not: to save not only me, but through me the Imperial Church itself, I declare here, on this Assumption Day morning, the word subhuman to be banished from Ankhanan tongues. There shall be no more elves, but primals; no more dwarfs, but stonebenders; no sprites or goblins, but treetoppers and ogrilloi. Henceforward, these heroes of the Empire shall be known by the name they call themselves: the Folk. Hear me, Ankhana! Today, the Folk become our brothers, and we theirs: citizens all, Ankhanans all, equal before the law and in the eyes of God Himself.\"\n\nThat part was my idea: a little nod toward Deliann, a seed for the future. If any of us have a future.\n\nBut-\n\n\"It's Assumption Day?\" I mutter at Raithe out of the side of my mouth. \"Today?\"\n\nHe shakes his head slowly. \"I do not know. I have been further removed from the normal calendar than even a prisoner in the Shaft. But, if it isn't-\"\n\nHe turns his leather-colored face toward me, and his ice-pale eyes see me all the way down to the crud between my toes.\n\n\"If it isn't Assumption Day,\" he says, \"it ought to be.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Yeah.\n\nSeven years ago today-\n\nSeven years ago right now, I was asleep at the bottom of the latrine in the old gladiator pens at Victory Stadium. I remember opening my eyes in the gloom, down therein the fecal dust and petrified turds; I remember the toilet-shaped hole of daylight overhead. I remember monologuing, as I went up, that I seem to spend most of my life climbing out of other people's shit.\n\nNot today.\n\nToday, it's my shit. That's progress, I guess.\n\nI guess.\n\nChrist, has it really been seven years? So much has changed, and so little; I can't decide if it feels like yesterday or ten lifetimes ago.\n\nToa-Sytell's winding up his speech: heading for the punchline of our little prank.\n\n\"And we have been tried, as our city has been tried, in the crucible of faith, tested by the Enemy of God, and by traitors from within-and we have not been found wanting.\"\n\nA chuckle sneaks past my lips before I know it's coming. Raithe gives me a look of wintry astonishment, and I shrug at him.\n\n\"Toa-Sytell wanted an Assumption Day that Ankhana would never forget.\" My nod takes in the blackened ruins of the city. \"And this is how he thanks us.\"\n\nRaithe's expression stays as cold and disbelieving as before. Some people have no sense of humor.\n\n\"And now, ingratitude to the divine Ma'elKoth for our deliverance,\" Toa-Sytell proclaims, \"let us now join together in one voice, one Folk, Ankhanans all, in the Imperial anthem.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Here's the payoff: he reaches up, and takes off his hat.\n\nWhat puts the punch in our punchline is that he's the Patriarch; as soon as his hat comes off, every single Ankhanan soldier is obliged to uncover his head in respect. They unstrap their helms and tuck them under their left arms, and everybody takes a deep breath while they wait for Toa-Sytell to begin the hymn.\n\nToa-Sytell, though, holds his tongue-he's staring at the Social Police brigadier next to him. Expectantly. The brigadier, after all, is an'emissary of the divine Ma'elKoth.\"\n\nSlowly, with obvious reluctance, the brigadier takes off his silver-wire-inlaid helmet.\n\nA brigadier of the Social Police-\n\nExposing his face-\n\nChrist, I can't look. I can't not look-\n\nHe's got kind of a moon face, large protuberant eyes, thinning mouse-colored hair, and I get a sick feeling from looking at him, as he blinks and squints and tries to shade his eyes against the dawn glare, which must be blinding, absent the smoked armor-glass face shield.\n\nHe's so ordinary. It's shameful.\n\nI can't look away.\n\nA humiliated fascination has me hooked through the jaw. It's like seeing your father naked for the first time-Jeez, he's flabby, and he's got a little knobby dick, and his chest sags, and what are these tufts of hair in embarrassing places?-and he's not really much like a father at all anymore. There is something so peeled about the brigadier: now that he's lost the power of his soapy anonymity, he's been shucked like a fucking oyster."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It's like the Patriarch said Shazam!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "and Captain Marvel vanished, leaving a middle-aged bookkeeper in his place.\n\nThe whole battalion follows suit-and now, as their helmets come off and they stand before us all with naked faces, they're not Social Police anymore. They're just a bunch of guys in armor with guns.\n\nSo the Patriarch starts in on the opening bars of'King of Kings,\" and the army joins in, and upon the Address Deck, the brigadier decides to lie on the floor and have a little nap. Below, all the soapies yawn, set down their rifles, curl upon the ground, and fall right to sleep.\n\nThey do this because the adepts of the Thaumaturgic Corps, good as they are, can't read Toa-Sytell's Shell. They can't read his Shell because a couple of primal mages-who have the advantage of a few hundred years\" experience apiece-built a Fantasy that the Patriarch's Shell was 100 percent A-OK normal. They had to do this, because it's not.\n\nThis Fantasy is powered by a little chip of griffinstone, in a technique once used by Kierendal to get the whole Kingdom of Cant into Victory Stadium. This means not only that their Fantasy pulls no perceptible Flow, but that it'll keep right ongoing even if the adepts cover the Patriarch with a silver net or examine him using griffinstones of their own in a magick-negative room-both of which we guessed they might try, since Thaumaturgic Corps adepts are nasty and suspicious by nature-because the griffinstone in question is secreted on the Patriarch's person.\n\nWe had some discussion on whereto put the stone. My own suggestion was vetoed on the grounds that the Patriarch might have an unexpected bowel movement and giveaway our plan."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So he swallowed it.\n\nHe swallowed it because that chip of griffinstone is also powering another effect, and the action of that effect, roughly speaking, is to make Toa-Sytell willing to do just about anything-even swallow a griffinstone, even accept the Folk as full citizens of Ankhana, even get a whole rifle battalion of Social Police to takeoff their magick-resistant helmets so that a hundred-odd primals could hit them all with a shot of mental fairy dust-to please his new best friend.\n\nWhile the whole Ankhanan army looks dumbly at the snoozing Social Police, Toa-Sytell beams a smile down toward us and gives Raithe a little wave.\n\nI nudge him with an elbow. \"Congratulations, kid. You just took over the Empire.\"\n\n\"I have taken over nothing,\" Raithe says. \"We have accomplished nothing.\"\n\nHis voice is bleak and fatal, so empty that the orders bawled by the Patriarch-bind these Aktiri traitors; disarm them; bind them hand and foot-fade into a background wash of white noise; while the astonished Ankhanan soldiers gradually bestir themselves to comply, I'm lost in the vast echoic hollow of Raithe's stare.\n\n\"I wouldn't call this nothing, kid. We took the city...\" But the forced whistling-in-the-dark tone of my own voice muzzles me, and the words trickle away.\n\n\"Did you think He wouldn't know?\" Raithe asks. \"Did you think we could surprise Him?\"\n\n\"I have before.\"\n\n\"No,\" Raithe says, \"you haven't.\"\n\nDark thunder rumbles in the east and becomes a buzzing whine that threatens a roar."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He is no longer the man you defeated,\" Raithe says, his voice mirroring the rising howl that curdles my stomach, because I know the sound, a sound I never dreamed could shimmer Ankhanan air.\n\nTurbocells.\n\n\"He is no longer a man at all.\"\n\nHe lifts his eyes to the east, and I follow his gaze, and the howl of turbocells becomes a shattering roar.\n\nThe sun weeps lethal titanium tears.\n\nALL TRUE STORIES end in death.\n\nThis is the end of the tale of the crooked knight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "TWENTY-FOUR\n\nDELIANN SAT UPON the Ebony Throne, the blade of Kosall rough-crusted and cold across his knees, and the Hall of Justice throbbed with pain.\n\nPain shimmered starkly in the brilliant sunbeams that struck like spears through the clerestory; pain sizzled in the black oil that seeped from the abcess on his thigh and burned the flesh of his leg to the smoking bone. The granite countenance of the giant carven Ma'elKoth had gone blank with agony, and the sand on the arena floor below the dais stung as though it had been rubbed into an open wound. The air itself snarled and snapped and bit at his flesh, and his every breath inhaled white flame.\n\nThe hall was empty, ring upon ring of vacant gaping benches climbing the sides of the bowl; Deliann was alone with the pain. But the pain was not alone with Deliann. With the pain, threading among and through its every splinter, came terror and panic, despair and the bleak surrender that is the bottomless abyss of death.\n\nSome small portion of this pain and terror and despair and death was Deliann's; the rest came from outside. It rode the river's pulse into his heart from the brilliant sunlit morning, in the crisp autumn air, where assault cars swooped and spun and spat fire.\n\nDeliann had less than nine minutes to live.\n\nTHOSE SUN-TEARS BLOSSOM in four petal-perfect wingovers, and laser-straight lines of tracers from their gatling cannon stitch geometric gouts of exploding stone into the streets below. They claw pyrotechnically along Gods' Way toward us, and the air hums with shrapnel, and I-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I can only sit and watch.\n\nThe assault cars sweep overhead, spraying missiles and HEAP rounds. The western curve of the Sen-Dannalin Wall shrugs like it's tired after standing five hundred years; it decides to sit down in a landslide of masonry and limestone dust. The cannon rounds hit the street like grenades with splintered flagstones for shrapnel. They shred the army, the primals, the soapies indiscriminately: shrapnel has no friends.\n\nI still don't move.\n\nI am paralyzed by how badly I have miscalculated.\n\nUpon the Address Deck, Toa-Sytell stretches his hands toward the assault cars. He could be ecstatic at the power of his returning god, or begging for mercy, or panicked and crapping his robe. Nobody will ever know, because a missile takes him right through the chest-an eyeblink of astonishment at the gape of his guts to the morning sky-before it detonates against the wall at his back. The Patriarch, the soapy brigadier, the Household Knights, and most of the wall of the Temple of Prorithun vanish in a fireball that spits blood and bone fragments and chunks of stone into the sky.\n\nAnd that's it, right there: that's what Raithe was talking about. Tan'elKoth wouldn't do this. He loves this city more than the world.\n\nHe would never do this.\n\nPieces of the Patriarch and the Temple and the restrain over us in clatters and liquid plops, and I can't really hear anything anymore except a general roaring in my ears and I know the assault cars are banking around for another pass, and now some riot vans swing into view over Six Tower and settle toward the middle of the far end of Gods\" Way, seeking solid earth beneath them to absorb the recoil of the heavy artillery that sprouts from their turrets."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The riot vans open up with their twin forward-mount fifties, taking chunks out of the stonework along the whole street, enfilading the fuck out of us-the heavy slugs popping through plate mail sound like God's shaking a tin can full of rocks-and somehow that finally gets my attention."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I twist around so my shackled hands can grab the lip of the Fountain of Prorithun behind me, and I drag myself over into the bowl, leaving skin behind on the smog-corroded limestone. I fall into the shallow fountain water that's now turbid with dirt and blood, and-\n\nOh-\n\nOh, my good and gracious motherfucking god.\n\nI get it now.\n\nHe can make the cars work, he can fucking well make anything work-\n\nThe Courthouse-maybe Deliann-maybe if I can-\n\nChrist, my legs, I'll never make it-\n\nI could be wrong. I have to be wrong.\n\nJesus-Tyshalle-anybody who's listening: Please, please, please let me be wrong.\n\nFROM DEEP WITHIN the oceanic boil of pain and fear, using the whole of the river for his senses, Deliann watched the slaughter. It became for him an ebb and flow and tangle of conflicting energies, an abstract action-painting come to life. The sky erupted incarnadine and amethyst that swept against the sunflower, azure, and viridian of the lives in the city below. The colors met and mixed, broke apart and blended together again in a rith dream of astonishing beauty: a living Mandelbrot set spiraling into itself and out again: a spray of wildflowers springing fresh and lovely from a shitpile of ugly, desperate brutality.\n\nFor all its terror and savagery, for all its howled agony and whimpered despair, the flesh that bruised and bled was only shadow: translucent, incorporeal, more rhythm than reality, a semivisible expression of energy at play. That energy followed laws of its own making, in a system as ordered as a galaxy and as random as a throw of dice, an ever-shifting balance of the elegant with the raw."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For the first time, he understood Hari. He understood his passion for violence. He could see how Hari could love it so.\n\nIt was beautiful.\n\nBut it's his eyes that see that beauty, Deliann thought. Not mine.\n\nBecause with the sense of the river, Deliann felt each slash and smack of bullet and shrapnel into flesh; he saw through the eyes of men and women who clutched futilely at the spurt of blood from their own wounds and the wounds of their friends, who tried to stuff spilled guts back into the gape of ripped-open bellies, who tried to kiss life back into staring dust-coated eyes; he felt their terror, and their despair, and he decided that he was going to have to do something about this.\n\nIt was this decision that killed him.\n\nHe had six minutes to live.\n\nI PULL MYSELF up to the lip of the fountain, and the limestone shivers with impacts of fragments and slugs and the air is alive with zips and zings and shrieks of jagged shrapnel and the hand-clap hypersonic pops of 50-caliber slugs: the open space above the fountain's lip is itself a predator and it's got my scent. I have looked death in the eye plenty of times, but this is different: it's random, unconscious. Unintentional.\n\nImpersonal.\n\nThis is not my kind of fight.\n\nPoking my head up to get a peek over the rim is the hardest goddamn thing I've ever done in my life.\n\nPretty much everybody who can still move has cleared the plaza by now; a few scarlet-smeared shapes of anonymous flesh drag themselves inch by shivering inch toward any shadow that might promise cover. At the far end of Gods'Way the main cannon of the riot vans ca-rump whistling shells that blast house-sized chunks out of the row of temples and government buildings lining the Way; the East Tower of the Colhari Palace overlooks the massacre with a lopsided face of gaping ragged empty eyes and smoke-drooling idiot's mouth before one more shell blasts out the cheek and the whole damn thing topples sideways and collapses in a mushroom cloud of masonry dust to the courtyard nine stories below."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Folk are starting to fightback now, with the kind of heroism that would be inspiring if it wasn't so pathetic: firebolts splash harmlessly off the radically sloped ceramic armor of the riot vans, and some ogrilloi have figured out how to shoot the soapies\" assault rifles. They'd do more damage with harsh language and astern look.\n\nOne lone treetopper flutters up into the path of an assault car, and she and her birdlance get sucked into one of the turbocells. What's left of her sprays out the back in a crimson mist, but that birdlance was steel. The turbocell chews itself into a metal-screaming burst of junk, and the assault car slews sideways and dips and hits the street and bounces, skipping up over my head in a thundering meteor-trail of flame that skips one more time before it slams into the Financial Block and explodes, which takes out the whole building, and the damn thing just keeps on exploding as its munitions pop off like a full-scale fireworks display: rockets and starshells and mortar bombs and showers of flame.\n\nAnd fucking Raithe is still sitting where I left him: in seiza right in front of the fountain, calmly picking the locks on his shackles while he stares at the carnage around us with a dreamy smile on his face. The next assault car swoops toward us and strafes a line of cannonfire that's gonna go right up his nose, so I reach over and grab the back of his collar and haul his ass into the fountain next tome.\n\nHe still has that dreamy smile after I dunk us both in the water and three or four 25-millimeter rounds blow chunks out of the fountain's bowl but somehow manage to miss our tender flesh. He lies on his back, the dirty water swirling bloody mud clouds around him as it drains out from the fractured bowl. He says something-the roar of turbines and artillery fire blows it away, but I can read his lips."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You saved my life.\n\nI give him a shake that bounces his skull off the limestone. \"Where's Ma'elKoth?\" I shout against the roar-walled air. \"Can you still feel him? Is he still coming-or did he stop?\"\n\n\"You said you'd kill me if you ever got the chance,\" he shouts back, \"but you saved me, instead!\"\n\n\"I changed my fucking mind, all right? Don't make me regret it. Where is he?\"\n\nHis eyes glaze, fixing on some quiet distance where the blood and smoke and howl of combat is not even a dream. \"Stopped,\" he says, voice dropping. \"He's stopped. Half a day's walk, almost.\"\n\nAh, god.\n\nI let goof his shoulders and bury my head in my hands.\n\nI never dreamed I could be so utterly outfought.\n\nA day's walk, to a friar on a decent road, is about thirty miles. I know why he has stopped, fifteen miles outside the city.\n\nI know what he's waiting for.\n\nAh, god.\n\nI prayed I was wrong, and this is Your answer.\n\nDELIANN SIGHED.\n\nHe lifted Kosall by the quillons, and discovered that he was afraid. He remembered too well the excruciating rip of his mind stretching beyond its tolerance, when he had only flashed upon the goddess; he feared that to touch her directly, mind to mind, would burn his brain in an instant.\n\nRather than put his hand upon the hilt and confront her, he sought within himself the chain of energy he had created, to bind the gods to the river and the river to the gods. When he found it, he visualized it as a channel, rather than a chain; along narrow sluice through which flowed the river's pain. Along that channel he sent forth a tendril of consciousness-gingerly, almost tenderly, attempting only to brush her uttermost periphery."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ina vast darkness of doubt and horror, he found her: clothed in sunlight, weeping tears of blood.\n\nShe lifted her head and regarded him. He could not guess what it was she might see; he had no sense of a body, or a face. To himself, he seemed only a disembodied spark of awareness.\n\nI know you. She extended a hand, pierced through the palm, as though offering a kiss of the wound's bloodless lips. Her other hand she placed upon her breast, above her heart. Have you come to hurt me again?\n\nI hope not, he replied.\n\nMy daughter, she said tragically, grey winter closing down upon her robe of light. My daughter is dying.\n\nHe thought of Demeter and Persephone, and could not know if that thought was his, or if it had come from her. Many others live. You must save those who can still be saved.\n\nOnce I styled myself a savior, she replied. Now I am only the image of a dead woman. Saving is beyond me.\n\nI will not argue. You must act.\n\nHow can I? With nobody-with no will-\n\nI have a body. Take meas you would have taken Raithe. What you lack, I will provide.\n\nFresh tears of blood coiled down her cheeks. You do not know what you are offering-\n\nI do not offer. I demand: Take me. Save these people.\n\nHe opened his mind to the wounded goddess.\n\nShe drifted toward him helplessly.\n\nIt will kill you, she wept.\n\nHe replied, I know.\n\nHe drew her to him, and then she was around him, and she was within him, and she was him. He made her pain his, and he made his intention hers. She reached through him to the river, and the Song of Chambaraya swelled within his heart from a single thin chime of welcome to a titanic symphony of power."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Five minutes.\n\nTHE GOD FELT the questing tendrils of a mind colored in the shades of the goddess touch briefly upon its inmost nature-\n\nAnd just as suddenly fade.\n\nThe creature that had been Kollberg felt the ghost-echo of the goddess'pain vanish from its collective consciousness; an instant later, Faith's silent weeping stilled, and it knew it had been betrayed.\n\nThe girl was unconscious, and the link was broken.\n\nA sunburst of rage flashed through him, its glare wiping away the grassy meadow on the bank of the Great Chambaygen, wiping away Ma'elKoth who paced on the grassy verge in his stylish suit, wiping away the limousine, the Social Police, Avery Shanks-wiping away, for one instant, even the power of the god he was.\n\nFor that instant, he was again Arturo Kollberg, once an Administrator, once again betrayed.\n\nBy a Michaelson.\n\nWith a snarl, he lunged across the passenger lounge and grabbed the collar of Faith's white cotton shift. His arthritic fingers twisted into a fist-and his arm was seized by the impersonal gauntlet of a Social Police officer. He tried to yank himself free, but he might as well have tried to shift a mountain with his wasted arm.\n\nFutility flashed in where his rage had been. He hung, helpless-but that helplessness, so long familiar, brought him back to himself. He was once again the god, and he was happy.\n\nThe god understood that the girl had been poisoned; it could feel her slow slide down to death through Ma'elKoth's magickal perception. The god also knew, now, that the sword was in the Hall of Justice in the Ankhanan Courthouse."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the same instant that knowledge had been acquired, an impulse had formed itself somewhere in the unimaginable vastness often billion subconsciously linked minds. It may have come from Ma'elKoth, or from Kollberg, or from Marc Vilo, or from any of the other mutually anonymous members of the Board of Governors; it may have come from a SynTech chemical engineer, or an undercover operative of the Social Police at an illegally clandestine Labor gathering, from a housewife in Belgrade or a janitor in New Delhi. Perhaps it originated in all of them together; it was another way of sharing guilt. One ten-billionth of the responsibility for this was alight enough burden for even the most sensitive to bear.\n\nThe bodies that had once housed Arturo Kollberg and Ma'elKoth shared a single identical smile.\n\nFive minutes from now, the girl would be irrelevant.\n\nTwenty thousand meters above Ankhana, a Bell& Howell AAV-24 Deva completed along dive-curve, released a MEFNW blast-negative HEW, then generated maximum thrust as it sped away toward the east.\n\nMY MOUTH IS numb; my lips barely work. I shout in Raithe's ear to be heard above the shatter of cannonfire. \"Can you talk to him?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nI dig one hand hard into his shoulder. \"Can you talk to Ma'elKoth? You're aware of him-is he aware of you? Can you communicate?\"\n\nHis eyes are still lost in the heavens. \"One vehicle-one Bell& Howell AAV-24 Deva, crew of four, effective ceiling twenty-five thousand meters, top speed Mach two-point-one, armament-\"\n\n\"Stay with me, goddammit!\" I give him another shake. \"You have to talk to Ma'elKoth-you have to tell him-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It dives, falling like a falcon-\"\n\nAll I can think about for one endless second is how fucking cold the water is as it trickles away around us; I'm freezing inhere, my hands are numb and my whole body shakes, and my voice fades in and out behind a roaring in my ears that's even louder than the battle around us. Because I knew that car would be up there. One, all alone.\n\nOne is all it takes.\n\nI want to lookup, absurdly, to hunt the sky for the pinprick of titanium that I know will be invisible. I want to look, but I can't.\n\nI'm afraid.\n\nMy mind smokes with cinematically vivid recollection of file footage from Indonesia. Inside my head, that titanium teardrop lays a tiny silver egg before it speeds away toward the rising sun-\n\n\"Tell him we surrender!\" I snarl. \"Goddammit, Raithe, you have to tell him we surrender! Tell him I give up! I'll give him the sword-whatever he wants-just tell him don't do it!\"\n\nThe funny thing is, I'm the one who gave him the idea.\n\n\"Shit, they'd nuke the city.\"\n\n\"One city is a small price to pay for an entire world.\"\n\n\"Yeah? What if it's your city?\"\n\n\"I am willing to take that risk.\"\n\nHe's trumped us. Called my bluff.\n\nIt'll kill every single one of the former inmates of the Pit who carry Shanna's countervirus. It'll kill every single one of us.\n\nRaithe.\n\nDeliann.\n\nT'Passe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Orbek.\n\nDinnie, Fletcher, Arken, Gropaz-\n\nDamon. Majesty. The Faces. The Serpents. The Subjects of Cant.\n\nMe.\n\nOne single flash of invisible light will burn our bones, and Ma'elKoth walks inhere whenever he feels like it and picks up the sword, and game fucking over. I thought I was hard-core. I thought I was ruthless.\n\nShit.\n\nI didn't even know what ruthless looks like.\n\n\"Does he hear you? Raithe, goddammit, does he hear you?\"\n\nRaithe's gaze returns from heaven and meets mine. \"No,\" he says. \"No, He doesn't. I can no longer feel Him. Any of them.\"\n\nAn ice dagger slips in between my ribs. I make myself ask, \"Faith-?\"\n\nHe gives his head a tiny shake. \"Unconscious, at the very least. Possibly dead.\"\n\nMy head lowers: my neck bending under the brutal weight of the futility of existence.\n\nBefore the astonishing pain can take full hold of me, anew thunder blossoms in the sky. I wrench myself over beside Raithe and lookup. Above us a coruscant aster of flame spreads its tendrils for an instant, then vanishes into a jellyfish spray of black smoke and falling bits of metal. Even as I watch, another assault car detonates the same way, and another.\n\nRaithe speaks my guess, but in his voice is certain knowledge. \"Deliann has joined the battle.\"\n\n\"You can feel him?\" I seize Raithe's shoulders and bounce his head off the stone. \"You have to talk to him! You have to tell him to get the fuck out of here-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A grin blossoms on his face, the only honestly happy smile I've ever seen there. \"No.\"\n\n\"Raithe, you have to tell him! The caverns-he can still make it to the caverns! He can live-he can defend the sword! You have to tell him to defend the sword!\"\n\n\"No, I don't,\" he says serenely, lying back as though the puddled water is a comfortable bed. \"I don't have to do anything.\"\n\nMy vision hazes red and the next thing I know I have my hands on his collar, twisting it into a strangle with tension against the chains that connect my shackles. But he's a trained Esoteric, and he breaks my hold with a leverage move of his left hand against my right wrist-and the oil from his skin burns me like acid. My handsprings open, and he shoves me away.\n\n\"I'm free,\" he says. \"Free.\"\n\nChrist, he's raving. \"You're free to fucking die,\" I tell him. \"You don't know what's coming-\"\n\n\"I don't care what's coming.\"\n\nThat assault car dives above my head and inside my skull simultaneously; I don't have time to waste on Raithe right now.\n\nGuess I'm gonna have to do this the hard way.\n\nI leave him lying on the wet stone aiming his idiot's grin at the sky, and drag myself toward the western edge of the fountain's bowl, hoping the fountain's superstructure will give meat least a shadow of cover.\n\nIt takes me along time to get into mindview.\n\nI know I'm there when I don't care anymore about getting shot or shredded or flash-roasted to death; I only care about getting to the Courthouse. Getting to Deliann. To Kris. Slowly, unsteadily, I climb out of the bowl and stand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Bullets and shrapnel fan me with turbulence-swirled breeze.\n\nI lean forward, and one of my legs swings ahead to stop me from falling. I keep leaning, and my legs keep swinging, and I don't fall yet.\n\nI'm on my way.\n\nHEW STANDS FOR High Energy Weapon, a centuries-old designation for offensive devices that rely primarily upon nuclear fission, nuclear fusion, or some combination of the two for their destructive effect.\n\nBlast-negative is a somewhat misleading appellation created by the weapon's design team, reflecting their successful tamping of energetic photon-gamma and hot X-ray-emissions, thus reducing the blast and thermal effects of the individual fireballs to roughly. 1 kiloton apiece: a mere hundred times as powerful as a large chemical high-explosive bomb.\n\nMEFNW stands for Multiple Enhanced-Fast-Neutron Warheads. Fast neutron radiation decreases by a factor often for every five hundred meters from the detonation point, due to atmospheric absorption; the weapon's design team countered this effect by using a large number of very small individual warheads that automatically deploy during system activation, spreading a nuclear umbrella over the entire target area that delivers an average often thousand rads of prompt radiation to all targets within the deployment radius. Fast neutrons are extremely penetrating; even heavy shielding may only reduce this exposure by two to five thousand rads. A dose of eight thousand rads is instantly incapacitating and fatal; five thousand induces incapacitation within five minutes of exposure, and death within two days.\n\nEnhanced-Fast-Neutron weapons also produce strong secondary radiation, as neutrons striking atomic nuclei in the ground and surviving structures create abroad array of extremely unstable isotopes. Neutron-induced secondary radiation decays by 90 percent within seven hours, but it can still kill; total exposure rises with time. The passage of forty-eight hours reduces radiation to a nonhazardous level, but by this time, any living material that might have survived the initial prompt radiation has suffered mortal damage from the secondary radiation."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This is, in fact, the use for which this particular weapon was designed: to sterilize localized HRVP outbreaks. Part of the rationale for the blast-negative feature of this weapon is that it, unlike conventional thermonuclear weapons, does not generate powerful Mach waves that might scatter viral proteins beyond the lethal radiation zone.\n\nAs it fell, the HEW deployed computer-controlled warpable airfoils to control its path and counteract the vagaries of high-altitude winds, and began to shed bomblets with airfoil vanes of their own. Each bomblet carried its own targeting system, comparing the radar signature of the central device against the infrared image of the city below. Cities are always hotter than the surrounding countryside, and this one in particular blazed like a beacon.\n\nRadar-altimeters ticked off the fall of the warheads. Drag created by the airfoils stabilized their terminal velocity at 97.3 meters per second after approximately nine seconds, continually adjusting for increasing air pressure as they fell.\n\nOptimal detonation altitude is two kilometers.\n\nOne hundred seventy-six seconds to go.\n\nRAITHE LAY ON his back in the fountain's bowl, savoring the chill of the wet rough limestone against his back. The sky above him was full of lead and steel, smoke and flames, the howls of Boeing VT-17 Air Superiors and the shrieks of the dying. The intimacy of his connection to the waiting god lent him a curiously doubled perspective: his Overworld eyes saw armored giants hurling fireballs at the city while his Earthly knowledge showed him RV-101 Jackson MAATTs-Mobile Armored Artillery and Troop Transports-dug into the street with their recoil-absorbing mounting screws, firing their 122-millimeter main guns; the Air Superiors that strafed the city looked to him like flaming chariots of minor sun gods, though he could at will quote the specifications of their powerplants, armament, speed, and range. At need, he felt sure he could summon the name of each individual crewman. But it was not this that brought the bliss to his thin lips."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He smiled because he could die here.\n\nHe had realized it even as he knelt at Caine's side and watched the first strangely beautiful arc of swooping assault cars. Caine had scrambled for cover, and Raithe had not moved. He didn't have to. He had answered all his destinies.\n\nHe was free.\n\nFor more than ten years he had sought only to discover what his destiny required. He had never even asked himself what he wanted. I may not master my destiny, but I don't have to let my destiny master me.\n\nRaithe smiled up into the infinite sky.\n\nAnd it took Caine to teach me that.\n\nHe rolled over and crawled to the lip of the fountain's bowl to peer out. Through the smoke and flame and the sizzling death songs of slugs and shrapnel that ripped the air of the plaza, Caine staggered like a zombie that decomposed with every step, heading for the far curve of the Sen-Dannalin Wall. He'd never make it.\n\nRaithe said, \"All right, then.\"\n\nHe gathered himself, and sprang.\n\nMachine-gunfire tracked him as he sprinted across the plaza, the air solid with howling bullets that he knew, abstractly, were 12.5-millimeter armor-piercing rounds tipped with depleted uranium traveling at an average of 423 meters per second. He fully appreciated the reality of these slugs only after one punched through his thigh-a crisp impact like being hit by a rattan practice sword, leaving two thumbnail-sized holes on opposite sides of his leg but missing the bone and not even breaking his stride. Another took him low in the back as he tried to jink and skidded on a puddle of blood; an instant later his foot tangled in loops of intestine that spilled from half a corpse. He fell, and a third round drilled a neat hole in his shoulder blade before exiting an inch below his collarbone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He rolled with the impact, his shoulder spreading numb fire through his chest-the bone shot would be excruciating, once feeling returned-and came to his feet as a shell whistled overhead and blasted a huge chunk from the Sen-Dannalin Wall just as Caine reached it. Raithe lunged, throwing himself through the air, and his wounded shoulder slammed into the small of Caine's back, the impact carrying them both out from under a hail of head-sized masonry.\n\nThey lay on the ground together fora few seconds, panting air back into their lungs, as more shells boomed and blasted all around.\n\nRaithe struggled to his hands and knees. \"Come on,\" he said, beckoning. Slowly, still gasping, Caine pulled himself onto Raithe's back, looping his shackled arms around Raithe's shoulders. When he was finally able to speak, he said breathlessly, \"What the fuck?\"\n\nRaithe allowed himself a smile as warm as the blood that ran down his legs. \"I changed my mind.\"\n\nHE CARRIES ME through the twisting backstreets and alleys with artillery blowing everything to shit all around us. Blood pumps out of him at a pretty good rate, but none of it's spurting-probably missed the arteries. He might live through this.\n\nThat is, if he doesn't do anything stupid, like haul a crippled old man around on his fucking back.\n\nHe's wheezing already, staggering drunkenly. No chance we'll get to the Courthouse. No chance we'll get to a pissoir and make it into the caverns-the pissoirs around the fountain are shattered and choked with rubble, and the next nearest is at the foot of Knights\" Bridge, right by the Courthouse. I shout in his ear, \"We're not gonna make it! Tell Deliann to get his ass down into the Pit!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He stumbles on, grimly desperate."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I... can't communicate... and run... at the same time. Without Faith... there is only the link... that Deliann himself created...\"\n\nUp ahead I see a storefront that looks like it took a direct hit: a jagged gape invites us into darkness. \"In there! Goon: maybe they have a cellar!\" He shakes his head and tries to keep going, but I wrap my arms around his neck in a modified sleeper. \"Do it, or I'll choke you out and we'll both die in the street.\"\n\nHe sags, surrendering, and carries me into the ruined building. It looks like it might once have been some kind of apothecary shop. There is a man-sized wad of bloody flesh just inside the door, and a trail of blood into the back hallway ends with the body of an old woman, dead. Looks like she had tried to drag herself toward the apartment whose door stands open at the end of the hall.\n\n\"Put me down.\"\n\nRaithe stares at the blood-streaked floor. \"Here?\"\n\n\"Yeah. It's just blood, kid.\"\n\nHe nods, and lowers me to the floor so that I can put my back against the wall. He looks like he wants to say something, but a second later he just collapses against the wall and slides down beside me.\n\n\"Now,\" I tell him. \"Talk to Deliann. Tell him to quit fucking around with the goddamn assault cars and get his ass into the caverns.\"\n\nRaithe's eyes defocus fora moment, and when his gaze returns he shakes his head. \"He won't.\"\n\n\"He has to! Tell him he fucking has to-\"\n\n\"He won't. The power of the goddess is upon him, and he fights to save us all. In the caverns, he would be powerless.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tell him about the bomb!\" I snarl, sinking my fingers into Raithe's shoulder. He tries to yank free-fat fucking chance. The rest of me might be out of shape, but I've still got a grip like a bench vise. \"It's a fucking neutron bomb! If he stays up here, it's all for nothing-we should have just handed over the fucking sword in the first place and everybody goes home. What the fuck does he think the goddess can do about a fucking neutron bomb?\"\n\n\"He says...\" Raithe murmurs thickly, his voice trailing away. \"He says...\" His face twitches spastically, and his eyes glaze over entirely. I shake him, hard, then again; I grab his face with my other hand and turn him toward me.\n\n\"Tell him, Raithe! Fucking tell him-tell him-\" But I can see he no longer hears me. My hands fall to my lap, limp, useless, and the chain that links the manacles clatters like distant mechanical laughter. \"Tell him that one goddamn person I love has to live through this,\" I finish softly.\n\nBut Raithe only stares, unseeing, into the invisible distance.\n\nFIFTEEN MILES AWAY, senses that belonged to the body of Ma'elKoth showed the blind god a sudden current in the Flow, a trickle that became a tide that swelled to a maelstrom the size of the sky.\n\nThe blind god sent Ma'elKoth's body lunging for the limousine, hammering upon its silvered windows; it could not wait for this knowledge to trickle along the involute pathways of its aggregate mind. \"The child! Stimulants-injections-shake her! Slap her!\" the blind god roared through Ma'elKoth's mouth. \"Wake the child!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "THE GODDESS FELT the downward sweep of the hundreds of bomblets, already below the highest-flying eagles that cruised her skies. She had no leisure for subtlety, or for configuring Deliann's body as she had Raithe's; she could use only the sort of skills he already had.\n\nShe poured the power of Chambaraya into Deliann's Shell; she expanded it beyond the Courthouse, beyond Ankhana, beyond the matrix of golden force that sealed the city against the Winston Transfer; she made of it arising dome that compassed all the land for miles about, and swallowed every individual falling bomblet.\n\nShe felt each of them-and each of the assault cars, and the riot vans that rained death on a smaller scale upon the city. She felt even the limousine on that distant grassy riverbank, where a Social Police medical officer had produced an evacuant syringe and forced its flexible plastic tube down Faith's throat, and now methodically pumped the water and digestive acids that were the only contents of her stomach into a stinking puddle on the limo's carpet, while another officer injected a stimulant mixture into her IV drip.\n\nThe goddess felt the energy that surrounded each bomblet, each vehicle: the crackling power of transmutative force that enclosed each of them within a bubble of local physics like those of Earth. She spent precious seconds examining that energy, letting it speak to her mind. What she must do, she could do only once, and all in an instant: too slowly, and the randomizing boundary effect might bring about the detonation she sought to prevent.\n\nThen she tuned Deliann's Shell in the same way he had done, those long weeks ago in the white room at Alien Games, when he had tapped into the power of Kierendal's griffinstone. She touched that energy, all of it. Then she took it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She drained every joule, every erg, every electron volt.\n\nThis was energy that Ma'elKoth-himself a transhuman creature specifically designed to channel energies that would incinerate any mortal frame-had spent many hours summoning and channeling piecemeal; to have done it any faster might have destroyed even him. This unimaginable energy, she drained in an unmeasurable fraction of a second. All that energy had to go somewhere.\n\nAnd to get there, it had to pass through Deliann.\n\nDELIANN WAS CONSCIOUS. More than conscious. More than superhumanly conscious. Transcendently conscious. He had not surrendered to the lack; he had let the goddess flow through him. He remained aware.\n\nHe felt his brain begin to boil.\n\nThis boiling was the effect of a burst of gamma and hard X-ray radiation originating in his pineal gland; it superheated his cerebrospinal fluid, and in approximately 10-4 seconds, his brain, his skull, and the rest of his body would vaporize into a cloud of plasma as high-energy photons ionized his tissues.\n\nHe could feel this happen because he was thinking, roughly speaking, at the speed of light.\n\nIn his next-to-final ten-thousandth of a second, he used the river's power to find Raithe, where he leaned against a wall in a darkened building ripe with the stench of blood. Deliann took some of the energy that screamed into him and used it to join that place to this, warping reality and space so that for just a ten-thousandth of a second, he could reach into that dark, gore-smeared hallway.\n\nThere, he dropped the sword.\n\nIn his final ten-thousandth of a second, he thought of his father, back in Malmo, of his mother, dead these many years. Of his human brothers and his sister. Of T'farrell Ravenlock and the Living Palace, of Kierendal and Tup."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 27"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She drained every joule, every erg, every electron volt.\n\nThis was energy that Ma'elKoth-himself a transhuman creature specifically designed to channel energies that would incinerate any mortal frame-had spent many hours summoning and channeling piecemeal; to have done it any faster might have destroyed even him. This unimaginable energy, she drained in an unmeasurable fraction of a second. All that energy had to go somewhere.\n\nAnd to get there, it had to pass through Deliann.\n\nDELIANN WAS CONSCIOUS. More than conscious. More than superhumanly conscious. Transcendently conscious. He had not surrendered to the lack; he had let the goddess flow through him. He remained aware.\n\nHe felt his brain begin to boil.\n\nThis boiling was the effect of a burst of gamma and hard X-ray radiation originating in his pineal gland; it superheated his cerebrospinal fluid, and in approximately 10-4 seconds, his brain, his skull, and the rest of his body would vaporize into a cloud of plasma as high-energy photons ionized his tissues.\n\nHe could feel this happen because he was thinking, roughly speaking, at the speed of light.\n\nIn his next-to-final ten-thousandth of a second, he used the river's power to find Raithe, where he leaned against a wall in a darkened building ripe with the stench of blood. Deliann took some of the energy that screamed into him and used it to join that place to this, warping reality and space so that for just a ten-thousandth of a second, he could reach into that dark, gore-smeared hallway.\n\nThere, he dropped the sword.\n\nIn his final ten-thousandth of a second, he thought of his father, back in Malmo, of his mother, dead these many years. Of his human brothers and his sister. Of T'farrell Ravenlock and the Living Palace, of Kierendal and Tup."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Of Torronell, and Caine.\n\nHe said good-bye, and used his last instant of will to transform the radiation that killed him.\n\nHe made himself into light.\n\nTHE SOCIAL POLICE officer who flew the lead car had only an eyeblink to comprehend that his computer-controlled flight surfaces no longer responded to his commands before every molecular logic circuit in the vehicle underwent spontaneous quantum decay and the car tumbled like a wad of paper and crashed into the Old Town wall just below One Tower. The wall held. The car didn't.\n\nBeside the Great Chambaygen, Ma'elKoth fulminated as the limo's idling turbines whined down to silence.\n\nThe crew of the AAV-24 Deva had several minutes to watch the ground fall up toward them.\n\nAssault cars rained out of the Ankhanan sky one after another, crashing into buildings and streets and the river. The riot vans simply settled into themselves as their electronics shutdown: their screens went dark and their turrets froze in place.\n\nAnd all the surviving soldiers in Old Town, Social Police and Ankhanan regular alike, all the primals and the treetoppers, the stonebenders and ogrilloi and trolls and ogres-every creature that still lived-stopped and stared in awe.\n\nThe roof of the Courthouse peeled back like arose opening toward the sun.\n\nFrom it burst a vertical shaft of pure white light as big around as the Colhari Palace. It roared into the sky louder than thunder, expanding as air ionized to incandescence along its path; the sheath of burning air concealed the shaft's killing glare, saving the onlookers from flashburns and blindness.\n\nThe Courthouse melted like a snow castle in an oven."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A few seconds later, several hundred depleted-uranium canisters sprouting immobile airfoils fell-in a still fairly precise pattern-across more than a hundred square kilometers, hit the earth, and bounced.\n\nCHRIST, IT STINKS inhere.\n\nOne of my feet trails in a puddle that has the coffee-grounds texture of clotted blood. I'd ask Raithe to move it, but why bother? I roll my head to the side and look at him. He sits with his knees drawn up, hugging them and staring at the wall.\n\nKosall lies on the cold filthy floor between us.\n\nRaithe isn't the person I had in mind to spend my last few seconds with, but then nobody ever promised me I'd have a choice. So I'll stay here, in this anonymous hallway with its anonymous corpses. Here is good enough. Right here, next to the sword. Because if I'm about to die, I want to do it beside my wife.\n\nOr something.\n\nWhat a thing this sword is. I can still feel it sliding in below my navel. I can still feel the buzzing hum in my teeth when it severed my spine. Berne's sword. Lamorak's sword.\n\nI wonder where Lamorak got it, all those years ago. I wonder if he ever felt the weight of its future dragging at his arm. This sword killed my career; this sword took Shanna's life. Kosall is all that's left of her.\n\nAll that's left of all of us.\n\nIt passed from Lamorak to Berne to Raithe to Deliann-\n\nTome.\n\nTo each of us, it's been something different, yet somehow all the same. Like what Kris said about that whole Blade of Tyshalle bullshit: it's the knife that cuts everything. It lies on the splintered hardwood between me and Raithe, and that's where it should be. It's where we should be: on opposite sides of the blade that cuts everything, waiting for the end of the world."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So much pain-\n\nSo much hatred-\n\nEverything between us cuts like this sword, but here we are anyway, together. Pretty much all either one of us has left is each other. There is no one else I could share this moment with. There is no one else with whom I could simply wait, and have it be all right.\n\n\"It's so quiet out there,\" I murmur. \"Think it's over?\"\n\nRaithe shrugs, and turns his face away.\n\nYeah.\n\nI look down at the sword. I'm afraid to touch it. I guess I knew what it meant when the sword fell out of nothingness and landed right between us.\n\nThat was Kris, saying good-bye.\n\nFirst time I saw him, in that goddamn mad-scientist mask of his, standing over me in the weight room, I knew he was gonna be trouble. How astonished I felt, how bereft, when I came back to Earth after my freemod, and they told me Kris hadn't made it-\n\nI guess I went through my grieving then, because right now, all I can feel is grateful. All I can feel is how lucky I have been, to know a manlike him. One Kris Hansen makes up fora shitload of Kollbergs, and Marc Vilos, a shitload of Majesties and Lamoraks and all the other fucking scum that swim in the pool where I live. I wish Shanna could have met him-really met him, when they were both human. I think she would have liked him.\n\nMore than that: She would have admired him.\n\nI think I'll just sit here fora while, and tell myself some of the stories I know about him. I can tell myself about that cold courage of his, where he could just stand there and do what had to be done."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I guess that's how I say good-bye.\n\nTell myself? Shit.\n\n\"Raithe?\" I say softly. \"Let me tell you a story, huh?\"\n\nTHE BODY OF Ma'elKoth rested upon the riverbank, arms enwrapping knees, as though it were a boulder exposed by eonic erosion of the grassy meadow behind. A Social Police officer approached uncertainly, unsure of his balance on this alien ground.\n\n\"Stimulants have been administered. She'll wake soon,\" the officer said. \"But not for long.\"\n\n\"I know,\" the blind god replied with Ma'elKoth's voice.\n\n\"She's very weak,\" the officer said. \"The strain on her heart-I don't think she'll live out the afternoon.\"\n\nThe body continued to stare downriver. \"Get in the limo.\"\n\nThe officer retreated. The blind god caused Ma'elKoth's body to follow. It stood outside, still staring toward distant Ankhana. The part of the blind god that was Ma'elKoth could feel what had happened there through the senses of its worshipers: only Beloved Children are permitted to serve in the Imperial military. \"Seal the door,\" it said.\n\nWithout power, the officer had to manually drag the gullwing door down and latch it into place.\n\nThe part of the blind god that was Ma'elKoth now touched the power of His divine Self: the incorporeal image to which His worshipers prayed. He conjoined that power with his physical form and drew upon it to telekinetically anchor himself to the bedrock beneath the meadow, and to bring him strength.\n\n\"Wait for me in the car,\" he said. Then he picked up the limo and threw it in the river."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The limo-airtight, and constructed of modern titanium alloy-bobbed like a cork, spinning slowly as it drifted downstream."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could have pushed the car into the river with a mere shrug of his power, but somethings, as Caine once notably observed, cry out to be done by hand.\n\nHe reached into the clay of the riverbank with his mind and drew forth a hundred kilos. The knife of his mind carved it into shape: a medium-sized man with the build of a boxer, somewhat tall for his weight, gone now perhaps a bit to seed-a thickening of the waist, a suggestion of jowls along the jawline-but with eyes penetrating and cold, and aslant of scar across a twice-broken nose.\n\nHe summoned his will, and he Spoke.\n\n\"Caine.\"\n\nAnd as he Spoke, he thought: Somethings cry out to be done by hand.\n\nA WHITE THUNDERBOLT blasts though my brain in the middle of telling Raithe about Ballinger, and for one nerveless second I think the bomb's gone off after all. But the shattering agony goes on and on in a ringing and a roaring that's splitting my fucking head, and it gathers itself into a voice. A Voice. I know that Voice.\n\nIt's calling my name.\n\n\"Caine-what's wong?\" Raithe reaches for me, but I hold him off with one hand while the other presses against my temple to keep my brain from exploding.\n\n\"I hear you,\" I answer.\n\nI AM COMING FOR THE SWORD. I AM COMING FOR YOU, CAINE.\n\n\"I knew you would.\"\n\nAND I, TOO, KNEW THAT YOU WOULD BE THERETO MEET ME.\n\n\"Yeah, you're a fucking genius.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Raithe stares at me like I've gone completely shit-swallowing loopy.\n\nI CAN BRING MORE TROOPS. I CAN BRING MORE VEHICLES. I CAN BRING MORE BOMBS.\n\n\"Don't bother. I give.\"\n\nSilence inside my head.\n\n\"You hear me, you bastard? I said I give. I surrender. Bring whatever you want. I'll give myself up. The sword's yours.\"\n\nRaithe's expression transforms into understanding tinged with awe, and then gathers dismay.\n\nAND IN RETURN?\n\n\"Faith,\" I tell him. \"I want my daughter. Alive.\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"And while we're talking deal, there area lot of innocent people still on this island, and in the city. Let them go, huh?\"\n\nWHY SHOULD I?\n\n\"Because that's the deal, motherfucker. Your word: I get Faith, and everybody else walks. You get the sword, and you get me. Otherwise, I run. It'll take you along time to catch me.\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"The longer you wait, the more expensive this is gonna get.\"\n\nVERY WELL. I ACCEPT YOUR TERMS.\n\n\"Your word on it.\"\n\nYOU HAVE IT.\n\nThen the Presence is gone from the inside of my skull, and I sag back against the damp stone.\n\nRaithe is no waster of words. \"Ma'elKoth?\"\n\n\"The blind god. Same thing.\"\n\nHe scowls doubtfully. \"You think his word is good?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I pickup the sword, and it snarls to life in my hand. I squeeze its hilt until its hum matches my memory: it buzzes in my teeth.\n\n\"Who gives a shit?\" I turn Kosall so that its blade catches sunlight along the edge. \"Mine isn't.\"\n\nON THAT DAY of prophecy fulfilled and transformed, the plain of Megiddo has become a cobbled street, and the Fimbulwinter a firestorm, and all the echoes and shadows of truth were gathered: Ahura-Mazda and Ahriman, Satan and Yahweh El Sabaoth, Thor and Jorgmandr, the Prince of Chaos and the Ascended Ma'elKoth.\n\nIt was the hour of battle for the dark angel and the god of dust and ashes. The heavens would break, and the earth be torn asunder, and their pieces cast into the winds of the abyss. On what new shape the universal shards might find when they came once more together, every prophecy, tale, and legend disagreed.\n\nAnd all of them were wrong."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "TWENTY-FIVE\n\nHE COMES OUT of the clouds, down from a line of thunderheads that advance from the east: clouds that keep on rolling right into the teeth of this wind that blows on the back of my neck.\n\nFirst comes a glossy black-and-chrome meteor-a Mercedes stretch, bigger than the apartment where I grew up. It comes down with a rumbling growl like distant turbines, but it's not turbines. It's thunder.\n\nThat sonofabitch rolls thunder the way other guys clear their throats.\n\nThe limo settles into place between the two dead riot vans down where Gods'and Rogues\" Ways intersect. Then the clouds swell until they swallow the sky, and a darkness falls upon the ruins; a single rift parts to admit a golden shaft of autumn sunshine.\n\nDown through that rift, riding that clean light, comes Ma'elKoth, glowing with power: Superman in an Italian suit.\n\nHe trails streamers of black Flow-he is the center of a tangle of pulsing night-threads that twist into massive cables before they vanish in a direction my eyes can't follow.\n\nSome of them I can follow, though. Some of the biggest cables connect tome.\n\nMy own tangle makes a fantastical rats'nest around me, dense and interwoven, impenetrably opaque, yet somehow it doesn't obstruct my vision, which I guess makes sense because I'm not seeing it with my eyes.\n\nHe touches down like a dancer, light and perfectly balanced, posing in his sunlight halo. The warm taupe of his Armani suit complements the tumbled char-blackened blocks of limestone that choke the street. Huh. He's let his beard grow.\n\nYeah, well, so have I."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His eyes find meat this end of Gods' Way, and his electric stare surges through me like an amphetamine bloom: waves of tingling start at the back of my neck and jangle all the way out the ends of my fingers and toes.\n\nHe smiles vividly.\n\nHe reaches behind his head and unbinds his hair, shaking it free in sun-streaked waves. He rotates his shoulders like a wrestler loosening up, and the clouds part: above him, infinite blue opens like a flower. The clouds retreat in all directions, flowing out from the city as they flee the center of all things that are Ma'elKoth.\n\nHe's brought his own kind of spring, drawing life from the city's fallow earth: the ruins sprout cardinal-red, maroon and gold, scarlet-streaked saplings that uncoil toward his solar presence: Social Police and Household Knights and good old Ankhanan regular infantry digging themselves out of their burrows of rubble, helping each other up, even the wounded, even the dying, so that all can rise in respect, then kneel in reverence, at the arrival of God.\n\nAnd it's weird.\n\nWeird is the only word for it.\n\nNot in the debased and degraded sense of the mere peculiar. Weird in the old sense. The Scottish sense. The Old English root.\n\nWyrd.\n\nBecause somehow I have always been here.\n\nI have always satin the rubble of the Financial Block, facing down the length of Gods'Way over the carnage and ruin of Old Town, perched on a blast-folded curve of assault-car hull with Kosall's cold steel across my lap. The rumpled and torn titanium wreckage permanently ticks and pings as it eternally cools under my ass. A few hundred yards to my left, there has always been a smoldering gap where the Courthouse once stood, surrounded by a toothed meteor-crater slag of melted buildings; even the millennial Cyclopean stone of the Old Town wall sags and bows outward over the river, a thermal catenary like the softened rim of a wax block-candle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's from that direction that the shade of Kris Hansen whispers, in a voice compounded of memories and grief.\n\nI have always been here because there is no past: all that exists of the past is the web of Flow whose black knots are the structure of the present. I will always be here because there is no future: everything that is about to happen never will.\n\nNow is all there is.\n\nThere is a folktale-I can't dignify it with the name prophecy, or even legend-that's popular with the common mass of uneducated elKothans; true believers are all pretty much of a type, I guess, no matter what they believe. They've been telling each other for seven years that the Prince of Chaos will return from beyond the world, to face the Ascended Ma'elKoth in a final battle.\n\nOn Assumption Day.\n\nI used to get a chuckle out of that every time one of my ISP Actors heard it. I'd shake my head and laugh. Those poor ignorant bastards-if they could only see me and Tan'elKoth going out fora drink at Por L'Oeil. If they could only see me in my wheelchair; if they could see Tan'elKoth at the Studio Curioseum, jazzing the tourists with his fucking party tricks, two shows a day. Poor ignorant bastards.\n\nI say that, and I can't tell if I'm talking about them, or us. Because I should have known. Shit, I did know.\n\nDad said it to my face: A powerful enough metaphor grows its own truth.\n\nSo those poor ignorant bastards ended up closer to right than us smug cognoscentic motherfuckers who used to laugh at them. This eternal now in the ruins of Ankhana, facing the god across the wreckage of his city and the corpses of his followers-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Impossible. And inevitable.\n\nAt the same time.\n\nI touch one of the black threads, a simple one, almost straight: that's Deliann, dropping Kosall into the shattered hallway betweeen me and Raithe. That thread is tied to an infinite number of others, progressively more tangled: that's me, screening Shanna to summon her back from Fancon. Here is Raithe, shaking hands with Vinson Garrette, which is tied tome standing over Creele's body at the Monastic Embassy, which is tied tome giving Shanna a battered black-market copy of a Heinlein novel, which connects to Shanna standing over me in an alley, staring at Toa-Phelathon's head lying on the shitstained cobbles, but all these strings are tied to many others, and the others to others still, some of which splice back in closed loops, some of which curl outward into the invisible distance.\n\nA lot of them trail back to the Language Arts shitter, but even that one is a tangle of Toothpick and Dad, and a kid named Nielson hitting me in the head with a brick, and somebody knocking over a vial of HRVP two hundred years ago and Abraham Lincoln and Nietzsche and Locke and Epikuros and Lao-Tzu-\n\nSure looks like destiny from here.\n\nTry and tell me that Dad could have had the faintest fucking clue I would end up here when he wrote the passages on the Blind God in Tales of the First Folk. Try and tell me I should have seen this coming when I brained Toothpick with that length of pipe, or when I proposed to Shanna, or when I lay chained on dark stone in a puddle of my own shit and thought life back into my legs. Destiny is bullshit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Your life only looks like fate when you see it in reverse.\n\nThe universe is a structure of coincidence, Kris told me, and he was right. But that doesn't make it random. It only feels that way. The structure is real: strange attractors ordering arrays of quantum probabilities. I can see them.\n\nI can seethe threads of black Flow that bloom and curl outward in time, connecting every event to every other, each acting upon every other in a matrix of force so complex that there is no such thing as a simple progression from one to the next-but even when the whole structure of reality is laid bare, all you can see is the outline of the past.\n\nThe future cannot be predicted. It can only be experienced.\n\nBecause one single thread as infinitesimal as what some lab tech had for breakfast one morning two hundred years ago exerts enough pressure to have bent all of Earth toward the Plague Years and the Studio; because the Butterfly Effect of a thirteen-year-old boy named Hari deciding that he wasn't gonna live in fear has tied the history of two worlds into the knot that is today.\n\nAnd that, when you come right down to nuts and guts, is the most infinitely fucked-up part of this infinite fucked-up now: They finally got me. In the final minute of my life, I've become a Cainist.\n\nChrist.\n\nAll right. Enough.\n\nI'm ready for this to be over.\n\nMortality is a gift: It's never a question of whether you'll die. It's just a question of how.\n\nFOUR STRAIGHT BLACK lines crossed by a succession of shorter lines-like dead centipedes with their legs smashed flat-pointed into the ring of light from the darkness around it. They did not quite meet in the center, but it was clear where they would, if extended: in that center-point was Ma'elKoth's right eye."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Orbek slipped the yellow hooked talon of his right index finger through the trigger guard.\n\nThis weapon was not designed for ogrilloi; his fingers were too thick to squeeze the trigger properly, and to use the aiming tube mounted above the grip required him to crick his neck in a very uncomfortable way: his right tusk came hard up against the weapon's stock. But ogrilloi are gifted with weapons, and this was not so different from a crossbow. Orbek could make the necessary adjustments.\n\nSunlight shining through the blown-open roof above warmed his legs; he lay prone on the rubble of what once had been priests' quarters, on an upper floor of a temple to Urimash, a minor god of good fortune. The shell that had destroyed the roof had taken a substantial chunk out of the third-floor facade but had left some of the walls intact, providing stark shadow to conceal his head and the barrel of his weapon.\n\nIt had taken him a good longtime to haul his ass up here, with his leg half dead-goddamn fuck-me chunk of pavement came outa nowhere while he was diving around a corner when everything blew up, slammed his thigh like a fuck-me morningstar. It took most of the battle for him to crawl out of the street. Everybody else-pretty much all the Folk, the prisoners, probably all the fuck-me Monastics as well-they took off, scattering over the bridges and into the caverns, getting the fuck out of here while they had the chance.\n\nOrbek had never been one for running.\n\nBesides: with this leg, he could barely walk.\n\nThen he'd found this weapon clutched in a dead human hand, pried it out, and decided the best way he could be areal Black Knife was to find a quiet spot where he could shoot some humans before they killed him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That shimmer in the air-fuck-me Ma'elKoth had a fuck-me Shield going. Orbek didn't know how to tell how many shots he would have with this weapon, but he calculated that even if he couldn't overload the Shield, he should be able to knock the fuck-me bastard down.\n\nThat counts for something.\n\nHis talon tightened against the trigger, and the aiming tube went suddenly black, and a soft human voice said, \"Don't.\"\n\nOrbek froze-except for his left eyelid, which popped open; with that eye he could see a dark-skinned hand covering the far end of the aiming tube.\n\n\"Fuck me,\" he breathed.\n\nHe lifted his head, and found himself staring into eyes the color of ice.\n\nHis mouth worked soundlessly fora second or two before words could force their way out. \"How do you getup here? No, fuck that-how do you even find me?\"\n\nRaithe said, \"I have a message from Caine.\"\n\nMA'EL K OTH, THOUGH-HE's been waiting for this moment fora long, longtime, and he intends to savor it.\n\nHe walks toward me, between the broken rows of kneeling Household Knights and Social Police and Ankhanan infantry, swinging his ass, as arrogantly loose-jointed as a tiger. Air shimmers around him: a Shield. He knows we captured some rifles and shit, and he doesn't want a sniper to ruin his party.\n\nHe strolls along about a third of Gods'Way; then he stops and opens his arms as if to say Behold!\n\n\"You said I would never see My city again, Caine,\" he says with a smile a lot warmer than the sun overhead. \"Yet here I am.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He speaks in a casual, human tone, which I can hear perfectly from hundreds of yards away."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No answer? Nothing to say, after all this time, old friend?\"\n\nI have a fucking answer for him.\n\nIn my mind, I create an image of a white stream of power coming out of the middle of my guts and vanishing into Kosall's hilt. A second or two later I can see it, in mindview: twisting and sparking, coruscating, an electric gap-spark thicker than my wrist: a spark that is the path of all the power from every single black thread that is tied to my life. It hums in my subconscious as I anchor it, good and tight, to Kosall.\n\nNot to Shanna, not to Pallas, not to the goddess, not to the wife I have loved and the woman who bore the child I call my daughter, not to the woman I watched die below Khryl's Saddle. I can look at her image in my heart, but I had better keep it out of mindview, or I'll give the fucking game away.\n\nHe eyes me closely, cycling through levels of mindview, looking for some kind of Flow current-looking to see what kind of power I might be pulling from the river.\n\nBut I'm not pulling. I'm feeding.\n\n\"Ah, David, My David,\" he says, shaking his head in what looks like honest remorse. \"Where is thy sling?\"\n\nThe white gap-spark sizzles. He can't see it.\n\nThis might work.\n\n\"I am not a vengeful god, Caine. And I know that you have not been brought to bay: that you have chosen to surrender, when you could flee. I would be remiss, not to reply in kind. Thus, I have brought gifts.\"\n\nHis only visible gesture is a slight widening of his smile. Far behind him, the door of the limo swings up: a crocodile jaw opening a mouth of shaded darkness. In that rectangular shadow I can just make out an odd, irregularly globular particolored shape. Ma'elKoth smiles indulgently, and the shape materializes out of sunbeams and dust motes right in front of me, and I still can't make my eyes see what it really is-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "My brain unties an invisible knot, and that lumpy black-and-white blob of Ma'elKoth's Fantasy suddenly resolves into a tiny crumple of tragedy."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's Faith: wrapped in a stained and filthy hospital gown, strapped in a wheelchair.\n\nStrapped in my wheelchair.\n\nSo real-\n\nIf I putout my hand, would I feel her hair? Could I bend close fora kiss, and catch the scent of her skin? If I cry over this Fantasy, will she feel my tears?\n\nFaith-\n\nChrist-how can I-\n\nWatching Shanna die was only a warm-up.\n\n\"A small enough return, I suppose,\" Ma'elKoth says. \"But one, I think, that you may value as much as I value your surrender. I give you: your family-\"\n\nHis hand pauses in midgesture, as though to rest a moment on Faith's matted hair, and I don't understand why the rolling boil in my brain doesn't burst my skull, and then he nods and tilts his palm toward Rover.\n\n\"-and a place to sit.\"\n\nRAITHE LIMPED OUT from the shadow of a half-crumbled wall, squinting against the harsh sun-glare. The silence was infinite as the sky: the only sound within the ruined city was the slow scrape-crunch of his footsteps. He left a trail of blood, swirling with black oil. The Artans-the Social Police-turned to stare, as he slowly, painfully scraped along the middle of Rogues'Way, to the intersection with Gods'Way.\n\nFar down that broad avenue, he could seethe back of the man he had once worshiped. Beyond, at the opposite end of the street, his personal demon sat on a crumple of steel. The air was so clear Raithe could read the look on his face. He nodded slightly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Caine nodded back.\n\nRaithe turned toward the powerless vehicle that sat, lifeless, between the pair of equally dead riot vans. Artan helmets tracked him. Ankhanan soldiers watched him silently, fingering their weapons.\n\nRaithe smiled to himself. He wondered if this was how Caine had felt, as he paced across the sand in the arena at Victory Stadium. He wondered if Caine had felt this strong, this happy.\n\nThis free.\n\nBack in the apothecary shop on Crooked Way, Raithe had risen to leave while Caine was still using Kosall to carve away his shackles, one careful stroke at a time. Raithe had looked at the dead woman nearby in the hallway, remembering: He had been in this shop many times, first as a child, later as a Courthouse page, then as a novice at the embassy. He had known of this old couple for as long as he could remember; he recalled now that they had a son, somewhere, but that was the only detail he could summon. They had been the old apothecary and his wife. He could not recall their names.\n\nHis head had swum, and he'd sagged against the wall, gasping. Caine had looked up from his cutting. \"You better sit down again.\"\n\n\"No,\" Raithe had said, shaking his head, dizzy. \"No. Just... catch my breath-\"\n\n\"You're gonna catch a bad case of dead, you don't take it easy.\"\n\n\"No. This is where our paths diverge, Caine. I don't imagine I'll be seeing you again.\"\n\n\"Raithe-\"\n\n\"I would like to-\" He'd stopped himself, shaken his head, started again. \"If I could find someway, without being disloyal to the memory of my parents, and to the memory of Master Creele-I would... I wish I could say I'm sorry. I wish I could say thanks. But I can't.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Kid-\"\n\n\"I cannot undo the damage I have done.\"\n\n\"None of us can.\"\n\nTo that, Raithe had only nodded and turned once more to leave.\n\nCaine had caught his clean arm. \"I'm not done with you, kid.\" When Raithe went to yank free, Caine had wrapped his wrist with the chain from his shackle, holding him fast.\n\n\"Let me go-\" He had swung his left hand toward Caine to threaten him with the black oil.\n\nCaine had snorted at him. \"Go ahead. You just got done saving my life, now you're gonna kill me? Sure.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"We'll probably both be dead in a few minutes, anyway,\" Caine had said. \"But if you're not, I'm gonna need you.\"\n\n\"Need me for what?\" Raithe had said, surprised at the strange sound of his own voice: he'd been trying for scorn, but a little bit of hope had worked its way in, instead.\n\n\"There's a little girl. A little six-year-old girl with golden hair, who used to smile a lot. She likes pretty clothes, and nursery rhymes, and going to school with the big kids-\"\n\n\"You're talking about Faith.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Ma'elKoth's bringing her. I need you to take her away. Find someone to look after her.\" He had shrugged and looked away, his mouth taking on a bitter twist. \"Save her.\"\n\n\"Me? Save your daughter?\" Raithe had been sure he must have misunderstood. \"Where will you be?\"\n\nCaine had lifted Kosall and sighted along its shimmering blade. \"I'll be dead.\" He let the chain slip free from around Raithe's wrist, releasing him. \"That's why I need you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am no longer subject to your orders, Caine-\"\n\n\"Yeah. That's why it's not an order. I'm asking.\"\n\nRaithe had only been able to shake his head in wonder. \"And why would I do this for you?\"\n\n\"You won't be doing it for me. You'll be doing it for her. You know what they've done to her. You know what they'll keep doing. You'll be doing it because if you don't, you'll have to live with the memory of letting an innocent little girl be raped to death.\"\n\nRaithe's breath had come hot and harsh. He had leaned against the wall once more, gasping, his hand leaving a splotch of black oil smearing down the paint. \"But why me?\" he'd asked. \"I'm the one who put her there, as much as anyone else. I killed her mother. How can you entrust your daughter's life tome?\"\n\nCaine's stare had been level, steady and without fear. \"Who else is there?\"\n\nWho else is there? Raithe thought as he limped toward the open hatchway of the vehicle. In the shade of the hatch door, the child was strapped in a wheeled chair. Beside it, two burly Artans in helmets polished like mirrors restrained a screaming, sobbing old woman with short-cut hair the color of steel. She thrashed in their grip, begging and threatening in a language Raithe could not understand.\n\nDeeper within the vehicle, almost lost within the shadows, was a creature Raithe recognized; a skeletal, eroded caricature of famine. He had felt this creature within his heart. Their eyes met, and they knew each other.\n\nIn the creature's eye was hunger. In Raithe's, only ice."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "One of the mirror-masked Artans silently showed Raithe how to unlock the chair's wheels. He took it by the handles at the top of the seatback, then turned and pushed Caine's daughter out into the sunlight.\n\nI WATCH THEM go: Raithe, wheeling her up Rogues' Way, pauses at the last moment before he disappears around the corner of the temple to Shentralle the Messenger, meets my eye one last time, and nods good-bye.\n\nHe and my daughter vanish from my sight.\n\nI wish I could have said good-bye to Faith.\n\n\"So, you have your daughter, and you have the lives of your followers. Yet these are not the greatest of My gifts to you,\" Ma'elKoth booms expansively. He extends an open hand in my direction. \"The greatest gift I give is this: that I buy your surrender. That I allow you to come to Me with your dignity as well as your life. This is less a surrender than it is a contract: value given for value received. Thus do I demonstrate to all history the love I bear you, Caine; thus shall it be written in every-\"\n\nI send a little trickle of black Flow threading through my bypass, and stand up.\n\nHe pauses, and his eyes narrow.\n\n\"You've learned anew trick,\" he murmurs appreciatively. \"Come, then: Let us meet as men, standing face-to-face, for the surrender of the sword. I applaud your sense of ceremony: Grant and Lee at Appomattox Courthouse, rather than Brutus at the feet of Ant-\"\n\nI point Kosall at him. \"You talk too fucking much.\"\n\nHe stops, making a face like he tastes something sour; he hates interruptions when he's being clever."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I show him my teeth. \"You and me, we both know what's going on here, and it has nothing to do with surrender.\"\n\nHis smile settles in, fading from that big theatrical grin to a half curve of honest satisfaction; his feet settle in, spreading to a wider, stronger stance as he squares up tome; his shoulders settle in, dropping half an inch and seeming to spread and swell like boulders under his suit.\n\nThe Fantasy image of Faith strapped in Rover's seat dissolves back into a swirl of dust sparkles in the sun.\n\nHe says, \"Yes.\"\n\n\"So shut the fuck up. Let's just do it.\"\n\nHe opens his hands. \"Come on, then.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nRAITHE PUSHED THE girl's chair swiftly into the first alley north of Gods\" Way and then began to jog, bouncing her along as fast as he dared on the uneven surface. The girl lolled bonelessly, semiconscious. Though he weakened swiftly, he could keep moving by leaning on the chair himself for support, and they didn't have far to go.\n\nThe shattered building sagged in the sunlight; its drooping second floor provided deep shade where Orbek waited with the two primals, the healers from Alien Games. Raithe pushed the chair up to them, stumbling, gasping for breath.\n\n\"Did they... agree?\" he rasped at Orbek. The primals had not trusted him at all, naturally, and for good reason, given the history between the First Folk and the Monasteries; he had barely managed to convince them to wait and speak with Orbek. \"Will they help? Did they send-\"\n\n\"Like you say, friar,\" Orbek said, grinning around his tusks. Friar came out like a curse."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Raithe ignored it. \"And the net?\"\n\nOrbek nodded. \"On its way.\"\n\nThe primal healers crouched near Faith, examining her without touching her, their faces shining with the blank, impersonal pain that a man might show when he finds a dying puppy.\n\n\"There's no time,\" Raithe said, sagging. Only the chair kept him upright. \"It's happening now-right now. It's happening.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Orbek's grin widened, and he twitched a tusk to point along the alley: four treetoppers flew toward them swift as sparrows, sharing the burden of one of Kierendal's silver antimagick nets. \"It sure as fuck-me is.\"\n\nWE FACE EACH other in the infinite now.\n\nDown the long street lined with people, squinting against the noon-day sun.\n\nWe both know how this is supposed to play out. Our parts have been carved in legend's stone for centuries. The gun-fighters. The samurai. Zorro and the Governor. Robin Hood and Sir Guy de Guisborne.\n\nNo: more accurately, Leonidas at Thermopylae.\n\nRoland at Roncesvalles.\n\nBecause Ma'elKoth is the face often billion people come to crush me, and here I stand, at the head of my Companions: Raithe; Faith; Shanna and Pallas Ril and the goddess; Hari and all the men I have ever been. They put me here, to be their champion.\n\nDeliann and Kris both stand behind one shoulder.\n\nDad stands behind the other.\n\nThey made me possible.\n\nRelaxed and ready, Ma'elKoth waits for me to start the Walk: the long slow measuring stroll where we both psych ourselves into the killing zone. He knows there has to be a Walk; he knows I have a profound respect for tradition."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He's expecting a trick: he's waiting for me to commit before he makes his move."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I caught him off guard last time, and he won't make that mistake again. From a hundred yards away, I can only hit him with magick or a gun, and his Shield can handle either.\n\nA shimmer starts in the nerves of my hand that holds Kosall, and with it an aching sense of loss creeps through my veins. Ma'elKoth's eyes widen, then narrow, and he nods, offering mean appreciative smile.\n\n\"What was it?\" he asks casually, as though his interest is entirely academic. \"How have you broken our link? Did you put one of those silver nets of yours on Faith? Like the one you used on me last time?\"\n\nI don't answer, but I don't have to.\n\nPower flares around him.\n\nNow Pallas and I, together, have all the might of the river. Ma'elKoth has all the power of millions more worshipers than he had last time, plus whatever it is the blind god pumps into him.\n\nHead to head, him against me-\n\nWe can tear the planet in half.\n\nArmageddon. Ragnarok: the Twilight of the Gods.\n\nHe's looking forward to it.\n\nHe was always into that Wagnerian shit.\n\nHe's spent seven years studying me. Studying Pallas. He's had plenty of time to cycle that superhuman intelligence of his through every possible combination of her powers, my skills, our tactics. I know he's watching in mindview, waiting for any hint of what kind of power I'm going to draw and what I might want to do with it. I can't possibly take him by surprise.\n\nSo I don't even try.\n\nI lift Kosall to vertical, turning the flat of the blade toward him in a fencer's salute. He replies with an ironic bow. \"I have always known we would come to this, Caine. We are natural enemies, you and I; this is why I have loved you so.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Instead of sweeping the blade down to my right-the traditional acknowledgment of the returned salute-I lift it, swiftly but without haste, above my head.\n\nThere is a principle in some of the Japanese fighting arts that translates as appropriate speed. It's one of the most difficult elements to master. To move with appropriate speed is to act slowly enough that you don't trigger your opponent's defensive reflexes, so that he doesn't feel like he's being attacked: so that he doesn't flinch, or even feel threatened. We are all conditioned by a bazillion years of Darwinian heredity to interpret sudden movement as a possible threat. On the flip side, you can't give him time to think Hey wait-if that hand gets any closer he could hurt me with it. It's a delicate balance; appropriate speed varies according to the situation, and to the psychology of your opponent.\n\nScrewing it up is a short trip to the land of the seriously dead.\n\nSo while he's still a hundred yards away, watching that sword shine in the sunlight over my head, still talking, still saying, \"I have always been fortunate in my-\" I twist the black Flow that I've been feeding into the sword in away that will make my right foot swing forward in one long step.\n\nWhich is the signal to the ghost of my dead wife in the sword to use the energy I've been channeling into it to warp space in that seven-league-boots way of hers, and bring the rubble where I stand and the cobbles in front of Ma'elKoth within one step of each other so that the foot I picked up from Nobles'Way comes down a little less than a meter from Ma'elKoth's Gucci Imperiales, and the sword I had lifted over my head comes down at his collarbone, edge striking his Shield as my weight falls forward."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ma'elKoth finishes blankly, \"-enemies-\" as we both discover that, in fact, its edge powered by black Flow, Kosall can indeed cut through anything, including Shields.\n\nIncluding gods in Armani suits.\n\nMA'EL K OTH'S EYES GO wide and his mouth works silently, and I let my weight carry the stroke all the way down till the blade comes free somewhere around his hipbone.\n\nI stagger-goddamn bypass, goddamn legs-but manage to catch my balance and step back. I want to watch this part.\n\nIna kind of Alpine-avalanche ponderously majestic natural slow motion, his head and his right arm and about half his torso slide off the other half down a fountaining scarlet slope. His legs stand therefor a second or two, empty bowels and quivering organs half unrecognizable from this high-side view, and y'know what?\n\nHe doesn't stink.\n\nThe smell is like ground beef, fresh from your local butcher. I never realized: Since he hasn't eaten for something like fifteen years, I have misjudged him ever since we first met.\n\nHe's not full of shit after all.\n\nI have maybe two more seconds before Soapy shoots my ass off. I make good use of those seconds. I lift Kosall again, but this time let the blade swing down, hanging vertically below my clasped hands upon its hilt.\n\nMa'elKoth looks up at me. His mouth makes empty popping noises; he's leftmost of his lungs in his other half.\n\nAt the speed of thought in the permanent now, I bring an image of Shanna to the front of my mind-a vision of Pallas Ril, a ghost-shadow of the goddess shining and strong upon afield of night. The dash of sunlight off a rippling stream comes from Her eyes, and the hand She extends tome is the color of a peach in leaf shade. Is it time? She murmurs within my heart."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I reply, Take my hand.\n\nHer ghost hand touches mine, and our flesh flows together; Her warm summer skin shades sun dew into my Donjon-bleached arm, and my death-sealed heart draws Her season down to skeletal autumn. We mingle and swirl, surface tension and turbulence, touching at every geometrically infinite point but forever apart.\n\nBecause everyone lives together, and everyone dies alone.\n\nIn that single second, when We join in a union of which Our marriage had been only a pale time-reversed ripple of echo, We regard Ourselves and say-\n\nOh. I understand, now.\n\nOne instant of searing melancholy-\n\nIf only I could have been the man you needed me to be.\n\nIf only I could have accepted the man you are.\n\n-then the river blossoms inside me, from the trickling sewage runoff at Khryl's Saddle to the mighty fan of half-salt flow where We join the ocean beyond the Teranese Delta-\n\n-and my heart cracks because my only wish is that I could stay herewith them forever, but as infinite as now might be its end still comes when Shanna says-\n\nGood-bye, Hari.\n\n-and I cannot even reply.\n\nInstead, I give farewell to the man trapped within the dying god at my feet.\n\n\"Happy Assumption Day, fucker.\"\n\nThen I fall to one knee and let my weight drive Kosall's rune-painted blade through his forehead into his brain.\n\nRight between the eyes.\n\nAnd power blasts backup through the blade, through my fists, my arms, my shoulders-it hits my heart, slams up my neck, and blows away the world."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A TALE IS told of twin boys born to different mothers.\n\nOne is a dark angel of slaughter and destruction, a death's-head moth arising from mortal cocoon; one is a crooked knight of flame, a heart of ashes thunderstruck and smoldering.\n\nThey each live without ever knowing that they are brothers.\n\nThey each die fighting the blind god.\n\nThey are tethered by moon threads, woven of love and hate, the stronger for their invisibility: tied to the god who had been a man and to the dark angel's spawn, to the dragoness and to the child of the river, to the dead goddess and to each other.\n\nWhere these threads spin a single weave, they knit the ravell'd fate of worlds."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "TWENTY-SIX\n\nI DON'T REMEMBER being dead.\n\nI remember some of the dreams that flitted in and out of my slowly reassembling mind as I woke, though, and what I remember of them seems to be about drowning, or being strangled by hands of inhuman strength, or having my head stuck inside a plastic bag. Trying to scream, but without enough breath to give sound to my voice-\n\nPerhaps that should betaken as a hopeful sign about the afterlife. It must be lovely, if I was so reluctant to leave.\n\nI suppose I'll never know.\n\nI'd like to keep this roughly chronological, if I can. It's not easy; there are connections here more subtle than simple sequence. And I'm not always sure in what order everything happened, and I'm not sure it's always important. Somebody wrote once that the direction of time is irrelevant to physics. I'm sure this half-remembered physicist would be pleased to know that my story only makes sense when it's told backwards.\n\nThat seems much more profound when you have a fever.\n\nI sometimes catch myself thinking that life is a fever: that the universe fell ill two or three billion years ago, and life in all its fantastic improbability is the universe's fever dream. That the harsh intractability of the inanimate is the immune system of reality, attempting to cure it of life. That when life is extinguished, the universe will awaken, yawn and stretch, and shake its metaphoric head at its bizarre imagination, to have produced such an unlikely dream.\n\nBut I get over it when I cheer up.\n\nIt's not always easy to distinguish between existentialism and a bad mood.\n\nOne might suppose that I would now be immune to melancholy, but that is not so; I seem to be immune only to senescence, and to death. It's better thus-to be eternally happy would deprive me of the bulk of human experience. And, for all else, I am still human."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "More or less.\n\nBut to give the story amoral before I recount its events will rob the moral of meaning. Meaning is the goal. I sometimes think the greatest danger of immortality is the infinite leisure to digress.\n\nSo:\n\nI could write page after page on the process of waking up that very first time in my new life. I could string together fading details of dreams with the incredibly soft warmth of the wool-felt blankets and the fine-woven linen of the sheets, and shuffle the bracing sting of sunlight through closed eyelids with the faintly animal musk of the goosedown that filled the feather bed on which I lay. It's a powerful urge to recount these things, because each individual sensation of living has become indescribably precious tome; though each breath is as sweet as the last, there comes always something wistful, because I cannot forget that this breath is a single thing, as discrete as I am, and no matter how wonderful the next will be, this will never come again.\n\nI was lucky, though: the antidote for such wistfulness was waiting for me beside my bed, grinning like a wolf.\n\nWhen I opened my eyes, he said, \"Hey.\"\n\nI smiled, and thus discovered I had lips; I squeezed his hand, and thus discovered I had arms. A moment later, I found my voice. \"I'm not dead, then?\"\n\n\"Not anymore.\"\n\n\"Oh, that's good,\" I said with a feeble chuckle.\n\n\"What's funny?\"\n\n\"Well-finding you here, I was pretty sure this can't be heaven.\"\n\nHis wolf-grin widened: his substitute fora laugh. \"It's close enough for me.\"\n\nI thought about that fora while, while I watched dust motes drift through slanting sunbeams. The window was enormous, nearly the size of the titanic eight-poster bed. Lamps of gleaming brass topped each of the posts-which were ornately carved from some luminous stone like translucent rose marble, and slowly the name for this stone surfaced inside my head: thierril."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was when I understood that we were on Overworld.\n\n\"Caine?\"\n\n\"Yeah?\"\n\n\"I was wrong,\" I said. \"This is close enough to heaven for me, too.\" Closer than I deserve, I finished silently.\n\nHe heaved himself to his feet and walked to the window, his gait only slightly unsteady. The window faced west, and the afternoon sun painted him with scarlet and gold.\n\n\"I'm glad you feel that way, Kris,\" he said, \"because this is as close as you're ever gonna get.\"\n\n\"I don't understand.\"\n\nHe stared beyond the sunset. \"Let me tell you a story.\"\n\nIT REALLY WAS the end of the world.\n\nIn less than an eyeblink, the world as it had known itself had been destroyed and replaced with anew world, a different world, so like unto its predecessor that a man might fool himself into believing the two were one. The time of nonexistence that separated the two was itself nonexistent; no one saw or heard or even felt the interval, but everyone knew.\n\nThings were different, now.\n\nI understood well enough what had happened, as Caine explained it, at the instant when the world became new: The spell painted in runes upon Kosall's blade had captured Ma'elKoth's pattern of consciousness even as it had that of the goddess-but because the goddess had, in that moment, been touching the river's Song through Hari, the Ma'elKoth-pattern had been channeled through them both. That pattern, that shade, that consciousness would have dispersed like smoke before a wind, sunk back within the Song, save for the idea of the Ascended Ma'elKoth: the image to which millions of Beloved Children pray everyday: the Power they endow with the energy of their devotion. That Power was so nearly co-resonant with the pattern of Ma'elKoth that harmonic entrainment caused them to merge in an instant-and through Hari and the goddess, they touched the Song of Chambaraya."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At that moment, He became both a god of humanity, and a limb of the Worldmind: a power which had no precedent in all the aeonic history of Home. Given that place to stand, He moved the world.\n\nHe became the world.\n\nBut not the world that the Blind God had desired.\n\nThe Blind God's grip upon Ma'elKoth was physical: a function of the physical thoughtmitter implanted within Ma'elKoth's physical skull-left behind in Ma'elKoth's physical corpse. And though in one sense Ma'elKoth is as much an agglomerate entity as is the Blind God, in a greater sense He has always been an individual; that individual is, above all else, an artist, and He could not bear to destroy a thing of beauty.\n\nWith the conjoined power of his human worshipers and Chambaraya, he could pattern himself even to the matrix of the Worldmind. He flowed outward from the river, and sent His will into the great symphony that is T'nnalldion-Home-itself.\n\nHis stroke had been elegant: He had taken the transfer shield-the patterning of force that blocked the Winston Transfer from Ankhana-and extended it over the world entire. In that fraction of a second, every transmission from every Actor on Overworld had ceased.\n\nIn the next fraction of a second, He had sung anew note in the Song of Home. Neither Caine nor I have a very clearway to describe its effect. It was, one might say, a minor alteration of local physics.\n\nHe made the Blind God improbable.\n\nExtremely improbable: down to the quantum level.\n\nThe small segment of the Blind God that had stretched to Overworld disintegrated, and its remnants burst into a scattering flight of night-black shards. The rest recoiled like a knife-cutworm, back to its nest, to lick its wound and brood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Social Police in Ankhana felt the difference as a sudden surge of panic, real panic, the ancient panic: the unreasoning terror of being lost and lone in the deep forest of night, in the grip of its unhuman god. Many screamed; all twisted and staggered; most ran; and some fired their weapons into the air, or at each other.\n\nSome turned their weapons upon Caine, where he knelt on Gods' Way; some upon the limousine; some upon any targets they could find. All who did so died before they could squeeze their triggers.\n\nSome of the Social Police still live. I have not yet decided what to do with them.\n\nFor now, they are in the Pit.\n\nI wondered at the irony of it, when Caine had finished describing the end of the world: \"You made him a god. You transfigured him, and he ascended. On Assumption Day.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"You took the fiction of Caine and Ma'elKoth, and made it truth.\"\n\n\"Fiction,\" Caine said, \"is a slippery concept.\"\n\n\"You defeated your enemy by granting his fondest wish.\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"I'm not sure enemy is the right word,\" he sighed. \"Our relationship is... complicated.\"\n\n\"But I don't understand,\" I said. \"How did I get here? Why am I alive? What does all this have to do with me?\"\n\nHis smile faded then, and he looked down at his hands. He laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles in swift succession. \"That's a different story,\" he said.\n\nHIS NEW STORY began some few days after the end of the world: after the dead had been collected, in their hundreds and their thousands, after graves had been dug and pyres lit. It began at the prow of Old Town: a jumble of rock that once had been Six Tower, overlooking a blunt spit of river sand. Caine stood upon the sand, his daughter riding his hip, while from the broken rocks above watched an honor guard comprising the whole of the surviving Household Knights."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But I will not transcribe the story he told; the story I care most about is my own. His gift tome, of the device he calls the Caine Mirror, later let me see for myself the events that he then described. Though I saw them through his eyes, what's important, tome, is how I tell the story.\n\nIt begins:\n\nOne arm about Faith's shoulders. Her hands locked around his neck and her forehead tucked into the hollow beneath his jaw. Faith in the white-tasseled shawl of Ankhanan mourning; Caine in a tunic and pants of new black leather, belted with a thin cord, and low soft boots.\n\nHe held the blade of Kosall so that it reflected the rising sun, while he said good-bye to his wife.\n\nI will not recount what passed between the three of them there. The device-which sits on my desk as I write this-shows me less than all, but more than I can bear to know. I will say only that their good-byes were private, and brief. The details are Caine's story to tell, if he chooses; any who might wish to know them will have to ask him.\n\nI will say this: Pallas Ril chose to pass on.\n\nShe could not be both goddess and woman; though she could build a mortal body for herself once more, she could not make herself wholly woman. To have been a god is to be forever less than human, but to be wholly goddess was within her grasp.\n\nAnd she had no better way to keep her family safe.\n\nWhen their good-byes were done, Caine drove Kosall into the stone before him until the hilt alone projected.\n\n\"Faith, honey, get down fora minute,\" he said, lowering her to the sand. She dutifully found her feet and took a step away from him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He said, murmuring as though to himself, \"Let's do it.\"\n\nAnd the power to which he spoke answered him with fire.\n\nHe extended his hands, and from his palms burst flame like the surface of the sun; all had to shield their faces, and even Caine was forced to close his eyes. When the flames died, the great stone block had been reduced to a pool of slag, and Kosall was no more.\n\nPallas Ril had gone to join the river forever.\n\nThat washer happy ending.\n\nThe only music that marked her passing was the splash of the Great Chambaygen, the chatter of a pair of foraging squirrels, and the scream of alone eagle, far, far above.\n\nAfter a moment, Caine looked down at Faith. \"You ready?\"\n\nShe nodded solemnly.\n\nHe held out his arm to help her backup onto his hip, but instead she took his hand. \"I'm big enough to walk,\" she said.\n\n\"Yeah,\" he agreed, slowly and with some reluctance. \"Yeah, I guess you are.\"\n\nAs the two of them helped each other negotiate the tumble of rock, a dry voice spoke within Caine's mind. Touching.\n\n\"Have some respect,\" he muttered.\n\nIronic: that the man least likely to show respect is the first to ask for it.\n\n\"Shut the fuck up.\"\n\nFaith blinked up at him owlishly. \"Are you talking to God again?\"\n\nCaine said, \"Yeah.\"\n\nShe nodded, solemnly understanding. \"God can be a mean bastard sometimes.\"\n\n\"You got that right.\"\n\nTHEY THREADED BETWEEN the ranks of Household Knights, who stood at attention with weapons at port arms and standards lowered. Alone at the end of the ranks, shivering despite being half buried in an enormous raccoon coat, stood Avery Shanks."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Caine and Faith stopped before her.\n\nShe matched his level stare.\n\n\"Faith?\" Caine said, releasing her hand and placing his own on the middle of her back. \"Go with Grandmaman back to the palace.\"\n\nFaith's eyes had the otherworldly half emptiness of the river's Song within her head. \"All right.\" She held him with her gaze. \"I love you, Daddy.\"\n\n\"I love you too, honey. I just-I have somethings I have to do by myself. I'll be therein time for supper.\"\n\n\"Promise?\"\n\n\"Promise,\" he replied, and the memory of his last promise to her, and how badly he had failed it, ripped him like fishhooks dragged across his heart.\n\nReluctantly, Faith joined her grandmother and took her hand. Caine once again met Shanks' gaze. \"Take care of her.\"\n\nShe snorted. \"Better than you ever did,\" she said. \"Better than you ever will.\"\n\nAshe watched them walkaway, hand in hand, picking along the winding pathways that had been cleared through the debris-choked streets, he murmured, \"I have always been fortunate in my enemies.\"\n\nMm, flattery, the voice within him hummed dryly.\n\nCaine opened his mouth as though he might reply, but instead he grimaced and shook his head in silence. He swung his legs into motion, climbing over a crumbled wall, heading toward Rogues'Way, toward Fools\" Bridge. When he told me this story, he said that he simply needed to move, that he wanted to get off the island fora little while; the Caine Mirror confirms this, but I think it is not the whole of the truth. I believe he wanted to go into the Warrens to see what was left of his old neighborhood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To see what was left of himself.\n\nTHE GAP IN Fools' Bridge where the timbers of the bascule had burned away was spanned by temporary planking supported by ropes of knotted hemp. On that morning, workers trundled barrows of brick and salvaged limestone blocks across, and so Caine took the catwalk on the upstream side: a pair of taut ropes, one above the other. He did not pause over the river-he kept moving, sliding one foot ahead of the other along the lower rope while he slid hands along the upper-but his wife was much on his mind as the water rolled beneath him. He thought, so his Soliloquy claims, of what she had shown him, in that infinite instant when he had joined with the river: how the river was everything within its bound, and everything within its bound was the river.\n\nHe thought of so many men and women and children on Earth, for whom a river is a natural toilet, suitable only for flushing away their waste. Ina distant, abstract, impersonal way, he felt sorry for them. But not too sorry. If they wanted their world to be different, they could change it.\n\nIt wasn't his problem, not anymore.\n\nJust so. But this begs the question: What, then, is your problem?\n\nCaine left the bridge and wandered at length upon the north bank of the river. From the Warrens to the ruins of Alientown and back again, the streets were filled with people clearing away debris, separating what could be salvaged and used again from what would be suitable only for landfill. Nearly all the corpses had been cleared away and burned days before, and there was a certain grim cheerfulness among the townsfolk, a camaraderie in adversity, that bespoke their shared determination to rebuild their home."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Much of the rebuilt Ankhana will be constructed of timber from the goddess' unnatural spring: young and sap-filled, many of the tree trunks had burned only on the surface, where the oil had oozed through their bark. Their hearts are sound, and will form the skeleton of the city that will rise from this waste of ash and rubble.\n\nEverywhere Caine went, he was greeted with nods of recognition. It was a strange feeling: Everyone knew who he was, and no one feared him. The greetings he got were instead respectful, and that respect was tinged with awe. Most of the citizens of Ankhana were Beloved Children of Ma'elKoth, and each of these had awakened to the new world with an eldritch knowledge in their hearts of what Caine had done for them, and for their world.\n\nEven more strange for him, I think, was to walk, and walk, and continue to walk with no particular place to go; to return nodded greetings in a friendly way, to listen to the breeze and the conversations, smell the old char on the wind and feel the crunch of gravel beneath his boots-\n\nAnd find nothing he had to do.\n\nI cannot be certain-the device records no commentary-but I believe he took some comfort from this. These few days were the closest he had ever come to a respite from the struggles of his permanent war. In all his life as Caine, there had always been someone he had to kill, or someone who sought to kill him; always treasure to be searched out, or adventure to be pursued; there had always been the pressure to keep his audience entertained.\n\nNow he was the audience, and he found that the path of a cloud across an autumn sky had an unexpectedly great entertainment value of its own."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Support the writer, proceed with the storyline.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, anti-hero\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Blade of Tyshalle\nChapter: 29"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Caine, meanwhile, seems to understand that his audience is now assembled. \"Hi there,\" he says, darkly cheerful. \"You fuckers know who I am, so I'll bite right to the gristle.\"\n\nHe stands. \" I know there are people over there who are thinking, Yeah, big deal, we'll reopen the colonies. Yeah, we'll find away around this transfer shield, and then we'll send Actors and tanks and guns and all the rest of that shit. I know people are thinking that. I know I'm talking to some of those people right now.\n\n\"I know you're thinking: In the end, numbers and technology let you do whatever you want. You're thinking there really isn't dick we can do about it. Well, guess what?\n\n\"I'm hereto tell you that you're wrong.\n\n\"We can hurt you.\"\n\nHe walks away, around the outcrop of wind-eroded sandstone, and J'Than follows. Caine stares off, far down along, sloping hill; several buildings cluster in the twilit distance, window lights winking on as the sun gives way tonight. \"Sure, you can probably find a technological answer that'll get you back to Overworld. I just wanted to let you know that we can get to Earth.\"\n\nHe points down at those buildings. \"See? You know what that is?\"\n\nMarc Vilo, alone among the Board of Governors, does.\n\nHoly crap, he thinks. That's my house.\n\nSomething seizes J'Than from behind-possibly Caine himself-and he seems to fly through the air: desert rolls beneath him, and the complex soars to meet him with terrifying speed.\n\nIn his bathroom, Marc Vilo's hand finds a hazily translucent key on the pad beside the toilet, and alarm klaxons blare."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They land on the pool deck, beside an artificial waterfall, and the shriek of sirens seems to please Caine in some darkly savage place. \"Think about it,\" he says. \" All of you. Okay, you can get at us. Now we can get at you. We know what your tanks can do to our cities. Imagine what a dragon can do to New York. Imagine being in a skyscraper in downtown Chicago while rockmagi liquefy its foundation.\n\n\"Imagine.\"\n\nThe general consensus of the Board is that Caine must be bluffing. Dwarfs? Dragons? Magick on that scale cannot be done on Earth-\n\nAs if in answer, Caine turns away from J'Than. \"Ma'elKoth?\"\n\nA shaft of crimson flame bursts from his outstretched hands, and the building he faces explodes.\n\nHe watches it burn, grinning.\n\nHe turns back to J'Than and leans close, his face demon-lit by flames behind. \"Marc? You home, old buddy? Knock fucking knock.\"\n\nThe Vilo Intercontinental secmen who guard the estate barely have a chance to prime their weapons before Caine scatters them with a tidal bore of fire. He strides among the buildings, and his merest glance strikes ablaze even the brick of the walls.\n\nWhen he reaches the main house, he batters through the carbon-fiber-reinforced ceramic armor of the front door with his bare hands. Brick and stone shatter under his fists, and he disappears within, leaving the Actor staring helplessly after him.\n\nHe disappears from the view of the Bog. But Marc Vilo sees him when Caine rips the bathroom door from its hinges. To Marc-half his consciousness subsumed in the Board-Caine seems translucent, only partially there, but his half reality is doubly terrifying."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Never expected you'd die on the toilet, huh?\"\n\n\"Hari-\" he says. \"Hari, for the love of God, please-\"\n\n\"Which god?\"\n\n\"Hari, I'm begging you, please-c'mon, kid, all the stuff I've done for you-I made you. Please, you can't-\"\n\nCaine shakes his head. \"You of all people, Marc. Of all the people in the world-in any world-\"\n\nHis lips stretch open over his teeth, feral and cold. \"You should have known better than to fuck with my family.\"\n\nThat is the last Vilo sees: his eyeballs boil and burst in the first wash of flame. He does, however, have time to hear himself scream.\n\nTo the Bog, watching through J'Than's eyes, it seems the house detonates like a fuel-air bomb. J'Than himself is hurled tumbling through the air by the force of it, and lands gasping and stunned upon the lush green grass that defines this desert home's front lawn. For several seconds, the Bog allows itself to believe that Caine might have perished in the explosion, but then he walks out of the flames. Unhurt.\n\nNot even singed.\n\n\"You want a war?\" he says with that same dark and savage cheer. \"Bring it on.\"\n\nHe leans so close to J'Than that his teeth fill the world. \" As of right now, the Studio is out of business. So is the Overworld Company.\n\n\"Overworld is closed.\"\n\nHe puts his hands on J'Than's face.\n\n\"Thank you, and goodnight.\"\n\nThe light from the last Actor's eyes contracts to a point, and winks out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "SO:\n\nHere I am.\n\nAt my desk, my head full of stories.\n\nThere are so many heroes in these stories: Hari, and Caine; Raithe, and the Caineslayer; Avery Shanks and Kierendal and Damon of Jhanthogen Bluff-\n\nTan'elKoth, of course.\n\nAnd, I suppose-in my backward way-even me.\n\nI remember reading somewhere that the name for how we structure reality is myth: that myths are stories that offer a perception of order within the chaos of existence.\n\nI'm still not sure I will ever understand, but I think I see how to survive without understanding. I will tell the story as best I can, and let it grow its own meaning. And if I can't find myths that properly order the chaos of my life, I'll makeup some of my own.\n\nMy story begins:\n\nA tale is told of twin boys born to different mothers.\n\nOne is dark by nature, the other light. One is rich, the other poor. One is harsh, the other gentle. One is forever youthful, the other old before his time.\n\nOne is mortal.\n\nThey share no bond of blood or sympathy, but they are twins nonetheless.\n\nThey each live without ever knowing that they are brothers.\n\nThey each die fighting the blind god.\n\nTHERE ARE SOME who say that Time is itself a hammer: that each slow second marks another tap that makes big rocks into little rocks, waterfalls into canyons, cliffs into beaches.\n\nThere are some who say that Time is instead a blade. They seethe dance of its razored tip, poised like a venomous snake, forever ready to slay faster than the eye can see."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And there are some who say that Time is both hammer and blade.\n\nThey say the hammer is a sculptor's mallet, and the blade is a sculptor's chisel: that each stroke is a refinement, a perfecting, a discovery of truth and beauty within what would otherwise be blank and lifeless stone.\n\nAnd I name this saying wisdom."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, witcher\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: Blood of Elves\nChapter: 2"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'd be proud,\" she said quietly, lowering her head. \"I'd be proud and happy to fight at your side.\"\n\n\"I believe that. But I'm not gallant enough. Nor valiant enough. I'm not suited to be a soldier or a hero. And having an acute fear of pain, mutilation and death is not the only reason. You can't stop a soldier from being frightened but you can give him motivation to help him overcome that fear. I have no such motivation. I can't have. I'm a witcher: an artificially created mutant. I kill monsters for money. I defend children when their parents pay me to. If Nilfgaardian parents pay me, I'll defend Nilfgaardian children. And even if the world lies in ruin-which does not seem likely tome-I'll carry on killing monsters in the ruins of this world until some monster kills me. That is my fate, my reason, my life and my attitude to the world. And it is not what I chose. It was chosen for me.\"... \"But I don't want to die in a war, because they're not my wars.\"\n\nPraise for Andrzej Sapkowski:\n\n\"Sapkowski has a phenomenal gift for narrative, for inventing sensational events, creating a suggestive mood, and building up the suspense. Along with a dazzling, slightly cynical sense of humor.\"\n\n-Jacek Sieradzki, Polityka\n\n\"The character interplay is complex, unsentimental and anchored in brutal shared history. All bodes well for twisty plotting in future volumes.\"\n\n-SFX on Blood of Elves"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Books by Andrzej Sapkowski\n\nThe Last Wish\n\nBlood of Elves"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of the Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown. A seed which will not sprout but will burst into flame.\n\nEss'tuath esse! Thus it shall be! Watch for the signs! What signs these shall be, I say unto you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidhe, the Blood of Elves...\n\nAen Ithlinnespeath, Ithlinne Aegli aep Aevenien's prophecy"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "CHAPTER ONE\n\nThe town was inflames.\n\nThe narrow streets leading to the moat and the first terrace belched smoke and embers, flames devouring the densely clustered thatched houses and licking at the castle walls. From the west, from the harbour gate, the screams and clamour of vicious battle and the dull blows of a battering ram smashing against the walls grew ever louder.\n\nTheir attackers had surrounded them unexpectedly, shattering the barricades which had been held by no more than a few soldiers, a handful of townsmen carrying halberds and some crossbowmen from the guild. Their horses, decked out in flowing black caparisons, flew over the barricades like spectres, their riders' bright, glistening blades sowing death amongst the fleeing defenders.\n\nCiri felt the knight who carried her before him on his saddle abruptly spur his horse. She heard his cry. \"Hold on,\" he shouted. \"Hold on!\"\n\nOther knights wearing the colours of Cintra overtook them, sparring, even in full flight, with the Nilfgaardians. Ciri caught a glimpse of the skirmish from the corner of her eye– the crazed swirl of blue-gold and black cloaks amidst the clash of steel, the clatter of blades against shields, the neighing of horses-\n\nShouts. No, not shouts. Screams.\n\n\"Hold on!\"\n\nFear. With every jolt, every jerk, every leap of the horse pain shot through her hands as she clutched at the reins. Her legs contracted painfully, unable to find support, her eyes watered from the smoke. The arm around her suffocated her, choking her, the force compressing her ribs. All around her screaming such as she had never before heard grew louder. What must one do to a man to make him scream so?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Fear."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Overpowering, paralysing, choking fear.\n\nAgain the clash of iron, the grunts and snorts of the horses. The houses whirled around her and suddenly she could see windows belching fire where a moment before there'd been nothing but a muddy little street strewn with corpses and cluttered with the abandoned possessions of the fleeing population. All at once the knight at her back was wracked by a strange wheezing cough. Blood spurted over the hands grasping the reins. More screams. Arrows whistled past.\n\nA fall, a shock, painful bruising against armour. Hooves pounded past her, a horse's belly and a frayed girth flashing by above her head, then another horse's belly and a flowing black caparison. Grunts of exertion, like a lumberjack's when chopping wood. But this isn't wood; it's iron against iron. A shout, muffled and dull, and something huge and black collapsed into the mud next to her with a splash, spurting blood. An armoured foot quivered, thrashed, goring the earth with an enormous spur.\n\nA jerk. Some force plucked her up, pulled her onto another saddle. Hold on! Again the bone-shaking speed, the mad gallop. Arms and legs desperately searching for support. The horse rears. Hold on! ... There is no support. There is no... There is no... There is blood. The horse falls. It's impossible to jump aside, noway to break free, to escape the tight embrace of these chainmail-clad arms. There is noway to avoid the blood pouring onto her head and over her shoulders.\n\nA jolt, the squelch of mud, a violent collision with the ground, horrifically still after the furious ride. The horse's harrowing wheezes and squeals as it tries to regain its feet. The pounding of horseshoes, fetlocks and hooves flashing past. Black caparisons and cloaks. Shouting."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The street is on fire, a roaring red wall of flame. Silhouetted before it, a rider towers over the flaming roofs, enormous. His black-caparisoned horse prances, tosses its head, neighs.\n\nThe rider stares down at her. Ciri sees his eyes gleaming through the slit in his huge helmet, framed by a bird of prey's wings. She sees the fire reflected in the broad blade of the sword held in his lowered hand.\n\nThe rider looks at her. Ciri is unable to move. The dead man's motionless arms wrapped around her waist hold her down. She is locked in place by something heavy and wet with blood, something which is lying across her thigh, pinning her to the ground.\n\nAnd she is frozen in fear: a terrible fear which turns her entrails inside out, which deafens Ciri to the screams of the wounded horse, the roar of the blaze, the cries of dying people and the pounding drums. The only thing which exists, which counts, which still has any meaning, is fear. Fear embodied in the figure of a black knight wearing a helmet decorated with feathers frozen against the wall of raging, red flames.\n\nThe rider spurs his horse, the wings on his helmet fluttering as the bird of prey takes to flight, launching itself to attack its helpless victim, paralysed with fear. The bird– or maybe the knight– screeches terrifyingly, cruelly, triumphantly. A black horse, black armour, a black flowing cloak, and behind this– flames. A sea of flames.\n\nFear.\n\nThe bird shrieks. The wings beat, feathers slap against her face. Fear!\n\nHelp! Why doesn't anyone help me? Alone, weak, helpless– I can't move, can't force a sound from my constricted throat. Why does no one come to help me?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I'm terrified!\n\nEyes blaze through the slit in the huge winged helmet. The black cloak veils everything-\n\n\"Ciri!\"\n\nShe woke, numb and drenched in sweat, with her scream– the scream which had woken her– still hanging in the air, still vibrating somewhere within her, beneath her breast-bone and burning against her parched throat. Her hands ached, clenched around the blanket; her back ached...\n\n\"Ciri. Calm down.\"\n\nThe night was dark and windy, the crowns of the surrounding pine trees rustling steadily and melodiously, their limbs and trunks creaking in the wind. There was no malevolent fire, no screams, only this gentle lullaby. Beside her the campfire flickered with light and warmth, its reflected flames glowing from harness buckles, gleaming red in the leather-wrapped andiron-banded hilt of a sword leaning against a saddle on the ground. There was no other fire and no other iron. The hand against her cheek smelled of leather and ashes. Not of blood.\n\n\"Geralt-\"\n\n\"It was just a dream. A bad dream.\"\n\nCiri shuddered violently, curling her arms and legs uptight.\n\nA dream. Just a dream.\n\nThe campfire had already died down; the birch logs were red and luminous, occasionally crackling, giving off tiny spurts of blue flame which illuminated the white hair and sharp profile of the man wrapping a blanket and sheepskin around her.\n\n\"Geralt, I-\"\n\n\"I'm right here. Sleep, Ciri. You have to rest. We've still along way ahead of us.\"\n\nI can hear music, she thought suddenly. Amidst the rustling of the trees... there's music. Lute music. And voices. The Princess of Cintra... A child of destiny... A child of Elder Blood, the blood of elves. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, and his destiny. No, no, that's a legend. A poet's invention. The princess is dead. She was killed in the town streets while trying to escape..."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hold on... ! Hold...\n\n\"Geralt?\"\n\n\"What, Ciri?\"\n\n\"What did he do tome? What happened? What did he... do tome?\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"The knight... The black knight with feathers on his helmet... I can't remember anything. He shouted... and looked at me. I can't remember what happened. Only that I was frightened... I was so frightened...\"\n\nThe man leaned over her, the flame of the campfire sparkling in his eyes. They were strange eyes. Very strange. Ciri had been frightened of them, she hadn't liked meeting his gaze. But that had been along time ago. Avery longtime ago.\n\n\"I can't remember anything,\" she whispered, searching for his hand, as tough and coarse as raw wood. \"The black knight-\"\n\n\"It was a dream. Sleep peacefully. It won't comeback.\"\n\nCiri had heard such reassurances in the past. They had been repeated to her endlessly; many, many times she had been offered comforting words when her screams had woken her during the night. But this time it was different. Now she believed it. Because it was Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, the Witcher, who said it. The man who washer destiny. The one for whom she was destined. Geralt the Witcher, who had found her surrounded by war, death and despair, who had taken her with him and promised they would never part.\n\nShe fell asleep holding tight to his hand.\n\nThe bard finished the song. Tilting his head a little he repeated the ballad's refrain on his lute, delicately, softly, a single tone higher than the apprentice accompanying him.\n\nNo one said a word. Nothing but the subsiding music and the whispering leaves and squeaking boughs of the enormous oak could be heard. Then, all of a sudden, a goat tethered to one of the carts which circled the ancient tree bleated lengthily. At that moment, as if given a signal, one of the men seated in the large semi-circular audience stood up. Throwing his cobalt blue cloak with gold braid trim back over his shoulder, he gave a stiff, dignified bow."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you, Master Dandilion,\" he said, his voice resonant without being loud. \"Allow me, Radcliffe of Oxenfurt, Master of the Arcana, to express what I am sure is the opinion of everyone here present and utter words of gratitude and appreciation for your fine art and skill.\"\n\nThe wizard ran his gaze over those assembled– an audience of well over a hundred people– seated on the ground, on carts, or standing in a tight semi-circle facing the foot of the oak. They nodded and whispered amongst themselves. Several people began to applaud while others greeted the singer with upraised hands. Women, touched by the music, sniffed and wiped their eyes on whatever came to hand, which differed according to their standing, profession and wealth: peasant women used their forearms or the backs of their hands, merchants'wives dabbed their eyes with linen handkerchiefs while elves and noblewomen used kerchiefs of the finest tight-woven cotton, and Baron Vilibert's three daughters, who had, along with the rest of his retinue, halted their falcon hunt to attend the famous troubadour's performance, blew their noses loudly and sonorously into elegant mould-green cashmere scarves.\n\n\"It would not bean exaggeration to say,\" continued the wizard, \"that you have moved us deeply, Master Dandilion. You have prompted us to reflection and thought; you have stirred our hearts. Allow me to express our gratitude, and our respect.\"\n\nThe troubadour stood and took a bow, sweeping the heron feather pinned to his fashionable hat across his knees. His apprentice broke off his playing, grinned and bowed too, until Dandilion glared at him sternly and snapped something under his breath. The boy lowered his head and returned to softly strumming his lute strings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The assembly stirred to life."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The merchants travelling in the caravan whispered amongst themselves and then rolled a sizable cask of beer out to the foot of the oak tree. Wizard Radcliffe lost himself in quiet conversation with Baron Vilibert. Having blown their noses, the baron's daughters gazed at Dandilion in adoration– which went entirely unnoticed by the bard, engrossed as he was in smiling, winking and flashing his teeth at a haughty, silent group of roving elves, and atone of them in particular: a dark-haired, large-eyed beauty sporting a tiny ermine cap. Dandilion had rivals for her attention– the elf, with her huge eyes and beautiful toque hat, had caught his audience's interest as well, and a number of knights, students and goliards were paying court to her with their eyes. The elf clearly enjoyed the attention, picking at the lace cuffs of her chemise and fluttering her eyelashes, but the group of elves with her surrounded heron all sides, not bothering to hide their antipathy towards her admirers.\n\nThe glade beneath Bleobheris, the great oak, was a place of frequent rallies, a well-known travellers'resting place and meeting ground for wanderers, and was famous for its tolerance and openness. The druids protecting the ancient tree called it the Seat of Friendship and willingly welcomed all comers. But even during an event as exceptional as the world-famous troubadour's just-concluded performance the travellers kept to themselves, remaining in clearly delineated groups. Elves stayed with elves. Dwarfish craftsmen gathered with their kin, who were often hired to protect the merchant caravans and were armed to the teeth. Their groups tolerated at best the gnome miners and halfling farmers who camped beside them. All non-humans were uniformly distant towards humans. The humans repaid in kind, but were not seen to mix amongst themselves either. Nobility looked down on the merchants and travelling salesmen with open scorn, while soldiers and mercenaries distanced themselves from shepherds and their reeking sheepskins. The few wizards and their disciples kept themselves entirely apart from the others, and bestowed their arrogance on everyone in equal parts. A tight-knit, dark and silent group of peasants lurked in the background. Resembling a forest with their rakes, pitchforks and flails poking above their heads, they were ignored by all and sundry."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The exception, as ever, was the children. Freed from the constraints of silence which had been enforced during the bard's performance, the children dashed into the woods with wild cries, and enthusiastically immersed themselves in a game whose rules were incomprehensible to all those who had bidden farewell to the happy years of childhood. Children of elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, half-elves, quarter-elves and toddlers of mysterious provenance neither knew nor recognised racial or social divisions. At least, not yet.\n\n\"Indeed!\" shouted one of the knights present in the glade, who was as thin as a beanpole and wearing a red and black tunic emblazoned with three lions passant. \"The wizard speaks the truth! The ballads were beautiful. Upon my word, honourable Dandilion, if you ever pass near Baldhorn, my lord's castle, stop by without a moment's hesitation. You will be welcomed like a prince– what am I saying? Welcomed like King Vizimir himself! I swear on my sword, I have heard many a minstrel, but none even came close to being your equal, master. Accept the respect and tributes those of us born to knighthood, and those of us appointed to the position, pay to your skills!\"\n\nFlawlessly sensing the opportune moment, the troubadour winked at his apprentice. The boy set his lute aside and picked up a little casket which served as a collection box for the audience's more measurable expressions of appreciation. He hesitated, ran his eyes over the crowd, then replaced the little casket and grabbed a large bucket standing nearby. Master Dandilion bestowed an approving smile on the young man for his prudence.\n\n\"Master!\" shouted a sizeable woman sitting on a cart, the sides of which were painted with a sign for'Vera Loewenhaupt and Sons,\" and which was full of wickerwork. Her sons, nowhere to be seen, were no doubt busy wasting away their mother's hard-earned fortune. \"Master Dandilion, what is this? Are you going to leave us in suspense? That can't be the end of your ballad? Sing to us of what happened next!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Songs and ballads\" – the musician bowed– \"never end, dear lady, because poetry is eternal and immortal, it knows no beginning, it knows no end-\"\n\n\"But what happened next?\" The tradeswoman didn't give up, generously rattling coins into the bucket Dandilion's apprentice held out to her. \"At least tell us about it, even if you have no wish to sing of it. Your songs mention no names, but we know the witcher you sing of is no other than the famous Geralt of Rivia, and the enchantress for whom he burns with love is the equally famous Yennefer. And the Child Surprise, destined for the witcher and sworn to him from birth, is Cirilla, the unfortunate Princess of Cintra, the town destroyed by the Invaders. Am I right?\"\n\nDandilion smiled, remaining enigmatic and aloof. \"I sing of universal matters, my dear, generous lady,\" he stated. \"Of emotions which anyone can experience. Not about specific people.\"\n\n\"Oh, come on!\" yelled a voice from the crowd. \"Everyone knows those songs are about Geralt the Witcher!\"\n\n\"Yes, yes!\" squealed Baron Vilibert's daughters in chorus, drying their sodden scarves. \"Sing on, Master Dandilion! What happened next? Did the witcher and Yennefer the Enchantress find each other in the end? And did they love each other? Were they happy? We want to know!\"\n\n\"Enough!\" roared the dwarf leader with a growl in his throat, shaking his mighty waist-length, red beard. \"It's crap– all these princesses, sorceresses, destiny, love and women's fanciful tales. If you'll pardon the expression, great poet, it's all lies, just a poetic invention to make the story prettier and more touching. But of the deeds of war– the massacre and plunder of Cintra, the battles of Marnadal and Sodden– you did sing that mightily, Dandilion! There's no regrets in parting with silver for such a song, a joy to a warrior's heart! And I, Sheldon Skaggs, declare there's not an ounce of lies in what you say– and I can tell the lies from the truth because I was thereat Sodden. I stood against the Nilfgaard invaders with an axe in my hand...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I, Donimir of Troy,\" shouted the thin knight with three lions passant blazoned across his tunic, \"was at both battles of Sodden!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But I did not see you there, sir dwarf!\"\n\n\"No doubt because you were looking after the supply train!\" Sheldon Skaggs retorted. \"While I was in the front line where things got hot!\"\n\n\"Mind your tongue, beardy!\" said Donimir of Troy flushing, hitching up his sword belt. \"And who you're speaking to!\"\n\n\"Have a care yourself!\" The dwarf whacked his palm against the axe wedged in his belt, turned to his companions and grinned. \"Did you see him there? Frigging knight! See his coat of arms? Ha! Three lions on a shield? Two shitting and the third snarling!\"\n\n\"Peace, peace!\" A grey-haired druid in a white cloak averted trouble with a sharp, authoritative voice. \"This is not fitting, gentlemen! Not here, under Bleobheris'crown, an oak older than all the disputes and quarrels of the world! And not in Poet Dandilion's presence, from whose ballads we ought to learn of love, not contention.\"\n\n\"Quite so!\" a short, fat priest with a face glistening with sweat seconded the druid. \"You look but have no eyes, you listen but have deaf ears. Because divine love is not in you, you are like empty barrels-\"\n\n\"Speaking of barrels,\" squeaked along-nosed gnome from his cart, painted with a sign for'Iron hardware, manufacture and sale\", \"roll another out, guildsmen! Poet Dandilion's throat is surely dry– and ours too, from all these emotions!\"\n\n\"-Verily, like empty barrels, I tell ye!\" The priest, determined not to be put off, drowned out the ironware gnome. \"You have understood nothing of Master Dandilion's ballad, you have learned nothing! You did not see that these ballads speak of man's fate, that we are no more than toys in the hands of the gods, our lands no more than their playground. The ballads about destiny portrayed the destinies of us all, and the legend of Geralt the Witcher and Princess Cirilla– although it is set against the true background of that war– is, after all, a mere metaphor, the creation of a poet's imagination designed to help us-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're talking rubbish, holy man!\" hollered Vera Loewenhaupt from the heights of her cart. \"What legend? What imaginative creation? You may not know him, but I know Geralt of Rivia. I saw him with my own eyes in Wyzima, when he broke the spell on King Foltest's daughter. And I met him again later on the Merchants'Trail, where, at Gildia's request, he slew a ferocious griffin which was preying on the caravans and thus saved the lives of many good people. No. This is no legend or fairy-tale. It is the truth, the sincere truth, which Master Dandilion sang for us.\"\n\n\"I second that,\" said a slender female warrior with her black hair smoothly brushed back and plaited into a thick braid. \"I, Rayla of Lyria, also know Geralt the White Wolf, the famous slayer of monsters. And I've met the enchantress, Lady Yennefer, on several occasions– I used to visit Aedirn and her hometown of Vengerberg. I don't know anything about their being in love, though.\"\n\n\"But it has to be true,\" the attractive elfin the ermine toque suddenly said in a melodious voice. \"Such a beautiful ballad of love could not but be true.\"\n\n\"It could not!\" Baron Vilibert's daughters supported the elf and, as if on command, wiped their eyes on their scarves. \"Not by any measure!\"\n\n\"Honourable wizard!\" Vera Loewenhaupt turned to Radcliffe. \"Were they in love or not? Surely you know what truly happened to them, Yennefer and the witcher. Disclose the secret!\"\n\n\"If the song says they were in love,\" replied the wizard, \"then that's what happened, and their love will endure down the ages. Such is the power of poetry.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is said,\" interrupted Baron Vilibert all of a sudden, \"that Yennefer of Vengerberg was killed on Sodden Hill. Several enchantresses were killed there-\"\n\n\"That's not true,\" said Donimir of Troy. \"Her name is not on the monument. I am from those parts and have often climbed Sodden Hill and read the names engraved on the monument. Three enchantresses died there: Triss Merigold, Lytta Neyd, known as Coral... hmm... and the name of the third has slipped my mind...\"\n\nThe knight glanced at Wizard Radcliffe, who smiled wordlessly.\n\n\"And this witcher,\" Sheldon Skaggs suddenly called out, \"this Geralt who loved Yennefer, has also bitten the dust, apparently. I heard he was killed somewhere in Transriver. He slew and slew monsters until he met his match. That's how it goes: he who fights with the sword dies by the sword. Everyone comes across someone who will better them eventually, and is made to taste cold hard iron.\"\n\n\"I don't believe it.\" The slender warrior contorted her pale lips, spat vehemently on the ground and crossed her chainmail-clad arms with a crunch. \"I don't believe there is anyone to best Geralt of Rivia. I have seen this witcher handle a sword. His speed is simply inhuman-\"\n\n\"Well said,\" threw in Wizard Radcliffe. \"Inhuman. Witchers are mutated, so their reactions-\"\n\n\"I don't understand you, magician.\" The warrior twisted her lips even more nastily. \"Your words are too learned. I know one thing: no swordsman I have ever seen can match Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. And so I will not accept that he was defeated in battle as the dwarf claims.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Every swordsman's an arse when the enemy's not sparse,\" remarked Sheldon Skaggs sententiously. \"As the elves say.\"\n\n\"Elves,\" stated a tall, fair-haired representative of the Elder Race coldly, from his place beside the elf with the beautiful toque, \"are not in the habit of using such vulgar language.\"\n\n\"No! No!\" squealed Baron Vilibert's daughters from behind their green scarves. \"Geralt the Witcher can't have been killed! The witcher found Ciri, the child destined for him, and then the Enchantress Yennefer, and all three lived happily ever after! Isn't that true, Master Dandilion?\"\n\n\"\"Twas a ballad, my noble young ladies,\" said the beer-parched gnome, manufacturer of ironwares, with a yawn. \"Why look for truth in a ballad? Truth is one thing, poetry another. Let's take this– what washer name? – Ciri? The famous Child Surprise. Master Dandilion trumped that up for sure. I've been to Cintra many a time and the king and queen lived in a childless home, with no daughter, no son-\"\n\n\"Liar!\" shouted a red-haired man in a sealskin jacket, a checked kerchief bound around his forehead. \"Queen Calanthe, the Lioness of Cintra, had a daughter called Pavetta. She died, together with her husband, in a tempest which struck out at sea, and the depths swallowed them both.\"\n\n\"So you see for yourselves I'm not making this up!\" The ironware gnome called everyone to be his witnesses. \"The Princess of Cintra was called Pavetta, not Ciri.\"\n\n\"Cirilla, known as Ciri, was the daughter of this drowned Pavetta,\" explained the red-haired man. \"Calanthe's granddaughter. She was not the princess herself, but the daughter of the Princess of Cintra. She was the Child Surprise destined for the witcher, the man to whom– even before she was born– the queen had sworn to hand her granddaughter over, just as Master Dandilion has sung. But the witcher could neither find her nor collect her. And here our poet has missed the truth.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh yes, he's missed the truth indeed,\" butted in a sinewy young man who, judging by his clothes, was a journeyman on his travels prior to crafting his masterpiece and passing his master's exams. \"The witcher's destiny bypassed him: Cirilla was killed during the siege of Cintra. Before throwing herself from the tower, Queen Calanthe killed the princess's daughter with her own hand, to prevent her from falling into the Nilfgaardians' claws alive.\"\n\n\"It wasn't like that. Not like that at all!\" objected the red-haired man. \"The princess's daughter was killed during the massacre while trying to escape from the town.\"\n\n\"One way or another,\" shouted Ironware, \"the witcher didn't find Cirilla! The poet lied!\"\n\n\"But lied beautifully,\" said the elfin the toque, snuggling up to the tall, fair-haired elf.\n\n\"It's not a question of poetry but of facts!\" shouted the journeyman. \"I tell you, the princess's daughter died by her grandmother's hand. Anyone who's been to Cintra can confirm that!\"\n\n\"And I say she was killed in the streets trying to escape,\" declared the red-haired man. \"I know because although I'm not from Cintra I served in the Earl of Skellige's troop supporting Cintra during the war. As everyone knows, Eist Tuirseach, the King of Cintra, comes from the Skellige Isles. He was the earl's uncle. I fought in the earl's troop at Marnadal and Cintra and later, after the defeat, at Sodden-\"\n\n\"Yet another veteran,\" Sheldon Skaggs snarled to the dwarves crowded around him. \"All heroes and warriors. Hey, folks! Is thereat least one of you out there who didn't fight at Marnadal or Sodden?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That dig is out of place, Skaggs,\" the tall elf reproached him, putting his arm around the beauty wearing the toque in away intended to dispel any lingering doubts amongst her admirers. \"Don't imagine you were the only one to fight at Sodden. I took part in the battle as well.\"\n\n\"On whose side, I wonder,\" Baron Vilibert said to Radcliffe in a highly audible whisper which the elf ignored entirely.\n\n\"As everyone knows,\" he continued, sparing neither the baron nor the wizard so much as a glance, \"over a hundred thousand warriors stood on the field during the second battle of Sodden Hill, and of those at least thirty thousand were maimed or killed. Master Dandilion should be thanked for immortalising this famous, terrible battle in one of his ballads. In both the lyrics and melody of his work I heard not an exaltation but a warning. So I repeat: offer praise and everlasting renown to this poet for his ballad, which may, perhaps, prevent a tragedy as horrific as this cruel and unnecessary war from occurring in the future.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" said Baron Vilibert, looking defiantly at the elf. \"You have read some very interesting things into this ballad, honoured sir. An unnecessary war, you say? You'd like to avoid such a tragedy in the future, would you? Are we to understand that if the Nilfgaardians were to attack us again you would advise that we capitulate? Humbly accept the Nilfgaardian yoke?\"\n\n\"Life is a priceless gift and should be protected,\" the elf replied coldly. \"Nothing justifies wide-scale slaughter and sacrifice of life, which is what the battles at Sodden were– both the battle lost and the battle won. Both of them cost the humans thousands of lives. And with them, you lost unimaginable potential-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Elven prattle!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "snarled Sheldon Skaggs. \"Dim-witted rubbish! It was the price that had to be paid to allow others to live decently, in peace, instead of being chained, blinded, whipped and forced to work in salt and sulphur mines. Those who died a heroic death, those who will now, thanks to Dandilion, live on forever in our memories, taught us to defend our own homes. Sing your ballads, Dandilion, sing them to everyone. Your lesson won't go to waste, and it'll come in handy, you'll see! Because, mark my words, Nilfgaard will attack us again. If not today, then tomorrow! They're licking their wounds now, recovering, but the day when we'll see their black cloaks and feathered helmets again is growing ever nearer!\"\n\n\"What do they want from us?\" yelled Vera Loewenhaupt. \"Why are they bent on persecuting us? Why don't they leave us in peace, leave us to our lives and work? What do the Nilfgaardians want?\"\n\n\"They want our blood!\" howled Baron Vilibert.\n\n\"And our land!\" someone cried from the crowd of peasants.\n\n\"And our women!\" chimed in Sheldon Skaggs, with a ferocious glower.\n\nSeveral people started to laugh– as quietly and furtively as they could. Even though the idea that anyone other than another dwarf would desire one of the exceptionally unattractive dwarf-women was highly amusing, it was not a safe subject for teasing or jests– especially not in the presence of the short, stocky, bearded individuals whose axes and short-swords had an ugly habit of leaping from their belts and into their hands at incredible speed. And the dwarves, for some unknown reason, were entirely convinced that the rest of the world was lecherously lying in wait for their wives and daughters, and were extremely touchy about it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This had to happen at some point,\" the grey-haired druid declared suddenly. \"This had to happen. We forgot that we are not the only ones in this world, that the whole of creation does not revolve around us. Like stupid, fat, lazy minnows in a slimy pond we chose not to accept the existence of pike. We allowed our world, like the pond, to become slimy, boggy and sluggish. Look around you– there is crime and sin everywhere, greed, the pursuit of profit, quarrels and disagreements are rife. Our traditions are disappearing, respect for our values is fading. Instead of living according to Nature we have begun to destroy it. And what have we got for it? The air is poisoned by the stink of smelting furnaces, the rivers and brooks are tainted by slaughterhouses and tanneries, forests are being cut down without a thought... Ha– just look! – even on the living bark of sacred Bleobheris, there just above the poet's head, there's afoul phrase carved outwith a knife– and it's misspelled at that– by a stupid, illiterate vandal. Why are you surprised? It had to end badly-\"\n\n\"Yes, yes!\" the fat priest joined in. \"Come to your senses, you sinners, while there is still time, because the anger and vengeance of the gods hangs over you! Remember Ithlin's oracle, the prophetic words describing the punishment of the gods reserved fora tribe poisoned by crime!\"The Time of Contempt will come, when the tree will lose its leaves, the bud will wither, the fruit will rot, the seed turn bitter and the river valleys will run with ice instead of water. The White Chill will come, and after it the White Light, and the world will perish beneath blizzards. ' Thus spoke Seeress Ithlin! And before this comes to pass there will be visible signs, plagues will ravish the earth– Remember! – the Nilfgaard are our punishment from the gods! They are the whip with which the Immortals will lash you sinners, so that you may-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Shut up, you sanctimonious old man!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "roared Sheldon Skaggs, stamping his heavy boots. \"Your superstitious rot makes me sick! My guts are churning-\"\n\n\"Careful, Sheldon.\" The tall elf cut him short with a smile. \"Don't mock another's religion. It is not pleasant, polite or... safe.\"\n\n\"I'm not mocking anything,\" protested the dwarf. \"I don't doubt the existence of the gods, but it annoys me when someone drags them into earthly matters and tries to pull the wool over my eyes using the prophecies of some crazy elf. The Nilfgaardians are the instrument of the gods? Rubbish! Search back through your memories to the past, to the days of Dezmod, Radowid and Sambuk, to the days of Abrad, the Old Oak! You may not remember them, because your lives are so very short– you're like Mayflies– but I remember, and I'll tell you what it was like in these lands just after you climbed from your boats on the Yaruga Estuary and the Pontar Delta onto the beach. Three kingdoms sprang from the four ships which beached on those shores; the stronger groups absorbed the weaker and so grew, strengthening their positions. They invaded others' territories, conquered them, and their kingdoms expanded, becoming ever larger and more powerful. And now the Nilfgaardians are doing the same, because theirs is a strong and united, disciplined and tightly knit country. And unless you close ranks in the same way, Nilfgaard will swallow you as a pike does a minnow– just as this wise druid said!\"\n\n\"Let them just try!\" Donimir of Troy puffed out his lion-emblazoned chest and shook his sword in its scabbard. \"We beat them hollow on Sodden Hill, and we can do it again!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You're very cocksure,\" snarled Sheldon Skaggs."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You've evidently forgotten, sir knight, that before the battle of Sodden Hill, the Nilfgaard had advanced across your lands like an iron roller, strewing the land between Marnadal and Transriver with the corpses of many a gallant fellow like yourself. And it wasn't loud-mouthed smart-arses like you who stopped the Nilfgaardians, but the united strengths of Temeria, Redania, Aedirn and Kaedwen. Concord and unity, that's what stopped them!\"\n\n\"Not just that,\" remarked Radcliffe in a cold, resonant voice. \"Not just that, Master Skaggs.\"\n\nThe dwarf hawked loudly, blew his nose, shuffled his feet then bowed a little to the wizard.\n\n\"No one is denying the contribution of your fellowship,\" he said. \"Shame on he who does not acknowledge the heroism of the brotherhood of wizards on Sodden Hill. They stood their ground bravely, shed blood for the common cause, and contributed most eminently to our victory. Dandilion did not forget them in his ballad, and nor shall we. But note that these wizards stood united and loyal on the Hill, and accepted the leadership of Vilgefortz of Roggeveen just as we, the warriors of the Four Kingdoms, acknowledged the command of Vizimir of Redania. It's just a pity this solidarity and concord only lasted for the duration of the war, because, with peace, here we are divided again. Vizimir and Foltest are choking each other with customs taxes and trading laws, Demawend of Aedirn is bickering with Henselt over the Northern Marches while the League of Hengfors and the Thyssenids of Kovir don't give a toss. And I hear that looking for the old concord amongst the wizards is useless, too. We are not closely knit, we have no discipline and no unity. But Nilfgaard does!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Nilfgaard is ruled by Emperor Emhyr var Emreis, a tyrant and autocrat who enforces obedience with whip, noose and axe!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "thundered Baron Vilibert. \"What are you proposing, sir dwarf? How are we supposed to close ranks? With similar tyranny? And which king, which kingdom, in your opinion, should subordinate the others? In whose hands would you like to seethe sceptre and knout?\"\n\n\"What do I care?\" replied Skaggs with a shrug. \"That's a human affair. Whoever you chose to be king wouldn't be a dwarf anyway.\"\n\n\"Oran elf, or even half-elf,\" added the tall representative of the Elder Race, his arm still wrapped around the toque-wearing beauty. \"You even consider quarter-elves inferior-\"\n\n\"That's where it stings,\" laughed Vilibert. \"You're blowing the same horn as Nilfgaard because Nilfgaard is also shouting about equality, promising you a return to the old order as soon as we've been conquered and they've scythed us off these lands. That's the sort of unity, the sort of equality you're dreaming of, the sort you're talking about and trumpeting! Nilfgaard pays you gold to do it! And it's hardly surprising you love each other so much, the Nilfgaardians being an elven race-\"\n\n\"Nonsense,\" the elf said coldly. \"You talk rubbish, sir knight. You're clearly blinded by racism. The Nilfgaardians are human, just like you.\"\n\n\"That's an outright lie! They're descended from the Black Seidhe and everyone knows it! Elven blood flows through their veins! The blood of elves!\"\n\n\"And what flows through yours?\" The elf smiled derisively. \"We've been combining our blood for generations, for centuries, your race and mine, and doing so quite successfully– fortunately or unfortunately, I don't know. You started persecuting mixed relationships less than a quarter of a century ago and, incidentally, not very successfully. So show me a human now who hasn't a dash of Seidhe Ichaer, the blood of the Elder Race.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Vilibert visibly turned red. Vera Loewenhaupt also flushed. Wizard Radcliffe bowed his head and coughed. And, most interestingly, the beautiful elfin the ermine toque blushed too.\n\n\"We are all children of Mother Earth.\" The grey-haired druid's voice resounded in the silence. \"We are children of Mother Nature. And though we do not respect our mother, though we often worry her and cause her pain, though we break her heart, she loves us. Loves us all. Let us remember that, we who are assembled herein this Seat of Friendship. And let us not bicker over which of us was here first: Acorn was the first to be thrown up by the waves and from Acorn sprouted the Great Bleobheris, the oldest of oaks. Standing beneath its crown, amongst its primordial roots, let us not forget our own brotherly roots, the earth from which these roots grow. Let us remember the words of Poet Dandilion's song-\"\n\n\"Exactly!\" exclaimed Vera Loewenhaupt. \"And where is he?\"\n\n\"He's fled,\" ascertained Sheldon Skaggs, gazing at the empty place under the oak. \"Taken the money and fled without saying goodbye. Very elf-like!\"\n\n\"Dwarf-like!\" squealed Ironware.\n\n\"Human-like,\" corrected the tall elf, and the beauty in the toque rested her head against his shoulder.\n\n\"Hey, minstrel,\" said Mama Lantieri, striding into the room without knocking, the scents of hyacinths, sweat, beer and smoked bacon wafting before her. \"You've got a guest. Enter, noble gentleman.\"\n\nDandilion smoothed his hair and sat up in the enormous carved armchair. The two girls sitting on his lap quickly jumped up, covering their charms and pulling down their disordered clothes. The modesty of harlots, thought the poet, was not at all a bad title fora ballad. He got to his feet, fastened his belt and pulled on his doublet, all the while looking at the nobleman standing at the threshold."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Indeed,\" he remarked, \"you know how to find me anywhere, though you rarely pick an opportune moment."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You're lucky I'd not yet decided which of these two beauties I prefer. And at your prices, Lantieri, I cannot afford them both.\"\n\nMama Lantieri smiled in sympathy and clapped her hands. Both girls– a fair-skinned, freckled islander and a dark-haired half-elf– swiftly left the room. The man at the door removed his cloak and handed it to Mama along with a small but well-filled money-bag.\n\n\"Forgive me, master,\" he said, approaching the table and making himself comfortable. \"I know this is not a good time to disturb you. But you disappeared out from beneath the oak so quickly... I did not catch you on the High Road as I had intended and did not immediately come across your tracks in this little town. I'll not take much of your time, believe me-\"\n\n\"They always say that, and it's always a lie,\" the bard interrupted. \"Leave us alone, Lantieri, and see to it that we're not disturbed. I'm listening, sir.\"\n\nThe man scrutinised him. He had dark, damp, almost tearful eyes, a pointed nose and ugly, narrow lips.\n\n\"I'll come to the point without wasting your time,\" he declared, waiting for the door to close behind Mama. \"Your ballads interest me, master. To be more specific, certain characters of which you sang interest me. I am concerned with the true fate of your ballad's heroes. If I am not mistaken, the true destinies of real people inspired the beautiful work I heard beneath the oak tree? I have in mind... Little Cirilla of Cintra. Queen Calanthe's granddaughter.\"\n\nDandilion gazed at the ceiling, drumming his fingers on the table.\n\n\"Honoured sir,\" he said dryly, \"you are interested in strange matters. You ask strange questions. Something tells me you are not the person I took you to be.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And who did you take me to be, if I may ask?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure you may. It depends if you are about to convey greetings tome from any mutual friends. You should have done so initially, but somehow you have forgotten.\"\n\n\"I did not forget at all.\" The man reached into the breast pocket of his sepia-coloured velvet tunic and pulled out a money-bag somewhat larger than the one he had handed the procuress but just as well-filled, which clinked as it touched the table. \"We simply have no mutual friends, Dandilion. But might this purse not suffice to mitigate the lack?\"\n\n\"And what do you intend to buy with this meagre purse?\" The troubadour pouted. \"Mama Lantieri's entire brothel and all the land surrounding it?\"\n\n\"Let us say that I intend to support the arts. And an artist. In order to chat with the artist about his work.\"\n\n\"You love art so much, do you, dear sir? Is it so vital for you to talk to an artist that you press money on him before you've even introduced yourself and, in doing so, break the most elementary rules of courtesy?\"\n\n\"At the beginning of our conversation��� – the stranger's dark eyes narrowed imperceptibly–\" my anonymity did not bother you.\"\n\n\"And now it is starting to.\"\n\n\"I am not ashamed of my name,\" said the man, a faint smile appearing on his narrow lips. \"I am called Rience. You do not know me, Master Dandilion, and that is no surprise. You are too famous and well known to know all of your admirers. Yet everyone who admires your talents feels he knows you, knows you so well that a certain degree of familiarity is permissible. This applies tome, too. I know it is a misconception, so please graciously forgive me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I graciously forgive you.\"\n\n\"Then I can count on you agreeing to answer a few questions-\"\n\n\"No! No you cannot,\" interrupted the poet, putting on airs. \"Now, if you will graciously forgive me, I am not willing to discuss the subjects of my work, its inspiration or its characters, fictitious or otherwise. To do so would deprive poetry of its poetic veneer and lead to triteness.\"\n\n\"Is that so?\"\n\n\"It certainly is. For example, if, having sung the ballad about the miller's merry wife, I were to announce it's really about Zvirka, Miller Loach's wife, and I included an announcement that Zvirka can most easily be bedded every Thursday because on Thursdays the miller goes to market, it would no longer be poetry. It would be either rhyming couplets, or foul slander.\"\n\n\"I understand, I understand,\" Rience said quickly. \"But perhaps that is a bad example. I am not, after all, interested in anyone's peccadilloes or sins. You will not slander anyone by answering my questions. All I need is one small piece of information: what really happened to Cirilla, the Queen of Cintra's granddaughter? Many people claim she was killed during the siege of the town; there are even eye-witnesses to support the claim. From your ballad, however, it would appear that the child survived. I am truly interested to know if this is your imagination at work, or the truth? True or false?\"\n\n\"I'm extremely pleased you're so interested.\" Dandilion smiled broadly. \"You may laugh, Master whatever-your-name-is, but that was precisely what I intended when I composed the ballad. I wished to excite my listeners and arouse their curiosity.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"True or false?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "repeated Rience coldly.\n\n\"If I were to give that away I would destroy the impact of my work. Goodbye, my friend. You have used up all the time I can spare you. And two of my many inspirations are waiting out there, wondering which of them I will choose.\"\n\nRience remained silent fora long while, making no move to leave. He stared at the poet with his unfriendly, moist eyes, and the poet felt a growing unease. A merry din came from the bawdy-house's main room, punctuated from time to time by high-pitched feminine giggles. Dandilion turned his head away, pretending to show derisive haughtiness but, in fact, he was judging the distance to the corner of the room and the tapestry showing a nymph sprinkling her breasts with water poured from a jug.\n\n\"Dandilion,\" Rience finally spoke, slipping his hand back into the pocket of his sepia-coloured tunic, \"answer my questions. Please. I have to know the answer. It's incredibly important tome. To you, too, believe me, because if you answer of your own freewill then-\"\n\n\"Then what?\"\n\nA hide-ous grimace crept over Rience's narrow lips.\n\n\"Then I won't have to force you to speak.\"\n\n\"Now listen, you scoundrel.\" Dandilion stood up and pretended to pull a threatening face. \"I loathe violence and force, but I'm going to call Mama Lantieri in a minute and she will calla certain Gruzila who fulfils the honourable and responsible role of bouncer in this establishment. He is a true artist in his field. He'll kick your arse so hard you'll soar over the town roofs with such magnificence that the few people passing by at this hour will take you fora Pegasus.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rience made an abrupt gesture and something glistened in his hand.\n\n\"Are you sure,\" he asked, \"you'll have time to call her?\"\n\nDandilion had no intention of checking if he would have time. Nor did he intend to wait. Before the stiletto had locked in Rience's hand Dandilion had taken along leap to the corner of the room, dived under the nymph tapestry, kicked open a secret door and rushed headlong down the winding stairs, nimbly steering himself with the aid of the well-worn banisters. Rience darted after him, but the poet was sure of himself– he knew the secret passage like the back of his hand, having used it numerous times to flee creditors, jealous husbands and furious rivals from whom he had, from time to time, stolen rhymes and tunes. He knew that after the third turning he would be able to grope fora revolving door, behind which there was a ladder leading down to the cellar. He was sure that his persecutor would be unable to stop in time, would run on and step on a trapdoor through which he would fall and land in the pigsty. He was equally sure that– bruised, covered in shit and mauled by the pigs– his persecutor would give up the chase.\n\nDandilion was mistaken, as was usually the case whenever he was too confident. Something flashed a sudden blue behind his back and the poet felt his limbs grow numb, lifeless and stiff. He couldn't slowdown for the revolving door, his legs wouldn't obey him. He yelled and rolled down the stairs, bumping against the walls of the little corridor. The trapdoor opened beneath him with a dry crack and the troubadour tumbled down into the darkness and stench. Before thumping his head on the dirt floor and losing consciousness, he remembered Mama Lantieri saying something about the pigsty being repaired."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The pain in his constricted wrists and shoulders, cruelly twisted in their joints, brought him back to his senses."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He wanted to scream but couldn't; it felt as though his mouth had been stuck up with clay. He was kneeling on the dirt floor with a creaking rope hauling him up by his wrists. He tried to stand, wanting to ease the pressure on his shoulders, but his legs, too, were tied together. Choking and suffocating he somehow struggled to his feet, helped considerably by the rope which tugged mercilessly at him.\n\nRience was standing in front of him and his evil eyes glinted in the light of a lantern held aloft by an unshaven ruffian who stood over six feet tall. Another ruffian, probably no shorter, stood behind him. Dandilion could hear his breathing and caught a whiff of stale sweat. It was the reeking man who tugged on the rope looped over a roof beam and fastened to the poet's wrists.\n\nDandilion's feet tore off the dirt floor. The poet whistled through his nose, unable to do anything more.\n\n\"Enough,\" Rience snapped at last– he spoke almost immediately, yet it had seemed an age to Dandilion. The bard's feet touched the ground but, despite his most heart-felt desire, he could not kneel again– the tight drawn rope was still holding him as taut as a string.\n\nRience came closer. There was not even a trace of emotion on his face; the damp eyes had not changed their expression in the least. His tone of voice, too, remained calm, quiet, even a little bored.\n\n\"You nasty rhymester. You runt. You scum. You arrogant nobody. You tried to run from me? No one has escaped me yet. We haven't finished our conversation, you clown, you sheep's head. I asked you a question under much pleasanter circumstances than these. Now you are going to answer all my questions, and in far less pleasant circumstances. Am I right?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Dandilion nodded eagerly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only now did Rience smile and make a sign. The bard squealed helplessly, feeling the rope tighten and his arms, twisted backwards, cracking in their joints.\n\n\"You can't talk,\" Rience confirmed, still smiling loathsomely, \"and it hurts, doesn't it? For the moment, you should know I'm having you strung up like this for my own pleasure– just because I love watching people suffer. Goon, just a little higher.\"\n\nDandilion was wheezing so hard he almost choked.\n\n\"Enough,\" Rience finally ordered, then approached the poet and grabbed him by his shirt ruffles. \"Listen tome, you little cock. I'm going to lift the spell so you can talk. But if you try to raise your charming voice any louder than necessary, you'll be sorry.\"\n\nHe made a gesture with his hand, touched the poet's cheek with his ring and Dandilion felt sensation return to his jaw, tongue and palate.\n\n\"Now,\" Rience continued quietly, \"I am going to ask you a few questions and you are going to answer them quickly, fluently and comprehensively. And if you stammer or hesitate even fora moment, if you give me the slightest reason to doubt the truth of your words, then... Look down.\"\n\nDandilion obeyed. He discovered to his horror that a short rope had been tied to the knots around his ankles, with a bucket full of lime attached to the other end.\n\n\"If I have you pulled any higher,\" Rience smiled cruelly, \"and this bucket lifts with you, then you will probably never regain the feeling in your hands. After that, I doubt you will be capable of playing anything on a lute. I really doubt it. So I think you'll talk tome. Am I right?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dandilion didn't agree because he couldn't move his head or find his voice out of sheer fright. But Rience did not seem to require confirmation.\n\n\"It is to be understood,\" he stated, \"that I will know immediately if you are telling the truth, if you try to trick me I will realise straightaway, and I won't be fooled by any poetic ploys or vague erudition. This is a trifle for me– just as paralysing you on the stairs was a trifle. So I advise you to weigh each word with care, you piece of scum. So, let's get on with it and stop wasting time. As you know, I'm interested in the heroine of one of your beautiful ballads, Queen Calanthe of Cintra's granddaughter, Princess Cirilla, endearingly known as Ciri. According to eye-witnesses this little person died during the siege of the town, two years ago. Whereas in your ballad you so vividly and touchingly described her meeting a strange, almost legendary individual, the... witcher... Geralt, or Gerald. Leaving the poetic drivel about destiny and the decrees of fate aside, from the rest of the ballad it seems the child survived the Battle of Cintra in one piece. Is that true?\"\n\n\"I don't know...\" moaned Dandilion. \"By all the gods, I'm only a poet! I've heard this and that, and the rest...\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"The rest I invented. Made it up! I don't know anything!\" The bard howled on seeing Rience give a sign to the reeking man and feeling the rope tighten. \"I'm not lying!\"\n\n\"True.\" Rience nodded. \"You're not lying outright, I would have sensed it. But you are beating about the bush. You wouldn't have thought the ballad up just like that, not without reason. And you do know the witcher, after all. You have often been seen in his company. So talk, Dandilion, if you treasure your joints. Everything you know.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This Ciri,\" panted the poet, \"was destined for the witcher. She's a so-called Child Surprise... You must have heard it, the story's well known. Her parents swore to hand her over to the witcher-\"\n\n\"Her parents are supposed to have handed the child over to that crazed mutant? That murderous mercenary? You're lying, rhymester. Keep such tales for women.\"\n\n\"That's what happened, I swear on my mother's soul,\" sobbed Dandilion. \"I have it from a reliable source... The witcher-\"\n\n\"Talk about the girl. For the moment I'm not interested in the witcher.\"\n\n\"I don't know anything about the girl! I only know that the witcher was going to fetch her from Cintra when the war broke out. I met him at the time. He heard about the massacre, about Calanthe's death, from me... He asked me about the child, the queen's granddaughter... But I knew everyone in Cintra was killed, not a single soul in the last bastion survived-\"\n\n\"Goon. Fewer metaphors, more hard facts!\"\n\n\"When the witcher learned of the massacre and fall of Cintra he forsook his journey. We both escaped north. We parted ways in Hengfors and I haven't seen him since... But because he talked, on the way, a bit about this... Ciri, or whatever-her-name-is... and about destiny... Well, I made up this ballad. I don't know anymore, I swear!\"\n\nRience scowled at him.\n\n\"And where is this witcher now?\" he asked. \"This hired monster murderer, this poetic butcher who likes to discuss destiny?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I told you, the last time I saw him-\"\n\n\"I know what you said,\" Rience interrupted. \"I listened carefully to what you said. And now you're going to listen carefully tome. Answer my questions precisely. The question is: if no one has seen Geralt, or Gerald, the Witcher for over a year, where is he hiding? Where does he usually hide?\"\n\n\"I don't know where it is,\" the troubadour said quickly. \"I'm not lying. I really don't know-\"\n\n\"Too quick, Dandilion, too quick.\" Rience smiled ominously. \"Too eager. You are cunning but not careful enough. You don't know where it is, you say. But I warrant you know what it is.\"\n\nDandilion clenched his teeth with anger and despair.\n\n\"Well?\" Rience made a sign to the reeking man. \"Where is the witcher hiding? What is the place called?\"\n\nThe poet remained silent. The rope tightened, twisting his hands painfully, and his feet left the ground. Dandilion let out a howl, brief and broken because Rience's wizardly ring immediately gagged him.\n\n\"Higher, higher.\" Rience rested his hands on his hips. \"You know, Dandilion, I could use magic to sound out your mind, but it's exhausting. Besides, I like seeing people's eyes pop out of their sockets from pain. And you're going to tell me anyway.\"\n\nDandilion knew he would. The rope secured to his ankles grew taut, the bucket of lime scraped along the ground.\n\n\"Sir,\" said the first ruffian suddenly, covering the lantern with his cloak and peering through the gap in the pigsty door, \"someone's coming. A lass, I think.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You know what to do,\" Rience hissed. \"Put the lantern out.\"\n\nThe reeking man released the rope and Dandilion tumbled inertly to the ground, falling in such away that he could seethe man with the lantern standing at the door and the reeking man, along knife in his hand, lying in wait on the other side. Light broke in from the bawdy-house through gaps in the planks, and the poet heard the singing and hubbub.\n\nThe door to the pigsty creaked open revealing a short figure wrapped in a cloak and wearing around, tightly fitting cap. After a moment's hesitation, the woman crossed the threshold. The reeking man threw himself at her, slashing forcefully with his knife, and tumbled to his knees as the knife met with no resistance, passing through the figure's throat as though through a cloud of smoke. Because the figure really was a cloud of smoke– one which was already starting to disperse. But before it completely vanished another figure burst into the pigsty, indistinct, dark and nimble as a weasel. Dandilion saw it throw a cloak at the lantern man, jump over the reeking one, saw something glisten in its hand, and heard the reeking man wheeze and choke savagely. The lantern man disentangled himself from the cloak, jumped, took a swing with his knife. A fiery lightning bolt shot from the dark figure with a hiss, slapped over the tough's face and chest with a crack and spread over him like flaming oil. The ruffian screamed piercingly and the grim reek of burning meat filled the pigsty.\n\nThen Rience attacked. The spell he cast illuminated the darkness with a bluish flash in which Dandilion saw a slender woman wearing man's clothes gesticulating strangely with both hands. He only glimpsed her fora second before the blue glow disappeared with a bang and a blinding flash. Rience fell back with a roar of fury and collapsed onto the wooden pigsty walls, breaking them with a crash. The woman dressed in man's clothing leapt after him, a stiletto flashing in her hand. The pigsty filled with brightness again– this time golden– beaming from a bright oval which suddenly appeared in the air. Dandilion saw Rience spring up from the dusty floor, leap into the oval and immediately disappear. The oval dimmed but, before it went out entirely, the woman ran up to it shouting incomprehensibly, stretching out her hand. Something crackled and rustled and the dying oval boiled with roaring flames fora moment. A muffled sound, as if coming from a great distance, reached Dandilion's ears– a sound very much like a scream of pain. The oval went out completely and darkness engulfed the pigsty again. The poet felt the power which gagged him disappear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Help!\" he howled. \"Help!\"\n\n\"Stop yelling, Dandilion,\" said the woman, kneeling next to him and slicing through the knots with Rience's stiletto.\n\n\"Yennefer? Is that you?\"\n\n\"Surely you're not going to say you don't remember how I look. And I'm sure my voice is not unfamiliar to your musical ear. Can you getup? They didn't break any bones, did they?\"\n\nDandilion stood with difficulty, groaned and stretched his aching shoulders.\n\n\"What's with them?\" He indicated the bodies lying on the ground.\n\n\"We'll check.\" The enchantress snicked the stiletto shut. \"One of them should still be alive. I've a few questions for him.\"\n\n\"This one,\" the troubadour stood over the reeking man, \"probably still lives.\"\n\n\"I doubt it,\" said Yennefer indifferently. \"I severed his windpipe and carotid artery. There might still be a little murmur in him but not for long.\"\n\nDandilion shuddered.\n\n\"You slashed his throat?\"\n\n\"If, out of inborn caution, I hadn't sent an illusion in first, I would be the one lying there now. Let's look at the other one... Bloody hell. Such a sturdy fellow and he still couldn't take it. Pity, pity-\"\n\n\"He's dead, too?\"\n\n\"He couldn't take the shock. Hmm... I fried him a little too hard... See, even his teeth are charred-What's the matter with you, Dandilion? Are you going to be sick?\"\n\n\"I am,\" the poet replied indistinctly, bending over and leaning his forehead against the pigsty wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That's everything?\" The enchantress put her tumbler down and reached for the skewer of roast chickens. \"You haven't lied about anything? Haven't forgotten anything?\"\n\n\"Nothing. Apart from \"thank you\". Thank you, Yennefer.\"\n\nShe looked him in the eyes and nodded her head lightly, making her glistening, black curls writhe and cascade down to her shoulders. She slipped the roast chicken onto a trencher and began dividing it skilfully. She used a knife and fork. Dandilion had only known one person, up until then, who could eat a chicken with a knife and fork as skilfully. Now he knew how, and from whom, Geralt had learnt the knack. Well, he thought, no wonder. After all, he did live with her fora year in Vengerberg and before he left her, she had instilled a number of strange things into him. He pulled the other chicken from the skewer and, without a second thought, ripped off a thigh and began eating it, pointedly holding it with both hands.\n\n\"How did you know?\" he asked. \"How did you arrive with help on time?\"\n\n\"I was beneath Bleobheris during your performance.\"\n\n\"I didn't see you.\"\n\n\"I didn't want to be seen. Then I followed you into town. I waited here, in the tavern– it wasn't fitting, after all, for me to follow you into that haven of dubious delight and certain gonorrhoea. But I eventually became impatient and was wandering around the yard when I thought I heard voices coming from the pigsty. I sharpened my hearing and it turned out it wasn't, as I'd first thought, some sodomite but you. Hey, innkeeper! More wine, if you please!\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, dark fantasy, witcher\nAuthor: Andrzej Sapkowski\nTitle: Blood of Elves\nChapter: 7"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"\"Golden Oriole\".\"\n\n\"Correct. But it is better to avoid infection to begin with. That is why, when fighting a graveir, you must never get close to the bastard. You always fight from a distance and strike from a leap.\"\n\n\"Hmm... And where's it best to strike one?\"\n\n\"We're just getting to that. Look...\"\n\n\"Once more, Ciri. We'll go through it slowly so that you can master each move. Now, I'm attacking you with tierce, taking the position as if to thrust... Why are you retreating?\"\n\n\"Because I know it's a feint! You can move into a wide sinistra or strike with upper quarte. And I'll retreat and parry with a counterfeint!\"\n\n\"Is that so? And if I do this?\"\n\n\"Auuu! It was supposed to be slow! What did I do wrong, Coën?\"\n\n\"Nothing. I'm just taller and stronger than you are.\"\n\n\"That's not fair!\"\n\n\"There's no such thing as a fair fight. You have to make use of every advantage and every opportunity that you get. By retreating you gave me the opportunity to put more force into the strike. Instead of retreating you should have executed a half-pirouette to the left and tried to cut at me from below, with quarte dextra, under the chin, in the cheek or throat.\"\n\n\"As if you'd let me! You'll do a reverse pirouette and get my neck from the left before I can parry! How am I meant to know what you're doing?\"\n\n\"You have to know. And you do know.\"\n\n\"Oh, sure!\"\n\n\"Ciri, what we're doing is fighting. I'm your opponent. I want to and have to defeat you because my life is at stake. I'm taller and stronger than you so I'm going to watch for opportunities to strike in order to avoid or break your parry– as you've just seen. What do I need a pirouette for? I'm already in sinistra, see? What could be simpler than to strike with a seconde, under the arm, on the inside? If I slash your artery, you'll be dead in a couple of minutes. Defend yourself!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Haaaa!\"\n\n\"Very good. A beautiful, quick parry. See how exercising your wrist has come in useful? And now pay attention– a lot of fencers make the mistake of executing a standing parry and freeze fora second, and that's just when you can catch them out, strike– like so!\"\n\n\"Haa!\"\n\n\"Beautiful! Now jump away, jump away immediately, pirouette! I could have a dagger in my left hand! Good! Very good! And now, Ciri? What am I going to do now?\"\n\n\"How am Ito know?\"\n\n\"Watch my feet! How is my body weight distributed? What can I do from this position?\"\n\n\"Anything!\"\n\n\"So spin, spin, force me to open up! Defend yourself! Good! And again! Good! And again!\"\n\n\"Owwww!\"\n\n\"Not so good.\"\n\n\"Uff... What did I do wrong?\"\n\n\"Nothing. I'm just faster. Take your guards off. We'll sit fora moment, take a break. You must be tired, you've been running the Trail all morning.\"\n\n\"I'm not tired. I'm hungry.\"\n\n\"Bloody hell, so am I. And today's Lambert's turn and he can't cook anything other than noodles... If he could only cook those properly...\"\n\n\"Coën?\"\n\n\"Aha?\"\n\n\"I'm still not fast enough-\"\n\n\"You're very fast.\"\n\n\"Will I ever be as fast as you?\"\n\n\"I doubt it.\"\n\n\"Hmm... And are you-? Who's the best fencer in the world?\"\n\n\"I've no idea.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You've never known one?\"\n\n\"I've known many who believed themselves to be the best.\"\n\n\"Oh! What were they? What were their names? What could they do?\"\n\n\"Hold on, hold on, girl. I haven't got an answer to those questions. Is it all that important?\"\n\n\"Of course it's important! I'd like to know who these fencers are. And where they are.\"\n\n\"Where they are? I know that.\"\n\n\"Ah! So where?\"\n\n\"In cemeteries.\"\n\n\"Pay attention, Ciri. We're going to attach a third pendulum now– you can manage two already. You use the same steps as for two only there's one more dodge. Ready?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Focus yourself. Relax. Breathe in, breathe out. Attack!\"\n\n\"Ouch! Owwww... Damn it!\"\n\n\"Don't swear. Did it hit you hard?\"\n\n\"No, it only brushed me... What did I do wrong?\"\n\n\"You ran in at too even apace, you sped the second half-pirouette up a bit too much, and your feint was too wide. And as a result you were carried straight under the pendulum.\"\n\n\"But Geralt, there's no room fora dodge and turn there! They're too close to each other!\"\n\n\"There's plenty of room, I assure you. But the gaps are worked out to force you to make arrhythmic moves. This is a fight, Ciri, not ballet. You can't move rhythmically in a fight. You have to distract the opponent with your moves, confuse his reactions. Ready for another try?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ready. Start those damn logs swinging.\"\n\n\"Don't swear. Relax. Attack!\"\n\n\"Ha! Ha! Well, how about that? How was that, Geralt? It didn't even brush me!\"\n\n\"And you didn't even brush the second sack with your sword. So I repeat, this is a fight. Not ballet, not acrobatics-What are you muttering now?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\n\"Relax. Adjust the bandage on your wrist. Don't grip the hilt so tightly, it distracts you and upsets your equilibrium. Breathe calmly. Ready?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Go!\"\n\n\"Ouch! May you-Geralt, it's impossible! There's not enough room fora feint and a change of foot. And when I strike from both legs, without a feint...\"\n\n\"I saw what happens when you strike without a feint. Does it hurt?\"\n\n\"No. Not much...\"\n\n\"Sit down next tome. Take a break.\"\n\n\"I'm not tired. Geralt, I'm not going to be able to jump over that third pendulum even if I rest for ten years. I can't be any faster-\"\n\n\"And you don't have to be. You're fast enough.\"\n\n\"Tell me how to do it then. Half-pirouette, dodge and hit at the same time?\"\n\n\"It's very simple; you just weren't paying attention. I told you before you started– an additional dodge is necessary. Displacement. An additional half-pirouette is superfluous. The second time round, you did everything well and passed all the pendulums.\"\n\n\"But I didn't hit the sack because... Geralt, without a half-pirouette I can't strike because I lose speed, I don't have the... the, what do you call it...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Impetus. That's true. So gain some impetus and energy. But not through a pirouette and change of foot because there's not enough time for it. Hit the pendulum with your sword.\"\n\n\"The pendulum? I've got to hit the sacks!\"\n\n\"This is a fight, Ciri. The sacks represent your opponent's sensitive areas, you've got to hit them. The pendulums– which simulate your opponent's weapon– you have to avoid, dodge past. When the pendulum hits you, you're wounded. Ina real fight, you might not getup again. The pendulum mustn't touch you. But you can hit the pendulum... Why are you screwing your nose up?\"\n\n\"I'm... not going to be able to parry the pendulum with my sword. I'm too weak... I'll always be too weak! Because I'm a girl!\"\n\n\"Come here, girl. Wipe your nose, and listen carefully. No strongman, mountain-toppling giant or muscle-man is going to be able to parry a blow aimed at him by a dracolizard's tail, gigascorpion's pincers or a griffin's claws. And that's precisely the sort of weapons the pendulum simulates. So don't even try to parry. You're not deflecting the pendulum, you're deflecting yourself from it. You're intercepting its energy, which you need in order to deal a blow. Alight, but very swift deflection and instantaneous, equally swift blow from a reverse half-turn is enough. You're picking impetus up by rebounding. Do you see?\"\n\n\"Mhm.\"\n\n\"Speed, Ciri, not strength. Strength is necessary fora lumberjack axing trees in a forest. That's why, admittedly, girls are rarely lumberjacks. Have you got that?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Mhm."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Start the pendulums swinging.\"\n\n\"Take a rest first.\"\n\n\"I'm not tired.\"\n\n\"You know how to now? The same steps, feint-\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"Attack!\"\n\n\"Haaa! Ha! Haaaaa! Got you! I got you, you griffin! Geraaaalt! Did you see that?\"\n\n\"Don't yell. Control your breathing.\"\n\n\"I did it! I really did it!! I managed it! Praise me, Geralt!\"\n\n\"Well done, Ciri. Well done, girl.\"\n\nIn the middle of February, the snow disappeared, whisked away by a warm wind blowing from the south, from the pass.\n\n---\n\nWhatever was happening in the world, the witchers did not want to know.\n\nIn the evenings, consistently and determinedly, Triss guided the long conversations held in the dark hall, lit only by the bursts of flames in the great hearth, towards politics. The witchers' reactions were always the same. Geralt, a hand on his forehead, did not say a word. Vesemir nodded, from time to time throwing in comments which amounted to little more than that'in his day\" everything had been better, more logical, more honest and healthier. Eskel pretended to be polite, and neither smiled nor made eye contact, and even managed, very occasionally, to be interested in some issue or question of little importance. Coën yawned openly and looked at the ceiling, and Lambert did nothing to hide his disdain.\n\nThey did not want to know anything, they cared nothing for dilemmas which drove sleep from kings, wizards, rulers and leaders, or for the problems which made councils, circles and gatherings tremble and buzz. For them, nothing existed beyond the passes drowning in snow or beyond the Gwenllech river carrying ice-floats in its leaden current. For them, only Kaer Morhen existed, lost and lonely amongst the savage mountains."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That evening Triss was irritable and restless– perhaps it was the wind howling along the great castle's walls. And that evening they were all oddly excited– the witchers, apart from Geralt, were unusually talkative. Quite obviously, they only spoke of one thing– spring. About their approaching departure for the Trail. About what the Trail would have in store for them– about vampires, wyverns, leshys, lycanthropes and basilisks.\n\nThis time it was Triss who began to yawn and stare at the ceiling. This time she was the one who remained silent– until Eskel turned to her with a question. A question which she had anticipated.\n\n\"And what is it really like in the south, on the Yaruga? Is it worth going there? We wouldn't like to find ourselves in the middle of any trouble.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by trouble?\"\n\n\"Well, you know...\" he stammered, \"you keep telling us about the possibility of anew war... About constant fighting on the borders, about rebellions in the lands invaded by Nilfgaard. You said they're saying the Nilfgaardians might cross the Yaruga again-\"\n\n\"So what?\" said Lambert. \"They've been hitting, killing and striking against each other constantly for hundreds of years. It's nothing to worry about. I've already decided– I'm going to the far South, to Sodden, Mahakam and Angren. It's well known that monsters abound wherever armies have passed. The most money is always made in places like that.\"\n\n\"True,\" Coën acknowledged. \"The neighbourhood grows deserted, only women who can't fend for themselves remain in the villages... scores of children with no home or care, roaming around... Easy prey attracts monsters.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And the lord barons and village elders,\" added Eskel, \"have their heads full of the war and don't have the time to defend their subjects. They have to hire us. It's true. But from what Triss has been telling us all these evenings, it seems the conflict with Nilfgaard is more serious than that, not just some local little war. Is that right, Triss?\"\n\n\"Even if it were the case,\" said the magician spitefully, \"surely that suits you? A serious, bloody war will lead to more deserted villages, more widowed women, simply hordes of orphaned children-\"\n\n\"I can't understand your sarcasm.\" Geralt took his hand away from his forehead. \"I really can't, Triss.\"\n\n\"Nor I, my child.\" Vesemir raised his head. \"What do you mean? Are you thinking about the widows and children? Lambert and Coën speak frivolously, as youngsters do, but it is not the words that are important. After all, they-\"\n\n\"... they defend these children,\" she interrupted crossly. \"Yes, I know. From the werewolf who might kill two or three a year, while a Nilfgaardian foray can kill and burn an entire settlement in an hour. Yes, you defend orphans. While I fight that there should be as few of those orphans as possible. I'm fighting the cause, not the effect. That's why I'm on Foltest of Temeria's council and sit with Fercart and Keira Metz. We deliberate on how to stop war from breaking out and, should it come to it, how to defend ourselves. Because war is constantly hovering over us like a vulture. For you it's an adventure. For me, it's a game in which the stakes are survival. I'm involved in this game, and that's why your indifference and frivolity hurt and insult me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Geralt sat up and looked at her.\n\n\"We're witchers, Triss. Can't you understand that?\"\n\n\"What's thereto understand?\" The enchantress tossed her chestnut mane back. \"Everything's crystal-clear. You've chosen a certain attitude to the world around you. The fact that this world might at any moment fall to pieces has a place in this choice. In mine, it doesn't. That's where we differ.\"\n\n\"I'm not sure it's only there we differ.\"\n\n\"The world is falling to ruins,\" she repeated. \"We can watch it happen and do nothing. Or we can counteract it.\"\n\n\"How?\" He smiled derisively. \"With our emotions?\"\n\nShe did not answer, turning her face to the fire roaring in the hearth.\n\n\"The world is falling to ruins,\" repeated Coën, nodding his head in feigned thoughtfulness. \"How many times I've heard that.\"\n\n\"Me, too,\" Lambert grimaced. \"And it's not surprising– it's a popular saying of late. It's what kings say when it turns out that a modicum of brains is necessary to rule after all. It's what merchants say when greed and stupidity have led them to bankruptcy. It's what wizards say when they start to lose their influence on politics or income. And the person they're speaking to should expect some sort of proposal straightaway. So cut the introduction short, Triss, and present us with your proposition.\"\n\n\"Verbal squabbling has never amused me,\" the enchantress declared, gauging him with cold eyes, \"or displays of eloquence which mock whoever you're talking to. I don't intend to take part in anything like that. You know only too well what I mean. You want to hide your heads in the sand, that's your business. But coming from you, Geralt, it's a great surprise.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Triss.\" The white-haired witcher looked her straight in the eyes again. \"What do you expect from me? To take an active part in the fight to save a world which is falling to pieces? Am Ito enlist in the army and stop Nilfgaard? Should I, if it comes to another battle for Sodden, stand with you on the Hill, shoulder to shoulder, and fight for freedom?\"\n\n\"I'd be proud,\" she said quietly, lowering her head. \"I'd be proud and happy to fight at your side.\"\n\n\"I believe that. But I'm not gallant enough. Nor valiant enough. I'm not suited to be a soldier or a hero. And having an acute fear of pain, mutilation and death is not the only reason. You can't stop a soldier from being frightened but you can give him motivation to help him overcome that fear. I have no such motivation. I can't have. I'm a witcher: an artificially created mutant. I kill monsters for money. I defend children when their parents pay me to. If Nilfgaardian parents pay me, I'll defend Nilfgaardian children. And even if the world lies in ruin– which does not seem likely tome– I'll carry on killing monsters in the ruins of this world until some monster kills me. That is my fate, my reason, my life and my attitude to the world. And it is not what I chose. It was chosen for me.\"\n\n\"You're embittered,\" she stated, tugging nervously at a strand of hair. \"Or pretending to be. You forget that I know you, so don't play the unfeeling mutant, devoid of a heart, of scruples and of his own freewill, in front of me. And the reasons for your bitterness, I can guess and understand. Ciri's prophecy, correct?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No, not correct,\" he answered icily."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I see that you don't know meat all. I'm afraid of death, just like everyone else, but I grew used to the idea of it a very longtime ago– I'm not under any illusions. I'm not complaining about fate, Triss– this is plain, cold calculation. Statistics. No witcher has yet died of old age, lying in bed dictating his will. Not a single one. Ciri didn't surprise or frighten me. I know I'm going to die in some cave which stinks of carcases, torn apart by a griffin, lamia or manticore. But I don't want to die in a war, because they're not my wars.\"\n\n\"I'm surprised at you,\" she replied sharply. \"I'm surprised that you're saying this, surprised by your lack of motivation, as you learnedly chose to describe your supercilious distance and indifference. You were at Sodden, Angren and Transriver. You know what happened to Cintra, know what befell Queen Calanthe and many thousands of people there. You know the hell Ciri went through, know why she cries out at night. And I know, too, because I was also there. I'm afraid of pain and death too, even more so now than I was then– I have good reason. As for motivation, it seems tome that back then I had just as little as you. Why should I, a magician, care about the fates of Sodden, Brugge, Cintra or other kingdoms? The problems of having more or less competent rulers? The interests of merchants and barons? I was a magician. I, too, could have said it wasn't my war, that I could mix elixirs for the Nilfgaardians on the ruins of the world. But I stood on that Hill next to Vilgefortz, next to Artaud Terranova, next to Fercart, next to Enid Findabair and Philippa Eilhart, next to your Yennefer. Next to those who no longer exist– Coral, Yoël, Vanielle... There was a moment when out of sheer terror I forgot all my spells except for one– and thanks to that spell I could have teleported myself from that horrific place back home, to my tiny little tower in Maribor. There was a moment, when I threw up from fear, when Yennefer and Coral held me up by the shoulders and hair-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Stop. Please, stop.\"\n\n\"No, Geralt. I won't. After all, you want to know what happened there, on the Hill. So listen– there was a din and flames, there were flaming arrows and exploding balls of fire, there were screams and crashes, and I suddenly found myself on the ground on a pile of charred, smoking rags, and I realised that the pile of rags was Yoël and that thing next to her, that awful thing, that trunk with no arms and no legs which was screaming so horrifically was Coral. And I thought the blood in which I was lying was Coral's blood. But it was my own. And then I saw what they had done tome, and I started to howl, howl like a beaten dog, like a battered child-Leave me alone! Don't worry, I'm not going to cry. I'm not a little girl from a tiny tower in Maribor anymore. Damn it, I'm Triss Merigold, the Fourteenth One Killed at Sodden. There are fourteen graves at the foot of the obelisk on the Hill, but only thirteen bodies. You're amazed such a mistake could have been made? Most of the corpses were in hard-to-recognise pieces– no one identified them. The living were hard to account for, too. Of those who had known me well, Yennefer was the only one to survive, and Yennefer was blind. Others knew me fleetingly and always recognised me by my beautiful hair. And I, damn it, didn't have it anymore!\"\n\nGeralt held her closer. She no longer tried to push him away.\n\n\"They used the highest magics onus,\" she continued in a muted voice, \"spells, elixirs, amulets and artefacts. Nothing was left wanting for the wounded heroes of the Hill. We were cured, patched up, our former appearances returned to us, our hair and sight restored. You can hardly seethe marks. But I will never wear a plunging neckline again, Geralt. Never.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The witchers said nothing. Neither did Ciri, who had slipped into the hall without a sound and stopped at the threshold, hunching her shoulders and folding her arms.\n\n\"So,\" the magician said after awhile, \"don't talk tome about motivation. Before we stood on that Hill the Chapter simply told us:\"That is what you have to do. \"Whose war was it? What were we defending there? The land? The borders? The people and their cottages? The interests of kings? The wizards\" influence and income? Order against Chaos? I don't know! But we defended it because that's what had to be done. And if the need arises, I'll stand on the Hill again. Because if I don't, it will make the sacrifices made the first time futile and unnecessary.\"\n\n\"I'll stand beside you!\" shouted Ciri shrilly. \"Just wait and see, I'll stand with you! Those Nilfgaardians are going to pay for my grandmother, pay for everything... I haven't forgotten!\"\n\n\"Be quiet,\" growled Lambert. \"Don't butt into grownups\" conversations-\"\n\n\"Oh sure!\" The girl stamped her foot and in her eyes a green fire kindled. \"Why do you think I'm learning to fight with a sword? I want to kill him, that black knight from Cintra with wings on his helmet, for what he did tome, for making me afraid! And I'm going to kill him! That's why I'm learning it!\"\n\n\"And therefore you'll stop learning,\" said Geralt in a voice colder than the walls of Kaer Morhen. \"Until you understand what a sword is, and what purpose it serves in a witcher's hand, you will not pick one up. You are not learning in order to kill and be killed. You are not learning to kill out of fear and hatred, but in order to save lives. Your own and those of others.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The girl bit her lip, shaking from agitation and anger.\n\n\"Understood?\"\n\nCiri raised her head abruptly. \"No.\"\n\n\"Then you'll never understand. Get out.\"\n\n\"Geralt, I-\"\n\n\"Get out.\"\n\nCiri spun on her heel and stood still fora moment, undecided, as if waiting– waiting for something that could not happen. Then she ran swiftly up the stairs. They heard the door slam.\n\n\"Too severe, Wolf,\" said Vesemir. \"Much too severe. And you shouldn't have done it in Triss's presence. The emotional ties-\"\n\n\"Don't talk tome about emotions. I've had enough of all this talk about emotions!\"\n\n\"And why is that?\" The magician smiled derisively and coldly. \"Why, Geralt? Ciri is normal. She has normal feelings, she accepts emotions naturally, takes them for what they really are. You, obviously, don't understand and are therefore surprised by them. It surprises and irritates you. The fact that someone can experience normal love, normal hatred, normal fear, pain and regret, normal joy and normal sadness. That it is coolness, distance and indifference which are considered abnormal. Oh yes, Geralt, it annoys you, it annoys you so much that you are starting to think about Kaer Morhen's vaults, about the Laboratorium, the dusty demi-johns full of mutagenic poisons-\"\n\n\"Triss!\" called Vesemir, gazing at Geralt's face, suddenly grown pale. But the enchantress refused to be interrupted and spoke faster and faster, louder and louder.\n\n\"Who do you want to deceive, Geralt? Me? Her? Or maybe yourself? Maybe you don't want to admit the truth, a truth everyone knows except you? Maybe you don't want to accept the fact that human emotions and feelings weren't killed in you by the elixirs and Grasses! You killed them! You killed them yourself! But don't you dare kill them in the child!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Silence!\" he shouted, leaping from the chair. \"Silence, Merigold!\"\n\nHe turned away and lowered his arms defencelessly. \"Sorry,\" he said quietly. \"Forgive me, Triss.\" He made for the stairs quickly, but the enchantress was up in a flash and threw herself at him, embracing him.\n\n\"You are not leaving here alone,\" she whispered. \"I won't let you be alone. Not right now.\"\n\nThey knew immediately where she had run to. Fine, wet snow had fallen that evening and had covered the forecourt with a thin, impeccably white carpet. In it they saw her footsteps.\n\nCiri was standing on the very summit of the ruined wall, as motionless as a statue. She was holding the sword above her right shoulder, the cross-guard at eye level. The fingers of her left hand were lightly touching the pommel.\n\nOn seeing them, the girl jumped, spun in a pirouette and landed softly in an identical but reverse mirror position.\n\n\"Ciri,\" said the witcher, \"comedown, please.\"\n\nIt seemed she hadn't heard him. She did not move, not even a muscle. Triss, however, saw the reflection of the moon, thrown across her face by the blade, glisten silver over a stream of tears.\n\n\"No one's going to take the sword away from me!\" she shouted. \"No one! Not even you!\"\n\n\"Comedown,\" repeated Geralt.\n\nShe tossed her head defiantly and the next second leaped once more. A loose brick slipped beneath her foot with a grating sound. Ciri staggered, trying to find her balance. And failed.\n\nThe witcher jumped."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Triss raised her hand, opening her mouth to utter a formula for levitation. She knew she couldn't do it in time. She knew that Geralt would not make it. It was impossible.\n\nGeralt did make it.\n\nHe was forced down to the ground, thrown on his knees and back. He fell. But he did not let goof Ciri.\n\nThe magician approached them slowly. She heard the girl whisper and sniff. Geralt too was whispering. She could not make out the words. But she understood their meaning.\n\nA warm wind howled in the crevices of the wall. The witcher raised his head.\n\n\"Spring,\" he said quietly.\n\n\"Yes,\" she acknowledged, swallowing. \"There is still snow in the passes but in the valleys... In the valleys, it is already spring. Shall we leave, Geralt? You, Ciri and I?\"\n\n\"Yes. It is high time.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "CHAPTER FOUR\n\nThe misfortune behaved in the eternal manner of misfortunes and hawks– it hungover them for some while waiting for an appropriate moment before it attacked. It chose its moment, when they had passed the few settlements on the Gwenllech and Upper Buina, passed Ard Carraigh and plunged into the forest below, deserted and intersected by gorges. Like a hawk striking, this misfortune's aim was true. It fell accurately upon its victim, and its victim was Triss.\n\nInitially it seemed nasty but not too serious, resembling an ordinary stomach upset. Geralt and Ciri discreetly tried to take no notice of the stops the enchantress's ailment necessitated. Triss, as pale as death, beaded with sweat and painfully contorted, tried to continue riding for several hours longer, but at about midday, and having spent an abnormally longtime in the bushes by the road, she was no longer in any condition to sit on a saddle. Ciri tried to help her but to no avail– the enchantress, unable to hold onto the horse's mane, slid down her mount's flank and collapsed to the ground.\n\nThey picked her up and laid heron a cloak. Geralt unstrapped the saddle-bags without a word, found a casket containing some magic elixirs, opened it and cursed. All the phials were identical and the mysterious signs on the seals meant nothing to him.\n\n\"Which one, Triss?\"\n\n\"None of them,\" she moaned, with both hands on her belly. \"I can't... I can't take them.\"\n\n\"What? Why?\"\n\n\"I'm sensitised-\"\n\n\"You? A magician?\"\n\n\"I'm allergic!\" she sobbed with helpless exasperation and despairing anger. \"I always have been! I can't tolerate elixirs! I can treat others with them but can only treat myself with amulets.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where is the amulet?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\" She ground her teeth. \"I must have left it in Kaer Morhen. Or lost it-\"\n\n\"Damn it. What are we going to do? Maybe you should cast a spell on yourself?\"\n\n\"I've tried. And this is the result. I can't concentrate because of this cramp...\"\n\n\"Don't cry.\"\n\n\"Easy for you to say!\"\n\nThe witcher got up, pulled his saddle-bags from Roach's back and began rummaging through them. Triss curled up, her face contracted and her lips twisted in a spasm of pain.\n\n\"Ciri...\"\n\n\"Yes, Triss?\"\n\n\"Do you feel all right? No... unusual sensations?\"\n\nThe girl shook her head.\n\n\"Maybe it's food poisoning? What did I eat? But we all ate the same thing... Geralt! Wash your hands. Make sure Ciri washes her hands...\"\n\n\"Calm down. Drink this.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Ordinary soothing herbs. There's next to no magic in them so they shouldn't do you any harm. And they'll relieve the cramps.\"\n\n\"Geralt, the cramps... they're nothing. But if I run a fever... It could be... dysentery. Or paratyphoid.\"\n\n\"Aren't you immune?\"\n\nTriss turned her head away without replying, bit her lip and curled up even tighter. The witcher did not pursue the question.\n\nHaving allowed her to rest fora while they hauled the enchantress onto Roach's saddle. Geralt sat behind her, supporting her with both hands, while Ciri rode beside them, holding the reins and leading Triss's gelding. They did not even manage a mile. The enchantress kept falling from Geralt's hands; she could not stay in the saddle. Suddenly she started trembling convulsively, and instantly burned with a fever. The gastritis had grown worse. Geralt told himself that it was an allergic reaction to the traces of magic in his witcher's elixir. He told himself that. But he did not believe it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, sir,\" said the sergeant, \"you have not come at a good time. Indeed, you could not have arrived at a worse moment.\"\n\nThe sergeant was right. Geralt could neither contest it nor argue.\n\nThe fort guarding the bridge, where there would usually be three soldiers, a stable-boy, a tollcollector and– at most– a few passers-by, was swarming with people. The witcher counted over thirty lightly armed soldiers wearing the colours of Kaedwen and a good fifty shield bearers, camping around the low palisade. Most of them were lying by campfires, in keeping with the old soldier's rule which dictates that you sleep when you can and getup when you're woken. Considerable activity could be seen through the thrown-open gates– there were a lot of people and horses inside the fort, too. At the top of the little leaning lookout tower two soldiers were on duty, with their crossbows permanently at the ready. On the worn bridge trampled by horses' hooves, six peasant carts and two merchant wagons were parked. In the enclosure, their heads lowered sadly over the mud and manure, stood umpteen unyoked oxen.\n\n\"There was an assault on the fort– last night.\" The sergeant anticipated his question. \"We just got herein time with the relief troops– otherwise we'd have found nothing here but charred earth.\"\n\n\"Who were your attackers? Bandits? Marauders?\"\n\nThe soldier shook his head, spat and looked at Ciri and Triss, huddled in the saddle.\n\n\"Come inside,\" he said, \"your Enchantress is going to fallout of her saddle any minute now. We already have some wounded men there; one more won't make much difference.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the yard, in an open, roofed shelter, lay several people with their wounds dressed with bloodied bandages."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A little further, between the palisade fence and a wooden well with a sweep, Geralt made out six still bodies wrapped in sacking from which only pairs of feet in worn, dirty boots protruded.\n\n\"Lay her there, by the wounded men.\" The soldier indicated the shelter. \"Oh sir, it truly is bad luck she's sick. A few of our men were hurt during the battle and we wouldn't turn down a bit of magical assistance. When we pulled the arrow out of one of them its head stuck in his guts. The lad will peter out by the morning, he'll peter out like anything... And the enchantress who could have saved him is tossing and turning with a fever and seeking help from us. A bad time, I say, a bad time-\"\n\nHe broke off, seeing that the witcher could not tear his eyes from the sacking-wrapped bodies.\n\n\"Two guards from here, two of our relief troops and two... two of the others,\" he said, pulling up a corner of the stiff material. \"Take a look, if you wish.\"\n\n\"Ciri, step away.\"\n\n\"I want to see, too!\" The girl leaned out around him, staring at the corpses with her mouth open.\n\n\"Step away, please. Take care of Triss.\"\n\nCiri huffed, unwilling, but obeyed. Geralt came closer.\n\n\"Elves,\" he noted, not hiding his surprise.\n\n\"Elves,\" the soldier confirmed. \"Scoia'tael.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Scoia'tael,\" repeated the soldier. \"Forest bands.\"\n\n\"Strange name. It means \"Squirrels\", if I'm not mistaken?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, sir. Squirrels. That's what they call themselves in elvish. Some say it's because sometimes they wear squirrel tails on their fur caps and hats. Others say it's because they live in the woods and eat nuts. They're getting more and more troublesome, I tell you.\"\n\nGeralt shook his head. The soldier covered the bodies again and wiped his hands on his tunic.\n\n\"Come,\" he said. \"There's no point standing here. I'll take you to the commandant. Our corporal will take care of your patient if he can. He knows how to sear and stitch wounds and set bones so maybe he knows how to mix up medicines and whatnot too. He's a brainy chap, a mountain-man. Come, witcher.\"\n\nIn the dim, smoky toll-collector's hut a lively and noisy discussion was underway. A knight with closely cropped hair wearing a habergeon and yellow surcoat was shouting at two merchants and a greeve, watched by the toll-collector, who had an indifferent, rather gloomy expression, and whose head was wrapped in bandages.\n\n\"I said, no!\" The knight thumped his fist on the rickety table and stood up straight, adjusting the gorget across his chest. \"Until the patrols return, you're not going anywhere! You are not going to roam the highways!\"\n\n\"I's to be in Daevon in two days!\" the greeve yelled, shoving a short notched stick with a symbol branded into it under the knight's nose. \"I have a transport to lead! The bailiff's going to have me head if it be late! I'll complain to the voivode!\"\n\n\"Go ahead and complain,\" sneered the knight. \"But I advise you to line your breeches with straw before you do because the voivode can do a mean bit of arse-kicking. But for the time being I give the orders here– the voivode is faraway and your bailiff means no more tome than a heap of dung. Hey, Unist! Who are you bringing here, sergeant? Another merchant?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" answered the sergeant reluctantly. \"A witcher, sir. He goes by the name Geralt of Rivia.\"\n\nTo Geralt's astonishment, the knight gave abroad smile, approached and held a handout in greeting.\n\n\"Geralt of Rivia,\" he repeated, still smiling. \"I have heard about you, and not just from gossip and hearsay. What brings you here?\"\n\nGeralt explained what brought him there. The knight's smile faded.\n\n\"You have not come at a good time. Or to a good place. We are at war here, witcher. A band of Scoia'tael is doing the rounds and there was a skirmish yesterday. I am waiting here for relief forces and then we'll start a counterattack.\"\n\n\"You're fighting elves?\"\n\n\"Not just elves! Is it possible? Have you, a witcher, not heard of the Squirrels?\"\n\n\"No. I haven't.\"\n\n\"Where have you been these past two years? Beyond the seas? Here, in Kaedwen, the Scoia'tael have made sure everybody's talking about them, they've seen to it only too well. The first bands appeared just after the war with Nilfgaard broke out. The cursed non-humans took advantage of our difficulties. We were fighting in the south and they began a guerrilla campaign at our rear. They counted on the Nilfgaardians defeating us, started declaring it was the end of human rule and there would be a return to the old order.\"Humans to the sea! \"That's their battle cry, as they murder, burn and plunder!\"\n\n\"It's your own fault and your own problem,\" the greeve commented glumly, tapping his thigh with the notched stick, a mark of his position. \"Yours, and all the other noblemen and knights. You're the ones who oppressed the non-humans, would not allow them their way of life, so now you pay for it. While we've always moved goods this way and no one stopped us. We didn't need an army.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What's true is true,\" said one of the merchants who had been sitting silently on a bench. \"The Squirrels are no fiercer than the bandits who used to roam these ways. And who did the elves take in hand first? The bandits!\"\n\n\"What do I care if it's a bandit or an elf who runs me through with an arrow from behind some bushes?\" the toll-collector with the bandaged head said suddenly. \"The thatch, if it's set on fire above my head in the night, burns just the same. What difference does it make who lit the fire-brand? You say, sir, that the Scoia'tael are no worse than the bandits? You lie. The bandits wanted loot, but the elves are after human blood. Not everyone has ducats, but we all have blood running through our veins. You say it's the nobility's problem, greeve? That's an even greater folly. What about the lumberjacks shot in the clearing, the tar-makers hacked to pieces at the Beeches, the refugee peasants from the burned down hamlets, did they hurt the non-humans? They lived and worked together, as neighbours, and suddenly they got an arrow in the back... And me? Never in my life have I harmed anon-human and look, my head is broken open by a dwarf's cutlass. And if it were not for the soldiers you're snapping at, I would belying beneath an ell of turf-\"\n\n\"Exactly!\" The knight in the yellow surcoat thumped his fist against the table once again. \"We are protecting your mangy skin, greeve, from those, as you call them, oppressed elves, who, according to you, we did not let live. But I will say something different– we have emboldened them too much. We tolerated them, treated them as humans, as equals, and now they are stabbing us in the back. Nilfgaard is paying them for it, I'd stake my life, and the savage elves from the mountains are furnishing them with arms. But their real support comes from those who always lived amongst us– from the elves, half-elves, dwarves, gnomes and halflings. They are the ones who are hiding them, feeding them, supplying them with volunteers-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Not all of them,\" said another merchant, slim, with a delicate and noble face– in noway atypical merchant's features. \"The majority of non-humans condemn the Squirrels, sir, and want nothing to do with them. The majority of them are loyal, and sometimes pay a high price for that loyalty. Remember the burgomaster from Ban Ard. He was a half-elf who urged peace and co-operation. He was killed by an assassin's arrow.\"\n\n\"Aimed, no doubt, by a neighbour, some halfling or dwarf who also feigned loyalty,\" scoffed the knight. \"If you ask me, none of them are loyal! Everyone of them-Hey there! Who are you?\"\n\nGeralt looked around. Ciri stood right behind him casting her huge emerald eyes over everyone. As far as the ability to move noiselessly was concerned, she had clearly made enormous progress.\n\n\"She's with me,\" he explained.\n\n\"Hmmm...\" The knight measured Ciri with his eyes then turned back to the merchant with the noble face, evidently considering him the most serious partner in the discussion. \"Yes, sir, do not talk tome about loyal non-humans. They are all our enemies, it's just that some are better than others at pretending otherwise. Halflings, dwarves and gnomes have lived amongst us for centuries– in some sort of harmony, it would seem. But it sufficed for the elves to lift their heads, and all the others grabbed their weapons and took to the woods too. I tell you, it was a mistake to tolerate the free elves and dryads, with their forests and their mountain enclaves. It wasn't enough for them, and now they're yelling:\"It's our world! Begone, strangers!\" . By the gods, we'll show them who will begone, and of which race even the slightest traces will be wiped away. We beat the hides off the Nilfgaardians and now we will do something about these rogue bands.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It's not easy to catch an elfin the woods,\" said the witcher. \"Nor would I go after a gnome or dwarf in the mountains. How large are these units?\"\n\n\"Bands,\" corrected the knight. \"They're bands, witcher. They can count up to a hundred heads, sometimes more. They call each pack a'commando\". It's a word borrowed from the gnomes. And in saying they are hard to catch you speak truly. Evidently you area professional. Chasing them through the woods and thickets is senseless. The only way is to cut them off from their supplies, isolate them, starve them out. Seize the non-humans who are helping them firmly by the scruff of their necks. Those from the towns and settlements, villages and farms-\"\n\n\"The problem is,\" said the merchant with noble features, \"that we still don't know which of the non-humans are helping them and which aren't.\"\n\n\"Then we have to seize them all!\"\n\n\"Ah.\" The merchant smiled. \"I understand. I've heard that somewhere before. Take everyone by the scruff of their neck and throw them down the mines, into enclosed camps, into quarries. Everyone. The innocent, too. Women and children. Is that right?\"\n\nThe knight raised his head and slammed his hand down on his sword hilt.\n\n\"Just so, and no other way!\" he said sharply. \"You pity the children, yet you're like a child yourself in this world, dear sir. A truce with Nilfgaard is a very fragile thing, like an egg-shell. If not today then the war might start anew tomorrow, and anything can happen in war. If they defeated us, what do you think would happen? I'll tell you what– elven commandos would emerge from the forests, they'd emerge strong and numerous and these'loyal elements'would instantly join them. Those loyal dwarves of yours, your friendly halflings, do you think they are going to talk of peace, of reconciliation then? No, sir. They'll be tearing our guts out. Nilfgaard is going to deal with us through their hands. And they'll drown us in the sea, just as they promise. No, sir, we must not pussyfoot around them. It's either them or us. There's no third way!\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The door of the hut squeaked and a soldier in a bloodied apron stood in the doorway.\n\n\"Forgive me for disturbing you,\" he hawked. \"Which of you, noble sirs, be the one who brought this sick woman here?\"\n\n\"I did,\" said the witcher. \"What's happened?\"\n\n\"Come with me, please.\"\n\nThey went out into the courtyard.\n\n\"It bodes not well with her, sir,\" said the soldier, indicating Triss. \"Firewater with pepper and saltpetre I gave her– but it be no good. I don't really...\"\n\nGeralt made no comment because there was nothing to say. The magician, doubled over, was clear evidence of the fact that firewater with pepper and saltpetre was not something her stomach could tolerate.\n\n\"It could be some plague.\" The soldier frowned. \"Or that, what's it called... Zintery. If it were to spread to our men-\"\n\n\"She is a wizard,\" protested the witcher. \"Wizards don't fall sick...\"\n\n\"Just so,\" the knight who had followed them out threw in cynically. \"Yours, as I see, is just emanating good health. Geralt, listen tome. The woman needs help and we cannot offer such. Nor can I risk an epidemic amongst my troops. You understand.\"\n\n\"I understand. I will leave immediately. I have no choice– I have to turn back towards Daevon or Ard Carraigh.\"\n\n\"You won't get far. The patrols have orders to stop everyone. Besides, it is dangerous. The Scoia'tael have gone inexactly that direction.\"\n\n\"I'll manage.\"\n\n\"From what I've heard about you\" – the knight's lips twisted– \"I have no doubt you would. But bear in mind you are not alone. You have a gravely sick woman on your shoulders and this brat...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ciri, who was trying to clean her dung-smeared boot on a ladder rung, raised her head. The knight cleared his throat and looked down. Geralt smiled faintly. Over the last two years Ciri had almost forgotten her origins and had almost entirely lost her royal manners and airs, but her glare, when she wanted, was very much like that of her grandmother. So much so that Queen Calanthe would no doubt have been very proud of her granddaughter.\n\n\"Yeeessss, what was I...\" the knight stammered, tugging at his belt with embarrassment. \"Geralt, sir, I know what you need to do. Cross beyond the river, south. You will catch up with a caravan which is following the trail. Night is just around the corner and the caravan is certain to stop fora rest. You will reach it by dawn.\"\n\n\"What kind of caravan?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\" The knight shrugged. \"But it is not a merchant or an ordinary convoy. It's too orderly, the wagons are all the same, all covered... A royal bailiff's, no doubt. I allowed them to cross the bridge because they are following the Trail south, probably towards the fords on the Lixela.\"\n\n\"Hmmm...\" The witcher considered this, looking at Triss. \"That would be on my way. But will I find help there?\"\n\n\"Maybe yes,\" the knight said coldly. \"Maybe no. But you won't find it here, that's for sure.\"\n\nThey did not hear or see him as he approached, engrossed as they were in conversation, sitting around a campfire which, with its yellow light, cadaverously illuminated the canvas of the wagons arranged in a circle. Geralt gently pulled up his mare and forced her to neigh loudly. He wanted to warn the caravan, which had setup camp for the night, wanted to temper the surprise of having visitors and avoid a nervous reaction. He knew from experience that the release mechanisms on crossbows did not like nervous moves."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The campers leaped up and, despite his warning, performed numerous agitated movements. Most of them, he saw at once, were dwarves. This reassured him somewhat– dwarves, although extremely irascible, usually asked questions first in situations such as these and only then aimed their crossbows.\n\n\"Who's that?\" shouted one of the dwarves hoarsely and with a swift, energetic move, prised an axe from a stump by the campfire. \"Who goes there?\"\n\n\"A friend.\" The witcher dismounted.\n\n\"I wonder whose,\" growled the dwarf. \"Come closer. Hold your hands out so we can see them.\"\n\nGeralt approached, holding his hands out so they could be seen even by someone afflicted with conjunctivitis or night blindness.\n\n\"Closer.\"\n\nHe obeyed. The dwarf lowered his axe and tilted his head a little.\n\n\"Either my eyes deceive me,\" he said, \"or it's the witcher Geralt of Rivia. Or someone who looks damn like him.\"\n\nThe fire suddenly shot up into flames, bursting into a golden brightness which drew faces and figures from the dark.\n\n\"Yarpen Zigrin,\" declared Geralt, astonished. \"None other than Yarpen Zigrin in person, complete with beard!\"\n\n\"Ha!\" The dwarf waved his axe as if it were an osier twig. The blade whirred in the air and cut into a stump with a dull thud. \"Call the alarm off! This truly is a friend!\"\n\nThe rest of the gathering visibly relaxed and Geralt thought he heard deep sighs of relief. The dwarf walked up to him, holding out his hand. His grip could easily rival a pair of iron pincers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Welcome, you warlock,\" he said. \"Wherever you've come from and wherever you're going, welcome. Boys! Over here! You remember my boys, witcher? This is Yannick Brass, this one's Xavier Moran and here's Paulie Dahlberg and his brother Regan.\"\n\nGeralt didn't remember any of them, and besides they all looked alike, bearded, stocky, practically square in their thick quilted jerkins.\n\n\"There were six of you,\" one by one he squeezed the hard, gnarled hands offered him, \"if I remember correctly.\"\n\n\"You've a good memory,\" laughed Yarpen Zigrin. \"There were six of us, indeed. But Lucas Corto got married, settled down in Mahakam and dropped out of the company, the stupid oaf. Somehow we haven't managed to find anybody worthy of his place yet. Pity, six is just right, not too many, not too few. To eat a calf, knock back a barrel, there's nothing like six-\"\n\n\"As I see,\" with a nod Geralt indicated the rest of the group standing undecided by the wagons, \"there are enough of you hereto manage three calves, not to mention a quantity of poultry. What's this gang of fellows you're commanding, Yarpen?\"\n\n\"I'm not the one in command. Allow me to introduce you. Forgive me, Wenck, for not doing so straightaway but me and my boys have known Geralt of Rivia fora longtime– we've a fair number of shared memories behind us. Geralt, this is Commissar Vilfrid Wenck, in the service of King Henselt of Ard Carraigh, the merciful ruler of Kaedwen.\"\n\nVilfrid Wenck was tall, taller than Geralt and near twice the dwarf's height. He wore an ordinary, simple outfit like that worn by greeves, bailiffs or mounted messengers, but there was a sharpness in his movements, a stiffness and sureness which the witcher knew and could faultlessly recognise, even at night, even in the meagre light of the campfire. That was how men accustomed to wearing hauberks and belts weighed down with weapons moved. Wenck was a professional soldier. Geralt was prepared to wager any sum on it. He shook the proffered hand and gave a little bow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Let's sit down.\" Yarpen indicated the stump where his mighty axe was still embedded. \"Tell us what you're doing in this neighbourhood, Geralt.\"\n\n\"Looking for help. I'm journeying in a threesome with a woman and youngster. The woman is sick. Seriously sick. I caught up with you to ask for help.\"\n\n\"Damn it, we don't have a medic here.\" The dwarf spat at the flaming logs. \"Where have you left them?\"\n\n\"Half a furlong from here, by the roadside.\"\n\n\"You lead the way. Hey, you there! Three to the horses, saddle the spare mounts! Geralt, will your sick woman holdup in the saddle?\"\n\n\"Not really. That's why I had to leave her there.\"\n\n\"Get the sheepskin, canvas sheet and two poles from the wagon! Quick!\"\n\nVilfrid Wenck, crossing his arms, hawked loudly.\n\n\"We're on the trail,\" Yarpen Zigrin said sharply, without looking at him. \"You don't refuse help on the Trail.\"\n\n\"Damn it.\" Yarpen removed his palm from Triss's forehead. \"She's as hot as a furnace. I don't like it. What if it's typhoid or dysentery?\"\n\n\"It can't be typhoid or dysentery,\" Geralt lied with conviction, wrapping the horse blankets around the sick woman. \"Wizards are immune to those diseases. It's food poisoning, nothing contagious.\"\n\n\"Hmm... Well, all right. I'll rummage through the bags. I used to have some good medicine for the runs, maybe there's still a little left.\"\n\n\"Ciri,\" muttered the witcher, passing her a sheepskin unstrapped from the horse, \"go to sleep, you're barely on your feet. No, not in the wagon. We'll put Triss in the wagon. You lie down next to the fire.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" she protested quietly, watching the dwarf walkaway. \"I'm going to lie down next to her. When they see you keeping me away from her, they won't believe you. They'll think it's contagious and chase us away, like the soldiers in the fort.\"\n\n\"Geralt?\" the enchantress moaned suddenly. \"Where... are we?\"\n\n\"Amongst friends.\"\n\n\"I'm here,\" said Ciri, stroking her chestnut hair. \"I'm at your side. Don't be afraid. You feel how warm it is here? A campfire's burning and a dwarf is just going to bring some medicine for... For your stomach.\"\n\n\"Geralt,\" sobbed Triss, trying to disentangle herself from the blankets. \"No... no magic elixirs, remember...\"\n\n\"I remember. Lie peacefully.\"\n\n\"I've got to... Oooh...\"\n\nThe witcher leaned over without a word, picked up the enchantress together with her cocoon of caparisons and blankets, and marched to the woods, into the darkness. Ciri sighed.\n\nShe turned, hearing heavy panting. Behind the wagon appeared the dwarf, hefting a considerable bundle under his arm. The campfire flame gleamed on the blade of the axe behind his belt; the rivets on his heavy leather jerkin also glistened.\n\n\"Where's the sick one?\" he snarled. \"Flown away on a broomstick?\"\n\nCiri pointed to the darkness.\n\n\"Right.\" The dwarf nodded. \"I know the pain and I've known the same nasty complaint. When I was younger I used to eat everything I managed to find or catch or cut down, so I got food poisoning many a time. Who is she, this Enchantress?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Triss Merigold.\"\n\n\"I don't know her, never heard of her. I rarely have anything to do with the Brotherhood anyway. Well, but it's polite to introduce oneself. I'm called Yarpen Zigrin. And what are you called, little goose?\"\n\n\"Something other than Little Goose,\" snarled Ciri with agleam in her eyes.\n\nThe dwarf chuckled and bared his teeth.\n\n\"Ah.\" He bowed with exaggeration. \"I beg your forgiveness. I didn't recognise you in the darkness. This isn't a goose but a noble young lady. I fall at your feet. What is the young lady's name, if it's no secret?\"\n\n\"It's no secret. I'm Ciri.\"\n\n\"Ciri. Aha. And who is the young lady?\"\n\n\"That,\" Ciri turned her nose up proudly, \"is a secret.\"\n\nYarpen snorted again.\n\n\"The young lady's little tongue is as sharp as a wasp. If the young lady will deign to forgive me, I've brought the medicine and a little food. Will the young lady accept it or will she send the old boor, Yarpen Zigrin, away?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry...\" Ciri had second thoughts and lowered her head. \"Triss really does need help, Master... Zigrin. She's very sick. Thank you for the medicine.\"\n\n\"It's nothing.\" The dwarf bared his teeth again and patted her shoulder amicably. \"Come on, Ciri, you help me. The medicine has to be prepared. We'll roll some pellets according to my grandmother's recipe. No disease sitting in the guts will resist these kernels.\"\n\nHe unwrapped the bundle, extracted something shaped like apiece of turf and a small clay vessel. Ciri approached, curious."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You should know, Ciri,\" said Yarpen, \"that my grandmother knew her medicine like nobody's business. Unfortunately, she believed that the source of most disease is idleness, and idleness is best cured through the application of a stick. As far as my siblings and I were concerned, she chiefly used this cure preventively. She beat us for anything and for nothing. She was a rare old hag. And once when, out of the blue, she gave me a chunk of bread with dripping and sugar, it was such a surprise that I dropped it in astonishment, dripping down. So my gran gave me a thrashing, the nasty old bitch. And then she gave me another chunk of bread, only without the sugar.\"\n\n\"My grandmother,\" Ciri nodded in understanding, \"thrashed me once, too. With a switch.\"\n\n\"A switch?\" The dwarf laughed. \"Mine whacked me once with a pickaxe handle. But that's enough reminiscing, we have to roll the pellets. Here, tear this up and mould it into little balls.\"\n\n\"What is it? It's sticky and messy... Eeeuuggh... What a stink!\"\n\n\"It's mouldy oil-meal bread. Excellent medicine. Roll it into little balls. Smaller, smaller, they're fora magician, not a cow. Give me one. Good. Now we're going to roll the ball in medicine.\"\n\n\"Eeeeuuuugggghh!\"\n\n\"Stinks?\" The dwarf brought his upturned nose closer to the clay pot. \"Impossible. Crushed garlic and bitter salt has no right to stink, even if it's a hundred years old.\"\n\n\"It's foul, uugghh. Triss won't eat that!\"\n\n\"We'll use my grandmother's method. You squeeze her nose and I'll shove the pellets in.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yarpen,\" Geralt hissed, emerging abruptly from the darkness with the magician in his arms. \"Watch out or I'll shove something down you.\"\n\n\"It's medicine!\" The dwarf took offence. \"It helps! Mould, garlic...\"\n\n\"Yes,\" moaned Triss weakly from the depths of her cocoon. \"It's true... Geralt, it really ought to help...\"\n\n\"See?\" Yarpen nudged Geralt with his elbow, turning his beard up proudly and pointing to Triss, who swallowed the pellets with a martyred expression. \"A wise magician. Knows what's good for her.\"\n\n\"What are you saying, Triss?\" The witcher leaned over. \"Ah, I see. Yarpen, do you have any angelica? Or saffron?\"\n\n\"I'll have a look, and ask around. I've brought you some water and a little food-\"\n\n\"Thank you. But they both need rest above all. Ciri, lie down.\"\n\n\"I'll just makeup a compress for Triss-\"\n\n\"I'll do it myself. Yarpen, I'd like to talk to you.\"\n\n\"Come to the fire. We'll broach a barrel-\"\n\n\"I want to talk to you. I don't need an audience. Quite the contrary.\"\n\n\"Of course. I'm listening.\"\n\n\"What sort of convoy is this?\"\n\nThe dwarf raised his small, piercing eyes at him.\n\n\"The king's service,\" he said slowly and emphatically.\n\n\"That's what I thought.\" The witcher held the gaze. \"Yarpen, I'm not asking out of any inappropriate curiosity.\"\n\n\"I know. And I also know what you mean. But this convoy is... hmm... special.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So what are you transporting?\"\n\n\"Salt fish,\" said Yarpen casually, and proceeded to embellish his lie without batting an eyelid. \"Fodder, tools, harnesses, various odds and ends for the army. Wenck is a quartermaster to the king's army.\"\n\n\"If he's quartermaster then I'm a druid,\" smiled Geralt. \"But that's your affair– I'm not in the habit of poking my nose into other people's secrets. But you can seethe state Triss is in. Let us join you, Yarpen, let us put her in one of the wagons. Just fora few days. I'm not asking where you're going because this trail goes straight to the south without forking until past the Lixela and it's a ten-day journey to the Lixela. By that time the fever will have subsided and Triss will be able to ride a horse. And even if she isn't then I'll stop in a town beyond the river. Ten days in a wagon, well covered, hot food... Please.\"\n\n\"I don't give the orders here. Wenck does.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you lack influence over him. Not in a convoy primarily made up of dwarves. Of course he has to bear you in mind.\"\n\n\"Who is this Triss to you?\"\n\n\"What difference does it make in this situation?\"\n\n\"In this situation– none. I asked out of an inappropriate curiosity born of the desire to start new rumours going around the inns. But be that as it may, you're mighty attracted to this enchantress, Geralt.\"\n\nThe witcher smiled sadly.\n\n\"And the girl?\" Yarpen indicated Ciri with his head as she wriggled under the sheepskin. \"Yours?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Mine,\" he replied without thinking. \"Mine, Zigrin.\"\n\nThe dawn was grey, wet, and smelled of night rain and morning mist. Ciri felt she had slept no more than a few minutes, as though she had been woken up the very minute she laid her head down on the sacks heaped on the wagon.\n\nGeralt was just settling Triss down next to her, having brought her in from another enforced expedition into the woods. The rugs cocooning the enchantress sparkled with dew. Geralt had dark circles under his eyes. Ciri knew he had not closed them for an instant– Triss had run a fever through the night and suffered greatly.\n\n\"Did I wake you? Sorry. Sleep, Ciri. It's still early.\"\n\n\"What's happening with Triss? How is she?\"\n\n\"Better,\" moaned the magician. \"Better, but... Listen, Geralt... I'd like to-\"\n\n\"Yes?\" The witcher leaned over but Triss was already asleep. He straightened himself, stretched.\n\n\"Geralt,\" whispered Ciri, \"are they going to let us travel on the wagon?\"\n\n\"We'll see.\" He bit his lip. \"Sleep while you can. Rest.\"\n\nHe jumped down off the wagon. Ciri heard the sound of the camp packing up– horses stamping, harnesses ringing, poles squeaking, swingle-trees grating, and talking and cursing. And then, nearby, Yarpen Zigrin's hoarse voice and the calm voice of the tall man called Wenck. And the cold voice of Geralt. She raised herself and carefully peered out from behind the canvas.\n\n\"I have no categorical interdictions on this matter,\" declared Wenck.\n\n\"Excellent.\" The dwarf brightened. \"So the matter's settled?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In your role as the author's collaborator, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Blood of the Fold\nChapter: 3"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mistress Sanderholt started, jerking around to discover him in his new location.\n\nGratch's growl trailed off, and his expression slackened, at first to confusion, and then to a grin. He rumbled with a low gurgle of a laugh at the new game.\n\n\"Richard,\" Mistress Sanderholt stammered, \"how did you do that? How did you make yourself invisible?\"\n\n\"It's the cape. It doesn't really make me invisible, but somehow it can change color to match the background, so it tricks the eye. I guess it takes magic to make the cape work, and you don't have any, but I was born with the gift so it works forme.\" Richard glanced around at the fallen mriswith. \"I think it best if we burned these capes, lest they fall into the wrong hands.\"\n\nRichard told Gratch to fetch the capes at the top of the steps while he bent to gather up the ones below.\n\n\"Richard, do you think it could be... dangerous to use the cape from one of those evil creatures?\"\n\n\"Dangerous?\" Richard straightened and scratched the back of his neck. \"I don't see how. All it does is change color. You know, the way some frogs and salamanders can change color to match whatever they're sitting on, like a rock, or a log, or a leaf.\"\n\nShe helped him, as best she could with her bandaged hands, wrap the capes into abundle. \"I've seen those frogs. I've always thought it one of the Creator's wonders that they could do that.\" She smiled up at him. \"Perhaps the Creator is blessing you with the same wonder, because you have the gift. Praise be to Him; His blessing helped save us.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As Gratch held out the rest of the capes, one at a time, so'she could add them to the bundle, anxiety tightened like arms around Richard's chest."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He glanced up at the gar.\n\n\"Gratch, you don't sense anymore mriswith anywhere, do you?\"\n\nThe gar handed the last cape to Mistress Sanderholt and then peered off into the distance, searching intently. Finally, he shook his head. Richard sighed in relief.\n\n\"Do you have any idea where they came from, Gratch? Any direction in particular?\"\n\nGratch again slowly turned around, scrutinizing the surroundings. Fora dead silent moment, his attention fixed on the Wizard's Keep, but at last moved on. Finally, he shrugged, looking apologetic.\n\nRichard scanned the city of Aydindril, studying the Imperial Order troops he could see below. They were made up of men of many nations, he had been told, but he recognized the chain mail, armor, and dark leather worn by most: D'Harans.\n\nRichard knotted the last of the loose ends around the capes, drawing them into a tight bundle, and then tossed the lot on the ground. \"What happened to your hands?\"\n\nShe held them out, turning them over, The wrap of white cloth was discolored with dried smears of meat drippings, sauces, and oils, and smudged with ash and soot from the fires. \"They pulled off my fingernails with tongs to make me give witness against the Mother Confessor.. against Kahlan.\"\n\n\"And did you?\" When she looked away, Richard flushed at realizing how his question must have sounded. \"I'm sorry, that came out wrong. Of course no one would expect you to defy their demands under torture. The truth doesn't matter to people like that. Kahlan wouldn't believe you betrayed her.\"\n\nShe shrugged with one shoulder as she lowered her hands. \"I wouldn't say the things they wanted me to say about her. She understood, just as you said. Kahlan herself ordered me to testify against her to keep them from doing more. Still, it was misery itself to speak such lies.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was born with the gift, but I don't know how to use it, or I'd see what I could do about helping you. I'm sorry.\" He winced in sympathy. \"Is the pain beginning to ease, at least?\"\n\n\"With the Imperial Order in possession of Aydindril, I'm afraid the pain has only begun.\"\n\n\"Was it the D'Harans who did this to you?\"\n\n\"No. It was a Keltish wizard who ordered it. When Kahlan escaped, she killed him. Most of the Order's troops in Aydindril are D'Harans, though.\"\n\n\"How have they treated the people of the city?\"\n\nShe rubbed her bandaged hands on her arms, as if chilled in the winter air, Richard almost put his cape around her shoulders but, thinking better of it, helped her pull her shawl up, instead.\n\n\"Though D'Hara conquered Aydindril, autumn past, and their troops were brutal about the fighting, since they put down all opposition and took the city they have not been so cruel, so long as their orders are followed. Perhaps they simply saw more value in having their prize intact.\"\n\n\"That could be, I suppose. What of the Keep? Have they taken that, too?\"\n\nShe glanced over her shoulder, up the mountain. \"I'm not sure, but I don't think so; the Keep is protected by spells, and from what I am told, the D'Haran troops fear magic.\"\n\nRichard rubbed his chin in thought, \" What happened after the war with D'Hara ended?\n\n\"Apparently, the D'Harans, among others, made pacts with the Imperial Order. Slowly, the Keltans took charge, with the D'Harans remaining most of the muscie but acquiescing in the ruling of the city. Keltans don't fear magic the way D'Harans do. Prince Fyren, of Kelton, and that Keltish wizard commanded the council. With the prince, the wizard, and the council now dead, I'm not sure exactly who is in charge. The D'Harans, I would guess, which leaves us still at the mercy of the Imperial Order."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"With the Mother Confessor and the wizards gone, I fear our fate. I know she had to flee or be murdered, but yet...\"\n\nHer voice trail off, so he finished for her. \"Since the Midlands was forged and Aydindril founded to be its heart, none but a Mother Confessor has ruled here.\"\n\n\"You know the history?\"\n\n\"Kahlan told me some of it. She's heartsick to have had to abandon Aydindril, but I assure you, we will not let the Order have Aydindril anymore than we will let them have the Midlands.\"\n\nMistress Sanderholt looked away in resignation. \" What was, is no more. In time, the Order will rewrite the history of this place, and the Midlands will be forgotten.\n\n\"\"Richard, I know you are anxious to be off to join her. Find a place to live your lives in peace and freedom. Don't become bitter at what was lost. When you reach her, tell her that although there were people who cheered at what they thought washer execution, many more were desolate at hearing she was dead. In the weeks since she fled I've seen the side she didn't see. Just as anywhere, there are evil, greedy people here, but there are good people, too, who will always remember her. Though we be subjects of( he Imperial Order, now, as long as we live, the memory of the Midlands will live on in our hearts.\"\n\n\"Thank you. Mistress Sanderhoit. I know she'll be heartened to hear that not everyone turned against her and the Midlands. But don't give up hope. As long as the Midlands lives on in our hearts, there is hope. We will prevail. 1\n\nShe smiled, but in the depths of her eyes he could see for the first time into the core of her despair. She didn't believe him. Life under the Order, brief as it had been, had been brutal enough to extinguish even the spark of hope; that was why she hadn't bothered to leave Aydindril. Where was thereto go?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Richard retrieved his sword from the snow and wiped its gleaming blade clean on a mriswith's hide clothes. He drove the sword home into its scabbard.\n\nThey both turned at the sound of nervous whispers to see a crowd of kitchen workers gathered near the top of the steps, staring incredulously at the carnage in the snow, and at Gratch. One man had picked up one of the three-bladed knives, and was turning it over, examining it. Fearing to comedown the steps, near Gratch, he insistently motioned for Mistress Sanderholt's attention. She gestured irritably, urging him to come to her.\n\nHe appeared to be hunched more from a life of hard labor than from age, though his thinning hair was graying. He descended the steps with a rolling gait as if carrying a heavy sack of grain on his rounded shoulders. He bobbed a quick bow by deference to Mistress Sanderhoit as his gaze flicked from her, to the bodies, to Gratch, to Richard, and back again to her.\n\n\"What is it, Hank?\"\n\n\"Trouble, Mistress Sanderhoit.\"\n\n\"I'm a little busy, at the moment, with trouble of my own. Can't all you people pull bread from the ovens without me there?\"\n\nHis head bobbed. \"Yes, Mistress Sanderhoit. But this is trouble about-\" He glared at a reeking mriswiih carcass lying nearby. \"-about these things.\"\n\nRichard straightened. \"What about them?\"\n\nHank glanced lo the sword at his hip, and then diverted his eyes. \"I think it was...\" When he looked up at Gratch, and the gar smiled, the man lost his voice."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hank, look at me.\" Richard waited until he complied. \"The gar won't hurt you. These things are called mriswith. Gratch and I are the ones who killed them. Now tell me about the trouble.\"\n\nHe scrubbed the palms of his hands on his wool trousers. \"I looked at their knives, at those three blades they have. That appears to be what did it.\" His expression darkened. \"The news is spreading on a near panic. People have been killed. Thing is, no one saw what done it. Those killed all had their bellies slit open by something with three blades.\"\n\nWith an anguished sigh, Richard wiped a hand across his face. \" That's the way mriswith kill; they disembowel their victims, and you can't even see them coming. where were these people killed? 1\n\n\"Allover the city, at about the same time, right at first light. From what I heard, I reckon it had to be separate killers. By the number of these mriswith things I'd wager I'm right. The dead mark lines, like the spokes of a wheel, all leading here.\n\n\"They killed whoever was in their way. men, women, even horses. The troops are in an uproar, as some of their men got it, too, and the rest seem to think its an attack of some sort. One of these mriswith things went right through the crowd gathered out in the street. The bastard didn't bother to step around, just slashed his way right through the middle.\" Hank cast a sorrowful glance to Mistress Sanderholt. \"One came through the palace. Killed a maid, two guards, and Jocelyn.\"\n\nMistress Sanderholt gasped and covered her mouth with a bandaged hand. Her eyes slid closed as she whispered a prayer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I'm sorry."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mistress Sanderholt, but I don't think Jocelyn suffered; I got to her right away, and she was already gone.\"\n\n\"Anyone else of the kitchen staff?\"\n\n\"Just Jocelyn. She was on an errand, not in the kitchens.\"\n\nGratch silently eyed Richard as he glanced up the mountain, at the stonewalls. The snow above was flushed pink in the dawn light. He pursed his lips in frustration as he looked out over the city again, bile raising in his throat.\n\n\"Hank.\"\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\nRichard turned back. \"I want you to get some men. Carry the mriswith out in front of the palace and line them up along the grand entrance. Get it done now, before they freeze solid.\" The muscles in his jaw stood out as he ground his teeth. \"Put the loose heads on pikes. Line them up nice and neat, on each side, so than anyone entering the palace has to walk between them.\" \" ~\n\nHank cleared his throat, as if about to protest, but then he glanced to the sword at Richard's hip and instead said, \"At once, sir.\" He bobbed his head to Mistress Sanderholt and rushed to the palace to get help.\n\n\"The mriswith must have magic. Maybe the fear of it will at least keep the D'Harans from the palace fora while.\"\n\nWorry lines creased her brow. \"Richard, as you say, apparently these creatures had magic. Can anyone but you see these snake men when they're sneaking up, changing color?\"\n\nRichard shook his head. \"From what I've been told, only my unique magic can sense them. But obviously Gratch can, too.\"\n\n\"The Imperial Order preaches on the evil of magic, and those who have it. What if this dream walker sent the mriswith to kill those with magic?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sounds reasonable. What's your point?\"\n\nHer expression grave, she watched him fora long moment. \"Your grandfather, Zedd, has magic, as does Kahlan.\"\n\nGoosebumps tingled up his arms at hearing her voice his own thoughts aloud. \"I know, but I may have an idea. For now, I must do something about what's going on here; about the Order.\"\n\n\"What can you hope to accomplish?\" She took a breath and softened her tone. \"I mean no offense, Richard. Though you have the gift, you are ignorant of its use. You are not a wizard; you can be of no help here. Flee, while you can.\"\n\n\"Where! If the mriswith can reach me here, they can reach me anywhere. There is no place to hide for long,\" He looked away, feeling his face heat. \"I know I'm no wizard.\"\n\n\"Then what-\"\n\nHe turned a raptor's glare on her. \"Kahlan, as the Mother Confessor, in the name of the Midlands, has committed the Midlands to war against the Order, against its tyranny. The Order's cause is to exterminate all magic and rule all people. If we do not fight, all free people, and all those with magic, will be murdered or enslaved. There can be no peace for the Midlands, for any land, for any free people, until the Imperial Order is crushed.\"\n\n\"Richard, there are too many here. What can you hope to accomplish, alone?\"\n\nHe was tired of being surprised and never knowing what was coming after him next. He was tired of being held prisoner, of being tortured, of being trained, of being lied to, of being used. Of seeing helpless people slaughtered. He had to do something."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Though he was no wizard, he knew wizards. Zedd was only a few weeks away, to the southwest. Zedd would understand the need to rid Aydindril of the Imperial Order, and of protecting the Wizard's Keep. If the Order destroyed that magic, who knew what would be lost for all time?\n\nIf need be, there were others, at the Palace of the Prophets in the Old World, who might be willing, and able, to help. Warren was his friend, and although not fully trained, he was a wizard, and knew about magic. More than Richard, anyway.\n\nSister Verna, too, would help him. The Sisters were sorceresses and had the gift, though not as powerfully as a wizard. He trusted none but Sister Verna, though. Except, perhaps, Prelate Annalina. He didn't like the way she kept information from him, and bent the truth to serve her needs, but it had not been out of malevolence; she had done what she had to out of concern for the living. Yes, Ann might help him.\n\nAnd then there was Nathan, the prophet. Nathan, living under the palace's spell for most of his life, was close to a thousand years old. Richard couldn't even imagine what that man knew. He had known that Richard was a war wizard, the first to be born in thousands of years, and helped him to understand and accept its meaning. Nathan had helped him before, and Richard was reasonably sure he would again; Nathan was a Rahl, Richard's ancestor.\n\nDesperate thoughts churned through his mind. \"The aggressor makes the rules. Somehow, I must change them.\"\n\n\"What are you going to do?\"\n\nRichard glared out at the city. \"I must do something they don't expect.\" He ran his fingers over the raised, gold wire spelling out the word TRUTH on the hilt of the sword, and at the same time felt the seething texture of its magic. \"I wear the Sword of Truth, conferred on me by areal wizard. I have a duty. I am the Seeker.\" Ina haze of simmering rage that rose at the thought of the people murdered by the mriswith, he whispered to himself, \"I vow to give this dream walker nightmares.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "My arms do be itching like ants,\"Lunetta complained.\" It be powerful here.\"\n\nTobias Brogan glanced back over his shoulder. Scraps and patches of tattered, faded cloth fluttered in the faint light as Lunetta scratched herself. Amid the ranks of men bedecked with gleaming armor and mail, draped with crimson capes, her squat form hunched atop her horse looked as if it peered out from a rag pile. Her plump cheeks dimpled with a gap-toothed grin as she chortled to herself and scratched again.\n\nBrogan's mouth twisted in disgust, and he turned away, knuckling his wiry mustache as his gaze again passed over the Wizard's Keep upon the mountainside. The dark gray stonewalls caught the first weak rays of the winter sun that blushed the snow on the higher slopes. His mouth tightened further.\n\n\"Magic, I say, my lord general\" Lunetta insisted. \"There be magic here. Powerful magic.\" She prattled on, grumbling about the way it made her skin crawl.\n\n\"Be silent, you old hag. Even a half-wit wouldn't need your filthy talent to know that Aydindril seethes with the taint of magic.\"\n\nFeral eyes gleamed from under her fleshy brows. \"This be different from any you have seen before,\" she said in a voice too thin for the rest of her. \"Different from any I have ever felt before, And some be to the southwest, too, not just here.\" She scratched her forearms more vigorously as she cackled again.\n\nBrogan glowered past the throngs of people hurrying down the street, casting a critical eye at the exquisite palaces lining the wide thoroughfare called, he had been informed, Kings Row. The palaces were meant to impress the viewer with the wealth, might, and spirit of the people they represented. Each structure vied for attention with towering columns, elaborate ornamentation, and flamboyant sweeps of windows, roofs, and decorated entablatures. To Tobias Brogan, they looked like nothing more than stone peacocks: an ostentatious waste if ever he had seen one."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "On a distant rise lay the sprawling Confessors'Palace, its stone columns and spires unmatched by the elegance of Kings Row, and somehow whiter than the snow around it, as if trying to mask the profanity of its existence with the illusion of purity."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brogan's stare probed the recesses of that sanctuary of wickedness, the shrine to magic's power over the pious, as his bony fingers idly caressed the leather trophy case at his belt.\n\n\"My lord general,\" Lunetta pressed, leaning forward, \"did you hear what I said-\"\n\nBrogan twisted around, his polished boots creaking against the stirrup leather in the cold. \"Galtero!\"\n\nEyes like black ice shone from under the brow of a polished helmet beneath a horsehair plume dyed crimson to match the soldiers' capes. He held his reins easily in one gauntleted hand as he swayed in his saddle with the fluid grace of a mountain lion. \"Lord General?\"\n\n\"If my sister can't keep quiet when ordered to\"-he shot her a glare-\"gag her.\"\n\nLunetta darted an uneasy glance at the broad-shouldered man riding beside her, at his polished-to-perfection armor and mail, at his well-honed weapons. She opened her mouth to protest, but as she returned her gaze to those icy eyes she closed it again, and instead scratched her arms. \"Forgive me, Lord General Brogan,\" she murmured as she bowed her head deferentially toward her brother.\n\nGaltero aggressively sidestepped his horse closer to Lunetta, his powerful gray gelding jostling her bay mare, \"Silence, streganicha.\"\n\nHer cheeks colored at the affront, and her eyes, for an instant, flashed with menace, but just as quickly it was gone, and she seemed to wilt into her tattered rags as her eyes lowered in submission.\n\n\"I not be a witch,\" she whispered to herself.\n\nA brow lifted over one cold eye, causing her to sag further, and she fell silent for good."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Galtero was a good man; the fact that Lunetta was sister to Lord General Brogan would count for nothing if the order were ever given. She was streganicha, one tainted by evil. Given the word, Galtero or any of the other men would spill her lifeblood without a moment's hesitation or regret.\n\nThat she was Brogan's kin only hardened him to his duty. She served as a constant reminder of the Keeper's ability to strikeout at the righteous, and blight even the finest of families.\n\nSeven years after Lunetta's birth, the Creator had balanced the injustice and Tobias had been born, born to counter what the Keeper had corrupted; but it had been too late for their mother, who had already begun to slip into the arms of madness. From the time he was eight, when the disrepute had delivered his father into an early grave and his mother had finally and fully nestled into the bosom of madness, Tobias had been burdened with the duty of ruling the gift his sister possessed, lest it rule her. At that age Lunetta had doted on him, and he had used that love to convince her to listen only to the Creator's wishes, and to guide her in moral conduct, the way the men of the king's circle had schooled him. Lunetta had always needed, in fact embraced, guidance. She was a helpless soul trapped by a curse that was beyond her ability to expunge or her power to escape.\n\nThrough ruthless effort, he had cleansed the ignominy of having one with the gift born into his family. It had taken most of his life, but Tobias had returned honor to the family name. He had shown them all; he had turned the stigma to his advantage, and had become the most exalted among the exalted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tobias Brogan loved his sister-loved her enough to slither throat himself, if need be, to free her from the Keeper's tendrils, from the torment of his taint, if it ever slipped the bounds of control."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She would live only so long as she was useful, only so long as she helped them root out evil, root out banelings. For now, she fought the scourge snatching at her soul, and she was useful. He realized she didn't look like much, swathed in scraps of different-colored cloth-it was the one thing that brought her pleasure and kept her content, having different colors draped around her, her'pretties\" she called them-but the Keeper had invested Lunetta with rare talent and strength. Through tenacious effort, Tobias had expropriated it.\n\nThat was the flaw with the Keeper's creation-the flaw in anything the Keeper created: it could be used as a tool by the pious, if they were astute enough. The Creator always provided weapons to fight profanity, if one only looked for them and had the wisdom, the sheer audacity, to use them. That was what impressed him about the Imperial Order; they were shrewd enough to understand this, and resourceful enough to use magic as a tool to seek out profanity and destroy it.\n\nAshe did, the Order used streganicha, and apparently valued and trusted them. He didn't like it, though, that they were allowed to roam free and unguarded to bring information and proposals, but if they ever turned against the cause, well, he always kept Lunelta nearby.\n\nStill, he didn't like being so close to evil. It repulsed him, sister or not.\n\nDawn was just breaking and the streets were already crowded with people. In abundance, too, were soldiers of different lands, each patrolling the grounds of their own palaces, and others, mostly D'Haran, patrolling the city. Many of the troops looked ill at ease, as if they anticipated an attack an any moment. Brogan had been assured that they had everything well in hand. Never one to take on faith anything he was told, he had sent out his own patrols the night before, and they had confirmed that there were no Midland insurgents anywhere near Aydindril."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brogan always favored arriving when least expected, and in greater numbers than expected, just in case he had to take matters into his own hands. He had brought a full fist-five hundred men-into the city, but if there proved to be trouble, he could always bring his main force into the Aydindril. His main force had proven themselves quite capable of crushing any insurrection.\n\nHad the D'Harans not been allies, the indications of their numbers would have been alarming. Though Brogan had well-founded faith in his men's abilities, only the vain fought battles when the odds were even, much less long; the Creator didn't hold the vain in kind regard.\n\nLifting a hand, Tobias slowed the horses, lest they trample a squad of D'Haran foot soldiers crossing before the column. He thought it untoward of them to be winged out in a battle formation, similar to his own flying wedge, as they crossed the main thoroughfare, but perhaps the D'Harans, charged with the task of patrolling a vanquished city, were reduced to frightening footpads and cutpurses with a show of might.\n\nThe D'Harans, weapons to hand and looking to be in an ill mood, swept gazes over the column of cavalry bearing down on them, apparently looking for any sign of threat. Brogan thought it rather odd that they carried their weapons unsheathed. A cautious lot, the D'Harans.\n\nUnconcerned with what they saw, they didn't hurry their pace. Brogan smiled; lesser men would have stepped up their stride. Their weapons, mostly swords and battle-axes, were neither embellished nor fancy, and that in itself made them look all the more impressive. They were weapons carried because they had proven brutally effective, and not for flash."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Outnumbered well over twentyfold, the men in dark leather and mail regarded all the polished metal with indifference; Polish and precision often displayed nothing more that conceit, and although in this case they were a reflection of Brogan's discipline, a display of deadly attention to detail, the D'Haran's probably didn't know that. Where he and his men were better known, a glimpse of their crimson capes was enough to make strongmen blanch, and the glint off their polished armor was enough to make an enemy break and run.\n\nWhen they had come across the Rang'Shada Mountains from Nicobarese, Brogan had met with one of the Order's armies, made up of men of many nations, but mostly D'Hara, and had been impressed with the D'Haran's general, Riggs, who had accepted counsel with interest and attention. Brogan, in fact, had been so impressed with the man that he had left some of his own troops with him to help in the conquest of the Midlands. The Order had been on its way to bring the heathen city of Ebinissia, the Crown city of Galea, to heel under the Order. The Creator willing, they had succeeded.\n\nBrogan had learned that D'Harans didn't hold much favor with magic, and that pleased him. That they also feared magic disgusted him. Magic was the Keeper's conduit into the world of man. The Creator was to be feared. Magic, the Keeper's witchery, was to be expunged. Until the boundary had been brought down the past spring, D'Hara had been cordoned off from the Midlands for generations, so in large part D'Hara and its people were still an unknown to Brogan, avast new territory in need of enlightenment and, possibly, purification."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Darken Rahl, the leader of D'Hara, had brought the boundary down, allowing his troops to sweep into the Midlands and capture Aydindril, among other cities. If he had been more interested in confining himself to the affairs of man, Rahl might have seized all of the Midlands before they could raise armies against him, but he had been more interested in pursuing magic, and that had been his undoing. Once Darken Rahl was dead, assassinated by a pretender to the throne, as Brogan had heard it told, the D'Haran troops had joined with the Imperial Order in its cause.\n\nThere was no longer a place in the world for the ancient, dying religion called magiic. The Imperial Order was upon the world, now; the Creator's glory would guide man. Tobias Brogan's prayers had been answered, and everyday he thanked the Creator for placing him in the world at this time, when he could beat the center of it all, to seethe blasphemy of magic vanquished, to lead the righteous in the final battle. This was the making of history, and he was part of it.\n\nThe Creator, in fact, had recently come to Tobias in his dreams, to tell him how pleased He was with his efforts. He didn't reveal this to any of his men; that might be seen as presumptuous. To be honored by the Creator was satisfaction enough. Of course he had told Lunetta, and she had been awed; after all, it wasn't often the Creator chose to speak directly to one of His children.\n\nBrogan squeezed his legs around his horse to pickup the pace as he watched the D'Harans move on down aside street. None turned to see if they were to be followed or challenged, but only a fool would take that for complacency; Brogan was no fool. The throng parted for the column, giving them a wide path as they proceeded down Kings Row. Brogan recognized some of the uniforms of soldiers at various palaces: Sandarians, Jarians, and Keltans. He saw no Galeans; the Order must have been successful in their task at Galea1 s Crown city of Ebinissia."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At last Brogan saw troops from his homeland. With an impatient wave he signaled a squad forward. Their capes, crimson to announce who they were, billowed out behind as they charged past the swordsmen, lancers, standard-bearers, and finally Brogan. Accompanied by the racket of iron shoes on stone, the horsemen charged right up the vast steps of the Nicobarese Palace. It was an edifice as garish as any of the others, with tapered, fluted columns of rare white-veined brown marble, a difficult-to-obtain stone quarried from the mountains in eastern Nicobarese. The profligacy galled him.\n\nThe regular soldiers guarding the palace stumbled back at the sight of the men on horseback and flinched into shaky salutes. The squad of horsemen herded them back farther, opening a wide corridor for the lord general.\n\nAt the top of the steps, between statues of soldiers atop rearing stallions carved from buff-colored stone, Brogan dismounted. He tossed the reins to one of the ashen-faced Palace Guard as he smiled out at the city, his eyes settling on the Confessors' Palace. Today Tobias Brogan was in a good mood. Lately, such moods were becoming increasingly rare. He drew a deep breath of the dawn air: the dawn of anew day.\n\nThe man who had taken the reins bowed as Brogan turned back. \"Long live the king.\"\n\nBrogan straightened his cape. \"A little late for that.\"\n\nThe man cleared his throat, working up the courage. \"Sir?\"\n\n\"The king,\" Brogan said, as he knuckled his mustache, \"turned out to be more than all of us who loved him thought. He burned for his sins. Now, see to my horse.\" He gestured to another guard. \"You-go tell the cooks I'm hungry. I don't want to be kept waiting.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The guard backed away, bowing, as Brogan glanced up at the man still on horseback. \"Galtero.\" The man stepped his horse closer, his crimson cape limp in the still air. \"Take half the men, and bring her tome. I'm going to breakfast, and then I will judge her.\"\n\nWith a gentle touch, his bony fingers absently stroked the case at his belt. Soon he would add the prize of prizes to his collection. He smiled grimly at the thought, the smile tightening the old scar at the corner of his mouth, but not touching his dark eyes. The glory of moral redress would be his.\n\n\"Lunetta.\" She was staring at the Confessors' Palace, her motley patches of tattered cloth drawn tight to her as she idly scratched her forearms. \"Lunetta!\"\n\nShe flinched, hearing him at last. \"Yes, Lord General?\"\n\nHe flipped his crimson cape back over his shoulder and straightened his sash of rank. \"Come, breakfast with me. We'll have a talk. I'll tell you about the dream I had last night.\"\n\nHer eyes widened with excitement. \"Another one, my lord general? Yes, I should like very much to hear about it. You honor me.\"\n\n\"Indeed.\" She followed as he marched through the tall brassbound double doors, into the Nicobarese palace. \"We have matters to discuss. You will listen attentively, won't you, Lunetta?\"\n\nShe shuffled along at his heels. \"Yes, my lord general. Always.\"\n\nHe paused at a window with a heavy blue draper Drawing his dress knife, he sliced a good-sized piece from the side, including a strip of edging with gold tassels."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Licking her lips, Lunetta rocked from side to side, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited.\n\nBrogan smiled. \"A pretty for you, Lunetta.\"\n\nEyes glistening, she clutched it excitedly to herself before holding it in one place, then another, searching for the perfect spot to add it to the others. She giggled with glee. \"Thank you, Lord General. It be beautiful.\"\n\nBe marched off, Lunetta scurrying to follow behind. Portraits of royalty hung from the rich paneling, and underfoot sumptuous carpets ran into the distance. Gold-leafed frames surrounded round-topped doors to either side. Gilt-edged mirrors reflected the passing flash of crimson.\n\nA servant in brown-and-white livery bowed his way into the hall, holding out his ann to indicate the direction to the dining hall before scuttling along, looking sideways to be sure he kept himself clear of harm, and bowing every few steps.\n\nTobias Brogan was not a man who had ever frightened anyone with his size, but the servants, staff, Palace Guard, and partially dressed officials who charged into the hall to see what was causing such a fuss all paled at the sight of him-at seeing the lord general himself, the man who commanded the Blood of the Fold.\n\nAt his word banelings burned for their sins-whether they be beggars or soldiers, lords or ladies, or even kings."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sister Verna stood transfixed by the flames, their depths loosing transient whorls of glittering colors and shimmering rays alive with swaying movement, fingers twisting in a dance, luring in air that flapped their clothes in passing, and casting forth heat that would have driven them all back, if not for their shields. The huge bloodred sun hung half emerged at the horizon, at last abating the glory of the fire that had consumed the bodies. A few of the Sisters around her still sobbed softly, but Sister Verna had drained all the tears she had to give.\n\nWell over one hundred boys and young men stood in a ring around the fire, with twice as many Sisters of the Light and novices circled inside them. Except for one Sister and one boy symbolically standing watch over the palace, and of course the one Sister who had become deranged and was locked in an empty, shielded room for her own good, all were on the hill above Tanimura watching the flames leap skyward. Even with this many people standing together, each was touched by profound loneliness, and stood withdrawn in introspection and prayer. As prescribed, no one spoke at the funeral rite.\n\nSister Verna's back hurt from standing ward all night over the bodies. Through the hours of darkness they had all stood, praying, and maintaining the linked shield over the corpses in symbolic protection of the revered. At least it was a relief to be away from the incessant drumming down in the city.\n\nAt first light the shield had been dropped and each had sent forth a flow of their Han into the pyre, igniting it, Fire, fed by magic, had raced through the stacked logs and the two heavily shrouded bodies, one short and squat, the other tall and powerfully built, creating an inferno of divine power."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had had to search the vaults for guidance as no one living had ever participated in the ceremony; it had not been performed in almost eight hundred years-791, to be precise: the last time a prelate had died.\n\nAs they had learned in the old books, only the Prelate was to have her soul released to the Creator's protection in the sacred funeral rite, but in this case the Sisters had all voted to grant the same privilege to the one who had struggled so valiantly to save her. The books had said that dispensation from the exclusion could only be granted by unanimous consent. It had taken heated persuasion to make it so.\n\nBy custom, as the sun finally and fully gained the horizon, washing the fire with the complete spectacle of Creator's own light, the flow of Han was withdrawn. Their power recalled, the pyre collapsed, leaving only a stain of ash and a few charred logs to mark the site of the ceremony on the green hilltop. Smoke curled upward, dissipating into the silent, brightening day.\n\nGrayish white ashes were all that was left in the world of the living of Prelate Annalina, and the prophet Nathan. It was done.\n\nWithout words, Sisters began drifting away, some in solitude, others placing a comforting arm around the shoulder of a boy or a novice. Like lost souls, they meandered down the hill toward the city, and the Palace of the Prophets, going to a home without a mother. As Sister Verna kissed herring finger, she guessed that with the prophet also dead, they were in away without a father as well.\n\nShe folded her fingers together over her stomach as she absently watched the others walking off into the distance. She had never had the chance to make her peace with the Prelate before she had died. The woman had used her, humiliated her, and allowed her to be abased for doing her duty and following orders. Though all Sisters served the Creator, and she knew that what the Prelate had done must have been fora greater good, it hurt that the Prelate had exploited that fidelity. It made her feel a fool."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Because Prelate Annalina had been injured in the attack by Ulicia, a Sister of the Dark, and had since remained unconscious for near to three weeks prior to her death, Sister Verna had never had a chance to talk to her. Only Nathan had attended the Prelate, trying tirelessly to heal her, but in the end he had failed. It was cruel fate that took his life, too. Though Nathan had always seemed vigorous to her, the strain must have been too much for him; he had, after all, been near to one thousand years old. She guessed he had aged in the twenty-odd years she had been away seeking Richard and finally bringing him to the palace.\n\nSister Verna smiled at the memory of Richard; she missed him, too. He had vexed her to the limits of her tolerance, but he, too, had been a victim of the Prelate's plans, although he seemed to have understood and accepted the things she had done and had not held any ill feelings toward her.\n\nShe felt a pang of heartache at the thought that Richard's love, Kahlan, had probably died in the climax of that terrible prophecy. She hoped it wasn't so. The Prelate had been a resolute woman, and had orchestrated events in the lives of a great many people. Sister Verna hoped it had truly been done for the good of the Creator's children, and not simply for the Prelate's own ambitions.\n\n\"You look angry, Sister Verna.\"\n\nShe turned to see young Warren standing with his hands in the opposite, silver brocade sleeves of his deep violet robes. She glanced around and realized that the two of them were alone on the hillside; the others, long gone, were dark specks in the distance.\n\n\"Perhaps I am, Warren.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What are you angry about, Sister?\"\n\nWith the palms of her hands, she smoothed her dark skirt at her hips. \"Maybe I'm just angry with myself.\" She sought to change the subject as she straightened her light blue shawl. \"You're so young, in your studies I mean, that I'm still having trouble getting used to seeing you without a Rada'Han.\"\n\nAs if she had reminded him, his fingers stroked his neck where the collar had been for most of his life. \"Young for those living under the spell at the palace, perhaps, but hardly young for those in the outside world-I am one hundred and fifty seven, Sister. But I do appreciate that you took my collar off.\" He took his fingers from his neck and brushed back a lock of curly blond hair. \"It seems like the whole world has been turned upside down in the last few months.\"\n\nShe chuckled. \"I miss Richard, too.\"\n\nAn easy grin brightened his face. \"Really? He was a rare person, wasn't he. I can hardly believe that he was able to prevent the Keeper from escaping the underworld, but he had to have stopped the spirit of his father, and returned the Stone of Tears to its rightful place, or we would ail have been swallowed by the dead. To tell the truth, I was in a cold sweat the whole of winter solstice.\"\n\nSister Verna nodded, as if to add emphasis to her sincerity. \"The things you helped teach him must have been valuable. You did well, too, Warren.\" She studied his gentle smile fora moment, noticing how little it had changed overall the years. \"I'm glad you decided to remain at the palace fora time, even though you have your collar off. We are without a prophet, it would seem.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He looked to the stain of ashes."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Most of my life I've studied the prophecies down in the vaults, and I never knew that some were given by a prophet still living, much less at the palace. I wish they had told me. I wish they had let me talk to him, learn from him. Now the chance is lost.\"\n\n\"Nathan was a dangerous man, an enigma who none of us could ever fully understand or trust, but maybe it was wrong of them to prevent you from visiting him. Know that in time, when you learned more, the Sisters would have allowed it, if not required it.\"\n\nHe glanced away. \"But now the chance has been lost.\"\n\n\"Warren, now that you have the collar off, I know you're anxious to go out into the world, but you've said that you intend to stay at the palace, at least fora time, to study. The palace is without a prophet, now. I think you should consider the fact that your gift manifests itself strongly in that area. You could someday be a prophet.\"\n\nA gentle breeze rippled his robes as he looked out over the green hills toward the palace. \"Not only my gift, but my interest, my hopes, have always involved the prophecies. I've only recently begun to understand them in away that no one else does, but understanding them is different than giving them.\"\n\n\"It takes time, Warren. Why, when Nathan was your age, I'm sure he was no more advanced in prophecy than you. If you stayed and continued to study, I believe that in four or five hundred years you might be a prophet as great as Nathan.\"\n\nHe was silent fora time. \"But there's a whole world out there. I've heard there are books at the Wizard's Keep in Aydindril, and other places, too. Richard said there are sure to be many at the People's Palace in D'Hara. I want to learn, and there maybe things to know that can't be found here.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sister Verna rolled her shoulders to ease their ache. \"The Palace of the Prophets is spelled, Warren. If you leave, you will age the same as those outside. Look at what's happened tome in a scant twenty-odd years away from it; even though we were born only a year apart you still look as if you should bethinking of marriage, and I look as if I should be preparing to bounce a grandchild on my knee. Now that I'm back, I will age by the palace's time again, but what has been lost cannot be recovered.\"\n\nWarren averted his eyes. \"I think you see more wrinkles than are there, Sister Verna.\"\n\nShe smiled in spite of herself. \"Did you know, Warren, that I was once smitten with you?\"\n\nHe was so astonished he stumbled back a step. \"Me? You can't be serious. When?\"\n\n\"Oh, it was along time ago. Well over a hundred years, I would suppose. You were so scholarly and intelligent, with all that curly blond hair. And those blue eyes made my heart race.\"\n\n\"Sister Verna!\"\n\nShe couldn't hold back a chuckle as his face went crimson. \"It was long ago, Warren, and I was young, as were you. It was a fleeting infatuation.\" Her smile ghosted away. \" Now you seem a child tome, and I look old enough to be your mother. Being away from the palace has aged me in more ways that one.\n\n\"Out mere, you will have a few brief decades to learn what you could before you grow old and die. Here, you would have the time to learn and perhaps become a prophet. Books from those places could always be borrowed, and brought here for study."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You're the closest thing we have to a prophet. With the Prelate and Nathan dead, you may know more about the prophecies than anyone alive, now. We need you, Warren.\"\n\nHe turned to the sunlight shimmering off the spires and roofs of the palace. \"I'll think on it, Sister.\"\n\n\"That's all I ask, Warren.\"\n\nWith a sigh, he turned back. \"What now? Who do you think will be chosen as the new prelate?\"\n\nThey had learned through their research of the funeral rite that the process of selecting anew prelate was quite involved. Warren would know of it; few knew the books in the vaults as well as he.\n\nShe shrugged. \"The post requires vast experience and knowledge. That means it would have to be one of the older Sisters. Leoma Marsick would be a likely candidate, or Philippa, or Dulcinia. Sister Maren, of course, would be atop nominee. There are any number of qualified Sisters; I could name at least thirty, though I doubt that more than a dozen truly h\" ve a serious chance to become prelate.\"\n\nHe absently rubbed the side of his nose with a finger. \"I suppose you're right.\"\n\nSister Verna had no doubt that Sisters were already maneuvering to place themselves in contention, if not at the top of the list, with the less venerated choosing their champion and forming rank to back her, doing their best to see to it that she was selected, and hoping to be awarded a position of influence if their favorite became the new prelate. As the field of candidates narrowed, the more influential Sisters who hadn't yet chosen sides would be courted until they were won over to one or another of the leading Sisters. It was a momentous decision, one that would affect the palace for hundreds of years to come. It would likely be a bitter battle."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sister Verna sighed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't look forward to the struggle, but I guess that the selection process must be rigorous, so that the strongest will become prelate. It could dragon fora longtime; we could be without a prelate for months, maybe a year.\"\n\n\"Who are you going to support, Sister?\"\n\nShe barked a laugh. \"Me! You're only seeing the wrinkles again. Warren. They don't change the fact that I'm one of the younger Sisters. I have no influence among those who would count.\"\n\n\"Well, I think you had better try to get some influence.\" He leaned closer, lowering his voice even though there was no one around. \"The six Sisters of the Dark who escaped on that ship, remember?\"\n\nShe looked to his blue eyes and frowned. \"What does that have to do with who will become prelate?\"\n\nWarren twisted the robes at his stomach into a violet knot. \"Who's to say there were only six. What if there's another at the palace? Or another dozen? Or hundred? Sister Verna, you're the only Sister I trust to be a true Sister of the Light. You must do something to insure that a Sister of the Dark doesn't become prelate.\"\n\nShe glanced to the palace in the distance. \"I told you, I'm one of the younger Sisters. My word holds no sway, and the others know that the Sisters of the Dark all escaped.\"\n\nWarren looked away, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in his robes. Suddenly, he turned back, suspicion creasing his brow.\n\n\"You think I'm right, don't you. You think there are still Sisters of the Dark at the palace.\"\n\nShe met his intense eyes with a placid expression. \" While I don't think it entirely out of the realm of possibility, there is no reason to believe it is so, and beyond that, it is only one of a great many matters that must betaken into consideration when-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't give me that double-talk that comes so easily to Sisters. This is important.\"\n\nSister Vema stiffened. \"You area student, Warren, speaking to a Sister of the Light; show the proper respect.\"\n\n\"I'm not being disrespectful, Sister. Richard helped me to see that I must stand up for myself and for what I believe. Besides, you're the one who took my collar off, and as you said, we're the same age; you are not my elder.\"\n\n\"You are still a student who-\"\n\n\"\"Who you yourself said probably knows more about the prophecies than anyone else. In that, Sister, you are my student. I admit that you know more than I about a great many things, like the use of Han, but I know more than you about somethings. Pan of the reason you took the Rada'Han from around my neck is because you know it's wrong to hold someone captive. I respect you as a Sister, and for the good you do, and for the knowledge you have, but I am no longer a captive of the Sisters. You have earned my respect, Sister, not my submission.\"\n\nShe studied his blue eyes fora long moment. \"Who would have known what was under that collar.\" At last, she nodded. \"You're right, Warren; I suspect there are others at the palace who have given a soul oath to the Keeper himself.\"\n\n\"Others.\" Warren searched her eyes. \"You didn't say Sisters, you said others. You mean young wizards, too, don't you?\"\n\n\"Have you so soon forgotten Jedidiah?\"\n\nHe paled a little. \"No, I haven't forgotten Jedidiah.\"\n\n\"As you said, where there is one, there could be others. Some of the young men at the palace could be sworn to the Keeper, too.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He hunched closer to her as he knotted his robes again. \"Sister Vema, what are we going do about it? We can't allow a Sister of the Dark to become prelate; it would be a disaster. We must be sure one of them doesn't become prelate.\"\n\n\"And how would we know if she was sworn to the Keeper? Worse, what could we do about it? They have command of Subtractive Magic; we don't. Even if we could find out who they are, we couldn't do anything about it. It would be like reaching into a sack and grabbing a viper by its tail.\"\n\nWarren paled. \"I never thought of that.\"\n\nSister Verna clasped her hands. \"We'll think of something. Perhaps the Creator will guide us.\"\n\n\"Maybe we could get Richard to return and help us, like he did with those six Sisters of the Dark. At least we've seethe last of those six. They'll never show their faces again. Richard put the fear of the Creator in them, and sent them running.\n\n\"And in the process, the Prelate was hurt, and later died, along with Nathan,\" she reminded him, \"Death walks with that man.\"\n\n\"Not because he brings it,\" Warren protested. \"Richard is a war wizard; he fights for what's right, to help people. If he hadn't done as he did, the Prelate and Nathan would have only been the beginning of all the death and destruction.\"\n\nShe squeezed his arm; her tone softened. \"Of course you're right; we all owe Richard a great debt. But needing him and finding him are two different things. My wrinkles attest to that.\" Sister Verna let her hand drop. \"I don't think we can count on anyone but each other. We'll think of something.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Warren fixed her with a dark expression. \"We had better; the prophecies hold ominous portent about the next prelate's reign.\"\n\nBack in the city of Tanimura, they were once again surrounded by the incessant sound of drums coming from various directions; a booming, low-pitched, steady cadence that seemed to vibrate deep in her chest. It was unnerving and, she supposed, meant to be.\n\nThe drummers and their guards had arrived three days before the prelate's death, and in short order had setup their huge kettledrums at various stations around the city. Once they had started the slow, steady beat, it had not stopped, day or night. Men took shifts at the drums so that they never ceased, even fora moment.\n\nThe pervasive sound had slowly set the people's nerves on edge, making everyone irritable and short-tempered, as if doom itself were lurking in the shadows, just out of sight, waiting to pounce. Instead of the usual shouting, talking, laughing, and music, a backdrop of eerie quiet added to the brooding mood.\n\nAt the outskirts of the city, the indigent people who had erected lean-to shelters cowered in them, instead of engaging in conversation, hawking small items, washing clothes in buckets, or cooking on small fires as they usually did. Shopkeepers stood in doorways or at simple plank tables setup to display their goods, their arms folded and scowls on their faces. Men pulling carts bent somberly to their tasks. People needing goods made their purchases quickly, making no more than a perfunctory examination of the wares. Children kept a hand clutched to their mother's skirts as their eyes darted about. Men whom she had seen playing at dice or other games in the past huddled against walls."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In the distance, at the Palace of the Prophets, a single bell tolled every few minutes, as it had all the night before and would until the sunset, announcing to all that the Prelate was dead."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The drums, however, had nothing to do with the Prelate's death; manned by soldiers, they announced the impending arrival of the emperor.\n\nSister Verna met the troubled eyes of people she passed. She touched the heads of the scores who approached, seeking solace, and offered the Creator's blessing. \"I only remember kings,\" she said to Warren, \"not this Imperial Order. Who is this emperor?\"\n\n\"His name is Jagang. Ten, maybe fifteen years ago, the Imperial Order started swallowing up the kingdoms, joining them together under its rule.\" With one finger, he rubbed his temple in thought, \"I spent most of by time in the vaults studying, you understand, so I'm no sure of all the details, but from what I gather, they swiftly came to dominate the Old World, joining it all under their rule. The emperor hasn't ever caused any trouble, though. At least not way up herein Tanimura. He stays out of palace business, and expects us to stay out of his.\"\n\n\"Why is he coming here?\"\n\nWarren shrugged. \"I don't know. Perhaps just to visit this part of his empire.\"\n\nAfter conferring the Creator's blessing on a gaunt woman, Sister Verna stepped around a trail of fresh horse dung as she resumed walking. \"Well, I wish he would hurry up and get here so that infernal drumming would cease. They've been at it four days now; his arrival must be imminent.\"\n\nWarren glanced around before speaking. 'The palace guards are Imperial Order troops. As a courtesy, the emperor provides them, since he allows no men at arms but his own. Anyway, I talked to one of the guards, and he told me that the drums are only meant to announce that the emperor is coming, not that he will be here soon. He said that when the emperor visited Breaston, the drums sounded for nearly six months beforehand.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Six months!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "You mean we must endure this racket for months!\"\n\nWarren hitched up his robes and stepped over a puddle. \"Not necessarily. He could arrive in months, or tomorrow. He doesn't deign to announce when he will arrive, only that he will.\"\n\nSister Verna scowled. \"Well, if he doesn't arrive soon, the Sisters will see to it that those infernal drums stop.\"\n\n\"That would be fine by me. But this emperor sounds like someone not to be treated casually. I've heard that he has an army more vast than any ever assembled.\" He gave her a meaningful look. \"And that includes the great war that separated the Old World from the New.\"\n\nHer eyes narrowed.\"Why would he need such an army, if he has already seized all of the old kingdoms? Sounds tome like it's just idle talk of soldiers. Soldiers always like to boast.\"\n\nWarren shrugged. \"The guards told me they've seen it with their own eyes. They said that when the Order masses, they cover the ground in every direction as far as the eye can see. What do you think the palace will make of it when he comes here?\"\n\n\"Bah. The palace has no interest in politics.\"\n\nWarren grinned. \"You never were one to be intimidated.\"\n\n\"Our business is with the Creator's wishes, not an emperor's, that's all. The palace will remain long after he is gone.\"\n\nAfter walking in silence fora time, Warren cleared his throat'You know, way back, when we hadn't been here long, and you were still a novice... well, I was enamored of you.\"\n\nSister Verna stared over incredulously. \"Now you're mocking me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No, it's true.\" His face reddened. \"I thought your curly brown hair was the most beautiful I'd ever seen. You were smarter than the others, and commanded your Han with sureness. I thought there was no one your equal. I wanted to ask you to study with me.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"You were always so sure of yourself, so confident. I never was.\" He brushed his hair back self-consciously.\"Besides, you were interested in Jedidiah. I was nothing to compare to him. I always thought you would just laugh.\"\n\nShe realized she was smoothing back her hair, and let her arm fall. \"Well, perhaps I would have.\"\n\nShe thought better of the slight. \"People can be foolish when they are young.\" A woman with a young child approached and fell to her knees before them. Verna paused to bestow the Creator's blessing on them. As the woman thanked her and then hurried away, Sister Verna turned to Warren. \"You could go away for twenty years or so, to study those books you are so interested in, and catch up in age with me. We'd look the same age again. Then you could ask to hold my hand.. like I wanted you to, back then.\"\n\nThey both looked up at the sound of someone calling out to them. Through the throng of shuffling people, she saw one of the Palace Guard waving his arm to get their attention.\n\n\"Isn't that Kevin Andellmere?\" She asked.\n\nWarren nodded. \"I wonder what he's so stirred up about?\"\n\nA breathless Swordsman Andellmere vaulted over a small boy and stumbled to a halt before them. \"Sister Verna! Good! I've found you at last They want you. At the palace. Right now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who wants me? What about?\"\n\nHe gulped air and tried to talk at the same time. \"The Sisters want you. Sister Leoma grabbed me by my ear and told me to go find you and bring you back. She said that if I was slow about it, I'd rue the day my mother bore me. There must be trouble.\"\n\n\"What kind of trouble?\"\n\nHe threw his hands up. \"When I asked, she gave me that look Sisters give that can melt a man's bones, and told me it was Sister business and none of mine.\"\n\nSister Verna let out a tired sigh. \"I guess we best return with you, then, or they'll skin you and use your hide fora flag.\"\n\nThe young soldier blanched, as if he believed her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On the arched stone bridge that led over the River Kern to Halsband Island and the Palace of the Prophets, Sisters Philippa, Dulcinia, and Maren stood in a row, shoulder to shoulder, like three hawks watching their dinner approach. They clutched their hands impatiently at their waists. The sun at their backs cast their faces in shadow, but Sister Verna could still make out the scowls. Warren walked onto the bridge with her as Swordsman Andellmere, his duty accomplished, hurried off in another direction.\n\nGray-haired Sister Dulcinia, her jaw set, leaned closer as Sister Verna came to a stop before her. \"Where have you been! You've kept everyone waiting.\"\n\nThe drums in the city kept up their beat in the background, like the slow drip of rain. Sister Vema put them from her mind.\n\n\"I've been fora walk, reflecting on the future of the palace, and the Creator's work. What with Prelate Annalina's ashes hardly cold yet, I didn't suspect the backbiting was to begin so soon.\"\n\nSister Dulcinia leaned even closer, her penetrating blue eyes taking on a dangerous gleam. \"Don't you dare get impudent with us, Sister Verna, or you will quickly find yourself a novice again. Now that you have returned to life at the palace, you had better begin bethinking its ways, and start showing your superiors the proper respect.\"\n\nSister Dulcinia returned her back to straight, as if retracting claws, now that the threat had been delivered. She expected no argument. Sister Maren, a stocky woman with muscles like a woodsman, and a tongue to match, smiled with satisfaction. Tall, dark, Sister Philippa, her prominent cheekbones and narrow jaw giving her an exotic look, kept her dark eyes on Sister Verna, watching from behind an expressionless mask."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Superiors?\" Sister Verna said. \"We are all equal in the Creator's eyes.\"\n\n\"Equal!\" Sister Maren sniffed irritably. \"An interesting concept. If we were to call an assembly of review to consider the matter of your contentious attitude, you would find out just how equal you are, and would likely find yourself once again doing chores with the rest of my novices, only this time you wouldn't have Richard hereto intercede and get you out of it!\"\n\n\"Really, Sister Maren?\" Sister Verna lifted an eyebrow. \"Is that so.\" Warren inched behind her, into her shadow. \"I seem to recall, and correct me if I'm mistaken, that the last time I'got out of it, you said it was because you had prayed to the Creator and it had come to you that I would best serve Him if I were returned to \"Sister. Now you say it was Richard's doing. Am I mistaken in my recollection?\"\n\n\"You would question me?\" Sister Maren pressed her hands together so tightly that her knuckles turned white. \"I was punishing insolent novices two hundred years before you were born! How dare you-\"\n\n\"You've now told two versions of the same event. Since both can't be true, that means that one would have to be untrue. Yes? It would seem you have been caught in a lie, Sister Maren. I would think that you, of all people, would work to keep herself from falling into the habit of lying. The Sisters of the Light hold honesty in high regard, and abhor lying-even more than they abhor irreverence. And what penance has my superior, the headmistress of the novices, prescribed for herself to make amends for lying?\"\n\n\"My, my,\" Sister Dulcinia said with a smirk. \"Such boldness. Were I you, Sister Verna, and thinking of placing myself in contention for prelate, as you seem to be doing, I would get that presumptuous notion right out of my head. When Sister Leoma was through with you, there wouldn't be enough left for her to pick her teeth with.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sister Verna returned the smirk."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So, Sister Dulcinia, you intend to back Sister Leoma, yes? Or are you just trying to conjure a task to get her out of your way while you seek the post?\"\n\nSister Philippa spoke up in a quiet, authoritative voice. \"Enough. We have more important matters to attend. Let's get this sham over with so we can get on with the selection process.\"\n\nSister Verna planted her fists on her hips. \"And just what sham would that be?\"\n\nSister Philippa turned gracefully toward the palace, her simple but elegant yellow robe flowing behind. \"Follow us, Sister Verna, You have delayed us long enough. You are the last, and then we can be on with our business. We will take up the matter of your insolence at a another time.\"\n\nThe other two Sisters fell in beside her as she glided off over the bridge. Sister Verna and Warren exchanged a questioning look, and then started after them.\n\nWarren slowed his pace, letting the three Sisters lengthen their lead to a dozen paces. With a frown, he leaned close so he could whisper without them hearing.\n\n\"Sister Verna, I sometimes think you could make a sunny day angry with you! It's been so peaceful around here for the last twenty years that I had forgotten how much trouble that tongue of yours could cause. Why do you do this? Do you just enjoy making trouble to no good end?\"\n\nHe rolled his eyes at her withering scowl and changed the subject. \"What do you suppose those three are doing together? I thought they would be adversaries.\"\n\nSister Verna glanced to the three Sisters, to make sure they couldn't hear. \"If you want to put a knife in the back of your opponent, so to speak, you must first get close enough.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Co-writing with the writer, continue the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Blood of the Fold\nChapter: 10"
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"value": "Tobias ordered himself in his chair and folded his hands on the table, thinking again about his triumph, thinking about the prize of prizes."
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"value": "There was no need to. force a smile this time.\n\nHe was a bit startled to lookup and see a young girl glide into the room ahead of the two guards. The old coat she wore dragged the ground. Behind the girl, between the guards, a squat old woman in a tattered wrap of brown blanket limped along with a rolling gait.\n\nWhen the group came to a halt before the table, the girl smiled at him. \"You've a very nice warm home, m'lord. We've enjoyed our day here. May we return your hospitality?\"\n\nThe old woman added a smile of her own.\n\n\"I'm pleased you have had a chance to get warm, and would be grateful if you and your...\" He lifted a questioning eyebrow.\n\n\"Grandmamma,\" the girl said.\n\n\"Yes, grandmamma. I would be grateful if you and your grandmamma would answer a few questions, that's all.\"\n\n\"Ann,\" the old woman said. \"Questions, is it? Questions can be dangerous, m'lord.\"\n\n\"Dangerous?\" Tobias rubbed two fingers over the furrows on his forehead. \"I seek only the truth, madam. If you answer honestly, no harm will come to you. You have my word.\"\n\nShe grinned, showing the gaps where teeth were missing. \"I meant for you, m'lord.\" She cackled softly to herself, then leaned toward him with a grim expression. \"You might not like the answers, or pay heed to them.\"\n\nTobias waved off her concern. \"You let me worry about that.\"\n\nShe straightened, smiling again. \"If you wish, m'lord.\" She scratched the side of her nose. \"What are your questions, then?\""
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "Tobias leaned back, studying the woman's waiting eyes. \"The Midlands has been in turmoil, of late, and we want to know if( he Keeper's minions have a hand in the strife shadowing the lands. Have you heard any of the council members speak against the Creator?\"\n\n\"Councilors rarely comedown to the market to discuss theology with old ladies, m'lord, nor would I suppose any would be so foolish as to publicly reveal any underworld connections, had they any.\"\n\n\"Well, what have you heard about what they have had to say?\"\n\nShe lifted an eyebrow. \"You wish to hear rumors from Stentor Street, m'lord? State which sort of rumor it is you would like to hear, and I can tell you one to fit your needs.\"\n\nTobias drummed his fingers on the table. \"I am not interested in rumor, madam, simply the truth.\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Of course you are, m'lord, and you shall have it. Sometimes, people can be interested in the most foolish of things.\"\n\nHe cleared his throat in annoyance. \" I've heard any number of rumors already, and don't need anymore. I need to know the truth of what has been going on in Aydindril. Why, I've even heard that the council has been executed, as well as the Mother Confessor.\n\nHer narrow-eyed smile returned. \"Then why wouldn't a man of your high status simply stop by the palace as he rode in, and ask to seethe council? That would make more sense than dragging in all sort of people who would have no direct knowledge, and asking them. The truth would be better discerned with your own eyes, m'lord.\"\n\nBrogan pressed his lips together. \"I wasn't here when the rumors say the Mother Confessor was executed.\""
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ahh, so it's the Mother Confessor you're interested in, then. Why didn't you simply say so, instead of going all roundabout? I heard dial she was beheaded, but I didn't see it. My granddaughter saw it though, didn't you my dear?\"\n\nThe little girl nodded. \"Yes, m'lord, saw it myself, I did. Chopped her head right off, they did.\"\n\nBrogan made a show of sighing. \"That was what I feared. She is dead, then.\"\n\nThe girl shook her head. \"Didn't say that, m'lord. I said I saw them chop off her head.\" She looked right into his eyes and smiled.\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\" Brogan shot a glare up at the old woman. \"What does she mean by that?\"\n\n\"What she says, m'lord. Aydindril has always been a city with a strong undercurrent of magic, but it has been fairly crackling with it, of late. Where magic is involved, you can't always trust your eyes alone. Though she is young, this one is smart enough to know that much. A man of your profession would know it, too.\"\n\n\"Crackling with magic? That portends evil. What do you know about the Keeper's minions?\"\n\n\"Terrible, they are, m'lord. But magic is, in itself, not evil; it exists without guile of its own.\"\n\nBrogan's fists tightened. \"Magic is the Keeper's taint.\"\n\nShe cackled again. \"That would be like saying that the shiny silver knife at your belt is the Keeper's taint. If used to menace or harm an innocent, then the holder of the knife is evil. But if, for instance, it is used to defend life against a fanatical lunatic, no matter his high standing, then the holder of the knife is good. The knife is neither, because each can use it.\""
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "Her eyes seemed to go out of focus, and her voice lowered to a hiss. \"But if used for retribution, magic is vengeance incarnate.\"\n\n\"Well then, in your view, is this magic you say is about in the city being used for good, or evil?\"\n\n\"For both, m'lord. This is, after all, the home of the Wizard's Keep, and a seat of power. Confessors have ruled here for thousands of years, as well as wizards. Power draws power. Conflict is afoot. Scaled creatures, called mriswith, have begun to appear out of the very air, and gut any innocent in their way. An ominous omen, if ever there was one. Other magic lurks to snatch the rash, or unwary. Why, the very night is alive with magic carried on the gossamer wings of dreams.\"\n\nShe peered at him with one faded blue eye as she went on. \" A child who is fascinated with fire could easily be incinerated here. Such a child would be well advised to be very careful, and leave at the first opportunity, before he inadvertently puts his hand into aflame.\n\n\"Why, people are even pulled off the street, to have their words filtered through a sieve of magic.\"\n\nBrogan leaned forward with a smoldering expression. \"And what do you know about magic, madam?\"\n\n\"An equivocal question, m'lord. Could you be more explicit?\"\n\nTobias paused fora moment, trying to pick the nettles out of her ramblings. He had dealt with her kind before, and he realized she was gulling him off the subject, off the trail.\n\nHe brought back his polite smile. \"Well, for instance, your granddaughter says she saw the Mother Confessor beheaded, but that that doesn't mean she be dead. You say magic can make it so. I'm intrigued by such a statement. While it's true that I know magic can occasionally fool people, I've only heard of it working small deceptions. Could you explain how death could be revoked?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Revoke death? The Keeper has such power.\"\n\nBrogan pressed forward against the table. \"Are you saying the Keeper himself brought her back to life?\"\n\nShe cackled. \"No, m'lord. You are so persistent in what you want that you do not pay attention, and hear only what you want to hear. You specifically asked how death could be revoked. The Keeper can revoke death. At least, I'm assuming he can because he is the ruler of the dead, holds power over life and death, so it's only natural to believe that-\"\n\n\"Is she alive or not!\"\n\nThe old woman blinked at him. \"How would I know that, m'lord?\"\n\nBrogan ground his teeth. \"You said that just because people saw her beheaded, that doesn't mean she be dead.\"\n\n\"Oh, back to that, are we? Well, magic can perform such a ruse, but that does not mean it did. I said only that it could. Then you went off scent asking about death being revoked. Quite a separate issue, m'lord.\"\n\n\"How, woman! How can magic accomplish such high deception!\"\n\nShe snugged the tattered blanket up around her shoulders.\n\n\"A death spell, m'lord.\"\n\nBrogan glanced to Lunetla. Her beady eyes were fixed on the old woman, and she was scratching her arms.\n\n\"A death spell. And what, exactly, is a death spell?\"\n\n\"Well, I've never seen one executed, so to speak-\" She chuckled at her own joke. \"-so I can't give you proper witness, but I can tell you what I've been told, if you've a wish to hear secondhand knowledge.\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brogan spoke through clenched teeth. \"Tell me.\"\n\n\"Seeing a death, comprehending it, is something we all recognize at a spiritual level. It's this seeing of a body with its soul, or spirit, departed, that we recognize as death. A death spell can mimic areal death by making people believe they have seen a death, that they have seen the body without its soul, and so make them viscerally accept the event as true.\"\n\nShe shook her head as if she found the matter both amazing and scandalizing, \"Very dangerous, it is. It requires invoking the aid of the spirits to hold the person's spirit while the web is cast. If anything goes wrong, the subject's spirit would be cast helpless into the underworld-a very unpleasant way to die. If everything goes right, and if the spirits return that which they have preserved, I am told it will work, and the person will live, but those seeing it will think them dead. Very chancy, though. While I've heard of it, I've never heard of it actually being attempted, so it maybe nothing more than hearsay.\"\n\nBrogan sat quietly moving the pieces of information around in his mind, pulling together things he had learned this day, and things he had learned in the past, searching for the right fit. It must have been a trick done to escape justice, but not one she could have accomplished without accomplices.\n\nThe old woman put a hand to the ghTs shoulder and started shuffling off. \"Thank you for the warmth, m'lord, but I grow tired of your haphazard questions, and I've better things to do.\"\n\n\"Who could perform a death spell?\"\n\nThe old woman halted. Her washed-out blue eyes lit up with a dangerous cast. \"Only a wizard, m'lord. Only a wizard of immense power and great knowledge.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "Brogan fixed her with a dangerous look of his own."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And are there any wizards here, in Aydindril?\"\n\nHer slow smile made her faded eyes gleam. She reached into a pocket under the blanket and tossed a coin on the table, where it spun in lazy circles before finally toppling over before him. Brogan picked up the silver coin, squinting at the strike.\n\n\"I asked a question, old woman. I expect an answer.\"\n\n\"You hold it, m'lord.\"\n\n\"I've never seen a coin like this. What's this image on it? It looks to be a grand structure of some sort.\"\n\n\"Oh it is, m'lord,\" she hissed. \"It's the spawn of salvation and doom, of wizards and magic: the Palace of the Prophets.\"\n\n\"Never heard of it. What is this Palace of the Prophets?\"\n\nThe old woman smiled a private smile.\"Ask your sorceress, m'lord.\" She turned again to leave.\n\nBrogan shot to his feet. \"No one gave you permission to leave, you toothless old hag!\"\n\nShe peered back over her shoulder. \"It's the liver, m'lord.\"\n\nBrogan leaned forward on his knuckles. \"What?\"\n\n\"I've a taste for raw liver, m'lord. I believe that's what makes the teeth fallout, overtime.\"\n\nJust then, Galtero appeared, squeezing past the woman and girl as they went through the doorway. He saluted with fingertips to bowed forehead. \"Lord General, I have a report.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, in a moment.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\nBrogan held up a silencing finger to Galtero as he turned to Lunetta. \"Well?\"\n\n\"Every word true. Lord General. She be like a water bug, skimming the surface of the water, touching only the tips of her feet to it, but everything she said be true. She knows much more than she tells, but what she tells be true.\""
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"value": "Brogan waggled his hand impatiently for Ettore to come forward. The man stiffened to attention before the table as his crimson cape swished around his legs. \"Lord General?\"\n\nBrogan's eyes narrowed. \"I think we may have a baneling on our hands. How would you like to prove yourself worthy of the cape you wear?\"\n\n\"Yes, Lord General, very much.\"\n\n\"Before she gets out of the building, take her into custody. She be under suspicion of being a baneling.\"\n\n\"What of the girl, Lord General?\"\n\n\"Weren't you watching, Ettore? She will no doubt prove to be the baneling's familiar. Besides, we don't want her out in the street crying out that her'grandmamma'is being held by the Blood of the Fold. The other, the cook, would be missed, and that could bring troublemakers down around us, but this pair won't be missed from the street. They be ours, now.\"\n\n\"Yes, Lord General. I will see to it at once.\"\n\n\"I will want to question her as soon as possible. The girl, too.\" Brogan held up a cautionary finger. \"They had better be ready to answer truthfully any question I ask.\"\n\nEttore's youthful face bent into a gruesome grin. \"They will confess when you come to them, Lord General. By the Creator, they will be ready to confess.\"\n\n\"Very good, lad, now be off, before they gain the street.\"\n\nAs Ettore dashed through the door, Galtero stepped impatiently forward, but waited silently before the table.\n\nBrogan sank down into the chair, his voice distant. \"Galtero, you did your usual, thorough, good job; the witnesses you brought me proved up to my standards.\""
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"value": "Tobias Brogan slid the silver coin aside, unfastened the leather straps on the case, and dumped his trophies into a pile on the table."
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"value": "With tender care he spread them out, touching the once living flesh. Each was a desiccated nipple-the left nipple, the one closest to the baneling's evil heart-with enough skin to include the tattooed name. They represented only a fraction of the banelings he had uncovered: the most important of the important; the most vile of the Keeper's fiends.\n\nAshe replaced the booty one at a time, he read the name of each baneling he had put to the torch. He remembered each chase, and capture, and inquisition. Flames of anger flared up at remembering the unholy crimes to which each had finally confessed. He remembered justice being done each time.\n\nBut he had yet to win the prize of prizes: the Mother Confessor.\n\n\"Galtero,\" he said in a soft, stony voice, \"I have her trail. Get the men together. We will leave at once.\"\n\n\"I think you had better hear what I have to say, first, Lord General.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "It be the D'Harans, Lord General.\"\n\nAfter replacing the last of his trophies, Brogan flipped the lid shut on his case and looked up into Galtero's dark eyes. \"What about the D'Harans?\"\n\n\"Early today, I knew something be afoot when they started gathering. That be what had the people in such turmoil.\"\n\n\"Gathering?\"\n\nGaltero nodded. \"Around the Confessors' Palace, Lord General. At midafternoon they all started chanting.\"\n\nAstonished, Tobias leaned toward his colonel. \" Chanting? Do you remember their words?\n\nGaltero hooked a thumb behind his weapons belt. \"It went on for two full hours; it would be hard to forget it after hearing it that many times. The D'Harans bowed down, forehead to the ground, and all chanted the same words:\"Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we be sheltered. In your wisdom we be humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives be yours.\"\n\nBrogan tapped a finger on the table. \"And all the D'Harans did this? How many are there?\"\n\n\"Everyone of them, Lord General, and there be more than we thought. They filled the square outside the palace, overflowed into the parks and plazas, and then the streets all around. You could not walk among them, they be packed in so tight, as if all wanted to be as close to the Confessors' Palace as they could get. To my count, there be near to two hundred thousand in the city, with most gathered around the palace. While it went on, the people be in a near panic, not knowing what be happening."
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"value": "\"I rode out into the country, and there were a great many more who did not come into the city. They, too, wherever they be, bowed forehead to the ground and chanted along with their brothers in the city. I rode hard, to cover as much ground as possible and see all I could, and I did not see even one D'Haran who not be bowed down chanting. You could hear their voices from the hills and passes around the city. None paid any heed to us as we scouted.\"\n\nBrogan closed his mouth. \"Then he must be here, this Master Rahl.\"\n\nGaltero shifted his weight to his other foot. \"Hebe here, Lord General. While the D'Harans chanted, the whole time they chanted, he stood atop the steps of the grand entrance and watched. Every man was bowed to him, as if he be the Creator Himself.\"\n\nBrogan's mouth twisted in disgust. \"I always suspected the D'Harans were heathens. Imagine, praying to a mere man. What happened then?\"\n\nGaltero looked tired; he had been riding hard all day, \"When it ended, they all leaped into the air, cheering and whooping fora good longtime, as if they had just been delivered from the Keeper's grasp. I was able to ride two miles around the back of the crowd while the shouting and acclaim went on. Finally, the men made way as two bodies were carried into the square, and all went silent. A pyre was thrown up and set ablaze. The whole time, until the bodies were ash and the ash at last taken to be buried, this Master Rahl stood on the steps and watched.\"\n\n\"Did you get a good look at him?\"\n\nGaltero shook his head. \"The men were packed tight together, and I feared to force my way closer lest they set upon me for interrupting their ceremony.\""
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"value": "Brogan rubbed his case with the side of a thumb as he stared off in thought. \"Of course. I wouldn't expect you to throw your life away just to try to see what the man looks like.\"\n\nGaltero hesitated a moment. \"You will see him yourself soon enough, Lord General. You have been invited to the palace.\"\n\nBrogan looked up. \"I don't have time for pleasantries. We must be off after the Mother Confessor.\"\n\nGaltero drew a paper from his pocket and handed it over. \"I returned just as a big group of D'Haran soldiers were about to enter our palace. I stopped them and asked what they wanted, and they gave me this.\"\n\nBrogan unfolded the paper, and read the hasty scrawl. Lord Rahl invites all dignitaries, diplomats, and officials of all lands to the Confessors'Palace, at once. He crumbled the paper in his fist. \"I don't take audiences, I give them. And, as I said, I don't have time for pleasantries.\"\n\nGaltero lifted a thumb toward the street. \" I reasoned as much, and told the soldiers who gave it tome that I would pass the invitation along, but that we be busy with other matters, and I didn't know if anyone from the Nicobarese Palace would have time to attend.\n\n\"He said that Lord Rahl wanted everyone there, and we had better find the time.\"\n\nBrogan waved off the threat. \"No one is going to cause trouble, herein Aydindril, because we don't attend asocial affair to meet anew tribal leader.\"\n\n\"Lord General, Kings Row be shoulder to shoulder with D'Haran soldiers. Every palace on the Row be surrounded, along with city administration buildings. The man who gave me the paper said he be hereto'escort'us to the Confessors\" Palace. He said that if we are not out there soon, they would come in and get us. He had ten thousand troops standing behind him, watching me, as he said it."
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"value": "\"These men are not shopkeepers and farmers playing at being soldier fora few months; these be professional warriors, and they look very determined.\n\n\"I have faith in the Blood of the Fold to go against these men, if we could get to our main force, but we brought only a fist of the Fold with us into the city. Five hundred are not near enough men to fight our way out. We would not make it twenty yards before everyone of us would be cut down.\"\n\nBrogan glanced at Lunetta, standing against the wall. She was stroking and smoothing her colored patches, not paying any attention to the discussion. They might have only five hundred men in the city, but they also had Lunetta.\n\nHe didn't know what this Lord Rani's game was, but it didn't really matter; D'Hara was aligned with, and took orders from, the Imperial Order. It was probably just an attempt to put himself in higher standing within the Order. There were always those who wanted power, but didn't want to concern themselves with the moral imperative that went along with it.\n\n\"Very well. It will be dark soon, anyway. We will go to this ceremony, smile at the new Master Rahl, drink his wine, eat his food, and make him welcome. At dawn we leave Aydindril to the Imperial Order and be off after the Mother Confessor. ' He gestured to his sister.\" Lunetta, come with us.\"\n\n\"And how will you find her?\" Lunetta scratched her arm. \"The Mother Confessor, Lord General, how will you find her?\"\n\nTobias pushed his chair back and stood. \"She be to the southwest. We have more than enough men to search. We will find her.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Lunetta still displayed a streak of insolence from having used her power. \"Tell me how you will know her.\""
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"value": "\"She be the Mother Confessor! How could we not know her, you stupid strega-nicha!\"\n\nOne brow arched as her feral gaze rose to meet his eyes. \"The Mother Confessor be dead. How can you see a dead person walking?\"\n\n\"She not be dead. The cook knows the truth of that; you said so yourself. The Mother Confessor be alive, and we will have her.\"\n\n\"If what the old woman say be true, and a death spell was cast, then what would be its purpose? Tell Lunetta.\"\n\nTobias frowned. \"To make people think she was killed so she could escape.\"\n\nLunetta smiled a sly smile. \"And why is it they did not see her escape? For the same reason you will not find her.\"\n\n\"Stop talking your magic jabber and tell me what you be talking about.\"\n\n\"Lord General, if there be such a thing as a death spell, and it be used on the Mother Confessor, then it would only make sense that the magic would hide her identity. It would explain how she escaped; no one recognized her because of the magic around her. For the same reason, you will not recognize her either.\"\n\n\"Can you break it, break the spell?\" Tobias stammered.\n\nLunetta chuckled. \"Lord General, I never heard of such magic before. I know nothing about it.\"\n\nTobias realized his sister was right. \"You know about magic. Tell me how we can know her.\"\n\nLunetta shook her head. \"Lord General, I do not know how to seethe strands of a wizard's web that was cast for the express purpose of hiding. I tell you only what would make sense, and that be that if such a spell were used to hide her, then we, too, would not recognize her.\""
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"value": "He lifted a finger toward her. \"You have magic. You know away to show us the truth.\"\n\n\"Lord General, the old woman said that only a wizard could cast a death spell. If a wizard cast such a web, then to unravel it we must be able to seethe strands of his web. I do not know how to seethe truth through the magic's deception.\"\n\nTobias rubbed his chin as he thought it over. \"See through the deception. But how?\"\n\n\"A moth be caught in a spider's web because he cannot seethe strands. We be caught in this web, the same as those who saw her beheading, because we cannot see its strands. I do not know how we can.\"\n\n\"Wizard,\" he murmured to himself. He gestured to the silver coin on the table. \"When I asked her if there be a wizard herein Aydindril, she showed me that coin with a building on it.\"\n\n\"The Palace of the Prophets.\"\n\nThe name brought his head up. \"Yes, that be what she called it. She said to ask you what it be. How do you know of it? Where did you hear about this Palace of the Prophets?\"\n\nLunetta shrank back into herself and looked away. \"Just after you be born. Mamma told me about it. It be a place where sorceresses-\"\n\n\"Streganicha,\" he corrected.\n\nShe paused a moment. \"It be a place where Streganicha trainmen to be wizards.\"\n\n\"Then it be a house of evil.\" She stood stooped and stiff as he looked down at the coin. \"What would mamma know about such an evil place?\"\n\n\"Mamma be dead, Tobias, leave her be,\" she whispered."
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"value": "He shot her a withering scowl. \"We will talk about this later.\" He straightened his sash of rank and ordered his silver-embroidered gray coat before picking up his crimson cape. \"The old woman must have meant that there be a wizard in Aydindril who was trained at this house of evil.\" He redirected his attention to Galtero. \"Fortunately, Ettore is holding her for further questioning. That old woman has a lot more to tell us; I can feel it in my bones.\"\n\nGaltero nodded. \"We better be off for the Confessors' Palace, Lord General.\"\n\nBrogan flung his cape over his shoulders. \"We will stop to see Ettore on our way out.\"\n\nAfire had been well stoked and was roaring when the three of them entered the small room to check on Ettore and his two charges. Ettore was stripped to the waist, his lean muscles coated with a sheen of sweat. Several razors gleamed from their place atop the mantle, along with an assortment of sharpened spikes. The ends of iron rods were fanned out across the hearth. Their other ends glowed orange in the flames.\n\nThe old woman cowered in the far corner, and put a protective arm around the girl, who hid her face in the brown blanket.\n\n\"Has she given you any trouble?\" Brogan asked.\n\nEttore flashed his familiar grin. \"Her arrogant attitude vanished as soon as she found out we don't suffer insolence. That be the way with banelings; they give way when faced with the Creator's might.\"\n\n\"The three of us have to go out fora while. The rest of the fist will remain here at the palace, in case you need assistance.\" Brogan glanced to the iron rods glowing in the fire. \"When I get back I want her confession. I don't care about the girl, but the old woman had better still be alive and anxious to give it.\""
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"value": "Ettore touched his fingers to his forehead as he bowed. \"By the Creator, it shall be as you command, Lord General. She will confess all the crimes she has performed for the Keeper.\"\n\n\"Good. I have more questions, and I will have the answers.\"\n\n\"I'll answer no more of your questions,\" the old woman said.\n\nEttore curled his lip as he scowled over his shoulder. The old woman shrank back farther into the dark comer. \"You'll break that oath before this night be over, you old hag. You'll be begging to answer questions when you see what I do to your little evil one. You get to watch her go first, so you can think about what becoming when it be your turn.\"\n\nThe little girl squealed and burrowed deeper into the old woman's blanket.\n\nLunetta stared at the pair in the corner as she slowly scratched her arm. \"Do you wish me to stay and attend Ettore, Lord General? I think it be best if I did.\"\n\n\"No. I want you to come with me tonight,\" He glanced up at Galtero. \"You did well, bringing me this one.\"\n\nGaltero shook his head. \"I never would have noticed her, had she not tried to sell me honey cakes. Something about her made me suspicious.\"\n\nBrogan shrugged. \"That be the way with banelings; they be drawn to the Blood of the Fold like moths to aflame. They be bold because they have faith in their evil master.\" He glanced again to the woman cringing in the corner. \"But they all lose their spines when facing justice from the Blood of the Fold. This one will be a small trophy, but the Creator will be served by it.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Stop it,\"Tobias growled.\" People will think you have fleas.\"\n\nOn a wide street lined with majestic maple trees to each side, their bare thicket of branches laced together overhead, dignitaries and officials from different lands stepped from fancy coaches to meander the remaining distance to the Confessors'Palace. D'Haran troops stood like banks at the edge of the trickling river of arriving guests.\n\n\"I cannot help it, Lord General,\" Lunetta complained as she scratched. \"Ever since we arrived in Aydindril my arms be itching. I have never felt it like this before.\"\n\nPeople joining the flow stared openly at Lunetta. Her tattered rags made her standout like a leper at a coronation. She seemed oblivious of the mocking stares. More likely, she thought them looks of admiration. She had, on any number of occasions, begged off donning any of the fine dresses Tobias offered her, saying that none were the match of her pretties. Since they seemed to keep her mind occupied, and off the Keeper's taint, he never went so far as to insist she wear something else, and besides, he thought it blasphemy to make one touched by evil look appealing.\n\nThe arriving men were dressed in their finest robes, coats, or furs. Though some wore ornate swords, Tobias was sure they were only decoration and doubted that a one of them had ever been drawn in fear, much less anger. As an occasional wrap billowed open, he could see that the women were attired inelegant, layered gowns, the setting sun glinting off the jewels at their necks, wrists, and fingers. It would appear they were all so excited to be invited to the Confessors'Palace to meet the new Lord Rahl that they had not elicited a threat from the D'Haran soldiers. By their smiles and chatter, they all seem anxious to ingratiate themselves with the new Lord Rahl."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tobias ground his teeth. \"If you don't stop scratching, I'll tie your hands behind your back.\"\n\nLunetta dropped her hands to her sides and stopped with a gasp. Tobias and Galtero looked up to see bodies impaled on poles to each side of the promenade ahead. As the three of them approached, he realized they weren't men, but scaled creatures only the Keeper could have conceived. As they proceeded, a stink enveloped them, as thick as a bog mist, making them fear to draw a breath lest it blacken their lungs.\n\nSome of the poles held only heads, some held whole bodies, and others parts of bodies. All appeared to have been killed in a brutal battle. Some of the beasts had been ripped open, and several were cleaved completely in two, their innards hanging frozen from what was left of them.\n\nIt was like stepping through a monument to evil, through the gates to the underworld.\n\nThe other guests covered their noses as best they could with whatever they had handy. A few of the finely dressed women sank to the ground in a swoon; attendants rushed to their aid, fanning them with handkerchiefs or rubbing a bit of snow on their foreheads. Some of the people stared in astonishment while others shuddered so violently that Tobias could hear their teeth rattling. By the time they had run the gauntlet of sights and smells, everyone around them was in a state of either high anxiety or open alarm. Tobias, having often walked among evil, regarded his fellow guests with disgust.\n\nWhen a shaken diplomat asked, one of the D'Harans to the side explained that the creatures had attacked the city, and Lord Rahl had slain them. The mood of the guests brightened. As they moved on, their voices became exuberant as they chatted about the honor of meeting such a man as the new Lord Rahl, the Master of all of D'Hara. Effervescent chuckles drifted on the chilling air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Galtero leaned close. \"While I was out earlier, before all the chanting, and the soldiers around the city were still talkative, they told me to be wary, that there had been attacks by unseen creatures, and a number of their men, as well as people on the streets, had been killed.\"\n\nTobias remembered the old woman telling him that scaled creatures, he couldn't recall what she had called them, had begun to appear out of the air to gut anyone in their way. Lunetta had said that the woman's words were true. These must be the creatures.\n\n\"How convenient of Lord Rahl to arrive just in time to slay the creatures and save the city.\"\n\n\"Mriswith,\" Lunetta said. \"What?\"\n\n\"The woman said that the creatures be called mriswith.\"\n\nTobias nodded. \"Yes, I believe you're right: mriswith.\"\n\nWhite columns towered outside the entrance to the palace. The ranks of soldiers to each side funneled them through white, carved doors spread wide, and into a grand hall lit with windows of pale blue glass set between polished white marble columns topped with gold capitals. Tobias Brogan could feel himself being sucked into the belly of evil. The other guests, had a one of them known better, would be shuddering at the living monument to profanity that surrounded them, instead of dead carcasses.\n\nAfter a journey through elegant halls and chambers with enough granite and marble to build a mountain, they at last passed through tall mahogany doors to enter an enormous chamber capped with a huge dome. Ornate frescoes of men and women Swept across the ceiling overlooking the assembly. Round windows around the lower edge of the dome let in the waning light and revealed clouds gathering in a darkening sky. Across the room, on a semicircular dais, the chairs behind the resplendent, carved desk sat empty."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arched openings around the room covered stairways up to colonnaded balconies edged with sinuous, polished mahogany railings. The balconies were filled with people, he noticed-not finely dressed nobility like those on the main floor, but common working people. The other guests noticed, too, and cast disapproving glances up at the riffraff in the shadows behind the railings. The people crowded there stood back from the railings, as if seeking obscurity in the darkness, lest any of them should be recognized and called to account for daring to beat so grand a function. It was customary fora great man to be introduced to the people in authority first, before letting himself be known to ordinary people.\n\nIgnoring the audience in the balcony, the guests spread out across the patterned marble floor, keeping distance between themselves and the two Blood of the Fold, and trying to make it seem accidental, rather than by intention that they avoided the two. They looked about expectantly for their host while bending to whisper among themselves. Dressed as finely as they were they almost looked to be part of the ornate carvings and decoration; none betrayed being awed by the grandeur of the Confessors' Palace. Tobias guessed that most were frequent visitors. Though he had never been to Aydindril before, he knew sycophants when he saw them; his own king had been surrounded by enough of them.\n\nLunetta stayed close to his side, only mildly interested in the imposing architecture around her. She took no notice of the people who stared at her, though there were fewer of those now; they were more interested in each other and in the prospect of finally meeting Lord Rahl than in worrying about an odd woman standing between two crimson-caped Blood of the Fold. Galtero's gaze swept the expansive room, ignoring the opulence and, instead, taking constant appraisal of the people, the soldiers, and the exits. The swords he and Tobias wore were not decoration."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Despite his revulsion, Tobias couldn't help marveling at where he stood. This was the spot from where the Mother Confessors and wizards had pulled the strings of the Midlands. This was where the council, for thousands of years, had stood for unity while preserving and protecting magic. This was the spot from which the Keeper's tendrils spread forth.\n\nThat unity was shattered now. Magic had lost its grip on man, lost its protection. The age of magic was ended. The Midlands was ended. Soon, the palace would be filled with crimson capes, and only the Blood of the Fold would be seated at the dais. Tobias smiled; events were moving inexorably toward a providential end.\n\nA man and woman drifted near, purposefully, Tobias thought. The woman, with a pile of black hair and wispy curls hanging down around her painted face, leaned casually toward him. \"Imagine, we are invited here, and they don't even have anything to eat.\" She smoothed the lace at the bosom of her yellow dress, a polite smile coming to her impossibly red lips as she waited for him to speak. He didn't, and she went on. \"Seems very vulgar not to offer so much as a drop of wine, don't you think, considering that we've come on such short notice and all? I hope he doesn't expect we will accept his invitation again after treating us so boorishly.\"\n\nTobias clasped his hands behind his back. \"Do you know Lord Rahl?\"\n\n\"I may have met him before; I don't recall.\" She brushed a speck, which he couldn't see, from her bare shoulder, affording the jewels on her fingers, which even someone across the room would have been able to see, the opportunity to glitter before his eyes. \"I'm invited to so many of these affairs here at the palace that I have difficulty remembering all the people who strive to meet me. After all, Duke Lumholtz and I would appear to find ourselves in a position of leadership, what with Prince Fyren having been murdered.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her red lips plumped into a simper. \"I do know that I've never met any of the Blood of the Fold here before. After all, the council has always viewed the Blood as officious, not that I'm saying I would agree, mind you, but they have forbade them from practicing their.. 'craft1 anywhere outside their homeland. Of course we would seem to be without a council, now. Quite ghastly, their being killed like they were, right here, and while they were deliberating the future course of the Midlands. What brings you here, sir?\"\n\nTobias glanced past her to see soldiers closing the doors. He knuckled his mustache as he started wandering toward the dais. \"I was 'invited, the same as you,\"\n\nDuchess Lumholtz strolled with him. \"I hear that the Blood are held in high esteem by the Imperial Order.\"\n\nThe man with her, dressed in a gold-braided blue coat and displaying the carriage of authority, listened with strained indifference as he worked at appearing to have his attention elsewhere. By his dark hair and heavy brow Tobias had already guessed him as Keltish. The Keltans had been quick to align themselves with the Order, and possessively guarded their high status among them. They also knew that the Imperial Order respected the opinion of the Blood of the Fold.\n\n\"I am surprised, madam, that you hear anything, as much as you talk.\"\n\nHer face flushed as red as her lips. Tobias was spared her predictable, indignant retort when the crowd noticed a commotion across the room. He was not tall enough to see over the turned heads, so he waited patiently, knowing that in all likelihood Lord Rahl would take to the raised dais. He had placed himself carefully for that probability: close enough to be able to make an appraisal, but not so close as to standout. Unlike the other guests, he knew this was no social function. This would likely be a stormy night, and if there was lightning, he didn't want to be the tallest tree. Tobias Brogan, unlike the fluttering fools about him, knew when prudence was warranted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Across the room, people hurriedly tried to make way for an echelon of D'Haran soldiers wedging them aside to clear a path."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A massive rank of pikemen followed, peeling off in pairs to form an ironclad corridor free of guests. The echelon deployed before the dais, a grim protective wedge of D'Haran muscle and steel. The swift precision was impressive. High-ranking D'Haran officers marched up the corridor to stand beside the dais. Over the top of Lunetta's head, Tobias met Galtero's icy gaze. No social function indeed.\n\nThe crowd buzzed in nervous anticipation as they waited to see what was to come next. By the whispers Tobias could overhear, this was well beyond precedent in the Confessors' Palace. Red-faced dignitaries murmured their indignation to one another over what they considered an intolerable use of armed force in the council chambers, where diplomatic negotiation was the rule.\n\nBrogan had no tolerance for diplomacy; blood worked better, and left a more lasting impression. He was getting the impression that Lord Rahl understood this, too, unlike the sea of obsequious faces crowding the floor.\n\nTobias knew what this Lord Rahl wanted. It was only to be expected; after all, the D'Harans had shouldered most of the load for the Imperial order. In the mountains he had meta force that had been mostly D'Haran, on their way to Ebinissia. The D'Harans had taken Aydindril, seen to keeping order, and then let the Imperial Order have dominion over it. In the name of the Order they had put their flesh against the steel of rebels, yet others, such as Keltans, like Duke Lumholtz, had held the positions of power and handed down the orders, expecting the D'Harans to fall on the points of enemy blades.\n\nLord Rahl no doubt intended to lay claim to a place of high rank among the Imperial Order, and was going to coerce the gathered representatives into acceding. Tobias almost wished there had been food offered, so that he could watch all the scheming officials choke on it when the new Lord Rahl made his demands."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The two D'Harans who entered next were so huge that Tobias could see their approach over the heads of the crowd. When they came into full view, and he could see their leather armor, chain mail, and sharpened bands above their elbows, Galtero whispered to him over Lunetta's head. \"I've seen those two before.\"\n\n\"Where,\" Tobias whispered back.\n\nGaltero shook his head as he watched the men. \"Out on the street somewhere.\"\n\nTobias turned back, and to his astonishment saw three women in red leather following the two huge D'Harans. From the reports Tobias had heard, they could be nothing other than Mord-Sith. Mord-Sith had a reputation for being wholly unhealthy to those with magic who opposed them. Tobias had once sought to acquire the services of one of these women, but had been told that they served only the Master of D'Hara, and were not indulgent of anyone making offers of any kind. Ashe had heard it told, they could not be bought for any price.\n\nIf the Mord-Sith made the crowd edgy, what came next made them gasp. Mouths dropped at the sight of a monstrous beast, one with claws, fangs, and wings. Even Tobias stiffened at the sight of agar. Short-tailed gars were wildly aggressive, bloodthirsty brutes that would eat anything living. Since the boundary had fallen the past spring, gars had caused the Blood of the Fold no small amount of trouble. For the moment, this beast walked calmly behind the three women. When Tobias checked that his sword was clear in its scabbard, he noticed Galtero doing the same.\n\n\"Please, Lord General,\" Lunetta whined, \"I want to leave, now.\" She was furiously scratching her arms."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Brogan gripped her upper arm and drew her close, whispering through clenched teeth. \"You pay attention to this Lord Rahl, or I'll find I have no further use for you. Do you understand? And stop that scratching!\"\n\nHer eyes watered as he twisted her arm. \"Yes, Lord General.\"\n\n\"You pay attention to what he says.\"\n\nShe nodded as the two huge D'Harans took places at either end of the dais. The three women in red leather stepped up between them, leaving a place in the center empty, probably for Lord Rahl when he arrived, at last. The gar towered behind the chairs.\n\nThe blond-headed Mord-Sith near the center of the dais looked around the room with a penetrating blue-eyed gaze that commanded silence.\n\n\"People of the Midlands, ' she said, lifting an introductory arm to the empty air above the desk,\" I present Lord Rahl.\"\n\nA shadow formed in the air. A black cloak appeared suddenly, and as it was thrown wide, there, standing atop the dais, was a man.\n\nThose near the front fell back in alarm. A scattering of people cried out in terror. Some called for the Creator's protection, others beseeched the spirits to intercede on their behalf, and some fell to their knees. While many stood in mute shock, a few of the decorative swords were drawn for the first time in fear. When a D'Haran in the front of the echelon calmly warned in a low, icy voice to sheath the weapons, they were reluctantly returned to scabbards.\n\nLunetta was scratching frantically as she gazed up at the man, but Brogan didn't stop her this time; even he could feel his skin crawling with the evil of magic."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man atop the desk waited patiently for the crowd to become silent, and then spoke in a quiet voice.\n\n\"I am Richard Rahl, called by the D'Harans Lord Rahl. Other peoples have other titles by which I am known. Prophecies given in the dim past, before the Midlands was born, have placed appellation upon me.\" He stepped down off the desk to stand between the Mord-Sith. \"But it is the future I come before you to address.\"\n\nThough not as large as the two D'Harans standing at each end of the curved desk, he was a big man, tall and muscular, and surprisingly young. His clothes, black cloak and high boots, dark trousers, and plain shirt, were unassuming, more so for one called'Lord.\" Though it was hard to miss the gleam of a silver-and-gold scabbard at his hip, he looked to be nothing so much as a simple woodsman. Tobias thought, too, that the man looked tired, as if he bore a mountain of responsibility on his shoulders.\n\nTobias was hardly a stranger to combat, and knew by the grace with which this young man carried himself, by the easy way the baldric lay across his shoulder and by the way the sword moved with him at his hip, that he was not a man to betaken lightly. The sword was not therefor decoration; it was a weapon. He looked to be a man who had made a great many desperate decisions of late, and had lived through them all. For all his outward, humble appearance, he had an inexplicable air of authority about him, and a bearing that commanded attention.\n\nAlready, many of the women in the room had recovered their composure and were beginning to flash him private smiles as they batted their lashes, falling into their well-practiced habits of ingratiating themselves with those wielding power. Even if the man were not ruggedly handsome, they would have done the same, but perhaps with less sincerity. Lord Rahl either didn't notice their warming demeanor, or chose not to."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But it was his eyes that interested Tobias Brogan; eyes were the mark of a man's nature, and the one thing that rarely deceived him. When this man's steely gaze settled on people, some stepped back without realizing it, some froze, and others fidgeted. When those eyes turned in his direction, and the gaze settled on him for the first time, Tobias took a measure of Lord Rahl's heart and soul.\n\nThat brief look was all he needed: this was a very dangerous man.\n\nThough he was young and ill at ease being the center of all eyes, this was a man who would fight with a vengeance. Tobias had seen eyes like this before. This was a man who would jump headlong over a cliff to come after you.\n\n\"I know him,\" Galtero whispered.\n\n\"What? How?\"\n\n\"Earlier today, when I was picking up witnesses, I came across this man. I was going to bring him to you for questioning, but those two big guards showed up and carried him off.\"\n\n\"Unfortunate. It would have been..\"\n\nThe hush of the room caused Tobias to lookup. Lord Rahl was staring at him. It was like looking into the penetrating, gray-eyed glare of a raptor.\n\nLord Rahl's eyes shifted to Lunetta. She stood frozen in the light of his gaze. Surprisingly, a small smile came to his lips.\n\n\"Of all the women at the ball,\" Lord Rahl said to her, \"your dress is the prettiest.\"\n\nLunetta beamed. Tobias almost laughed out loud; Lord Rahl had just delivered a cutting message to the others in the room: their social status counted for nothing with him. Tobias was suddenly beginning to enjoy himself. Perhaps the Order would not be so poorly served with a manlike this among their leaders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The Imperial Order,\" Lord Rahl began, \"believes that the time has come for the world to be united under a common canon: theirs."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They say that magic is responsible for all man's failings, misfortunes, and troubles. They claim all evil to be the external influence of magic. They say the time has come for magic to pass from the world.\"\n\nSome in the room murmured their agreement, some grumbled their skepticism, but most stood mute.\n\nLord Rahl laid an arm across the top of the largest chair-the one in the center. \"In order for their vision to be complete, and in light of their self-proclaimed divine cause, they will suffer the sovereignty of no land. They wish for all to be brought under their influence, and to go forward into the future as one people: subjects of the Imperial Order.\"\n\nHe paused fora moment as he met the gaze of many in the crowd. \"Magic is not a fount of evil. This is merely an excuse for their actions as they ascend to supremacy.\"\n\nWhispering sweptback through the room, and low undertones of arguments boiled up. Duchess Lumholtz strode forward, commanding attention. She smiled at Lord Rahl before bowing her head.\n\n\"Lord Rahl, what you say is all very interesting, but the Blood of the Fold here-\" She flicked her hand in the direction of Tobias and at the same time cast him an icy glare. \"-say that all magic is spewed forth by the Keeper.\"\n\nBrogan neither said anything, nor moved. Lord Rahl didn't look in his direction, but instead kept his gaze on the duchess.\n\n\"A child, come anew into the world, is magic. Would you call that evil?\"\n\nLifting an imperious hand, she quieted the crowd at her back. \"The Blood of the Fold preaches that magic is created by the Keeper himself, and thereby can only be evil incarnate.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From various areas around the floor and up in the balcony, people shouted their agreement. This time it was Lord Rahl who lifted a hand, bringing them to silence.\n\n'The Keeper is the destroyer, the bane of light and life, the breath of death. As I hear it told, it is the Creator, through his power and majesty, who brings all things to be.\" Almost as one, the crowd shouted that it was true.\n\n\"In that case,\" Lord Rahl said, \"to believe that magic springs from the Keeper is blasphemy. Could the Keeper create a newborn child? To ascribe the power to create, which is the sole domain of the Creator, to the Keeper, is to grant to the Keeper that which is chaste, and only the Creator's. The Keeper cannot create. To hold such a profane belief could only be heresy.\"\n\nSilence fell like a pall over the room. Lord Rahl cocked his head to the duchess, \"Did you step forward, my lady, to confess to being a heretic? Or simply to accuse another of heresy for personal gain?\"\n\nWith a face once again as red as her tight lips, she took several steps back to her husband's side. The duke, his own face no longer calm, shook a finger at Lord Rahl.\n\n\"Tricks with words will not change the fact that the Imperial Order fights the Keeper's evil, and has come to unite us against him. They wish only for all people to prosper together. Magic will deny that right to mankind. I am Keltish, and proud of it, but it is time to move beyond fragmented and frail lands standing alone. We have had extensive talks with the Order, and they have proven themselves a civilized and decent lot, interested in joining all lands in peace.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A noble ideal,\" Lord Rahl answered in a quiet tone, \"one you already had in the unity of the Midlands, yet you threw it away for avarice.\"\n\n\"The Imperial Order is different. It offers true strength, and true, lasting peace.\"\n\nLord Rahl fixed the duke with a glare. \"Graveyards rarely breach a peace.\" He turned his glare on the crowd. \" Not long ago, an army of the Order swept through the heart of the Midlands, seeking to bring others into their fold. Many joined, and swelled their force. A D'Haran general named Riggs led them, along with officers of several lands, and was assisted by a wizard Slagle, of Keltish blood.\n\n\"Well over one hundred thousand strong, they bore down on Ebinissia, the Crown city of Galea. The Imperial Order bade the people of Ebinissia join them and become subjects of the Order, When called upon to oppose aggression against the Midlands, the people of Ebinissia bravely did so; they refused to abandon their commitment to unity and a common defense that was the Midlands.\"\n\nThe duke opened his mouth to speak but, for the first time, Lord Rahl's voice became menacing intone and cutoff his words.\n\n\"The Galean army defended the city to the last man. The wizard used his power to rent the city walls and the Imperial Order poured in. Once the greatly outnumbered Galean defenders had been eliminated, the Imperial Order did not occupy the city, but instead went through it like a pack of howling animals-raping, torturing, and butchering helpless people.\"\n\nLord Rahl, his jaw clenched tight, leaned across the desk, and pointed a finger at Duke Lumholtz. \"The Order slaughtered every living person in Ebinissia: the old, the young, the newborn. They impaled defenseless, pregnant women in order to kill both mother and unborn child.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "His face red with rage, he slammed his fist to the desk. Everyone jumped. \"With that act, the Imperial Order put the lie to anything they say! They have lost the right to tell anyone anything about what is right, and what is wicked. They are without virtue. They come for one reason and one reason only: to vanquish and subjugate. They slaughtered the people of Ebinissia to show others what they had to offer anyone who fails to submit,\" They will not be halted by borders or by reason. Men with the blood of babes on their blades have no ethics. Don't you dare stand there and try to tell me otherwise; the Imperial Order is beyond defense. They have shown the fangs behind their smile, and by the spirits they have lost the right to offer words and have them taken as truth!\"\n\nTaking a calming breath, Lord Rahl straightened. \"Both those innocents at the points of blades and those at the hilts forfeited much that day. The ones at the points forfeited their lives. The ones at the hilt forfeited their humanity and their right to be heard, much less believed. They have cast themselves and any who join them as my enemy.\"\n\n\"And who were these troops?\" Someone else asked. \"Many were D'Haran, by your own admission. You lead the D'Harans, by your own admission. When the boundary came down last spring, the D'Harans swept in and committed atrocities much the same as you recount. Though Aydindril was spared that cruelty, many other cities and towns suffered the same fate as Ebinissia, but at the hands of D'Hara. Now you ask us to believe you? You are no better.\"\n\nLord Rahl nodded. \" What you say about D'Hara is true. D'Hara was led by my father, Darken Rahl, who was a stranger tome. He did not raise me, or teach me his ways. What he wanted was much the same as the Imperial Order wants: to conquer all lands, and rule all people. Where the Order is a monolithic cause, his was a personal quest. Besides using brute force to obtain his ends, he also used magic, much the same as the Order."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I stand against everything Darken Rahl stood for. He would stop at no evil act to have his way. He tortured and killed countless innocent people, and suppressed magic, so that it could not be used against him, the same as the Order would do.\"\n\n\"Then you're the same as he.\"\n\nLord Rahl shook his head. \"No, I am not. I do not lust to rule. I take up the sword only because I have the ability to help oppose oppression. I fought on the side of the Midlands against my father. In the end, I killed him for his crimes. When he used his vile magic to return from the underworld, I used magic to stop him and send his spirit back to the Keeper. I used magic again to close a doorway the Keeper was using to send his minions into this world.\"\n\nBrogan ground his teeth. He knew from experience that banelings often tried to hide their true nature by regaling you with stories of how valiantly they had fought the Keeper and his minions. He had heard enough of these spurious accounts to recognize them as diversions from the actual evil in the person's heart. The Keeper's followers were often too cowardly to show their true nature, and so hid behind such boasts and concocted tales.\n\nIn fact, he would have arrived in Aydindril sooner had he not come across so many pockets of perversion after he had left Nicobarese. Villages and towns, where everyone appeared to be living pious lives, turned out to be riddled with wickedness. When some of the more strident defenders of their virtue were put to a proper questioning they finally confessed their blasphemy. When put to a proper questioning, the names of streganicha and banelings who lived in the neighborhood, and had seduced them to evil with the use of magic, had rolled off their tongues."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The only solution had been purification. Whole villages and towns had needed to be put to the torch. Not even a signpost to the Keeper's lairs remained. The Blood of the Fold had done the Creator's work, but it had taken time and effort.\n\nSeething, Brogan returned his attention to Lord Rahl's words.\n\n\"I take up this challenge only because the sword has been thrust into my hand. I ask that you not judge me by who my father was, but by what I do. I do not slaughter innocent, defenseless people. The Imperial Order does. Until I violate the trust of honest people, I have the right to be granted honest judgment.\n\n\"I cannot standby and watch evil men triumph; I will fight with everything I have, including magic. If you side with these murders, you will find no mercy under my sword.\"\n\n\"All we want is peace,\" someone shouted.\n\nLord Rahl nodded. \"I, too, wish nothing more than that there were peace, and I could go home to my beloved woods and lead a simple life, but I can't, anymore than we can go back to the simple innocence of our childhood. Responsibility has been thrust upon me. Turning your back on innocents in need of help makes you the attacker's accomplice. It is in the name of the innocent and defenseless that I take up the sword, and fight this battle.\"\n\nLord Rahl returned his arm to the center chair. \"This is the chair of the Mother Confessor. For thousands of years the Mother Confessors have ruled the Midlands with a benevolent hand, struggling to hold the lands together, to have all the people of the Midlands live as neighbors in peace, and to let them tend to their own affairs without fear of outside force.\" He let his gaze roam the eyes watching him. \"The council sought to break the unity and peace for which this room, this palace, and this city, stand, and of which you speak so longingly. They unanimously condemned her to death and had her executed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lord Rahl slowly drew his sword and laid the weapon at the front edge of the desk, where all could see it. \" I told you I am known by different titles. I am also known as the Seeker of Truth, named so by the First Wizard. I carry the Sword of Truth by right. Last night I executed the council for their treason.\n\n\"You are the representatives of the lands of the Midlands. The Mother Confessor offered you the chance to stand together, and you turned your backs on that offer, and on her.\"\n\nA man beyond Tobias's view broke the icy silence. \"Not all of us approved of the action the council took. Many of us wish the Midlands to stand. The Midlands will be joined yet again and made stronger for the struggle.\"\n\nMany in the crowd voiced their agreement, vowing to do their best to bring unity again. Others remained silent.\n\n\"It is too late for that. You have had your chance. The Mother Confessor suffered your bickering and intractability.\" Lord Rahl slammed his sword back into its scabbard. \"I will not.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\" Duke Lumholtz asked, irritation embrittling his tone. \"You're from D'Hara. You've no right to tell us how the Midlands will function. The Midlands is our affair.\"\n\nLord Rahl stood statue still as he directed his soft, but commanding voice to the crowd. \"There is no Midlands. I dissolve it, here and now. From now on, each land is on its own.\"\n\n\"The Midlands is not your toy!\"\n\n\"Nor is it Kelton's,\" Lord Rahl said. \"It was the design of Kelton to rule the Midlands,\"\n\n\"How dare you accuse us of..\"\n\nLord Rahl held up his hand, bidding silence. \"You are no more rapacious than some of the others. Many of you were anxious to have the Mother Confessors and wizards out of your hair so you could carve up the spoils.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Lunetta tugged on his arm."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"True,\" she whispered, Brogan silenced her with an icy look.\n\n\"The Midlands will not tolerate this interference in our business,\" another voice called out.\n\n\"I am not hereto discuss the governing of the Midlands. I have just told you, the Midlands is dissolved.\" Lord Rahl regarded the crowd with a glare of such deadly commitment that Tobias had to remind himself to take another breath. \"I am hereto dictate the terms of your surrender.\"\n\nThe crowd flinched as one. Angry shouts erupted and built until the room roared. Red-faced men swore oaths as they shook their fists.\n\nDuke Lumholtz shouted everyone to silence and then turned back to the dais. \"I don't know what foolish ideas you've gotten into your head, young man, but the Imperial Order is in charge of this city. Many have come to reasonable agreements with them. The Midlands will be preserved, will stand united through the Order, and will never surrender to the likes of D'Hara!\"\n\nWhen the crowd surged toward Lord Rahl, red rods appeared in the Mord-SiuYs hands, the echelon of soldiers drew steel, pikes came down, and the gar's wings snapped open. The beast snarled, its fangs dripping and its green eyes glowing. Lord Rahl stood like a granite wall. The crowd halted and then receded.\n\nLord Rahl's whole body took on the same tight, dangerous demeanor as his glare. \"You were offered a chance to preserve the Midlands, and you failed. D'Hara has been liberated from the fist of the Imperial Order and holds Aydindril.\"\n\n\"You only think you hold Aydindril,\" the Duke said. \"We have troops here, as do a great many of the lands, and we're not about to let the city fall.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"A little late for that, too."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Rahl held out a hand.\" May I introduce General Reibisch, the commander of all D'Haran forces in this sector.\"\n\nThe general, a muscular man with a rust-colored beard and combat scars, stepped up onto the dais, clapping a fist to his heart in salute to Lord Rahl before turning to the people. \" My troops command, and surround, Aydindril. My men have been sitting on this city for months now. We are finally free of the grip of the Order, and are once again D'Harans, lead by Master Rahl.\n\n\"D'Haran troops don't like sitting around. If any of you would like a fight, I, personally, would welcome it, though Lord Rahl has commanded that we not be the ones to start the killing, but if called to defend ourselves, the spirits know we will finish it. I'm bored nearly to death with the tedium of occupation, and I'd much rather have something more interesting to do, something I'm very good at.\n\n\"Each of your lands has detachments of troops stationed to guard your palaces. In my professional judgment, if all of you decided to contest the city with the troops you have at hand, and did it in an organized fashion, it would take a day, maybe two, for us to rout them. When it was done, we would have no more troubles. Once battle is at hand, D'Harans don't take prisoners.\"\n\nThe general stepped back with a bow to Lord Rahl.\n\nEveryone started talking at once, some angrily shaking their fists and shouting to be heard. Lord Rahl thrust his hand into the air.\n\n\"Silence!\" It came almost instantly, and he went on. \" I have invited you hereto hear what I have to say. After you have decided to surrender to D'Hara, then I will be interested in what you have to say. Not before!"
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's helper, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Terry Goodkind\nTitle: Blood of the Fold\nChapter: 53"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Gratch looked to have grown another foot since Richard had last seen him, and was now the size of any of the males."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He seemed to be directing the search. Richard was dumbfounded, but his joy was tempered by the scale of the carnage before him, \"Queen?\" Kahlan said. \"You named me Queen of Kelton? The Mother Confessor?\"\n\n\"It seemed a good idea at the time,\" he explained. \"It seemed the only way to keep Kelton from turning onus.\"\n\nShe appraised him with a small smile. \"Very good, Lord Rahl.\"\n\nAs Richard finally sheathed his sword, he saw three spots of red breakthrough the dark leather of D'Haran uniforms. The three Mord-Sith, Agiel in hand, came at a run across the square. Each wore her red leather, but it did a poor job this day of disguising the blood allover them.\n\n\"Lord Rahl! Lord Rahl!\"\n\nBerdine flew at him like a squirrel flinging itself fora branch. She landed on him, webbing him in arms and legs, knocking him back off the wall and into the fountain full of snowmeU.\n\nShe sat upon his stomach. \"Lord Rahl! You did it! You took the cape off like I told you! You heard my warning after all!\"\n\nShe fell on him again, clutching him in red arms. Richard held his breath as he went under. Though the icy water wouldn't have been his choice, he was glad tor the excuse to wash off some of the stinking mriswith blood. He gasped for air when she grabbed his shirt in her fist and hauled him up. She satin his lap, legs around his middle, and hugged him again.\n\n\"Berdine,\" he whispered, \"my shoulder is hurt. Please don't squeeze so hard.\"\n\n\"It's nothing,\" she announced in true Mord-Sith disregard for pain. \"We were so worried. When the attack came, we thought we would never see you again. We thought we had failed.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Kahlan cleared her throat."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Richard held out an introductory hand. \"Kahlan, these are my personal guards, Cara, Raina, and this is Berdine. Ladies, this is Kahlan, my queen.\"\n\nBerdine, making no attempt to get off his lap, grinned up at Kahlan. \"I'm Lord Rahl's favorite.\"\n\nKahlan folded her arms as her green-eyed glare darkened.\n\n\"Berdine, let me up.\"\n\n\"You still smell like a mriswith.\" She shoved him back in the water and again hauled him up by his shirt. \"That's better.\" She pulled him closer. \"You ever runoff like that again without listening tome, I'll do more than give you a bath.\"\n\n\"What is it about you and women and baths?\" Kahlan asked in an even tone.\n\n\"I don't know.\" He looked out over the battle still raging, and then back to Berdine's blue eyes. He hugged her with his good arm. \"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you. The price of my foolishness was too great.\"\n\n\"Are you all right?\" she whispered in his ear.\n\n\"Berdine, get off me. Let me up.\"\n\nShe flopped off his lap to the side. \"Kolo said that the mriswith were enemy wizards who traded their power for the ability to become invisible.\"\n\nRichard gave her a hand up. \"I nearly did, too.\"\n\nShe stood in the water on her tiptoes and pulled his shirt collar aside, inspecting his neck. She let out a relieved sigh. \"It's gone. You're safe. Kolo said how the change came, how their skin began to scale over. He said that that ancestor of yours, Alric, created a force to battle the mriswith.\" She pointed. \"Gars.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Gars...?\"\n\nBerdine nodded. \"He gave them the ability to sense mriswith, even when they were invisible. That's what gives the gars\" eyes that green glow. Because of this interrelationship of magic all the gars share, those who dealt directly with the wizards accrued dominance over the others, becoming something like the wizards' generals among the gar nation. These intermediary gars were greatly respected by the other gars, and got them to fight with the people of the New World against the enemy mriswith, driving them back to the Old World.\"\n\nRichard stared in astonishment. \"What else did he say?\"\n\n\"I haven't had time to read anymore. We've been kind of busy since you left.\"\n\n\"How long?\" He stepped out of the fountain and addressed Cara. \"How long have I been gone?\"\n\nShe glanced to the Keep. \"Nearly two days. Night before last. Today, at dawn, the sentries came in a lather and said the Blood of the Fold were right on their heels. They attacked shortly after. The fighting has been going on since this morning. At first, it was going well, but then the mriswith...\" Her voice trailed off.\n\nKahlan put an arm around his waist to steady him as he spoke. \"I'm sorry, Cara. I should have been here.\" He stared in a daze at the sea of dead. \"This is my fault.\"\n\n\"I killed two,\" Raina announced without any attempt to mask her pride.\n\nUlic and Egan came at a run and spun to a stop in defensive positions. \"Lord Rahl,\" Ulic said over his shoulder, \"are we ever glad to see you. We heard the cheer, but every time we got to you, you were somewhere else.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Really?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cara said, lifting an eyebrow. \"We managed.\"\n\nUlic rolled his eyes and turned toward the battle.\n\n\"Are they always like this?\" Kahlan whispered in his ear.\n\n\"No,\" he whispered back. \"They're on their best behavior for you.\"\n\nRichard saw white flags flying among the Blood of the Fold. No one paid them any heed.\n\n\"D'Harans give no quarter,\" Cara explained when she saw where he was looking. \"It is to the finish.\"\n\nRichard hopped down off the fountain. When he strode off, his guards immediately followed.\n\nKahlan caught up with him before he had taken three strides. \"What are you doing, Richard?\"\n\n\"I'm putting a stop to this.\"\n\n\"You can't do that. We have sworn to kill the Order to a man. You must let it be done. That's what they would have done to us.\"\n\n\"I can't do it, Kahlan. I can't. If we kill them all, then others of the Order will never surrender, knowing it would mean death. If I show them that we will take them prisoner instead of killing them, then they'll be more willing to quit. If they are more willing to quit, we win without losing the lives of so many of our men, and that makes us stronger. Then, we win.\"\n\nRichard started shouting orders. They were carried through the ranks of his men, and the din of battle slowly began subsiding. The eyes of thousands began turning to him.\n\n\"Let them through,\" he told a commander.\n\nRichard went back to the fountain and stood on the wall, watching the commanders of the Blood of the Fold lead their men to him. All around, D'Harans, bristling steel, stood guard. A corridor opened, and the crimson-caped men stepped forward, glancing from side to side as they came."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "An officer halted at their lead before Richard. His voice was hoarse, and subdued, \"Will you accept our surrender?\"\n\nRichard folded his arms. \"Depends. Are you willing to tell me the truth?\"\n\nThe man glanced about at his quiet, bloody men. \"Yes, Lord Rahl.\"\n\n\"Who told you to attack the city?\"\n\n\"The mriswith gave us instructions, and many of us were instructed in our dreams, by the dream walker.\"\n\n\"Do you wish to be free of him?\"\n\nThey all nodded or spoke up in weak voices. They also readily agreed to telling everything they knew about any plans that they knew of that the dream walker and the Imperial Order had.\n\nRichard was so exhausted, and in such pain, that he could hardly stand. He drew anger from the sword to sustain himself.\n\n\"If you wish to surrender and be subjects of D'Haran rule, then go to you knees, and swear loyalty.\"\n\nIn the fading light, accompanied by the groans of the wounded, the remaining Blood of the Fold went to their knees and gave the devotion as they were instructed by the D'Harans who joined in.\n\nIn one mass voice that carried through the city, they all bowed heads to the ground and took the oath.\n\n\"Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In you; light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.\"\n\nAs the men all tore off their crimson capes, casting them in fires as they were led away to be guarded for now, Kahlan turned to him.\n\n\"You have just changed the rules of the war, Richard.\" She looked out over the carnage. \"So many have died already.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Too many,\" he whispered as he watched the empty-handed Blood of the Fold marching off into the night, surrounded by the men they had tried to kill."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He wondered if he was crazy.\n\n\"\"In your mercy we are sheltered,\"' Kahlan quoted from the devotion.\" Perhaps it is meant to be this way.\"She put a comforting hand to his back.\" I know it somehow feels right.\"\n\nNot far off, Mistress Sanderholt, holding a bloody meat cleaver, smiled her agreement.\n\nGlowing green eyes gathered in the square. Richard's black mood brightened when he saw Gratch's gruesome grin. He and Kahlan hopped down and hurried to the gar.\n\nIt had never felt so good to be enfolded by those furry arms. Richard laughed with tears in his eyes as he was lifted from the ground.\n\n\"I love you, Gratch. I love you so much.\"\n\n\"Gnratch luuug Raaaach aaarg.\"\n\nKahlan joined the hug, and then received her own, separate embrace. \"I love you, too, Gratch. You saved Richard's life. I owe you everything.\"\n\nGratch gurgled with satisfaction as he stroked a claw down her hair.\n\nRichard swished at a fly. \"Gratch! You have blood flies!\"\n\nGratch's self-satisfied grin widened. Gars used the flies to help flush out their quarry, but Gratch had never had any before. Richard didn't want to swat Gratch's blood flies, but they were becoming more than annoying. They were stinging his neck.\n\nGratch bent, scooped a claw through the gore of a dead mriswith, and smeared it across the taut, pink skin of his abdomen. The flies obediently returned to feast. Richard was astonished.\n\nHe peered around at all the glowing green eyes watching him. \"Gratch, you look like you've had quite an adventure. You gathered all these gars together?\" Gratch nodded with a clear look of gar pride. \"And they did what you asked?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gralch thumped his chest with authority. He turned and grunted. The rest of the gars returned the odd grunt. Gratch smiled, showing his fangs.\n\n\"Gratch, where's Zedd?\"\n\nThe leathery smile withered. The hulking gar sagged a bit as he looked over his shoulder, up at the keep. He turned back, his glowing green eyes dimming a bit as he shook his head sorrowfully.\n\nRichard swallowed back the anguish. \"I understand,\" he whispered. \"Did you see him killed?\"\n\nGratch thumped his chest, pulled his fur out atop his head, apparently a sign for Zedd, pointed at the Keep, and put his claws over his eyes-Gratch's sign for mriswith. Through his signs, and Richard's questions, Richard was able to determine that Gratch had brought Zedd to the Keep, there had been a fight with many mriswith, Gratch had seen Zedd lying unmoving on the ground with blood running from his head, and then Gratch could no longer find the old wizard. The gar had then gone in search of help to fight the mriswith and protect Richard, He had worked hard to find the other gars, and to gather them to his purpose.\n\nRichard hugged his friend again. Gratch held him in along embrace, and then backed away, looking for the other gars.\n\nRichard felt a lump rising in his throat. \"Gratch, can you stay?\"\n\nGratch pointed one claw at Richard, another at Kahlan, and then brought them together. He thumped his chest and then pointed behind at another gar. When it came forward to stand beside him, Richard realized it was a female.\n\n\"Gratch, you have a love? Like I have Kahlan?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gratch grinned and thumped at his chest with both claws.\n\n\"And you want to be with the gars,\" Richard said.\n\nGratch nodded reluctantly, his smile faltering.\n\nRichard put on his best smile. \"I think that's wonderful, my friend. You deserve to be with your love, and your new friends. But you can still visit us. We would love to have you and your friend anytime. All of you, in fact. You're all welcome here.\"\n\nGratch's smile returned.\n\n\"But Gratch, can you do one thing for me? Please? It's important. Can you ask them not to eat people? We won't hunt gars, and you won't eat people. All right?\"\n\nGratch turned to the others, grunting in an odd guttural language that the others understood. They offered grumbling murmurs of their own, and a conversation of sorts seemed to ensue. Gratch's growling words rose in pitch, and he thumped his massive chest-he was at least as big as any of them. They all finally offered a hooting assent. Gratch turned to Richard and nodded.\n\nKahlan hugged the furry beast again. \"Take care of yourself, and come see us when you can. I'm always in your debt, Gratch. I love you. We both do.\"\n\nAfter a last embrace with Richard that needed no words, the gars took towing and vanished into the night.\n\nRichard stood beside Kahlan, surrounded by his guards, his army, and the specter of the dead."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Richard awakened with a start. Kahlan was curled up with her back to his chest. The wound in his shoulder from the mriswith queen ached. He had let an army surgeon put a poultice on it, and then, too exhausted to stand any longer, he had fallen onto the bed in the guestroom he had been using. He hadn't even taken off his boots, and the uncomfortable pain in his hip told him that he still wore the Sword of Truth, and he was lying on it.\n\nKahlan stirred in his arms, a feeling that swelled him with joy, but then he remembered the thousands of dead, the thousands who were dead because of him, and his joy evaporated.\n\n\"Good morning, Lord Rahl,\" came a cheery voice from above.\n\nHe frowned up at Cara and groaned in greeting. Kahlan squinted in the sunlight streaming in the window.\n\nCara waggled a handover the two of them. \"It works better with your clothes off.\"\n\nRichard frowned. His voice came as a hoarse croak. \"What?\"\n\nShe seemed mystified by the question. \"I believe you will find such things work better without clothes,\" She put her hands to her hips. \"I thought you would know at least that much.\"\n\n\"Cara, what are you doing inhere?\"\n\n\"Ulic wanted to see you, but was afraid to look, so I said I would. For one so large, he can be timid at times.\"\n\n\"He needs to give you lessons.\" Richard winced as he sat up. \" What does he want?\n\n\"He found a body.\"\n\nKahlan rubbed her eyes as she sat up. \"That shouldn't have been hard.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Cara smiled, but it vanished when Richard noticed it. \"He found a body at the bottom of the cliff, below the Keep.\"\n\nRichard swung his legs over the edge of the bed. \"Why didn't you say so.\"\n\nKahlan rushed to catch up with him as he charged out in the hall to find Ulic waiting.\n\n\"Did you find him? Did you find a body of an old man?\"\n\n\"No, Lord Rahl. It was the body of a woman.\"\n\n\"A woman! What woman?\"\n\n\"She was in bad shape, after all this time, but I recognized those gaped teeth and tattered blanket. It was that old woman, Valdora. The one who sold those honey cakes.\"\n\nRichard rubbed his sore shoulder. \"Valdora. How odd. And the little girl, what washer name?\"\n\n\"Holly. We saw no trace of her. We found no one else, but there's a lot of area to search, and animals could have. . well, we may never find anything.\"\n\nRichard nodded, words failing him. He felt the shroud of death all around him, Cara's voice turned compassionate. \"The funeral fires will begin in awhile. Do you wish to go?\"\n\n\"Of course!\" He checked his tone when he felt Kahlan's tempering hand on his back. \"I must be there. They died because of me.\"\n\nCara frowned. \"They died because of the Blood of the Fold, and because of the Imperial Order.\"\n\n\"We know, Cara,\" Kahlan said. \"We'll be there just as soon as I see to the poultice on his shoulder and we get cleaned up.\"\n\nThe funeral fires burned for days. Twenty-seven thousand were dead. Richard felt as if the flames carried away his spirits, as well as those of the men who had died. He stayed and said the words along with the others, and by night stood guard over the flames along with the others, until it was done."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From the light of this fire, and into the light. Safe journey to the spirit world, Richard's shoulder worsened over the next few days, getting swollen, red, and stiff.\n\nHis mood was no better.\n\nHe walked the halls and occasionally watched the streets from the windows, but talked to few people. Kahlan strolled at his side, offering her comforting presence, remaining quiet unless he spoke. Richard couldn't banish the image of all the dead from his mind. He was haunted by the name the prophecies had given him: the bringer of death.\n\nOne day, after his shoulder had begun to heal, at last, as he sat at the table he used as a desk, staring at nothing, there was sudden light. He looked up. Kahlan had come in, and he hadn't even noticed. She had pulled the drapes open to let in the sunlight.\n\n\"Richard, I'm starting to worry about you.\"\n\n\"I know, but I can't seem to make myself forget.\"\n\n\"It's right for the mantle of rule to be heavy, Richard, but you can't let it crush you.\"\n\n\"That's easy to say, but it was my fault that all those men died.\"\n\nKahlan sat on the table in front of him and with a finger, lifted his chin. \"Do you really think that, Richard, or are you just feeling sorry that so many had to die?\"\n\n\"Kahlan, I was stupid. I just acted. I never thought. If I would have used my head, maybe all those men wouldn't be dead.\"\n\n\"You acted on instinct. You said that that was the way the gift worked with you, sometimes anyway.\"\n\n\"But I-\"\n\n\"Let's play'what if. What if you had done it differently, as you now think you should have?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, then all those people wouldn't have been killed.\"\n\n\"Really? You're not playing by the rules of'what if. Think it through, Richard.\n\nWhat if you had not acted on instinct, and had not gone to the sliph? What would have been the result?\"\n\n\"Well, let's see.\" He rubbed her leg. \"I don't know, but things would have worked out differently.\"\n\n\"Yes, they would have. You would have been here when the attack came. You would have gone to fight the mriswith in the morning, instead of the at the end of the day. You would have been worn down and killed long before the gars arrived at dusk. You would be dead. All these people would have lost their Lord Rahl.\"\n\nRichard tilted his head up. \"That makes sense.\" He thought about it a moment. \"And if I hadn't gone to the Old World, then the Palace of the Prophets would be in Jagang's hands. He would have the prophecies.\" He stood and went to the window, looking out on the bright spring day. \"And no one would have any protection from the dream walker, because I would be dead.\"\n\n\"You've been letting your emotions control your thinking.\"\n\nRichard came back and took up her hands, truly noticing how radiant she looked. \"Wizard's Third Rule: Passion rules reason. Kolo warned that it was insidious. I've been breaking it by thinking I had broken it.\"\n\nKahlan slipped her arms around him. \"Feeling just a little better, then?\"\n\nHe put his hands on her waist as he smiled for the first time in days. \"You've helped me see. Zedd used to do those kinds of things. I guess I'll just have to count on you to help me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She hooked her legs around him and pulled him closer. \"You had better.\"\n\nAshe gave her a little kiss, and was about to give her a bigger one, the three Mord-Sith marched into the room. Kahlan put her cheek against his. \"Do they ever knock?\"\n\n\"Rarely,\" Richard whispered back. \"They enjoy testing. It's their favorite thing to do. They never tire of it.\"\n\nCara, in the lead, came to a halt beside them, looking from one to the other'Still with the clothes, Lord Rahl?\"\n\n\"You three look well this morning.\"\n\n\"Yes, we are,\" Cara said. \"And we have business.\"\n\n\"What business?\"\n\n\"When you have the time, some representatives have arrived in Aydindril, and have requested an audience with the Lord Rahl.\"\n\nBerdine brandished Kolo's journal. \"And I would like to have your help with this. What we already learned has helped us, and there is much more yet that we haven't translated. We have work to do.\"\n\n\"Translate?\" Kahlan asked. \"I know many languages. What is it.\"\n\n\"High D'Haran,\" Berdine said, taking a bite out of a pear in her other hand. \"Lord Rahl is getting even better at High D'Haran than me.\"\n\n\"Really,\" Kahlan said. \"I'm impressed. Few people know High D'Haran. It's an extremely difficult language, I'm told.\"\n\n\"We worked on it together.\" Berdine smiled. \"At night.\"\n\nRichard cleared his throat. \"Let's go find out about the representatives.\" He boosted Kahlan widi his hands on her sides and set heron the floor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Berdine gestured with her pear."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Lord Rahl has very big hands. They fit perfectly over my breasts.\"\n\nOne eyebrow went up over a green eye. \"Really.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Berdine observed. \"He had us all show him our breasts one day.\"\n\n\"Is that right? All of you.\"\n\nCara and Raina waited without expression as Berdine nodded. Richard put a handover his face.\n\nBerdine took another bite of her pear. \"But his big hands fit best over my breasts.\"\n\nKahlan ambled toward the door. \"Well, my breasts aren't as large as yours, Berdine.\" She slowed as she passed Raina. \"I think Raina's hands would fit mine better.\"\n\nBerdine choked and coughed on her bite of pear as Kahlan strolled from the room. A smile spread on Raina's lips.\n\nCara burst into a hearty laugh. She clapped Richard on the back as he walked past. \"I like her, Lord Rahl. You may keep her.\"\n\nRichard paused. \"Well, thank you, Cara. I'm fortunate to have your approval.\"\n\nShe nodded earnestly. \"Yes, you are.\"\n\nHe hurried out of the room, finally catching up with Kahlan down the hall. \"How did you know about Berdine and Raina?\"\n\nShe regarded him with a puzzled frown. \"Isn't it obvious, Richard? The look in their eyes? You must have noticed right away, too.\"\n\n\"Well...\" Richard glanced back down the hall to make sure the women hadn't caught up, yet. \"You'll be happy to know that Cara said she likes you, and that I'm allowed to keep you.\"\n\nKahlan slipped an arm around his waist. \" I like them, too. I doubt you could find guards who would better protect you."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Is that supposed to be a comfort?\"\n\nShe smiled as she leaned her head against his shoulder. \"It is tome.\"\n\nRichard changed the subject. \"Let's go see what these representatives have come to say. Our future, everyone's future, hinges on this.\"\n\nKahlan, wearing her white Mother Confessor's dress, sat silently in her chair, the Mother Confessor's chair, beside Richard, under the painted figure of Magda Searus, the first Mother Confessor, and her wizard, Merritt.\n\nEscorted by a smiling General Baldwin, Representative Garthram of Lifany, Representative Theriault of Herjborgue, and Ambassador Bezancort of Sanderia crossed the expanse of polished marble floor. They all seemed surprised, and pleased, to seethe Mother Confessor sitting beside Richard.\n\nGeneral Baldwin bowed. \"My queen, Lord Rahl.\"\n\nKahlan smiled warmly. \"Good day, General Baldwin.\"\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" Richard said, \" I hope all is well in your lands. What have you decided?\n\nRepresentative Garthram smoothed his graybeard. \"After extensive consultation with the rule at home, and with Galea and Kelton leading the way, we have all decided that the future lies with you, Lord Rahl. We have all brought the surrender documents. Unconditional, as per your request. We wish to join with you, to be part of D'Hara, and under your rule.\"\n\nThe tall Ambassador Bezancort spoke up. \"While we are hereto surrender, and join with D'Hara, it remains our hope that the Mother Confessor approves.\"\n\nKahlan considered the men fora moment. \" Our future, not our past, is where we and our children must live. The first Mother Confessor and her wizard did what was best for their people and their time. As the Mother Confessor, now, I and my wizard, Richard, must do what is best for ours. We must forge what we need to fit our world, but our hopes are for peace, as were theirs."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Our best chance for strength that will insure a lasting peace lies with Lord Rahl."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Our new course has been set. My heart and my people go with him. As the Mother Confessor, I am apart of this union, and I welcome you to it.\"\n\nRichard returned the squeeze of his hand.\n\n\"We will continue to have our Mother Confessor,\" he said. \"We need her wisdom and guidance as much as we always have.\"\n\nA few days later, on a fine spring afternoon, as Richard and Kahlan strolled hand in hand through the streets, checking on the cleanup of the destruction from the battle, and the construction that was already beginning to repair what had been destroyed, Richard had a sudden thought. He turned, feeling the cool breeze and warm sun on his face.\n\n\"You know, I've demanded the surrender of the lands of the Midlands, and I don't even know how many there are, or all their names.\"\n\n\"Well, then, I guess I have a lotto leach you,\" she said. \"You'll just have to keep me around.\"\n\nA smile overcame him. \"I need you. Now, and always.\" He cupped her cheek. \"I can't believe we're together, at last.\" He glanced up at the three women and two men not three paces behind them. \"If only we could be alone.\"\n\nCara arched an eyebrow. \"Is that a hint, Lord Rahl?\"\n\n\"No, it's an order.\"\n\nCara shrugged. \"Sorry, but we can't follow that order out here. You need protection. Do you know, Mother Confessor, that we sometimes have to tell him which foot to use next? He sometimes needs us for the simplest of instructions.\"\n\nKahlan was overcome with a helpless sigh. Finally, she looked past Cara to the towering men behind. \"Ulic, did you see to it that those bolts were installed on the door to our room?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, Mother Confessor.\"\n\nKahlan smiled. \"Good.\" She turned to Richard. \"Shall we go home? I'm getting tired.\"\n\n\"You have towed him, first,\" Cara announced. \"Lord Rahl's orders. No women allowed into his room, except his wife.\"\n\nRichard scowled. \"I said except Kahlan. I never said wife. I said except Kahlan.\"\n\nCara glanced to the Agiel hanging on the thin chain around Kahlan's neck. It was Denna's Agiel. Richard had given it to Kahlan in a place between worlds where Denna had taken them to be together. It had become a sort of amulet-one the three Mord-Sith had never mentioned, but had noticed from the first instant they saw Kahlan. Richard suspected it meant as much to them as it did to him and Kahlan.\n\nCara's cavalier gaze returned to Richard. \"You charged us with protecting the Mother Confessor, Lord Rahl. We are merely protecting our sister's honor.\"\n\nKahlan smiled when she saw that Cara had finally managed to nettle him, something she was rarely able to do. Richard took a calming breath. \"And a fine job you're doing of it, but don't you worry; by my word, she'll soon be my wife.\"\n\nKahlan's fingers idly stroked his back. \"We promised the Mud People that we would be wedded in their village, by the Bird Man, in the dress Weselan made for me. That promise to our friends means a great deal tome. Would it be all right with you if we were wedded by the Mud People?\"\n\nBefore Richard could tell her that it meant as much to him, and was his wish, too, a crowd of children swarmed around them. They pulled at his hands, begging him to come watch, as he had promised."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What are they talking about?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Kahlan asked as she let out a joyful laugh.\n\n\"Ja'La,\" Richard said. \"Here, let me see your Ja'La ball,\" he said to the children.\n\nWhen they handed it up, he tossed it in one hand, showing it to her. Kahlan took the ball and turned it around, looking at the gold letter R embossed on it.\n\n\"What's this?\"\n\n\"Well, they played with a ball, called a broc, that was so heavy that children were constantly getting hurt with it. I had the seamstresses makeup new balls that are light, so all the children can play, not just the strongest ones. It's more a game of skill, now, instead of just brute force.\"\n\n\"What's the R for?\"\n\n\"I told them that anyone willing to use this new kind of ball would get an official Ja'La broc from the palace. The R stands for Rahl, to show that it's an official ball. The game was called Ja'La, but since I changed the rules, they call it Ja'La Rahl, now.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Kahlan said, tossing the ball back to the children, \"since Lord Rahl promised, and he always keeps his word...\"\n\n\"Yes!\" one boy said. \"He promised that if we used his official ball he'd come watch.\"\n\nRichard glanced to the garnering clouds. \"Well, there's a storm coming, but I guess we have time fora game first.\"\n\nArm in arm, they followed the gleeful crowd of children up the street.\n\nRichard smiled as he walked. \"If only Zedd were with us.\"\n\n\"Do you think he died up at the Keep?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Richard glanced up the mountain.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He always said that if you accept the possibility, then you make it real. I've decided that until someone proves it otherwise tome, I'm not going to accept his death. I believe in him. I believe he's alive and out there, somewhere, causing someone trouble.\"\n\nThe inn looked to be a cozy place, not like some they had been to, with too much drinking and too much noise. Why people wanted to dance whenever it got dark was beyond him. Somehow, the two seemed to go together, like bees and flowers, or flies and dung. Dark and dancing.\n\nPeople sat at a few tables, having a quiet meal, and one of the tables near the far wall was crowded with a group of older men, smoking pipes, playing aboard game, and sipping ale as they engaged in lively conversation. He caught snippets of phrases about the new Lord Rahl.\n\n\"You keep quiet,\" Ann warned, \"and let me do the talking.\"\n\nA friendly-looking couple behind a counter smiled at their approach. The woman1 s cheeks dimpled.\n\n\"Evening, folks.\"\n\n\"Good evening,\" Ann said. \"We would like to inquire about a room. The boy at the stable said you had nice rooms.\"\n\n\"Oh, that we do, ma'am. For you and your...\"\n\nAnn opened her mouth. Zedd beat her to words. \"Brother. Rubcn is the name. This is my sister, Elsie. I'm Ruben Rybnik.\" Zedd flourished a hand. \"I'm a cloud reader of some note. Perhaps you've heard of me. Ruben Rybnik, the famous cloud reader.\"\n\nThe woman's jaw moved as if in search of where all her words went. \"Well, I... well.. yes, I believe I have.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There you go,\" Zedd said, patting Ann an the back. \"Nearly everyone's heard of me, Elsie.\" He leaned on an elbow toward the couple behind the counter. \"Elsie thinks I make it up, but then she's been off on that farm, with those poor unfortunates who hear the voices and talk to the walls.\"\n\nIn unison, the two heads swiveled toward Ann.\n\n\"I worked there,\" Ann managed to get out between her clenched teeth. \"I worked there, helping the \"poor unfortunates\" who were our guests.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" Zedd said. \"And a fine job you did, Elsie. Why they let you go I'll never understand.\" He turned back to the mute couple. \"Since she's out of work, I thought to take her out in the world with me, let her see what life's a!) about, don't you see.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the couple said as one.\n\n\"And actually,\" Zedd said, \"we'd prefer two rooms. One for my sister, and one for me.\" They blinked at him. \"She snores,\" he explained. \"I need my sleep. He gestured toward the ceiling.\" Cloud reading, you know. Demanding work.\"\n\n\"Well, we have lovely rooms,\" the woman said, her cheeks dimpling again. \"I'm sure you will get a good rest.\"\n\nZedd shook a cautionary finger. \"The best you have, mind you. Elsie can afford it. Her uncle passed on, left her everything he had, and he was a wealthy man.\"\n\nThe man's brow drew down. \"Wouldn't he be you uncle, too?\"\n\n\"My uncle? Well, yes, he would, but he didn't like me. Little bit of trouble with the old man. He was a morsel eccentric. Wore socks as mittens in the dead of summer. Elsie was his favorite.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"The rooms,\" Ann growled."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She turned and bulged her eyes up at him. \"Ruben needs his sleep. He has a lot of cloud reading to do, and must beat ii early in the morning. If he doesn't get his sleep, he gets the oddest burning rash in a ring around his neck.\"\n\nThe woman started around the counter. \"Well, let me show you to them, then.\"\n\n\"That wouldn't be roasted duck I smell, would it?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" the woman said, turning back. \"That's our dinner tonight. Roasted duck with parsnips and onions and gravy, if you've a desire for some.\"\n\nZedd inhaled deeply. \"My, but it does have a delightful aroma. Takes talent to roast a duck just right, but I can tell by the fragrance that you've gotten it right. No doubt about it.\"\n\nThe woman blushed and giggled. \"Well, I am known for my roasted duck.\"\n\n\"It sounds lovely,\" Ann said. \"If you could be so kind, would you send it up to our rooms?\"\n\n\"Oh, of course. It would be my pleasure.\"\n\nThe woman started them down the hall'On second thought,\" Zedd said, \"You go ahead, Elsie, I know how nervous you get to have people watch you eat. I'll take my dinner out here, madam. With a pot of tea, if you don't mind.\"\n\nAnn turned and shot him a scowl. He could feel the collar at his neck heat. \"Don't belong, Ruben. We must get an early start.\"\n\nZedd waved a dismissive hand. \"Oh, no, my dear. I'll just have my dinner, perhaps a game with diese gentlemen, and then be off to bed straightaway. See you in the morning, bright and early, so we can be off to show you the world.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Her glare could have boiled pitch."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Goodnight, then, Ruben.\"\n\nZedd smiled indulgently. \"Don't forget to pay the kind woman, and add something extra for her generosity with the large helping of her excellent roasted duck.\" Zedd craned his neck toward her with a weighty look, his voice thinning. \"And don't forget to write in your journal before bed.\"\n\nShe stiffened. \"My journal?\"\n\n\"Yes, the little travel journal you keep. I know how you like to write about your adventures, and you haven't been keeping up to date like you should. I think it's about time you did.\"\n\n\"Yes..\" she stammered. \"I will, then, Ruben.\"\n\nOnce Ann had gone, sending warning glances at him the whole way, the gentlemen at the table, having heard the entire conversation, invited him over. Zedd spread his maroon robes and descended among them.\n\n\"Cloud reader, you say?\" One asked.\n\n\"The very best.\" Zedd held up a bony finger. \"Goud reader to kings, no less.\"\n\nAstonished whispers passed around the table.\n\nA man to the side took his pipe from his teeth. \"Would you do a cloud reading for us, Master Ruben? We'd all put in and pay you a bit.\"\n\nZedd held up a thin hand, as if warding them off. \"I'm afraid I couldn't.\" He waited for the disappointment to build. \"I couldn't accept your money. It would be my honor to tell you what the clouds had to say, but I won't take a copper.\"\n\nSmiles returned. \"That's most generous of you, Ruben.\"\n\nA heavyset man leaned in. \"What do the clouds have to say?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The innkeeper set a steaming plate of roasted duck before him, diverting his attention. \"I'll have your tea shortly,\" she said as she hurried back to the kitchen.\n\n\"The clouds had much to say about the winds of change, gentlemen. Dangers and opportunities. About the glorious new Lord Rahl, and the... well, let me have a taste of this succulent-looking duck, and I'll be delighted to tell you all about it.\"\n\n\"Dig in, Ruben,\" another said.\n\nZedd savored a mouthful, pausing dramatically to sigh with pleasure as the men all watched with rapt attention.\n\n\"That would be a mighty strange necklace you wear.\"\n\nZedd tapped the collar as he chewed. \"They don't make them like this anymore.\"\n\nSquinting, the man pointed his pipe stem at the collar. \"Doesn't seem to have clasp. Looks to be one piece. How did you get it down over your head?\"\n\nZedd unfastened the collar and held it out for them, working the two halves or, the hinge. \"Yes it does. See? Mighty fine work, isn't it? A person can't even seethe workings because they're so delicate. Master workmanship. Don't see things like this anymore.\"\n\n\"That's what I always say,\" the man with the pipe said. \"You don't see fine workmanship anymore.\"\n\nZedd snapped the collar back around his neck, \"No, you don't.\"\n\n\"I saw an odd cloud today,\" a hollow-cheeked man to the other side said. \"Strange cloud. Snakelike it was. Wriggled in the sky, sometimes.\"\n\nZedd leaned in and lowered his voice. \"You saw it, then.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They all leaned in. \"What's it mean, Ruben?\" one whispered.\n\nHe looked from eye to eye. \"Some say it's a tracer cloud, hooked on a man by a wizard.\" Zedd was satisfied by the gasps.\n\n\"What for?\" the heavyset man asked, the whites of his eyes showing all around.\n\nZedd made a show of looking about at the other tables before he spoke. \"To track him, and know where he goes.\"\n\n\"Wouldn't he see such a cloud, all snakelike and all?\"\n\n\"There's the trick to it, I'm told,\" Zedd whispered as he used his fork to demonstrate. \"It points down at the man followed, so all he would see is a tinv dot, kind of like looking at the tip of a cane. But those off to the side seethe whok of the cane.\"\n\nThe men aahed and leaned back with this news, digesting it as Zedd dug into the roasted duck.\n\n\"Do you know about these winds of change?\" one finally asked. \"And about this new Lord Rahl?\"\n\n\"Wouldn't be a cloud reader to kings if I didn't.\" Zedd brandished his fork'It's a mighty good tale, if you gentlemen have a mind to hear it.\"\n\nThey all leaned in again.\n\n\"It all started before, in the ancient war,\" Zedd began, \"when were created the ones called dream walkers.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Co-writing with the writer, continue the narrative.\nTags: science fiction, star wars, political intrigue\nAuthor: Claudia Gray\nTitle: Bloodline\nChapter: 19"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If he paid close enough attention, he was certain he could draw some of those runes. They seemed to shift, as though multiple symbols occupied the same space at the same time.\n\n\"Gratitude. I need your help now more than ever. The Wandering Titan has come to Sacred Valley.\"\n\nHe wasn't sure if he would have to explain the situation further-honestly, he expected that she was more familiar with Cradle than he was-but she nodded along.\n\n\"I know. I've been keeping my eye on you.\"\n\nThat was comforting, on one level. He had always somewhat hoped that Suriel was watching over him from above.\n\nBut to be told that in person was unexpectedly embarrassing.\n\nHe was suddenly flooded with all the memories she might have seen. Had she seen him fail over and over again, learning Soulsmithing? Several of those constructs had blown up. Had she heard the awkward words he'd stumbled over as he tried to express his feelings to Yerin?\n\nHeavens above, had shebeen reading his thoughts?\n\nHe had to put a stop to that before the shame overcame him, so he bowed his head. \"Gratitude. I am... relieved to have such a reliable ally.\"\n\n\"I would have watched you die,\" Suriel said, in the same gentle, kindly tone as before. \"I expected I would, more than once. It would sadden me, and I hoped for your success, but I could not guarantee it. As I told you before, we have rules restricting the degree to which we can interfere.\"\n\nLindon squeezed the marble in his hand. \"I know,\" he said, \"but please accept my gratitude regardless. You have helped me...\"\n\nHe had been about to say'You have helped me more than you know,\" but that surely wasn't true. And was probably insulting to someone who could read thoughts and the future."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"... more than I deserve,\" he finished. \"But, if you'll forgive my curiosity, how are you able to contact me now? Is this not interference?\"\n\nHer expression grew more serious. \" I spoke of dire circumstances before. We are fighting battles outside of your world, battles that shouldn't affect you... but they might anyway. Cradle may begin experiencing minor corruption. It's possible that those in your world may begin to encounter spaces or beings for whom the rules of reality no longer consistently apply. Strange apparitions, monsters, locations where nightmares crawl from your mind or the sacred arts no longer function.\n\n\"If you see these things, know that you will never be abandoned. My organization considers Cradle one of our core worlds, meaning that we will defend you to our last breath.\"\n\nLindon felt a chill.\n\nIf there was something going on outside Cradle that required so much attention from not just Suriel, but the others at her level, then how much danger were they in?\n\nLindon remembered the projection from Ozriel's marble, where he had seen the Abidan spread out in white-armored legions, each with abilities beyond the Monarchs. And Suriel had been among the seven-or eight; Lindon didn't understand exactly where Ozriel fit into the structure-at the forefront of them all.\n\nThen again, if they were dealing with threats on that scope, surely one little Dreadgod would be nothing to her.\n\n\"There are very few advantages to such a situation,\" Suriel continued. \"One is that I have some more leeway in how I am permitted to act. As they say: when your boat already has a hole in the bottom, no one cares if you chip the paint.\"\n\nLindon seized on that. \"I know this is shameless for me to ask, when you've already done so much, but if you can intervene... please, save Sacred Valley.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her smile returned. \"I already did.\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm sorry, I know you've descended to save us once already. It's asking too much for you to-\"\n\nShe looked nothing like his actual mother, but he felt motherly kindness radiating from her. \"You are my solution. Fate has been accelerated so this day arrived sooner than it ever should have. But now it's here, and you are in position.\"\n\nLindon's stomach twisted as he realized she was relying on him to go back and face the Dreadgod... because she thought he could do something. Her estimation of him was too high.\n\n\"Apologies, but I'm afraid I might be weaker than you think.\" He was afraid to look her in the eyes. \"I'm not... I don't mean to argue with you, but I am not ready.\"\n\nHe would do what he could, would strain himself to his limit, but he understood where his limits lay. He wasn't powerful enough to save everyone.\n\n\"Ready?\" She leaned forward and tapped him on the forehead with two fingers.\n\nSuddenly, he was seeing through someone else's eyes. Crouched, shivering, on the deck of a cloudship as men and women in Akura colors passed out hot food.\n\nThe deck wasn't full, but it was crowded. The people from Sacred Valley had divided themselves-clans and Schools sticking with their own kind-but there were at least a few dozen visible, and he saw a few heading downstairs, suggesting more on a lower deck.\n\nHer fingers released, and the vision faded.\n\n\"Lindon, when I said I already saved them, I meant I already did.\" She leaned back in her chair, satisfied. \"Or should I say, you already did.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He remembered the sight of the crowds squeezing out of the exit on Mount Samara. \"There are so many people still back there.\"\n\n\"You don't have to save everyone,\" Suriel said. \"It's a lesson you learn and learn. I wasn't the one who told you to save Sacred Valley. You decided to do that, so you decide when you've succeeded.\"\n\nShe moved until her scripted eyes had his full attention. \"And you decide who you're going to be after that.\"\n\nLindon knew what he was going to do afterwards. He was going to return to his advancement without so much pressure hanging over his head.\n\nA faint smile crossed her lips again, and she gestured as though tapping him on the forehead one more time.\n\nSuddenly, he was hovering over Sacred Valley, a Thousand-Mile Cloud beneath his feet. Yerin and Eithan floated to either side of him, and the Wandering Titan stared them down.\n\nThe three of them unloaded their most powerful attacks in coordination, and they struck a heavy blow against the Titan.\n\nUntil its tail caught Yerin unexpectedly. Lindon lunged out of position, and the hand of a Dreadgod closed over him.\n\nLindon died.\n\nThen he was on Windfall, and he decided not to go back. The months sped by as they gathered the remainders of Sacred Valley. There were more survivors than he expected; tens of thousands of them.\n\nThey re-settled Sacred Valley one restored building at a time. The suppression field was weakened, and somehow-the vision skipped over this part-he managed to deactivate it completely.\n\nLindon saw himself, looking virtually the same as he did now, tutoring his three black-haired children in the sacred arts with Yerin at his side. His future self reached out, scanning the children... and checking each of their twin cores."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The futures washed over Lindon, so he only got a glimpse of each.\n\nThere were futures where he and Yerin split up and went their own separate ways, futures where he had children, futures where he and Yerin ascended from Cradle in months, even futures where he married Mercy.\n\nAnd there were futures where he killed the Dreadgods.\n\nHe saw himself years in the future, one arm white and one coated in what looked like black scales, his eyes black pools with white circles. He stood over the crumpled body of the Wandering Titan, cycling its power... and condensing the spare earth madra as he vented it, tucking it away for storage.\n\nNorthstrider loomed up opposite him, moving for the Titan, and Lindon appeared in his way. The clash of their wills warped space, and the vision changed.\n\nLindon saw himself with a giant white tiger-the Silent King-splayed open and hanging in the air in front of him. Blood spattered the room, and he sawed away with Wavedancer, carving out a beautiful binding like a smooth pearl.\n\nOutside, the world trembled under the pressure of the three remaining Dreadgods, but he had his prize already. He could do what no one had ever been able to do: forge a weapon with the power of a Dreadgod.\n\nThe visions passed, leaving Lindon feeling out of breath. He sunk deeper into his chair, though surely he didn't have lungs here.\n\n\"That... those were... possible futures, right?\"\n\n\"Strands of Fate. All possible, if some more likely than others. And that list was by no means exhaustive.\"\n\n\"My children...\" It seemed like a silly detail to focus on, but his curiosity pushed him forward. \"Did they practice the Heart of Twin Stars?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If things play out as they do in that strand, you'll leave behind a more powerful bloodline legacy than just split cores. Not to mention the gifts they receive from their mother.\"\n\nLindon's imagination spun ahead of him. How powerful would his children be? He might leave behind an ability that outshone even the Arelius detection web.\n\nHe noticed Suriel watching him, running armored fingertips over the smoky lines that drifted across the back of her arm. \"You could leave behind a bloodline that has all the advantages you lacked. They would have a much easier start than you did. But how many people, from powerful families with unending resources, have made it as far as you have so quickly?\"\n\nThe gray ghost of a woman appeared over her shoulder and began to speak, but Suriel stopped it with a gesture. \"The legacy you inherit is nothing compared to the legacy you leave behind.\"\n\nSuriel waved to her ghost, exchanging words with it that Lindon was not permitted to understand. That left him to his thoughts, chewing over her words.\n\nWhen their incomprehensible conversation ended, Suriel sighed and turned back to Lindon. \"Even here, we don't have unlimited time. But I hope this has helped you.\"\n\nLindon pressed his fists together and stood so he could bow deeply. \"I cannot express my gratitude enough.\"\n\nThe Abidan continued softly. \"I'm sure you remember what I said before. Any sage will tell you that every Path boils down to one: improve yourself. But you're a Sage yourself now. You should know the rest.\"\n\nShe stood from her own chair, lifting his face to meet hers. \"You improve yourself, but not for yourself alone. Fora greater purpose.\"\n\n\"Apologies,\" Lindon said, \"but this is my purpose.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No, this was your goal. Not your purpose.\"\n\n\"So then... what is it?\"\n\nShe rested her hand on his shoulder, and rather than a messenger of the distant heavens, he saw her as a friend lending him encouragement.\n\n\"You have the chance to show me that. Wei Shi Lindon... show me the future.\"\n\n---\n\n[-here! You're just a guest! You-Lindon! Where did you go? Wait, are you back? Is it really you? Say something that only the original you, and not an exact, perfect copy of yourself, would ever say.]\n\nLindon didn't say anything.\n\nWith a brief effort of will, he opened avoid key. Not his. Sophara's.\n\nEkeri's armored Remnant growled at Lindon as he entered, but he wasn't here for her. At his intention, natural treasures began to rise from their sealed, scripted chests all around the room.\n\nThere were two here that were more powerful than the others: a source of water and fire aura. They were sealed off now, in scripted jars of their own, but he could still feel them.\n\nFor this, he didn't need them. He needed balance. He gathered up some of the weaker treasures, matching them effortlessly to one another and burning them for soulfire. He needed to top himself off for this, and he had used up some of his soulfire. More had leaked away under the influence of Sacred Valley's suppression field.\n\nWhen he had replenished himself, he began to arrange stronger treasures in a circle around him.\n\n[Advancing won't bean advantage inside the suppression field,] Dross pointed out. [We'll just lose power faster.]"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But it will help against the Titan.\n\n[\"Help\" is such a strong word.]\n\nAdvancing to Overlord to fight a Dreadgod was like a child bringing two sharpened sticks to fight a tiger instead of one, but Lindon would take everything he could get.\n\nSomeone sidled up beside him, but Lindon had felt him on his way. \"You should stand back,\" Lindon said. \"If I make a mistake, you could be hurt.\"\n\n\"Don't make a mistake,\" Orthos said before crunching into an empty wooden chest that had recently contained a natural treasure.\n\nLindon nodded absently. He was already hesitant to waste time advancing when every second counted, but the better prepared he could be, the more people he could save.\n\nWhen the treasures had been arranged neatly around him, Lindon felt the soulfire in his spirit begin to resonate. The aura that blew in from Moongrave, rich and thick compared to Sacred Valley, shook in harmony with his soul.\n\nAnd Lindon prepared himself with the words he had figured out days before. The Underlord revelation was about what motivated you to begin, but the Overlord revelation was who you were now.\n\n\"I... advance,\" Lindon said.\n\nHe moved forward, onto the next challenge, no matter what stood in his way.\n\nEven the Wandering Titan itself.\n\nThe aura shook around him, the treasures burned to colorless fire, and they swirled through him. Unlike his Underlord revelation, which felt like it had deconstructed and rebuilt him from head to toe, this advancement was a cleansing.\n\nThe soulfire passed through him in a hot wind, searing and comforting at once. His channels grew stronger, his cores flared brighter, and the lingering weakness from his time in the suppression field was washed away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In seconds, Lindon walked away as an Overlord."
},
{
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"value": "He could have imagined it, but it seemed that Ekeri's Remnant nodded to him.\n\nOrthos stayed where he was, watching the other natural treasures. \"I would like to use these.\"\n\nThe turtle would need soulfire too, but Lindon didn't at the moment. All the other tools he required were in his personal key.\n\nHe took the golden ring on its cord off his neck, putting Sophara's void key around Orthos\" head. Then he rested his hand on the turtle's shell.\n\n\"I'm glad we found you,\" Lindon said quietly.\n\n\"I was never lost.\"\n\nLindon walked back out of the void key, whereof course everyone had felt his advancement. Yerin gave him a lopsided smile and gripped her sword, ready to fight. Mercy nodded, but she looked worried. Eithan stroked his chin thoughtfully.\n\nLindon held up one hand to Mercy, and she tossed him the scripted stone.\n\n\"Hold on a moment,\" Eithan said, but he was standing too faraway.\n\nLindon caught the stone and focused his will. He met Yerin's red eyes. \"I'll see you soon.\"\n\nThe horrified realization had only just appeared on her face when she lunged for him, but she couldn't stop him that way. She would have been better off standing in place and pitting her willpower against his.\n\n\"Return,\" Lindon commanded himself.\n\nIna rush of blue, he vanished.\n\n---\n\nWith every swing of his spear, Jai Long cursed himself. He was a fool.\n\nThey should have left the second they knew a Dreadgod was involved. Why had they ever stayed to take their chances?"
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"value": "Now they were miles outside of Sacred Valley, but the world was still a nightmare battlefield. The forest around them-their leaves only slightly tinged black with the corruption of the Desolate Wilds-had been completely leveled. The battle between the Dreadgod and the giant had devastated the landscape for as far as he could see; footprints left lakes, and he could see straight through a hole in afar-off mountain.\n\nOr he could, if he could spare the attention to look.\n\nEach sweep of his spearhead traced white light behind it, and the Stellar Spear madra came alive with the will of the Remnant who had long ago infested him. The Striker technique became a snake that sought out enemies, drilling through their head or chest.\n\nBut there were always more bloodspawn.\n\nJai Chen directed Fingerling, who breathed his strange pink madra over a bloodspawn that looked like it had been made from scarlet scissors strapped together to walk like a man. Fingerling's breath didn't behave like fire, or even fire madra, but like a dense cloud that passed over the jagged spawn and dissolved it.\n\nBut as this bloodspawn fell, it stretched out its arms and slashed at the legs of a man who was trying to sprint passed it. The man screamed, but even the new hole in his leg didn't stop him from continuing to flee, hobbling and leaking a red trail with every step.\n\nAnd from that trail, another bloodspawn rose.\n\nJai Long speared it as it formed, but they were surrounded by bodies, and either the Phoenix hadn't moved far enough away, or its influence lingered. Blood gathered up into these grotesque puppets of men and women.\n\nHe tried to use his techniques sparingly, but if he was growing exhausted, his sister could barely breathe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Around him, he felt only chaos."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pressure from the Dreadgods, malicious hunger from the bloodspawn, and disordered madra of every aspect from the crowds of people fleeing Sacred Valley and spreading into the forest.\n\nJai Long looked east, and he saw a swath carved through the forest ahead of them. Black spots were dashing across that space, and only by focusing his spiritual perception did he realize those were dreadbeasts.\n\nFirst a few, but that trickle almost immediately became a torrent. Dreadbeasts were famously enraged by the approach of Dreadgods, and the Desolate Wilds was home to more dreadbeasts than anywhere else he'd ever heard of.\n\nColdly, Jai Long realized that they were about to die.\n\nHe had known they might be killed by the Wandering Titan, but that was like being killed by a thunderbolt or torn apart by an aura-storm. It was a force of nature you could do nothing about, and at least it was over in a moment.\n\nNow, the bloodspawn would wear them down. Even if they escaped, there were dreadbeasts ahead of them and the Wandering Titan behind.\n\nWith one surge of soulfire-enhanced madra, Jai Long whipped his spear in a circle. The force of his blow and the power of his serpents of living madra tore open a clear space around him. Bodies and bloodspawn were equally torn apart and shoved back, giving him enough space to work.\n\nHe leaped over to a log, dragging it closer. With a few quick stabs, he separated the fallen tree into segments, and dragged them into a circle around the edges of the empty space.\n\nA bloodspawn clambered over the side, and he blocked its Striker technique before returning one of his own."
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"value": "His core flickered, dim at the center of his spirit, but he focused on his task. Jai Chen had picked upon his project, and was helping him keep the circle clear. That took enough pressure off that he could begin carving symbols into the segments of log.\n\nThe work couldn't have taken more than two or three minutes, but it felt like hours before their crude script-stabbed into pieces of log arranged in a rough circle-activated with a flare of white light.\n\nIt would push spiritual powers away, repelling Remnants and bloodspawn. Even dreadbeasts, to a lesser extent.\n\nBut it couldn't stop them. Any script that solid would put too much strain on the material, and the first impact against it would send his logs tumbling.\n\nUpon immediate activation, a bloodspawn with flourishing tree branches for limbs stumbled back, then shuffled around the edges of the script to look for prey elsewhere.\n\nIt would help... but it wouldn't stop everything.\n\nSure enough, a dense, more advanced bloodspawn shaped like a man with a sword in his hand shied back from the script, but he crawled over the log to get to them. Jai Long faced him with no techniques, but they had to exchange blows several times before he got the better of the spawn, sending a chunk of its madra fizzing away to essence.\n\nJai Chen had finished another on her side, but even Fingerling was growing tired, drifting lower in the air.\n\nMore bloodspawn flowed around them, but some still ignored the repulsion and climbed in.\n\nThey would still die now, only slower. This was nothing but away to stall fora little more time.\n\nBut wasn't that everyday?\n\nA bear-like dreadbeast leaped over the backlog, and Jai Long braced his spear against the ground. The rotting bear impaled its chest on the length of the spear, but didn't seem to care, rabidly snarling and swiping at Jai Long."
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"value": "He left the spear and the bear, turning to stiffen his fingers and Enforce them like a weapon. The Star's Edge technique sharpened his hand with a point of bright white sword-and-light madra, and he drove his fingers through a bloodspawn's chest.\n\nWhile the technique was still going, he spun and slashed open the bear's throat.\n\nJai Long was breathing hard, and his mask seemed to begetting in his way. Roughly, he tore off the bandages, baring his hideous fanged smile to the world.\n\nThe air wasn't fresh, it was filled with smoke and dust and the stink of blood and rot, but he gulped down deep breaths anyway.\n\nHe seized his spear, kicked the dying bear dreadbeast off the end, and turned his weapon to work on a bloodspawn.\n\nThe last of his madra failed him, and soon he was fighting with nothing but the strength of his limbs. Even so, he swore an oath to the heavens.\n\nIf nothing else, he would die before his sister did.\n\n---\n\nOne long second after vanishing from Moongrave, Lindon landed on his hands and knees in half-melted snow, surrounded by debris and wind-torn trees. People screamed around him as they fought featureless humanoids of red madra that rose from mere droplets of blood. To the east, Lindon felt hordes of dreadbeasts filtering out from the Desolate Wilds, driven mad by the presence of a Dreadgod.\n\nAshe recovered from the exhaustion of his working, Lindon felt nothing but relief. Mount Samara was still in one place. He'd made it.\n\nThe earth shook beneath his hands to a steady rhythm. Footsteps. Lindon heaved a breath and pushed himself to his feet."
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"value": "He hadn't come hereto rest.\n\nThe chaos around him resembled a battlefield. More and more people poured endlessly from the Heaven's Glory pass, stumbling over bodies, and Lindon couldn't tell if they had been destroyed by the powerful wind or the falling boulders or if they had simply been trampled alive.\n\nFormerly bound Remnants ran wild, darting through the crowd. Children hunkered together behind a broken and overturned cart. And everywhere, people ran from or struggled with freshly risen bloodspawn.\n\nAll the while, the dreadbeasts were on their way.\n\nDo we have enough launchers? Lindon asked Dross.\n\n[We need to hurry.] The earthquakes now couldn't be compared to the ones from before; with each heavy pound of the Titan's footsteps on the earth, Lindon was lifted off his feet. [... but yeah, we have enough to eliminate a majority. The bloodspawn here are especially weak, thanks to the aura and the general flimsiness of the hosts.]\n\nLindon's void key opened, causing several people nearby to scream and flee. Launcher constructs, some complete and some half-formed, flew out on gusts of air. He had stocked up, in case he needed to make another cannon. Wavedancer followed, sluggish in this aura.\n\nTakeover.\n\n[Yes, Captain!]\n\nLindon rose into the air on cushions of wind aura. Though the vital aura here was weak, he still had an easier time controlling it thanks to his Overlord spirit. He wouldn't be able to freely fly like this, but he could hover in the air, giving Dross a better vantage point. Now they could see far more targets.\n\nLindon controlled the aura and powered the constructs, but Dross handled targeting. The spirit's attention split thirty, forty, fifty ways."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "[Aaaannnnd done!]\n\nLindon triggered all the launchers at once.\n\nStriker techniques of every color and description lanced out, tracing a web allover the pandemonium of fleeing people. Bloodspawn splattered, melted, imploded, wilted, dissolved, collapsed, and deflated.\n\nThe second, third, fourth, and fifth shots came on the heels of the first. Some of the bindings and unfinished constructs broke after the first shot, some after the second, and a few more on the third.\n\nIn only a breath, over a hundred bloodspawn had been eliminated. Not a single bystander was scratched.\n\nLindon let the expended launchers fall to the ground, hissing essence of every color into the air, and returned the functional constructs to his void key. His eyes were on the sky.\n\nThe footsteps were growing heavier.\n\nThe entire process had taken only a breath, but it was still time they couldn't afford to lose. The constructs traded place with his Thousand-Mile Cloud, and he raced into the sky.\n\n---\n\nJai Long had felt Lindon arrive.\n\nEven exhausted and weak as his spirit was, he could sense the arrival of a spirit much stronger than anything in his immediate vicinity.\n\nHe didn't feel any hope. He was too tired for that. Even if Lindon had come to save him specifically, Jai Long couldn't spare any attention from the battle.\n\nHe climbed over dreadbeast corpses, hefting the halves of his broken spear in each hand. His sister screamed nonsense as she stabbed her dagger into a rabbit dreadbeast's eye, and he hurled his spearhead through a flying bloodspawn that had tried to take advantage of her distraction."
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"value": "Then the sky lit up.\n\nPulses of light-Striker techniques-rushed out in every color. Dreadbeasts exploded into corrupted flesh. Bloodspawn were torn to essence.\n\nWhere monsters were, light followed.\n\nJai Long's weapons fell from numb, tingling fingers. He had seen sights like this before; when an entire sect of sacred artists unleashed a barrage of Striker techniques all at once.\n\nHe turned to the source.\n\nLindon hovered in the air, his back to Jai Long. He was surrounded by a halo of shining constructs, firing in every direction. A rainbow of colors streaked out from him, and just for that moment, he looked like he had sprouted a pair of wings made of light.\n\nFora frozen moment he hung there, blazing like a many-colored phoenix.\n\nThen the Striker techniques stopped. The world settled down.\n\nCompared to the noise of battle before, the silence that settled over them in that moment felt unnatural. Jai Chen hobbled up to stand next to her brother, her mouth hanging open and an expression of awe on her blood-spattered face.\n\nSound returned with a deep rumble as the earth shook like a drum. A footstep of the Wandering Titan.\n\nLindon summoned a Thousand-Mile Cloud and flew off.\n\nSage of Twin Stars, Jai Long thought. He believed it now.\n\nThen he collapsed."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"value": "Iteration 129: Oasis\n\nImages, impressions, and desperate voices screamed through Suriel's head. From a hundred Iterations at once, Abidan begged for help.\n\nThe Vroshir had held nothing back. In one world, their war machines crashed through deserts, while in another their fleets blackened planets, and all across the cosmos their champions met Abidan guardians blade-to-blade.\n\nThey were defending only apathetic number of worlds, and only the ones held by Judges had any guarantee of victory. Dozens of Iterations called for Suriel to defend them.\n\nAs she entered Oasis, she cutoff their voices.\n\nThis world needed her more than any other.\n\nThe fabric of reality itself trembled, every particle quaking in fear. Oasis'central planet was a blue marble beneath Suriel's feet, and she could feel the sudden terror rising from the billions of lives down below.\n\nAll across the thousands of islands that made up Oasis' land, those sensitive to power collapsed under the weight of visions, or screamed at the feeling of a predator descended to take them all. She sent out her own influence to calm them, but there was only so much she could do.\n\nShe couldn't hide the power of the Mad King.\n\nHer Presence showed him drifting on the other side of the planet, eyes blazing from beneath the shadow of his bone helmet, his yellowed armor and fur cloak shrouding his figure. He clutched Ozriel's Scythe in his right hand, and glared in her direction.\n\nBut not actually at her.\n\nShe floated next to Makiel, in his full battle gear. His seamless white armor covered him up to the neck, and he held the Sword of Makiel in both hands. The massive two-handed blade had once been used to pass capital punishment on the first generation of Abidan, and purple energy passed through its steel in complex veins."
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"value": "Unlike the other Judges, he hadn't perfected his physical form. His dark skin was weathered by his mortal life, and his hair had been touched with gray for millennia. His weary face did not turn to her as he spoke. \"You could save more lives elsewhere.\"\n\n\"Not yours.\"\n\nShe might really be able to save an entire Iteration of her own if she left, but Makiel would be much safer with her around. Perhaps together, they could drive the Mad King away.\n\nTogether, they looked into Fate.\n\nThe future crackled and twisted, each vision unfolding with slippery uncertainty as the King's chaotic presence warped Fate itself. But with the stabilizing presence of two Judges, and Makiel's skill and significance at her side, they could see victory.\n\nWith the two of them together, a chance had opened up.\n\nNot of slaying the Mad King, of course. It would take at least one more Judge joining them to make that a possibility, and they couldn't abandon too many other worlds.\n\nBut she could see herself reverting a wave of devastating chaotic fire to nothing, giving Makiel the chance to strike a full-power blow and piercing the Mad King's armor.\n\nThe outcome was by no means certain, but they could do it. If they made the Mad King leave the field, they would free up the Judges. The entire battle, across all of creation, could turn here.\n\n\"\"With our swords, we carve our place in destiny,\"\" Makiel recited.\n\n\"Don't quote yourself. It's not flattering.\"\n\nBlue power vented behind him, taking on the image of sapphire wings. \"I first heard that from him.\"\n\nFrom the other side of the planet, Daruman spoke, and they heard him. \"If you're standing against me, you must believe you can win.\""
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"value": "\"We stand before you to save the lives of trillions,\" Suriel said coldly.\n\n\"And I am willing to spill that blood so that the survivors can live free. You have to know that you won't shake my resolve with a few words.\"\n\nMakiel raised his sword, the purple lines shining. \"Daruman, King of Madness, the Court of Seven sentences you to die.\"\n\n\"If you believe you have seen that, then the eye of the Hound has grown truly dim.\"\n\nSuriel saw the attack a moment before it happened. A black slash, so vast that the concept of size no longer applied.\n\nWith one swing of the Scythe, the Mad King sliced the Iteration in half.\n\nThe entire universe split with the blue planet at the center, the two halves drifting apart, the Void stretching between them.\n\nThe Mantle of Suriel flared, and she channeled the Way, reversing the damage. Restoring order.\n\nMakiel didn't wait for her to finish stitching reality together before returning a strike of his own.\n\nThe inexorable will of the Hound, focused by his blade, closed on the Mad King to tear him from existence. The Vroshir broke the working, but then Suriel had finished restoring the Iteration. Her Razor bloomed from a two-meter bar of blue steel into a multi-pronged weapon of shining blades, like a razor-sharp tree.\n\nShe thrust with the full force of her authority. The Razor was a tool for violently separating the diseased from the healthy, and the Mad King was a blight on reality, a cancer. She cut him free, the space around him glaring bright blue as she cut at the fact of his existence.\n\nHis armor anchored him, and he struck back, a wave of darkness and spinning multi-colored chaos."
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"value": "Makiel had already predicted it and shunted it off to the side.\n\nThousands of stars vanished. Removed from reality.\n\nThen the fight began in earnest.\n\nEach of them watched the future, anticipating the enemy's move and countering it. They only took action when they could ensure an advantage or mitigate a disadvantage.\n\nMakiel and the Mad King traded blows that destroyed both of their mortal forms, the force causing deadly earthquakes on the planet below. But Makiel spared no thought for his own defense; Suriel revived him a moment later, and he reincorporated already spearing Daruman with a dozen ghostly projections of Makiel's Sword.\n\nThe Mad King had to revive himself, and the more he was destroyed, the shakier his existence would become. In theory, they could kill him permanently that way.\n\nIn practice...\n\nHe gripped Suriel in one fist, though she was hundreds of thousands of kilometers away, and her Presence blared a warning as her armor began to buckle.\n\nWhile she was focused on protecting herself, throwing up protective barriers of pure order, he struck with the combined authority of the Mad King who conquered worlds and the Scythe who destroyed them whole.\n\nMakiel met the blow with the Sword of the First Judge, the weapon that had been the symbol of order since the ancient Abidan had risen from Cradle so long ago.\n\nReality itself screamed, existence warping allover the world. Humans died en masse down on the central planet simply from the backlash, and the Iteration's connection to the Way grew thin.\n\nSuriel stretched out her Mantle, her authority as the Phoenix, as the ultimate healer, and dragged the Way back.\n\nThe humans blinked back to life, the shredded atmosphere repaired, the laws returning. As order flooded back in, Makiel broke the Mad King's blow."
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"value": "But the Vroshir had gained the momentum back.\n\nThey clashed again and again, fighting first in the future and then in the present, angling for advantage over the tiny blue gem at the center of this reality. A working of the Mad King's would cast Makiel through space, but Suriel would break it. Makiel would blast the Mad King out of the world, and Suriel would try to seal the breach and keep him out, but with the Scythe he could cut his way back in.\n\nThe longer the battle raged, the less stable the Iteration became.\n\nStars winked out from the distant stretches of the universe, galaxies collapsing and fading to nothing, crumbling into the Void. Gravity and reality held less sway, dreams became real, people vanished as though they never existed.\n\nSuriel spent more and more of her power on keeping the world intact, but she was straining herself, straining her mantle, straining even the connection between this Iteration and the Way. She had to give ground, preserving and restoring only the most necessary.\n\nBut the Mad King had died many times.\n\nAll at once, a path shone in Fate, as though their persistence had opened a door. It was one road, shining and bright, leading to the vision they'd seen before.\n\nAs one, without discussion, the two Judges took it.\n\nMakiel meta blow head-on that cast him into the Void, removing him from reality for but a moment. That left an opening that the Mad King exploited, and he swept one arm, casting a wave of chaotic many-colored fire that swept all the way across the planet.\n\nRather than protecting the world with a barrier, as the enemy would no doubt expect, Suriel did as she had seen her future self do."
},
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"value": "With all the power of the Razor, the Mantle of Suriel, and her own will, she focused on the wave of chaos-fire. Though sparks of it fell in a deadly meteor rain onto the planet below, she was able to catch the existence of the attack almost in its entirety.\n\nWith the last of her energy, she reverted it to nothing.\n\nThe Mad King's will clashed with hers, fighting her authority, and the wave of fire faded in and out of existence fora moment.\n\nAs Makiel popped back into reality, physically only a meter away from the King. He swung his massive sword two-handed, the full weight of his will behind it.\n\nThey had seen this blow crack his armor, but in the microscopic instant that Makiel used to swing, Suriel saw her vision of the future warp and twist.\n\n[WARNING: Deviation detected], her Presence warned.\n\nThe Sword of Makiel landed on the blade of the Scythe. The clash between the two weapons blasted a crater in the central planet of Oasis, and tens of millions died instantly.\n\nSuriel left them to die.\n\nShe appeared next to Makiel, adding the defense of her Razor to his Sword. The Scythe still swept down, cracking both their armor.\n\nWith Makiel in her arms, Suriel wrenched open the Way.\n\nAnd fled.\n\n---\n\nLindon rose upon his cloud until he was even with the halo of light around Mount Samara. He was still outside the suppression field, but only by a few feet. Any technique he threw into Sacred Valley would be weakened.\n\nBut his heart pounded and the skin allover his body tightened as he looked inside and came face-to-face with the Wandering Titan."
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"value": "In reality, they were still maybe a mile apart. But the Dreadgod was so huge that Lindon felt like it could lean forward and snap him up in its jaws.\n\nIts eyes were swirling clouds of every shade of yellow, and it scanned Mount Samara up and down, as though looking for something.\n\nFar down below, at its feet, the river of fleeing people on the mountain slopes had scattered like ants. Some of them continued running up the mountain to safety, but others scurried any direction that was away from the Titan's feet.\n\nEven back into Sacred Valley, which had been... broken. Shattered. Churned beyond recognition, like meat in a grinder.\n\nOnly three of the four sacred peaks still stood, and the Titan was eyeing this one. Every second the Dreadgod delayed was more lives spared.\n\nAnd there was only one person here whose techniques could affect a Dreadgod.\n\n\"Dross,\" Lindon said aloud, \"I would be very grateful if you had a battle plan for me.\"\n\n[Battle. A battle plan. I've got a wonderful strategic retreat plan.]\n\nLindon was already mentally exhausted just from bringing himself here, but as he understood it, willpower wasn't like madra. He didn't have a finite amount that could run out. As long as he could concentrate, he could keep fighting.\n\nHe trembled allover. Not only did he feel like a mouse staring up at a lion, but even his spirit shook before the irresistible pressure of the Dreadgod.\n\nAnd the Titan was being suppressed while he wasn't.\n\nStill, he drew up his focus. If the heavens were kind, the Titan would turn away and leave entirely. Maybe Lindon wouldn't have to do anything at all."
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"value": "Why hasn't it left the valley already?\n\n[I'll show you if you promise to take me far, faraway from here.] Despite his words, Dross pulled Lindon's attention to the north, where-even in the fractured mess that remained of Sacred Valley-Lindon could make out shapes. Footprints.\n\nIt had walked north, stopped at Mount Yoma, and then headed east again.\n\nWhy?\n\nNow it was examining Mount Samara, and Lindon felt an inhalation filled with hunger madra. The Dreadgod was sniffing for something in the mountain.\n\nThat wasn't an attack, and the Titan was still trapped in the suppression field, but Lindon still hoped the act of breathing in wouldn't be enough to kill the people at the Dreadgod's feet.\n\nHe had the impression that the Titan had been at this fora while, and Lindon fervently hoped that it would continue for even longer. Maybe the bulk of the people beneath him would be able to flee before the Dreadgod had found whatever it was looking for. He might not have to do anything at all.\n\nSlowly, like an old man reaching for his medication, the Titan reached up toward Lindon.\n\nHe panicked and shot backwards, but it was clear that the Titan had no interest in Lindon at all. It was grabbing for the circle of light around the peak.\n\nNow was his chance. The collapse of the ring might send madra raining down on the people below... but more personally, Lindon couldn't bear the thought of the Dreadgod destroying Samara's ring.\n\nThere was too little of Sacred Valley left.\n\nFrom watching Malice, he hadn't been able to tell if techniques were weaker if they originated from outside the script or from inside. He would try the former first."
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"value": "With both hands in front of him, he opened his spirit wide, channeling Blackflame into dragon's breath. At the same time, he poured his Overlord soulfire into it, which was now a brighter and more vivid silver than the diffuse, colorless flame of an Underlord. On top of all that, he added his will.\n\nDragon's breath was a force of destruction. If he was the Void Sage, he should have the authority for this.\n\nA dark beam, thicker than his two arms, burst out from his palms. The technique reminded him of Yerin's Final Sword, and it carried weight far beyond the power of its madra.\n\nIt passed through the suppression field and... faded.\n\nInstead of a liquid-smooth beam, the technique dispersed into a gaseous spray that resembled natural flame. The red streaks were more prominent than they had been, and the authority he'd managed to scrape up weakened to almost nothing.\n\nDragon's breath passed over the Titan's stone arm and washed over, harmless.\n\nA dark fist closed over Samara's ring. The light was Forged madra, an ancient construct, and the Dreadgod tore away a chunk as though it were made of rotten wood. Bright white-and-gold essence drifted upwards like sparks of a campfire from the damaged construct.\n\nThe rest of the ring hung in the air, but the light over Sacred Valley darkened.\n\nThe Dreadgod lifted the Forged madra to its face, examining it, and then Lindon felt hunger grow. The chunk of construct disappeared completely, the motes disappearing into the Titan's body. The cracks of its shell, and the crags allover its body, shone briefly yellow.\n\nWhen the Titan returned its attention to Mount Samara, its hunger was like a physical force. It didn't move immediately, but its tail lashed faster and faster behind it. Lindon knew it was about to move."
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"value": "And hurling Striker techniques from outside the field had done nothing. He had to plunge inside.\n\nBehind him, space cracked.\n\nDross gave a squeal, then covered it up with a cough. [I'm not relieved. But we are saved. But it's fine, I'm not excited. You're excited.]\n\nYerin dashed out of a blue-edged crack in space before the portal had finished forming, and she shot through the air to land on his cloud.\n\nShe caught the very edge of the Thousand-Mile Cloud, where the madra was thinner. She could catch herself with aura control or by summoning her own cloud, but he caught her arm and pulled her onto his anyway.\n\nShe grabbed edges of his outer robe in both fists, but didn't raise her head to look at him. \"I know I'm cutting myself with my own knife saying this, but if you thought you could cross swords with a Dreadgod and leave me behind, you...\" Her breath caught as she glanced to the side and looked into the Titan's face. Her whole body shivered. \"... bleed and bury me.\"\n\nLindon spoke quietly. \"I don't know if I can stop even one of its techniques. I couldn't ask you all to come protect my home when I'm not sure I can keep you safe.\"\n\nShe looked up at him, and rather than angry, she looked amused. \"Didn't, did you? I'd contend you asked us to stay behind. But we're not exactly tripping over people who can tickle Dreadgods. My list ends with me and you.\"\n\nA voice shouted distantly from beneath them, muffled and unintelligible.\n\nDown on the ground, the spatial crack hadn't widened into a stable portal. Mercy had stumbled out of it, and she was pulling the last inch of Suu free, when Orthos shoved his way forward. His presence in Lindon's spirit was brighter than ever, stronger, more vivid. But to the naked eye, he looked no different."
},
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"value": "Finally, Eithan strode out of the messy blue light.\n\nHe released a heavy breath, as though he'd been holding it, and wiped sweat from his brow as the crack in the world sealed itself behind him.\n\n\"I said \"put me on your list,\"\" Eithan called up. \"You couldn't hear me, could you?\" He sighed and began drifting up to join them.\n\nLindon and Yerin exchanged glances.\n\n\"Can you help?\" Lindon asked. \"Any of you?\" He didn't raise his voice, though Eithan was still faraway. Eithan would hear him.\n\nHe had meant that to include Mercy and Orthos as well, but as soon as they arrived, they took off east. In seconds, they were rounding up people, stopping fights, and pulling them out of overturned shelters.\n\nThey knew they couldn't touch a Dreadgod, but were still doing whatever they could to help.\n\nLindon wished they wouldn't. Now he had more to worry about.\n\n\"You don't think I'll bean asset?\" Eithan asked as he finally reached their level.\n\nYerin's eyebrows lifted. \"If I had to pick between you and a rusty spoon, I'd have to think about it first.\"\n\n\"Infusing techniques with willpower is not the exclusive domain of Sages and Heralds. They're just better at it.\" Eithan planted fists on his hips and glared at the Dreadgod. \"I will defy this beast with all the power of a leaf drifting on the wind!\"\n\n[Oh, and you're not going to get in our way by making us cover for you? That's impressive.]\n\n\"I make no such promise,\" Eithan said. \"But I can't let you stand up against a Dreadgod without me. It's a bit earlier than I planned, but who could object to one little life-threatening practice run?\""
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"value": "Yerin squeezed Lindon's ribs and then slipped away, stepping onto a purple Thousand-Mile Cloud of her own. \"Have to say, I'm not looking for death here. If there's nothing we can do, we're leaving, even if I have to grab you both by the neck and drag you off.\"\n\nThe Titan still hadn't stirred. It remained searching for something. Or waiting.\n\nBut as Lindon looked at Yerin and Eithan on either side of him, mist formed in his eyes. They didn't need to be here. If he had full control over his abilities, he would have sent them back.\n\nAt the same time, he was glad they were there.\n\n\"Gratitude,\" Lindon said.\n\n[Awww, that's sweet. Very sweet. But I'm going to need you all to focus so that we don't die. First of all, none of us move until the Titan does, even if you standstill until your fleshy human feet decay.]\n\n\"We won't have to wait quite that long,\" Eithan said, spinning his black fabric scissors around his thumb. \"The Titan is famous for its... lethargy... but when it is ready to move, it does so quickly.\"\n\n[So, objective one: we're holding it back as long as we can. If we lose and it breaks through the mountain, we leave.]\n\nLindon wasn't happy about that, but he knew that if the Titan left the suppression field, their chance was up. If they couldn't match the Dreadgod inside the valley, they would have no chance outside.\n\n[Objective two: don't die. Wait, how about we make that objective one?]\n\nAlmost casually, the Wandering Titan began drawing its hand back fora swipe. Wind swirled around them, snatching at their clothes and pulling their Clouds."
},
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"value": "The fear and pressure returned. Eithan's smile dropped, and madra flowed through his black scissors. Yerin pulled a sword in each hand, one white and one black, her gleaming red Goldsigns extended.\n\nLindon focused all his panicked energy and his resolve on the Dreadgod's hand. Whatever technique it was about to use, he needed to be ready.\n\nBut it was no technique. The Titan swiped at Mount Samara like a child knocking over his own sandcastle.\n\nEvery fiber of Lindon drew to a point. He pushed past the rules of the world, substituting his own will.\n\n\"Stop!\" Lindon shouted.\n\nThe Titan's hand slowed, as though it had been caught in an invisible net. Then Lindon felt an outside consciousness pushing against his own; a mind he'd felt before, when he had Consumed some of its thoughts.\n\nBut the Wandering Titan had been sleeping then.\n\nThis time, it turned its attention to the force restricting its hand in dull annoyance. Lindon's working tore like spiderwebs.\n\nIt was like a cat had clawed the inside of Lindon's head. His vision blanked out as madra streamed from both Yerin and Eithan.\n\nAn instant later, when he could see again, Lindon saw Eithan's Striker technique-the Hollow King's Spear-breaking on the boundary of the suppression field. It faded from a clear, defined spear to a diffuse stream of madra, though it still impacted the wrist of the Dreadgod where it landed.\n\nIt pushed the Titan's arm. Slightly. Like a gentle breeze.\n\nYerin's gleaming silver-red madra broke as it entered Sacred Valley too, but it rained down on the Titan in a thousand needles. The Dreadgod swatted at its own chest in irritation, then roared."
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"value": "Lindon felt the sound in his bones.\n\nHe cycled madra to his ears to stop from going deaf, but even as the roar drowned out all sound, Dross spoke into their heads.\n\n[As reluctant as I am to encourage this insanity, if we're going to do this, then it's time to go inside.]\n\nWhile they would weaken steadily inside the field, they wouldn't be in there long enough to reduce to Jades. From within, they would be more effective. At least a little.\n\nTogether, they flew toward the Dreadgod.\n\nFrom that moment, Lindon had no time to think.\n\nA ball of stone and chaos formed in the Titan's hand, and a blue-white Spear of the Hollow King pierced it through. Now that the Spear didn't have to pass through the wall of the script-circle, the technique looked like areal spear, in full physical detail. However, it still wasn't nearly as powerful as an Archlord technique should have been.\n\nAt the same time, a wave of yellow earth madra pulsed out from the Titan's chest, and Lindon met it with a Hollow Domain and the full force of his will.\n\nIt still battered him back, smacking him like a fist across the whole body, but it created a weak point in the Dreadgod's technique.\n\nYerin rushed through, a shining meteor of silver and red. She focused the Final Sword through her blade.\n\nWith Lindon and Eithan taking care of the Titan's techniques, hers landed. A lance of bright red madra pierced through the Dreadgod.\n\nIt streaked behind, stretching for miles.\n\nDreadgods had blood, Lindon knew. He had dissected enough dreadbeasts. As they were made of flesh, Yerin's madra should tear it apart."
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"value": "But that little pinprick didn't even slow the Wandering Titan down. Its freehand came in as a fist, striking at Yerin.\n\nShe leaped off her Cloud, meeting it in midair with both her swords. She had nothing to push on but aura, so the strike should have sent her flying into the horizon.\n\nBut Lindon felt power beyond the physical, a weight of conceptual strength like he had once felt from Crusher. For just an instant, the Dreadgod's fist hit Yerin and stopped.\n\nTogether, Lindon and Eithan launched Striker techniques at the same time.\n\nThe Spear of the Hollow King and breath of a black dragon struck the Wandering Titan in the eye.\n\nIt blinked and flinched back like Lindon might have done at an unexpected flash of light.\n\nIts knuckles, having stopped for an instant on Yerin's swords, pushed forward again. This time, she hurtled into the side of Mount Samara. The ground exploded into dust and snow, but he could feel her power was barely diminished.\n\nOutside Sacred Valley, a direct hit like that would have killed her.\n\nLindon had already begun drawing up his will again, preparing to command the Dreadgod to stop. Or at least to try.\n\n[We talked about this!] Dross said desperately.\n\nHe brought up Lindon's own memories. Neither Charity nor Malice had commanded Dreadgods directly. They had worked their Sage powers through their techniques.\n\nLindon opened his void key.\n\nHe wished he had kept Sophara's void key, since she had a Heaven's Torch, the ultimate source of fire aura.\n\nBut his own fire treasures weren't too bad either."
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"value": "Fire aura gushed out, far stronger than any other source of aura in Sacred Valley. As for destruction aura... that was all around them.\n\nIn moments, Lindon gathered black-and-red aura into a cloud swirling around him, but he wasn't forming a Void Dragon's Dance. He blended the Ruler technique with madra Forged into a dragon's claw, and fueled it with a focused application of the Burning Cloak.\n\nCrystallized Blackflame madra covered his left hand, trailing black and red energy behind him as he shot toward the Titan.\n\nEithan was flying just beneath the cloud, Forging madra as he moved into huge stars the size of the Titan's eyes.\n\nAs the Dreadgod squared itself and roared, Lindon felt another source of aura: blood and sword madra gathering at its feet.\n\nLindon reached out for the Void Icon.\n\nAnd together, the three of them all triggered their techniques.\n\nA distant bell rang, and blood and flesh flew from the Titan's calves. Lines of blue-white light speared down from the Hollow Crown, tearing into the spirit that was entwined with its body. And Lindon slammed the Dragon Descends technique into the Dreadgod's chest.\n\nIt detonated in a black explosion, washing over the Titan in a tide of dark fire.\n\nNot black-and-red fire. Pure black flame.\n\nThe power of the Void Icon was strong in that technique.\n\nLindon wanted to keep up the barrage, but he had wrung himself dry in body and mind. They had already unleashed power on a scale that Sacred Valley actively suppressed. If the heavens were kind, they would have at least gained the Titan's attention.\n\nDross spoke in a panic. [Oh yay, we did it!]"
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"value": "The Dreadgod's tail whipped out from the cloud of destructive flame. Yerin rocketed up hundreds of feet to crash into the tail, blocking the strike, but a hand was coming Lindon's way again.\n\nWithout Dross, Lindon wouldn't have been fast enough to avoid it. The Soul Cloak sprang up around him, and he leaped and twisted in midair. Fingers the width of roads crashed into his Thousand-Mile Cloud, dispersing the construct. Lindon landed on the back of its wrist, clinging to stone-like skin for his life.\n\nAt the same time, the Titan opened its mouth and breathed out onto Eithan.\n\nA stream of golden madra covered the Archlord whole, driving him backwards. Lindon didn't see him land, but the Striker technique in the Dreadgod's breath tore a chunk from the peak of Mount Samara.\n\nEithan was gone.\n\nLindon could feel his spirit, and the amount of pure madra that had gone into defending himself, but Eithan had to be out of the fight.\n\nHe couldn't even spare a thought for concern; the sky was falling.\n\nThe world slowed down as Dross accelerated his perception. The ceiling falling on him was the Dreadgod's tail, plunging onto his head to swat him like a fly.\n\nHe dashed out, running across the Titan's hand for the rapidly narrowing stretch of sky that meant freedom.\n\n[Below!] Dross shouted.\n\nBut there was no dodging.\n\nEarth aura reached out from the skin, pulling Lindon down. He stumbled, and it took the whole strength of his Soul Cloak to keep him standing upright.\n\nThe tail was coming down."
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"value": "Lindon opened his void key.\n\nHe tumbled inside just as the Titan's tail and arm crashed together. It was like being in the middle of two islands collapsing, and the wind rushing in blasted everything in his void key to the other side of the room.\n\nThe hand of the Dreadgod passed over the doorway... but the willpower accompanying the blow did not.\n\nLindon felt it like a sudden weight dropping on the void key, and the opening back into the world began to stress and fracture. If he hadn't focused on it, reinforcing it with its authority, the void space opened by his key would have collapsed. Leaving him stranded.\n\nThe view returned in just a moment, giving Lindon clear line of sight as the hand lifted away. His storage space was still floating in midair, so he found himself around the height of the Titan's shoulder.\n\nThe Dreadgod turned, moving away from Mount Samara. Toward Yerin.\n\nDross, Lindon begged, give me something.\n\n[I gave you all the advice you need: don't do this. We can getaway!]\n\nThe Titan raising its foot seemed slow, but only because of Dross' acceleration.\n\nWhat about Yerin?\n\n[Well yes, of course, we're going to save Yerin. I'm not a monster. But then we can leave.]\n\nI don't want to run, Dross. I want to win.\n\n[Lindon, this... I...] Dross sounded less certain than ever. [... I don't want to do this. It's too much.]\n\nPlease, Lindon said.\n\n[I don't have anything for you,] Dross said at last, and Lindon's heart clenched. [No, now, hold on. I don't have anything for you. Alone.]"
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"value": "Dross sounded like he was taking a deep breath. [Brace yourself.]\n\nHis thought carried the impression of great pain, so Lindon prepared himself. I can handle pain.\n\n[Oh no, this is worse than just hurting you. It's about to hurt me.]\n\n---\n\nZiel's Thousand-Mile Cloud carried him south, toward the mountain that looked like a broken bottle gushing water. The east exit was far too popular; he'd meetup with the rest again once he left the valley.\n\nExcept, considering the fact that they were fighting the Wandering Titan right now, he would probably never see them again because of their sheer stupidity.\n\nThe wind from the fight buffeted his cloud, and the aura here was thin anyway, so it was slow going. But every foot of progress was afoot away from the Dreadgod.\n\nHe had thought his progress was slow before, so he almost panicked when he stopped entirely. Fora moment, he was certain the Dreadgod had caught him in some kind of Ruler technique.\n\nWhen he realized the whole world had stopped, Dross popped into existence in front of him.\n\nLindon's spirit panted, though Ziel was certain he wouldn't need to breathe, and swiped one of his boneless arms across a forehead that was basically just his upper eyelid.\n\n[Okay, I don't have much time, so just do what I tell you. Okay? We need your help against the Dreadgod. All you have to do-]\n\n\"No,\" Ziel said.\n\n[Let me finish! Let me finish. I only need you to make a couple of platforms. Just put them where I tell you, when I tell you.]\n\n\"No.\""
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"value": "[Don't-Look, Dreadgods don't fight to the death. If the prey takes too much energy to beat, they back off, and everything takes too much energy here. We're just... pushing it back a little, that's all. All we're doing. Not going in for the kill.]\n\nZiel tried to say no a third time, but he couldn't stop himself from imagining what it could have been like years ago. To watch the Weeping Dragon turnaround and drift away, looking for easier prey.\n\n\"... fine,\" he said reluctantly.\n\n[That's a promise! You've promised now, you can't break it! And that's perfect, because I was lying before, I need you to do more than just make platforms. I need you to make a lot of platforms.]\n\n---\n\nMercy herded her crowd of Irons to the south. She had gathered up over two hundred of them, according to her Moon's Eye lens, and they were dragging even more wounded on litters.\n\nIt had taken her only minutes to draw so many people together. They had been several groups before, she had just flown over and stopped them from panicking so they could band together.\n\nUnder her guidance, they gathered as one. Her guidance and Jai Chen's, since the Jai girl had formed the largest group before Mercy's arrival, but Jai Chen was growing more and more concerned about her brother.\n\nMercy was surprised to find them out here; she had expected them to retreat long before this. She wished they had; she hated to see them so exhausted and soaked in blood. Of course, that described everyone out here except her.\n\nThey were about to enter a clutch of trees in which her Lens had spotted a pack of dreadbeasts. She could handle them all herself, but she couldn't watch every single falling tree and flying rock."
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"value": "\"Keep the wounded on the inside,\" Mercy called. \"If you have a shield and you're in the outer ring, raise it up. I'll clear the trees of dreadbeasts, but cover your eyes and close your ears.\"\n\nNo one responded. They had all frozen in place.\n\n[Mercy!] Dross shouted, appearing suddenly in front of her. [Sorry, that was loud, wasn't it? Anyway, we need you.]\n\nMercy tried to twist and see if she could spot Lindon, who must be in trouble if he was sending Dross, but she couldn't actually move her body. So Dross was projecting himself into her mind.\n\nHer spiritual perception still worked, and she felt Lindon far behind her. It felt like he was a hundred miles away, but she recognized the dampening effect of the suppression field.\n\n\"Is Lindon okay? Did something happen?\" When she spoke, she felt like she was moving her mouth, but she supposed she probably wasn't. It was a strange sensation.\n\n[No, but it's about to,] Dross responded. [We need you. Against the Titan.]\n\n\"Got it.\" When time unfroze, Mercy would put Jai Chen in charge and fly back into Sacred Valley.\n\nDross waved his tendrils in the air as though trying to shoo something away. [I don't... ah, I don't exactly know how to say this, but you... oh, well, actually I know exactly how to say this. What I need you to do, it's going to hurt. A lot. Not permanently, I'm sure. Your family can fix you. They can fix you, right?]\n\n\"Yes, they can,\" Mercy said firmly.\n\nNo matter what Dross wanted her to do, it wouldn't hurt as badly as seeing Pride so badly hurt. She didn't want to go through that again, not so soon, and not with Lindon and Yerin."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "\"What do you need from me?\"\n\n[Your bloodline,] Dross said.\n\n---\n\n\"What do you want from me now?\" Orthos rumbled.\n\nHe didn't have the non-lethal abilities the others did, so he'd stuck to his strengths: running around and eliminating dreadbeasts, bloodspawn, and piles of debris that blocked the way of the humans fleeing down Mount Samara.\n\nIt had been surprisingly fun. And then Dross interrupted him.\n\n[Normally, there's nothing an Underlord can do to a Dreadgod. But since it's in Sacred Valley, it's a little more subject to physical laws-]\n\n\"Underlord? Who said I was an Underlord?\"\n\n[You... you know Lindon can feel you, right? If Lindon can feel it, I can feel it. He hasn't been thinking about it, but it's clear tome that you used the treasures inside Lindon's void key to advance. That wasn't supposed to be a surprise, was it?]\n\nIf Orthos could move his body, he would have turned away to chew on a nearby rock. Or some nice, softwood.\n\n[Even the others can sense you,] Dross went on, driving the knife deeper. [You had to know they would all recognize it immediately.]\n\n\"There is nothing wrong with a little celebration,\" Orthos said with great dignity.\n\n[N-no! No, and in fact, I can make it even better than a surprise! A huge event! You'll really, ooohhh, you'll really show them. They'll say,\"Underlord Orthos is so great, I can't believe that we ever cared about him before. I really hate who he used to be. Compared to now, I mean. Just... just hate him.\"]"
}
] |
[
{
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"value": "Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\nTags: science fiction, star wars, political intrigue\nAuthor: Claudia Gray\nTitle: Bloodline\nChapter: 20"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "\"What do you need from me?\"\n\n[Your bloodline,] Dross said.\n\n---\n\n\"What do you want from me now?\" Orthos rumbled.\n\nHe didn't have the non-lethal abilities the others did, so he'd stuck to his strengths: running around and eliminating dreadbeasts, bloodspawn, and piles of debris that blocked the way of the humans fleeing down Mount Samara.\n\nIt had been surprisingly fun. And then Dross interrupted him.\n\n[Normally, there's nothing an Underlord can do to a Dreadgod. But since it's in Sacred Valley, it's a little more subject to physical laws-]\n\n\"Underlord? Who said I was an Underlord?\"\n\n[You... you know Lindon can feel you, right? If Lindon can feel it, I can feel it. He hasn't been thinking about it, but it's clear tome that you used the treasures inside Lindon's void key to advance. That wasn't supposed to be a surprise, was it?]\n\nIf Orthos could move his body, he would have turned away to chew on a nearby rock. Or some nice, softwood.\n\n[Even the others can sense you,] Dross went on, driving the knife deeper. [You had to know they would all recognize it immediately.]\n\n\"There is nothing wrong with a little celebration,\" Orthos said with great dignity.\n\n[N-no! No, and in fact, I can make it even better than a surprise! A huge event! You'll really, ooohhh, you'll really show them. They'll say,\"Underlord Orthos is so great, I can't believe that we ever cared about him before. I really hate who he used to be. Compared to now, I mean. Just... just hate him.\"]"
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "That was possibly the worst sales pitch Orthos had ever heard.\n\nBut he was still intrigued.\n\n\"I'm listening,\" he said.\n\n---\n\nEithan's entire body was pain.\n\nHe lay in a pile of twisted limbs in the rubble that had once been the peak of Mount Samara, silently counting his broken bones. He had blocked the madra with his own, then cushioned the impact of his fall with aura while strengthening his Archlord body with soulfire.\n\nEven so, he hadn't fully recovered his power since spending so long in Sacred Valley, and here he was back in it again. Not to mention that he had taken a blow from the Titan head-on.\n\nThere were parts of the world where'hitting like a Dreadgod\" was a common saying. It did not do the experience justice.\n\nHe realized immediately when Dross contacted him and accelerated his perception of time. It happened when he was in the middle of tenderly extending one thread of madra to activate his void key, hoping to pullout some more of his medical supplies. He'd drunk more medicine than water, these past few days; clearly he was off his game.\n\n\"How many ways have you split yourself, Dross?\" Eithan asked, before the spirit had fully manifested to him.\n\n[Six,] Dross panted. [It's... a lot, but I'm fine. Maybe. I'm probably fine.]\n\n\"Well, don't waste your valuable time on me,\" he said. \"Just tell me my role.\" He admired how sprightly his voice still sounded, despite the state of his ribs. And every other part of his body.\n\n[Perfect! The Titan is going to throw a Striker technique at Lindon, and I need you to stop it from hitting him.]"
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where? I'm not quite as ambulatory as usual.\"\n\n[We'll get you down, don't worry. Just worry about stopping the technique. Please do worry about that.]\n\nEithan tried to make a gesture of agreement, but his hand was trapped beneath his body. And it pulsed with pain, except for his fingertips, which were completely numb.\n\nThat could be a problem, he thought.\n\n\"No problem!\" he said.\n\nDross made a relieved sound and vanished, leaving Eithan alone to think. That was good, because he needed the time.\n\nHow was he supposed to block a Dreadgod's technique in this condition?\n\n---\n\nWhen time froze, the pressure on Yerin didn't letup. From her perspective, the sky was covered by the Wandering Titan's foot, and while it hadn't plunged down on her yet, it couldn't be far off.\n\nThe pressure she felt was from the Titan's spirit, pressing down on her almost as heavily as if the Dreadgod was already standing on her. She held her two swords above her, crossed white and black, and she had already begun filling them with madra and soulfire.\n\nShe didn't know how many of those stomps she could take, but she wouldn't be able to escape fast enough with its will weighing her down anyway. So she would weather the first one, then hope somebody else pulled the Titan off her before she was smeared to paste.\n\nYerin had prepared herself, so when Dross showed up, he was more of a distraction than anything.\n\n\"Spit it out,\" Yerin growled. She was still under the Dreadgod's spiritual pressure, and time not passing was only extending that agony."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Dross breathed harshly as he spoke."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "[Sorry... I'm... doing a lot... right now.]\n\nEven in her situation, Yerin felt concern worry its way into her heart. She couldn't exactly move her eyes, but she focused on Dross. \"You solid, Dross?\"\n\nHe fixed her with a stare, pulling himself together. [Yeah, no problem, nothing to worry about. Listen, we need something from you, but it's going to be... it won't be much fun for you, I'll say that.]\n\n\"You see where I'm standing right now, true? Would you contend I'm on a holiday?\"\n\n[We need you to hold the Titan in place so Lindon can hit it. You'll need to use your sword.]\n\nShe shifted her attention to her master's blade. For the most part, she had avoided using its binding since advancing during the Uncrowned King tournament. \"Madra's not like it used to be. Could use Netherclaw, if that'll work.\"\n\n[It, uh, it won't.]\n\nA queasy sense of nausea passed through her. \"Sword will make it through, though, right?\"\n\nDross hesitated.\n\n\"Dross?\"\n\n[I think this is one of those times where I'm supposed to lie, but I don't have a whole lot of time. You'll have to overload the sword. Noway around it, unless you're ready to advance to Archlord. That would solve a lot of my problems today, actually.]\n\nEven if she were, she couldn't do it herein Sacred Valley, and Dross knew that.\n\n\"Winter Sage. She can fix it, though, true?\"\n\nDross bobbed upward in the air as he brightened. [Could be! That's certainly areal possibility!]"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "No sense hesitating. She had agreed to risk her life here, for people that Lindon didn't even really know. She'd be cracked in the head if she wasn't willing to risk one weapon.\n\n\"Got it. Grab my eye when you want me.\"\n\n[I'll have to signal the others, but you... just do it when the foot comes down, all right?]\n\n\"Not likely to forget that one.\"\n\n[You won't have to remember it for long, because I can't hold this anymore. You ready?]\n\nShe tried to nod. Dross must have gotten the picture, because the world came roaring back to normal speed.\n\nThe Titan's foot came down."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lindon didn't hear what Dross said to the other five. He just felt the spirit splitting his attention so many different ways, and time stood still while Dross delivered his instructions.\n\nWhen he finished, everything happened at once.\n\nThe Titan's foot came down. Yerin's madra flared beneath it, so powerful that it felt like she was pouring her entire spirit into one attack. But it wasn't an attack; white mist and points of ice-cold light burst into being around her, consuming the Titan up to the knee.\n\nIts foot landed, but was frozen in place. Lindon was astonished at the power output of the weapon, but it was overshadowed by worry for Yerin.\n\nNot that he had time to dwell on it. There was too much else going on.\n\nGreen rings had bloomed one after the other, stretching off to the south. Ziel flew through the air like an arrow, each ring of script hurling him into the next. Lindon wondered why Ziel hadn't used that technique to escape, but his question was answered by a quick scan of his spirit.\n\nHe was straining his channels and running out of madra. He couldn't keep this up for long.\n\nAshe flew in, another spiritual presence caught Lindon's attention. Mercy dashed in, covered in her Akura bloodline armor, and she wasn't flying. She was running.\n\nShe was already the size of a tall building, and she carried something tucked under her right arm.\n\nNo, Lindon realized what the object was as soon as he noticed it.\n\nIt was Orthos, all curled up in his shell.\n\nOrthos, whose body was slowly filling with soulfire.\n\nWhen the Titan found its leg stuck by Yerin's technique, it threw a punch at Mercy. A golden nimbus covered its fist: the original version of the Enforcer technique the Abyssal Palace cultists had used."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The wind from the punch was like the breath of a hurricane.\n\nMercy slipped under the punch. Her armor was still growing, and Lindon knew from his experience with Harmony-and his own research-how much of a burden the armor put on the spirit. The larger it was, the harder it was to control. But she moved with liquid grace as she ducked the punch.\n\nThen she took a lightning-quick tail to the breastplate.\n\nIt cracked, and Lindon fully expected the armor to shatter. Instead, despite what must have been horrific spiritual pain, she braced her feet and stood her ground.\n\nAs she did, Mercy lobbed Orthos through the Dreadgod's legs.\n\nAnd the turtle began to grow.\n\nSoulfire burned away by the second as it expanded Orthos' body. He landed with legs the width of tree trunks, but they grew to cover houses in a moment. Soon, he was half the height of the Titan.\n\nThe Dreadgod turned over its shoulder, madra building between its jaws.\n\n[That's your cue!] Dross shouted.\n\nOn his Thousand-Mile Cloud, Lindon shot forward.\n\nNo matter how much madra he poured into the cloud, it would be a few seconds before he reached the Titan. It would have shoved Mercy back and released its technique on Orthos by then. Dross had called him in too late.\n\nGreen light flared behind Lindon.\n\nHe couldn't spare the attention to turn and watch, but he wished he could. His spiritual senses treated him to the feeling of Eithan flying through the air like a thrown spear.\n\nHe was kept aloft by his own aura control, so Ziel's circle only added acceleration. Ashe flew closer, Lindon heard a voice, which started soft and steadily grew louder as its source approached."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Jump!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eithan called as he flew past Lindon's face.\n\nMercy endured another heavy blow, falling to one knee under the pressure. The Titan unleashed a stream of powerful earth madra with its breath. Orthos shoved himself into position, and-though he took a glancing blow on his shell that left cracks and a lancing pain that Lindon could feel through their bond-he and Mercy managed to wrestle the Dreadgod around to face Lindon.\n\nIt didn't cutoff its Striker technique. As it braced itself on its tail, it refocused on the next target it saw: Eithan, whose madra was blazing like a beacon.\n\nLindon expected Eithan to take the hit on his Hollow Armor, but Lindon had been given his instructions. He jumped.\n\nEithan reversed direction in a burst of force aura, shoving himself down and to one side. The Titan's Striker technique streaked past in a thundering stream of bright golden light.\n\nThe river of madra passed over both Eithan and Lindon's heads.\n\nIt tapered out almost immediately as the Titan returned its attention to Mercy and Orthos, grabbing one in each hand.\n\nLindon dragged his Thousand-Mile Cloud down to him, and once again it caught him.\n\nHe saw what Eithan had done. If the Titan had noticed Lindon, that blast would have been on target, and it might have even moved its head to follow Lindon as he fell. Instead, Eithan had drawn its attention upward.\n\nBy falling suddenly, Lindon had ducked it.\n\nOrthos roared, and now that he was empty of soulfire, he was truly gigantic. While not a match for the Dreadgod, he was at least the size of a large dog compared to the Titan."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But he was still just an Underlord.\n\nNo matter how weak the Wandering Titan had become, and no matter the equalizing effect of the suppression field, Orthos was no match fora Dreadgod under any conditions. His shell splintered as the Dreadgod's grip tightened, and Orthos would be torn apart in moments.\n\nLindon tried to send reassurance through their bond. Orthos didn't need to hold on for long.\n\nLindon was coming.\n\nHe landed a moment later on the back of the Titan's neck.\n\nAnd with all his will, he began to Consume.\n\nLindon had fed on the thoughts and memories of the Wandering Titan before, so he knew what to expect this time. Even so, he was almost overwhelmed on every front.\n\nThe madra threatened to break his arm, and to be too much for his Heart of Twin Stars to process. The memories and impressions flooded Dross, poised to drown Lindon's identity. And the willpower, titanic and voracious, crashed into Lindon's like an avalanche.\n\nLindon was tossed in a whirlpool of the Wandering Titan's emotions, but they weren't the timeless fury that he had expected.\n\nHe felt frustration.\n\nIrritation.\n\nDissatisfaction.\n\nExhaustion.\n\nHe had come hereto satisfy its eternal hunger. He'd followed the scent of the one thing that could end its suffering, only to find that it wasn't here. The trail was cold. And now he was being kept awake by some annoying, buzzing flies when all he wanted to do was eat and then sleep.\n\nNo, he wasn't. The Titan was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was hard to tell the difference.\n\nHe broke contact with a gasp, his head pounding. The Titan rumbled beneath him, and this was as far as Dross had guided Lindon.\n\nIt's working too hard, Lindon reported to Dross. I want to... it wants to leave. We can drive it out.\n\nThe Dreadgod tossed Mercy down, and her armor shattered. Essence covered the valley in a luminous violet cloud.\n\nIt dragged a struggling Orthos in its left hand, like a forgotten toy.\n\nSlowly, the Titan turned back to Mount Samara again, and this time Lindon knew why.\n\nIt wasn't focused on cracking open the mountain and getting to the treasure inside, though Lindon was certain there was another one in there. It didn't even care to eradicate the people trying to escape.\n\nIt just wanted out of the suppression field. And this mountain was in its way.\n\nFirst, it had thought this mountain might be its ancient home, but along inspection had determined that not to be the case. It simply felt wrong.\n\nThis was not home. Not quite.\n\nThe Titan lifted the giant Orthos, and Lindon's stomach twisted as he realized what it was about to do. It was about to hurl Orthos at the mountain.\n\n[Deeper!] Dross shouted. [Dig deeper!]\n\nThis was the one chance Dross had seen of them driving off the Dreadgod.\n\nThe Titan abandoned targets that cost it too much energy. And Lindon could take that energy away directly, but he could only hold so much. His arm had limits, and so did he.\n\nThough he hadn't rested enough, he returned his right hand to the stony skin and once again used Consume."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the Titan's power crashed over him again, Lindon knew immediately that they weren't going to make it.\n\nThis amount of energy loss was nothing to the Titan. It was vaguely aware that there was some kind of flea draining its spirit, but it couldn't be bothered to deal with him yet. Lindon could drain its power all day, and maybe then tire the Titan enough to make it a little sleepy. But before that happened, it would have long since swatted Lindon away.\n\nAnd that was the Titan already weakened by the suppression field.\n\nDross groaned. [I was really hoping this would work. It's been in Sacred Valley along time. There were good odds.]\n\nOrthos was raised high over the Titan's head, ready to throw.\n\nWhat do we do? Lindon begged.\n\nTime slowed one more time. Distantly, Lindon was surprised that Dross still had enough power left to do this, but he didn't have time to worry.\n\n[Hey, Lindon. You wouldn't... you wouldn't throw me away, would you?]\n\nDross sounded nervous all of a sudden, and Lindon's heart dropped as he wondered what the spirit was about to propose. Am I not going to like this?\n\n[I just, well, I'm not exactly proud of this, but I've always been afraid of being thrown away. Please, just keep me around.]\n\nLindon couldn't understand why Dross was wasting madra for this conversation. I'm not throwing you away, now please help!\n\nDross let out a relieved breath. [Okay good, I just needed to hear it.]\n\nThen dream aura flooded out of him. Ina tide so expansive that Lindon wondered where it had all come from. How had Lindon not sensed vital aura this strong in Sacred Valley?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "But he had sensed it, he realized."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This was the power he'd drained from the Titan's thoughts. Lindon had left sorting those to Dross.\n\nNow, the aura flowed out, but not in a disorganized mess. It was being woven into a technique. A technique Lindon recognized.\n\nThe Fox Dream.\n\nDross blazed with madra, so much that even Lindon was surprised. The Titan paused, Orthos still struggling overhead, and Lindon added his contribution. Soulfire merged into the technique, and Lindon joined his will to Dross'.\n\nBecause of that link, he saw the vision Dross sent to the Titan.\n\nIt was nothing complicated. The Dreadgod saw eight figures hovering over Mount Samara, all Monarchs. It felt their power.\n\nAnd one more detail: the turtle in its hands had vanished.\n\nThe Titan felt no fear, only irritation and disappointment. It had thought it was about to find its ancient home, only to find a patch of nothing. Well-defended nothing, too. And there was nothing it hated more than wasting its effort.\n\nWith a slow, ponderous motion, the Titan turned.\n\nAnd walked back the way it came.\n\nIt lowered its arms, absently dropping the giant Orthos to the ground. Orthos hit and roared again, which Lindon worried would break the illusion of the Fox Dream, but the Dreadgod kept walking unaffected. From the pain through their bond, Lindon knew the turtle was still alive.\n\nAnd each earth-shaking footstep grew more and more distant.\n\nLindon fell back on his Thousand-Mile Cloud, sagging in relief.\n\n\"Dross... thank you. You saved us.\"\n\nWhen no one responded, Lindon stretched his perception into his own spirit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Dross?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Iteration 001: Sanctum\n\nIn the center of an isolation chamber buried deep beneath the sprawling megacity of Sanctum, Suriel slowly restored Makiel.\n\nHis body drifted in the center of the empty gold-walled room, runes all around glowing blue to enhance the effect of the Way. His mind was awake and active, but he gazed into the future. Trying to find away to preserve Fate.\n\nShe could have had him back on his feet in an instant, but his existence had been severely damaged. His power would suffer unless she healed him slowly and carefully.\n\nIn the meantime, she was given little choice but to contemplate the situation among the worlds.\n\nA blooming map of existence spread out in front of her at her will, a twisting nest of blue light with bright lights hanging off it like berries on a bush. The branches were the Way, the spots of light the Iterations.\n\nAll of them should be bright blue with a core of white, but too many of them were gray. Far, far too many.\n\nAs she watched, one of the lights from the cluster labeled \"Sector 12\" turned black and withered away. Iteration 129: Oasis.\n\nThe Mad King and his Scythe had finished their reaping.\n\nSuriel continued focusing on Makiel's restoration. There was one more thing she could do for the good of all existence, but first she had to wait.\n\nFinally, she felt the touch of Telariel, the Spider.\n\nHe rarely left Sanctum, but now even he was on the battlefield, retreating temporarily from a victory to connect her to all the other Judges. She caught brief glimpses of the remaining four, each engaged in battle, as Telariel wove his strands of authority to link them across time and space."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When all the Judges could hear her, Suriel spoke.\n\n\"Makiel is in recovery. We faced the Mad King and were defeated.\"\n\nShe felt the reactions of the various Judges as though they were her own. Gadrael, the Titan, was astonished that his sponsor could have failed. Razael, the Wolf, wanted to test her own sword against the Vroshir. Zerachiel, the Fox, immediately ran to an Iteration farther away from the Mad King.\n\n\"By Makiel's authorization and my own, I send the following command. All Judges, do not engage the Mad King. Abandon any world you cannot hold, and fortify those you can. The Vroshir will finish their raid, and many will die, but soon enough they will leave. We will retreat, and endure, and rebuild.\"\n\nThe Spider and the Fox immediately sent their agreement. They prioritized their own lives and those of the Abidan above all else.\n\nThe Titan was next. Any world he was in would be well-fortified indeed, and he would follow any instruction of Makiel's.\n\nThe Ghost sent no reply, but Suriel took that as agreement. The Wolf was the last to agree, frustrated that she couldn't vent her frustrations on the enemy, but she satisfied herself with the knowledge that they would strike back someday.\n\nThe Hound and the Phoenix already agreed, so the Court of Seven was in accord. Their forces would pullback and let the Vroshir rampage until the pressures of chaos forced them to retreat back to their worlds.\n\nAbidan would spread out more slowly this time, recovering surviving worlds and rebuilding others from fragments. From ten thousand worlds before Ozriel's departure, they would be reduced to... a hundred, perhaps."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even her Presence couldn't speculate on the total number of lives that would be lost. At least those taken by the Vroshir would survive, but the Mad King and his allies would capture only those who could benefit them in someway.\n\nMost would perish. And some of the worlds they lost would be vital ones.\n\nShe returned her attention to the map of the Way hovering in front of her. Sector 12 was entirely gray now, and other Sectors were darkening around it. Abidan had pulled back, leaving that region almost entirely undefended. One Sector in particular was surrounded, left entirely to the mercy of the Vroshir.\n\nSector 11.\n\nWith a heavy heart, Suriel reached out to the first world in the Sector: Iteration 110, Cradle.\n\nBefore the world was entirely closed off to the rest of the Way, she found a tiny piece of herself manifested in reality. She resonated with it, sending a message through the blue candle-flame inside.\n\nIt had to be simple. More simple impressions than words.\n\nI'm sorry, Suriel sent. Hold on.\n\nShe spared an instant of grief for the world. The Mad King, who had once been the hero Daruman, knew the significance of Cradle. He knew it was the birthplace of the original Abidan, and-perhaps more importantly to him-Ozriel's home.\n\nNow, it was at his mercy.\n\n---\n\nEithan gritted his teeth. \"Cut it off.\"\n\nYerin grabbed his hand too tightly. \"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Do it!\"\n\nWith the chime of a tiny bell, Yerin carefully used the Endless Sword. And Eithan's glorious hair fell to the floor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He gave a cry of pain, and Yerin patted him on the shoulder. \"You looked like a yellow dog that climbed out of the fireplace. Your hair was suffering, and we eased it on its way.\"\n\n\"A mirror,\" Eithan croaked. \"Bring me a mirror.\"\n\nHe could see himself through his bloodline power, now that they were hovering in the cloud fortress outside of Sacred Valley, but there was still no substitute to using your own eyes.\n\nYerin handed him his pocket mirror, holding it up for him so he didn't have to move his bandaged hands. She had left only two or three inches of hair. Barely enough to style.\n\nHe looked... well, he still looked great. A change in style could be refreshing sometimes.\n\nBut that didn't mean he wouldn't mourn the loss.\n\n\"Thank you. I just needed to seethe damage for myself.\"\n\nShe patted him again, and he could see her struggling not to make some comment about having real injuries to see to.\n\nEithan himself had a brace on his neck and all four limbs, as well as scripted bandages around his entire midsection and no less than three medicinal pills in his system. If not for the scripts, he would feel like beetles were eating him from the inside out at the moment, but at least he would be healed in a few days.\n\nBut he wasn't the only one who needed attention.\n\nMercy and Ziel were both asleep, recovering from spiritual wounds. Little Blue had seen to them both, and Mercy would wake soon. She had strained her bloodline far beyond its limits, and would have suffered worse if she hadn't left the battle once her armor broke.\n\nHer mother would be able to restore such an injury, no doubt, but then they would all be in the unenviable position of explaining to Malice why they let a Monarch's Overlady daughter face down a Dreadgod. If she recovered on her own, Malice need not be bothered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ziel had also pushed himself too far, but fortunately not beyond the restorative benefits of the Pure Storm Baptism. Eithan had performed the next stage-with his arms stiff as boards-and now Ziel slept with sparks of lightning madra playing through his spirit and over his body.\n\nOrthos was perhaps in the worst shape, and his size couldn't be reversed until he woke up and was provided with more soulfire. He hovered over a hill outside like amid-sized Dreadgod himself, drifting on green cushions of life aura guided by a script. Everyone had donated life-aspected natural treasures to the effort, and now his flesh was knitting itself together at visible speed.\n\nEven Yerin had not walked away unscathed, though she'd recovered before everyone but Lindon. Veins of bright red madra covered her body, replacing broken flesh, including a chunk of her hip. If she had to fight now, she could.\n\nInstead of mocking Eithan, Yerin stood and looked to the door. \"Scream if you need more coddling. I'm going after him.\"\n\n\"You don't think he needs sometime alone right now?\"\n\n\"Been more than a minute since he's been alone at all.\"\n\nPhysically, Lindon was fine. He was suffering some aftereffects from having Consumed too much of the Titan, but nothing he wouldn't wrestle through.\n\nLoss was harder to handle.\n\n\"Beings such as Dross don't really die,\" Eithan said. \"... except under truly extraordinary circumstances.\"\n\nThey could, however, change so drastically from damage like this that they came back with entirely different personalities. Which would not reassure Yerin, so Eithan didn't say anything.\n\nIt wasn't a guarantee, anyway. Perhaps Dross would recover and be perfectly healthy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Eithan hoped so."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He still had high hopes for Dross.\n\nYerin glanced at him as though she heard his unspoken thoughts. \"Doesn't mean he has an easy road to walk right now, does it? I'd contend he shouldn't be finding his way on his own.\"\n\n\"Nor will he have to,\" Eithan agreed, \"but sometimes you need time to yourself first.\"\n\nHer expression shifted subtly as she wrestled with herself, and Eithan could read the pain on her face. She knew he was right. She'd pushed through loss enough times herself.\n\nWhile she was working to her own conclusion. Eithan left his bed. He didn't have much control over his body, so he looked something like a turtle righting itself after landing on its shell.\n\nWhen he finally stood stiffly on two thoroughly bandaged legs, he congratulated himself on the victory.\n\n\"Doesn't count as alone if you pop out of the bushes,\" she pointed out.\n\n\"I can lurk without popping out. Besides, I'm not going to Lindon.\"\n\nYerin radiated such obvious skepticism that he thought he could see it in the vital aura.\n\n\"Lindon isn't the only person in the world. I do sneak upon others occasionally.\"\n\nShe gave his legs a pointed look. \"You won't be sneaking upon a deaf brick.\"\n\n\"Ah, but you underestimate my legendary grace and agility.\" Eithan hobbled across the ground, his every step clattering on the floor until it sounded like the return of the Wandering Titan.\n\nHe paused at the door. He had used up his soulfire to heal himself and perform the Baptism on Ziel.\n\n\"Would you mind helping me with the door, please?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Without a word, Yerin pushed it open.\n\n---\n\nSomehow, Jai Chen found herself leading a procession of several hundred sacred artists. Most were much older, and none had any idea who she was.\n\nShe led by virtue of being the strongest sacred artist present, and because Mercy had told everyone to listen to her. They had been about two hundred strong then, but the last time Jai Chen extended her detection web, she'd counted almost twice that.\n\nMercy had also left her with a medicinal pill for her brother, and now it slowly revolved in his spirit, but he still hadn't woken up.\n\nJai Chen hauled Jai Long behind herself on a stretcher that lay on a hovering construct. She'd been lucky to find that platform; at first, she had been dragging him over the uneven terrain, which couldn't have been good for his recovery.\n\nThe further they pushed into the black trees, the more dreadbeasts they'd encountered. Most wouldn't bother a group of their size, but some seemed to have no sense of self-preservation at all.\n\nFingerling flew around her, staying alert for more, even though he was at least as exhausted as she was. He sagged in midair, and his eyes regularly fluttered closed, but he kept shaking himself awake.\n\nNow that the Dreadgod was gone, Jai Chen could turn back west again, but she didn't want to go back to Sacred Valley in that condition. Nor did anyone else who followed her, it seemed.\n\nThey had a plan for the Wilds, so she was clinging to it like a life raft.\n\nBut the plan let her down at the first step.\n\nShe called out a warning as she felt more sacred artists approaching, but when they emerged, she was the one to panic."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The forty or fifty sacred artists coming out of the trees wore blue, carried spears, and their hair was stiff and shiny as metal. The Jai clan.\n\nJai Chen and her brother had wondered about this. With the clan being pushed out of the Blackflame Empire proper, it was possible that they would look for places to settle on the border of the Empire. Places that weren't really under Imperial supervision at all. Like the Desolate Wilds.\n\nA woman with glistening black hair stepped up, her spearhead shining like a white star. \"I am Jai Hara, of the Jai clan. Name yourselves.\"\n\nThere was deathly silence from the Sacred Valley side as everyone waited for Jai Chen to speak. Even Fingerling turned to her.\n\nShe shoved the panic down into her stomach. These people wouldn't know who she was. They couldn't recognize her; she wasn't wearing anything that marked her as having once been part of their clan, and she didn't have their Goldsign. Or any Goldsign at all, as she was still Jade.\n\nThey couldn't know, but she still trembled at the thought that they would figure it out.\n\n\"We came from the west,\" Jai Chen called, and she didn't like how her voice shook. \"We're fleeing the Dreadgod. We just want a place to stay fora while. I... we have friends in the Sandvipers. Or the Purelakes. Are they still here?\"\n\nJai Hara's face was as stiff as her hair. \"We have barely enough for ourselves, but if you will tell us which experts you represent, we will know whereto send our apologies.\"\n\nJai Chen's sense of danger spiked. They wanted to know if she was backed by anyone to know if she could be pushed around or not. If she said they were hereon their own, they might even attack."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At first, she thought to say the Arelius family, since she could prove that relatively easily. But that would only ensure they attacked; it had been the Arelius family that had pushed the Jai clan out of the Empire.\n\nNext, she considered the Akura clan, but she really had no idea who they were. Important, she gathered, but what if they were even worse enemies to the Jai clan?\n\nOther than an outright, outrageous lie, she only had one idea left.\n\n\"We were sent hereby the Sage of Twin Stars,\" Jai Chen said.\n\nThere were enough gasps and mutters from the dozens of sacred artists behind Jai Hara that she knew she'd said the right thing.\n\n\"A Sage?\" Jai Hara repeated in astonishment. \"So you're the... honorable Twin Star sect?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Jai Chen said immediately. \"That's us.\"\n\nShe had spent enough years in the Desolate Wilds to know that Sages were only legends here, but they were legends widely told. She herself didn't understand how Lindon could possibly be a Sage-he had felt like an Underlord to her, and he hadn't acted with the aloof air of an expert she had always imagined from Sages-but as long as he could technically claim the title, she could use it.\n\nJai Hara had started conferring with someone behind her, so Jai Chen kept talking. \"The Sage himself is close by. He was fighting the Dreadgod, but the valley to the west was destroyed. So we needed to find shelter for ourselves. Before the Sage comes to get us.\"\n\nShe was explaining too much, so she clapped her mouth shut before she dug herself a hole she couldn't dig out of."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jai Chen really wished her brother was awake.\n\nJai Hara straightened herself up. \"We have, of course, heard tales of the Twin Star Sage's heroism.\"\n\nNo, they hadn't. Jai Chen would have been shocked if Hara had heard the name before now.\n\nBut this was the kind of harmless lie that might soothe the ego of an expert and prevent enmity. Jai Chen understood.\n\n\"It is no surprise to us that the honorable Sage has come to defend us from the Dreadgod,\" Jai Hara continued, \"but who is that?\"\n\nShe pointed behind Jai Chen's shoulder.\n\nWith a jolt, Jai Chen realized that she hadn't paid attention to her spiritual sense. She was exhausted, but that was no excuse fora lack of vigilance.\n\nEithan Arelius drifted up, looking like he'd floated straight out of a healer's tent. He was sprawled belly-down on a white Thousand-Mile Cloud, wrapped entirely in bandages. His limbs all looked completely stiff, and his hair had been cut short and sweptback.\n\nHe reached into a hole in the air, from which he pulled along gray length of cloth. \"I am here as another representative of the Twin Star sect. Let our banner stream behind us!\"\n\nEithan let the cloth catch the wind, where it billowed out to display an unbroken stretch of gray. The banner was blank.\n\nJai Chen didn't want to say anything, but Eithan saw the look on her face and sighed. \"You didn't give me time to get it sewn yet, but imagine how amazed you would have been if I did have a banner ready. Pretend that's what happened.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A cry had gone up from those of the Jai clan who had extended their spiritual senses."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Underlord!\"\n\nTenor fifteen went down to their knees immediately.\n\nBut not most of them.\n\nEithan responded to their calls with a cheery smile. \"Close enough!\"\n\n\"They're going to recognize you,\" Jai Chen said, her voice low.\n\nMost of the Jai remained standing, and they were not happy. Jai Hara herself spat at the foot of Eithan's cloud. \"We know who you are. There's only one Arelius Underlord.\"\n\n\"That is not actually correct, but I do not represent my family. They make their own decisions.\" Some of the standing Jai clan glanced to one another.\n\n\"I embrace my true identity,\" Eithan continued. \"Personal acolyte to the Sage of Twin Stars himself, and one of the founding members of the Twin Star sect.\"\n\nHe strained himself to hold the banner higher, despite the thick wrapping around his hands.\n\nThere was some fierce debate among the dozens of Jai artists in the back, but after a moment of struggle, Jai Hara begrudgingly lowered her head. \"We don't have food to share, but you can rest behind our lines until the Sage comes.\"\n\nAs their crowd from Sacred Valley was ushered into the Wilds, Jai Chen whispered to Eithan. \"Thank you. We just need a place to recover fora while, and then we won't impose on your hospitality anymore.\"\n\nEithan was lying face-down, his banner missing. Either the effort of holding it up had exhausted him, or he hadn't wanted to stay in such a strange position for any longer.\n\nNow, however, the Archlord spoke straight into his cushion of dense cloud madra. \"Impose? No, I simply ask that you give me a few days to prepare better accommodations than this. I couldn't let our new sect die out in the cold.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jai Chen didn't know how to respond. On the one hand, having a sect backing them would solve most of their problems. She yearned to stop running and hiding, to settle down somewhere.\n\nOn the other hand, there was no Twin Star sect.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Archlord, but the sect... I was just-\"\n\n\"Making it up? Every organization in history has been made up by someone.\"\n\n\"We don't have-\"\n\n\"A headquarters? There has been quite a bit of real estate around here leveled in a recent disaster. You may have heard about it.\"\n\n\"My brother-\"\n\n\"I'm not just looking for your brother.\" His head lolled to one side, and he looked at her with a single blue eye. \"From you, Jai Chen, with no pressure from me, I would like to know: if we could provide you with a home, would you want one?\"\n\nShe hesitated.\n\n\"No commitment,\" he assured her, \"and pending your brother's approval. You could both walkaway if and when you wanted.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she admitted. \"But it's hard for me to believe it isn't a trap.\"\n\nShe flinched as she said it. He was an Archlord, and she was doubting his given word.\n\nHe let out a breath of relief. \"Fantastic! It actually isn't a trap this time; I just need someone who knows real sacred arts to sort through all these Irons to find some who might actually be worth teaching. It so happens that I have recently come into possession of a plot of flying farmland with plenty of sacred herbs and spirit-fruits to support the development of a small sect. So I appreciate you founding one.\"\n\nEithan dipped his head in what was probably supposed to be a bow. It was really just him pushing his face deeper into the cloud."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Despite her misgivings, Jai Chen giggled.\n\n---\n\nNorthstrider crossed his legs and closed his eyes in midair, catching his breath and slowly recovering his spirit.\n\nThe clouds below him were torn apart, the landscape devastated for miles. An abandoned fortress had been reduced to rubble, there was now a bay where once had been uninterrupted coastline, and one small mountain had been leveled while another one had burst into its place.\n\n\"I'll have to have my maps re-drawn,\" Malice said with a sigh.\n\nShe drifted up next to him out of a cloud of violet essence. Her dissolving armor lit up the sky, but it was nothing compared to the red light that retreated north.\n\nThe Bleeding Phoenix, flying into the Trackless Sea.\n\nNot fleeing.\n\n[Behavioral deviation detected in the Bleeding Phoenix,] his oracle reported. [It acts according to unknown purpose.]\n\nNorthstrider didn't need the reminder. They both knew they hadn't driven it off; it was flying somewhere with intention.\n\n\"Do you think it's feeding to regain its power?\" Malice asked.\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Oooh, I know how much you love that.\" She was smirking, he was sure, but she had always valued useless conversation. He continued cycling, seeing to his spirit, categorizing how much strength the battle with the Phoenix had cost him and how long it would take to recover.\n\n\"He did this,\" Malice said at last.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nIt would be no mystery among the Monarchs who was responsible for the strange actions of the Phoenix. Only one among them even claimed to have any influence over the Dreadgods.\n\n\"He has gone too far,\" she said, and now he could feel her cold anger bleeding out into the world around her. \"He's toying with forces that could be the ruin of all of us. What could he possibly expect to gain from this?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Northstrider opened his eyes. \"I will know soon.\"\n\n---\n\nWearing more veils than he ever had in his life, Reigan Shen shoved his way through collapsed houses and upturned trees. He was still in his human body, and he was both sweating and breathing heavily.\n\nHe felt as weak as an Iron. It was like wearing a suit so tight that it had burrowed into his skin.\n\nEven so, he wasn't doing the work himself. He maybe a sacred beast, but he wasn't an animal.\n\nJade-level constructs pushed beams aside, dispersed soil, and lifted boulders so he could pass. More scoured the area, clearing the entrance.\n\nIt had taken him hours to reach this point, and finally the starting point was within reach. The last chunk of masonry rolled away, revealing a towering stone door. It was carved with the image of a gaunt, sunken human with many grasping hands, its eyes hollow and mouth open unnaturally wide.\n\nThis was Subject One, at least as he had appeared long ago. A Dreadgod, though few knew that. The man who had become warped by hunger aura. The origin of their bloodline.\n\nShen's willpower was veiled, but still powerful. He commanded the door to open, and it obeyed.\n\nWith great ceremony and a hissing release of power, the Nethergate swung open.\n\nInside, a wood-paneled hallway was lit with flickering scripts. Finally, Reigan Shen had gained the wish he'd dreamed of ever since Tiberian's death: entrance to the western labyrinth.\n\nOnly the shallowest layer, to be certain. The bulk of the work was still left to be done, and the depths of the labyrinth would surely be locked down tight. Fortunately, he had the key."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Reigan Shen strode into the tunnel, on his way to retrieve his new weapon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With his Remnant arm in a scripted sling, Lindon faced the Ancestor's Tomb. It had come through the Wandering Titan's attack more or less intact.\n\nPart of its roof had caved in, one pillar was cracked, and it was covered with debris like a small town had dumped its garbage allover it.\n\nBut Heaven's Glory must have done their job well when they rebuilt it, because the Tomb still stood.\n\nThere were no security measures left around it, all of them having been destroyed either by the trembling earth or roaring winds, so he walked through the front doors of the Tomb easily.\n\nOnce he stood inside the open temple-like room, he faced down the sealed door at the other end. A mural of the four Dreadgods covered the entrance.\n\nLindon had learned many things from the Wandering Titan's memories. Too many things, he would say; it was impossible to process all the impressions, instincts, and thoughts. Dross had been going through them, but even for him, it was difficult to separate what had come from the Titan and what from Lindon's own mind.\n\nStill, a few themes were clear. One was that the Titan had detected its goal here. The one meal it needed. The source of hunger madra.\n\nWhen it had arrived and felt nothing more of the sort, the Dreadgod had assumed it wasn't here. Like a dog chasing after a stick, only to never find it.\n\nBut Lindon had more than a few reasons to suspect the Dreadgod's prize was still here. Just locked away. Buried.\n\nBesides, Lindon's arm had been strained and cracked by absorbing so much of the Titan's power. He needed more weapons of hunger madra if he wanted to rebuild it. And improve it. Scavenging from dreadbeasts wouldn't hold him forever."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He had to pick his way across afield of debris as he crossed the room; evidently some people had used the Tomb as shelter during the Dreadgod's attack."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As it had been before, the inside of the Ancestor's Tomb was just a wide-open space lined with pillars.\n\nAt the end of the room stood an ornate door, sealed shut. The entrance was undamaged by the previous collapse of the building, which didn't surprise him. If it was part of the labyrinth below, it had to be made of stronger stuff.\n\nLindon had been reaching out for the door already, silence filling his mind where Dross' chatter belonged, but he stopped as he noticed something.\n\nThe door had no mechanism to open it and no clear script-circle, which meant he would have to use his authority to open it, but that wasn't what had seized his attention. It was a trace of someone else's authority over to the side of the hall, a little to the side of the door.\n\nAn indentation in space. Like an invisible bump.\n\nLindon's alarm went up immediately. Someone had torn space here, and if it wasn't him...\n\nHe should call for help in case there was something deadly on the other side. Dross could have done that.\n\nThe spirit wasn't gone. Not quite. He drifted in Lindon's soul, right around the base of his skull as usual, but Lindon didn't see details. His eye, his boneless arms. Instead, Dross felt like a loose cloud of dream madra. Like a two-dimensional copy of his former self.\n\nEithan insisted that it was possible to bring Dross back, but Lindon understood the nature of spirits. If Dross returned, there was no guarantee that he'd be himself anymore.\n\nLindon shook himself free. Dross wasn't here, but some of his passive enhancements to Lindon's mind remained."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He focused on the bump in space. It didn't feel like a tunnel to him, or a trap. It felt like a sealed void key more than a tunnel somewhere else in the world.\n\nThough he supposed there could be anything inside the void key.\n\nHe stretched out a tongue of Blackflame, infusing it with his authority and using it to slice through space. It was much easier than when he had tried the same thing with only his will; when he commanded the world to'Open,\" he cut through the barrier separating the spaces almost without resistance.\n\nAs soon as a doorway in midair unfurled, opening onto a huge room cluttered with various objects, he noticed two things more than any others: the art and the swords.\n\nThis room actually had walls, and on those walls hung brightly colored tapestries, long black-and-white landscapes painted on scrolls, framed portraits, even decorative lights and constructs of slithering color that were clearly designed only for decoration.\n\nBetween the paintings were swords. Some were elaborate and ancient, shining with power, while others were dull, pitted, or rusty. Some were just hilts, their madra blades having faded away to essence, and still others had Forged blades that were perfectly preserved.\n\nA scripted cauldron sat cold in the corner, next to buckets, boxes, bags, and bundles of herbs, spirit-fruits, pills, and elixirs. Next to it was a rack of sacred artist's robes, all black, many of them nicked and cut.\n\nLindon's stomach twisted.\n\nHe noticed the second rack, filled with more black robes, all of them shredded as though by errant sword-slices.\n\nAnd the rack of cycling swords next to them, all radiating sharp aura."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This had to be the Sword Sage's private storage space. It was the only thing that made sense.\n\nBut that was impossible.\n\n\"It can't be his,\" Lindon said aloud. \"It's too old. The world would have healed up the entrance by now, and I would never have found it.\"\n\nWhen no one responded, Lindon turned slightly over his shoulder.\n\n\"I'm talking to you.\"\n\nAn onyx statue of a curled-up panther sat next to the entrance, where there had been nothing a moment before. To be fair, the illusion was convincing, even to Lindon. But he had senses the inhabitants of Sacred Valley couldn't fool.\n\nThat, and Lindon had felt the Path of the White Fox following him before he opened the portal.\n\nThe onyx panther uncurled itself, its tail spreading out into five copies. The tails flexed out as the cat stretched, opening its jaws wide in a yawn, and as it did so it grew taller. Its snout extended, and its smooth surface melted to gray and then to a coat of white fur.\n\n\"You have traveled far down your Path, child,\" Elder Whisper murmured.\n\n\"So have you, I see. And you have kept that to yourself.\"\n\nHe did not hide the tone of accusation in his voice.\n\nElder Whisper prowled around Lindon. \"I did not deceive anyone. At first, we taught our descendants to focus on one technique at a time as an adaptation to the suppression field. But memory fades so quickly, and time is the greatest liar of all.\"\n\n\"If you had the power to open this space, you could have helped us fight the Dreadgod.\"\n\n\"To face one of the four beasts with illusions is to face down a lion with a spider's web.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elder Whisper kept an illusion of himself standing still and talking as his real form crept out beneath a cloak of invisibility.\n\nLindon traced the invisible one with his eyes. \"That's how we beat it.\"\n\n\"When you lose what you fought to defend, and your opponent leaves you alive out of mercy, is that victory?\" Elder Whisper sighed and let his illusions drop. \"Perhaps it is. In any case, any victory against one of them is temporary. That is why I preserved this place.\"\n\nLindon swept his gaze over the isolated space. \"Why didn't you take what you needed and leave it closed?\"\n\n\"While I can visit Heaven's Glory unseen whenever I wish, it would be quite another matter if I were to drag a trunk behind me in my teeth. And the ability to open these spaces is quite separate from the power to create one of my own. In that, you have me outmatched.\n\n\"Sages avoid these lands. The last one to visit, the man who left this space, was asking forbidden questions. Which is the best way to find forbidden answers.\"\n\nA purple-and-white flame kindled over a cylinder tucked away in the corner.\n\nIt was about as high and broad as Lindon's waist, and made of dull bronze metal. Scripts wrapped around the cylinder, and it took Lindon a moment to analyze them.\n\nWhen he activated the scripts in the correct sequence, the cylinder fell away, revealing a tall rectangular box beneath. This one, he had to cut through with Blackflame.\n\nFinally, a cube about the size of his head rested in the third layer. It throbbed and pulsed, and Lindon recognized the taste of the madra inside.\n\nAshe recognized the symbol on the top: the moon crest of the Arelius clan."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Sage brought this to our lands,\" Elder Whisper continued, \"a tool granted to him by a Monarch. A key to the prison at the depths of the labyrinth. But he was not capable of delving deeply enough.\"\n\nLindon's will was enough to open the box. It wasn't made to keep people out so much as to keep something in.\n\nIf it was what Lindon suspected, he needed to be fast.\n\nThe box opened to reveal a shriveled, mummified, chalk-white left hand.\n\nAppetites Lindon had absorbed from the Wandering Titan burned to life, and he longed to consume the hand whole, to tear it apart with his teeth and let it satisfy his stomach and his soul.\n\nHe slammed the box shut again. \"We can't open this,\" Lindon said firmly. \"It will drag the Titan straight back.\"\n\nElder Whisper sat on his haunches, tails waving smoothly behind him. \"Wei Shi Lindon. Would you like to know how to kill the Dreadgods?\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help keep the tale going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, grimdark, assassins\nAuthor: Matthew Woodring Stover\nTitle: Caine Black Knife\nChapter: 23"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well, sure,\" the other Saud said, shaking his head at me like I was a goddamn idiot, which was exactly how I felt."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You think our parents would let us do this if we could actually get hurt? I mean, check it out-\" He lifted his loincloth to show a ragged stump where the Smoke Hunter's cock had been severed at the root. \"We can't even fuck. What are we supposed to do except kill people?\"\n\n\"I never killed anybody just for fun-\"\n\n\"No, you killed \"em for our fun.\" Bush's smirk was almost identical to Packard's. \"You were good at it too. The best. You know you're still in the Top Ten? Sure, the Studio hasn't released anything fresh from anybody in about forever now, but you'd probably hang in there even against the new guys, they're such pussies-\"\n\n\"Shut up. Everybody fucking shut up a minute.\"\n\nI was not going to have this argument with goddamn Leisure brats who were playing at being Black Knives in a virtual sonofabitching game.\n\nEspecially since this was an argument I'd lose.\n\nI came to Overworld-became an Actor in the first place-to taste the kind of power I could never have on Earth. Sure, wealth. Sure, fame. Adulation, and even some political influence. But all that was just perks, y'know? The real prize was power: to ignore the laws that circumscribe the lives of Earth'undercastes. To live without law altogether. To bow to no law except my own will. But that's more abstract than it really was; when you get right to the bone, it was about being a god.\n\nTo kill without consequence.\n\nIt's never been a mystery tome that I'm more than a little crazy. It's also never been a mystery that if I hadn't been an Actor, I'd have died in prison. So I got myself to a place where bloodlust is power, and casual murder is the point of the game."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Same as them.\n\nThey were starting out from a place of power already, that's all. They get to have everything I busted ass for without putting their butts on the line.\n\nBut y'know, my butt was never all that much on the line either. Half the scars I carry are from wounds that should have killed or crippled me-would have killed or crippled anyone who's not an Actor. Unlimited access to the most cutting-edge medical treatment in the world, plus the occasional use of flat-out magick: the best health plan in the history of both universes.\n\nSo what's the difference between me and them? The real difference? They were in it for fun. I got paid. That's about it.\n\nIt's an old joke at the Studio Conservatory, and not a funny one: If you kill for money, you're a soldier. If you kill for fun, you're a psychopath. If you kill for money and for fun, you're an Actor.\n\nDizhrati golzinn motherfucking ekk.\n\nMy headache thundered in my ears. \"You said you had a mission objective.\"\n\n\"Sure.\" Bush swung his talons toward the Pratt& Redhorn. \"It's a sander. On that hotel.\"\n\n\"Sander?\"\n\n\"Search and destroy. Nobody left alive. And we burn the place down. Five hundred points. Fuck, don't you know anything?\"\n\n\"I know somethings.\"\n\nSearch and destroy. I would have vanished without a trace-missing, presumed dead in the fire.... This Faller character was going about things in a very organized way. Looked like he always did. He had a setup twice as nifty as the Khryllian trick of using grill hostages as draft animals. Ten times as nifty."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Let's say you're an Overworld Company goon trapped hereon Assumption Day, and you want to get home. If you know enough folklore, you know about the dillin, and you might even remember the references in my dad's book, Tales of the First Folk, where he suggested that the Quiet Land-the place the dillin are supposed to lead to-might be Earth. You might also remember cubing Retreat from the Boedecken and the story behind the Tear of Pan chasell, and when you get to Purthin's Ford, you start mining griffinstones. But not for money.\n\nFor power.\n\nAnd when you find out about this Smoke Hunt business-that some enterprising ogrilloi have managed to find away to tap into the Outside Power that was both the dil T'llan and the onetime God of the Black Knives-you discover that animating the Smoke Hunters draws enough energy off the Outside Power that you can force open the dil.\n\nWelland good. You can get to Earth. But you don't go to Earth... because you're smart enough to know you're sitting on the only working gate between Earth and Home.\n\nI discovered that I was kind of looking forward to meeting this fucker.\n\nI squinted past them at the bloody corpse of Calm Guy on the boardwalk, then up over the skyline of the hostelry's roof. \"I know somethings,\" I repeated. \"I know you fuckers aren't going in there. And you're not gonna burn it down, either.\"\n\n\"Aw, come on,\" one of them-I think it was the Windsor, but it was dark, and really, when you come right down to it all dead grills look pretty much alike tome-said, \"You're gonna cost us the game-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A little over five minutes ago I killed three men to protect that place. Three real men, who really died.\" I looked deep into the Windsor's piss-yellow eyes. \"What do you think I'll do to you?\"\n\nThe Windsor blinked. \"Whoa-for real? Would you really? I mean, that'd be so fucking cool-way better than an autograph!\"\n\n\"I'll torture the fuck out of you, if it makes you happy. Just don't burn my shit.\"\n\nBush sniggered. \"What, were you in there? We could have killed you? Hot fuck, how awesome would that be? To be the guys who killed Caine?\"\n\nPackard nodded slowly. \"Y'know...\" He looked around at the others. \"We still could...\"\n\n\"Settle down-\"\n\nBush looked suddenly thoughtful. \"All you've got is that gun, right?\"\n\nI said, \"Let me explain,\" and put a tristack into his kneecap.\n\nThe impact spun him, and when he tried to catch himself, his leg bent backward and folded in half and toppled him sideways, because the shatter-slugs had chopped his knee joint into ogrillo scrapple.\n\n\"Hey...\" he said, aggrieved. \"Hey, come on. What'd you do that for?\"\n\nI hefted the Automag. \"Anybody else?\"\n\n\"This sucks,\" Bush said as he struggled to get back to his feet. Er, foot. \"I haven't got to kill anybody yet!\"\n\n\"Cry me a fucking river.\" I shrugged down at the ogrillo body he was wearing. \"You should be grateful. Other people who make that mistake with me don't live through it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It was Packard's idea-why don't you shoot his leg off?\"\n\n\"And it's still a good one,\" Packard said. \"Everybody spread out. When he opens fire on me, rush him. I don't know how many points he's worth, but who gives a shit? This is Caine. How cool are we?\"\n\n\"Sure, ice cold, you are.\" I took a step backward into the alley. If I could get deep enough, I could enfilade them as they came at me. Which wouldn't likely be enough to save my life, but I didn't have any better ideas.\n\nA slight noise from behind me in the alley-a metallic rustle, like a sleepy silver rattlesnake-and I risked a quick glance over my shoulder in time to seethe shadows transform into a straight, severe man in straight, severe armor, plain and functional except for the golden Sunburst upon the open electrum Palm on the breast of the cuirass, and I said, \"Holy crap-I never thought I'd be saying this, but I am really glad to see you right now-\"\n\nMarkham, Lord Tarkanen, replied simply, \"Pynhall.\" He was faster than Tyrkilld.\n\nI never saw it coming."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "THE CAINE WAY\n\nRETREAT FROM THE BOEDECKEN (partial)\n\nYou are CAINE (featured Actor: Pfnl. Hari Michaelson)\n\nMASTER: NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION, UNDER PENALTY OF LAW.\n\n© 2187 Adventures Unlimited Inc. All rights reserved.\n\n\"Ti zarre-!\" I hiss as loud as I dare. \"Tizarre, goddammit...\"\n\nThe next flare of summer lightning shows only the back of her neck and the strings of her mouse-brown hair. She hasn't moved. Not even a twitch from her limp-fingered hands, corpse-pale above the knotted rope that holds her arms and head and shoulders above the half-liquid muck of rotting flesh and marrow-sucked bones, scraps of unidentifiable vegetables, old puke and softening turds. \"\n\nWhile the rumble of thunder rolls past the camp, I scratch up a fistful of sand and gravel. No point in calling anymore; any louder and it might not matter how good my improvised ghillie suit is. Some alert Black Knife buck might start to wonder why a pile of scrub and rock near the edge of the slop pit is suddenly stage-whispering in a human voice.\n\nPretty soon somebody's gonna notice there's one too many piles anyway.\n\nI push my fist out from under the ghillie's rope fringe and drop some gravel into the the slop pit's darkness. Onto my best guess at the back of her neck. \"Tizarre-!\"\n\nThe night gives me along, cold wait for the next flash of lightning. If she's dead, I'm completely fucked. I can't do this without her. Maybe I can still run. Maybe. Maybe if I hadn't taken out so many pickets and gotten the fuckers thousand-amped about their perimeter, I would have had a shot."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Goddamn you worthless weak fucking whiny sack of shit whore, you better not be-\n\nWhen the lightning finally comes, it shows my fondest hope: a flicker of white above the slop pit's muck: one of Tizarre's eyes, turned up toward the ragged rim of night sky.\n\n\"Who... z'there?\" Her voice is as dead as her hands. \"How d'you know m'name?\"\n\n\"Keep it down, for fuck's sake,\" I hiss at her. \"It's Caine. We need to-\"\n\n\"Caine?\" Blank and dull. Not even a spark. \"How-?\"\n\n\"Never mind that. We need to get you out of there.\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Tizarre?\"\n\n\"I-don't, Caine. I can't. Don't make me. Just let me die.\"\n\nNot fucking likely. \"Don't quit on me now, Tizarre. Not now. I need you. Marade needs you.\"\n\nA whisper from the darkness: \"I can't... feel my legs, Caine. I can't feel anything. They... they cut me before they hung me inhere.... Storm's coming. I can end it. I can drown...\"\n\nHuh. If she wanted to drown in other people's shit, she could've just stayed home.\n\n\"I can help you. I found stuff, Tizarre-\"\n\nFuck it anyway. \"Stuff from home, Tizarre.\"\n\nAnother flash of summer lightning.\n\nBoth her eyes are open now. \"Home?\"\n\n\"Yeah. I've been home. You get it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Marade-before they took her, she said-she said you promised-if they took you home-\"\n\n\"Yeah, I promised.\"\n\nI let the thunder roll past before I goon.\n\nPeople who have moral qualms with bald fucking lies don't become Eso-terics in the first place. What I am about to say won't give me the slightest twinge.\n\n\"And here I am. I came back for her. I came back for you. Because she'll never leave you behind.\"\n\nAnother flash-and her eyes are wide now, and they seem to hold the light. Her voice is still a whisper, but its hush is no longer lifeless. \"You-you came back here-to save us...\"\n\n\"I can't do it alone, Tizarre. I need you. We can save Marade.\"\n\nThunder rolls by. Louder.\n\nSome god sounds angry.\n\n\"We can save everybody.\"\n\nThe next flash of lightning gives me the answer on her filth-crusted face, and that answer gives me a brief sick twist just below my heart.\n\nMaybe I was lying about that not the slightest twinge part, too.\n\n>> scanning fwd>>\n\nThe thunder crashes before the flare of lightning fades, and the cloudburst roar almost covers her half-strangled snarls as her hands twitch and shudder and spasm themselves back to life.\n\n\"... nahh... shit-\" The rain erases any tears before they reach her cheeks. The cords bulging from her jaw to her collarbone pickup faerie-fire highlights from the faint blue glow of the gluey mud that packs the bandages on her legs. \"Never thought I'd be happy to hurt this bad...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I shrug at her from the doorway."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Pain's just God's way of reminding you you're alive.\"\n\n\"Then... gahhh... maybe I need a kinder god...\"\n\n\"We all do.\" I come out of my squat. \"That's enough. Get too clean, you'll smell human again.\"\n\n\"All right.\" She nods and wipes a smear of snot from her nose onto the back of one shaky forearm. \"All right, help me in.\"\n\nI pull her back into the dry and settle her against a wall while I smear her bare feet with one of the last of the glands.\n\n\"What are you doing?\"\n\n\"They can still track us if they try hard enough, but this way we at least won't draw their noses unless they already know we're here.\"\n\n\"Those are-\"\n\n\"Scent glands. Grills carry them under their jaws, in the palms of their hands and the soles of their feet. A subtler way of marking territory than just pissing around.\"\n\n\"You-cut them out? Out of their-\"\n\n\"What do you think keeps me ahead of these fuckers? Good looks and charm? Come on.\" I pick her up, sling her arm over my shoulder, and half carry her into the winding dark.\n\n\"Where are we going?\"\n\nThe one safe place in the entire fucking Boedecken. \"Somewhere you can't get to until you've already been there.\"\n\nDeep into the black. I count steps, listening for rainfall ahead, landmarks where the ceilings have caved in. Up and up, and up some more, and she's gasping against my shoulder. \"How do you-don't they search?\"\n\n\"Not on foot. Not anymore.\" Her weight turns my chuckle into a grunt. \"I guess they decided that's a bad idea.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But-magick? They have magick-\"\n\n\"It's not-\" Shit, she's getting heavier. \"-thaumaturgy. It's theurgy. They have to petition their god for power.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"So I killed their high fucking priestess. The big bitch with the headdress of black feathers.\"\n\n\"You-how could you possibly-?\"\n\n\"Easier than you think. You could say it was luck, but I don't think so.\"\n\nNow I do manage a low laugh. Areal one, dark as the storm outside. \"I'm pretty sure their god's on my side.\"\n\n>> scanning fwd>>\n\nShe huddles against the dust-dry rock, arms crossed over her breasts, dripping dirty rain into the sand. The rose-pale glow from the Tear puts a blush on her bare skin that could make her look healthy, if not for the shivering, if not for the pain and bleak horror in her eyes.\n\n\"It was really here,\" she keeps murmuring while I dig through the pile of old bones and armor and weapons and shit fora tunic and pants and boots. \"It was really here, all this time...\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"And we never would have found it.\"\n\n\"Yeah. That's the magick on it. If I'd been looking for it, I couldn't have found it either.\"\n\nHer eyes are wide. I wish it could be wonder. \"This is... all this gear... it's from home?\"\n\n\"Nah.\" I give her an apologetic shake of the head. \"That was... well, this is mostly shit I found here. We're not the first people in the last thousand years to come hunting the Tear. Some of them died here for reasons other than Black Knives.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But-\"\n\n\"And some of it's our shit. Some of it's stuff I took off Black Knives this past day. They were carrying useful things besides their scent-mark glands.\"\n\nAwe wipes the pain-twist from her face. \"You're the skinwalker.\"\n\n\"The what?\"\n\n\"A monster-a shapeshifter-kind of the ogrillo boogeyman.\" She smears wet hair back from her eyes. \"I heard them talking about it-about you-\"\n\n\"You understand them? You speak their language?\"\n\n\"No, nothing like that-it's magick, kind of a limited telepathy-just something I'd do when they'd be close enough to hear-to, to take my mind off-\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"They said you'd gotten off the scaffold, but-they said you were dead. You had to be. Some of the bucks were saying a skinwalker's stalking the camp-it can walk through walls, turn invisible, read minds, and it can look like anyone it kills-it takes their skins and wears them, and it becomes them on the outside, but inside it's a monster...\"\n\n\"A skinwalker.\" Huh. I like it. Must be why they stopped stalking me-a little superstitious terror goes along way. And there I was, skinning the bastards only because it makes the bodies look like hell on a stick.\n\nJust lucky, I guess.\n\n\"Yeah.\" I flex my hands. I like the way they feel. \"Yeah, that was me.\"\n\n\"But you-you have been home, though? You're going to take us home-you said... you said you'd take us...\"\n\n\"I said what I had to say to get you out of that fucking pit.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Air squeezes from her chest. \"You...\"\n\n\"I need you alive and fighting, Tizarre. I've got shit here that can clean out your infections and give you back some strength. I've got food and weapons and some armor and some magick stuff that I'm not even sure what it is. But none of it would've done you any good down there. None of it'll do you any good up here if you're not game to use it.\"\n\n\"I...\" She wraps her arms over her tiny breasts and can't look at me. \"Down... down in that hole...\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" I squat next to her and lay the tunic over her chest. \"I'm not gonna pretend to know what it was like for you down there. But I went through some shit these last few days myself, y'know?\"\n\nHer fingers are working well enough to grasp the tunic and draw it around her like a blanket. \"Yes. Yes, I know. But you-you were always strong...\"\n\n\"Nah. Just dirt mean.\"\n\nNow she can look at me again. Now I can seethe tears.\n\n\"This is what I figure,\" I tell her. \"I've been through some shit before this, too. Nothing this bad. Nothing as bad as what they did to you. Nothing as bad as what they're doing to Marade right now.\"\n\n\"Marade...\" she echoes, hollow and distant and sad. \"What are they doing to her?\"\n\n\"It's... bad. Worse than what they did tome. Worse than what they did to you.\"\n\n\"Oh... oh, gods.\" Fresh tears now. \"Oh, gods, I can't stand it...\"\n\n\"She can.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mouse-brown brows draw together.\n\n\"That's the thing about Khryllians. That's the gift of Khryl. It's a rough fucking gift, but it's there. She can survive anything except giving up.\"\n\n\"She won't. She'll never give up-\"\n\n\"She will when she finds out you're dead.\"\n\n\"Oh...\" Her eyes widen again, and her mouth goes slack. \"But, but I'm-\"\n\n\"That's why you have to pull your shit together. Now. When this storm stops and they look into that slop pit and all they see above the surface is that pair of dead arms I hung in that rope-\"\n\nHer shaking's getting worse.\n\n\"I can't do it for you, Tizarre. It's your power. You're the thaumaturge. You can do Cloak. You can walk right into the middle of that fucking camp.\"\n\n\"You-you want me to-go back in there-?\"\n\n\"You have to.\"\n\n\"I-can't. Caine, I can't-\"\n\n\"You can. That's the thing. That's what I'm trying to get through to you. You're stronger than you think you are. I've seen other people go through shit. Some of it worse than this. I know something about how people survive. How people live with it. It's not complicated. It's just hard, that's all.\"\n\n\"Hard.\" She laughs now, and there's a bright brittle edge to it. \"Hard?\"\n\n\"Yeah. You just keep fighting. No matter what. You just have to not quit.\"\n\n\"Caine-\"\n\n\"It's the same for regular people as it is for Khryllians. We can survive anything except giving up. Sure, for them it works for their bodies too-but screw that anyway. As long as you don't quit, all these fuckers can do is kill you.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maim you, blind you, cripple you, leave you brain-damaged and drooling, whatever... but a good lie trumps a bad truth every time. I put a hand on her arm. \"Dying's not the worst that can happen.\"\n\nThat's true enough, anyway.\n\n\"You don't understand.\" Her shivering's getting worse, despite the tunic. Guess it doesn't have anything to do with cold. \"I did quit. I gave up. I was screaming... begging...\"\n\n\"Yeah, me too.\"\n\nOnce again, white appears around the rims of her irises.\n\nI shrug at her. \"They broke me like a rotten fucking stick. So what? They break everybody. It's what they do.\"\n\n\"But-but-\"\n\n\"But that was then.\" I stand up. \"Fuck then. Then is over. Fight now.\"\n\n\"I-I don't know if I-\"\n\n\"They have Marade chained facedown over a pile of rocks. Naked. In the middle of the camp. So the whole clan can watch while the bucks take turns on her.\"\n\n\"Caine-Caine, don't-\"\n\n\"You know why she's still alive? It's not just because she's Khryllian, Tizarre. Yeah, her god Heals her, because she fights. Every time. She fights every time. But you know why she fights every time?\"\n\nI shift my squat in front of her and take her arms, so she can't look away from me. \"It's because I'm not on that cross anymore.\"\n\n\"Caine-\"\n\n\"It's because you might still need her.\"\n\n\"I-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are you gonna leave her there?\" I give her a shake. \"Are you?\"\n\n\"How can you-how can you put this on me?\"\n\n\"Because it is on you. It's on both of us. Because there's nobody else.\"\n\nI show her some teeth.\n\n\"Because I have a plan.\"\n\n>> scanning fwd>>\n\nThe rush of rain becomes a sizzle. Then a hush. Fading thunder rolls away to the east.\n\nTime to go.\n\nI lean into the rope harness hard enough to scrape bloody hemp-burns up my chest and over my shoulders. The sledge lurches into motion, and I drag it out toward the night.\n\nMy night.\n\nIt's a goodnight to die, fuckers.\n\nThe Black Knife camp spreads rain-smoking watch fires across the badlands, three hundred feet below.\n\nOut along the parapet...\n\nThere's still enough hush in the misting drizzle to cover the grind of the sledge through sand and over wet stone, and I am taking no chances because night and hard stone can play tricks with sound. The weight of the sledge counterbalances me only a couple hand spans off the rock. One of the skids catches on a corner of crumbled wall, and a couple of the barrels tip loose of my half-assed lashings and tumble off. I scramble out of the harness and dive for them before they can roll out a gap in the retaining wall.\n\nNot yet. Not here.\n\nMy hands shiver and jerk while I struggle to get the barrels secured back onto the sledge. For sure this time.\n\nDetails. It's always the little fucking details that kill you."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Come on, goddammit."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "My fingers just won't for shit's sake cooperate, and the stress floods out my Control-enhanced nightsight until I'm fumbling blind and I am not going to bitch this up. I'm not. Not this time.\n\nWhen the barrels are finally back in place, I check the lashing on the chest that holds the bottles, and the rags that wrap and wick them. If I lose those... Solid. Solid. All right. Keep breathing. It's all right.\n\nBack in the harness. A few breaths brings the parapet back to a ghostly grey-blush shimmer in my peripheral vision. Good enough. Let's go.\n\nAnd I go.\n\nBut-\n\nFuck.\n\nTaking too long. Too much scraping. And I just don't have the strength. Without the pain to remind me, I keep forgetting how fucked up I still am.\n\nShould've dry-run this thing. But how could I? Too late now anyway.\n\nJust push.\n\nI lean deeper into the harness. Rope grinds through skin and muscle and burns into bone okay not really but still it feels like hot staggering fuck-\n\nFucking push.\n\nIt's too loud the rain's stopped they can't hear me but they can, I know they can hear me and I can't go any faster but I just can't get there push goddammit push-\n\nI make the point just as my knees give out. I slip the harness and throw myself into the point's muddy sand and let the blood from my chest and shoulders mix with the puddles while I try to figure out how I'm ever gonna get my breath.\n\n\"Caine-\"\n\nI jerk and spasm onto my back and roll to my feet by reflex with knives in my hands before I register that it was Tizarre's voice. I fade from the lip of the point and get my back to a wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Shit,\" I mutter through my teeth as I put away the knives."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Might as well, y'know, slap my balls or something. Be nicer.\"\n\nA hand I cannot see attached to an arm I cannot see lands lightly on my shoulder, and a shuddering wave of dream-wakening twists through my mind because I can see her, and now that I can, I know I always could... but only with my eyes. Not with my brain.\n\nUntil she decided to let me.\n\nThaumaturges creep the shit out of me, and Cloak is one of the reasons why.\n\n\"Everyone's as ready as I can make them.\" She has the bladewand, and she offers it tome butt-first. \"Any fucker close to Marade when the show starts is in fora hell of a surprise.\"\n\nI take the bladewand. \"I'll bet.\"\n\n\"You have no idea.\" Her face is still bleak, but now a grim fire glimmers deep in her eyes. \"Instead of the shackles on her wrists, she had me half cut the staples that fix the chains to the stone.\"\n\n\"Um.\"\n\nThe image is vivid: Marade rising naked from that pile of rubble while from each hand three feet of chain as thick as my wrist screams into a lethal iron blur-\n\nHell of a surprise is one way to put it, I guess.\n\nMakes me wish I could be thereto watch.\n\nI stick the bladewand in the top of my boot and extend my hands. \"Dawn's coming. Set me up.\"\n\nShe takes my left hand in one of hers. I get a faint half-orange image of her licking her lips, frowning. \"It should really be, y'know, copper or silver paint-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Blood'll be fine. Do it.\"\n\n\"You do it.\"\n\nI pull a dagger and gash the base of my thumb; she catches my blood in the cup of her palm. \"Have you ever done this before? Used a Shout?\"\n\n\"I know how it works.\"\n\nShe nods. \"Don't forget to cover your ears.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"This'll take a little bit. Go ahead with the oil barrels now. After I do your hands, you can't use them for anything else.\"\n\nI put the dagger away and draw the bladewand out of my boot. \"Get on it.\"\n\nShe stares down at the pool of blood in her palm and starts taking the deep, slow, regular breaths that will drop her into mindview. The blood begins to shimmer with a faint alcohol-flame glow that casts no light.\n\nA twist of intention sends a blue plane of force flickering out from the tip of the bladewand; the lashings on the barrels fall away, and the tops of the barrels themselves slip sideways on glass-smooth cuts. I slap the top off the first one and just tip it over. Oil floods out onto the point, oozing and rolling and twisting over the water-soaked sand, flowing thick and sluggish down toward the apex, where the wall has fallen away. I kick the second one off the other side of the sledge and let it spill there, then lift the third and the fourth carefully to the gap in the retaining wall and set them there as the spilled oil begins to rollover the lip and drain along branching channels below.\n\n\"Caine-\" Her voice has that spooky emptiness; she's still in mindview. \"Now.\"\n\nI scrub oil and grit from my palms onto my breeches, then give her my hands. She dips a forefinger into my blue-shimmering blood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Humming under her breath, she paints sigils in blood on my palms."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pretty soon she lets my hands drop and brings her finger to my face, painting around my mouth and up onto my cheeks. After a few seconds of this, she sighs, and full consciousness swims backup to the surface of her eyes.\n\n\"All right.\" She gives herself a little shake. \"Whenever you're ready.\"\n\nMy breath goes short, whistling faintly through my clamped-tight throat. \"Get in position.\"\n\n\"Caine-\" She squints against a half-strangled cough. \"We won't live through this, will we?\"\n\n\"Hard to say.\" I shrug to cover the shakes that are starting to ripple along my arms. \"A couple days ago, I would have said noway. But my luck's been running good lately.\"\n\n\"When I-\" Another cough, choked, with maybe a little bit of sob behind it. \"When I was telling Marade the plan, Whispering to her-y'know, the diversion, the rendezvous, everything-she started to cry. It's the-I've never seen her cry, Caine. I don't think... what they did to her... But she started to cry when I told her the plan, and I asked her-well, she just said she was grateful, that's all. She kept saying thanks. But not for the, y'know, the escape. The rescue.\"\n\nShe swallows. \"For the chance to hit back.\"\n\nMy eyes burn. Not with tears. \"Yeah.\"\n\n\"That's what I want to say too. Thanks. For the chance to hit back.\"\n\n\"It's more than a chance,\" I tell her. \"You remember what I said the night they took us, how the Black Knives would remember us fora thousand years?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But that was just-\"\n\n\"Yeah, it was. Then.\"\n\nStorm clouds part. Stars wink into being.\n\n\"You and I, Tizarre, right here, right now-\"\n\nCan she see my teeth?\n\n\"-we just might make it true.\"\n\n>> scanning fwd>>\n\nEven the wind goes still. Rich fruity fumes steam up from the oil on the point.\n\nFrom the apex, the Black Knife camp is a clutter of cinders and ash and smolder like a kicked-out campfire. The cinders are the hide tents, the ashes are knots of bachelor males sleeping out under the stars and the rain, and the smolder is the remains of watch fires burning down now with the approach of dawn.\n\nI'm in place. Go.\n\nI don't bother to signal her that I heard.\n\nShe'll figure it out.\n\nVengeance is mine saith the Lord but this morning He's gonna fucking well have to share.\n\nI press my painted palms to my painted cheeks. I draw as deep a breath as I can and open my mouth as far as it'll go, then clap my hands once, crisp and sharp, in front of my open mouth.\n\nIt makes a sound like most of the Boedecken just exploded.\n\nThe magick of the Shout directs the sound away from me, but still the blast is physical, staggering me, buckling my knees and smacking stars into my eyes.\n\nCover my fucking ears too fucking right-!\n\nLike I have any hearing left to lose.\n\nI can't even imagine what it must have sounded like to the Black Knives, but that sleepy kicked-through campfire just became a kicked-over anthill as ogrilloi jump up and rush out of their tents and spin around and fumble for weapons and probably shout and howl and squeal, if I could hear them, and I'm not even started yet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now I do cover my ears, and I Shout:\n\nYOU\n\nWERE\n\nWARNED\n\nThe sound is too vast to be called speech: it is as though the escarpment itself roars at them. The anthill of Black Knives slows, and stops. Dim smears of ogrillo faces turn toward the sky.\n\nTHIS PLACE\n\nIS MINE\n\nWith afoot, I tip one of the remaining oil barrels carefully, so that it pours over the lip of the point into the branching stone channels that drain down the face of the vertical city.\n\nI SAID\n\nI WOULD FEED YOU\n\nYOUR FUTURE\n\nOn cue, the spill of oil running down the channels catches fire.\n\nGood girl.\n\nRivers of flame cascade across the face of the vertical city, spreading through a delta of absolute darkness. And fire licks backup the channels as well, climbing, converging into a giant burning arrow.\n\nPointing exactly at where I stand.\n\nBUT I AM\n\nA MERCIFUL GOD\n\nI tip over the final barrel of oil and skip back away from the point as the flames claw through the gap and the whole point becomes a pillar of fire fifty feet tall.\n\nI WON'T MAKE YOU\n\nEAT IT\n\nRAW\n\nI'm still chuckling as I get the first of the bottles out of the chest and ignite the wicks at the burning trickle where I tipped the first oil barrel. Even there it's hot enough that I have to shield my face with my arm and I can smell my hair starting to crisp, but I don't care, I'm chuckling anyway. It sounds like God playing dice with planets."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Didn't think that was funny?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Watch this.\n\nI heave a burning bottle high out off the parapet and follow it with another, little specks of whippy flame snapping through long arcs down into the fading night, and turn back to the chest fora couple more before those two hit the ground. I don't need to watch them land. I know where they're going to hit.\n\nI maybe a crappy shot, but I throw really, really well.\n\nAt the retaining wall with two more lit in my hands, I windup-\n\nCaine-what are you doing?\n\nNot really a Whisper. Is there a spell called Snarl?\n\nI launch the bottle anyway before I look down at her red-lit form a level below.\n\nWHY THE FUCK\n\nARE YOU STILL THERE?\n\nThe Shout makes my head ring. She flinches and covers her ears, but a second later she's back at the wall down there waving an arm down at the Black Knife camp. Down at the flames spreading from where my oil bombs landed. Down at the crowded crèche. Crowded with screaming cubs.\n\nScreaming burning cubs. Burning juvie bucks. Burning juvie bitches.\n\nThe pregnant ones.\n\nThat's not the plan! Those are-those are children-!\n\nGET MOVING\n\nGODDAMMIT\n\nBut they're only children-babies-they never did anything-\n\nI fling the other bottle. It shatters against stone ten feet from where she's standing.\n\nShe has to skip back along her parapet to avoid the splash of flame, and in the brighter light down there now, I can seethe horror and loathing on her face, and I don't give half a squirt of runny fucking shit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "MOVE\n\nOR YOU GET THE NEXT ONE\n\nIN THE FACE\n\nWith one last look of pure outraged betrayal, she turns and runs.\n\nDown below, somebody's already unbarring the gate of the crèche, and the whole camp is alive. Arrows clatter around me. Everybody who's not scrambling to save the cubs is either shooting at me or sprinting up into the vertical city.\n\nWorks for me.\n\nI turn back to the chest of bottles. If I really want to roast the little shits, I better get busy.\n\n>> scanning fwd>>\n\n\"Tizarre, goddammit-!\" How many times have I said that today?\n\nI whip into a spin-kick that slams my right heel into the Shield hard enough to rattle my own damn teeth, but beyond the shimmering curve, the rose-pale glow of the Tear shows nothing but a tightening in the white pinch around her eyes. This is a hell of a time for her to discover she's got real power.\n\nNot to mention a conscience.\n\nStanding among the shreds of bone and armor beyond the Tear of Panchasell, arms wrapped around her narrow chest to squeeze down her shivers, she looks like she's ready to just stand there and watch. \"You never said anything about killing their cubs.\"\n\nShe has completely bone-my-ass cracked. \"I'm sorry, all right? I promise I'll fucking suffer for it the rest of my life if you'll just fucking let me in-\"\n\n\"Those were children, Caine-you never said you were-\"\n\n\"If I had,\" I snarl at her, \"would you have helped?\"\n\n\"Of course not!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's your fucking answer, then.\"\n\nHere they come on my trail now. Hear those howls echoing along the empty cavernways? Hear that blind ravening rage? Hear that pain? Sounds tome like they want to rip open their own guts with their bare hands and claw the pain out so they can stuff it down my throat till I strangle.\n\nI probably shouldn't let her see my grin.\n\nTizarre can hear their pain too: I can see it on her face, in her pinching-down eyes and the white smears where her lips should be.\n\n\"What are you gonna do? Leave me out here? With them?\"\n\n\"I should-\"\n\nI slide a hand around to the back of my belt, onto the butt of the blade-wand. \"The only thing you should do is makeup your fucking mind before they make it up for you.\"\n\n\"What am I going to tell Marade?\"\n\nOh, for shit's sake. \"Tell her? She's watching it right now-don't be such a fucking baby-\"\n\n\"Don't say that tome-you don't get to say that tome-\"\n\nYeah, fair enough, not the best image, I'll apologize if I live through this but right now those howls are close enough that they're raising hairs on the back of my neck, and I'm starting to hear feet on stone and screw this anyway.\n\nI pullout the bladewand and jam its business end against her Shield and necessity triggers a surge of intention that sends shearing force out from the tip. The Shield collapses in a cascade of sparks and she staggers and I spring into the chamber and just barely stop myself from stabbing her in the eye for being a whining weak-ass cunt."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Instead I keep ongoing past her toward the Tear. \"Get that fucking Shield backup!\"\n\n\"Caine-\"\n\n\"No time for your shit. Do it!\"\n\nThe Tear of Panchasell shimmers at me from its pedestal of solid gold, a private sunset the size of my head. Runic cirrus-ripples curve and twist across its surface and sink beneath as well, sucking my gaze into its rose-diamond depths.\n\nI lift my own slice of sky: the electric sizzle of the bladewand's edge.\n\n\"Caine-\"\n\nA thousand years ago, if the stories are true: Panchasell Mithondionne, near-immortal High King of the First Folk, weeping as he labored over his masterwork, an aeon of Primal lore guiding the hand of the greatest adept in the history of the race-the history of the world-to create a Thing of Power that is also a thing of beauty, a song in crystal, a dream of peace made solid to defend his people and this world...\n\nAnd here I am, a vicious little ghetto punk whose whole life wouldn't bean eyeblink to the least of the First Folk, about to cut the fucking thing in half. Because somebody they never heard of pissed me off.\n\nThat, my friends, is a deep lesson about how the world works.\n\nWhich is when Tizarre finally does get my attention, not by calling my name but with an ear-shattering blast that sucks all the air in the chamber into a whirl that follows the sideways column of flame roaring from her hands out into the cavernway I just came from, and she's got the black iron head of an ogrillo arrow sticking a span out from her left kidney and that is exactly the down payment on what we might both have to pay for me being too fucking sentimental to pull the trigger, because a flight of arrows they got off just in time comes bursting through the ass end of her Firebolt trailing flames of their own, and one's coming straight for my face and I'm already falling into a shoulder roll and it just clips my forehead and I take the roll backward over something on the cavern floor that rams into my own kidney hard enough that I can't even make it all the way back to my feet because my knees have gone to cloth-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And the bladewand's off.\n\nFrom the floor I point it at the Tear and call upon my will and all I get is a scorch on my palm from the eggbutt and that hiss of blue static discharge from the tip.\n\n\"Caine-\"\n\nNow her voice is a half-strangled gurgle. She's got a sickly smile behind blood on her mouth, and both hands wrapped around the arrow shaft sticking out of her belly. She retches more blood. \"Sorry-I'm sorry-\"\n\n\"Don't be sorry. Just fucking stop them till I make this thing work, then we can get out of here-\"\n\n\"Stop them? There are thousands-you made sure they'll never stop-\"\n\nGoddamn right.\n\nI try for my feet, but again my knees buckle, and I catch myself with a hand on the knob of rock that jammed my kidney-\n\nHuh-huh-did you-\n\nDid you see that?\n\nWas that my eyes, or just in my head?\n\nWhen I touched the rock, there was-\n\nA severed hand-I was-she was-he and me and she-pinned through the spine-staring into the sky, taking the hand of a kneeling man, cut in half and the waterfall's spray falling into my open, staring eyes, my own face above among the buildings and the blade driving toward my forehead and-\n\nAnd where my hand is on the rock, the rock isn't rock. Not anymore. It's the hilt of a sword.\n\nAnd where I touch, this hilt sings with the high humming whine of Power...\n\nI lookup at Tizarre. She blinks at me. \"What-what's happening-?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What always happens,\" I say, because that is what I always say now.\n\nShe nods, because she understands. \"What happens next? Is there a next?\"\n\n\"You already know.\"\n\nShe nods again.\n\nI toss her the bladewand. It hangs eternally in the air. It is in her hand before it ever leaves mine. Before she catches it, she has turned away, though she still faces me and will forever.\n\n\"Keep it,\" I tell her. \"It's yours. I don't need it anymore.\" I stand, and the Sword cuts free of the rock. It shrieks in my hand.\n\nI hold it poised above the Tear of Panchasell.\n\nLong and straight and heavy, its blade is the color of mirror-polished tungsten. The runes deep-graven from forte to tip are graceful and smooth as brushtrokes, and they burn with fire so black that my eye cannot hold them; they shift and twist and shimmer and crawl along the blade, sucking light from the air...\n\nI have never seen anything like the Sword. I have known the Sword for lifetimes.\n\nWhen it destroys the Tear, it will break the Power's hold upon the river. A river choked fora thousand years will shatter this place and burst free through these chambers. Will crash from the face of the vertical city upon the camp below.\n\nIn my hand is the death of the Black Knives, and their rebirth.\n\nTheir death is today.\n\nWhen the edge carves into the Tear, it screams like I'm murdering the world.\n\nAnd maybe I am.\n\n>> scanning fwd>>\n\nDawn at my back ignites the rainbow."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Beyond huge... solid as Bifrost in the billows of my waterfall's spray...\n\nOne foot stretches out from the face of what was the city's fifth tier, high above; the other is grounded somewhere out in the vast mist-shrouded sea wrack that used to be the Black Knife camp.\n\nThat's my pot of gold. Right there. In the endless earth-shaking thunder of my waterfall, I can imagine the echoes of Black Knife screams.\n\nSomewhere to the south, anew river rolls down the Boedecken Waste, black with mud and shreds of tent, shattered wagons and broken bodies.\n\nI look upon the work of my hand, and it is good.\n\nOnly one flaw in the plan so far: the rendezvous is far enough away from the waterfall's thunder that I can still hear the idiots argue. About me.\n\nI lean against the wall outside the shattered gape of what used to be a window, where the nine survivors are dressing themselves in the clothing I brought for them, treating whatever wounds Marade can't Heal with supplies I gave them, and eating and drinking food and water I provided for them, while they all talk about how they just can't trust me.\n\n\"-it doesn't make sense.\" Marade's still standing up for me, at least. Sounds like she's the only one. \"If his sole need was revenge, why risk the rescue at all? He could as easily have left me-left me-\"\n\nEven from out here, I can hear the choke. She can't say it.\n\n\"Where we were,\" she finishes lamely. \"He could have done what has been done without even your help, though unleashing the river would have cost his life-\"\n\nThat much is true."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You weren't there,\" Tizarre says. \"None of you. You didn't see him. You didn't hear him.\"\n\n\"And the cubs-I mean, so what?\" This from Jashe the Otter. \"How many would have lived through the river thing, anyway?\"\n\n\"That's my point,\" Tizarre says. \"Why... do that? Why the show?\"\n\n\"Diversion,\" Marade says, but she doesn't sound too sure of it.\n\n\"That's what he said. That's what he told me it was about. To make sure they'd chase him up into the city. To thin them out on the ground and give you all a better chance to escape-but then he hit their children. So more of them stayed. To protect the children.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't care,\" somebody else says. \"I'm just damn grateful to be alive.\"\n\n\"You say that now,\" Tizarre insists darkly. \"But he's not done with us. That's why the rescue. He still has a use for us. That's the only reason. Just wait. You'll see.\"\n\nAnother man might be offended. I probably would be, if she were wrong. But, y'know, some Black Knives can probably swim.\n\nI stare out at my waterfall. At my rainbow. The rainbow is a promise from God that there will never be another Flood.\n\nI don't plan to need one.\n\nFuck punishment. This is about extinction."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "KHRYL'S JUSTICE\n\nIt wasn't a good dream.\n\nI couldn't make it make sense, even as a nightmare: it should have been a net over my face, not a burlap sack. Chunks of puke shouldn't be flopping around my head. I was sure of that.\n\nThe next time awareness knocked a hole in my skull, I started to worry that I was naked, when I should have been suited up in my black leathers. And this wad of cloth tied into my mouth with what felt like rope? Where the fuck had that come from?\n\nIt did, however, explain why the chunks of puke were pretty much all small enough to have come out of my nose.\n\nLater, a dimly foggy realization chewed into my forehead that the shoulder I was facedown over should have been flesh instead of metal.\n\nThe last worst part: it wasn't rope on my wrists and ankles. Forget that I didn't have the throwing knife that was supposed to be in the concealed sheath behind the collar of my missing tunic; not only would that knife have been useless against the armor on this particular back but it wouldn't have cut what was binding my wrists anyway, which I could recognize because I still had some feeling in my fingers, because he hadn't put them on as tight as the Los Angeles Social Police had a few years back when they pinched me for Forcible Contact Upcaste.\n\nStripcuffs.\n\nI puked into the sack again.\n\nThen I fell back down the black hole.\n\nI've been lucky enough to make it through my life so far with less than my share of major head trauma. Sure, I've been knocked around, bashed with sticks and stones, quarterstaves andiron-bound clubs, warhammers and friggin'morningstars, even a brick or two; stabbed with stilettos, daggers, knives, and smallswords; taken a broadsword through the liver and an axe into the thigh; been variously shot with arrows, sling stones, bullets and motherfucking blowgun darts-not to mention being once or twice hurled from high places-but I've mostly managed to avoid being whacked on the head hard enough to produce more than a few seconds of unconsciousness."
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Now, even those few seconds are serious enough; that's a concussion right there, and anybody who thinks an untreated concussion isn't serious should go recheck the mortality figures. Still, though, it's something you generally live through. You wake up with a bad headache and persistent dizziness and nausea, general weakness and shit, and you need some bed rest-or, say, a Khryllian Healing, like the one I got after Tyrkilld slapped me up-to get over it, but you do. Eventually.\n\nWhen those seconds stretch into minutes, you go from bad headache into the territory of, say, subdural hematoma, which is a fancy way of saying that your brain's bleeding and starting to swell, which means that you're not gonna just open your eyes and shake it off and go beat up the bad guys. It means it's a roll of God's dice whether you're gonna open your eyes at all, and if you do it'll probably be a lot like it was for me: a fucking nightmare.\n\nThis is not just a metaphor.\n\nThe bleeding-brain kind of unconsciousness is a fall across an event horizon of oblivion: an infinitely instant shredding of everything you areas psychic tidal forces smear you into an eternal scream. Waking up is no treat, either; it doesn't happen all at once, but in little flickers and flashes that start out as needles and graduate to razors in the eye and the grip of God Himself upon your balls, and it involves a lot of vomit and choking and wishing you could go back to falling into that black hole, because the eternal scream is a helluva lot more fun.\n\nThat's how it is for me, anyway.\n\nMaybe it's because it seems like every time it happens tome, I start that whole razors-in-the-eyes waking-up crap in a bag over somebody's shoulder while the sonofabitch is out fora jog."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The only way I can reconstruct roughly how long I must have been out before I started twilighting up from semiconsciousness is to guess how fast Markham could haul my twitching ass from the Pratt& Redhorn to the jitney ramp up Hell while making a wide circle around the Spire, because he wouldn't exactly want to bump into any inquisitive Khryllians on the way.\n\nDid I not mention that part?\n\nTurns out I wasn't wrong about Calm Guy's backup. I wasn't even wrong about the really, really good nerves. My only mistake was assuming that the backup in question would have reason to be afraid of the Smoke Hunt.\n\nWell, okay. That wasn't my only mistake.\n\nThere are ways in which I think really, really fast. Like how to kill people. There are ways in which I don't think really, really fast. Like working out that the only way Faller's gunmen could have known I was at the Pratt& Redhorn was if they found out from Kierendal& Tyrkilld& Co.-not fucking likely-or if they found out from, say, the all-too-conveniently lurking-in-an-alley-across-the-street Lipkan ass-cob who booked me the room in the first place.\n\nAt the time I was playing sack of meat potatoes, I didn't have any idea of any of this. There were some inexplicable images swimming around the brimstone swamp inside my head, of Boedecken badlands covered ingrain and vineyards and a river dividing a city of neat whitewashed brick tangled up with headless ogrilloi burning with a red fire that cast no light. And that was about it.\n\nI don't remember much of the early part of my visit to BlackStone. Somebody must have taken the sack off me, because I remember somebody saying good lord, clean him up, and sometime after that I was wet and there was a blinding-bright haze pumping in through my eyeballs that was overinflating my head until I could feel the bones of my skull grinding against each other along jagged fissures as they began to separate and a distantly familiar voice said from the top of the well I'd fallen down-"
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "lord tarkanen-you hit him too hard\n\nThen another distantly familiar voice, not Markham's-like the voices of Actors from Adventures I'd cubed a few times when I was a kid, I always had a good ear for voices-\n\nor perhaps not hard enough-were you not once the practicing necromancer, simon faller? a shade will answer honestly where a man may not-\n\nWhich I tried to laugh about, y'know, because of the pun, but I'm pretty sure I only managed a dull moan.\n\nno no no, he has to be alive-my orders-a healing-do a healing-\n\nNay. This voice was Markham's. I could even make out a strict grey cloud among the bright haze that filled my universe. This hurt was not taken in battle. Khryl's Love will not avail.\n\nAround pale shadow in the bright haze began to resolve toward the blur of a face.\n\nMichaelson? Michaelson, can you understand meat all? Do you know where you are? Caine, talk tome.\n\nI remember, here, trying to answer.\n\nDead... I was trying to say. Dead...\n\nSimon Faller, said that familiar voice which wasn't Markham's, he raves. Let him die. If he lives, we will all come to regret it. This I know from bitter experience.\n\nHere I would have laughed again, if I could laugh. Somehow thinking how many people could honestly say the same made me giggly.\n\nIt's not up tome, the blur of a face replied. And it's not up to you, either. We'll turn him over as is. Let them deal with him however they want; then if he dies, it's their problem."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Are Artan Healing magicks superior to Khryl's?\n\nJust-ah, different, that's all. Let them in.\n\nThat face-blur leaned down closer, and more details came into focus: grey cream-plastered wisps of comb-over, a crisp salt-and-pepper beard giving shape to soft jowls...\n\nIt was Rababàl.\n\nMichaelson-maybe you can't hear me, but-I know you always say that everything's personal, but this really is business. Really. I got over hating you along time ago. This is just business.\n\n\"Dead...\" This time I did manage to get the word out past my teeth, instead of bouncing around inside my fractured skull. \"You're dead...\"\n\nEven when he cannot move, can barely speak, still he threatens you-\n\nIt's not a threat. The dead man retreated to a blur, then to a cloud. As far as he knows, it's simple fact.\n\nAnd before I could summon anything like sense to the surface of my scrambled brain, things got even weirder.\n\nIn accordance with the treaty between our peoples, Markham was saying, I now deliver this fugitive into your custody and your care.\n\nThen a couple of new shadows loomed in my personal haze. When they leaned down to pick me up, both of them wore on their inhumanly rounded heads these sickeningly familiar funhouse-smeared leers that were still unmistakably me.\n\nMy own face.\n\nI knew me. Them. I grew up in a San Francisco Labor slum. Anybody Labor would have to be six days dead to not recognize the Social Police.\n\nAdministrator Hari Michaelson. The electronic digitizer in the soapy's mirror-masked helmet didn't work in Home physics; he just sounded like he was talking with one handover his mouth. You are under arrest for the crime of capital Forcible Contact Upcaste, in the murder of Leisureman Marcus Anthony Vilo."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It's funny, y'know-\n\nLife has away of sticking a knife in my eye at just the right time.\n\nBeing handed over to the Social Police was a dull knife. Rusty. Serrated too. I guess I'm lucky that way.\n\nIt went in my left eye socket and sawed around inside my sinus cavity until the scrape of rusty serrated metaphoric steel on metaphoric bone cranked me up across my personal event horizon, and though I could not summon any ghost of a clue where this might be happening or why, through the pain and general mystery I was able to dimly recognize that this situation boded ill for my immediate future.\n\nSo I thought, Fuck it. Let's fight.\n\nThis may seem like an unusual decision from a semiconscious middle-aged naked guy with a skull fracture who's bound hand and foot in unbreakable high-tech police restraints, but I have this rule of thumb, one that I've practiced so long-ever since I was a kid running wild on Mission District streets-that it's become hard-wired instinct. When bad guys try to take you somewhere by force, fight.\n\nFight now.\n\nBecause they're taking you into their comfort zone. That's why they're not killing you where you are: because wherever you are, you still have a chance. For whatever reason. Witnesses. Police. Weapons. Escape routes. Something. That's why they want to take you somewhere else. And once you get where they're taking you, it's over.\n\nOr it's not over. Not fora longtime.\n\nFighting might get you killed. But it's better than whatever's waiting for you where they can take time to enjoy themselves.\n\nIt happened to some of the street kids I knew back in the District. They'd disappear. And their bodies would turn up later. Sometimes you could tell they'd been kept alive for weeks. Or months. By how many of the wounds had scarred over. Even some of the amputations. And castrations and vaginal mutilations and you don't want to know."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "So-\n\nFuck it.\n\nFight.\n\nBut, as people who know me will have heard before, there is fighting and there is fighting.\n\n\"Rababàl...\" I managed to say, or thought I did, blinking toward the dead man. \"Rababàl, you need me...\"\n\nThe dead man leaned back into the fog. Rababàl died twenty-five years ago. You didn't help him, and I need no help from you.\n\n\"You can't...\" The words seemed to be sticking in the haze inside my head. I worked harder to push them out into the air. \"Turn me over... this place... gone... a few days, that's all... war-war with Ankhana-\"\n\nThat made some kind of impression; the grey-fringed face recoiled into a deeper blur. Is he-could that be true-?\n\nThe almost-familiar voice answered, I learned long ago that from this man's mouth, not even Khryl can hear truth.\n\nAh...\n\nSo that's who Almost Familiar was.\n\nEven to my splintered consciousness, finding him here made everything make sense. I'm just fucking intuitive that way.\n\nKhryl's friends within the Infinite Court assure me that his position in Church and Empire is purely symbolic. If war is to come, it will not come on his behalf.\n\nI tried to shake some use into my brain, and my mouth. \"Not... about me, dumbass... make a deal-we need to deal-\"\n\nMichaelson, I'm sorry. The grey-fringed blur didn't sound sorry. It's done.\n\n\"No-no you can't-can't send me back... can't give me to them... please-\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I already have. Officers? Time is short. If you'll bring him this way, please. \"\n\nStop, goddammit... stop-\"\n\nHanging from the wire-laced gloves of the Social Police, hands stripcuffed behind me, ankles bound together with the same wire-reinforced plastic, naked, retching, unable to stand, unable to see, I still somehow snarled myself an internal sword of sunfire to cut through the fog inside my head and burn it away. No matter how broken I am, somehow I can always get pissed enough to kill somebody.\n\nBecause, y'know, I've never been the type to go gentle into that et cetera.\n\nThe room snapped into focus. It looked like the hideout of a half-successful caravan raider. Expensive furniture that didn't match, delicately carved where it wasn't notched and starting to splinter, upholstered in beautiful leathers and crushed velvets and brocades that couldn't hide the stains and wear of careless overuse. The rug that filled the whole room had once been fine as anything I'd put in the Abbey, my San Francisco mansion back when I was a star, but now it bore a grey-brown smear of ground-in wear track between the door and the overlarge, overcarved big-dick I'm The Boss desk in overstained cherry. And there were wall hangings and shit that framed silver hookstands holding blackened glass lamps, but the silver was tarnished and the tapestries smudged with lampblack and the walls they hung on were cheap whitewashed plaster tracked with blue-grey mildew. The whole place looked impermanent, half-abandoned already, like this Faller guy had boosted the best of Duke Kithin's furnishings before he'd left Thorncleft, then had just stashed the shit in some shack so he could piss on it like a bear before leaving it behind."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "In that raider's cave of a room-besides me and the Social Police and Markham Lord Situational Fucking Ethics and the middle sixties– looking guy who was Rababàl's ghost or twin brother or identical goddamn cousin or whateverthefuck that I didn't care about right then because he was a problem for another time-stood a magnificent man in magnificent armor, the kind of Radiant Mantle of Kingship sonofabitch that doesn't really exist outside of stories and songs; you know, Arthur, Charlemagne, Frederick Barbarossa, Richard Cour de Lion, all those blood-drunk thugs with good enough press agents to somehow end up heroes to way too many gullible losers.\n\nNot unlike me, I guess. But let that go.\n\nThe armor was chrome steel, curves and angles of mirror that gleamed like dawn's own rhodos goddamn dactylos in the lamplight. The guy inside was your basic snow-topped mountain of Biblical Patriarch, but in the blossom of mature strength-y'know, like that white brow and beard salted his face only to give the calm certainty in his eye a translucent shimmer of Revealed Truth.\n\nWhen I say eye, by the way, that's literal.\n\nHalf his face had that carved-from-God's-Own-Granite agelessly rugged beauty that well befits said legendary king. The other half, well...\n\nHis left eye socket was a crumpled ruin of empty scar above a deep ragged dent that once had been nobly jutting cheekbone; it looked a lot like some vicious ghetto punk had, about twenty-five years ago, say, sneak-punched him with his own morningstar.\n\nThis appearance was not, as smart people might have guessed already, coincidental."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the plot as the writer's tale assistant.\nTags: science fiction, space opera, galactic empire\nAuthor: Glynn Stewart\nTitle: Chains of Gaia\nChapter: 14"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Could I stop you even if I wanted to?\" the older boy replied flatly. \"This is your house. Go where you wish.\"\n\n\"You're looking... better,\" Robin said, ignoring this less than friendly greeting. And it was true. The tall Fae looked much less wild and frantic. He was staring out at the gardens pensively.\n\n\"After you strangled me with dark magic, you mean?\" Jackalope said. \"Yes, I suppose I do.\"\n\n\"Sorry about that,\" Robin said, matching the other boy's flatness of tone. \"You kind of brought it on yourself though, grabbing Henry that way. We were only trying to help.\"\n\nThe Fae at the window sighed and finally looked at Robin, his expression curious. \"Yes. I suppose you're right,\" he admitted. He considered a moment. \"I should apologise to the human boy. I forget they are so frail.\"\n\nRobin was surprised by the frank admission.\n\n\"I don't think calling Henry'frail' is going to make him warm to you, you know,\" Robin pointed out.\n\n\"Why did you do it?\" Jackalope asked. He leaned back against the windowsill, folding his arms.\n\n\"You provoked me, I just said.\"\n\n\"No, not that.\" The Fae shook his silver head, clearly not interested in discussing their earlier scuffle. \"Why did you... take me in? Your aunt told me what happened. How you found me on the lake. You could have left me there. Why bring me into your home? I betrayed you. All of you.\"\n\n\"Well... at least you admit that,\" Robin shrugged. \"I don't know,\" he admitted. \"It was just the right thing to do, I suppose. People generally do the right thing, right? You could have left me in the snow, let Peryl bash my head in with a rock, but you didn't.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"So now we're even?\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jackalope asked.\n\n\"I suppose,\" Robin frowned. \"Jack, look. You don't owe me anything. I'm not expecting anything from you. None of us are. Like Aunt Irene said, you're not a prisoner here. You can leave if you want to.\"\n\n\"And yet you harbour no hatred toward me?\" Jackalope was frowning, his expression intense, as though trying to figure out if Robin were an idiot. \"I sided against you. With a Grimm of all people.\" His stare was challenging, defiant, although beneath his tone, Robin thought he sounded a little revolted with himself.\n\n\"People make bad choices when they're scared,\" he reasoned.\n\n\"I wasn't scared,\" Jackalope said firmly, his silver eyes flashing.\n\n\"Okay, okay... desperate then, out of options, whatever.\" Robin held his hands up. \"No, I don't blame you. I left you for dead down in the tomb remember, when it was flooding. I wasn't completely myself at the time. It's hard to explain. There's kind of another \"me\" in me, and he's pretty hardcore. But I shouldn't have left you down there, regardless.\" He shrugged. \"We all have things we wish we'd done differently.\"\n\nJackalope looked away out of the window again, frowning. \"Leaving me there makes sense. It was your best chance of getting out. I would have done the same in your position, in a heartbeat.\"\n\nRobin smirked. \"Looking after number one, eh?\"\n\n\"You can only rely on yourself in this life,\" the other boy countered decisively. \"If you think differently, herein this place, you're wrong.\"\n\n\"Stick around and find out,\" Robin said. \"I know you have it in your head that Erlking is the worst possible place for you to be, but trust me, it's not.\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jackalope sneered, looking out at the russet treetops of the forest beyond the lawns. \"It's a noble offer, but this isn't the place for me... I don't belong here.\"\n\n\"None of us do, really.\" Robin said, raising his eyebrows. \"That's kind of the point of Erlking. We're all outcasts here.\"\n\nJackalope made a noise down his nose. \"But you're different.\" he said. \"You're all \"good\" people.\"\n\nSeeming to shake himself out of his thoughts, he ran his hands over his head, making him look fora moment just like a normal teenager.\n\n\"Well, are you going to stay up here until Halloween, brooding out of the window like you're in some Bronte novel,\" Robin asked, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed. \"Because if you are, that's fine. I mean, I've got to hand it to you, you've got the brooding at windows look down pat. I can even dig a bonnet out for you if you want.\"\n\nJackalope glanced over at Robin's dry teasing.\n\n\"Or are you going to come and help me annoy our housekeeper? She keeps flirting with one of our guests and clearly doesn't have enough to do.\" He smirked. \"It's quite ghastly, really. She's a pain, but a good cook.\"\n\nJackalope considered this fora moment, still looking out over the distant trees and the grey, scudding clouds above. Eventually, he turned away from the windows, hands thrust into the front pockets of his jeans.\n\n\"Well,\" he admitted with a kind of reluctant and haughty stubbornness. \"I am a bit hungry.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "*\n\nThe short glowering woman was busy with a mountain of dishes, up to her elbows in soapy water and looking harassed as ever. Hestia eyed both boys suspiciously as they entered the kitchen, and upon Robin's request fora quick sandwich, made many loud and put-upon noises, listing the lamentations of pandering to the whims of what she referred to as'the bottomless pits of teenage boys'stomachs\". Hestia had never yet made Robin so much as a crust without complaining about it. It was almost her own special seasoning.\n\nShe watched them, sitting at the kitchen table, wolfing down their food, her black beady eyes filled with scowling interest, speaking only to demand they both take their elbows off the tabletop.\n\nJackalope devoured his food with record speed, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He looked up at the housekeeper with his own frowning, serious stare. \"This is the best food I have ever had.\"\n\nHestia peered at him oddly, as though he had spoken a foreign language.\n\n\"It's just ham and cheese,\" she replied, quite defensively. Jackalope pushed his plate toward her.\n\n\"Make me another,\" he demanded.\n\n\"\"Please\"...\" Robin muttered under his breath to the other boy around the corner of his own sandwich. He was waiting for Hestia to explode in anger.\n\nHestia stared at the empty plate, and then at the pale boy with his direct and unblinking stare. She seemed to be noticing how thin he was.\n\nShe snatched the plate with a put-upon tut, and made Jackalope a further three sandwiches without complaint. Robin was aghast. Had he himself dared to speak to her in that tone, he would certainly have got a clip around the ear."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She didn't make Robin anymore of course, just Jackalope, her new BFF apparently.\n\nJackalope, after some cajoling, joined Robin and Woad that evening in Robin's room. The wind was howling fiercely in the night, and battered even the windows of the high tower with the odd smattering of dry leaves. The fire roared and the silver-haired boy sat silently before it, staring into the flames and apparently content to be still and silent, while elsewhere in the room, Robin read to his faun from the book he had received for his birthday.\n\n\"Can you read The Subtle Gnome?\" Woad asked, sitting cross-legged on the bed. \"Inky likes that one.\"\n\nInky the kraken, encased in his large enchanted bubble, was rolling from the head of the bed, where Woad sat, down to the footboard, where Robin perched, and back again. Woad had explained that when the creature got restless like this, he needed entertainment or feeding.\n\n\"Kind of like me.\"\n\nRobin flicked through the book. \"There's always The Cursed Custard of Ceridwen. We only got halfway through it last time.\"\n\nThe faun shuddered. \"And halfway we will stay, Pinky. I'm still having nightmares about ducks.\"\n\n\"What about this one?\" Robin suggested, turning the page. \"The Banshee and the Bard?\" He looked up at Woad. \"What's a banshee anyway?\" he asked. \"Are they Panthea?\"\n\nThe faun shook his head. \"There's more in the Netherworlde than Fae and Panthea you know, Pinky,\" he said. \"You're still such a clueless lump. Redcaps, lantern-claws, sloe, bog-hags. These are all their own critters, and banshees are just the same.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They are restless spirits,\" Jackalope said from the fireplace.\n\nRobin looked over. \"Do you want to come and listen?\" he offered. \"There's plenty of room. We've been reading a story every night.\"\n\n\"I'm a little old for slumber parties and fairy tales,\" Jackalope replied. \"Anyway. I can hear you from here. Banshees. They're vengeful things, I think. Ghosts. I remember stories about them from when I was a child. Before the war.\"\n\nRobin frowned, dislodging Inky from under the pillow where he'd gotten stuck. \"We've meta ghost. He was really nice. Helped us out of a tight spot, didn't he?\" Robin nodded to Woad, gently rolling Inky to him.\n\n\"Yeah, but he was just a dead version of himself. Banshees are what happens when ghosts forget who they were,\" the faun replied, nuzzling the bubble. \"Aren't they, my ickle wickle Inky boo?\" The bubble wobbled manically in ecstatic kraken frenzy.\n\n\"If they exist at all,\" Jackalope's said. Robin raised an eyebrow questioningly. \"No one's ever seen one.\"\n\nWoad sniggered. \"There's even more in the Netherworlde that's just legends, Pinky.\"\n\nRobin rolled his eyes. \"Well, fake fictitious banshee ghosts sound like a safe bet, then. Are we sitting comfortably?\"\n\n\"Don't blame me when you're having nightmares about ghosts stealing your face and making you live your worst fears,\" Jackalope said with a shrug.\n\nWoad shuddered. \"It can't be worse than... the custard.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Robin looked down at the illustration in the book."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It looked like a grim reaper, looming over a helpless victim. Only a rough sketch, with long, cruel-looking claws poised to strike. Nothing visible under the hood but two pin-pricks of light in a black void.\n\n\"Maybe,\" Robin decided at length. \"We should read the Subtle Gnome tonight.\"\n\n*\n\nWhen the weather was dry and fine, Calypso took their lessons outside, into the grounds. She had setup several scarecrow targets for Robin at the end of the long lawn beneath the trees, and he took them all down, day after day, with Galestrikes, Waterwhips, and Needlepoints. Jackalope, whose health was fast recovering, also used this space for training. The boy had no mana-stone and thus no magic, but Robin and the others soon discovered he was rather agile, and his aim and accuracy with a thrown knife was impressive.\n\nWoad enjoyed outside lessons. He would tire of watching the two Fae after a time, and scurry off into the autumn woods or down to the lake, claiming he was teaching Inky to be a proper companion and hunt squirrels. The wobbling watery ball of tentacles bouncing alongside him like an energetic puppy as they disappeared into the trees.\n\nSometimes, Karya came out to watch Robin and Jackalope train, offering rather sharply critical observations of Robin's skills, and quiet rather awkward compliments on Jackalope's manoeuvres as he scissor-kicked a scarecrow to pieces or deftly dropped a target with a hurtling blade.\n\nHenry sometimes came around, though he largely rolled his eyes at the two Fae and their combat skills, sitting moodily on a log with Karya.\n\n\"I think they're both quite good actually,\" Karya replied to his grumbles."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Yeah yeah, bloody superheroes, both of them,\" Henry half-joked picking at the bark of the log with his fingernail."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't see why Jackalope has to do all his twirly tai-chi knife juggling with his shirt off though. It's bloody freezing. He's just ridiculous.\"\n\n\"He lived on the Gravis,\" Karya argued defensively, pulling her own large coat around her against the cold. \"This is just probably warm to him, that's all.\"\n\n\"Yeah sure,\" Henry muttered, giving her a sly, sidelong look. \"I'm sure your sudden active interest in outdoor sparring and combat training is completely professional.\"\n\nThe tips of Karya's ears reddened and she stood up quickly. \"I'm going inside,\" she said haughtily, nose in the air. \"It must be nearly suppertime anyway.\"\n\nHenry got to his feet too, stretching. \"I'm not staying for dinner,\" he said, a bit apologetically. \"Got some stuff to do.\"\n\nHe shouted Robin to tell him to come inside and eat.\n\n\"You too, Jackie Chan,\" he yelled to Jackalope. \"Put your abs away and get indoors, before Hestia bakes you a shirt made of cake or something.\"\n\nAs Robin and Jackalope tidied away their tools and straightened the scarecrows, Robin noticed the older Fae staring off into the trees, his expression wary.\n\n\"What's up?\"\n\nJackalope shook his head. \"Something moving in the trees,\" he murmured distractedly. \"Watching us.\"\n\nRobin shrugged. \"Probably just Woad on his way back from the hunt,\" he reasoned. \"He's decided Inky clearly isn't enough of a coldblooded killer. He's quite proud about being the first person to train a land-kraken to terrorise squirrels.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Jackalope shook his head, looking curious. \"It looked like leaves.\"\n\nRobin raised one eyebrow. \"Well... it is a wood, Jack,\" he said. \"Leaves are pretty normal. Generally speaking, they move about in autumn too, generally downwards.\"\n\n\"These leaves were moving sideways,\" the silver-eyed boy said blankly. \"Like a whirlwind shaped like a man, stepping between the trees. But... they've gone now.\"\n\nRobin couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. He wondered if Jackalope was pushing himself too hard, determined to get back to full strength in time for Halloween, so he could pass through to the Netherworlde and leave with the other guests. He seemed determined to leave as soon as possible.\n\n\"I think the only solution to this terrible, leaf-based mystery,\" Robin said, feeling his mana stone cold and heavy on his chest after the day's exertions. \"Is a good dose of Hestia's roly-polly pudding.\"\n\nThis information managed to tear the other boy's eyes away from the trees. \"I have never heard of such a pudding,\" he frowned, seriously. \"This is interesting tome.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A THIEF AT ALL-HALLOWS\n\nThe morning of Halloween, Aunt Irene announced rather abruptly that she would be travelling. She had business in the South where she hoped to shed more light on the mystery of the library book. She would betaking rooms in London, she explained, and spending a great deal of time at the British Library, where she intended to unearth as much information on the cataloguing system of the nineteen-twenties as possible. As riveting an adventure as this sounded, she explained to Robin over breakfast, he would not be accompanying her. His duty was to remain at Erlking and, as the nominal highest ranking Erlkinger, to see to the eventual departure of their guests after the traditional Halloween feast that evening.\n\nShe left, along with Henry's father, on what had turned out to be a crisp and bright morning, taking Mr Ffoulkes\" vintage car, much to Mr Drover's secret delight and the Fire Panthea's earnest insistence. He would no longer be requiring it, he assured her, his business in the Netherworlde would take up much of his time, and the car had only recently been acquired anyway. Robin couldn't help but wonder at that often used term,\"acquired', and silently hoped that Aunt Irene and Mr Drover were not pulled over by the police during their trip to the capital.\n\nThe running of the house in Irene's absence was left as always to Hestia, and Madame Calypso was to remain in charge and ensure guardianship of the children.\n\nThis was not a task the nymph was particularly happy with, pointing out to Irene as they filled the large car with luggage, and not bothering to lower her voice, that her only responsibility in the house should be the Scion. The others, the nymph insisted, were perfectly able to govern themselves, with the exception of the faun, who, she allowed, was determinedly ungovernable."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It occurred to Robin as they stood on the steps, watching the car being loaded, that he hadn't actually seen Woad at all since the night before."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had muttered something about being off on a'top-secret mission\", which was a phrase he used commonly when hunting squirrels, and hadn't been seen since. He hadn't been in Robin's room when Robin fell asleep, and he hadn't been there this morning either. There had been nothing but a few crusts of jellied bread on the table in the breakfast room this morning. Scant but convincing evidence that the messy creature had been around at some point.\n\n\"Just make sure that nobody throws anyone against a wall again,\" Irene patted Calypso's hand a little absently, unruffled by the nymph's protests. \"And no impalements please.\"\n\nWith a farewell to Robin, Karya and Jackalope, she and Mr Drover left, the autumn sun flashing from the rear window of the old rolls as it disappeared away under the brown crisp avenue of trees.\n\nRobin glanced up at the sky after the car had gone and the sound of its engine had faded under the long avenue of trees which led down the hill. There was a definite chill in the air, and the clouds were pale and almost glowing, a sure sign of snow in the offing.\n\n\"Well,\" Calypso eyed them all hazily. \"Erlking has stood for time immemorial. I trust you three not to tear it down while I go down to the lake fora swim.\"\n\n\"A swim?\" Karya wrinkled her nose. \"It's freezing. You'll be breaking through ice to get to it. I've never known a colder autumn.\"\n\n\"I have swum in the northern oceans of the Netherworlde,\" Calypso replied. \"Where the ice is thicker above you than a castle wall, and as green as glass. The mortal world is a mild enough place.\" She glanced back to the house thoughtfully. \"And anywhere is preferable to the presence of a spluttering firecracker, today of all days. I will be glad when it is over, and our guests have gone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin, Jackalope and Karya retreated back inside out of the cold, leaving the nymph to dodge responsibility and Mr Ffoulkes, in her own way, and wondering how to fill their time until tonight. Henry would be up after school later. He had promised to make it to the Halloween feast. Hestia had indicated that she was preparing a great and impressive spread in honour of those planning their leave for the Netherworlde at midnight.\n\nSo, it was with some surprise, these plans already laid and agreed, that Robin found Ffoulkes standing at the top of the grand staircase, wrapped in a great, fur lined overcoat of golden suede and brocade, with several bags and cases at his feet.\n\n\"Off is she? The old gal? A-hahah,\" he called down to them. \"Fair play to her. Busy one, your aunt. But so good of her to let us stay. I only hope I offered some small guidance while we were herein these most luxuriant halls. And, of course, that we were not too much of a bother.\"\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Karya said, frowning up at him with her small hand on the bottom of the bannister.\n\nFfoulkes beamed his toothy grin and clapped his hands, rubbing them together. \"Well! The thing is, I thought we'd get off too. The sisters and I. No time like the present, eh? Wouldn't want to be a bother with the lady of the house gone and all. And my business in the Netherworlde is rather pressing.\"\n\n\"We understood you would stay for the feasting tonight,\" Jackalope pointed out, crossing his arms. \"The mortals have a great tradition of it. There is to be much food to honour the dead and spirits. I aim to experience this thing they call \"jelly\". That is the plan.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Foulkes shook his head dismissively, picking up his heavy cases. He had a small backpack nestled between his shoulder blades also, lost in the furry folds of his decorative coat. \"That does sound smashing!\" he said. \"And yet, the Netherworlde calls. As the sisters would say, \"when the stars align\", yes? Ahaha. I have business in the Agora town and if I'm to get thereon time, we really should leave now. Such a shame, so sorry to be dashing. Shall we?\" He turned and disappeared from the top of the staircase, not waiting to hear a response from any of them. He was headed, Robin guessed, for the red door at the end of the corridor upstairs which served as Erlking's own Janus station.\n\n\"Come along, young master of the house,\" the Fire Panthea's jolly voice floated back. \"The sisters are waiting already. They travel awfully light. Just a few wispy rags. You know, I don't know how they manage it.\"\n\nHestia had appeared from aside room, as washer wont when trouble was in the offing. Robin explained what was happening, and the short housekeeper looked both surprised and affronted.\n\n\"Leaving? Now? All of them leaving?\" she stammered. \"But... but... Hestia has prepared the feast! The gammon is salted! The potatoes are boiling. Seven... seven meringues have been prepared! And for all of this I do nothing? None of it to feed our guests? All of it only for...\" she stared at Robin, Karya and Jackalope in disbelief. \"... for you? It is not for you that I work my fingers to the bone all through the night!\"\n\nBustling and bristling, she followed Robin and the others hastily up the stairs and along the twisting corridors of Erlking, grumbling all the time, until all of them reached the long passage at the end of which lay nothing but an unassuming red door. It was plainly decorated, yet a doorway to another world nonetheless. Before it stood Foulkes, practically hopping from one foot to the other in his strange eagerness to leave, and beside him, still and silent as the grave, the shadowy silhouettes of the three sisters who had raised Jackalope from his slumber."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Aha! Here at last. The man of the hour,\" Ffoulkes said, cheerily. \"Capital! Capital! I believe this doorway opens for you, Master Robin, yes? Scion and all?\"\n\n\"I do not understand this hurry,\" Hestia said, sounding a little devastated and affronted. She was looking from the man to the sisters in confusion. \"The feast? The feast tonight! A proper sendoff was prepared. There are... there are rules to hospitality.\"\n\n\"More like guidelines, my dear woman,\" Ffoulkes insisted dismissively, with a beaming smile. \"And we must bend them a little, I'm afraid. Terribly sorry, of course. The Netherworlde calls, and a good business deal never waits, as they say.\"\n\n\"Maybe we should fetch Calypso?\" Karya said quietly to Robin.\n\n\"No time for that, cherub,\" Ffoulkes said loudly. \"The sisters and I are away, and that's all there is to it. Although, of course, please do give my most ardent apologies to that wonderful vision of a lady, that I could not offer her words of parting in person.\" His face became grave. \"In truth, it is likely she knows already of our leaving, and the thought of our separation maybe something too great for her to bravely bear.\" He nodded gravely at his own words. \"No, no. let her mourn our leaving in private. Women's hearts are such fragile things.\"\n\nRobin suspected the most fragile thing in this corridor was probably Ffoulkes' jaw, should Karya get within swinging reach.\n\n\"The veil is thin from dawn on allhallows to midnight,\" one of the sisters whispered quietly. \"Anytime is good to leave. The alignment of the stars is fair.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You see?\" Hestia said quickly and hopefully. \"There is plenty of time to stay. Won't you be our guests this evening? So much work...\"\n\n\"Alas,\" Ffoulkes said, his voice perhaps a little firmer than intended. Fora second, his eyes flashed orange. \"Now is our time.\" He looked to Robin, his mask of carefree geniality firmly back in place, though it had slipped fora second, and they had all seen it. \"Scion of the Arcania? If you would be so kind as to do the honours?\"\n\nRobin hesitated. There was something not right about all this. The sudden leaving. It all felt wrong. Not that he'd be sorry to seethe back of the man.\n\nFfoulkes noticed the boy's hesitation. He tilted his head to one side enquiringly, his waxed moustache twitching with a smile.\n\n\"Not a problem is there?\" he asked. \"We are after all guests at Erlking, not... ahahaha... prisoners?\"\n\nThere was nothing really Robin could do. He couldn't argue with this fact, and he could hardly stop them from leaving early, even if he'd wanted to. No matter how much it might upset Hestia and all the work she had put into the Halloween feast. It was incredibly rude of Ffoulkes, but it wasn't actually a crime.\n\nHe reached past the sisters and placed his hand on the silver doorknob with its intricately carved letter J. There was a flash under his palm, like a ripple of static electricity, and he felt his mana stone pulse as Erlking reacted to him. There was a click, loud in the quiet corridor, and the doorway slowly opened.\n\nBeyond the portal, it was daytime in the Netherworlde too, although from the warm breeze that rolled over him, it was significantly less chilly. Golden light flowed in what looked to be a short corridor of black stone, through a galley of high arrow-slit windows on one wall. A few paces in, and a wide stone spiral staircase, worn smooth and dipped like melted butter under the eons of many feet, wound down and away from them. The inner walls were scattered with overgrown ivy here and there."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This door, to Robin's knowledge, had never yet opened onto the same part of Netherworlde Erlking twice. It seemed to connect to a different portion of the immense, crumbling palace each time.\n\nThe smells of the Netherworlde, rolling through the door and over Robin, were the same though. Deep spices, honey and cloves, wild fresh grass, and something undefinable that never failed to make his heartache a little.\n\nThe women passed silently through the doorway and out of the mortal world. The last of the three peering down at Robin through her veil.\n\n\"You have been fine hosts to us, little Scion,\" she whispered raspily. \"We have tried to repay your hospitality as we could.\" She glanced back at Jackalope, standing in the corridor between Hestia and Karya. \"In doing so, perhaps we have set events most calamitous in motion. But fate is blind, and the games she plays must play out. We are all merely pieces on her board. Remember that.\" A bony hand reached out and laid on his shoulder. Robin managed to suppress a shudder, not wanting to seem rude.\n\n\"But remember also, that with the right strategy and chance, a pawn may one day topple a queen.\"\n\nThe gnarled hand slid listlessly from his sweater with a rasp, and the woman moved on. \"Or even... an empress,\" she hissed.\n\nRobin watched the three spectral women glide away down the stone corridor of Netherworlde Erlking, passing in and out of bands of golden sunlight until they reached the spiral staircase and disappeared silently from view. Compared to the tedious Ffoulkes, for all their creepiness, they didn't seem too bad on the whole. They had helped Jack after all. If only they hadn't predicted Robin being buried alive, he might have actually warmed to them. But things like that can stick in the mind."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As the ladies go, so must I,\" Ffoulkes said, clapping Robin on the shoulder heartily. \"Be a good boy, eh?\" He glanced down at Robin's sweater and jeans ensemble critically. \"And do work on developing a sense of style to match your bearing, eh? Clothes maketh the man, am I correct? Aha.\"\n\nSomething rolled between Robin's feet and bumped against the brushed patent leather of Ffoulkes\" shoe. They both peered down curiously.\n\nIt was a globe, like a cloudy glass crystal ball, smoky and churning beneath its surface.\n\n\"Oho,\" Ffoulkes exclaimed. \"What's this then?\" He tapped the orb with the tip of his shoe, and it rocked back a little, then rolled itself back at his foot a little urgently.\n\n\"Oh, that's Inky,\" Robin said, surprised. \"It's a kraken, well, a baby one anyway. Woad's pet. We made him a travelling bubble so he can get about.\"\n\nHe was aware of Hestia's outraged stare behind him. They had managed, up to this point, to hide Inky's existence from the housekeeper.\n\nFfoulkes shifted his backpack slightly and drew back a little, frowning good-naturedly at the ball. \"Well well!\" he said. \"Will wonders never cease? This place, honestly. It really is filled with the strangest things. Little chap seems to have taken rather a shine tome.\"\n\n\"Inky doesn't really take a shine to anyone,\" Karya observed, glancing back along the corridor to see if Woad had finally appeared. Usually the two were never very far from one another.\n\n\"I'm afraid you cannot come on this journey with me, little one,\" Ffoulkes said, good naturedly. He pushed the orb back again a little more forcefully, as though shooing a bothersome cat. \"Run along now, eh? That's a good... squid.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin bent and picked up the ball of water containing the kraken, cradling it in his arms and peering at Ffoulkes curiously. The ball was practically vibrating, as though Inky were thrashing around inside. He could even hear the faint screeching hisses. The creature was very agitated.\n\n\"Not that I wouldn't enjoy such an exotic familiar on my travels,\" Ffoulkes insisted with a laugh. \"But I have a terrible reaction to seafood.\"\n\nHe took a step backward, so that one foot crossed the threshold of the doorway and into the Netherworlde. At that moment, something odd happened. Every light along the corridor on the mortal world side of the portal flickered in its sconce. There was a low, creaking groan from the walls and floor, as though the house were settling in a storm.\n\n\"What was that?\" Jackalope growled warily, his silver eyes darting around. \"Dark sorcery.\"\n\n\"The wind, surely,\" Ffoulkes said, as the lights flickered again and the timbers groaned, low and quiet. \"Winter is nearly here, it's a draughty old house, aha.\"\n\nBut when Robin glanced at Hestia, he was surprised to see her face was white and set rigid. At first, he assumed that she was still furious about the discovery of the kraken, but then he noticed she wasn't paying any attention to the watery ball in his hands at all.\n\nShe was staring at the Fire Panthea with wide eyes.\n\n\"Hestia?\" Robin asked. \"What's the matter?\"\n\nThe housekeeper didn't reply. Slowly, she raised an arm and pointed an accusing finger at the man. The lights in the corridor flickered again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You!\" she said, and her voice shook tremulously. \"You are stealing? From Erlking? You think to take from the bastion of the Fae what is not, and should not, be yours?\"\n\nFfoulkes spluttered. \"What? What are you... Of course not.\" He sounded positively scandalised'What absolute... what nonsense! What on earth has gotten into you, dear lady?\"\n\nInky wriggled in Robin's arms. It was a struggle to keep hold of him, like a greased bowling ball with a mind of its own.\n\n\"These walls do not lie tome!\" Hesita said shrilly, as Erlking groaned around her. \"Not to old Hestia. These walls know everything, and so do I. The second your foot passed the boundary. You are... you area thief, sir!\"\n\nFfoulkes wrapped his fur coat tighter around his throat, looking rather affronted and sticking out his chin defiantly.\n\n\"How... how dare you!\" he snapped. \"The very arrogance! Unimaginable accusation. I–\"\n\n\"The hospitality of Erlking has laws!\" Hestia snapped. Any vestige of the woman who had, only moments ago, been crestfallen that she would have too many baked potatoes and not enough guests, had fallen away utterly. Robin had never seen her look so righteously furious. Her little eyes flashed. \"You have broken those laws! Return what you have taken... or I shall take it back myself!\"\n\nFfoulkes broke into a grin, sneering at the small woman with clear and undisguised disdain. His air of shocked innocence fell away in the face of her threat.\n\n\"You? What a tremendous insult,\" he said. \"A glorified washerwoman? A maker of sandwiches and a scrubber of floors?\" The man looked angry, as though tired of playing the charming guest. \"You threaten action on me? I am of the House Ffoulkes, of the Black Glass Halls! I can trace my linage back to–\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"If you've stolen something, give it back,\" Robin said firmly, cutting him off."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ffoulkes had been coveting every item, painting, vase and object in the house ever since he'd arrived. Hestia's accusation didn't seem remotely outlandish to him. It would certainly explain his sudden urgency to leave as soon as Aunt Irene was out of the house.\n\n\"Glorified washerwoman?\" Hestia trilled, her voice painfully shrill. \"Washerwoman, he calls old Hestia! Hestia is more to Erlking than you imagine, sir. I am housekeeper. I am the keeper of the house! And of all things in it! You will not take in secret what is Erlking's to have. I will take it back from you.\"\n\nHestia snapped her angry little fingers, and a whoosh of air flitted past Robin's face. Ffoulkes voluminous fur coat billowed open, expensive buttons popping off and clattering away to the floorboards in a merry tinkle.\n\nBeneath the coat, tucked into the man's waistcoat, a bulky object was stuffed. They all stared. Hestia held out her hand, eyes still wild with indignation and the pale artefact flew out from its hiding place, sailed through the air and landed in her hand. Ffoulkes made a desperate attempt to snatch it mid-air but Hestia's cantrip had been too fast.\n\nIt was odd, Robin later thought. He had always known Hestia was a Panthea, but it had never occurred to him before that she might have any actual skill with any of the Arcania. That however, had been a perfectly executed and controlled Featherbreath.\n\n\"Give that back!\" Ffoulkes snapped indignantly.\n\n\"Well!\" Hestia peered down at the object, flabbergasted and outraged. \"And here it is. Shame on you, sir. Shame!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was, as far as Robin could make out, a mask."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One of those rigid ones which covered only the eyes and top of the nose. He had seen them used for festivals in Venice, or at masquerade balls. This one was carved from a wood so ashen and white it looked like polished bone, powdery around the dark eye-holes. Its surface was carved in the shape of spiralling leaves, and above, where it would rest against one's eyebrows, there were thin carved tendrils, interlacing and swooping upwards like the branches of a tree.\n\n\"Why are you stealing a mask?\" Robin asked, shocked.\n\n\"I... I'm not,\" Ffoulkes said stutteringly, in the face of all evidence otherwise. \"Your aunt gave me this, as payment. She must have forgotten to tell you before she left. That's all this is.\" He made a very unsuccessful attempt to cajole his features back into a charming smile. \"Just a misunderstanding.\"\n\nKarya, standing next to Hestia, was staring at the innocent looking mask with wide eyes. \"Is that... what I think it is?\" she gasped. The housekeeper nodded, looking utterly scandalised.\n\nRobin felt out of the loop. He had no idea what it was, other than an old mask. But looking at it tipped a memory. He stared back at Ffoulkes. \"My aunt didn't give this to you,\" he accused. \"She specifically said your payment was just being at Erlking, as agreed. I remember her saying it. And you've been looking for this mask since you first got here, haven't you? Admit it? You even tried wheedling it out of me, asking me all about masks and masked balls and all that nonsense, fishing for information. You were trying to find out if I knew where it was.\"\n\nFfoulkes glowered at them all indignantly. \"I deserve payment!\" he snapped, pulling his coat tight around him once more. \"No one else in the mortal world could have given that silly old woman as much information about that scrap of paper as I did! No-one! I demand that mask!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He gritted his teeth. \"Do you, any of you... idiots... have any idea how much this is worth to the right people in the Netherworlde? How much money I could make from this? It's the find of a lifetime!\"\n\n\"The treasures of Erlking are not yours to pawn!\" Hestia snapped. \"You have betrayed every sense of hospitality here, and you will leave! Now, sir!\"\n\nFfoulkes lip curled and he suddenly looked quite ugly, his face peevish and naked of affectation.\n\n\"Years! Years I've been trying to get to Erlking,\" he snapped. \"Just fora chance! Fora peek in all its corners! At all its treasures. And knowing... knowing... that this mask was here, somewhere! Of course, I agreed to help your aunt! That feeble minded old coot! I jumped at the chance to come here and help her with her ridiculous library card! For the prize of course!\" he sneered at Robin and the others.\n\n\"Honestly! Why else? Why else would I bother to come here? Out of the goodness of my heart?\" His orange eyes blazed. \"Leave London, willingly? To come up to the back end of beyond, where the only culture is in the tasteless cheese in the larder? To walk these draughty halls, to put up with squawking children underfoot? Draughty beds? Not a decent bottle of brandy in the whole sorry pile?\" He pointed rudely at Hestia. \"And having to put up with the terrible cooking of this sour faced, miserable old crone here?\" he said savagely.\n\nHestia looked shocked by this outburst. To Robin's surprise, Jackalope leapt to her defence. \"Nobody,\" he growled, glowering dangerously at Ffoulkes. \"Nobody cooks more magnificently, than this sour faced, miserable old crone! I should cutout your tongue, you insolent dog!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From somewhere about his person, there was a flash, and to everyone's shock, a knife was in Jackalope's hands. He must have lifted it from the kitchen at some point.\n\n\"I should cutout your tongue,\" the silver-haired Fae repeated, through gritted teeth. He looked quite feral. \"Even if I must use this ill-crafted mortal dagger to do it with!\" He glanced as Hestia. \"Say the word and his tongue is on a plate!\"\n\nHestia, holding the mask to her bosom, actually looked fora second as though she were considering this.\n\n\"Jackalope put down the knife!\" Karya snapped. \"You're not helping. You can't solve everything with stabbing! Honestly!\" She snatched the knife swiftly out of his hands, like taking a toy from a naughty child. \"This is a cheese-knife anyway, you moron, what are you going to do, pare him to death?\"\n\n\"What is that?\" Robin demanded, nodding at the mask in the housekeeper's hands.\n\n\"It is the Mask of Gaia, boy,\" Ffoulkes spat. \"Priceless! Lost for centuries. Forged by one the elementals themselves! Owned for time eternal by the dryads of the Elderhart! Rumoured to have been gifted to the Fae during the war and hidden here at Erlking.\" He was eyeing the mask with a hungry, maniacal gleam. \"It's worth is... incalculable! And it has been here, unused and hidden in a mothballed box for timeout of mind! No good to anyone!\"\n\n\"It... is... not... yours!\" Hestia said firmly. \"Leave Erlking now. You bring shame to your own name. Shame and disgrace, you peddlar of stolen goods.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ffoulkes straightened up, pushing Robin roughly back into the corridor with the others. He took a step back into the house, his face very dark and serious.\n\n\"You catch me off balance with a simple cantrip, but you think you can best me?\" he said quietly.\n\nThe air around him in the corridor grew darker, as he clenched his hands. Flames flickered into life across his fist with an audible \"whoomph\", their shining tongues flickering over his fingers. His narrowed eyes seemed to glow, brimstones in the darkness of the doorway.\n\n\"They probably cannot. But I can,\" said a voice behind Hestia. From beyond the gathering at the doorway, a thick jet of water, stronger than a riot cannon, blasted past Hestia, causing Jackalope and Karya to duck as it roared overhead. Robin threw himself against the wall, as the deluge filled the corridor and hit Ffoulkes full force, knocking him off his feet and onto his backside against the wall, the impact making the lampshades shake.\n\nSpluttering and drenched to the bone, his flames extinguished in sooty damp clouds, the man coughed and glared furiously down the corridor.\n\nCalypso stood between the children and Hestia, her hand still outstretched. She didn't look very impressed.\n\n\"Would you like to take me on? Mr Ffoulkes?\" she said calmly and quietly. \"It would be the first time I've found your company entertaining since you arrived.\" She blinked at him, looking archly bored. \"I can wait for you to dry out if you like, though heavens knows, that may well take years.\"\n\n\"You... you witch!\" Ffoulkes spluttered. He scrambled to his feet, bracing himself against the wall. His fur coat was saturated, clumped together, making him look like a drowned otter. \"I'll boil every molecule of your hateful, watery–\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man didn't get to finish his threat. At that second, Inky, still struggling in Robin's hands, exploded from his watery bubble with an enormous splash, drenching the boy as the cantrip collapsed.\n\nThe kraken, no bigger than a house cat, leapt out of Robin's arms as though on springs, and soared through the air towards the horrified face of Mr Ffoulkes, its tentacles flailing wildly.\n\nThere followed a rather frantic struggle between man and beast, as the kraken, firmly attached, writhed and beat at the man mercilessly, delivering slap upon slap with its many leathery tentacles to his head and body, while intermittently sending out great cloudy jets of black ink, spraying the Panthea from head to foot.\n\n\"Get it off me!\" Ffoulkes screamed in a most high-pitched and undignified way. \"Get it off! Get it off! It's possessed! It's insane!\"\n\n\"It's... trying to get the backpack,\" Karya said, her face a mask of shock.\n\nIndeed, the furious crustacean was struggling to grab at the straps and to prise the sodden pack from the man's back. It was only with dawning realisation that Robin saw what was going on.\n\n\"Hey!\" he yelled. \"That's my backpack!\"\n\nIt was indeed the Swedenborgian satchel which Aunt Irene had given him for his birthday in September. Robin lunged forward and grabbed at it. Inky already had several suckered tentacles wrapped around the strap and had managed to wriggle it from Ffoulkes' soaked, ink-black shoulder. Robin tore it away, slipping on the wet floorboards, and fell backwards onto the soaked and inked floor, clutching the backpack to his chest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Inky the kraken immediately left off its violent attack, detaching itself from the now bruised and bewildered Ffoulkes, giving one last jet of ichor-like ink directly to his face."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Blinding him completely, it slid across the wet floorboards to Robin's feet, tentacles slapping across the boards urgently.\n\n\"You were taking my pack with you?\" Robin was aghast and confused. Inky had wrapped several of its limbs around his ankle, starting to climb us his leg.\n\nFfoulkes struggled, spluttering and dazed to his knees. He looked a terrible sight. His clothes were ruined, his face amass of blotted ink and bright red circles where Inky's suckers had slapped at him. His usually perfect moustache and beard were sodden and as a wild as a hedge. Perhaps the most alarming thing was that his hair was gone, revealing a smooth bald dome, spotted with ink and covered in a pattern of kraken-whip marks.\n\n\"He's bald?\" Hestia gasped, clutching the mask she held to her chest, as thought this was the most shocking development so far.\n\nFfoulkes staggered, searched around on the floorboards before him with shaking hands, grabbing at what looked like a squashed and very drowned rat. With the last shreds of his dignity, he thrust the sodden toupee back onto his head.\n\n\"Why were you taking my bag?\" Robin cried indignantly, flipping open the straps. Inky gave a high, keening hiss, and as the satchel flopped open, all became clear. A thin blue arm flopped out of the dark mouth of the bag. Robin, too shocked to speak, grabbed it and pulled, and in a great ungainly heap, the figure of Woad, fast asleep and snoring, came tumbling impossibly from the Swedenborgian space, sliding out of the small backpack like a baby cow being born, straight into Robin's arms."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Everyone stared at Woad, snoring and oblivious, one foot still inside the satchel. Inky leapt from Robin's leg to land on the faun's stomach, curling itself into a tight ball and snuggling against the boy's tummy. It made an odd happy noise, almost like a gurgling purr.\n\nEveryone present looked up slowly at Ffoulkes, who still knelt in the doorway, drenched and ruined. He grinned at their dark looks sheepishly.\n\n\"You... stole... Woad?\" Karya said, very quietly.\n\nHer expression, matching everyone else's present, was murderous.\n\nFfoulkes wrung his hands. \"Be reasonable...\" he stammered, ink dripping off his chin. \"A-haha. The pelt you see... it would fetch such a good price...\"\n\n\"Erlking revokes its hospitality to you,\" Calypso said. By her side, Hestia nodded. It was the only time Robin had ever seen the two women agree on anything before.\n\n\"Now wait!\" Ffoulkes struggled to his feet, wavering uncertainly. \"I am not leaving herewith nothing!\"\n\nKarya, Robin saw, had a look of pure fury on her face. Through gritted teeth she hissed at the man. \"Oh yes, you are.\"\n\nShe dropped to one knee, slapping her palm against the floorboards, her amber bracelet flashing like fire. The floorboards bucked underneath them, making them all stagger, and then they rolled towards Ffoulkes in a great undulating wave, gathering speed and force as the shockwave flew down the corridor. Boards flipping up one after another with great booms. It caught underneath him, catapulting him off his feet and sending him flying backwards into the air, through the doorway and empty-handed into the Netherworlde. He landed on the flagstones with a winded \"oomph\"."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the floorboards settled, the red door of Erlking shook a little, and then of its own accord, slammed firmly shut.\n\nThere was a sigh in the air for several seconds. The floorboards settled. The walls ceased their creaking. The flickering lights became steady once more.\n\nThe Janus Station had closed. Ffoulkes had been thoroughly expelled from Erlking.\n\n\"Is your blue creature alive?\" Jackalope knelt by Robin, peering curiously at the snoring faun. \"It sounds in terrible pain.\"\n\n\"That's just his snoring,\" Robin said, struggling to extract himself from beneath the drowsing boy. \"Woad always sounds like that.\" There were smudges of jelly on the blue boy's cheeks, and Robin remembered finding the half-eaten crusts that morning. \"I think he was just drugged. Drowsing herbs, I'm guessing.\"\n\nCalypso stared around at the corridor. It was drenched. The doorjamb was smeared with firey soot and ink stains covered everything. The floorboards looked buckled as from a recent earthquake, and several of the light fittings were askew. There was a cheese knife lying with its point sticking in the floor, still vibrating.\n\nShe sighed. \"Your aunt has been away for less than an hour, Robin Fellows,\" she said. \"This is why I do not care to be left in charge of things.\"\n\n\"We must get the faun downstairs,\" Hestia fussed. \"I can bring him round. Though Hestia is tempted to leave him this way and have a little peace in the house for once!\"\n\nRobin glanced at the mask the housekeeper still held. \"What is that thing?\" he wanted to know."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There is clearly much to discuss,\" Calypso told him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But one thing at a time, please. Someone detach the kraken from the faun...\" Inky growled softly. \"... If you can. Downstairs, and then we talk.\" Her limpid, hazy eyes took them all in one by one. \"We have a larger problem anyway.\"\n\n\"Larger problem?\" Karya looked up at the nymph from Woad's side, where she was stroking the sleeping boy's hair out of his eyes with uncharacteristic affection.\n\nCalypso nodded. \"I was on my way to the lake,\" she explained. \"You think I returned to the house for no reason? I sensed a presence at the perimeter.\" She looked to Robin.\n\n\"I came to tell you all that there are redcaps at the gates.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "UNDER GEAS\n\nThe nymph would not be drawn any further until everyone was downstairs, decidedly calmer, and Woad had been attended to. Her only response to Robin's questioning as he and the others followed her gliding form down the grand staircase that the'creatures at the gate could wait'.\n\nJackalope carried the limp form of Woad in his arms, with Karya at his side, still looking an odd mixture of furious and concerned. Hestia followed the whole troupe, still clutching the odd wooden mask she had reclaimed from the thief Ffoulkes, and complaining loudly about the wet and inky footprints they were all leaving on the floor.\n\nWoad was carried to the main entrance hall at the foot of the stairs, where he was set gently onto a decorative chaise longue. Robin's tutor looked over him thoughtfully fora moment.\n\n\"Is he okay?\" Karya asked.\n\nThe nymph nodded. \"He is drunk on drowsers, that is all. Mixed with glam jam and butterwing seeds, by the smell of it.\" She glanced up at the housekeeper. Robin saw Hestia was still shaking slightly, though whether from her earlier and uncharacteristic use of magic or at being called an old crone by the vile Ffoulkes, Robin couldn't tell.\n\n\"Keeper, you have the skills to revive the faun. Bring him to his senses?\" Calypso asked her. Hestia nodded. The nymph held out a delicate, pale hand, and the housekeeper handed over the wooden mask, sniffing a little and straightening her apron fussily.\n\n\"I didn't like to do that,\" she said, tremulously. \"Hestia doesn't like having to do the Towers. Terribly messy things. But what am Ito do? When thieves attack the house? While the mistress' back is turned? I have my duties.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You did great, Hestia,\" Robin said reassuringly, wanting nothing more than for her to stop flapping and attend to Woad.\n\nShe shot him a withering stare. \"And who is asking you opinions?\" she fussed. \"Trouble follows you. Always, I am left with messes to mop wherever you tread, Robin Fellows. You are not master of this house for five minutes once your aunt is out of it, and calamity! And am I thanked for it? No! Such a nice man he seemed.\" She wrung her hands together. \"So charming! So dashing.\" Her lips pursed. \"And Erlking has the finest brandy!\"\n\n\"A vile snake,\" Jackalope said with feeling. \"A true fox in furs. You should have let me take care of him.\"\n\n\"Robin's aunt made it quite clear there were to be no impalings,\" Caylpso said, her voice calm and reasonable in contrast to the other two. \"I will at least keep that basic promise, if nothing else. Although if you are going to threaten worms like Ffoulkes, perhaps we should look into arming you with something rather more fitting than a butterknife.\"\n\nJackalope's eyes narrowed, his face deadly serious. \"It was a knife...\" he said with grim feeling, \"... for cheese.\"\n\nThe nymph's soft green eyes flicked to Robin. \"Perhaps, for the time being, Phorbas would be advantageous in teaching the elder Fae a little control?\" she suggested. She saw Robin's immediate unspoken resistance to the idea of giving up his blade. \"Phorbas is a trusty weapon,\" she assured him. \"He will steer a hand wisely, not rashly, Robin Fellows. A loan only. I feel it would be a wise preventative to anyone getting, as young master Henry would put it, \"even a little bit stabbed\".\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hestia bent over Woad, fetching smelling salts from a pocket in her apron, and began to fuss about bringing him to his senses. While she was busy, Calypso drew Robin and the others to one side. She held out the mask for all to see. It was a rather pretty, if curious design.\n\n\"All this trouble over a little trinket,\" she said, her voice faraway and daydreamy. \"From the moment that man set foot in this house, I knew he was after something.\" She sighed lightly. \"Lady Irene had no choice however. It is... unfortunately... true what he said. He is indeed an expert in rare things. Perhaps no one else could have pointed her to the London library.\" She turned the mask over in her hands, shaking her head in soft wonder. Still, to try and bolt with it as soon as she leaves. The man is a cretin as well as a coward.\"\n\nKarya couldn't help but smirk a little. \"Agreed,\" she said. \"But he did look in rather a wonderful state when we sent him packing. I rather enjoyed that, you know. Clothes maketh the man, do they?\"\n\n\"Henry is going to be livid that he missed this,\" Robin said, wondering if it was lunchtime yet, in which case Henry would probably behaving his school dinner and therefore free to receive an urgent hex-message.\n\n\"What is the artefact?\" Jackalope wanted to know, peering intently at the mask. \"He said it was of great value.\"\n\n\"Oh, it is,\" Calypso said. \"Great value and great power, looked at from certain angles. A dangerous thing in the wrong hands, which is no doubt why it has been hidden away here at Erlking for so long. The last person to have knowingly handled this was the Fae explorer, Hammerhand himself.\" She glanced at Robin, seemed to consider something fora moment, and then decisively passed it to him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As with all things at Erlking, this is your property,\" she said simply. \"It is called the Mask of Gaia. An almost legendary thing. It was crafted by old beings of the Netherworlde. Older than the Panthea and the Fae. Long ago, carved from wood taken directly from the Elderhart. Fora longtime, it was a treasure of the dryads.\"\n\n\"What's a dryad?\" Robin asked, turning the mask over in his hands. \"And what's an Elderhart for that matter?\"\n\n\"Dryads area type of earth Panthea, Scion,\" Karya explained. \"They are to Earth what nymphs are to Water. They are atone with the trees, forests, nature at its deepest roots. They are very, very reclusive. The Elderhart is a tree, or rather a great circle of trees. Enormous. Some people don't even think they exist, that it was only ever a myth. They were said to be the mother trees of all the Netherworlde, the first. The greatest forest in our world shares its name.\"\n\n\"Well, the elder trees clearly exist if these dryads carved this mask from them, don't they?\" Jackalope mused.\n\n\"But why is it legendary?\" Robin asked his tutor.\n\n\"Because it is imbued with true-sight,\" the nymph explained. \"Varnished in the clearest sap of the Elderhart and blessed by the very elemental of the earth itself, when the elemental still walked the world, long long ago. It has great power to the wearer.\"\n\nRobin held the mask up, inspecting it. It was quite light. \"True-sight? What you mean like x-ray vision or something?\"\n\nCalypso shook her head. \"The mask shows the wearer the past, memories, the truth of a thing, or the truth of a person,\" she said in low tones. \"A terrible thing. Never put it on. Not unless it is absolutely needed. The power in it resonates with your own mana, and as I am sure you have been told before, as Scion of the Arcania, you have the greatest store of mana of any of us.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin frowned to himself. The truth of a thing? He held the mask up and peered through the eyeholes, holding it carefully away from his face so as not to \"put it on\" by accident. He swung it around, catching Karya in his sights.\n\n\"Don't you damn well dare!\" she said, batting it down, almost out of his hands. \"The truth of a thing is a private affair. How would you feel if I could look straight into your head and saw all your deepest secrets and things, eh? It's rude to pry.\"\n\n\"And dangerous,\" the nymph agreed. \"Many claim to seek truth, my student. But truth is rarely what people wish to find, in the end. Truth can be ugly.\"\n\n\"I can see why the dishonourable thief wanted this,\" Jackalope said with guarded wonder. \"Imagine what some might pay for such a thing. What even Eris would give for such a tool.\"\n\n\"Don't get any ideas, treasure hunter,\" Karya gave him a sidelong look. \"This is Robin's by right, no-one else's.\"\n\n\"But surely it really belongs to these dryad people?\" Robin asked Calypso. \"It's their magic mask, right? Why should it beat Erlking? Shouldn't it be returned to them?\"\n\nThe nymph made a face, indicating that whether it stay or return was none of her business or concern. \"It was entrusted to Erlking long ago, clearly. War was upon the world. Perhaps it was safer here.\" She looked thoughtful. \"I wonder where Ffoulkes finally found it?\"\n\n\"Um... He didn't... I did,\" said a voice behind them. They turned as one to see Woad sitting up, looking a little drowsy, but awake and fine."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You little blue terror!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Karya said, though there was relief underneath her indignant tone. \"You went and got yourself kidnapped?\"\n\n\"Why were you helping that weasel, Woad?\" Robin wanted to know, though he too was mainly relieved to seethe faun was okay. Woad absently stroked Inky, who still curled contentedly in his lap. He looked a little sheepish.\n\n\"Well... he bet me I couldn't find it,\" he said. \"Firey-moustache-man met me in the corridor. Late last night. I was just sneaking down to the kitchens fora snack...\" His eyes flicked guiltily to Hestia, who looked silently outraged. \"Anyway,\" he said hurriedly. \"That bit's not important. Firewhiskers, he was up and prowling about. Weird, I thought. He said he was looking fora mask, but then... then he said that it was a very special thing, and not just anyone could find it. Only the very best and cleverest kind of person. When I asked him about it, he was really annoying. Kept telling me not to bother myself. That it was beyond my grasp. Mine! Me, a faun!\" He sounded affronted, his yellow eyes wide. \"I'm the best at finding things! I could find the flicker in a candle, I could. I could find the hair on a fish, the song in a stone! He just laughed at me and bet me I couldn't. Said if he lost the bet, he'd make me a sandwich himself.\"\n\nRobin rolled his eyes. \"He played you,\" he sighed. \"And drugged a sandwich, knowing you'd find it. Then he'd have the mask and a faunas a bonus. Cheeky sod even stole my satchel to stash you in.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Woad nodded. \"Swedenborgian space is a very strange place to be,\" he said seriously. \"I think it's given me indigestion.\"\n\n\"But where did you find it?\" Karya asked. \"Ffoulkes has been searching for weeks, clearly, and none of us have ever seen this thing before now.\"\n\n\"Oh, it was easy.\" Woad pointed behind them at the main doors to the house. \"Hidden in plain sight, of course. No-one ever looks at things properly around here. No one 'cept me.\"\n\nJackalope opened the front doors of Erlking, letting in a chilly breeze, and he and Robin stepped outside onto the stone.\n\n\"Lookup, numbskulls,\" Woad pointed. Robin followed the faun's direction.\n\nAbove the great doors to Erlking, in the stone arch into which the entrance was set, there was a carved face, a swirling circle of leaves, a man with a beard of foliage. It had been the very first thing he had seen when he had first arrived here. He still remembered Mr Drover explaining that it was a sculpture of the oak king. Now, Robin saw, a portion of the circular carving was missing, like apiece of a jigsaw puzzle. He currently held its eyes in his hands.\n\n\"Right over the doors,\" he said wonderingly. He looked at the others. \"So, what do we do now?\"\n\n\"About the mask?\" Calypso asked. \"Put it away, if I were you. Keep it safe. All things come at the appointed time, Robin Fellows. If it has come to you now, perhaps Erlking meant for it to be found at this time.\"\n\nShe glanced past the boys, through the door at the wide sweeping avenue of trees. \"Besides. We have other, more pressing matters, which require our attention.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes,\" said Karya. \"You said someone is at the gates. Redcaps?\"\n\nJackalope bristled. \"Redcaps are vile creatures.\"\n\nRobin was beginning to think that Jackalope considered most things \"vile creatures\", but in this particular case, he agreed. He had met redcaps before. Withered, mean little creatures who lived deep underground in the Netherworlde, burrowing beneath graves to make their homes. They were bright red, like lobsters, with long hooked noses and chins, and black eyes, meanness and sharp teeth in downturned mouths. Henry had described them as evil garden gnomes.\n\nThe last time he had had dealing with the redcaps, they had helped him out, in their way, but they had also betrayed him to Mr Strife.\n\n\"Redcaps area blight,\" Hestia piped up, tucking away her smelling salts. \"They come to steal the cabbages from the gardens. Mr Drover, he puts up horseshoes on wire. Nasty tinkling things, to keep them out. No redcap has set foot in the grounds of Erlking fora good long while.\"\n\n\"And they are not within the grounds now,\" Calypso told them. \"As I said, they are at the gates. I believe they are waiting to be admitted. They seemed official, as though they were hereon business.\"\n\nRobin wished fervently that his aunt had not left. She would know the right thing to do. But with her and Drover gone, technically, he was master of Erlking. Everyone was looking at him, waiting to see what he said. He twirled the mask in his hands a few times, then passed it to Karya."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Support the writer, proceed with the storyline.\nTags: science fiction, space opera, galactic empire\nAuthor: Glynn Stewart\nTitle: Chains of Gaia\nChapter: 27"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
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"value": "Ashe's soft green eyes roamed curiously over her guests. She looked very intrigued to see such exotic strangers in her court. \"You have done well,\" she nodded to him politely. \"I can always count on your diligence.\"\n\nDrinks were poured for all of them. \"With the loss of my father,\" the princess told them. \"Splinterstem is currently acting steward of Rowandeepling. He leads our people, in this time of crisis, and it is he who has been most active in finding a champion capable of ending this scourge. Something must be done. Many have died already.\" She looked deeply sad. \"None can match the Shard.\"\n\nKarya took a drink. \"I'm a little confused,\" she said. \"If you're the princess, with your father gone, why are you not ruling your people yourself?\"\n\nAshe's smile froze a little, but she seemed to catch it on her face. \"Our ways are not so simple,\" she said. \"Power is not mine merely to take. Not without a mate. I will explain later. But first, you have all travelled far. We must eat.\" She reached out and took Karya's hands in her own. \"We are truly honoured to have one such as yourself herein the Elderhart,\" she enthused. \"I know you can stop this creature and bring balance back to the forest. It is almost like fate.\"\n\n\"Princess, take care not to overexcite yourself,\" Splinterstem cautioned in a low voice. \"To talk of the Fates is to invite them down on our heads. Everyone knows this.\" He reached out and patted her shoulder a little. Robin thought he saw her stiffen slightly, although maybe the dryad girl's discomfort was just his imagination."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes... yes of course,\" she said, nodding, \"Your counsel is sounds as always, steward. Perhaps it is better to talk of other things.\"\n\n\"Your hall is very beautiful,\" Robin said, more to have something to say than for any other reason. \"The carving all around, it's really detailed. You have a wonderful home here.\"\n\n\"It is the Labyrinth,\" Splinterstem said, taking a sip of his drink. Robin raised a silver goblet himself and did the same. Whatever it was, it was unfamiliar, but it tasted like honey and apples and sent a delicious comforting warmth through him right down to his toes.\n\n\"The labyrinth?\" he asked, voice muffled as he spoke over the top of his glass.\n\n\"The Labyrinth has protected the heart of the forest for so long,\" the princess said sadly. \"Although, in the end, it did not stop the heart falling into darkness, into the beast.\"\n\nKarya slapped Woad's hand away from her plate. He had already cleared his own.\n\n\"I'm sorry if we seem a little ignorant, we're not really familiar with your world,\" she shrugged apologetically, her shimmering shawl glinting in the dancing lights of the hall. \"No one is, really. Your people are quite famous for being private. Everything the rest of the Netherworlde knows about you, about the forest as well, it's all just secondhand knowledge and guesswork.\"\n\n\"Well, there was Hammerhand,\" Robin pointed out. \"He writes about this place in the Netherworlde Compendium, although even he doesn't say too much about it. He came here once, he claims. Is that true?\"\n\nAshe nodded, the flowers and leaves at her throat tinkling. \"Yes! I recall him,\" she said warmly. \"The ambassador of the Fae.\" A tiny frown appeared in her delicate brow. \"He came herein a time of great tumult. When the world changed forever, and the Arcania fell to ruin, broken and lost to the winds. I remember he was allowed here, by Father.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Splinterstem set down his goblet.\n\n\"I will tell you all of the Labyrinth,\" he said, bowing his head. \"And the heart of the forest, the pulsing heart of the elder trees themselves. If you do not understand our history, then you will see what has happened, and why this terrible beast must be stopped.\"\n\n\"It must be stopped because it is a rampaging, mindless monster!\" Ashe said to him firmly. She looked to the companions, her green eyes wide. \"Many of our people have been killed. Hunting parties running afoul of the drake. Outer settlements scorched and withered. You have seen for yourself the destruction it brings. Death and grey decay to the very forest it touches. The Elderhart, my father's kingdom, is now riddled with just such places.\" She looked thoughtfully down at her hands. \"And without the king to guide us...\"\n\n\"It's not just your people, or your forest, in danger,\" Karya explained. \"This thing has been roaming beyond the borders of the Elderhart. From what we've heard, it's growing more powerful all the time. More bold. It has destroyed Panthea villages, withered crops, ruined the autumn harvests. The surface town of the redcaps even, Spitrot, has been completely decimated. Many of their people were killed. Those who followed it back into the forest were also hunted and ended by this thing.\"\n\nShe looked past Ashe to the steward. \"Anything you can tell us will be helpful. If we are to find and stop this thing. The more we understand, the better.\"\n\nSplinterstem looked from the princess to Karya. \"Pre-warned is pre-armed. Very well,\" he began.\n\n\"The dryads have always lived in the Elderhart, even since the Panthea first came to the Netherworlde. This has been ever our realm. We protect the great forest, and it protects us. We have a balance with nature. We are the balance of nature.\" He shook his great head solemnly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Things changed when the war came. Eris declared open war on the Fae. Panthea were split, fighting amongst themselves even. War raged allover the Netherworlde. Even here, in the deep depths of the forest, isolated from the rest of the land, we were not safe from it either. Eris' war tore our very people in two.\"\n\nRobin knew that this had happened elsewhere too. The Nereids had joined Eris' cause, rebelling against their Undine masters. Had something similar happened here?\n\n\"Did some of your people? The dryads, I mean...\" he asked. \"Did some of them supported Eris? Went to fight for her cause, against the Fae?\"\n\nSplinterstem grunted unhappily. \"They did. Not many of them, at first, but enough. Eris has away of doubling things, whether it is dissent, unhappiness, mistrust or simply bodies. The dryads who answered her call to arms, who left the forest, abandoning our ways and swearing allegiance to Dis. They were... changed by her.\"\n\n\"Changed how?\" Karya asked.\n\n\"Dark ways and means,\" Splinterstem replied grimly, setting down his plate. \"Eris tampers with the fabric of order, the natural way of things. Chaos is in her very bloodstream. The dryads she toyed with, deep in the pits of Dis, well, when they returned to the forest, they had become the swarm.\"\n\nRobin knew this name. Hawthorn had told him about them.\n\n\"The swarm?\" he asked. \"They're the ones who run the Hive, aren't they? I didn't know they were dryads like you.\"\n\n\"They are nothing like us!\" the princess said, sounding aghast, a pale green hand fluttering to her chest, clad in white flowers. It was odd, how she managed to appear delicate and willowy, when she was in fact a good seven feet tall. \"They are twisted perversions of dryads, tainted by Eris, dark and distorted reflections of everything we are.\" Her mouth downturned in distaste. \"The swarm are slaves to her will. She used them to great effect in the war, and afterwards, once Eris had won... Well, they made excellent guards for the prison she built.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The steward nodded in agreement. \"Eris never throws away anything useful,\" he rumbled. \"She built the Hive, far south of here, her great gaol, that dark pyramid. The swarm run the place, and all the forest around it. Their dark presence has corrupted the very trees in those parts. Dead woods, tangled thorns. It is a vile place. Avoid the dark places in the Elderhart, children. They all, everyone of them lead to the swarm, and to Eris' prisoners.\"\n\n\"We of Rowandeepling have been at war with the swarm ever since,\" the princess said. \"They fight us for land, and slowly we lose the forest to them, piece by piece. They will not stop, until they have what they want, what Eris wants.\"\n\n\"Total dominion of the Netherworlde?\" Woad guessed. \"She's a bugger for that. The Dark Empress doesn't like to share.\"\n\n\"Something more specific than that, little blue one,\" the steward said. \"Eris desires the heart of the elder trees. She will never call the horde of the swarm off until she possesses it.\"\n\n\"Tell us about this heart,\" Karya said, drawing her chair in closer to the table with interest.\n\n\"It was the culmination of the war,\" Splinterstem told them, leaning back in his chair, his large hands clasped over his stomach. \"The world was in confusion. The Fae King and Queen had gone, the Arcania was shattered, and then in the midst of all this upheaval, a man...\" He waved a hand at them. \"This outlander whom you call Hammerhand. He comes to the forest, claiming to be on a mission from the regents themselves. One last task given before they disappeared.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What task?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin wanted to know, his curiosity peaked.\n\n\"Hammerhand brought an object of great, great power to my father,\" Ashe explained, a little breathlessly. \"Tremendous power. It needed to be hidden, he told the king. Deep and safe where none would ever find it, this force of raw magic. My father accepted this burden. He commissioned the building of a great labyrinth. It lies far below us now, beneath the very roots of the elder trees themselves, and it extends for many miles beneath the forest.\" She looked respectfully at the steward. \"Splinterstem himself was its architect. A work of genius. He is... was... very close to my father.\" Her glittering eyes flicked back to them. \"At the centre, my father placed this object, this powerful treasure of the Fae, and named it the heart of the forest.\"\n\n\"It brought great protection to our people,\" the steward said, nodding. \"It fed the elder trees. They flourished. Made Rowandeepling strong. We dryads bloomed with it, and our strength has been greater than any of Eris' swarm. But the heart of the forest must be protected. The king and I, we set a guardian within the Labyrinth, one who would surely kill any who dared enter. A fearsome thing. Half man, half beast.\"\n\nThis sounded oddly familiar to Robin.\n\n\"What kind of guardian?\" Woad asked with interest.\n\n\"Is it... half-person, half-bull?\" Robin ventured with a frown.\n\nEveryone at the table looked at him curiously. Splinterstem's eyes narrowed with suspicion.\n\n\"How would you know that, strange Fae?\" he wanted to know. Robin's friends and the princess also peered at him closely. He felt his ears burn a little with the attention."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Educated guess, I suppose,\" he said awkwardly. \"It's just... well, a labyrinth? A dangerous guardian in the centre? We have a similar myth back in the human world, where I was raised. It's called a minotaur.\"\n\nThe princess nodded, clearly impressed. \"Yes, yes, a minotaur!\" she confirmed. \"Set in place to guard the heart, the relic of the Fae.\" Her face became concerned. \"It is a very dangerous animal. None have ever dared enter. Not since the time when the Labyrinth was first built. It is a vile and bestial horror, but it has kept the heart safe all this time.\" She glanced away, her breath hitching.\n\nRobin considered this. The Netherworlde seemed full of myths and legends, the Panthea in particular echoing old mythology. Mythology that didn't traditionally have any of its roots in Britain, or British folklore at all. It was very curious. The Fae, he could understand. Redcaps and banshee and ghosts, these were all things which to him seemed at home in the mists of'ye olde Britain'. But all things Panthea... centaur, kraken, satyrs and dryads, nymphs and fauns, and now a minotaur? Things in the Netherworlde seemed so... mixed up.\n\nSplinterstem leaned in solicitously. \"Perhaps that is enough history for now. This is not an easy topic for our people.\" He waved an attendant over to pour more drinks. \"Now please, eat... drink... be merry.\" He poured the princess' goblet himself and placed it straight into her hand, curling her fingers around the bowl gently. He seemed to treat her like a delicate flower. Despite her regal station, she seemed resigned enough to comply with his ministrations, and relieved to escape dark talk and memories. After the feast, she promised, Splinterstem would tell them what he knew of the beast."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "*\n\nRobin studied the dryads as they ate. They seemed a peaceable people. Subdued perhaps, but with some terrible creature destroying their forest, they could hardly be blamed for that. He was unsure what to make of the princess too. She seemed polite enough, but distant and a little sad. No doubt, she was mourning the loss of her father. He didn't think Karya was particularly impressed with her. His friend was one of the strongest people he knew, and the princess\" rather meek and ladylike bearing probably irked her sensibilities.\n\nAnd as for Splinterstem, during their trek through the forest, he had been stoic and watchful, guarding them at night, leading them hereon safe paths. Now they were here, Robin couldn't help but notice how attentive he was to the princess. Constantly refilling her cup, ensuring she was entertained. He spent the remainder of the evening practically doting on her, dedicated to her comfort and peace. His large green eyes attentive and respectful.\n\nWhen the feasting was done, the princess, looking rather wan, declared that she was tired and needed some air. Excusing herself politely, she retreated to a balcony. As the hubbub in the great hall grew quieter, plates cleared away, and the dryads all around fell to talking amongst themselves in groups, Robin and the others gathered around Splinterstem.\n\n\"This \"heart of the forest\",\" Karya said in a businesslike tone, without preamble. \"We all agree that what we're talking about here is clearly a Shard of the Arcania here, right? The Earth Shard.\"\n\nWoad nodded enthusiastically. \"I'd bet my tail on it. The Shards were hidden everywhere, right? One given to the Air priests and popped in a magic statue, one buried with Tritea the Undine at the bottom of a lake. Sneaky Fae squirrelled them all away like nuts for the winter.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, I was thinking this too,\" Robin said in agreement. \"Hammerhand was a Fae. He was a great traveller. I've read every inch of his Compendium. He was apart of the Fae high-society too. Not Sidhe-Nobilitas, but definitely a trusted member of court. It makes sense that Oberon and Titania would trust him to know a secret and safe place to hide a Shard, right?\"\n\n\"We were honoured to be given such a treasure,\" Splinterstem told them. \"Although in the end, it did not stop the swarm from forming. It has not kept our borders safe from them or from Eris.\"\n\n\"What I want to know is this,\" Karya probed. \"The Shard, the heart, whatever you want to call it... If it was deep in this impassable Labyrinth, and guarded by the vicious scary minotaur for all these years, what happened? How on earth is it suddenly out in the world, embedded in a great monster? Surely someone would have had to go into the maze? And fetch it out?\"\n\nSplinterstem looked very doubtful. \"None have entered the Labyrinth,\" he said. \"Not since it was constructed. And even if they did, they would never find the centre. I should know. I designed it. We respect the minotaur beneath the woods. The guardian of the great power. No dryad is foolish enough to attempt to pass it.\" He looked troubled.\n\n\"There was only ever one incident, a dryad who was foolish enough to enter, and this was long ago, when the place was very first commissioned by the king.\" He looked grim. \"It was myself who found his body, by the doors to the maze. The poor wretch. He was... almost unrecognisable.\" He shook his head in distaste at the memory. \"I buried him myself, his remains at least, before I even brought news back to the city. None should have had to see him in the state I found him, gored by the minotaur.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who was he?\" Robin asked gently.\n\n\"He was a good friend of mine,\" Splinterstem told them. \"He was also someone close to our fair princess. She has never quite recovered from the loss. It weakens her, darkens her heart even now, so many years later.\"\n\n\"Okay, so that rules out anyone going in therewith a red rag and dodging around gorey Mr McBullface,\" Woad said, tactlessly. \"I suppose after that, people would be extremely unlikely to try their luck, not being fauns after all.\"\n\nKarya cleared her throat loudly, interrupting the faun. \"But tell us about when this monster first appeared. The scourge with the Shard. Was the king its first victim?\"\n\nThe steward nodded. \"He was. And it is my fault,\" he said, looking down at his hands with a frown. \"I was with him, you see, when the thing attacked. I should have guarded him, protected him. That is my job after all. My calling. The king has ever been good tome. I grew up alongside the princess, treated almost as one of his own.\" His green eyes narrowed. \"But it happened so fast. And it was so strong. I was powerless to stop it.\" He looked up to them, his face grave. \"I failed the king. I let him betaken by this beast, leaving our people leaderless and the princess distressed. Which is why I swore that I would find a champion strong enough to stop it. To protect Rowandeepling. To claim back the heart of the forest for us.\" He looked to Karya. \"Then in my searchings, I came the redcaps at the edge of the forest. The beast had just attacked their town, this Spitrot you tell us of. I heard them speak of a great power at Erlking, one which owed them a favour.\" Splinterstem straightened in his chair proudly. \"I can travel much faster than lowly redcaps do. So I came, and I spied for myself, to see what lay at Erlking that might assist us.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Robin realised something suddenly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It was you then,\" he said. \"We've been seeing odd things for months at Erlking. Woad said he saw a face at the window of my bedroom one night, made from leaves, and Jackalope swore he'd seen blossom blowing through the grounds, a tornado shaped like a walking man.\"\n\nThe dryad nodded. \"Forgive my secrecy,\" he said. \"I wanted to see for myself first-hand what power lay at Erlking.\" He looked to Karya, his eyes wide. \"And then when I saw you, I knew our prayers were answered. I hastened back hereto tell the princess, that I had found our champion.\"\n\nHe glowered slightly. \"Little did I know that by the time I returned, the redcaps themselves would have already pressed you into their service, and that you and your companions were scattered through the grasslands. I was lucky to find you when I did, on the borders of the forest, by the rancid bodies of those two things.\" He nodded to himself. \"It was the will of the Fates. The forest brought you to us, great one.\"\n\nKarya looked incredibly uncomfortable. \"Here's the thing,\" she said haltingly. \"Everyone here has been very nice, but to be honest, I really don't know who you think I am.\" She pointed to Robin. \"He's the Scion. That one. He's the one the redcaps came to for help. I'm just...\" She shrugged. \"Well, it's all rather complicated, but I suppose you could say I'm just a runaway. I have some skill with the Tower of Earth, certainly, but nothing like dryad level skills. If anyone is best placed to recover a Shard of the Arcania, it's Robin. The Shards call to him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The dryad peered at her curiously. \"There can be no mistake...\" he said seriously. \"It is plain for any to see who you are, surely? If you are joking at my expense, then please, forgive my ignorance, but I am outside of the joke.\"\n\nKarya's face had hardened a little. She stared back firmly at the dryad, her golden eyes flashing. \"I'm telling you,\" she said, her tones clipped. \"I'm just a tracker, with some skill for prophecy. If you thought anything more than that, then I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you, but it's your error.\"\n\n\"Don't sell yourself short, boss,\" Woad piped up. \"You're the best tracker there is! And your Earth Magic is strong. You're the best person I know for cooking sausages! As for knowing the past and the future, it's no wonder Eris wants you back-\"\n\n\"Back?\" Splinterstem asked, looking from the faun to the girl. He looked genuinely confused.\n\n\"Not that Robin isn't amazing too.\" Woad clapped Robin on the back. \"He's the Scion after all. He's done some amazing things, and he hardly ever gets almost dismembered anymore. You did well choosing us, it's like buy one hero get one free, right?\"\n\nWoad grinned, \"Plus, you get me in the bargain too, and I'm the best faun there is.\"\n\nRobin had no idea what was making Karya so uncomfortable. She was more defensive than usual. He had the distinct feeling that the dryads may not react well to the knowledge that she had atone time worked for Eris, and he felt that he should help out by shifting the conversation away from the fact, back to the matter in hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Sorry,\" he said, getting Splinterstem's attention."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You were telling us about when the beast first appeared in the forest. You were with the king; you say? Can you tell us what happened exactly?\"\n\n\"It all happened so quickly,\" the dryad said, settling back into his storytelling. From the corner of his eye, Robin saw Karya give him a grateful look. \"We had heard rumours in the forest. These were more than the usual rumblings from the swarm, and we had putout extra patrols along the borders where we normally encountered them. But there were other strange things too. Oddities in the Elderhart. Rumours of a pale man, hooded and cloaked, walking alone through the trees. Many had seen him, lurking here and there, but none had been able to catch and confront him. He was like a ghost. Our people were uneasy. I suggested to the king that it would be prudent for us to check the entrance to the Labyrinth. Ensure the safety of the heart. None had been down therefor many years. It was almost a forgotten place, overgrown and abandoned. The king agreed, but he suggested that we do so discreetly, just the two of us. No entourage, no pomp or ceremony. He did not wish to cause worry amongst his people. And so we left at dawn, just the two of us. Our intention was to check that the doors were sealed. That this pale man, or anyone else, had not tampered near the minotaur's lair.\"\n\nHe looked troubled again. \"What a fool I was. We should have taken a full guard. We might have stood a chance. I thought too much of myself. That I could handle any trouble we might encounter.\"\n\n\"What happened at the entrance?\" Karya asked.\n\n\"The doors stood open,\" he told them darkly. \"Someone, or something, had already been inside. We didn't enter. We didn't dare, not knowing if the minotaur was within. I had seen firsthand, long ago, what that monstrous guardian could do to a dryad.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It was there that the scourge attacked us."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It came crashing out of the trees and fell upon the king. I was thrown aside.\" He shook his head, looking a little awed. \"It was huge. Green, scaled, covered in earth and soil. It seemed like the forest itself, come alive. It came out of the trees and set upon my king. I saw the heart, the Shard, as you outlanders call it, buried in its great forehead.\" He tapped his own emphatically. \"Like a decorative jewel... shining.\" He lowered his hand slowly. \"And though I rushed back to try and save him, I was knocked aside again with its great tail. This time, I hit my head. When I awoke, the day had grown bright, and both the monster, and the king, they were gone.\"\n\n\"Definitely eaten,\" Woad said, rather unsympathetically. \"You'll be wanting to avoid that, Pinky.\" Not surprisingly, this viewpoint didn't appear to make Robin or the dryad feel much better.\n\nWith his tale told, Karya and Splinterstem soon fell to the business of tracking and hunting the monster, which they both agreed should be done at first light.\n\n*\n\nThere wasn't much Robin could contribute to this conversation. He could barely track his way from his bedroom to Erlking's kitchen without getting lost, and Woad lost interest in the serious minutiae business of monster-slaying when music started up, and several dryads started dancing in a slow and graceful manner, filling the great hall with movement.\n\nThe faun went off to join them enthusiastically, to \"show them how to dance properly\" as he put it, and Robin, finding himself at something of a loose end, wandered out onto the balcony which fed off from the feasting hall.\n\nHe hadn't said anything to the others, but it was becoming more and more apparent that the thing they were facing was incredibly dangerous. No one seemed to have bothered to question his suitability at stopping it. He wasn't a brave knight in armour, after all. He was a skinny teenager with increasingly temperamental mana. Everyone just assumed he'd be able to pull some Shard-related trick out of his sleeve, simple as pie."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin was no coward. He knew he had to try, but he certainly didn't relish the idea of facing off against something which had been described as a'giant snake with many teeth'.\n\nIt's not a snake, it's a dragon, a small voice in his head piped up, as he took in the cool autumn night air out on the balcony. The vast canopy rustled and whispered above him, the many roads and leaping bridges of Rowandeepling stretching out below, shining in the darkness amid large clouds of glimmering fireflies.\n\n\"I know,\" he muttered aloud. \"No-one's saying the word, but it's clearly a bloody dragon.\" He ran his hands through his hair, sighing. \"Robin Fellows, hornless wonder, dragon-slayer?\"\n\nHe was trying to figure out if the voice in his head sounded more like the Puck or more like dream-Penny, when a voice beside him made him startle.\n\n\"Who are you talking to, Fae?\"\n\nRobin turned to see that the wide dark balcony was not, as he had first imagined, empty. He was not alone up here high in the trees. He'd forgotten that the Princess Ashe had come out here sometime ago. She had been standing alone in the darkness, looking out over her curious kingdom. Her white leafy dress and pale wreath of flowers made her look oddly ghostly. Tiny fireflies danced in the shadows of the trees behind her, giving her a halo of flickering lights.\n\n\"Oh, sorry... um, your majesty,\" he grinned sheepishly. \"I didn't see you. Just talking to myself, I suppose.\"\n\nHe wandered over to where she stood. She still looked sad and distant, but she smiled down at him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your master is brave and noble, assisting my people this way,\" she told him. \"You must be proud to travel at her side. We are blessed to receive her.\"\n\nRobin glanced back into the brightly lit glow of the hall, where Karya, still looking remarkably at home in regal settings and disturbingly unlike herself, was still in deep and serious discussion with the steward.\n\n\"Hmm,\" he said, looking backup at the tall, yet oddly frail, dryad. \"She's not scared of anything, that's for sure,\" he agreed. \"I think she's a bit confused as to why you are all treating her like... well... like she's one of you.\" A thought occurred to him. \"Hey, she's not is she? A dryad, I mean?\"\n\nThis actually elicited a laugh from Ashe, and for the first time since they had met, she looked unguarded. \"You are full of jokes,\" she smiled. \"Are all Fae so? I barely remember Hammerhand, I was only a sapling back then.\" She shook her soft curls. \"No, she is no dryad. Would you not know, and still be her companion? What is she to you then?\"\n\n\"She's a friend,\" he said. \"That's all that matters tome.\" He thought of what he knew of Karya, of her past, and the strangeness with the flute, of how she had eventually escaped Eris. \"I don't care about people's pasts. They're not as important as who they are now, right?\"\n\nThe dryad princess gazed at him a moment, and he could tell from her expression that she didn't wholly agree. She looked away, out over the amber railing and into the deep twinkling light of Rowandeepling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We are all the sum of our past,\" she said. \"It's they clay that shapes us. Every oak owes its height to the acorn it once was, and the soil before that. You cannot ignore what people once were. It is part of the very fabric of who they are now.\"\n\nThis made Robin think of Jackalope. Did he even believe his own words? Could Robin really say he didn't care about people's pasts? Even if those pasts included such unspeakable crimes as the murder of your own family?\n\nHe sighed, leaning on the railing beside her. \"People are very complicated things.\"\n\nThe moon had risen above the autumn forest, a yellow harvest crescent. They watched it sail through shredded cloud fora while in surprisingly comfortable silence, listening to the muffled music and hubbub of the feasting hall behind them.\n\n\"I know my father is dead,\" Ashe said eventually, without prompting. Robin looked sidelong at her. Her face was composed.\n\n\"I have no illusions about that,\" she told him. \"But until he is found, until there is proof and this drake is stopped... until the scourge is lifted, my people cannot be safe. I wish that I could offer them guidance, leadership.\"\n\n\"Why can't you?\" Robin asked. \"I mean, we all noticed... your steward, he's in charge, right? Kind of like a temporary substitute? He seems to know what he's doing, but we don't understand why you're not in charge yourself.\"\n\n\"It is the way of my people,\" Ashe explained. \"Splinterstem is a strong leader. He has ever been ambitious and he was close to my father. I cannot fault him. He has been endlessly attentive tome. But even his stewardship is only temporary.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin smirked. \"Yeah, we noticed his attentiveness too. I think he has you on a pedestal.\" He hoped this wasn't overstepping some mark, but if it was, she seemed not to take offence.\n\n\"I will not deny it,\" she said, smiling a little. \"Many times, as I grew up and came of age, he has made his intentions toward me most clear. I am certain that nothing would make him happier than if I returned his affections. And then we could rule together.\" She sighed, lacing her fingers on the railing. \"A dryad may not rule alone,\" she explained. \"Male or female, there must always be balance. Were Ito assume the throne, I must choose a mate. My father and mother ruled together for time immemorial before she died.\"\n\nShe leaned her hands on the railing, looking up pensively into the sky. \"There are those amongst my people who believe that his refusal to take a second wife is the reason for the balance of the forest falling out of kilter now. That his ruling alone weakened the elder trees, allowing this whole calamity to happen.\"\n\nRobin nodded in understanding.\n\n\"They think I do not know these things, but I know the gossip.\"\n\n\"So you can't be queen unless you choose a king,\" he said. \"That explains why there's a steward, I guess.\" He hesitated a little. \"But I'm guessing that the simple solution of you and Splinterstem is out of the question? He's not... that is to say... I mean you don't...\" He trailed off helplessly. Robin didn't feel he was very good at talking to girls in general, and this was basically a fairy princess in a halo of fireflies. Avery large one. He was a bit out of his depth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't return his affections, no,\" she confirmed, kindly putting him out of his misery. \"He is an attentive man. He has assumed so much responsibility since the scourge took father, but I cannot give him my heart, and therefore I cannot rule my people. I lost my heart many years ago.\"\n\nRobin had an inkling of what she meant. \"You were in love with someone else,\" he said. He had an idea who that might have been. \"Splinterstem told us something, about how someone was killed by the minotaur in the Labyrinth, back when it was first built. Was that...?\"\n\nAshe nodded. \"You are far shrewder than you appear, kind Fae. Yes. That was my love. My intended. We would have ruled together one day. His name was Alder. He was not high-born, but he was a fine dryad at that. The whole of Rowandeepling was shaken by his death.\" The sadness had crept into her green eyes again. \"Alder was a favourite of my father. He grew up with Splinterstem himself. The two were good playmates, practically brothers, rising through the ranks together.\" She glanced back at the feasting hall. \"It was not only my heart which was broken the day Alder died. I lost my love. Splinterstem, a brother in arms, and my father lost the man he already thought of as son and, one day, heir.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Robin said. There didn't seem to be anything else he could say, so he didn't.\n\nThe princess looked back out over Rowandeepling. \"My selfishness, my refusal to betray my heart, is leaving my people without a queen. I wonder sometimes... if I should reconsider my options.\" She looked painfully conflicted as she looked back to him. \"But could I betray my own heart that way? Betray my memories? When Alder died, I told myself I would never love again, and I never will. My heart is a cold ember. Perhaps that is cruel of me, selfish. Splinterstem tells me not to trouble myself with worries. He fears my constitution is weak.\" She sighed. \"Is love more important that duty? What would you say, child of the Fae. I would hear your counsel.\""
},
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin honestly didn't know what to say. The princess was looking at him in earnest. He got the distinct impression that, shepherded by Splinterstem, surrounded at all times by handmaidens, she very rarely had anyone to talk to, candidly at least. He considered her dilemma.\n\n\"I think...\" he said eventually. \"I don't know much about being in love. But I think your father would want you to be true to your heart... not to your throne.\" He looked over at her. \"He never remarried, did he? After your mother died.\" He shrugged. \"Maybe there is only one perfect person for all of us? It sounds like he thought so. If you're lonely, maybe you should consider taking anew mate, I don't know. But if you feel the same way your father did, I think you have to trust that you know, deep down, what's more important.\"\n\nShe returned his look for an uncomfortably longtime. \"You are wise, I think,\" she said eventually. \"And you have a good and honest heart. I can see why she would keep you as her trusted counsellor.\" She smiled a little more warmly. \"And worry not for your part. I am fairly certain that with your heart and that Fae face, you will know plenty of love in your life, child of Erlking. Amor est vitae essentia,\" she sighed. \"Sine amor, nihil est vita.\"\n\nRobin blushed and turned back to the hall. \"Now you're just teasing me,\" he muttered. \"I don't speak a word of the Netherworlde high tongue.\"\n\nKarya and Splinterstem were standing in the archway, evidently having come to fetch them. Robin thought Splinterstem looked a little suspicious, seeing him out here alone with the princess. He glanced over at the girl rather possessively."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We have a plan, Scion,\" Karya said, her arms folded under her silky shawl against the cool night air."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tomorrow, at dawn, the beast of the Elderhart will be tracked and found, and we'll do what we came hereto do.\"\n\nRobin nodded. Splinterstem crossed to the princess, guiding her back inside with a respectful hand at her elbow. \"And you should rest, Princess,\" he told her softly. \"This is wearying. Soon, there will bean end to this darkness over our forest, I promise you that.\"\n\nAshe nodded a polite farewell to Robin as the two of them disappeared inside, and Karya, once they were gone, looked at her friend, smirking. \"I think he thinks you're the competition,\" she said, rather playfully. \"What are you doing out here alone with pretty girls in the night anyway? Sweet-talking the princess, eh?\"\n\nRobin felt his face grow hot again. \"Oh shut up,\" he said. \"We were just talking. I know you're only winding me up for fun.\"\n\nShe laughed. \"Yeah, I know. I can't imagine you being comfortable enough to talk with a pretty girl under the moon, surrounded by fireflies and magic treetops.\"\n\n\"I'm talking to you quite competently, aren't I?\" Robin countered, defensively, slumping on the balcony.\n\nKarya stopped, looking a little surprised. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but seemed to change her mind, pulling her shawl closer around her shoulders instead and looking rather self-conscious. Fireflies danced silently between them in the shadows, a cool wind ruffling her curled hair.\n\n\"You'd better get some sleep, Robin Fellows,\" she said eventually, with a small frown. \"We all had. After all, we're hunting beasties at first light.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "DARKNESS IN THE HOLLOW\n\nRobin thought he would not sleep well, despite the cosy comforts of the treetop palace and soft moss beds in their suite, which were a blessed heaven after sleeping on the rough and root-filled forest ground. He thought he would be too worried. It's bad enough trying to get to sleep the night before an exam. Surely dropping off knowing that, in the morning, you were off to face a dragon was worse.\n\nThere was so much else to worry about as well. His missing friends, Hawthorn, Henry and even Jackalope, the sad story of the princess and her lost love, the terrible shame carried by the steward at the death of the king. But astonishingly, even with all these things whirling around his mind, and the insistent chainsaw buzz of Woad's snoring from the balcony, Robin fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.\n\nPerhaps it was the comforting honey elixir of the dryads he had been drinking all night, perhaps the lulling, constant susurrus of the autumn leaves below their lofty eyrie in their endless whispering sea, or maybe it was just sheer exhaustion. But he slept like a babe.\n\n*\n\nThe following morning, as the sun's first light was rising above the treeline, Robin, Woad and Karya left Rowandeepling and found themselves back on the forest floor at the base of the great elder trees. The journey down from the sky, carried once again by helpful and strong dryads on their purring iridescent wings, had been no less alarming than their ascent. Karya looked almost as green as their guides.\n\nThe princess had bid them farewell up in the hidden city, and almost every dryad of the haven had turned out to watch the three companions leave on their mission, with only Splinterstem himself remaining with them now back on ground level."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He insisted on helping to track and hunt the scourge. To avenge the king.\n\nHe stood with Karya, who had dressed herself once more in her familiar travelling garb and was infinitely more normal-looking to Robin and Woad, buried in her huge coat of animal skins. She seemed far more comfortable, more herself. The two of them were examining tracks on the floor near the base of the chasm, while Robin and Woad stamped their feet in the cold morning mist, listening to the autumn leaves fall endlessly around them. Robin was rolling his mana stone over and over between his fingers, trying to remember every single combat cantrip he knew from the Towers of Air, Water and Earth. Woad was simply stretching and looking a little bleary-eyed.\n\n\"Hey look, Pinky,\" he nudged Robin, pointing across the great gully back to the island of the elder trees. Robin followed his gaze. \"That must be the entrance to the Labyrinth over there.\"\n\nRobin could indeed make out, nestled amongst the gargantuan roots, what looked to be a great stone archway. It was covered with vines and tangled roots, looking dark and disused, reminding Robin of pictures he had seen of Angkor Wat back in the human world, old stones completely overgrown. On either side of the dark stone doorway, there were hanging cages, man-sized, slung from the trees themselves.\n\n\"I was chatting to some of the dancers last night about the Labyrinth,\" the faun went on. \"That one who was feeding me grapes. She said those cages over there are where they used to imprison criminals. Bad dryads.\" He sniggered. \"Didn't leave them there long or anything, just a day or two to teach them a lesson. She said the punishment of being so near to the horror of the minotaur and hearing its bellows was bad enough for most. Even if it couldn't come out and get them.\""
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"value": "Robin thought this was a grisly idea, but he could see from the look of the empty, rusted cages, even from this distance, that they were clearly empty. No one had used them in along time. Maybe just the threat of being put into one as punishment was deterrent enough.\n\n\"Why doesn't it ever come out?\" Robin wondered. It hadn't occurred to him until now, why the creature wouldn't just escape into the forest given half the chance. He couldn't imagine it was a very nice life, guarding a dank and lightless underground maze.\n\n\"It can't,\" Woad said. \"I asked that too. It's chained up, see. Really long chain, mind, so it can move about, up and down the corridors, but not long enough for it to get anywhere near the entrance. It's a prisoner there.\" He wiggled his fingers in a playfully spooky way. \"The dryads told me that those who spent the night in those cages came back with tales of hearing the horrible howls and bellows of the minotaur, and the dragging, constant clank of the chains as it lumbered around endlessly in the tunnels.\" He grinned evilly. \"A bone-chilling clank, a terrible clatter, the constant haunting music of the chains of the beast!\"\n\nRobin punched Woad lightly on the arm. \"Cut it out, you moron,\" he grinned.\n\n\"If you two have finished sightseeing,\" Karya called. \"We have found the freshest tracks, and I have cast a finding spell.\" She kicked dirt over a pile of twigs on the floor which were still spinning lightly with her imbued mana. \"The scourge is this way, I'm sure of it, and Splinterstem agrees. Let's go slay a drake.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "*\n\nThe dryad led them deep into the primal woodland. They walked for hours through hills and valleys under an unbroken canopy of leaves, papery underbrush thick as snowdrifts through which they ploughed, sometimes thigh deep. The day was warm and bright for autumn and the sun, rising high as the day wore on, burned away the mist and fell here and there through the branches high ahead in slender bright beams. The forest was constantly in slumbering motion, filled with the endless drift of pollen, lending the quiet solitude of the wood a magical, dreamlike air. Robin found it difficult to believe that anything bad could be stalking these woods, whether a Shard-maddened monster or the swarm. It was a fairytale space, deep and wild and untamed.\n\nIt was also, he remembered, as they left Rowandeepling many miles behind, knackering.\n\nThe constant slog up and downhills, between the trees, clambering over knotted roots and under straggling ivy and vines, took its toll even on the seasoned hikers. By midday, Karya called a halt to their exploring.\n\n\"It's nearby,\" she said, in a low and careful voice.\n\n\"Really?\" Robin said worriedly. \"That was quicker than I expected.\"\n\nKarya scowled at him. \"I'm never wrong,\" she said, her golden eyes glimmering like the leaves around her. \"Well, nearly never wrong. And any tracker could tell you that. Some of these trees are gouged, bark flaked, moss nearby flattened, and don't tell me you haven't noticed the smell.\"\n\nAs they made a camp for lunch, sharing the now meagre rations they had left from Erlking, Robin couldn't help but agree. The air in this part of the great forest was somehow richer, earthier, the petrichor freshness of newly-turned soil, the mulch of leaves, and the sharp, almost acidic tang of new cut grass. It smelled... alive."
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"value": "\"Anything?\" she asked him, as they sat on the leaves in the hollow of a great trees roots, passing a waterskin between them. Robin's hiking boots, much better for this terrain than his old battered trainers, had nevertheless begun to rub, as all new shoes do, and he was glad of the rest. He had taken one of them off and was shaking it upside down, getting rid of tiny stones from inside.\n\n\"Anything what?\" he asked, confused.\n\n\"She wants to know if your Shard-senses are tingling,\" Woad explained. \"You are the Scion after all. Are you not getting a tingle in your waters, or whatever happens?\"\n\nRobin had to admit, he did have a strange sensation. It was nothing to do with his \"waters\" or whatever the faun was blithering about, but the hairs on the back of his neck had been standing on end for the last couple of miles. He'd thought this might just be nerves.\n\n\"Maybe,\" he said uncertainly. \"Look, what is the actual plan when we find this thing? Do we even have one? I've never slain anything before. I mean, I know a few combat moves, but I think going in blind is a bad idea. We only have a sketchy idea what we're up against.\"\n\nKarya nodded sagely. \"Keep it simple, I thought,\" she said. \"Splinterstem and I will use Earth magic to try and hamper it as much as possible, maybe root it to the floor if we can, try and keep it in one place,\" She pointed at the faun. \"Woad, you do what you do best and cause a distraction.\" Woad nodded eagerly, cracking his knuckles. \"And then you, Scion, rush in and take the Shard from it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"How do you expect me to do that?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin wanted to know. Karya shrugged.\n\n\"We'll have to play it by ear,\" she admitted. \"In the past, the Arcania has wanted to come to you, it's almost like it yearns for you. On the floating island, the Shard shot over the room and literally stabbed into you, right? And in the sunken tomb, the second Shard sucked you into its watery tornado so you could get it. I'm hoping the same thing will happen here. Thought there might be more of a struggle as it's already been claimed.\"\n\nRobin didn't feel this was a very solid plan for them all to risk their lives over, and said so. Karya pointed out that no one else had any better ideas, and he couldn't really argue with that.\n\n\"Do you think we should be concerned about this \"pale hooded man\"?\" he asked, as they set off again. \"Splinterstem said there were strange things in the Elderhart, before the beast ever showed up. Not only trouble with the swarm, increased skirmishes or whatever, but this oddball wandering around. He might have been the one who went into the minotaur's lair and got the Shard out. The one who woke up the monster we're hunting right now.\"\n\nKarya agreed this pale wanderer was an unknown factor, and they should certainly be on the lookout for anyone of that description, but they had so little to goon, it wasn't something they could devote much time to worrying about.\n\nAt mid-afternoon, they reached apart of the forest which was reasonably level, a deep and wide bowl of a valley which cut between high wooded hills on either side. The tall dryad suddenly stopped dead, hand raised to halt the others.\n\n\"What is it?\" Karya whispered. The woods around them were quiet and hushed. The occasional falling leaf the only movement."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Listen,\" the dryad said. \"Do you hear?\"\n\nRobin, like the others, strained to hear anything. There seemed only the rhythmic rush of the wind, high above them in the trees, and he looked at his companions in confusion.\n\n\"I hear it,\" Woad whispered excitedly. And a moment later, Robin did too.\n\nHiding beneath the sound of the wind, matching it in waves, rising and falling, there was a deep and distant breathing, some great creature.\n\n\"And look,\" Karya pointed away between the tree trunks. Someway off to their right, there was a natural break in the valley wall, where the crumbling mossy hill was broken and a gorge of sorts, half hidden by leaves and tangled branches, made a form of tunnel. Bare jagged limestone poked through the earth like old bone through green flesh, and the grass and leaves around it seemed withered and grey.\n\n\"The mark of the scourge,\" the dryad said. \"It sucks the life from the forest wherever it goes.\"\n\nRobin listened to the loud, heavy breathing. He knew, without a shadow of doubt, that beyond that narrow pass between the wooded cliffs, the creature they hunted lay. He felt it in every quivering fibre of his being.\n\nKarya raised cupped hands to her mouth and whispered something to herself. When she opened her hands, dozens of tiny green fireflies fluttered from her palms, little guiding lights. They watched as this slim, glinting tide weaved away through the trees, disappearing into the crevasse of gnarled trees.\n\n\"We've found it,\" she hissed to her companions. \"Finding spell. Basic Earth mana. Come on.\"\n\nThey advanced cautiously through the trees toward the gap, taking care not to step in deep leaves that may rustle and give them away. As they closed in, and the grass beneath their feet became dry and coarse, sucked clean of life and vitality, the sound of the heavy breathing became clearer, long and slow, and huge."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The heart of the forest must be retrieved,\" Splinterstem told them, grabbing Karya by the arm. His green eyes were bright and hard. \"It must not be damaged or hurt. It must betaken back to Rowandeepling. All depends on it.\"\n\n\"Understood.\" Karya shook him off rather impatiently. \"That's what we're here for.\"\n\nThey passed cautiously into the hollow, Robin somehow finding himself in the lead. His heart was pounding, his mana stone pulsing against his chest, matching it with a second beat. The autumn day was golden but had grown cold. Yet even so, he felt sweat trickle between his shoulder blades with nerves.\n\nBeyond the gap, through a screen of tree branches which were completely dead, white and petrified, the forest opened up into a sunken glade. Everything herein this low bowl of land was dead. The ground was grey and bare, what grass there remained was crisp and dry. The leafless trees were pale and blasted, or blackened and scorched. All seemed ash and dust and desolation. Deep in the blighted hollow, where the ground rose up in a high rugged hump, there was a cave, wide, jagged and dark, and filling its mouth was the beast itself.\n\n\"It is a bloody dragon,\" Robin found himself whispering urgently, almost against his will. \"I knew it would be a bloody dragon. It's a big bloody dragon.\"\n\nOnly the head of the enormous drake was visible, the rest of the great creature evidently lost in the darkness of the cave behind it. This vast, lizardlike countenance rested on the forest floor, amidst the dry and withered grass, and it was truly immense. A skull easily the size of a large car, draconian and wild. The drake was a deep, sage green, scaled and rough looking, and along its face, in ridges beneath its eyes, and in great curls above its strangely equine brow, long grey horns sprouted. It seemed positively vibrant against the grey of its surroundings, a thick beard of tangled green moss cushioning its snout on the dead, dusty earth. Stones seemed embedded between its scales, riverbed-round and flecked with sparkling mica. It was the forest incarnate."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Like the earth-lions they had rode, out on the grasslands, the scourge of the Elderhart was made, it seemed, of earth and tree and soil and leaf."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only on afar greater scale.\n\nA wild and dangerous spirit of the woods, abundant with life and fertility, resting amidst the desolation it had wrought.\n\nOf primary interest to all of them however, was the shining diamond-shaped glow which emanated from the drake's huge forehead. It was emerald green, a jewel as sharp and long as a sword blade, and embedded in the forest-dragon like a third eye. It shimmered and pulsed with such a raw energy that to look directly at it made their eyes water, made them feel as though they were being pulled slightly from their sockets.\n\nRobin had been so entranced by the sight, feeling oddly mesmerised by it, that he felt the Puck stir deep within him, curiosity raised, and he was clear of the trees and halfway down the slope of the deadly hollow before he realised it. Stopped only by the frantic hisses of his companions.\n\n\"Scion!\" Karya snapped from the bushes, desperately keeping her voice low. \"What are you doing?! Get back here, you idiot!\"\n\n\"Pinky, you'll be eaten!\" Woad agreed, peering from behind the skeletal branches at the top of the rise.\n\nRobin blinked in confusion, feeling as though he had been sleepwalking. He had no real memory of leaving the others and walking slowly down the slope. The Puck had risen and taken over. His eyes were drawn by the Shard, that great glimmering emerald in the skull of the nightmarish beast before them. His own eyes itched, and he blinked rapidly, determined to regain control. He had no doubt that the Puck had moved him. It wanted the Shard, and the Shard wanted him. There was no question of danger. He would as readily have walked blindly into a hungry lion's cage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Robin shook his head forcefully, squeezing his eyes closed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had no doubt that they were as green and bright as the Shard. His hair probably white as milk. The Puck rose like gorge in his throat and Robin forced himself to swallow mentally, pushing the power back down. He would not lose control, he told himself. It was as Karya had said. He was the Puck. It was apart of him. He could control it. He had to learn how.\n\nIt was insanity, walking down into the hollow, into the mouth of the great sleeping drake, but the draw of the Shard was so strong. It sang in his bones, a vibrating music, impossible to resist.\n\nKarya motioned frantically for him to return'You're going to–\"\n\nA blast of hot air from the nostrils of the huge animal rolled over Robin, blowing his hair back from his forehead, and he halted, shocked. With a gargantuan rumble of motion, the large head ponderously lifted from the ground, shaking loose a small avalanche of scree, which fell to the ground with a clatter. Its head turned to the side, an ancient dinosaur built from bark and earth, and its hoary, snake-like eye, as large as Robin himself, flicked open.\n\n\"... wake it,\" Karya finished weakly.\n\nThe eye was orange, as bright and fiery as a setting autumn sun. The vertical pupil took in Robin, a milky inner lid sliding over its jewelled surface, and it contracted to a thin slit. As Robin stumbled backwards, the great drake opened its mouth wide, revealing an alarmingly large red maw, filled with teeth as long as swords, and it roared.\n\nThe noise deafened them all, shaking the trees, causing a flurry of leaves to dislodge from the forest canopy above and rain down on the hollow in a snow of red and yellow flakes. Stones and pebbles jumped and danced like popping corn kernels in a hot pan, and the great scourge lumbered out of the cave, dragging its moss-covered body thunderously across the ground."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Robin scrambled quickly to his feet, his hands scuffed with mud."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was dimly aware of Karya and Woad leaping down into the depression to join him, both slipping and sliding on a small wave of leaves. Woad was shouting something. Karya's mana stone bracelet flashed like amber lightning as she built her mana, preparing to cast. But Robin was transfixed by the huge and commanding creature in front of him.\n\nIt wasn't a snake, as some had said, though its body, emerging from the cave in long coils was snakelike, long and scaled and sinuous. Its sides and flanks were covered with moss and patchy grass, and along its long back there grew a spine of sharp and jagged rocks, a stegosaurus. But this long snake had legs, powerful claws digging into the soft earth beneath as it dragged itself forward, tearing up the ground as it reared above Robin, never once taking its fury-filled eye off the boy.\n\nIt looked to him like a Chinese dragon. There had been parades, back when he had lived in the city with Gran, every Chinese New Year, and people would dress up, forming a conga line of sorts under along and curious dragon body of silk panels, weaving and undulating through the streets to cheers of the crowds which lined the pavements, dancing along to powerful banging drums and the clash of cymbals. Robin had a clear memory of going to seethe spectacle as a young boy and he had found the street dragon terrifying and mesmeric at the same time, with its bobbing, wide-mawed head and large wild eyes. This was the same. The creature in the grove coiled and weaved sinuously, leaves falling from its sides in flurries. It filled his immediate future.\n\n\"Don't just stand there like a lemon!\" Karya yelled, suddenly at his side. She dropped to the ground and thrust her arms into the soil, coat flying out behind her. Beneath the beast, the floor bucked and writhed, and suddenly, from a hundred points, the earth erupted. Strong vines, thicker than a man's waist, shot out from the ground, green and snaking. With a shower of soil, the countless tendrils coursed up into the air around the drake, cracking like powerful whips as they arced through the sunbeams. Waving green tentacles, they flew in every direction, wrapping around the huge creature, falling over its bucking sides and plunging back into the earth, burrowing deep. Karya's eyes glowed, golden fire, and sweat was standing on her forehead, arms still thrust into the soil to her elbows, as she drew the net of creaking vines tighter. A binding spell. She was trying to pin the beast to the ground, to catch it in a net of vegetation."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Robin saw Woad spring over the mass of vines, clambering up them even as they grew and thickened, and the monster bucked and strained against their weight."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The faun scampered up the sides, leaping from creeper to creeper with dizzying agility and a manic bellowing war cry. His own mana stone flashed, a white storm, and wisps of alarming firecracker light began to pop and burst in mid-air around the beast, disorienting and distracting. The faun fearlessly made his way to the top of the scourge's back, scaling the stones of its spine like a cat up a tree.\n\nIt seemed to be working. The vines were thick ropes, tangling the forest dragon, pulling its squirming, writhing body to the ground. The immense animal bellowed again, shaking the forest.\n\nRobin grabbed for his mana stone too. He had to help. But whereon earth was the dryad? Why wasn't he helping? In the confusion, he glanced around and saw Splinterstem, still high at the lip of the hollow, half-obscured by the branches which had marked their entrance. He was just standing there, watching them, as still as the trees all around them. Perhaps he was paralysed by fear.\n\nThere was no time to worry about him. Robin knew his mana had been hard to control lately, but he had to get it in hand. His friends were depending on him, and this close to a Shard of the Arcania, he could feel the Puck bubbling just beneath the surface of his mind. He had to let it out, to relinquish control, to trust that he could direct the power of the Scion inside him.\n\nThere was a cry of pain from Karya. Something had gone wrong with her spell. The vines around the drake were withering, turning grey and papery. The scourge was absorbing the life from them, feeding on Karya's Earth mana. Ashe watched, they were dying one by one, crumbling into dust. The creature reared, snapping hundreds of them with deafening cracks. Untethered vines lashed out and fell everywhere, thudding into the hillsides of the hollow with great speed and force. Robin leapt aside to avoid being crushed by one which landed where he had been standing only a moment before, gouging the ground even as it disintegrated."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The drake shook itself violently. A cry came from Woad came as the faun lost his footing, tossed high in the air as the monster worked angrily to free itself. The blue boy fell and slid head over heels down the creature's long and scaly back, out of their sight.\n\nWith an almighty roar, the drake broke free of the petrifying net, and with a lightening quick buck of its coiled flanks, it lashed outwith its great tail, catching Karya full force, sending her flying through the air. Her body was catapulted across the clearing to land in a rolling heap amongst a deep drift of dry dead leaves.\n\n\"Karya!\" Robin shouted. She had been hit and thrown with such force that Robin's blood ran cold. She might have been killed. He started to turn, to look for Woad. Where had the faun fallen? Had he been crushed by the weight of the monster? But as he turned, the drake reached out and, with a swipe of its great claws, caught Robin hard, lifting him high into the air as well.\n\nWinded, Robin tumbled over and over, hitting the ground several times as he rolled to a halt, leaves in his hair and face. He was half-buried in mud and dirt, gasping into the ground. His arm felt like it was on fire. Had he broken it? His vision was blurry where his head had bounced along the floor, and there was a high pitched keening in the back of his skull.\n\nGetup! he shouted at himself, feeling the ground thunder and shake as the forest drake lumbered swiftly after him, bearing down on the boy like an avalanche. Getup getup getup, it's going to kill you!\n\nForcing himself groggily to his knees, Robin raised a shaking arm and with a flash of mana let forth a barrage of Galestrikes in the dragon's direction. They were powerful blasts of Air magic, invisible javelins of wind. He saw them tear the forest floor into tornados as they roared across the ground, scattering leaves, but watched in horror as they hit the great, serpentine head of the creature like nothing more than a strong breeze, ruffling its long beard of moss. The drake shook its gargantuan head, casting off the winds, its grassy flanks fluttering and flowing in the slipstream of the attack. It roared again, seemingly only angered by Robin's barrage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He stood, arm throbbing and teeth clenched, refocussing his mana, remembering his stances from every combat lesson he'd had at Erlking. Robin dug his heels into the soft earth, dropping low and threw with all his might a flurry of Needlepoint spells. Daggers of ice, a thick maelstrom erupting from his open arms. They glittered in the sunlight, flickering through the air, and buried themselves in the monster's approaching hide, as efficient as toothpicks. Almost immediately on impact they began to melt, simply sinking into the nightmarish creature's skin.\n\nYes, well done, Robin, he told himself slightly hysterically. Water the great big plant dragon, good plan, that'll help.\n\nNothing was working. It was simply too strong. It had a Shard of the Arcania fuelling its anger.\n\nWith nowhere behind him to dodge, the steep sides of the hollow at his back, Robin ran straight at the drake as it bore down on him, diving at the last moment to avoid its dangerously snapping jaws. Throwing himself onto his stomach between its clawed legs, he rolled under the belly of the enormous creature, covering himself in a flurry of crumbling dead leaves and dirt, and scrambled out the other side, back to his feet, trying to get behind it, away from the end with the jaws. He knew that much about dragons. Stay away from the pointy end. Dragon-slaying 101.\n\nWith a crash like a falling oak, the scourge's tail hit the ground, inches from his face, forcing him to leap to the right to avoid being crushed.\n\nThe beast hissed, aloud sound of pure fury, as it began to turn to follow its elusive quarry.\n\nRobin stared around the hollow, wild-eyed and panting, seeking out the others. Karya, he saw lay someway off, still unconscious... or worse. And there was something else wrong with her. The girl was covered in vines, tethering her to the ground, keeping her body firmly prisoner against the forest floor. How had this happened? Was this the beast? Could it control the earth too? Tying her in a net just as surely as she had tried to with it?"
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Serve as the author's scribe, continue the tale.\nTags: science fiction, space opera, galactic empire\nAuthor: Glynn Stewart\nTitle: Chains of Gaia\nChapter: 28"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He stood, arm throbbing and teeth clenched, refocussing his mana, remembering his stances from every combat lesson he'd had at Erlking. Robin dug his heels into the soft earth, dropping low and threw with all his might a flurry of Needlepoint spells. Daggers of ice, a thick maelstrom erupting from his open arms. They glittered in the sunlight, flickering through the air, and buried themselves in the monster's approaching hide, as efficient as toothpicks. Almost immediately on impact they began to melt, simply sinking into the nightmarish creature's skin.\n\nYes, well done, Robin, he told himself slightly hysterically. Water the great big plant dragon, good plan, that'll help.\n\nNothing was working. It was simply too strong. It had a Shard of the Arcania fuelling its anger.\n\nWith nowhere behind him to dodge, the steep sides of the hollow at his back, Robin ran straight at the drake as it bore down on him, diving at the last moment to avoid its dangerously snapping jaws. Throwing himself onto his stomach between its clawed legs, he rolled under the belly of the enormous creature, covering himself in a flurry of crumbling dead leaves and dirt, and scrambled out the other side, back to his feet, trying to get behind it, away from the end with the jaws. He knew that much about dragons. Stay away from the pointy end. Dragon-slaying 101.\n\nWith a crash like a falling oak, the scourge's tail hit the ground, inches from his face, forcing him to leap to the right to avoid being crushed.\n\nThe beast hissed, aloud sound of pure fury, as it began to turn to follow its elusive quarry.\n\nRobin stared around the hollow, wild-eyed and panting, seeking out the others. Karya, he saw lay someway off, still unconscious... or worse. And there was something else wrong with her. The girl was covered in vines, tethering her to the ground, keeping her body firmly prisoner against the forest floor. How had this happened? Was this the beast? Could it control the earth too? Tying her in a net just as surely as she had tried to with it?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A flash of blue in the grey and blasted ground nearby drew Robin's eye as he ran around the monster's powerfully lashing tail, and he saw with horror that the same fate had befallen Woad."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A humped pile of tangled vines, as thick as a nest of snakes, made a green and mossy grave-hump, tight and inescapable, from which there stuck a single limp blue hand.\n\nHis friends were out of action. It was just him alone in the hollow. Robin and the scourge.\n\nA deep rumbling growl immediately behind him made Robin spin. He stumbled as he saw that the dragon had turned fully while he had been momentarily distracted, seeking out his companions. Its huge face was mere inches from his. It was all that he could see. Before he could reactor think, its massive jaws opened wide, and Robin was staring into the deep and deadly throat of the monster.\n\nThis is it, he thought, in a strangely detached way, as fear rooted him to the spot. This is how I die? Eaten by the forest.\n\nHe raised his arms in instinctive defence, but there was no time for anything else. Nowhere to dodge to, left or right, hemmed in by coils on both sides. Robin squeezed his eyes closed, grimacing.\n\nA force, invisible and strong, gripped Robin around the waist like a great ghostly hand. It was cold and it lifted him swiftly into the air like a rag doll. Dragged upwards, wind whipping past his face and blowing leaves from his hair, Robin let out a cry as the dragon snapped, just missing taking off his leg.\n\nHe soared high over its head, flying like a terrified Peter Pan, arms and legs flailing. A puppet on unseen strings as he rose higher still.\n\nFrom his dizzying vantage point in mid-air, he saw a sight so unexpected, that fora moment, even amidst the confusion and the panic of being forcibly hurled through the air, he goggled in shock."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A large figure had entered the hollow, making its way down the slope hurriedly, crashing through the leaves."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was clad in black armour, looking like a shadow amongst the sunbeams. In one hand, along, cruel sword was drawn, the point dragging in the hillside behind it as it descended. The other arm was outstretched toward Robin, holding the boy aloft effortlessly with the sheer force of mana alone. Behind the shining figure, a dark knight come to face the dragon, along cloak of black feathers rushed.\n\nStrigoi?\n\nRobin had only a moment to process this. Strigoi, the Wolf of Eris, who had been hunting him relentlessly, had just saved him? Had used his mana to throw Robin clear of the monster's jaws?\n\n\"You, Faespawn...\" the wolf-headed man hissed coldly, his metal mask trained not on Robin, but solely on the scourge, \"... are in my way! This Shard is mine!\"\n\nWithout breaking stride, Strigoi flicked his hand as he reached the bottom of the hollow, sending the giddily-suspended boy careening through the air and away from the thrashing danger of the dragon. Cast aside like a brushed leaf, Robin hit the high slopes of the glade hard, lightening pain shooting up through his injured arm, as he rolled back down the steep slope, end over end.\n\nBewildered and disoriented, he struggled woozily back to his feet, shaking mulch out of his hair. What the hell was Strigoi doing here?\n\nHe watched as the armoured man rushed headlong at the drake, which had turned to face this new threat, rearing up its long green neck and hissing in anger. The creature swiped at the dark figure with its claws, but Strigoi ducked easily beneath the huge talons, a flurry of ebony feathers, rolling beneath the monster's grasp and leaping back to his feet with an agile spring which Robin would have thought impossible in such cumbersome and clanking armour. A black metal hand waved, slashing the air, and even from across the hollow, Robin felt the pulse of mana erupt, flying toward the drake in a shimmering wave of heat-haze."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Remarkably, Strigoi's mana unbalanced the forest dragon, knocking it backward, stumbling and roaring in surprise. Without giving it time to recover, the Wolf of Eris lunged onwards viciously, swinging his huge sword over his head in a practised arc and bringing it down with a great slash across the exposed throat of the beast.\n\nThe dark jewels set in the sword's grip flashed as the blow landed, Strigoi pushing even more mana into the blow, and a deep wound opened on the mossy neck of his enemy.\n\nIt was not blood which spurted from this wound, Robin saw, but a deep green ichor. It landed on the dead grass in splatters. Where the liquid fell, the forest immediately revived, flourishing into life here and therein sudden patches, wild green grass thrusting up urgently through the dead soil and springing wildflowers uncurling, red and white.\n\nThe Scourge countered his aggressive blows, lunging with snapping jaws for the man. Strigoi leapt back nimbly, just in time, a grunt echoing in his fearsome visage.\n\nHe must have tracked them to the forest, followed their path all this way, to Rowandeepling. Strigoi knew that following the Scion would eventually lead him to the beast, and the prize he sought for his mistress.\n\nThe dark knight ran around the drake, swift and sure-footed, his long cloak whipping noisily behind him, a flurry of black wings. He was constantly moving, forcing the creature to turn, coil into coil, to follow him, never giving it a moment to centre itself and lunge.\n\nThe wound on its great neck however, Robin saw, was already beginning to heal, the Shard embedded in its forehead blazing as the gory slash crept over with moss and bark and rolling stone, knitting it back together slowly. But Strigoi was giving it no quarter. Blast after blast of relentless mana poured from him, thrown like invisible spears at flank and claw and tail, slapping away the scourge's swipes and lunges, connecting each time with a thunderclap of force that sent ripples of power rolling out through the hollow."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Robin had to stop him. Strigoi could not be allowed to claim the Shard. He had to get it first. He was furious at being cast aside like a bothersome fly and worried sick about his friends. Every part of him ached, and the battle between the dark champion of Dis and the great beast was ranging allover the hollow, perilously close to where Karya and Woad lay immobilised. They were helpless. It was only a matter of time until the scourge brought down one of its huge feet, crushing them.\n\n\"Stop!\" he yelled, finding himself rushing, against all reason, back down into the fray, headed straight toward the battling duo. \"The Shard is mine! You won't have it!\"\n\nStrigoi ignored Robin completely, his entire focus on his relentless barrage on the snapping, roaring dragon. With each slap of dark mana, the sword sliced the air, finding its mark more often than not. Cuts and wounds were appearing allover the drake. The ground in which the two fought, dancing around one another, slowly becoming a verdant carpet where the green blood fell, vegetation creeping further up the dead hillsides with every blow and each passing moment.\n\nRobin dodged a great sweep of the beast's tail, ducking under it as it soared overhead. He was full of anger and fear, but he had to admit, also a little awed. Strigoi simply would not tire. He was fast, much faster than Robin thought possible, and he was either fearless or completely mad, throwing himself in leaps and lunges over and between the violently thrashing coils.\n\nThe metal mask, with its fierce expression of frozen cruelty, flicked toward Robin, who sensed anger pouring from it in waves. Clouds of breath escaped it."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"value": "\"Get back, you useless wretch!\" Strigoi hissed. \"Not yet! I have no use for you until it is weakened!\"\n\nStrigoi raised a hand toward Robin while slicing at the dragon's flank, and the boy found himself hit once again full force in the chest with an invisible fist. It knocked him flat on his back and sent him skittering away once more, out of range of the battle.\n\nRobin swiftly leapt back to his feet, his temper snapping completely. He was being pushed aside as though he were nothing! He would not let his friends fall. He would not let this whirlwind of dark violence steal the Shard from him.\n\nThe familiar anger which had been bubbling up inside him all summer rose to the surface, and Robin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and feeling his mana stone blaze like a hot coal on his chest. He was afraid of the drake, yes. It would be bloody stupid not to be. He was afraid of Strigoi too. His worst and most powerful enemy, battling right before him and seemingly not even close to tiring. But of one thing, Robin was sure. He was no longer afraid of the Puck. Of himself.\n\nCome on, he thought angrily. I need you now.\n\nFrom deep within him, like a roaring tide, he felt his mana rise, happy to be willingly summoned in full force for the first time.\n\nThe power of it roared through his veins, consuming him from within, a dark storm, and for the first time he could remember, Robin didn't fight it. He welcomed it.\n\nThe drake roared again, lashing outwith its great tail, this time catching Strigoi on the back of the legs, knocking the armoured demon onto his back amidst the newly-grown grass and flowers, crushing them and sending up great sprays of pollen."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Across the hollow, Robin opened his bright green eyes, and the Puck stared out at the scene before him. Wind and water raged within his mind, the forces of the Arcania, unbridled and unfettered. Atop his head, he could feel the autumn wind rushing through invisible horns.\n\nStrigoi was scrambling back to his feet, but Robin saw that the beast was bearing down on him, one great claw descending like a hammer. It was going to crush him, skilled a fighter as he was, the Wolf of Eris wouldn't get clear in time.\n\nRobin cast a Galestrike, a sonic boom of mana thundering around the hollow, shaking the trees and the earth, leaves whipping everywhere. The Galestrike hit the huge claw full force, blasting it apart in an explosion of moss, soil and rock.\n\nThe drake reared back, howling deafeningly in pain and anger. Its severed claw, blasted to smithereens, rained down on the forest floor, clumps of living matter. Thick grass and small, pale saplings wormed swiftly out of the earth where the blasted chunks fell.\n\nStrigoi was back on his feet and his dark visage glared across the hollow to where Robin stood with the force of the Arcania flowing through him. Wind crackling around the boy's bunched fists. Wind tinged with a flurry of shadow.\n\n\"Interesting,\" the dark man whispered, regarding the Puck in person for the first time. \"The worm has teeth it seems.\"\n\nHe took advantage of the reeling drake, throwing himself forward into its bucking body. Strigoi leapt and ran up the exposed arch of its throat as it reared backward in agony, thrusting his sword deeply into its rocky green side. The blade disappeared to the hilt and the man hung from it, slicing the flesh in along swoop as he fell back to the ground."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"More!\" he growled in fierce command. \"It is weakened! It is almost time!\"\n\nRobin had no time to consider the strangeness of this unlikely combat team. Puck was steering and Puck did not care who helped and who failed. Puck wanted only the Shard, by any means. Through the chaos and the noise of the fight, it called to him, a high clear note, a musical saw cutting through the fury of battle.\n\nRobin ran toward the drake, fearless and filled with power, a fury equal to Strigoi, throwing out Needlepoints before him. Shards of ice as long as his arm and thicker than spears formed in midair, sailing toward the dragon and thudding into its side, peppering it with heavy attacks, over and over, until the scourge resembled along, snakelike porcupine. This ice was permafrost, harder than iron, and it hissed and steamed in the creature's flanks as it tried to right itself. The dragon's orange eyes were filled with dark murderous fury.\n\nIn the increasingly verdant glade, Strigoi and Robin lashed out together at the beast, caught between them, attacked from both sides. Sword and Galestrike, Strigoi's walls of mana and Robin's blasts of furious wind.\n\nThe beast was beginning to buckle. It shook its great head in animal confusion, snapping at Robin with its huge mouth, a deadly blow which the Puck avoided by using Featherbreath almost unconsciously to lift Robin out of the way, a leaping, horned fury in a tornado of leaves.\n\n\"It is time, Fae-thing!\" Strigoi said, triumphantly, circling the dragon toward the boy. \"The beast is weak. The Shard is mine for the taking... but I cannot take it.\""
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He grabbed Robin by the wrist, cold metal tight around his skin. Robin, even with the power of Puck flooding through him, felt the bones of his arm grate under the grasp, and he cried out in pain.\n\n\"The Oracle told me! Only you can claim the Shard from the monster,\" Strigoi hissed, his carved animal face inches from Robin's. \"Even dogs have their uses. Once you have it, then I have it. Now, bean obedient dog... and fetch!\"\n\nWithout warning, Strigoi launched Robin bodily into the air, throwing him at the ailing dragon.\n\nRobin, yelping in pain and shock, flew across the glade, a vision of the hollow spinning before him as he hurtled toward the scourge's head and the Shard embedded there.\n\nIn that last moment of confusion, Robin saw Strigoi below him, standing amidst the coils of the beast, knee deep in grass and crushed flowers, his black armour glinting, his demonic wolf face grinning up at the Fae he had just thrown like bait to a shark. He was panting, his cloak tattered from the battle, his heavy sword at his side. And then the tail of the injured dragon lashed out and struck him.\n\nEris' wolf was smashed through the air, a swatted fly. He soared across the hollow, hitting the steep banks with a great thud, and rolling bonelessly back down the slope to the floor, where he lay facedown and motionless.\n\nRobin had no time to react to this. Puck turned his head toward the dragon, the hunger for the Shard all consuming.\n\nHe had been flung at the creature's face, propelled by Strigoi's mana, but it was not the glowing prize of the Shard embedded in its forehead which Robin now saw awaiting him. It was the mouth of the dragon, open wide, deep and red. And into its immense throat, brimming with the forces of the Arcania and helpless to stop himself, Robin fell, hearing the jaws slam shut behind him with a snap, as his world was plunged into darkness."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "DUO REGIS\n\nRobin floated in a featureless sea of peaceful green light. Weightless, still and calm.\n\nHe slowly began to feel his body around him, arms and legs outstretched, his white hair flowing straight upward from his head, curling and tangling softly against horns, tall antlers of white ivory which were as strong as solid oak. It was like being in the ocean, submerged in a soft warm place, bobbed along by unseen and gentle tides which flowed around and against him from every direction.\n\nHe felt peaceful, sure of himself. He was not afraid. He was the Puck, and the silent majesty of the greatest forests, with their deep and secret places, filled every cell of his body like a resonant song.\n\nIf I'm dead, he thought oddly to himself, then this isn't so bad after all. It doesn't even hurt.\n\nHis aches and pains were gone. His damaged arm did not burn, his battered head did not smart. He simply let himself flow through the endless green light, feeling it fall across his face, dappled and warm as the sun.\n\nI'm not dead, he realised, with the same strange certainty one has in dreams. I'm in the drake. Somehow. Not mashed into a pulp, not in its stomach, but within it, atone with it. With the Shard, with the Arcania.\n\nThere was no up or down hereon this primordial plane, no real sense of direction at all, but almost simply because he wished for it, he felt his feet touch a solid surface, found himself standing, the gentle, strong flow of the forest heartbeat still pushing gently all around him.\n\nAnd I'm not alone, he decided with certainly.\n\nIn the shimmering emerald glow, Robin found himself turning in this silent prismatic space. Behind him, there was another figure, on its knees, shoulders slumped, head down. Robin, through the crystal clear eyes of the Puck, regarded it solemnly."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was a man before him, a dryad. His clothing was, as with all dryads, an artful patchwork of the trees and woods themselves, woven moss and leaves, a great cloak of russet autumn foliage spilling around him. Atop his bowed head, there rested a silver crown, carved in the shape of many entwined leaves.\n\n\"You are the king,\" Puck said. He hadn't been certain, before he spoke, whether his voice would carry in this strange, dreamlike space. It didn't seem real after all. Not a physical realm, more... a meeting place for minds. But the words echoed around him. It was still Robin's voice, but it rustled like the susurrus of the forest canopy too.\n\n\"The king of the dryads. We are... within you,\" Robin confirmed, quite sure of himself. He looked around, at the endless shining power of the Shard about them. And realisation dawned.\n\n\"You were not killed by the beast, by this dragon of the forest,\" the Puck said curiously, walking slowly toward the huddled figure, power flowed around him in eddying currents as he moved. \"You are the beast.\"\n\nThe dryad king slowly raised his head as Robin approached. His face was old and lined, but not unkind. He wore along mossy beard, and his faceted, insectile eyes looked tired. Wearier than any eyes Robin had ever seen.\n\n\"I am,\" he said in reply. \"The Shard... the Shard has made me so. The Shard has made me the scourge of my own kingdom.\"\n\nThe king, still kneeling, opened his large cupped hands, and Robin saw that he cradled something. A shifting, prismatic nebula, flickering and blazing silently. It rolled over and over on itself, enchanting and beautiful, throwing its light up onto their faces. Power, raw and overwhelming, poured from it. Robin felt it tingle in his horns and stab hungrily into his eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Earth Shard,\" Puck said in quiet wonder. \"The heart of the forest.\"\n\nHe knew then what had happened. The beast had not come out of the shadows, emerging from the forest, attacking and killing the king of the dryads. That hadn't been true at all. The king had taken the Shard, somehow. It had been too powerful for him to control. Its power had engulfed him.\n\n\"You could not contain it,\" Puck said, hovering his hand above the Shard, feeling its warmth as the weary king, still kneeling, held it out before him like an offering. \"Too much power, even fora ruler of the forest. It consumed you... devolved you... built the forest around your body. You have become the drake.\"\n\nThe king looked up at Robin, his lined face grave. \"I am dead,\" he said simply. \"But the Shard... it will not let me go. It has such hunger, for life. I roam the forest, taking more of it into myself. I grow, become more terrible. I take the life of the land into myself. It will not stop.\"\n\nHe blinked at Robin, his old eyes roaming over the primal force of the teenage boy standing before him in this unreal place, horned and shining like a fierce young god.\n\n\"I know who you are,\" the king said. \"You are Fae. You are the Scion of the Arcania. How is it that you are you here?\"\n\n\"My enemy,\" the Puck explained simply. \"He threw me to the beast, to you. He knew the Shard would take me too. I think he counts on my strength to control it. To take the Shard back from you.\"\n\n\"And can you?\" the king asked hopefully. He seemed so withered and weary. \"Can you take it? I am so tired, Scion of the Arcania. I wish for the everafter. I wish to see my wife.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then give it tome,\" Robin said calmly, the voice of the Puck rolling from him with quiet command. \"There is no power I cannot bear. I cannot take it from you however. Power stolen from a king can never last. It must be given freely.\"\n\nThe king of the dryads nodded, and in that peaceful place, glimmering green and bright, he passed the Shard of the Arcania into Robin's hands.\n\nRobin felt the weight of it. Its energy poured up his arms like twisting roots and vines in his bloodstream. The sheer, intoxicating power of it.\n\nThe warm and comforting green light, in this odd, unreal dimension, was beginning to fade. The king stooped, exhausted, lowering his head but looking relieved to be free of the terrible burden of the Shard. He sank back to his knees, sighing, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he whispered. \"You have saved me, Scion. You have... released me.\"\n\nHe was sinking into shadows, the green light plummeting fast now all around Robin, so that he could barely seethe spirit of the dryad king at all. The only remaining light was the Shard itself, flickering and pulsing in his hands, throwing its illumination and power back onto him in silent pulses.\n\n\"But why?\" he asked, his voice more Robin than Puck. He had to know, before this place disappeared. \"Why did you take the Shard from the Labyrinth? Why did you tear out the heart of the elder trees?\"\n\nIn the near darkness, he thought he saw the king raise his head, a glimmer of faceted green eyes in the shadows.\n\n\"I did not...\" came the reply. \"Not I. Do not... trust him.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The endless green void was gone. The Shard pulsed once more in Robin's hands, and with the hands of the Puck, he raised it before him and stared into its swirling depths. The twinkling lights at its core, fireflies in dark treetops, flickered out one by one, and then there was nothing.\n\n*\n\nRobin opened his eyes, gasping. Light flooded into his face, harsh and bright after the soft and dreamlike space of the Shard. And with the light came pain. His arm screamed, his head throbbed, and his ribs felt bruised and scraped. He was lying on his back, under some kind of tight and smothering blanket. Whatever it was, it covered half his face as well.\n\nCoughing and spluttering, he forced himself to sit up, shedding the heaviness above him as he realised it was not a blanket at all. It was moss and grass and soil. It had grown right over him.\n\nDizzy and shaking, he tore the moss cocoon from his legs and chest, digging himself out of the ground. Everything was very quiet and still around him.\n\nI'm in the hollow, he thought to himself, disjointedly. I'm back.\n\nLooking around blearily through watering eyes, he saw that the drake, the transformed scourge that had been the dryad king, was gone. Its huge draconian body, made from the forest made solid, willed together by the power of the Shard, had crumbled. It lay around him in chunks. Boulders, swathes of moss, great lattice heaps of twigs and branches. The green lifeblood of the beast had spilled allover the once dead floor of the empty hollow and, feeding back the energy it had stolen, it had created a sweeping carpet of lush vegetation. Ivy was growing everywhere, fast enough that Robin could watch its questing, quiet fingers, curling around the rocks and wood that had made the body of the great monster, tearing it apart bit by bit. The dead leaves of the ground were covered in thick fresh moss and grass. Robin had been buried under it where he had fell."
},
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"value": "Staggering to his feet, he gingerly felt the top of his head. There were no horns. Evidently, Puck had retreated. But he felt... different. His vision swam. There was no quiet inner voice at the back of his head as there had always been before. Noticing its absence was like noticing the soft ticking of a clock only when it stops.\n\nHe had accepted the Puck, had ceased to fight against his own power, tinged as it was with a dash of darkness. The conflict which he had felt raging just below the surface for months was gone. Despite his aching and bruised body, he felt strangely calm. At peace.\n\nLooking down, Robin saw something resting in his hand. He was gripping it so tightly his bloodied knuckles were white, but he hadn't even realised he was holding it.\n\nIt looked like a large jewel, as big as a fist. An emerald, rough and uncut. Deep in its shining heart, golden sunlight flowed.\n\n\"I have the Shard,\" he said, shocked by how hoarse and broken his voice sounded.\n\nHe stared around the freshly verdant hollow, desperately seeking his friends. Where were Woad and Karya? Were they still trapped under vines? Had the creeping carpet of moss and grass, in its eagerness to spread, grown over them too? He had to find them, free them.\n\nHe looked around. The glade, transformed utterly by the death of the drake, was unrecognisable. Even now he could hear the creaking of small saplings as they pushed their way up into the air between the mossy boulders, rustling as their new leaves opened to the sky. All around his feet, bushy grass shook and grew, and flowers folded back their petals. The whole place was in quiet, lively motion."
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"from": "human",
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin took a few stumbling steps, feeling dreadfully unsteady, turning in a circle and trying to get his bearings. He could seethe mouth of the cave where they had first sighted the drake, although now he saw its dark opening was covered in a thick curtain of trailing creepers, even now blooming with pale buds.\n\n\"Karya? Woad?\" he yelled. \"Where are you?\"\n\nHe made his unsteady way across the floor of the hollow, between the new trees and behind a fallen tangle of twigs and scree, scanning the ground for friend-shaped lumps. Where had Woad been lying? He was sure it was here. His eyes fell on a small hillock, lumpily distorted. Oh thank God! He lurched towards it, nausea spiking with each lumbering step. He dropped next to the form, vision swimming as he tore the growth from the body.\n\nThere, lying motionless in the grass before him, looking up at the sun, like a shining, overturned beetle, was Strigoi.\n\nRobin's blood ran cold. The Wolf of Eris wasn't moving. He was either unconscious or dead, lying incongruously on the lush ground with the soft sunbeams falling on his dark cruelly-shaped armour. Tiny vines and plants twined around his legs and his still, gloved fingers.\n\nStrigoi's sword had been thrown clear when the beast had launched him violently across the glade. It lay someway off, blade embedded deep in the soil. Thin curls of twining vine were creeping up the black hilt, odd white flowers opening and shivering here and there across its length. It reminded Robin of the old Arthurian legends, of the sword in the stone.\n\nGripping the Earth Shard tightly, Robin stooped over the wolf, staring down at his fallen enemy. He listened, and in the stillness of the forest, from within the metal mask, he heard quiet, laboured breathing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Not dead then,\" Robin said to himself, a little shakily."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A dark part of Robin toyed with the fact that they were out in the middle of nowhere. No one was around for countless miles, and a very heavy Shard of the Arcania was in his hand. A blunt instrument of the highest order.\n\nWould anyone blame him? Really?\n\nHe dismissed the idea at once. He may have a little darkness in him, but he couldn't strike down a helpless, unconscious person, even one as loathsome as this.\n\nInstead, summoning his courage, he inched closer to Strigoi's head. The breathing was regular. He wasn't hurt then, not badly. Just knocked out when the drake had caught him. Just after he had thrown Robin like a human sacrifice into its mouth.\n\n\"Thanks for that,\" Robin said coldly. He reached out tentatively and gave the prone figure a quick poke in the arm. When Strigoi failed to retaliate, he inspected the man more closely.\n\nA curious part of him wanted to lean forward and liftoff the mask, to see face-to-face this Wolf of Eris. This powerful creature whom even the Grimms feared. Would he appear as a Grimm did? Ghastly while, old and reptilian, a pallid ghoul? Or something worse? The twisted face of a demon, hidden from view by mercy by this strange animal mask.\n\nA worrying thought occurred to Robin. Maybe he really was a wolf. Dark fur and bared, grinning teeth, cold, hungry yellow eyes grinning in the darkness behind the metal, drooling and waiting to bite.\n\nThis is what happens when you stray from the forest path, he thought chillingly. You meet wolves in the shadowy places between the trees. All the better to eat you with.\n\nThe train of thought made Robin shiver."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He had more pressing concerns."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Strigoi was powerful and dangerous. He had to find Woad and Karya, and getaway from this place, faraway, before their enemy awoke. They had to get the Shard back to Rowandeepling.\n\nA shadow fell over his crouched form, making Robin jump in alarm and spin around, his vision taking a few seconds to catch up.\n\nSplinterstem the dryad stood over him, looking down curiously.\n\n\"You have it,\" he said simply.\n\nRobin staggered to his feet, furious, glaring up at the enormous dryad. \"Where the hell were you?\" he yelled, completely forgetting any notions of not waking the wolf. He stared at Splinterstem. \"Where were you when the battle started? Eh? Woad and Karya? They didn't think twice about fighting! Even when this nightmare turned up and started throwing me around the place? Where were you then? What? Were you hiding under a rock somewhere?\"\n\nIf the dryad was ashamed, he didn't show it. \"You really must be the Scion of the Arcania,\" he said, not talking his eyes from the Shard, the glittering green jewel in Robin's hands. \"You defeated the monster, the scourge is ended. You retrieved the heart of the forest.\"\n\n\"Bugger the heart of the bloody forest!\" Robin snapped angrily. \"You're a coward! Hiding in the bloody trees. Is that what you really did when the king was taken, eh? Where are Woad and Karya?\"\n\nThe dryad pointed across the clearing. \"They are perfectly safe. Look,\" he said reassuringly.\n\nRobin turned, staring off in the direction the dryad was pointing, unable to make out anything but the tangle of the newly lush forest glade."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Where?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I don't see anything,\" he said. Something itched in his mind. Something he had just said had sounded wrong.\n\nWait, Robin thought. This doesn't make sense at all. If the king was the drake, then how could Splinterstem have seen the king attacked and taken by it?\n\nHe turned back to the dryad, confused. Splinterstem was looking down at him with his large, calm green eyes. Robin noticed he held a rock in his hand.\n\nThe dryad brought the rock up full force. The crack against the side of Robin's skull was sharp and hard. His legs buckled and he fell bonelessly to the ground, thudding gracelessly onto the carpet of thick moss beside Strigoi. The Shard of the Arcania tumbling from his fingers and rolling away in the grass.\n\nAmidst the sickening pain, as Robin's vision disappeared down along black tunnel, he saw the hand of the dryad stoop calmly to claim the Shard."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "FRENEMIES\n\nIt was sometime later when Robin clawed his way painfully back to consciousness.\n\nHe felt as though his head was splitting in two. Every bone in his body ached, and his mouth was dry. He became aware that he was lying, curled in a foetal position, hugging his knees, and that the surface beneath him was not deep moss, but cold bare iron with alight coating of old rotten straw.\n\nShakily, he looked around, every movement of his head agonising. His vision was blurred. The light stabbed his eyes, darkening though it was. Sunset? He laid his head back down carefully. There was silence all around him, only soft noises of the Elderhart. And he was alone.\n\nSplinterstem, he thought groggily, struggling to focus. Splinterstem had hit him. With a rock. With a bloody great big rock.\n\nMemories flooding back, he struggled to sit up, unable to do so without crying out in pain. His head hurt so much it felt like a cracked egg. With tentative fingers and eyes screwed closed, he gingerly felt the side of his head. It felt tacky and tender. Dried blood.\n\nDried though, he thought to himself. That's good, right? It would be worse if it was still bleeding. What had happened? What had the dryad done to him?\n\nOpening his eyes properly, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to retch, he blearily took in his surroundings. He was in a cage, circular and suspended just above the forest floor on along chain, his small prison hovering only a few feet above the grass. The bars were close set together and flecked with rust. There was room to stand, but he didn't dare try to. He felt quite certain that if he tried, he would most definitely throw up or pass out, probably both."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Beyond the cage, the forest stretched away. There were other swinging enclosures, two or three, all looking long-disused and empty.\n\nI know where I am, Robin realised, hanging onto the bars for balance. Behind him were the great roots of one of the elder trees, vast and wide like a knotted cliff face, and only a few paces away was the dark and overgrown stone archway that marked the entrance to the Labyrinth.\n\nI'm back at Rowandeepling, he thought. The dryad brought me back here. But why?\n\nRobin looked upwards carefully. Through the roof, he could seethe great circle of the elder tree's trunk stretching up and away into the sunset crimson sky. High, far above, he could just make out the glimmering latticework of amber bridges, the treetop city of the dryads.\n\nHe tried to call out, but his voice was nothing but a dry croak. He coughed and spluttered, each spasm making his head creak.\n\nWhy would Splinterstem do this? Why were the other dryads allowing it? And why were none of them flying down hereto see who was in the cage?\n\nRobin peered desperately around the forest. He had no answers. He was utterly alone. He didn't know where Karya was, where Woad was, and though it worried him to admit it, he was badly hurt.\n\n\"And the Shard's gone, don't forget that,\" he muttered to himself. \"Great job. Perfect.\"\n\nThe sun slowly set while Robin rested, waiting for enough strength to return to be able to stand. Gloom and twilight slowly descended on the wood, and still no one came. Not a single noise or movement was in deep darkness of the forest. The autumn air grew chill."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Come to think of it, something else was very wrong, he realised after a time. He looked up again toward the distant settlement of the dryads far ahead. It was dark above. There were no glimmering distant lights, no lanterns making the bridges beneath the canopy of the elder trees glow. The sanctuary of the dryads seemed still and silent. Robin felt it in his bones. Something very bad had happened.\n\nWhen he eventually felt he could safely stand, feeling watery and tired with the cold of the growing night, Robin gave the bars an experimental shake. They rattled noisily, but didn't budge, of course. The only thing he achieved was to set the cage lazily rocking, which made him feel nauseous again. He hadn't expected much.\n\nHe would have to use magic, he decided. Featherbreath perhaps, or a Waterwhip directed at the chain holding the cage aloft. It might be enough to break an old link? Or he could use the Golem cantrip, summon a few rocks and boulders. Maybe if he got them to pileup next to his swinging prison, he could roll one up this slope beside the cage and into his hand. He had an idea he might be able to bash at the bars with such a rudimentary weapon, bend them out of shape somehow. It might be enough to slip through and escape.\n\nHis heart almost stopped when he reached for his mana stone with trembling fingers and found it gone.\n\nThe dryad had taken it. In blind horror, Robin searched the dark floor of the cage and the grass that he could see beyond the bars in the fading light, hoping against hope that maybe it had just fallen, that he might see his seraphinite shining in the darkness nearby. He knew, deep down however, that his stone hadn't merely fallen off. It was gone. Stolen. He was utterly without magic."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He spent sometime listing inventive curse words.\n\n\"Okay,\" he said, forcing his voice to becalm. \"Don't panic. Panicking won't help anything. You just... you just have to think this through. You recently defeated a king who was enthralled to the power of a Shard and turned himself into a dragon. If you can fight a dragon, you can think your way out of a cage.\"\n\nBut it was easy to say, and harder to feel. More than ever, stripped of his mana, he felt like nothing more than a teenager way out of his depth. Without weapons, lost and alone in a great strange forest in an alien world. His friends were gone, the Shard was gone, his magic was gone, and he was really seriously hurt. As far as he knew, no one in this world or the next knew where he was, and no one was coming to help him.\n\n\"This is really, extremely bad,\" he muttered, clamping down on the rising panic.\n\nSplinterstem's betrayal was unfathomable to him. He had to get out of here. He didn't want to rot here, forgotten and alone at the mouth of the Labyrinth. Or else, even worse, to sit and wait for Strigoi to awaken and track him back here. He didn't fancy coming upon the wolf herein the deep woods, without even a smidgen of mana to defend himself.\n\n\"This is what happens...\" he said aloud, to no one in particular, \"... when fairy tales are right. There's always a wolf hunting you, and even the bloody trees want you dead.\"\n\nAfter awhile, the moon rose, shimmering down through the silent canopy in grey beams. The forest seemed a large and lonely place around him. Time wore on, Robin nursed his wounds as best he could, and the air grew colder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Miserable and trapped, he would have given anything, anything in the world to have been back at Erlking. Arguing around the dining table with Henry and Karya and Woad. Even Jackalope, murderer or not.\n\nHe wanted Aunt Irene, stoking the fires with her poker and complaining about doors being left open everywhere. He wanted Mr Drover, snoozing in a high-backed chair under a newspaper, his snores as commonplace as the ticking clocks. He wanted Calypso, sitting knees tucked upon a deep window-seat, reading her obscure poetry. He even wanted Hestia, fussing around like a clucking hen and accusing them of tremendous crimes against the household.\n\nRobin wanted Erlking. He wanted home. So badly it ached.\n\nAfter awhile, he lay in the thin straw, listening to the endless, uncaring forest going about its night business, and buried his aching head in his hands. He was glad of the dark then, and that there was no one around to hear him. The great saviour of the Netherworlde surely should not sniffle.\n\n*\n\nHe was roused from the straw sometime later, deep in the night, by a noise.\n\nIt was very dark in the forest. The moon was hidden now above by the canopy and thick cloud, and the shadows were deep. Robin could barely see beyond the bars. But there had definitely been a noise. Something other than the occasional scurry of some small woodland creature going about its invisible business in the unseen undergrowth.\n\nHe tensed, suddenly alert, straining to hear. In his mind's eye, he thought he imagined the clanking of chains and the heavy footfalls of the minotaur, dreaded guardian of the Labyrinth. He was sure there had been footsteps, out therein the deep grass, close by."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "This was just his imagination, he knew. It wasn't the minotaur, come to claim him from his cage. Woad had already told him that the beast was chained, unable to leave the underground maze.\n\nBut still, something was out there. A forest animal perhaps, coming closer out of curiosity to seethe odd spectacle of a Fae caged like a songbird in the night? The treacherous dryad comeback to finish him off? He scanned the darkness warily, straining to make out a shape in the trees. Maybe it was Strigoi, having tracked him down at last, following their path from the hollow of the forest drake, back to Rowandeepling. He imagined that dark grinning wolf face, looming silent and unseen in the shadows, watching him hungrily, and shivered with goosebumps.\n\n\"Who's out there?\" he asked, striving not to sound afraid. In truth, he was so weary that his voice, if anything, sounded irritated.\n\nThis time he definitely did see a shape, something detached from the darkness in front of him. Coming not from the direction of the Labyrinth but from the depths of the trees, back toward the deep ravine which separated the island of the elder trees from the rest of the forest.\n\nHe wasn't imagining things. There was someone there. Someone approaching in the dark. All the hairs stood upon Robin's neck. He could hear the quiet footsteps in the grass. He was painfully aware that without his mana stone, he was utterly defenceless. The shadowy figure drew closer in the dark.\n\n\"Bloody hell,\" the stranger said breathlessly. \"It really is you!\"\n\nRobin blinked in utter confusion. The voice was so familiar, but so unexpected herein this dark place in the misty night. He hardly dared to believe his own ears."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Wh... who...?\"\n\nThe shadowy stranger rushed forward, running across the grass.\n\n\"Robin!\" Henry cried, grinning.\n\nRobin stared down through the bars at his friend. It was Henry. It couldn't be, surely? It seemed impossible, and yet here he was. The boy's tangled and tousled brown hair was matted to his head. His face was smeared with dirt, but it really was Henry, wide-eyed and grinning up through the darkness. He reached in through the bars and Robin grabbed his arms, feeling a desperate urge to check he was real, that this wasn't just some fevered dream brought on by one too many knocks to the head.\n\n\"Henry! You're here!\" he croaked, staring. \"You're really here? How are you here?\"\n\nHenry, Robin noticed, was in his white school shirt, though it was filthy, tattered and torn along the arm. His school tie, he noticed, was rather surreally tied around his head like a bandana, keeping his messy mop of hair out of his eyes. The gangly boy looked practically feral.\n\n\"And why do you look like you just stepped out of Lord of the Flies!?\"\n\n\"You're one to talk, mate!\" Henry laughed. \"You look like something ate you up and spat you out!\"\n\n\"Something did!\" Robin replied a little hysterically, unable to stop himself from grinning.\n\n\"And you're all hung up like a Christmas decoration,\" Henry babbled. \"God, it's good to see you, mate! Where's everyone else? I didn't believe him when he said he could find you. This bloody forest.\" He shook his head in disbelief'I swear, Rob, it's endless!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who?\" Robin asked urgently. \"Henry, how on earth did you find me? Where have you bloody been all this time?\"\n\nHenry's initial manic elation was becoming tinged with a look of serious concern as he noticed how badly beaten up Robin was.\n\n\"Wow, you really have been in the wars, haven't you?\" he muttered, his eyes roaming over Robin, clearly making a catalogue of injuries. \"Can't leave you alone for two minutes, can I? And here I thought I'd been having a rough time. I got a splinter, and I fell in some sort of poison ivy yesterday. Not a laughing matter, honestly, you should see this rash–\"\n\n\"Henry,\" Robin interrupted. \"Focus, you blithering idiot.\" He couldn't stop grinning, although it was making his injured head pound terribly.\n\n\"Oh, right, yeah,\" Henry nodded. He really did look trail-beaten. But Robin didn't care. He was alive, and he was here, against all the odds. \"Rob, you're gonna have to let goof my arms, mate. I feel like I should be serenading you or something.\"\n\n\"Sorry.\" Robin released Henry. He hadn't been aware that his grip had been so tight. \"Can you get me out of this thing?\"\n\n\"\"Course,\" Henry nodded seriously. \"Then I want to know what's been going on with you.\"\n\n\"You too,\" Robin agreed wholeheartedly. He had so many questions. \"How have you survived alone in the forest? Where the hell have you been?\"\n\n\"I've not been alone,\" Henry said, and something cautious in his tone made Robin pay attention. \"And listen... when I tell you, right? You're going to freak out, but don't freak out, okay.\" He shook his head a little. \"It's just too weird for words, but you're goin\" to have to trust me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Trust you about what?\" Robin asked, scooting back while Henry pulled and fiddled with the heavy lock on the outside of the cage.\n\n\"Wow, this thing is bolted fast,\" Henry grunted. \"Why didn't you just blast your way outwith magic?\"\n\n\"My mana stone is gone,\" Robin replied, looking at his friend with open curiosity. \"Henry, trust you about what?\" he asked again, insistently.\n\n\"I can't open this,\" Henry decided. He looked back over his shoulder into the darkness. \"Hey, can you do anything about this, old man? Could use a little help here.\"\n\nRobin peered into the gloom in confusion, unsure who Henry was talking to. He'd said he hadn't been alone. Who was he with? For the first time, in the shadows, keeping its silent distance, Robin made out a second shape, much taller than Henry. It was a man, wrapped in along dark and hooded cloak which was mud splattered and threadbare. Robin jumped in surprise.\n\n\"Henry, who is that?\" he asked. \"Who are you with?\"\n\nHenry looked up at Robin, as the figure behind him began to walk forward toward the hanging cage.\n\n\"Promise you won't freak out,\" Henry implored him. \"I mean it, Rob. Seriously, I've had the weirdest few days.\"\n\nRobin looked up warily as the tall stranger approached. He remembered what the dryads had said. That there had been rumours of an odd man, a pale and hooded wanderer, haunting the forest of late. A strange and oddly portentous chill ran down Robin's back.\n\n\"Good evening, Master Fellows,\" the stranger said. His voice was cold and crisp, and horribly familiar. It sounded amused. \"How is it...\" the man mused from beneath his deep hood, \"... that whenever we meet, you seem to be in a cage? The amusement of the Fates, perhaps?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Robin stared from the man to Henry with wide, unbelieving eyes, his mind refusing to process what his ears were hearing."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Henry gave him a wan, almost apologetic smile.\n\nThe stranger leaned close to the bars, and with white hands and long, spiderlike fingers, he lowered his hood. There, in the darkness of the forest, floating in the shadows like a pale will o' the wisp, was the cold, lined face of Mr Strife.\n\nIn shock, Robin instinctively fell backwards from the bars, scooting away and making the cage rock.\n\n\"Strife!\" he shouted. He stared at Henry in alarm. \"Strife?\" he repeated. His eyes flicked back to the green-haired ghoul leering in at the bars. The old man wore a tight, humourless smile, and his eyes were as black and cold as space.\n\n\"Mr Strife, if you please,\" he said politely. \"One must observe manners, Master Fellows. Or else one is nothing more than an animal.\"\n\nThis made no sense to Robin at all. He glared at Henry, wide-eyed. \"Why are you with Strife?!\" he gasped. \"You do know... you know who this is?!\"\n\n\"Yes, yes I know,\" Henry had his hands raised, trying to calm Robin down. \"I knew you'd freak out!\" He looked sidelong at the Grimm looming at his side. \"I told you he'd freak out.\"\n\nStrife did not acknowledge Henry. His beetle black eyes were fixed entirely on Robin.\n\n\"Calm yourself, Scion of the Arcania,\" he said, in a rather bored tone. \"At this present time... things being as they are... I can assure you that you have little to fear from me.\" His lip curled. \"More's the pity.\"\n\n\"Like hell!\" Robin said. \"Henry? What the hell is going on?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Henry looked at Robin seriously. \"Look, Rob. I know it's beyond weird. Trust me, I know, okay? But really. He's not hereto do damage. Just... let's just get you out and I'll explain. I wouldn't even have been able to find you if it wasn't for him. I'd still be wondering the forest like an idiot.\"\n\n\"My skrikers are keen trackers, Master Fellows,\" Strife said to Robin, in cool but conversational tones. \"We found this human boy, we found the site of the dragon's death-congratulations on that by the way. Excellent work. And we found you.\" He held something up in the darkness beyond the bars. It was Robin's pack, the satchel he had been given by Aunt Irene for his birthday. It dangled from Mr Strife's long fingers by its strap. \"My skrikers got the scent from this. You left it at the drake's corpse, buried under moss and earth. Very careless of you really.\"\n\nRobin gritted his teeth. \"I was busy being eaten alive at the time, and then hit with rocks,\" he countered. \"And if you expect me to believe for one second that you're not hereto do harm, then you must think I'm stupid!\"\n\nStrife narrowed his eyes, dark slits in powdery white paper. \"Oh, I mean to do harm,\" he admitted freely, dark relish in his tone. \"There is plenty of harm coming your way from me, Robin Fellows. Make no mistake about that.\" He leaned back from the bars a little. \"But not today, however. You are lucky. I have other, far more important fish to fry than you at present. And lamentably, I require you alive in order to fry them.\" Admitting this seemed to revolt the Grimm. He made a face as though he had smelled something vile."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The old man's freehand passed in a wave over the lock of the swinging cage, and with a flash of shadows, there was a metallic pop, and the bolts fell broken to the grassy floor. The cage door swung ponderously open with aloud grinding creak.\n\n\"For the present time at least,\" Strife said, stepping back from the cage. \"You and your little human friend have nothing to fear from me. You and I have a common enemy. You have my word.\"\n\nRobin stared at the Grimm, disbelieving.\n\n\"Your word?\" he asked. \"You have to be kidding me.\"\n\n\"A gentleman is nothing but the strength of his word, young man,\" Strife hissed. \"Had you even the slightest modicum of breeding you would know better than to question mine.\"\n\n\"It's true, Rob,\" Henry said. \"Look, I've been with old ghoul-face the whole time since I got to this bloody wood, he could have killed me a hundred times over by now. He's telling the truth. Come out. Let me explain everything. I know you don't trust him, I don't trust him either.\" He glanced at Strife. \"No offence.\"\n\n\"None taken,\" Strife replied dryly.\n\n\"But... you trust me, right?\" He held out his hand to Robin.\n\nRobin decided that things were so strange, so beyond the natural order of things, that he had no choice but to give up and go with the flow. \"Of course I do,\" he admitted. \"You're my best mate.\"\n\n\"Then get out of the bloody canary cage,\" Henry said impatiently.\n\nRobin did so. Every part of him aching and complaining as Henry helped him down out of the swinging prison. Not fora single second did he take his eye from the looming and ghastly figure of Mr Strife. Robin noticed that the Grimm's bright green hair, usually so perfectly oiled, looked mussed and out of place, and that beneath his long and unusual battered cloak, the pinstripe suit he always wore seemed creased, dirty and damaged. It was spattered with dried mud and threadbare. Strife, Robin thought curiously, usually so perfectly presented, looked unkempt, frayed around the edges. He looked like a man who had fallen on hard times."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You really are hurt,\" Henry noted with concern, helping the wavering Robin to stand."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Rob, it looks like your arm is broken. And you have a lot of blood on you. You look in a bad way.\"\n\n\"I can fix that,\" Strife said simply. Robin shot him a warning look, filled with violent mistrust, which the old man noted.\n\n\"Listen tome, you tiresome child,\" he said quietly. \"This will be a lot smoother if you stop expecting me to lunge at you. I have told you already. I am not... currently... your enemy. And believe me when I say that this statement is as repulsive and abhorrent tome as it no doubt is to you. But you are of absolutely no use tome, or to your snivelling friend, if you are broken beyond repair.\"\n\nHe reached into his robe and extracted a small black bottle.\n\n\"I'm not snivelling,\" Henry argued quietly.\n\nStrife held out the small bottle to Robin in the dark. \"Drink this,\" he instructed firmly.\n\n\"What is it?\" he asked suspiciously. \"Poison?\"\n\nMr Strife sighed, his lip curling again in irritation. \"Yes of course, Lord of Erlking,\" he spat. \"I have tracked you through the forest to the cage where you lie, wounded and bleeding out, trapped and helpless. A place where you would have been dead of exposure and your wounds had you been left but a single day longer... all for the sheer giddy joy of setting you free only to poison you.\" He snorted. \"I have better things to do with my time than to slip dark drinks to ungrateful Fae. It is powdered tartarus. Mixed in the juices of the firedrake, and it will heal your ills.\"\n\nRobin took the proffered bottle, this simple task taking an alarming number of attempts due to his wavering vision, and uncorked it, sniffing the contents. It smelled peppery and bitter. He stared at Strife with open distrust."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Or if you prefer...\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Strife spread his long white hands beneath his ragged cloak. \"You can just stand here for the next few moments until you pass out from your terrible injuries, and fall down dead and helpless. I shall not force your hand, Scion. The latter choice, while of much less practical use tome at present, would at least provide me with some amusement.\"\n\nRobin considered his options. Realistically, he admitted, he didn't have any. His legs were already feeling watery, and his head was hurting so badly. Strife was right. He was more injured that he had admitted, even to himself.\n\n\"It is the most powerful healing draught in the Netherworlde,\" Strife explained in cold tones. \"My own, personal supply. Incredibly difficult to come by and impossibly rare.\" He snorted unpleasantly. \"Not to mention outrageously expensive. To think the day would come when I would share it with a Fae. This is what I am reduced to.\"\n\n\"Bottoms up, Rob,\" Henry said encouragingly.\n\nRobin screwed up his eyes and took a drink. The liquid was peppery and warm. No sooner had he swallowed than a heat began to flow through his body. An odd sensation like pins and needles. It was strange but not unpleasant, and he felt almost immediately better. His arms and legs were tingling, as was his scalp. He waited a moment to see if he was going to drop down dead.\n\nWhen it was evident that he wasn't, he corked the bottle and passed it back to Strife, who took it silently. \"Aunt Irene never finds out I did that,\" he said to Henry.\n\nHenry nodded in earnest understanding.\n\n\"The sensation you are feeling will pass in moments,\" Strife told him. He passed Robin his satchel. \"Your bones and body are knitting back together. Soon, you will be afresh and loathsomely healthy Fae once more.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Right.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin, who could actually feel the strange draught at work inside him, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked from one unlikely companion to the other. \"I think you had better tell me, Henry, what on earth is going on.\"\n\n*\n\nHenry and Robin sat on the ground, only a few paces from the hanging cages. Strife remained standing, silent, his long bony arms folded under his robe, staring darkly out at the forest. Henry wanted to know where Woad was, where Karya was, and why Robin was in a cage, but Robin insisted on hearing his side of things first. \"And don't leave anything out,\" he warned. \"I want to know how my best friend ended upon a nature hike with one of the bloody Grimms.\"\n\nHe'd come home after school, he explained, meaning to get changed and then come up to Erlking for the planned Halloween feast, but his cottage, with his father gone, had been full of danger.\n\n\"Bloody redcaps,\" he told Robin. \"Out of nowhere, lurking in my own house!\" He shook his head in disbelief. \"They attacked me. I mean, I fought back, but redcaps are stronger than they look, and there were two of them. They were going on about how you had a job to do, and I was going to be their safety net. They overpowered me, said they were taking me to the Netherworlde, a hostage you see. Justin case you didn't keep up your end of the bargain.\"\n\nHenry indicated his tattered clothes. \"I hadn't even had time to get changed,\" he complained. He looked around at the dark wood. \"I seem doomed to spend all my time in the Netherworlde in my bloody school uniform. Dad's going to go mental when he sees the state of it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin dragged Henry back to his story. He'd been spirited away by the redcaps, over the moors and through Janus to the Netherworlde. He told how they had marched through the grasslands with him as their prisoner, headed for someplace called Spitrot. The town was a wreck, destroyed by this dangerous dragon they kept going on about, but there was an entrance to their underground world there.\n\n\"I didn't have a single chance to escape,\" Henry told Robin grimly. \"They had my hands tied uptight behind my back, marching me along like bloody cattle. And they were always watching me, one or the other, little red demons. I thought maybe if I could get my hands free somehow, I could at least send you a hex-message, let you know what had happened, where I was? But as it turns out, my scrap of enchanted parchment wasn't even with me.\"\n\nRobin nodded to this. \"Yes, Karya found it at the cottage, in the mess. She took it back to Erlking. I think it's still there now, with Calypso or Hestia.\" So far, Henry's story was tallying with Karya's earlier guesswork. \"So, did you manage to escape the redcaps when the centaurs attacked you?\"\n\nHenry frowned at his friend in confusion. \"Centaurs?\" I don't know anything about centaurs. I never saw any.\"\n\nThis took Robin by surprise. \"But...\" he started, confused. \"Karya saw their heads on spikes. And the ground was all messed up, trampled? We thought you'd been ambushed by centaurs.\"\n\n\"No mate, that's not what happened,\" Henry argued. \"We were attacked, yeah, right by the edge of the forest, my friendly little kidnappers and me. But it wasn't any centaurs. It was this big green bloke, all leaves and twigs. Massive guy. He killed the redcaps, barely noticed me. I'd legged it as soon as he burst out of the trees and they all started fighting. Saw my chance. The way I figured it, I didn't owe the redcaps any help, evil little monsters. They were on their own.\" He sniffed. \"Serves them right to get attacked by some manic forest man. Iran for the trees and didn't look back.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The effects of Strife's healing elixir were fading by now, and Robin felt the warmth in his mended body replaced with a foreboding chill.\n\n\"Splinterstem...\" he said, pieces falling into place. \"He must have used Earth mana to churn the ground, make it look like a centaur attack... and then he waited for Karya to arrive, knowing full well that she was tracking you. He's been playing us all for idiots from the start.\"\n\nHenry clearly had no idea who Splinterstem was.\n\n\"He needed us in the forest,\" Robin told him. \"He wanted us at Rowandeepling, to hunt the drake and retrieve the Shard so he could take it. He must have known that there was noway any of us would have left the grasslands if we thought you might still be out there somewhere, travelling with the redcaps. Karya, Woad and I would have kept you our first priority. So he killed the redcaps, eliminating their inconvenient kidnapping, giving us no reason not to go with him into the woods. That manipulative liar. Promising his people would help find you, once the scourge was dead.\"\n\n\"The only person who found me,\" Henry said. \"Was old skin-and-bones over there.\" He nodded towards Strife.\n\nHenry leaned in close to Robin. \"Look, I know what he is, and who he is. Believe me, I'd been lost in the woods almost a full day at this point. Running blind, it had taken me hours just to find a sharp enough rock to cut through the ropes at my wrists and free my hands. Believe me when I tell you, Robin, I was as terrified as you were when I stumbled onto him.\"\n\n\"But why is he helping us?\" Robin asked, equally surreptitious."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Strife was already in the forest,\" Henry told Robin."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He's been here for sometime. He has his own mission in the Elderhart, which I'm sure he'll fill you in on shortly. When he stumbled upon me, I barely even recognised him. He looks a bit... threadbare... right?\" Henry shivered. \"I thought I was done for. Dead for sure. But as it turns out, Strife wanted me alive.\" He nodded at Robin. \"Or you, to be more accurate, and thought that saving me might convince you that, for once, he doesn't actually want you dead.\"\n\n\"You're what? A show of goodwill then? Strife's peace offering?\" Robin raised his eyebrows doubtfully. \"I don't like any of this, Henry.\"\n\n\"Neither did I!\" Henry said emphatically. \"Believe me, I'd have rather been with anyone else in the world. It was hardly like I'd stumbled onto some well-meaning ents herein the woods. But, I will say this for the evil old ghoul. He knows his way around this forest. He knew what was safe to eat. Where springs were that you could drink from. If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead by now.\" Henry shook his own head. \"Never thought I'd say that. But he's having troubles of his own, you see. Bit of a fall from grace, and from what I understand, you're the ladder he's going to use to climb backup.\"\n\n\"I can hear each and every word the two of you say,\" Strife's voice carried over, crisp and cool. He didn't bother turning around. He was still staring watchfully out into the night.\n\n\"He said that you were in the forest and that his skrikers could find you,\" Henry said, ignoring the old man. \"I didn't really believe him. Couldn't figure out what on earth you'd be doing here but, well... here you are.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: science fiction, space opera, galactic empire\nAuthor: Glynn Stewart\nTitle: Chains of Gaia\nChapter: 32"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin's hand hovered over the stone tablet. \"Well,\" he reasoned. \"We didn't come all this way for nothing, did we?\" He didn't relish the thought of meeting a giant monster, if he was being honest, especially without his mana stone, but as his gran used to tell him, very little was ever achieved by those who stay at home safe and warm. He might well be deep underground in questionable company and considerable danger, but Karya and Woad were counting on him, and the Shard was waiting.\n\n\"What's life without a little terrifying hazard, eh?\" Henry agreed.\n\nFor once Mr Strife seemed to agree with them, nodding.\n\n\"Dulce periculum.\" He placed his pale hand, fingers spread wide on the tablet and pushed. It sank into a recess with a grating rumble, and again, with a shaking of the world around them, the entire carved wall filling the archway descended smoothly into the ground. In the dust cloud that filled the corridor, Robin and the others moved forwards.\n\n*\n\nThe chamber beyond was a wide open space of flagged, spiralling tiles, a circular high stonewall meeting in a root-covered dome above them. All of their attention however was drawn to the centre of the room. Here, there was a circle of stones, each as tall as a man, thin and black as polished jet. They circled a deep black pit, lining its edge. Suspended above this hole, strung from the arms by long thick chains, silver-grey lengths stretching away either side to the periphery of the large space, there hung the minotaur.\n\n\"Bloody hell,\" said Henry breathlessly, staring up at the great figure strung up and spread-eagled over the pit. \"That's... big.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The straining monster had the body of a man, enormously proportioned and covered in coarse, short black fur. It wore a chained belt around its waist, beneath which long legs dangled, ending in huge hooves hovering over the deep pit below it. Both of its massive arms were stretched out either side, held fast and taut by the thick chains that held it aloft, and its great head was the dark and horned face of a monstrous bull, lolling on its chest.\n\nThe rank smell of wild animal filled the chamber. The minotaur raised its head as the three entered its domain, staring at them from where it hung with small, glowing red eyes like hot embers. It loosed a deafening bellow, the noise bouncing off the walls, amplified in the harsh acoustics of the room and rolling around the circular space, echoing up from the deep pit beneath it. The huge chains rattled, clanked and strained.\n\nRobin's heart was hammering.\n\n\"Why... why is it strung up like that?\" he asked, as they stepped warily into the chamber. It was clear at least that the huge animal was not about to charge them. It could not move an inch. \"It looks like a prisoner here.\"\n\n\"Well, of course,\" Strife glanced at the commanding creature with only the barest hint of interest, as though he saw terrifying mythological beasts everyday of his life. \"Do you honestly think any sane creature would stay in this place of its own volition? Of course it's restrained.\"\n\nThe minotaur rolled its large head angrily, casting huge shadows on the spiral flagstones at their feet with its long, wickedly pointed horns. To Robin it looked more like a demon than any natural animal, sinews and veins bulging on its neck and furred temples. Chained and secured here for so long, deep underground, away from the light. It bellowed again, deafening. Loose soil and dust fell in showers from between the cracks of the roof above, raining down softly on them. Henry had instinctively covered his ears with his hands."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But, I thought it walked the passageways... scaring people off, attacking anyone who entered,\" Robin frowned, unable to tear his eyes from the straining beast as they cautiously approached. \"It can't move at all. It's completely bound.\"\n\nHis eyes followed the long chains, the links of which were each as thick as his arm. He noticed that the tree roots which covered the ceiling, worming in from the earth above, had grown along these metal cords overtime. They twined in and out of the metal links, using them as a trellis. Woody vines and pale, questing roots threaded up and over the hands of the minotaur itself, wrapping around its thick and hairy forearms.\n\n\"The elder trees roots have grown all along... the chains I mean,\" Robin observed. \"This creature can't have moved forages. I mean, a seriously longtime. It's just been left hanging here.\"\n\n\"Too right!\" Henry said with feeling, staring up at the bellowing creature with wide eyes. \"It'd kill us in a second if it wasn't. Look at it Rob, it's just pure rage. Talk about mad cow disease! We should be grateful it's not loose to gore us!\"\n\n\"One imagines...\" Strife said thoughtfully, contemplating the dangling, straining beast as though it were an installation of modern art. \"That perhaps the creature is rather putout that its sacred charge, the Shard of the Arcania, has been removed from the chamber. It is now, in every sense, a useless thing. Dangerous to the extreme of course, but it has no purpose now.\"\n\nHe frowned down at the circle of stones and the deep black pit which formed the prison of the bound minotaur. \"Rather vexingly, whilst I do enjoy seeing a being suffer so, it is also entirely in my way. This is the Janus station of which I spoke. It is unlikely we can get close enough to activate it without being gored to death by this rabid creature. Its arms maybe bound, but a flick of that head will still run anyone of us through.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The old man looked around thoughtfully."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I suggest we throw it the human boy,\" he said to Robin. \"It may distract the minotaur long enough for us to activate the doorway. Although it would be horribly messy of course.\"\n\n\"Oi!\" Henry protested. \"No one's throwing me anywhere!\"\n\nRobin ignored them both. He was staring, transfixed at the minotaur. It was a thing of pure anger, every muscle and bunched sinew straining uselessly against its chains, head tossing back and forth, mad red eyes rolling, filled with bloodlust. Danger rolled from it in waves. It exuded pure menace... and something, he decided, was wrong about it.\n\n\"This isn't right,\" Robin said quietly. His companions didn't hear him immediately. They were bickering amongst themselves.\n\nTo Robin's eye, the minotaur, held fast in mid-air, crucified above the deep pit, seemed... well... too scary. Too violent and large and feral. It was almost as though it was overblown in its efforts to convince them of its danger. Insisting a little too hard on its own great terribleness.\n\n\"It's too pantomime,\" he muttered to himself. \"It's like those houses with the fake dogs.\"\n\nHenry had broken off with Strife and now looked at his friend curiously. \"What are you on about, Rob?\"\n\nRobin glanced at him briefly, then looked backup to the thrashing, violent ton of murderous man-bull above them.\n\n\"You know, back home... in the human world, I mean. Mr Burrows, Gran's neighbour, he had one of them.\"\n\nHenry looked puzzled. \"A... minotaur?\" he hazarded.\n\n\"No,\" Robin shook his head. \"A fake dog. It's like a gadget, just a novelty item really,\" he explained. \"It's a little voicebox thing and you leave it in the hall, near the front door. It's got a motion sensor, and when people get near it, it lets out a recording of an angry dog barking.\" He looked at Henry and Strife. \"You know, scary, but fake. Mr Burrows had one of those stickers in his window too, the ones that show an angry dog, usually looking vicious and foaming with'warning; I live here'written underneath. He didn't have a dog at all though. He had a parakeet.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Why would anyone have such a ridiculous thing?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Strife asked him spitefully.\n\n\"A parakeet?\" Henry asked. Strike glanced at him sidelong.\n\n\"A fake dog.\"\n\n\"It's supposed to warn off robbers and burglars,\" Robin explained. \"To put people off breaking in. A deterrent. It's supposed to make you think, hang on, there's a big scary dog in there, no thanks. I like my arms attached, not chewed off. I'll go rob a different house today.\"\n\nHenry was looking bewildered. \"Mate, you have totally lost me. What's your old neighbour's fake dog alarm got to do with anything? My dad went through a phase of having one of those plastic fish on the wall that sing reggae songs. He thought it was hilarious. It wasn't. So what? Bad taste isn't going to help us fight Señor Steroids here.\"\n\n\"My point is, it was never convincing, the fake dog alarm,\" Robin explained testily. \"The recording, see? It was way too vicious. It sounded like a hellhound or something. Gran and I used to have aright old laugh about it every time we heard it going off through the walls of the bungalow. It wouldn't fool anyone. It was... well, it was trying too hard.\"\n\nAbove them, the great beast, fur matted with sweat, let out another enormous bellow, shaking the floor beneath them. It clanked and writhed in its chains, threatening to break free at any given moment. Just looking at it gave them all the urge to flee, while they still had a few seconds head start. It radiated a powerful wave of imminent danger. One more second inhere with me, it seemed to scream to every cell of their bodies, and you'll be dead. Run now!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Just like this,\" Robin looked at the minotaur. He shook his head. \"This isn't real. I know it. I don't know how I know it, I just feel it.\"\n\n\"Your Scion-senses tingling, are they?\" Henry looked up at the monster from Robin's side, although from a wise couple of steps further back. \"\"Cause it seems pretty real tome, mate. I don't think I've ever seen anything realer than those horns!\"\n\nRobin nodded. \"It's all greasepaint and stage-decoration. Someone wants us to feel this place is full of anger, full of bloodlust and danger,\" he said, looking around the room. \"But it isn't. It's full of pain... and suffering.\"\n\nHe turned and looked directly at Strife.\n\n\"This is a glamour,\" he said firmly. \"Illusion magic, Tower of Light stuff. Do you know how to dispel it? We don't have any glam juice with us. Unless you have some in your cloak as well as that healing draught.\"\n\nThe Grimm curled his lip in an ugly way. \"I am Strife of Dis. I do not need tinctures and vials to dispel a simple glamour, foolish brat,\" he said, his voice full of scornful pride. \"I am a Grimm. The true leader of the Grimms, no less. Light and illusion is no match for my darkness.\"\n\nHe rubbed his hands together, and then cast them wide at the floor, as though scattering seeds. Dark, inky shadow flowed from his fingertips. Coiling black smoke, which rolled around before him on the floor, growing into two great nebulous lumps. As Robin and Henry watched, and the chained minotaur roared above them, ferocious but unheeded, the shapes resolved themselves into two extremely large black dogs."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Mr Burrows, Robin's old neighbour of the unconvincing novelty alarm system, would have been impressed."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "These were true hellhounds. Formed of smoke, greasy and impenetrable, solid masses of ever-shifting shadow. Yellow eyes glowed, thin cruel slits, staring at the boys, and sharp, wolfish teeth shone wetly as they growled and grinned.\n\n\"Spitak, Siaw,\" Mr Strife said, with something almost close to repellent affection for his creations. They were his totems, Robin knew. All the Grimms could make them. It was their mana made solid, and Mr Strife's huge hunting dogs, the skrikers, were the worst of them all.\n\nFora frozen, horrible moment, Robin was convinced that this was it. That for reasons unknown, perhaps only for his own amusement, Strife had faked this unlikely truce, luring the two boys here, deep underground and far from help or escape, only to let loose his beasts upon them. He and Henry wouldn't stand a chance. Not without magic, without mana. They would be torn to shreds in seconds.\n\nBut Strife did not set his skrikers at their throats. With a gesture, each of the two dogs set off around the circular chamber at full pelt, one in each direction, so that they met on the far side and passed one another, circling the room and returning to their master. They made another lap, fleet paws slapping on the ground, hulking shadows blurring, and then another. Robin and Henry saw that they were leaving shadows behind them, great black trails of smoke. With each lap of the speeding hounds, the black shadows grew thicker, climbing the walls, encasing the room, its inhabitants, the Janus station and the writhing suspended minotaur, in a thick black ring. Soon, there was nothing but darkness around them, a solid circling wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Strife closed his eyes, and, head bent low, he clapped his hands together sharply. A small red gem just visible in the pocket-watch of his suit beneath his ragged travelling robe glimmered, and the wall of smoke collapsed inward on them, a tidal wave from all sides, smothering and blocking out the light and everything else as surely as volcanic ash.\n\nRobin and Henry spluttered, and in the darkness, the anger of the chained minotaur let out one final bellow.\n\nThen, as quickly as it had formed, the smoke was gone, dissipating swiftly and the skrikers with it. The air cleared and they were alone once more.\n\n\"What...\" Henry asked, staring in wonder, \"... is that?\"\n\nRobin stared too. The stones of the Janus station remained, although the deep black pit was gone, now merely stone floor, swirling tiles like the rest of the room. The minotaur too was gone. In its place, kneeling on the stones in the centre of the circle, still chained at the wrist with sagging metal and twining roots, there was a man.\n\nHis body was painfully emaciated. Thin shoulders slumped, ribcage agonisingly visible through dark green skin. His wasted arms were splayed on the floor before him, and covering his head was a ragged sackcloth mask, to which two horns had been clumsily affixed, crudely sown. The mask, without eyeholes or any other feature, was tied on firmly at the throat with a thick rope. The cloth billowing and sucking back at the bony man panted with exhaustion.\n\n\"It would appear to be a dryad,\" Strife observed, with some degree of detached curiosity. \"Or the tattered remains of one, at least. So, this is the real centre of the Labyrinth then.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin rushed forward toward the stooping figure and dropped to its side. It was horribly weak, its arms still wound all about with roots as tight as the chains.\n\n\"Help me,\" he said to the others. \"Help me get this off.\"\n\nHenry joined him, and together, with no resistance from the prisoner who was clearly too feeble to respond, they fumbled with the rope, loosening the sackcloth mask with some effort.\n\nRobin pulled off the horrible hood, casting it aside with revulsion. The dryad beneath was shivering, feverish and hollow-cheeked.\n\n\"Give me your cloak,\" Robin snapped at Strife. \"Hurry.\"\n\nStrife peered at Robin with interest, and the man almost collapsing by his side. The dryad's eyes were bleary and confused, blinking in the sudden light after who knew how long, a prisoner under the glamour of the minotaur.\n\n\"I said, give it tome!\" Robin yelled.\n\nTo Henry's surprise, Strife complied, unhooking his tattered travelling cloak and tossing it gracelessly over to Robin, who quickly placed it around the shoulders of the dryad, covering his shivering form. \"Can you open these chains?\" Robin asked.\n\nStrife did not step toward them, but he raised a hand lazily and made a simple gesture in the air. Black shadows flickered around the dryad's wrists, and with a clatter, the manacles fell open with a clunk. The green skin of his wrists was raw and sore, badly abraded and scarred.\n\n\"It's okay,\" Robin told the dryad reassuringly. \"You're free now. You're going to be alright.\"\n\n\"Rob,\" Henry was staring at his friend. \"What is going on? Who is this? You're acting like you know the guy.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin looked up at Henry. \"I do know who it is,\" he said grimly. \"I've seen his face before. In someone else's memory.\"\n\nIt was clear to Robin suddenly. All of it. The extent of Splinterstem's ambition, his deception. This was Alder.\n\n\"Alder?\" Robin asked, kneeling before the huddled form. The dryad was rubbing his wrists weakly, still looking confused and shell-shocked, as though waking from along and terrible dream. \"Alder, my name is Robin. We freed you. It's alright now.\"\n\nHe instructed Henry to fetch some water from his satchel, and after a few gulps, the dryad stopping shivering and began to look around. His faceted green eyes looked dulled and dazed.\n\n\"Where... am I?\" he said eventually, in a shaky voice.\n\n\"Don't talk, just keep sipping that,\" Robin told him. At his insistence, Strife provided more of the same healing draught he had shared with Robin. The boy took the potion from the Grimm and forced the dryad to drink it.\n\n\"Slowly,\" he instructed, \"Don't gulp. This will bring you back. Well, this and about a hundred decent meals.\"\n\nWhile the prisoner drank, Robin looked to the others.\n\n\"Splinterstem was more dangerous than we knew,\" he said, feeling a little sick. \"He was willing to do anything to get what he wanted. This is Alder. He's a dryad. He was presumed dead years ago, back when the Labyrinth was constructed. The story was that he wandered inside and was killed by the minotaur. But, obviously, that's not what happened.\"\n\nHe remembered, when searching Splinterstem's memories, the day of the Labyrinth's completion, while the king gave his ceremonial speech and Splinterstem had felt such conflicting feelings of pride, and shame. Robin now understood why."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Alder, here, was the lover of the Princess Ashe, and therefore an obstacle in Splinterstem's way. They were clearly in love, and he couldn't have that. He wanted the princess, and the throne she came with, for himself,\" Robin explained to the others. \"When Hammerhand brought the Shard here and the Labyrinth was built, clearly he saw his chance. Away to get rid of Alder for good. Get him out of the way.\"\n\nAlder nodded weakly, confirming this. His thin hands were still shaking, but to Robin's amazement, the healing potion of the Grimm already seemed to beat work. His skin looked slightly less dull, and his eyes were beginning to clear.\n\n\"Ambition can make a man do terrible things,\" Strife observed. \"How ingenious. Lure your rival to the Labyrinth. Overpower him and shackle him deep within, and then cast a glamour, turning him for all intents and purposes into a terrifying monster. One that no one would ever dare seek out. Better than being buried alive.\" He sounded full of quiet approval. \"I feel I may have gotten along well with this Splinterstem, had my sister not gotten her claws into his dark and hungry little heart first.\"\n\n\"But why?\" Henry wanted to know. \"I mean, if this guy was his rival for the princess, why didn't he just, you know... kill him? The old fashioned way? Why fake his death and go to all this trouble, making up a story about a minotaur?\"\n\n\"Because a dryad cannot kill a dryad,\" Alder croaked, surprising the boys. \"Not without it showing. A dryad who kills one of its own kind... it shows on the skin, a sickening. It's against the laws of the forest...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alder rubbed at his eyes, exhausted.\n\n\"So instead, he imprisoned you here,\" Robin said. \"Returned to the treetop city crying minotaur, claiming to have already disposed of your body. No one ever checked, and no one ever dared entering the Labyrinth again. A perfect plan to keep the crime hidden and keep the Shard safe.\"\n\nHenry looked down at the dryad. \"But... how is it that you're not dead? How have you not starved? Or died of thirst? You've been down here a prisoner for years.\"\n\nAlder held up his arms. They saw that although the shackles of steel had fallen away, the twining roots which had fed down from the ceiling were still wrapped around his forearms. Only now, as Strife's potion seemed at last to be bringing the man some strength back, were they beginning to slowly uncurl, to release him from their living grip.\n\n\"The roots,\" Strife surmised. \"They have nourished him.\" He looked upward at the tangled ceiling vaulting above. \"We are directly below the elder trees themselves here, Scion. They are part of the dryads, and the dryads are part of them. Do not forget, this man has been in this chamber all this time alone with the Earth Shard. Clearly, it has kept him alive, feeding him through these woody bindings, an intravenous drip from the forest itself. Your friend Alder here has been save by these chains of Gaia.\"\n\n\"This certainly explains how Splinterstem was the only one who could retrieve the Shard for Peryl,\" Robin realised. \"He would have been the only one not afraid to enter the Labyrinth, because he alone knew there was no minotaur. Just his own eternal prisoner.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "He thought of the steward, guiding them through the forest to Rowandeepling, how he had gently carried Robin when he was trapped in sleep. He thought of how noble and attentive he had seemed at the feast, doting on the princess, so dutiful and honourable in his concern for her wellbeing. And all the time, he had been hiding this dark secret, knowing that far below them all, this injustice had been playing out, wrought by his own hand.\n\n\"No one is ever what they seem, are they?\" Robin said quietly.\n\nStrife look thoroughly unsympathetic. \"When you have truly learned that, perhaps you will be less of an annoying boy and more of a man,\" he snarled. \"I care nothing for this sad little dryad, or whatever tiresome courtly intrigues led him here. We are wasting my time.\"\n\nTo Alder, Strife now turned. \"Your enemy is dead. The one who imprisoned you here. You should be happy to know that. His corpse lies still cooling not far from here. Your torment is of no interest tome, but I can understand all too well the sweet release of revenge. The bad news I'm afraid, is that your lady-love, the princess, as well as every other one of you sorry little tree-folk, man, woman and snot-nosed child, is currently in mortal danger and in the less than gentle hands of my sister.\"\n\nHe leaned closer to Alder, tilting his head to one side. \"And might I add, if you think your captor was cruel, my sister makes him look like a child playing in the sand. So you... are in our way. The only hope for your people lies with this yellow headed Fae.\" His cold black eyes narrowed, pointing at Robin. \"Stop shaking on the floor like a fallen leaf, and stand up.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Give him a minute!\" Robin complained, but Strife's less than genial bedside manner seemed to have had some effect. Unsteadily, Alder got to his feet. He stumbled a little, and he looked at Robin.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said hoarsely. \"For freeing me.\"\n\n\"Well, technically, he did,\" Robin nodded at Strife. \"But don't tell him that, it will probably make him feel terrible or bring him out in a rash or something. Take it easy, okay. You need serious rest.\"\n\nStrife strode away into the circle and began to walk from stone to stone in a seemingly random order, placing his hand at the centre as he passed each one.\n\n\"Are you dialling Hive HQ?\" Henry asked, watching the man.\n\nThe stones Strife touched were beginning to glow softly from within as the old man stalked back and forth between them, over and over in a complicated pattern.\n\n\"That's certainly one crude and rather dull way of putting it.\" he hissed. \"I am opening the way now.\"\n\nRobin looked to the dryad while Strife was busy and distracted. \"Listen,\" he said. \"Do you know how to use one of these? Can you operate a Janus station?\"\n\nAlder nodded weakly.\n\n\"Good. Once we're gone, open the Janus station again, immediately. Use it to getaway from here. Somewhere safe, where you can rest, get your strength back. It's the only way you'll get out of the maze.\" He lowered his voice further. \"Don't stay herewith the old man,\" he whispered. \"I can't guarantee he won't kill you just for the cruel fun of it. You can't trust him. Get clear, find aid, and then, when you can, return to Rowandeepling overland.\""
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The princess...\" Alder coughed.\n\n\"Don't worry about her,\" he assured him. \"Henry and I are going to get her back. We're going to get all of the dryads back. Wait for us there. I promise we will get them back to you. We'll undo what Splinterstem did.\"\n\nHe hoped desperately this wasn't an empty promise.\n\nBehind him was a rush of cold air. Robin turned, to see Strife and Henry standing outside of the circle. The centre of the Janus station had now filled with gold mist.\n\n\"The way is open, Scion of the Arcania,\" Strife said. \"I have done my part. I have let you into the Hive. The rest is up to you. I don't care how you do it, but Peryl must fail. She must not present my Lady Eris with another Shard. Disgrace! Ignomy! Failure! They will be her bitter fruits to taste. No longer mine.\"\n\nRobin regarded the Grimm. Without his travelling cloak, he looked much his old, sinister self. But his usually smart tailcoat and suit were horribly worn and tattered, dirty and threadbare. His dilapidated state was only slightly less alarming than the manic, cold gleam in his black-on-black eyes.\n\n\"I know what needs doing,\" Robin said, shouldering his pack. \"I'm doing it for my friends, not for you.\" He nodded to Alder, ensuring that the healing dryad understood to use the station after them. To get somewhere safe, somewhere away from this dark underground prison.\n\n\"Your motivations are irrelevant tome. It is only results that concern me, boy. Ensure you do not fail,\" Mr Strife said. \"You will find I am most unforgiving of failure. A trait no doubt inherited from my glorious mistress.\""
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"value": "\"Well,\" Henry clapped Robin gamely on the shoulder. \"This has been a horrible, horrible, truly icky truce. So long, Grimm.\"\n\nAshe and Robin stepped into the mists, feeling the tingling of the Janus station begin to work, Robin glanced back at Strife. The old man reached his long arm into the glimmering haze and dropped a small bottle unceremoniously into Robin's hand.\n\n\"Nyctophil,\" he explained. \"It may hide even you two bumbling dolts from sight. At least long enough to do what I need to be done.\" His eyes narrowed. \"Have no illusions, Robin Fellows,\" he said quietly. \"Our ceasefire is at an end from this moment. When next we meet, power will be mine once more, and you... you will merely be my quarry. I shall have your scalp.\"\n\n\"Lovely doing business with you too,\" Robin muttered. He gripped the bottle tightly as the golden mist of the Janus station transported them away, far across the immense forest of the Elderhart, and into a different kind of darkness altogether."
},
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"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A TWISTED REFLECTION\n\nAs always when Robin had used a station, Janus gave no real sense of motion or travelling at all. The golden mist merely settled around them, thinning and dropping away to the floor as it faded, and Robin and Henry looked around warily to see where they had arrived.\n\nAfter the gloomy cold and damp of the minotaur's maze, Robin hadn't been sure what to expect. All he knew of the Hive was what Ashe had told him. It was a great stepped pyramid, hidden deep in the south of the forest, where the trees were sickly and withered. He had pictures something like the old Mayan pyramids he had learned about in school, the kind you were always told people ended up getting sacrificed on top of. He hadn't given much thought to what the prison might look like on the inside. Whatever he might have imagined, it wasn't this.\n\nHe and Henry were standing in the centre of another Janus station, this time a neat circle of pure white stones, squat and flat, neatly squared at the edges and none higher than his hip. The room they had arrived in was circular and domed, like the one they had just left, but much smaller. There the similarities ended.\n\nIt was bright here, a sickly golden light that seemed to drain the vitality out of their skin. The walls were yellowish, and curved upwards into the dome above in a smooth and seamless arc, devoid of any feature. They seemed to glow from within, as though they were slightly translucent. Deeply coloured glass perhaps. The floor beneath their feet, Robin saw, was tiled, perfect interlocking hexagons, and it appeared to be of the same material. There was no obvious source of the draining yellow light. No flaming torches, no light-wells or windows. It seemed to exude, insipid and jaundiced, from the warm, soft-looking walls themselves."
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"value": "\"Well, this is horrible,\" Henry whispered queasily, looking around. They were, blessedly, alone in the still and silent Janus chamber. There was only one door to the room, a slim oval, presumably leading out to the prison proper. From what they could make out, another luminous corridor stretched away from it.\n\nThe air smelled and tasted thick, somehow stale. It was unpleasant to breathe.\n\n\"At least we're alone,\" Robin noted quietly, as the two stepped out of the circle. \"I was expecting guards. Surely you guard the only entrance and exit from a prison?\"\n\n\"Maybe there's just no need to,\" Henry said. \"If it's the only way inhere, and the only people who can set a path from another Janus station to this one are the jailers. Your worry with prisons isn't really about people breaking in, right?\"\n\nRobin couldn't argue with this logic. He looked down with interest at the small black bottle in his hand.\n\n\"What is that?\" Henry asked.\n\n\"Nyctophil,\" Robin answered, without a clue what that meant. \"A parting gift from our least favourite Grimm. He said it might be useful for us.\"\n\nHenry made a face. \"It's probably poison,\" he reasoned flatly. \"Or some horrible concoction that makes bits of you falloff. I know he healed you, Rob, but we both know why. I wouldn't trust that creepy old cadaver to put a sugar lump in my tea, never mind down a bottle of Dis brewery's finest ale.\"\n\nRobin tiptoed towards the doorway stealthily. The floor felt warm under his feet, even through his boots. It was slightly sticky. An altogether unpleasant sensation. \"I know what you mean,\" he said. \"But I don't think even that charmless nightmare would go to all this trouble, swallowing his pride and admitting he needed us to do something he couldn't, just for the cheap laughs of tricking now. He's the sort who wouldn't poison a person unless he could be thereto watch you drink it. It would spoil the fun.\""
},
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"value": "Something moved beyond the doorway, a shadow."
},
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"value": "Robin froze, heart beating fast, motioning silently for Henry to halt too.\n\nCautiously he crept closer and peered carefully around the edge of the door.\n\nBeyond was along corridor, with another oval opening at the far end. It too was sickly yellow and slightly transparent. A creature stood in it, leaning idly against the wall.\n\nRobin had never seen a member of the swarm before. He knew that they were dryads once, so his mental image of them was quite vague. He had been imagining them to look the same as those he had met at Rowandeepling, only maybe sterner looking, and more heavily armed.\n\nThis being however was something quite monstrously different.\n\nMuch taller and thinner than a dryad, its skin was a sickly pale and jaundiced hue, like old custard. Dryad killing, Robin observed. Its stringy body was clad in rust-red and black armour, sharp, sectioned edges folding over one another like the interlocking thorax of an insect exoskeleton, giving the thing a wasp-like appearance. Its wings, folded along its armoured back, were not wholly unlike the dragonfly wings of the dryads, though they looked duller, and a little ragged and grey. But the major difference was the head. The hive-guard's head was utterly bald, like a boiled egg. Its face was a mystery to Robin, covered as it was entirely by a mask of metal, the same colours as its armour. The mask had large, round, tinted glass eyes like portholes in studded metal, and along nozzle where the nose and mouth should have been, concertinaed like an elephant's trunk. This metallic tube fed down and around and connected somehow into the armour on the creature's back. There were several protruding wires and tubes. It looked to Robin exactly like an old gas mask from the world wars, only glinting gold and red."
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "With its large round eyes and long snout, the swarm-creature looked even more insect-like, a steampunk mosquito from a nightmare. It was with faint disgust that Robin noticed that the many tubes and nozzles fixed here and thereon its armoured body seemed to feed directly into the creature's bald skull, burrowing into it like worms. The gas-mask face piece was not merely decoration. It was fused at every edge directly and permanently to the creature's face.\n\nFrom within the helmet there came a constant, low chitinous clicking.\n\n\"I think we've just met some more of Eris\" handiwork,\" Robin whispered as Henry cautiously joined him and peered around his shoulder. \"Now I'm wishing we'd brought weapons.\" He thought fora moment. \"Maybe a really big can of fly-spray.\"\n\n\"I didn't know there would be bee-people,\" Henry sounded agitated. \"Did you know about this? Why didn't you tell me about the beeple?\"\n\n\"More important than what it is, how in the world are we supposed to get past it?\" Robin murmured worriedly. If he'd had magic, a well-placed Needlepoint would have done the trick. But without his mana stone he had about as much magical ability as Henry. They were just two boys armed with nothing but their wits and Henry's ninja skills.\n\n\"Wits... and a potion,\" Robin remembered, holding up the vial. He uncorked it, giving it a sniff. \"Any better ideas?\" he asked Henry, who looked dubious. \"Half each?\" He raised the bottle to his lips and was about to take a drink when Henry snatched it out of his hands and glugged from the bottle instead.\n\n\"What did you do that for?\" Robin hissed, as loudly as he dared."
},
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"value": "Henry stood very still, holding the bottle with an expectant look on his face, clearly waiting anxiously to see if he was about to explode or if anything of importance was going to drop off.\n\n\"Me first,\" he said. \"If it is poison, well, then we'll know. You're more important. You're the Scion, you have all the Shards to collect and a world to save remember? We can't risk you. I'm just Henry. I've never even managed to collect a full sticker album.\"\n\nBut Henry didn't drop dead. In fact, as he was speaking, shadows were growing in the air around him. They shimmered, encasing him in a nebulous cloud. When it faded, the changes wrought to the boy were abundantly clear... as was Henry. He was hardly thereat all. Nothing but a thin, almost invisible sketch of him remained, extremely faintly in the air. To Robin, the bottle seemed to float of its own accord.\n\n\"Henry,\" Robin said. \"Firstly, you're insane, and don't ever do something like that again. But second, and maybe more importantly, you're invisible!\"\n\n\"I am?\" Henry exclaimed. Robin assumed he looked surprised. To Robin, he didn't look anything.\n\n\"Cloaked in shadow,\" Robin thought. \"Strife is quite the alchemist. He's practically a walking Boots the Chemist. I bet you anything he does a lot of his snooping around the Court of Dis with this stuff. Here, pass it over.\"\n\n\"What if it's permanent?\" Henry mused, as Robin took a deep swig, draining the remaining contents of the bottle. It tasted like aniseed and nettle soup.\n\n\"Then look on the bright side,\" Robin shrugged, as he watched his own hands fading away to almost nothing. \"We'll never need to bother about a haircut again. Come on. I've no idea how long this stuff lasts. We have to find my mana stone, the Shard and our friends, and we have to do it really really quietly.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sneaking past the hideous swarm-guard was nerve-wracking."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "It clearly didn't see them, and the corridor was wide enough for the two boys to creep along on the golden, glowing floor without coming too close to the insectile, metal face. But they had noway of knowing if the thing might sense them another way. It could have feelers for all they knew, checking for disturbances in the air, or ultrasound, with that ceaseless, chirping clicking.\n\nRobin and Henry inched along the corridor, painfully slowly, backs brushing against the soft, unpleasantly warm walls. Both kept their eyes fixed on the circles of polished glass that made up the creature's inhuman eyes. It was difficult to believe that it had ever been anything like a dryad. They were part of nature, practically offshoots of the forest itself. This thing was a metal hornet. It couldn't look less natural if it tried.\n\nThankfully they reached the other end of the corridor without issue, slipping through the far doorway with relief.\n\nThe space they had entered now was an open area, and it was so vast, it took their breath away.\n\nRobin had seen a documentary once about a shipyard, where the largest ocean liner of its time had been built, put together piece by piece in a massive building, erected for this purpose alone. It had been the most enormous indoor space he had ever seen, avast warehouse, many stories high, larger than the largest aircraft hangar. The ship has sat, immense in its own right, but looking dwarfed, tiny and lost amidst the city of scaffolding and gantries surrounding it.\n\nThis place was the same. If the Hive was indeed a great pyramid, then it was totally hollow within. Scaffolding soared into the sky like a spider's web, supporting suspended rooms and buildings, soft golden walls, rounded edges. Crooked walkways criss-crossed the open air in a mad hatchwork, leading to and from everywhere. They looked as though they had been thrown in from above to settle wherever they landed, slanted and precarious."
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"value": "Everything here was made from the same strange substance as the Janus room, the glassy yellow bridges and catwalks like spun sticky sugar. Above it all, a huge, sickly amber light shone down, washing scattered and spiky shadows over everything.\n\nTo Robin, the walkways were like Rowandeepling, the whole arrangement was built along the same lines, but whereas the treetop city of the dryads, resting peacefully under the open sky, with its elegantly carved and sweeping bridges had been a joy, lit everywhere with softly glimmering lights, a magical and enchanting space, this was anything but.\n\nThe Hive was a nightmarish perversion. Enclosed, dark, and claustrophobic despite the dizzying open space. Wan insipid light bleached through the plain ugly spikes of the crazed scaffold. It looked chaotic and uneven, sickly, unfriendly and utilitarian. And with the humid, sticky heat and softly glowing walls all around, close and oppressive.\n\nThere were no carved and beautiful facades surrounding the intersections here, no grand woodland palaces with welcoming windows and brightly lit doors. Instead, the four vast sloping inner walls of the pyramid looming upon all sides of them, were covered and lined with row upon row of identical cells, each a hexagonal opening, covered with spiky looking bars. There were thousands, levels upon levels of them. Henry and Robin seemed to have emerged about halfway up, their corridor spitting them out directly onto one of the countless yellow spokes. The tiers of cells coating the walls rose high up above them to the distant apex, and down below, far beyond the full reach of the great yellow light. It descended into misty, rolling shadows, a great abyss below.\n\n\"I can see why they call it the Hive then,\" Henry whispered, invisible at Robin's side. The cells made the place resemble a giant honeycomb. \"It's huge,\" he said. \"I mean, really really big. If you took out all these creepy funhouse bridges everywhere, I bet you could fly a helicopter around this place and never even notice you're not outside.\""
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"value": "Robin looked up at the spokes criss-crossing the air around him. \"I feel like I'm inside a giant game of Kerplunk,\" he said. \"How on earth are we going to find Karya and the others? We can't search everyone of these cells. And it's hardly like we're alone here anyway.\"\n\nHe was right. The great Hive was filled with the swarm. They rushed along the bridges. They hovered in mid-air in the dark spaces between. They marched here and there along every perimeter balcony, adjoining the cells. There must have been more than two thousand creatures, buzzing and clicking and scurrying around. Each one identical to the one past which they had so carefully crept. Oversized insects, armed with long and barbed spears.\n\n\"That's a lot of beeple.\" Henry agreed. \"I reckon though, all the important stuff is going to be up near that.\"\n\nRobin, unable to see Henry at all due to his current invisibility, could only assume his friend was pointing upwards, and followed his gaze. Therein the centre of the pyramid, just beneath the ill-looking sun was a large circular platform, on which a building stood suspended, a domed and windowless bubble. It looked like a fat spider sitting in the centre of its web. From that platform, he realised, it would be possible to lookout at all four inner walls, to see directly down into each and everyone of the countless softly phosphorescent cells below.\n\n\"Command centre?\" Robin guessed. \"Think that's the heart of the Hive up there?\"\n\n\"Well, it doesn't look like the work's canteen,\" Henry replied. \"Come on, before we become visible again. It's going to be tricky enough clambering through that maze of nonsense as it is, without having to swat mecha-mosquitos on the way.\""
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"value": "The climb up through the scaffold of the Hive was dizzying and treacherous. Unlike the pleasant leaping and linking paths of Rowandeepling, these walkways were without any form of handrail, carved or otherwise. Mere slender spits of amber sliding out against one another into the void, barely wide enough for Robin and Henry to pick across.\n\nRobin did his best not to look down as they zig-zagged across these promontories. The yawning chasm below, falling away into immense darkness, was vertigo-inducing. The countless spikes of the interlacing roads making up the space would serve, if one were to fall, as nothing more than a lot of interesting things to hit and bounce off on the way down to certain death.\n\nNot being able to see one's own feet didn't make things any easier either. Robin knew where he was standing by touch of course, but without being able to see his own invisible appendages, it was like trying to walk around with his eyes closed. His judgment and balance were all off.\n\n\"I know...\" Henry muttered sarcastically behind him as they made their way back and forth across the countless bridges, slowly and steadily picking paths that took them ever upwards. \"Let's build a great big pit of death, and let's make the paths really slippy and gross too. That'll be fun!\" He sniffed. \"There's no bloody health and safety in the Netherworlde, that's the problem right there.\"\n\nDespite his grumbling, Robin had to admit, Henry had a point. Herein this giant honeycomb prison, the walkways were slightly damp from the oppressive humidity and treacherous going. He had a queasy feeling that the swarm may well have built the place the same way other insects do, with their bodily secretions, but he was trying very hard not to think about that. Certainly, he might be currently invisible, but he was sure that barfing over the edge of the chasm might giveaway their location."
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"value": "\"I'm... never... touching... honey... again,\" he replied. \"Now shush.\"\n\nThe swarm milled around them, alien and deadly, flitting here and there, but mercifully oblivious to the presence of the two interlopers. It was nerve-racking, being surrounded on all sides by enemies, stealing their way silently between them. More than once, the two were forced to hastily backtrack and choose another route, when one of the hideous, tall grotesques fluttered down onto a walkway in front of them and began scurrying forward, glass-eyes flashing, thinking the way clear.\n\nUnlike the boys, the swarm-guards moved along fast and without fear on the slender scaffold. Robin reasoned that you had little to worry about falling when you had wings.\n\nIt seemed a tense and painful age before they began to reach the top of the pyramid's inner core, the large platform with its nest-like structure becoming larger and closer with every twist and turn. Whenever their careful and stealthy exploration reached the outer walls, Robin saw up close the cells lining the walls. Each one was squat and featureless, their walls yellow, and the horrible light left no shadows at all, bleaching the life and form from them. And almost everyone of these cramped cells contained a despondent dryad, peering out through the bars with worried or fearful eyes of glittering faceted green.\n\nRobin shivered, wondering what fate awaited these people if he didn't free them. Would they be left hereto rot? Or would they be shipped off to Dis, to Eris\" dark workrooms to be made into more of the ever-swelling ranks of the swarm? How could Splinterstem have ever thought he wanted this? Would he had felt the same, to still be willing to betray his people fora moment of glory and power, had he even once seen inside this hellish place? Seen what became of its occupants?"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin pictured the Elderhart, that vast and majestic forest, finally conquered. Withered and dead, poisoned from end to end and filled, league upon endless league, with the countless stinging hordes of Eris. Perverted creations, victorious under the unstoppable power of the Earth Shard. He couldn't let that happen. Robin had come hereto save his friends, but he knew the Puck had come hereto save everyone. He would find away to keep his promise to Alder. He would free all of the dryads here. He would tear the Hive to the ground if he had to.\n\n*\n\n\"This... is... the... last... level,\" Henry gasped and panted. Robin glanced over at him, as they stepped off the final bridge and onto the long gallery which encircled the final high floor. His friend looked exhausted.\n\nRobin's heart froze. He realised with horror that he could see his friend looking exhausted.\n\n\"Henry!\" he hissed, \"You're not invisible anymore. Well, not completely anyway. It must be wearing off.\"\n\nHenry stared back in alarm. \"You too,\" he confirmed. \"I can still see right through you, like a hologram, but I can make you out. Strife and his cut-price potions! Last time I take a drink off that guy.\"\n\nRobin made a face at Henry's sarcasm. \"Well, I think that was a given,\" he agreed, beckoning Henry to hurry off the bridge and join him by the cells. The light did not shine as strongly at the sides of the immense space. They were less likely to be spotted. \"The point is, if we can see each other, they can see us too.\"\n\nLuckily, there didn't appear to be any of the swarm up this high, they flittered and marched about below, crawling like ants over everything. Up here, apart from the control room, there was nothing but the last and highest row of cells."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A voice behind Robin made him jump so much that he almost fell off the narrow ledge and into the open air.\n\n\"I've seen everything now,\" the voice said. \"I must be finally losing my mind, ahahaha. Yes. That's it. Ghost boys. Two ghosts come to keep me company, is that it? I wonder if they have anything to eat? Ahaha.\"\n\nRobin turned, staring into the cell at his back.\n\nIt contained, not a dryad, but a man. He had a bushy, dirty-looking beard, sticking out in all directions. His head was bald and shiny, and his clothes, once a fine suit covered in elaborate brocade, seemed filthy and torn, like an antique sofa left on a garbage heap in the rain.\n\nThe pitiful-looking man was huddled in the corner of his cell, hugging his knees. His bright orange eyes were staring a little wildly at Robin, looking tired and ringed with dark bags.\n\n\"You look a little like someone I know, little ghost,\" the man said. \"Has he died, then? The little boy in the big house? Terrible shame if so, really. Wouldn't be surprised though, ahaha. Dangerous place for children, that old Fae place. Shouldn't be allowed... bound to happen...\" he trailed off, mumbling into his beard.\n\n\"Ffoulkes?\" Robin said, incredulously. He stared in disbelief. The poor creature rocking slightly in the cell was almost unrecognisable. But the voice was the same. It was the last person Robin had been expecting to see.\n\nHe gripped the bars, dropping his voice to a whisper. \"Mr Ffoulkes? It is you! It's me, Robin Fellows! I'm not a ghost. I'm not dead. It's... well it's along story. What on earth are you doing here? In the Hive?\""
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ffloukes'eyes focused sharply and he stared at Robin clearly. \"The Hive?\" he repeated. \"Aha. Is that where I am then? I see. They didn't tell me, you understand. Quite rude really, utterly unacceptable. I could have been anywhere. Anywhere at all.\"\n\n\"Ffloukes, why are you a prisoner here? What happened to you?\" Robin tested the bars, but despite them looking like crystallised sugar, they felt as strong and sturdy as iron under his hands. The man looked haunted, as though his mind was more than a little baffled. Robin wondered how long he had been a prisoner here. He and Henry had been in the Hive less than an hour, and already he felt it was getting under his own skin.\n\n\"Is that the guy who was staying at Erlking?\" Henry asked, peering through the bars at Robin's side. \"Bloody hell. He looks like he's been through the wringer.\"\n\nRobin explained briefly. Henry hadn't been thereat Halloween. He hadn't witnessed Ffoulkes shameful attempt at theft, or his inglorious exit from Erlking. Henry made an aghast face as he was filled in on the details.\n\n\"Knew there was something shifty about him! Sounds like an idiot tome. Serves him right, ending up here. We should just leave him.\"\n\nThe man scuttled across the small space of the cell on his knees with surprising speed, reaching out and grasping Robin's still-translucent hands urgently when he heard this, his brocade and lace cuffs in tatters.\n\n\"Nonono,\" he said quickly. \"Don't leave me here. Terribly sorry about all that bad business... really. No hard feelings, eh? Water under the bridge and all that? Just a... misunderstanding. Business is all it was. One does always have one eye on the value of things, doesn't one? Aha.\" His eyes were wide and desperate, his grip firm and shaking."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You deserve to be locked up, you do,\" Henry argued righteously.\n\n\"No he doesn't!\" Robin said, making his friend glare at him in surprise. \"No one deserves to be herein this place, not even him. He got what he deserved when he got a kraken to the face and Hestia and Calypso shooting both barrels. He's alight-fingered, conniving coward, yes, but it doesn't mean we can leave him to waste away in Eris\" dungeon because of it.\"\n\n\"Yes! Quite!\" Ffoulkes said eagerly, a little desperately. \"Well said, young man. Well said. You area good soul, Robin Fellows, a kind and warm-hearted one. I knew that the moment we met. It's written allover your face... which... aha... I can see through at present. Did I mention that... that is odd, isn't it?\"\n\nRobin suspected Ffoulkes had gone quite sometime with no-one to talk to, or rather in his case \"at\". He wrenched his hands free of the fire Panthea's hands, asking again how he came to be here.\n\n\"Set upon by centaur,\" Ffoulkes told him. \"Not long after I... well... left your company, shall we say? I got to the Netherworlde, the sisters, my travelling companions, they had gone on without me. They area strange flock. Always so secretive with their business.\" His bright eyes crinkled. \"Between you and me, my boy, I was rather glad to be rid of the burden of escorting them. Terribly unfashionable. I've never seen three drabber hags, have you? Rather brings one down. Aha.\"\n\n\"The centaur?\" Robin pressed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They're allover the grasslands,\" Ffoulkes replied, sounding indignant. \"I've never known the like. So many patrols. Impossible not to be seen, you see. Thing is, I'm not very popular here. None of the Panthea who escaped the war, refusing to take sides and hiding in the mortal world are. They all think we're the lowest of the low. Cowards, refusing to take aside, refusing to fight for or against.\"\n\n\"You area coward,\" Henry nodded flatly. Ffoulkes glanced through Robin at the boy. \"And look where it got you.\"\n\n\"Perhaps I am,\" Ffoulkes agreed shamelessly, not sounding remotely offended by the accusation. \"But I think you will find, young man, that I have lived a great deal longer than many heroes have.\"\n\nHe looked back to Robin. \"The penalty for deserting the Netherworlde, under Eris'law, is imprisonment eternal,\" He said. \"The centaurs had meas soon as I stepped onto the hills. They could smell Erlking allover me. Brought me here. Where I've been ever since.\"\n\nHe looked thoughtful. \"I suppose that deal I was supposed to close in the agora town has probably fallen through by now. That's a terrible shame.\"\n\n\"We'll get you out,\" Robin promised.\n\n\"Robin, he's pondslime!\" Henry argued.\n\n\"It might be a crime according to Eris to be a coward,\" Robin told him. \"But in my book, there's no crime in being afraid. Granted, he might not be the bravest person, or indeed... even remotely trustworthy, but that doesn't mean he deserves to rot in hell.\" Robin's semi-transparent stare was so stern that Henry closed his protesting mouth, and after a moment, nodded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's nowhere for me to go outside this place,\" Ffoulkes said. \"I never should have comeback to the Netherworlde. If it wasn't for me trying to steal that ridiculous mask. Nowhere left for me now.\"\n\n\"There's Erlking,\" Robin said. He noticed that his hands, resting on the bars, were almost fully solid again now. \"There's always Erlking. We don't turn anyone away. Even wastrels like you.\"\n\nFfoulkes looked at Robin with something close to wonder. \"You really area remarkable young man,\" he said, for once seemingly forgetting to add an affected laugh to his words. \"After everything I did, you would still offer me sanctuary?\"\n\n\"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves, eh?\" Robin said. \"We have to find some other people too first. Then we have to figure out how to open these cages.\"\n\n\"Other people?\" Ffoulkes tilted his head to one side. \"It's mainly forest folk here. We had a heck of a lot of new arrivals yesterday. But there are some others too. An old man, a little girl and a very valuable-looking, mint-condition faun perhaps?\"\n\nRobin and Henry both stared at the bedraggled prisoner.\n\n\"You've seen them?\" Henry cried, completely forgetting to keep his voice down.\n\n\"Well, yes,\" Ffoulkes nodded. \"There's very little to do here other than watch. The swarm are terrible conversationalists. It's all chitter-chitter buzz buzz. And the food here is terrible.\" He lowered his voice to a gossipy whisper. \"Personally, I suspect it's already been eaten once by the time they bring it to-\"\n\n\"Where are they?\" Robin interrupted the man's rambling."
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They're in the next cell along,\" Ffoulkes told them, blinking.\n\nRobin leapt to his feet, but the man grabbed him urgently by the wrist, making him stop and look back.\n\n\"You will... you will comeback for me?\" he asked, his voice trembling, though he was clearly attempting to keep his tone as light and conversational as possible. \"If you find away to escape. You and your lovely friends? You won't leave me here?\"\n\nRobin shook his head. \"I promise,\" he said.\n\nFfoulkes searched the boy's face. \"I would leave you,\" he admitted. \"In your position. I would get myself away and not give the rest of you a second thought. I am, in many ways, a wretched person.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know you are,\" Robin shook his hand free. \"But we're not. We will get you out of here, I swear it.\" He looked at Henry. \"We're getting everyone out of here.\"\n\nThey left Ffoulkes gripping the bars, his bushy tangled beard poking between them like a madman, and hurried along to the next hexagonal opening, both scanning the Hive warily for signs of any high-flying swarm.\n\nRobin's heart leapt when he reached the bars and saw inside the tiny cell.\n\n\"Well, there you are,\" said Karya, sounding completely unsurprised to see him. \"I knew you weren't dead.\" She was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the cell, her bulky coat pulled around her. She didn't look desperate or ragged as Ffoulkes had. She just looked inconvenienced.\n\n\"I told you he wouldn't be dead,\" she called out behind her. \"Doesn't matter if we saw him eaten by a dragon. As if something like that is going to keep our hornless wander down for long.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Pinky!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "came a happy squeal. Woad, who had been sitting back to back with the girl, both leaning against one another, rolled into sight and scampered up to the bars. His face was a beaming grin from ear to ear. \"And Henryboy! Look, boss! Henryboy is here too! He didn't fall down a hole in the forest or get eaten by a bear at all. You were wrong about that!\"\n\n\"I only said it would be just like him too,\" Karya sniffed, getting to her feet. \"Not that he had.\"\n\n\"You're both alright?\" Robin grinned at them, gripping the bars. He was so relieved to see them. \"They didn't hurt you?\"\n\n\"Other than that two-faced dryad traitor strapping us to the ground with vines and delivering us like two tightly wrapped gifts to Miss Peryl, Queen of the Hive, no. We're otherwise fine,\" Karya smiled. She was doing her serious and businesslike frown, but was not entirely successful in her attempts to hide how clearly happy she was to see them both.\n\n\"We thought between the dragon and Strigoi, you might have been a bit delayed, but we never doubted you'd come for us.\" She looked past Robin to Henry, who was grinning sheepishly at her. \"Good to see you in one piece too,\" she nodded. Her golden eyes took in the dark haired boy's appearance. \"You look like the forest ate you up and spat you out as much as it did Robin, but at least you're alive.\"\n\n\"Don't go getting too mushy,\" Henry said. \"You'll only make me blush.\"\n\n\"How are you here?\" Woad asked. \"How are you both here?\"\n\n\"Henry rescued me,\" Robin said. \"I was left at Rowandeepling, I don't know why Peryl didn't just bring me along with the rest of you.\""
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It wasn't just me doing the rescuing,\" Henry said honestly. \"I had some help.\"\n\n\"What help?\" Karya looked from one boy to the other. Her eyes were suspicious.\n\n\"You wouldn't believe me if I told you,\" Robin said. \"Trust me on that. Time for that later.\"\n\n\"I could not agree more,\" came a voice from the furthest corner of the cell. What Robin had taken to be a pile of rags unfurled itself. It was Hawthorn, who had clearly been sleeping. The old Fae nodded in greeting to Robin, dipping his horns. He looked oddly proud.\n\n\"Never leave a fellow Fae behind, eh?\" he said. \"Unless he wants you to.\"\n\n\"Hawthorn! You're here too.\" Relief rushed through Robin. \"I'm glad you're alive. Back on the hill, we didn't mean to leave you, we-\"\n\nHawthorn raised a hand, silencing him. \"Yes yes, no need to explain. Your friend the girl here has told me everything. You were right to be whisked away from under my feet. I am indeed grateful that you were. Otherwise, you would have been left with the impressive sight of me taking out seven or eight centaur, before finally being subdued. It was a sight to behold my young friend, you would have been quite intimidated.\"\n\nWoad gave the old Fae a glance. \"It was two or three centaurs the first time you told us that story. They're multiplying every time you tell it.\"\n\nRobin began to introduce Henry to Hawthorn, realising this was the first time the two had met. Hawthorn eyed the boy curiously with his long eyes, admitting he had never meta human child before, and what curious creatures they seemed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Karya interrupted them all.\n\n\"This is all well and good,\" she said. \"But can we all catch up and shake hands later on please? Preferably faraway from here?\" She looked to Robin through the bars.\n\n\"Peryl is here, Scion. She's the overseer in this misery factory. And she has both the Earth Shard and the Princess Ashe in her custody. I believe she means to make a gift of both to Eris, and very soon.\" She pointed behind his shoulder, out across the void, where the large suspended platform stood with its windowless building.\n\n\"She's in there, lady of the manor. And more importantly, so is all of our stuff. Mana stones, weapons.\" She shook her head, irritated. \"There's nothing any of us can do about getting out of here if we don't have magic.\"\n\nRobin nodded. \"Understood,\" he said. \"I'll get it back.\" He wasn't sure how yet, he was pretty much making it up as he went along, but his voice sounded assured and confident, even to his own ears, and this seemed good enough for his imprisoned friends.\n\n\"Henry, I need you to stay here, with the others,\" he said. Henry looked shocked.\n\n\"Are you mad?\" he asked. \"Noway, you need my help.\"\n\n\"Exactly!\" Robin said. He asked Karya if she still had her hex-message parchment, and after some fumbling in the pockets of her coat, she produced it. Robin gave it to Henry. \"You have a clear view of the entire Hive from out hereon the ledge,\" he told him. \"I need you to be my lookout. Tell me if anyone moves who shouldn't. If anyone comes up here, or if you see anyone headed towards that place where I'm headed.\" He tapped his own pocket. \"I have mine here. Message me if you do. I'm visible now, so I'm going to have to go flat across the bridges to that platform, I'll have no line of sight at all.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Henry took the paper and nodded."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I still don't like the idea of you going in there alone,\" he said.\n\nRobin glanced at them all. \"It's only one Grimm,\" he said, as lightly as possible. \"How hard can it be?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "SCRYGLASS\n\nLeaving his friends and setting off alone, Robin scrambled from the gallery and set off cautiously across the highest bridge, crouched so low as he crept along the narrow yellow ledge that he was almost on his hands and knees. He felt terribly alone and horribly exposed. The scrap of enchanted parchment was clutched in his fist. He could hear the purr of insect wings below him, as countless members of the swarm flitted to and fro beneath his precipitously slender walkway.\n\nPart of him wished he still thought of the Puck as a separate entity. The one good thing about having another person living inside you, Robin thought, was that you never truly felt completely alone. But after the business with the dragon, after willing the force of the Arcania to life down in the hollow in order to fight the beast, accepting and owning his own mana willingly, he no longer felt that was the case. He was the Puck, and the Puck was him. Whether that made him feel bolder or more vulnerable, he had yet to decide.\n\nHe made it all the way across across the walkway without being spotted. The parchment in his hand had not vibrated, no urgent warning had come from Henry, his lookout. The odd suspended building stood before him, a squat yellowish dome, strung herein the cat's-cradle of spokes above the yawning abyss. There a single opening leading inside, through which Robin slipped, as stealthy as possible.\n\nInside, the chamber was the first furnished space he had seen within the Hive. The floor, as elsewhere, was an interlacing pattern of hexagonal tiles, and the walls the same softly glowing amber, glassy and smooth, reaching up to a domed and organic-looking ceiling, but some attempts had been made to make the place more fitting for non-insect life."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: science fiction, space opera, galactic empire\nAuthor: Glynn Stewart\nTitle: Chains of Gaia\nChapter: 37"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have had no cleaning up after your messes to do. And now? You all comeback in pieces and chunks! And I suppose those two, the old Fae and the fiery thief, they will want rooms made up for the night too.\" She tutted angrily as though this were all too much to bear.\n\n\"Sorry we're such a bother, Hestia.\" Robin said, a little listlessly.\n\nShe made a face, as though he were the most irritating child she had ever known. \"You will be wanting afire in your room I imagine. Little lord of the manor.\" She nodded. \"Hestia knows what is what. It is already set. And a bath is drawn, and clean sheets laid out.\"\n\nRobin blinked at her, lost for words.\n\n\"Do not bleed on them, or I shall give you cause to fear old Hestia more than Eris!\" she grumbled. \"Now go to your aunt, foolish boy.\"\n\nAnd with that she walked off, busy as an irritated hedgehog, to tend to the others.\n\n*\n\nIrene was standing by the fire in her study. Jackalope sitting opposite heron the edge of a high-backed chair. The knife Phorbas was resting innocently on aside table, and his aunt held in her hand the Mask of Gaia, dangling loosely from her fingers.\n\nRobin closed the door softly behind him as he entered, looking from one to the other curiously.\n\nIrene looked... normal. Stately and calm and perfectly turned out as she always did. If he hadn't seen her in the Netherworlde with his own eyes, he would have sworn her most exerting activity recently had been a game of bridge.\n\n\"Firstly,\" she said to him, fixing her with her sharp eyes over the top of her half-moon spectacles. \"I may never let you out of my sight again. I step outside of these walls, and you step outside of this reality and into danger it seems.\" She raised a hand to silence him as he made to speak. \"I am aware you were under the geas of the redcaps,\" she allowed. \"And as it happens, I do agree that you had no choice but to go, given the circumstances.\" She raised her eyebrows. \"A debt to those people must always be repaid, and repaid in full. You have retained the honour of Erlking, as foolish as it may have been to rush off chasing dragons. We will speak of this matter later... of the Earth Shard... in depth.\" She sounded stern about this, making it plain that Robin was not off the hook."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Secondly, I have spoken at length with this boy.\" She looked to Jackalope. \"He has told me everything. Where you went. Why he left you.\"\n\nRobin's eyes flicked to Jackalope, whose silvery eyes shone in the firelight. Irene seemed to read the question on Robin's face. \"Yes, he has been perfectly candid with me about his past deeds.\" She glanced down at the mask in her hand. \"I could not truly believe it. And so he consented for me to view him with this curious device you have unearthed. This relic of the elementals.\"\n\nShe looked backup to Robin, beckoning him away from the door and into the room. \"I have seen his past with my own eyes. He believes himself a murderer,\" she said. Her face was unreadable. \"He is wrong,\" she concluded simply after a second.\n\nRobin was confused. Jackalope wasn't looking at either of them.\n\n\"He believes he killed his brother,\" Irene said. \"With all of his heart. But he did not.\"\n\nRobin stared at Jackalope. \"I knew you couldn't have killed your own brother,\" he said, almost accusingly.\n\nThe hornless Fae glared at Robin. \"This old woman is wrong,\" he said. \"Whatever you saw through your magical mask. I know what I did. He is dead, and it is because of me.\"\n\n\"Be quiet please,\" Irene commanded. \"Erlking does not accept cold-hearted killers to its bosom. This matter must be settled here and now.\"\n\nShe took off her glasses, letting them rest on their long chain around her neck. \"You left my nephew, and the others, on Briar Hill, consumed by shame. They had seen what the banshee revealed. The dark secrets you hold in your heart. You left not because you wanted to, but because you felt you did not deserve to stay. You blame yourself that much. To live a life of isolation and penance? That much is perfectly clear. You left to protect them from yourself.\" She sighed, as though the boy were exasperating. \"You are not the monster you fear you are, Jackalope. Hardly any people truly are. In many ways, you are... broken. But things can mend, eventually. Few things in this world or the next are ever truly beyond repair.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why did you comeback?\" Robin asked. \"You're no coward, Jack. That much is obvious. You saved my life from that centaur. I would have been ground to a pulp.\"\n\n\"I told you already, and I have told your guardian the same,\" Jackalope said defensively. \"Your knife! Your stupid dagger. It is haunted. Always it was dragging me in circles, straining to get back to you. It was like a dowsing rod. I tired of it. I thought if I followed where it led... well...\" He shrugged. \"It would lead me to you eventually, and I could return it. Be done with it, and the rest of you. How was Ito know you'd be in the middle of a battle with nearly every centaur in the Netherworlde?\" he scowled. \"I should have learned my lesson back when I followed you into the Undine's hidden valley. Wherever you step, trouble follows, Robin Fellows.\"\n\nRobin eyed the seated Fae carefully.\n\n\"You could have just thrown it away,\" he said.\n\nJackalope glared at him.\n\n\"It would seem,\" Irene said quietly, \"that your old tutor, Mr Phorbas, does not like to lose a student. He is still, in many ways, very much still with us.\"\n\nShe looked at the grey headed Fae, her face softening somewhat... not with pity, Irene was not the kind of person to whom pity was a useful emotion. With kindness perhaps, Robin thought.\n\n\"Shall you tell Robin how your brother died?\" she asked him. \"Or would you prefer me to say what I saw in your memories? Which is easiest for you?\" She placed the mask gently on the table by the knife.\n\nJackalope said nothing. He stared away from them, into the fire. Rain thrummed on the windows behind the thick curtains."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Very well,\" Irene said softly, clasping her hands before her. \"The camps of Dis area place of misery beyond understanding, Robin. Jackalope here knows that all too well. He grew up in their desolation and hopelessness.\" She looked over to Robin. \"Many lived and died in those camps. Fae and rebellious Panthea alike. Robbed of their dignity, of their humanity.\" She glanced at the tattoo on Jackalope's forearm, the branded numerals. \"Robbed of their names even. Reduced to numbers, reduced to... things. This is how Eris and her kind win a war. They takeaway everything worth fighting for. Freedom, love, even, eventually, hope itself. It is how they break you.\"\n\nShe sat slowly, opposite Jackalope, in her own chair, still looking at Robin. \" It is not enough for the overseers of the camps that Fae are simply captured and held. They must be broken, body and mind, and most importantly... will. So that this race can never again rise up in rebellion against Eris.\n\nThis is the purpose of the camps of Dis, the hills of blood and bone, as they are known. They are factories for destroying hope. For taking apart your soul piece by piece. The jailers are cruel, and they are most... inventive... are they not, Jackalope?\"\n\nThe boy did not reply. He stared still into the flames, his jaw working.\n\n\"Any camaraderie amongst the prisoners is stamped out, Robin,\" she explained. \"Familial bonds, love? It is worked on and worn down, destroyed, bit by bit. The jailers hate it. You see, love makes people strong. People, when they care about each other, area dangerous force, and Eris knows this all too well.\" She sighed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You and your brother, you kept each other sane, in that place, didn't you?\" she said to Jackalope. \"All the years you were there. All the inhumanities thrown at you, you could always bear them... just. Because you had one another. Strength they could not break, no matter how hard they tried.\"\n\n\"He was strong,\" Jackalope whispered hoarsely, still looking at the fire. \"I was not. He protected me. I needed him. I was nothing but a burden around his neck, a snot nosed kid to worry about, as though he didn't have problems of his own. He never showed that though, not once.\"\n\n\"No doubt because he needed you too,\" Irene said. \"Keeping you safe, having someone to worry about. I do not doubt that it gave him strength, and the determination not to be broken like so many of the other prisoners.\"\n\n\"But he died,\" Robin said, his own voice barely a whisper. \"What happened in there, that makes you think you area murderer?\"\n\nJackalope still said nothing. His hands were on his knees, bunched and his pale knuckles were tight as cords. He still did not look at either of them.\n\n\"As I have said,\" Irene told Robin. \"The jailers of the camp were... are... inventive in their cruelty. There was one tradition, Robin, a vile sport for their own entertainment, known as the wild hunt.\"\n\nJackalope stiffened a little.\n\n\"What's that?\" Robin asked.\n\n\"A simple enough concept,\" Irene explained'Designed with the sole aim to pit prisoner against prisoner, to breakdown any friendships suspected of forming, any bonds in the camps which needed pinching in the bud.\" Irene sighed. \"Two prisoners would be loosed into the wild. Like animals. Given a shot at freedom, or at least the illusion of one. The jailers would then give chase, hunting them down for fun, and the cruellest part was this... whichever of the two prisoners was captured first would be killed on the spot as punishment. The other, the one who evaded capture longer, would merely be cast back into the camps. They would even receive preferential treatment as a kind of reward for winning the game. Extra food rations.\" Her eyes were narrowed and thoughtful. \"Though even this was designed to cause resentment amongst their peers of course.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She looked at Robin."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you seethe wickedness in it?\" she asked. \"However fake the chance of freedom may have been, no one ever actually escaped during these hunts. One was always killed, the other always recaptured. But still... there remained the slimmest possibility, the smallest sliver of faint hope. May this time they would be the one who got away.\"\n\nRobin imagined two prisoners who had become friends in that dark and fearful place, drawing comfort from one another, strength, their companionship making the hell of the camps bearable. Suddenly pitted against one another. Competing for the impossible.\n\n\"Fear and desperation make people do such questionable things, Robin. People who, in other circumstances, might be good,\" Irene said. \"It was not uncommon, during these hunts, for the friends to turn on one another, to hobble or incapacitate the other, so desperate were they to escape. Even knowing their ally would be killed when caught first.\"\n\nHer mouth was a hard line. \"This is the world Eris creates for her enemies. She casts down her apple between friends and sets them atone another's throats like mad dogs. There was never any winner in these games. The loser dies, brought down like a wild animal in the dark wilderness. The winner is dragged back to hell, and now, instead of having a companion to make it bearable, they must live with the guilt of what they did to their only friend. Only the jailers win. It is almost certain that prisoner will never form a bond with another again. They would not dare or want it.\"\n\nRobin stared at Jackalope, beginning at last to realise what must had happened. \"You were chosen for the hunt, weren't you?\" he said. \"You... and your brother.\"\n\nJackalope looked at him. \"Yes,\" he said thickly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"When you were loosed,\" Irene said, glancing at the Mask of Gaia, its smooth wooden surface flickering in the firelight, memories fresh in her mind."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your brother told you that you were both going to escape, that you could both make it. He'd been planning it all for weeks, since he'd found out you were the next offerings. And you believed him. He was trying to make you feel less afraid. To give you the hope you needed to run so fast and so far.\"\n\n\"They caught him instead of you, didn't they?\" Robin asked, his voice cold with the horror of it.\n\n\"No,\" Jackalope said flatly. \"Not right away. He caught them.\"\n\n\"His brother was a strong and determined Fae,\" Irene said to Robin. \"The mask showed me the events of that night. How far they both ran, deep into the woods beyond the camp, how desperately. And how their pursuers followed, faster, on horseback.\" She leaned forward to Jackalope. \"It showed me where you stopped running, where an ambush was laid. Your brother took out two of them before you both ran again. And in the confusion and the darkness, from one he felled, he tore away the creature's mana stone.\"\n\nRobin knew it was a terrible thing in the Netherworlde for anyone, friend or foe to touch another mana stone. They were the most personal objects one could imagine. Almost apart of yourself. To steal one from a corpse and run with it was clearly an act of the boldest desperation.\n\n\"Your brother was an Earth Panthea,\" Irene said to Jackalope. \"He hadn't used mana in years, not since you were first taken to the camps, stripped of your own stones, when your horns and your names were taken from you. But he remembered one trick. He hid you. He hid you in the trees, wrapped in leaves, masked in a disguise so perfect none would see you, no matter how hard they searched. You were part of the forest. He told you he would lead them off. That he was going to draw them away. A wild goose chase. Isn't that right?\" she nodded. \"You were to stay put, a whole day and night, before daring to move. To wait for him to return. He told you that he would circle back eventually for you.\" She sighed deeply down her nose. \"He also told you that if anything happened, if he didn't return by that time, you were to leave. Continue north, keep off roads and in the trees wherever you could. That he would find you. You were to put as much distance as you could between yourself and Dis.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He didn't get far,\" Jackalope said bitterly. \"He'd hidden me, like you say. He'd thrown the mana stone deep into the forest. They would only track its trail of power. But they were closer on our trail than we knew. They passed through the clearing only minutes after he had left... minutes.\" The boy's silver eyes were distant. \"They headed straight after my big brother. They could follow his tracks, anyone could have.\" He looked down at his own knees. At his clenched fists. \"There were so many of them, on their horses, whooping and cheering like this was the best game in the world. Like... we didn't matter. I knew they would catch him. I... I heard them catch him.\" His mouth was taut in the darkroom. \"He was still so close, he never stood a chance, not really. I could have jumped down from the tree, I could have run and helped him. I know... I was just a child, but he had done everything for me, to get me safe and free, and... I didn't.\"\n\nHe shook his head, as though to dislodge the thoughts. \"I didn't move a muscle. I froze. I was so afraid. I satin the tree, wrapped in his illusion, and listened to them kill him. I listened to my brother die, and I did nothing to stop it.\" His voice had grown very quiet. \"Nothing.\"\n\nThe fire popped and hissed in the shadows of the study.\n\n\"I think he might have called my name, at the end,\" Jackalope said. \"I couldn't bear it. Couldn't bear to hear it. I don't remember it now, that's funny, right? That's why I took his. I left that child in the tree when I finally came down, and that wasn't until a full day later. The hunters had long gone, searching for me elsewhere in the woods. I didn't dare move until I knew they were faraway.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He looked directly at Robin and, for the first time, Robin noticed that the boy looked extremely tired."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They hadn't taken him away, you know. I found him just where they had left him, cast aside on the floor of the woods beyond the camps of Dis, like garbage. They hadn't even closed his eyes.\" He looked up, at Irene. \"You saw the rest,\" he said bitterly. \"Did I avenge him? Nothing so noble. Iran. Ran north, just as he said I should. I hid in shadows and every night I was sure they would find me, convinced they were still hunting me, that I was still part of their game.\" He gave a bitter half-laugh. \"I'd covered half of the Netherworlde, a skulking, cowardly shadow, a traitor to my own brother, before I let myself believe the truth, that they had given upon me. That I really was the one who got away.\"\n\n\"And that's where I was when you found me, Scion,\" he said to Robin. \"\"Go north\", my brother had said.\"Put as much distance as you can between yourself and Dis, and stay out of sight\". That's exactly what I did, hiding in the snow, in the wilderness of the Gravis Glaciem. Alone, for years, with what I had done.\"\n\nRobin stared at Jackalope. \"You didn't do anything,\" he said.\n\n\"That's the point,\" Jackalope smiled coldly. \"I didn't do anything. I let them kill him. To save my own skin.\"\n\nRobin shook his head, as though irritated. \"No. You were a frightened kid. And you were doing exactly what he had told you to.\"\n\n\"His death was my fault,\" Jackalope insisted. \"I could have intervened. I could have stopped it. He was dead because of me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"His death was the fault only of the creatures who killed him,\" Irene told the boy. \"Not yours. And yes, you are quite right, you could have intervened, but you could not have stopped it. He would still have died, and you would have been dragged, captured again, back to the camps, their pitiful \"victor\".\" She was peering at the Fae very closely. \"Then, and only then, would his death have meant nothing.\"\n\n\"He knew he didn't stand a chance,\" Robin said. \"That's obvious, even without looking into your memories with the mask. He knew, even when he was hiding you that he wasn't coming back for you at all. That's why he gave you instructions. He knew how long to tell you to wait, how long it would take for them to tire of looking for you. That's why he told you whereto go, and how to get thereon your own.\"\n\nJackalope stared at Robin, his eyes liquid mercury. His expression was unfathomable.\n\n\"Jack, you didn't kill your brother,\" Robin told him. \"Anymore that I killed my Gran or Phorbas. He died for you. He sacrificed himself to give you a chance. You didn't fail him. He wanted you to live.\"\n\nJackalope stood up slowly. His face was whiter than ever, even in the flickering light.\n\nRobin noticed he still had centaur blood flickering his cheek and neck.\n\n\"I'm a bad person,\" he said. \"I should have saved him. I should have tried.\"\n\nRobin was aware that Irene was watching him closely, as though waiting on his judgement, offering none of her own. He nodded to the other Fae.\n\n\"You were a kid. And he would never have forgiven you if you'd come after him,\" he said. \"No, you didn't save his life, but he saved yours. You're not a bad person, Jack. You saved my life... twice. You're just...\" He searched for the right words, casting about with his hands."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"... You're just an idiot,\" he finished with feeling, giving a weak smile.\n\n\"Running and hiding does not solve problems, my boy,\" Irene said softly, a tiny smile touching the corners of her mouth at Robin's exasperated words. \"Believe me, it never has, not for anyone. They always find you. You can't runaway forever, certainly not from yourself. You may as well try to outrun your own shadow.\" She folded her arms thoughtfully. \"You wish for my advice? Make a stand. Here at Erlking.\"\n\nJackalope looked to her. Robin knew what the boy was thinking. He had been invisible to the world for so long, hiding in shadows, alone with his terrible burden of guilt and loathing. The world didn't see him. But here this old lady was looking right at him, and there was no judgement in her eyes, even after he had laid his soul bare. There was nothing in her eyes except firelight.\n\n\"You think I want forgiveness?\" he asked quietly. \"Is that it?\"\n\n\"I think that's all you want,\" Robin said. \"I just wish it was mine to give you. That's something you'll have to work on yourself, I suppose. But it doesn't mean you have to do it on your own.\"\n\n\"Erlking welcomes the lost, Jackalope,\" Irene said. \"I trust Robin's judgement. You don't have to run anymore.\"\n\nJackalope ran his fingers through his pale hair. His permanent scowl was still in place, but he seemed to Robin more than ever not a wild and feral thing, not a seasoned survivor, fiercely independent and proud. He seemed just a boy. He appeared to be struggling.\n\n\"You told me, back at Briar Hill...\" Robin said, putting his hands in his pockets. \"About the night when the Peacekeepers came to your town. How they took you and your brother. How no one helped, no one raised a hand to stop them. They didn't even look, they turned away.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The hornless Fae nodded.\n\n\"You've got a home here, Jack,\" Robin said firmly. \"A family even... if you want it. We see you, okay?\" he swallowed. \"We won't turn away. No matter what happens.\"\n\nThe rain pattered softly on the dark windowpanes of Irene's study. The sleet had melted away, the first bite of winter softening as outside dawn approached, and anew day, quiet and uncertain, approached Erlking. And with a silent nod of his head, that was that.\n\nJackalope would remain at Erlking."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "INTERESTED PARTIES\n\nThe following week was a busy one at the hall. A lot seemed to happen in a short space of time. They all rested, they all healed.\n\nHawthorn announced, to Robin's disappointment, two days after their return, that he was leaving. He was headed back into the Netherworlde, he told them. He was part of the Fae resistance there, after all. And he had to seek out their leader, Peaseblossom, and relay to him what had happened, with the Shard, with the Hive.\n\n\"He will be most interested to hear about you, young Master Robin,\" he told the boy, as they all stood saying their farewells on Erlking's steps, bright morning sunshine baking the stones. \"You are quite the Fae.\"\n\nRobin had been fairly unsuccessful in hiding his disappointment at Hawthorn leaving. Who would teach him the Tower of Earth, if he wasn't here? But the old Fae narrowed his long eyes, clearly amused. \"I think you have mastered that Tower all on your own,\" he told him. \"Earth is about will and determination, and you have proved that you have plenty of both.\"\n\nHe promised he would return when he could, and Robin instructed him to be careful out there, to stay off the grid.\n\nHawthorn took with him the Mask of Gaia when he left. Irene had decided that now the Shard of Earth was in Erlking's possession, the mask, with all its dangerous power, maybe better suited to others elsewhere. She had told Robin that the Princess Ashe and her people had returned victorious to Rowandeepling. The swarm had been decimated and driven from the forest. The dryads were rebuilding their empire. She was planning to marry, apparently. Preparing to rule alongside a love she had once thought long lost."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Love is never really lost though,\" his aunt had told him, with a small wry smile. \"It is afire which can always be rekindled. The mask may serve the dryads well, as once it did before. Offer the princess guidance to rule and guard the Elderhart. She will not be duped by the likes of Splinterstem again.\"\n\nRobin learned that although the Hive had been destroyed and Eris'forces driven from the great forest like a cancer purged, no one seemed to know what had happened to Peryl or Strigoi. Robin didn't doubt fora moment that Eris'fury would have been something to behold. He still couldn't get the image of those golden eyes out of his head.\n\nIf Peryl's failure followed the same pattern as Strife's, she would be back at the bottom of the pile by now, and her treacherous green-haired brother back in his rightful station, having schemed his way back into the Empress' good favour.\n\nHe wondered where she was. If Peryl was still abroad in the Netherworlde, or if she was in the pits of Dis, disgraced and imprisoned like tragic Mr Moros. He also wondered why he seemed to care so much.\n\n*\n\nIt was announced, shortly after Hawthorn's departure, that as well as the new addition of Jackalope to the erstwhile rebels of Erlking, an extended offer of hospitality had been laid out to Mr Ffoulkes. On the strictest conditions by Irene that he behave, and that he make penance for his attempted theft by agreeing to help to lighten the load of teaching with Calypso. He was to assist in the tutoring of the Scion.\n\nFfoulkes, who by this point had regained all of his former pomp and new clothes brighter and more bedazzling than ever, accepted this offer with thanks, smoothing his perfectly waxed moustache and beard. Hestia had managed to find some wax for him, and he was almost like his old, rather irritating self again, save for the fact that he had elected not to procure anew wig. His bald head, he had told them all, despite absolutely no one asking, was a dashing sign of virility in itself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The news of his appointment as tutor-in-residence was greeted by the nymph with a world-weary sigh, which she made no attempt whatsoever to conceal, her book drooping listlessly from her hands as she rolled her eyes into the back of her head.\n\nWell, Robin thought. This is going to be interesting.\n\n*\n\nKarya recovered slowly but steadily. The other companions spent much time in her room keeping her company as the days passed. More snow began to fall outside, the last of the autumn leaves drifting down from the nearly-naked trees of Erlking. Hestia occasionally shoed them out, flapping her hands and insisting the girl needed peace and quiet, not to be constantly bothered and harassed by three loud boys and a faun. None of them mentioned her unnatural healing. None of them really knew how to bring it up in conversation.\n\nIt was late in the evening on a Sunday, when the subject, amongst others, was finally breached.\n\nThey'd had supper in the hall downstairs, Ffoulkes insisting afterwards on entertaining them all on the large harpsichord which stood in the corner of the room. He had actually been surprisingly good at it, though of course, he had been the first to exclaim and applaud his tremendous skills.\n\nAfterwards, Irene had taken Robin briefly to one side and spoken with him in private, and now, while she, Mr Drover, Calypso and Ffoulkes retired to the drawing room for rather dull adult conversation, Robin and the other Erlkingers had come up to Karya's room.\n\nIt was dark outside, night closing in, and the girl sat propped up in her bed on roughly a million cushions, the twined flowers twisted through her headboard at her back. She was eating her dinner from a tray, \"like a bloody invalid\" as she put it, confined most sternly to bed-rest until she was fully healed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The room was cosy and comfortable. Afire crackled in the hearth, where Henry sat on the floor, determinedly trying to teach Jackalope how to play cards, the frowning Fae scowling down suspiciously at his carefully concealed cards, as though suspecting Henry of trying to cheat at every turn, which, of course, he was.\n\nTheir enmity, Robin noticed, had mellowed into extreme competitiveness. And besides, Henry was sulking tonight because Jack had received a much larger portion of pudding than he had. The miserable old housekeeper insisted that the Fae needed feeding up, although Henry cried favouritism and injustice at this.\n\nElsewhere in the room, Woad satin a deep windowsill, curled up in a ball, Inky the kraken cradled peacefully in his arms. Both the blue boy and the small, tentacled thing were asleep, softly snoring after too much dinner. Woad sounded like a quiet but peaceful chainsaw. The kraken, Robin reasoned, could well have been purring.\n\nHe himself sat at the foot of Karya's bed. He was twirling Phorbas on its tip on the footboard, lost in thought. Karya was looking at him oddly.\n\n\"What?\" he said, a little self-consciously, catching her staring.\n\nShe shook her head, \"Nothing... just... I can't get used to your eyes. You look so... odd.\"\n\nRobin's eyes had not changed back. Even now, days after their safe return. One was blue as the sky, the other as green as jade. He was still getting used to it himself.\n\n\"Wow, thanks,\" he said, half joking.\n\n\"Not bad odd,\" she said hurriedly. \"Just... different. You're more... I don't know... Puck than you were.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin considered this a moment. He shrugged. \"We've come to an arrangement, he and I,\" he joked. \"Anyway, don't you think it makes me look a bit like David Bowie?\"\n\n\"Who?\" Karya asked blankly.\n\n\"Just the greatest human whoever lived,\" Robin grinned. \"Well, according to my gran, that is.\"\n\nKarya looked over to Henry, confused. \"I thought you told me the greatest human whoever lived was Bobby Charlton?\" she enquired.\n\n\"He is,\" Henry muttered immediately, not looking up from his cards.\n\n\"You're all so confusing,\" she said to Robin, eating a spoonful of jelly from the bowl resting on the tray before her. \"As is this curious human dessert. I cannot bring myself to trust a foodstuff that shivers as you eat it. Are you certain it's not self-aware?\"\n\nRobin nodded, grinning. \"No more than our friendly neighbourhood faun over there.\"\n\nKarya chuckled, wincing a little. She was still not fully healed.\n\nThey satin amiable, comfortable since fora time while she ate, and Robin polished Phorbas. Listening to Woad snore and Henry and Jackalope quietly swearing atone another over the slapping of playing cards on the hearthrug. It was a comfortable evening.\n\n\"What did your aunt find out in London?\" she asked him eventually, out of the blue. \"About the book? I know she found out something. Henry said she dragged you off to one side fora chat after dinner.\"\n\nRobin gave Henry a sly look.\n\n\"Yes, she did,\" he said. \"She didn't find out much to be honest. The trail of the cubiculum is cold, whatever it is. We might have gained an Earth Shard, but we're not much closer to knowing which book was so important to Oberon and Titania. Or why.\" He leaned in a little. \"But... she said she did find out something that was interesting.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Karya's golden eyes narrowed with interest.\n\n\"Apparently, she's not the only person who's been enquiring after this lost volume,\" Robin told her. \"There's another interested party. They've been allover London, contacting libraries everywhere. All very innocent and polite, very vague, but Irene thinks it's very odd. They kept popping up everywhere she was looking herself.\"\n\nKarya frowned. \"Who are they?\"\n\nRobin shook his head. \"No idea, and neither does she. She only knows that they're a private firm in London. Old school establishment. They have interests in all sorts of things. Medical research, property, law firms. Private transport. You name it, they're into it. They own a series of those old gentlemen's clubs too, in the city. You know, all brandy and cigars, proper cabal. They're called Sire Holdings.\"\n\n\"Never heard of them,\" Karya admitted. \"Sounds a bit pompous.\"\n\nRobin agreed. \"Aunt Irene tried to contact them, see if she could get an appointment to see their director, maybe find out what their interest is in all this. But she kept getting the brushoff. She showed me one of the letters she got in reply while she was down there. It was all business-speak. Consultations by private appointment and invitation only, that sort of thing. Even the letterhead was pompous. Old school logo like a coat of arms. She's going to try and see what else she can find out about them. Dig up some dirt.\"\n\n\"We will need to step up our game you know, Scion,\" Karya warned. \"We made a fool of Eris back at the Hive, even if we did only escape by the skin of our teeth. She won't like that. And the fact that Lady Irene came in person, an open display of conflict, destroying her forces like she did. It changes everything.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Robin looked at her, questioningly.\n\n\"We're not just a nuisance anymore,\" the girl explained. \"Not just a quiet underground resistance faction, skulking around in our safe house. What we did, what Irene had to do. That was an open declaration of aggression. Erlking is at war now. Open war.\"\n\nRobin knew this was true. He nodded. \"Good,\" he said gravely. \"Bring it on. I can't wait to see Strigoi again. He has to pay for what he did, to the Sidhe-Nobilitas.\" He sighed. \"All we wanted was peace. But things are getting darker out there, aren't they?\"\n\n\"Si vis pacem, para bellum,\" Karya said darkly.\n\nHer gravitas and serious face were only slightly ruined by the spoonful of raspberry jelly quivering on her spoon held before her.\n\n\"Karya...\" Robin said hesitantly. \"I have to know... You should have died. You didn't.\"\n\n\"I know,\" she replied blankly.\n\n\"What...\" he hesitated, peering at here carefully. \"What are you?\"\n\nHenry and Jackalope had stopped playing cards. They were both looking up across the room silently, watching the girl as Robin studied her.\n\nKarya met his eyes, slowly lowering her spoon.\n\n\"The truth?\" she said, looking rather lost. \"The truth is, Robin Fellows, Scion of the Arcania... I honestly don't know. I don't... remember.\"\n\nShe looked out of the window, at the dark, cool night. \"But I think... it's important to know,\" she said, her voice both worried and thoughtful. She glanced back to Robin, her eyes meeting his."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But in order to find out,\" she said slowly. \"We're going to have to go home. To Eris. To where I came from. Robin... we have to go to Dis.\"\n\nRobin looked back at her solemnly. She looked both frightened and determined. He reached out and took her hand, lacing her fingers with his and squeezing reassuringly.\n\nHe thought of all they had been through together, these people in this quiet room, since first they met. All they had survived.\n\n\"Well then,\" he said, smiling slightly as his eyes twinkled puckishly. \"That sounds like quite an adventure, doesn't it? Eris had better watch out. We're coming for her.\"\n\nAnd he meant every word."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer, move the story forward.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 0"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Chapter 1\n\nTime to Be Gone\n\nThe Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Rhannon Hills. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.\n\nBorn among the groves and vineyards that covered much of the rugged hills, the olive trees in evergreen rows, the ordered vines leafless till spring, the cold wind blew west and north across the prosperous farms dotting the land between the hills and the great harbor of Ebou Dar. The land lay winter fallow still, but men and women were already oiling plowshares and tending harnesses, preparing for the planting to come. They paid little mind to the trains of heavily laden wagons moving east along the dirt roads carrying people who wore odd clothes and spoke with odd accents. Many of the strangers seemed to be farmers themselves, familiar implements lashed to their wagon boxes, and in their wagons unfamiliar saplings with roots balled in rough cloth, but they were heading on toward more distant land. Nothing to do with life here and now. The Seanchan hand lay lightly on those who did not contest Seanchan rule, and the farmers of the Rhannon Hills had seen no changes in their lives. For them, rain or the lack of it had always been the true ruler.\n\nWest and north the wind blew, across the broad blue-green expanse of the harbor, where hundreds of huge ships sat rocking at anchor on choppy swells, some bluff-bowed and rigged with ribbed sails, others long and sharp-prowed, with men laboring to match their sails and rigging to those of the wider vessels. Not nearly so many ships still floated there as had only a few days before, though. Many now lay in the shallows, charred wrecks heeled over on their sides, and burned frames settling in the deep gray mud like blackened skeletons. Smaller craft skittered about the harbor, slanting under triangular sails or crawling on oars like many-legged waterbugs, most carrying workers and supplies to the ships that still floated. Other small vessels and barges rode tethered to what appeared to be tree trunks shorn of branches, rising out of the blue-green water, and from those men dove holding stones to carry them down swiftly to sunken ships below, where they tied ropes to whatever could be hauled up for salvage. Six nights ago death had walked across the water here, the One Power killing men and women and ships in darkness split by silver lightnings and hurtling balls of fires. Now the rough rolling harbor, filled with furious activity, seemed at peace by comparison, the chop giving up spray to the wind that blew north and west across the mouth of the River Eldar, where it widened into the harbor, north and west and inland."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sitting cross-legged atop a boulder covered with brown moss, on the reed-fringed bank of the river, Mat hunched his shoulders against the wind and cursed silently."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no gold to be found here, no women or dancing, no fun. Plenty of discomfort, though. In short, it was the last sort of place he would choose, normally. The sun stood barely its own height above the horizon, the sky overhead was pale slate gray, and thick purple clouds moving in from the sea threatened rain. Winter hardly seemed winter without snow-he had yet to see a single flake in Ebou Dar-but a cold damp morning wind off the water could serve as well as snow to chill a man to the bone. Six nights since he had ridden out of the city in a storm, yet his throbbing hip seemed to think he was still soaked to the skin and clinging to a saddle. This was no weather or time of day fora man to be out by his own choice. He wished he had thought to bring a cloak. He wished he had stayed in bed.\n\nRipples in the land hid Ebou Dar, just over a mile to the south, and hid him from the city, as well, but there was not a tree or anything more than scrub brush insight. Being in the open this way made him feel as though ants were crawling under his skin. He should be safe, though. His plain brown woolen coat and cap were nothing like the clothes he was known by in the city. Instead of black silk, a drab woolen scarf hid the scar around his neck, and the collar of his coat was turned up to hide that, as well. Not a bit of lace or a thread of embroidery. Dull enough fora farmer milking cows. No one he needed to avoid would know him to recognize if they saw him. Not unless they were close. Just the same, he tugged the cap a bit lower.\n\n\"You intend to stay out here much longer, Mat?\" Noal's tattered dark blue coat had seen better days, but then so had he. Stooped and white-haired, the broken-nosed old fellow was squatting on his heels below the boulder, fishing off the riverbank with a bamboo pole. Most of his teeth were missing, and sometimes he felt at a gap with his tongue as though surprised to find the empty space. \"It's cold, in case you haven't noticed. Everybody always thinks it's warm in Ebou Dar, but winter is cold everywhere, even places that make Ebou Dar feel like Shienar. My bones crave afire. Ora blanket, anyway. A man can be snug with a blanket, if he's out of the wind. Are you going to do anything but stare downriver?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When Mat only glanced at him, Noal shrugged and went back to peering at the tarred wooden float bobbing among the sparse reeds. Now and then he worked one gnarled hand as though his crooked fingers felt the chill particularly, but if so, it was his own fault. The old fool had gone wading in the shallows to scoop up minnows for bait with a basket that now sat half-submerged and anchored by a smooth stone at the edge of the water. Despite his complaints about the weather, Noal had come along to the river without urging or invitation. From things he had said, everyone he cared about was long years dead, and the truth of it was, he seemed almost desperate for any sort of company. Desperate, indeed, to choose Mat's company when he could be five days from Ebou Darby now. A man could cover a lot of ground in five days if he had reason to and a good horse. Mat had thought on that very subject often enough himself.\n\nOn the far side of the Eldar, half-hidden by one of the marshy islands that dotted the river, abroad-beamed rowboat backed oars, and one of the crew stood up and fished in the reeds with along boathook. Another oarsman helped him heave what he had caught into the boat. At this distance, it looked like a large sack. Mat winced and shifted his eyes downriver. They were still finding bodies, and he was responsible. The innocent died along with the guilty. And if you did nothing, then only the innocent died. Or as bad as died. Maybe worse than, depending on how you looked at it.\n\nHe scowled irritably. Blood and ashes, he was turning into a bloody philosopher! Taking responsibility drained all the joy out of life and dried a man to dust. What he wanted right then was a great deal of mulled wine in a snug common room full of music, and a plump, pretty serving maid on his knee, somewhere far from Ebou Dar. Very far. What he had were obligations he could not walkaway from and a future he did not fancy. There seemed no help at all in being ta'veren, not if this was how the Pattern shaped itself to you. He still had his luck, anyway. At least, he was alive and not chained in a cell. Under the circumstances, that counted as luck."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From his perch, he had a fairly clear view down past the last low marshy river islands. Wind-caught spray drifted up the harbor like banks of fine mist, but not enough to hide what he needed to see. He was attempting to do sums in his head, counting ships afloat, trying to count wrecks. He kept losing his place, though, thinking he had counted vessels twice and starting over. The Sea Folk who had been recaptured intruded on his thoughts, too. He had heard that gibbets in the Rahad, across the harbor, displayed more than a hundred corpses, with placards listing'murder\" and'rebellion\" as their crimes. Normally, the Seanchan used the headsman's axe and the impaling stake, while the Blood got the strangling cord, but property had to settle for being hanged.\n\nBurn me, I did what I could, he thought sourly. There was no use feeling guilty that that was all he could do. Not a bit of use. None! He had to concentrate on the people who escaped.\n\nThe Atha'an Miere who got away had taken ships in the harbor for their flight, and while they might have seized some smaller craft, anything they could board and overwhelm in the night, they had intended to carry off as many of their people as possible. With thousands of them laboring as prisoners in the Rahad, that would have meant big ships, by choice, and that meant Seanchan great-ships. Many of the Sea Folk's own vessels were large enough, for certain, but they all had been stripped of their sails and rigging by that time, to befitted out in the Seanchan fashion. If he could calculate how many greatships remained, he might have some notion of how many Atha'an Miere had actually reached freedom. Freeing the Sea Folk Windfinders had been the right thing to do, the only thing he could do, but aside from the hangings, hundreds and hundreds of bodies had been fished out of the harbor in the last five days, and the Light only knew how many had washed out to sea with the tides. The gravediggers labored from sunup to sundown, and the graveyards were filled with weeping women and children. Men, too. More than a few of those dead had been Atha'an Miere, with no one to weep while they were dumped into mass graves, and he wanted some idea of the number he had saved to balance his bleak suspicions of the number he had killed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Estimating how many ships had made it out into the Sea of Storms was difficult, though, quite apart from losing the count. Unlike Aes Sedai, Windfinders had no strictures against using the Power as a weapon, not when the safety of their people was at stake, and they would have wanted to halt pursuit before it began. No one gave chase in a burning ship. The Seanchan, with their damane, had even less compunction against fighting back. Lightning bolts lacing through the rain as numerous as blades of grass and balls of fire streaking across the sky, some the size of horses, and the harbor seemed aflame from one side to the other, till even in a storm the night made any Illuminator's show look stark. Without turning his head he could count a dozen places where the charred ribs of a greatship stuck up out of shallow water or a huge bluff-bowed hull lay on its side with the harbor waves licking against the tilted deck, and twice as many where the lines of blackened timbers were finer, the remains of Sea Folk rakers. Apparently they had disliked leaving their own vessels to people who had put them in chains. Three dozen right in front of him, and that without adding in the sunken wrecks that had salvage boats working over them. Perhaps a seafarer could tell great-ship from raker by the tops of masts sticking out of the water, but the task was beyond him.\n\nSuddenly an old memory tugged at him, of lading ships for an attack from the sea, and how many men could be crowded into how much space for how long. It was not his memory, really, from an ancient war between Fergansea and Moreina, yet it seemed his. Realizing that he had not actually lived one of those ancient bits of other men's lives that were stuck in his head always took him a little by surprise now, so maybe they were his, in away. They were certainly sharper than some stretches of his own life. The vessels he recalled had been smaller than most in the harbor, yet the principles were the same."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They don't have enough ships,\" he muttered. The Seanchan had even more in Tanchico than had come here, but the losses here were sufficient to make the difference.\n\n\"Enough ships for what?\" Noal said. \"I never saw so many in one place before.\" That was quite a statement, coming from him. To hear Noal tell it, he had seen everything, and nearly always bigger or grander than what was in front of his nose. Back home, they would have said he kept tight purse-strings on the truth.\n\nMat shook his head. \"They don't have enough ships left to take them all back home.\"\n\n\"We don't have to go home,\" a woman drawled behind him. \"We've come home.\"\n\nHe did not quite jump at the slurred Seanchan accent, but it was a near thing before he recognized who was speaking.\n\nEgeanin was scowling, her eyes like blue daggers, but not for him. At least, he thought not. She was tall and lean, with a hard face that was pale-skinned despite a life at sea. Her green dress was bright enough fora Tinker, or close to it, and embroidered with amass of tiny yellow and white blossoms on the high neck and down the sleeves. A flowered scarf tied tightly under her chin held along black wig on her head, spilling halfway down her back and over her shoulders. She hated the scarf and the dress, which did not quite fit, but her hands checked every other minute to make sure the wig was straight. That concerned her more than her clothes, though concern was not nearly a strong enough word.\n\nShe had only sighed over cutting her long fingernails short, but she almost had a fit, red-faced and pop-eyed, when he told her she must shave her head completely. The way her hair had been cut before, shaved above her ears with only a bowl-like cap and a wide shoulder-length tail in the back remaining, shouted that she was of the Seanchan Blood, a lesser noble. Even someone who had never laid eyes on a Seanchan would have remembered seeing her. She had agreed, reluctantly, but afterward she was close to hysterical until she was able to cover her scalp. Not for the reasons most women would have gone over the moon, though. No, among the Seanchan, only the Imperial family shaved their heads. Men who went bald began wearing wigs as soon as their hair started falling out to any noticeable degree. Egeanin would have died before letting anyone think she was pretending to belong to the Imperial family, even people who would never have had the thought in their lives. Well, that sort of pretense did carry a death penalty among the Seanchan, but he would never have believed she would goon about it so. What was one more death penalty when your neck was already being stretched for the axe? The strangling cord, in her case. The noose would be for him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Slipping the half-drawn knife backup his left sleeve, he slid down from the boulder."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He landed poorly and almost fell, barely hiding a wince at the stabbing jar to his hip. He did hide it, though. She was a noblewoman and a ship captain, and she made enough tries at taking charge without him showing anymore weakness to give her an opening than he had to. She had come to him for help, not the other way 'round, but that buttered no bread with her. Leaning against the boulder with his arms folded, he pretended he was lounging, idly kicking at tufts of dead grass to work the pain out. That was sharp enough to put sweat on his forehead despite the cold wind. Fleeing in that storm had cost him ground with his hip, and he had not made it up yet.\n\n\"Are you sure about the Sea Folk?\" he asked her. No point in mentioning the lack of ships again. Too many Seanchan settlers had spread out from Ebou Dar anyway, and apparently even more from Tanchico. However many ships they had, no power on earth would ever root all the Seanchan out, now.\n\nReaching toward the wig again, she hesitated, frowning at her short fingernails, and instead tucked her hands under her arms. \"What about them?\" She knew he had been behind the Windfinders'break for freedom, but neither of them had mentioned it specifically. She always tried to avoid talking about the Atha'an Miere. Quite aside from all the sunken ships and dead, freeing damane was another death-penalty charge, and disgusting besides, in the Seanchan view, as bad as rape or molesting children. Of course, she had helped free some damane herself, though to her way of looking, that was among the least of her crimes. Still, she avoided that topic, too. There were quite a few subjects she held silent on."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are you certain about the Windfinders who were caught? I've heard talk about cutting off hands, or feet.\" Mat swallowed a sour taste. He had seen men die, had killed men with his own hands. The Light send him mercy, he had killed a woman, once! Not even the darkest of those other men's memories burned so hot as that, and a few of those were dark enough to need drowning in wine when they floated to the surface. But the thought of deliberately cutting off somebody's hands curdled his stomach.\n\nEgeanin's head jerked, and fora moment he thought she would ignore his question. \"Talk from Renna, I'll wager,\" she said, with a dismissive gesture. \"Some sul'dam talk about that nonsense to frighten recalcitrant damane when they're new-leashed, but nobody's done it in, oh, six or seven hundred years. Not many, anyway, and people who can't control their property without... mutilation... are sei'mosiev to start.\" Her mouth twisted in loathing, though whether for mutilation or sei'mosiev was unclear.\n\n\"Shamed or not, they do it,\" he snapped. Sei'mosiev went beyond being shamed, to a Seanchan, but he doubted that anyone who deliberately cutoff a woman's hand could be humiliated enough to kill themselves. \"Is Suroth one of that \"not many\"?\"\n\nThe Seanchan woman glared to match his and planted her fists on her hips, leaning forward with her feet astride as though she were on the deck of a ship and about to berate a fumble-witted sailor. \"The High Lady Suroth doesn't own these damane, you lump-brained farmer! They're property of the Empress, may she live forever. Suroth might as well slither own wrists straightaway as order something like that for Imperial damane. That's even if she would; I've never heard of her mistreating her own. I'll try to put this in terms you can understand. If your dog runs away, you don't maim it. You switch the dog so it knows not to do that again, and you put it back in the kennel. Besides, damane are just too-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Too valuable,\" Mat finished for her dryly. He had heard that till he was sick of it.\n\nShe disregarded his sarcasm, or maybe did not notice. In his experience, if a woman did not want to hear something, she could ignore it till you yourself started to doubt you had spoken. \"You're finally beginning to understand,\" she drawled, nodding. \"Those damane you're so worried about probably don't even have welts left by this time.\" Her gaze went to the ships in the harbor, and slowly took on a look of loss, made deeper by the hardness of her face. Her thumbs ran across her fingertips. \"You wouldn't believe what my damane cost me,\" she said in a quiet voice, \"her and hiring the sul\"-dam for her. Worth every throne I paid, of course. Her name's Ser-risa. Well-trained, responsive. She'll gorge herself on honeyed nuts, if you let her, but she never gets seasick or the sulks, the way some do. A pity I had to leave her in Cantorin. I suppose I'll never see her again.\" She sighed regretfully.\n\n\"I'm sure she misses you as much as you miss her,\" Noal said, flashing a gap-toothed smile, and for all the world, he sounded sincere. Maybe he was. He contended that he had seen worse than damane and dacovale, for what that was worth.\n\nEgeanin's back stiffened, and she frowned as if she did not believe his sympathy. Or else she had just realized how she was staring at the ships in the harbor. Certainly, she turned away from the water very deliberately. \"I gave orders that no one was to leave the wagons,\" she said firmly. Likely, crewmen on her ships had jumped at that tone. She jerked her head away from the river as though she expected Mat and Noal to jump where she indicated, too."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did you, now?\" Mat grinned, showing teeth. He could manage an insolent grin that sent most puffed-up fools into apoplexy. Egeanin was far from a fool, most times, but puffed-up she was. Ship captain and noblewoman. He did not know which was worse. Bah for both! \"Well, I was about ready to head that way. Unless you're not done fishing, Noal. We can wait here awhile, if you're not.\"\n\nBut the old man was already emptying the remaining silver-gray minnows out of his basket into the water. His hands had been broken badly, maybe more than once by their lumpy appearance, yet they were deft in winding his line around the bamboo pole. In the short time he had been fishing, he had caught nearly a dozen fish, the largest less than afoot long, strung through the gills on a looped reed, and he moved those to the basket before picking it up. He claimed that if he could find the right peppers, he was going to make a fish stew-from Shara, of all places! As well say from the moon!-a stew that would make Mat forget all about his hip. The way Noal went on about the peppers, Mat suspected any forgetting would be because he was focused on finding enough ale to cool his tongue.\n\nEgeanin, waiting impatiently, was paying no attention to Mat's grin, either, so he slipped an arm around her. If they were heading back, they might as well get started. She knocked his hand away from her shoulder. The woman made some maiden aunts he had known look like tavern girls.\n\n\"We're supposed to be lovers, you and I,\" he reminded her.\n\n\"There's nobody hereto see,\" she growled."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How many times do I have to tell you, Leilwin?\" That was the name she was using. She claimed it was Taraboner. At any rate, it did not sound Seanchan. \"If we don't even hold hands unless we see somebody watching, we're going to look a pretty strange pair of lovers to anybody we don't see.\"\n\nShe snorted in derision, yet she let him put his arm back around her, and slipped hers around him. But she gave him a warning stare at the same time.\n\nMat shook his head. She was crazy as a spring hare if she thought he enjoyed this. Most women had a little padding over their muscles, at least the women he liked, but hugging Egeanin was like hugging a fence post. Almost as hard, and definitely as stiff. He could not puzzle out what Domon saw in her. Maybe she had not given the Illianer any choice. She had bought the man, after all, same as buying a horse. Burn me, I'll never understand these Seanchan, he thought. Not that he wanted to. The only thing was, he had to.\n\nAs they were turning away, he took one last glance back at the harbor, and almost wished he had not. Two small sailing craft broke through a wide wall of mist that was drifting slowly down the harbor. Drifting against the wind. Time to begone and past time.\n\nIt was better than two miles from the river to the Great North Road, across rolling countryside covered in winter-brown grasses and weeds and dotted with clumps of vine-tangled bushes too thick to push through even with most of the leaves gone. The rises hardly deserved the name of hill, not for anyone who had climbed in the Sand Hills and the Mountains of Mist as a boy-there were gaps in his own memories, but Mat could remember some of that-yet before long, he was glad he had an arm around somebody. He had sat motionless on that bloody rock for too long. The throb in his hip had faded to a dull ache, but it still made him limp, and without some sort of support, he would have been staggering on the slopes. Not that he leaned on Egeanin, of course, but holding on helped steady him. The woman frowned at him as though she thought he was trying to take advantage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If you did as you were told,\" she growled, \"I wouldn't need to carry you.\"\n\nHe showed his teeth again, this time not trying to disguise it as a smile. The way Noal scampered along beside them easily, never missing a step despite balancing his basket offish on his hip with one hand and carrying his fishing pole in the other, was embarrassing. For all he looked hard-worn, the old man was spry enough. Too spry by half, at times.\n\nTheir route slanted north of the Circuit of Heaven, with its long, open-ended tiers of polished stone seats where, in warmer weather, wealthy patrons sat on cushions beneath colorful canvas awnings to watch their horses race. Now the awnings and poles were stowed away, the horses all in their country stables, those the Seanchan had not taken, and the seats were empty save fora handful of small boys darting up and down the tiers in a game of keep-away. Mat was fond of horses, and racing, but his eyes slid past the Circuit toward Ebou Dar. Whenever he topped arise, the city's massive white ramparts were visible, deep enough that they supported a road encircling the city on top, and looking gave him an excuse to pause a moment. Fool woman! A scrap of a limp did not mean she was carrying him! He managed to keep a good temper, take the rough with the smooth and no complaining. Why could she not?\n\nInside the city white roofs and walls, white domes and spires, ringed in thin bands of color, gleamed in the gray morning light, a picture of serenity. He could not make out the gaps where buildings had burned to the ground. Along line of farmers'high-wheeled ox-carts was trundling through the wide arched gateway that opened on the Great North Road, men and women on their way to the city markets with whatever they had left to sell this late in winter, and in their midst a merchant's train of big, canvas-topped wagons behind six-and eight-horse teams, carrying goods from the Light knew where. Seven more trains, ranging from four wagons to ten, stood inline at the side of the road to wait for the gate guards to finish their inspections. Trade never stopped entirely while the sun shone, no matter who ruled a city, unless there was actual fighting. Sometimes it did not stop completely then. The stream of people flowing the other way was mostly Seanchan, soldiers in ordered ranks with their segmented armor painted in stripes and helmets that looked like the heads of huge insects, some marching and some mounted, nobles who were always mounted, wearing ornate cloaks, pleated riding dresses and lace veils, or voluminous trousers and long coats. Seanchan settlers were still departing the city, too, wagon upon wagon filled with farmers and craftsmen and the tools of their trades. The settlers had begun leaving as soon as they came off the ships, but it would be weeks before they were all gone. It was a peaceful scene, workaday and ordinary if you ignored what lay behind it, yet every time they reached a place where he could seethe gates, his mind flashed back to six nights ago, and he was there again, at those same gates."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The storm had grown worse as they crossed the city from the Tarasin Palace. Rain fell by buckets, pounding the darkened city and slicking the paving stones under the horses'hooves, and wind howled off the Sea of Storms, driving the rain like stones from slings and jerking at cloaks so that keeping at all dry was a lost cause. Clouds hid the moon, and the deluge seemed to soak up the light of the pole-lanterns carried by Blaeric and Fen, on foot ahead of the rest. Then they entered the long passageway through the city wall, and gained a bit of shelter, at least from the rain. The wind made the high-ceilinged tunnel keen like a flute. The gate guards were waiting just inside the far end of the passage, four of them also bearing pole-lanterns. A dozen more, half of them Seanchan, carried halberds that could strike at a man in the saddle or pull him out of it. Two Seanchan with their helmets off were peering from the lighted doorway of the guardhouse built into the white-plastered wall, and shifting shadows behind them told of others inside. Too many to fight past quietly, maybe too many to fight past at all. Not without everything going off like an Illuminator's firework bursting in his hand.\n\nThe guards were not the danger, anyway, not the main danger. A tall, plump-faced woman in dark blue, her divided ankle-length skirts bearing red panels worked with silver lightning bolts, stepped past the men in the guardhouse door. Along silvery metal leash was coiled in the sul'dam's left hand, the free end connecting her to the graying woman in a dark gray dress who followed her outwith an eager grin. Mat had known they would be there. The Seanchan had sul'dam and damane at all the gates, now. There could even be another pair inside, or two. They did not mean to let one woman who could channel escape their nets. The silver foxhead medallion beneath his shirt lay cold against his chest; not the cold that signaled someone embracing the Source nearby, just the accumulated chill of the night and his flesh too icy to warm it, but he could not stop waiting for the other. Light, he was juggling fireworks tonight, with the fuses lit!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The guards might have been puzzled by a noblewoman leaving Ebou Darin the middle of the night and that weather, with over a dozen servants and strings of packhorses indicating a journey of some distance, but Egeanin was of the Blood, her cloak embroidered in an eagle with spread black-and-white wings, and long fingers on her red riding gloves to accommodate her fingernails. Ordinary soldiers did not question what the Blood chose to do, even the low Blood. Which did not mean there were no formalities. Anyone was free to leave the city when they wished, but the Seanchan recorded the movement of damane, and three rode in the entourage, heads down and faces covered by the hoods of their gray cloaks, each linked to amounted sul'dam by the silvery length of an a'dam.\n\nThe plump-faced sul'dam walked by them with barely a glance, strolling down the tunnel. Her damane peered intently at every woman they passed, though, sensing whether she could channel, and Mat held his breath when she paused beside the last mounted damane with a slight frown. Even with his luck, he would not bet against the Seanchan recognizing an Aes Sedai's ageless face if they looked inside that hood. There were Aes Sedai held as damane, but what were the odds that all three of Egeanin's would be? Light, what were the odds one of the low Blood would own three?\n\nThe plump-faced woman made a clicking sound, as you might to a pet dog, and twitched the a'dam, and the damane followed heron. They were looking for marath'damane trying to escape the leash, not damane. Mat still thought he might choke. The sound of dice rolling had started up again in his head, loud enough to rival the occasional rumble of distant thunder. Something was going to go wrong; he knew it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The officer of the guards, a burly Seanchan with tilted eyes like a Saldaean but pale honey-brown skin, bowed courteously and invited Egeanin into the guardhouse, to have a cup of spiced wine while a clerk wrote down the information about the damane."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Every guardhouse Mat had ever seen was a stark place, yet the lamplight glowing in the arrowslits made this one seem almost inviting. A pitcherplant probably looked inviting to a fly, too. He had been glad of the rain dripping from the hood of his cloak and running down his face. It disguised the sweat of nerves. He held one of his throwing knives, resting flat atop the long bundle draped in front of his saddle. With it lying flat like that, none of the soldiers should notice. He could feel the woman inside the cloth breathing under his hands, and his shoulders were knotted from waiting for her to cry out for help. Selucia kept her mount close to him, peering at him from the shelter of her hood with her golden braid tucked out of sight, never even glancing away when the sul'dam and damane walked by. A shout from Selucia would have put the weasel in the chicken run as much as one from Tuon. He thought the threat of the knife had held both women silent-they had to believe he was desperate enough or crazy enough to use it-but he still could not be sure. There was so much about night he could not be sure of, so much off-balance and askew.\n\nHe remembered holding his breath, wondering when someone would notice that the bundle he carried was richly embroidered and question why he was letting it get soaked with rain, wondering and cursing himself for grabbing a wall hanging because it had been close to hand. In memory, everything slowed. Egeanin stepped down, tossing her reins to Domon, who took them with a bow from his saddle. Domon's hood was pushed back just enough to show that his head was shaved on one side and his remaining hair gathered in a braid that hung to his shoulder. Raindrops dripped from the stocky Illianer's short beard, yet he managed the proper stiff-necked arrogance of a so'jhin, hereditary upper servant to one of the Blood and thus almost equal to the Blood. Definitely higher than any common soldier. Egeanin glanced back toward Mat and his burden, her face a frozen mask that could pass for hauteur if you did not know she was horrified by what they were doing. The tall sul'dam and her damane turned briskly backup the tunnel, finished with their inspection. Vanin, just behind Mat leading one of the strings of packhorses and as always sitting his horse like a sack of suet, leaned from his saddle and spat. Mat did not know why that hung in his memory, but it did. Vanin spat, and trumpets sounded, thin and sharp in the distance far behind them. From south of the city, where men had been planning to fire Seanchan supplies stored along the Bay Road."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The officer of the guard hesitated at the sound of the trumpets, but suddenly a bell pealed loudly in the city itself, then another, and then it seemed hundreds were clanging alarm in the night as the black sky split with more lightning than any storm had ever birthed, silver-blue streaks stabbing down inside the walls. They bathed the tunnel in flickering light. That was when the shouting started, amid the explosions back in the city, and the screaming.\n\nFora moment, Mat had cursed the Windfinders for moving sooner than he had been promised. But the dice in his head had stopped, he realized. Why? It made him want to curse allover again, but there was no time for even that. In the next instant the officer was hurriedly urging Egeanin back into her saddle and on her way, hurriedly shouting orders to the men boiling out of the guardhouse, directing one into the city at a run to see what the alarm was while he arrayed the rest against any threat from inside or out. The plump-faced woman ran to place herself and her damane with the soldiers, along with another pair of women linked by an a'dam, who came running from the guardhouse. And Mat and the others galloped out into the storm, carrying with them three Aes Sedai, two of them escaped damane, and the kidnapped heir to the Seanchan Crystal Throne, while behind them afar worse storm broke over Ebou Dar. Lightning bolts more numerous than blades of grass...\n\nWith a shiver, Mat pulled himself back to the present. Egeanin scowled at him, and gave him an exaggerated pull. \"Lovers arm-in-arm don't hurry,\" he muttered. \"They... stroll.\" She sneered. Domon had to be blinded by love. That, or he had taken too many thumps on the head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The worst was over and done, in any case. Mat hoped that getting out of the city had been the worst. He had not felt the dice since. They were always a bad sign. His backtrail was as muddled as he could manage, and he was sure it would take someone as lucky as he to separate the gold from the dross. The Seekers had been on Egeanin's scent before that night, and she would be wanted on charges of stealing damane now, as well, but the authorities would expect her to be riding as hard as she could and already leagues from Ebou Dar, not sitting just outside the city. Nothing except a coincidence of timing connected her to Tuon. Or to Mat, and that was important. Tylin certainly would have leveled her own charges against him-no woman was going to forgive a man tying her up and shoving her under abed, even when she had suggested it-yet with any luck, he was beneath suspicion for anything else that had happened that night. With any luck, no one except Tylin had a thought for him at all. Trussing a queen like a pig for market would be enough to get a man dead usually, but it had to count for moldy onions alongside the Daughter of the Nine Moons disappearing, and what could Tylin's Toy have to do with that? It still irritated him that he had been seen as a hanger-on-worse, a pet!-but there were advantages.\n\nHe thought he was safe-from the Seanchan, anyway-yet one point worried him like a thorn buried in his heel. Well, several did, most growing out of Tuon herself, but this one had a particularly long point. Tuon's disappearance should have been as shocking as the sun vanishing at noon, but no alarm had been raised. None! No announcements of rewards or offers of ransom, no hot-eyed soldiers searching every wagon and cart within miles, galloping through the countryside to root out every cubbyhole and niche where a woman might be hidden. Those old memories told him something of hunting for kidnapped royalty, yet except for the hangings and the burned ships in the harbor, from the outside Ebou Dar seemed unchanged from the day before the kidnapping. Egeanin alleged that the search would be in utter secrecy, that many of the Seanchan themselves might still not know Tuon was missing. Her explanation involved the shock to the Empire and ill omens for the Return and the loss of sei'taer, and she sounded as if she believed every word, but Mat refused to buy a penny's worth. The Seanchan were strange folk, but no one could be that strange. The silence of Ebou Dar made his skin prickle. He felt a trap in that silence. When they reached the Great North Road, he was grateful that the city was hidden behind the low hills."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The road was abroad highway, a major avenue of trade, wide enough for five or six wagons abreast uncrowded, with a surface of dirt and clay that hundreds of years of use had packed nearly as hard as the occasional ancient paving stone that stuck an edge or corner inches into the air."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat and Egeanin hurried across to the verge on the other side with Noal dogging their heels, between a merchant's train rumbling toward the city, guarded by a scar-faced woman and ten hard-eyed men in leather vests covered with metal discs, and a string of the settlers\" oddly shaped wagons, rising to peaks at the ends, that were heading north, some pulled by horses or mules, others by oxen. Clustered between the wagons, barefoot boys used switches to herd four-horned goats with long black hair and big, dewlapped white cows. One man at the rear of the wagons, in baggy blue breeches and around redcap, was leading a massive humpbacked bull by a thick cord tied to a ring in its nose. Except for his clothes, he could have been from the Two Rivers. He eyed Mat and the others, walking in the same direction, as if he might speak, then shook his head and plodded on without looking at them again. Contending with Mat's limp, they were not moving fast, and the settlers forged ahead slowly but steadily.\n\nHunch-shouldered and clutching the scarf beneath her chin with her freehand, Egeanin let out a breath and loosened fingers that had begun to grip Mat's side almost painfully. After a moment, she straightened and glared at the farmer's departing back as though she were ready to chase after him and box his ears and his bull's. If that were not bad enough, once the farmer was twenty or so paces away, she shifted her scowl to a company of Seanchan soldiers marching down the middle of the road at apace that would soon overtake the settlers, perhaps two hundred men in a column four abreast followed by a motley collection of mule-drawn wagons covered with tightly lashed canvas. The middle of the road was left free for military traffic. Half a dozen well-mounted officers in thin-plumed helmets that hid all but their eyes rode at the column's head, looking neither left nor right, red cloaks spread neatly over their horses'cruppers. The banner following on the officers\" heels was marked with what looked like a stylized silver arrowhead, or maybe an anchor, crossed by along arrow and a jagged lightning bolt in gold, with script and numerals below that Mat could not make out as gusts swept the banner this way and that. The men on the supply wagons wore dark blue coats and breeches and square red-and-blue caps, but the soldiers were even more showy than most Seanchan, their segmented armor striped in blue banded at the bottom with silvery white and red banded with golden yellow, their helmets painted in all four colors so they resembled the faces of fearsome spiders. A large badge with the anchor-Mat thought it must bean anchor-and arrow and lightning was fastened to the front of each helmet, and every man except the officers carried a double-curve bow at his side, with a bristling quiver at his belt balancing a short-sword."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Ship's archers,\" Egeanin grumbled, glowering at the soldiers. Her freehand had left her scarf, but it was still clenched in a fist. \"Tavern brawlers. They always cause problems when they're left ashore too long.\"\n\nThey had a well-trained look, to Mat. Anyway, he had never heard of soldiers who did not get in fights, especially when they were drunk or bored, and bored soldiers tended to get drunk. A corner of his mind wondered how far those bows would carry, but it was an absent thought. He wanted nothing to do with any Seanchan soldiers. If he had his way, he would have nothing to do with any soldiers ever again. But his luck never ran that far, it seemed. Fate and luck were different, unfortunately. Two hundred paces at most, he decided. A good crossbow would outrange them, or any Two Rivers bow.\n\n\"We're not in a tavern,\" he said through his teeth, \"and they're not brawling now. So let's not start one just because you were afraid a farmer would speak to you.\" Her jaw set, and she shot him a look hard enough to crack his skull. It was the truth, though. She was fearful of opening her mouth near anyone who might recognize her accent. A wise precaution, in his book, but everything seemed to grate at her. \"We'll have a bannerman over here asking questions if you keep glaring at them. Women around Ebou Dar are famous for being demure,\" he lied. What could she know of local customs?\n\nShe gave him a sidelong frown-maybe she was trying to figure out what demure meant-but she stopped grimacing at the archers. She just looked ready to bite instead of hit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That fellow's dark as an Atha'an Miere,\" Noal muttered absently, staring at the passing soldiers. \"Dark as a Sharan. But I'd swear he has blue eyes. I've seen the like before, but where?\" Trying to rub his temples, he almost struck himself on the head with the bamboo fishing pole, and he took a step as though he meant to ask the fellow where he had been born.\n\nWith a lurch, Mat caught the old man's sleeve. \"We're going back to the show, Noal. Now. We should never have left.\"\n\n\"I told you that,\" Egeanin said with a sharp nod.\n\nMat groaned, but there was nothing for it but to keep walking. Oh, it was way past time to begone. He only hoped he had not left it too late.\n\nChapter 2\n\nTwo Captains\n\nAbout two miles north of the city a wide blue banner stretched between two tall poles rippled in the wind, proclaiming Valan Luca's Grand Traveling Show and Magnificent Display of Marvels and Wonders in brilliant red letters large enough to be read from the road, perhaps a hundred paces east. For those unable to read, it at least indicated the location of something out of the ordinary. This was The Largest Traveling Show in the World, so the banner claimed. Luca claimed a great many things, but Mat thought he must be telling the truth about that. The show's canvas wall, ten feet high and tightly pegged at the bottom, enclosed as much ground as a good-sized village.\n\nThe people streaming by looked toward the banner curiously, but the farmers and merchants had their work ahead of them and the settlers their future, and none turned aside. Thick ropes fastened to posts set in the ground were meant to herd crowds to the wide, arched entrance just behind the banner, but there was no one waiting to get in, not at this hour. Of late, few came at any hour. The fall of Ebou Dar had brought only a slight drop in attendance, once people realized the city would not be looted and they did not have to flee for their lives, but with the Return, all those ships and settlers, nearly everyone decided to hold onto their coin against more pressing needs. Two bulky men, huddling in cloaks that might have come from a ragbag, were on duty beneath the banner to keep out anyone who wanted to peek around without paying, but even those were in short supply, nowadays. The pair, one with a crooked nose above a thick mustache and the other missing an eye, were squatting on the dirt, tossing dice."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Surprisingly, Petra Anhill, the show's strongman, stood watching the two horse-handlers play, arms larger than most men's legs folded across his chest. He was shorter than Mat, but at least twice as wide, his shoulders straining the heavy blue coat his wife made him wear against the cold. Petra seemed engrossed in the dicing, but the man did not gamble, not so much as pitching pennies. He and his wife, Clarine, a dog trainer, saved every coin they could spare, and Petra needed small excuse to talk at length about the inn they intended to buy one day. Even more surprising, Clarine was at his side, enveloped in a dark cloak and apparently as absorbed in the gaming as he.\n\nPetra glanced warily over his shoulder into the camp when he saw Mat and Egeanin approaching arm-in-arm, which made Mat frown. People looking over their shoulders was never good. Clarine's plump brown face broke into a warm smile, though. Like most women in the show, she thought he and Egeanin were romantic. The bent-nosed horse-handler, a heavy-shouldered Tairen named Col, leered as he scooped up the wager, a few coppers. No one but Domon could see Egeanin as pretty, but to some fools, nobility bestowed beauty. Or money did, and a noblewoman must be rich. A few thought any noblewoman who abandoned her husband for the likes of Mat Cauthon might be open to leaving him, too, and bringing her money with her. That was the story Mat and the others had put around to explain why they were hiding from the Seanchan: a cruel husband and a lovers\" flight. Everyone had heard that sort of tale, from gleemen or books if seldom real life, often enough to accept it. Col kept his head down, though. Egeanin-Leilwin-had already drawn her belt knife on a sword-juggler, a too-handsome fellow who had been overly suggestive in asking her to share a cup of wine in his wagon, and no one doubted she would have used the blade if he had pressed his suit an inch further."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As soon as Mat reached the strongman, Petra said quietly, \"There are Seanchan soldiers talking to Luca, about twenty of them. The officer's talking with him, leastwise.\" He did not sound frightened, but worry creased his forehead, and he laid a protective hand on his wife's shoulder. Clarine's smile faded, and she raised one hand to rest atop his. They trusted Lucas judgment, after a fashion, yet they knew the risk they were running. Or thought they did. The risk they believed in was bad enough.\n\n\"What do they want?\" Egeanin demanded, pushing free of Mat, before he could crack his teeth. In fact, no one waited for him.\n\n\"Hold these for me,\" Noal said, handing his pole and basket to the one-eyed man, who gaped up at him. Straightening, Noal slipped a knobbly hand beneath his coat, where he kept two long-bladed knives. \"Can we reach our horses?\" he asked Petra. The strongman eyed him doubtfully. Mat was not the only one unsure whether Noal still possessed all his wits.\n\n\"They don't seem interested in searching,\" Clarine said hastily, making a hint of a curtsy to Egeanin. Everyone was supposed to pretend Mat and the others were part of the show, but few managed to carry it off with Egeanin. \"The officer's been in Luca's wagon fora good half-hour, but the soldiers have been standing by their horses all that time.\"\n\n\"I don't think they're hereabout you,\" Petra added respectfully. Again, to Egeanin. Why should he be different? Probably practicing to welcome nobles to that inn. \"We just didn't want you to be surprised or worried, seeing them. I'm sure Luca will send them off with no trouble.\" Despite his tone, the creases remained in his forehead. Most men became upset if their wives ran off, and a nobleman could make others bear the brunt of his ire. A traveling show, strangers just passing through, made a particularly easy target without added complications. \"You don't have to worry about anybody talking out of turn, my Lady.\" Glancing at the horse handlers, Petra added, \"Does she, Col?\" Bentnose shook his head, his eyes on the dice he was bouncing on his palm. He was a big man, but not as big as Petra, and the strongman could straighten horseshoes with his bare hands."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Everybody likes a chance to spit on a noble's boots now and then,\" the one-eyed fellow mumbled, peering into the basket offish. He was almost as tall and wide-shouldered as Col, but his face was all leathery wrinkles, and he had even fewer teeth than Noal. Glancing at Egeanin, he ducked his head and added, \"Begging your pardon, Lady.\"Sides, this way we all get a little coin, which there ain't been much of lately. Right, Col? Anybody talks, them Seanchan'll take us all up, maybe hang us like they did them Sea Folk. Or put us to work cleaning them canals the other side of the harbor.\" Horse handlers did whatever needed doing around the show, from mucking the horselines and cleaning animals' cages to erecting and taking down the canvas wall, but he shuddered as though digging out silted canals in the Rahad was a worse prospect than hanging.\n\n\"Did I say anything about talking?\" Col protested, spreading his hands. \"I just asked how long we're going to sit here, that's all. I just asked when we're going to see some of this coin.\"\n\n\"We sit here as long as I say sit.\" It was remarkable how hard Egeanin could make that drawl sound without raising her voice, like a blade sliding free of the scabbard. \"You see your coin when we reach our destination. There will be a little something extra for those who serve me faithfully. And a cold grave for anyone who thinks on betrayal.\" Col pulled his much-patched cloak tight and widened his eyes trying to look indignant, or maybe innocent, but he just appeared to be hoping she would come close enough for him to filch her purse.\n\nMat ground his teeth. For one thing, that was his gold she was promising with such a freehand. She had her own, but not near enough for this. More importantly, she was trying to take charge again. Light, except for him, she would still be in Ebou Dar scheming to avoid the Seekers, if not already being put to the question. Except for him, she would never have thought of staying close to Ebou Dar to throw off pursuit, or found a hiding place with Luca's show. But why were soldiers there? The Seanchan would have sent a hundred men, a thousand, fora vague suspicion of Tuon's presence. If they suspected the Aes Sedai... No; Petra and Clarine did not know they were helping hide Aes Sedai, but they would have mentioned sul'dam and damane, and the soldiers would not be hunting sisters without them. He fingered the foxhead through his coat. He wore that waking and sleeping, and it might give him a little warning."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He never considered trying for the horses, and not just because Col and a dozen more like him would go running to the Seanchan before he was well out of sight. They had no particular animosity toward him or Egeanin that he knew-even Rumann, the sword-juggler, seemed to have settled in happily with a contortionist named Adria-but some folks would not resist the temptation of a little more gold, either. In any case, no warning dice tumbled in his head. And there were people inside those canvas walls he could not leave behind.\n\n\"If they're not searching, then we have nothing to worry about,\" he said confidently. \"But thanks for the warning, Petra. I've never liked surprises.\" The strongman made a small gesture as if to say it was nothing, but Egeanin and Clarine looked at Mat as though startled to find him there. Even Col and the one-eyed lout blinked at him. It took an effort to stop short of gritting his teeth again. \"I'll just wander near Luca's wagon and see what I can see. Leilwin, you and Noal find Olver and stay with him.\" They liked the boy, everyone did, and that would keep them out of his hair. He could eavesdrop better alone. And if they had to run, maybe Egeanin and Noal could help get the boy out, at least. The Light send it did not come to that. He could see nothing but disaster in it.\n\n\"Well, I suppose nobody lives forever,\" Noal sighed, retrieving his bamboo pole and basket. Burn him, but the fellow could make a colicky goat seem cheerful! Petra's frown certainly deepened. Married men always seemed to be worried, one reason Mat was in no hurry himself. As Noal vanished around the corner of the canvas wall, the one-eyed man watched the fish go regretfully. He appeared to be another without a full set of wits. He probably had a wife somewhere."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat pulled his cap almost down to his eyes. Still no dice. He tried not to think of how many times he had nearly had his throat slit or his skull split without any dice. But surely they would have been there if there was any real danger. Of course they would.\n\nHe had not taken three steps inside the entrance before Egeanin caught up to him and slipped her arm around his waist. He stopped in his tracks, eyeing her balefully. She resisted his orders the way a trout fought the hook, but this went beyond stubborn. \"What do you think you're doing? What if this Seanchan officer recognizes you?\" That seemed as likely as Tylin herself walking into the show, but anything that might make her leave was worth grabbing.\n\n\"What are the chances this fellow is anyone I know?\" she scoffed. \"I don't have...\" her face twisted for an instant, \"didn't have... many friends this side of the ocean, and none in Ebou Dar.\" She touched an end of the black wig over her bosom. \"Anyway, in this, my own mother wouldn't recognize me.\" Her voice turned bleak toward the end.\n\nHe was going to chip a tooth if he kept on clenching his jaw. Standing there arguing with her would be worse than useless, but the way she had stared at those Seanchan soldiers was fresh in his mind. \"Don't glare at anybody,\" he warned her. \"Don't even look at anybody.\"\n\n\"I'm a demure Ebou Dari woman.\" She made it sound a challenge. \"You can do all the talking.\" She made that into a warning. Light! When a woman was not making everything smooth, she made things very rough indeed, and Egeanin never made anything smooth. He was definitely in danger of chipping a tooth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Beyond the entrance, the show's main street meandered among wagons like those the Tinkers used, little houses on wheels with the wagon shafts lifted against the drivers\" seats, and walled tents often as large as small houses."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Most of the wagons were brightly painted, every shade of red or green, yellow or blue, and many of the tents were just as colorful, a few even striped. Here and there wooden platforms, where entertainers could perform, stood beside the street, their colored bunting beginning to look a bit grubby. The broad expanse of dirt, near thirty paces wide and beaten flat by thousands of feet, really was a street, one of several that wound through the show. The wind whipped away faint gray streamers of smoke rising from the tin chimneys that stuck from up from the roofs of the wagons, and from some tents. Most of the showfolk were probably at breakfast if not still in bed. They rose late, as a rule-a rule Mat approved-and no one would want to eat sitting around a cook fire outside in this cold. The only person he saw was Aludra, the sleeves of her dark green dress pushed up her forearms, grinding something with a bronze mortar and pestle on a table that folded down from the side of her vivid blue wagon, just around the corner on one of the narrower side streets.\n\nIntent on her work, the slender Taraboner did not see Egeanin and Mat. He could not help looking at her, though. With her dark hair in thin, beaded braids that hung to her waist, Aludra was probably the most exotic of Luca's marvels. He advertised her as an Illuminator, and unlike many of the other performers and marvels, she really was what Luca claimed, though Luca probably did not believe it himself. Mat wondered what she was grinding. And whether it might explode. She had promised to reveal the secret of fireworks if he could answer a riddle, but he had not found a glimmer, so far. He would, though. One way or another."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egeanin poked a hard finger into his ribs. \"We're supposed to be lovers, as you keep reminding me,\" she growled. \"Who's going to believe it if you stare at that woman as though you're hungry?\"\n\nMat grinned lasciviously. \"I always look at pretty women, haven't you noticed-\" Adjusting her headscarf with a little more vigor than usual, she gave a disparaging grunt, and he was satisfied. Her prudish streak came in handy now and then. Egeanin was on the run for her life, but she was still Seanchan, and she already knew more about him than he liked. He was not about to trust her with all of his secrets. Even the ones he did not know yet.\n\nLuca's wagon satin the very middle of the show's camp, the most favored position, as far as possible from the smells of the animal cages and horselines situated along the canvas walls. The wagon was garish even compared to the others in the show, a red-and-blue thing that shone like the finest lacquerwork, every surface spotted with golden comets and stars. The phases of the moon, in silver, ran all the way around just below the roofline. Even the tin chimney was painted in red and blue rings. A Tinker would have blushed. To one side of the wagon two ranks of helmeted Seanchan soldiers stood stiffly beside their horses, green-tasseled lances slanted at exactly the same angle. One of the men held the reins of an extra mount, a fine dun gelding with strong haunches and good ankles. The soldiers'blue-and-green armor appeared drab alongside Luca's wagon.\n\nMat was unsurprised to see he was not the only one interested in the Seanchan. A dark stocking cap covering his shaved head, Bayle Domon was squatting on his heels with his back against one wheel of the green wagon that belonged to Petra and Clarine, about thirty paces beyond the soldiers. Clarine's dogs lay under the wagon, a motley collection of smallish animals sleeping huddled together. The thick-bodied Illianer was pretending to whittle, but all he had produced was a small pile of shavings at his feet. Mat wished the fellow would grow a mustache to hide his upper lip or else shave off the rest of his beard. Someone might connect an Illianer to Egeanin. Blaeric Negina, a tall fellow leaning against the wagon as though keeping Domon company, had not hesitated to remove his Shienaran topknot to avoid Seanchan notice, though he ran a handover the black bristle growing on his head about as often as Egeanin checked her wig. Maybe he should wear a cap."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "In their dark coats with frayed cuffs and well-traveled boots, both men could pass for showfolk, maybe horse-handlers, except to other showfolk."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were watching the Seanchan while trying to seem not to, but Blaeric was the more successful, as might be expected from a Warder. His full attention appeared to be on Domon, except for an occasional glance at the soldiers, as casual as could be. Domon scowled at the Seanchan when he was not glaring at the lump of wood in his hand, as though ordering it to turn into a neat carving. The man had taken being so'jbin entirely too much to heart.\n\nMat was trying to figure out how to sneak close to Luca's wagon and eavesdrop unseen by the soldiers when the door at the back of the wagon opened and a pale-haired Seanchan marched down the steps, planting a helmet with a thin blue plume on his head as his boot touched the ground. Luca appeared behind him, resplendent in scarlet embroidered with golden sunbursts, bowing with elaborate flourishes as he followed the officer. Luca owned at least two dozen coats, most red and each gaudier than the last. It was a good thing his wagon was the largest in the show, or he would not have had room for them all.\n\nIgnoring Luca, the Seanchan officer stepped up onto his gelding, adjusted his sword, and barked orders that sent his men flowing into their saddles and forming a column of twos that moved off at a slow walk toward the entrance. Luca stood watching them leave with a fixed smile on his face, poised for another bow if any looked back.\n\nMat stayed well to the side of the street and let his mouth hang open, affecting to gape in wonder as the soldiers rode by. Not that any of them so much as glanced his way-the officer stared straight ahead and so did the soldiers behind him-but no one ever paid any mind to a country yokel, or remembered one."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To his surprise, Egeanin studied the ground in front of her toes, clutching the scarf knotted beneath her chin, until the last horseman passed. Lifting her head to look after them, she pursed her lips fora moment. \"It seems I do know that boy,\" she drawled softly. \"I carried him to Palme on Fearless. His servant died, mid-voyage, and he thought he could use one of my crew. I had to put him straight. You'd have though he was of the Blood, the fuss he put up.\"\n\n\"Blood and bloody ashes,\" Mat breathed. How many other people had she gotten crosswise, fixing her face in their minds? Egeanin being Egeanin, probably hundreds. And he had been letting her walk around with just a wig and a change of clothes for disguise! Hundreds? Thousands, more likely. She could irritate a brick.\n\nIn any case, the officer was gone now. Mat exhaled slowly. His luck really was still with him. At times he thought that was all that kept him from bawling like a baby. He headed for Luca to find out what the soldiers had wanted.\n\nDomon and Blaeric reached Luca as quickly as he and Egeanin did, and the scowl on Domon's round face deepened as he stared at Mat's arm around Egeanin's shoulder. The Illianer understood the necessity for the pretense, or said he did, yet he seemed to believe they could carry it off without so much as touching hands. Mat removed his arm from her-there was nothing to carry off here; Luca knew the truth; of everything-and Egeanin started to release him, too, yet after a look at Domon, she tightened her grip on Mat's waist instead, all without the slightest change of expression. Domon continued to scowl, but at the ground, now. Mat decided he would understand the Seanchan long before he understood women. Or Illianers, for that matter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Horses,\" Luca growled almost before Mat stopped walking. His frown took in all of them, but he focused most of his anger on Mat. A little the taller, Luca stretched to stare down at Mat. \"That's what he wanted. I showed him the warrant exempting me from the horse lottery, signed by the High Lady Suroth herself, but was he impressed? It didn't matter to him that I rescued a high-ranking Seanchan.\" The woman had not been high-ranking, and he had not so much rescued her as given her away to travel as a hired performer, but Luca always exaggerated to his own advantage. \"I don't know how long that exemption is really good for, anyway. The Seanchan are desperate for horses. They might take it back any day!\" His face was turning almost as red as his coat, and he jabbed a finger at Mat repeatedly. \"You're going to get my horses taken! How do I move my show with no horses? Answer me that, if you can. I was ready to leave as soon as I saw that madness in the harbor, until you twisted my arm. You're going to get my head cutoff! I could be a hundred miles from here, if not for you, riding in out of the night and snaring me in your crazy schemes! I'm not earning a penny here! There haven't been enough patrons the last three days to pay for feeding the animals one day! Half a day! I should have left a month ago! More! I should have!\"\n\nMat almost laughed as Luca ran down into splutters. Horses. That was all; just horses. Besides, the notion that the show's heavy-laden wagons could cover a hundred miles in five days was as ludicrous as Luca's wagon. The man could have gone a month ago, two months, except for wanting to eke every copper he could out of Ebou Dar and its Seanchan conquerors. And as for talking him into staying, six nights past, that had been as easy as falling out of bed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Instead of laughing, Mat put a hand on Luca's shoulder."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fellow was vain as a peacock, and greedy besides, but there was no point making him angrier than he already was. \"If you'd left that night, Luca, you think nobody would have gotten suspicious? You would have had Seanchan tearing your wagons apart before you made two leagues. You could say I saved you from that.\" Luca glowered. Some people just could not see beyond their own noses. \"Anyway, you can stop worrying. As soon as Thom returns from the city, we can put as many miles behind us as you want.\"\n\nLuca leaped so suddenly that Mat stepped back in alarm, but all the man did was caper in a little circle laughing. Domon goggled at him, and even Blaeric stared. Sometimes, Luca seemed a flat bull-goose fool.\n\nLuca had barely begun his dance when Egeanin shoved Mat away from her. \"As soon as Merrilin returns? I gave orders no one was to leave!\" Her glare swung between him and Luca in cold fury, a cold that burned. \"I expect my orders to be obeyed!\"\n\nLuca stopped cavorting abruptly and eyed her sideways, then suddenly made her a bow with so many flourishes you could practically seethe cloak. You could almost seethe embroidery on the cloak! He thought he had away with a women, Luca did. \"You command, my sweet Lady, and I leap to obey.\" Coming upright, he shrugged apologetically. \"But Master Cauthon has gold, and I fear gold commands my first obedience.\" Mat's chest full of gold coins in this very wagon had been all the arm-twisting needed to convince him. Maybe Mat being ta'veren had helped, but for enough gold, Valan Luca would help kidnap the Dark One.\n\nEgeanin drew a deep breath, ready to berate Luca further, but the man turned his back and went scampering up the steps into his wagon shouting, \"Latelle! Latelle! We must roust everybody out immediately! We're leaving at last, the minute Merrilin returns! The Light be praised!\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 0"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Instead of laughing, Mat put a hand on Luca's shoulder."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fellow was vain as a peacock, and greedy besides, but there was no point making him angrier than he already was. \"If you'd left that night, Luca, you think nobody would have gotten suspicious? You would have had Seanchan tearing your wagons apart before you made two leagues. You could say I saved you from that.\" Luca glowered. Some people just could not see beyond their own noses. \"Anyway, you can stop worrying. As soon as Thom returns from the city, we can put as many miles behind us as you want.\"\n\nLuca leaped so suddenly that Mat stepped back in alarm, but all the man did was caper in a little circle laughing. Domon goggled at him, and even Blaeric stared. Sometimes, Luca seemed a flat bull-goose fool.\n\nLuca had barely begun his dance when Egeanin shoved Mat away from her. \"As soon as Merrilin returns? I gave orders no one was to leave!\" Her glare swung between him and Luca in cold fury, a cold that burned. \"I expect my orders to be obeyed!\"\n\nLuca stopped cavorting abruptly and eyed her sideways, then suddenly made her a bow with so many flourishes you could practically seethe cloak. You could almost seethe embroidery on the cloak! He thought he had away with a women, Luca did. \"You command, my sweet Lady, and I leap to obey.\" Coming upright, he shrugged apologetically. \"But Master Cauthon has gold, and I fear gold commands my first obedience.\" Mat's chest full of gold coins in this very wagon had been all the arm-twisting needed to convince him. Maybe Mat being ta'veren had helped, but for enough gold, Valan Luca would help kidnap the Dark One.\n\nEgeanin drew a deep breath, ready to berate Luca further, but the man turned his back and went scampering up the steps into his wagon shouting, \"Latelle! Latelle! We must roust everybody out immediately! We're leaving at last, the minute Merrilin returns! The Light be praised!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A moment later, he was back again, dashing back down the short stair followed by his wife drawing a black velvet cloak, sewn with glittering spangles, around herself. Astern-faced woman, she wrinkled her nose at Mat as though he had a bad smell and gave Egeanin a look that likely made her trained bears climb trees. Latelle disliked the idea of a woman running away from her husband even when she knew it was a lie. Luckily, she seemed to worship Luca for some reason, and she liked gold nearly as well as he did. Luca ran to the nearest wagon and began pounding on the door, and Latelle did the same at the next.\n\nNot waiting around to watch, Mat hurried off down one of the side streets. More of an alley compared to the main street, it wound among the same sort of wagons and tents, all shut uptight against the cold, with smoke streaming from the metal chimneys. There were no platforms for performers here, but lines for drying laundry hung between some of the wagons, and here and there wooden toys lay scattered on the ground. This street was for living only, the narrowness meant to discourage outsiders.\n\nHe moved quickly despite his hip-he had walked most of the ache out-but he had not gone ten steps before Egeanin and Domon caught up to him. Blaeric had vanished, probably gone to tell the sisters they were still safe and could finally leave. The Aes Sedai, masquerading as servants sick with worry that their mistress's husband would catch them, were fed up with being confined to their wagon, not to mention fed up with sharing with the sul'dam. Mat had made them share, so the Aes Sedai could watch the sul'dam while the sul'dam kept the Aes Sedai out of his hair. Still Mat was glad Blaeric had taken away the necessity for him to visit that wagon again. One or another of the sisters had summoned him four or five times a day since their escape from the city, and he went when he could not avoid it, but it was never a pleasant experience."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egeanin did not put her arm around him this time. She strode at his side staring straight ahead, not bothering to check her wig, for once. Domon lumbered behind like a bear, muttering under his breath in his heavy Illianer accent. The stocking cap exposed the fact that his dark beard stopped abruptly at the middle of each ear, with only stubble above. It made him look... unfinished.\n\n\"Two captains on one ship make sure course for disaster,\" Egeanin drawled with overdone patience. Her understanding smile looked as if it hurt her face.\n\n\"We aren't on a ship,\" Mat replied.\n\n\"The principle's the same, Cauthon! You area farmer. I know you're a good man in a tight spot.\" Egeanin shot a dark look over her shoulder at Domon. He was the one who had brought her and Mat together, back when she thought she was getting a hired man. \"But this situation needs judgment and experience. We're in dangerous waters, and you have no knowledge of command.\"\n\n\"More than you might think,\" he told her dryly. He could have spun out a list of the battles he remembered commanding, but only an historian would recognize most of them, and maybe not even an historian. No one would believe it, anyway. He certainly would not if someone else had made that claim. \"Shouldn't you and Domon begetting ready? You wouldn't want to leave anything behind.\" Everything she owned was already stowed away in the wagon she and Mat shared with Domon-not a comfortable arrangement, that-but he quickened his step, hoping she would take the hint. Besides, he saw his destination ahead.\n\nThe bright blue wall-tent, crowded between a virulent yellow wagon and an emerald green one, was barely large enough to hold three cots, but providing shelter for everyone he brought out of Ebou Dar had required bribes to make people move and more bribes to make others let them in. What he had been able to hire was what the owners were willing to let him have. At rates suitable fora good inn. Juilin, a dark compact man with short black hair, was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the tent with Olver, a thin little boy, if not so skinny as when Mat first saw him, and short for ten, the age he claimed. Both coatless despite the wind, they were playing Snakes and Foxes on aboard the boy's dead father had drawn for him on apiece of red cloth. Tossing the dice, Olver counted the pips carefully and considered his move along the spiderweb of black lines and arrows. The Tairen thief-catcher was paying less attention to the game. He sat up straight at the sight of Mat."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Abruptly, Noal darted around from the rear of the tent, breathing hard as if he had been running. Juilin glanced up in surprise at the old man, and Mat frowned. He had told Noal to come straight here. Where had he gone instead? Noal looked at him expectantly, not with any guilt or embarrassment, just eager to hear what Mat had to say.\n\n\"You know about the Seanchan?\" Juilin asked, turning his attention to Mat, too.\n\nA shadow moved inside the tent's entry flaps, and a dark-haired woman, seated on the end of one of the cots with an old gray cloak wrapped around her, leaned forward to rest a hand on Juilin's arm. And to give Mat a wary look. Thera was pretty, if you liked a mouth that always seemed to be pouting, and it seemed that Juilin did, from the way he smiled at her reassuringly and patted her hand. She was also Amathera Aelfdene Casmir Lounault, Panarch of Tarabon and the next thing to a queen. At least, she had been, once. Juilin had known that, and so had Thom, yet no one thought to tell Mat until they reached the show. He supposed it hardly mattered, alongside everything else. She answered faster to Thera than to Amathera, she made no demands, except on Juilin's time, and there seemed little chance anyone would recognize her here. In any case, Mat hoped she felt more than gratitude for being rescued, because Juilin certainly felt more for her. Who was to say a dethroned panarch could not fall in love with a thief-catcher? Stranger things had happened. Though he was not sure he could name one, offhand.\n\n\"They just wanted to seethe warrant for Luca's horses,\" he said, and Juilin nodded, visibly relaxing a little."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"As well they didn't count the horselines.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The warrant listed the exact number of horses Luca was allowed to keep. The Seanchan could be generous with their rewards, but given their need for mounts and wagon teams, they were not about to hand anyone a license to setup horsetrading. \"At best, they would have taken the extra. At worst...\" The thief-catcher shrugged. Another cheerful soul.\n\nWith a gasp, Thera suddenly pulled her cloak tighter and jerked back into the depths of the tent. Juilin looked behind Mat, his eyes going hard, and the Tairen could match the Warders when it came to hard. Egeanin did not seem to catch hints, and she was glaring at the tent. Domon stood beside her with his arms folded, sucking his teeth in thought or forced patience.\n\n\"Get your tent packed up, Sandar,\" Egeanin ordered. \"The show is leaving as soon as Merrilin returns.\" Her jaw tightened, and she did not quite glare at Mat. Not quite. \"Make sure your... woman... doesn't give any trouble.\" Most lately, Thera had been a servant, da'covale, the property of the High Lady Suroth, until Juilin stole her away. To Egeanin, stealing da'covale was almost as bad as freeing damane.\n\n\"Can I ride Wind?\" Olver exclaimed, bounding to his feet. \"Can I, Mat? Can I, Leilwin?\" Egeanin actually smiled at him. Mat had yet to see her smile at anyone else, even Domon.\n\n\"Not yet,\" Mat said. Not until they were far enough from Ebou Dar that no one was likely to remember the gray winning races with a small boy on his back. \"Ina few days, maybe. Juilin, will you tell the others? Blaeric already knows, so the sisters are taken care of.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Juilin did not waste time, aside from ducking inside the tent to reassure Thera. She seemed to need reassuring frequently. When he came out, carrying a dark Tairen coat that was beginning to show wear, he told Olver to put the game away and help Thera with the packing until he returned, then settled his flat-topped conical red hat on his head and started off, shrugging into the coat. He never so much as glanced at Egeanin. She considered him a thief, offensive in itself to a thief-catcher, and the Tairen had no love for her, either.\n\nMat started to ask Noal where he had been, but the old man darted nimbly after Juilin, calling over his shoulder that he would help let the others know the show was leaving. Well, two could spread the word faster than one-Vanin and the four surviving Redarms shared a crowded tent on one side of the show, while Noal himself shared another with Thom and the two serving men, Lopin and Nerim, on the opposite side-and the question could wait. Probably, he had just delayed to put his precious fish somewhere safe. In any case, the question suddenly seemed unimportant.\n\nThe noise of people shouting for horse handlers to bring their teams, and others demanding at the top of their lungs to know what was happening, was beginning to fill the camp. Adria, a slim woman holding a flowered green robe around her, came running up in bare feet and vanished into the yellow wagon, where the other four contortionists lived. Somebody in the green wagon bellowed hoarsely that people were trying to sleep. A handful of performers' children, some performers themselves, dashed by, and Olver looked up from folding the game. That was his most prized possession, but if not for that, he plainly would have gone after them. It was going to take sometime yet before the show was ready to travel, but that was not what made Mat groan. He had just heard those bloody dice start rattling in his head again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Chapter 3\n\nA Fan of Colors\n\nMat did not know whether to curse or weep. With the soldiers gone and Ebou Dar about to be left in his dust, there seemed no reason for the dice, but there never was a bloody reason he could see until it was too late. Whatever was coming might lie days in the future or only an hour, but he had never been able to figure it out ahead of time. The only certainties were that something important-or dire-was going to happen and that he would not be able to avoid it. Sometimes, like that night at the gate, he did not understand why the dice had been tumbling even after they stopped. All he really knew for sure was that however much the dice made him twitch like a goat with the itch, once they started, he did not want them to stop ever. But they did. Sooner or later, they always did.\n\n\"Are you all right, Mat?\" Olver said. \"Those Seanchan can't catch us.\" He attempted gruff conviction, but a hint of question hung in his voice.\n\nAbruptly Mat realized he had been staring at nothing. Egeanin frowned at him while fiddling absentmindedly with her wig, plainly angry that he was ignoring her. Domon's eyes had a studious look; if he was not deciding whether to be upset on Egeanin's behalf, Mat would eat his cap. Even Thera was peeking at him past the tent's entry flap, and she always tried to keep out of Egeanin's sight. He could not explain. Only a man with porridge for brains would believe he got warnings from hearing dice no one could see. Or maybe a man marked by the Power. Or by the Dark One. He was not anxious to have any of those things suspected about him. And it might be that night at the gate allover again. No, this was not a secret he cared to reveal. It would do no good, anyway."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They'll never catch us, Olver, not you and me.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He ruffled the boy's hair, and Olver gave a wide-mouthed grin, confidence restored as easy as that. \"Not so long as we keep our eyes open and our wits about us. Remember, you can find away out of any difficulty if you keep your eyes and wits sharp, but if you don't, you'll trip over your own feet.\" Olver nodded gravely, but Mat meant the reminder for the others. Or maybe himself. Light, there was noway any of them could be more alert. Except for Olver, who thought it was all a great adventure, they had all been jumping out of their skins since before leaving the city. \"Go help Thera like Juilin told you, Olver.\"\n\nA sharp gust cut through Mat's coat, making him shiver. \"And put your coat on; it's cold,\" he added as the boy ducked past Thera into the tent. Rustles and scraping sounds from inside said that Olver was setting to work, with or without his coat, but Thera remained crouched at the tent's entrance, peering at Mat. For all the care anybody but Mat Cauthon took, the boy could catch his death.\n\nAs soon as Olver disappeared, Egeanin stepped closer to Mat, her fists on her hips again, and he groaned under his breath. \"We are going to settle matters now, Cauthon,\" she said in a hard voice. \"Now! I won't have our journey wrecked by you countermanding my orders.\"\n\n\"There's nothing to settle,\" he told her. \"I was never your hired hand, and that's that.\" Somehow, her face managed to grow harder, as good as shouting that she did not see matters like that. The woman was as tenacious as a snapping turtle, but there had to be someway to pry her jaws from his leg. Burn him if he wanted to be alone with the dice rolling in his head, yet that was better than having to listen to them while arguing with her. \"I'm going to see Tuon before we leave.\" The words popped out of his mouth before they were clear in his head. He realized that they had been lying therefor sometime, though, murky and slowly solidifying."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The blood drained from Egeanin's cheeks as soon as Tuon's name left his mouth, and he heard a squeak from Thera followed by the snap of the tentflaps being jerked shut. The onetime panarch had absorbed a great many Seanchan ways while she was Suroth's property, and many of their taboos as well. Egeanin was made of harder stuff, however. \"Why?\" she demanded. In almost the same breath, she went on, anxious and furious all at once. \"You mustn't call her that. You must show respect.\" Harder in someways.\n\nMat grinned, but she did not seem to seethe joke. Respect? There was precious little respect in stuffing a gag in someone's mouth and rolling them up in a wall hanging. Calling Tuon High Lady or anything else was not going to change that. Of course, Egeanin was more willing to talk about freeing damane than she was about Tuon. If she could have pretended the kidnapping never happened, she would have, and as it was, she tried. Light, she had tried to ignore it while it was happening. In her mind, any other crimes she might have committed paled to nothing beside that.\n\n\"Because I want to talk with her,\" he said. And why not? He had to, sooner or later. People had begun trotting up and down the narrow street, now, half-dressed men with their shirts hanging out and women with their hair still wrapped in night-kerchiefs, some leading horses and others just milling about as far as he could make out. A wiry boy a little bigger than Olver went past doing handsprings wherever the crowd gave him apace of room, practicing or maybe playing. The sleepy fellow in the deep green wagon still had not appeared. Luca's Grand Traveling Show would not be traveling anywhere for hours yet. There was plenty of time. \"You could come with me,\" he suggested in his most innocent voice. He should have thought of this before."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The invitation made Egeanin go fence-post stiff for true."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It hardly seemed possible her face could grow any paler, but an extra scrap of color leached out. \"You will show her fitting respect,\" she said hoarsely, clutching the knotted scarf with both hands as though trying to squeeze the black wig tighter onto her head. \"Come, Bayle. I want to make sure my things are stowed properly.\"\n\nDomon hesitated as she turned and hurried away into the crowd without looking back, and Mat watched him warily. He had vague memories of a flight on Domon's rivership, once, but vague was the best he could say of them. Thom was friendly with Domon, a point in the Illianer's favor, yet he was Egeanin's man to the knife, ready to back heron anything down to disliking Juilin, and Mat trusted him no further than he did her. Which was to say, not very far. Egeanin and Domon had their own goals, and whether Mat Cauthon kept a whole hide did not factor in them. He doubted that the man really trusted him, for that matter, but then, neither of them had much choice at the moment.\n\n\"Fortune prick me,\" Domon muttered, scratching the bristles growing above his left ear, \"whatever you do be up to, you maybe in over your head. I think she do be tougher than you do suspect.\"\n\n\"Egeanin?\" Mat said incredulously. He looked around quickly to see whether anyone in the alley had heard his slip. A few glanced at him and Domon as they brushed by, but nobody glanced twice. Luca was not the only one eager to begone from a city where the flow of patrons for the show had dried up and night lightning setting the harbor on fire was afresh memory. They might all have fled that first night, leaving Mat nowhere to hide, except for Luca arguing them out of it. That promised gold had made Luca very persuasive. \"I know she's tougher than old boots, Domon, but old boots don't count with me. This isn't a bloody ship, and I'm not letting her take charge and ruin everything.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Domon grimaced as if Mat were goose-brained."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The girl, man. Do you believe you could be so calm if you did be carried off in the night? Whatever you be playing at, with that wild talk of her being your wife, have a care or she may shave your head at the shoulders.\"\n\n\"I was just cutting the fool,\" Mat muttered. \"How many times do I have to say it? I was unnerved fora minute.\" Oh, he had been that. Learning who Tuon was, while he was wrestling with her, would have unnerved a bloody Trolloc.\n\nDomon grunted in disbelief. Well, it was hardly the best story Mat had ever come up with. Except for Domon, everyone who had heard him babbling seemed to accept the tale, though. Mat thought they had, anyway. Egeanin might get a knot in her tongue at the very thought of Tuon, but she would have said plenty if she believed he had been serious. Likely she would have put her knife in him.\n\nPeering in the direction Egeanin had gone, the Illianer shook his head. \"Try to keep a grip on your tongue from now on. Eg-... Leilwin... do near have a fit whenever she do think about what you did say. I've heard her muttering under her breath, and you can wager the girl herself does take it no lighter. You'cut the fool' with her, and you may get us all shortened.\" He slid a finger across his throat expressively and gave a curt nod before pushing through the crowd after Egeanin.\n\nWatching him go, Mat shook his own head. Tuon, tough? True, she was the Daughter of the Nine Moons and all of that, and she had been able to get under his skin with a look back in the Tarasin Palace, when he thought she was just another Seanchan noblewoman with her nose in the air, but that was just because she kept turning up where he did not expect. No more than that. Tough? She looked like a doll made of black porcelain. How tough could she be?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was all you could do to keep her from breaking your nose and maybe more, he reminded himself.\n\nHe had been careful not to repeat what Domon called'wild talk,\" but the truth of it was, he was going to marry Tuon. The thought made him sigh. He knew it assure as prophecy, which it was, in away. He could not imagine how such a marriage could come about; it seemed impossible, on the face of it, and he would not weep if that proved to be so. But he knew it would not. Why did he always find himself bloody lumbered with bloody women who pulled knives on him or tried to kick his head off? It was not fair.\n\nHe intended to go straight to the wagon where Tuon and Selucia were being kept, with Setalle Anan to watch-the innkeeper could make a stone seem soft; a pampered noblewoman and a lady's maid would give her no trouble, especially with a Redarm on duty outside. At least, they had not so far, or he would have heard-but he found his feet wandering, taking him along the winding streets that ran through the show. Bustle filled all of them, wide and narrow alike. Men rushed by leading horses that frisked and shied, too long without exercise. Other people were taking down tents and packing the storage wagons, or hauling cloth-wrapped bundles and brass-bound chests and casks and canisters of every size out of the house-like wagons that had been standing here for months, partially unloading so everything could be repacked for travel even while the teams were being harnessed. The din was constant: horses whickered, women shouted for children, children cried over lost toys or yelled for the pure pleasure of noise, men bellowed to know who had been at their harness or who had borrowed some tool. A troupe of acrobats, slender but muscular women who worked on ropes dangling from tall poles, had surrounded one of the horse handlers, all of them waving their arms and giving voice at the top of their lungs and nobody listening. Mat paused a moment trying to figure out what they were arguing over, but eventually he decided they were not sure themselves. Two fighting coatless men rolled on the ground, watched closely by the likely cause, a willowy hot-eyed seamstress named Jameine, but Petra appeared and pulled them apart before Mat could even get abet down."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was not afraid of seeing Tuon again. Of course not. He had stayed away, after sticking her into that wagon, to give her time to settle down and collect herself. That was all. Only... Calm, Domon had called her, and it was true. Kidnapped in the middle of the night, snatched out into a storm by people who would as soon have cut her throat as look at her, as far as she knew, and she had been by far the coolest of them all. Light, she could have planned it herself, that was how upset she was! It had made him feel as if the point of a knife were tickling between his shoulder blades then, and the knife was back again just thinking about her. And those dice were rattling away inside his skull.\n\nThe woman's hardly likely to offer to exchange vows here and now, he thought with a chuckle, but it sounded forced even to him. Yet there was no reason under the sun for him to be afraid. He was just properly wary, not afraid.\n\nThe show might have equaled a fair-sized village for size, but there was only so long a man could wander about in that much space before he started doubling back on himself. Soon enough, too soon, he found himself staring at a windowless wagon painted in faded purple, surrounded by canvas-topped storage wagons and insight of the southernmost horselines. The dung carts had not gone out this morning, and the odor was strong. The wind carried a heavy scent from the nearest animal cages, too, a musky smell of big cats and bears and the Light knew what else. Beyond the storage wagons and pickets, a section of the canvas wall fell and another began to shake as men loosened the guy ropes holding the poles. The sun, half-hidden by dark clouds now, had climbed halfway to its noonday peak or better, but it was still too soon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Harnan and Metwyn, two of the Redarms, had already hitched the first pair of horses to the shaft of the purple wagon and were almost done with the second pair."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Soldiers well trained in the Band of the Red Hand, they would be ready to take the road while the showfolk were still figuring out which way the horses were supposed to face. Mat had taught the Band to move fast when there was need. His own feet dragged as though he were wading in mud.\n\nHarnan, with that fool tattoo of a hawk on his cheek, was the first to see him. Buckling a trace, the heavy-jawed file-leader exchanged looks with Metwyn, a boyish-faced Cairhienin whose appearance belied his age and his weakness for tavern brawls. They had no call to look surprised.\n\n\"Everything going smoothly? I want to be away in good time.\" Rubbing his hands together against the cold, Mat eyed the purple wagon uneasily. He should have brought her a present, jewelry or flowers. Either worked as well, with most women.\n\n\"Smooth enough, my Lord,\" Harnan replied in a cautious tone. \"No shouting, no screaming, no crying.\" He glanced at the wagon as if he did not credit it himself.\n\n\"Quiet suits me,\" Metwyn said, stringing one of the reins through a ring on a horse-collar. \"Woman starts crying, the only thing to do is leave, if you value your hide, and we can hardly drop these off by the side of the road.\" But he glanced at the wagon, too, and shook his head in disbelief.\n\nThere really was nothing for Mat to do except go inside. So he did. It only took two tries, with a smile fixed on his face, to make himself climb the short flight of painted wooden steps at the back of the wagon. He was not afraid, but any fool would know enough to be nervous."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Despite the lack of windows, the interior of the wagon was well lighted, with four mirrored lamps burning, and the lamps held good oil, so there was no rancid smell. But then, with the stink from outside, it would have been hard to tell. He needed to find a better spot to park his wagon. A small brick stove with an iron door, and an iron top for cooking, made the space toasty compared with outside. It was not a large wagon, and every inch of wall that could be spared was covered with cabinets or shelves or pegs for hanging clothing and towels and the like, but the table that could be letdown on ropes was snug against the ceiling, and the three women inside the wagon were hardly crowded.\n\nThey could not have been more different, those three. Mistress Anan was sitting on one of the two narrow beds built into the walls, a regal woman with touches of gray in her hair, seemingly intent on her embroidery hoop and not looking at all as if she were a guard. A large golden ring hung in each of her ears, and her marriage knife dangled from a close-fitting silver necklace, the hilt with its red and white stones snug in the cleavage exposed by the narrow plunging neckline of her Ebou Dari dress that had one side of the skirt sewn up to expose yellow petticoats. She wore another knife, with along, curved blade, tucked behind her belt, but that was just the custom of Ebou Dar. Setalle had refused to take on any disguise, which seemed well enough. No one had reason to be hunting for her, and finding clothes for everyone else had been a big enough problem as it was. Selucia, a pretty woman with skin the color of buttery cream, was cross-legged on the floor between the beds, a dark scarf covering her shaven head and a sullen expression on her face, though normally she was dignified enough to make Mistress Anan look flighty. Her eyes were as blue as Egeanin's, and more piercing, and she had made more fuss than Egeanin over losing her the rest of her hair. She disliked the dark blue Ebou Dari dress she had been given, too, claiming the deep neckline was indecent, but it hid her as effectively as a mask. Few men who glimpsed Selucia's impressive bosom would be able to focus long on her face. Mat might have enjoyed the view fora moment or two himself, but there was Tuon, seated on the wagon's only stool, a leather-bound book open on her lap, and he could barely make himself look at anything else. His wife-to-be. Light!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tuon was tiny, not just short but almost slim as a boy, and a loose-fitting dress of brown wool, bought from one of the show-folk, made her seem a child wearing her older sister's clothes. Not at all the sort of woman he enjoyed, especially with only a few days\" growth of black stubble covering her scalp. If you ignored that, she was pretty, though, in a reserved way, with her heart-shaped face and full lips, her eyes large dark liquid pools of serenity. That utter calmness almost unnerved him. Not even an Aes Sedai would be serene in her circumstances. The bloody dice in his head did not help matters.\n\n\"Setalle has been keeping me informed,\" she said in a cool drawl as he pulled the door shut. He had gotten so he could tell a difference in Seanchan accents; Tuon's made Egeanin sound as if she had a mouthful of mush, but they all sounded slurred and slow. \"She's told me the story you have put about concerning me, Toy.\" Tuon had persisted in calling him that, back in the Tarasin Palace. He had not cared, then. Well, not much.\n\n\"My name is Mat,\" he began. He never saw where the pottery cup in her hand came from, but he managed to drop to the floor in time for it to shatter against the door instead of his head.\n\n\"I am a servant, Toy?\" If Tuon's tone had been cool before, now it was deep winter ice. She barely raised her voice, but it was hard as ice, too. Her expression would have made a hanging judge look giddy. \"A thieving servant?\" The book slid from her lap as she stood and bent to snatch up the lidded white chamber pot. \"A faithless servant?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We will need that,\" Selucia said deferentially, slipping the bulbous pot out of Tuon's hands. Setting it carefully to one side, she crouched at Tuon's feet almost as if ready to hurl herself at Mat, laughable as that was. Though nothing much seemed laughable right then.\n\nMistress Anan reached up to one of the railed shelves above her head and handed Tuon another cup. \"We have plenty of these,\" she murmured.\n\nMat shot her an indignant look, but her hazel eyes twinkled with amusement. Amusement! She was supposed to be guarding those two!\n\nA fist thumped on the door. \"Do you need help in there?\" Harnan called uncertainly. Mat wondered which of them he was asking.\n\n\"We have everything well in hand,\" Setalle called back, calmly pushing her needle through the fabric stretched on her hoop. You would have thought that needlework was the most important thing. \"Goon about your work. Don't dawdle.\" The woman was not Ebou Dari, but she certainly had soaked up Ebou Dari ways. After a moment, boots thumped back down the steps outside. It seemed Harnan had been too long in Ebou Dar, as well.\n\nTuon turned the new cup in her hands as though examining the flowers painted on it, and her lips quirked in a smile so small it almost might have been Mat's imagination. She was more than pretty when she smiled, but it was one of those smiles that said she knew things he did not. He was going to breakout in hives if she kept doing that. \"I will not be known as a servant, Toy.\"\n\n\"My name is Mat, not... that other thing,\" he said, climbing to his feet and cautiously testing his hip. To his surprise, it ached no worse after smacking the floorboards. Tuon arched an eyebrow and hefted the cup in one hand. \"I could hardly tell the showfolk I'd kidnapped the Daughter of the Nine Moons,\" he said in exasperation."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The High Lady Tuon, peasant!\" Selucia said crisply. \"She is under the veil!\" Veil? Tuon had worn a veil in the palace, but not since.\n\nThe tiny woman gestured graciously, a queen granting license. \"It is of no import, Selucia. He is ignorant, yet. We must educate him. But you will change this story, Toy. I will not be a servant.\"\n\n\"It's too late to change anything,\" Mat said, keeping an eye on that cup. Her hands looked frail, with those long fingernails cut short, but he remembered how quick they were. \"Nobody's asking you to be a servant.\" Luca and his wife knew the truth, but there had to be some reason to give everyone else why Tuon and Selucia were kept confined to this wagon and guarded. The perfect solution had been a pair of serving girls, about to be dismissed for theft, who had intended to betray their mistress's flight with her lover. It seemed perfect to Mat, anyway. To the showfolk, it only added to the romance. He had thought Egeanin was going to swallow her tongue while he was explaining to Luca. Maybe she had known how Tuon would take it. Light, he almost wished the dice would stop. How could a man think with that in his head?\n\n\"I couldn't leave you behind to raise an alarm,\" he went on patiently. That was true, as far as it went. \"I know Mistress Anan has explained it to you.\" He thought about saying he had been babbling from nerves when he said she was his wife-she must think him a complete looby!-but it seemed best not to bring it up again. If she was willing to let the matter lie, all the better. \"I know she's already told you this, but I promise no one's going to hurt you. We're not after ransom, just getting away with our heads still attached. As soon as I can figure out how to send you home safe and sound, I will. I promise. I'll make you as comfortable as I can until then. You'll just have to put up with the other.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tuon's big dark eyes crackled, heat lightning in a night sky, but she said, \"It seems I will see what your promises are worth, Toy.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At her feet, Selucia hissed like a doused cat, her head half-turning as if to object, but Tuon's left hand wiggled, and the blue-eyed woman blushed and went silent. The Blood used something like Maiden handtalk with their upper servants. Mat wished he understood the signals.\n\n\"Answer me a question, Tuon,\" he said.\n\nHe thought he heard Setalle murmur, \"Fool.\" Selucia's jaw knotted, and a dangerous look kindled in Tuon's eyes, but if she was going to call him'Toy,\" he would be burned if he gave her any titles.\n\n\"How old are you?\" He had heard that she was only a few years younger than he, but looking at her in that sack of a dress, it seemed impossible.\n\nTo his surprise, that dangerous spark burst into flame. Not just heat lightning, this time. He should have been fried on the spot. Tuon threw back her shoulders and drew herself to her full height. Such as that was; he doubted she could reach five feet with her heels flat however she stretched. \"My fourteenth true-name day will come in five months,\" she said in a voice that was far from cold. In fact, it could have heated the wagon better than the stove. He felt a moment of hope, but she was not finished. \"No; you keep your birth names here, don't you. That will be my twentieth naming day. Are you satisfied, Toy? Did you fear you had stolen a... child?\" She almost hissed the last word.\n\nMat waved his hands in front of him, frantically dismissing the suggestion. A woman started hissing at him like a kettle, a man with any brains found away to cool her down fast. She was gripping the cup so tightly that tendons stood out on the back of her hand, and he did not want to try his hip with another fall to the floor. Come to think on it, he was not sure how hard she had tried to hit him the first time. Her hands were very fast. \"I just wanted to know, that's all,\" he said quickly. \"I was curious, making conversation. I'm only a little older myself.\" Twenty. So much for hoping she was too young to marry for another three or four years. Anything that came between him and his wedding day would have been welcome."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tuon studied him suspiciously with her head tilted, then tossed the cup onto the bed beside Mistress Anan and seated herself on the stool again, taking as much care about arranging her voluminous woolen skirts as if they had belonged to a silk gown. But she continued to examine him through her long eyelashes. \"Where is your ring?\" she demanded.\n\nUnconsciously, he thumbed the finger on his left hand where the long ring usually lay. \"I don't wear it all the time.\" Not when everybody in the Tarasin Palace knew he wore it. The thing would have stood out, with his rough layabout's garb, in any case. It was not even his signet, anyway, just a carver's try-piece. Strange, how his hand felt noticeably lighter without it. Too light. Strange that she remarked on it, too. But then, why not? Light, those dice had him shying at shadows and jumping at sighs. Or maybe it was just her, a discomforting thought.\n\nHe moved to sit on the unoccupied bed, but Selucia swung herself up onto it so quickly any of the acrobats might have been jealous, and stretched outwith her head propped on her hand. That pushed her scarf askew fora moment, but she hurriedly straightened it, all the while staring at him proud and cold as a queen. He looked at the other bed, and Mistress Anan set down her embroidery long enough to ostentatiously smooth her skirts, making it clear she did not intend to share an inch. Burn her, she was behaving as though she were guarding Tuon from him! Women always seemed to club together so a man never had a fair chance. Well, he had managed to keep Egeanin from taking charge so far, and he was not about to be bullied by Setalle Anan or a bosomy lady's maid or the high and mighty High Lady Daughter of the Nine bloody Moons! Only, he could hardly go shoving one of them out of the way to find a place to sit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Leaning against a drawered cabinet at the foot of the bed Mistress Anan was seated on, he tried to think of what to say. He never had trouble thinking of what to say to women, but his brain seemed deafened by the sound of those dice. All three women gave him disapproving looks-he could all but hear one of them telling him not to slouch!-so he smiled. Most women thought his best smile very winning.\n\nTuon let out along breath that did not sound won over in the slightest. \"Do you remember Hawkwing's face, Toy?\" Mistress Anan blinked in surprise, and Selucia sat upon the bed frowning. At him. Why would she frown at him? Tuon just continued to look at him, hands folded in her lap, as cool and collected as a Wisdom at Sunday.\n\nMat's smile felt frozen. Light, what did she know? How could she know anything? He lay beneath the burning sun, holding his side with both hands, trying to keep the last of life from leaking out and wondering whether there was any reason to hold on. Aideshar was finished, after this day's work. A shadow blotted the sun for an instant, and then a tall man in armor crouched beside him, helmet tucked under his arm, dark deep-set eyes framing a hooked nose. \"You fought well against me today, Culain, and many days past,\" that memorable voice said. \"Will you live with me in peace?\" With his last breath, he laughed in Artur Hawkwing's face. He hated to remember dying. A dozen other encounters skittered through his mind, too, ancient memories that were his, now. Artur Paendrag had been a difficult man to get along with even before the wars started.\n\nDrawing a deep breath, he took care choosing his words. This was no time to go spouting the Old Tongue. \"Of course I don't!\" he lied. A man who could not lie convincingly got short shrift from women. \"Light, Hawkwing died a thousand years ago! What kind of question is that?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her mouth opened slowly, and fora moment he was sure she meant to answer question with question. \"A foolish one, Toy,\" she replied finally, instead. \"I can't say why it popped into my head.\"\n\nThe stiffness in Mat's shoulders relaxed, a little. Of course. He was ta'veren. People did things and said things around him they never would elsewhere. Nonsense qualified. Still, a thing like that could become uncomfortable when it hit too close to home. \"My name is Mat. Mat Cauthon.\" He might as well not have spoken.\n\n\"I cannot say what I will do after returning to Ebou Dar, Toy. I have not decided. I may have you made da'covah. You are not pretty enough fora cupbearer, but it might please me to have you for one. Still, you have represented certain promises tome, so it pleases me now to promise, as well. So long as you keep your promises, I will neither escape nor betray you in anyway, nor will I cause dissension among your followers. I believe that covers everything necessary.\" This time, Mistress Anan gaped at her, and Selucia made a sound in her throat, but Tuon appeared not to notice either woman. She just looked at him expectantly, waiting on a response.\n\nHe made a sound in his throat, too. Not a whimper, just a sound. Tuon's face was as smooth as astern mask of dark glass. Her calm was madness, but this made gibbering look sane! She would have to be insane to think he would believe that offer. Except, he thought she did mean it. That, or she was a better liar than he ever hoped to be. Again he had that queasy sense that she knew more than he did. Ridiculous, of course, but there it was. He swallowed a lump in his throat. A hard lump."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, that does all right for you,\" he said, trying to buy time, \"but what about Selucia?\" Time for what? He could not think with those dice pounding in his skull.\n\n\"Selucia follows my wishes, Toy,\" Tuon said impatiently. The blue-eyed woman herself straightened and stared at him as though indignant that he had doubted that. Fora lady's maid, she could look fierce when she tried.\n\nMat did not know what to say or do. Without thinking, he spat on his palm and offered his hand as if sealing a bargain on a horse.\n\n\"Your customs are... earthy,\" Tuon said in a dry voice, but she spat on her own palm and clasped his hand. \"\"Thus is our treaty written; thus is agreement made.\" What does that writing on your spear mean, Toy?\"\n\nHe did whimper this time, and not because she had read the Old Tongue inscription on his ashandarei. A bloody stone would have whimpered. The dice had stopped as soon as he touched her hand. Light, what had happened?\n\nKnuckles rapped on the door, and he was soon edge that he moved without thought, spinning, a knife coming into either hand ready to throw at whatever came in. \"Stay behind me,\" he snapped.\n\nThe door opened, and Thom stuck his head in. The hood of his cloak was up, and Mat realized it was raining outside. Between Tuon and the dice, he had missed the sound of rain hitting the wagon's roof. \"I trust I'm not interrupting anything?\" Thom said, knuckling his long white mustaches.\n\nMat's face heated. Setalle had frozen with her embroidery needle trailing blue thread down to her work, and her eyebrows seemed to be trying to climb over the top of her head. Tensed on the edge of the other bed, Selucia watched him slip the knives backup his sleeves with considerable interest. He would not have thought she was the sort to like dangerous men. That kind of woman was worth avoiding; they tended to find ways to make a man need to be dangerous. He did not glance back at Tuon. She was probably staring at him as if he had been capering like Luca. Just because he did not want to get married did not mean he wanted his future wife to think him a fool."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What did you find out, Thom?\" he asked brusquely. Something had happened, or the dice would not have stopped. A thought came that made his hair want to stand on end. This was the second time they had stopped in Tuon's presence. The third, counting the gate leading out of Ebou Dar. Three bloody times, and all tied to her.\n\nLimping slightly, the white-haired man came the rest of the way in, pushing back his hood, and pulled the door shut behind him. His limp came from an old injury, not trouble in the city. Tall and lean and leathery, with sharp blue eyes and snowy mustaches that hung below his chin, it seemed he would draw attention wherever he went, but he had practice at hiding in plain sight, and his dark bronze coat and brown wool cloak were suitable fora man with a little coin to spend but not too much. \"The streets are full of rumors about her,\" he said, nodding toward Tuon, \"but nothing about her disappearing. I bought drinks fora few Seanchan officers, and they seem to believe she's snug in the Tarasin Palace or off on an inspection trip. I didn't sense any dissembling, Mat. They didn't know.\"\n\n\"Did you expect public announcements, Toy?\" Tuon said incredulously. \"As it is, Suroth maybe considering taking her own life for the shame. Do you expect her to spread such an ill omen for the Return about for everyone to see on top of that?\"\n\nSo Egeanin had been right. It still seemed impossible. And it did not seem at all important compared to the dice stopping. What had happened? He had shaken hands with Tuon, that was all. Shaken hands and made a bargain. He meant to keep his side, but what had the dice told him? That she would keep hers? Or that she would not? For all he knew, Seanchan noblewomen were in the habit of marrying-what was it she had said she was going to make him?-a cupbearer-maybe they married cupbearers all the time."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There's more, Mat,\" Thom said, eyeing Tuon thoughtfully, and with a hint of surprise. It came to Mat that she did not appear overly concerned that Suroth might kill herself. Maybe she was as tough as Domon thought. What were the bloody dice trying to tell him? That was what was important. Then Thom went on, and Mat forgot about how tough Tuon might be and even the dice. \"Tylin's dead. They're keeping it quiet for fear of disturbances, but one of the Palace Guards, a young lieutenant who couldn't hold his brandy, told me they're planning her funeral feast and Beslan's coronation for the same day.\"\n\n\"How?\" Mat demanded. She was older than he, but not that much older! Beslan's coronation. Light! How would Beslan cope with that, when he hated the Seanchan? It had been his plan to fire those supplies on the Bay Road. He would have tried an uprising if Mat had not convinced him it would only result in a slaughter, and not of Seanchan.\n\nThom hesitated, stroking his mustaches with a thumb. Finally, he sighed. \"She was found in her bedchamber the morning after we left, Mat, still bound hand and foot. Her head... Her head had been torn off.\"\n\nMat did not realize his knees had given way until he found himself sitting on the floor with his head buzzing. He could hear her voice. You'll get your head cutoff yet if you're not careful, piglet, and I wouldn't like that. Setalle leaned forward on the narrow bed to press a hand against his cheek in commiseration.\n\n\"The Windfinders?\" he said hollowly. He did not have to say more.\n\n\"According to what that lieutenant said, the Seanchan have settled on Aes Sedai for the blame. Because Tylin had sworn the Seanchan oaths. That's what they'll announce at her funeral feast.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tylin dies the same night the Windfinders escape, and the Seanchan believe Aes Sedai killed her?\" He could not imagine Tylin dead. I'm going to have you for supper, duckling. \"That doesn't make sense, Thom.\"\n\nThom hesitated, frowning as he considered. \"It could be political, in part, but I think that's what they really believe, Mat. That lieutenant said they're sure the Windfinders were running too hard to stop or go out of their way, and the quickest path out of the palace from the damane kennels goes nowhere near Tylin's apartments.\"\n\nMat grunted. He was sure it was not so. And if it were, there was nothing in the world he could do about it.\n\n\"The mar'ath'damane had reason to murder Tylin,\" Selucia said suddenly. \"They must fear her example for others. What reason had the damane you speak of? None. The hand of justice requires motive and proof, even for damane and da'covale.\" She sounded as though she were reading the words off a page. And she was looking at Tuon from the corner of her eye.\n\nMat looked over his shoulder, but if the tiny woman had been using her hands to tell Selucia what to say, they were resting in her lap, now. She was watching him, a neutral expression on her face. \"Did you care for Tylin so deeply?\" she said in a cautious voice.\n\n\"Yes. No. Burn me, I liked her!\" Turning away, he scrubbed fingers through his hair, pushing the cap off. He had never been so glad to getaway from a woman in his life, but this...! \"And I left her tied up and gagged so she couldn't even call for help, easy prey for the gholam,\" he said bitterly. \"It was looking for me. Don't shake your head. Thom. You know it as well as I do.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is a... gholam?\" Tuon asked.\n\n\"Shadowspawn, my Lady,\" Thom said. He frowned worriedly. He did not take easily to worry, but anybody except a fool would worry about a gholam. \"It looks like a man, but it can slip through a mousehole, or under a door, and it's strong enough to...\" He harrumphed through his mustaches. \"Well, enough of that. Mat, she could have had a hundred guards around her, and it wouldn't have stopped that thing.\" She would not have needed a hundred guards if she had not taken up with Mat Cauthon.\n\n\"A gholam,\" Tuon murmured wryly. Suddenly she rapped Mat hard on the top of the head with her knuckles. Clapping a hand to his scalp, he stared over his shoulder incredulously. \"I'm very happy that you show loyalty to Tylin, Toy,\" she told him in a severe voice, \"but I won't have superstition in you. I will not have it. It does Tylin no honor.\" Burn him, Tylin's death seemed to concern her as little as whether or not Suroth committed suicide. What kind of woman was he going to marry?\n\nWhen a fist pounded on the door this time, he did not even bother to stand. He felt numb at the core and scraped raw on the surface. Blaeric pushed into the wagon without asking, his dark brown cloak dripping rain. It was an old cloak, worn thin in spots, but he appeared not to care whether rain leaked through. The Warder ignored everyone but Mat, or almost everyone. The man actually took a moment to consider Selucia's bosom! \"Joline wants you, Cauthon,\" he said, still studying her. Light! This was all Mat needed to make it a fine day."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Who is Joline?\" Tuon demanded.\n\nMat ignored her. \"Tell Joline I'll see her once we're on the road, Blaeric.\" The last thing he wanted was to be forced to listen to more of the Aes Sedai's grievances now.\n\n\"She wants you now, Cauthon.\"\n\nWith a sigh, Mat got to his feet and gathered his cap from the floor. Blaeric looked as if he might try to drag him, otherwise. In his own current mood, he thought he might put a knife in the man if he tried. And get his neck broken for his pains; a Warder would not take a knife in the ribs lightly. He was fairly sure he had already died the onetime he was allowed, and not in an old memory. Sure enough not to take risks he could sidestep.\n\n\"Who is Joline, Toy?\" If he had not known better, he would have said Tuon sounded jealous.\n\n\"A bloody Aes Sedai,\" he grumbled, tugging the capon, and got one small pleasure for the day. Tuon's jaw dropped in shock. He shut the door behind him on the way out before she could find a word to say. Avery small pleasure. One butterfly on a midden heap. Tylin dead, and the Windfinders might take the blame yet, whatever Thom said. And that was aside from Tuon and the bloody dice. Avery tiny butterfly on a very large midden.\n\nThe sky was full of dark clouds, now, and the downpour steady. A soaking rain, they would have called it back home. It began to slick his hair, cap or no, and seep through his coat as soon as he stepped outside. Blaeric hardly seemed to notice, barely gathering his cloak. There was nothing for it but for Mat to hunch his shoulders and splash through the widening puddles on the dirt streets. By the time he could reach his wagon fora cloak, he would be drenched to the skin anyway. Besides, the weather fit his spirits."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To his surprise, rain or no rain, an incredible amount of work had been done in the short time he was inside. The canvas wall was gone as far as he could see in either direction, and half the storage wagons that had been around Tuon's wagon were missing, too. So were most of the animals that had been picketed on the horselines. A large, iron-barred cage containing a black-maned lion trundled past toward the road behind a plodding team, the horses as unconcerned with the apparently sleeping lion behind them as they were with the shower. Performers were already taking to the road, too, though how they determined the order of leaving was a mystery. Most of the tents seemed to have vanished; in one place three of the brightly colored wagons together might be missing, another place every second wagon, while elsewhere the wagons standing and waiting still seemed a solid mass. The only thing that said the showfolk were not scattering was Luca himself, a bright red cloak gathered around him against the wet as he paraded along the street, stopping now and then to clap a man on the shoulder or murmur something to a woman that made her laugh. If the show had been breaking apart, Luca would have been out chasing down those who tried to leave. He held the show together as much by persuasion as anything else, and he never let anyone leave without talking himself hoarse trying to argue them out of it. Mat knew he should feelgood about seeing Luca still there, though it had never occurred to him that the man would run out on the gold, but right at that moment, he doubted that anything could make him feel anything but numb and angry.\n\nThe wagon that Blaeric took him to was almost as large as Luca's, but it had been whitewashed rather than painted. The white had long since run and streaked and faded, and the rain was washing it a little more toward gray, where the wood was not already bare. The wagon belonged to a company of fools, four morose men who painted their faces for the show's patrons, dousing each other with water and hitting each other with inflated pig-bladders, and otherwise spent their time and money imbibing as much wine as they could buy. With what Mat had paid for rent, they might be drunk for months, and it had cost more than that to make anyone take them in."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Four shaggy, nondescript horses were already hitched to the wagon, and Fen Mizar, Joline's other Warder, was upon the driver's seat, swathed in an old gray cloak and reins in hand. His tilted eyes watched Mat the way a wolf might watch an impudent cur. The Warders had been unhappy with Mat's plan from the start, sure they could have gotten the sisters away safely once they were outside the city walls. Perhaps they could have, but the Seanchan hunted vigorously for women who could channel-the show itself apparently had been searched four times in the days after Ebou Dar fell-and all it would have taken was one slip to land all of them in the stewpot. From what Egeanin and Domon said, the Seekers could make a boulder tell everything it had ever seen. Luckily, not all the sisters were assure as Joline's Warders. Aes Sedai tended to dither when they could not agree on what to do.\n\nWhen Mat reached the steps at the back of the wagon, Blaeric stopped him with a hand to his chest. The Warder's face might have been carved, no more concerned than apiece of wood with the rain running down his cheeks. \"Fen and I are grateful to you forgetting her out of the city, Cauthon, but this can't continue. The sisters are crowded, sharing with those other women, and they don't get on. There is going to be trouble if we can't find another wagon.\"\n\n\"Is that what this is about?\" Mat said crossly, tugging his collar tighter. Not that it did much good. He was already wet through on the back, and not much better in front. If Joline had pulled him hereto whine about the accommodations again...\n\n\"She'll tell you what it's about, Cauthon. Just you remember what I said.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Grumbling under his breath, Mat climbed the dirt-streaked steps and went in, not quite slamming the door behind him.\n\nThe wagon was laid out much like the one Tuon was in, though with four beds, two of them folded flat against the walls above the other two. He had no idea how the six women arranged sleeping, but he suspected it was not done peacefully. The air in the wagon all but crackled like grease on a griddle. Three women sat on each of the lower beds, each variously watching or ignoring the women seated on the other bed. Joline, who had never been held as damane, behaved as though the three sul'dam did not exist. Reading a small wood-bound book, she was an Aes Sedai to the inch and arrogance on a stick despite her well-worn blue dress, lately owned by a woman who taught the lions to do tricks. The other two sisters knew firsthand what it was to be damane, though. Edesina watched the three sul'dam warily, one hand resting near her belt knife, while Teslyn's eyes shifted constantly, looking at anything except the sul'dam, and her hands kneaded her dark woolen skirts. He did not know how Egeanin had coerced the three sul'dam into helping damane escape, but even though they were being sought by the authorities as surely as Egeanin, they had not changed their attitudes toward women who could channel. Bethamin, tall and as dark as Tuon in an Ebou Dari dress with a very deep neckline and skirts sewn up above her knee on one side to show faded red petticoats, seemed a mother waiting for inevitable misbehavior by children, while yellow-haired Seta, in high-necked gray wool that covered her completely, appeared to be studying dangerous dogs that would need to be caged sooner or later. Renna, she of the talk about cutting off hands and feet, pretended to be reading, too, but every so often her deceptively mild brown eyes rose from the slim volume to study the Aes Sedai, and when they did, she smiled in an unpleasant way. Mat felt like cursing before one of them opened her mouth. A wise man kept clear when women were at odds, especially if there were Aes Sedai among them, but this was how it always was when he came to this wagon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This better be important, Joline.\" Unbuttoning his coat, he tried to shake some of the water off. He thought he would do better wringing the garment out. \"I just learned that the gholam killed Tylin the night we left, and I'm in no mood for complaints.\"\n\nJoline marked her place carefully with an embroidered marker and folded her hands on the book before speaking. Aes Sedai never hurried; they just expected everyone else to. Without him, she likely would have been wearing an a'dam by now herself, but he had never found Aes Sedai particularly noted for gratitude, either. She ignored what he had said about Tylin. \"Blaeric tells me the show has already begun moving,\" she said coolly, \"but you must stop it. Luca will only listen to you.\" Her mouth tightened slightly on the words. Aes Sedai also were unused to not being listened to, and Greens were not the best at hiding their displeasure. \"We must abandon the idea of Lugard for the time being. We must take the ferry across the harbor and go to Illian.\"\n\nThat was about as bad a suggestion as he had heard out of her, though she did not mean it fora suggestion, of course; she was worse than Egeanin that way. With half the show already on the road, or near enough, it would take all day just to get everyone down to the ferry landing, and it would mean going into the city, besides. Heading for Lugard took the show away from the Seanchan as quickly as possible, while they had soldiers camped all the way to the Illian border and maybe beyond. Egeanin was reluctant to tell what she knew, but Thom had his ways of learning these things. Mat did not bother to crack his teeth, though. He did not need to."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" Teslyn said in a tight voice, her Illianer accent strong. Leaning past Edesina, she looked as though she chewed rocks three meals a day, hard-faced and set-jawed, but there was a nervousness in her eyes, put thereby her weeks as a damane. \"No, Joline. I have told you, we do no dare risk it! We do no dare!\"\n\n\"Light!\" Joline spat, slamming her book to the floor. \"Take hold of yourself, Teslyn! Just because you were held prisoner fora little time is no reason to go to pieces!\"\n\n\"Go to pieces? Go to pieces? Let them put that collar on you and then speak of going to pieces!\" Teslyn's hand went to her throat as though she felt the a'dam's collar still. \"Help me convince her, Edesina. She will have us collared again, if we do let her!\"\n\nEdesina drew back on herself against the wall behind the bed-a slim, handsome woman with black hair spilling to her waist, she always went silent when the Red and the Green argued, as they did often-but Joline did not spare her so much as a glance. \"You ask a rebel for help, Teslyn? We should have left her for the Seanchan! Listen tome. You can feel it as well as I. Would you really accept a greater danger to avoid a lesser?\"\n\n\"Lesser!\" Teslyn snarled. \"You do know nothing of-!\"\n\nRenna held her book out at arm's length and let it drop to the floor with a bang. \"If my Lord will excuse us a little while, we still have our a'dam, and we can teach these girls to behave again in short order.\" Her accent had a musical quality, but the smile on her lips never touched her brown eyes. \"It never works to let them go slack this way.\" Seta nodded grimly and stood as if to fetch out the leashes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I think we're done with a'dam,\" Bethamin said, ignoring the shocked looks from the other two sul'dam, \"but there are other ways to settle these girls down. May I suggest my Lord return in an hour? They'll tell you what you want to know without any squabbling once they can't sit down.\" She sounded as though she meant exactly what she said. Joline was staring at the three sul'dam in outraged disbelief, but Edesina was sitting up straight, gripping her belt knife with a determined expression, while Teslyn was now the one shrinking back against the wall, her hands clasped tightly at her waist.\n\n\"That won't be necessary,\" Mat said after a moment. Only a moment. However satisfying it might be to have Joline'settled down,\" Edesina might draw that knife, and that would set the cat among the chickens no matter how it turned out. \"What greater danger are you talking about, Joline? Joline? What danger is greater than the Seanchan right now?\"\n\nThe Green decided her stare was making no impression on Bethamin and turned it on Mat, instead. Had shebeen other than Aes Sedai, he would have said she looked sulky. Joline disliked explaining. \"If you must know, someone is channeling.\" Teslyn and Edesina nodded, the Red sister reluctantly, the Yellow emphatically.\n\n\"In the camp?\" he said in alarm. His right hand rose on its own to press against the silver foxhead under his shirt, but the medallion had not turned cold.\n\n\"Faraway,\" Joline replied, still unwilling. \"To the north.\"\n\n\"Much farther than any of us should be able to sense channeling,\" Edesina put in, a touch of fear in her voice. \"The amount of saidar being wielded must be immense, inconceivable.\" She fell silent at a sharp glance from Joline, who turned back to study Mat as though deciding how much she had to tell him."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 1"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Faile would very much have liked to hurry on herself. Cold feet were only a small part of it, and eagerness to do Sevanna's laundry less. Too many eyes could see her standing therein the open with Someryn, and even with her deep cowl hiding her face, the broad mesh belt of shiny golden links around her waist and a close-fitting collar to match marked her as one of Sevanna's servants. No one called them that-in Aiel eyes, being a servant was demeaning-but that was what they were, the wetlanders at least, just unpaid and with fewer rights and less freedom than any servant Faile had ever heard tell of. Sooner or later Sevanna herself was going to learn that Wise Ones were stopping her gai'shain to question them. Sevanna had well over a hundred servants and kept adding to them, and Faile was certain that every last one was repeating every word they heard Sevanna say to the Wise Ones.\n\nIt was a brutally efficient trap. Sevanna was a harsh mistress, in a rather casual way, never snapping, seldom openly angry, but the slightest infraction, the smallest slip in demeanor or behavior, was punished immediately with the switch or the strap, and every night the five gai'shain who had pleased her least that day were chosen out for further punishment, sometimes a night bound and gagged on top of a beating, just to encourage the rest. Faile did not want to think of what the woman would order fora spy. On the other hand, the Wise Ones had made it clear that anyone who did not talk freely of what they heard, anyone who tried to hold back or bargain, faced an uncertain future, possibly ending in a shallow grave. Harming a gai'shain beyond the permitted limits of discipline was a violation of ji'e\"toh, the web of honor and obligation that governed the lives of Aiel, but wetlander gai'shain seemed to stand outside a number of the rules."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sooner or later, one side or the other of that trap would snap shut. All that had held the jaws apart this long was that the Shaido seemed to see their wetlander gai'shain as no different from carthorses or pack animals, though in truth the animals received far better treatment. Now and then a gai'shain tried to runaway, but aside from that, one simply gave them food and shelter, put them to work and punished them if they faltered. The Wise Ones no more expected them to disobey, Sevanna no more expected them to spy on her, than they expected a carthorse to sing. Sooner or later, though... And that was not the only trap Faile was caught in.\n\n\"Wise One, I have nothing more to tell,\" she murmured when Someryn said nothing. Unless you were addled in the head, you did not just walkaway from a Wise One, not until she dismissed you. \"The Wise One Sevanna talks freely in front of us, but she says little.\"\n\nThe tall woman remained silent, and after along moment Faile dared to raise her eyes a little more. Someryn was staring over Faile's head, her mouth hanging open in stunned amazement. Frowning, Faile shifted the basket on her shoulder and looked behind her, but there was nothing to account for Someryn's expression, just the sprawl of the camp, dark low Aiel tents mingled with peaked tents and walled tents and every sort of tent, most in shades of dirty white or pale brown, others green or blue or red or even striped. The Shaido took everything valuable when they struck, everything that might prove useful, and they left behind nothing that resembled a tent.\n\nAs it was, they hardly had enough shelter to go around. There were ten septs gathered here, more than seventy thousand Shaido and nearly as many gai'shain, by her estimate, and everywhere she saw only the usual bustle, dark-clad Aiel going about their lives among scurrying white-clad captives. A smith was working the bellows on his forge in front of an open tent with his tools laid out on a tanned bull hide, children were herding flocks of bleating goats with switches, a trader was displaying her goods in an open pavilion of yellow canvas, everything from golden candlesticks and silver bowls to pots and kettles, all looted. A lean man with a horse on a lead stood talking with a gray-haired Wise One named Masalin, no doubt seeking a cure for some ailment the animal had, from the way he kept pointing at the horse's belly. Nothing to make Someryn gape."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Just as Faile was about to turn back around, she noticed a dark-haired Aiel woman facing the other way."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not just dark hair, but hair black as a raven's wing, a great rarity among Aiel. Even from behind, Faile thought she recognized Alarys, another of the Wise Ones. There were over four hundred Wise Ones in the camp, but she had learned quickly to know all of them on sight. Mistaking a Wise One fora weaver or a potter was a quick way to earn a switching.\n\nIt might have meant nothing that Alarys was standing still and looking in the same direction as Someryn, or that she had let her shawl slide to the ground, except that just beyond her, Faile recognized still another Wise One, also looking off to the north and west, and slapping at people who walked in front of her. That had to be Jesain, a woman who would have been called short even if she were not Aiel, with a great mass of hair red enough to make fire look pale and a temper to match. Masalin was talking to the man with the horse and gesturing to the animal. She could not channel, but three Wise Ones who could were all staring in the same direction. Only one thing could account for it; they saw someone channeling up thereon the forested ridgeline beyond the camp. A Wise One channeling surely would not make any of them stare. Could it bean Aes Sedai? Or more than one? Better not to get her hopes up. It was too soon.\n\nA clout on the head staggered her, and she nearly dropped the basket.\n\n\"Why are you standing like a lump?\" Someryn snarled. \"Goon with your work. Go, before I...!\"\n\nFaile went, balancing the basket with one hand, lifting the skirts of her robe out of the muddy snow with the other, and moving as quickly as she could without slipping and falling in the muck. Someryn never hit anyone, and she never raised her voice. If she was doing both, it was best to be out of her way with no delay. Humbly and obediently."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pride said to maintain a cool defiance, a quiet refusal to yield, yet sense said that was the way to find herself guarded twice as closely as she was. The Shaido might take the wetlander gai'shain for domesticated animals, but they were not completely blind. They must think that she had accepted her captivity as inescapable if she were to be able to escape, and that was very much on her mind. The sooner, the better. Certainly before Perrin caught up. She had never doubted that Perrin was following her, that he would find her somehow-the man would walk through a wall if he took it into his head!-but she had to escape before that. She was a soldier's daughter. She knew the Shaido's numbers, she knew the strength Perrin had to call on, and she knew she had to reach him before that clash could take place. There was just the little matter of getting free of the Shaido, first.\n\nWhat had the Wise Ones been looking at-the Aes Sedai or Wise Ones with Perrin? Light, she hoped not, not yet! But other matters took precedence, the laundry not least. She carried the basket toward what remained of the city of Maiden, weaving through a steady flow of gai'shain. Those leaving the city each carried a pair of heavy buckets balanced on the ends of a pole carried across the shoulders, while the buckets of those going in swayed, empty, on their poles. As many people as were in the camp required a great deal of water, and this was how it came to them, bucket by bucket. It was easy to tell the gai'shain who had been inhabitants of Maiden. This far north in Altara, they were fair rather than olive-complected, and some even had blue eyes, but all stumbled along in a daze. Shaido climbing the city walls in the night had overwhelmed the defenses before most of the residents knew they were in danger, and they still seemed unable to believe what their lives had come to."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Faile searched fora particular face, though, someone she hoped would not be carrying water today. She had been looking ever since the Shaido made camp here, four days ago. Just outside the city gates, which stood open and shoved back against the granite walls, she found her, a white-clad woman taller than herself with a flat basket of bread on her hip and her hood pushed back just enough to show a bit of dark reddish hair. Chiad appeared to be studying the iron-strapped gates that had failed to protect Maiden, but she turned away from them as soon as Faile approached. They paused side by side, not really looking atone another while they pretended to shift their baskets. There was no reason two gai'shain should not talk to one another, but no one should remember that they had been captured together. Bain and Chiad were not watched as closely as gai'shain serving Sevanna, but that might change if anyone remembered. Almost everyone insight was gai'shain, and from west of the Dragonwall besides, yet too many had learned to curry favor by carrying tales and rumors. Most people did what they must to survive, and some always tried to feather their own nests, whatever the circumstances.\n\n\"They got away the first night here,\" Chiad murmured. \" Bain and I led them out to the trees and obscured the tracks coming back. No one seems to realize they are gone, as far as I can see.\n\nWith so many gai'shain, it seems a wonder these Shaido notice any who runaway.\"\n\nFaile heaved a small sigh of relief. Three days gone. The Shaido did notice runaways. Few managed a full day of freedom, but the chances of success increased with everyday uncaught, and it seemed certain the Shaido would move on tomorrow, or the next day. They had not halted as long as this since Faile was captured. She suspected they might be trying to march back to the Dragonwall and recross into the Waste."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It had not been easy talking Lacile and Arrela into leaving without her. What finally convinced them had been the argument that they could carry word to Perrin of where Faile was, along with a warning of how many Shaido there were and a claim that Faile already had her own escape well in hand and any interference by him might endanger that and her. She was sure she had made them believe all of that-she did have her escape in hand, in away; she had several plans, in fact, and one of them had to work-but until this minute she had been half convinced the two women would decide their oaths to her required them to stay. Water oaths were tighter than oaths of fealty in someways, yet they left considerable room for stupidity in the name of honor. In truth, she did not know whether the pair could find Perrin, but either way, they were free and she had only two other women to worry about. Of course, the absence of three of Sevanna's servants would be noticed very quickly, within hours, and the best trackers would be sent to bring them back. Faile was accustomed to the woods, but she knew better than to pit herself against Aiel trackers. It was very unpleasant for'ordinary\" gai'shain who ran away and were recaptured. For Sevanna's gai'shain, it might be better to die in the attempt. At best, they would never be allowed the opportunity fora second try.\n\n\"The rest of us would have a better chance if you and Bain came with us,\" she said in a low voice. The flow of men and women in white carrying water by them continued, no one seeming to more than glance their way, but wariness had become ingrained in her these last two weeks. Light, it seemed more like two years! \"What difference can there be between helping Lacile and Arrela reach the forest and helping the rest of us get further?\" That was despair talking. She knew the difference-Bain and Chiad were her friends and had taught her about Aiel ways, about ji'e\"toh and even a little Maiden handtalk-and it did not surprise her when Chiad turned her head slightly to regard her with gray eyes that had nothing of gai'shain meekness in them. Nor did her voice, though she still spoke quietly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will help you as far as I can because it is not right for the Shaido to hold you. You do not follow ji'e\"toh. I do. If I cast aside my honor and my obligations just because the Shaido have, then I allow them to decide how I will act. I will wear white fora year and a day and then they will release me, or I will walkaway, but I will not throwaway who I am.\" Without another word, Chiad strode off into the throngs of gai'shain.\n\nFaile half-raised a hand to stop her, then let it fall. She had asked that question before, receiving a gentler answer, and in asking again, she had insulted her friend. She would have to apologize. Not to keep Chiad's help-the woman would not withdraw that-but because she had her own honor, even if she did not follow ji'e'toh. You did not insult friends and simply forget it, or expect them to. Apologies must wait, though. They dared not be seen talking too long.\n\nMaiden had been a prosperous city, a producer of good wool and great quantities of fair-quality wine, but an empty ruin inside the walls, now. As many of the slate-roofed houses were timber as were stone, and fire had gotten loose during the looting. The southern end of the city was half piles of blackened timbers decorated with icicles, half scorched, roofless walls. The streets everywhere, whether stone-paved or dirt, were gray with windblown ash trampled into the snow, and the whole city stank of charred wood. Water was one thing Maiden apparently never ran short of, but like all Aiel, the Shaido placed a very high value on it, and they knew nothing of fighting fires. There was little in the Aiel Waste that could burn. They might have let the entire city be consumed had they been finished with stealing, and as it was, they dithered over the waste of water before forcing gai'shain into bucket lines at spearpoint and letting the men of Maiden bring out their pump-wagons. Faile would have thought the Shaido would at least have rewarded those men by allowing them to leave with the people who had escaped being chosen for gai'shain, but the men who worked the pumps were young and fit, just the sort the Shaido wanted for their gai'shain. The Shaido kept some of the rules regarding gai'shain-women who were pregnant or had children under the age often had been let go, and youths under sixteen, and the city's blacksmiths, who had been both mystified and grateful-but gratitude never entered into it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Furniture littered the streets, large overturned tables and ornate chests and chairs, and sometimes a crumpled wall hanging or broken dishes. Bits of clothing lay everywhere, coats and breeches and dresses, most sliced to tatters. The Shaido had seized anything made of gold or silver, anything that had gems, anything useful or edible, but the furnishings must have been hauled outside in the frenzy of looting, then abandoned when whoever was carrying them decided that a little gilded edging or fine carving did not make them worth the effort. Aiel did not use chairs in any case, except for chiefs, and there was no room on the carts and wagons for any of those heavy tables. A few Shaido still wandered through, searching the houses and inns and shops for anything they might have missed, yet most people she saw were gai'shain carrying buckets. Aiel had no interest in cities except as storehouses to be plundered. A pair of Maidens passed her, using the butts of their spears to drive a naked, wild-eyed man, his arms bound behind him, toward the gates. Doubtless he had thought he could hide in abasement or attic until the Shaido were gone. Doubtless the Maidens had thought to find a cache of coin or plate. When a huge man in the cadin'sor of an algai'd\"siswai stepped in front of her, she swerved to go around him as smoothly as she could. A gai'shain always made way for any Shaido.\n\n\"You are very pretty,\" he said, putting himself in her way. He was the biggest man she had ever seen, perhaps seven feet tall and thick in proportion. Not fat-she had never seen a fat Aiel-but very wide. He belched, and she smelled wine fumes. Drunken Aiel she had seen, since they found all those casks of wine herein Maiden. She felt no fear, though. Gai'shain might be punished for any number of infractions, often for transgressions few of the wet-landers understood, but the white robes gave a certain protection, too, and she had another layer besides."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I am gai'shain to the Wise One Sevanna,\" she said in as obsequious atone as she could manage."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "To her disgust, she had gotten so she could manage it very well. \"Sevanna would be displeased if I shirked my duties to talk.\" She tried again to step around him, and gasped when he seized her arm in a hand that could have wrapped around it twice with inches to spare.\n\n\"Sevanna has hundreds of gai'shain. She will not miss one for an hour or two.\"\n\nThe basket fell to the street as he plucked her into the air as easily as picking up a pillow. Before she knew what was happening, he had her tucked beneath his arm, her own arms trapped at her sides. She opened her mouth to scream, and he used his freehand to press her face flat against his chest. The smell of sweaty wool filled her nose. All she could see was gray-brown wool. Where were those two Maidens? Maidens of the Spear would not let him do this! Any Aiel who saw would step in! She never expected help from any of the gai'shain. One or two might run for help, if she was lucky, but the very first lesson a gai'shain learned was that even a threat of violence got you hung up by the ankles and beaten till you howled. The first lesson wetlanders learned, at least; Aiel already knew: a gai'shain was forbidden to offer violence for any reason. Any reason. Which did not stop her from kicking at the man furiously. She might as well have been kicking a wall for all the impression it made. He was moving, carrying her somewhere. She bit as hard down as hard as she could, and got a mouthful of coarse dirty wool for her pains, her teeth sliding over muscle with no slack to give her purchase. He seemed made of stone. She screamed, but her shriek sounded muffled even to her own ears."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Abruptly, the monster carrying her stopped.\n\n\"I made this one gai'shain, Nadric,\" another man's deep voice said.\n\nFaile felt a rumble of laughter in the chest against her face even before she heard it. She did not stop her kicking, never stopped writhing or trying to shout, yet her captor seemed unaware of her efforts. \"She belongs to Sevanna now, Brotherless,\" the huge man-Nadric?-said contemptuously. \"Sevanna takes what she wants, and I take what I want. It is the new way.\"\n\n\"Sevanna took her,\" the other man replied calmly, \"but I never gave her to Sevanna. I never offered to trade her to Sevanna. Do you abandon your honor because Sevanna abandons hers?\"\n\nThere was along silence broken only by the smothered noises Faile was making. She did not stop struggling, could not stop, but she might as well have been an infant in swaddling.\n\n\"She is not pretty enough to fight over,\" Nadric said finally. He did not sound frightened or even concerned.\n\nHis hands fell away from her, and Faile's teeth ripped loose from his coat so suddenly she thought one or two might be jerked out, but the ground smashed into her back and all of the air rushed out of her lungs along with most of the wits from her head. By the time she could gather enough breath to push upon her hands, the huge man was striding away down the alley, almost back to the street. It was an alley, a narrow track of dirt between two stone buildings. No one would have seen what he did back here. Shivering-she was not trembling, just shivering!-spitting out the taste of unwashed wool and Nadric's sweat, she glared at his back. If the knife she had hidden away had been within reach, she would have stabbed him. Not pretty enough to fight over, was she? Part of her knew that was ludicrous, but she was grabbing hold of anything that could feed her anger, just for the warmth of it. To help her stop shivering. She would have stabbed him and stabbed him, until she could not lift her arms."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Getting upon legs that wobbled, she explored her teeth with her tongue. They were all sound, nothing broken or missing. Her face had been scraped by the rough wool of Nadric's coat, and her lips were bruised, but she was unhurt. She reminded herself of that. She was unhurt, and free to walkout of the alley. As free as anyone in gai'shain robes could be, anyway. If there were many like Nadric who no longer saw the protection of those robes, then order was breaking down among the Shaido. The camp would be a more dangerous place, but disorder would bring more opportunities for escape. That was how she had to look at this. She had learned something that could aid her. If only she could stop shivering.\n\nAt last, reluctantly, she looked at her rescuer. She had recognized his voice. He stood well back from her, watching her calmly, making no move to offer sympathy. She thought she would have screamed if he touched her. Another absurdity, since he had rescued her, but a fact all the same. Rolan was no more than a hand shorter than Nadric, and almost as wide, and she had reason to want to stab him, too. He was not Shaido, but one of the Brother-less, the Mera'din, men who had left their clans because they would not follow Rand al'Thor, and he had indeed been the one to'make her gai'shain.\" True, he had kept her from freezing to death the night after she was captured by wrapping her in his own coat, yet she would not have needed the covering if he had not cutoff every last stitch of her clothing in the first place. The first part of being made gai'shain was always being stripped, but that was no reason to forgive him for any of it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you,\" she said, the words sour on her tongue.\n\n\"I do not ask for gratitude,\" he said mildly. \"Do not look at meas though you want to bite me just because you could not bite Nadric.\"\n\nShe managed not to snarl at him-barely; she could not have summoned meekness right then had she wanted to-before she turned away and stalked back out to the street. Well, she tried to stalk. Her legs were still shaking enough that it was more of a lurch. The passing gai'shain barely glanced in her direction as they trudged along the street with their water buckets. Few of the captives wanted to share anyone else's troubles. They had enough of their own.\n\nReaching the laundry basket, she gave a sigh. It lay on its side, white silk blouses and dark silk skirts divided for riding spilled out over the dirty ash-smeared pavement. At least it seemed no one had trodden on them. Anyone who had been carrying water all morning, and had a day of it to look forward to, could have been forgiven if they failed to step aside, with bits of clothing lying all around that had been cutoff the people of Maiden who had been made gai'shain. She would have tried to forgive them. Righting the basket, she began gathering the clothes, shaking off the dirt and ash that would come loose and careful not to grind in the rest. Unlike Someryn, Sevanna had taken to silk. She wore nothing else. She was as proud of her silks as she was of her jewelry, and equally possessive of both. She would not be pleased if any of these garments failed to be returned clean.\n\nAs Faile laid the last blouse atop the rest, Rolan reached past her and lifted the basket with one hand. On the brink of snapping at him-she could carry her own burdens, thank you very much!-she swallowed the words. Her brain was the only real weapon she possessed, and she had to use it instead of letting her temper have control. Rolan had not been hereby chance. That was straining credulity too far. She had seen him frequently since she was captured, much more often than chance could account for. He had been following her. What was it he had told Nadric? He had not given her to Sevanna or offered to trade her. For all that he had been the one to capture her, she thought he disapproved of making wetlanders gai'shain-most of the Brotherless did-but apparently he still claimed his rights to her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She was sure she did not need to fear him trying to force her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rolan had had his chance for that, when he had her naked and bound, and he could have been looking at a fence post then. Perhaps he did not like women in that way. In any case, the Brotherless were almost as much outsiders among the Shaido as the wetlanders. None of the Shaido really trusted them, and the Brotherless themselves often seemed like men holding their noses, accepting what they considered a lesser wrong rather than embrace a greater, but no longer truly sure that it was lesser. If she could make a friend of the man, perhaps he would be willing to help her. Not to escape, certainly-that would asking too much-but... Or would it? The only way to find out was to try.\n\n\"Thank you,\" she said again, and this time she worked up a smile. Surprisingly, he smiled back. A small smile, barely thereat all, but Aiel were not demonstrative. They could seem stone-faced till you became used to them.\n\nFora few paces they walked alongside by side in silence, him carrying the basket in one hand and her holding up the skirts of her robes. They might have been out fora stroll. If you squinted. Some of the passing gai'shain looked at them in surprise, but they always put their eyes down again quickly. She could not think of how to begin-she did not want him to think she was flirting; he might like women after all-but he took away the necessity.\n\n\"I have watched you,\" he said. \"You are strong and fierce, and not afraid, I think. Most of the wetlanders are frightened half out of their heads. They bluster until they are punished, and then they weep and cower. I think you area woman of much ji.\"\n\n\"I am frightened,\" she replied. \"I just try not let it show. Crying never does any good.\" Most men believed that. Tears could get in your way if you let them, but a few tears shed at night could help you make it through the next day."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There are times to weep and times to laugh. I would like to see you laugh.\"\n\nShe did laugh, a dry laugh. \"There's little reason while I wear white, Rolan.\" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Was she going too fast? But he only nodded.\n\n\"Still, I would like to see it. Smiles suit your face. Laughter would suit it even better. I have no wife, but I can make a woman laugh, sometimes. I have heard you have a husband?\"\n\nStartled, Faile tripped over her own feet and caught herself on his arm. Quickly, she snatched her hand away, studying him past the edge of her cowl. He paused long enough for her to steady herself, then walked on when she did. His expression was no more than mildly curious. Despite Nadric, Aiel custom was fora woman to do the asking, after a man attracted her interest. Giving her gifts was one way. Making her laugh was another. So much for his not liking women. \"I do have a husband, Rolan, and I love him very much. Very much. I can't wait to return to him.\"\n\n\"What happens while you are gai'shain cannot beheld against you when you put off white,\" he said calmly, \"but perhaps you wet-landers do not see it that way. Still, it can be lonely when you are gai'shain. Perhaps we can talk sometimes.\"\n\nThe man wanted to see her laugh, and she did not know whether to laugh or cry. He was announcing that he did not intend to give up trying to attract her interest. Aiel women admired perseverance in a man. Still, if Chiad and Bain would not, could not, help beyond giving her aid in reaching the trees, Rolan washer best hope. She thought she could convince him, given time. Of course she could; faint hearts never succeeded! He was a scorned outcast, accepted only because the Shaido needed his spear. But she was going to have to give him a reason to persist."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I would like that,\" she said carefully."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A little flirting might be necessary after all, but she could not go from telling him how much she loved her husband straight to wide-eyed and breathless. Not that she had any intention of going that far-she was no Domani!-yet she might need to come close. For the time being, a little reminder that Sevanna had usurped his'right\" would not go amiss. \"I have work to do now, though, and I doubt Sevanna would be pleased if I spent the time talking to you instead.\"\n\nRolan nodded again, and Faile sighed. He might know how to make a woman laugh, as he claimed, but he certainly did not talk very much. She was going to have to work to draw him out if she intended to get anything more than jokes she did not understand. Even with Chiad and Bain's help, Aiel humor remained incomprehensible to her.\n\nThey had reached the broad square in front of the fortress at the north end of the city, a towered mass of gray stonewalls that had protected its inhabitants no better than the city walls. Faile thought she had seen the lady who had ruled Maiden and everything for twenty miles around, a handsome dignified widow in her middle years, among the gai'shain hauling water. White-clad men and women carrying buckets crowded the stone-paved square. At the eastern end of the square, what looked like a section of the city's outer wall, gray and thirty feet high, was actually the wall of a huge cistern fed by an aqueduct. Four pumps, each worked by a pair of men, gushed out water to fill the buckets, a good bit more splashing to the paving stones than the men would have dared allow if they had known Rolan was close enough to see. Faile had considered crawling through the tunnel-like aqueduct to escape, but they had noway to keep anything dry, and wherever it let them out, they would be soaking wet and more likely to freeze to death than make it more than a mile or two in the snow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There were two other places in the city to get water, both fed by stone conduits underground, but here along, lion-footed black-wood table had been placed at the foot of the cistern wall. Once it had been a banqueting table, the top inlaid with ivory, but the ivory wedges had been pried out and several wooden washtubs sat on the tabletop now. A pair of wooden buckets stood beside the table, and atone end a copper kettle steamed over afire made from broken-up chairs. Faile doubted that Sevanna had her laundry carried into the city to save her gai'shain the labor of hauling water out to the tents, but whatever the reason, Faile was grateful. A basket of laundry was lighter than full water buckets. She had carried enough of them to know. Two baskets stood on the table, but only one woman wearing the golden belt and collar was at work, the sleeves of her white robe rolled up as high as they would go and her long dark hair tied with a strip of white cloth to keep it from falling into the washtub's water.\n\nWhen Alliandre saw Faile approaching with Rolan, she straightened, drying her bare arms on her robe. Alliandre Maritha Kigarin, Queen of Ghealdan, Blessed of the Light, Defender of Garen's Wall and a dozen more titles, had been an elegant, reserved woman, poised and stately. Alliandre the gai'shain was still pretty, but she wore a perpetually harried expression. With damp patches on her robes and her hands wrinkled from long immersion in the water, she could have passed fora pretty washerwoman. Watching Rolan set down the basket and smile at Faile before striding away, watching Faile return the smile, she raised a quizzical eyebrow."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He's the one who captured me,\" Faile said, setting pieces of clothing from the basket on the table. Even here among none but gai'shain, it was best to talk while working. \"He's one of the Brotherless, and I think he doesn't really approve of making wetlanders gai'shain. I think he may help us.\"\n\n\"I see,\" Alliandre said. With one hand she brushed delicately at the back of Faile's robe.\n\nFrowning, Faile twisted to look over her shoulder. Fora moment she stared at the dirt and ash that covered her back from the shoulders down; then heat flooded her face. \"I fell,\" she said quickly. She could not tell Alliandre what had happened with Nadric. She did not think she could tell anyone. \"Rolan offered to carry my basket.\"\n\nAlliandre shrugged. \"If he helped me escape, I would marry him. Or not, as he wanted. He's not quite pretty, but it wouldn't be painful, and my husband, if I had one, would never have to know. If he had any sense, he would be overjoyed to have me back and ask no questions he didn't want to hear answers to.\"\n\nHands tightening on a silk blouse, Faile gritted her teeth. Alliandre washer liege woman, through Perrin, and she held to that well enough, at least insofar as obeying commands, but the nature of the relationship had become strained. They had agreed that they must try to think like servants, try to be servants, if they were to survive, yet that meant that each had seen the other curtsying and scurrying to obey. Sevanna's punishments were dealt out by the nearest gai'shain to hand when she made her decision, and once Faile had been ordered to switch Alliandre. Worse, Alliandre had been ordered to return the favor twice. Holding back only meant a taste of the same for yourself plus the other woman having to endure a double dose from someone who would not spare her arm. It had to make a difference when you had twice made your liege-lady kick and shriek."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Abruptly she realized that the blouse she was gripping was one of those that had picked up extra dirt when the basket fell. Loosening her grip, she examined the garment anxiously. It did not seem that she had ground the dirt in. Fora moment, she felt relief, and then irritation at being relieved. Even more irritating, the relief did not go away.\n\n\"Arrela and Lacile escaped three days ago,\" she said in a low voice. \"They should be well away by now. Where is Maighdin?\"\n\nA worried frown appeared on the other woman's face. \"She is trying to sneak into Therava's tent. Therava passed us with a group of Wise Ones, and from what we overheard, they seemed to be on their way to meet with Sevanna. Maighdin shoved her basket at me and said she was going to try. I think... I think she's becoming desperate enough to take too many chances,\" she said with a touch of hopelessness in her own voice. \"She should have been hereby now.\"\n\nFaile drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. They were all becoming desperate. They had gathered supplies for their escape-knives and food, boots and men's breeches and coats that fit near enough, all carefully hidden in the wagons; the white robes would serve as blankets, and as cloaks to hide them in the snow-but the chance to use all that preparation seemed no closer now than the day they were captured. Only two weeks. Twenty-two days to be exact. That should have not been long enough to change anything, but their pretense of being servants was changing them in spite of all they could do. Only two weeks, and they found themselves jumping to obey commands without thought, worrying over punishments and whether they were pleasing Sevanna. The worst of it was, they could see themselves doing these things, knew some part of them was being molded against their wills. For now, they could tell themselves they were just doing what was needed to avoid suspicion until they could escape, yet everyday the reactions became more automatic. How long before escape was a pale dream dreamed in the night after a day of being a perfect gai'shain in thought as well as deed? No one had dared ask that question aloud, so far, and Faile knew that she herself tried not to think it, but the question was always on the edge of her consciousness. Ina way, she was afraid of it leaving. When it did, would it already have been answered?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With an effort, she forced herself back from despondency. That was the second trap, and only willpower held it open. \"Maighdin knows she has to be careful,\" she said in a firm voice. \"She will be here soon, Alliandre.\"\n\n\"And if she is caught?\"\n\n\"She won't be!\" Faile said sharply. If she was... No. She had to think of victory, not defeat. Faint hearts never won.\n\nWashing the silk was time-consuming. The buckets of water they fetched from the cistern pumps were icy cold, but hot water scooped from the copper kettle brought the temperature in the washtubs up to lukewarm. You could not wash silk in hot water. Sinking your hands into the washtubs felt wonderful in the cold, but you always had to take them out again, and then the cold was twice as bitter. There was no soap, not that was mild enough anyway, so each skirt and blouse had to be submersed one by one and delicately scrubbed against itself. Then it was laid on apiece of toweling and gently rolled up to squeeze out as much water as possible. The damp garment was dipped again, in another wash-tub that was filled with a mixture of vinegar and water-that reduced fading and enhanced the gloss of the silk-then rolled up in toweling again. The wet toweling was wrung out hard and spread in the sun to dry wherever there was room, while each piece of silk was hung on a horizontal pole, slung in the shade of a rough canvas pavilion erected at the edge of the square, and smoothed by hand to rub out wrinkles. With luck, nothing would need ironing. Both of them knew how silk had to be cared for, but ironing it needed experience neither of them had. None of Sevanna's gai'shain did, not even Maighdin, though she had been a lady's maid even before entering Faile's service, but Sevanna did not accept excuses. Every time Faile or Alliandre went to hang another garment, they checked those already there and smoothed any that seemed to need it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Faile was adding hot water to a washtub when Alliandre said bitterly, \"Here comes the Aes Sedai.\"\n\nGalina was Aes Sedai, complete with the ageless face and a golden Great Serpent ring on her finger, but she wore white gai'shain robes, too-in silk as thick as anyone else's wool, no less!-along with a wide, elaborate belt of gold and firedrops that cinched her waist tightly and a tall matching collar around her neck, jewels fit fora monarch. She was Aes Sedai, and sometimes rode out from the camp alone, but she always returned, and she jumped when any Wise One crooked a finger, especially Therava, whose tent she often shared. Ina way, that last was the strangest thing of all. Galina knew who Faile was, knew who her husband was and Perrin's connection to Rand al'Thor, and she threatened to reveal it to Sevanna unless Faile and her friends stole something from the very tent she slept in. That was the third trap lying in wait for them. Sevanna was obsessed with al'Thor, insanely convinced that she could somehow marry him, and if she learned about Perrin, Faile would never be allowed far enough out of her sight to think of escape. She would be staked out like a goat to draw a lion.\n\nFaile had seen Galina slinking and cowering, but now the sister glided through the square like a queen disdaining the rabble around her, an Aes Sedai to the hilt. There were no Wise Ones here for her simper at. Galina was pretty, but nowhere near beautiful, and Faile did not understand what Therava saw in her, unless it was simply the pleasure of dominating an Aes Sedai. That still left the question of why the woman remained when Therava seemed to take every opportunity to humiliate her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Stopping apace from the table, Galina surveyed them with a small smile that might have been called pitying. \"You are not progressing very far in your work,\" she said. She was not speaking of the laundry.\n\nIt was Faile's place to do the talking, but Alliandre spoke up, even more bitterly than before. \"Maighdin went to fetch your ivory rod this morning, Galina. When will we see some of the help you promised?\" Help in their escape was the carrot Galina offered along with the stick of threatening Faile's exposure. So far, however, they had seen only the stick.\n\n\"She went to Therava's tent this morning?\" Galina whispered, the blood draining from her face.\n\nIt dawned on Faile that the sun was halfway down to the horizon in the west, and her heart began to thud painfully. Maighdin should have joined them long since.\n\nThe Aes Sedai seemed even more shaken than she. \"This morning?\" Galina repeated, looking over her shoulder. She gave a start and a cry when Maighdin suddenly appeared out of the throng of gai'shain crowding the square.\n\nUnlike Alliandre, the golden-haired woman had grown tougher by the day since their capture. She was no less desperate, but she seemed to focus it all into determination. She always had a presence that belonged more to a queen than a lady's maid, though most lady's maids had it, but now she stumbled past them, dull-eyed, and plunged her hands into a water bucket, cupping a double handful to her mouth to drink thirstily, then scrubbing the back of a hand across her mouth.\n\n\"I want to kill Therava when we go,\" she said thickly. \"I would like to kill her now.\" Her blue eyes took on life again, and heat. \"You're safe, Galina. She thought I was thereto steal. I hadn't started looking. Something... Something happened, and she left. After tying me up. For later.\" The heat faded from her gaze to be replaced by puzzlement. \"What is it, Galina? Even I feel it, and I have so little ability these Aiel women decided I was no danger.\" Maighdin could channel. Not reliably, though and not very much-from what little Faile knew, the White Tower would have sent her away in a matter of weeks, and she claimed never to have gone-so her ability would not be of much use in aiding their escape. Faile would have asked what she was talking about, but she never got the chance."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Galina's face was still pale, but otherwise she was all Aes Sedai calm. Except that she seized a handful of Maighdin's cowl and the hair beneath and wrenched her head back. \"Never you mind what it is,\" she said coolly. \"Nothing to do with you. All you need worry about is getting me what I want. But you should worry about that very hard.\"\n\nBefore Faile could move to defend Maighdin, another woman wearing the wide golden belt over her white robes was there, pulling Galina away and slinging her to the ground. Plump and plain, Aravine had been weary-eyed and resigned the first time Faile saw her, the day the Amadician woman handed her the golden belt she wore and told her she was now in the service of'the Lady Sevanna.\" The intervening days had stiffened Aravine even more than they had Maighdin, though.\n\n\"Are you mad, to lay hands on an Aes Sedai?\" Galina snapped, struggling to her feet. Brushing at the dirt staining her silk robes, she directed all her fury at the plump woman. \"I will have you-\"\n\n\"Shall I tell Therava you were manhandling one of Sevanna's gai'shain?\" Aravine broke in coldly. Her accents were cultured. She might have been a merchant of some note, or perhaps even a noble, but she never spoke of what she had been before putting on white. \"The last time Therava thought you'd poked your nose where she didn't want it, everybody inside a hundred paces could hear you squealing and begging.\"\n\nGalina actually quivered with rage, the first time Faile had ever seen an Aes Sedai so outdone. With a visible effort, she gained control of herself. Just. Her voice dripped acid. \"Aes Sedai do what we do for our own reasons, Aravine, reasons you could not possibly understand. You will regret incurring this debt when I decide to collect payment. You will regret it to your heart.\" Giving her robes a last brush, she stalked away, no longer the queen disdaining rabble but a leopard daring sheep to block her path."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Watching her go, Aravine seemed unimpressed, and uninclined to chat. \"Sevanna wants you, Faile\" was all she said.\n\nFaile did not bother to ask why. She just dried her hands, rolled down her sleeves, and followed the Amadician woman, after promising Alliandre and Maighdin to return as soon as she could. Sevanna was fascinated with the three of them. Maighdin, the only true lady's maid among her gai'shain, seemed to interest her as much as Queen Alliandre, and Faile herself, a woman powerful enough to have a queen as her liege woman, and sometimes she summoned one of them by name to help her change clothes or bathe in the large copper bathtub that she used more often than the sweat tent, or just to pour her wine. The rest of the time they were given the same chores as her other servants, but she never asked whether they had already been assigned work or let them off because of it. Whatever Sevanna wanted, Faile knew she still would beheld accountable for the laundry along with the other two. Sevanna wanted what she wanted when she wanted it, and she did not accept excuses.\n\nThere was no need for Faile to be shown the way to Sevanna's tent, but Aravine led the way through the throng of water carriers until they reached the first low Aiel tents, and then she pointed in the opposite direction to Sevanna's tent and said, \"This way, first.\"\n\nFaile stopped where she stood. \"Why?\" she asked suspiciously. There were actually men and women among Sevanna's servants who were jealous of the attentions she gave Faile, Alliandre and Maighdin, and though Faile had never detected that in Aravine, some of the rest might well try to get them in trouble bypassing on false instructions."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You will want to see this before you see Sevanna. Believe me.\"\n\nFaile opened her mouth to demand more explanation, but Aravine simply turned and walked away. Faile gathered up the skirts of her robes and followed.\n\nAll sorts and sizes of carts and wagons stood among the tents, their wheels replaced by sleds. Most were piled high with bundles and wooden crates and barrels, with the wheels tied on top of the loads, but she did not have to follow Aravine far before she saw a flatbed cart that had been emptied. Except that the cart bed was not empty. Two women lay on the rough wooden planks, naked and cruelly hogtied, shivering in the cold yet panting as if they were running. Both women's heads hung tiredly, but as if they somehow knew Faile was there, both looked up. Arrela, a dark Tairen as tall as most Aiel women, averted her eyes in embarrassment. Lacile, slim and pale and Cairhienin, went bright red.\n\n\"They were brought back this morning,\" Aravine said, watching Faile's face. \"They will be untied before dark, since it's the first time they've tried to escape, though I doubt they will be in any condition to walk before tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Why did you show me this?\" Faile said. They had been so careful to keep the connection between them a secret.\n\n\"You forget, my Lady, I was there when you were all put in white.\" Aravine studied her a moment, then suddenly took Faile's hands and turned them so that her own hands were between Faile's palms. Bending her knees just short of kneeling, she said quickly, \"Under the Light and by my hope of rebirth, I, Aravine Carnel, do pledge my fealty and obedience in all things to the Lady Faile t'Aybara.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Only Lacile appeared to have noticed; the Shaido walking past paid no mind to two gai'shain women. Faile jerked her hands free. \"How do you know that name?\" She had had to give more of her name than Faile, of course, but she had chosen Faile Bashere once she realized that none of the Shaido had a clue who Davram Bashere was. Aside from Alliandre and the others, only Galina knew the truth. Or so she had thought. \"And who have you told?\"\n\n\"I listen, my Lady. I overheard Galina speaking to you, once.\" Anxiety touched Aravine's voice. \"And I have told no one.\" She did not sound surprised that Faile wanted to hide her name, though clearly t'Aybara meant nothing to her. Perhaps Aravine Carnel was not her true name, or not all of it. \"In this place, secrets must beheld as closely as in Amador. I knew these women were yours, but I told no one. I know you intend to escape. I've been certain since the second or third day, and nothing I've seen since convinces me otherwise. Accept my oath, and take me with you. I can help, and what is more, I can be trusted. I have proved it by keeping your secrets. Please.\" The last word came out strained, as if from someone unused to saying it. A noblewoman, then, rather than a merchant.\n\nThe woman had proven nothing beyond that she could spy out secrets, but that in itself was a useful trait. On the other hand, Faile knew of at least two gai'shain who had tried to escape and been betrayed by others. Some people really did try to feather their own nests no matter what the circumstances. But Aravine already knew enough to ruin everything. Faile thought about her hidden knife again. A dead woman could betray nothing. But the knife was half a mile away, she could think of noway to hide the body, and besides, the woman could have curried favor with Sevanna just by saying she thought Faile was planning escape."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Taking Aravine's hands between hers, she spoke as quickly as the other woman had. \"Under the Light, I do accept your pledge and will defend and protect you and yours through battle's wrack and winter's blast and all that time may bring. Now. Do you know anyone else who can be trusted? Not people you think you can trust, people you know you can.\"\n\n\"Not with this, my Lady,\" Aravine said grimly. Her face shone with relief, though. She had not been sure Faile would accept her. That it was relief rather that anything else made Faile tend to believe in her. Tend to, which was not to say completely. \"Half would betray their own mothers in hopes of buying freedom, and the other half are too afraid to try or too stunned to be trusted not to panic. There must be some, and I have my eye on one or two, but I want to be very careful. One mistake is one more than I'll be allowed.\"\n\n\"Very careful,\" Faile agreed. \"Did Sevanna really send for me? If she didn't-\"\n\nIt seemed that she had, and Faile was quick about reaching Sevanna's tent-quicker than she would have liked, in truth; it was irritating to leap to avoid Sevanna's displeasure-but no one paid her the slightest heed when she walked in and stood meekly by the entry flaps.\n\nSevanna's tent was no low Aiel structure, but a wall-tent of red canvas large enough to need two center poles, lit by near a dozen mirrored stand-lamps. Two gilded braziers gave a little warmth, emitting thin tendrils of smoke that eddied out through the smoke holes in the roof, but the interior was little warmer than outside. Rich carpets, the snow carefully scraped away before they were laid, made a floor of reds and greens and blues, Tairen mazes and flowers and animals. Tasseled silk cushions lay strewn about the carpets, and one chair, a massive thing intricately carved and heavily gilded, satin a corner. Faile had never seen anyone sit in it, but its presence was supposed to evoke the presence of a clan chief, she knew. She was just as happy to stand quietly with her eyes down. Three other gai'shain with golden belts and collars, one a bearded male, stood along one wall of the tent, in case some service was needed. Sevanna was there, and so was Therava."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sevanna was a tall woman, a little taller than Faile herself, with pale green eyes and hairlike spun gold."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She might have been beautiful except fora strong hint of avarice around her plump mouth. Little about her really seemed Aiel, beyond her eyes and hair and sun-dark face. Her blouse was white silk, her skirt divided for riding and also silk, if a dark gray, and the scarf folded around her temples was ablaze of crimson and gold. Also silk. Red boots peeked out beneath the hem of her skirt when she moved. Jeweled rings decorated her every finger, and her necklaces and bracelets of fat pearls and cut diamonds and rubies as large as pigeon's eggs, sapphires and emeralds and firedrops, paled anything Someryn had. Not a single one was Aiel-made. Therava, on the other hand, was all Aiel, in dark wool and white algode, her hands bare and her necklaces and bracelets gold and ivory. No finger rings or gems for her. Taller than most men, her dark red hair touched with streaks of white, she was a blue-eyed eagle that it seemed must devour Sevanna like a crippled lamb. Faile would rather anger Sevanna ten times than Therava once, but the two women faced another across a table inlaid with ivory and turquoise, and Sevanna met Therava glare for glare.\n\n\"What is happening today means danger,\" Therava said with the air of someone tired of repeating herself. And perhaps about to draw the knife at her belt. She caressed the hilt as she spoke, and not entirely absently, Faile thought. \"We need to put as much distance between ourselves and whatever it is as we possibly can, and as soon as we can. There are mountains to the east. Once we reach them, we can be safe until we gather all the septs together again. Septs that would never have been separated if you had not been so sure of yourself, Sevanna.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You speak of safety?\" Sevanna laughed. \"Have you grown so old and toothless you need to be fed bread and milk? Look. These mountains of yours are how distant? How many days, or weeks, when we must crawl through this cursed snow?\" She gestured to the table between them where a map lay spread out, weighted down with two thick golden bowls and a heavy three-pronged golden candlestick. Most Aiel disdained maps, but Sevanna had taken to them along with other wetland customs. \"Whatever happened is faraway, Therava. You agreed it is so, as did every Wise One. This city is full of food, enough to feed us for weeks, if we remain here. Who is thereto challenge us, if we do? And if we do. ... You have heard the runners, the messages. In two or three weeks, four at the most, ten more septs will have joined me. Perhaps more! This snow will have melted by then, if these wet-landers from the city can be believed. We will travel quickly instead of having to drag everything on sleds.\" Faile wondered whether any of the city people had mentioned mud.\n\n\"Ten more septs will join you,\" Therava said, her voice flat except for the last word. Her hand tightened on the knife hilt. \"You speak for the clan chief, Sevanna, and so I was chosen to advise you as a clan chief, who must listen to advice for the good of our clan. I advise you to move east and keep moving east. The other septs can join us as easily in those mountains as here, and if we must go a little hungry on the way, who among us is a stranger to privation?\"\n\nSevanna fingered her necklaces, a large emerald on her right hand like green fire in the light of the stand-lamps. Her mouth tightened, and seemed hungrier for it. She might have known privation, but despite the lack of warmth in the tent, she no longer chose to. \"I speak for the chief, and I say we will remain here.\" There was more than a hint of challenge in her voice, but she did not give Therava a chance to meet it. \"Ah, I see that Faile has come. My good, obedient gai'shain.\" Taking something wrapped in a cloth from the table, she stripped away the cloth. \"Do you recognize this, Faile Bashere?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What Sevanna held was a knife with a single-edged blade a hand and a half long, a simple tool of the sort that thousands of farmers carried. Except that Faile recognized the pattern of rivets in the wooden handle, and the chip in the edge. It was the knife that she had stolen and hidden away with such care. She said nothing. There was nothing to say. Gai'shain were forbidden to possess any weapon, even a knife except when cutting meat or vegetables for cooking. She could not help jerking when Sevanna went on, though.\n\n\"As well Galina brought me this before you could use it. For whatever purpose. If you stabbed someone, I would have to be very angry with you.\"\n\nGalina? Of course. The Aes Sedai would not allow them to escape before they did as she wanted.\n\n\"She is shocked, Therava.\" Sevanna's laughter was amused. \"Galina knows what is required of gai'shain, Faile Bashere. What should I do with her, Therava? That is advice you can give me. Several wetlanders have been killed for hiding weapons, but I would hate to lose her.\"\n\nTherava tipped Faile's chin up with a finger and stared into her eyes. Faile met that gaze without blinking, but she felt her knees tremble. She did not try telling herself it was only the cold. Faile knew she was not a coward, but when Therava looked at her, Faile saw herself as a rabbit in that eagle's talons, alive and waiting for the beak to descend. It had been Therava who first told her to spy on Sevanna, and however circumspect the other Wise Ones might have been, Faile had no doubt that Therava would slither throat without the slightest qualm if she failed her. There was no use pretending the woman did not frighten her. She just had to control that fear. If she could."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I think she was planning to runaway, Sevanna. But I think she can learn to do as she is told.\"\n\nThe rough wooden table had been set out between the tents in the nearest open space to Sevanna's tent, a hundred paces away. At first, Faile thought that the shame of being naked would be the worst of it, that and the icy cold that pebbled her skin. The sun sat low in the sky; the air had grown colder, and it would get much colder before morning. She had to stay there till morning. The Shaido were good at learning what shamed wetlanders, and they used shame as a punishment. She thought she would die of blushing whenever anyone looked at her, but the Shaido who passed by did not even pause. In itself, nudity was no reason for shame among Aiel. Aravine appeared in front of her, but she stopped only long enough to whisper, \"Keep your courage,\" and then she was gone. Faile understood. Whether or not the woman was loyal, she did not dare do anything to help.\n\nAfter a very short time, Faile no longer worried about shame. Her wrists had been tied behind her, and then her ankles had been doubled back and tied to her elbows. She understood now why Lacile and Arrela had been panting. Breathing was an effort in this position. The cold bit deeper and deeper, until she was shivering uncontrollably, but even that soon seemed secondary. Cramps began to burn in her legs, her shoulders, her sides, bunching muscles that seemed on fire, twisting tighter and tighter and tighter. She focused on not screaming. That became the center of her existence. She-would-not-scream. But, oh, Light, she hurt!\n\n\"Sevanna ordered that you were to remain here till dawn, Faile Bashere, but she did not say you could not have company.\""
},
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "She had to blink several times before she could see clearly. Sweat stung her eyes. How could she be sweating when she was frozen to the marrow? Rolan was standing in front of her, and strangely, he was carrying a pair of low bronze braziers full of glowing coals, with pieces of cloth wrapped around a leg of each to protect his hands from the heat. Seeing her stare at the braziers, he shrugged. \"Once, a night in the cold would not have bothered me, but I have grown soft since I crossed the Dragonwall.\"\n\nShe almost gasped when he set the braziers beneath the table. Warmth flooded up through the cracks between the planks. Her muscles still shrieked with cramps, but oh, the blessed warmth. She did gasp when the man put an arm across her chest and the other across her bent knees. Suddenly she realized the pressure was gone from her elbows. He had... squeezed... her. One of his hands began working at her thigh, and she almost screamed as his fingers dug into knotted muscles, but she felt the knots begin to loosen. They still hurt, his massaging hurt, but the pain in that one thigh muscle was changing in kind. Not growing less, exactly, but she knew that it would, if he continued.\n\n\"You do not mind if I occupy myself while I try to think of away to make you laugh, do you?\" he asked.\n\nSuddenly she realized that she was laughing, and not hysterically. Well, it was only partly hysteria. She was trussed like a goose for the oven and being saved from the cold for the second time by a man she thought maybe she would not stab after all, Sevanna would be watching her like a hawk from now on, and Therava might be trying to kill her as an example; but she knew she was going to escape. One door never closed but another opened. She was going to escape. She laughed until she cried."
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"value": "Chapter 10\n\nA Blazing Beacon\n\nThe wide-eyed maid was more used to kneading bread dough than doing up rows of tiny buttons, but eventually she finished buttoning Elayne into her dark green riding dress, curtsied and stepped back breathing heavily, though whether from the effort of concentration or just from being in the presence of the Daughter-Heir was hard to tell. The Great Serpent ring on Elayne's left hand might have had something to do with it, too. Just over twenty miles in a straight line would take you from the manor of House Matherin to the River Erinin and all its great commerce, but the distance was far greater in actual miles to be covered through the Chishen Mountains, and people here were more accustomed to cattle raids across the border from Murandy than any sort of visitor, especially a visitor who wrapped the Daughter-Heir and an Aes Sedai into one package. The honor seemed beyond what some of the servants could bear. Elsie had been painfully conscientious in folding the blue silk gown that Elayne had worn last night and packing it away in a large leather traveling chest, one of a pair in the apartment's dressing room, so conscientious that Elayne had nearly taken over the task herself. She had slept poorly at first, fitful and waking, then slept late when she could sleep, and she was beyond chafing to be on her way back to Caemlyn.\n\nThis was the fifth time she had spent a night out of Caemlyn since learning the city was threatened, and on each trip she had given a day to visiting three or four manors, once five, all the property of men and women bound to House Trakand by blood or oaths, and every visit took time. The press of time weighed down her bones, yet presenting the proper image was necessary. Riding clothes were needed to travel from one manor to the next lest she arrived rumpled and looking a fugitive, but she had to change before settling in whether it was for the night or just a few hours. Half those hours might betaken up by shifting from riding clothes to a gown and back again, but riding clothes spoke of haste and need, perhaps of desperation, while the coronet of the Daughter-Heir and an embroidered gown trimmed with lace, unpacked from a set of traveling cases and donned after washing, portrayed confidence and strength. She would have brought her own maid to add to the impression if Essande had been up to keeping the pace in winter, though she suspected the white-haired woman's slowness would have had her chewing her tongue in frustration. Still, Essande could not have been as slow as this goggled-eyed young Elsie."
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"value": "At last Elsie handed her her fur-lined crimson cloak with a curtsy, and she slung the cloak around her shoulders hastily. Afire blazed on the stone hearth, but the room was nowhere near warm, and recently she could not seem to ignore the cold with any reliability. The girl bobbed as she asked whether she could fetch men to carry down the chests if it pleased Her Majesty. The first time she had done that, Elayne had gently explained that she was not yet Queen, but Elsie seemed horrified at the idea of addressing her simply as my Lady, or even as Princess, though in truth the last was considered very old-fashioned. Proper or not, it usually pleased Elayne to hear someone acknowledge her right to the throne, but this morning she was too tired to be anything but anxious to be on the road. Suppressing a yawn, she told Elsie curtly to fetch the men and be quick about it, and turned for the paneled door. The girl rushed to open it for her, which took longer than if she had done it herself, with a curtsy before opening and yet another after. Her divided silk skirts whispered furiously against each other as she strode out of the room tugging on her red riding gloves. If Elsie had delayed her one more second, she thought she would have screamed.\n\nIt was the girl who shrieked, however, before Elayne had gone three paces, a horrified howl that sounded ripped from her throat. The cloak flared as Elayne spun around, embracing the True Source, feeling the richness of saidar flood through her. Elsie was standing on the strip of carpet that ran along the middle of the pale brown floor tiles, staring the other way down the hall with both hands pressed to her mouth. Two crossing corridors opened in that direction, but there was not another soul insight."
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"value": "\"What is it, Elsie?\" Elayne demanded. She had several weaves already on the edge of forming, ranging from a simple net of air to a fireball that would have demolished half the walls in front of her, and in her present humor, she wanted to use one of them, to strikeout with the Power. Her moods were uncertain of late, to say the least.\n\nThe girl looked back over one shoulder, trembling, and if her eyes had been wide before, they bulged now. Her hands remained clamped to mouth as if to prevent another scream. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, tall and plump-bosomed in House Matherin's gray-and-blue livery, she was not really a girl-Elsie might be four or five years older than herself-but the way she behaved made it difficult to think of her any other way.\n\n\"What is it, Elsie? And don't tell me it was nothing. You look as if you'd seen a ghost.\"\n\nThe girl flinched. \"I did,\" she said unsteadily. That she gave Elayne no title showed just how unsteady she was. \"Lady Nelein, as was Lord Aedmun's grandmother. She died when I was little, but I remember even Lord Aedmun tiptoed around her temper, and the maids used to jump if she looked at them, and other ladies who visited, too, and the lords, as well. Everybody was afraid of her. She was right therein front of me, and she scowled so furious-\" She broke off, blushing, when Elayne laughed.\n\nIt was more a laugh of relief than anything else. The Black Ajah had not somehow followed her to Lord Aedmun's manor. There were no assassins waiting with knives in their fists, no sisters loyal to Elaida wanting to whisk her back to Tar Valon. Sometimes she dreamed about those things, about all of them in the same dream. She released saidar, reluctantly as always, regretful as that fullness of joy and life drained out of her. Matherin supported her, but Aedmun might have taken it amiss if she had ruined half his home place."
}
] |
[
{
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"value": "Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 2"
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"value": "\"What is it, Elsie?\" Elayne demanded. She had several weaves already on the edge of forming, ranging from a simple net of air to a fireball that would have demolished half the walls in front of her, and in her present humor, she wanted to use one of them, to strikeout with the Power. Her moods were uncertain of late, to say the least.\n\nThe girl looked back over one shoulder, trembling, and if her eyes had been wide before, they bulged now. Her hands remained clamped to mouth as if to prevent another scream. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, tall and plump-bosomed in House Matherin's gray-and-blue livery, she was not really a girl-Elsie might be four or five years older than herself-but the way she behaved made it difficult to think of her any other way.\n\n\"What is it, Elsie? And don't tell me it was nothing. You look as if you'd seen a ghost.\"\n\nThe girl flinched. \"I did,\" she said unsteadily. That she gave Elayne no title showed just how unsteady she was. \"Lady Nelein, as was Lord Aedmun's grandmother. She died when I was little, but I remember even Lord Aedmun tiptoed around her temper, and the maids used to jump if she looked at them, and other ladies who visited, too, and the lords, as well. Everybody was afraid of her. She was right therein front of me, and she scowled so furious-\" She broke off, blushing, when Elayne laughed.\n\nIt was more a laugh of relief than anything else. The Black Ajah had not somehow followed her to Lord Aedmun's manor. There were no assassins waiting with knives in their fists, no sisters loyal to Elaida wanting to whisk her back to Tar Valon. Sometimes she dreamed about those things, about all of them in the same dream. She released saidar, reluctantly as always, regretful as that fullness of joy and life drained out of her. Matherin supported her, but Aedmun might have taken it amiss if she had ruined half his home place."
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"value": "\"The dead cannot harm the living, Elsie,\" she said gently. The more gently because she had laughed, not to mention wanting to box the ninny's ears. \"They're not of this world anymore, and they can't touch anything in it, including us.\" The girl nodded, and dropped another curtsy, but by the size of her eyes and the trembling of her lips she was unconvinced. Elayne had no time to cosset her, though. \"Fetch the men for my cases, Elsie,\" she said firmly, \"and don't worry about ghosts.\" With yet another curtsy the girl dashed off, her head swiveling anxiously in case the Lady Nelein leaped out of the paneled walls. Ghosts! The fool girl was a ninny!\n\nMatherin was an old House, if not large or strong, and the main stairs, leading down to the entry hall, were broad and trimmed with marble railings. The entry hall itself was a generous space, with gray-and-blue floor tiles and mirrored oil lamps hanging on chains from the ceiling twenty feet above. There was nothing in the way of gilding and little inlay, but ornately carved chests and cabinets stood along the sides of the hall, and two wall hangings were displayed on one wall. One showed men hunting leopards from horseback, a chancy business at best, and the other women of House Matherin presenting a sword to the first Queen of Andor, an event that Matherin treasured and that might or might not have actually happened.\n\nAviendha was already down, pacing restlessly in the hall, and Elayne sighed at the sight. They would have shared a room, if not for the implication that Matherin could not provide adequately for two visitors of note, but Aviendha did not really understand that the smaller the House, the loftier the pride. Often, the smaller Houses possessed little more. Pride, she should have understood, since a fierce pride and strength all but shone from her. Straight-backed and even taller than Elayne, a thick dark shawl draped over her pale blouse and a folded gray headscarf holding back her long reddish hair, she was the very picture of a Wise One despite being only a year older than Elayne. Wise Ones who could channel often appeared to be much younger than they were, and Aviendha had the dignity. At this moment she did, anyway, though the pair of them had giggled together often enough. Of course, her only jewelry was along, silver Kandori necklace, an amber brooch in the shape of a turtle and a wide ivory bracelet, and Wise Ones always wore festoons of necklaces and bracelets, but Aviendha was not a Wise One yet, merely an apprentice. Elayne never thought of Aviendha as merely anything, but it did present problems now and then. Sometimes she thought the Wise Ones considered her an apprentice of some sort as well, or at least a student. A silly thought, to be sure, but sometimes..."
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"value": "As Elayne reached the foot of the stairs, Aviendha adjusted her shawl and asked, \"Did you sleep well?\" Her tone was untroubled, but anxiety nestled around her green eyes. \"You did not send for wine to help you sleep, did you? I made sure your wine was watered when we ate, but I saw you looking at the wine pitcher.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother,\" Elayne said in a sickly sweet voice. \"No, Mother. I was wondering how Aedmun got his hands on such a fine vintage, Mother. It was a shame to water it. And I drank the goat's milk before I went to sleep.\" If anything brought her to birthing sickness, it would be goat's milk! And to think she used to like it.\n\nAviendha planted her fists on her hips, such an embodiment of indignation that Elayne had to laugh. There were inconveniences to being with child, ranging from abrupt swings in her temper to tenderness in her breasts to always being tired, but the coddling was the worst, in someways. Everyone in the Royal Palace knew she was pregnant-a good many had known before she did, courtesy of Min's viewing and Min being too free with her tongue-and she did not think she could have been so mothered when she was an infant. Still, she put up with all the bother with as much grace as she could muster. Usually, she did. They were only trying to be helpful. She just wished every woman she knew did not believe that pregnancy had made her brainless. Nearly every woman she knew. Those who had never borne a child themselves were the worst.\n\nThinking of her baby-at times she wished Min had said whether it would be a boy or girl, or rather that Aviendha or Birgitte could recall exactly what Min actually had said; Min was always right, but the three of them had consumed a great deal wine that night, and Min had been gone from the palace long before Elayne herself knew to ask-thinking of the child growing in her always made her think of Rand, just as thinking of him made her think of the babe. One followed the other as surely as cream rose in the milkpan. She missed Rand terribly, and yet she could not miss him. Apart of him, the sense of him, rode always in the back of her head unless she masked the bond, right alongside her sense of Birgitte, her other Warder. The bond had its limits, however. He was somewhere to the west, far enough that she could tell little more than that he was alive. Nothing more, really, though she thought she would know if he had been badly injured. She was not sure she wanted to know what he was up to. He had been far to the south fora longtime after leaving her, and now, just this morning, he had Traveled to the west. It was disconcerting, really, to feel him in one direction and then suddenly have him off in another, even farther away. He could be pursuing enemies or running from enemies or anyone of a thousand things. She hoped very much it was something innocuous that made him Travel. He was going to die on her all too soon-men who could channel always died of it-but she wanted so very much to keep him alive as long as possible."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He is well,\" Aviendha said almost as though she could read her mind."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had their own shared sense of one another since their mutual adoption as first-sisters, but it did not go as far as the Warder bond they and Min shared with Rand. \"If he allows himself to be killed, I will cutoff his ears.\"\n\nElayne blinked, then laughed again, and after a startled glance, Aviendha joined in. It was not that funny, except maybe to an Aiel-Aviendha's sense of humor was very odd-but Elayne could not stop laughing, and Aviendha seemed as helpless. Shaking with mirth, they hugged one another and hung on. Life was very strange. Had anyone told her a few years ago that she would share a man with another woman-with two other women!-she would have called them mad. The very idea would have been indecent. But she loved Aviendha every bit as much as she did Rand, only in a different way, and Aviendha loved Rand as much as she did.\n\nDenying that meant denying Aviendha, and she could as easily step out of her skin. Aiel women, sisters or close friends, often married the same man, and seldom gave him any say in the matter. She was going to marry Rand, and so was Aviendha, and so was Min. Whatever anyone said or thought, that was all there was to it. If he lived long enough.\n\nSuddenly she became afraid that her laughter was edging toward tears. Please, Light, let her not be one of those women who became weepy when they were with child. It was bad enough not knowing whether she was going to be melancholy or furious from one minute to the next. Hours might pass when she felt perfectly normal, but then there were hours when she felt like a child's ball bouncing down an endless flight of stairs. This morning, she seemed to be on the stairs."
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"value": "\"He is well, and he will be well,\" Aviendha whispered fiercely, as if she intended to assure his survival by killing anything that threatened him.\n\nWith the tips of her fingers, Elayne brushed a tear from her sister's cheek. \"He is well, and he will be well,\" she agreed softly. But they could not kill saidin, and the taint on the male half of the Power was what was going to kill him.\n\nThe lamps overhead flickered as one of the tall doors to the outside opened, letting in a gust of air even colder than that in the entry hall, and they quickly moved a little apart, just holding hands. Elayne schooled her face to a serene smoothness fully worthy of an Aes Sedai. She could not afford to let anyone see her apparently seeking comfort in a hug. A ruler, or one who sought to rule, was not allowed the slightest suggestion of weakness or tears, not in public. There were rumors enough about her as it was, as many bad as good. She was benevolent or cruel, fair-minded or arbitrary, generous or avaricious, all according to which tale you listened to. At least the tales balanced out one another, but anyone who could say they had actually seen the Daughter-Heir huddling in the arms of her companion might add a tale of fear to the blend, and if her enemies believed she was afraid, they would only grow bolder. And stronger. Cowardice was the sort of rumor that stuck like greasy mud; you never could wash it off completely. History recorded women who had lost their bids for the Lion Throne on no further discernible grounds. Capability was a requirement fora successful ruler and wisdom was to be hoped for, though women lacking both had gained the throne and muddled through somehow, but few would support a coward, and none of those people she wanted on her side."
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{
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"value": "The man who came in, turning to push the massive door shut behind him, had only one leg and used a crutch in place of the other. Even with fleece padding, the sleeve of his heavy woolen coat was worn from it. A heavy-shouldered former soldier, Fridwyn Ros managed Lord Aedmun's estate, with the aid of a fat clerk who had blinked at the Daughter-Heir in consternation, gaped at her Great Serpent ring with something near to awe, and scurried back to his ledgers in relief as soon as he realized she had no business with him. He had probably feared a levy on the manor's accounts. Master Ros had stared at herring in amazement, to be sure, but he had grinned with delight at the Daughter-Heir and regretted that he could no longer ride for her with such sincerity that, had he been a liar, he would already have bilked Aedmun and the clerk of everything they owned between them. She did not fear him carrying the wrong tales.\n\nHis crutch made a rhythmic thump as he came up the hall, and he managed a credible bow in spite of it, including Aviendha in his courtesy. He had been startled by her at first, but surprisingly quick to catch their friendship, and if he did not entirely trust an Aiel, it meant he accepted her. You could not ask for everything.\n\n\"The men are strapping your cases to the pack animals, my Queen, and your escort is ready.\" He was one of those who refused to call her anything except'my Queen\" or'Majesty,\" but a hint of doubt entered his voice at mention of her escort. He covered it hastily with a cough and hurried on. \"The men we're sending with you are all mounted as well as I could manage. Young men, mainly, and a few more experienced, but they all know which end of a halberd has the point. I wish the manor could give you more, but I explained, when Lord Aedmun heard there were others claiming what's yours by right, he decided not to wait for spring, and he called in his armsmen and set out for Caemlyn. We've had a couple of bad snowfalls since, but he might be halfway thereby now with luck in the passes.\" His gaze carried conviction, but he knew better than she that with the wrong luck Aedmun and his armsmen might be dead in those passes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Matherin has always maintained faith with Trakand,\" Elayne told him, \"and I put my trust that it always will."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I value Lord Aedmun's loyalty, Master Ros, and yours.\"\n\nShe did not insult Matherin, and him, by promising to remember or offering rewards, yet Master Ros' broad smile said she had already given him as much reward as he desired. Matherin would receive rewards, if they were earned, but they could not beheld out as if offering to buy a horse.\n\nThumping along on his crutch, Master Ros bowed her to the door, and bowed her out onto the broad granite step where servants wearing heavy coats waited in the bitter cold with a stirrup cup of hot spiced wine that she rejected with a murmur. Until she had a chance to adjust to the sharp air, she wanted both hands to hold her cloak closed. Aviendha would probably have found away to make her drop it anyway. She took a cup, after wrapping her shawl around her head and shoulders, the only concession she made to the icy morning. She was ignoring the cold, of course. Elayne was the one who had taught her how. Elayne tried again to push the cold away, and to her surprise, it receded. Not all the way-she still felt chilly-but it was better than freezing.\n\nThe sky was clear, the sun bright as it sat over the mountains, but storm clouds could come boiling across the surrounding peaks at anytime. It would be best to reach their first destination today as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, Fireheart, her tall black gelding, was living up to his name, rearing and snorting gouts of steamy breath as if he had never worn a bridle before, and Aviendha's leggy arch-necked gray had taken it into her head to imitate him, dancing in the knee-deep snow and trying to go anywhere except where the groom tried to lead her. She was a more spirited animal than Elayne would have chosen for her sister, yet Aviendha herself had insisted after learning the mare's name. Siswai meant spear, in the Old Tongue. The grooms seemed capable women, but they appeared to think they needed to calm the animals before handing them over. It was all Elayne could do not to snap at them that she had managed Fireheart before they ever saw him."
},
{
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"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her escort was already mounted, to avoid standing in the snow, twenty-odd riders in the white-collared redcoats and brightly burnished breastplates and helmets of the Queen's Guard. Master Ros\" doubt might be explained by the fact that the riders'coats were silk, as were their red breeches with the white stripe up each leg, and by the pale lace they wore at neck and cuff. They certainly appeared more ceremonial than effective. Or it might have been that they were all women. Women were uncommon in jobs that required using weapons, just the occasional merchants\" guard or a rare woman who turned up in an army during time of war, and Elayne had never heard of a group of all-female soldiers before she created one. Except the Maidens, of course, but they were Aiel and a different matter. She hoped people would think them an affectation on her part, and largely decorative with all the lace and silk. Men tended to underestimate a woman carrying weapons until they faced one, and even most other women tended to think her a brainless fool. Bodyguards usually tried to appear so ferocious that no one would dare trying to get past them, but her enemies would just find anew way to attack if she stood the whole Queen's Guard around her shoulder-to-shoulder. A bodyguard her enemies would dismiss until it was too late for more than regrets washer aim. She intended to make their uniforms more elaborate, partly to feed those misconceptions and partly to feed the women's pride as soldiers marked out from the rest, but she herself had no doubts. Everyone of them, from merchants' guards to Hunters of the Horn, had been carefully chosen for her skills, experience and courage. She was ready to put her life in their hands. She already had.\n\nA lean woman wearing a lieutenant's two golden knots on the shoulder of her red cloak saluted Elayne with an arm across her chest, and her roan gelding tossed his head, making the silver bells in his mane chime faintly, as if he too were saluting. \"We are ready, my Lady, and the area is clear.\" Caseille Raskovni was one of those who had been a merchant's guard, and her Arafellin accents were not those of an educated woman, but her voice was brisk and no-nonsense. She used the proper form of address, and would until Elayne was crowned, yet she was ready to fight to gain that crown for Elayne. Very, very few, male or female, signed the roster of the Queen's Guard these days unless they were ready for that. \"The men Master Ros handed over are ready, too. As ready as they'll ever be.\" Clearing his throat, the man shifted his crutch and took to studying the snow in front of his boots."
},
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"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne could see what Caseille meant. Master Ros had scraped together eleven men from the manor to send to Caemlyn and outfitted them with halberds and short-swords and what armor he could find, nine antique helmets without faceguards and seven breastplates with dents that made them vulnerable. Their mounts were not bad, though hairy with their winter coats, but even huddled as their riders were in thick cloaks, she could see that eight were unlikely to need to shave above once in a week, if that. The men Master Ros had described as being experienced had wrinkled faces and bony hands and probably not a full set of teeth between them. He had not been lying or trying to stint; Aedmun would have gathered all the fit men in the area to take with him and outfitted them in the best he had. The story had been the same everywhere. Apparently a great number of hale and hearty men scattered the length of Andor were trying to reach her in Caemlyn. And none of them likely to get into the city until all was decided, now. She could search everyday without finding a single band. Still, this little bunch held their halberds as if they knew how to use them. Then again, that was not hard to do sitting a saddle at rest with the halberd's butt tucked in your stirrup. She could have managed that.\n\n\"We have visited nineteen of these manors, sister,\" Aviendha said softly, moving closer until their shoulders touched, \"and counting these, we have gathered two hundred and five boys too young to be blooded and old men who should have laid down the spear long ago. I have not asked befote. You know your people and your ways. Is this worth the time you give it?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, sister.\" Elayne kept her voice just as low, so the one-legged former soldier and the servants could not overhear. The best of people could turn muleheaded if they realized you wanted them to behave a certain way. Particularly if they realized that the help they had painfully gathered and offered, and you had accepted, was not what you were after at all. \" Everyone in that village down by the river knows I'm hereby now, and so do half the farms for miles. By noon, the other half will know, and by tomorrow, the next village over, and more farms. News travels slowly in winter, especially in this country. They know I've spoken my claim to the throne, yet if I gain the throne tomorrow or die tomorrow, they might not learn of it before the middle of spring, maybe not even until summer. But today they know that Elayne Trakand is alive that she visited the manor in silks and jewels and summoned men to her banner. People twenty miles from here will claim they saw me and touched my hand. Few people can say that without speaking in favor of whoever they claim to have seen, and when you speak in favor of someone, you convince yourself to favor them. There are men and women in nineteen places around Andor talking about how they saw the Daughter-Heir just this last week, and everyday the area that talk covers spreads like an inkblot."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If I had time, I'd visit every village in Andor. It won't make a hair of difference in what happens in Caemlyn, but it may make all the difference after I win.\" She would not admit to any possibility other than winning. Especially not given who would take the throne if she failed. \"Most Queens in our history spent the first years of their rule gathering the people solidly behind them, Aviendha, and some never did, but harder times than these are coming. I may not have one year before I need every Andoran to stand behind me. I can't wait until I have the throne. Harder times are coming, and I have to be ready. Andor has to be ready, and I must make it so,\" she finished firmly.\n\nSmiling, Aviendha touched Elayne's cheek. \"I think I will learn a great deal about being a Wise One from you.\"\n\nTo her mortification, Elayne blushed in embarrassment. Her cheeks felt on fire! Maybe the swings in humor were worse than the cosseting. Light, she had months of this to look forward to! Not for the first time, she found a kernel of resentment toward Rand. He had done this to her-all right, she had helped him, instigated the doing, in fact, but that was beside the point-he had done this and walked away with a smug grin on his face. She doubted his grin tiad really been smug, but she could picture it all too easily. Let him dart from giddy to weepy every other hour and see how he liked it! I can't think in a straight line, she thought irritably. That was his fault, too.\n\nThe grooms finally deemed Fireheart and Aviendha's Siswai meek enough to be mounted by ladies, and Aviendha climbed to her saddle from the stone mounting block with a good deal more grace than she once had shown, arranging her bulky undivided skirts to cover as much of her dark-stockinged legs as possible. She still believed that her own legs were superior to any horse, yet she had become a passable rider. Though she did have a tendency to look surprised when the horse did as she wanted. Fireheart tried to dance once Elayne was on his back, but she reined him in smartly, and a bit more sharply than she would have normally. Her teetering moods had taken her to a sudden sense of dread for Rand, and if she could not ensure his safety, there was one male at hand she could make certain did exactly as he was supposed to."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Six of the Guardswomen led the way down the road from the manor at a slow walk, all the depth of snow would allow, with the rest following her and Aviendha in smart columns, the last horsewomen inline leading the pack animals."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The local men trailed behind raggedly with their own packhorse, a shaggy creature tied about with cookpots and rough bundles and even half a dozen live chickens. A few cheers greeted them as they rode through the thatch-roofed village and across the stone bridge that crossed a snake-curved frozen stream, loud cries of'Elayne of the Lily!\" and'Trakand! Trakand!\" and'Matherin stands!\" But she saw a woman crying on her husband's chest, and tears on his face, too, and another woman who stood with her back to the riders and her head down, refusing even to look. Elayne hoped she would send their sons home to them. There should belittle fighting at Caemlyn, unless she blundered badly, but there would be some, and once the Rose Crown washers, battles lay ahead. To the south lay the Seanchan, and to the north, Myrddraal and Trollocs waiting to descend for Tarmon Gai'don. Andor would bleed sons in the days to come. Burn her, she was not going to cry!\n\nBeyond the bridge, the road slanted up again, a steep climb through pine and fir and leatherleaf, but it was no more than along mile to the mountain meadow they sought. The snow shining beneath the midmorning sun still bore the marks of hooves coming from where a gateway had left a deep furrow in the snow. It could have been nearer the manor, but the possibility of someone standing where your gateway opened was always the danger.\n\nThe glow of saidar surrounded Aviendha as they rode into the meadow. She had made the gateway to come here from their last stop yesterday afternoon, a manor a hundred miles north, so she would weave the gateway to go to Caemlyn, but the sight of Aviendha shining with the Power made Elayne go broody. Whoever made the gateway to leave Caemlyn always ended up making all the others until they returned, since she learned the ground at each place her gateway touched, but on each of their five trips, Aviendha had asked to make that first gateway. She might simply have wanted the practice, as she claimed, though Elayne hardly had more practice than she did, but another possibility had come to mind. Maybe Aviendha wanted to keep her from channeling, in any considerable amount at least. Because she was pregnant. The weave that had made them sisters of the same mother could not have been used if either of them had been with child, because the unborn child would have shared in the bond, a thing it could not be strong enough to survive, but surely one of the Aes Sedai in the palace would have said something if channeling was to be avoided in pregnancy. Then again, very few Aes Sedai ever bore children. They might not know. She was aware there were many things Aes Sedai did not know, however much they might pretend otherwise to the rest of the world-she herself had taken advantage of that presumption from time to time-but it seemed very strange that they might be ignorant of something so important to most women. It was as though a bird knew how to eat every seed and grain except barley, so supposedly knew, because if it did not know how to eat barley, what else might it be ignorant of? Wise Ones bore children, though, and they had said nothing about-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Abruptly concerns over her babe and channeling and what Aes Sedai might or might not know were pushed right out of her head. She could feel someone channeling saidar. Not Aviendha, not someone on one of the surrounding mountains, not anyone near as close as that. This was distant, like a beacon blazing on afar mountaintop in the night. Avery distant mountain. She could not imagine how much of the One Power was needed for her to feel channeling at that distance. Every woman in the world who could channel must be able to sense this. To point straight to it. And the beacon lay to the west. Nothing had changed in the bond with Rand, she could not have said exactly where he was within a hundred miles, but she knew.\n\n\"He's in danger,\" she said. \"We must go to him, Aviendha.\"\n\nAviendha gave herself a shake and stopped staring westward. The glow remained around her, and Elayne could feel that she had drawn on the Source as deeply as she could. But even as Aviendha turned to her, she felt the amount of saidar the other woman held dwindle. \"We must not, Elayne.\"\n\nAghast, Elayne twisted in Fireheart's saddle to stare at her. \"You want to abandon him? To that!\" No one could handle so much of saidar, not the strongest circle, not unaided. Supposedly a sa'angreal existed, greater than anything else ever made, and if what she had heard was correct, that might be able to handle this. Maybe. But from what she had heard, no woman could use it and live, not without ter'angreal made for the purpose, and no one had ever seen one that she knew of. Surely no sister would try even if she had found one. That much of the One Power could level mountain ranges at a stroke! No sister would try except perhaps one of the Black Ajah. Or worse, one of the Forsaken. Maybe more than one. What else could it be? And Aviendha simply wanted to ignore it, when she must know that Rand was there?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Guardswomen, unaware, were still waiting patiently on their horses, keeping watch on the treeline around the meadow and little concerned with that after their reception at the manor, though Caseille was watching Elayne and Aviendha, a slight frown visible behind the face-bars of her helmet. She knew they never delayed at opening a gateway. The men from the manor were gathered around their packhorse, pawing at the bundles and apparently arguing over whether or not something had been included. Aviendha still moved her gray closer to Elayne's black and spoke in a voice that would not carry.\n\n\"We know nothing, Elayne. Not whether he is dancing the spears or this is something else. If he dances the spears and we rush in, will he attack us before he knows who are? Will we distract him because he does not expect us, and allow his enemies to win? If he dies, we will find who took his life and kill them, but if we go to him now, we go blindly, and we may bring disaster on our backs.\"\n\n\"We could be careful,\" Elayne said sullenly. It infuriated her that she was feeling sullen, and showing it, but all she could do was ride her moods and try not let them get the upper hand completely. \"We don't have to Travel right to the spot.\" Gripping her pouch, feeling the small ivory carving of a seated woman that nestled inside, she looked pointedly at her sister's amber brooch. \"Light, Aviendha, we have angreal, and neither of us is exactly helpless.\" Oh, Light, now she was sounding petulant. She knew very well that both of them together, angreal and all, would be flies battling aflame against what they could sense, but even so, a fly-bite at the right moment might make the difference. \"And don't tell me I'll endanger the baby. Min said she will be born strong and healthy. You told me so yourself. That means I will live at least long enough for my daughter to be born.\" She hoped fora daughter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fireheart chose that moment to nip at the gray, and Siswai nipped back, and fora bit Elayne was occupied with getting her gelding under control and keeping Aviendha from being thrown and telling Caseille that they did not need any help, and by the end of it, she was not feeling sullen any longer. She wanted to smack Fireheart right between his ears.\n\nAside from making the animal obey the reins, Aviendha behaved as if nothing had happened at all. She did frown, a little uncertainly, her face framed by the dark wool of her shawl, but her uncertainty had nothing to do with the horse.\n\n\"I have told you about the rings in Rhuidean,\" she said slowly, and Elayne gave an impatient nod. Every woman who wanted to become a Wise One was sent through a ter'angreal before she began training. It was something like the ter'angreal used to test novices for being raised to Accepted in the White Tower, except that in this one, a woman saw her whole life. All of her possible lives, really, every decision made differently, an infinite fan of lives based on differing choices. \"No one can remember all of that, Elayne, only bits and pieces. I knew I would love Rand al'Thor...\" she was still uncomfortable sometimes about using just his first name in front of others, \"and that I would find sister-wives. For most things, all you retain is a vague impression at best. A hint of warning, sometimes. I think if we go to him now, something very bad will happen. Maybe one of us will die, maybe both in spite of what Min said.\" That she said Min's name without fumbling was a measure of her concern. She did not know Min very well, and usually named her formally, as Min Farshaw. \"Perhaps he will die. Perhaps something else. I do not know for sure-maybe we will all survive, and we will sit around afire with him roasting pecara when we find him-but the glimmer of a warning is therein my head.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne opened her mouth angrily. Then she closed it again, anger draining away like water down a hole, and her shoulders slumped. Perhaps Aviendha's glimmer was true and perhaps not, but the fact was that her arguments had been good from the start. A great risk taken in ignorance, and taking it might bring disaster. The beacon had grown brighter still. And he was there, right where the beacon was. The bond did not tell her so, not at this distance, but she knew. And she knew she had to leave him to take care of himself while she took care of Andor.\n\n\"I don't have anything to teach you about being a Wise One, Aviendha,\" she said quietly. \"You are already much wiser than I. Not to mention braver and more coolheaded. We return to Caemlyn.\"\n\nAviendha colored faintly under the praise-she could be very sensitive, at times-but she wasted no time in opening the gateway, a rotating view of a stableyard in the Royal Palace that widened into a hole in the air and let snow from the meadow fall onto the clean-swept paving stones as near three hundred miles away as made no difference. The sense of Birgitte, somewhere in the palace, sprang alive in Elayne's head. Birgitte had a headache and a sour stomach, not unusual occurrences of late, but they suited Elayne's mood all too well.\n\nI must leave him to take care of himself, she thought as she rode through. Light, how often had she thought that? No matter. Rand was the love of her heart and the joy of her life, but Andor washer duty.\n\nChapter 11\n\nTalk of Debts\n\nThe gateway was positioned so that Elayne seemed to be riding out of a hole in the wall against the street, into a square marked out for safety by sand-filled wine barrels standing on the paving stones. Oddly, she could not feel a single woman channeling anywhere in the palace, though it housed more than a hundred and fifty with the ability. Some would be stationed on the city's outer walls, of course, too far for her to sense anything short of a linked circle, and a few would be out of the city altogether, yet someone in the palace was almost always using saidar, whether to try forcing one of the captive sul'dam to admit that she really could see weaves of the One Power or simply to smooth the wrinkles from a shawl without heating an iron. Not this morning, though. Windfinder arrogance often matched the worst shown by any Aes Sedai, yet even that must be quashed by what they sensed. Elayne thought that if she climbed to a high window, she must be able to seethe weaves of that great beacon, hundreds of leagues distant as they were. She felt like an ant that had just become aware of mountains, an ant comparing the Spine of the World to the hills it had always held in awe. Yes, even the Windfinders must be walking small in the face of that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On the eastern side of the palace and fronted on north and south by two-story-high stables of pure white stone, the Queen's Stableyard traditionally was given over to the Queen's personal horses and carriages, and she had hesitated overusing it before the Lion Throne was acknowledged hers. The steps that led to the throne were as delicate as any court dance, and if the dance sometimes came to resemble a tavern brawl, you still had to make your steps with grace and precision in order to gain your goal. Claiming the perquisites before being confirmed had cost some women their chance to rule. In the end, she had decided it was not a transgression that would make her seem over-proud. Besides, the Queen's Stableyard was relatively small and had no other use. There were fewer people to keep away from an opening gateway here. In fact, when she entered it, the stone-paved yard was empty apart from a single red-coated groom standing in one of the arched stable doorways, but he turned to give a shout inside, and dozens more came spilling out as she guided Fireheart clear of the marked-off square. After all, she might have returned with an entourage of powerful lords and ladies, or perhaps they just hoped she had.\n\nCaseille brought the Guardswomen through the gateway, and ordered most to dismount and see to their animals. She and half a dozen more remained in their saddles, keeping watch over the heads of the people afoot. Even here, she would not leave Elayne unguarded. Particularly here, where she faced more danger than in any manor she had visited. The Matherin men milled about, getting in the way of grooms and Guards while gaping at the white stone balconies and colonnades that overlooked the yard and the spires and golden domes visible beyond. The cold seemed less here than in the mountains-refusing to let it touch her, as far as she could at present, did not make her totally unaware-but men and women and horses all still breathed faint plumes of mist. The odor of horse dung seemed strong, too, after the clean air of the mountains. A hot bath in front of a roaring fire would be welcome. Afterward, she would have to plunge back into the business of securing the throne, but right now along soak would be just the thing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A pair of grooms ran to Fireheart. One took his bridle with a hurried curtsy for Elayne, more concerned with seeing that the tall gelding made no bother while Elayne dismounted than with making courtesies herself, and another who made his bow and remained bent with his hands making a stirrup for Elayne. Neither gave more than a glance at the view of a snow-covered mountain meadow where they would normally see a stonewall. The stable-workers were accustomed to gateways by now. She had heard that they garnered drinks in the taverns by boasting of how often they saw the Power used and the things they supposedly had seen done with it. Elayne could imagine what those tales sounded like by the time they reached Arymilla. She rather enjoyed the thought of Arymilla chewing her fingernails.\n\nAs she set foot on the paving stones, a cluster of Guardswomen appeared around her, in crimson hats with white plumes lying flat on the broad brims, and lace-edged crimson sashes, embroidered with the White Lion, that slanted across their bright breastplates. Not until then did Caseille take the remainder of Elayne's escort to the stable. Their replacements were just as wary, eyes watching every direction, hands hovering near their sword hilts, except for Deni, a wide, placid-faced woman who carried along brass-studded cudgel. They were only nine in number-Only nine, Elayne thought bitterly. I need only nine bodyguards in the Royal Palace itself!-yet everyone who carried a sword was expert. Women who followed the'trade of the sword,\" as Caseille called it, had to be good, or else sooner or later they were cut down by some fellow whose only advantage was strength enough to batter her down. Deni possessed no facility with a sword at all, but the few men who had tested her cudgel regretted doing so. Despite her bulk, Deni was very quick, and she had no concept of fighting fair, or of practice, for that matter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rasoria, the stocky under-lieutenant in charge, seemed relieved when the grooms led Fireheart off. If Elayne's bodyguard had their way, no one except themselves would have been allowed within arm's reach. Well, maybe they were not quite that bad, but they looked with suspicion at almost everyone except Birgitte and Aviendha. Rasoria, a Tairen despite her blue eyes and the yellow hair she wore cut short, was among the worst in that regard, even insisting on watching the cooks make Elayne's meals and having everything tasted before it was brought up. Elayne had not protested, however over-zealous they might be. One experience of drugged wine was more than enough, even when she knew she would live at least long enough to bear her child. But it was neither the Guardswomen's mistrust nor the need for it that tightened her mouth. It was Birgitte, weaving her way through the crowded stableyard, but not toward her.\n\nAviendha was last to appear out of the gateway, of course, after she was sure that everyone was through, and before she let the gateway wink out of existence, Elayne started in her direction, striding off so suddenly that her escort had to leap to maintain their guarding ring around her. As quickly as she moved, though, Birgitte, with her thick golden braid hanging to her waist, was there first, helping Aviendha down and handing the gray mare over to along-faced groom who seemed almost as leggy as Siswai. Aviendha always had more difficulty getting off a horse than getting on, but Birgitte had more than assistance in mind. Elayne and her escort arrived just in time to hear the woman say to Aviendha in a low, hurried voice, \"Did she drink her goat's milk? Did she get enough sleep? She feels...\" Her voice trailed off at the end, and she drew a deep breath before turning to face Elayne, outwardly calm, and unsurprised to find her right there. The bond did work both ways."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Birgitte was not a big woman, though she stood taller than Elayne in her heeled boots, as tall as Aviendha, but she usually had a presence that was only heightened by the uniform of the Captain-General of the Queen's Guards, a short redcoat with a high white collar worn over baggy blue trousers tucked into gleaming black boots, four golden knots on her left shoulder and four bands of gold on each white cuff. After all, she was Birgitte Silverbow, a hero out of legend. She remained wary of trying to live up to those legends; she claimed that the stories were grossly inflated where they were not complete fabrications. Yet she was still the same woman who had done everyone of the things that formed the heart of those legends and more besides. Now, despite her apparent composure, unease tinged the concern for Elayne that flowed through the bond along with her headache and her sullen stomach. She knew very well that Elayne hated for them to check on her behind her back. That was not the whole reason for Elayne's irritation, but the bond let Birgitte know just how upset she was.\n\nAviendha, calmly unwrapping her shawl from around her head and draping it over her shoulders, attempted the gaze of a woman who had done nothing wrong and certainly was not involved with anyone else who had done anything wrong. She might have managed it if she had not widened her eyes for an added touch of innocence. Birgitte was a bad influence on her in someways.\n\n\"I drank the goat's milk,\" Elayne said in a level voice, all too conscious of the Guardswomen ringing the three of them. Facing outward, eyes scanning the yard and the balconies and the rooftops, nearly everyone was certainly listening. \"I got enough sleep. Is there anything else you want to ask me?\" Aviendha's cheeks colored faintly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I think I have all the answers I need for the moment,\" Birgitte replied without a hint of the blush Elayne had been hoping for."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The woman knew she was tired, knew she had to belying about the sleep.\n\nThe bond was decidedly inconvenient at times. She had drunk nothing but half a cup of extremely well watered wine last night, but she was beginning to have Birgitte's morning-after head and her sour stomach. None of the other Aes Sedai she had spoken to about the bond had mentioned anything of the kind, but she and Birgitte all too often mirrored one another, physically and emotionally. The last presented real problems when her moods were on a seesaw. Sometimes she managed to shrug it off, or fight it off, but today she knew she was going to have to suffer until Birgitte was Healed. She thought the mirroring must occur because they were both women. No one had heard of anyone bonding another woman before. Few had heard of it now, to tell the truth, and some of them seemed to believe it could not be true. A Warder was male as surely as a bull was male. Everyone knew that, and not many stopped to think that anything that'everyone knew\" deserved close examination.\n\nBeing caught in a lie, when she was trying to follow Egwene's dictate about living as if she had already taken the Three Oaths, made Elayne defensive, and that made her blunt. \"Is Dyelin back?\"\n\n\"No,\" Birgitte said just as bluntly, and Elayne sighed. Dyelin had left the city days before Arymilla's army appeared, taking Reanne Corly with her to make gateways and speed her travel, and a great deal depended on Dyelin's return. On what news she brought back. On whether she brought anything besides news.\n\nChoosing who would be Queen of Andor was quite simple, boiled down to essentials. There were over four hundred Houses in the realm, but only nineteen strong enough that others would follow where they led. Usually, all nineteen stood behind the Daughter-Heir, or most of them, unless she was plainly incompetent. House Mantear had lost the throne to Trakand when Mordrellen died only because Tigraine, the Daughter-Heir, had vanished and Mantear had begun running heavily to boy children. And because Morgase Trakand had gathered thirteen Houses in her support. Only ten of the nineteen were necessary to ascend the throne, bylaw and custom. Even claimants who still thought they should have the throne themselves usually fell in with the rest, or at least fell silent and gave up their pursuit, once another woman had ten Houses at her back."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Things had been bad enough when she had three declared rivals, but now Naean and Elenia were united behind Arymilla Marne, of all people, the least likely of the three to have succeeded, and that meant she had two Houses-two large enough to count; Matherin and those eighteen others she had visited were too small-her own Trakand and Dyelin's Taravin, to face six."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Oh, Dyelin insisted that Carand, Coelan and Renshar would come to Elayne, and Norwelyn and Pendar and Traemane besides, but the first three wanted Dyelin herself on the throne, and the last three seemed to have gone into hibernation. Dyelin was firm in her loyalty, though, and tireless on Elayne's behalf. She persisted in her belief that some of the Houses that were keeping silent could be convinced to support Elayne. Of course, Elayne could not approach them herself, but Dyelin could. And now the situation verged on desperate. Six Houses supporting Arymilla, and only a fool would think she had not sent feelers out toward the others. Or that some might listen just because she did have six already.\n\nDespite the fact that Caseille and her Guards had vacated the courtyard, Elayne and the others had to thread their way across the paving stones though a crowd. The men from Matherin were finally down off their horses, but they were still moiling about, dropping their halberds and picking them up only to drop them again, trying to unload their packhorse therein the stableyard. One of the boys was chasing a chicken that somehow had gotten loose and was scuttling between the horses' legs, while one of the wrinkled old men shouted encouragement, though whether for the boy or the chicken was unclear. A leather-faced bannerman with the merest fringe of white hair remaining, in a faded redcoat that strained across his belly, was trying to establish order with the help of an only slightly younger Guardsman, both of them likely returned from their pensions, as a good many had, but another of the boys seemed about to lead his shaggy horse into the palace itself, and Birgitte had to order him out of the way before Elayne could enter. The boy, a fuzz-cheeked lad who could not have been above fourteen, gaped at Birgitte as widely as he had at the palace. She was certainly more picturesque in her uniform than the Daughter-Heir in a riding dress, and he had already seen the Daughter-Heir. Rasoria gave him a shove back toward the old bannerman, shaking her head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't flaming know what I can do with them,\" Birgitte grumbled as a maid liveried in red-and-white took Elayne's cloak and gloves in the small entry hall. Small in terms of the Royal Palace. With gilded stand-lamps flickering between narrow, fluted white columns, it was half again the size of Matherin's main entry hall, though the ceiling was not so high. Another maid with the White Lion on the left breast of her dress, a girl not that much older than the boy who had tried to bring his horse inside, offered a ropework silver tray with tall cups of steaming spiced wine before simultaneous frowns from Aviendha and Birgitte made her shy back. \"The flaming boys fall asleep if they're put on guard,\" Birgitte went on, scowling at the retreating maid. \"The old men stay awake, but half can't remember what they're flaming supposed to do if they see somebody trying to scale the bloody wall, and the other half together couldn't fight off six shepherds with a dog.\" Aviendha raised an eyebrow at Elayne and nodded.\n\n\"They aren't hereto fight,\" Elayne reminded them as they started down a blue-tiled corridor lined with mirrored stand-lamps and inlaid chests, Birgitte and Aviendha on either side of her and the Guardswomen spreading out a few paces ahead of them and behind. Light, she thought, I wouldn't have taken the wine! Her head pounded in rhythm with Birgitte's, and she touched her temple, wondering whether she should order her Warder to go find Healing immediately.\n\nBirgitte had other ideas, though. She eyed Rasoria and the others in front, then looked over her shoulder and motioned those following to fallback a little more. That was strange. She had handpicked every last woman in the Guards, and she trusted them. Even so, when she spoke it was in a hurried near-whisper, bending her head close to Elayne. \"Something happened just before you returned. I was asking Sumeko if she'd Heal me before you got back, and she suddenly fell over in a faint. Her eyes just rolled up in her head, and down she went. It isn't only her. Nobody will admit a flaming thing, not tome, but the other Kin I've seen have been jumping out of their bloody skins, and the Windfinders, too. Not one of them could spit if she had to. You were back before I could find a sister, but I suspect they'd give me the fish eye, too. They'll tell you, though.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The palace required the population of a large village to keep running, and servants had begun to appear, liveried men and women scurrying along the corridors, flattening themselves against the walls or ducking into crossing hallways to make room for Elayne's escort, so she explained the little she knew in as soft a voice and as few words as possible."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some rumors she did not mind reaching the streets, and inevitably Arymilla, but tales of Rand could be as bad as tales of the Forsaken by the time they were twisted through a few retellings. Worse, in away. No one would believe the Forsaken were trying to put heron the throne as a puppet. \"In any event,\" she finished, \"it's nothing to do with us here.\"\n\nShe thought she sounded very convincing, very cool and detached, but Aviendha reached out to squeeze her hand, for an Aiel as much as a comforting hug with so many people to see, and Birgitte's sympathy flooded through the bond. It was more than commiseration; it was the shared feeling of a woman who had already suffered the loss she herself feared and more. Gaidal Cain was lost to Birgitte as surely as if he were dead, and on top of that, her memories of her past lives were fading. She remembered almost nothing clearly before the founding of the White Tower, and not all of that. Some nights, the fear that Gaidal would fade from her memory, too, that she would lose any remembrance of actually having known and loved him, left her unable to sleep until she drank as much brandy as she could hold. That was a poor solution, and Elayne wished she could offer a better, yet she knew her own memories of Rand would not die until she did, and she could not imagine the horror of knowing those memories might leave her. Still, she hoped someone Healed Birgitte's morning-after head soon, before her own split open like an over-ripe melon. Her ability with Healing fell short of the task, and Aviendha's was no stronger.\n\nDespite the emotion she could feel in Birgitte, the other woman kept her face smooth and unconcerned. \"The Forsaken,\" she muttered dryly. And softly. That was not a name to bandy about. \"Well, as long as it has nothing to do with us, we're bloody all right.\" A grunt that might have been a laugh gave her the lie. But then, although Birgitte said she had never been a soldier before, she had a soldier's view. Long odds were usually the only odds you could find, but you still had to get the job done. \"I wonder what they think of it?\" she added, nodding toward the four Aes Sedai who had just stepped out of a crossing corridor down the hallway."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Vandene, Merilille, Sareitha and Careane had their heads together as they walked, or rather, the last three were clustered around Vandene, leaning toward her and talking with urgent gestures that made the fringes on their shawls sway."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Vandene glided along slowly as if she were alone, paying no heed. She had always been slender, but her dark green dress, embroidered with flowers on the sleeves and shoulders, hung on her as though made fora stouter woman, and the white hair gathered at the nape of her neck seemed in need of a brush. Her expression was bleak, but that might have had nothing to do with whatever the other sisters were saying. She had been joyless ever since her sister's murder. Elayne would have wagered that dress had belonged to Adeleas. Since the murder, Vandene wore her sister's clothes more often than her own. Not that that accounted for the fit. The two women had been of a size, but Vandene's appetite for food had died with her sister. Her taste for most things seemed to have died then.\n\nSareitha, a Brown whose dark square face was not yet touched with agelessness, saw Elayne just then, and put a hand on Vandene's arm as if to draw her up the corridor. Vandene brushed the Tairen woman's hand away and glided on with the merest glance at Elayne, disappearing on along the hallway they had come out of. Two women in novice white, who had been following the others at a respectful distance, offered quick curtsies to the remaining sisters and hastened after Vandene. Merilille, a tiny woman in dark gray that made her Cairhienin paleness seem like ivory, stared as if she might follow. Careane adjusted her green-fringed shawl on shoulders wider than those of many men and exchanged quiet words with Sareitha. The pair of them turned to meet Elayne as she approached, making her curtsies almost as deep as the novices had given them. Merilille noticed the Guardswomen and blinked, then noticed Elayne and gave a start. Her curtsy matched the novices'."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Merilille had worn the shawl for over a hundred years, Careane for more than fifty, and even Sareitha had worn it longer than Elayne Trakand, but standing among Aes Sedai went with strength in the Power, and none of these three was more than middling strong among sisters. In Aes Sedai eyes, increased strength gave, if not increased wisdom, at least increased weight to your opinions. With a sufficient gap, those opinions became commands. Sometimes, Elayne thought the Kin's way was better.\n\n\"I don't know what it is,\" she said before any of the other Aes Sedai could speak, \"but there is nothing we can do about it, so we might as well quit worrying. We have enough right in front of us without fretting over things we can't affect.\"\n\nRasoria half-turned her head, frowning and plainly wondering what she had missed, but the words smoothed the anxiety from Sareitha's dark eyes. Perhaps not from the rest of her, since her hands moved as if she wanted to smooth her brown skirts, yet she was willing to follow the lead of a sister who stood as high as Elayne. Sometimes, there were advantages to standing high enough that you could quell objections with a sentence. Careane had already regained serenity, if she had ever lost it. It sat easily on her, though she looked more like a wagon driver than an Aes Sedai despite her beryl-slashed silks and smooth, ageless coppery face. But then, Greens usually were made of tougher stuff than Browns. Merilille did not look at all serene. Wide eyes and half-parted lips gave her the appearance of startlement. That was usual for her, though.\n\nElayne continued along the hallway, hoping they would go about their business, but Merilille fell in beside Birgitte. The Gray should have taken primacy among the three, but she had developed a tendency to wait for someone to tell her what to do, and she shifted over without a word when Sareitha politely asked Birgitte to give her room. The sisters were unfailingly courteous to Elayne's Warder when she was acting as Captain-General. It was Birgitte as Warder they tried to ignore. Aviendha received no such civility from Careane, who elbowed in between her and Elayne. Anyone not trained in the White Tower was a wilder by definition, and Careane despised wilders. Aviendha pursed her lips though she did not draw her belt knife or even suggest that she might, for which Elayne was grateful. Her first-sister could be... precipitate, at times. On second thought, she would have forgiven a little hastiness from Aviendha right then. Custom forbade rudeness toward another Aes Sedai under any circumstances, but Aviendha could have growled threats and waved her knife to her heart's content. That might have been enough to make the threesome leave, even if in a tizzy. Careane did not seem to notice the cool green gaze marking her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I told Merilille and Sareitha it was nothing we could do anything about,\" she said calmly. \"But shouldn't we be ready to flee if it comes closer? There's no shame flying from that. Even linked, we would be moths fighting a forest fire. Vandene wouldn't bother to listen.\"\n\n\"We really should make some sort of preparations, Elayne,\" Sareitha murmured absently, as if making lists in her head. \"It's when you don't make plans that you wish you had. There area number of volumes in the library here that mustn't be left behind. I believe several can't be found in the Tower library.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Merilille's voice was breathless, and as anxious as her large dark eyes. \"Yes, we really should be ready to go. Perhaps... Perhaps we should not wait. Surely going from necessity would not violate our agreement. I am sure it would not.\" Only Birgitte as much as glanced at her, but she flinched.\n\n\"If we do go,\" Careane said as if Merilille had not spoken, \"we'll have to take all of the Kin with us. Allow them to scatter, and the Light only knows what they'll door when we will ever catch them again, especially now that some have learned to Travel.\" There was no bitterness in her voice, though only Elayne among the sisters in the palace could Travel. It seemed to make a difference to Careane that the Kinswomen had begun in the White Tower, even if most had been putout and a few had runaway. She had identified no fewer than four of them herself, including one runaway. At least they were not wilders.\n\nSareitha's mouth tightened, though. It weighed on her that several Kinswomen could weave gateways, and she had very different notions of the Kin. Normally, she limited her objections to the occasional frown or disparaging grimace, since Elayne had made her own views clear, but the stress of the morning seemed to have loosened her tongue. \"We do indeed need to take them with us,\" she said in a cutting tone, \"else they'll all be claiming to be Aes Sedai as soon as they're out of our sight. Any woman who maintains she was putout of the Tower over three hundred years ago will claim anything! They need to be kept under a close watch, if you ask me, instead of going about as they please, most especially those who can Travel. They may have gone where you told them and comeback so far, Elayne, but how long before one of them doesn't return? Mark my words, once one of them escapes, others will follow, and we will have a mess on our hands we'll never cleanup.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"There is no reason for us to go anywhere,\" Elayne said firmly, as much for the Guards as for the sisters. That distant beacon was still in the same spot where she had first sensed it, and if it did move, the chance seemed small that it would move toward Caemlyn, much less actually come there, but a rumor that Aes Sedai were planning flight might be enough to engender a stampede, mobs clawing to reach the gates ahead of whatever could frighten Aes Sedai. An army sacking the city would not kill as many. And these three chattered away as if there were no one to hear but the wall hangings! There was some excuse for Merilille, but not the others. \"We will remain here, as the Amyrlin Seat has commanded, until the Amyrlin commands otherwise. The Kinswomen will continue to receive every courtesy until they are welcomed back into the Tower, and that is the Amyrlin's command, too, as you very well know. And you will continue teaching the Windfinders and go about your lives as Aes Sedai should. We are supposed to deal with people's fears and soothe them, not spread senseless gossip and panic.\"\n\nWell, perhaps she had been a touch more than firm. Sareitha put her gaze on the floor tiles like a rebuked novice. Merilille flinched again at mention of the Windfinders, but that was to be expected. The others gave lessons, but the Sea Folk held Merilille as tightly as they did one of their apprentices. She slept in their quarters and normally was not seen without two or three of them, and her trailing meekly at their heels. They refused to accept anything less than meekness from her.\n\n\"Of course, Elayne,\" Careane said hastily. \"Of course. None of us would suggest disobeying the Amyrlin.\" Hesitating, she adjusted her green-fringed shawl over her arms, seemingly occupied with setting it just so. She did spare a pitying look for Merilille. \"But speaking of the Sea Folk, could you tell Vandene to take her share of the lessons?\" When Elayne said nothing, her voice took on an edge that would have been called sullen in anyone not Aes Sedai. \"She says she's too busy with those two runaways, but she finds enough time to keep me talking some nights until I'm half asleep. That pair is already so cowed they wouldn't squeak if their dresses caught fire. They don't need her attention. She could take her portion of teaching those cursed wilders. Vandene needs to start behaving as an Aes Sedai, too!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Standing or no, rebuke or no, she gave Elayne a baleful glare that took her a moment to smother. Elayne had been the one who made the bargain that led to Aes Sedai having to teach Windfinders, but so far she herself had managed to miss giving more than a handful of lessons, claiming the press of other, more important duties. Besides, the Sea Folk saw a shorebound teacher as a hireling, even an Aes Sedai, and a hireling with less standing than a scullion at that. A scullion who might try to cheat on her labor. She still thought Nynaeve had gone away just to avoid giving those lessons. Certainly no one expected to end up in Merilille's state, but even a few hours at a time was bad enough.\n\n\"Oh, no, Careane,\" Sareitha put in, still avoiding Elayne's eye. And Merilille's. In her opinion, the Gray had gotten herself into this fix and thus deserved what came of it, but she did try not to rub salt in the wounds. \"Vandene is distraught over her sister, and Kirstian and Zarya help her occupy her mind.\" Whatever she thought of the other Kin, she accepted that Zarya was a runaway, as she had to, since Zarya was one of those Careane had recognized, and if Kirstian must be a liar, her own lie would make her pay in full for that. Runaways were not treated kindly. \"I spend hours with her, too, and she almost never talks of anything but Adeleas. It's as if she wants to add my memories to her own. I think she needs to be allowed as much time as she needs, and those two keep her from being alone too often.\" Giving Elayne a sidelong glance, she drew breath. \"Still, teaching the Windfinders is certainly... challenging. Perhaps an hour now and then would help pull her out of despondency, if only by making her angry. Don't you agree, Elayne? Just an hour or two, now and then.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Vandene will be allowed as much time to grieve for her sister as she needs or wants,\" Elayne said in level tones. \"And there will be no more discussion of it.\"\n\nCareane sighed heavily and rearranged her shawl again. Sareitha sighed faintly and began twisting the Great Serpent ring on the forefinger of her left hand. Perhaps they had sensed her mood, or perhaps it was just that neither looked forward to another session with the Windfinders. Merilille's permanently surprised expression did not change, but then, her sessions with the Sea Folk lasted all day and all night unless Elayne managed to pry her away, and the Windfinders were becoming less and less willing to let her go no matter how Elayne pried.\n\nAt least she had managed to avoid being curt with the three. It took an effort, especially with Aviendha there. Elayne did not know what she would do if she ever lost her sister. Vandene was not only grieving fora sister, she was searching for Adeleas's murderer, and there could be no doubt that the killer was Merilille Ceandevin, Careane Fransi or Sareitha Tomares. One of them, or worse, more than one. The charge was hard to believe of Merilille, in her present condition, but it was not easy to believe of any sister. As Birgitte had pointed out, one of the worst Darkfriends she had ever met, during the Trolloc Wars, was a mild-as-milk lad who jumped at loud noises. And poisoned an entire city's water supply. Aviendha's suggestion was to put all three to the question, which had horrified Birgitte, but Aviendha was considerably less in awe of Aes Sedai than she once had been. The proper courtesies must be maintained, until there was evidence to convict. Then there would be no courtesy at all."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 2"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Vandene will be allowed as much time to grieve for her sister as she needs or wants,\" Elayne said in level tones. \"And there will be no more discussion of it.\"\n\nCareane sighed heavily and rearranged her shawl again. Sareitha sighed faintly and began twisting the Great Serpent ring on the forefinger of her left hand. Perhaps they had sensed her mood, or perhaps it was just that neither looked forward to another session with the Windfinders. Merilille's permanently surprised expression did not change, but then, her sessions with the Sea Folk lasted all day and all night unless Elayne managed to pry her away, and the Windfinders were becoming less and less willing to let her go no matter how Elayne pried.\n\nAt least she had managed to avoid being curt with the three. It took an effort, especially with Aviendha there. Elayne did not know what she would do if she ever lost her sister. Vandene was not only grieving fora sister, she was searching for Adeleas's murderer, and there could be no doubt that the killer was Merilille Ceandevin, Careane Fransi or Sareitha Tomares. One of them, or worse, more than one. The charge was hard to believe of Merilille, in her present condition, but it was not easy to believe of any sister. As Birgitte had pointed out, one of the worst Darkfriends she had ever met, during the Trolloc Wars, was a mild-as-milk lad who jumped at loud noises. And poisoned an entire city's water supply. Aviendha's suggestion was to put all three to the question, which had horrified Birgitte, but Aviendha was considerably less in awe of Aes Sedai than she once had been. The proper courtesies must be maintained, until there was evidence to convict. Then there would be no courtesy at all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh,\" Sareitha said, brightening suddenly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Here's Captain Mellar. He was a hero again while you were gone, Elayne.\"\n\nAviendha gripped the hilt of her belt knife, and Birgitte stiffened. Careane's face went very still, very cold, and even Merilille managed a disapproving hauteur. Neither sister made any secret of her dislike for Doilan Mellar.\n\nWith a narrow face, he was not pretty, or even handsome, yet he moved with a swordsman's lithe grace that spoke of physical strength. As Captain of Elayne's bodyguard, he rated three golden knots of rank, and he wore them soldered to each shoulder of his brightly burnished breastplate. An ignorant observer might have thought he outranked Birgitte. The falls of snow-white lace at his throat and wrists were twice as thick and twice as long as those worn by any of the Guardswomen, but he had left off the sash again, perhaps because it would have obscured one set of golden knots. He claimed that he wanted nothing more in life than to command her bodyguard, yet he frequently talked of battles he had fought as a mercenary. It seemed he had never been on the losing side, and victory had often come from his unsung efforts on the field. He swept off his white-plumed hat in a deep, flourishing bow, managing his sword deftly with one hand, then offered a slightly lesser to Birgitte with an arm across his chest in salute.\n\nElayne arranged a smile on her face. \"Sareitha says you were a hero again, Captain Mellar. How so?\"\n\n\"Nothing more than my duty to my queen.\" Despite a voice thick with self-deprecation, his answering smile was warmer than it should have been. Half the palace thought him the father of Elayne's child. That she had not crushed that rumor seemed to make him believe he had prospects. The smile never reached his dark eyes, though. They remained as cold as death. \"My duty to you is my pleasure, my Queen.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Captain Mellar led another sortie without orders yesterday,\" Birgitte said in a carefully even voice."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This time the fighting almost spilled into the Far Madding Gate, which he had ordered left open against his return.\" Elayne felt her face growing hard.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" Sareitha protested. \"It wasn't like that at all. A hundred of Lord Luan's armsmen tried to reach the city in the night, but they left it too late, and sunrise caught them. So did three times their number of Lord Nasin's men. If Captain Mellar hadn't opened the gates and led a rescue, they'd have been cut to pieces insight of the walls. As it was, he managed to save eighty for your cause.\" Smiling, Mellar basked in the Aes Sedai's praise as if he had not heard Birgitte's criticism. Of course, he seemed unaware of Careane and Merilille's disapproving stares, too. He always managed to ignore disapproval.\n\n\"How did you know they were Lord Luan's men, Captain?\" Elayne asked quietly. A small smile that should have given Mellar warning appeared on Birgitte's face. But then, he was one of those who seemed not to believe she was a Warder. Even if he did, few except Warders and Aes Sedai knew what the bond entailed. If anything, Mellar's expression grew more smug.\n\n\"I didn't go by banners, my Queen. Anybody can carry a banner. I recognized Jurad Accan through my looking glass. Accan is Luan's man to his toenails. Once I knew that...\" He made a dismissive gesture in a flurry of lace. \"The rest was no more than taking a little exercise.\"\n\n\"And did this Jurad Accan bring any message from Lord Luan? Anything signed and sealed, affirming House Norwelyn's support for Trakand?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Nothing in writing, my Queen, but as I said-\"\n\n\"Lord Luan has not declared for me, Captain.\"\n\nMellar's smile faded somewhat. He was unused to being cut short. \"But, my Queen, Lady Dyelin says that Luan is as good as in your camp right now. Accan showing up is proof of-\"\n\n\"Of nothing, Captain,\" Elayne said coldly. \"Perhaps Lord Luan will be in my camp eventually, Captain, but until he declares, you've given me eighty men who need to be watched.\" Eighty out of a hundred. And how many of hers had he lost? And he had risked Caemlyn doing it, burn him! \"Since you can find time in your duties commanding my bodyguard to lead sorties, you can find time to arrange for watching them. I won't spare anyone from the walls for it. Set Master Accan and his fellows to drilling the men I've brought in from the manors. That will keep them all busy and out of trouble most of each day, but I leave it to you how to keep them away from the walls the rest of the time. And I do expect them kept away from the walls and out of trouble, Captain. You may see to it now.\"\n\nMellar stared at her, stunned. She had never taken him to task before, and he did not like it, particularly in front of so many witnesses. There were no over-warm smiles now. His mouth twitched, and a sullen heat grew in his eyes. But there was nothing for him to do except to jerk another bow, murmur'As my Queen commands\" in a hoarse voice, and leave with as good a grace as he could muster. Before he had gone three paces he was striding down the hall as if to trample anyone who got in his way. She would have to tell Rasoria to take care. He might try to soothe his bile by taking it out on those who had seen and heard. Merilille and Careane gave almost identical nods; they would have seen Mellar called down, and preferably putout of the palace, long since."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Even if he did wrong,\" Sareitha said carefully, \"and I am not convinced that he did, Captain Mellar saved your life at risk to his own, Elayne, your life and that of the Lady Dyelin. Was there really need to embarrass him in front of the rest of us?\"\n\n\"Never think I avoid paying my debts, Sareitha.\" Elayne felt Aviendha grip one of her hands, and Birgitte the other. She gave each of them alight squeeze. When you were surrounded by enemies, it was good to have a sister and a friend close by. \"I am going to find a hot bath now, and unless one of you wishes to scrub my back...?\"\n\nThey could recognize a dismissal, and they departed more gracefully than Captain Mellar, Careane and Sareitha already discussing whether or not the Windfinders would actually want lessons today, Merilille trying to look every direction at once in hope of avoiding any Windfinders. What would they talk of later, though? Whether Elayne was having a spat with the father of her child? Whether they had successfully hidden their guilt in killing Adeleas?\n\nI always pay my debts, Elayne thought, watching them go. And I help my friends pay theirs.\n\nChapter 12\n\nA Bargain\n\nAbath was not hard to find, though Elayne had to wait in the hall frowning at the lion-carved doors of her apartments, drafts flickering the mirrored stand-lamps while Rasoria and two of the Guardswomen went into search. Once they were sure there were no assassins lying in wait, and guards had been arrayed in the corridor and outer room, Elayne entered to find white-haired Essande waiting in the bedchamber with Nans and Sephanie, the two young tirewomen she was training. Essande was slim, with Elayne's Golden Lily embroidered over her left breast and a very great dignity emphasized by her deliberate way of moving, though some of that came from age and aching joints she refused to acknowledge. Naris and Sephanie were sisters, fresh-faced, sturdy and shy-eyed, proud of their livery and happy to have been chosen out for this rather than cleaning hallways but almost as much in awe of Essande as of Elayne. There were more experienced maids available, women who had worked years in the palace, but sadly, girls who had come seeking any sort of work they could find were safer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Two copper bathtubs sat on thick layers of toweling laid atop the rose-colored floor tiles where one of the carpets had been rolled up, evidence that word of Elayne's arrival had flown ahead of her."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Servants had a knack for learning what was happening that the Tower's eyes-and-ears might envy. A good blaze in the fireplace and tight casements in the windows made the room warm after the corridors, and Essande waited only to see Elayne enter the room before sending Sephanie off at a run to fetch the men with the hot water. That would be brought up in double-walled pails with lids to keep it from getting cold on the way from the kitchens, though it might be delayed a little by Guardswomen checking to make sure there were no knives hidden in the water.\n\nAviendha eyed the second bathtub almost as doubtfully as Essande eyed Birgitte, the one still uneasy about actually stepping into water and the other still not accepting that anyone more than necessary should be present during a bath, but the white-haired woman wasted no time before quietly bustling Elayne and Aviendha both into the dressing room, where another fire on a wide marble hearth had taken the chill from the air. It was a great relief to have Essande help her out of her riding clothes, knowing that she had more ahead of her than a hasty wash and a show of ease while worrying about how quickly she could move onto her next destination. Other pretenses awaited, the Light help her, and other worries, but she was home, and that counted for much. She could almost forget about that beacon shining in the west. Almost. Well, not at all, really, but she could manage to stop fretting over it as long as she did not dwell on the thing.\n\nBy the time they had been undressed-with Aviendha slapping Naris' hands away and removing her own jewelry, doing her best to pretend that Naris did not exist and her garments were somehow removing themselves-by the time they had been bundled into embroidered silk robes and had their hair tied up in white toweling-Aviendha tried to wrap the towel around her own head three times, and only after the construction collapsed down her neck for the third time did she allow Naris to do it, muttering about getting so soft that she soon would need someone to lace up her boots until Elayne began laughing and she joined in, throwing her head back so that Naris had to start over again-by the time all that was done and they had returned to the bedchamber, the bathtubs were full and the scent of the rose oil that had been added to the water filled the air. The men who had brought up the water were gone, of course, and Sephanie was waiting with her sleeves pushed above her elbows in case someone wanted her back scrubbed. Birgitte was sitting on the turquoise-inlaid chest at the foot of the bed, her elbows on her knees."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne allowed Essande to help her off with her pale green, swallow-worked robe and sank into her tub immediately, submerging herself to her neck in water just a hair short of too hot. That left her knees poking up, but it immersed most of her in the warmth, and she sighed, feeling weariness leach out of her and languor creep in. Hot water might have been the greatest single gift of civilization.\n\nStaring at the other tub, Aviendha gave a start when Naris attempted to remove her robe, lavender and embroidered with flowers on the wide sleeves. Grimacing, she finally allowed it, and stepped gingerly into the water, but she snatched the round soap out of Sephanie's hand and began washing herself vigorously. Vigorously, but very careful not to slop so much as a spoonful of water over the tub's rim. The Aiel did use water for washing, as well as in the sweat tents, especially for rinsing out the shampoo they made from a fat leaf that grew in the Waste, yet the dirty water was conserved and used for watering crops. Elayne had shown her two of the great cisterns beneath Caemlyn, fed by a pair of underground rivers and large enough that the far side of each was lost in a forest of thick columns and shadows, but the arid Waste was in Aviendha's bones.\n\nIgnoring Essande's pointed looks-she seldom said two words more than necessary, and thought baths no time to say anything-Birgitte talked while they bathed, though she took care of what she said in front of Naris and Sephanie. It was unlikely they were in the pay of another House, but maids gossiped almost as freely as men-it seemed almost a tradition. Some rumors were worth fostering, nonetheless. Mostly Birgitte talked of two huge merchants\" trains that had arrived yesterday from Tear, the wagons heavy with grain and salted beef, and another from Illian with oil and salt and smoked fish. It was always worthwhile reminding people that food continued to flow into the city. Few merchants braved the roads of Andor in winter, none carrying anything as cheap as food, but gateways meant that Arymilla could intercept all the merchants she wished and her forces still would starve long before Caemlyn felt the first pangs of hunger. The Windfinders, who were making most of those gateways, reported that the High Lord Darlin-claiming the title of Steward in Tear for the Dragon Reborn, of all things!-was besieged in the Stone of Tear by nobles who wanted the Dragon Reborn out of Tear completely, but even they were unlikely to try stopping a rich trade ingrain, particularly since they believed the Kin who accompanied the Windfinders were Aes Sedai. Not that any real attempt was made at deception, but Great Serpent rings had been made for Kinswomen who had passed their tests for Accepted before being putout of the Tower, and if anyone drew the wrong conclusion, no one actually lied to them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The water was going to shed its heat if she waited much longer, Elayne decided, so she took arose-scented soap from Sephanie and allowed Naris to begin scrubbing her back with along-handled brush. If there had been news of Gawyn or Galad, Birgitte would have mentioned it straight off. She was as eager to hear as Elayne, and she could not have held it back. Gawyn's return was one rumor they dearly wanted to reach the streets. Birgitte performed her duties well as Captain-General, and Elayne meant her to keep the position, if she could be convinced, but having Gawyn there would allow both women to relax a little. Most of the soldiers in the city were mercenaries, and only enough of them to man the gates strongly and make a display along the miles of wall surrounding the New City, but they still numbered more than thirty companies, each with its own captain who inevitably was full of pride, obsessed with precedence, and ready to squabble over any imagined slight from another captain at the drop of a straw. Gawyn had trained his whole life to command armies. He could deal with the squabblers, leaving her free to secure the throne.\n\nApart from that, she simply wanted him away from the White Tower. She prayed that one of her messengers had gotten through and that he was well downriver by this time. Egwene had been besieging Tar Valon with her army for more than a week, now, and it would be the cruelest spinning of fate for Gawyn to be caught between his oaths to defend the Tower and his love for Egwene. Worse, he had already broken that oath once, or at least bent it, for love of his sister and perhaps his love of Egwene. If Elaida ever suspected that Gawyn had aided Siuan's escape, whatever credit he had gained by helping her replace Siuan as Amyrlin would evaporate like a dewdrop, and if he was still within Elaida's reach when she learned, he would find himself in a cell, and lucky to avoid the headsman. Elayne did not resent his decision to aid Elaida; he could not have known enough then to make any other choice. A good many sisters had been confused over what was happening, too. A good many still seemed to be. How could she ask Gawyn to see what Aes Sedai could not?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As for Galad... She had grownup unable to like the man, sure he must resent her, and resent Gawyn most of all. Galad had to have thought he would be First Prince of the Sword one day, until Gawyn was born. Her earliest memories of him were of a boy, a young man, already behaving more like a father or uncle than a brother, giving Gawyn his first lessons with a sword. She remembered being afraid he would break open Gawyn's head with the practice blade. But he had never given more than the bruises any youth expected in learning swords. He knew what was right, Galad did, and he was willing to do what was right no matter the cost to anyone, including himself. Light, he had started a war to help her and Nynaeve escape from Samara, and it was likely he had known the risk from the start! Galad fancied Nynaeve, or had fora time-it was hard to imagine he still felt that way, with him a Whitecloak, the Light only knew where and doing what-but the truth was, he had started that war to rescue his sister. She could not condone him being a Child of the Light, she could not like him, yet she hoped that he was safe and well. She hoped he found his way home to Caemlyn, too. News of him would have been nearly as welcome as news of Gawyn. That surprised her, but it was true.\n\n\"Two more sisters came while you were away. They're at the Silver Swan.\" Birgitte made it sound as though they were merely stopping at an inn because every bed in the palace was taken. \"A Green with two Warders and a Gray with one. They came separately. A Yellow and a Brown left the same day, so there are still ten altogether. The Yellow went south, toward Far Madding. The Brown was heading east.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sephanie, waiting patiently beside Aviendha's tub with nothing to do, exchanged a glance with her sister over Elayne's head and grinned."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Like many in the city, they knew fora fact that the presence of Aes Sedai at the Silver Swan signified White Tower support for Elayne and House Trakand. Watching the two girls like a hawk, Essande nodded; she knew it, too. Every streetsweeper and ragpicker was aware that the Tower was divided against itself, but even so, the name still carried weight, and an image of strength that never failed. Everyone knew the White Tower had lent support to every rightful Queen of Andor. In truth, most sisters looked forward to a sitting monarch who was also Aes Sedai, the first in a thousand years and the first since the Breaking of the World to be openly known as Aes Sedai, but Elayne would not be surprised to find there was a sister in Arymilla's camp, keeping discreetly out of notice. The White Tower never placed all of its coin on one horse unless the race was fixed.\n\n\"That's enough of the brush,\" she said, irritably twisting away from the bristles. Well trained, the girl laid the brush down on a stool and handed her a large Illianer sponge that she used to begin sluicing off soap. She wished she knew what those sisters meant. They were like a grain of sand in her slipper, so tiny a thing that you could hardly imagine it being a discomfort, but the longer it remained, the larger it seemed. The sisters at the Silver Swan were becoming a sizable stone just by being there.\n\nSince before she arrived in Caemlyn the number at the inn had been changed frequently, a few sisters leaving every week and a few coming to replace them. The siege had not changed anything; the soldiers surrounding Caemlyn were no more likely to try stopping an Aes Sedai from going where she wanted than were the rebellious nobles in Tear. There had been Reds in the city too, fora while, asking after men heading for the Black Tower, but the more they learned, the more they had let their disgruntlement show, and the last pair had ridden out of the city the day after Arymilla appeared before the walls. Every Aes Sedai who entered the city was carefully watched, and none of the Reds had gone near the Silver Swan, so it seemed unlikely the sisters there had been sent by Elaida to kidnap her. For some reason she imagined little groups of Aes Sedai scattered from the Blight to the Sea of Storms, and constant streams of sisters flowing between, gathering information, sharing information. A peculiar thought. Sisters used eyes-and-ears to watch the world, and rarely shared what they learned unless it was a threat to the Tower itself. Likely those at the Swan were among the sisters sitting out the Tower's troubles, waiting to see whether Egwene or Elaida would end with the Amyrlin Seat before they declared themselves. That was wrong-an Aes Sedai should stand for what she thought was right without worrying over whether she was choosing the winning side!-but these made her uneasy for another reason."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Recently one of her watchers at the Swan had overheard a disturbing name, murmured and quickly shushed, as if in fear of eavesdroppers. Cadsuane. Not a common name, that. And Cadsuane Melaidhrin had meshed herself closely with Rand while he was in Cairhien. Vandene did not think much of the woman, calling her opinionated and muleheaded, but Careane had almost fainted in awe at hearing her name. It seemed the stories surrounding Cadsuane amounted to legends. Trying to deal with the Dragon Reborn single-handed was just the sort of thing Cadsuane Melaidhrin might do. Not that Elayne had concerns about Rand and any Aes Sedai, except that he might outrage her beyond her control-the man was too pigheaded himself sometimes to see where his own good lay!-but why would a sister in Caemlyn mention her name? And why had another hushed her?\n\nDespite the hot bathwater, she shivered, thinking of all the webs the White Tower had spun through the centuries, so fine that none could see them except the sisters who did the spinning, so convoluted that none but those sisters could have unraveled them. The Tower spun webs, the Ajahs spun webs, even individual sisters spun webs. Sometimes those schemes blended into one another as though guided by a single hand. Other times they had pulled one another apart. That was how the world had been shaped for three thousand years. Now the Tower had divided itself neatly into rough thirds, one third for Egwene, one for Elaida, and one that was standing aside. If those last were in contact with one another, exchanging information-forming plans?-the implications...\n\nA sudden tumult of voices, dimmed by the closed door, made her sit up straight. Naris and Sephanie squealed and leaped to clutch one another, staring wide-eyed at the door."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What in the bloody flaming...?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Snarling, Birgitte hurled herself off the chest and out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The voices rose higher.\n\nIt did not sound as if the Guardswomen were fighting, just arguing at the tops of the lungs, and the bond carried mainly anger and frustration, along with her bloody headache, but Elayne climbed out of the bathtub, holding out her arms for Essande to slip her robe on. The white-haired woman's calmness, and perhaps Elayne's, soothed the two maids enough that they blushed when Essande looked at them, but Aviendha leaped from her tub, splashing water everywhere, and dashed dripping into the dressing room. Elayne expected her to return with her belt knife, but instead she came back surrounded by the glow of saidar and holding the amber turtle in one hand. With the other she handed Elayne the angreal that had been in her belt pouch, an aged ivory carving of a woman clothed only in her hair. Excepting the towel atop her head, Aviendha wore only a wet sheen, and she angrily waved Sephanie away when the woman tried to put her robe on her. Knife or no knife, Aviendha still tended to think as if she were going to fight with a blade and might need to move suddenly.\n\n\"Put this back in the dressing room,\" Elayne said, handing the ivory angreal to Essande. \"Aviendha, I really don't think we need to–\"\n\nThe door opened a crack, and Birgitte put her head in, scowling. Naris and Sephanie jumped, not so soothed as they had seemed.\n\n\"Zaida wants to see you,\" Birgitte growled at Elayne. \"I told her she'd have to wait, but-\" With a sudden yelp, she staggered into the room, catching her balance after two steps and whirling to face the woman who had pushed her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Wavemistress of Clan Catelar did not look as though she had pushed anyone. The ends of her intricately knotted red sash swirling about her knees, she entered the room calmly, followed by two Windfinders, one of whom shut the door in Rasoria's angry face. All three swayed when they moved nearly as much as Birgitte did in her heeled boots. Zaida was short, with streaks of gray in her tightly curled hair, but her dark face was one of those that grew more beautiful with the years, and her beauty only seemed magnified by the golden chain, heavy with small medallions, that connected one of her fat golden earrings to her nose ring. More importantly, her air was one of command. Not of arrogance, but of the knowledge that she would be obeyed. The Windfinders eyed Aviendha, still glowing with the Power, and Chanelle's angular face tightened, yet aside from a murmur from Shielyn that'the Aiel girl\" was ready to weave, they remained silent and waited. The eight earrings in Shielyn's ears marked her as Windfinder to a Clan Wavemistress, and Chanelle's honor-chain carried nearly as many golden medallions as that of Zaida herself. Both were women of authority, and it was plain in the way they held themselves and moved, yet one needed to know nothing of the Atha'an Miere to know as soon as one saw them that Zaida din Parede held the first spot.\n\n\"Your boots must have tripped you, Captain-General,\" she murmured with a small smile on her full lips, one dark tattooed hand toying with the golden scent-box that dangled on her chest. \"Clumsy things, boots.\" She and the two Windfinders were barefoot as always. The soles of the Atha'an Miere's feet were as tough as shoe-soles, unbothered by rough decks or cold floor tiles. Strangely, in addition to their blouses and trousers of brightly colored silk brocades, each woman wore a wide stole of plain white that hung below her waist and almost hid her multitude of necklaces."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was taking a bath,\" Elayne said in a tight voice. As if they could not see that with her hair done up and her robe clinging to her damply. Essande was almost quivering with indignation, which meant she must be beside herself with fury. Elayne felt close to it herself. \"I will betaking a bath again as soon as you go. I will speak with you when I have finished taking my bath. If it pleases the Light.\" There! If they were going to shove into her rooms, let them chew on that for ceremony!\n\n\"The grace of the Light be upon you also, Elayne Sedai,\" Zaida replied smoothly. She raised an eyebrow at Aviendha, though neither at the continuing light of saidar, since Zaida could not channel, nor at her nudity, since the Sea Folk were quite casual about that, at least out of sight of landmen. \"You have never invited me to bathe with you, though it would have been courteous, but we will not speak of that. I have learned that Nesta din Reas Two Moons is dead, killed by the Seanchan. We mourn her loss.\" All three women touched their white stoles and touched fingertips to lips, yet Zaida seemed as impatient with formality as Elayne. Without raising her voice or speeding its pace, she merely pushed on, almost shockingly abrupt and to the point for one of the Sea Folk.\n\n\"The First Twelve of the Atha'an Miere must meet to choose another Mistress of the Ships. What is happening to the west makes it clear there can be no delay.\" Shielyn's mouth tightened, and Chanelle raised her pierced scent box to her nose as if to drown the smell of something. Its spicy perfume was sharp enough to slice through the scent of rose oil in the room. However they had described what they sensed to Zaida, she displayed no unease, or anything but certainty. Her gaze held steady on Elayne's face. \"We must be ready for whatever comes, and for that we need a Mistress of the Ships. In the name of the White Tower, you promised twenty teachers. I cannot take Vandene in her grief, or you, but I will take the other three with me. The rest, the White Tower owes, and I will expect prompt payment. I have sent to the sisters at the Silver Swan to see whether some of them will meet the Tower's debt, but I cannot wait on their reply. If it pleases the Light, I will bathe with the other Wavemistresses tonight at the harbor of Illian.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne fought very hard to keep her own face smooth. The woman just announced that she intended to scoop up every Aes Sedai lying around loose in Caemlyn and carry them off? And it sounded very much as if she did not intend to leave any of the Windfinders behind. That made Elayne's heart sink. Until Reanne returned, there were seven of the Kin with sufficient strength to weave a gateway, but two of those could not make one large enough to admit a horse cart. Without the Windfinders, plans for keeping Caemlyn supplied from Tear and Illian became problematical at best. The Silver Swan! Light, whoever Zaida had sent would reveal every line of the bargain she had made! Egwene was not going to thank her for spilling that mess out into the open. She did not think she had ever had so many problems dropped in her lapin the course of one short statement.\n\n\"I regret your loss, and the Atha'an Miere's loss,\" she said, thinking fast. \"Nesta din Reas was a great woman.\" She had been a powerful woman, anyway, and a very strong personality. Elayne had felt happy to walkaway with more than her shift after her one meeting with her. Speaking of shifts, she could not afford time to dress. Zaida might not wait. She belted her robe tighter. \"We must talk. Have wine brought for our guests, Essande, and tea for me. Weak tea,\" she sighed at a burst of caution through the bond to Birgitte. \"In the smaller sitting room. Will you join me, Wavemistress?\"\n\nTo her surprise, Zaida merely nodded as if she had expected this. That started Elayne thinking about Zaida's side of the bargain between them. The bargains; there were two, really, and that might be a key point."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "No one had expected the smaller sitting room to be used for sometime, so the air held a chill even after Sephanie rushed with a spark-wheel to light the kindling laid beneath split oak on the wide white hearth and scurried out of the room."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Flames leapt up from the fatwood, catching on the log atop the fire-irons as the women arrayed themselves in the lightly carved low-backed chairs arranged in a semicircle in front of the fireplace. Well, Elayne and the Sea Folk women arrayed themselves, Elayne arranging her robe carefully over her knees and wishing Zaida had delayed just an hour so she could be properly dressed, the Windfinders coolly waiting for the Wavemistress to take a chair, then sitting to either side of her. Birgitte stood in front of the writing table with her hands on her hips and her feet apart, her face a thunderhead. The bond carried a clear desire to wring an Atha'an Miere neck. Aviendha leaned casually against one of the sideboards, and even when Essande brought her robe and pointedly held it out for her, she merely put it on and resumed her pose with her arms folded beneath her breasts. She had released saidar, but the turtle was still in her hand, and Elayne suspected she was ready to embrace the Power again in an instant. Neither Aviendha's cold green-eyed stare nor Birgitte's scowl affected the Sea Folk in the least, however. They were who they were, and they knew who they were.\n\n\"The Atha'an Miere were promised twenty teachers,\" Elayne said, emphasizing slightly. Zaida had said that she had been promised, that she would collect payment, but that bargain had been made with Nesta din Reas. Of course, Zaida might believe she would become the new Mistress of the Ships herself. \"Proper teachers, to be selected by the Amyrlin Seat. I know that the Atha'an Miere pride themselves on meeting their bargains in full, and the Tower will meet its side, too. But you knew when sisters here agreed to teach, that it was temporary. And a bargain quite apart from that made with the Mistress of the Ships. You admitted as much when you agreed for Windfinders to weave gateways to bring supplies to Caemlyn from Illian and Tear. Surely you would not have gotten involved in the affairs of the shorebound for any reason other than paying off a bargain. But if you are leaving, your help is at an end, and so is our requirement to teach. I fear you will harvest no teachers at the Silver Swan, either. The Atha'an Miere will have to wait until the Amyrlin sends teachers. According to the bargain made with the Mistress of the Ships.\" A pity she could not demand they stay away from the inn, but it might already be too late for that, and every reason she could think of sounded hollow. An argument that shattered for lack of a center would only embolden Zaida. The Atha'an Miere were ferocious hagglers. Scrupulous, but ferocious. She had to go very slowly, very carefully."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"My sister has you by the ear, Zaida din Parede,\" Aviendha chortled, slapping her thigh."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hung up by the ankles, in fact.\" That was a Sea Folk punishment that she found incredibly amusing, for some reason.\n\nElayne stifled a burst of irritation. Aviendha enjoyed chances to tweak the Sea Folk's noses-she had begun while they were fleeing Ebou Dar and never really stopped-but this was no time for it.\n\nChanelle stiffened, her calm face sinking into a glare. The lean woman had been the butt of Aviendha's nose-tweaking more than once, including a regrettable episode involving oosquai, a very potent Aiel drink. The glow of saidar actually surrounded her! Zaida could not see that, but she knew about the oosquai and Chanelle being carried to her bed, sicking up the whole way, and she raised a peremptory hand toward the Windfinder. The glow faded, and Chanelle's face darkened. It might have been a blush or anger.\n\n\"All that you say maybe so,\" Zaida said, which was not far from insulting, especially said to an Aes Sedai. \"In any event, Merilille was not part of that. She agreed to be one of the teachers long before she reached Caemlyn, and she will go with me to continue her teaching.\"\n\nElayne drew along breath. She could not even try to argue Zaida out of this. A great part of the White Tower's influence rested on the fact that the Tower kept its word as surely as the Sea Folk. That it was known to keep its word. Oh, people said you had to listen carefully to be sure an Aes Sedai had promised what you thought she had, and that was often true, but once the promise was clear, it was as good as an oath under the Light. At least the Windfinders were not likely to let Merilille getaway. They hardly let her out of their sight. \"You may have to return her tome, if I have particular need of her.\" If Vandene and the two helpers found proof that she was Black Ajah. \"If that happens, I will arrange a replacement.\" And who that could be, she had no idea."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She has the rest of her year to serve. At least a year, by the bargain.\" Zaida gestured as if making a concession. \"But so long as you understand that her replacement must come before she leaves. I will not let her go without another in her place.\"\n\n\"I suppose that will do,\" Elayne replied calmly. It would bloody well have to, since she had no other choice!\n\nZaida smiled faintly and let the silence stretch. Chanelle shifted her feet, but more in impatience than as if to rise, and the Wavemistress did not stir. Plainly she wanted something more, intended another bargain, and plainly she wanted Elayne to speak first. Elayne set herself to outwait the other woman. The fire had begun to blaze and crackle, sending sparks up the chimney and radiating a fine warmth into the room, but her damp robe absorbed the chill in the air and transferred it to her skin. Ignoring the cold was all very well, but how were you supposed to ignore being cold and wet? She met Zaida's gaze levelly and matched her tiny smile. Essande returned, followed by Naris and Sephanie carring ropework trays, the one with a silver teapot in the shape of a lion and thin green cups of Sea Folk porcelain, the other hammered silver cups and a tall-necked wine pitcher that gave off the aroma of spices. Everyone took wine, except for Elayne, who was never offered the choice. Peering into her tea, she sighed. She could seethe bottom of the cup quite clearly. If they made it any weaker, they might as well give her water!\n\nAfter a moment, Aviendha strode across the room to set her winecup back on the tray atop one of the sideboards and pour herself a cup of tea. She gave Elayne a nod and a smile combining sympathy with a suggestion that she really preferred watery tea to wine. Elayne smiled back in spite of herself. First-sisters shared the bad as well as the good. Birgitte grinned over the top of her silver cup, and proceeded to empty half of it in a gulp. The bond carried her amusement at the grumpiness she felt from Elayne. And it still carried her headache, in noway reduced. Elayne rubbed her temple. She should have insisted that Merilille Heal the woman as soon as she had seen her. A number of the Kin outstripped Merilille when it came to Healing, but she was the only sister in the palace with a halfway decent ability."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You have great need of women to make these gateways,\" Zaida said suddenly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her full mouth was no longer smiling. She disliked having spoken first.\n\nElayne sipped her wretched excuse for tea and said nothing.\n\n\"It might please the Light that I could leave one or two Windfinders here,\" Zaida went on. \"Fora set time.\"\n\nElayne wrinkled her brow as though considering. She needed those bloody women, and more than one or two. \"What would you ask in return?\" she said finally.\n\n\"One square mile of land on the River Erinin. Good land, mind. Not marshy or boggy. It is to be Atha'an Miere land in perpetuity. Under our laws, not Andor's,\" she added as if that were a small afterthought hardly worth mentioning.\n\nElayne choked on her tea. The Atha'an Miere hated leaving the sea, hated being out of sight of it. And Zaida was asking for land a thousand miles from the nearest saltwater? Asking for it to be ceded absolutely, at that. Cairhienin and Murandians and even Altarans had bled trying to take bits of Andor, and Andorans had bled to keep them out. Still, one square mile was a small bit, and a small price to keep Caemlyn supplied. Not that she would let Zaida know that. And if the Sea Folk began trading directly into Andor, then Andoran goods would be able to move in Sea Folk bottoms everywhere the Sea Folk sailed, and that was everywhere. Zaida surely knew that already, but there was no point in letting her know that Elayne had thought of it. The Warder bond urged caution, yet there were times for boldness, as Birgitte should know better than anyone.\n\n\"Sometimes tea goes down the wrong way.\" Not a lie; merely an evasion. \"Fora square mile of Andor, I deserve more than two Windfinders. The Atha'an Miere got twenty teachers and more for help using the Bowl of the Winds, and when they go you will have twenty to replace them. You have twenty-one Windfinders with you. Fora mile of Andor, I should have all twenty-one, and twenty-one more in their places when they leave, for as long as Aes Sedai teach Sea Folk.\" Best not to let the woman think that washer way of rejecting the offer out of hand. \"Of course, the normal customs duties would apply to any goods moving off this land into Andor.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Zaida raised her silver cup to her mouth, and when she lowered it, she wore the tiniest smile. Yet Elayne thought it was a smile of relief rather than triumph. \"Goods moving into Andor, but not goods coming from the river onto our land. I might leave three Windfinders. For half a year, say. And they must not be used infighting. I will not have my people die for you, and I will not have other Andorans angry at us because Sea Folk have killed some of them.\"\n\n\"They will be asked only to make gateways,\" Elayne said, \"though they must make them wherever I require.\" Light! As if she intended using the One Power as a weapon! The Sea Folk did so without a second thought, but she was trying very hard to behave as Egwene demanded, as though she had already taken the Three Oaths. Besides, if she blasted those camps outside the walls with saidar, or allowed anyone else to, not a House in Andor would stand with her. \"They must stay until my crown is secure, whether that is half a year or longer.\" The crown should be hers in much less time, but as her old nurse Lini used to say, you counted your plums in the basket, not on the tree. Once the crown washers, though, she would not need Windfinders to supply the city, and in all truth, she would be happy to see their backs. \"But three is not nearly enough. You will want Shielyn, since she is your Windfinder. I will keep the rest.\"\n\nThe medallions on Zaida's honor-chain swayed gently as she shook her head. \"Talaan and Metarra are apprentices still. They must return to their training. The others have duties, too. Four might be spared until your crown is secure.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From there it was just a matter of bargaining. Elayne had never expected to keep the apprentices, and Windfinders to Clan Wavemistresses could not be spared either, which she had expected. Most Wavemistresses used their Windfinders and Swordmasters as close advisors, and would be parted from one as easily as she would be parted from Birgitte. Zaida tried to exclude others as well, such as Windfinders who served on large vessels like rakers and skimmers, but that would have disqualified the greater number right there, and Elayne refused, and refused to comedown in her demands unless Zaida came up in her offers. Which the woman did slowly, grudging every concession. But not so slowly as Elayne might have expected. Clearly, the Wavemistress needed this bargain as much as she herself needed women who could weave gateways.\n\n\"Under the Light, it is agreed,\" she was able to say at last, kissing the fingertips of her right hand and leaning forward to press them to Zaida's lips. Aviendha grinned, obviously impressed. Birgitte kept a smooth face, but the bond said she found it hard to believe Elayne had come out so well.\n\n\"It is agreed, under the Light,\" Zaida murmured. Her fingers on Elayne's lips were hard and callused, though she could not have hauled on a rope herself in many years. She looked quite satisfied fora woman who had yielded nine of the fourteen Windfinders who had been on the table. Elayne wondered how many of those nine would be women whose ships had been destroyed by the Seanchan in Ebou Dar. Losing a ship was a serious matter among the Atha'an Miere, whatever the reason, and maybe cause enough to want to stay away from home a little longer. No matter."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Chanelle looked glum, her tattooed hands tight on the knees of her red brocaded trousers, yet not so glum as might be expected from a Sea Folk woman who would have to remain ashore awhile longer. She was to command the Windfinders who stayed, and she did not like it that Zaida had acceded to her being under Elayne's authority, and Birgitte's. There were to be no more Sea Folk striding about the palace as if they owned it and making demands left and right. But then, Elayne suspected that Zaida had come to this meeting knowing she would leave some of her party behind, and Chanelle had come knowing she would command them. That hardly mattered, either, nor did it matter what advantage Zaida hoped to gain toward becoming Mistress of the Ships. That she saw some was clear as good glass. All that mattered was that Caemlyn would not go hungry. That and the... the bloody beacon still blazing in the west. No, she would be a queen, and she could not be a moonstruck girl. Caemlyn and Andor were all that could matter.\n\nChapter 13\n\nHigh Seats\n\nZaida and the two Windfinders departed from Elayne's apartments, graceful and outwardly unhurried but with almost as little ceremony as they had entered, a bare wish that the Light illumine Elayne and see her safe. For Atha'an Miere, that was almost rushing off without a word. Elayne decided that if Zaida did indeed want to be the next Mistress of the Ships, the woman had a rival she hoped to steal a march on. It might be well for Andor if Zaida did attain the Atha'an Miere throne, or whatever the Sea Folk called it; bargain or no bargain, she would always be aware that Andor had helped her, and that had to be for the good. Though if she failed, her rival would be aware of where Andor's favor had gone, too. Still, it was all if and maybe. Here and now was another thing altogether."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I do not expect anyone to manhandle an ambassador,\" she said quietly once the doors had closed behind them, \"but in the future I do expect the privacy of my rooms."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even ambassadors are not to be allowed simply to wander in. Am I understood?\"\n\nRasoria nodded, her face wooden, but by the color that flashed into her cheeks, she felt the mortification of having let the Sea Folk pass as keenly as Birgitte, and the bond... writhed... until Elayne felt her own face growing red with a stinging embarrassment. \"You did nothing wrong, exactly, but don't let it happen again.\" Light, now she sounded a dolt! \"We will speak no more of it,\" she said stiffly. Oh, burn Birgitte and the bond! They would have had to wrestle with Zaida to stop her, but adding bone-deep humiliation to the other woman's headache was piling insult on injury! And Aviendha had no call to grin in that... that smarmy way. Elayne did not know when or how her sister had learned that she and Birgitte sometimes reflected one another, but Aviendha found the whole thing vastly amusing. Her sense of humor could be rough at times.\n\n\"I think you two will make each other melt, one day,\" she said, laughing. \"But then, you already played that joke, Birgitte Trahelion.\" Birgitte scowled at her, sudden alarm crushing embarrassment in the bond, and she returned such a look of innocence it seemed her eyes might fallout of her face.\n\nBetter not to ask, Elayne decided. When you ask questions, Lini used to say, then you have to hear the answers whether you want to or not. She did not want to hear, not with Rasoria studiously examining the floor tiles in front of her boots and the rest of the Guardswomen in the anteroom failing to pretend not to be listening. She had never realized how precious privacy was until she lost it completely. Near enough completely, anyway. \"I am going to finish my bath now,\" she said calmly. Blood and ashes, what joke had Birgitte played on her? Something that made her... melt? It could not have been much if she still did not know what it was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Unfortunately, the bathwater had gone cold. Tepid, anyway. Hardly anything she wanted to sit in. A little while longer soaking would have been wonderful, but not at the expense of waiting while the tubs were emptied bucket by bucket and more hot water brought up. The entire palace must know she was back by now, and the First Maid and the First Clerk would be anxious to make their daily reports. Daily when she was in the city, and doubly anxious because she had been gone fora day. Duty came before pleasure, if you were going to rule a country. And that went doubly for trying to gain the throne in the first place.\n\nAviendha pulled the towel from her head and shook down her hair, appearing relieved that she would not have to climb into water again. She started for the dressing room, shedding her robe before she reached the door, and had donned most of her garments when Elayne and the maids entered. With only a few mutters, she let Naris complete the job, although little remained beyond stepping into her heavy woolen skirt. She slapped the maid's hands away and tightened the laces of her soft knee-high boots herself.\n\nFor Elayne, it was not so easy. Unless some emergency loomed, Essande felt slighted when she did not discuss her choice of dresses. With close servants, there was always a delicate balance to maintain. Without exception a bodyservant knew more of your secrets than you thought she did, and she saw you at your worst, grumpy, tired, weeping in your pillow, in rages and sulks. Respect had to go both ways, or the situation became impossible. So Aviendha was sitting on one of the padded benches, allowing Naris to comb out her hair, before Elayne could conclude on a simple gray in fine wool, embroidered in green on the high neck and the sleeves and trimmed with black fox. It was not so much that she had difficulty deciding, but that Essande kept putting forward silks sewn with pearls or sapphires or firedrops, each more ornately embroidered than the last. No matter that the throne was not yet hers, Essande wanted to dress her everyday as a queen readying for an audience."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There had been a point to that, back when everyday brought delegations of merchants to offer petitions or make their respects, especially outlanders hoping the troubles in Andor would not affect their trade. The old saying that who held Caemlyn held Andor had never really been true, and in merchant eyes, the chances she would actually gain the throne had diminished with the arrival of Arymilla's army outside the gates. They could count the Houses arrayed on either side as easily as they could count coin. Even Andoran merchants avoided the Royal Palace now, keeping out of the Inner City as much as possible so no one would think they had gone to the palace, and bankers came well hooded, in anonymous carriages. None wished her ill, that she knew, and certainly none wanted to anger her, but neither did they want to anger Arymilla, not now. Still, the bankers did come, and so far she had not heard of any merchants presenting petitions to Arymilla. That would be the first sign that her cause was lost.\n\nGetting into the dress took twice as long as it should have, since Essande allowed Sephanie to help Elayne. The girl breathed heavily the whole time, unaccustomed as yet to dressing someone else and fearful of making a mistake under Essande's eye. Much more than of making one in front of her mistress, Elayne suspected. Apprehension made the sturdy young woman clumsy, clumsiness made her more painstaking, and taking pains made her worry more about mistakes, so the result was that she moved more slowly than the frail older woman ever had. Finally, however, Elayne found herself seated facing Aviendha, letting Essande draw an ivory comb through her curls. In Essande's view, allowing one of the girls to slip a shift over Elayne's head or fasten her buttons was one thing, but risking either of them making a tangle in her hair quite another."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Before the comb had made two dozen strokes, though, Birgitte appeared in the doorway. Essande sniffed, and Elayne could all but seethe woman grimace behind her back. Essande had given way on Birgitte being present at baths, however reluctantly, but the dressing room was sacrosanct.\n\nSurprisingly, Birgitte let the maid's disapproval slide past without so much as a placating look. Usually, she refrained from pushing Essande an inch further than Elayne required. \"Dyelin has returned, Elayne. She's brought company. The High Seats of Mantear, Haevin, Gilyard and Northan.\" For some reason, the bond carried streaks of puzzlement and annoyance.\n\nShared headache or no, Elayne could have jumped for joy. If Essande had not had the comb deep in her hair, she might have. Four! She had never expected Dyelin to accomplish so much. Hoped for it, prayed for it, but never expected it, certainly not in one short week. In truth, she had been sure Dyelin would return empty-handed. Four gave her an equal footing with Arymilla. It was galling to think of being on'an equal footing\" with that foolish woman, but truth was truth. Mantear, Haevin, Gilyard and Northan. Why not Candraed? That was the fifth House Dyelin had gone to approach. No. She had four more Houses, and she was not going to fret over the lack of one.\n\n\"Entertain them in the formal sitting room until I can come, Birgitte.\" The small sitting room had been sufficient for Zaida-she hoped the Wavemistress had not noticed the slight-but four High Seats required more. \"And ask the First Maid to arrange apartments.\" Apartments. Light! The Atha'an Miere would have to be hurried out of theirs to make room. Until they left, most beds that did not have two occupants had three. \"Essande, the green silk with the sapphires, I think. And sapphires for my hair, too. The large sapphires.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Birgitte left still feeling puzzled and upset. Why? Surely she could not think she should have left Dyelin cooling her heels because of Zaida? Oh, Light, now she was feeling puzzled over Birgitte feeling puzzled; if that was allowed to feed on itself, they would both end up dizzy! As the door closed, Essande moved to the nearest wardrobe wearing a smile that might have been called triumphant.\n\nLooking at Aviendha, who had motioned Naris and her comb away and was folding a dark gray scarf to tie her hair back, Elayne smiled herself. She needed something to take her out of that spinning loop. \"Maybe you should wear silks and gems just this once more, Aviendha,\" she said in a gently teasing tone. \"Dyelin won't mind, of course, but the others aren't used to Aiel. They might think I'm entertaining a stablehand.\"\n\nShe meant it fora joke-they twitted one another about clothes all the time, and Dyelin looked askance at Aviendha whatever she wore-but her sister frowned at the wardrobes lining the wall, then nodded and set the scarf down beside heron the tufted cushion. \"Just so these High Seats will be properly impressed. Do not think I will do this all the time. It is a favor to you.\"\n\nFor someone just doing a favor, she pored over the clothes that Essande pulled outwith a great deal of interest before deciding on a dark blue velvet slashed with green, and a silver net to catch her hair. They were her clothes, made for her, but since reaching Caemlyn she had avoided them as if they were crawling with death's-head spiders. Stroking the sleeves, she hesitated as if she might change her mind, but finally she let Naris do up the tiny pearl buttons. She declined Elayne's offer of emeralds that would have suited the gown admirably, keeping her silver snowflake necklace and heavy ivory bracelet, but at the last minute she did pin the amber turtle to her shoulder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You can never tell when it might be needful,\" she said.\n\n\"Better safe than sorry,\" Elayne agreed. \"Those colors look beautiful on you.\" It was true, but Aviendha blushed. Compliment heron how well she shot a bow or how fast she could run, and she took it as no more than her due, but she had difficulty coming to grips with the fact that she was beautiful. That was apart of herself she had managed to ignore, till recently.\n\nEssande shook her head in disapproval, unaware that the brooch was an angreal. Amber did not go with blue velvet. Or maybe it was Aviendha's horn-hilted knife, which she tucked behind her green velvet belt. The white-haired woman made sure that Elayne wore a small dagger with sapphires on the scabbard and pommel, hanging from a belt of woven gold. Everything had to be just so to gain Essande's approbation.\n\nRasoria gave a start when Aviendha entered the anteroom in her high-necked velvets. The Guardswomen had never seen her in anything but Aiel garb before. Aviendha scowled as if they had laughed, and gripped her belt knife firmly, but luckily her attention was diverted by a cloth-covered tray sitting on the long side table against the wall. Elayne's midday meal had been delivered while they were dressing. Whisking the blue-striped cloth aside, Aviendha tried to interest Elayne in eating, smiling and pointing out how sweet the stew of dried plums would be and exclaiming over the pieces of pork in the grainy mush. Slivers, they looked like. Rasoria cleared her throat and mentioned that afire was burning nicely in the apartment's larger sitting room. She would be more than happy to carry the tray in for the Lady Elayne. Everyone tried to make sure Elayne ate properly, however they saw'properly,\" but this was ridiculous. The tray had been sitting there sometime. The mush was a congealed mass that would have stuck in the bowl if she turned it upside down!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She had the High Seats of four Houses waiting on her, and they had waited long enough. She pointed that out, but offered to let the two of them eat if they were hungry. In fact, she implied that she might insist on them eating. That was enough to make Aviendha drop the cloth back over the tray with a shudder, and Rasoria wasted no more time, either.\n\nIt was only a short walk down the icy hallway to the formal sitting room, and the only things that moved, aside from them, were the bright winter wall hangings that stirred in the corridor's drafts, but the Guardswomen formed a ring around Elayne and Aviendha and kept watch as if they expected Trollocs. It was only with an effort that Elayne convinced Rasoria there was no need to search the sitting room before she entered. The Guardswomen served her and obeyed her, but they also were pledged to keep her alive, and they could be as muley over that last duty as Birgitte was over deciding whether she was Warder, Captain-General or elder sister at any given moment. Likely, following on the heels of the incident with Zaida, Rasoria would have wanted the lords and ladies waiting inside to surrender their weapons! The threat with the mush might have had its part, too. After a short argument, however, Elayne and Aviendha swept in through the wide doorway together, and alone. Elayne's feeling of satisfaction did not last, though.\n\nThe sitting room was large, meant to accept dozens of people comfortably, a dark-paneled space with layered carpets covering the floor tiles and a horseshoe arch of high-back chairs in front of a tall fireplace of white marble with fine red veins. Here, important dignitaries could be received with more honor than an audience before the throne, because it was more intimate. The blaze dancing along the logs on the hearth had barely had time to take an edge off the chill in the air, but that certainly was not the reason Elayne felt as if she had been struck in the stomach. She understood Birgitte's puzzlement, now."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dyelin turned from warming her hands at the fire as they entered. A strong-faced woman with fine lines at the corners of her eyes and hints of gray in her golden hair, she had not waited to change on reaching the palace, and still wore a riding dress of deep gray that showed a few travel stains on the hem. Her curtsy was the merest bend of her neck, the slightest dip of her knees, but she intended no discourtesy. Dyelin knew who she was as surely as Zaida did-her only jewelry was a small golden pin in the shape of Taravin's Owl and Oak on her shoulder, a clear statement that High Seat of Taravin needed nothing more-yet she had almost died to prove her loyalty to Elayne. \"My Lady Elayne,\" she said formally, \"it gives me honor to present to you Lord Perival, High Seat of House Mantear.\"\n\nA pretty, golden-haired boy in a plain blue coat jerked away from peering through the four-barreled kaleidoscope on a gilded stand taller than he was. He had a silver cup in his hand that Elayne hoped very much did not contain wine, or at least extremely well watered if it did. One of the side tables held several trays laden with pitchers and cups. And an ornate teapot she knew might as well be filled with water. \"My pleasure, my Lady Elayne,\" he piped, blushing and managing a credible bow despite a little clumsiness in handling the sword belted to his waist. The weapon looked much too long for him. \"House Mantear stands with House Trakand.\" She returned his courtesy in a daze, spreading her skirts mechanically.\n\n\"Lady Catalyn, High Seat of House Haevin,\" Dyelin continued."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Elayne,\" a dark-eyed young woman at her side murmured, touching her dark green divided skirts and making a fractional dip that might possibly have been intended fora curtsy, though perhaps she just meant to imitate Dyelin. Or perhaps she wanted to avoid poking her chin against the large enameled brooch on the high neck of her dress, the Blue Bear of Haevin. Her hair was caught in a silver networked with the Blue Bear, too, and she wore along ring with the sigil as well. A touch too much pride of House, perhaps. Despite her cool haughtiness, she was a woman only by courtesy, her cheeks still round with baby fat. \"Haevin stands with Trakand, obviously, or I would not be here.\"\n\nDyelin's mouth tightened slightly, and she gave the girl a hard glance that Catalyn seemed not to see. \"Lord Branlet, High Seat of House Gilyard.\"\n\nAnother boy, this one with unruly black curls, in green embroidered with gold on the sleeves, who hastily set his winecup down on aside table as if uneasy at being seen with it. His blue eyes were too big for his face, and he nearly tripped himself with his sword, bowing. \"It is my pleasure to say that House Gilyard stands for Trakand, Lady Elayne.\" Halfway through, his voice broke from treble to bass, and he blushed even harder than Perival.\n\n\"And Lord Conail, High Seat of House Northan.\"\n\nConail Northan grinned over the rim of his silver cup. Tall and lean, in a gray coat with sleeves just too short to cover his bony wrists, he had an engaging grin, merry brown eyes, and an eagle's beak fora nose. \"We drew straws for the order to be introduced, and I drew short. Northan stands with Trakand. Can't let a ninny like Arymilla take the throne.\" He managed his sword smoothly, and heat least had reached his majority, but if he was many months past sixteen, Elayne would eat his turned-down boots and his silver-knot spurs."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Their youth was no surprise, of course, but she had expected Conail to have a graying head at his side to advise him and the others to have their guardians looking over their shoulders."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no one else in the room aside from Birgitte, standing in front of the tall arched windows with her arms folded beneath her breasts. Bright midday sunlight flooding through the clear glass set in the casements made her a silhouette of displeasure.\n\n\"Trakand welcomes all of you, and I welcome all of you,\" Elayne said, suppressing her dismay. \"I will not forget your support, and Trakand will not forget.\" Something of her consternation must have crept through, because Catalyn's mouth compressed and her eyes glittered.\n\n\"I am past my guardianship, as you must know, Elayne,\" she said in a stiff voice. \"My uncle, Lord Arendor, said at the Feast of Lights that I was as ready as I would ever be and might as well have free rein then as in a year. Truth, I think he wanted more time to go hunting while he still can. He has always loved hunting, and he's quite old.\" Once again she failed to see Dyelin's frown. Arendor Haevin and Dyelin were roughly of an age.\n\n\"I have no guardian either,\" Branlet said uncertainly, his voice nearly as high-pitched as Catalyn's.\n\nDyelin gave him a sympathetic smile and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. It promptly fell forward again. \"Mayv was riding alone, as she liked to do, and her horse stepped into a gopher hole,\" she explained quietly. \"By the time anyone found her, it was too late. There has been some... discussion... over who's to take her place.\"\n\n\"They've been arguing for three months,\" Branlet muttered.\n\nFora moment he looked younger than Perival, a boy trying to find his way with no one to show him the path. \"I'm not supposed to tell anyone that, but I can tell you. You're going to be the Queen.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 2"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Their youth was no surprise, of course, but she had expected Conail to have a graying head at his side to advise him and the others to have their guardians looking over their shoulders."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no one else in the room aside from Birgitte, standing in front of the tall arched windows with her arms folded beneath her breasts. Bright midday sunlight flooding through the clear glass set in the casements made her a silhouette of displeasure.\n\n\"Trakand welcomes all of you, and I welcome all of you,\" Elayne said, suppressing her dismay. \"I will not forget your support, and Trakand will not forget.\" Something of her consternation must have crept through, because Catalyn's mouth compressed and her eyes glittered.\n\n\"I am past my guardianship, as you must know, Elayne,\" she said in a stiff voice. \"My uncle, Lord Arendor, said at the Feast of Lights that I was as ready as I would ever be and might as well have free rein then as in a year. Truth, I think he wanted more time to go hunting while he still can. He has always loved hunting, and he's quite old.\" Once again she failed to see Dyelin's frown. Arendor Haevin and Dyelin were roughly of an age.\n\n\"I have no guardian either,\" Branlet said uncertainly, his voice nearly as high-pitched as Catalyn's.\n\nDyelin gave him a sympathetic smile and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. It promptly fell forward again. \"Mayv was riding alone, as she liked to do, and her horse stepped into a gopher hole,\" she explained quietly. \"By the time anyone found her, it was too late. There has been some... discussion... over who's to take her place.\"\n\n\"They've been arguing for three months,\" Branlet muttered.\n\nFora moment he looked younger than Perival, a boy trying to find his way with no one to show him the path. \"I'm not supposed to tell anyone that, but I can tell you. You're going to be the Queen.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Dyelin put a hand on Perival's shoulder, and he stood up straighter, though he still was shorter than she. \"Lord Willin would be herewith Lord Perival, but the years have him bedridden. Age creeps upon us all, eventually.\" She shot another look at Catalyn, but the girl was studying Birgitte, now, her lips pursed. \"Willin said I was to tell you that he sends his good wishes and also one he considers a son.\"\n\n\"Uncle Willin told me to uphold the honor of Mantear and of Andor,\" Perival said, intent as only a child being serious could be. \"I will try, Elayne. I will try very hard.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you will succeed,\" Elayne told him, managing to put at least a little warmth into her tone. She wanted to chase them all out and ask Dyelin some very pointed questions, but that could not be, not right away. Whatever their ages, they were all the High Seats of powerful Houses, and she had to offer refreshment and at least a modicum of conversation before they went to change from their journey.\n\n\"Is she really the Captain-General of the Queen's Guards?\" Catalyn asked as Birgitte handed Elayne a thin blue porcelain cup of slightly darkened hot water. The girl spoke as though Birgitte was not there. Birgitte raised an eyebrow before leaving, but Catalyn seemed practiced in not seeing what she did not want to see. The winecup in her plump hand gave off the sharply sweet aroma of spices. There was not so much as a drop of honey in Elayne's miserable excuse for tea.\n\n\"Yes, and my Warder, too,\" she said. Politely. As ready as she would ever be! The girl probably thought it a compliment. She deserved a switching for pure rudeness, yet you could not switch a High Seat. Not when you needed her support."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Catalyn's eyes flashed to Elayne's hands, but the Great Serpent ring did nothing to alter the coolness of her expression. \"They gave you that? I had not heard you had been raised Aes Sedai. I thought the White Tower had sent you home. When your mother died. Or perhaps because of the troubles in the Tower we hear about. Imagine, Aes Sedai squabbling like farmwives at market. But how can she be a general or a Warder without a sword? In any case, my aunt Evelle says a woman should leave swords to men. You don't shoe your own horse when you have a farrier, or grind your own grain when you have a miller.\" A quote from Lady Evelle, no doubt.\n\nElayne schooled her face, ignoring the only slightly buried insults. \"An army is a general's sword, Catalyn. Gareth Bryne says a general who uses another blade is mistaking the job.\" The name seemed to make no impression on her, either. Miners\" children in the Mountains of Mist knew Gareth Bryne's name!\n\nAviendha appeared at Elayne's side, smiling as though delighted at the opportunity to talk with the girl. \"Swords are no use at all,\" she said sweetly. Sweetly! Aviendha! Elayne had never realized her sister could dissemble so skillfully. She had a cup of mulled wine, too. It would have been too much to expect her to continue drinking bitter tea out of sisterly affection. \"You should learn the spear. Also the knife, and the bow. Birgitte Trahelion could shoot your eyes out at two hundred paces with her bow. Maybe at three hundred.\"\n\n\"The spear?\" Catalyn said faintly. And then, in a slightly incredulous tone, \"My eyes?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You have not met my sister,\" Elayne said. \"Aviendha, Lady Catalyn Haevin. Catalyn, Aviendha of the Nine Valleys Taardad.\" Perhaps she should have done that the other way around, but Aviendha washer sister, and even a High Seat must settle for being introduced to the sister of the Daughter-Heir. \"Aviendha is Aiel. She's studying to become a Wise One.\"\n\nThe fool girl's mouth dropped open at the start, her chin falling more and more with each pronouncement until she was gaping like a fish. Very satisfying. Aviendha gave Elayne a smaller smile, her green eyes sparkling with approbation above her winecup. Elayne kept her own face smooth, but she wanted to grin back.\n\nThe others were much more easily handled, much less infuriating. Perival and Branlet were shy their first time in Caemlyn much less in the Royal Palace, hardly saying two words unless someone drew them out. Conail did think the claim that Aviendha was Aiel must be a joke, and nearly got her belt knife in his brisket for laughing raucously, but luckily, he thought that was a joke as well.\n\nAviendha adopted an icy composure that might have made her seem a Wise One in her usual clothes; in velvets, she appeared even more a lady of the court no matter how she fingered her knife. And Branlet did keep sneaking sidelong peaks at Birgitte. It took Elayne a little while to realize that he was watching her walk in her heeled boots-those wide trousers were actually quite snug over the hips-but she only sighed. Fortunately, Birgitte never noticed, and the bond would have let Elayne know even if she tried to hide it. Birgitte liked having men look at her. Grown men. It would have done Elayne's cause no good if her Warder smacked young Branlet's bottom."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mainly they wanted to know whether Reanne Corly was an Aes Sedai. None of the four had ever seen a sister before, but they thought she must be, since she could channel, and carry them and their armsmen across hundreds of miles in a step. It was a good opportunity to practice evasion without actually lying, helped by the Great Serpent ring on her own finger. A lie would taint her relations with these four at the start, but it would hardly do to hope that rumors of Aes Sedai aid would filter out to Arymilla while spreading the truth about freely. Of course, all four were eager to let her know how many armsmen they had brought, a total of just over three thousand, nearly half of them crossbowmen or halberdiers who would be especially useful on the walls. That was a sizable force for four Houses to have had ready to hand when Dyelin came calling, but then, no House wanted its High Seat unguarded in these times. Kidnapping was not unheard of when the throne satin question. Conail said as much, with a laugh; he seemed to find everything worth a laugh. Branlet nodded and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Elayne wondered how many of his numerous aunts, uncles and cousins knew he was gone, and what they would do when they learned.\n\n\"If Dyelin had been willing to wait a few days,\" Catalyn said, \"I could have brought more than twelve hundred men.\" That was the third time in as many sentences that she had managed to point out that she had brought the largest contingent by a considerable margin. \"I have sent to all of the Houses pledged to Haevin.\"\n\n\"And Ito every House pledged to Northan,\" Conail added. With a grin, of course. \"Northan may not summon as many swords as Haevin or Trakand-or Mantear,\" he put in with a bow to Perival, \"but whoever rides when the Eagles call will be riding for Caemlyn.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They will not ride very fast in winter,\" Perival said quietly. And astonishingly, since no one had spoken to him. \"I think that whatever we do, we will have to do it with who we have now.\"\n\nConail laughed and cuffed the lad's shoulder and told him to buck up his spirits, because every man with a heart was on his way to Caemlyn to support the Lady Elayne, but Elayne studied Perival more closely. His blue eyes met hers fora moment without blinking before he shyly lowered his gaze. A boy, but he knew what he had ridden into better than Conail or Catalyn, who proceeded to tell them yet again how many armsmen she had brought, and how many Haevin could call on, as if everyone there except Aviendha did not know exactly how many rode to each House's summons, in trained soldiers and farmers who had carried a halberd or pike in some war and village men who could be drafted at need. Close enough to exactly, anyway. Lord Willin had done good work with young Perival. Now she had to keep it from going to waste.\n\nEventually it was time to exchange kisses, with Branlet blushing to his hair, and Perival blinking bashfully when Elayne bent to him, and Conail vowing never to wash his cheek. Catalyn returned a surprisingly hesitant peck to Elayne's cheek, as if it had just occurred to her that she had consented to placing Elayne above her, but after a moment she nodded to herself, cool pride settling back on her like a mantle. Once the four were handed over to the maids and serving men who would take them to the apartments that Elayne hoped the First Maid had had time to ready, Dyelin refilled her winecup and settled herself in one of the tall, carved chairs with a weary sigh."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As fine a week's work as I've ever done, if I do say so myself. I got Candraed out of the way straight off. I never thought Danine would be able to makeup her mind, and it only took an hour to prove me right, though I had to stay three to keep from offending her. The woman must keep in bed till noon from being unable to decide to which side of the mattress to climb down from! The rest were ready to see sense with only a little convincing. No one with any sense wants to risk Arymilla gaining the throne.\"\n\nFora moment, she frowned at her wine, then fixed Elayne with a steady look. She never hesitated to speak her mind, whether or not she thought Elayne would agree, and plainly she intended to do so now. \"It may have been a mistake to pass these Kinswomen off as Aes Sedai, however side-mouthed we've been about it. The strain maybe too much to ask of them, and it puts us all at risk. This morning, for no reason I could make out, Mistress Corly was staring and gaping like a goose-girl come to the city. I think she almost failed at weaving the gateway to bring us here. That would have been wonderful, everyone lined up to ride through a miraculous hole in the air that never materialized. Not to mention that it would have stuck me in Catalyn's company for the Light knows how long. Odious child! There's a good mind there, if someone took her in hand fora few years, but she has a double dose of the viperous Haevin tongue.\"\n\nElayne gritted her teeth. She knew how cutting Haevins could be. The whole family took pride in it! Catalyn obviously did. And she was tired of explaining what on this day could frighten any woman who could channel. She was tired of being reminded of what she was trying to ignore. That bloody beacon was still blazing in the west, an utter impossibility both for its size and its duration. The thing had been unchanging for hours! Anyone who channeled for this long without a rest must have fallen over with exhaustion by now. And Rand bloody al'Thor was right there, in the heart of it. She was certain of that! He was alive, but that only made her want to slap his face for putting her through this. Well, his face was not there, but-"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Birgitte slammed her silver cup down on aside table so hard that wine flew everywhere. Some laundress was going to sweat to take that stain out of her coatsleeve. A maid would labor for hours to restore the side table's polish. \"Children!\" she barked. \"People are going to die because of the decisions they make, and they're flaming children, Conail worst of all! You heard him, Dyelin. He wants to challenge Arymilla's champion like Artur bloody Hawkwing! Hawkwing never fought anybody's flaming champion, and he knew when he was younger than Lord Northan that it was a fool's game to rest so much on a flaming duel, but Conail thinks he can win Elayne the flaming throne with his flaming sword!\"\n\n\"Birgitte Trahelion is right,\" Aviendha said fiercely. Her hands were fists gripping her skirts. \"Conail Northan is a fool! But how could anyone follow those children into the dance of spears? How could anyone ask them to lead?\"\n\nDyelin regarded them both, and chose to answer Aviendha first. She was plainly bemused by Aviendha's garb. But then, she was bemused by Aviendha and Elayne adopting one another as sisters, by Elayne having an Aiel friend in the first place. That Elayne chose to include that friend in their counsels was something she tolerated. Though not without letting her toleration show. \" I became High Seat of Taravin at fifteen, when my father died in a skirmish on the Altaran Marches. My two younger brothers died fighting cattle raiders out of Murandy that same year. I listened to advisors, but I told Taravin riders whereto strike, and we taught the Altarans and the Murandians to look elsewhere for their thieving. The times choose when children must grow up, Aviendha, not we, and in these times, a High Seat who is a child cannot be a child any longer."
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "\"As for you, Lady Birgitte,\" she went on in a drier voice. \"Your language is, as ever... pungent.\" She did not ask how Birgitte presumed to know so much of Artur Hawkwing, things no historian knew, but she studied her appraisingly. \"Branlet and Perival will take guidance from me, and so will Catalyn, I think, much as I regret the time I'll have to spend with the girl. As for Conail, he's hardly the first young man to think he's invincible and immortal. If you can't keep him reined in as Captain-General, I suggest you try walking for him. The way he was eyeing those breeches of yours, he'll follow anywhere you lead.\"\n\nElayne... shrugged off... the pure fury welling up in her. Not her fury, anymore than it had been her anger at Dyelin in the first place, or her anger at Birgitte splashing wine about. It was Birgitte's. She did not want to slap Rand's face. Well, she did, but that was beside the point. Light, Conail had been looking at Birgitte, too? \"They are the High Seats of their Houses, Aviendha. No one in their Houses would thank me for treating them as less; far from it. The men who ride for them will fight to keep them alive, but it is Perival and Branlet, Conail and Catalyn they ride for, not me. Because they are the High Seats.\" Aviendha frowned, and folded her arms as though pulling a shawl around herself, but she nodded. Abruptly, and reluctantly-no one rose to such prominence among the Aiel without years of experience, and the approval of the Wise Ones-but she nodded.\n\n\"Birgitte, you will have to deal with them, Captain-General to High Seat. White hair wouldn't necessarily make them any wiser, and it definitely wouldn't make them any easier to deal with. They'd still have their own opinions, and with years of experience to give them weight, most likely they'd be ten times ascertain they knew what needs to be done better than you do. Or than I do.\" She made a great effort to keep her tone clear of sharpness, and no doubt Birgitte felt the effort. At least, the flow of rage through the bond suddenly diminished. It was only tamped down, not gone-Birgitte enjoyed having men look, at least when she wanted them to look, but she very much did not like anyone saying she was trying to attract their attention-yet even so, she knew the danger to both of them of letting their emotions run too free."
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"value": "> Keep going"
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"value": "Dyelin had begun sipping at her wine, still studying Birgitte. Only a bare handful knew the truth that Birgitte desperately wanted to keep hidden, and Dyelin was not among them, yet Birgitte had been careless enough, a slip of the tongue here, a slip there, that the older woman was certain that some mystery hid behind Birgitte's blue eyes. The Light only knew what she would think if she solved that riddle. As it was, the two were oil and water. They could argue over which way was up, and certainly over everything else. This time, Dyelin clearly thought she had won, foot and horse.\n\n\"Be that as it may, Dyelin,\" Elayne continued, \"I would have been more pleased if you had brought their advisors with them. What's done is done, but Branlet troubles me in particular. If Gilyard accuses me of kidnapping him, matters become worse than they were, not better.\"\n\nDyelin waved that away. \"You don't know the Gilyards well, do you? The way they squabble among themselves, they may not notice the boy is gone before summer, and if they do, none will repudiate what he's done. None of them will admit they were so busy in arguing over who's to be his guardian that they forgot to keep an eye on him. And second, none of them will admit they weren't consulted beforehand. In any event, Gilyard would stand for Zaida before standing for Marne, and they don't like Arawn or Sarand much better.\"\n\n\"I hope you're right, Dyelin, because I'm appointing you to deal with any angry Gilyards who appear. And while you're advising the other three, you can keep a thumb on Conail so he doesn't do anything completely harebrained.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "For all her talk, the first suggestion made Dyelin wince slightly."
},
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"value": "The second made her sigh.\n\nIt made Birgitte laugh out loud. \"If you have any problems, I'll lend you a pair of breeches and some boots, and you can walk for him.\"\n\n\"Some women,\" Dyelin murmured into her wine, \"can make a fish bite by crooking a finger, Lady Birgitte. Other women have to drag their bait allover the pond.\" Aviendha laughed at that, but Birgitte's anger began to edge upward in the bond.\n\nA wave of cold air swept into the room as the door opened, and Rasoria entered, coming to a stiff attention. \"The First Maid and the First Clerk have come, my Lady Elayne,\" she announced. Her voice faltered at the end, as she caught the mood in the room.\n\nA blind goat could have caught it, with Dyelin smug as a cat in the creamery, and Birgitte scowling at her and Aviendha both, and Aviendha choosing this moment to remember that Birgitte was Birgitte Silverbow, which on this occasion made her stare at the floor, as abashed as if she had been laughing at a Wise One. Now and again Elayne wished her friends could all get on as well as she and Aviendha did, but somehow they managed to rub on together, and she supposed that was really all she could ask from real people. Perfection was a thing for books and gleemen's stories.\n\n\"Send them in,\" she told Rasoria. \"And don't disturb us unless the city is under attack. Unless it is important,\" she amended. In stories, women who gave orders like that were always setting themselves up for disaster. Sometimes, there were lessons in stories, if you looked for them.\n\nChapter 14"
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"value": "What Wise Ones Know\n\nHalwin Norry, the First Clerk, and Reene Harfor, the First Maid, entered together, him making a jerky, unpracticed bow, and her a graceful curtsy that was neither too low nor too shallow. They could not have been more different. Mistress Harfor was round-faced and regally dignified, her hair in a neat gray bun atop her head, Master Norry tall and gawky as a wading-bird, with his little remaining hair sticking up behind his ears like sprays of white feathers. Each carried an embossed leather folder stuffed with papers, but she held hers at her side as if not to rumple her formal scarlet tabard, unwrinkled as it always seemed to be, no matter the hour or how long she had been on her feet, while he clutched his folder to his narrow chest as if to hide old inkstains, of which several spotted his tabard, including a large blot that made the White Lion's tail end in a black tuft. Courtesies done, they immediately put a little distance between them, each not quite watching the other.\n\nAs soon as the door closed behind Rasoria, the glow of saidar sprung up around Aviendha, and she wove award against eavesdropping that clung to the walls of the room. What was said between them was now as safe as they could make it, and Aviendha would know if anyone even tried to listen with the Power. She was very good with this sort of weave.\n\n\"Mistress Harfor,\" Elayne said, \"if you will begin.\" She did not offer wine or seats, of course. Master Norry would have been shocked to his toenails by such a lapse in the proprieties, and Mistress Harfor might well have been offended. As it was, Norry twitched and glanced sideways at Reene, and her mouth thinned. Even after a week's meetings, their dislike forgiving their reports where the other could hear was palpable. They were jealous of their fiefs, the more so since the First Maid had moved into territory that once might have been considered Master Norry's responsibility. Of course, running the Royal Palace had always been the First Maid's charge, and it might be said that her new duties were only an extension of that. It would not be said by Halwin Norry, though. The blazing logs settled in the fireplace with aloud crack, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney."
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"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "\"I am convinced the Second Librarian is... a spy, my Lady,\" Mistress Harfor said finally, ignoring Norry as if to make him disappear. She had resisted letting anyone else know that she was searching out spies in the palace, yet the First Clerk knowing seemed to grate on her worst of all. His only authority over her, if such it was, came from paying the palace accounts, and he never questioned an expenditure, but even that little was more than she wished. \"Every three or four days Master Harnder visits an inn called the Hoop and Arrow, supposedly for the ale made by the innkeeper, one Millis Fendry, but Mistress Fendry also keeps pigeons, and whenever Master Harnder visits, she sends off a pigeon that flies north. Yesterday, three of the Aes Sedai staying at the Silver Swan found reason to visit the Hoop and Arrow, though it caters to a much poorer crowd than the Swan. They came and went hooded, and were closeted with Mistress Fendry in private for over an hour. All three are Brown Ajah. I fear that indicates Master Harnder's employer.\"\n\n\"Hairdressers, footmen, cooks, the master cabinetmaker, no fewer than five of Master Norry's clerks, and now one of the librarians.\" Leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, Dyelin glowered sourly. \"Is there anyone we won't eventually learn is a spy, Mistress Harfbr?\" Norry stretched his neck uncomfortably; he took the malfeasance of his clerks as a personal affront.\n\n\"I have hopes I maybe reaching the bottom of that barrel, my Lady,\" Mistress Harfor said complacently. Neither spies nor the High Seats of powerful Houses ruffled her. Spies were pests she intended to rid the palace of as surely as she kept it clear of fleas and rats-though she had been forced to accept Aes Sedai aid with rats recently-while powerful nobles were like rain or snow, facts of nature to be endured until they went away, but nothing to get flustered over. \"There are only so many people who can be bought, and only so many can afford to buy, or want to.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Elayne tried to picture Master Harnder, but all she could bring up in her mind was vague, a chubby, balding man who blinked incessantly."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "He had served her mother, and as she recalled, Queen Mordrellen before that. No one commented on the fact that it seemed he also served the Brown Ajah. Every ruler's palace between the Spine of the World and the Aryth Ocean contained the Tower's eyes-and-ears. Any ruler with half a brain expected it. Doubtless the Seanchan would soon be living under the White Tower's gaze, too, if they were not already. Reene had discovered several spies for the Red Ajah, assuredly legacies of Elaida's time in Caemlyn, but this librarian was the first for another Ajah. Elaida would not have liked other Ajahs knowing what went on in the palace while she was advisor to the Queen.\n\n\"A pity we have no false stories we want the Brown Ajah to believe,\" she said lightly. A great pity they, and the Reds, knew about the Kin. At best, they had to know there were a large number of women in the palace who could channel, and it would not take them long to figure out who they were. That would create any number of problems down the road, yet those difficulties did lie somewhere in the future. Always plan ahead, Lini used to say, but worry too hard over next year, and you can trip over tomorrow. \"Watch Master Harnder and try to find out his friends. That will have to suffice for the time being.\" Some spies depended on their ears, either to hear gossip or listen at doors; others lubricated tongues with a few friendly cups of wine. The first part of counteracting a spy was to find out how he learned what he sold.\n\nAviendha snorted loudly and, spreading her skirts, started to sit down on the carpet before realizing what she wore. With a warning glance at Dyelin, she perched stiffly on the front edge of a chair instead, the picture of a court lady with her eyes flashing. Except that a lady of the court would not have checked the edge of her belt knife with a thumb. Left to her own devices, Aviendha would slit every spy's throat as soon as it could be stretched for the knife. Spying was a vile business, in her view, no matter how often Elayne explained that every spy found was a tool that could be used to make her enemies believe what she wanted."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not that every spy necessarily worked for an enemy. Most of those the First Maid had uncovered took money from more than one source, and among those she had identified were King Roedran of Murandy, various Tairen High Lords and Ladies, a handful of Cairhienin nobles, and a fair number of merchants. A good many people were interested in what happened in Caemlyn, whether for its effect on trade or other reasons. Sometimes it seemed that everyone spied on everyone else.\n\n\"Mistress Harfor,\" she said, \"you haven't found any eyes-and-ears for the Black Tower.\"\n\nLike most people who heard the Black Tower mentioned, Dyelin shivered, and took a deep drink of her wine, but Reene just grimaced faintly. She had decided to ignore the fact that they were men who could channel, since she could not change matters. To her, the Black Tower was... an annoyance. \"They haven't had time, my Lady. Give them a year, and you'll find footmen and librarians taking their coin, too.\"\n\n\"I suppose I will.\" Dreadful thought. \"What else do you have for us today?\"\n\n\"I've had a word with Jon Skellit, my Lady. A man who turns his coat once is often amenable to turning it again, and Skellit is.\" Skellit, a barber, was in the pay of House Arawn, which for the present made him Arymilla's man.\n\nBirgitte bit off an oath in midword-for some reason, she tried to watch her language around Reene Harfor-and spoke in a pained voice. \"You had a word with him? Without asking anyone?\"\n\nDyelin was under no compunctions regarding the First Maid, and she muttered, \"Mother's milk in a cup!\" Elayne had never heard her use an obscenity before. Master Norry blinked and almost dropped his folder, and busied himself with not looking at Dyelin. The First Maid, however, merely paused until sure she and Birgitte were done, then went on calmly."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The time seemed ripe, and so did Skellit. One of the men he hands his reports to left the city and hasn't returned yet, while it appears the other broke his leg. The streets are always icy where afire has been putout.\" She said that so blandly, it seemed more than likely she had engineered the man's fall somehow. Hard times uncovered hard talents in the most surprising people. \"Skellit is quite agreeable to carrying his next communication out to the camps himself. He saw a gateway made, and he won't have to pretend terror.\" You would have thought she herself had been seeing merchants\" wagons rumble out of holes in the air for her entire life.\n\n\"What's to stop this barber keeping on running once he's outside the fla... uh... the city?\" Birgitte demanded irritably, beginning to pace in front of the fire with her hands clasped behind her. Her heavy golden braid should have been bristling. \"If he goes, Arawn will hire somebody else, and you'll have to hunt him out allover again. Light, Arymilla must have heard of the gateways almost as soon as she arrived, and Skellit has to know it.\" It was not the thought of Skellit escaping that irritated her, or not only that. The mercenaries thought they had been hired to stop soldiers, but fora few silvers they would allow one or two to slip through the gates by night in either direction. One or two could do no harm, as they saw matters. Birgitte did not like being reminded of that.\n\n\"Greed will stop him, my Lady,\" Mistress Harfor replied calmly. \"The thought of earning gold from the Lady Elayne as well as from Lady Naean is enough to make the man breathe hard. It's true, Lady Arymilla must already have heard of the gateways, but that only adds credit to Skellit's reason forgoing in person.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And if his greed is great enough for him to try earning still more gold by turning his coat a third time?\" Dyelin said. \"He could cause a great deal of... mischief, Mistress Harfor.\"\n\nReene's tone became a little crisper. She would never step over the boundaries, but she disliked anyone thinking her careless. \"Lady Naean would have him buried under the nearest snowdrift, my Lady, as I made certain he is aware. She has never been patient. As I am sure you are aware. In any case, the news we get from the camps is quite sparse, to say the least, and he might see a few things we would like to know.\"\n\n\"If Skellit can tell us which camp Arymilla, Elenia and Naean will be in and when, I'll give him his gold with my own hand,\" Elayne said deliberately. Elenia and Naean stayed close to Arymilla, or she kept them close, and Arymilla was much less patient than Naean, much less willing to believe that anything could function without her presence. She spent half of each day riding from camp to camp, and never slept in the same two nights running, as far as anyone could learn. \"That is the only thing he can tell us of the camps that I want to know.\"\n\nReene inclined her head. \"As you say, my Lady. I will see to it.\" She too often tried not to say things straight out in front of Norry, but she gave no sign that she had heard any reproof. Of course, Elayne was not sure she actually would rebuke the woman openly. Mistress Harfor would continue to perform her duties properly if she did, and she certainly would continue hunting spies with undiminished ardor, if for no other reason than their presence in the palace offended her, yet Elayne might find a dozen inconveniences in everyday, a dozen small discomforts that added up to misery, and not a one that she could directly attribute to the First Maid. We must follow the steps of the dance as surely as our servants, her mother had told her once. You can keep hiring new servants, and spend all your time training them and suffering till they learn, only to find yourself back where you started, or you can accept the rules as they do, and live comfortably while you use your time to rule."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you, Mistress Harfor,\" she said, for which she received another precise curtsy. Reene Harfor was another who knew her own worth. \"Master Norry?\"\n\nThe heron-like man gave a start and stopped frowning at Reene. In someways, he saw the gateways as his, and not to be trifled with. \"Yes, my Lady. Of course.\" His voice was a dusty monotone. \"I trust the lady Birgitte already has informed you of the merchants' trains from Illian and Tear. I believe that is... um... her usual custom when you return to the city.\" Fora moment, his eyes rested reproachfully on Birgitte. He would never think of causing Elayne the smallest irritation even if she shouted at him, but he lived by his own set of rules, and, in a mild fashion, he resented Birgitte stealing his chance to enumerate the wagons and casks and barrels that had arrived. He did love his numbers. At least, Elayne supposed it was in a mild fashion. There seemed to be very little heat in Mister Norry.\n\n\"She did,\" she told him, with just a hint of apology, not enough to embarrass him. \"I fearsome of the Sea Folk are leaving us. We'll only have half the number to make gateways after today.\"\n\nHis fingers spidered across the leather folder against his chest as though feeling the papers within. She had never seen him consult one. \"Ah. Ah. We shall... cope, my Lady.\" Halwin Norry always coped. \"To continue, there were nine arsons yesterday and last night, slightly more than usual. Three attempts were made to fire warehouses storing food. None successful, I hasten to add.\" He might hasten to add, yet he did it in that same drone. \"If I may say so, the Guards patrolling the streets are having an effect-the number of assaults and thefts has declined to little more than normal for this time of year-but it seems evident that some hand is directing the arsons. Seventeen buildings were destroyed, all save one abandoned,\" his mouth narrowed in disapproval; it would take far more than a siege to make him leave Caemlyn, \"and in my opinion, all of the fires were placed so as to draw the water-wagons as far as possible from the warehouses where attempts were made. I now believe that pattern holds for every fire we've seen these past weeks.\""
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Birgitte?\" Elayne said.\n\n\"I can try plotting the warehouses on a map,\" Birgitte replied doubtfully, \"and put extra Guards on the streets that seem to be farthest away, but it's still leaving a lotto fla... uh... to chance.\" She did not look toward Mistress Harfor, but Elayne felt a faint hint of a blush from her. \"Anybody can have flint and steel in a belt pouch, and it only takes a minute with some dry straw to start afire.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do what you can,\" Elayne told her. It would be pure luck if they caught an arsonist in the act, and beyond luck if the arsonist could say more than that she had been handed coin by someone with a hood hiding her face. Tracing that gold back to Arymilla or Elenia or Naean would require Mat Cauthon's luck. \"Have you anything more, Master Norry?\"\n\nKnuckling his long nose, he avoided her gaze. \"It has... uh... come to my attention,\" he said hesitantly, \"that Marne, Arawn and Sarand have all recently taken very large loans against the revenues of their estates.\" Mistress Harfor's eyebrows climbed before she got them under control.\n\nPeering into her teacup, Elayne discovered that she had actually emptied it. Bankers never told anyone how much they had loaned to whom, or against what, but she did not ask how he knew. It would be... embarrassing. For both of them. She smiled when her sister took the cup, then grimaced when Aviendha returned with it filled again. Aviendha seemed to think she should drink weak tea till her eyes floated! Goat's milk was better, but dishwater for tea would do. Well, she would hold the bloody cup, but she did not have to drink.\n\n\"The mercenaries,\" Dyelin growled, the heat in her eyes enough to make a bear backup. \"I've said it before, and I'll say it again; the trouble with sell-swords is they don't always stay bought.\" She had opposed hiring mercenaries to help defend the city from the start, though the fact was that without them, Arymilla could have ridden in with her army by any gate she picked, or near enough. There simply had not been enough men to guard every gate properly otherwise, much less man the walls."
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Birgitte had opposed the mercenaries, too, yet she had accepted Elayne's reasons, if reluctantly. She still distrusted them, but now she shook her head. Sitting on the arm of a chair near the fire, she rested her spurred boot on the seat. \"Mercenaries have a concern for their reputations if not their honor. Changing sides is one thing; actually betraying agate is something else entirely. A company that did that would never be hired again, anywhere. Arymilla would have to offer enough fora captain to live the rest of his lifelike a lord, and at least convince his men they'd be able to, as well.\"\n\nNorry cleared his throat. Even that sounded dusty, somehow. \"It seems they may have borrowed against the same revenues twice or even three times. The bankers, of course, are... unaware... of this, as yet.\"\n\nBirgitte began to curse, then cut herself off. Dyelin scowled into her wine hard enough to make it turn sour. Aviendha squeezed Elayne's hand, just a quick pressure quickly released. The fire crackled in a shower of sparks, some nearly reaching the carpets.\n\n\"The mercenary companies will have to be watched.\" Elayne raised a hand to forestall Birgitte. The other woman had not opened her mouth, but the bond shouted volumes. \"You will have to find the men for it somewhere.\" Light! They seemed to be guarding against as many people inside the city as outside! \"It shouldn't take that many, but we need to know if they start to act strangely, or secretively, Birgitte. That might be our only warning.\"\n\n\"I was thinking what to do if one of the companies does sellout,\" Birgitte said wryly. \"Knowing won't be enough unless I have men to rush to any gate I think is going to be betrayed. And half the soldiers in the city are mercenaries. Half the rest are old men who were living on their pensions a few months gone. I'll shift the mercenaries'postings at irregular intervals. It will be harder for them to betray agate if they can't be sure where they'll be tomorrow, but that doesn't make it impossible.\" Protest how she would that she was no general, she had seen more battles and sieges than any ten generals living, and she knew very well how these matters unfolded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne almost wished she had wine in her cup. Almost. \"Is there any chance the bankers will learn what you have, Master Norry? Before the loans come due?\" If they did, some might decide they preferred Arymilla on the throne. She could strip the country's coffers to repay those loans, then. She might even do it. Merchants rode the political winds, whichever way they blew. Bankers had been known to attempt to influence events.\n\n\"In my opinion, it is unlikely, my Lady. They would have to... um... ask the right questions of the right people, but bankers are normally... um... closemouthed... with one another. Yes, I think it unlikely. For the time being.\"\n\nThere was nothing to be done in any case. Except to tell Birgitte there might be anew source for assassins and kidnappers. Only given her hard expression and a sudden grimness in the bond, she had already realized that. There would belittle chance of keeping the bodyguard under a hundred women, now. If there ever had been.\n\n\"Thank you, Master Norry,\" Elayne said. \"You've done well, as always. Let me know immediately if you see any indications that the bankers have asked those questions.\"\n\n\"Of course, my Lady,\" he murmured, ducking his head like an egret darting after a fish. \"My Lady is very kind.\"\n\nWhen Reene and Norry left the room, him holding the door for her and making a bow that was a hair more graceful than usual and her giving him a slight bow of her head as she glided past him into the corridor, Aviendha did not release the ward she was holding. As soon as the door closed, its solid sound swallowed by the ward, she said, \"Someone tried to listen.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne shook her head. There was noway to tell who-a Black sister? A curious Kinswoman?-but at least the eavesdrop had failed. Not that there was much chance of anyone getting past one of Aviendha's wards, maybe not even the Forsaken, but she would have spoken upright away if someone had.\n\nDyelin took Aviendha's announcement with less aplomb, muttering about the Sea Folk. She had not turned a hair at hearing that half the Windfinders were leaving, not in front of Reene and Norry, but now she demanded to know the whole story. \"I never did trust Zaida,\" she grumbled when Elayne finished. \"This agreement sounds good for trade, I suppose, but it wouldn't surprise me if she had one of the Windfinders try to listen in. She struck meas a woman who wants to know everything, just in case it might be useful one day.\" There was very little hesitant about Dyelin, yet she hesitated now, rolling her winecup between her palms. \"Are you certain this... this beacon... can't harm us, Elayne?\"\n\n\"Ascertain as I can be, Dyelin. If it was going to crack open the world, I think it would have by now.\" Aviendha laughed, but Dyelin turned quite pale. Really! Sometimes you had to laugh if only to keep from crying.\n\n\"If we tarry much longer now that Norry and Mistress Harfor are gone,\" Birgitte said, \"somebody might start wondering why.\" She waved a hand at the walls, indicating the ward she could not see. She knew it was still in place, though. The daily meetings with the First Maid and the First Clerk always concealed a little something more.\n\nEveryone gathered around her as she moved a pair of golden Sea Folk porcelain bowls on one of the side tables and pulled a much-folded map from inside her short coat. It rode there always, except when she slept, and then it resided beneath her pillow. Spread out, with empty winecups at the corners to hold it flat, the map displayed Andor from the River Erinin to the border between Altara and Murandy. In truth, it could have been said to show all of Andor, since what lay farther west had been only half under Caemlyn's control for generations. It had hardly been a masterpiece of the mapmaker's art to begin with, and creases obscured much of the detail, but it showed the terrain well enough, and every town and village was marked, every road and bridge and ford. Elayne set her teacup down at arm's length from the map to avoid spilling on it and adding more stains. And to rid herself of the wretched excuse for tea."
},
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Borderlanders are moving,\" Birgitte said, pointing to the forests north of Caemlyn, to a spot above Andor's northmost border, \"but they haven't covered much ground. At this rate, they'll be well over a month getting close to Caemlyn.\"\n\nSwirling her silver cup, Dyelin peered into the dark wine, then looked up suddenly. \"I thought you northerners were used to snow, Lady Birgitte.\" Even now she had to probe, and telling her not to would only make her ten times ascertain that Birgitte was hiding secrets, and twenty times as determined to learn them.\n\nAviendha scowled at the older woman-when she was not in awe of Birgitte, sometimes she became fiercely protective of Birgitte's secrets-but Birgitte herself met Dyelin's gaze levelly, with no hint of alarm in the bond. She had become quite comfortable with the lie about her origins. \"I haven't been back to Kandor in along time.\" That was simple truth, though it had been far longer than Dyelin could have imagined. The country had not even been called Kandor, then. \"But no matter what you're used to, moving two hundred thousand soldiers, not to mention the Light alone knows how many camp followers, is slow going in winter. Worse, I sent Mistress Ocalin and Mistress Fote to visit some of the villages a few miles south of the border.\" Sabeine Ocalin and Julanya Fote were Kinswomen who could Travel. \"They say the villagers think the Borderlanders are camped for the winter.\"\n\nElayne tsked, frowning at the map as she traced distances with a finger. She was counting on news of the Borderlanders, if not on the Borderlanders themselves. Word of an army that size entering Andor should be leaping ahead of it like wildfire in dry grass. No one but a fool could believe they had marched all those hundreds of leagues to try conquering Andor, but everyone who heard would be speculating on their intentions and what to do about them, a different opinion on every tongue. Once the news began to spread, anyway. When it did, she had an advantage over everyone else. She had arranged for the Borderlanders to cross into Andor into the first place, and she had already arranged for them to leave."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The choice had not been very difficult. Stopping them would have been a bloody affair, if it could have been managed at all, and they wanted no more than the width of a road to march onward into Murandy, where they thought they would find the Dragon Reborn. That washer doing, as well. They hid their reason for seeking Rand, and she was not about to give them a true location, not when they had as many as a dozen Aes Sedai with them and hid that fact, too. But once news of them reached the High Seats...\n\n\"It should work,\" she said softly. \"If necessary, we can plant rumors of the Borderlanders ourselves.\"\n\n\"It should work,\" Dyelin agreed, then added in a dark voice, \"As long as Bashere and Bael keep a close rein on their men. It's going to be a volatile mix, with Borderlanders, Aiel and the Legion of the Dragon all within a few miles of one another. And I can't see how we can be sure the Asha'man won't do something mad.\" She ended with a sniff. In her book, a man had to be mad in the first place, or he would never have chosen to become an Asha'man. Aviendha nodded. She disagreed with Dyelin almost as frequently as Birgitte did, but for the most part, the Asha'man were one thing they agreed on.\n\n\"I'll make sure the Borderlanders stay well clear of the Black Tower,\" Elayne reassured them, though she had done the same before. Even Dyelin knew that Bael and Bashere would hold their forces in check-neither man wanted a battle he did not need, and Davram Bashere certainly would not fight his own countrymen-but anyone had aright to be uneasy about the Asha'man and what they might do. She slid her finger from the six-pointed star identifying Caemlyn across the few miles to the ground the Asha'man had usurped. The Black Tower was not marked, but she knew all too well exactly where it lay. At least that was well away from the Lugard Road. Sending the Borderlanders south into Murandy without upsetting the Asha'man would not be difficult."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her mouth compressed at the thought that she must not upset the Asha'man, but there was nothing to be done about it anytime soon, so she mentally shifted the black-coated men to one side. What could not be dealt with now, had to be dealt with later.\n\n\"And the others?\" She did not have to say more. Six major Houses remained uncommitted-at least to her or Arymilla. Dyelin claimed they would all come to Elayne eventually, but they showed no sign of it so far. Sabeine and Julanya had been looking for word of those six, too. Both women had spent the last twenty years as peddlers, accustomed to hard journeys, sleeping in stables or under the trees, and listening to what people did not say as much as to what they said. They made perfect scouts. It would be a great loss if they had to be shifted to helping keep the city supplied.\n\n\"Rumor has Lord Luan a dozen places, east and west.\" Frowning at the much-creased map as though Luan's position should have been marked on it, Birgitte muttered a curse, much viler than called for, now that Reene Harfor was absent. \"Always the next village over, or the one beyond that. Lady Ellorien and Lord Abelle seem to have vanished completely, difficult as that has to be fora High Seat. At least, Mistress Ocalin and Mistress Fote haven't been able to find a whisper of them, or of any House Pendar or House Traemane armsmen, either. Not a manor a horse.\" That was very unusual. Someone was exerting great effort.\n\n\"Abelle was always a ghost when he wanted to be,\" Dyelin muttered, \"always able to catch you wrong-footed. Ellorien...\" Brushing fingers against her lips, she sighed. \"The woman's too flamboyant to disappear. Unless she's with Abelle or Luan. Or both of them.\" She was not happy with that idea, no matter what she said."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"As for our other\" friends',\"Birgitte said,\" Lady Arathelle crossed out of Murandy five days ago, here.\"She touched the map lightly, some two hundred miles south of Caemlyn.\" Four days ago, Lord Pelivar crossed about five or six miles west of that, and Lady Aemlyn here, another five or six miles.\"\n\n\"Not together,\" Dyelin said, nodding. \"Did they bring any Murandians? No? Good. They could be moving to their estates, Elayne. If they move further apart, we'll know for certain.\" Those three Houses made her most anxious of all.\n\n\"They could beheading home,\" Birgitte agreed, reluctantly as always when agreeing with Dyelin. Drawing her intricate braid over her shoulder, she gripped it in a fist almost the way Nynaeve did. \"The men and horses must be worn out, after marching into Murandy in winter. But all we can be sure of is that they're on the move.\"\n\nAviendha snorted. With her inelegant velvets, it was a startling sound. \"Always assume your enemy will do what you do not want. Decide what you least want them to do, and plan on that.\"\n\n\"Aemlyn, Arathelle and Pelivar aren't enemies,\" Dyelin protested weakly. Wherever she believed their allegiance would fall in time, those three had announced their support of Dyelin herself for the throne.\n\nElayne had never read of any queen being forced onto the throne-that sort of thing might not have made it into the histories in any case-yet Aemlyn, Arathelle and Pelivar seemed willing to try, and not for hope of power for themselves. Dyelin did not want the throne, but she would hardly be a passive ruler. The simple fact was that Morgase Trakand's final year had been marred by blunder after blunder, and few knew or believed that she had been a captive of one of the Forsaken during that time. Some Houses wanted anyone except another Trakand on the throne. Or thought they did."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What is the last thing we want them to do?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne said. \"If they disperse to their estates, then they are out of it until spring at the earliest, and everything will be decided by then.\" The Light willing, it would. \"But if they continue onto Caemlyn?\"\n\n\"Without the Murandians, they don't have enough armsmen to challenge Arymilla.\" Studying the map, Birgitte rubbed her chin. \"If they don't know by now that the Aiel and the Legion of the Dragon are staying out of this, they'll have to learn of it soon, but they'll want to be careful. None of them seems foolish enough to provoke a fight they can't win when they don't have to. I'd say they'll camp somewhere to the east or southeast, where they can keep an eye on events and maybe influence what happens.\"\n\nDowning the last of her wine, which must have been cold by now, Dyelin exhaled heavily and walked over to fill her cup again. \"If they come to Caemlyn,\" she said in a leaden tone, \"then they are hoping that Luan or Abelle or Ellorien will join them. Perhaps all three.\"\n\n\"Then we must figure out how to stop them reaching Caemlyn before our plans come to fruit, without making them permanent enemies.\" Elayne worked to make her voice assure and firm as Dyelin's was dull. \"And we must plan what to do in case they arrive here too early. If that happens, Dyelin, you will have to convince them the choice is between me and Arymilla. Otherwise, we'll be in a tangle we may never straighten out, and all of Andor in it with us.\"\n\nDyelin grunted as if she had been punched. The last time the great Houses split evenly among three claimants for the Lion Throne had been nearly five hundred years ago, and seven years of open war followed before a queen was crowned. The original claimants were all dead by that point."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Without thinking, Elayne picked up her teacup and took a sip. The tea had gone cold, but honey exploded on her tongue. Honey! She looked at Aviendha in astonishment, and her sister's lips quirked in a small smile. A conspiratorial smile, as if Birgitte did not know exactly what had happened. Even their strangely enhanced bond did not extend to her tasting what Elayne did, yet she had surely felt Elayne's surprise and pleasure on tasting the tea. Planting fists on hips, she adopted a censorious look. Or rather, she tried to; despite all she could do, a smile crept onto her face, too. Abruptly, Elayne realized that Birgitte's headache was gone. She did not know when it had vanished, but it certainly was not there any longer.\n\n\"Hope for the best and plan for the worst,\" she said. \"Sometimes, the best actually happens.\"\n\nDyelin, unaware of the honey or anything except that they were all three grinning, harrumphed loudly. \"And sometimes it doesn't happen. If your clever scheme comes off exactly as planned, Elayne, we won't have any need for Aemlyn or Ellorien or the others, but it's a terrible gamble. All it takes to go wrong is-\"\n\nThe left-hand door opened to admit a wave of cold and an apple-cheeked woman with icy eyes and the golden knot of an under-lieutenant on her shoulder. She might have knocked first, but if so, the ward had sealed off the sound. Like Rasoria, Tzigan Sokorin had been a Hunter for the Horn before joining Elayne's bodyguard. It seemed the guard had changed. \"The Wise One Monaelle wishes to seethe Lady Elayne,\" Tzigan announced, drawing herself up rigidly. \"Mistress Karistovan is with her.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Sumeko could be put off, but not Monaelle."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arymilla's people would as soon interfere with Aes Sedai as with the Aiel, yet only something important would have brought a Wise One into the city. Birgitte knew that, too; she immediately began folding the map up again. Aviendha let the warding dissipate and released the Source.\n\n\"Ask them to come in,\" Elayne said.\n\nMonaelle did not wait on Tzigan, gliding into the room as soon as the ward vanished, her multitude of gold and ivory bracelets rattling as she lowered her shawl from shoulders to elbows in the comparative warmth. Elayne did not know how old Monaelle was-Wise Ones were not as reticent about age as Aes Sedai, but they were oblique-yet she appeared not far into her middle years. There were hints of red in her waist-long yellow hair, but not a touch of gray. Short for an Aiel, shorter than Elayne, with a mild, motherly face, she was barely strong enough in the Power to have been accepted in the White Tower, but strength did not count among Wise Ones, and among them, she stood very high. More importantly for Elayne and Aviendha, she had been the midwife at their rebirth as first-sisters. Elayne offered her a curtsy, ignoring Dyelin's disapproving sniff, and Aviendha made a deep bow, folding herself over her hands. Aside from the duties owed to her midwife under Aiel customs, she was still only an apprentice Wise One, after all.\n\n\"I assume your need for privacy is ended, since you lowered the ward,\" Monaelle said, \"and it is time I checked on your condition, Elayne Trakand. It should be done twice in the month until full term.\" Why was she frowning at Aviendha? Oh, Light, the velvets!"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And I have come to see what she does,\" Sumeko added, following the Wise One into the room. Sumeko was imposing, a stout woman with confident eyes, in well-cut red-belted yellow wool, with silver combs in her straight black hair, and a red-enameled silver circle-pinon the high neck of her dress. She might have been a noblewoman or a successful merchant. Once she had shown a certain diffidence, at least around Aes Sedai, but no longer. Not with Aes Sedai or soldiers of the Queen's Guards. \"You may go,\" she told Tzigan. \"This doesn't concern you.\" Or with nobles, for that matter. \"You may leave, too, Lady Dyelin, and you, Lady Birgitte.\" She studied Aviendha as if considering adding her to the list.\n\n\"Aviendha may remain,\" Monaelle said. \"She is missing a great many lessons, and she must learn this sooner or later.\" Sumeko nodded in acceptance of Aviendha, but she kept a coolly impatient gaze on Dyelin and Birgitte.\n\n\"Lady Dyelin and I have matters to discuss,\" Birgitte said, stuffing the folded map back under her redcoat as she started for the door. \"I'll tell you tonight what we've thought of, Elayne.\"\n\nDyelin gave her a sharp look, almost as sharp as the one she had given Sumeko, but she set her winecup on one of the trays and made her courtesies to Elayne, then waited with visible impatience while Birgitte bent to murmur at length in Monaelle's ear and the Wise One replied briefly, but just as quietly. What were they whispering about? Probably goat's milk.\n\nOnce the door closed behind Tzigan and the other two women, Elayne offered to send for more wine, since what was in the pitchers was cold, but Sumeko declined curtly, and Monaelle politely if rather absently. The Wise One was studying Aviendha with such intensity that the younger woman began to redden and looked away, gripping her skirts."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You mustn't take Aviendha to task about her clothes, Monaelle,\" Elayne said. \"I asked her to wear them, and she did as a favor tome.\"\n\nPursing her lips, Monaelle thought before answering. \"First-sisters should give one another favors,\" she said finally. \"You know your duty to our people, Aviendha. So far, you have done well at a difficult task. You must learn to live in two worlds, so it is fitting that you become comfortable in those clothes.\" Aviendha began to relax. Until Monaelle continued. \"But not too comfortable. From now on, you will spend every third day and night in the tents. You can return with me tomorrow. You have a great deal to learn yet before you can become a Wise One, and that is as much your duty as is being a binding cord.\"\n\nElayne reached out and took her sister's hand, and when Aviendha tried to let go after one squeeze, she held on. After a brief hesitation, Aviendha clung, too. Ina strange way, having Aviendha there had comforted Elayne for the loss of Rand; she was not only a sister but a sister who also loved him. They could share strength and make each other laugh when they wanted to cry, and they could cry together when that was needed. One night in three alone very likely meant one night in three weeping alone. Light, what was Rand doing? That awful beacon to the west was still blazing as strongly as ever, and she was certain that he was in the heart of it. Not one particle had changed in the bond with him, but she was certain.\n\nSuddenly she realized that she had a crushing grasp on Aviendha's hand, and Aviendha was holding hers as fiercely. They loosened their grips at the same instant. Neither let go, however."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Men cause trouble even when they are elsewhere,\" Aviendha said softly.\n\n\"They do,\" Elayne agreed.\n\nMonaelle smiled at the exchange. She was among the few who knew about the bonding of Rand, and who the father of Elayne's baby was. None of the Kinswomen did, though.\n\n\"I'd think you've let a man cause you all the trouble he could, Elayne,\" Sumeko said primly. The Kin's Rule followed the rules for novices and Accepted, forbidding not only children but anything that might lead to them, and they held to it strictly. Once, a Kinswoman would have swallowed her tongue before suggesting an Aes Sedai fell short of their Rule. Much had changed since then, however. \"I'm supposed to travel to Tear today so I can bring back a shipment of grain and oil tomorrow, and it is growing late, so if you are done talking about men, I suggest you let Monaelle get on with what she came for.\"\n\nMonaelle positioned Elayne in front of the fireplace, close enough that the heat from the nearly consumed logs was near to uncomfortable-it was best if the mother was very warm, she explained-then the glow of saidar surrounded her, and she began to weave threads of Spirit and Fire and Earth. Aviendha watched almost as avidly as Sumeko.\n\n\"What is this?\" Elayne asked as the weave settled around her and sank into her. \"Is it like Delving?\" Every Aes Sedai in the palace had Delved her, though only Merilille had sufficient skill with Healing for it to be much use, but neither they nor Sumeko had been able to say much more than that she was with child. She felt a faint tingling, a sort of hum inside her flesh."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Don't be silly, girl,\" Sumeko said absently. Elayne raised an eyebrow, and even thought of waving her Great Serpent ring under Sumeko's nose, but the round-faced woman did not appear to notice. She might not have noticed the ring, either. She was leaning forward, peering as though she could seethe weave inside Elayne's body. \"The Wise Ones learned about Healing from me. And from Nynaeve, I suppose,\" she allowed after a moment. Oh, Nynaeve would have gone up like an Illuminator's firework, hearing that. But then, Sumeko had outstripped Nynaeve long since. \"And they did learn the simple form from Aes Sedai.\" A snort like ripping canvas showed what Sumeko thought of the'simple\" form, the only sort of Healing Aes Sedai had known for thousands of years. \"This is something of the Wise Ones' own.\"\n\n\"It is called Caressing the Child,\" Monaelle said in an abstracted voice. Most of her attention was focused on the weave. A simple Delving to learn what ailed someone-it was simple, come to think-would have been finished by now, but she altered the flows, and the hum inside Elayne changed pitch, sinking deeper. \"It maybe some part of Healing, a sort of Healing, but we have known this since before we were sent to the Three-fold Land. Some of the ways the flows are used are similar to what Sumeko Karistovan and Nynaeve al'Meara showed us. In Caressing the Child, you learn the health of mother and child, and by changing the weaves, you can cure some problems of either, but they will notwork on a woman who is not with child. Or on a man, of course.\" The hum grew louder, until it seemed everyone must be able to hear it. Elayne thought her teeth were vibrating."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "An earlier thought returned to her, and she said, \"Will channeling hurt my child? If I channel, I mean.\"\n\n\"No more than breathing does.\" Monaelle let the weave vanish with a grin. \"You have two. It is too early to say whether they are girls are boys, but they are healthy, and so are you.\"\n\nTwo! Elayne shared a wide smile with Aviendha. She could almost feel her sister's delight. She was going to have twins. Rand's babies. A boy and a girl, she hoped, or two boys. Twin girls would present all manner of difficulties for the succession. No one ever gained the Rose Crown with everyone behind her.\n\nSumeko made an urgent sound in her throat, gesturing toward Elayne, and Monaelle nodded. \"Do exactly as I did, and you will see.\" Watching Sumeko embrace the Source and form the weave, she nodded again, and the round Kinswoman let it sink into Elayne, letting out a gasp as if she felt the humming herself. \"You will not have to worry about birthing sickness,\" Monaelle went on, \"but you will find that you have difficulty in channeling sometimes. The threads may slip away from you as though greased or fade like mist, so you will have to try again and again to make the simplest weave or hold it. This may grow worse as your pregnancy progresses, and you will not be able to channel at all while in labor or giving birth, but it will come right after the children are born. You soon will become moody, too, if that has not already started, weepy one minute and snarling the next. The father of your child will be wise to step warily and keep his distance as much as he can.\"\n\n\"I hear she's already snapped his head off once this morning,\" Sumeko muttered. Releasing the weave, she straightened and adjusted her red belt around her girth. \"This is remarkable, Monaelle. I never thought of a weave that could only be used on a pregnant woman.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 3"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Did you see any gold change hands?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "he asked. \"Did you hear anything?\"\n\n\"I would have said,\" she replied thinly. \"And by our agreement, it is my turn fora question.\"\n\nHe managed to mask his irritation behind an expectant look. The fool woman always asked about the Aes Sedai in the palace or those she called the Kin, or about the Sea Folk. Silly questions. Who was friendly with whom, and who unfriendly. Who exchanged private words and who avoided one another. What he had heard them say. As if he had nothing to do with his time but lurk around the hallways spying on them. He never lied to her-there was too much chance she might learn the truth, even mired herein this house as a maid; she was Aes Sedai, after all-but it was growing difficult to come up with something he had not already told her, and she was adamant that he give information if he expected to receive any. Still, he had a few tidbits to offer today, some of the Sea Folk going off, and the whole lot of them jumping for most of the day as if they had icicles shoved down their backs. She would have to settle for that. What he needed to know was important, not bloody gossip.\n\nBefore she could get her question out, though, the door to the outside opened. Murellin was large enough that he almost filled the doorway, yet icy cold still swirled in, a gust that made the small fire dance and sent sparks flying up the chimney until the big man pushed the door shut. He gave no sign that he felt the chill, but then, his brown coat looked thick as two cloaks. Besides, the man was not only the size of an ox, he had the wits of one. Setting a tall wooden mug down on the table with a thump, he tucked his thumbs behind his wide belt and eyed Hanlon resentfully. \"You messing with my woman?\" he muttered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hanlon gave a start. Not from any fear of Murellin, not with the oaf on the other side of the table. What startled him was the Aes Sedai leaping from her chair and snatching up the wine pitcher. Dumping in the ginger and cloves, she added a scoop of honey and swirled the pitcher around as if that was going to mix everything, then used a fold of her skirt to pull the poker from the fire and shove it into the wine without checking to see whether it was hot enough yet. She never looked in Murellin's direction at all.\n\n\"Your woman?\" Hanlon said carefully. That earned a smirk from the other man.\n\n\"Near enough. The Lady figured I might as well use what you aren't. Anyway, Fally and me keep each other warm nights.\" Murellin started around the table, still grinning, but at the woman, now. A shout echoed in the hallway, and he stopped with a sigh, his grin fading.\n\n\"Falion!\" Shiaine's distant voice called sharply. \"Bring Hanlon up now and be quick about it!\" Falion set the pitcher on the table hard enough to slop wine over the rim and was heading for the door before Shiaine finished. When the other woman spoke, Falion jumped.\n\nHanlon jumped too, if fora different reason. Catching up to her, he seized her arm as she took the first step on the stairs. A quick glance back showed the kitchen door closed. Maybe Murellin did feel the cold. He kept his voice low anyway. \"What was that all about?\"\n\n\"It is none of your business,\" she said curtly. \"Can you get me something that will make him sleep? Something I can put in his ale or wine? He will drink anything, however it tastes.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If Shiaine thinks I'm not obeying orders, it bloody well is my business, and you ought to see it that way, too, if you have two bloody thoughts to rub together.\"\n\nShe tilted her head, staring down that long nose at him, cold as a fish. \"This has nothing to do with you. As far as Shiaine is concerned, I will still belong to you when you are here. You see, certain matters changed.\" Suddenly, something unseen grasped his wrist tightly and pulled his hand from her sleeve. Something else latched onto his throat, squeezing till he could not draw breath. Futilely, he scrabbled left-handed for his dagger. Her tone remained cool. \"I thought certain other matters should change accordingly, but Shiaine does not see things logically. She says that when the Great Master Moridin wishes my punishment lessened, he will say so. Moridin gave me to her. Murellin is her way of making sure I understand that. Her way of making sure I know that I am her dog until she says otherwise.\" Abruptly she drew a deep breath, and the pressure vanished from his wrist and throat. Air had never tasted so sweet. \"You can get what I ask for?\" she said, as calm as if she had not just tried to kill him with the bloody Power. Just the thought that that had been touching him made his skin crawl.\n\n\"I can...\" he began hoarsely, and stopped to swallow, rubbing at his throat. It felt as though it had been cinched in a hangman's noose. \"I can get you something that will put him in asleep he'll never wake from.\" As soon as it was safe, he was going to gut her like a goose.\n\nShe snorted derisively. \"I would be the first Shiaine suspected, and I might as well cut my own wrists as object to anything she decided to do. It will be enough if he sleeps the nights through. Leave the thinking tome, and we will both be the better for it.\" Resting a hand on the carved newelpost, she glanced up the stairs. \"Come. When she says now, she means now.\" A pity he could not hang her up like a goose to wait for the knife."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Following her, his boots thumped on the treads, sending a clatter through the entry hall, and it struck him that he had not heard the visitor leave. Unless the house had some secret way out he did not know, there was only the front door, the one in the kitchen, and a second at the back that could only be reached bypassing the kitchen. So it seemed he was to meet this soldier. Maybe it was supposed to come as a surprise. Surreptitiously, he eased his dagger in its sheath.\n\nAs expected, the front sitting room had a fine blaze burning away in the wide fireplace of blue-veined marble. It was a room worth the looting, with Sea Folk porcelain vases on the gilt-edged side tables, and tapestries and carpets that would fetch a pretty price. Except that one of the carpets was likely worthless, now. A low blanket-covered mound lay near the middle of the room, and if the fellow that made it had not stained the carpet with his blood, Hanlon would eat the boots sticking out from one end.\n\nShiaine herself was sitting in a carved armchair, a pretty woman in gold-embroidered blue silk with an ornate belt of woven gold and a heavy gold necklace around her slim neck. Glossy brown hair hung below her shoulders even caught in a net of intricate lace. She looked delicate at first glance, but there was something vulpine about her face, and her smile never touched those big brown eyes. She was using a lace-edged handkerchief to clean a small dagger capped with a firedrop on the pommel. \"Go tell Murellin that I will have a... bundle... for him to dispose of later, Falion,\" she said calmly.\n\nFalion's face remained smooth as polished marble, but she made a curtsy that lacked little of cringing before she scuttled out of the room at a run."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Watching the woman and her dagger from the corner of his eye, Hanlon moved to the covered mound and bent to lift a corner of the blanket. Glazed blue eyes stared out of a face that might have been hard, alive. The dead always looked softer. Apparently he had been neither as cautious nor as intelligent as Falion thought him. Hanlon let the blanket fall and straightened. \"He said something you objected to, my Lady?\" he said mildly. \"Who was he?\"\n\n\"He said several things I objected to.\" She held her dagger up, studying the small blade to be sure it was clean, then slid it into a gold-worked sheath at her waist. \"Tell me, is Elayne's child yours?\"\n\n\"I don't know who fathered the whelp,\" he said wryly. \"Why, my Lady? Do you think I'd go soft? The last chit who claimed I'd gotten a child on her, I stuffed her down a well to cool her head and made sure she stayed there.\" There were along-necked silver wine pitcher and two chased silver cups sitting on a tray on one of the side tables. \"Is this safe?\" he asked, peering into the cups. Both had wine in the bottom, but a little addition to one would have turned the dead man into easy prey.\n\n\"Catrelle Mosenain, an ironmonger's daughter from Maerone,\" the woman said, just as smoothly as if it were common knowledge, and he very nearly flinched in surprise. \"You split her head open with a rock before you pitched her down, no doubt to spare her drowning.\" How did she know the wench's name, much less about the rock? He had not remembered her name himself. \"No, I doubt you would go soft, but I would hate to think you were kissing the Lady Elayne without letting me know. I would purely hate that.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Suddenly she frowned at the bloodstained handkerchief in her hand and rose gracefully to glide to the fireplace and toss it into the flames. She stood there warming herself, never even glancing in his direction. \"Can you arrange for some of the Seanchan women to escape? Best if it can be both those called sul'dam and the ones called damane,\" she stumbled a little over the strange words, \"but if you can't do both, then a few of the sul'dam should do. They will free some of the others.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\" Blood and bloody ashes, she was dancing from one thing to another worse than Falion tonight. \"It won't be easy, my Lady. They're all guarded close.\"\n\n\"I didn't ask whether it was easy,\" she said, staring into the flames. \"Can you shift guards away from the food warehouses? It would please me if some of those actually burned. I am tired of attempts that always fail.\"\n\n\"That I cannot do,\" he muttered. \"Not unless you expect me to go into hiding right after. They keep a record of orders that would make a Cairhienin wince. And it wouldn't do any good anyway, not with those bloody gateways bringing in more wagons every bloody day.\" In truth, he was not sorry for that. Queasy over the means used, certainly, but not sorry. He expected the palace would be the last place in Caemlyn to go hungry in any case, but he had lived out sieges on both sides of the lines, and he had no intention of ever boiling his boots for soup again. Shiaine wanted fires, though.\n\n\"Another answer I did not ask for.\" She shook her head, still looking into the fireplace, not at him. \"But perhaps something can be done there. How close are you to actually... enjoying Elayne's affections?\" she finished primly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Closer than the day I arrived in the palace,\" he growled, glowering at her back."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He tried never to offend those the Chosen had set above him, but the chit was trying him. He could snap that slender neck like a twig! To keep his hands from her throat, he filled one of the cups and held it with no intention of drinking. In his left hand, of course. Just because there was one dead man in the room already did not mean she had no plans to make it two corpses. \"But I have to go slow. It isn't as if I can back her into a corner and tickle her out of her shift.\"\n\n\"I suppose not,\" Shiaine said in a muffled voice. \"She is hardly the sort of woman you are used to.\" Was she laughing? Was she amused at him? It was all he could do not to throw down the winecup and strangle the fox-faced bint.\n\nSuddenly she turned around, and he blinked as she casually slipped her dagger back into its sheath. He had never seen her draw the bloody thing! He took a swallow of wine without thinking, and almost choked when he realized what he had done.\n\n\"How would you like to see Caemlyn looted?\" she asked.\n\n\"Well enough, if I have a good company at my back and a clear path to the gates.\" The wine had to be safe. Two cups meant she had drunk, too, and if he had picked up the dead man's, there could not be enough poison left in it to sicken a mouse. \"Is that what you want? I follow orders as well as the next man.\" He did when he seemed likely to survive them, or when they came from the Chosen. As well die fora fool as disobey the Chosen. \"But sometimes it helps to know more than'go there and do that. \"If you told me what you're after herein Caemlyn, I might be able to help you reach it faster.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Of course.\" She smiled a toothy smile while her eyes stayed as flat as brownstones. \"But first, tell me why there is fresh blood on your gauntlet?\"\n\nHe smiled back. \"A footpad who got unlucky, my Lady.\" Maybe she had sent the man and maybe not, but he added her throat to the list of those he intended to slit. And he might as well add Marillin Gemalphin, too. After all, alone survivor was the only one who could tell the tale of what had happened.\n\nChapter 16\n\nThe Subject of Negotiations\n\nThe morning sun sat on the horizon, leaving the nearer side of Tar Valon still wrapped in shadows, but the snow that covered everything gleamed brightly. The city itself seemed to shine behind its long whitewalls, all bravely towered and bannered, yet to Egwene, sitting her roan gelding on the river-bank above the city, it seemed even farther away than it really was. The Erinin widened to more than two miles here, and the Alindrelle Erinin and Osendrelle Erinin, flowing to either side of the island, were almost half that, so that Tar Valon appeared to sit in the middle of a great lake, unreachable despite the massive bridges that stood high above the waters so that ships could sail beneath them easily. The White Tower itself, a thick bone-white shaft rising to an impossible height from the city's heart, filled her own heart with a yearning for home. Not for the Two Rivers, but for the Tower. That washer home, now. A plume of smoke caught her eye, a faint black line rising from the far bank beyond the city, and she grimaced. Daishar stamped a hoof in the snow, but a pat on the neck sufficed to soothe the roan. It would take more to soothe his rider. Homesickness was the smallest part of it. Minuscule, compared to the rest."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "With a sigh, she rested her reins on the high pommel of her saddle and raised the long brass-bound looking glass. Her cloak fell back, slipping off one shoulder, but she ignored the cold that misted her breath and placed a gloved hand to shield the front lens against the sun's glare. The city walls leaped closer in her sight. She focused on the tall curving arms of Northharbor that pushed out into the upstream currents. People moved purposefully atop the battlements that enfolded the harbor, but she could barely discern men from women at that distance. Still, she was glad that she was not wearing her seven-striped stole, and that her face was deep within her cowl, just in case someone there had a stronger glass than she. The wide mouth of the man-made harbor was blocked by a massive iron chain drawn taut a few feet above the water. Tiny dots on the water, diving birds fishing in front of the harbor, gave the chain scale. One single pace-long link would have required two men to lift it. A rowboat might slip under that barrier, but no vessel of any size would enter unless the White Tower allowed. Of course, the chain was only intended to keep out enemies.\n\n\"There they are, Mother,\" Lord Gareth murmured, and she lowered the glass. Her general was a stocky man in a plain breastplate worn over a plain brown coat, without any touch of gilt or embroidery anywhere. His face was bluff and weathered behind the bars of his helmet, and the years had given him a strange sort of comforting calmness. All you need do was look at Gareth Bryne to know that if the Pit of Doom opened in front of him, he would smother his fear and go about doing what needed doing. And other men would follow him. He had proved on battlefield after battlefield that following him was the path to victory. A good man to have following her. Her eyes followed his gauntleted hand, pointing upriver."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Just coming insight around a point of land, five, six-no, seven-riverships were slicing furrows down the Erinin. Large vessels as such things were seen on the river, one with three masts, their triangular sails stood out tight, and their long sweeps cut hard through the blue-green water to add a little more speed. Everything about the craft spoke of a burning desire for speed, a desire to reach Tar Valon now! The river was deep enough here that ships could run within shouting distance of the banks in places, but these sailed in almost single file as close to the middle of the Erinin as the steersmen could manage and hold the wind. Sailors clinging to the mastheads kept watch along the shoreline, and not for mudbanks.\n\nIn fact, they had nothing at all to fear so long as they kept out of bowshot. True, from where she sat her horse, she could have set fire to everyone of those ships, or simply cut holes through their hulls and let them sink. The work of moments. Yet doing so surely meant some of those aboard would drown. The currents were strong, the water like ice, and the swim to shore long, for those who actually could swim. Even one death would make what she did using the Power as a weapon. She was trying to live as though already bound by the Three Oaths, and the Oaths protected those vessels from her or any other sister. A sister who had sworn on the Oath Rod would not be able to make herself set those weaves, perhaps not even to form them, unless she could convince herself she was in immediate danger from the ships. But neither captains nor crews believed that, apparently.\n\nAs the riverships came closer, shouts thinned to threadbare by distance drifted across the water. The lookouts upon the masts pointed to her and Gareth, and it quickly became apparent they took her for an Aes Sedai with her Warder. Or at least, the captains were unwilling to take the chance she was not. After a moment, the beat of the sweeps increased. Only by a fraction, but the oarsmen labored to find that fraction. A woman on the quarterdeck of the lead vessel, likely the captain, waved her arms as if demanding still more effort, and a handful of men began running up and down the deck, tightening this line or loosening that to change the angle of the sails, though Egwene could not see that they achieved anything. There were men on those decks other than sailors, and most of those crowded to the railings, a handful raising looking glasses of their own. Some seemed to be measuring the distance left to cover before they reached the safety of the harbor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She thought about weaving a flare, a starburst of light, perhaps with aloud bang, just above each of the vessels. That would certainly let anyone aboard with brains realize that neither speed nor distance kept them safe here, only a forbearance born of the Three Oaths. They should know that they were safe because of Aes Sedai.\n\nExhaling heavily, she shook her head and mentally upbraided herself. That simple weave would also attract attention in the city, certainly more than the appearance of a single sister. Sisters often came to the riverbank to stare at Tar Valon and the Tower. Even if the only reaction to her flares was some sort of counterdisplay, once begun, that sort of contest could be very difficult to put a stop to. Once begun, matters might well escalate out of hand. There were too many opportunities for that, as it was, the more so these last five days.\n\n\"The harbormaster hasn't let above eight or nine ships in atone time since we arrived,\" Gareth said as the first vessel drew abreast of them, \"but the captains seemed to have worked out the timing. Another clutch will appear soon, and reach the city about the time the Tower Guards are sure these fellows actually came to enlist. Jimar Chubain knows enough to guard against me sneaking men in aboard ships. He has more of the Guards crowded into the harbors than anywhere except at the bridge towers, and not many anywhere else, so far as I can learn. That will change, though. The flow of ships starts at first light and keeps up till near nightfall, here and at Southharbor too. This lot doesn't seem to be carrying as many soldiers as most do. Every plan is brilliant until the day comes, Mother, but then you must adapt to circumstances or be ridden down.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Egwene made a vexed sound."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There must be two hundred or more passengers altogether on those seven ships. A few might be merchants or traders or some other sort of innocent traveler, but the low sun glittered off helmets and breastplates and steel discs sewn to leather jerkins. How many shiploads arrived each day? Whatever the number, a steady flow was pouring into the city to enlist under High Captain Chubain. \"Why do men always rush so hard to kill or be killed?\" she muttered irritably.\n\nLord Gareth looked at her calmly. He sat his horse, a big bay gelding with a white stripe down his nose, like a statue. Sometimes, she thought she knew one small part of how Siuan felt about the man. Sometimes she thought it would be worth whatever effort was needed to startle him, just to see him startled.\n\nUnfortunately, she knew the answer to her own question as well as he did. At least as it applied to men going soldiering. Oh, there were men enough who rushed to support a cause or defend what they thought what was right, and some who sought adventure, whatever they believed that was, yet the simple fact was that for carrying a pike or spear, a man could earn twice each day what he would get for walking behind another man's plow, and half again as much if he could ride well enough to join the cavalry. Crossbowmen and archers fell in between. The man who worked for another could dream of having his own farm or shop one day, or a beginning toward one that his sons could build on, but he surely had heard a thousand tales of men soldiering for five years or ten and coming home with enough gold to set themselves up in comfort, tales of ordinary men who rose to become generals, or lords. Fora poor man, Gareth had said bluntly, staring down the point of a pike could be a better view than the hind end of somebody else's plow horse. Even if he was far more likely to die from the pike than earn fame or fortune. A bitter way to look at it, yet she imagined that was how most of those men on the ships saw matters, too. But then, that was how she had gotten her own army. For every man who wanted to seethe usurper pulled from the Amyrlin Seat, for every man who even knew for certain who Elaida was, ten if not a hundred had joined for the pay. Some of the men on the ship were raising their hands, to show the guards on the harbor walls they were not holding weapons."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" she said, and Lord Gareth sighed. His voice remained calm, but his words were hardly comforting when he spoke.\n\n\"Mother, so long as the harbors remain open, Tar Valon will eat better than we do, and rather than growing weaker with hunger, the Tower Guard will grow larger and stronger. I very much doubt that Elaida will let Chubain rush out to attack us, as much as I wish he would. Everyday you wait only adds to the butcher's bill we'll have to pay sooner or later. I've said from the start it will come to an assault, in the end, and that hasn't changed, but everything else has. Have the sisters put me and my men inside the walls now, and I can take Tar Valon. It won't be clean. It never is. But I can take the city for you. And fewer will die than if you delay.\"\n\nA knot formed in her belly, twisted tight till she could hardly breathe. Carefully, step by step, she performed novice exercises to make it loosen. The bank contained the river, guiding without controlling. Calm settled on her, in her.\n\nToo many people had begun seeing the uses of gateways, and in away, Gareth represented the worst. His business was war, and he was very good at it. As soon as he learned a gateway could take more than a small group of people atone time, he had seen the implications. Even the great walls of Tar Valon, beyond the range of any siege catapult not on a barge, and worked with the Power till the largest catapult could not mark them in any case, might as well be made of paper against an army that could Travel. But whether Gareth Bryne had learned or not, other men would seize on that idea. The Asha'man already had, it seemed. War had always been ugly, yet it was going to grow uglier."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No,\" she repeated. \"I know people are going to die before this is over.\" The Light help her, she could see them dying just by closing her eyes. Even more would die if she made the wrong decisions, though, and not just here. \"But I have to keep the White Tower alive-against Tarmon Gai'don-to stand between the world and the Asha'man-and the Tower will die if this comes to sisters killing one another in the streets of Tar Valon.\" That had already happened once. It could not be allowed a second time. \"If the White Tower dies, hope dies. I shouldn't have to tell you that again.\"\n\nDaishar snorted and tossed his head, lunging as though he had sensed her irritation, but she reined him in firmly and slipped the looking glass into the tooled leather case hanging from her saddle. The diving birds gave up their fishing and sprang into the air as the thick chain that blocked Northharbor began to droop. It would dip beneath the surface well before the first ship reached the harbor mouth. How long ago had it been that she reached Tar Valon by that same route? Almost beyond memory, it seemed. An Age gone. It had been another woman who came ashore and was met by the Mistress of Novices.\n\nGareth shook his head with a quick grimace. But then, he never gave up, did he? \"You have to keep the White Tower alive, Mother, but my job is to give it to you. Unless things have changed that I don't know about. I can see sisters whispering and looking over their shoulders even if I don't know what it means. If you still want the Tower, it will come to an assault, better soon than late.\"\n\nSuddenly the morning seemed darker, as though clouds had obscured the sun. Whatever she did, the dead were going to pileup like cordwood, but she had to keep the White Tower alive. She had to. When there were no good choices, you had to choose the one that seemed least wrong."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I've seen enough here,\" she said quietly. With one last glance at that narrow line of smoke beyond the city, she turned Daishar toward the trees a hundred paces back from the river, where her escort waited among the evergreen leatherleaf and winter-bare beech and birch.\n\nTwo hundred light cavalry, in boiled leather breastplates or coats covered with metal discs, would certainly have attracted notice appearing on the riverbank, but Gareth had convinced her of the necessity of these men with their slender lances and short horsebows. Without any doubt, that smoke plume on the far bank rose from burning wagons or supplies. Pinpricks, yet those pinpricks came every night, sometimes one, sometimes two or three, till everyone looked for smoke first thing on rising. Hunting the raiders down had proved impossible, so far. Sudden snow squalls flared around the pursuers, or fierce freezing night winds, or the tracks simply vanished abruptly, the snow beyond the last hoof-print as smooth as fresh fallen. The residues of weavings made it plain enough they were being aided by Aes Sedai, and there was no point in taking a chance that Elaida had men and maybe sisters on this side of the river, too. Few things could please Elaida more than getting her hands on Egwene al'Vere.\n\nThey were not her whole escort, of course. Besides Sheriam, her Keeper, she had ridden outwith six more Aes Sedai this morning, and those who had Warders had brought them, so behind the sister eight men waited in color-shifting cloaks that rippled in queasy-making fashion when a breeze caught them and otherwise made parts of riders and horses seem to vanish into the tree trunks. Aware of the dangers-from raiders, at least-aware that their Aes Sedai were wound tight to near breaking, they watched the surrounding copse as though the cavalrymen were not there. The safety of their own Aes Sedai was their primary concern, and that they trusted to no one else. Sarin, a black-bearded stump of a man, not that short but very wide, stayed so close to Nisao that he seemed to loom over the diminutive Yellow, and Jori managed to loom over Morvrin as well, though he was actually shorter than she. As broad as Sarin, but very short even fora Cairhienin. Myrelle's three Warders, the three she dared acknowledge, clustered around her until she could not have moved her horse without pushing one of theirs out of her way. Anaiya's Setagana, lean and dark and as beautiful as she was plain, almost managed to surround her by himself, and Tervail, with his bold nose and scarred face, did the same with Beonin. Carlinya had no Warder, not unusual fora White, but she studied the men from the depths of her fur-lined cowl as if thinking about finding one."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Not too long ago, Egwene would have hesitated to be seen with those six women. They and Sheriam had all sworn fealty to her, for various reasons, and neither they nor she wanted the fact known or even suspected. They had been her way to influence events, to the extent that she could, when everyone thought her no more than a figurehead, a girl Amyrlin the Hall of the Tower could use as it wished and no one listened to. The Hall had lost that illusion when she brought them to declare war on Elaida, finally admitting what they had been about since the day they had fled the Tower in the first place, but that only made the Hall, and the Ajahs, worry over what she would do next and try to figure out how to make sure that whatever it was met with their approval. The Sitters had been very surprised when she accepted their suggestion of a council, one sister from each Ajah, to advise her with their wisdom and experience. Or perhaps they thought her success with the declaration of war had gone to her head. Of course, she had just told Morvrin and Anaiya and the others to make sure they were the sisters chosen, and they retained enough prestige within their Ajahs to manage it, just. She had been listening to their advice, if not always taking it, for weeks by that time, but now there was no longer any need to arrange furtive meetings or pass messages in secret.\n\nIt seemed, however, that there had been an addition to the party while Egwene was staring at the Tower.\n\nSheriam, wearing the narrow blue stole of her office outside her cloak, managed a very formal bow from her saddle. The flame-haired woman could be incredibly formal at times. \"Mother, the Sitter Delana wishes to speak with you,\" she said as if Egwene could not seethe stout Gray sister sitting thereon a dappled mare almost as dark as Sheriam's black-footed mount. \"On a matter of some importance, so she says.\" And the slight touch of asperity meant Delana had not told her what matter. Sheriam would not have liked that. She could be very jealous of her position."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"In private, if you please, Mother,\" Delana said, pushing back her dark hood to reveal hair nearly the color of silver. Her voice was deep fora woman's, but it hardly carried the urgency of someone with important matters to speak of.\n\nHer presence was something of a surprise. Delana often supported Egwene in the Hall of the Tower, when Sitters were quibbling over whether a particular decision actually concerned the war against Elaida. That meant the Hall was required to support Egwene's commands as if they had stood with the greater consensus, and even the Sitters who had stood for war did not half like that little fact, which made for endless quibbling. They wanted to pull Elaida down, yet left to themselves, the Hall would have done nothing but argue. Truth to tell, though, Delana's support was not always welcome. One day she could be the very image of a Gray negotiator seeking consensus, and the next so strident in her arguments that every Sitter within hearing got her backup. She had been known to set the cat among the pigeons in other ways, too. No fewer than three times now, she had demanded the Hall make a formal declaration that Elaida was Black Ajah, which inevitably led to an awkward silence until someone called for the sitting to be adjourned. Few were willing to discuss the Black Ajah openly. Delana would discuss anything, from how they were to find proper clothes for nine hundred and eighty-seven novices to whether Elaida had secret supporters among the sisters, another topic that gave most sisters a case of the prickles. Which left the question of why she had ridden out so early, and by herself. She had never approached Egwene before without another Sitter or three for company. Delana's pale blue eyes gave away no more than did her smooth Aes Sedai face."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"While we ride,\" Egwene told her. \"We will want a little privacy,\" she added when Sheriam opened her mouth. \"Stay back with the others, please.\" The Keeper's green eyes tightened in what might almost have been anger. An efficient Keeper, and eager with it, she had pinned her hopes on Egwene and made little secret that she disliked being excluded from any meeting Egwene had. Upset or not, she bowed her head in acceptance with only a small hesitation. Sheriam had not always known which of them commanded, but she did now.\n\nThe land tended upward from the River Erinin, not in hills but simply rising toward the monstrous peak that loomed to the west, so massive it seemed to mock the name mountain. Dragonmount would have towered above everything else even in the Spine of the World; in the relatively flat country around Tar Valon, its white-capped crest seemed to reach the heavens, especially when a thin thread of smoke was streaming away from the jagged top as it was now. A thin thread at that height would be something else entirely, close at hand. Trees gave out less than halfway up Dragonmount, and no one had ever succeeded in reaching the crest or even coming close, though it was said the slopes were littered with the bones of those who had tried. Why anyone would try in the first place, no one could quite explain. Sometimes the long evening shadow of the mountain stretched all the way to the city. People who lived in the region were accustomed to Dragonmount dominating the sky, much as they were accustomed to the White Tower looming above the city walls and visible for miles. Both were unchanging fixtures that had always been there and always would be, but crops and crafts occupied the people's lives, not mountains or Aes Sedai.\n\nIn tiny hamlets often or a dozen stone houses roofed in thatch or slate, and the occasional village of a hundred, children playing in the snow or carrying buckets of water from the wells stopped to gape at the soldiers riding along the dirt tracks that passed for roads when not covered in snow. They carried no banners, but a few of the soldiers wore the Flame of Tar Valon worked on their cloaks or coatsleeves, and the Warders'strange cloaks named at least some of the women as Aes Sedai. Even this near the city, sisters had been an uncommon sight till recently, and they were still something to make a child's eyes gleam. But then, the soldiers themselves probably came close in the list of marvels. The farms that fed Tar Valon covered most of the land, stone-walled fields surrounding sprawling houses and tall barns of stone or brick, with copses and coppices and thickets of trees between, and groups of farm children often ran a little distance parallel to the line of travel, leaping across the snow like hares. Winter chores kept most older folk indoors, but those who ventured out, heavily bundled against the cold, spared barely a glance for soldiers or Warders or Aes Sedai. Spring would becoming soon, and the plowing and planting, and what Aes Sedai did would not affect that. The Light willing, it would not."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no point to guards unless they rode as if expecting an attack, and Lord Gareth had arranged a strong party of foreriders and lines of flankers, with trailers riding to the rear while he led the mass of the soldiers right behind the Warders who followed closely on the heels of Sheriam and the'council.\" They all made a large, lopsided ring around Egwene, and she could almost imagine she was riding through the countryside alone with Delana if she did not look around too closely. Or if she looked beyond. Instead of pressing the Gray Sitter to speak-it was along ride back to camp, and no one was allowed to weave a gateway where the weave might be observed; there was plenty of time to hear what Delana had to say-Egwene compared the farms they passed to those in the Two Rivers.\n\nPerhaps the realization that the Two Rivers was no longer homemade her study them. Acknowledging the truth could never be a betrayal, yet she needed to remember the Two Rivers. You could forget who you were if you forgot where you came from, and sometimes the innkeeper's daughter from Emond's Field seemed a stranger to her. Any of these farms would have looked decidedly odd, set down near Emond's Field, though she could not put a finger on why, exactly. A different shape to the houses, a different slant to the roofs. And more often slate topped a house than thatch, here, when you could make out either through the snow that was often mounded on the rooftops. Of course, there was less thatch and more stone and brick in the Two Rivers now than there had been. She had seen it, in Tel'aran'rhiod. Change came so slowly you never noticed it creeping upon you, or far too fast for comfort, but it came. Nothing stayed the same, even when you thought it did. Or hoped it would."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Some think you're going to bond him your Warder,\" Delana said suddenly in a quiet voice. She might have been engaging in casual conversation. Her whole attention seemed to be on arranging the hood of her cloak with green-gloved hands. She rode well, blending with the motion of her mare so effortlessly that she appeared unaware of the animal. \"Some think perhaps you already have. I haven't had one myself for sometime, but just knowing your Warder is there can be a comfort. If you choose the right one.\"\n\nEgwene raised an eyebrow-she was proud that she did not gape at the woman; this was the very last topic she would have expected-and Delana added, \"Lord Gareth. He spends a great deal of time with you. He's rather older than is usual, but Greens often choose a more experienced man for their first. I know you never actually had an Ajah, yet I often think of you as a Green. I wonder, will Siuan be relieved if you bond him, or upset? Sometimes I think one, sometimes the other. Their relationship, if it can be called that, is most peculiar, yet she seems completely unembarrassed.\"\n\n\"You must ask Siuan herself about that.\" Egwene's smile had some bite in it. So did her tone, for that matter. She did not entirely understand herself why Gareth Bryne had offered her his loyalty, but the Hall of the Tower had better uses for its time than gossiping like village women. \"You can tell whoever you choose that I've bonded no one, Delana. Lord Gareth spends time with me, as you put it, because I am the Amyrlin and he is my general. You may remind them of that, as well.\" So Delana thought of her as a Green. That was the Ajah she would have chosen, though in truth, she wanted only one Warder. But Gawyn was either inside Tar Valon or else on his way to Caemlyn, and either way, she would not lay hands on him soon. She patted Daishar's neck unnecessarily and tried to keep her smile from becoming a glare. It had been pleasant to forget the Hall, among other things, fora while. The Hall made her understand why Siuan had so often looked like a bear with a sore tooth when she was Amyrlin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I wouldn't say it has become a matter for wide discussion,\" Delana murmured."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"So far. Still, there is some interest in whether you will bond a Warder, and who. I doubt that Gareth Bryne would be considered a wise pick.\" She twisted in her saddle to look behind them. At Lord Gareth, Egwene thought, but when the Sitter turned back around, she said, very softly, \"Sheriam was never your choice for Keeper, of course, but you must know that the Ajahs set the rest of that lotto watch you, as well.\" Her dappled gray mare was shorter than Daishar, so she had to lookup at Egwene, which she tried to do without seeming to. Those watery blue eyes were suddenly quite sharp. \"There was some thought that Siuan might be advising you... too well... after the way you brought about the declaration of war against Elaida. But she's still resentful over her changed circumstances, isn't she? Sheriam is seen as the most likely culprit, now. In any case, the Ajahs want a little warning if you decide to pull another surprise.\"\n\n\"I thank you for the warning,\" Egwene said politely. Culprit? She had proven to the Hall that she would not be their puppet, yet most insisted on thinking she had to be someone's. At least no one suspected the truth about her council. It was to be hoped no one did.\n\n\"There is another reason you should be wary,\" Delana went on, the intensity in her eyes belying the casualness of her voice. This was more important to her than she wanted Egwene to know. \"You maybe sure that any advice one of them gives you comes straight from the head of her Ajah, and as you know, the head of an Ajah and its Sitters don't always see eye to eye. Listening too closely could put you at odds with the Hall. Not every decision concerns the war, remember, but you will surely want some of those to go your way.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"An Amyrlin should listen to every side before making any decision,\" Egwene replied, \"but I'll remember your warning when they advise me, Daughter.\" Did Delana think she was a fool? Or perhaps the woman was trying to make her angry. Anger made for hasty decisions and rash words that sometimes were hard to take back. She could not imagine what Delana was aiming at, but when Sitters could not manipulate her one way, they tried another. She had gotten a great deal of practice in sidestepping manipulation since being raised Amyrlin. Taking deep, regular breaths, she sought the balance of calm and found it. She had entirely too much practice at that, too, of late.\n\nThe Gray looked up at her past the edge of her hood, her face utterly smooth. But her pale blue eyes were very sharp, now, like augers. \"You might inquire what they think on the subject of negotiations with Elaida, Mother.\"\n\nEgwene almost smiled. The pause had been very deliberate. Apparently Delana disliked being called Daughter by a woman younger than most novices. Younger than most who had come from the Tower, let alone the newest. But then, Delana herself was too young to be a Sitter. And she could not hold her temperas well as the innkeeper's daughter. \"And why would I ask that?\"\n\n\"Because the subject has come up in the Hall in the last few days. Not as a proposal, but it has been mentioned, very quietly, by Varilin, and by Takima, and also by Magla. And Faiselle and Saroiya have appeared interested in what they have had to say.\"\n\nCalm or no calm, a worm of anger suddenly writhed inside Egwene, and crushing it was no easy task. Those five had been Sitters before the Tower was broken, but more importantly, they were divided between the two major factions struggling for control of the Hall. In reality, they were divided between following Romanda or Lelaine, yet that pair would oppose one another if it meant they both drowned. They also kept an iron grip on their followers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She might believe the others had been panicked by events, but not Romanda or Lelaine. For half a week now, talk of Elaida or retaking the Tower had been all but overwhelmed by worried conversations over that impossibly powerful, impossibly long eruption of the Power. Nearly everyone wanted to know what had caused it, and nearly everyone was afraid to learn. Only yesterday had Egwene been able to convince the Hall that it must be safe fora small party to Travel to where that eruption had been-even the memory was strong enough for everyone to pinpoint exactly where it had been-and most sisters still seemed to beholding their collective breath until Akarrin and the others returned. Every Ajah had wanted a representative, but Akarrin had been the only Aes Sedai to push forward.\n\nNeither Lelaine nor Romanda seemed concerned, however. Violent and prolonged as the display had been, it also had been very faraway, and no harm done that they could see; if it was the Forsaken's work, as seemed certain, the chance of learning anything was vanishingly small, and the possibility that they could do anything to counter it even smaller. Wasting time and effort on impossibilities was senseless when an important task lay right in front of them. So they said, gritting their teeth over finding themselves in agreement. They did agree that Elaida must be stripped of the stole and staff, though, Romanda with almost as much fervor as Lelaine, and if Elaida unseating a former Blue as Amyrlin had enraged Lelaine, Elaida's proclamation that the Blue Ajah was disbanded had made her near-rabid. If they were allowing talk of negotiation... It made no sense.\n\nThe last thing Egwene wanted was for Delana or anyone else to suspect that Sheriam and the others were more than a set of sheepdogs set to watch her, but she summoned them with a sharp call. They were smart enough to keep the secrets that needed keeping, since their own Ajahs would have their hides if even the half came out, and with no great haste, they came forward and rode in a cluster around her, their faces all masks of Aes Sedai serenity and patience. Then Egwene told Delana to repeat what she had said. For all her initial request for privacy, the Gray made only a perfunctory demurral before complying. And that was the end of calm and patience."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"That's madness,\" Sheriam said before anyone else could open her mouth. She sounded angry, and perhaps a little frightened. Well she might be. Her name was on a list of those marked for stilling. \"None of them can really believe negotiation is possible.\"\n\n\"I should hardly think so,\" Anaiya put in dryly. Her plain face belonged on a farmwife rather than a Blue sister, and she dressed very simply, publicly at least, in good wool, but she handled her bay gelding as easily as Delana did her mare. Very little could ruffle Anaiya's calm. Of course, there was no Blue among the Sitters talking negotiation. Anaiya looked an unlikely soldier, but for Blues, this was war to the knife, no quarter asked or given. \"Elaida has made the situation quite clear.\"\n\n\"Elaida is irrational,\" Carlinya said with a toss of her head that made her cowl fall to her shoulders and shook her short dark curls. She pulled the hood back into place irritably. Carlinya seldom showed any hint of emotion, yet her pale cheeks were nearly as flushed as Sheriam's, and heat filled her voice. \"She cannot possibly believe that we will all come crawling back to her now. How can Saroiya believe she will accept anything less?\"\n\n\"Crawling is what Elaida has demanded, though,\" Morvrin muttered acridly. Her usually placid round face wore a sour expression, too, and her plump hands were tight on her reins. She scowled so hard at a flight of magpies, scattering from a stand of birch trees at the passage of horses, that it seemed they should fallout of the sky. \"Takima likes the sound of her own voice, sometimes. She must be talking to hear herself.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Faiselle must, too,\" Myrelle said darkly, glaring at Delana as though she were to blame. The olive-skinned woman was known for her temper, even among Greens. \"I never expected to hear that sort of talk out of her. She's never been a fool before.\"\n\n\"I can't believe Magla really means any such thing,\" Nisao insisted, peering at each of them in turn. \"She just can't. For one thing, as much as I hate to say it, Romanda has Magla so tight under her thumb that Magla squeaks whenever Romanda sneezes, and the only doubt Romanda has is whether Elaida should be birched before she's exiled.\"\n\nDelana's expression was so bland, she had to be suppressing a smug smile. Plainly, this was exactly the reaction she had hoped for. \"Romanda holds Saroiya and Varilin just as firmly, and Takima and Faiselle hardly put one foot in front of the other without Lelaine's permission, but they still said what they said. I think your advisors are closer to the feelings of most sisters, though, Mother.\" Smoothing her gloves, she gave Egwene a sidelong look. \"You maybe able to nip this in the bud, if you move firmly. It seems you will have the support you need from the Ajahs. And mine, of course, in the Hall. Mine, and enough more to stop it dead.\" As if Egwene needed support to accomplish that. Perhaps she was trying to ingratiate herself. Or just to make it appear that support of Egwene washer only concern.\n\nBeonin had been riding in silence, clutching her cloak around her and peering at a spot between her brown mare's ears, but suddenly she shook her head. Ordinarily, her large blue-gray eyes made her appear startled, but they peered from her hood in ablaze of anger as she glared from one of her companions to another, including Egwene. \"Why should negotiations be out of the question?\" Sheriam blinked at her in surprise, and Morvrin opened her mouth with a scowl, but Beonin plunged on, directing her ire at Delana, now, her Taraboner accent stronger than usual. \"We are Gray, you and I. We negotiate, mediate. Elaida, she has stated the conditions most onerous, but that is often the casein the beginning of negotiations. We can reunite the White Tower and assure the safety of everyone, if we only talk.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We also judge,\" Delana snapped, \"and Elaida has been judged.\" That was not precisely true, but she seemed more startled than anyone else by Beonin's outburst. Her voice dripped acid. \"Perhaps you are willing to negotiate yourself into being birched. I am not, and I think you will find few others who are, either.\"\n\n\"The situation, it has altered,\" Beonin persisted. She stretched a hand toward Egwene, almost pleading. \"Elaida would not have made the proclamation she did concerning the Dragon Reborn unless she had him in hand, one way or another. That flare of saidar was a warning. The Forsaken must be moving, and the White Tower, it must be-\"\n\n\"Enough,\" Egwene cut in. \"You are willing to open negotiations with Elaida? With the Sitters still in the Tower?\" she amended. Elaida would never talk.\n\n\"Yes,\" Beonin said fervently. \"Matters can be arranged to everyone's satisfaction. I know they can.\"\n\n\"Then you have my permission.\"\n\nImmediately everyone but Beonin began talking frantically on top of one another, trying to dissuade her, telling her this was insanity. Anaiya shouted as loudly as Sheriam, gesturing emphatically, and Delana's eyes bulged in what looked like near terror. Some of the outriders began looking toward the sisters as much as they watched the farms they were riding past, and there was astir among the Warders, who certainly had no need of their bonds at the moment to know their Aes Sedai were agitated, but they held their places. Wise men kept their noses out of the way when Aes Sedai began raising their voices.\n\nEgwene ignored the shouts and arm-waving. She had considered every possibility she could think of for ending this struggle with the White Tower whole and united. She had talked for hours with Siuan, who had more reason than anyone to want to unseat Elaida. If it could have saved the Tower, Egwene would have surrendered to Elaida, forget whether the woman had come to the Amyrlin Seat legally. Siuan had nearly had apoplexy at the suggestion, yet she had agreed, reluctantly, that preserving the Tower superseded every other consideration. Beonin wore such a beautiful smile, it seemed a crime to quench it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene raised her voice just enough to be heard over the others. \"You will approach Varilin and the others Delana named, and arrange to approach the White Tower. These are the terms I will accept: Elaida is to resign and go into exile.\" Because Elaida would never accept back the sisters who had rebelled against her. An Amyrlin had no say over how an Ajah governed itself, but Elaida had declared that the sisters who fled the Tower were no longer members of any Ajah. According to her, they would have to beg readmittance to their Ajahs, after serving a penance under her direct control. Elaida would not reunite the Tower, only shatter it worse than it already was. \"Those are the only terms I will accept, Beonin. The only terms. Do you understand me?\"\n\nBeonin's eyes rolled up in her head, and she would have fallen from her horse if Morvrin had not caught her, muttering under her breath as she held the Gray upright and slapped her face, not lightly. Everyone else stared at Egwene as though they had never seen her before. Even Delana, who must have planned for something like this to happen from the first word she had said. They had come to a halt with Beonin's fainting fit, and the ring of soldiers around them drew up at a shouted command from Lord Gareth. Some stared toward the Aes Sedai, their anxiety plain even with their faces hidden behind the bars of their helmets.\n\n\"It's time to get back to camp,\" Egwene said. Calmly. What had to be done had to be done. Perhaps surrender would have healed the Tower, but she could not believe it. And now it might comedown to Aes Sedai facing one another in the streets of Tar Valon, unless she could find away to make her plan succeed. \"We have work to do,\" she said, gathering her reins, \"and there isn't much time left.\" She prayed there was enough."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Chapter 17\n\nSecrets\n\nOnce Delana was sure that her noxious seed had taken root, she murmured that it might be best if they were not seen arriving back at the camp together and slipped away, pushing her mare to a quick trot through the snow and leaving the rest of them to ride on in uneasy silence except for the crunch of the horses' hooves. The Warders maintained their distance behind, and the escorting soldiers had their attention back on the farms and thickets, without so much as a glance toward the Aes Sedai that Egwene could see, now. Men never knew when to keep their mouths shut, though. Telling a man to be quiet only made him gossip all the harder, just to close friends he could trust, to be sure, as if they in turn would not tell everyone who would listen. The Warders might be different-Aes Sedai always insisted they were, those who had Warders-but no doubt the soldiers would talk of sisters arguing, and no doubt they would say Delana had been sent off with a flea in her ear. The woman had planned this very carefully. Worse than fireweed or stranglervine could grow if that seed was allowed to sprout, but the Gray Sitter had sheltered herself from blame very neatly. Truth almost always did come out in the end, but by the end, truth was often so wrapped around with rumors and speculation and absolute lies that most people never did believe it.\n\n\"I trust I don't have to ask whether any of you had heard about this before.\" Egwene said that quite casually, seemingly studying the countryside as they rode, but she was pleased when everyone denied it outright with considerable indignation, including Beonin, who was working her jaw and glaring at Morvrin. Egwene trusted them as far as she dared-they could not have given her their oaths without meaning to hold to every word; not unless they were Black Ajah, a niggling possibility that accounted for most of her caution-yet even oaths of fealty left room for the most loyal people doing the worst possible thing in the belief that it was in your best interest. And people who had been coerced into their oaths could be adept at spotting the gaps and leeways."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The real question,\" she continued, \"is what was Delana after?\" She had no need to explain, not for these women, everyone experienced in the Game of Houses. If all Delana had wanted was to stop negotiations with Elaida while keeping her own name out of it, she could simply have spoken to Egwene alone at anytime. Sitters needed no excuse to come to the Amyrlin's study. Or she could have used Halima, who slept on a pallet in Egwene's tent most nights despite being Delana's secretary. Egwene was troubled with headaches, and some nights only Halima's massages could soothe them so she could sleep. For that matter, an anonymous note might have been sufficient to make her present the Hall with an edict forbidding negotiations. The touchiest quibbler would have to admit that talks to end the war certainly touched on the war. But plainly Delana wanted Sheriam and the others to know, too. Her talebearing was an arrow aimed at another target.\n\n\"Strife between the Ajah heads and the Sitters,\" Carlinya said, as cool as the snow. \"Perhaps strife between the Ajahs.\" Casually adjusting her cloak, intricately embroidered white-on-white but lined with dense black fur, she might have been discussing the price of a spool of thread. \"Why she wants these things, I can't begin to say, but those will be the results, unless we are very careful, and she could not know we would be careful, or that we have any reason to be, so logically one or both must be her aim.\"\n\n\"The first answer that comes to mind isn't always correct, Carlinya,\" Morvrin said. \"There's no saying that Delana thought her actions through as carefully as you have, or that she thought along the same lines.\" The stout Brown believed more in commonsense than logic, or so she said, but in truth she seemed to blend the two, a combination that made her very hardheaded, and suspicious of quick or easy answers. Which was not a bad thing to be. \"Delana maybe trying to sway some among the Sitters on some issue that's important to her. Maybe she hopes to get Elaida declared Black Ajah after all. No matter the results, her goal maybe something we don't even suspect. Sitters can be as petty as anyone else. For all we know, she might have a grudge against one of those she named dating back to when she was a novice and they taught her. Better to concentrate on what will come of it than to worry about why until we know more.\" Her tone was as placid as her broad face, but Carlinya's cool composure flickered to cool disdain fora moment. Her rationality made few concessions for human foibles. Or for anyone disagreeing with her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Anaiya laughed, a sound of almost motherly amusement that made her bay dance a few steps before she reined him back to a walk. A motherly farmwife amused by the antics of others in the village. Even some sisters were foolish enough to dismiss her that easily. \"Don't sulk, Carlinya. You are very probably right. No, Morvrin, she probably is. In any event, I believe we can squash any hopes she has for discord.\" That did not sound amused at all. No Blue was amused by anything that might hamper pulling Elaida down.\n\nMyrelle gave a savage nod of agreement, then blinked in surprise when Nisao said, \"Can you afford to stop this, Mother?\" The tiny Yellow did not speak up often. \"I don't mean whatever Delana is trying to do. If we can settle on what that is,\" she added quickly, making a gesture at Morvrin, who had opened her mouth again. Nisao looked a child alongside the other women, but it was a peremptory gesture. She was Yellow, after all, with all the self-assurance that implied, and unwilling to step back for anyone inmost circumstances. \"I mean the talk of parley with the Sitters in the Tower.\"\n\nFora moment, everyone gaped at her, even Beonin.\n\n\"And why would we want to allow that?\" Anaiya said finally, in a dangerous voice. \"We didn't come all this way to talk to Elaida.\" She was a farmwife with a cleaver hidden behind her back and a mind to use it, now.\n\nNisao looked up at her and sniffed dismissively. \"I didn't say we wanted it. I asked whether we dare stop it.\"\n\n\"I hardly seethe difference.\" Sheriam's voice was icy, and her face pale. With anger, Egwene thought, but it might have been fear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Then think fora while, and you might see it,\" Nisao said dryly. Dry the way a knife-blade was dry, and equally cutting. \"At present, talk of negotiations is limited to five Sitters, and very quiet, but will it remain so? Once word spreads that talks were proposed and rejected, how long before despair sets in? No, hear me out! We all set off full of righteous fury for justice, yet here we sit, staring at the walls of Tar Valon, while Elaida sits in the Tower. We've been here nearly two weeks, and for all anyone can see, we maybe here two years, or twenty. The longer we sit with nothing happening, the more sisters will start making excuses for Elaida's crimes. The more they'll start thinking that we have to mend the Tower, never mind the cost. Do you want to wait until sisters start slipping back to Elaida one by one? I myself do not fancy standing on the riverbank defying the woman with just the Blue Ajah and the rest of you for company. Negotiations will at least let everyone see that something is happening.\"\n\n\"No one is going to return to Elaida,\" Anaiya protested, shifting on her saddle, but she wore a troubled frown, and she sounded as if she could see it happening. The Tower beckoned to every Aes Sedai. Very likely even Black sisters yearned for the Tower to be whole again. And there it stood, just a few miles away, but seemingly out of reach.\n\n\"Talk could buy time, Mother,\" Morvrin said reluctantly, and no one could put as much reluctance in her voice as she. Her frown was thoughtful, and not at all pleased. \"A few more weeks, and Lord Gareth might be able to find the ships he needs to block the harbors. That will alter everything, in our favor. With noway for food to get in or mouths to get out, the city will be starving inside a month.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene hung onto a smooth face with an effort. There was no real hope of ships to block the harbor, though none of them knew that. Gareth had made it plain enough to her, however, long before leaving Murandy. Originally, he had hoped to buy vessels while they marched north along the Erinin, using them to ferry supplies until they reached Tar Valon, then sinking them in the harbor mouths. Using gateways to reach Tar Valon had put paid to that in more ways than one. Word of the siege had left the city with the first ships sailing after the army arrived, and now, as far north and south as he had sent riders, ship captains were carrying out their business ashore by boat, from anchorages well out in the river. No captain was willing to risk the chance her ship would simply be seized. Gareth made his reports only to her, and his officers only to him, yet any sister could have known if she talked with a few soldiers.\n\nFortunately, even sisters looking for Warders rarely spoke to soldiers. They were generally accounted a thieving, unlettered lot who only bathed by accident, when they had to wade a stream. Not the kind of man any sister spent time with except when compelled to. It made keeping secrets easier, and some secrets were essential. Including, sometimes, secrets kept from those seemingly on your side. She could remember not thinking that way, but that was apart of the innkeeper's daughter she had been obliged to leave behind. This was another world, with very different rules from Emond's Field. A misstep there meant a summons to the Women's Circle. Here, a misstep meant death or worse, and for more than herself.\n\n\"The Sitters remaining in the Tower should be willing to talk,\" Carlinya put in, with a sigh. \"They have to know that the longer the siege lasts, the more chance Lord Gareth will find his ships. I cannot think how long they will continue talking, though, when they realize we do not mean to surrender.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Elaida will insist on that,\" Myrelle muttered, yet she did not seem to be arguing, just talking to herself, and Sheriam shivered, drawing her cloak around her as though she had let the cold touch her.\n\nOnly Beonin looked happy, sitting eager and upright in her saddle, dark honey hair framing a wide smile inside her hood. She did not press her case, however. She was good at negotiation, so everyone said, and knew when to wait.\n\n\"I did say you could begin,\" Egwene said. Not that she had meant it for more than a setdown, yet if you were going to live by the Three Oaths, then you had to standby what you said. She could not wait to hold the Oath Rod. It would be so much easier, then. \"Just make sure you're very careful what you say. Unless they think we all grew wings to fly here, they must suspect we've rediscovered Traveling, but they can't be certain unless someone confirms it. It's better for us if they stay uncertain. That must be one secret you hold as tightly as you hold the secret of our ferrets in the Tower.\"\n\nMyrelle and Anaiya jerked at that, and Carlinya looked around as though fearful, though neither Warders nor soldiers were close enough to hear unless someone shouted. Morvrin merely took on an even more sour expression. Even Nisao looked a little ill, though she had had nothing to do with the decision to send sisters back to the Tower in secret, supposedly answering Elaida's summons. The Hall might be happy to learn that ten sisters were in the Tower trying to undermine Elaida however they could, even if the effort had borne no apparent fruit so far, but the Sitters would most definitely be unhappy at realizing that it had been kept secret because these women feared that some of the Sitters might actually be Black Ajah. As well for Sheriam and the others to reveal their oaths to Egwene as reveal that. The results for them might not be very different. The Hall had not ordered anyone birched yet, but the way most Sitters chafed at the bit over Egwene's control of the war, it could hardly come as a surprise if they jumped at the chance to show they still had some authority while simultaneously expressing their displeasure forcefully."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 5"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Jondyn and Get and Hu had caught up to the fleeing inhabitants of Maiden, but the only useful thing they had gotten was this map, and making anyone pause long enough to provide that had been a chore."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Those strong enough to fight were dead or wearing gai'shain white for the Shaido; those who remained to flee were the old and the very young, the sick and the lame. According to Jondyn, the thought that someone might force them to return and fight the Shaido had quickened their steps north toward Andor and safety. The map was a puzzle, with its maze of streets and the lady's fortress and the great cistern in the northeast corner. It tantalized him with possibilities. But they were possibilities only if he found a solution to the greater puzzle that was not shown on the map, the huge mass of Shaido surrounding the walled town, not to mention four or five hundred Shaido Wise Ones who could channel. So the map went back into his sleeve, and he continued to pace.\n\nThe red-striped tent itself made him chafe as much as the map, and so did the furnishings, the gilt-edged chairs that folded for storage and the mosaic-topped table that did not, the stand-mirror and the mirrored washstand and even the brass-bound chests standing in a row along an outer wall. It was barely light outside, and all twelve of the lamps were lit, mirrors sparkling. The braziers that had held off the night's freezing cold still contained a few embers. He had even had Faile's two silk hangings, worked with lines of birds and flowers, brought out and hung from the roof poles. He had let Lamgwin trim his beard and shave his cheeks and neck; he had washed and donned clean clothes. He had had the tent setup as if Faile were going to return any moment from a ride. All so everyone would look at him and see a bloody lord, look at him and feel confident. And every bit of it reminded him that Faile was not out riding. Tugging off one of his gauntlets, he felt in his coat pocket and ran his fingers along the rawhide cord tucked in there. Thirty-two knots, now. He did not need reminding of that, but sometimes he lay awake a whole night in the bedding that did not have Faile in it, counting those knots. Somehow, they had become a connection to her. Anyway, wakefulness was better than nightmares."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If you don't sit down, you are going to be too tired to ride to So Habor even with Neald's help,\" Berelain said, sounding faintly amused. \"Just watching you is exhausting me.\"\n\nHe managed not to glare at her. Ina dark blue silk riding dress, a wide golden necklace studded with firedrops tight around her neck and the narrow crown of Mayene holding a golden hawk in flight above her brows, the First of Mayene was seated atop her crimson cloak on one of the folding chairs with her hands folded around red gloves in her lap. She looked as composed as an Aes Sedai, and she smelled... patient. He did not understand why she had stopped smelling as if he were a fat lamb caught in brambles for her meal, but he almost felt grateful to her. It was good to have someone he could talk to about missing Faile. She listened, and smelled of sympathy.\n\n\"I want to be here if... when Gaul and the Maidens bring in some prisoners.\" The slip made him grimace as much as the delay. It was as if he doubted. Sooner or later they would capture some of the Shaido, yet apparently that was no easy matter. Taking prisoners did no good unless they could be brought away, and the Shaido were only careless compared to other Aiel. Sulin had been patient, too, explaining it to him. It was getting so hard for him to be patient, though. \"What's keeping Arganda?\" he growled.\n\nAs if the Ghealdanin's name had summoned him at last, Arganda pushed through the entry flaps, his face like stone and his eyes sunken. He looked as though he slept as little as Perrin. The short man wore his silvery breastplate, but no helmet. He had not shaved yet this morning, and graying stubble grizzled his chin. Dangling from one gauntleted hand, a fat leather purse clinked as he set it on the table alongside two already there. \"From the Queen's strongbox,\" he said sourly. He had said little the last ten days that was not sour. \"Enough to cover our share and more. I had to break open the lock and put three men to guard the chest. It's a temptation to the best of them, with the lock broken.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Good, good,\" Perrin said, trying not to sound too impatient."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He did not care whether Arganda had to set a hundred men guarding his queen's strongbox. His own purse was the smallest of the three, and he had gleaned every bit of gold or silver he could find to make it up. Slinging his cloak around his shoulders, he picked up the purses and brushed past the man out into the gray morning.\n\nTo his disgust, the camp had taken a more permanent air, though it was not by design, and there was nothing he could do about it. Many of the Two Rivers men slept under tents now, pale brown patched canvas rather than striped red like his, but big enough for eight or ten men each, with their ill-assorted polearms stacked at the front, and the others had turned their temporary brush shelters into sturdy little huts of woven evergreen branches. The tents and huts made at best meandering rows, not at all like the rigid lines seen among the Ghealdanin and Mayeners, yet it still looked a little like a village, with paths and lanes through the snow trampled down to bare, frozen earth. A neat stone fire-ring surrounded each of the cookfires, where clusters of men stood cloaked and hooded against the cold, waiting for their breakfast.\n\nIt was what was in those black iron cookpots that had Perrin moving this morning. With so many men hunting, game was growing thin on the ground, and everything else was running out. They were down to searching for squirrels' hoards of acorns to grind for stretching the oatmeal, and this late in the winter, what they found were old and dried out at best. The sour mixture filled the belly after a fashion, but you had to be hungry to get it down. Most of the faces Perrin could see were watching the cookpots eagerly. The last of the carts were rattling though a gap made in the ring of sharpened stakes around the camp, the Cairhienin drivers swathed to their ears and hunched on their seats like dark sacks of wool. Everything the carts had held was stacked in the center of the camp. Empty, they lurched in the ruts left by the carts ahead, a single file disappearing into the surrounding forest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Perrin's appearance with Berelain and Arganda at his heels caused astir, although not among the hungry Two Rivers men."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Oh, a few made cautious nods in his direction-one or two fools gave rough bows!-but most still tried not to look at him when Berelain was in the vicinity. Idiots. Stonebrained idiots! There were plenty of other people, though, gathered a little way from the red-striped tent, crowding into the lanes between the other tents. An unarmored Mayener soldier in a gray coat came running with Berelain's white mare, bowing and bending to hold her stirrup. Annoura was already upon a sleek mare almost as dark as Berelain's mount was pale. Thin beaded braids hanging down her chest from the cowl of her cloak, the Aes Sedai barely seemed to notice the woman she was supposed to advise. Back stiff, she peered fixedly toward the low Aiel tents, where nothing moved but the thin wavering lines of smoke rising from the smoke holes. One-eyed Gallenne, in his red helmet and breastplate and eyepatch, made up for the Taraboner sister's inattention, though. As soon as Berelain appeared, he barked an order that stiffened fifty of the Winged Guards to statues, long, red-streamered steel-tipped lances upright at their sides, and when she mounted, Gallenne snapped another command that put them on their horses so smoothly they seemed to move as one.\n\nArganda directed a frown toward the Aiel tents, frowned at the Mayeners, then stalked over to whereas many Ghealdanin lancers waited, in shining armor and conical green helmets, and spoke softly to the fellow who would be commanding them, a lean man named Kireyin who Perrin suspected was nobly born from the haughty gaze visible behind the face-bars of his silvered helmet. Arganda was short enough that Kireyin had to bend to listen to what he had to say, and the necessity frosted the taller man's face even more. One of the men behind Kireyin was carrying a staff with a red banner bearing the three six-pointed Silver Stars of Ghealdan instead of a green-streamered lance, and one of the Winged Guards carried Mayene's Golden Hawk on blue."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Aram was there, too, though off to one side and not ready to ride. Wrapped in his putrid green cloak, sword hilt rising behind his shoulder, he shared his jealous scowls between the Mayeners and the Ghealdanin. When he saw Perrin, the man's scowl turned sullen, and he hurried off, blundering through the Two Rivers men waiting for their breakfast. He did not pause to offer apologies when he bumped someone. Aram had grown increasingly touchy, snapping and sneering at everyone but Perrin as the days passed and they sat and waited. Yesterday, he had almost come to blows with a pair of Ghealdanin over something none of them could quite recall once they were separated, except that Aram said the Ghealdanin had no respect and they said he had a badmouth. That was why the former Tinker was staying behind this morning. Things were likely to be touchy enough in So Habor without Aram starting a fight when Perrin was not looking.\n\n\"Keep an eye on Aram,\" he said quietly when Dannil brought up his bay. \"And keep a close eye on Arganda,\" he added, stuffing the purses into his saddlebags and buckling the flaps down tight. The weight of Berelain's contribution balanced his and Arganda's together very nicely. Well, she had cause to be generous. Her men were as hungry as anyone else. \"Arganda looks a man ready to do something stupid, tome.\" Stayer frisked a little and tossed his head as Perrin took the reins, but the stallion settled quickly under a firm, gentle hand.\n\nDannil rubbed his tusk-like mustaches with a cold-reddened knuckle and eyed Arganda sideways, then exhaled heavily in a mist. \"I'll watch him, Lord Perrin,\" he muttered, giving his cloak a hitch, \"but no matter what you said about me being in charge, as soon as you're out of sight, he won't listen to a thing I say.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Unfortunately, that was true."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perrin would rather have taken Arganda with him and left Gallenne here, but neither had been willing to accept that. The Ghealdanin did accept that men and horses would begin starving soon unless food and fodder were found somewhere, but he could not make himself spend a day farther from his queen than he already was. In someways, he seemed even more frantic than Perrin, or maybe just more ready to give into it. Left to himself, Arganda would have been edging a little nearer the Shaido everyday until he was right under their noses. Perrin was ready to die to free Faile. Arganda just seemed ready to die.\n\n\"Do what you canto keep him from doing anything stupid, Dannil.\" After a moment, he added, \"As long as it doesn't come to blows.\" There was only so far he could expect Dannil to restrain the fellow, after all. There were three Ghealdanin for every Two Rivers man, and Faile would never be freed if it came to them killing each other. Perrin very nearly rested his head on Stayer's flank. Light, but he was tired, and he could not see anyplace ahead of him anywhere.\n\nA slow clop of hooves announced the arrival of Masuri and Seonid, with their three Warders riding close behind wrapped in cloaks that made most of each man vanish, along with part of his horse. Both Aes Sedai wore shimmering silk, and a heavy gold necklace, layers of thick strands, showed under the edge of Masuri's dark cloak. A small white jewel dangled onto Seonid's forehead from a fine golden chain fastened in her hair. Annoura relaxed, settling more easily in her saddle. Back among the Aiel tents, the Wise Ones stood in a line watching, six tall women with their heads wrapped in dark shawls. The people of So Habor might be about as welcoming to Aiel as the people of Maiden would have been, but Perrin had not been sure the Wise Ones would let either sister come alone. They had been the last reason for waiting. The sun was a red-gold rim on the treetops."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The sooner there, the sooner back,\" he said, climbing into the bay's saddle. Ashe rode through the gap that had been made to let the carts out, Two Rivers men were already beginning to replace the missing stakes. No one lacked for wariness with Masema's people nearby.\n\nIt was a hundred paces to the treeline, but his eye caught movement, someone on a horse slipping away into the deeper shadows beneath the towering trees. One of Masema's watchers, no doubt, racing to tell the Prophet that Perrin and Berelain had left the camp. No matter how fast he rode, though, he could not be in time. If Masema wanted Berelain or Perrin dead, as seemed likely, he would have to wait on another opportunity.\n\nGallenne was not about to take any chances, though. No one had seen hide nor toenails of Santes or Gendar, Berelain's two thief-catchers, since the day they failed to return from Masema's camp, and to Gallenne that was assure a message as their heads in a sack. He had his lancers spread in a sharp-eyed ring around Berelain before they reached the trees. And around Perrin, too, but that was only incidental. Given his wishes, Gallenne would have brought all nine hundred or so of his Winged Guards, or better yet, in his view, talked Berelain out of going. Perrin had tried that, as well, with no better luck. The woman had away of listening, then doing exactly as she wished. Faile was like that, too. Sometimes a man just had to live with it. Most of the time, since there was nothing else to do.\n\nThe huge trees and stone outcrops sticking out of the snow broke up the formation, of course, but it was still a colorful sight even in the dim light of the forest, red streamers floating on light airs in slanted beams of sunlight, red-armored riders vanishing momentarily behind massive oaks and leatherleafs. The three Aes Sedai rode behind Perrin and Berelain, followed by their Warders, all watching the woods around them, and then the man with Berelain's banner. Kireyin and the banner of Ghealdan came a little behind, his men dressed in neat, shining lines, or as near as they could manage. The forest's openness was a deception, and ill suited to neat lines and bright banners, but add in embroidered silks and gems and a crown and Warders in those color-shifting cloaks, and it was a most impressive sight. Perrin could have laughed, though without much mirth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Berelain seemed to sense his thoughts. \"When you go to buy a sack of flour,\" she said, \"wear plain wool so the seller thinks you can't afford to pay anymore than you must. When you're after flour by the wagonload, wear jewels so she thinks you can afford to comeback for all she can lay hands on.\"\n\nPerrin snorted a laugh in spite of himself. It sounded very much like something Master Luhhan had told him, once, with a nudge in the ribs to say it was a joke and a look in his eye that said it was a little more. Dress poor when you want a small favor, and fine when you want a large one. He was very glad Berelain no longer smelled like a hunting wolf. At least that took one worry off his mind.\n\nThey soon caught up to the tail end of the carts, a line that was no longer moving by the time they reached the Traveling ground. Axework and sweat had removed the trees sheared off by gateways and made a little clearing, but it was crowded even before Gallenne spread his ring of lancers around it facing outward. Pager Neald was there already, a foppish Murandian with his mustache waxed to points, on a dapple gelding. His coat would do for anyone who had not seen an Asha'man before; the only other one he had was black as well, and at least he had no collar pins to mark him out. The snow was not deep, but the twenty Two Rivers men led by Wil al'Seen were on their horses, too, rather than standing and waiting for their feet to freeze in their boots. They looked a harder lot than the fellows who had left the Two Rivers with him, longbows slung across their backs, bristling quivers and swords of various descriptions at their belts. Perrin hoped he could send them home soon, or better, take them home."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Most were balancing a polearm over their saddles, but Tod al'Caar and Flann Barstere carried banners, Perrin's own Red Wolf-head and the Red Eagle of Manetheren. Tod's heavy jaw was set stubbornly, and Flann, a tall skinny fellow from up to Watch Hill, looked sullen. Likely he had not wanted the job. Maybe Tod had not, either. Wil gave Perrin one of those open, innocent looks that fooled so many girls back home-Wil liked too much embroidery on his coat at feastdays, and he purely loved riding ahead of those banners, probably in the hope some woman would think they were his-but Perrin let it pass. He had not expected the other three people in the clearing anymore than he had the banners.\n\nHolding his cloak around him as if the mild breeze were a gale, Balwer clumsily heeled his blunt-nosed roan forward to meet Perrin. Two of Faile's hangers-on trailed after him with defiant expressions. Medore's blue eyes looked odd in her dark Tairen face, but then, her coat, with its puffy green-striped sleeves, looked odd on her bosomy frame. The daughter of a High Lord, she was every inch a noblewoman, and men's clothing just did not suit her. Latian, Cairhienin and pale in a coat almost as dark as Neald's, though marked with four slashes of red and blue across the chest, was not much taller than she, and the way he sniffled with a cold and rubbed at his sharp nose made him look much less competent. Neither wore a sword, another surprise.\n\n\"My Lord; my Lady First,\" Balwer said in that dry voice, ducking a bow in his saddle, a sparrow bobbing on a branch. His eyes flickered toward the Aes Sedai behind them, but that was the only sign he gave that he was aware of the sisters. \"My Lord, I recalled that I have an acquaintance in this So Habor. A cutler who travels with his wares, but he maybe at home, and I've not seen him in several years.\" This was the first time he had ever mentioned having a friend anywhere, and a town buried in the north of Altara seemed a peculiar place for it, but Perrin nodded. He suspected there was more to this friend than Balwer was letting on. He was beginning to suspect there was more to Balwer than the man let on."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And your companions, Master Balwer?\" Berelain's face stayed smooth inside her fur-lined cowl, but she smelled amused. She knew very well that Faile had used her young followers as spies and was sure that Perrin made the same use of them.\n\n\"They wanted an outing, my Lady First,\" the bony little man replied blandly. \"I will vouch for them, my Lord. They've promised to cause no trouble, and they may learn something.\" He smelled amused, too-a musty smell, of course, coming from him-though with a touch of irritation. Balwer knew she knew, which did not please him, but she never made open reference to the fact, which did. There definitely was more to Balwer than he let on. The man must have his reasons for taking them along. He had managed to take up all of Faile's young followers one way and another, and had them eavesdropping and watching among the Ghealdanin and the Mayeners and even the Aiel. According to him, what your friends said and did could be as interesting as what your enemies planned, and that was when you were sure they were your friends. Of course, Berelain knew that her people were being spied on. And Balwer knew she knew that, too. And she knew that he... It was all too sophisticated fora country blacksmith.\n\n\"We're wasting time,\" Perrin said. \"Open the gateway, Neald.\"\n\nThe Asha'man grinned at him and stroked his waxed mustaches-Neald grinned too much since the Shaido were found; maybe he was eager to come to grips with them-he grinned and gestured grandly with one hand. \"As you command,\" he said in a cheerful voice, and the familiar silvery slash of light appeared, widening into a hole in the air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Without waiting for anyone else, Perrin rode through into a snow-covered field, surrounded by a low stonewall, in rolling country that seemed almost treeless compared with the forest he had left behind, just a few miles from So Habor unless Neald had made a substantial error. If he had, Perrin thought he might pull those fool mustaches right off the man's face. How could the fellow be cheerful?\n\nSoon, though, he was riding west beneath a gray cloudy sky, along a snowy road with the high-wheeled carts trundling along in a line after him and early-morning shadows stretching ahead. Stayer tugged at the reins, wanting to run, but Perrin held him to a steady walk, no faster than the carthorses could manage. Gallenne's Mayeners had to cross fields beside the road to maintain their ring around him and Berelain, and that meant getting past the low walls of rough stone that divided field from field. Some had gates from one farmer's property to the next, probably to allow sharing plow-teams, and others they jumped flamboyantly with the streamers on their lances flying, risking their animal's legs and their necks. Perrin cared the less about their necks, in truth.\n\nWil and the two fools carrying the Wolfhead and the Red Eagle joined the Mayener bannerman behind the Aes Sedai and Warders, but the other Two Rivers men strung themselves outflanking the line of carts. There were far too many carts for fewer than twenty men to guard, yet the cart drivers would feel easier seeing them. Not that anyone expected brigands, or Shaido for that matter, but no one felt comfortable outside the protection of the camp. In any case, here they would be able to see any threat well before it reached them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The low rolling hills did not really allow a very long view, but it was farm country, with sturdy thatch-roofed stone houses and barns scattered among the fields, and nothing of wildness about it anywhere. Even most of the small thickets clinging to the slopes were coppiced for firewood. But it struck Perrin suddenly that the snow on the road ahead of him was not fresh; yet the only tracks were those made by Gallenne's foreriders. No one moved around any of those dark houses and barns; no smoke rose from any of the thick chimneys. The countryside seemed absolutely still and absolutely empty. The hair on the back of his neck stirred, trying to stand.\n\nAn exclamation from one of the Aes Sedai made him look over his shoulder, and he followed Masuri's pointing finger north to a shape flying through the air. It might have been taken fora large bat at first glance, sweeping eastward on long ribbed wings, a strange bat with along neck and along thin tail trailing behind. Gallenne barked an oath and pressed his looking glass to his eye. Perrin could see it well enough unaided, and even make out the figure of a human being clinging to the creature's back, riding it like a horse.\n\n\"Seanchan,\" Berelain breathed, both her voice and the smell of her worried.\n\nPerrin twisted in his saddle to watch the thing's flight until the glare of the sunrise made him turn away. \"Nothing to do with us,\" he said. If Neald had made a mistake, he would strangle the man.\n\nChapter 26\n\nIn So Habor\n\nAs it happened, Neald, who had had to remain to hold the gateway open till Kireyin and the Ghealdanin were through, had placed the hole in the air very close to where he aimed. He and Kireyin caught up at a gallop just as Perrin topped arise and drew rein with the town of So Habor in front of him, on the other side of a small river crossed by a pair of arching timber bridges. Perrin was no soldier, but he knew right away why Masema had left this place alone. Hard against the river, the town had two massive stonewalls dotted with towers around it, the inner rising taller than the outer. A pair of barges were tied to along wharf that ran along the river wall from bridge to bridge, yet the wide bridge gates, iron-strapped and closed tight, seemed to be the only openings in that expanse of rough gray stone, and battlements topped the whole length of it. Built to hold off greedy neighboring nobles, So Habor would have had little fear of the Prophet's rabble even if they came by thousands. Anyone wanting to break into this town would need siege engines and patience, and Masema was more comfortable terrorizing villages and towns without walls or defenses."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Well, it's glad I am to see people on the walls over there,\" Neald said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was beginning to think everyone in this country was dead and buried.\" He sounded only half joking, and his grin looked forced.\n\n\"As long as they're alive enough to sell grain,\" Kireyin murmured in his nasal, bored voice. Unbuckling his silvery, white-plumed helmet, he lifted it down to the tall pommel of his saddle. His eyes swept past Perrin and paused briefly on Berelain before he twisted around to address the Aes Sedai in the same weary tone. \"Are we going to sit here, or go down?\" Berelain arched an eyebrow at him, a dangerous look, as a man with any brains would see. Kireyin did not see.\n\nPerrin's hackles were still trying to stand, the more so since seeing the town. Maybe it was just the part of him that was wolf, disliking walls. But he did not think so. The people atop the walls pointed toward them, and some held looking glasses. Those, at least, would be able to make out the banners clearly. Everyone would be able to seethe soldiers, with the streamers on their lances floating on a morning breeze. And the first few carts of the line that stretched down the road out of their sight. Maybe everyone from the farms was crowded into the town. \"We didn't come hereto sit,\" he said.\n\nBerelain and Annoura between them had laid out how to approach So Habor. The local lord or lady had surely heard of Shaido depredations not many miles to the north of them, and they might have heard of the Prophet's presence in Altara, too. Either thing was enough to make anyone wary; together, they might be enough to make people loose arrows and wait till after to ask who they had shot. In any case, it was highly unlikely they would welcome outland soldiers through their gates at the moment. The lancers remained spread along the rise, a show that these visitors possessed some armed might even if they chose not to employ it. Not that So Habor would be overly impressed by a hundred men, but the burnished armor of the Ghealdanin and the red armor of the Winged Guards said the visitors were not wandering tricksters. The Two Rivers men would impress no one until they used their bows, so they remained back with the carts, to holdup the cart drivers\" spirits. It was all an elaborate bit of nonsense, fluff and feathers, but Perrin was a country blacksmith no matter who called him lord. The First of Mayene and an Aes Sedai should know what they were about in a thing like this."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gallenne led the way down to the river at a slow walk, bright crimson helmet resting on his saddle, his back straight. Perrin and Berelain rode a little way behind, with Seonid between them and Masuri and Annoura to either side, the Aes Sedai with their hoods thrown back so anyone on those walls who could recognize an Aes Sedai face would have the opportunity to see three. Aes Sedai were welcomed most places, even where people really would rather not. At their backs came all four bannermen, with the Warders spaced among them in their eye-wrenching cloaks. And Kireyin with his shining helmet balanced on his thigh, sour-mouthed at being relegated to riding with the Warders and now and then glaring coldly down his nose at Balwer, who trailed at the rear with his two companions. No one had told Balwer he could come, yet no one had said he could not. He bobbed a bow whenever the nobleman looked at him, then went back to studying the town walls ahead.\n\nPerrin could not shake his uneasiness as they drew nearer the town. The horses' hooves clattered hollowly on the southernmost bridge, a wide structure that rose high enough above the swift-flowing river to let a barge like those tied to the wharf pass easily underneath on sweeps. Neither of the broad bluff-bowed craft had any provision for stepping a mast. One of those barges had settled deep in the water, slanting against taut mooring ropes, and the other somehow looked abandoned, too. A rank, sour smell in the air made him rub at his nose. No one else seemed to notice.\n\nNear the foot of the bridge, Gallenne drew up. The closed gates, covered with black iron straps afoot wide, would have forced a pause anyway. \"We have heard of the troubles plaguing this land,\" he bellowed at the men atop the wall, managing formality at the top of his lungs, \"but we are merely passing through, and we come for trade, not trouble; to buy grain and other needful things, not to fight. I have the honor to announce Berelain sur Paendrag Paeron, First of Mayene, Blessed of the Light, Defender of the Waves, High Seat of House Paeron, come to speak with the lord or lady of this land. I have the honor to announce Perrin t'Bashere Aybara...\" He tossed in Lord of the Two Rivers for Perrin, and several other titles that Perrin had no more right to and had never heard before, then went on for the Aes Sedai, giving each the full honorific and adding her Ajah, as well. It was a very impressive recital. When he fell silent, there was... silence."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the crenelations above, dirty-faced men exchanged bleak looks and fierce whispers, shifting crossbows and polearms nervously. Only a few wore helmets or any sort of armor. Most were in rough coats, but on one man Perrin thought he saw what might have been silk under a layer of grime. It was hard to tell, with so much caked dirt. Even his ears could not make out what they were saying.\n\n\"How do we know you're alive?\" a hoarse voice shouted down at last.\n\nBerelain blinked in surprise, but no one laughed. It was fool talk, yet Perrin thought the hair on the back of his neck really was standing stiff. Something was very wrong, here. The Aes Sedai seemed not to sense it. Then again, Aes Sedai could hide anything behind those smooth masks of cool serenity. The beads in Annoura's thin braids clicked faintly as she shook her head. Masuri ran an icy gaze along the men on the wall.\n\n\"If I must prove I am alive, you will regret it,\" Seonid announced loudly in crisp Cairhienin accents, a little more heated than her face suggested. \"If you continue to point that crossbow at me, you will regret it even more.\" Several of the men hastily raised their crossbows to point at the sky. Not all, though.\n\nMore whispers rustled along the top of the wall, but someone must have recognized Aes Sedai. At last, the gates squealed open on massive rusty hinges. A gagging stench swept out of the town, the stink Perrin had been smelling, only stronger. Old dirt and old sweat, decaying middens and chamber pots too long unemptied. Perrin's ears tried to lie back. Gallenne half-lifted his red helmet as if to replace it on his head before urging his dun through the gates. Perrin booted Stayer to follow, easing his axe in its belt loop."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Just inside the gate, a filthy man in a torn coat poked Perrin's leg with a finger, then darted back when Stayer snapped at him. The fellow had been fat, once, but his coat sagged and his skin hung loose. \"Just wanted to be sure,\" he muttered, scratching his side absently. \"My Lord,\" he added, a tick late. His eyes seemed to focus on Perrin's face for the first time, and his scratching fingers froze. Golden yellow eyes were not a common sight, after all.\n\n\"Do you see many dead men walking?\" Perrin asked wryly, trying to make a joke of it, as he patted the bay's neck. A trained war-horse wanted to be rewarded for protecting his rider.\n\nThe fellow flinched as if the horse had bared teeth at him again; his mouth twitched into a rictus smile, and he edged sideways. Until he bumped solidly into Berelain's mare. Gallenne was right behind her, still looking ready to don his helmet, his one eye trying to watch six ways at once.\n\n\"Where can I find your lord or lady?\" she demanded impatiently. Mayene was a small nation, but Berelain was unaccustomed to being ignored. \"Everyone else seems to have gone mute, but I heard you use your tongue. Well, man? Speak up.\"\n\nThe fellow stared up at her, licking his lips. \"Lord Cowlin... Lord Cowlin is... away. My Lady.\" His eyes darted toward Perrin, then flickered away. \"The grain merchants... They're who you want. They can always be found at the Golden Barge. That way.\" He thrust out a hand pointing vaguely deeper into the town, then suddenly scrambled away, looking back over his shoulder at them as though fearful of pursuit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I think we should find somewhere else,\" Perrin said. That fellow had been afraid of more than yellow eyes. This place felt... askew.\n\n\"We are already here, and there is nowhere else,\" Berelain replied in a very practical voice. In all that stink, he could not catch her scent; he would have to go by what he heard and saw, and her face was calm enough for an Aes Sedai. \"I've been in towns that smelled worse than this, Perrin. I'm sure I have. And if this Lord Cowlin is gone, it won't be the first time I've dealt with merchants. You don't really believe they've seen the dead walking, do you?\" What was a man to say to that without sounding a pure wool head?\n\nIn any case, the others were already crowding through the gates, though not in any neat array, now. Wynter and Alharra heeled Seonid like mismatched guard dogs, the one fair, the other dark, and both ready to rip out throats at the blink of an eye. They certainly had the feel of So Habor. Kirklin, riding beside Masuri, looked unwilling to wait for that eye to blink; his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Kireyin had a hand to his nose, and a glare in his eye that said someone was going to pay for making him smell this. Medore and Latian looked ill, too, but Balwer merely peered about, tilting his head, then drew the pair of them off into a narrow side street leading north. As Berelain said, they were there already.\n\nThe colorful banners looked decidedly out of place as Perrin rode through the cramped winding streets of the town. Some of the streets were actually quite wide for the size of So Habor, but they felt close, as if the stone buildings on either side somehow loomed higher than their two or three stories and were about to topple on his head, to boot. Imagination made the streets seem dim, too. It had to be imagination. The sky was not that gray. People filled the dirty stone paving, but not enough to account for all the farms in the area being abandoned, and everyone scurried, heads down. Not hurrying toward something; hurrying away. No one looked at anyone else. With a river practically on their doorsteps, they had forgotten how to wash, too. He did not see a face without a coating of grime or a garment that did not look to have been worn fora week, and hard work in muck with it. The stink only worsened the deeper into the town they rode. He supposed you could get used to anything, in time. Worst of all was the quiet, though. Villages were quiet sometimes, if not so still as the woods, but a town always held a faint murmur, the sound of shopkeepers bargaining and people going about their lives. So Habor did not even whisper. It barely seemed to breathe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Getting better directions was difficult, since most people darted away if spoken to, but eventually they dismounted in front of a prosperous-appearing inn, three stories of neatly dressed gray stone under a slate roof, with a sign hanging out front announcing the Golden Barge. The sign even had a touch of gilt on the lettering, and on the grain mounded high in the barge and uncovered as it never would be for shipping. No grooms appeared from the stableyard beside the inn, so the bannermen had to serve as horse holders, a task that did not make them happy. Tod put so much attention into peering at the flow of dirty people that scurried by and fondling the hilt of his short-sword that Stayer very nearly got a couple of his fingers when he took the stallion's reins. The Mayener and the Ghealdanin seemed to be wishing they had lances rather than banners. Flann just looked wild-eyed. In spite of the morning sun, the light did seem... shadowy. Going inside did not make things any better.\n\nAt first glance, the common room bore out the inn's prosperity, with polished round tables and proper chairs instead of benches, standing beneath a high, stout-beamed ceiling. The walls were painted with fields of barley and oats and millet, ripening under a bright sun, and a colorfully painted clock stood on the carved mantel above a wide fireplace of white stone. The fireplace was cold, though, the air nearly as icy as outside. The clock had rundown and the polish dulled. Dust lay on everything. The only people in the room were six men and five women huddling over their drinks around an oval table, larger than the rest, that stood in the middle of the floor.\n\nOne of the men leaped to his feet with an oath, face paling underneath the dirt, when Perrin and the others entered. A plump woman with lank greasy hair shoved her pewter cup to her mouth and tried to gulp so fast that wine spilled over her chin. Maybe it was his eyes. Maybe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What happened in this town?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Annoura said firmly, tossing back her cloak as though afire blazed on the hearth. The calm gaze she ran across the people at the table froze everyone of them. Abruptly Perrin realized that neither Masuri nor Seonid had followed him inside. He doubted very much that they were waiting in the street with the horses. What they and their Warders were doing was any man's guess.\n\nThe man who had jumped up tugged at his coat collar with a finger. The coat had been fine blue wool once, with a row of gilded buttons to his neck, but he appeared to have been spilling food down the front of it for sometime. Maybe more than had gone into him. He was another whose skin hung slack. \"H-happened, Aes Sedai?\" he stammered.\n\n\"Be quiet, Mycal!\" a haggard woman said quickly. Her dark dress was embroidered on the high neck and along the sleeves, but dirt made the colors uncertain. Her eyes were sunken pits. \"What makes you think something happened, Aes Sedai?\"\n\nAnnoura would have continued, but Berelain stepped in as the Aes Sedai opened her mouth again. \"We are looking for the grain merchants.\" Annoura's expression never changed, but her mouth snapped shut with an audible click.\n\nLong looks passed between the people around the table. The haggard woman studied Annoura fora moment, quickly passing onto Berelain and obviously taking in the silks and firedrops. And the diadem. She spread her skirts in a curtsy. \"We are the merchant's guild of So Habor, my Lady. What's left of-\" Breaking off, she took a deep, shuddering breath. \"I am Rahema Arnon, my Lady. How may we serve you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The merchants seemed to brighten a little on learning that their visitors had come for grain and other things that they could supply, oil for lamps and cooking, beans and needles and horseshoe nails, cloth and candles and a dozen things more that the camp needed. At least, they grew a little less fearful. Any ordinary merchant hearing the list Berelain gave would have been hard-pressed not to smile greedily, but this lot...\n\nMistress Arnon shouted for the innkeeper to bring wine-\"the best wine; quickly, now; quickly\"-but when along-nosed woman stuck her head hesitantly into the common room, Mistress Arnon had to rush over and catch her soiled sleeve to keep her from vanishing again. The fellow in the food-stained coat called for someone named Speral to bring the sample jars, but after shouting three times with no response, he gave a nervous laugh and darted into aback room to return a moment later, his arms around three large cylindrical wooden containers that he sat on the table, still laughing nervously. The others wore a collection of twitching smiles as they bowed and curtsied Berelain to a seat at the head of the oval table, greasy-faced men and women scratching at themselves without appearing to notice what they were doing. Perrin tucked his gauntlets behind his belt and stood against a painted wall, watching.\n\nThey had agreed to leave the bargaining to Berelain. She was willing to admit, reluctantly, that he knew more of horseflesh than she, but she had negotiated treaties covering the sale of years' worth of the oilfish harvest. Annoura had smiled thinly at the suggestion that a jumped-upcountry lad might take a hand. She did not call him that-she could'my Lord\" him as smoothly as Masuri or Seonid-yet it was clear she thought somethings clearly above his ability. She was not smiling now, standing behind Berelain and studying the merchants as if to memorize their faces."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The innkeeper brought wine, in pewter cups that had last seen a polishing cloth weeks ago if not months, but Perrin only peered into his and swirled it in the cup. Mistress Vadere, the innkeeper, had dirt under her fingernails and embedded in her knuckles like part of her skin. He noticed that Gallenne, standing with his back to the opposite wall and one hand on his sword hilt, only held his cup, too, and Berelain never touched hers. Kireyin sniffed at his, then drank deeply and called for Mistress Vadere to bring him a pitcher.\n\n\"Thin stuff, to be called your best,\" he told the woman through his nose, and looking down it, \"but it might wash away the stink.\" She stared at him blankly, then fetched a tall pewter pitcher to his table without saying a word. Kireyin apparently took her silence for respect.\n\nMaster Crossin, the fellow in the food-stained coat, unscrewed the tops of the wooden containers and spilled out hulled samples of the grain they had to offer in piles on the table, yellow millet and brown oats, the barley only a little darker brown. There would have been no rain before the harvest. \"The finest quality, as you can see,\" he said.\n\n\"Yes, the finest.\" The smile slid off Mistress Arnon's face, and she jerked it back. \"We sell only the finest.\"\n\nFor people touting their wares as the finest, they did not seem to bargain very hard. Perrin had watched men and women back home selling the wool clip and the tabac to merchants down from Baerlon, and they always disparaged the buyers' offers, sometimes complaining the merchants were trying to beggar them when the price was twice what it had been the year before or even suggesting they might wait till next year to sell at all. It was a dance as intricate as any at a feastday."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I suppose we might lower the price further for such a large quantity,\" a balding man told Berelain, scratching at his gray-streaked beard. It was cut short, and greasy enough to cling close to his chin. Perrin wanted to scratch his own beard just watching the fellow.\n\n\"It's been a hard winter,\" around-faced woman muttered. Only two of the other merchants bothered to frown at her.\n\nPerrin set his winecup down on a nearby table and walked over to the gathering in the middle of the room. Annoura gave him one sharp, warning glance, but several of the merchants looked at him curiously. And cautiously. Gallenne had made his introductions allover again, but these folk were not entirely clear where Mayene was, exactly, or how powerful, and the Two Rivers only meant good tabac, to them. Two Rivers tabac was known everywhere. If not for the presence of an Aes Sedai, his eyes might have set them running. Everyone fell silent as Perrin scooped up a handful of millet, the tiny spheres smooth and vivid yellow on his palm. This grain was the first clean thing he had seen in the town. Letting the grain spill back onto the table, he picked up the lid of one of the containers. The threads cut into the wood were sharp and unworn. The lid would fit tightly. Mistress Arnon's eyes slid away from his, and she licked her lips.\n\n\"I want to seethe grain in the warehouses,\" he said. Half the people around the table twitched.\n\nMistress Arnon drew herself up, blustering. \"We don't sell what we don't have. You can watch our laborers load every sack on your carts, if you wish to spend hours in the cold.\"\n\n\"I was about to suggest a visit to a warehouse,\" Berelain put in. Rising, she drew her red gloves from behind her belt and began tugging them on. \"I would never buy grain without seeing the warehouse.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Mistress Arnon sagged."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The bald-headed man put his head down on the table. No one said anything, though.\n\nThe dispirited merchants did not bother to fetch their cloaks before leading them into the street. The breeze had picked up to a wind, cold as only a late winter wind could be, when people were already thinking ahead to spring, but they did not seem to notice. The hunch of their shoulders had nothing to do with cold.\n\n\"Can we go now, Lord Perrin?\" Flann asked anxiously when Perrin and the others appeared. \"This place makes me want a bath.\" Annoura gave him a frown in passing that made him flinch like one of the merchants. Flann tried a placating smile on her, but it was a sickly effort, and too late for anything but her back.\n\n\"As soon as I can arrange it,\" Perrin said. The merchants were already scurrying down the street, heads down and not looking at anyone. Berelain and Annoura managed to follow without appearing to rush, gliding along, one as composed as the other, two fine ladies out fora stroll and never mind the filth underfoot, or the stink in the air, or the dirty people who started at the sight of them and sometimes all but ran away as fast as they could. Gallenne had finally donned his helmet, and openly held his sword hilt with both hands, ready to draw. Kireyin was carrying his helmet on his hip, his other hand occupied with his winecup. Contemptuously eyeing the grimy-faced folk who hurried by, he sniffed at the wine as if it were a pomander to fight off the stench of the town.\n\nThe warehouses were located on a stone-paved street barely wider than a wagon, between the town's two walls. The smell was better there, close to the river, but the windblown street was empty except for Perrin and the others. There was not even astray dog to be seen. Dogs disappeared when a town grew hungry, but why would a town with enough grain to sell be hungry? Perrin pointed to a two-story warehouse chosen at random, no different from any other, a windowless stone building with a wide pair of wooden doors held shut by a wooden bar that could have done fora ceiling beam at the Golden Barge."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The merchants suddenly recalled that they had forgotten to bring men to lift the bars."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They offered to go back for them. The Lady Berelain and Annoura Sedai could rest in front of the fire at the Golden Barge while workmen were fetched. They were sure Mistress Vadere would lay afire. Their tongues went still when Perrin placed his hand beneath the thick beam and shoved it up out of the wooden brackets. The thing was heavy, but he backed up with it to give him room to turn and toss it down on the street with a crash. The merchants stared. This might have been the first time they had ever seen a man in a silk coat do anything that could be called work. Kireyin rolled his eyes and took another sniff at his wine.\n\n\"Lanterns,\" Mistress Arnon said weakly. \"We'll need lanterns, or torches. If...\"\n\nA ball of light appeared floating above Annoura's hand, glowing bright enough in the gray morning to cast everyone in faint shadows on the paving and the stonewalls. Some of the merchants put hands up to shield their eyes. After a moment, Master Crossin tugged one of the doors open by an iron ring.\n\nThe smell inside was the familiar sharp scent of barley, almost strong enough to overcome the stench of the town, and something more. Small dim shapes slunk away into the shadows ahead of Annoura's light. He could have seen better without it, or at least deeper into the darkness. The glowing ball cast a large pool of light, and walled off what lay beyond. He smelled cat, closer to feral than not. And rat, too. A sudden squeal in the black depths of the warehouse, suddenly cutoff, spoke of cat meeting rat. There were always rats ingrain barns, and cats to hunt them. It was comforting, and normal. Almost enough to soothe his uneasiness. Almost. He smelled something else, a smell he should know. A fierce yowl deep in the warehouse turned to rising cries of pain that died abruptly. Apparently the rats of So Habor sometimes hunted back. Perrin's hackles stirred again, but surely there was nothing here the Dark One would want to spy on. Most rats were just rats."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no need to go very far in. Coarse sacks filled the darkness, in high slant-sided stacks on low wooden platforms to keep the sacks off the stone floor. Rows and rows of stacks piled nearly to the ceiling, and likely the same on the floor above. If not, this building still held enough grain to feed his people for weeks. Walking to the nearest stack, he drove his belt knife into a pale brown sack and sliced down through the tough jute fibers. A flood of barleycorns spilled out. And, clear in the glow of Annoura's brilliant light, wriggling black specks. Weevils, almost as many as there were barleycorns. Their scent was sharper than that of the barley. Weevils. He wished the hair on his neck would stop trying to rise. The cold should have been enough to kill weevils.\n\nThat one sack was proof, and his nose knew the smell of weevils, now, but he moved to another stack, then another, and another, each time slicing open one sack. Each released a spill of pale brown barley and black weevils.\n\nThe merchants were standing huddled together in the doorway, daylight behind them, but Annoura's light cast their faces in sharp relief. Worried faces. Despairing faces.\n\n\"We would be most happy to winnow each sack we sell,\" Mistress Arnon said unsteadily. \"For only a slight additional-\"\n\n\"For half the last price I offered,\" Berelain cut in sharply. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she moved her skirts clear of the weevils scuttling among the grain on the floor. \"You will never get all of them.\"\n\n\"And no millet,\" Perrin said grimly. His men needed food, and so did the soldiers, but the millet grains were hardly bigger than the weevils. Winnow as they would, he would bring back weevils and millet in equal weight. \"We'll take extra beans instead. But they get winnowed, too.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Suddenly someone shrieked outside in the street. Not a cat or a rat, but a man in terror. Perrin did not even realize he had drawn his axe until he found the haft in his hand as he pushed through the merchants in the doorway. They huddled closer together, licking their lips and not even trying to see who had screamed.\n\nKireyin was backed up against the wall of a warehouse across the way, his shining helmet with the white plume lying on the pavement beside his winecup. The man's sword was half out of the scabbard, but he seemed frozen, staring with bulging eyes at the wall of the building Perrin had just come out of. Perrin touched his arm, and he jumped.\n\n\"There was a man,\" the Ghealdanin said uncertainly. \"He was just there. He looked at me, and...\" Kireyin scrubbed a handover his face. Despite the cold, sweat glistened on his forehead. \"He walked through the wall. He did. You must believe me.\" Someone moaned; one of the merchants, Perrin thought.\n\n\"I saw the man, too,\" Seonid said behind him, and it was his turn to give a start. His nose was useless in this place!\n\nGiving the wall Kireyin had indicated a last glance, the Aes Sedai stepped away from it with a palpable unwillingness. Her Warders were tall men, towering over her, but they stayed only far enough away to gain room to draw their swords. Though what the grim-eyed Warders were to fight if Seonid was serious, Perrin could not imagine.\n\n\"I find it difficult to lie, Lord Perrin,\" Seonid said dryly when he expressed doubt, but her tone quickly became as serious as her face, and her eyes were so intent that they alone began to make Perrin feel uneasy. \"The dead are walking in So Habor. Lord Cowlin fled the town for fear of his wife's spirit. It seems there was doubt as to how she died. Hardly a manor woman in the town has not seen someone dead, and a good many have seen more than one. Some say people have died from the touch of someone dead. I cannot verify that, but people have died of fright, and others because of it. No one goes out at night in So Habor, or walks into a room unannounced. People strikeout at shadows and surprises with whatever is to hand, and sometimes they have found a husband, wife or neighbor dead at their feet. This is not hysteria or a tale to frighten children, Lord Perrin. I have never heard of the like, but it is real. You must leave one of us hereto do what we can.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Perrin shook his head slowly."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He could not afford to lose an Aes Sedai if he was to free Faile. Mistress Arnon began to weep even before he said, \"So Habor will have to face its dead alone.\"\n\nBut fear of the dead only explained so much. Maybe people were too frightened to think of washing, but it seemed unlikely that fear would take everyone that way. They just did not seem to care anymore. And weevils thriving in winter, in freezing cold? There was worse wrong in So Habor than spirits walking, and every instinct told him to leave at a dead run, without looking back. He purely wished that he could.\n\nChapter 27\n\nWhat Must Be Done\n\nThe winnowing took place on the snowy eastern riverbank, where there was nothing to cut the sharp north wind. Men and women from the town hauled sacks across the bridges in four-horse wagons and one-horse carts even barrows pushed by hand. Normally buyers brought their own wagons to the warehouses, or at worst the grain and dried beans only had to be carried as far as the wharf, but Perrin had no intention of sending his cart drivers into So Habor. Or anyone else, for that matter. Whatever was wrong in that town might be catching. Anyway, the drivers were uneasy enough as it was, frowning at the dirty townsfolk, people who never spoke, but laughed nervously when they accidentally met someone's eye. The grimy-faced merchants overseeing the work were no better. In the drivers\" native Cairhien, merchants were clean, respectable people, at least outwardly, who very seldom twitched just because someone moved at the corner of their vision. Between merchants with a tendency to peer suspiciously at anyone they did not know, and townsfolk who dragged their feet recrossing the bridges, clearly reluctant to go back inside their own walls, the cart drivers were right on edge. They gathered in little clusters, pale, dark-clad men and women, gripping the hilts of their belt knives and peering at the taller locals as if at murderous madmen."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perrin rode about slowly, watching the winnowing, examining the row of carts that stretched up the rise and out of sight waiting to be loaded, or the town's wagons and carts and barrows rolling across the bridges. He made sure he was in plain view. He was not sure why the sight of him pretending to be unconcerned should settle anyone else's nerves, yet it seemed to. Enough that no one started running, at least, though they continued to look askance at the people of So Habor. They kept their distance, too, and just as well. Let the notion that some of those folk might not be alive get into the Cairhienin's heads, and half would whip up their carthorses to flee then and there. Most of the rest might not wait much past dark. That sort of tale could twist anyone's head, come night. The wan sun, nearly hidden by gray overcast, still sat less than halfway to its noonday peak, yet increasingly it was obvious they would have to be there through the night. Maybe more than one. His jaw knotted with the effort of not grinding his teeth, and even Neald began to avoid his scowls. He did not snap at anyone. He just wanted to.\n\nIt was an arduous process, the winnowing. Every last sack had to be opened and emptied onto large flat wicker baskets, each of which took two people to toss the grain or beans. The cold wind carried away weevils in a shower of black flecks, and men and women with woven two-handed fans added to the gusts. A swift current swept away everything that was blown into the river, but soon the snow on the riverbank was trampled underfoot and the gray slush layered with insects dead or dying from the cold, and a liberal coating of oats and barley speckled with red beans. There was always anew layer to replace what feet mashed into the snow. What was left on the baskets seemed cleaner, though, if not entirely clean when it was poured back into the coarse jute bags, which had been turned inside out and beaten fiercely with sticks by children to shakeout vermin. The refilled sacks went into the Cairhienin's carts as soon as the tops were tied, but the piles of empty bags grew at a prodigious rate."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was leaning on the pommel of Stayer's saddle, trying to calculate whether it was taking two whole cartloads from the warehouses to fill one of his carts with grain, when Berelain brought her white mare up beside him, holding her scarlet cloak close against the wind with one red-gloved hand. Annoura reined in a few paces away, her ageless face smooth and unreadable. The Aes Sedai appeared to be giving them privacy, yet she was close enough to hear anything above whispers even without any tricks of the Power. Smooth face or no, her beak of a nose gave her a predatory look today. Her beaded braids seemed some strange eagle's lowered crest.\n\n\"You cannot save everyone,\" Berelain said calmly. Away from the stink of the town, her scent was sharp with urgency, and razor-edged with anger. \"Sometimes, you must choose. So Habor is Lord Cowlin's duty. He had no right to abandon his people.\" Not angry with him, then.\n\nPerrin frowned. Did she think he felt guilty? Balanced against Faile's life, the troubles of So Habor could not budge the scales a hair. But he turned his bay so he was looking at the gray town walls across the river, not the hollow-eyed children piling up empty sacks. A man did what he could. What he had to. \"Does Annoura have an opinion on what's happening here?\" he growled. Quietly, but somehow he had no doubt the Aes Sedai heard.\n\n\"I've little idea what Annoura thinks,\" Berelain replied, making no effort to lower her voice. She not only did not care who overheard, she wanted to be heard. \"She is not as forthcoming as she once was. As I once thought she was. It is up to her to mend what she has torn.\" Without looking at the Aes Sedai, she turned and rode away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Annoura remained behind, eyes unblinking on Perrin's face. \"You are ta'veren, yes, but you are still only a thread in the Pattern, as am I. In the end, even the Dragon Reborn is just a thread to be woven into the Pattern. Not even a ta'veren thread chooses how it will be woven.\"\n\n\"Those threads are people,\" Perrin said wearily. \"Sometimes maybe people don't want to be woven into the Pattern without any say.\"\n\n\"And you think this makes a difference?\" Not waiting on an answer, she lifted her reins and heeled her fine-ankled brown mare after Berelain in a gallop that fanned her cloak behind her.\n\nShe was not the only Aes Sedai who wanted words with Perrin.\n\n\"No,\" he told Seonid firmly after listening to her, patting Stayer's neck. It was the rider wanted soothing, though. He wanted to be away from So Habor. \"I said no, and I mean no.\"\n\nShe sat her saddle stiffly, a pale little woman carved of ice. Except that her eyes were dark coals burning, and she reeked of affronted fury barely in check. Seonid was mild as milk-water with the Wise Ones, but he was not a Wise One. Behind her, Alharra's dark face was a stone, gray streaking his curly black hairlike frost. Wynter's face was red above his curled mustaches. They had to accept what passed between their Aes Sedai and the Wise Ones, but Perrin was not... The wind whipped their Warder cloaks about, leaving their hands free for swords if need be. Rippling in the wind, the cloaks shifted in shades of gray and brown, blue and white. It was easier on the stomach than seeing them make parts of a man disappear. Some easier."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"If I have to, I'll send Edarra to bring you back,\" he warned.\n\nHer face stayed cold, her eyes hot, yet a quiver ran through her, swaying the small white gem hanging on her forehead. Not from fear of what the Wise Ones would do to her if she had to be brought back, just from the same offense at Perrin that made her scent a hooked thorn. He was growing accustomed to offending Aes Sedai. Not a habit a wise man got into, but there seemed noway out of it.\n\n\"What about you?\" he asked Masuri. \"Do you want to stay in So Habor as well?\"\n\nThe slim woman was known for speaking straight to the point, direct as a Green for all she was Brown, but she said calmly, \"Would you not send Edarra after me, too? There are many ways to serve, and we cannot always pick the ways we would wish.\" Which, come to think, might be to the point, in away. He still had no idea why she visited Masema in secret. Did she suspect that he knew? Masuri's face was a bland mask. Kirklin wore a bored expression, now they were out of So Habor. He managed to seem slumped while sitting his horse erect, without a worry in the world or a thought in his head. A man who believed that of Kirklin would return the next day to buy a second pig in a poke."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The townsfolk worked mechanically as the sun rose higher, like people who wanted to lose themselves in the task at hand and feared the return of memories when they stopped. Perrin decided So Habor was making him fanciful. Still, he thought he was right. The air beyond the walls still looked too dim, as though a shading cloud hungover the town.\n\nAt noon, the cart drivers cleared patches of snow on the slope rising from the river to make small fires and brew weak tea with leaves brewing their third pot, or maybe fourth. There had been no tea to be had in the town. Some of the drivers looked at the bridges as if thinking to enter So Habor and see what they could find to eat. A glance at the dirt-caked people working the winnowing baskets sent them back to dig out their small bags of oatmeal and ground acorn. At least they knew that mix was clean. A few eyed the sacks already loaded on the carts, but the beans needed to be soaked and the grain run through the large handrnills that had been left back in the camp, and that was after the cooks picked out as many more weevils as they thought men could not stomach eating.\n\nPerrin had no appetite, not for the cleanest bread, but he was drinking what passed for tea from a battered tin cup when Latian found him. The Cairhienin did not actually come to him. Instead, the short man in the striped dark coat rode slowly past the small fire where Perrin was standing, then reined in with a frown a little upslope. Dismounting, Latian lifted his gelding's near forehoof and frowned at it. Of course, he did lookup twice to see whether Perrin was coming.\n\nWith a sigh, Perrin returned the dented cup to the blocky little woman he had borrowed it from, a graying cart driver who spread her dark skirts in a curtsy. And grinned and shook her head at Latian. Likely, she could sneak ten times as well as the fellow. Neald, squatting by the fire with his hands wrapped around another tin cup, laughed out loud so hard he had to wipe a tear from his eye. Maybe he was beginning to go crazy. Light, but this place gave a man cheerful thoughts."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Latian straightened long enough to make Perrin a leg and say, \"I see you, my Lord,\" then ducked back down to snatch up the foreleg again like a fool. You did not grab at a horse's legs that way unless you wanted kicking. But then, Perrin expected nothing but foolishness, really. First there was Latian's playing at being Aiel, with his shoulder-longhair tied off in a tail at the nape of his neck in weak imitation of how Aiel cut theirs, and now the man was playing at being a spy. Perrin rested a hand on the gelding's neck to soothe the animal after all that snatching and put an interested look on his face as he peered at a hoof that had absolutely nothing wrong with it. Except fora nick in the shoe where the iron might break in a few days if it was not replaced. His hands itched for farrier's tools. It seemed years since he had changed a horse's shoes, or worked a forge.\n\n\"Master Balwer sends word, my Lord,\" Latian said softly, head down. \"His friend is traveling to sell his wares, but is expected back tomorrow or the next day. He said to ask whether it will be all right if we catch up to you then.\" Peering under the horse's belly at the winnowers down by the river, he added, \"Though it hardly looks as if you will be away before.\"\n\nPerrin scowled down at the winnowing. He scowled at the line of carts waiting their turn to be loaded, at the half dozen or so that already had their canvas covers lashed down. One of those held the first of the leather for patching boots and candles and such. No oil, though. The lamp oil in So Habor smelled as rancid as the cooking oil. What if Gaul and the Maidens brought word of Faile? An actual sighting, perhaps? He would give anything to talk to someone who had seen her, could tell him she was unharmed. What if the Shaido began to move suddenly? \"Tell Balwer not to wait too long,\" he growled. \"As for me, I'll be away inside the hour.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 6"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egeanin dropped to her face, and Mat bit back a startled oath when she kissed the floor. \"Please,\" she said hoarsely, \"I beg leave to withdraw.\"\n\n\"You will go, Leilwin,\" Selucia said, cold as a queen speaking to a chickenthief, \"and you will not let me see your face again unless it is covered by a shea dancer's veil.\"\n\nEgeanin scrambled backward on hands and knees and all but tumbled out the door, so fast that Mat was left gaping.\n\nWith an effort, he managed to regain his smile. There seemed little point in staying, but a man could make a graceful exit. \"Well, I suppose-\"\n\nTuon wriggled her fingers again, still not looking at him, and Selucia cut him short. \"The High Lady is weary, Toy. You have her permission to go.\"\n\n\"Look, my name is Mat,\" he said. \"An easy name. A simple name. Mat.\" Tuon might as well have been a porcelain doll in truth for all the response she made.\n\nSetalle set down her embroidery, though, and rose with one hand resting lightly on the hilt of the curved dagger stuck behind her belt. \"Young man, if you think you're going to lounge about till you get to see us readying for bed, you're sadly mistaken.\" She smiled saying it, but she did have her hand on her knife, and she was Ebou Dari enough to stick a man on a whim. Tuon remained an unmoving doll, a queen on her throne somehow mistakenly dressed in ill-fitting clothes. Mat left.\n\nEgeanin was leaning on one hand against the side of the wagon, her head hanging. Her other hand was gripping the necklace around her throat. Harnan moved, a little way off in the darkness, just to show he was still there. A wise man, to keep clear of Egeanin just then. Mat was too irritated for wisdom."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What was that about?\" he demanded. \"You don't have to goon your knees to Tuon anymore. And Selucia? She's a bloody lady's maid! I don't know anybody who'd jump for his queen the way you jumped for her.\"\n\nEgeanin's hard face was shadowed, but her voice was haggard. \"The High Lady is... who she is. Selucia is her so'jhin. No one of the low Blood would dare meet her so'jhin's eyes, and maybe not the High Blood, either.\" The clasp broke with a metallic snap as she jerked the necklace free. \"But then, I'm not of any Blood, now.\" Rearing back, she put her whole body into throwing the necklace as far into the night as she could.\n\nMat opened his mouth. He could have bought a dozen prime horses with what he paid for that thing and had coin left. He closed it again without saying a word. He might not always be wise, but he was wise enough to know when a woman really might try to stick a knife in him. He knew another thing, as well. If Egeanin behaved this way around Tuon and Selucia, then he had better make sure the sul'dam were kept clear. The Light only knew what they would do if Tuon started wiggling her fingers.\n\nThat left him with a job of work to do. Well, he hated work, but those old memories had his head stuffed full of battles. He hated battle, too-a man could get killed dead!-but it was better than work. Strategy and tactics. Learn the ground, learn your enemy, and if you could not win one way, you found another.\n\nThe next night he returned to the purple wagon, alone, and once Olver had finished his lesson in stones from Tuon, Mat inveigled his way into a game. At first, sitting on the floor across the board from the dark little woman, he was not sure whether to win or lose. Some women liked to win every time, but the man had to make her work for it. Some liked the man to win, or at least more often than he lost. Neither made any sense to him-he liked to win, and the easier, the better-but that was how it was. While he was dithering, Tuon took matters out of his hands. Halfway through the game, he realized she had him in a trap he could not get out of. Her white stones were cutting off his black everywhere. It was a clean and resounding win for her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You don't play very well, Toy,\" she said mockingly. Despite the tone, her big, liquid eyes considered him coolly, weighing and measuring. A man could drown in eyes like that.\n\nHe smiled and made his goodbyes before there could be any thought of kicking him out. Strategy. Think to the future. Do the unexpected. The next night, he brought a small red paper flower made by one of the show's seamstresses. And presented it to a startled Selucia. Setalle's eyebrows rose, and even Tuon seemed taken aback. Tactics. Put your opponent off balance. Come to think, women and battles were not that different. Both wrapped a man in fog and could him kill him without trying. If he was careless.\n\nEvery night he visited the purple wagon fora game of stones under Setalle and Selucia's watchful eyes, and he concentrated on the crosshatched board. Tuon was very good, and it was all too easy to find himself watching the way she placed her stones, with her fingers bent back in a curiously graceful way. She was used to having fingernails an inch long and taking care not to break them. Her eyes were a danger, too. You needed a clear head in stones or battle, and her gaze seemed to reach inside his skull. He buckled down to the game, though, and managed to win four of the next seven, with one draw. Tuon was satisfied when she won and determined when she lost, with none of the temper tantrums he had feared, no scathing comments aside from insisting on calling him Toy, not very much of that icy regal hauteur, as long as they were playing anyway. She purely enjoyed the game, laughing exultantly when she pulled him into a trap, laughing in delight when he managed a clever placement to escape. She seemed a different woman once she lost herself in the stones board."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A flower sewn from blue linen followed the paper blossom, and two days later, a pink silk bloom that spread out as wide as a woman's palm. Both handed to Selucia. Her blue eyes increasingly set in a suspicious frown when they rested on him, but Tuon told her she could keep the flowers, and she stored them away carefully, folded in a linen cloth. He let three days pass without a present, then brought a little cluster of red silk rosebuds, complete with short stems and glistening leaves that looked as real as nature, only more perfect. He had asked the seamstress to make it on the day he bought that first paper flower.\n\nSelucia took a step, reaching to accept the rosebuds with a curl to her lip, but he sat down and put the flowers beside the board, a little toward Tuon. He said nothing, just left it lying there. She never so much as glanced at it. Dipping into the small leather bags that held the stones, he plucked one from each and shuffled them between his hands till even he was unsure which was where, then offered his closed fists. Tuon hesitated a moment, studying his face with no expression, then tapped his left hand. He opened it to display the glistening white stone.\n\n\"I've changed my mind, Toy,\" she murmured, placing the white stone carefully on the intersection of two lines near the center of the board. \"You play very well.\"\n\nMat blinked. Could she know what he was up to? Selucia was standing at Tuon's back, seemingly absorbed in the almost empty board. Setaile turned a page in her book and shifted a little to get a better light. Of course not. She was talking about stones. If she even suspected his real game, she would toss him out on his ear. Any woman would. It had to be the stones."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "That was the night they played to a draw, with each of them controlling half the board in irregular pools and patches."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In truth, she won a victory.\n\n\"I have kept my word, Toy,\" she drawled as he was replacing the stones in the bags. \"No attempts to escape, no attempts at betrayal. This is confining.\" She gestured around at the interior of the wagon. \"I wish to take walks. After dark will do. You may accompany me.\" Her eyes touched the cluster of rosebuds, then rose to his face. \"To make sure I don't runaway.\"\n\nSetaile marked her place with a slim finger and looked at him. Selucia stood behind Tuon and looked at him. The woman had kept her word, mad as that seemed. Walks after dark, with most of the showfolk already in their beds, would do no harm, not with him thereto make sure. So why did he feel that he was losing control of the situation?\n\nTuon agreed to go cloaked and hooded, which was something of a relief. The black hair was growing back in on her shaved scalp, but so far it was little more than long fuzz, and unlike Selucia, who very likely slept in her headscarf, Tuon had shown no inclination to cover her head. A child-sized woman with hair shorter than any man not going bald would have been remarked even in the night. Setalle and Selucia always followed at a little distance in the darkness, the lady's maid to keep a protective eye on her mistress and Setalle to keep an eye on the maid. At least, he thought that was how it was. Sometimes it seemed they were both watching him. The two of them were awfully friendly for guard and prisoner. He had overheard Setalle cautioning Selucia that he was a rogue with women, a fine thing for her to be saying! And Selucia had calmly replied that her lady would break his arms if he showed any disrespect, just as if they were not prisoners at all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He thought to use these walks to learn a little more about Tuon-she did not talk much over a stones board-but she had away of ignoring what he asked or deflecting the subject, usually to him.\n\n\"The Two Rivers is all forests and farms,\" he said as they strolled along the main street of the show. Clouds hid the moon, and the colorful wagons were indistinguishable dark shapes, the performers'platforms lining the street merely shadows. \"Everybody grows tabac and raises sheep. My father breeds cows, too, and trades horses, but mostly, it's tabac and sheep from one end to the other.\"\n\n\"Your father trades horses,\" Tuon murmured. \"And what do you do, Toy?\"\n\nHe glanced over his shoulder at the two women ghosting along ten paces back. Setalle might not be close enough to hear, if he kept his voice down, but he decided to be honest. Besides, the show was dead quiet in the darkness. She might hear, and she knew what he had been doing in Ebou Dar. \"I'm a gambler,\" he said.\n\n\"My father called himself a gambler,\" Tuon said softly. \"He died of a bad wager.\"\n\nAnd how were you supposed to find out what that meant?\n\nAnother night, walking along a row of animal cages, each one built to fill an entire wagon, he said, \"What do you do for fun, Tuon? Just because you enjoy it. Aside from playing stones.\" He could almost feel Selucia bristling at his use of her name from thirty feet away, but Tuon did not seem to mind. He thought she did not.\n\n\"I train horses and damane,\" she said, peering into a cage that held a sleeping lion. The animal was only a large shadow lying on the straw behind the thick bars. \"Does he really have a black mane? There are no lions with black manes in all of Seanchan.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She trained damane? For fun? Light! \"Horses? What kind of horses?\" It might be warhorses, if she trained bloody damane. For fun.\n\n\"Mistress Anan tells me you're a scoundrel, Toy.\" Her voice was cool, not cold. Composed. She turned toward him, face hidden in the shadows of her cowl. \"How many women have you kissed?\" The lion woke up and coughed, a deep sound guaranteed to raise the hair on anyone's head. Tuon did not even flinch.\n\n\"Looks like rain's coming again,\" he said weakly. \"Selucia will have my hide if I get you back soaked.\" He heard her laugh softly. What had he said that was funny?\n\nThere was a price to pay, of course. Maybe things were going his way and maybe not, but when you thought they were, there was always a price.\n\n\"Bunch of chattering magpies,\" he complained to Egeanin. The afternoon sat on the horizon, a red-gold ball half hidden by clouds, casting the show in long shadows. There was no rain, for once, and in spite of the cold they were sitting hunched beneath the green wagon they shared, playing stones in plain sight of anyone who walked by. A good many did, men hurrying about some last-minute chore, children snatching the final chance to roll hoops through the mud puddles and toss balls before night fell. Women holding their skirts up glanced at the wagon in passing, and even when they were hooded, Mat knew what their expressions were. Hardly a woman in the show would speak to Mat Cauthon. Irritably, he rattled the black stones he held gathered in his left hand. \"They'll get their gold when we reach Lugard. That's all they ought to care about. They shouldn't be poking their noses into my business.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You can hardly blame them,\" Egeanin drawled, studying the board. \"You and I are supposed to be fleeing lovers, but you spend more time with... her... than with me.\" She still had trouble not calling Tuon High Lady. \"You behave like a man courting.\" She reached to place her stone, then stopped with her hand above the board. \"You can't think she'll complete the ceremony, can you? You can't be that big a fool.\"\n\n\"What ceremony? What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"You named her your wife three times that night in Ebou Dar,\" she said slowly. \"You really don't know? A woman says three times that a man is her husband, and he says three times she's his wife, and they're married. There are blessings involved, usually, but it's saying it in front of witnesses that makes it a marriage. You really didn't know?\"\n\nMat laughed, and shrugged his shoulders, feeling the knife hanging behind his neck. A good knife gave a man a feeling of comfort. But his laugh was hoarse. \"But she didn't say anything.\" He had bloody well been stuffing a gag in her mouth at the time! \"So whatever I said, it doesn't mean anything.\" But he knew what Egeanin was going to say. Sure as water was wet, he knew. He had been told who he was going to marry.\n\n\"With the Blood, it's a little different. Sometimes a noble from one end of the Empire marries a noble from the other. An arranged marriage. The Imperial family never has any other kind. They may not want to wait until they can be together, so one acknowledges the marriage where she is, and the other where he is. As long as they both speak in front of witnesses, inside a year and a day, the marriage is legal. You truly didn't know?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sure was sure, but the stones still spilled from his hand onto the board, bouncing everywhere. The bloody girl knew. Maybe she thought this whole thing was an adventure, or a game. Maybe she thought being kidnapped was as much fun as training horses or bloody damane! But he knew he was a trout waiting for her to set the hook.\n\nHe stayed away from the purple wagon for two days. There was no use running-he already had the bloody hook in his mouth, and he had put it there himself-but he did not have to swallow the flaming thing. Only, he knew it was just a matter of when she decided to jerk the line tight.\n\nAs slowly as the show moved, eventually they reached the ferry across the Eldar, running from Alkindar on the west bank to Coramen on the east, tidy little walled towns of tile-roofed stone buildings with half a dozen stone docks each. The sun was climbing high, hardly a cloud crossed the sky, and those white as new-washed wool. No rain today, maybe. It was an important crossing, with trading ships from upriver tied to some of the docks and big barge-like ferries crawling from one town to the other on long sweeps. The Seanchan apparently thought so, too. They had military camps outside both towns, and from the stonewalls beginning to rise around the camps and the stone structures going up inside, they had no intention of leaving soon.\n\nMat crossed over with the first wagons, riding Pips. The brown gelding looked ordinary enough to an undiscerning eye; it would not seem out of place for him to be ridden by a fellow in a rough woolen coat with a woolen cap pulled down over his ears against the cold. He was not actually considering making a run for the hilly wooded ridge country behind Coramen. Thinking about it, but not really considering. She was going to set the hook whether he ran or not. So he sat Pips at the end of one of the stone ferry landings, watching the show crossover and trundle away through the town. There were Seanchan on the landings, a squad of beefy men in segmented armor painted blue and burnt gold under a lean young officer with one thin blue plume on his odd-looking helmet. They seemed to be there just to keep order, but the officer checked Luca's horse warrant, and Luca inquired whether the noble lord might know of ground outside the town suitable for his show to perform. Mat could have wept. He could see soldiers wearing striped armor in the street behind him, wandering in and out of shops and taverns. A raken swooped down out of the sky on long, ribbed wings, alighting outside one of the camps across the river. Three or four of the snake-necked creatures were already on the ground. There had to be hundreds of soldiers in those camps. Maybe a thousand. And Luca was going to put on his show."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then one of the ferries hit the rope-padded bumpers at the end of the landing, and the ramp came down to let the windowless purple wagon rumble off onto the stones. Setalle was driving. Selucia sat on one side of her, peering out from the hood of a faded red cloak. On the other side, swathed in a dark cloak so not an inch of her showed, was Tuon.\n\nMat thought his eyes were going to fallout of his head. If his heart did not pound its way out of his chest first. The dice had started up in his head, that rattling feel of dice rolling across a table. They were going to come up the Dark One's eyes, this time; he just knew it.\n\nThere was nothing to do except fall in beside the purple wagon, though, riding along as though life were wonderful, riding along the wide main street through criers for shops and hawkers selling things from trays. And Seanchan soldiers. They were not marching information now, and they eyed the brightly painted wagons with interest. Riding along and waiting for Tuon to shout. She had given her word, but a prisoner would say anything to get the shackles loosened. All she had to do was raise her voice, and summon a thousand Seanchan soldiers for rescue. The dice bounced and spun in Mat's head. Riding along, waiting for the Dark One's eyes.\n\nTuon never spoke a word. She peeked curiously past the edge of her deep cowl, curiously and cautiously, but she kept her face hidden, and even her hands, all wrapped in that dark cloak and even huddling against Setalle like a child seeking the protection of her mother in a strange crowd. Never a word until they had passed the gates of Coramen and were rumbling toward the base of the ridge that rose behind the town, where Luca was already gathering the show's wagons. That was when Mat really knew there was no escape for him. She was going to set the hook all right. She was just biding her bloody time."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He made sure all the Seanchan stayed in their wagons that night, and the Aes Sedai, too. Nobody had seen any sul'dam or damane that Mat knew, but the Aes Sedai did not argue for once. Tuon did not argue, either. She made a demand that sent Setalle's eyebrows almost to her hairline. It was phrased as a request, in away, a reminder of a promise he had made, but he knew a demand when a woman made one. Well, a man had to trust the woman he was going to marry. He told her he had to think on it, just so she would not start imagining she could have anything she wanted out of him. He thought on it all the day that Luca put on his show, thinking and sweating while as many Seanchan as not came to gape at the performers. He thought on it while the wagons wound eastward through the hills, moving slower than ever, but he knew what answer he had to give.\n\nOn the third day after leaving the river, they reached the salt town of Jurador, and he told Tuon that he would. She smiled at him, and the dice in his head stopped dead. He would always remember that. She smiled, and then the dice stopped. A man could weep!\n\nChapter 29\n\nSomething Flickers\n\nThis do be madness,\" Domon rumbled from where he stood with his arms folded as if blocking the way out of the wagon. Maybe he was. His jaw was thrust forward belligerently, sticking out a beard that was trimmed short but still longer than the hair on his head, and he was working his hands like a man thinking of making fists, or grappling with something. A wide man, Domon, and not as fat as he looked on first glance. Mat wanted to avoid fists or grappling, if he could."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He finished tying the black silk scarf around his neck, hiding his scar, and tucked the long ends into his coat. The chance that there was anyone in Jurador who knew about a man in Ebou Dar wearing a black scarf... Well, the odds seemed good even discounting his luck. Of course, there was always his being ta'veren to be factored in, but if that was going to bring him face-to-face with Suroth or a fistful of servants from the Tarasin Palace, he could stay in bed with a blanket wrapped around his head, and it still would happen. Sometimes, you just had to trust to luck. The trouble was, when he woke this morning, the dice had again been tumbling in his head. They were bouncing off the inside of his skull still.\n\n\"I promised,\" he said. It was good to be back indecent clothes.\n\nThe coat was a fine green wool, well cut and hanging almost to his knees and the turned-down tops of his boots. There was no embroidery-maybe it could do with a little-but he had a touch of lace at his cuffs. And a good silk shirt. He wished he had a mirror. A man needed to look his best on a day like this. Picking up his cloak from the bed, he swung it across his shoulders. Not a gaudy thing like Luca's. Dark gray, nearly as dark as night. Only the lining was red. His cloak pin was simple silver knots no larger than his thumbs.\n\n\"She gave her word, Bayle,\" Egeanin said. \"Her word. She will not break that, ever.\" Egeanin sounded absolutely convinced. More convinced than Mat was, anyway. But sometimes a man had to take a chance. Even if he was wagering his neck. He had promised. And he did have his luck."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It still be madness,\" Domon grumbled."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But he moved grudgingly away from the door when Mat settled his broad-brimmed black hat on his head. Well, when Egeanin motioned him aside with a quick jerk of her head, anyway. He kept his glower, though.\n\nShe followed Mat out of the wagon, scowling herself and fiddling with her long black wig. Maybe she still felt uneasy with it, or maybe it fit differently now that she had close to a month's growth of her own hair underneath. Not enough to go about bareheaded yet, in any case. Not till there was at least another hundred miles between them and Ebou Dar. Maybe it would not be safe until they crossed the Damona Mountains into Murandy.\n\nThe sky was clear, the sun just cresting the horizon, invisible yet behind the show's canvas wall, and the morning was warm only compared to a snowstorm. Not the crispness of a late-winter morning in the Two Rivers, but a chill that slowly bored deep and put a faint mist in your breath. The showfolk were scurrying about like ants in a kicked anthill, filling the air with shouted demands to know who had moved those juggling rings or borrowed that pair of red-spangled breeches or shifted this performing platform. It looked and sounded like the start of a riot, yet there was no real anger in any of the voices. They shouted and waved arms all the time, but it never came to blows when there was a show in the offing, and somehow every performer would be in place and ready before the first patrons were let in. They might be slow packing up for the road, but performing meant money, and they could move fast enough for that.\n\n\"You really do think you can marry her,\" Egeanin muttered, striding along at his side, kicking her worn brown woolen skirts. There was nothing dainty about Egeanin. She had along stride, and she kept up easily. Dress or no dress, she seemed to need a sword on her hip. \"There's no other explanation for this. Bayle is right. You are mad!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat grinned. \"The question is, does she mean to marry me? The strangest people marry, sometimes.\" When you knew you were going to hang, the only thing to do was grin at the noose. So he grinned and left her standing therewith a scowl on her hard face. He thought she was growling curses under her breath, though he did not understand why. She was not the one who had to marry the last person on earth she wanted to. A noblewoman, all cool reserve and her nose in the air, when he liked barmaids with ready smiles and willing eyes. The heir to a throne, and not just any throne; the Crystal Throne, the Imperial Throne of Seanchan. A woman who spun his head like atop and left him wondering whether he held her captive or she held him. When fate gripped you by the throat, there was nothing to do but grin.\n\nHe kept a jaunty pace till he was insight of the windowless purple wagon, and then he missed a step. A cluster of acrobats, four limber men who called themselves the Chavana brothers though it was plain as their noses they came from different countries, not just different mothers, rushed out of a green wagon nearby, shouting and gesturing wildly atone another. They spared a glance for the purple wagon and another for Mat, but they were too engrossed in their argument, and trotting too fast, for more. Gorderan was leaning against one of the purple wheels, scratching his head and frowning at the two women who stood at the foot of the wagon's wooden steps. Two women. Both swathed in dark cloaks, faces concealed, yet there was no mistaking the flowered headscarf hanging out of the taller woman's cowl. Well. He should have know Tuon would want her maid along. Noblewomen never went anywhere without a maid. Beta penny or beta crown, in the end it all came down to a toss of the dice just the same. They had had their chance to betray him. Still, he was betting on a woman making the same choice twice running. On two women doing it. What fool would make odds on that? But he had to toss the dice. Except, they were already rolling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He met Selucia's cold blue stare with a smile and swept off his hat to make an elegant leg to Tuon. Not too showy, with just a small flourish of his cloak. \"Are you ready to go shopping?\" He very nearly called her'my Lady,\" but until she was willing to say his name...\n\n\"I have been ready for an hour, Toy,\" Tuon drawled coolly. Casually lifting an edge of his cloak, she glanced at the red silk lining and eyed his coat before letting the cloak fall. \"Lace suits you. Perhaps I will have lace added to your robes if I make you a cupbearer.\"\n\nHis smile slipped for an instant. Could she still make him da'covale if she married him? He would have to ask Egeanin. Light, why did women never make it easy?\n\n\"Do you want me to come along, my Lord?\" Gorderan asked slowly, not quite looking at the women now. He tucked his thumbs behind his belt and did not quite look at Mat, either. \"Just to carry, maybe?\"\n\nTuon did not say a word. She just stood there looking up at Mat, waiting, big eyes getting cooler by the second. The dice bounced and rattled in his head. Well, he only hesitated a heartbeat before jerking his head to send the Redarm away. Maybe two heartbeats. He had to trust his luck. Trust her word. Trust is the sound of death. He stepped on that thought hard. This was no song, and no old memory could guide him. The dice inside his skull kept spinning.\n\nWith a slight bow, he offered his arm, which Tuon examined as if she had never seen an arm before, pursing those full lips. Then she gathered her cloak and set off with Selucia gliding at her heels, leaving him to hurry after them. No, women never did make it easy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Despite the early hour, two burly fellows with cudgels were already guarding the entrance, and a third with a clear glass pitcher to take the coins and dump them through a slot in the iron-strapped box on the ground. Each of the three looked too clumsy to palm a copper without falling on his face, but Luca took no chances. Twenty or thirty people were already waiting inside the heavy ropes that led to the big blue banner naming Lucas show, and unfortunately, Latelle was there, too, stern-faced in a dress sewn with crimson spangles and a cloak sewn with blue. Lucas wife trained bears. Mat thought the bears did their tricks for fear she might bite them.\n\n\"I have everything in hand,\" he told her. \"Believe me, there's nothing to worry about.\" He might as well have spared his breath.\n\nLatelle ignored him, frowning worriedly at Tuon and Selucia. She and her husband were the only two showfolk who knew who they were. There had seemed no reason to tell either about this morning's jaunt. Luca, at least, would have had kittens. The stare Latelle shifted to Mat was not worried, just stone hard. \"Remember,\" she said quietly, \"if you send us to the gallows, you send yourself.\" Then she sniffed and went back to studying the people waiting to get in. Latelle was even better than Luca at judging the weight of a purse before the drawstrings were undone. She was also ten times tougher than her husband. The dice tumbled on. Whatever had set them spinning, he had not yet reached the fateful point. The deciding point.\n\n\"She is a good wife for Master Luca,\" Tuon murmured when they had gone a little way.\n\nMat looked at her sideways, and resettled his hat on his head. There had been no mockery in her tone. Did she hate Luca that much? Or was she saying what sort of wife she would be? Or...? Burn him, he could go as crazy as Domon thought he was, trying to puzzle this woman out. She had to be the reason for the feel of dice in his head. What was she going to do?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was a short walkaway from the rising sun to the town, along a hard-packed road through hills that were treeless here, but people dotted the road the way windmills and salt pans dotted the hills."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Staring straight ahead, they moved so purposefully they seemed not to see anyone in front of them. Mat dodged around-faced man who nearly walked right into him, which made him have to jump away from a white-haired old fellow making a good speed on spindly legs. That put him in front of a plump girl who would have run up the front of him if he had not jumped again.\n\n\"Are you practicing a dance, Toy?\" Tuon said, peering up at him over a slim shoulder. Her breath made a faint white mist in front of her cowl. \"It isn't very graceful.\"\n\nHe opened his mouth, just to point out how crowded the road was, and suddenly he realized he could no longer see anyone beyond her and Selucia. The people who had been there were just gone, the road empty as far as he could see before it made a bend. Slowly, he turned his head. There was no one between him and the show, either, just the folk waiting inline, and that looked no longer than before. Beyond the show, the road wound into the hills toward a distant forest, empty. Not a soul insight. He pressed fingers against his chest, feeling the foxhead medallion through his coat. Just apiece of silver on a rawhide cord. He wished it felt cold as ice. Tuon arched an eyebrow. Selucia's stare named him fool.\n\n\"I can't buy you a dress standing here,\" he said. That was the point of this expedition, his promise to find Tuon something better than dresses that hung on her and made her look a child in a grownup's clothing. At least, he was pretty sure he had promised that, and she was perfectly certain. The needlework of the show's seamstresses met with Tuon's approval, but not the cloth they had available. Performers'costumes glittered with spangles and beads and bright colors, but the cloth was usually whatever could be found cheaply. Those who had better kept it and used it till it wore out. Jurador made its money from salt, though, and salt made a great deal of money. The town's shops should offer any sort of material a woman could wish."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no finger-wiggling, this time. Tuon shared a look with Selucia. The taller woman shook her head, awry, rueful twist to her mouth. Tuon shook her head. And they gathered their cloaks and started toward the town's iron-studded gates. Women! He hurried to catch up again. They were his prisoners, after all. They were. Their shadows stretched out long in front of them. Had any of those people cast shadows before they vanished? He could not recall any of them breathing a mist, either. It hardly seemed to matter. They were gone, and he was not going to think about where they had come from or where they had gone. Probably something to do with being ta'veren. He was going to put it out of his head. He was. The dice rattling away left room for nothing else.\n\nThe gate guards seemed incurious about strangers, or at least about a man and two women afoot. Hard-faced fellows in white-painted breastplates and conical helmets with what looked like horsetails for crests, they ran impassive eyes over the cloaked women, lingering suspiciously a moment on Mat for some reason, and then returned to leaning on their halberds and staring blankly at the road. They were local men, most likely, in any case not Seanchan. The salt merchants and the local lady, Aethelaine, who apparently said whatever the salt merchants told her to, had sworn the Oaths of Return without hesitation and offered to pay a salt tax before they were asked. No doubt the Seanchan would get around to installing some sort of official here eventually, just to keep an eye on everything, but for the moment, they had more important uses for their soldiers. Mat had sent Thom and Juilin both to make sure there were no Seanchan in Jurador before agreeing to this excursion. A fool could trip over his own luck if he was not careful."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was a prosperous, busy town, Jurador, with stonepaved streets, most of them wide and all lined with stone buildings roofed in reddish tiles."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Houses and inns rubbed shoulders with stables and taverns, in a noisy jumble with a blacksmith's clanging hammer on an anvil here and the racketing of a rugweaver's looms there, and everywhere, it seemed, coopers hammering bands on tight barrels for transporting salt. Hawkers cried pins and ribbons, meat pies and roasted nuts from trays, or winter-wrinkled turnips and sorry plums from barrows. On every street men and women stood guard over the display goods on narrow tables in front of their shops and bellowed lists of what was offered within.\n\nPicking out the salt merchants'houses was easy, though, three stories of stone rather than two, covering eight times as much ground as any others, each with a columned walk overlooking the street and shielded by white wrought-iron screens between the columns. The lower windows on most houses had those screens, though not always painted. That much was reminiscent of Ebou Dar, but little else was, beyond the olive complexions of the people. There were no deep necklines exposing cleavage here, no skirts sewn up to display colored petticoats. The women wore embroidered dresses with high necks right up to their chins, a little embroidery for the common folk, a great deal for the richer, who wore cloaks embroidered top to bottom and sheer veils hanging over their faces from combs of gold-work or carved ivory stuck into dark, coiled braids. The men's short coats were worked almost as thickly, in colors just as bright, and rich or poor, most men wore along belt knife with a blade a little less curved than those in Ebou Dar. Rich or poor, the fellows did have a tendency to fondle their knife hilts as if expecting a fight, so maybe that was the same."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Lady Aethelaine's palace appeared no different from the outside than the salt merchants\" mansions, but it was located on the town's main square, a wide expanse of polished stone where abroad round marble fountain sprayed water into the air. People filled their buckets and big pottery water jars from pipes spilling into stone basins at the corners of other squares, though. The big fountain putout a smell of brine. It was a symbol of Jurador's wealth, pumped from the same source as the salt wells in the surrounding hills. Mat got to see a good deal of the town before the sun climbed even halfway to its noon peak.\n\nEvery time Tuon and Selucia spotted a shop with silks displayed out front, they stopped at the long narrow table to feel bolts of cloth and whisper with their heads together, waving off the attentions of the watchful shopkeeper. Those kept a very watchful eye, until they realized Mat was with the two women. In their stout woolens, well worn and badly fitting, they did not look customers for silk. Mat, with one side of his cloak thrown back to expose the lining, did. Whenever he tried to show an interest, though-women said they wanted you to show an interest!-whenever he got close enough to hear what they were saying, the women fell silent and looked at him, cool dark eyes and cool blue staring out of their deep cowls, until he fell back a step or two. Then Selucia would bend her head to Tuon's, and they would go back to murmuring and fingering silk, red silk, blue silk, green silk, smooth shimmering silk and brocaded silk. Jurador was a very wealthy town. Luckily, he had tucked a fat purse of gold into his coat pocket. None of it seemed to be right, though.\n\nInevitably, Tuon shook her head, and the pair of them glided away into the crowd with Mat hurrying to keep up as far as the next shop showing silks. The dice continued to bounce off the inside of his skull."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were not the only ones from the show who had come into the town. He spotted Aludra, her face framed by beaded braids, walking through the crowd with a gray-haired man who had to be a salt merchant from the amount of bright embroidery covering his silk coat in flowers and hummingbirds. What would the Illuminator want with a salt merchant? Whatever she was saying to him, his pleased smile had added a few creases to his face, and he was nodding.\n\nTuon shook her head, and the two women glided toward the next shop, ignoring the shopkeeper's deep bows. Well, most of those were directed at Mat. Maybe the skinny fool thought he wanted to buy silk for himself. Not that he would have passed up anew silk coat or three, but who could think about coats when he was waiting for those bloody dice to stop? Just a little embroidery, on the sleeves and shoulders.\n\nThom went by clutching his bronze-colored cloak around him, knuckling his long white mustaches and yawning as if he had spent the night awake. He might have. The gleeman had not taken to drink again, but Lopin and Nerim complained about him remaining awake till all hours, burning a lamp so he could read and re-read his precious letter. What could be so fascinating in a letter from a dead woman? A dead woman. Light, maybe those people on the road...! No; he was not going to think about that at all.\n\nTuon plucked one fold of silk and let it drop as she turned away without trying another. Selucia gave the stout shopkeeper such a stare before following that the woman started back in affront. Mat offered her a smile. Affronted shopkeepers could lead to town guards asking questions, and who could say where that might lead? He knew he could smile most women into feeling soothed. The round-faced woman sniffed at him and bent to smoothing the bolt of silk as tenderly as tucking in a babe. Most women, he thought sourly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Down the street, a woman in a plain cloak let her hood fallback, and Mat's breath caught in his throat."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Edesina lifted her cowl again, but she took no hurry with it, and the damage was done anyway, an Aes Sedai's ageless face displayed for anyone who knew what they were seeing. No one in the street gave a sign that they had noticed anything, but he could not see every face. Was anyone thinking of a reward? There might be no Seanchan in Jurador at the moment, but they did pass through.\n\nEdesina glided around a corner, and two dark-cloaked shapes followed her. Two. Had the sul'dam left only one of their number in the camp to watch two Aes Sedai? Or maybe Joline or Teslyn was somewhere close by, and he had missed seeing her. He craned his neck, searching the throng for another plain cloak, but everyone he saw had at least a little embroidery.\n\nAbruptly, it hit him like a stone between the eyes. Every cloak he could see had at least a little embroidery. Where were bloody Tuon and bloody Selucia? Were the dice spinning faster?\n\nBreathing hard, he went upon his toes, but the street was a river of embroidered cloaks, embroidered coats and dresses. It did not mean they were trying to escape. Tuon had given her word; she had passed up a perfect chance for betrayal. But all either woman had to do was say three words, and anyone who heard them likely would recognize a Seanchan accent. That might be sufficient to set the hounds on his trail. There were two shops ahead that seemed to be offering cloth, one on either side of the street. Neither with a pair of dark-cloaked women at the tables out front. They could have turned a corner easily enough, but he had to trust to luck. His luck was especially good when the game was random. Bloody women probably thought it was a bloody game. Burn him, let his luck run good."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Closing his eyes, he spun in a circle in the middle of the street and took a step."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At random. He bumped into someone solid, hard enough to make them both grunt. A bulky fellow with a small mouth and a little poorly done scrollwork on the shoulders of his rough coat stood glaring at him when he opened his eyes, glaring and fingering the hilt of his curved knife. Mat did not care. He was facing straight atone of the two shops. Pulling his hat down tight, he ran. The dice were rolling faster.\n\nDivided shelves stuffed with bolts of cloth lined the walls of the shop from floor to ceiling, and more stood stacked on long tables out in the floor. The shopkeeper was a scrawny woman with a large mole on her chin, her assistant slim and pretty and angry-eyed. He dashed inside just in time to hear the shopkeeper say, \"For the last time, if you won't tell me what you're here for, I'm going to send Nelsa for the guards.\" Tuon and Selucia, faces still hidden in their hoods, were walking slowly along one wall full of cloth, stopping to touch a bolt but neither paying the shopkeeper any heed.\n\n\"They're with me,\" Mat said breathlessly. Tugging the purse from his pocket, he tossed it on the nearest clear table. The heavy clink it made landing put a wide smile on the shopkeeper's narrow face. \"Give them whatever they want,\" he told her. And to Tuon, he added firmly, \"If you're going to buy anything, it's going to be here. I've had all the exercise I care for this morning.\"\n\nHe would have had the words back as soon as they left his mouth, if he could. Speak to a woman that way, and she flared in your face like one of Aludra's firesticks, every time. But Tuon's big eyes looked up at him from the shelter of her hood. And her full mouth curved slightly in a smile. It was a secret smile, for herself, not him. The Light only knew what it meant. He hated it when women did that. At least the dice had not stopped. That had to be a good sign, right?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tuon had no need of words to make her choices, silently pointing out bolt after bolt and measuring with her small dark hands how much the shopkeeper was to cutoff with her shears."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The woman did the work herself instead of delegating it to her assistant, and well she might, considering. Red silk in several shades went under those long sharp scissors, and green silk in a few shades, and more varieties of blue silk than Mat knew existed. Tuon chose out some fine linen in several thicknesses, and lengths of bright wool-she consulted Selucia over those in muffled whispers-but mostly it was silk. He got back much less of his purse than he had expected.\n\nOnce all that cloth had been folded and neatly tied, then bundled into a larger length of coarse linen-at no extra charge, thank you very much-it made a mound as fat as a peddler's pack. It did not surprise him at all to learn that he was expected to carry the thing across his shoulders, with his hat dangling in one hand. Dress your best, buy a woman silk, and she still found away to make you work! Maybe she was making him pay for speaking firmly.\n\nHe earned plenty of stares from gaping fools as he made his way out of the town behind the two women. They glided along smug as cats full of cream. Even cloaked and hooded, their backs said it all. The sun was still well short of midday, but the line of people waiting to get into the show stretched down the road almost to the town. Most gaped and pointed as if he were a painted fool. One of the big horse handlers guarding the coin box gave a gap-toothed smirk and opened his mouth, but Mat returned him a level look, and the fellow decided to put his eyes back on the coins going from townsfolk to glass pitcher to box. Mat thought he had never been so relieved to be inside Luca's show.\n\nBefore he and the two women had gotten three steps inside the entrance, Juilin came running up, fora wonder without Thera or his redcap. The thief-catcher's face could have been carved from ancient oak. Eyeing the people flowing past them into the show, he pitched his voice low. Low and urgent. \"I was coming to find you. It's Egeanin; she's been... hurt. Come quickly.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man's tone said enough, but worse, Mat realized the dice in his head were drumming, now. He flung the pack of cloth at the horse handlers with a hasty injunction to guard it as close as the coin-box or he would set the women on them, but he did not wait to see whether they took him seriously. Juilin darted back the way he had come at a run, and Mat ran after him, along the wide main street of the show where noisy gawking crowds were watching the four bare-chested Chavana brothers stand on one another's shoulders, and contortionists in filmy trousers and glittering vests sit on their own heads, and a slack-rope walker in spangled blue breeches climbing along wooden ladder to begin her performance. Short of the slack-rope walker, Juilin dodged into one of the narrower streets, where laundry hung from lines between the tents and wagons, performers sat on stools and wagon steps waiting to goon, and show children ran playing with balls and hoops. Mat knew where they were headed, now, but the thief-catcher ran too fast to overtake.\n\nAhead, he saw his green wagon. Latelle was peering underneath, and Luca, in one of his bright red cloaks, was waving a pair of jugglers to move along. The two women, in baggy trousers and with faces painted white like a noble's fools, took a good look under the wagon before they obeyed. Ashe came closer, he could see what they had they been staring at. Coatless, Domon was sitting on the ground under the edge of the wagon, cradling a limp Egeanin in his arms. Her eyes were closed, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner her mouth. Her wig hung askew. That stood out, for some reason. She always fussed so to keep that wig straight. The dice beat like thunder."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"This could be disaster,\" Luca growled, splitting his glower between Mat and Juilin. It was an angry glower, though, not frightened. \"You may have brought me to disaster!\" He shooed away a gaggle of wide-eyed children, and growled at a plump woman in skirts that glittering with silvery spangles. Miyora made leopards do tricks that even Latelle would not try, but she merely tossed her head before gliding off. No one took Luca as seriously as he took himself.\n\nThe man gave a start when Tuon and Selucia hurried up, and looked on the point of telling them to go, too, before he thought better of it. In fact, he began to frown thoughtfully. And worriedly. It seemed his wife had not told him about Mat and the women leaving the show, and it was clear they had been somewhere. The blue-eyed woman had the huge bundle of cloth on her back now, with her arms doubled behind her, though she stood straight despite the bulk. You would think a lady's maid was used to carrying things, but her face was a picture of frustrated irritation. Latelle eyed her up and down, then sneered at Mat as if he were the reason the woman was thrusting her considerable bosom out. Luca's wife was very good at sneering, yet Tuon's stern expression made Latelle nearly look mild. A judge peered out of her cowl, a judge ready to pass sentence.\n\nFor the moment, Mat did not care what the women thought.\n\nThose bloody dice. Tossing his cloak back, he went to one knee and touched fingers to Egeanin's throat. Her pulse beat weakly, thin and fluttering.\n\n\"What happened?\" he asked. \"Have you sent for one of the sisters?\" Moving Egeanin might be enough to kill her, but there might be time for Healing, if the Aes Sedai were quick. He was not about to say that name aloud, though, with people walking by, pausing for curious stares before Luca or Latelle hurried them on. Everyone moved quicker for her than for him. Latelle herself was the only one who really jumped for Luca."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Renna!\" Domon spat the name. Despite his short cap of hair and that Illianer beard that left his upper lip bare, he did not look ridiculous, now. He looked afraid and murderous, a dangerous combination. \"I did see her stab Egeanin in the back and run. If I could have reached her, I would have broken her neck, but my hand be all that's holding Egeanin's blood in. Where be that bloody Aes Sedai?\" he snarled. So much for being careful with his tongue.\n\n\"I be right here, Bayle Domon,\" Teslyn announced coldly, rushing up with Thera, who took one horrified look at Tuon and Selucia and latched onto Juilin's arm with a squeak, eyes on the ground. The way she began trembling, she might be there herself in a minute.\n\nThe hard-eyed Aes Sedai made a face as if she had a mouthful of briars when she saw what lay in front of her, or maybe where it lay, but she swiftly crouched underneath the wagon beside Domon and clasped Egeanin's head in her bony hands. \"Joline do be better at this than I,\" she muttered, halt under her breath, \"but I maybe able-\"\n\nThe silver foxhead went cold against Mat's chest, and Egeanin jerked so violently that her wig fell off, nearly pulling herself out of Domon's grasp as her eyes popped open wide. The convulsion lasted only long enough for her to sit halfway up with a frozen gasp; then she slumped back against Domon's chest, panting, and the medallion became just apiece of worked silver again. He was almost accustomed to that. He hated being accustomed to that.\n\nTeslyn slumped, too, on the point of falling over until Domon shifted his grip on Egeanin to steady the Aes Sedai with one hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thank you,\" Teslyn said after a moment, the words sounding dragged from her. \"But I need no help.\" She used the side of the wagon to help her rise, though, her cold Aes Sedai gaze daring anyone to comment. \"The blade did slide on a rib and so did miss her heart. All she does need now be rest and food.\"\n\nShe had not delayed to grab a cloak, Mat realized. In one direction along the narrow street, a clutch of women in spangled cloaks was watching from in front of a green-striped tent, their gazes intent and focused. In the other, half a dozen men and women in white-striped coats and tight breeches, acrobats who performed on horseback, darted looks toward Teslyn between putting their heads together to whisper. Too late to worry about someone recognizing an Aes Sedai's face. Too late to worry that one of them knew Healing when he saw it done. The dice battered at the inside of Mat's head. They had not stopped; the game was not played out, yet.\n\n\"Who's looking for her, Juilin?\" he asked. \"Juilin?\"\n\nThe thief-catcher gave over glaring at Tuon and Selucia and murmuring to Thera, though he continued to pat the trembling woman. \"Vanin and the Redarms, Lopin and Nerim. Olver, too. He was away before I could catch him. But in this...\" He stopped soothing Thera long enough to gesture toward the main street. The babble of voices was clearly audible even at this distance. \"All she needs is to lay hands on one of those fancy cloaks, and she can slip outwith the first folk to leave. If we try stopping every woman with her hood up, or even try looking inside, we'll have a riot on our hands. These people are touchy.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Disaster,\" Luca moaned, wrapping his cloak around himself tightly. Latelle put an arm around him. It must have been like being comforted by a leopard, but in any case, Luca did not look much comforted.\n\n\"Burn me, why?\" Mat growled. \"Renna was always ready to lick my bloody wrist! I thought if anybody went over the edge...!\" He did not even glance at Thera, but Juilin still scowled at him darkly.\n\nDomon had stood up with Egeanin in his arms. She struggled feebly at first-Egeanin was not a woman to let herself be carried about like a doll-but eventually she seemed to realize that if she did make her own feet, she would fall over. She sagged against the Illianer's chest with a resentful glower. Domon would learn; even when a woman needed help, if she did not want it, she made you pay forgiving it. \"I'm the only one who knew her secret,\" she drawled in a weak voice. \"The only one who might give it away, at least. She may have thought it would be safe to go home, with me dead.\"\n\n\"What secret?\" Mat asked.\n\nThe woman hesitated, for some reason, frowning at Domon's chest. Finally she sighed. \"Renna was leashed, once. So were Bethamin and Seta. They can channel. Or maybe learn to; I don't know. But the a'dam worked on those three. Maybe it works on any sul'dam.\" Mat whistled through his teeth. Now, that would be a kick in the head for the Seanchan.\n\nLuca and his wife exchanged puzzled glances, plainly not understanding a word. Teslyn's mouth hung open, Aes Sedai serenity washed away in shock. Selucia made an angry sound, though, blue eyes blazing, and dropped the bundle of cloth from her back as she took a step toward Domon. A quick flash of Tuon's fingers stopped her in her tracks, though it was a quivering halt. Tuon's face was a dark mask, unreadable. She did not like what she had heard, though. Come to think, she had said she trained damane. Oh, burn him, on top of everything else, he was going to marry a woman who could channel?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The sound of horses' hooves announced Harnan and the other three Redarms coming along the narrow way between the tents and wagons at a quick trot."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Their swords were belted on under their cloaks, Metwyn with a dagger almost as long as a short-sword to boot, and Gorderan had his heavy crossbow hanging at his saddle, already drawn and latched. The crank at his belt would take a full minute to pullback the thick cord, but this way, all he need do was place a bolt. Harnan carried a double-curve horsebow, with a bristling quiver at his hip. Fergin was leading Pips.\n\nHarnan did not bother dismounting. Eyeing Tuon and Selucia suspiciously, and Luca and Latelle with almost as much doubt, he leaned down from his saddle, the crude hawk tattoo sharp on his cheek. \"Renna stole a horse, my Lord,\" he said quietly. \" Rode down one of the horse handlers at the entrance getting out. Vanin's following her. He says she could reach Coramen sometime tonight.\n\nThat's the way she headed. She's moving a lot faster than the wagons did. But she's riding bareback; we can catch her, with luck.\" He sounded as if that luck were a matter of fact. The men of the Band trusted Mat Cauthon's luck more than he did himself.\n\nThere did not seem to be any choices, really. The dice were still pounding in his head. There was still a chance they might fall his way. A small chance. Mat Cauthon's luck. \"Get your people on the road as fast as they can pack up, Luca,\" he said, stepping up onto Pips. \"Leave the wall and anything else you can't get onto the wagons fast. Just go.\"\n\n\"Are you crazy?\" Luca spluttered. \"If I try to chase those people out, I will have a riot! And they'll want their coin back!\" Light, the man would think of money with his neck stretched on the headsman's block."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Think what you'll have if a thousand Seanchan find you here tomorrow.\" Mat's voice was as cold as he could make it. If he failed, the Seanchan would run Luca's showdown in short order however fast they flogged their horses. Luca knew it, too, from the twist of his mouth, as if he had just bitten a rotting plum. Mat made himself ignore the man. The dice were drumming hard, but they had not stopped yet. \"Juilin, leave all the gold for Luca except one good purse.\" Maybe the man could bribe his way clear, once the Seanchan saw he did not have their Daughter of the Nine bloody Moons. \"Gather everybody and ride out as soon as you can. Once you're out of sight of the town, take to the forest. I'll find you.\"\n\n\"Everybody?\" Sheltering Thera with his body, Juilin jerked his head toward Tuon and Selucia. \"Leave those two in Jurador, and the Seanchan might stop with getting them back. It might slow them down, at least. You keep saying you're going to turn them loose sooner or later.\"\n\nMat met Tuon's eyes. Big dark liquid eyes, in a smooth expressionless face. She had pushed her hood back a little, so he could see her face clearly. If he left her behind, then she could not say the words, or if she did, he would be too far way for the words to matter. If he left her behind, he would never learn why she smiled those mysterious smiles, or what lay behind the mystery. Light, he was a fool! Pips danced a few impatient steps.\n\n\"Everybody,\" he said. Did Tuon nod slightly, as if to herself? Why would she nod? \"Let's ride,\" he told Harnan."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They had to walk their horses through the crowds to get out of the show, but as soon as they reached the road, Mat put Pips to a gallop, cloak streaming behind and head down to keep his hat from blowing off. It was not apace you could keep a horse at for long. The road wound around hills and crossed ridges, occasionally cutting through where the rise was not too high. They splashed across ankle-deep streams and thundered over low wooden bridges crossing deeper water. Trees began to appear on the slopes again, pine and leatherleaf showing green among the winter-bare branches of the others. Farms clung to some of the hills, low tile-roofed stone houses and taller barns, and now and then a hamlet of eight or ten houses.\n\nA few miles from the show, Mat spotted a wide man ahead of them, sitting his saddle like a sack of suet. The horse was a leggy dun, eating ground at a steady trot. It figured that a horse thief had an eye fora good animal. Catching the sound of their hooves, Vanin looked back, but he only slowed to a walk. That was bad.\n\nWhen Mat slowed Pips beside the dun, Vanin spat. \"Best wager we got is we find her horse run to death, so I can track her afoot from there,\" he muttered. \"She's pushing harder than I figured, with her bareback. If we push, we can maybe catch her by sunset. If her horse don't founder or die, that's about the time she'll make Coramen.\"\n\nMat tipped back his head to glance at the sun, almost straight overhead. It was along way to cover in less than half a day. If he turned back, he could be a good distance the other side of Jurador by sunset, in company with Thom and Juilin and the others. With Tuon. With the Seanchan knowing to hunt Mat Cauthon. The man who had kidnapped the Daughter of the Nine Moons could not own enough luck to get off with being made da'covale. And sometime tomorrow or the next day, they would plant Luca on an impaling stake. Luca and Latelle, Petra and Clarine and the rest. A thicket of impaling stakes. The dice rattled and bounced in his head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We can make it,\" he said. There was no other choice.\n\nVanin spat.\n\nThere was only one way to cover a great deal of ground quickly, on a horse, if you meant to be on alive horse at the end. They walked the animals for half a mile, then trotted half a mile. The same at a canter, then a run, and it was back to a walk. The sun began to slide downward, and the dice spun. Around sparsely forested hills and over tree-topped ridges. Streams that could be crossed in three strides, barely wetting the horses' hooves, and streams thirty paces across with flat bridges of wood or sometimes stone. The sun sank lower and lower, and the dice spun faster and faster. Almost back to the Elbar, and no sign of Renna except scuffs on the hard dirt of the road that Vanin pointed to as if they were painted signs.\n\n\"Getting close, now,\" the fat man muttered. He did not sound happy, though.\n\nThen they rounded a hill, and there was another low bridge ahead. Beyond, the road twisted north to cross the next ridge through a saddle. The sun, sitting atop the ridge, blazed in their eyes. Coramen lay on the other side of that ridge. Pulling his hat low for shade, Mat searched the road fora woman, for anyone, mounted or afoot, and his heart sank.\n\nVanin cursed and pointed.\n\nA lathered bay was laboring its way up the slope on the other side of the river, a woman frantically kicking its flanks, urging it to climb. Renna had been too anxious to reach the Seanchan to stick with the road. She was maybe two hundred paces from them, and she might as well have been miles. Her mount was on the point of collapsing, but she could get down and run within sight of the garrisons before they could reach her. All she had to do was reach the crest, another fifty feet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My Lord?\" Harnan said. He had an arrow nocked and his bow half raised. Gorderan held the heavy crossbow to his shoulder, a thick pointed bolt in place.\n\nMat felt something flicker and die inside him. He did not know what. Something. The dice rolled like thunder. \"Shoot,\" he said.\n\nHe wanted to close his eyes. The crossbow snapped; the bolt made a black streak through the air. Renna slammed forward when it hither back. She had almost managed to push herself erect against the bay's neck when Harnan's arrow took her.\n\nSlowly, she toppled from the horse, sliding down the slope, rolling, bouncing off saplings, tumbling faster and faster until she splashed into the stream. Fora moment, she floated facedown against the bank, and then the current caught her and pulled her away, skirts billowing upon the water. Slowly she drifted toward the Elbar. Maybe, eventually, she would reach the sea. And that made three. It hardly seemed to matter that the dice had stopped. That made three. Never again, he thought as Renna floated out of sight around a bend. If I die for it, never again.\n\nThey did not press, riding back eastward. There was no point, and Mat felt too bone-weary. They did not stop, though, except to breathe and water the horses. No one wanted to talk.\n\nIt was the small hours of the night when they reached Jurador, the town a dark mass with the gates shut tight. Clouds covered the moon. Surprisingly, the canvas walls of Luca's show were still in place just beyond the town. With a pair of bulky men wrapped in blankets snoring aware beneath the big banner as they guarded the entrance. Even from the road, in the dark, it was plain that wagons and tents filled the space behind the wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"At least I can tell Luca he doesn't have to run after all,\" Mat said wearily, turning Pips toward the banner. \"Maybe he'll give us a place to sleep a few hours.\" For all the gold he had left, Luca should give them his own wagon, but knowing the man, Mat had hopes for clean straw somewhere. Tomorrow, he would set out to find Thom and the others. And Tuon. Tomorrow, when he had rested.\n\nA greater shock waited inside Luca's huge wagon. It truly was roomy inside, at least fora wagon, with a narrow table sitting in the middle and space to walk around it. Table, cupboards and shelves all were polished till they glowed. Tuon was sitting in a gilded chair-Luca would have a chair, and gilded, when everybody else made do with stools!-with Selucia standing at her back. A beaming Luca was watching Latelle offer Tuon a plate of steaming pastries, which the dark little woman was examining as if she would actually eat something that Luca's wife had cooked.\n\nTuon showed no surprise at all at Mat walking into the wagon. \"Is she captured, or dead?\" she said, picking up a pastry with her fingers curved in that curiously graceful way.\n\n\"Dead,\" he said flatly. \"Luca, what in the Light-\"\n\n\"I forbid it, Toy!\" Tuon snapped, pointing a finger at him sharply. \"I forbid you to mourn a traitor!\" Her voice softened, slightly, but it remained firm. \"She earned death by betraying the Empire, and she would have betrayed you as easily. She was trying to betray you. What you did was justice, and I name it so.\" Her tone said that if she named a thing, then it was well and truly named."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, magic\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: Crossroads of Twilight\nChapter: 7"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "As the tall wall of Northharbor loomed in front of the boat, the oarsmen backed water so the bow just missed kissing the wall beside the harbor entrance."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene almost putout a hand to fend off from the pale stone before the boat could bump into the wall. That thump would surely have been heard by the soldiers on guard. The oars made only a small gurgling noise as they sweptback, though, and the boat stopped where she could have touched the massive iron chain across the harbor, its huge links giving off their own faint gleam from the grease coating them.\n\nThere was no need for touching, though. No need for waiting, either. Embracing saidar, she was barely aware of the thrill of life filling her before she had the weaves in place. Earth, Fire and Air surrounding the chain; Earth and Fire touching it. The black iron flashed to white across the whole width of the harbor mouth.\n\nShe had just time to realize that someone had embraced the Source not faraway, above heron the wall, then something struck the boat, struck her, and she was aware of cold water enveloping her, filling her nose, her mouth. Darkness.\n\nEgwene felt hardness beneath her. She heard women's voices. Excited voices.\n\n\"Do you know who this is?\"\n\n\"Well, well. We certainly got better than we bargained for tonight.\"\n\nSomething was pressed to her mouth, and warmth trickled in, tasting faintly of mint. She swallowed convulsively, suddenly aware of how cold she was, shivering. Her eyes flickered open. And fastened on the face of the woman holding her head and the cup. Lanterns held by soldiers crowding around gave light enough for her to make out the face clearly. An ageless face. She was inside Northharbor.\n\n\"That's it, girl,\" the Aes Sedai said encouragingly. \"Drink it all down. A strong dose, for now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene tried to push the cup away, tried to embrace saidar, but she could feel herself sliding back down into darkness. They had been waiting for her. She had been betrayed. But by whom?\n\nEpilogue\n\nAn Answer\n\nRand stared out of the window at the steady rain falling out of a gray sky. Another storm down out of the Spine of the World. The Dragonwall. He thought spring must becoming soon. Spring always came, eventually. Earlier herein Tear than back home, it should be, though there seemed little sign of it. Lightning forked silver-blue across the sky, and long moments passed before the peal of thunder. Distant lightning. The wounds in his side ached. Light, the herons branded into his palms ached, after all this time.\n\nSometimes, pain is all that lets you know you're alive. Lews Therin whispered, but Rand ignored the voice in his head.\n\nThe door creaked open behind him, and he looked over his shoulder at the man who came into the sitting room. Bashere was wearing a short, gray silk coat, a rich shimmering coat, and he had the baton of the Marshal-General of Saldaea, an ivory rod tipped with a golden wolf's head, tucked behind his belt next to his scabbarded sword. His turned-down boots had been waxed till they shone. Rand tried not to let his relief show. They had been gone long enough.\n\n\"Well?\" he said.\n\n\"The Seanchan are amenable,\" Bashere replied. \"Crazy as loons, but amenable. They require a meeting with you in person, though. The Marshal-General of Saldaea isn't the Dragon Reborn.\"\n\n\"With this Lady Suroth?\"\n\nBashere shook his head. \"Apparently a member of their royal family has arrived. Suroth wants you to meet someone called the Daughter of the Nine Moons.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Thunder rolled again for distant lightning.\n\nWe rode on the winds of the rising storm,\n\nWe ran to the sounds of the thunder.\n\nWe danced among the lightning bolts,\n\nand tore the world asunder.\n\n-Anonymous fragment of a poem believed\n\nwritten near the end of the previous Age,\n\nknown by some as the Third Age.\n\nSometimes attributed to the Dragon\n\nReborn.\n\nThe End\n\nof the Tenth Book of\n\nThe Wheel of Time\n\nGlossary"
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conspiracy\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: The Crown Conspiracy\nChapter: 8"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And that's when he got through to Pickering?\"\n\n\"Oh, no,\" Braga said. \"I actually managed to catch him. A patrol picked him up at The Silver Pitcher Inn.\"\n\n\"Then I don't understand. Why isn't he here?\"\n\n\"Because my patrol never came back. An advance rider brought the news Alric was captured, but the rest of them disappeared. I investigated and heard some amazing rumors. According to my reports, two men traveling with the prince organized the locals and staged an ambush on the men bringing Alric in.\"\n\n\"Do you know who these two men were who came to Alric's aid?\"\n\n\"I have no names, but the prince called them his Royal Protectors. I'm certain, however, they're the same two thieves I setup to take the blame for Amrath's death. Somehow, the prince has managed to retain their services. He must have offered them riches, perhaps even land and title. The boy is more clever than I thought. But no matter, I have made adequate arrangements for him and his friends. I've been bolstering the ranks of the Melengar army for the last several weeks with mercenaries loyal to my money. Amrath never knew. One of the perks of being the Lord Chancellor is not having to get the royal seal on all orders.\"\n\nThere was another knock at the door, and the servant once again entered. \"The Earl of Chadwick is hereto see you, my lord.\"\n\n\"Archibald Ballentyne? What is he doing here? Get rid of him.\"\n\n\"No, wait,\" the bishop intervened. \"I asked the earl to come. Please send him in.\" The servant bowed and left, closing the door behind him.\n\n\"I wished you had discussed this with me,\" Braga said. \"Forgive me, your grace, but I have too much going on today to entertain a visit from a neighboring noble.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, yes. I know you are quite busy, but the Church has its own matters to attend to. As you well know, you're not the only kingdom we administer to. The Earl of Chadwick possesses a certain interest to us. He is young, ambitious, and easily impressed by success. It will do him good to see firsthand just what kinds of things are possible with the right friends. Besides, having anally on your southern border has benefits for you as well.\"\n\n\"Are you suggesting I try and sway him away from King Ethelred?\"\n\n\"Ethelred is a good Imperialist, I admit, but there can be only one Emperor. There's no reason it couldn't be you, assuming you continue to prove yourself worthy. Ballentyne has many assets that could help in that endeavor.\"\n\n\"I'm not even king yet and you're talking Emperor?\"\n\n\"The Church hasn't lasted for three thousand years by not thinking ahead. Ah, here he is. Come in, come in, Archibald.\" Archibald Ballentyne entered, brushing the snow from his cloak and stomping his feet. \"Toss your cloak aside and come to the fire. Warm up, lad. The carriage ride must have been a cold one.\"\n\nArchibald crossed the room and kissed the ring of the still seated bishop, \"Good morning, your grace,\" he said, then turned and bowed graciously to the archduke. \"My lord.\"\n\nHe swept off his cloak and shook it out carefully. Perplexed, he looked around. \"Your servant left before taking my cloak.\"\n\n\"Just throw it anywhere,\" Braga instructed.\n\nThe earl looked at him aghast. \"This is imported damask with gold thread embroideries.\" Just then, the servant reentered with a large comfortable chair. \"Ah, there you are. Here take this, and, for Maribor's sake, don't hang it from a peg.\" He passed his cloak to the servant, who bowed and left."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Brandy?\" Braga asked.\n\n\"Oh, good lord, yes,\" Archibald replied. Braga handed him a glass, the bottom of which was filled with a smoky amber liquid.\n\n\"I appreciate your coming, Archibald,\" the bishop said. \"I'm afraid we won't have much time to talk just now, there is quite a bit of turmoil in Melengar today. But as I was telling Braga, I thought it might be beneficial for the three of us to have a quick chat.\"\n\n\"I'm always at your service, of course, your grace. I appreciate any opportunity to meet with you and the new King of Melengar,\" Archibald said nonchalantly. Saldur and Braga exchanged looks. \"Oh, come now, it can hardly be a secret. You are the archduke and Lord Chancellor. With King Amrath and the prince dead, if you execute Arista, you'll wear the crown. It's really rather nicely done. I commend you. Murder in broad daylight, right before the nobles-they'll cheer you on as you steal their crown.\"\n\nBraga stiffened. \"Are you accusing me of-\"\n\n\"Of course not,\" the earl stopped him. \"I accuse no one. What care do I have for the affairs of Melengar? My liege is Ethelred of Warric. What happens in your kingdom is none of my affair. I was merely offering my sincere congratulations,\" he raised his glass and nodded at the bishop, \"to both of you.\"\n\n\"Do you have a name for this game, Ballentyne?\" Braga asked tentatively as both he and Saldur watched the young earl closely.\n\nArchibald smiled again. \"My dear gentlemen, I am playing no game. I'm being truthful when I say I am simply in awe. All the more because of my own recent failure. You see, I tried a gamble myself, to increase my station, only it was less than successful.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Braga became quite amused with this primly dressed earl. He understood what the bishop saw in him and he was curious now. \"I'm very sorry to hear you suffered difficulties. Exactly what were you attempting?\"\n\n\"Well, I acquired some letters and tried to blackmail the Marquis of Glouston into marrying his daughter tome so I could obtain his Rilan Valley. I had the messages locked in my safe in my private tower and was prepared to present them to Victor in person. Everything was perfect, but... poof.\" Archibald made an exploding gesture with his fingers. \"The letters vanished. Like a magic trick.\"\n\n\"What happened to them?\" Saldur asked.\n\n\"They were stolen. Thieves sawed a hole in the roof of my tower and, in just a matter of minutes, slipped in and snatched them from underneath my very nose.\"\n\n\"Impressive,\" Saldur judged.\n\n\"Depressing is what it was. They made me look like a fool.\"\n\n\"Did you catch the thieves?\" Braga asked.\n\nArchibald shook his head. \"Sadly no, but I finally figured out who they are. It took me days to reason it out. I did not tell anyone I possessed those letters. So, the only ones who could have taken them are the same thieves which I hired in the first place. Cunning devils. They call themselves Riyria. I'm not sure why they stole them, perhaps they planned to charge me twice. I won't give them the satisfaction of course. I'll hire someone else to intercept the next set from the Winds Abbey.\"\n\n\"So, the letters you had were correspondences between the Marquis of Glouston and the Nationalists?\" Saldur asked.\n\nArchibald looked at the bishop surprised. \"That's an amazing guess, your grace. You are very close. No, they were love letters between his daughter and her Nationalist lover Gaunt. I planned to have Alenda marry me instead to spare Victor the embarrassment of his daughter being involved with a commoner.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Saldur chuckled.\n\n\"Have I said something funny?\"\n\n\"You had more in your hands than you knew,\" Saldur informed him. \"Those weren't love letters. Those were coded messages from Victor Lanaklin carried by Alenda to Gaunt. The Marquis of Glouston is a traitor to his kingdom and the Imperial cause. With that treasure you could have had all of Glouston and Victor's head as a wedding gift.\"\n\nArchibald stood silent and then swallowed the rest of his brandy in one mouthful.\n\n\"But you won't be able to obtain additional letters. There will be no more meetings at the Winds Abbey. Regrettably, I was forced to ask the archduke hereto teach the monks a lesson for hosting such meetings. The abbey was burned along with the monks.\"\n\n\"You killed your fellow shepherds of Maribor's flock?\" Archibald asked Saldur.\n\n\"When Maribor sent Novron to us it was as a warrior to destroy our enemies. Our god is not squeamish at the sight of spilled blood, and it is often necessary to prune weak branches to keep the tree strong. Killing the monks was a necessity, but I did spare one, the son of Lanaklin so he could return home and let his father know the deaths were on his hands. We can't have Monarchists and Nationalists allying themselves can we?\" Saldur smiled at him. The elderly cleric took another sip of his drink, the moment passed and once more Braga observed the persona of the saintly grandfather returned.\n\n\"So, you were after Glouston, Archibald?\" Braga said, refilling the earl's glass. \"Perhaps I misjudged you. Tell me, my dear earl, were you more upset you lost the land or Alenda?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Archibald waved his hand in the air as if he was shooing a fly. \"She was merely an added benefit. It's the land I wanted.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Braga glanced at Saldur, who smiled and nodded. \"You may still get it.\" Braga resumed speaking to the earl. \"With me on the throne of Melengar, I will want a strong Imperialist ally guarding my southern border with Warric.\"\n\n\"King Ethelred would call that treason.\"\n\n\"And what would you call it?\"\n\nArchibald smiled and drummed his fingernails on the beautiful cut-crystal of the royal brandy glass, making it ring with a pleasant song. \"Opportunity.\"\n\nBraga sat back down and stretched out his feet to the fire. \"If I help you obtain the marchland from Lanaklin, and you throw your allegiance tome, Melengar will replace Warric as the strongest kingdom in Avryn. Similarly, Greater Chadwick will be its most powerful province.\"\n\n\"That's assuming Ethelred doesn't declare war,\" Archibald warned. \"Kings often frown upon losing a quarter of their realm, and Ethelred is not the type to take such an action without retaliation. He enjoys fighting. What's more, he's good at it. He has the best army in Avryn now.\"\n\n\"True,\" Braga said, \"but he has no able general to command it. He doesn't have anyone near the talent of your Sir Breckton. That man is gifted when it comes to leading men. If you broke with Warric, could you count on his loyalty to you?\"\n\n\"Breckton's loyalty tome is unwavering. His father, Lord Belstrad, is a chivalrous knight of archaic dimensions. He beat those values into his sons. Neither Breckton nor his brother-what's his name, the younger Belstrad boy who went to sea-Wesley, would dishonor themselves by opposing a man they have sworn their allegiance to. I do admit, however, their honor can bean inconvenience. I remember once a servant dropped my new fustian hat in the mud, and when I commanded Breckton to cutoff the clumsy oaf's hand in punishment, he refused. Breckton went on for twenty minutes explaining the code of chivalry tome. Oh yes, my lord, he is indeed loyal to House Ballentyne, but I would rather have a less loyal man who simply obeys without question. It is entirely possible that should I break with Warric, Breckton might refuse to fight at all, but I'm certain he would not oppose me. Personally, I would be more concerned with Ethelred himself. He is a fine commander in his own right.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"True,\" Braga acknowledged, \"but so am I."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I would welcome him engaging me personally. I already have a standing veteran army and a number of mercenaries at the ready. I will be able to muster superior numbers should that prove necessary. The result will be that he would lose all of Warric, and that could provide me the keys to the rest of Avryn and, perhaps, all of Apeladorn.\"\n\nThis time Archibald chuckled. \"My, but I do appreciate your ability to think big. I can see there would be many advantages to my joining with you. Do you really have your sights on the title of Emperor?\"\n\n\"Why not? If I am poised to conquer, the Patriarch will be eager to throw his allegiance tome just as the Church did with Glenmorgan. If I promise certain rights to the Church, he may even declare me the heir. Then no one will stand against me. In any case, this is for another day. We are getting ahead of ourselves.\" Braga turned his attention toward the bishop. \"I want to thank you, your grace, for arranging this meeting. It was very educational. But now it is nearly midmorning, and I think it is time to get Arista's trial underway. I would, however, like to invite you to stay, Archibald. As it turns out, I think I maybe able to offer you a gift to show you my commitment to you as a newfound friend of Melengar.\"\n\n\"I'm flattered, my lord. I'd welcome the opportunity to spend time with you, and I'm sure whatever gift you may have will be a generous one.\"\n\n\"You mentioned the thieves who spoiled your move against Victor Lanaklin called themselves Riyria?\"\n\n\"Yes, I did. Why do you ask?\"\n\n\"Well, it appears we share a common interest in these two rogues. They have also been a rather painful thorn in my own side. As you already discovered, they pay no respect to people who hire them and are willing to turn against their employers. I, too, hired them fora task and now find them working against me. I have reason to believe they maybe coming here today, and I have set plans in motion to capture them. If they do indeed make an appearance, I will try them along with Arista. It is quite possible all three will be burning at the stake by early evening.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are, indeed, most generous, my lord,\" Archibald replied, with a nod of his head and a smile on his lips.\n\n\"I thought you might enjoy that. You mentioned when you arrived that Alric is dead and that is indeed the notion I've been circulating. Unfortunately, it is not so... that is not yet. Arista actually arranged for those thieves to smuggle Alric out of this castle on the night of Amrath's death. I believe he has hired them and they will attempt to save her. Evidence indicates they used the sewers to exit the castle so I've taken extra precautions there. The grate in the kitchen has been sealed, and Wylin, the castle's master-at-arms, waits with his best men hidden to close the river grate behind them. I even failed to post guards near thereto make it more enticing. With luck, the fool of a prince might actually play the boyish hero and come with them. If he does-checkmate!\"\n\nArchibald nodded with obvious pleasure. \"You really are very impressive.\"\n\nBraga raised his glass in tribute. \"Tome.\"\n\n\"To you,\" Archibald drank to Braga's health.\n\nThere was aloud pounding on the door. \"Come!\" Braga called irritated.\n\n\"Lord Chancellor!\" One of Braga's hired soldiers burst into the room. His cheeks and nose were red, his armor dripping wet. On his head and shoulders a small bit of snow remained.\n\n\"Yes? What is it?\"\n\n\"The wall guard reports footprints in the snow leading to the river near the sewers, my lord.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" Braga replied draining his glass. \"Take eight men and support Wylin from the river. I don't want them escaping. Remember, if the prince is with them, kill him on sight. Don't let Wylin stop you. Either way, I want the thieves alive. Lock them in the dungeons and gag them as before. I will use them as further incriminating evidence against Arista and burn the whole lot together.\" The soldier bowed and left hurriedly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Now, gentlemen, as I was saying, let's join the magistrate and the other nobles."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I'm anxious to get this trial underway.\" They all stood and, walking three abreast, they exited the large double doors as one.\n\nThe morning sun magnified by the snow entered the river grate as a stark white light. The wintry radiance splintered along the glistening subway ceiling, revealing ancient stone caked in mildew and moss. The light reflected off the frozen sweat of the sewer walls, bouncing back and forth until at last it scattered into the all-consuming darkness. In the gloom, the soldiers waited, crouching and cold. Their feet were ankle-deep in filthy cold water, which streamed between their legs running from the castle drains to the river. For the better part of four hours, they lingered in silence, but now they could hear the sound of footsteps approaching. The sloshing of the dirty water echoed off the sewer walls, and the distant movement of shadows played upon the stone.\n\nWith a motion of his hand, Wylin ordered his troop to hold their position and maintain their silence. He wanted to be certain the rearguard was in place, and his prey was insight before he made his move. There were many avenues in the sewers where two men could run and hide in the dark. He did not want to be chasing the rats through amaze of tunnels. Not only was it unpleasant down there, but Wylin knew the archduke wanted the thieves for the morning festivities and would not be pleased with along delay.\n\nSoon they came into view. Two men, one tall and broad, the other shorter and slimmer, each dressed in warm winter cloaks with hoods pulled high rounded the corner slowly, pausing from time to time to look about.\n\n\"Remind me to compliment His Majesty on the quality of his sewers,\" one of them mentioned in a mocking tone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"At least the slime is warmer than the river,\" the other replied.\n\n\"Yeah, too bad this is happening on the coldest day of the year. Why couldn't it be the middle of summer?\"\n\n\"That would be warmer for sure, but could you imagine the smell?\"\n\n\"Speaking of smell, do you think we're getting close to the kitchen yet?\"\n\n\"You're the one leading; I can't see a thing inhere.\"\n\nWylin waved his arm. \"Move in, now! Take them!\"\n\nThe castle guard rushed from their positions in an adjoining tunnel and charged the two men. From behind, more soldiers raced forward, blocking any retreat. The troops encircled the two, swords drawn and shields at the ready.\n\n\"Careful,\" Wylin said, \"the archduke says they are full of surprises.\"\n\n\"I'll show you surprises,\" one of the soldiers from the rear said and stepping forward struck the tall one with the pommel of his sword dropping him to the ground. Another used his shield and the second man fell unconscious.\n\nWylin sighed and glared at his ranks then shrugged. \"I was planning on letting them walk, but this works too. Chain \"em, gag'em, and drag \"em to the dungeons. And for Maribor's sake, get their heads up before they drown. Braga wants them alive.\" The soldiers nodded and went to work.\n\n\"This hearing of the High Court of Melengar has been assembled in good order to review allegations made against the Princess Arista Essendon by the Lord Chancellor, the Archduke of Melengar, Percy Braga.\" The strong voice of the chief magistrate boomed across the chamber. \"Princess Arista stands duly accused of treason against the crown, the murder of her father and brother, and the practicing of witchcraft.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The largest room in the castle, the Court of Melengar had a cathedral ceiling, stained-glass windows, and walls rimmed in emblems and shields of the noble houses of the kingdom. Bench seats and balconies were overflowing with spectators. The nobles and the city's affluent merchants pressed into seethe royal trial of the princess. Outside, many common people had been gathering since dawn and waited in the snow as runners reported the proceedings. A wall of armor-clad soldiers held them at bay.\n\nThe court itself was a boxed set of bleachers composed of tiered armchairs where the ranking nobles of the kingdom sat. Several of the seats were vacant, but enough had arrived to serve Braga's purpose. Still frosty with the morning chill, most of the court wore fur wraps as they waited for the fire in the great hearth to warm the room. At the front of the court stood the empty throne, its vacancy looming like an ominous specter before the court. Its presence was a stark reminder of the gravity and scope of the trial. The verdict could decide who would sit there next and control the reins of the kingdom.\n\n\"This judicial court, comprised of men of good standing and sound wisdom, will now hear the allegations and the evidence. May Maribor grant them wisdom.\"\n\nThe chief magistrate took his seat and a heavyset man with a short beard wreathing his small mouth stood up. He was dressed inexpensive looking robes that flowed behind him as he paced before the jury, eyeing each man carefully.\n\n\"Lords of the Court,\" the lawyer said addressing the bleachers with a dramatic sweep of his arm. \"Your noble personages have by now learned that our good king Amrath was murdered seven days past in this very castle. You may also be aware Prince Alric is missing, presumed abducted and murdered. But how could such things as these happen within a king's own castle walls? A king might be murdered, a prince might be abducted, but both in the same night one after the other? How is this possible?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The crowd quieted as they struggled to hear.\n\n\"How is it possible that two killers slipped inside the castle unnoticed, stabbed the king to death, and, despite being caught and locked in the dungeon, were able to escape? This in itself is incredible, because the cell in which they were locked was heavily guarded by skilled soldiers. Not only were they imprisoned, they were also chained by their wrists and ankles to the wall. But what is beyond amazing, what is beyond belief, is that after managing their miraculous escape, the two did not flee! No, indeed! Informed while in captivity that they would be drawn and quartered at dawn-a most painful and gruesome death to be certain-for their most heinous crime, these two killers remained in a castle filled with hundreds of soldiers ready to thrust them back into their cell. Rather than flee for their lives, instead they sought out the prince, the most heavily guarded and high-profile personage in the castle, and kidnapped him! I ask you again, how is this possible? Were the castle guards asleep? Were they so totally incompetent as to let the killers of the king walkout? Or could it be that the assassins had help?\n\n\"Could a guard have done this? A foreign spy? Even a trusted baron or earl? No! None of them would have the authority to enter the dungeon to seethe killers of the king much less free them. Nay, gracious lords, no person in the castle that night had the authority to enter those jails so easily, save one-Princess Arista! Being the daughter of the victim, who could deny her the right to spit in the faces of the men who murdered her father so brutally? Only she wasn't thereto defile the killers, she came to help them finish the job she started!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The crowd murmured.\n\n\"This is an outrage!\" an elderly man protested from the bleachers. \"To accuse the poor girl of her father's death, you should be ashamed! Where is she? Why is she not present to dispute these claims?\"\n\n\"Lord Valin,\" the lawyer addressed him, \"we are honored to have you with us today. This court will call the princess forth shortly. She is not here for the presenting of facts as it is a tedious and unpleasant matter, and this court does not want the princess to endure it. Likewise, those called to testify can speak freely, without the presence of their future queen, should she be found innocent. And there are still other, more unpleasant reasons of which I will elaborate upon in due time.\"\n\nThis did not appear to change Lord Valin's mood, but he made no further protest and sat back down.\n\n\"The court of Melengar calls Reuben Hilfred to testify.\"\n\nThe lawyer paused as the big soldier still dressed in ring mail and the tabard of the falcon stood before the court. His stance was proud and straight, but his expression was anything but pleased.\n\n\"Hilfred,\" the lawyer addressed him,\"what is your position here at Essendon Castle?\"\n\n\"I am personal bodyguard to Princess Arista,\" he told the court in aloud clear voice.\n\n\"Tell us Reuben, what is your rank?\"\n\n\"I am sergeant-at-arms.\"\n\n\"That's a fairly high rank, isn't it?\"\n\n\"It is a respected position.\"\n\n\"How did you attain this rank?\"\n\n\"I was singled out for some reason.\"\n\n\"For some reason? For some reason?\" the lawyer repeated, laughing gaily. \"Is it not true you were recommended for promotion by Captain Wylin for your years of consistent and unwavering loyalty to the crown? Moreover, is it not true that the king himself appointed you to be his daughter's personal bodyguard after you risked your life and saved Arista from the fire that killed the queen mother? Were you not also presented with a commendation for bravery by the king? Are not all these things true?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"I sense in you a reluctance to be here, Reuben. Am I correct?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"It is because you are loyal to your princess, and you do not wish to be apart of anything which might harm her. That is an admirable quality. Still, you are also an honorable man, and as such, you must speak truthfully in your testimony before this court. So tell us, Reuben, what happened the night the king was murdered?\"\n\nHilfred shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other and then took a breath and spoke. \"It was late, and the princess was asleep in her bed. I was on post at the tower stairs when the king was found. Captain Wylin ordered me to check on Princess Arista. Before I reached her door, she came out, startled by the noise.\"\n\n\"How was she dressed?\" the lawyer asked.\n\n\"Ina gown, I am not sure which.\"\n\n\"But she was dressed? Was she not? Not in a robe or nightclothes?\"\n\n\"Yes, she was dressed.\"\n\n\"You've spent years guarding Arista. Have you ever known her to sleep in her gowns?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Never?\"\n\n\"Never.\"\n\n\"But I assume you've no doubt stood outside her door when she went to dress for meals or to change after traveling. Does she have servants to help her dress?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"How many?\"\n\n\"Three.\"\n\n\"And how long is the fastest you recall her dressing?\"\n\n\"I am not certain.\"\n\n\"Make a guess, the court will not hold you to the exact time.\"\n\n\"Perhaps twenty minutes.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Twenty minutes with three servants. That is actually quite fast considering all the ties and toggles that require lacing for most ladies'clothing. Now how long would you say it was between the discovery of the king's body and the time the princess came out of her room?\"\n\nHilfred hesitated.\n\n\"How long?\" the lawyer persisted.\n\n\"Perhaps ten minutes.\"\n\n\"Ten minutes, you say? And when she came out of her room, how many servants were with her?\"\n\n\"None, that I saw.\"\n\n\"Amazing! The princess woke up unexpectedly in the dark and managed to dress herself fully in a lavish gown in ten minutes without the help of a single servant!\"\n\nThe lawyer paced the floor, his head down in thought, a finger tapping his lips. He paused with his back to Hilfred. Then, as if a sudden thought occurred to him, he spun abruptly.\n\n\"Tell us, how did she take the news of the king's death?\"\n\n\"She was shocked.\"\n\n\"Did she weep?\"\n\n\"I am sure she did.\"\n\n\"But did you see her?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Then what happened?\"\n\n\"She went to Prince Alric's chambers to find him and was surprised he wasn't there. She then-\"\n\n\"Please stop there just a minute. She went to Alric's chambers? She learns her father is murdered and her first inclination is to go to her brother's room? Did you not find it odd she didn't immediately rush to her father's side? After all, no one suggested any harm had come to Alric, had they?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"What happened next?\"\n\n\"She went to view her father's body, and Alric arrived.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"After the prince sentenced the prisoners to death, what did the princess do?\"\n\n\"I don't understand what you mean,\" Hilfred replied.\n\n\"Is it true she went to visit them?\" the lawyer questioned.\n\n\"Yes, she did.\"\n\n\"And were you with her?\"\n\n\"I was asked to wait outside the cell.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Has she often asked you to wait outside when speaking with people?\"\n\n\"Sometimes.\"\n\n\"Often?\"\n\n\"Not often.\"\n\n\"Then what happened?\"\n\n\"She called for monks to give last rights to the murderers.\"\n\n\"She called for monks?\" the lawyer repeated with a clear note of skepticism in his voice. \"Her father is murdered and she is concerned about the murderers' souls? Why did she call for two monks? Was one not sufficient to do the job for both? For that matter, why not call the castle priest?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"And did she also order the murderers unchained?\"\n\n\"Yes, to be able to kneel.\"\n\n\"And when the monks entered the cell did you go with them?\"\n\n\"No, again she asked me to remain outside.\"\n\n\"So, the monks could enter, but not her trusted bodyguard? Not even when the known killers of her father were unchained and free? Then what?\"\n\n\"She came out of the cell. She wanted me to stay behind and escort the monks to the kitchen after they were done giving last rites.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"She didn't say.\"\n\n\"Did you ask?\"\n\n\"No, sir. As a man-at-arms, it is not my place to question the orders from a member of the royal family.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I see, but were you pleased with these orders?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I was fearful more assassins might be in the castle, and I didn't wish the princess to be out of my sight.\"\n\n\"In point of fact, wasn't Captain Wylin in the process of searching the castle for additional threats, and didn't he make everyone aware he felt the castle was unsafe?\"\n\n\"He did.\"\n\n\"Did the princess explain to you where she was going so you could find her after performing your duty to the monks?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I see. And how do you know the two you escorted to the kitchens were the monks? Did you see their faces?\"\n\n\"Their hoods were up.\"\n\n\"Did they have their hoods up when they entered the cell?\"\n\nHilfred thought a moment and then shook his head. \"I don't think so.\"\n\n\"So, on a night when her father is killed, she orders her personal bodyguard to leave her unprotected and to escort two monks down to the empty kitchens-two monks who decided suddenly to pull their hoods up inside the castle, hiding their faces? And what about the murderers' possessions? Where were they?\"\n\n\"They were in the custody of the cell warden.\"\n\n\"And what did she say to the warden concerning them?\"\n\n\"She told him she was going to have the monks take them for the poor.\"\n\n\"And did they take them?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThe lawyer softened his address. \"Reuben, you don't strike meas a fool. Fools don't rise to the rank and position you have achieved. When you heard the killers escaped, and the monks were found chained in their place, did it cross your mind that maybe the princess had arranged it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I assumed the killers attacked the monks after the princess left the cell.\"\n\n\"You didn't answer my question,\" the lawyer said. \"I asked if it crossed your mind?\"\n\nReuben said nothing.\n\n\"Did it?\"\n\n\"Perhaps, but only briefly.\"\n\n\"Let us turn our attention to more recent events. Were you present during the conversation between Arista and her uncle in his study?\"\n\n\"Yes, but I was asked to wait outside.\"\n\n\"To wait just outside the door correct?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Therefore could you hear what transpired inside?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Is it true the princess entered the archduke's office, where he was diligently working at locating the prince, and informed him that Prince Alric was clearly dead and that no search was needed? That he would make a better use of his time...\" he paused here and turned to face the nobles, \"... to begin preparations for her coronation as our queen!\"\n\nThere was a decidedly unpleasant murmur from the crowd, and a few of the court whispered and nodded to one another.\n\n\"I don't remember her using those words.\"\n\n\"Did she, or did she not, indicate the archduke should stop looking for Alric?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And did she threaten the archduke, insinuating she would soon hold her coronation, and once she was queen, he might find he was no longer the Lord Chancellor?\"\n\n\"I believe she did say something to that effect, but she was angry-\"\n\n\"That will be all, sergeant-at-arms; that's all I asked. You can step down.\" Hilfred began to leave the witness box when the lawyer spoke again. \"Oh, I'm sorry... just one last thing. Have you ever seen or heard the princess cry over the loss of her father or brother?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She is a very private woman.\"\n\n\"Yes or no?\"\n\nHilfred hesitated. \"No, I haven't.\"\n\n\"I am prepared to call the cell warden to corroborate the testimony of Hilfred if the court feels his account of the events is not truthful,\" the lawyer told the magistrates.\n\nThey conferred in whispers, and then the chief magistrate replied, \"That won't be necessary; the word of the sergeant-at-arms Hilfred is recognized as honorable and we will not question it here. You may proceed.\"\n\n\"I'm sure you areas perplexed as I was,\" the lawyer said, addressing the bleachers in a sympathetic voice. \"Many of you know her. How could this sweet girl attack her own father and brother? Was it just to gain a throne? It's not like her, is it? I ask you to bear with me. The reason should become quite clear in a moment. The court calls Bishop Saldur to testify.\"\n\nEyes from the gallery swept the room looking for the cleric as the old man slowly stood up from his seat and approached the witness box.\n\n\"Your grace, you have been in this castle on many occasions. You know the royal family extremely well. Can you shed some light on her highness' motivations?\"\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" Bishop Saldur spoke to the court and judges in his familiar warm and humble tone, \"I have watched over the royal family for years and this recent tragedy is heartbreaking and dreadful. The accusation the archduke brings against the princess is painful to my ears for I feel almost like a grandfather to the poor girl. However, I cannot hide the truth, which is-she is dangerous.\"\n\nThis brought around of whispers between the spectators.\n\n\"I can assure each of you she is no longer the sweet innocent child whom I used to hold in my arms. I have seen her, spoken to her, watched her in her grief-or rather the lack of grief-for her father and brother. I can tell you truly her lust for knowledge and power has caused her to fall into the arms of evil.\" The bishop paused, dropping his head into his hands and shaking it. He looked up with a remorse-filled face and said, \"It is the result of what happens when a woman is educated and in Arista's case, introduced to the wicked powers of black magic.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a collective gasp issued from the crowd.\n\n\"Against my advice, King Amrath allowed her to attend the university where she studied sorcery. She opened herself up to the forces of darkness, and it created in her a craving for power. Education planted an evil seed in her, and it flowered into the horrible deaths of her father and her brother. She is no longer a princess of the realm, but a witch. This is evident by the fact she hasn't wept for her father. You see, as a learned bishop of the Church, I know-witches cannot cry.\"\n\nThe crowd gasped again. From somewhere in the gallery, Braga heard a man say, \"I knew it!\"\n\nThe lawyer called Countess Amril to the court, and she testified that two years earlier Arista had hexed her when she told the handsome squire Davens that the princess fancied him. Amril went onto describe how she suffered horribly for days of sickness and boils as a result.\n\nNext, the lawyer called the monks, who like Countess Amril, were eager to relate how they had been ill-used by the princess. They told how she had insisted the thieves be unchained despite their assurance it was not necessary and explained they were attacked the moment she left the room.\n\nThe crowd's reaction grew louder, and even Lord Valin looked troubled.\n\nPercy Braga observed the audience with satisfaction from his seat at the rear of the magistrates. The faces of the gentry were filling with anger. He had successfully coaxed the spark into aflame and the flame would soon be ablaze.\n\nIn the crowd, he spotted Wylin moving in the wings toward him.\n\n\"We have them, my lord,\" Wylin reported in a whisper. \"They are gagged and locked in the dungeon. A little banged up by two of my overzealous men, but alive.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Excellent, and has there been any movement on the roads? Has there been any indication nobles loyal to the traitor Arista may attack?\"\n\n\"I don't know, sir. I came directly from the sewers.\"\n\n\"Very well, get to the gate and sound the horn if you see anything. I'm concerned there maybe an assault from Pickering of Drondil Fields. Oh, and if you see that wretched little dwarf, tell him it is time to bring the princess down.\"\n\n\"Of course, your lordship.\" Wylin pulled a small parchment rolled into a tube from his tabard. \"I was passed this on my way in. It just arrived via messenger addressed to you.\" Braga took the missive from Wylin and the master-at-arms left with a bow.\n\nBraga grinned at the ease of it all. He wondered if the princess in her distant tower prison could sense her coming death. Her own beloved citizens would soon be begging-nay demanding-her execution. He had yet to present the storeroom administrator who would attest to the stolen dagger that was later found in Arista's possession. And then of course, there were now the thieves. He would hold them until the last and drag them out to the floor gagged and chained. The mere sight of them was likely to start a riot. He would have Wylin explain how he apprehended them trying to save the princess. The magistrates would have no choice but to rule against Arista and grant him the throne.\n\nHe would still have to deal with the possibility of Alric attacking, but that could not be helped now. He was certain he would defeat Alric. Several of the more disgruntled eastern lords already agreed to join him the moment he was crowned king. Once the trial was complete and Arista dead, he planned to hold the coronation. By tomorrow, he would marshal the kingdom. Alric would cease to be a prince and become a fugitive."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The court calls storage clerk Kline Druess,\" the lawyer was saying, \"who was in charge of keeping the knife used to kill the king.\"\n\nMore damning evidence, Braga thought as he unrolled the scroll that Wylin had presented him. It had no seal, no emblem of nobility, only a simple string tie. He read the message, which was as simple as its package."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The archduke crumpled the note in his fist and glared around at the numerous faces in the crowd wondering if whoever wrote it was watching him. His heart began beating faster, and he stood up slowly trying not to draw attention to himself.\n\nThe lawyer caught sight of his movement and gave him a curious look. Braga dismissed his concern with a slight wave of his hand. He left the court, forcing himself to walk slowly and calmly. The moment he passed out through the chamber doors, and out of sight of the crowd, he trotted through the castle halls, his cape whipping behind him. In his fist, he held onto the note, crushing it.\n\nIt wasn't possible, he thought, it couldn't be! Hearing footfalls approaching rapidly from behind, he stopped and spun, drawing his sword.\n\n\"Is there a problem, Braga?\" Archibald Ballentyne inquired. He held his hands up defensively before the point of the archduke's blade. Braga silently threw the crumpled note at him and resumed his march toward the dungeon.\n\n\"It's those thieves, those damned thieves,\" the Earl of Chadwick called out as he ran after Braga. \"They're demons! Magicians! Evil mages! They are like smoke, appearing and disappearing at will.\"\n\nArchibald caught up with Braga and they descended the stairs to the detention block where the door guard dodged aside just in time to avoid the archduke. After trying the door and finding it locked, Braga hammered on it. The warden promptly left his desk and brought his keys for the red-faced archduke.\n\n\"My lord, I-\"\n\n\"Open the cell to the prisoners Wylin's men just brought in. Do it now!\"\n\n\"Yes, my lord.\" Fumbling with his great ring of keys, the warden moved quickly to the cell hall. Two castle guards stood watch to either side of a door and promptly stepped aside at his approach."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Have you two been here since the prisoners were brought in?\" Braga asked the guards.\n\n\"Aye, my lord,\" the guard on the left replied. \"Captain Wylin ordered us to stand guard and to allow absolutely no admittance to anyone except him or you.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" he said. Then, to the warden, he added, \"Open it.\"\n\nThe warden unlocked the door and entered the cell. Inside, Braga saw two men chained to the wall, stripped to their waist with gags in their mouths. They were not the same men he saw the night of the king's murder.\n\n\"Remove the gags,\" Braga ordered the warden. \"Who are you? What are you doing here?\"\n\n\"M-m-my name's Bendent, your lordship, I'm just a street sweeper from Dock Street-honest-we weren't doing nothing wrong!\"\n\n\"What were you two doing in the sewers under this castle?\"\n\n\"Hunting rats, sir,\" the other one said.\n\n\"Rats?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, honest, we was. We was told there was a big event herein the castle this morning and the castle kitchen was complaining about rats climbing up from the sewers. \"Cause of the cold, you see, sir. We was told we'd get paid a silver tenet for every rat we done killed and brought out-only...\"\n\n\"Only what?\"\n\n\"Only we never seen no rats, your lordship.\"\n\n\"Before we found any, we were knocked out by soldiers and brought here.\"\n\n\"See? What did I tell you?\" Archibald told Braga. \"They took her already. They stole her right from under your nose just like they took my letters!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"They couldn't have. There's noway to getup to Arista's tower. It is too high, and it can't be climbed.\"\n\n\"I'm telling you, Braga, these men are skilled. They scaled my Gray Tower well enough, and it is one of the tallest there is.\"\n\n\"Trust me, Archibald. Arista's tower can't be climbed.\"\n\n\"But they did it,\" Ballentyne insisted. \"I didn't think it was possible when they did it tome either, not until I opened the safe and my prize was gone. Now your prize is gone, and what will you do with that crowd out there when you have no princess to burn!\"\n\n\"It's just not possible,\" Braga repeated, pushing Ballentyne out of his way. \"You two,\" he said to the guards still standing outside the cell as he walked out, \"come with me and bring one of those gags. It's time the princess came down for her court appearance!\"\n\nBraga led them through the castle and up six flights of stairs to the residence level. The hallway here was empty. All of the servants were gathered with the others, listening to the proceedings of the trial.\n\nThey passed the royal chapel and continued up the hallway to the next door. \"Magnus!\" Braga shouted, throwing the door open. Inside a dwarf with a braided brown beard and abroad flat nose lay on abed. He was dressed in a blue leather vest, large black boots, and a bright orange puffed sleeved shirt that made his arms appear huge.\n\n\"Is it time?\" the dwarf asked. Hopping off the bed, he yawned and rubbed his eyes.\n\n\"Is there any chance someone could have gotten up in her tower and stolen Arista out of there?\" Braga asked urgently."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"None whatsoever,\" the dwarf said with atone of total confidence. Braga looked back and forth between Ballentyne and the dwarf, scowling.\n\n\"I have to know for certain. Besides, she needs to comedown for the burning anyway and I must get back to the trial. Archibald, go get Wylin, my master-at-arms; he's stationed at the castle gate. Tell him to come to the royal residence wing and provide assistance guarding the princess. I need tight security on this girl. Do you understand me, tight!\" Braga now turned his attention to the dwarf. \"You'll have to fetch her. Take these guards with you, one of them has a gag. Make sure they use it before bringing her down.\" To the guards the archduke added, \"The princess has been corrupted by dark magic; she's a witch and can play tricks with your mind, so don't let her talk to you. Get her and bring her to the court.\" The guards nodded and the dwarf led them down the hallway in the direction of the tower.\n\n\"I'll do as you say, Percy, but I'm sure she is already gone,\" Archibald insisted. \"These bastards are incredible. They're like ghosts, and they have no fear at all. They work right under your nose, steal you blind, and then have the audacity to send you a note telling you what they have done!\"\n\nBraga paused in thought. \"Yes, why did they do that?\" he asked himself. \"If they took her, why let me know? And if they didn't, they must have suspected I would immediately check to...\" He glanced over his shoulder in the direction the dwarf had gone. \"Get Wylin up here, now!\" he shouted at the earl and shoved him on his way.\n\nBraga ran up the hallway, following the dwarf and the two guards. They were just entering the north corridor, which led directly to the tower when he caught up to them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Stop where you are!\"\n\nThe dwarf turned around, with a puzzled expression on his face. The guards responded differently. The larger of the two pivoted, drawing his sword, and moved to block the archduke's passage.\n\n\"Time to move, Royce,\" Hadrian said, casting off his helm. The standard issue sword of the Melengar guard felt heavy and awkward in his grip.\n\nRoyce removed his helm as well, as he moved past the dwarf, running quickly down the hall.\n\n\"Stop him, you fool!\" Braga ordered the dwarf, but he was too slow to react. The thief was already far down the hall and the small dwarf ran after him. Braga drew his own sword and turned his attention to Hadrian.\n\n\"Do you know who I am? I know we met in the dungeon recently when you were hanging in chains, but are you aware of my reputation? I am Archduke Percy Braga, Lord Chancellor of Melengar, and more importantly, the winner of the title of Grand Circuit Tournament Swords Master, for the last five years in a row. Do you have any titles? Any ribbons won? Any awards bestowed? Are there trophies shelved for your handling of a sword? I have bested the best in Avryn, even the famous Pickering and his magic rapier.\"\n\n\"The way I heard it, he didn't have his sword the day you two dueled.\"\n\nBraga laughed. \"That sword story is just that-a story. He uses it as an excuse to account for his losses or when he is afraid of an opponent. His sword is just a common rapier with a fancy hilt.\"\n\nBraga moved in and swiped at Hadrian in a savagely fast attack that drove him backward. He struck again and Hadrian had to leap backwards to avoid being slashed across the chest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You're fast."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "That's good, it will make this more interesting. You see, Mister Thief, I'm sure you have the situation here all wrong. You maybe under the impression that you are holding meat bay while your friend races to the rescue of the damsel in distress. How noble fora commoner like yourself. You must entertain dreams of being a knight to be so idealistic.\" Braga lunged, dipped, and slashed. Hadrian fell back again, and once more, Braga smiled and laughed at him. \"The truth is, you are not holding meat all. I am holding you.\"\n\nThe archduke feinted left and then short-stroked toward Hadrian's body. He dodged the attack, but it put him off balance and off guard. Although Braga's stroke missed, it allowed him the opportunity to punch the hilt of his sword hard into Hadrian's face, throwing him back against the corridor wall. His lip began to bleed. Immediately, Braga lashed out again, but Hadrian had moved, and the archduke's sword sparked across the stonewall.\n\n\"That looked like it hurt.\"\n\n\"I've had worse,\" Hadrian said. He was panting slightly, his voiceless confident.\n\n\"I must admit, you two have been quite impressive. Your reputation is certainly well earned. It was very clever of you two, slipping in the sewers behind those rat catchers, using them as a decoy. It was also intelligent of you to send that note causing me to direct you right to the princess, but your genius ended there. You see, I can kill you whenever I want, but I want you alive. I need at least one person to execute. The mob will insist on that. Ina few moments, Wylin and a dozen guards will come up here, and you will betaken to the stake. Meanwhile, your friend, whom you are sure is rescuing Arista, will be the instrument of her death and his as well. You could run and warn him, but oh-that's right-you are keeping meat bay, aren't you?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Braga grinned evilly and attacked again.\n\nRoyce reached a door at the end of the hall and was not surprised to find it locked. He pulled his tools from his belt. The lock was traditional, and he had no trouble picking it. The door swung open, but immediately Royce knew something was wrong. He felt, more than heard, a click as the door pulled back. His instincts told him something was not right. He looked up the spiral stairs that disappeared around the circle of the tower. Nothing looked amiss, but years of experience told him otherwise.\n\nHe tentatively put afoot on the first step and nothing happened. He moved to the second, and the third, inching his way up. Listening for any telltale sounds, he searched for wires, levers, or loose tiles. Everything appeared safe. Behind him down the hallway, he could hear the faint sounds of swordplay as Hadrian entertained the archduke. He needed to hurry.\n\nHe moved up five more steps. There were small windows, no more than three feet tall and only afoot wide, just enough to allow light to pass through, but nothing else. The brilliant wintry sun revealed the staircase in a colorless brilliance. Weight, rather than mortar, held the smooth stonewalls together. The steps were likewise made of solid blocks of stone also fitted with amazing artisanship so that a sheet of parchment could not slip between the cracks.\n\nRoyce moved up to the sixth step, and as he shifted his weight to the higher stone block, the tower shook. In reaction, he instinctively started to step back and then it happened. The previous five steps collapsed. They broke and fell out of sight into an abyss below him. Royce shifted his weight forward again just in time to avoid falling to his death and took another off balance step upward. The moment he did, the previous step broke away and fell. The tower rumbled again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your first mistake was picking the lock,\" Magnus told him.\n\nRoyce could hear the dwarf's voice from the doorway below. When he turned, he could seethe dwarf standing just outside the door in the castle corridor. He stood there, spinning a door key tied to a string around his index finger, winding and unwinding it. He absently stroked the hair of his beard.\n\n\"If you open the door without using the key, it engages the trap,\" Magnus explained with a grin.\n\nThe dwarf began to pace slowly before the open door like a professor addressing a class. \"You can't jump the hole you made to get back here. It's already too far. And, in case you are wondering, the bottom is along way down. You started climbing this tower on the sixth floor of the castle, and the base of the tower extends to the bedrock below the foundation. I also added plenty of jagged rocks at the bottom, just for fun.\"\n\n\"You made this?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"Of course, well-not the tower, it was here already. I spent the last half-year hollowing it out like a stone-eating termite.\" He grinned and flashed his eyes. \"There's very little stone left in it. All those very solid looking blocks of rock you see are parchment-thin. I left just the right amount of structure in place. The inside looks like a spiderweb made of stone rather than thread. Tiny strands of rock in a latticework of a classic crystalline matrix-strong enough to hold the tower up, but extremely fragile if the right thread is broken.\"\n\n\"And I take it each time I take a step up, the previous one will fall?\"\n\nThe dwarf's grin widened. \"Beautiful, isn't it? You can't go down, but if you go up, you get into an even worse state. The steps work as a horizontal support for the vertical planes. Without the steps to steady the structure, it will twist on itself and fall. Before you reach the top, the entire tower will collapse once enough supports fall away. Don't let my talk about hollow walls put you too much at ease. It is still stone, and the full weight of this tower remains immense. It will very easily crush you, and the lady at the top, should the fall and the sharp rocks at the bottom not manage to do the job. You've already weakened the structure to where it might fall on its own now. I can hear it with the blowing of the wind-the tiny little cracks and pops-all stone makes sounds as it grows, shrinks, twists, or erodes-it's a language I understand very well. It tells me stories of the past and of the future, and right now, this tower is singing.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I hate dwarves,\" Royce muttered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The water pitcher and basin hit the floor and shattered. The crash jolted Arista, who sat on her bed, disoriented and confused. The room was shaking. All summer the tower had felt strange, but nothing like this. She held her breath-waiting. Nothing happened. The tower stopped moving.\n\nTentatively, she slipped off the bed, crept gingerly toward the windows and looked out. She saw nothing to explain the tremor. Outside the world was blanketed white by afresh layer of snow that was still falling. Is that it? She looked up at the tower's eaves. Is it the snow, sliding off the roof? It did not seem likely... it also did not matter. How much time do I have left?\n\nShe looked down. The crowd still circled the front gate of the castle. There must have been more than a hundred people there, all pressing for news of her trial. Around the perimeter of the castle, three times the usual number of guards patrolled in full armor. Her uncle was not taking any chances. Perhaps he thought the people of the city might rise up against him rather than see their princess burned? She knew better. No one cared if she lived or died. While she knew all the lords, earls and barons by name, and had sat down with them for dozen of meals, she knew they were not her friends. She did not have friends. Braga was right; she spent too much time in her tower. No one really knew her. She lived a solitary life, but this was the first time she ever really felt alone.\n\nShe had spent all night trying to determine exactly what words she would use when brought before the court. In the end, she concluded there was little she could door say. She could accuse Braga of the murder of her father, but she had no proof. He was the one with all the evidence on his side. After all, she had released the two thieves, and she was responsible for Alric's disappearance. And what good did that do?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What was I thinking?\n\nShe handed her brother over to two unknown thugs. Alric personally explained his intent to torture them to death, and she left him to their mercy! What were the odds of his survival? What was a promise to thieves? She felt sick whenever she imagined them laughing at her expense as they drowned poor Alric in the river. Now they were likely halfway to Calis or Delgos, taking turns wearing the royal signet ring of Melengar. When the scouts had returned with Alric's robe, she was certain he was dead, and yet, why was there nobody?\n\nIs it possible Alric still lives?\n\nNo, she reasoned, it was far more likely Braga kept Alric's corpse hidden. Revealing it before her trial would allow her to make a bid for the throne. Once the trial was over, once she was found guilty and burned, he would miraculously reveal its discovery. It was very possible Braga had Alric's body locked away in one of the rooms below her, or somewhere in the vault.\n\nIt was all her fault. If she had not interfered, perhaps Alric might have taken charge and discovered Braga's treachery. Perhaps he could have saved both of them. Perhaps she was nothing more than a foolish girl after all. At least her death would put an end to the questions and the guilt consuming her. She closed her eyes and once more felt the unsteadiness of the world around her.\n\nThe Galilin host was now a full five hundred strong as it marched through the wintry landscape. Sixty knights dressed in full armor carried lances adorned with long forked banners. They snapped like serpents'tongues in the numbing wind. Myron had overheard Alric, when they were back at Drondil fields, arguing with the other nobles, about marching too soon. Apparently, they were still missing the strength of several lords, and leaving when they did was a risk. Pickering finally agreed to Alric's demands and convinced the others once Barons Himbolt and Rendon arrived, bringing another score of knights. To Myron, the force was impressive at any size."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At the head of the line rode Prince Alric, Myron, Count Pickering and his two eldest sons, as well as the land-titled nobles. Following them were the knights who rode together in rows four abreast. An entourage of squires, pages, and footmen traveled behind them. Farther back were the ranks of the common men-at-arms: strong, stocky brutes dressed in chain and steel with bullet-shaped helms, plate metal shin guards, and metal shank boots. Each was equipped with a kite shield, a short, broad-blade sword, and along spear. Next inline were the archers in leather jerkins and woolen cloaks that hid their quivers. They marched holding their un-strung bows as though they were mere walking sticks. At the rear came the artisans, smiths, surgeons, and cooks, pulling wagons that hauled the army's supplies.\n\nMyron felt foolish. After hours on the road, he was still having trouble keeping his horse from veering to the left into Fanen's gelding. He was starting to get the hang of the stirrups, but he still had much to learn. The front toe guard, which prevented his feet from resting on the soles, frustrated him. The Pickering boys took him under their wing and explained how only the ball of the foot was to rest on the stirrup brace. This provided better control and prevented afoot from catching in the event of a fall. They also told him how tight stirrups helped to hold his knees to the horse's sides. All of Pickering's horses were leg trained and could be controlled by the feet, thighs, and knees. They were taught this way so that knights could fight with one hand on a lance or sword and the other on a shield. Myron was working on this technique now, squeezing his thighs, trying to persuade the horse to steer right, but it was no use. The more he used his left knee, the more his right knee also squeezed to compensate. The result was confusion on the part of the animal, and it wandered over and brushed against Fanen's mount once again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You need to be more firm,\" Fanen told him. \"Show her who's in charge.\"\n\n\"She already knows-she is,\" Myron replied pathetically. \"I think I should just stick with the reins. It's not like I will be wielding a sword and shield in the coming battle.\"\n\n\"You never know,\" Fanen said. \"Monks of old used to fight a lot, and Alric said you helped save his life by killing one of those mercenaries who attacked you. So you're one ahead of me there. I've never actually killed a man.\"\n\nMyron frowned and dropped his gaze. \"I wish he hadn't told anyone about that.\"\n\n\"Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Slaying a villain in the service of your king is the stuff of legends and what heroes are made of.\"\n\n\"It didn't feel very heroic. It made me sick. I don't even know why I... no, that's a lie. I really have to stop doing that.\"\n\n\"Doing what?\"\n\n\"Lying. The abbot told me once that lying was a betrayal to one's self. It's evidence of self-loathing. You see, when you are so ashamed of your actions, thoughts, or intentions, you lie to hide it rather than accept yourself for who you really are. The idea of how others see you becomes more important than the reality of you. It's like when a man would rather die than bethought of as a coward. His life is not as important to him as his reputation. In the end, who is the braver? The man who dies rather than bethought of as a coward or the man who lives willing to face who he really is?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, you lost me there,\" Fanen said with a quizzical look."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It doesn't matter, besides, the prince asked me along strictly as a chronicler of events, not as a warrior. I think he wants me to record what happens today in a book.\"\n\n\"Well, if you do, please leave out the way Denek threw a fit at not being allowed to come. It will reflect badly on our family.\"\n\nEverything they passed was new to Myron. He had seen snow, of course, but only in the courtyard and cloister at the abbey. He never saw how it settled on a forest or glittered on the edges of rivers and streams. They were traveling through populated country now, passing village after village; each one larger than the one before. Myron could only stare in fascination at the many different types of buildings, animals, and people he saw along the way. Each time they came into a town, the villagers came out to stare at them. They scurried out of their homes aroused by the ominous thrump, thrump, thrump of the soldiers marching. Some summoned the courage to ask where they were going, but the men said nothing under strict orders to maintain silence.\n\nChildren ran to the edge of the road where parents quickly pulled them back. Myron had never seen a child before, at least not since he had been one. It was not uncommon fora boy to be sent to the abbey at tenor twelve but rarely, if ever, before the age of eight. The smallest of the children fascinated Myron, and he watched them in amazement. They were like short drunk people, loud and usually dirty, but all were surprisingly cute and looked at him in much the same way that he looked at them. They would wave, and Myron could not help but wave back, although he assumed it was not very soldierly to do so.\n\nThe war host moved surprisingly fast. The foot soldiers, responding in unison to orders, alternated between periods of double-time marching with a more relaxed stride, which was only slightly slower. Each of them wore a grim face without a smile among them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For hours, they marched. No one interfered with them. There were no advance formations lying in ambush, no challenges along the road. To Myron, the trip felt more like an exciting parade than the preparation for an ominous battle. Finally, he saw his first glimpse of Melengar in the distance. Fanen pointed out the great bell tower of Mares Cathedral and the tall spires of Essendon Castle, where no standard flew.\n\nA vanguard rode up and reported a strong force entrenched around the city. The nobles ordered their regiments to form ranks. Flags relayed messages, archers strung their bows, and the army transformed themselves into blocks of men. In long lines of three across, they moved as one. The archers were summoned forward and moved ahead just behind the foot soldiers.\n\nOrdered to the rear, Myron and Fanen rode with the cooks to watch and listen. From his new vantage point, Myron noticed part of the army had broken away from the mainline and was moving to the right side of the city. When the ranks of men reached the rise, which left them visible to the castle walls, a great horn sounded in the distance.\n\nOne of their own answered the castle horn, and the Galilin archers released a barrage of arrows upon the defenders. The shafts flew and appeared to hang briefly in the air like a dark cloud. As they fell, Myron could hear the distant cries of men. He watched with anticipation as the mounted knights broke into three groups. One stayed on the road, while the other two took up flanking positions on either side. The mainline increased their pace to a brisk walk.\n\nWhen they heard the horn, Mason Grumon and Dixon Taft led their mob up Wayward Street, effectively emptying the Lower Quarter. It was the sign Royce and Hadrian told them to wait for; it was the signal to attack."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conspiracy\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: The Crown Conspiracy\nChapter: 10"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For hours, they marched. No one interfered with them. There were no advance formations lying in ambush, no challenges along the road. To Myron, the trip felt more like an exciting parade than the preparation for an ominous battle. Finally, he saw his first glimpse of Melengar in the distance. Fanen pointed out the great bell tower of Mares Cathedral and the tall spires of Essendon Castle, where no standard flew.\n\nA vanguard rode up and reported a strong force entrenched around the city. The nobles ordered their regiments to form ranks. Flags relayed messages, archers strung their bows, and the army transformed themselves into blocks of men. In long lines of three across, they moved as one. The archers were summoned forward and moved ahead just behind the foot soldiers.\n\nOrdered to the rear, Myron and Fanen rode with the cooks to watch and listen. From his new vantage point, Myron noticed part of the army had broken away from the mainline and was moving to the right side of the city. When the ranks of men reached the rise, which left them visible to the castle walls, a great horn sounded in the distance.\n\nOne of their own answered the castle horn, and the Galilin archers released a barrage of arrows upon the defenders. The shafts flew and appeared to hang briefly in the air like a dark cloud. As they fell, Myron could hear the distant cries of men. He watched with anticipation as the mounted knights broke into three groups. One stayed on the road, while the other two took up flanking positions on either side. The mainline increased their pace to a brisk walk.\n\nWhen they heard the horn, Mason Grumon and Dixon Taft led their mob up Wayward Street, effectively emptying the Lower Quarter. It was the sign Royce and Hadrian told them to wait for; it was the signal to attack."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ever since the two thieves woke them in the middle of the night, they spent their time organizing the resistance in the Lower Quarter of Medford. They spread news of Amrath's assassination by the archduke, of the innocence of the princess, and of the return of the prince. Those not moved by loyalty or justice were enticed by the chance to strike back at their betters. It was not difficult to convince the poor and the destitute to take up arms against the soldiery who policed them. In addition, there were those hoping fora possibility to do a little looting, or perhaps receive some reward from the crown if they prevailed.\n\nThey armed themselves with pitchforks, axes, and clubs. Makeshift armor was constructed by strapping whatever thin metal they could find under their clothing. Inmost cases, this meant commandeering a baking sheet from their wives. They had the numbers, but they looked apathetic lot. Gwen had roused the Artisan Quarter, which provided not only strong workers but a few swords, bows, and bits of armor. With the city guards ordered to the perimeter and most of the Gentry Quarter at the trial, there was no one to stop them from openly organizing.\n\nWith Dixon at his side, Mason marched at the head of the commoner procession, his smithing hammer in one hand and a rough-hewn shield he had beaten together that morning in the other. Years of frustration and resentment steamed to the surface as the smith strode forward. Anger born from the life he had been denied overwhelmed him. When he could not pay the taxes on his late father's shop, it had been the city sheriff and his guards who came. When he refused to leave, they had beaten him unconscious and thrown him into the gutter of Wayward Street. Mason blamed the guards for most of his life's misfortunes. The beating had weakened his shoulders, and for years afterward, wielding his hammer was so painful he could only work a few hours each day. This, and his gambling habit, kept him in poverty. Of course, he never really considered the gambling to be the real problem; it was the guards who were responsible. It did not matter to him that the soldiers and the sheriff who beat him were no longer with the guard. Today was his chance to fightback, to repay in kind for the pain he had endured."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Neither he nor Dixon were warriors or athletic, but they were large men with broad chests and thick necks, and the crowd followed behind them as if the citizens of the Lower Quarter were plowing the city with a pair of yoked oxen."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They turned onto Wayward Street and marched unchallenged into the Gentry Quarter. Compared to the Lower Quarter, it was like another world. The streets were paved with decorative tile work and lined with metal horse hitches. Along the avenue, enclosed streetlamps and covered sewers accentuated the care taken for the comfort of the privileged few. Marking the center of the Gentry Quarter was a large spacious square. The great Essendon Fountain, with its statue of Tolin on a rearing horse above the pluming water, was its main landmark. Across from it, Mares Cathedral rose. In its towers high above, bells chimed loudly. They passed the fine three-story stone and brick houses with their iron fences and decorative gates. That the stables here looked better than the house Mason lived in was not lost on him. The trip through the square only added fuel to the fire that was sweeping across the city.\n\nWhen they reached Main Street, they saw the enemy.\n\nThe sound of the horn brought Arista to the window once more. What she saw amazed her. In the distance, at the edge of her sight, she could see banners rising above the naked trees. Count Pickering was coming, and he was not alone. There were a score of flags comprising most of the western provinces. Pickering was marching on Medford with an army.\n\nIs it on my account? She pondered the question and concluded the answer was no. Of all the nobles, she knew the Pickerings the best, but she doubted he marched for her. News of Alric's death must have reached him, and he was challenging Braga for the crown. Most likely, he had given no thought at all to her plight. Count Pickering merely saw his opportunity and he was reaching for it. The fact that the princess might still live was only a technicality. No one wanted a woman as their ruler. If he won, he would force her abdication of the throne in favor of himself, or perhaps Mauvin. She would be sent away. She might not be locked up, but she would never be truly free. At least if he won, Braga would never sit on the throne of Melengar-but, would Pickering win? She was no tactician and certainly not a general; still even she could see that the forces marching on the road lacked the numbers fora castle siege. Braga had his forces well entrenched. Looking at the courtyard below, she suddenly realized the attack was distracting everyone. If only she could manage to escape."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perhaps, this time it will be different.\n\nShe rushed to her door and with a tap of her necklace, unlocked it. She grabbed the latch and pushed. As usual, the door refused to budge. \"Damn that dwarf,\" she said aloud to herself. She pushed violently against the door, throwing her entire weight, such that it was, against it. The door did not give way.\n\nThere was another rumble, and her room shook once more. Dust fell from the rafters. What is going on? She staggered as the tower swayed like a ship at sea. She did not know what else to do. Terrified and bewildered, she returned to the illusionary safety of her bed. She sat there, hugging her knees, hardly breathing, her eyes darting at the slightest sound. The end was coming. One way or another, she was certain the end was coming soon.\n\nThe prince was new to combat and unsure what to expect. He had hoped that merely assembling a massive force would cause the city's defenders to surrender. The reality was altogether different. When they reached Medford, they found trenches built outside the walls filled with spearmen. His archers had launched three flights of arrows but still the defenders remained steadfast. Using shields, they fended off much of the barrage and sustained little noticeable damage.\n\nWho are they? Alric wondered. Are my own soldiers standing between me and my home? What lies has Braga spread among the guards? Or are they these all hired men? Did my gold pay for those lines of pointed steel?\n\nAlric sat on one of Pickering's horses draped with a caparison hastily adorned with rough sewn images of the Melengar falcon. The animal was as restless as its rider, shuffling its hooves and snorting great clouds of frosty fog. Alric held the reins with his right hand, his left holding his woolen cloak tight about his neck. His eyes rose above the heads of the spearmen to look on the city of his birth. The walls and towers of Medford appeared faint and dream-like through the falling snow. The vision slowly faded into white as an eerie silence muffled the world."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Your Majesty,\" Count Pickering spoke, breaking the stillness.\n\n\"Another flight?\" Alric proposed.\n\n\"Arrows will not conquer your city.\"\n\nAlric nodded solemnly. \"The knights then, send in the knights to break the line.\"\n\n\"Marshal!\" the count shouted. \"Order the knights to break the line!\"\n\nGallant men in shining armor spurred their steeds and charged forward with banners dancing overhead. A whirlwind of snow launched into the sky by their passing obscured them from view. They vanished from sight, but still Alric listened to the thunder of their hooves.\n\nThe clash was dreadful. Alric felt it as much as heard it. Metal shrieked, men cried out, and until that moment Alric never knew it was possible for horses to scream. When the cloud of snow settled, the prince could at last seethe bloody spectacle. Spears braced in the dirt pierced the breast of man and mount. Horses collapsed, throwing the knights to the ground where they lay, like turtles struggling to right themselves. Spearmen drew forth short swords and thrust downward, punching their sharp points into eye slits and the armor gaps at the armpit or groin.\n\n\"This is not going as well as I hoped,\" Alric complained.\n\n\"Battle rarely ever does, Your Majesty,\" Count Pickering assured him. \"But this is a large part of what being king means. Your knights are dying. Are you going to leave them to their fate?\"\n\n\"Should I send in the foot soldiers?\"\n\n\"If I were you, I certainly would. You need to break a hole in that wall, and you'd better do so before your men decide you're incompetent and vanish into the forests around them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Marshal!\" Alric shouted. \"Marshal Garret, order the foot soldiers to engage immediately!\"\n\n\"Yes, sire!\"\n\nA horn sounded and the men roared forward into battle. Alric watched as steel cut through flesh. The footmen fared better than the knights, but the defensive position of the city soldiers took atoll. Alric could hardly bear to watch. Never before had he seen such a sight-there was so much blood. The white snow was gone; it was stained pink and, in some desperate places, had pooled to a dark red. Littering the grounds were body parts-arms lay severed, heads split open, and legs chopped off. The wall of men blended in a whirling mass of flesh, dirt, blood, and an endless cacophony of screams.\n\n\"I can't believe this is happening,\" Alric said, sounding and feeling sick. \"This is my city. These are my people. My men!\" He turned to Count Pickering. \"I am killing my own men!\" He was shaking now and tears filled his eyes, his face red. Hearing the shrieks and cries, he squeezed the pommel of his saddle until his hands hurt. He felt helpless.\n\nI am king now.\n\nHe did not feel like a king. He felt like he did on the road near The Silver Pitcher when those men held him face down in the dirt. The tears were now streaming down his cheeks.\n\n\"Alric! Stop it!\" Pickering snapped at him. \"You mustn't let the men see you crying!\"\n\nFury flared in Alric, and he spun on the count. \"No? No? Look at them! They are dying for me. They are dying on my order! I say they do have aright to see their king! They all have aright to see their king!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alric wiped the tears from his cheeks and gathered his reins. \"I'm tired of this. I'm tired of having my face put in the dirt! I won't stand it. I'm tired of being helpless. That's my city, built by my ancestors! If my people chose to fight, then, by Maribor, I want them to know it is me they fight!\"\n\nThe prince put on his helm, drew his father's large sword and spurred his horse forward, not at the trench but at the castle gate itself.\n\n\"Alric, no!\" Pickering shouted after him.\n\nMason rushed forward and drove his hammer through the helmet of the first guard he saw. Grinning with delight at his good fortune, he gathered the man's sword and looked up.\n\nThe mob had reached the main gate of the city. The great four-towered barbican of gray stone rose above them like a monstrous beast. It swarmed with soldiers shocked at the sight of the city rising against them. Surprise and the accompanying panic bought the mob time to clear the streets and reach the gatehouse. Mason heard Dixon shout, \"For Prince Alric!\" but the prince was the last thing on the smith's mind.\n\nMason picked out his next target-a tall guard absorbed in a swinging match with a street sweeper from Artisan Row. Mason stabbed the guard in the armpit and listened to him scream as he twisted the blade. The street sweeper grinned at the smith and Mason grinned back.\n\nHe had only killed two men but already Mason was slick with blood. His tunic felt heavy as it stuck to the skin of his chest and he could not tell if it was sweat or tears of blood dripping down his face. The grin he had shown to the sweeper remained on his face, glued to his lips by the thrill and elation. This was freedom! This was living! His heart thundered and his head swam as if he were drunk."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mason swung his sword again, this time at a man already down on one knee. His swing was so strong the blade cut halfway through his victim's neck. He kicked the dead man aside and cried aloud in his victory. He spoke no words; words were valueless at such a moment. He shouted the fury that pounded in his heart. He was a man again, a man of strength, a man to be feared!\n\nA horn sounded and Mason looked up once more. A captain of the castle guard was on the ramparts shouting orders, rallying his troops. They responded to the call and fell back into ranks struggling to defend the gate even as the mob closed in.\n\nMason stepped through the muddy, blood-soaked ground, which was now slick beneath his feet. He looked about and picked anew target. A castle guard with his back to the smith was in the process of retreating to the sound of his captain's voice. The smith aimed at the guard's neck, attempting to cleave off his head. His inexperience with a sword caused him to aim too high and the blade glanced off the man's helmet ringing it loudly. He raised the sword for another blow when the man unexpectedly turned around.\n\nMason felt a sharp, burning pain in his stomach. In an instant, all the strength and fury drained from him. He let go his sword. He saw, rather than felt, himself drop to his knees. He looked down at the source of the pain and watched the soldier withdraw a sword from his stomach. Mason could not believe what he was seeing. How could all that steel have been inside me?\n\nThe smith felt a warm wetness on his hands as he instinctively pressed them to his wound. Trying as best he could to contain his organs that were spilling out, the blood flowed through a gash at least afoot wide. He no longer felt his legs and lay helpless when, to his horror, he saw the soldier swing again, this time at his head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alric charged the castle barbican. Immediately, Count Pickering, Mauvin, and Marshal Garret led the reserve knights in behind him. Arrows rained down from the parapets above the great gates. One deflected off Alric's visor, and another struck deep into the horn of his saddle. One hit Sir Sinclair's horse in the flank, causing it to rear unexpectedly, but the knight remained mounted. Countless more struck the ground harmlessly. The enraged prince rode directly to the gate and standing up in his stirrups shouted, \"I am Prince Alric Brendon Essendon! Open this gate in the name of your king!\"\n\nAlric was not certain anyone heard him as he stood there, his sword raised high over his head. Furthermore, having heard him, there was no reason to believe another arrow would not whistle down and end his life. Behind the prince, the remaining knights fanned out around him as the marshal attempted to build a wall around his monarch.\n\nA second arrow did not fly, but neither did the gate open.\n\n\"Alric,\" Count Pickering shouted, \"you must fallback!\"\n\n\"I am Prince Alric Essendon! Open the gate now!\" He demanded again, and this time he removed his helm and threw it aside backing his horse into full view of the ramparts.\n\nAlric and the others waited. Count Pickering and Mauvin stared at the prince in terror and tried to persuade him to come away from the gate. Nothing happened for several tense moments as the prince and his bodyguards sat outside waiting, staring up at the parapets. From inside they heard the sounds of fighting.\n\nA shout came from atop the walls of the city. \"The prince! Open the gate! Let him in! It's the prince!\" More shouts, a scream, and then suddenly the massive gate split open, and the great doors pulled back. Inside was amass of confusion as uniformed guards fought a horde of citizens dressed up like tinkers wearing makeshift armor or stolen helms."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Alric did not pause. He spurred his mount and drove into the crowd. Mauvin, Count Pickering, Sir Ecton, and Marshal Garret struggled to form a personal defense for their king, but there was little need. At the sight of him, the defenders laid down their weapons. Word that the prince was alive spread, and those who saw him charging toward the castle, brandishing his father's sword roared with cheers.\n\nRoyce heard the horn wail as he stood trapped on the steps of the tower. \"Sounds like a fight outside,\" Magnus mentioned. \"I wonder who will win?\" The dwarf scratched his beard. \"For that matter, I wonder who is fighting?\"\n\n\"You don't take much interest in your employer's business, do you?\" Royce said studying the walls. When he tried to tap a spike into a seam, it broke like an eggshell. The dwarf was telling the truth about that.\n\n\"Only if it is necessary for the job. By the way, I wouldn't do that again. You were lucky you didn't hit a binding thread.\"\n\nRoyce cursed under his breath. \"If you want to be helpful, why not just tell me how to getup and back?\"\n\n\"Who said I was trying to be helpful?\" The dwarf grinned at him wickedly. \"I just spent half a year on this project. I don't want you to topple the whole thing in the first few minutes. I want to savor the moment.\"\n\n\"Are all dwarves this morbid?\"\n\n\"Think of it as having built a sandcastle and wanting the pleasure of seeing it fall to a wave. I am on the edge of my toes waiting to see exactly how and when it will finally collapse. Will it be a misstep, a loss of balance, or something amazing and unexpected?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Royce drew his dagger and held it by the blade for the dwarf to see. \"Are you aware I could put this through your throat where you stand?\"\n\nIt was a false threat, as he would not dare throwaway such a vital tool at this moment. Still he expected a reaction of fear, or at least a mocking laugh. Instead, the dwarf did neither. He glared at the dagger his eyes wide.\n\n\"Where did you get that blade?\"\n\nRoyce rolled his eyes in disbelief. \"I'm a little busy here. If you don't mind.\" He resumed his study of the steps. He observed the way they curved up and around the central trunk of the tower, how the steps above formed the ceiling to the ones below. He looked up ahead and then behind him.\n\n\"The step I am on doesn't collapse if I am on it,\" Royce said to himself, but loud enough for the dwarf to hear. \"It only falls if I step on the next one.\"\n\n\"Yes, quite ingenious, isn't it. As you might imagine, I'm quite proud of my work. I originally designed it to bean instrument of Arista's death. Braga hired me to set it up to look like an accident. A decrepit old tower in the royal residence collapses, and the poor princess is crushed in the process. Unfortunately, after Alric escaped, he changed his mind and decided to have her executed instead. I thought I would never get to seethe fruits of all my hard work, but then you came along. How nice of you.\"\n\n\"All traps have weaknesses,\" Royce said. He looked ahead at the steps and smiled suddenly. Crouching he leapt forward not one, but two steps. The step in the middle slipped from its position and fell, but the original step he started from remained. \"With no following step,\" Royce observed, \"that step is now secure from breaking, isn't it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Very clever,\" the dwarf replied, clearly disappointed.\n\nRoyce continued to leap two steps at a time until he moved around the circle out of sight of the dwarf. Ashe did, Magnus shouted, \"It'll do you no good. The gap at the bottom is much too far for you to jump. You are still trapped!\"\n\nArista was still crouched on her bed when she heard someone outside her door. It was probably that dreadful little dwarf or Braga himself coming to take her to the trial. She could hear a scraping and an occasional thud. She remembered too late that she had not resealed the door with her gemlock. As she moved toward the door, it swung open. To her surprise, it was neither Braga nor the dwarf. Instead, therein the doorway was one of the thieves from the dungeon.\n\n\"Princess,\" was all Royce said entering with a respectful though brief nod in her direction. He quickly moved passed her and seemed to be looking for something, his eyes roamed over the walls and ceiling of her bedroom.\n\n\"You? What are you doing here? Is Alric alive?\"\n\n\"Alric's fine,\" Royce said as he moved about the room. He looked out the windows and examined the material of the drapes. \"Well, that's not going to work.\"\n\n\"Why are you here? How... did you get here? Did you see Esrahaddon? What did he say to Alric?\"\n\n\"I'm a bit busy just now, Your Highness.\"\n\n\"Busy? Doing what?\"\n\n\"Saving you, but I'll admit, I'm not doing very well at the moment.\" Without asking permission, Royce opened her wardrobe and began sifting through her clothes. Then he rifled through her dresser drawers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What do you want with my clothes?\"\n\n\"I'm trying to figure away out of here. I suspect this tower is going to collapse in a few minutes, and if we don't get out soon, we'll die.\"\n\n\"I see,\" she said simply. \"Why can't we just go down the stairs?\" She got up and crept to the doorway. \"Sweet Maribor!\" she cried as she saw every other step missing.\n\n\"We can leap those but the last six or seven steps at the bottom are totally gone. It's too far to jump to the corridor. I was hoping maybe we could jump out the window to the moat, but that looks like instant death.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" was all she could utter. A scream was growing in her and she covered her mouth with her hand, holding it back. \"You're right. You're not doing very well.\"\n\nRoyce looked under her bed and then stood up. \"Wait a minute, you're a sorceress, aren't you? Esrahaddon taught you magic. Can you get us down? Levitate us, or turn us into birds or something?\"\n\nArista smiled awkwardly. \"I was never able to learn much from Esrahaddon and certainly not self-levitation.\"\n\n\"Can you levitate aboard or stone we could jump to?\"\n\nArista shook her head.\n\n\"And the bird thing?\"\n\n\"Even if I could, which I can't, we'd stay birds because I couldn't turn us back after changing now could I?\"\n\n\"So, magic is out,\" Royce said and began pulling the feather stuffed mattress off Arista's bed revealing the rope net beneath it. \"Okay, then help me untie your bed.\"\n\n\"The rope isn't long enough to reach the bottom of the tower,\" Arista told him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It doesn't have to be,\" he replied, pulling the rope through the holes in the bed frame.\n\nThe tower shuddered, and dust cascaded from the rafters. Arista held her breath fora moment, her heart pounding in anticipation of a sudden plummet, but the tower steadied itself once more.\n\n\"Clearly we are running out of time.\" Royce coiled the length of rope over his shoulder and headed toward the door.\n\nArista paused only a moment to look back at the dressing table and the brushes her father gave her and then moved to what remained of the stairs.\n\n\"You're going to have to jump down. The steps that are still there should be very sturdy and it should be easier than jumping up. Just be sure you don't over jump, but if you do, I'll try to catch you.\" With that, he sprang down two steps so gracefully that she felt embarrassed for her own lack of confidence.\n\nArista stood on the landing and rocked back and forth, focusing on the first step. She leapt and landed on it a little too far forward. Waving her arms madly, she teetered on the edge struggling desperately against falling. Royce held out his hands ready to catch her, but she regained her balance. Shaking slightly she took a deep breath.\n\n\"Don't over jump!\" he reminded her.\n\nNo kidding, she thought to herself. As if I haven't learned that lesson already.\n\nThe second jump was easier, and the third better still. Soon she developed a rhythm and moved down the steps at a brisk pace following Royce, who almost danced his way down. They were nearly to the bottom when Royce stopped.\n\n\"Keep going,\" he told her. \"Stop when you reach the last step and wait there.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She nodded as he pulled the rope from around his shoulder and began tying it to the step he stood on."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Arista continued to jump her way down, reminding herself not to be overconfident. When she saw the open expanse at the bottom, her remaining confidence fled. The gaping hole falling away into darkness was enough to shake her back into terror.\n\n\"Well, well, princess!\" the dwarf called to her. He stood in the open doorway of the corridor grinning, showing a mouth full of yellowed teeth. \"I really didn't expect to see you again. Where's the thief? Did he fall to his death?\"\n\n\"You disgusting little beast!\" she cried at him.\n\nThe tower shifted once more. Its shuttering caused Arista to stagger a bit on the step and her heart to pound in fear. Clouds of dust and bits of rock rained down, clattering off the walls and steps. Arista cowered, covering her head with her arms until the shaking stopped and the debris settled.\n\n\"This old tower, she's almost ready to fall,\" the dwarf told her with a manic glee in his voice. \"Such a pity to be so close to safety and yet still so very far. If only you were a frog you might leap it. As it is, you still don't have away out.\"\n\nA coil of rope fell from the heights above. Suspended by a stair, the rope dangled midway between the princess and the dwarf. Along the slender line, Royce descended like a spider. When he reached a point level with Arista, he stopped and began to swing.\n\n\"Now that is impressive!\" the dwarf exclaimed and nodded showing his approval.\n\nRoyce swung onto the step next to Arista and tied the rope around his own waist. \"All we have to do is swing across. Just hang onto me.\"\n\nThe princess gladly threw her arms around the thief's shoulders and squeezed tight, as much out of fear as for safety."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You might have actually made it,\" the dwarf said, \"and for that you have my respect, but you must understand I have a reputation to uphold. I can't have someone walking around boasting they escaped one of my traps.\" Then without warning, he abruptly closed the door, sealing them in.\n\nHadrian heard the wail of a horn as he faced Braga in the corridor of the royal residence. \"I think it will be quite sometime until Wylin and the castle guards arrive,\" he taunted the archduke. \"I suspect the master-at-arms has more on his mind than responding to the demands of an earl from Warric to report to the royal residence when his castle is being stormed.\"\n\n\"Mores the pity for you as I no longer have the luxury of keeping you alive,\" Braga said as he lunged once more.\n\nHe swiped at Hadrian with lightning fast cuts. Hadrian danced away from Braga retreating farther and farther down the hall. The archduke showed perfect form, his weight centered on his back foot while only the toe of his front foot touched the ground, his back straight, his sword arm outstretched, and his other arm raised in an elegant bent L. Even the fingers of his freehand were elegantly posed as if they were holding up an invisible wineglass. His long black hair, peppered with lines of gray, cascaded down to his shoulders, and not a trace of perspiration was on his brow.\n\nHadrian in contrast acted clumsy and unsure. The Melengar sword was far inferior to any of his own blades. The tip wavered as he tried to hold it steady with both hands. He inched backward working to keep a distance between them.\n\nThe archduke lunged again. Hadrian parried and then dove past Braga, barely avoiding a return slice, which nicked a wall sconce. He took the opportunity to rundown the hallway and slipped into the chapel. \"Are we playing hide-and-seek now?\" Braga goaded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Braga entered and crossed swiftly to the altar where Hadrian stood. When the archduke swung at him, Hadrian stepped back, ducked a swiping stroke, and then leapt clear of a slash. Braga's attacks glanced off the statue of Novron and Maribor, taking part of the god's first three fingers off. Hadrian now stood before the wooden lectern, keeping his eyes on the archduke while he awaited the next attack.\n\n\"It's so poetic of you to choose to die in the same room as the king,\" Braga said. He swung right, and Hadrian glanced the stroke aside. Braga pivoted on his back foot and swung his sword overhead in a powerful, downward stroke. Expecting this attack, counting on it, Hadrian dove and slid across the polished marble floor on his stomach in the direction of the chapel door.\n\nHadrian got to his feet and turned in time to see Braga's stroke had sliced into the vertical grain of the lectern. His swing had been so forceful that the blade was now wedged in the wood and the archduke struggled to free it. Taking advantage of his distraction, Hadrian ran to the door, slipped out, and closed it behind him. Driving his sword into the jam, he wedged it shut.\n\n\"That should hold you fora while,\" Hadrian said to himself, pausing to catch his breath.\n\n\"That little worm!\" Arista spat through clenched teeth at the closed door.\n\nThe tower shuddered again, and this time larger pieces fell. One block of stone plummeted down, taking out a step only a few feet from them. Both shattered on impact and fell into the abyss of the tower's foundation. With the loss of those blocks, the tower came free and began to twist and topple.\n\n\"Hang on!\" Royce shouted as he pushed off the step. The two flew across the gap to the door. He grabbed hold of the large iron door ring, and they each found footholds on the ledge of the door jam."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He locked it,\" Royce informed her. He looped one arm through the door ring and removed his lock-picking tools from his belt. With his freehand, he worked the lock. A deep, resonating thunder shook the castle, and suddenly the rope tied to Royce went slack. The thief dropped his tools and pulled out his dagger. He cut the rope around his waist just as the stone slab attached to it passed them heading down. The rest of the tower was collapsing now.\n\nRoyce drove his dagger deep into the wooden door for another handhold as the tower fell around them. Walls hollowed out by the dwarf, splintered into shards, which burst and flew in all directions. Rocks and stone pummeled them as Royce and Arista cowered under the scant protection of the narrow stone arch of the doorframe.\n\nA fist-size stone struck Arista's back. She lost her tenuous foothold, and screamed as she fell. In an instant, Royce grabbed her. Grasping blindly, he caught the back of her dress and a substantial amount of hair. \"I can't hold you!\" he shouted.\n\nHe felt her sliding down his body, the back of her dress tearing. Royce gave up his own toehold, hanging by his arm hooked through the door ring, so that he could wrap his legs around her. The princess' fingers clawed his body frantically and finally finding his belt, she latched on.\n\nRoyce was temporarily blinded by a cloud of dust and powdered stone. When it settled, he found they were dangling in the brilliant sunlight on what was now an exterior wall of the castle's keep. The debris of the tower fell into the moat, making a pile of broken rocks seventy feet below. The crowd of trial watchers screamed and gasped pointing up at them. \"It's the princess!\" A voice shouted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Can you reach the ledge?\" Royce asked.\n\n\"No! If I try, I'll fall. I can't-\"\n\nRoyce felt her slipping again and tried to tighten his leg hold on her, but he knew it would not be enough.\n\n\"Oh no! My fingers-I'm slipping!\"\n\nRoyce's arm, crooked in the ring, was wrenching his shoulder badly. His other hand, which gripped Arista's dress and hair, was slowing losing hold. She was sliding down once again; soon he would lose her altogether. Royce felt a tug on his arm. The door opened, and a strong hand reached out and grabbed Arista.\n\n\"I've got you,\" Hadrian told her as he hauled the princess up. Then he pulled the door open wide, dragging Royce into the hallway with it.\n\nThey lay on the floor exhausted and covered in bits of rock. Royce got to his feet and dusted off his clothes. \"I thought I felt it unlock,\" he said, getting up and retrieving his dagger from the face of the door.\n\nHadrian stood in the threshold of the doorway looking out at the clearing blue sky. \"Well, Royce, I love what you've done with the place.\"\n\n\"Where's the dwarf?\" Royce asked looking around.\n\n\"I didn't see him.\"\n\n\"And Braga? You didn't kill him, did you?\"\n\n\"No. I locked him in the chapel, but it won't hold. Which reminds me, could I borrow your sword? You're not going to use it anyway.\"\n\nRoyce handed him the falchion sword that had been part of his castle guard disguise. Hadrian took the weapon, slipped it from its sheath, and weighed it in his hand. \"I tell you, these swords are terrible. They are heavy and have all the balance of a drunken three-legged dog trying to take a piss.\" He then looked at Arista and added, \"Oh, excuse me... Your Highness. How are you doing, Princess?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Arista got to her feet."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Much better now.\"\n\n\"For the record, we're even, right?\" Royce asked her. \"You saved us from prison and a horrible death, and now we've saved you.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" she agreed, wiping the dust from her torn dress. \"But I would like to point out my rescue of you was far less death defying.\" She ran a hand through her disheveled hair. \"That really hurt you know.\"\n\n\"Falling would have hurt more.\"\n\nAloud bang echoed from down the hall.\n\n\"Gotta go,\" Hadrian told them, \"his lordship is loose.\"\n\n\"Be careful,\" Arista shouted after him, \"he's a renowned swordsman!\"\n\n\"I'm really tired of hearing that,\" Hadrian grumbled as he started backup the hall. He had not gone far when Braga rounded the corner coming toward them.\n\n\"So, you got her out!\" Braga bellowed. \"I'll just have to kill her myself then.\"\n\n\"You'll have to get by me first I'm afraid,\" Hadrian told him.\n\n\"That won't be a problem.\"\n\nThe archduke charged Hadrian, swinging at him in a fury. He hammered stroke after stroke on the fighter in a rage. Hadrian fought to deflect the fierce blows, which fell so fast they whistled in the air. The look on Braga's reddening face was one of hatred as he continued to pummel Hadrian.\n\n\"Braga!\" Alric shouted from the far end of the hall.\n\nThe archduke spun, panting for air.\n\nHadrian saw the prince standing at the far end of the corridor. He was dressed in plate armor and a white tabard marred by a spattering of blood. Alric's hand rested on the hilt of his sheathed sword, and at his side were the Pickerings and Sir Ecton, each with a grim and dangerous look upon his face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Put down your weapon,\" the prince ordered in a powerful voice. \"It's over. This is my kingdom!\"\n\n\"You filthy little creature!\" he cursed at the prince. He turned his attention away from Hadrian and began walking toward the prince. Hadrian did not follow. Instead, he joined Royce and Arista to watch.\n\n\"Did you think I was after your precious little kingdom?\" Braga bellowed. \"Is that what you think? I was trying to save the world, you fools! Can't you see it? Look at him!\" The archduke pointed at the prince. \"Look at the little maggot prince!\" he turned and pointed back at Arista. \"And her, too! Just like their father; they aren't human!\" Braga, his face still red from the fight, continued down the corridor toward Alric. \"You would have filth rule you all, but not me. Not while there is breath in this body!\"\n\nBraga charged forward raising his sword as he moved. When he came within reach of Alric, he brought it down toward the prince. Before Alric could react, the attack was deflected. An elegant rapier caught Braga's blade mid-stroke. Count Pickering held Braga's sword in the air, and Sir Ecton pulled the prince out of harm's way.\n\n\"You have your sword, I see. So there will be no excuse for you this time, dear count.\"\n\n\"There will be no need for one. You area traitor to the crown and in memory of my friend Amrath, I will end this.\"\n\nBlades flashed. Pickering was as much a master of fencing as Braga, and the two moved elegantly, their swords appearing as extensions of their bodies. Reaching for their swords, Mauvin and Fanen started forward, but Ecton stopped them. \"This is your father's fight.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pickering and Braga fought to kill. Sword strokes swept faster than the eye could follow, their deadly blades whistling a song to each other, crashing in chorus. The incredibly lustrous blade of Pickering's rapier caught the faint light in the corridor and glowed as it streaked through the air like a wand of light. It flashed and sparked when steel met steel.\n\nBraga lunged, nicked Pickering's side, and sweeping back, cut him shallowly across the chest. Pickering barely blocked a second stab with a sweeping parry, which allowed him an overhead stroke. Braga raised his sword to block, but Pickering ignored the defense. Instead he swung down with force and speed, streaking light from his sword.\n\nHadrian instinctually cringed. The high, overpowered stroke would leave Pickering vulnerable, open to a fatal riposte by Braga. Then the metal of the swords clashed. A brilliant spark flared as incredibly, Pickering's blade sheered Braga's sword in two. The count's stroke continued unabated into the archduke's throat. The Lord Chancellor collapsed to the floor, his head rolling afoot farther away.\n\nMauvin and Fanen rushed to their father's side, beaming with obvious pride and relief. Alric ran down the hall where his sister stood between the two thieves. \"Arista!\" he shouted as he threw his arms around her. Thank Maribor you're all right!\"\n\n\"You aren't angry with me?\" she asked, pulling away from him with surprise in her voice.\n\nAlric shook his head. \"I owe you my life,\" he said hugging her again, \"and as for you two-\" he began, looking at Royce and Hadrian. \"Alric,\" Arista interrupted, \"it was not their fault. They didn't kill father, and they didn't want to kidnap you. It was my doing. I was the one who forced them. They didn't do anything. I was-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Oh, you are quite wrong there, my dear sister. They did a great deal.\" Alric smiled and placed a hand on Hadrian's shoulder. \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"You're not going to charge us for the tower I hope,\" Hadrian said. \"But if you are, it was Royce's fault and should come out of his share.\"\n\nAlric chuckled.\n\n\"My fault?\" Royce growled. \"Find that little bearded menace and take your payment out of his stubby little hide.\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Arista replied, looking confused. \"You wanted them executed.\"\n\n\"You must be mistaken, dear sister. These two fine men are the Royal Protectors of Essendon, and it appears they have done a fine job today.\"\n\n\"Your lordship,\" Marshal Garret appeared in the hall and approached the count, glancing only briefly at the dead body of Braga. \"The castle has been secured and the mercenaries are slain or have fled. It would appear the castle guard is still loyal to the House of Essendon. The nobles are anxious to hear about the state of affairs and are waiting in the court.\"\n\n\"Good,\" the count replied. \"Tell them His Majesty will address them soon. Oh, and send someone to clean this mess up, will you?\" The marshal bowed and left.\n\nAlric and his sister walked hand-in-hand down the corridor toward the others. Hadrian and Royce followed behind them. \"Even now it is hard for me to believe him capable of such treachery,\" Alric said, looking down at Braga's body. A large puddle of blood stretched across the floor of the hallway. Arista lifted the hem of her dress as she passed by to avoid staining it.\n\n\"What was all that ranting about us not being human?\" Arista asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"He was clearly insane,\" Bishop Saldur said, approaching with Archibald Ballentyne in tow."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Although he had never met the bishop in person, Hadrian knew who he was. Saldur greeted the prince and princess with a warm smile and fatherly expression. \"It is so good to see you, Alric,\" he said, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. \"And my dear Arista, no one is more pleased than I about your innocence. I must beg your forgiveness, my dear, as I was misled by your uncle. He planted seeds of doubts in my mind. I should have followed my heart and realized you could not possibly have done the things he accused you of.\" He gently kissed heron one cheek and then the other.\n\nThe bishop looked down at the blood-soaked body at their feet. \"I fear the guilt of killing the king was too much for the poor man, and in the end, he lost his mind completely. Perhaps he was certain you were dead, Alric, and seeing you in the hallway he took you fora ghost or a demon back from the grave to haunt him.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Alric said skeptically, \"well, at least it's over now.\"\n\n\"What about the dwarf?\" Arista asked.\n\n\"Dwarf?\" Alric replied. \"How do you know about the dwarf?\"\n\n\"He was the one who set the trap in the tower. He nearly killed Royce and me. Does anyone know where he has gotten to? He was just here.\"\n\n\"He's responsible for far more than that. Mauvin run and tell the marshal to organize a search immediately,\" Alric instructed.\n\n\"Right away,\" Mauvin nodded and ran off.\n\n\"I, too, am pleased you are all right, Your Highness,\" Archibald told the prince. \"I was told you were dead.\"\n\n\"And were you hereto pay your respects to my memory?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I was hereby invitation.\"\n\n\"Who invited you?\" Alric asked and looked at the slain corpse of Braga. \"Him? What dealings does an Imperialist earl of Warric and a traitorous archduke have in Melengar?\"\n\n\"It was a cordial visit, I assure you.\"\n\nAlric glared at the earl. \"Get out of my kingdom before I have you seized as a conspirator.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't dare,\" Archibald returned. \"I am a vassal of King Ethelred. Seize me or even treat me roughly and you risk war-a struggle Melengar can ill afford, particularly now with an inexperienced boy at the helm.\"\n\nAlric drew his sword, and Archibald took two steps back. \"Escort the earl out before I forget Melengar has a treaty of peace with Warric.\"\n\n\"Times are changing, Your Highness,\" Archibald called to the prince as guards led him away. \"The New Empire is coming, and there is no place for an archaic monarchy in the new order.\"\n\n\"Is there noway I can throw him in the dungeon, even fora few days?\" Alric asked Pickering. \"Can I try him as a spy perhaps?\"\n\nBefore Pickering could reply, the Bishop Saldur spoke. \"The earl is quite right, Your Highness, any hostile act made against Ballentyne would be considered by King Ethelred to bean act of war against Chadwick. Just consider how you would respond if Count Pickering here were hanged in Aquesta. You wouldn't stand for it anymore than he would. Besides, the earl is all bluster. He is young and merely trying to sound important. Forgive him his youth. Have you not made errors in judgment as well?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Perhaps,\" Alric muttered."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Still, I can't help but suspect that snake is up to no good. I just wish there was someway I could teach him a lesson.\"\n\n\"Your Highness?\" Hadrian said, stopping him. \"If you don't mind, Royce and I have friends in the city we'd like to check on.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, of course, go right ahead,\" Alric responded. \"But there is the matter of payment. You've done me a great service,\" he said, looking fondly at his sister. \"I intend to honor my word. You can name your price.\"\n\n\"If it is all right, we'll get back to you on that,\" Royce said.\n\n\"I understand,\" the prince said, revealing a hint of concern, \"But I do hope you will be reasonable in your request and not bankrupt the kingdom.\"\n\n\"You should address the court,\" Pickering told Alric.\n\nAlric nodded and he, Arista, and Mauvin disappeared down the stairs. Pickering lingered behind with the two thieves.\n\n\"I think there's a chance that boy will actually make a decent king,\" he mentioned once the prince was too faraway to hear. \"I had my doubts in the past, but he seems to have changed. He is more serious, more confident.\"\n\n\"So, the sword is magic after all.\" Hadrian motioned toward the rapier.\n\n\"Hmm?\" Pickering looked down at the sword he wore at his side and grinned. \"Oh, well, let's just say it gives mean edge in a battle. That reminds me, why were you letting Braga beat you?\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I saw you fighting when we first came up. Your stance was defensive, your strokes all parries and blocks. You never once attacked.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I was frightened,\" Hadrian lied."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Braga won so many awards and tournament competitions, and I haven't won any.\"\n\nPickering looked puzzled. \"But not being noble born, you aren't allowed to enter a tournament.\"\n\nHadrian pursed his lips and nodded. \"Now that you mention it, I suppose you're right. You'd best see to your wounds, your lordship. You're bleeding on your nice tunic.\"\n\nPickering glanced down and looked surprised to seethe slice Braga gave him across the chest. \"Oh, yes, well, it doesn't matter. The tunic is ruined from the cut anyway, and the bleeding seems to have stopped.\"\n\nMauvin returned and trotted over to them. He stood next to his father, his arm around his waist. \"I have soldiers looking for the dwarf, but so far no luck.\" Despite the bad news, Mauvin was smiling broadly.\n\n\"What are you grinning at?\" his father asked.\n\n\"I knew you could best him. I did doubt it fora time, but deep down, I knew.\"\n\nThe count nodded and a thoughtful expression came over his face. He looked at Hadrian. \"After so many years of doubt, it was fortuitous I had the opportunity and good fortune to defeat Braga, particularly with my sons watching.\"\n\nHadrian nodded and smiled. \"That's true.\"\n\nThere was a pause as Pickering studied his face and then he placed a hand on Hadrian's shoulder. \"To be quite honest, I for one am very pleased you're not noble Mr. Hadrian Blackwater, quite pleased indeed.\"\n\n\"Are you coming, your lordship?\" Sir Ecton called, and the count and his sons headed off.\n\n\"You didn't really hold back on Braga so Pickering could kill him, did you?\" Royce asked after the two were left alone in the hallway."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Of course not. I held him off because it's death fora commoner to kill a noble.\"\n\n\"That's what I thought.\" Royce sounded relieved. \"Fora minute, I thought you'd gone from jumping on the good-deed wagon to leading the whole wagon train.\"\n\n\"Sure the gentry appear all nice and friendly, but if I'd killed him, even though they wanted him dead anyway, you can be sure they wouldn't be patting me on the back saying good job. No, it's best to avoid killing nobles.\"\n\n\"At least not where there are witnesses,\" Royce said with a grin.\n\nAs they headed out of the castle, they heard Alric's voice echoing\"... was a traitor to the crown and responsible for the murder of my father. He attempted to murder me and to execute my sister. Yet, due to the wisdom of the princess and the heroism of others, I am standing here before you.\"\n\nThis was followed by a roar of applause and cheers."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sixty-eight people had died, and over two hundred bore wounds from what became known as the Battle of Medford. The timely attack by the citizenry at the gate precipitated the prince's entrance into the city, and arguably saved his life. Once news spread through the city of Alric's return, all resistance ended. This restored peace but not order. For several hours after the battle, roving gangs took the opportunity to loot shops and storehouses, mostly along the riverfront. A shoemaker died defending his cobbler shop, and a weaver was badly beaten. In addition to the general thieving, the sheriff, his two deputies, and a moneylender were murdered. Many believed there were those who took advantage of the chaos to settle old scores. The killers were never identified, and no one bothered to look for the looters. In the end, no one was even arrested; it was enough that the violence was over.\n\nMost of the snow that had fallen the day of the battle had melted over the next few days, leaving only dirty patches hiding in the shadows. Still for the most part, the weather remained decidedly cold. Autumn was officially finished, and winter had arrived. In the freezing winds, a silent crowd stood outside the royal crypt for hours as they removed Amrath's body for the official state funeral. Many others were buried that same day. The funerals provided a cleansing of the entire city's grief, followed by a weeklong period of mourning.\n\nAmong the dead was Wylin, the master-at-arms of Castle Essendon. He fell while directing the defenses at the castle gate. It was never determined if Wylin had been a traitor or had merely been deceived by the archduke's lies. Alric gave him the benefit of the doubt and granted him burial with full honors. Although Mason Grumon died, Dixon Taft, manager of The Rose and Thorn, survived the battle with only the loss of his left arm just above the elbow. He might have died, along with many others, except for the efforts of Gwen DeLancy and her girls. Prostitutes, it turned out, made excellent nurses. The maimed and wounded who lacked family to care for them filled Medford House for weeks. When word of this reached the castle, food, supplies, and linens were sent."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "News spread throughout Melengar of Alric's heroic charge on the fortified gates. How he survived the hail of arrows, only to bravely fling off his helm and dare them a second time-it made for great barroom stories. Few thought much of the son of Amrath prior to the battle, but now he became a heroin the eyes of many. A somewhat lesser known tale gained popularity a few days later as it, too, circulated through the city's taverns. This outlandish yarn described how two criminals, falsely accused of the king's murder, had escaped a tortuous death by abducting the prince. The story grew with each telling, and soon these same thieves were said to have gone on a rollicking trip through the countryside with the prince, returning just in time to save the princess from the tower seconds before it collapsed. Some even claimed to have helped save the prince from a roadside execution while others insisted they personally saw the princess and one of the criminals dangling from the side of the castle after the collapse of the tower.\n\nDespite extensive searches, the dwarf whose hand actually killed the king escaped. Alric posted a reward notice offering one hundred gold tenents on every crossroad sign and on the door of every tavern and church in the realm. Patrols rode the length of every road searching barns, storehouses, mills, and even under the spans of bridges, yet he was not found.\n\nFollowing the week of mourning, work began on repairing the castle. Crews cleared away the debris, and architects estimated at least a year to rebuild the lost tower. Though the falcon flag flew above the castle, the city saw little of Prince Alric. He remained sequestered within the halls of power buried under hundreds of obligations. Count Pickering, acting as a counselor, remained in the castle along with his sons. He assisted the young prince in his efforts to assume his father's role."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "One month to the day after the burial of King Amrath, the prince's coronation took place."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "By that time, the snows returned and the city was white once more. Everyone came to the ceremony, yet, only a fraction could fit inside the expansive Mares Cathedral where the coronation took place. The majority only caught a brief glimpse of their new monarch when he rode in an open carriage back to the castle or as he stood on the open balcony while trumpets blared.\n\nIt was a full day of celebration with minstrels and street performers hired to entertain the citizenry. The castle even provided free ale and rows upon rows of tables filled with all manner of food. In the evening, which came sooner with the shortening of the days, people crammed into the local taverns and inns that were full of out of town visitors. The locals retold the stories of the Battle of Medford and the now famous legend of Prince Alric and the Thieves. These stories were still popular and showed no sign of going out of fashion. The day was long and eventually even the lights in the public houses winked out.\n\nOne of the few buildings still burning a candle was in the Artisan Quarter. It was originally a haberdashery, but the previous owner, Lester Furl, had died in the battle the month before. Some said the plumed hat he wore that day caught the attention of an axe. Since then, the wooden sign of the ornate cavalier hat still hung above the door, but no hats were for sale in the window. Even late into the night, the light was always on; however, no one was ever seen entering or exiting the shop. A small man in a simple robe greeted those nosy enough to knock. Behind him, visitors saw a room filled with the dried, hairless skins of animals. Most soaked in tubs or were stretched out on frames. There were pumice stones, needles and thread, and folded sheets of vellum piled neatly along the walls. The room also contained three desks with upright tops over which large sheets of parchment lay with carefully written text. Bottles of ink rested on shelves and in open drawers. The man was always polite, and when asked what he sold in his shop, he would reply, \"Nothing.\" He simply wrote books. Because few people could read, most inquiries ended there."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The fact was, there were very few books in the shop.\n\nMyron Lanaklin sat alone in the store. He had written half a page of Grigoles Treatise on Imperial Common Law and then just stopped. The room was cold and silent. He stood up, walked to the shop window, and looked out at the dark, snowy street. Ina city with more people than he saw in his lifetime, he felt utterly alone. A month had passed, but he had only finished half of his first book. He found himself spending most of his time just sitting. In the silence, he imagined he could hear the sound of his brothers speaking the evening vespers.\n\nHe avoided sleep because of the nightmares. They had started the third night he slept in the shop. They were terrible. Visions of flames and sounds of pleading coming from his own mouth as the voices of his family died in the inferno. Every night they died again, and everyday he awoke on the cold floor of the tiny room in a world more silent and isolated than the abbey had ever been. He missed his home and the mornings he spent with Renian.\n\nAlric made good on his promise. The new king of Melengar provided him the shop rent-free and all the materials needed for making his books. Never was there a mention of cost. Alric endeavored to support the literary sciences in his realm starting with Myron as his little pet project. Myron should have been happy, but he felt more lost each day. Although he had more food than ever before, and no abbot to restrict his diet, he ate little. His appetite dwindled along with his desire to write.\n\nWhen he had first arrived at the shop, he felt obligated to replace the books, but as the days slipped by, he sat alone and confused. How could he replace the books? They were not missing. No shelf lay bare, no library stood wanting. What would he do if he ever completed the project? What would he do with the books? What would become of them? What would become of him? They had no home, and neither did he."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Myron sat down on the wooden floor in the corner, pulling his legs to his chest and rested his head against the wall. \"Why did I have to be the one who lived?\" he muttered to the empty room. \"Why did I have to be left behind? Why is it I'm cursed with an indelible memory, so that I can recall every face, every scream, every cry?\"\n\nAs usual, Myron wept. There was no one to see, so he let the tears run unchecked down his cheeks. He cried thereon the floor in the flickering candlelight and soon fell asleep.\n\nThe knock on the door startled him. He stood up. It was still night. He could not have been asleep long; the candle still burned. Myron moved to the door and opening it a crack, peered out. On the stoop outside, two men in heavy winter cloaks stood waiting.\n\n\"Myron? Are you going to let us in or leave us to freeze?\"\n\n\"Hadrian? Royce!\" Myron exclaimed as he threw open the door. He embraced Hadrian immediately and then turned to Royce and paused, deciding a handshake would suit him better.\n\n\"So it's been awhile,\" Hadrian said, shaking the snow off his boots. \"How many books have you finished?\"\n\nMyron looked sheepish. \"I've had a little trouble adjusting, but I will get them done. Isn't this place wonderful?\" he said trying to sound sincere. \"It was very generous of His Majesty to provide all this for me. I have enough vellum to last years and ink! Well, don't get me started. As Finiless wrote,\"More could not begotten though the world be emptied to the breath of time. '\"\n\n\"So you like it here?\" Hadrian asked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Oh, I love it, yes."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I really couldn't ask for anything more.\" A look exchanged between the two thieves, the meaning of which Myron could not discern. \"Can I get either of you something, tea perhaps? The king is very good tome. I even have honey to sweeten it.\"\n\n\"Tea would be nice,\" Royce said, and Myron moved to the counter to fetch a pot.\n\n\"So what are you two doing out so late?\" Myron asked then laughed at himself. \"Oh, never mind, I guess this isn't late for you. I suppose you work nights.\"\n\n\"Something like that,\" Hadrian said. \"We just got back from a trip to Chadwick. We are heading back to The Rose and Thorn but wanted to stop by hereon the way and deliver the news.\"\n\n\"News? What kind of news?\"\n\n\"Well I thought it might be good news, but now I'm not so sure.\"\n\n\"Why's that?\" the monk asked, pouring water into the pot.\n\n\"Well, it would mean leaving here.\"\n\n\"It would?\" Myron turned suddenly, spilling the water.\n\n\"Well, yes, but I suppose if you're really attached to this place we could-\"\n\n\"Togo where?\" Myron asked anxiously, setting down the pitcher forgetting the tea.\n\n\"Well,\" Hadrian began, \"Alric offered us whatever we wanted as payment for saving Arista, but seeing as how Arista saved our life first, it didn't seem right asking for money, or land, or anything personal like that. We got to thinking just how much was lost when the Winds Abbey was destroyed. Not just the books mind you, but the safe haven for those lost in the wilderness. So we asked the king to rebuild the abbey just like it was.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are... are you serious?\" Myron stammered. \"And did he say yes?\"\n\n\"To be honest, he sounded relieved,\" Royce said. \"I think he felt as if there was a dagger dangling over his head fora month. I suppose he was afraid we'd ask for something ridiculous like his firstborn or the crown jewels.\"\n\n\"We might have, if we hadn't already stolen them,\" Hadrian chuckled, and Myron was not sure if he was joking or not.\n\n\"But if you really like this place,\" Hadrian, said whirling his finger in the air, \"I suppose we-\"\n\n\"No! No... I mean, I think you are right. The abbey should be rebuilt for the sake of the kingdom.\"\n\n\"Glad you feel that way because we need you to help the builders design it. I am assuming you could draw a few floor plans and maybe some sketches?\"\n\n\"Certainly, down to the finest detail.\"\n\nHadrian chuckled. \"I bet you can. I can see you're going to drive the royal architect to drink.\"\n\n\"Who will be the abbot? Has Alric contacted the Dibben Monastery already?\"\n\n\"He sent out a messenger this morning as one of his first acts asking. You're going to have a few guest monks trickling in over the winter, and this spring all of you will have a great deal of work to do.\"\n\nMyron was grinning widely.\n\n\"About that tea?\" Royce inquired.\n\n\"Oh yes, sorry.\" He returned to pouring water into the pot. Stopping once more, he turned back to the thieves and his grin faded.\n\n\"I would so much love to return to my home and see it rise again. But...\" Myron paused."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Won't the Imperialists simply comeback? If they hear the abbey is there again... I don't think I could...\"\n\n\"Relax, Myron,\" Hadrian said, \"that's not going to happen.\"\n\n\"But how can you be sure?\"\n\n\"Trust me, the Imperialists won't advocate another foray into Melengar,\" Royce assured the monk. The smile on the thief's face made Myron think of a cat, and he was happy not to be a mouse.\n\nIn the hours before dawn, the Lower Quarter was quiet. Dampened by the snow, the only sound came from the muffled hoof falls of mounts as they moved slowly up the alley to The Rose and Thorn.\n\n\"Do you need any of the money?\" Royce asked Hadrian.\n\n\"I have enough. Deposit the rest with Gwen. What does that come to now?\"\n\n\"Well, we're in pretty good shape. We have our share of the fifteen gold tenents for returning Alenda's letters, and the twenty from Ballentyne for stealing them in the first place, plus DeWitt's one hundred, and Alric's one hundred. You know, one day we're going to have to find DeWitt-and thank him for that job.\" Royce grinned.\n\n\"Do you think it was fair asking for the money along with the abbey?\" Hadrian asked. \"I have to admit the guy was starting to grow on me, and I hate to think we took advantage of him.\"\n\n\"The hundred was forgoing into Gutaria with him,\" Royce reminded him. \"The abbey was for saving his sister. We didn't ask for anything Alric didn't agree to in advance. And he did say anything so we could easily have asked for land and noble rank.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why didn't we?\"\n\n\"Oh? So you would like to be the Count Blackwater, would you?\"\n\n\"It might have been nice,\" Hadrian said sitting up straighter in his saddle, \"and you could be the infamous Marquis Melborn.\"\n\n\"Why infamous?\"\n\n\"Would you prefer notorious? Nefarious perhaps?\"\n\n\"What's wrong with beloved?\"\n\nNeither could hold a straight face at the thought.\n\n\"Come to think of it, we failed to bill the good king for saving him from Trumbul. Do you think-\"\n\n\"It's too late, Royce,\" Hadrian told him.\n\nRoyce sighed, disappointed. \"So, I think he wasn't too putout all things considered. Besides we are thieves, remember? Anyway, the bottom line is, we won't be starving this winter.\"\n\n\"Yes, we've been good little squirrels, haven't we?\" Hadrian said.\n\n\"Maybe this spring we can start that fishing enterprise you wanted.\"\n\n\"I thought you wanted the winery?\"\n\nRoyce shrugged.\n\n\"Well, you keep thinking. I'm going to go wake up Emerald and let her know I'm back. It's too cold to sleep alone tonight.\"\n\nRoyce passed the tavern and dismounted at Medford House. For sometime, he stood, just staring at the top window while his feet grew colder and colder in the snow.\n\n\"You are going to come up, aren't you?\" Gwen asked from the doorway. She was still dressed and as pretty as ever. \"Isn't it awfully cold out there?\"\n\nRoyce smiled at her. \"You waited up.\"\n\n\"You said you'd becoming back tonight.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, conspiracy\nAuthor: Michael J. Sullivan\nTitle: The Crown Conspiracy\nChapter: 11"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why didn't we?\"\n\n\"Oh? So you would like to be the Count Blackwater, would you?\"\n\n\"It might have been nice,\" Hadrian said sitting up straighter in his saddle, \"and you could be the infamous Marquis Melborn.\"\n\n\"Why infamous?\"\n\n\"Would you prefer notorious? Nefarious perhaps?\"\n\n\"What's wrong with beloved?\"\n\nNeither could hold a straight face at the thought.\n\n\"Come to think of it, we failed to bill the good king for saving him from Trumbul. Do you think-\"\n\n\"It's too late, Royce,\" Hadrian told him.\n\nRoyce sighed, disappointed. \"So, I think he wasn't too putout all things considered. Besides we are thieves, remember? Anyway, the bottom line is, we won't be starving this winter.\"\n\n\"Yes, we've been good little squirrels, haven't we?\" Hadrian said.\n\n\"Maybe this spring we can start that fishing enterprise you wanted.\"\n\n\"I thought you wanted the winery?\"\n\nRoyce shrugged.\n\n\"Well, you keep thinking. I'm going to go wake up Emerald and let her know I'm back. It's too cold to sleep alone tonight.\"\n\nRoyce passed the tavern and dismounted at Medford House. For sometime, he stood, just staring at the top window while his feet grew colder and colder in the snow.\n\n\"You are going to come up, aren't you?\" Gwen asked from the doorway. She was still dressed and as pretty as ever. \"Isn't it awfully cold out there?\"\n\nRoyce smiled at her. \"You waited up.\"\n\n\"You said you'd becoming back tonight.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Royce pulled his saddlebag off his horse and carried it up the steps."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have another deposit to make.\"\n\n\"Is that why you were standing in the snow for so long? You were trying to decide whether or not to trust me with your money?\"\n\nHer words stung him. \"No!\"\n\n\"Then why were you standing there so long?\"\n\nRoyce hesitated. \"Would you prefer me if I were a fisherman, or perhaps a winemaker?\"\n\n\"No,\" she said, \"I prefer you as you are.\"\n\nRoyce took her hand. \"Gwen, you have to understand. It never ends well for someone like me. You'd be better off with a nice farmer or rich merchant. Someone you can raise children with, someone you can grow old with, someone who will stay at home and not leave you alone and wondering.\"\n\nShe kissed him.\n\n\"What was that for?\"\n\n\"I'm a prostitute, Royce. There aren't many men who consider themselves unworthy of me. I prefer you just as you are and just as you will be. If I did have the power to change you, the only change I would make would be to convince you of that.\"\n\nHe put his arms around her, and she pulled him close. \"I missed you,\" she whispered.\n\nArchibald Ballentyne awoke with a start.\n\nHe had fallen asleep in the Gray Tower of Ballentyne Castle. The fire had burned out, and the room was growing cold. It was also dark, but the dim glow of the faint orange embers in the hearth gave a little light. There was an odd and unpleasant odor in the air, and he felt the weight of something large and round on his lap. He could not make it out in the darkness. It seemed like a melon wrapped in linen. He stood up and set the object in his chair. He moved aside the brass screen and, taking two logs from the stack nearby, placed them on top of the hot coals. He prodded the embers with a poker, blew on them, and coaxed the fire back to life. Ashe did, the room filled with light once more."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He set the poker back to its stand, replaced the screen, and dusted his hands off."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ashe turned around, he looked at the chair he had been sleeping in and immediately pin-wheeled backward in horror.\n\nThereon his seat was the head of the former Archduke of Melengar. The cloth, which was covering it, had partially fallen away revealing a large portion of what had once been Braga's face. The eyes were rolled back leaving white and milky orbs in their sockets. The yellowed skin, stretched and leathery, was shriveled. A host of some kind of worms moved in the gaping mouth, slithering in a heaving mass which made it almost appear as if Braga's tongue was trying to speak.\n\nArchibald's stomach twisted in knots. Too frightened to scream, he looked around the room for intruders. Ashe did, he saw writing on the wall. Painted in what appeared to be blood, in letters afoot tall, were the words:"
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: fantasy, urban fantasy, wizards\nAuthor: Jim Butcher\nTitle: Death Masks\nChapter: 17"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Why would you say that?\" I asked.\n\n\"I've had a pro hitter following me ever since I landed yesterday. The itch between my shoulder blades got annoying.\"\n\nI glanced around. \"Is he here now?\"\n\nThomas's eyes glittered. \"No. I introduced him to my sisters,\"\n\nThe White Court were the most human of the vampires and in someways the weakest. They fed on psychic energies, on pure life force rather than on blood. Most often, they would seduce those they fed upon, drawing life from them through physical contact during the act. If a couple of Thomas's sisters had met the hired gun tailing Thomas, the assassin probably wasn't going to be a problem to anyone. Ever. My eye twitched.\n\n\"The gunman was probably Ortega's,\" I said. \"He hired some goons to takeout people I knew if I didn't agree to this duel.\"\n\n\"That explains it, then,\" Thomas said. \"Ortega really doesn't like me much. Must be the unsavory company I've kept in the past.\"\n\n\"Gee, thanks. How the hell did you end up his second?\"\n\n\"It's my father's idea of a joke,\" Thomas said. \" Ortega asked him to be his second.\n\nShow of solidarity between the Red and White Courts. Instead, Daddy dearest found the most annoying and insulting member of the family he possibly could to stand in.\"\n\n\"You,\" I said.\n\n\"C'est moi,\" Thomas confirmed with a little bow. \"One would almost think Father was trying to get me killed.\"\n\nI felt one side of my mouth tug up into a smile. \"Nice father figure. Him and Bill Cosby. How's Justine?\"\n\nThomas grimaced. \"She's in Aruba is how she is. Which is where I was until one of pappa Raith's goons dragged me backup here.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What did you two decide on for the duel?\"\n\nThomas shook his head. \"Can't tell you. Shiro is supposed to do that. I mean, technically I'm at war with you.\"\n\nI grimaced and stared after Ortega's vanished car. \"Yeah.\"\n\nThomas was quiet fora second, then said, \"He means to kill you.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"He's dangerous, Harry. Smart. My father is afraid of him.\"\n\n\"I could like him,\" I said. \" It's sort of refreshing to have someone trying to kill me right to my face, instead of throwing me a bunch of curveballs and shooting me in the back.\n\nIt's almost nice to have a fair fight.\"\n\n\"Sure. Theoretically.\"\n\n\"Theoretically?\"\n\nThomas shrugged. \"Ortega's been alive for about six hundred years. It isn't something you do by playing nice.\"\n\n\"From what I've heard, the Archive will object to any monkey business.\"\n\n\"It's only cheating if he gets caught.\"\n\nI frowned at him and said, \"Are you saying someone is planning to avoid getting caught?\"\n\nThomas put his hands in his jacket pockets. \"I'm not saying anything. I wouldn't mind seeing you kick his ass, but I'm sure as hell not going to do something that would attract attention tome.\"\n\n\"You intend to participate without being involved. That's clever.\"\n\nThomas rolled his eyes. \"I won't throw a banana peel under you. But don't expect any help from me, either. I'm just making sure it's a fair fight and then I'm back at my beach house.\" He drew car keys from his pocket and headed for the parking lot. \"Good luck.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Thomas,\" I said to his back."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Thanks for the heads-up.\"\n\nHe paused.\n\nI asked, \"Why do it?\"\n\nThe vampire glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. \"Life would be unbearably dull if we had answers to all our questions.\" He walked out to a white sports car and slipped into it. A second later, loud, screaming metal music started from the car's stereo, the engine roared, and Thomas drove off.\n\nI checked my watch. Ten more minutes until Susan arrived. Shiro emerged from McAnnally's and put on his glasses. Once he spotted me, he walked over and took the glasses off again. \"Ortega refused to cancel the duel?\"\n\n\"He made mean offer I couldn't excuse,\" I said.\n\nShiro grunted. \"Duel is wills. Tomorrow, just after sundown. Wrigley Field.\"\n\n\"A stadium? Why don't we put it on pay-per-view while we're at it.\" I glowered at the street and checked my watch again. \"I'm meeting someone in a minute. I'll give you the keys to my car. I can pick it up from Michael's tomorrow.\"\n\n\"No need,\" Shiro said. \"Mac called me a cab.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" I pocketed my keys.\n\nShiro stood quietly fora moment, lips pursed thoughtfully, before he said, \"Ortega means to kill you.\"\n\n\"Yes. Yes, he does,\" I said. I managed not to grind my teeth as I said it. \"Everyone is saying that like I didn't know it already.\"\n\n\"But you do not know how.\" I frowned and looked down at Shiro. His shaved head gleamed under a nearby streetlight. \"The war is not your fault.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know that,\" I said, but my voice lacked conviction.\n\n\"No,\" Shiro said. \"It truly is not your fault.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"The Red Court has been quietly building its resources for years,\" he said. \"How else were they ready to start their attacks in Europe only days after you defeated Bianca?\"\n\nI frowned at him.\n\nShiro drew a cigar from inside his jacket and bit off the end. He spat it to one side.\n\n\"You were not the cause of the war. You were merely the excuse. The Reds would have attacked when they were ready.\"\n\n\"No,\" I said. \"That's not how it is. I mean, damn near everyone I've spoken to on the Council-\"\n\nShiro snorted. He struck a match and puffed on the cigar a few times while he lit it.\n\n\"The Council. Arrogant. As if nothing significant could happen unless a wizard did it.\"\n\nFor someone who wasn't on the White Council, Shiro seemed to have its general attitude pretty well surrounded. \"If the Red Court wanted a war, why is Ortega trying to stop it?\"\n\n\"Premature,\" Shiro said. \"Needed more time to be completely prepared. The advantage of surprise is gone. He wishes to strike once and be certain it is a lethal stroke.\"\n\nI watched the little old man fora minute. \"Everyone's got advice tonight. Why are you giving it?\"\n\n\"Because in someways you are every bit as arrogant as the Council, though you do not realize it. You blame yourself for what happened to Susan. You want to blame yourself for more.\"\n\n\"So what if I do?\"\n\nShiro turned me and faced me squarely. I avoided meeting his eyes. \"Duels area test of fire. They are fought in the will. The heart. If you do not find your balance, Ortega will not need to kill you. You will do so for him.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I guess you were a psychoanalyst before you were a sword-swinging vigilante against evil.\"\n\nShiro puffed on the cheroot. \"Either way, been alive longer than you. See more than you.\"\n\n\"Like what?\"\n\n\"Like this vampire warlord. How he manipulates you. He is not what he seems to be.\"\n\n\"Really? I've never seen that one before,\" I said. \"Someone not what they appear to be. However will I adjust.\"\n\nShiro shrugged. \"He is centuries old. He is not from the same world. The world Ortega lived in was savage. Brutal. Men like him destroyed entire civilizations for gold and glory. And for hundreds of years since then, he has fought rival vampires, demons, and enemies of his kind. If he approaches you through formal, civilized channels, it is because he thinks it is the best way to kill you. Regardless of what happens in the duel, he intends to see you dead by any means necessary. Maybe before. Maybe after. But dead.\"\n\nShiro didn't put any particular emphasis on the words. He didn't need to. They were enough to scare me without any added dramatics. I glowered at his cigar and said, \"Those things will kill you.\"\n\nThe old man smiled again. \"Not tonight.\"\n\n\"I'd think a good Christian boy wouldn't be puffing down the cigars.\"\n\n\"Technicality,\" Shiro said.\n\n\"The cigars?\"\n\n\"My Christianity,\" Shiro said. \"When I was a boy, I liked Elvis. Had a chance to see him in concert when we moved to California. It was a big revival meeting. There was Elvis and then a speaker and my English was not so good. He invited people backstage to meet the king. Thought he meant Elvis, so I go backstage.\" He sighed. \"Found out later I had become a Baptist.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I barked out a laugh. \"You're kidding.\"\n\n\"No. But it was done, so I tried not to be too bad at being Baptist.\" He rested a hand on the handle of his sword. \"Then came into this. Made the whole thing more simple. I serve.\"\n\n\"Serve who?\"\n\n\"Heaven. Or the divine in nature. The memory of my fathers past. My fellowman.\n\nMyself. All pieces of the same thing. Do you know the story of the blind men and the elephant?\"\n\n\"Have you heard the one about the bear that walks into a bar?\" I responded.\n\n\"I think that is a no,\" Shiro said. \"Three blind men were shown an elephant. They touched it with their hands to determine what the creature was. The first man felt the trunk, and claimed that an elephant was like a snake. The second man touched its leg and claimed that an elephant was like a tree. The third man touched its tail, and claimed that the elephant was like a slender rope.\"\n\nI nodded. \"Oh. I get it. All of them were right. All of them were wrong. They couldn't get the whole picture.\"\n\nShiro nodded. \"Precisely. I am just another blind man. I do not get the whole picture of what transpires in all places. I am blind and limited. I would be a fool to think myself wise. And so, not knowing what the universe means, I can only try to be responsible with the knowledge, the strength, and the time given tome. I must be true to my heart.\"\n\n\"Sometimes that isn't good enough,\" I said.\n\nHe tilted his head and looked up at me. \"How do you know?\"\n\nA cab swerved in from the street and rattled to a stop. Shiro stepped over to it and nodded tome. \"Will beat Michael's if you need me. Be watchful.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I nodded at him. \"Thank you.\"\n\nShiro said, \"Thank me after.\" Then he got into the cab and left.\n\nMac closed up shop a minute later, and put on a dark fedora on his way out. He nodded at me on the way to his Trans Am, and said nothing. I found a shadowy spot to linger in as Mac left, and kept an eye on the street. I'd hate for someone to drive by and shoot me with a plain old gun. Embarrassing.\n\nAlong, dark limo pulled into the parking lot. A uniformed driver got out and opened the door nearest tome. A pair of long, honey-brown legs slid out of the limo on top of black stiletto heels. Susan glided out of the car, managing grace despite the shoes, which probably qualified her for superhuman status all by itself. A sleeveless sheath of shimmering black cloth clung to her, an evening gown slit high on one side. Dark gloves covered her arms to the elbow, and her hair had been done up in a pile on top of her head, held in place with a couple of gleaming black chopsticks.\n\nMy tongue dropped out of my mouth and flopped onto my shoes. Well, not literally, but if I'd been a cartoon my eyeballs would have been about six feet long.\n\nSusan had read my face and apparently enjoyed my reaction. \"How much, good-looking?\"\n\nI looked down at my rumpled clothing. \"I think I'm a tad underdressed.\"\n\n\"One tuxedo, coming up,\" Susan said.\n\nThe driver opened the trunk and drew out a hanger covered with a dry-cleaning bag.\n\nWhen he turned around with it, I realized that the driver was Martin. All he'd done to disguise himself was don an archetypical uniform and I hadn't even recognized him until second glance. I guess sometimes it's handy to be bland."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Is it my size?\" I asked, taking the tux when Martin passed it tome.\n\n\"I had to guess,\" Susan said, lowering her eyelids in a sultry expression. \"But it wasn't like I didn't know my way around.\"\n\nMartin's face might have flickered with disapproval. My heart sped up a bit. \"All right then,\" I said. \"Let's get moving. I'll dress on the way.\"\n\n\"Do I get to look?\" Susan asked.\n\n\"It'll cost you extra,\" I said. Martin opened the door for Susan and I slid in after her.\n\nI filled her in on what I'd found out about the Shroud and those after it. \"I should be able to find the thing if we get close.\"\n\n\"You think there will be anymore of these Denarians there?\"\n\n\"Probably,\" I said. \" If anything gets ugly, we'll take the best part of valor, pronto.\n\nThese guys play hardball.\"\n\nSusan nodded agreement. \"Sounds like the thieves aren't exactly shy about waving guns, either.\"\n\n\"And we'll have Marcone around too. Whither he goeth, there too goeth armed thugs and homicide investigations.\"\n\nSusan smiled. It was anew expression tome-a small, quiet, fierce little smile that showed her teeth. It looked natural on her. \"You're all about fun, aren't you, Harry?\"\n\n\"I am the Bruce Lee of fun,\" I concurred. \"Give me some space here.\"\n\nSusan slid over as far as she could to give me room to climb into the tux. I tried not to mar it too badly in the limited space. Susan glanced at me with a faint frown."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What?\" I asked her.\n\n\"You're wrinkling it.\"\n\n\"This isn't as easy as I'm making it look,\" I responded.\n\n\"If you weren't staring at my legs, maybe it wouldn't be such a challenge.\"\n\n\"I wasn't staring,\" I lied.\n\nSusan smiled at meas the car cruised through downtown and I did my best to dress like Roger Moore. Her expression became thoughtful after a moment, and she said, \"Hey.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"What happened to your leather coat?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The downtown Marriott was huge, brilliantly lit, and busy as an anthill. Several blue-and-whites were parked nearby, and a couple of officers were helping to direct traffic in front of the hotel. I could see maybe twenty limos on the street and pulling through the archway in front of the hotel doors, and everyone of them looked bigger and nicer than ours. Valets rushed around to park the cars of guests who had driven themselves. There were a dozen men in red jackets standing around with bored expressions that some might mistake for inattention. Hotel security.\n\nMartin pulled up to the entryway and said, \"I'll wait for you out here.\" He passed a palm-sized cellphone to Susan. She slipped it into a black clutch. \"If you get into trouble, speed-dial one.\"\n\nAt that point, a valet opened the door on my side, and I slipped out of the car. My rental tux felt a little awkward. The shoes were long enough for me but they were an inch and a half too wide. I shrugged my jacket into place, straightened the cummerbund, and offered a hand to Susan. She slid out of the car with a brilliant smile, and straightened my tie.\n\n\"Smile,\" she said quietly. \"Everyone here is worried about image. If you walk in scowling like that we won't blend in.\"\n\nI smiled in what I thought was a camouflaging manner. Susan regarded the expression critically, nodded, and slipped her arm through mine. We walked in under the cover our smiles provided. One of the security guards stopped us inside the door, and Susan presented the tickets to him. He waved us through.\n\n\"First thing to do is find some stairs,\" I said from behind my smile. \"The loading docks will be near the kitchens, and they're below us. That's where they'll be bringing in the art stuff.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Susan held her course toward the stairs."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Not yet,\" she said. \"If we snoop around the second we get in the door someone is likely to notice. We should mingle until the auction is running. People will be distracted then.\"\n\n\"If we wait, the whole thing could go down while we hobnob.\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Susan said. \"But odds are that Anna Valmont and the buyer are both thinking the same thing.\"\n\n\"When does the auction start?\"\n\n\"Eleven.\"\n\n\"Assuming the note means that the sale is at eleven forty-five, that doesn't give us much time to look around. This place is huge.\"\n\nWe got onto an escalator and Susan arched an eyebrow at me. \"Do you have any better ideas?\"\n\n\"Not yet,\" I said. I caught a glimpse of myself in a polished brass column. I didn't look half-bad. There's a reason the tux has weathered a century virtually unchanged. You don't fix what isn't broken. Tuxedos make anyone look good, and I was a living testament to it. \"Think they will have anything to eat? I'm starving.\"\n\n\"Just keep the shirt clean,\" Susan muttered.\n\n\"No problem. I can wipe my fingers on the cummerbund.\"\n\n\"I can't take you anywhere,\" Susan said. She leaned a little against me, and it felt nice. I felt nice, generally speaking. I cleaned up pretty well, it would seem, and I had a lovely woman-no, I had Susan on my arm, looking lovely. It was a small silver lining compared to the troubled clouds I'd been floundering through, but it was something, and it lasted all the way up the escalator. I take the good moments wherever I can get them.\n\nWe followed the flow of formally dressed men and women up another escalator or three to a cavernous ballroom. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and tables laden with expensive-looking snacks and ice sculptures all but overflowed onto the floor. A group of musicians played on the far side of the ballroom. They didn't seem to be stretching themselves with some relaxed and classy jazz. Couples who also weren't stretching themselves danced together on a floor the size of a basketball court."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The room wasn't crammed with people, but there were a couple of hundred there already, and more coming in behind us. Polite but insincere chatter rilled the space, accompanied by equally insincere smiles and laughter. There were a number of city officials whom I recognized in the immediate area, plus a couple of professional musicians and at least one motion-picture actor.\n\nA waiter in a white jacket offered us a tray of champagne glasses, and I promptly appropriated a pair of them, passing the first to Susan. She lifted the glass to her mouth but didn't drink. The champagne smelled good. I took a sip, and it tasted good. I'm not a terribly impressive drinker, so I stopped after the first sip. Chugging down champagne on an empty stomach would probably prove inconvenient if it turned out I needed to do any quick thinking. Or quick leaving. Or quick anything.\n\nSusan said hello to an older couple, and stopped for introductions. I kept my duck blind of a smile in place, and mouthed appropriately polite phrases in the right spots. My cheeks had already started hurting. We repeated that for half an hour or so, while the band played a bunch of low-key dance music. Susan knew a lot of people. She'd been a reporter in Chicago for five or six years before she'd had to leave town, but she had evidently managed to ingratiate herself to more people than I would have guessed. You go, Susan.\n\n\"Food,\" I said, after a stooped older man kissed Susan's cheek and walked away.\n\n\"Feed me, Seymour.\"\n\n\"It's always the brain stem with you,\" she murmured. But she guided us over to the refreshment tables so that I could pickup a tiny sandwich. I didn't wolf the thing down in one bite, which was just as well, since it had a toothpick through it to hold it together. But the sandwich didn't last long."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"At least chew with your mouth closed,\" Susan said.\n\nI took a second sandwich. \"Can't help it. I got all kinds of joie de vivre, baby.\"\n\n\"And smile.\"\n\n\"Chew and smile? At the same time? Do I look like Jackie Chan?\"\n\nShe had a retort but it died after a syllable. I felt her hand tighten on my arm. I briefly debated wolfing the second sandwich, just to get it out of the way, but I took the more sophisticated option instead. I put it in my jacket pocket for later, and turned to follow Susan's gaze.\n\nI looked just in time to meet the gaze of Gentleman Johnny Marcone. He was a man of slightly above average height and unassuming build. He had handsome but unremarkable features. Central casting would have placed him as the genial next-door neighbor. He didn't have the usual boater's tan, it being February and all, but the crow's-feet at the corners of his pale green eyes remained. He looked a lot like the fictional public image he projected-that of a normal, respectable businessman, an American tale of middle class made good.\n\nThat said, Marcone scared me more than any single human being I'd ever met. I'd seen him produce a knife from his sleeve faster than a hyperstrong psychotic could swing a tire iron at him. He'd thrown another knife through a rope while spinning in circles as he hung upside down in the dark, later the same night. Marcone may have been human, but he wasn't normal. He'd taken control of Chicago's organized crime during a free-for-all gang war, and he'd run it ever since despite the efforts of both everyday and supernatural threats.\n\nHe'd done it by being deadlier than anything that came after him. Of all the people in the room, Marcone was the only one I could see who wasn't wearing a fake smile. It didn't look like he was particularly troubled by the fact, either."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Mister Dresden,\" he said. \"And Miss Rodriguez, I believe. I didn't realize you were an art collector.\"\n\n\"I am the foremost collector of velvet Elvii in the city of Chicago,\" I said at once.\n\n\"Elvii?\" Marcone inquired.\n\n\"The plural could be Elvises, I guess,\" I said. \"But if I say that too often, I start muttering to myself and calling things \"my precious,\" so I usually go with the Latin plural.\"\n\nMarcone did smile that time. It was a cool expression. Tigers with full stomachs wear smiles like Marcone's when they're watching baby deer play. \"Ah. I hope you can find something to suit your tastes tonight.\"\n\n\"I'm easy,\" I said. \"Any old rag will do.\"\n\nMarcone narrowed his eyes. There was a short, pointed silence while he met my gaze. He could do that. I'd gotten into a soulgaze with him in the past. It was one of the reasons he scared me. \"In that case, I would advise you to exercise caution in your acquisitions.\"\n\n\"Cautious, that's me,\" I said. \"You sure you wouldn't rather make this simple?\"\n\n\"In deference to your limitations, I almost would,\" Marcone said. \"But I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what you're talking about.\"\n\nI felt my eyes narrow and I took a step forward. Susan's hand pressed against my arm, silently urging restraint. I lowered my voice to something between Marcone and myself. \"Tell you what. Let's start with one of your monkeys trying to punch my ticket in a parking garage. From there, we can move along to the part where I come up with a suitable reply.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I didn't expect what happened next.\n\nMarcone blinked.\n\nIt wasn't a huge giveaway. At a card table, only a couple of the players would have seen it. But I was right in his face, and I knew him and I saw it. My words startled Marcone, and for half a second it showed. He covered it, bringing out a businessman's smile that was a lot better than my fake smile, and clapped a hand gently to my arm. \"Don't try me in public, Dresden. You can't afford to do it. I can't afford to let you.\"\n\nA shadow fell over Marcone, and I looked up to see Hendricks hulk into view behind him. Hendricks was still huge, still redheaded, still looked vaguely like a defensive lineman a little too awkward to make it from college to pro ball. His tux was nicer than mine. I wondered if he was wearing body armor under it again.\n\nCujo Hendricks had a date. He had a blond date. He had a gorgeous, leggy, blue-eyed, elegant, tall, Nordic angel of a date. She was wearing a white gown, and silver flashed at her throat, on each wrist, and on one ankle. I'd seen bikinis in issues of Sports Illustrated that might have felt too plain to be worn by Hendricks's date.\n\nShe spoke, and her voice was a throaty purr. \"Mister Marcone. Is there a problem?\"\n\nMarcone arched an eyebrow. \"Is there, Mister Dresden?\"\n\nI probably would have said something stupid, but Susan's nails dug into my forearm through my jacket. \"No trouble,\" Susan said. \"I don't believe we've met.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the blonde, with a faint roll of her eyes. \"We haven't.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Mister Dresden, Miss Rodriguez, I believe you both know Mister Hendricks. And this is Miss Gard.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" I said. \"She's an employee, I take it?\"\n\nMiss Gard smiled. Professional smiles all around tonight, it would seem. \"I'm from the Monoc Foundation,\" she said. \"I'm a consultant.\"\n\n\"Regarding what, one wonders,\" said Susan. She definitely had the sharpest smile of those present.\n\n\"Security,\" Gard said, unruffled. She focused on me. \"I help make sure that thieves, spies, and poor wandering spirits don't windup allover the lawn.\"\n\nAnd I got it. Whoever Miss Gard was, it seemed fairly likely that she was responsible for the wards that had torn Bob up so badly. My head of righteous fury died out, replaced by caution. Marcone had been concerned about my talents. He'd started taking steps to balance things, and Marcone wasn't one to show his hand early, which meant that he was already prepared for trouble of one kind or another with me. He was ready to fight me.\n\nMarcone read my features and said, \"Neither one of us wants any unpleasantness, Dresden.\" His eyes became flat and hard. \"If you want to talk, call my office tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest you search for your classic renditions of Elvis elsewhere.\"\n\n\"I'll take it under advisement,\" I answered. Marcone shook his head and walked away to do his own mingling, which seemed to consist mainly of shaking hands, and nodding in the appropriate spots. Hendricks and the Amazonian Gard shadowed Marcone, never faraway.\n\n\"What a charmer you are,\" Susan murmured.\n\nI grunted."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Such diplomacy.\"\n\n\"Me and Kissinger.\" I scowled after Marcone and said, \"I don't like this.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because he's up to something. He setup magical defenses around his house.\"\n\n\"Like he was expecting trouble,\" Susan said.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"You think he's the buyer for the Shroud?\"\n\n\"Would make a lot of sense,\" I said. \" He's got enough contacts and money to do it.\n\nThe buy is apparently going down here at his gala.\"I scanned the room as I spoke.\" He doesn't do anything without planning it out to his advantage. He's probably got friends in hotel security. It would give him all kinds of freedom to meet Valmont where no one was watching.\"\n\nI spotted Marcone as he found a spot near a wall and lifted a tiny cellphone to his ear. He spoke into it, his eyes hard, and he had the look of a man who wasn't listening, only giving orders. I tried to Listen in on what he was saying, but between the band, the ballroom, and the chatter of voices I wasn't able to make anything out.\n\n\"But why?\" Susan asked. \"He's got the means and the resources but what reason would he have to buy the Shroud?\"\n\n\"Hell if I know.\"\n\nSusan nodded. \"He certainly isn't happy to see you here.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Something unsettled him, gave him a nasty surprise. Did you see his face?\"\n\nSusan shook her head. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"A reaction, during the conversation. I'm sure I saw it. He got caught flat-footed when I was talking to him, and he didn't like it.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You rattled him?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" I said.\n\n\"Enough to push him into moving early?\" Susan's dark eyes had also picked out Marcone, who snapped the cellphone closed and headed for one of the service doors with Gard and Hendricks behind him. Marcone paused to speak to a red-jacketed security guard and glanced in our direction.\n\n\"Looks like we'd better get moving,\" I said. \"I need a minute to use the spell on this thread sample and lead us to the Shroud.\"\n\n\"Why haven't you done that already?\"\n\n\"Limited range,\" I said. \"And the spell won't last long. We need to be close.\"\n\n\"How close?\" Susan asked.\n\n\"Maybe a hundred feet.\"\n\nMarcone left the room, and the security guard lifted his radio to his mouth.\n\n\"Crap,\" I said.\n\n\"Relax,\" Susan said, though her own voice sounded tight. \"These are the upper crust of Chicago. The security guards won't want to make a scene.\"\n\n\"Right,\" I said, and started for the door.\n\n\"Slowly,\" Susan said, her smile in place again. \"Don't rush.\"\n\nI tried not to rush, despite the security guard closing in behind us. I saw red jackets moving in my peripheral vision as well. We kept up the slow, graceful walk of people wandering around a party, and Susan smiled enough for both of us. We got as far as the doors before another red jacket appeared in the doors in front of us, cutting us off.\n\nI recognized the man-the gunman outside the television studio, the one who had nearly ventilated Father Vincent and me in the parking garage. His eyes widened in recognition and his hand moved toward his jacket, where a gun would be inside a shoulder holster. The body language was clear: Come along quietly or get shot."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "I looked around us, but other than the partygoers, the dance floor, and the other security guards, nothing really seemed to present itself as an option."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then the band struck up something a little faster with a syncopated Latin beat, and several of the younger couples who hadn't been dancing previously moved out onto the floor.\n\n\"Come on,\" I said, and guided Susan with me.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" she asked.\n\n\"Buying sometime to get across the room to those other doors,\" I said. I turned to her, put one hand on her waist and took her other hand in mine, and led off onto the dance floor with an uncomplicated two-step. \"Just follow.\"\n\nI looked back to her to see her mouth open in shock. \"You told me you couldn't dance.\"\n\n\"Not like in clubs and stuff,\" I said. She followed me well enough to let me do a little dip and step into a restrained hustle. \"I don't do so well with rock and roll. Ballroom is something else.\"\n\nSusan laughed, her dark eyes shining, even as she watched the crowd around us for more red jackets. \"Between this and the tux, you're threatening to become classy. Where did you learn?\"\n\nI kept us moving down the dance floor, rolling Susan out to the length of our arms and then drawing her in again. \"When I first came to Chicago, I had a bunch of jobs until I hooked up with Nick Christian at Ragged Angel Investigations. One of them was as a dance partner with a senior-citizen organization.\"\n\n\"You learned from little old ladies?\"\n\n\"Tough to tango with someone with lumbago,\" I said. \"It requires great skill.\" I spun Susan again, this time bringing her back tome with her back to my chest, one hand still on her hip with the other holding her arm out. There was a subtle electricity in touching her, her waist slender and supple under my hand. Her hair smelled of cinnamon, and her dress left quite a bit of her back naked to view. It was distracting as hell, and when she glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes were growing heated. She felt it too."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I swallowed. Focus, Harry. \"See those doors behind the food tables?\"\n\nSusan nodded.\n\nI checked over my shoulder. The security guards had been slowed down by the press of the crowd, and we had beaten them to the other side of the room. \"That's where we're going. We need to ditch these guys and find Valmont before Marcone gets to her.\"\n\n\"Won't security just follow us through the kitchen?\"\n\n\"Not if Vanilla Martin diverts their attention before we leave the floor.\"\n\nSusan's eyes glittered and she kept dancing with me, drawing the tiny cellphone from her clutch. \"You have a devious mind.\"\n\n\"Call me crazy but I'd rather not have Marcone's goons walk us out.\" A little luck came our way, and the band moved to a somewhat slower number. Susan was able to stay closer tome, half concealing her cellphone. I heard the phone dialing numbers, and I tried to still my thoughts and feelings. It hadn't worked for long at the Larry Fowler studio, but if I could rein in my emotions, Susan should at least be able to make a call.\n\nIt worked. She spoke quietly into the phone for all of three or four seconds, then clicked it closed and put it away. \"Two minutes,\" she said.\n\nDamn. Martin was good. I could pick out a couple of security guards at the main doors. Marcone's dark-haired hitter was closer. He had trouble making his way politely through the crowd, and we had managed to gain a small lead on him as we danced.\n\n\"Do we have a signal or anything?\"\n\n\"I think we wait for something distracting to happen,\" Susan said.\n\n\"Like what?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The sudden shriek of braking tires cut through the band music. There was aloud crunch, and the sound of plate glass breaking, along with shrieks from the hotel lobby below. The band stopped in confusion, and people crowded toward the exit to see what was happening.\n\n\"Like that,\" Susan said. We had to swim upstream, so to speak, but it didn't look like anyone was bothering to look at us. I caught a glimpse of Marcone's hitter, heading out toward the ruckus. The ass had his gun in his hand, despite any possible field of fire he might have picked being filled with rich and influential socialites. At least he was holding the weapon low and against his leg.\n\nThe staff were just as interested in the disturbance as anyone else, and we were able to duck back into the service hallway without comment from anyone. Susan took a quick look around and said, \"Elevator?\"\n\n\"Stairs if they have them. If someone shoots at us on stairs, we can scream and flail around a lot more.\" I spotted afire alarm diagram on the wall and traced my finger over it.\n\n\"Here, down the hall and left.\"\n\nSusan stepped out of her shoes while I did that. It left her a lot shorter, but her feet were silent on the utilitarian carpet. We went down the hall, found the stairs, and started down them. We went down three flights, which put us at ground level again, I guessed. I opened the door from the stairwell and took a look around. A dingy little elevator opened, and a couple of guys in the food-stained white of kitchen hands went walking down the hallway, peering ahead and chattering. I heard a siren or two wailing outside.\n\n\"I'll say this for Martin,\" I muttered. \"When he distracts, he distracts.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He has a strong work ethic,\" Susan agreed.\n\n\"Keep an eye out,\" I said, and stepped back from the door. Susan's gaze flicked around the stairwell and over the hallway while I stepped back to kneel on the ground, drawing out what I would need for my seeking spell.\n\nI pulled out a black Magic Marker and drew a smooth circle on the tiled landing, all the way around me. The marker squealed as I did, and as I closed the circle I willed it shut.\n\nA gentle barrier, something I couldn't see but could easily feel closed around me, screening out disruptive forces so that I could work my spell.\n\n\"Is that a permanent marker?\" Susan asked.\n\n\"Thus do I strike a blow for anarchy whenever the mood takes me,\" I muttered.\n\n\"Just a minute.\" I took out the sample from Father Vincent and a windup plastic duck.\n\nWhich isn't as goofy as it sounds. Stay with me.\n\nI touched the thread to the duck's bill, then wound the duck up. I muttered a low chant, mostly nonsense syllables, and focused on what I wanted. I set the duck down on the floor, but instead of beginning to waddle, it instead waited, completely still. I had to use a rubber band to attach the tiny thread to the duck's bill. It was too short to tie on. I focused, brushing aside any thoughts besides those I needed for the spell, and let the gathered magic go with a whispered, \"Seek, seek, seek.\"\n\nThe power poured out of me, leaving me a bit short of breath. The little yellow duck quivered and then lurched into motion, spinning about in an aimless circle. I nodded once, reached out a hand, and with an effort of will to support the gesture, I broke the circle. The screen vanished as quickly as it had arrived, and the little yellow duck quacked and marched toward the door."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I glanced up at Susan. Her dark and lovely eyes watched the duck with what could charitably be termed extreme skepticism.\n\nI scowled at her. \"Don't say it.\"\n\n\"I didn't say anything.\"\n\n\"Well, don't.\"\n\nShe fought down a smile. \"I won't.\"\n\nI opened the door. The duck waddled out into the hallway, quacked, and turned to the left. I stepped out, picked the duck up, and said, \"It's close. Let's move. We just check the duck at intersections.\"\n\n\"Does the duck know about stairs?\"\n\n\"More or less. Come on; I don't know how long the spell will last.\"\n\nI led the way. I'm not the world's mightiest athlete, but I exercise a bit, I have really long legs, and I can walk faster than some run. The duck led us down a pair of long hallways to a door with an EMPLOYEES ONLY sign on it.\n\nI opened the door, peeked in, and reported in a whisper, \"Big laundry room.\"\n\nFootsteps sounded behind us, coming down another hallway. Susan looked at me with wide eyes. I pushed into the room, Susan close behind me. I closed the door almost all the way, holding it from closing completely so that the lock wouldn't click and give us away.\n\nThe footsteps came closer, a couple sets of them, and two shapes went quickly by, passing close to the cracked doorway.\n\n\"Hendricks and Gard,\" I murmured to Susan.\n\n\"How do you know?\" she whispered back.\n\n\"Smelled the blonde's perfume.\" I counted silently to ten and opened the door, looking out. The hallway was clear. I closed the door and turned on the lights. The room was fairly large, with several commercial washing machines ranked against one wall. A bank of dryers faced them on the opposite side of the room, and in between were several long counters that held stacks and stacks of folded white sheets and towels. I put the duck on the floor, and it waddled off down the row of counters. \"This is how they had it hidden on the yacht. Concealed among laundry.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And those professional-thief types tend to be so predictable?\" Susan asked.\n\nI frowned and put the duck on the floor. \"Watch the door.\"\n\nThe duck waddled at once over to the far side of the room, and bumped into some hanging laundry. I pulled the hanging sheets to one side, and found a large ventilation grate behind them. I knelt down, running my fingers and eyes over the edges of the grate, and found a pair of holes where screws had been. A quick tug on the grate had it off the wall, revealing a vent maybe three feet square. I stuck my head in and found a ventilation shaft running between the walls. The duck waddled in and took a determined right.\n\n\"Air duct,\" I said. I twisted out of the tuxedo jacket and absently ripped off the tie from around my neck. I stepped out of the clumsy shoes and rolled up my shirtsleeves, baring my shield bracelet to view. \"Be right back.\"\n\n\"Harry,\" Susan began, her voice worried.\n\n\"I saw Alien. I'm not Tom Skerritt.\" I winked at Susan, picked up the duck, and entered the air duct, moving as quietly as I could.\n\nEvidently, it was very quiet. The duct ran straight, grates opening into utility rooms every fifteen or twenty feet. I had gone past three of the grates when I heard voices.\n\n\"This isn't according to the deal,\" came Marcone's voice. It had the scratchy edges of a radio transmission to it.\n\nAnna Valmont's smooth British accent answered it from the other side of the next grate. \"Neither was an early rendezvous. I don't like it when a buyer changes the plan.\"\n\nA radio clicked. Marcone's voice came through it, smooth and calm. \"I assure you that I have no interest in breaking faith with your organization. It isn't good business.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"When I have confirmation of the transfer of funds, you'll get the article. Not a second before.\"\n\n\"My factor in Zurich-\"\n\n\"Do you think I'm an idiot? This job has already cost us more than any of us bargained for. Clear off the bloody radio and contact me when you have something worth saying or I'll destroy the bloody thing and leave.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" Marcone said. There was tension in his voice. \"You can't-\"\n\n\"Can't I?\" Valmont answered. \"Don't fuck with me, Yank. And add another million to the bill for telling me my job. I'm calling off the deal if the money isn't therein ten minutes. Out.\"\n\nI came up to the grate and found it sitting not quite squarely in its frame. Valmont must have entered the hotel and moved around through the air shafts. I peered out through the grate. Valmont had setup in a storage room of some kind. The only light in the room was a dim green shimmer that rose up from what must have been a palmtop computer.\n\nValmont muttered something to herself beneath her breath, her eyes on the screen. She was wearing a lot of tight-fitting black clothing and a black baseball cap. She wasn't wearing my coat, dammit, but I guess I couldn't have expected to find everything wrapped up in a nice package.\n\nI checked the duck, setting it down facing toward me. It immediately walked in a little circle and pointed toward Anna Valmont.\n\nThe thief paced the room like a restless cat, eyes on the palmtop. My eyes adjusted to the dimness over the course of a few minutes of waiting, and I saw that Valmont was pacing back and forth around a tube with a carrying strap. The tube wasn't more than five or six feet from me."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I watched Valmont pace until her expression and steps froze, eyes locking hard on the palmtop. \"Great Jupiter's balls,\" she said quietly. \"He paid it.\"\n\nNow or never. I put my hands on the grate and pushed it as gently as I could. It slid soundlessly from the wall and I set it to one side. Valmont was focused entirely on her little computer. If the prospect of payment distracted Valmont fora moment more, I'd be able to slip away with the Shroud, which would be very James Bond of me. Hopefully the tuxedo would help outwith that. I needed only a few seconds to creep out, nip the Shroud, and get back into the vents.\n\nI almost died when Valmont's radio crackled again and Marcone's voice said,\n\n\"There. As agreed, plus your additional fee. Will that be sufficient?\"\n\n\"Quite. You will find your merchandise in a storage closet in the basement.\"\n\nMarcone's voice gained an edge. \"Please be more specific.\"\n\nI slipped out of the vents, thinking silent thoughts. Along stretch put my fingertips on the tube's carrying strap.\n\n\"If you wish,\" Valmont replied. \" The article is in a locked room, in a courier's tube.\n\nThe tube itself is outfitted with an incendiary. A radio transmitter in my possession has the capacity to disarm or to trigger the device. Once I am safely on my way from the city, I will disarm the device and notify you via telephone. Until that time, I suggest you do not try to open it.\"\n\nI jerked my fingers away from the tube.\n\n\"Again you have altered our agreement,\" Marcone said. He said it in a voice as smooth and cold as the inside wall of a refrigerator."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It does seem to be a seller's market.\"\n\n\"There are very few people able to speak about taking advantage of me.\"\n\nValmont let out a quiet, bitter little laugh. \"Come, now. This is nothing more than an entirely reasonable piece of insurance,\" Valmont said. \"Be a good boy and your precious cloth is in no danger. Attempt to betray me, and you'll have nothing.\"\n\n\"And if the authorities find you on their own?\" Marcone asked.\n\n\"You'll need a broom and a dustpan when you come for the article. I should think you would be wise to do whatever you canto clear the path for me.\" She turned the radio off.\n\nI bit my lip, thinking furiously. Even if I took the Shroud now, Marcone would be upset when he didn't get his hands on it. If he didn't have Valmont killed, he'd at least tip off the police to her. Valmont, in turn, would destroy the Shroud. If I took it, I would have to move fast to get the Shroud away from the device. I couldn't count on simply blowing the device outwith magic. It was as likely to malfunction and explode as it was to just go dead.\n\nI would need the transmitter too, and there was only one way to get it.\n\nI stepped up behind Valmont and pressed the bill of the plastic duck against her spine. \"Don't move,\" I said. \"I'll shoot.\"\n\nShe stiffened. \"Dresden?\"\n\n\"Let me see your hands,\" I said. She held them up, the green light of the palmtop showing columns of numbers. \"Where's the transmitter?\"\n\n\"What transmitter?\"\n\nI pushed the duck against her a little harder. \" I've had along day too, Miss Valmont."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The one you just told Marcone about.\"\n\nShe let out a small sound of discomfort. \"If you take it, Marcone will kill me.\"\n\n\"Yeah, he takes his image seriously. You'd be smart to come with me and get protection from the authorities. Now where is the transmitter?\"\n\nHer shoulders slumped and she bowed her head forward fora moment. I felt a twinge of guilt. She had planned on being herewith friends. They'd been killed. She was a young woman, alone in a strange land, and regardless of what happened, she wasn't likely to come out of this situation ahead of the game. And here I was holding a duck to her back.\n\nI felt like a bully.\n\n\"My left jacket pocket,\" Valmont said, her tone quiet. I reminded myself that I was a professional and reached into her pocket to get the transmitter.\n\nShe clobbered me.\n\nOne second, I was holding the duck to her back and reaching into her pocket. The next, I was falling to the ground with a bruise shaped like one of her elbows forming on my jaw. The light from the palmtop clicked out. A small red-tinted flashlight came on, and Valmont kicked the duck out of my hand. The beam of the flashlight followed the duck fora silent second, and then she laughed.\n\n\"A duck,\" she said. She dipped a hand into her pocket and came outwith a small silver semiautomatic. \"I was fairly certain you wouldn't shoot, but that goes a step beyond ridiculous.\"\n\nI've got to get a concealed-carry permit. \"You won't shoot either,\" I said, and started to getup. \"So you might as well put the gun d-\"\n\nShe pointed the gun at my leg and pulled the trigger. Pain flashed through my leg and I let out an involuntary shout. I grabbed at my thigh as the red flashlight settled on me."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "I pawed at my leg. I had a couple of smallish cuts, but I hadn't been shot. The bullet had hit the concrete floor next tome and gouged a bite out of the concrete. A flying chip or two must have cut my leg.\n\n\"Terribly sorry,\" Valmont said. \"Were you saying something?\"\n\n\"Nothing important,\" I responded.\n\n\"Ah,\" Valmont said. \"Well, it would be bad etiquette to leave a corpse here for my buyer to cleanup, so it seems as though I'll be hand-delivering to Marcone after all. We can't have you running off with what everyone is so excited over.\"\n\n\"Marcone is the least of your worries,\" I said.\n\n\"No, actually, he's quite prominent among them.\"\n\n\"Marcone isn't going to sprout horns and claws and start tearing you apart,\" I said.\n\n\"Or at least, I don't think he is. There's another group after that Shroud. Like the thing from the ship this morning.\"\n\nI couldn't see her face from the other end of the red flashlight, but her voice sounded a little shaky. \"What was it?\"\n\n\"A demon.\"\n\n\"Areal demon?\" There was a strained tone in her voice, as though she couldn't decide whether to laugh or sob. I'd heard it before. \"You expect me to believe it was a literal demon?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"And you're some sort of angel, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Hell, no,\" I said. \"I'm just working for them. Sort of. Look, I know people who can protect you from those things. People who won't hurt you. They'll help.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I don't need help,\" Valmont said. \"They're dead, they're both dead. Gaston, Francisca. My friends. Whoever these people, these things are, they can't hurt meany more.\"\n\nThe locked door of the storeroom screamed as something tore it off its hinges and out into the hall. The hallway lights poured in through the gap in a blinding flood, and I had to shield my eyes against them fora second.\n\nI could see dim shapes, shadows in front of the light. One was lean and crouched, with shadowy tendrils of razor-edged hair slithering around it in a writhing cloud. One was sinuous and strong-looking, like a man who had traded its legs in on the scaled body of an enormous snake. Between them stood a shape that looked human, like a man in an overcoat, his hands in his pockets-but the shadows the shape cast writhed and boiled madly, making the lights flicker and swim in a nauseating fashion.\n\n\"Cannot hurt you anymore,\" said the central shape in a quietly amused, male voice.\n\n\"No matter how many times I hear that one, it's always afresh challenge.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "My eyes adjusted enough to make out some details. The demonic female with the Joan Jett hair, two sets of eyes, a glowing sigil, and vicious claws was the same Denarian who had attacked at the harbor that morning. The second demonic being was covered in dark grey scales flecked with bits of rust red. From shoulders to waist, he looked more or less human. From the neck up and the waist down, he looked like some kind of flattened serpent. No legs. Coils slithered out behind him, scales rasping over the floor. He too had the double pair of eyes, one set golden and serpentine, the other, inside the first, glowing faintly blue-green, matching the pulsing symbol of the same light that seemed to dance in the gleam of the scales of the snake's head.\n\nOne little, two little, three little Denarians, or so I judged the last of them. Of the three, he was the only one that looked human. He wore a tan trench coat, casually open. His clothes were tailor-fit to him and looked expensive. A slender grey tie hung loosely around his throat. He was a man of medium height and build, with short, dark hair streaked through with an off-center blaze of silver. His expression was mild, amused, and his dark eyes were half-closed and sleepy-looking. He spoke English with a faint British accent. \" Well, well.\n\nWhat have we here? Our bold thief and her-\"\n\nI got the impression that he would have been glad to begin one of those trademark bantering conversations all the urbane bad guys seem to be such big fans of, but before he could finish the sentence Anna Valmont turned with her little pistol and shot him three times in the chest. I saw him jerk and twist. Blood abruptly stained his shirt and coat. She'd hit the heart or an artery."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The man blinked and stared at Valmont in shock, as more red spread over his shirt.\n\nHe opened his coat a bit, and looked down at the spreading scarlet. I noted that the tie he wore wasn't a tie, as such. It looked like apiece of old grey rope, and though he wore it as apparent ornamentation, it was tied in a hangman's noose.\n\n\"I do not appreciate being interrupted,\" the man said in a sharp and ugly tone. \"I hadn't even gotten around to the introductions. There are proprieties to observe, young woman.\"\n\nA girl after my own heart, Anna Valmont had a quick reply. She shot him some more.\n\nHe wasn't five feet away. The blond thief aimed for the center of mass and didn't miss him once. The man folded his arms as bullets hit him, tearing new wounds that bled freely. He rolled his eyes after the fourth shot, and made a rolling'move this along\" gesture with his left hand until Valmont's gun clicked empty, the slide open.\n\n\"Where was I,\" he said.\n\n\"Proprieties,\" purred the feminine demon with the wild hair. The word came out a little mangled, due to the heavy canines that dimpled her lips as she spoke. \"Proprieties, Father.\"\n\n\"There seems little point,\" the man said. \"Thief, you have stolen something I have an interest in. Give it tome at once and you are free to go your own way. Refuse me, and I will become annoyed with you.\"\n\nAnna Valmont's upper lip had beaded with sweat, and she looked from her empty gun to the man in the trench coat with wide, wild eyes, frozen in confusion and obvious terror."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The gunshots would bring people running."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "I needed to buy a little time. I leaned up, fished a hand into Valmont's jacket pocket, and drew out a small box of black plastic that looked vaguely like a remote control to a VCR. I held up the transmitter, put my thumb on it as if I knew what I was doing, and said to the man in the trench coat, \"Hey, Bogart. You and the wonder twins back off or the bedsheet gets it.\"\n\nThe man lifted his eyebrows. \"Excuse me?\"\n\nI waggled the remote. \"Click. Boom. No more Shroud.\"\n\nThe snakeman hissed, body twisting in restless, lithe motion, and the demon-girl parted her lips in a snarl. The man between them stared at me fora moment, his eyes flat and empty, before he said, \"You're bluffing.\"\n\n\"Like the bedsheet matters tome,\" I said.\n\nThe man stared at me without moving. But his shadow did. It writhed and undulated, and the motion made me feel vaguely carsick. His eyes went from me to Valmont to the courier's message tube on the floor. \"A remote detonator, I take it. You do realize you are standing next to the device?\"\n\nI realized it. I had no idea how big the incendiary was. But that was all right, since I had no idea which button to push to set it off, either. \"Yup.\"\n\n\"You would kill yourself rather than surrender the Shroud?\"\n\n\"Rather than letting you kill me.\"\n\n\"Who said I would kill anyone?\"\n\nI glared at him and at the demon-girl and said, \"Francisca Garcia mentioned it.\"\n\nThe man's shadow boiled but he watched me with flat, calculating eyes. \"Perhaps we can reach an arrangement.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Which would be?\"\n\nHe drew a heavy-caliber handgun from his pocket and pointed it at Anna Valmont.\n\n\"Give me the remote and I won't kill this young woman.\"\n\n\"The demon groupie headman uses a gun? You've got to be kidding me,\" I said.\n\n\"Call me Nicodemus.\" He glanced at the revolver. \"Trendy, I know, but one can only watch so many dismemberments before they become predictable.\" He pointed the gun at the terror-stricken Valmont and said, \"Shall I count to three?\"\n\nI threw on a puppet's Transylvanian accent. \"Count as high as you vant, but you von't get one, one detonator, ah, ah, ah.\"\n\n\"One,\" Nicodemus said.\n\n\"Do you expect me to hand it over on reflex or something?\"\n\n\"You've done such things repeatedly when there was a woman in danger, Harry Dresden. Two.\"\n\nThis Nicodemus knew me. And he'd picked a pressure tactic that wasn't going to take long, however it turned out, so he knew I was stalling for time. Crap. I wasn't going to be able to bluff him. \"Hold on,\" I said.\n\nHe thumbed back the hammer of the revolver and aimed at Valmont's head. \"Thr-\"\n\nSo much for cleverness. \"All right,\" I snapped, and I tossed the remote to him underhand. \"Here you go.\"\n\nNicodemus lowered the gun, turning to catch the remote in his left hand. I waited until his eyes flicked from Valmont to the remote.\n\nAnd then I pulled up every bit of power I could muster in that instant, hurled my right hand forward, and snarled, \"Fuego!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fire rose up from the floor in a wave as wide as the doorway and rolled forward in a surge of superheated air. It expanded as it lashed out, and slammed into Nicodemus's bloodied chest. The force of it threw him back across the hallway and into the wall on the opposite side. He didn't quite go through the wall, but only because there must have been a stud lined up with his spine. The drywall crumpled in from his shoulders to his hips, and his head snapped back in a whiplash of impact. It almost seemed that his shadow was thrown back with him, slapping wetly against the wall around him like blobs of tar.\n\nThe snakeman moved with blinding speed, slithering to one side of the blast. The demon-girl shrieked, and her bladed tresses gathered together in an effort to shield her as the fire and concussion threw her back and away from the door.\n\nThe heat was unbearable, an oven-hot flash that sucked the air from my lungs.\n\nBackwash from the explosion drove me back across the floor, rolling until I hit the wall myself. I cowered and shielded my face as the scarlet flames went out, replaced with a sudden cloud of ugly black smoke. My ears rang, and I couldn't hear anything but the hammering of my own heart.\n\nThe fire spell had been something I wouldn't have done if I'd had an option. That's why I had made a blasting rod. Down-and-dirty fast magic was difficult, dangerous, and likely to run out of control. The blasting rod helped me focus that kind of magic, contain it.\n\nIt helped me avoid explosions that left heat burns on my lungs.\n\nI fumbled around in the blinding smoke, unable to breathe and unable to see. I found a feminine wrist with one hand, followed it up to a shoulder, and found Anna Valmont. I hauled on her with one hand, found the courier's tube with the other, and crawled for the ventilation duct, hauling them both behind me."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There was air in the ventilation shaft, and Valmont coughed and stirred as I dragged her into it."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Enough of the storage room had caught on fire that I had light enough to see.\n\nOne of Valmont's eyebrows was gone, and one side of her face was red and blistered. I screamed, \"Move!\" at her as loudly as I could. Her eyes blinked with dull comprehension as I pushed her past me and toward the opening in the laundry room, and she started moving stiffly in front of me.\n\nValmont didn't crawl as quickly as I wanted her to, but then she wasn't the one closest to the fire and the monsters. My heart hammered in my ears and the shaft felt oppressively small. I knew that the demonic forms of the Denarians were tougher than either me or Anna Valmont. Unless I'd gotten lethally lucky, they'd recover from the blast, and it wouldn't belong before they came after us. If we couldn't shake them or get into a car, and fast, they'd catch us, plain and simple. I shoved at Valmont, growing more frantic as my imagination turned up images of whipping tendrils cutting my legs to shreds, or venomous serpent fangs sinking into my calves as scaled hands dragged me backward by my ankles.\n\nValmont tumbled out of the air shaft and into the laundry room. I followed her closely enough to make me think of a program I'd seen about howler monkey mating habits. My ears were starting to get their act together, and I heard the high, buzzing ring of afire alarm in the hallway outside.\n\n\"Harry?\" Susan said. She looked between Valmont and me and helped the woman to her feet. \"What's happening?\"\n\nI got to my feet and choked out, \"We need to begone. Right now.\"\n\nSusan nodded at me, and then shoved me. Hard. I went stumbling sideways and into the wall of drying machines, slamming my shoulder and head. I looked back to seethe demon-girl's hair pureeing its way out of the vents, and then the rest of the Denarian came out, scales, claws and all, rolling to all fours with dizzying grace."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fast as the Denarian was, Susan was faster. The demon-girl came up with those rich lips split into a snarl, and Susan drove her heel right into them. She kicked hard enough that something crunched, and the demon-girl screamed in surprise and pain.\n\n\"Susan!\" I shouted. \"Look-\"\n\nI was going to say'out\" but there wasn't time. Half a dozen bunches of tendrils drove at Susan like spears.\n\nSusan dodged them. All of them. She had to fling herself across the room to the washing machines to do it, and the Denarian regained her balance and pursued. More blades drove toward Susan, but she ducked to one side, one hand ripping open the door to one of the washing machines. Susan slammed the door down on the demon-girl's hair, and without missing a beat kicked the Denarian's reverse-jointed knee in sideways.\n\nThe demon-girl shrieked in pain, struggling. I knew she was strong enough to pull free of the washing machine before long, but for the moment she was trapped. Susan reached up and tore a fold-down ironing board from where it was mounted on a nearby wall. Then she spun around and slammed it edge-on into the Denarian. Susan hither three times, in the wounded leg, the small of the back, and the back of the neck. The Denarian shrieked at the first two blows and then collapsed into a limp heap at the third.\n\nSusan stared down at the demon-girl fora moment, dark eyes hard and hot. The ironing board's metal frame was now bent and twisted from the force of the blows Susan had dealt with it. Susan took a deep breath and then tossed the ironing board to one side, straightened her hair with one hand, and commented, \"Bitch.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Wow,\" I said.\n\n\"Are you all right, Harry?\" Susan asked. She wasn't looking at me.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I said. \"Wow.\"\n\nSusan walked over to the counter, where she'd left her clutch. She opened it, got the phone, and said, \"I'll have Martin pick us up at the exit.\"\n\nI shook myself into motion and helped draw Anna Valmont to her feet. \"What exit?\"\n\nSusan pointed wordlessly at afire-escape diagram on the wall, still not looking at me. She spoke maybe a dozen quiet words into the phone and then folded it shut. \"He's coming. They're evacuating the hotel. We'll need to-\"\n\nI felt a surge of magical energies. The air around Susan grew darker and then coalesced into a cloud of shadows. Within a heartbeat, the cloud deepened, then solidified into a writhing tangle of snakes of all sizes and colors wrapped all around Susan. The air suddenly filled with the sound of hissing and buzzing rattles. I saw the snakes begin to strike, fangs flashing. Susan let out a scream.\n\nI turned to the doorway and saw the snakeman Denarian standing in it. One not-quite-human hand was held out toward Susan. His serpent mouth was rolling out hissing sounds, and I could feel the thrumming tension in the air between the Denarian's outstretched hand and Susan.\n\nRage flooded over me, and I barely stopped myself from throwing out another blast of raw spellfire at the snakeman. With that much rage behind it, I'd probably have killed everyone in the room. Instead, I reached out to the air in the hallway beyond the Denarian and pulled it all toward him, the words, \"Ventas servitas!\" thundering off my lips."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, urban fantasy, wizards\nAuthor: Jim Butcher\nTitle: Death Masks\nChapter: 32"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Combined with her emaciated appearance, I was guessing she was in a coma, whoever she was.\n\nMarcone drew up a chair beside the bed. He pulled out a teddy bear and slipped it into the crook of the girl's arm. He got out a book. Then he started reading to her, out loud.\n\nHe sat there reading to her for an hour, before he slipped a bookmark into place and put the book back into the backpack.\n\nThen he reached into the pack and pulled out the Shroud. He peeled down the outermost blanket on her bed, and carefully laid the Shroud over the girl, folding its ends in a bit to keep it from spilling out. Then he covered it up with the blanket and sat down in the chair again, his head bowed. I hadn't ever pictured John Marcone praying. But I saw him forming the word please, over and over.\n\nHe waited for another hour. Then, his face sunken and tired, he rose and kissed the girl on the head. He put the teddy bear back into the backpack, got up, and left the room.\n\nI went to his car and sat down on the hood.\n\nMarcone stopped in his tracks and stared at me when he saw me. I just sat there. He padded warily over to his car and said, voice quiet, \"How did you find me?\"\n\n\"Wasn't easy,\" I said.\n\n\"Is anyone else with you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nI saw the wheels spinning in his head. I saw him panic a little. I saw him consider killing me. I saw him force himself to slowdown and decide against any rash action. He nodded once, and said, \"What do you want?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"The Shroud.\"\n\n\"No,\" he said. There was a hint of frustration to his voice. \"I just got it here.\"\n\n\"I saw,\" I said. \"Who is the girl?\"\n\nHis eyes went flat, and he said nothing.\n\n\"Okay, Marcone,\" I said. \"You can give me the Shroud or you can explain it to the police when they come out hereto search this place.\"\n\n\"You can't,\" he said, his voice quiet. \"You can't do that to her. She'd be in danger.\"\n\nMy eyes widened. \"She's yours?\"\n\n\"I'll kill you,\" he said in that same soft voice. \"If you so much as breathe in her direction, I'll kill you, Dresden. Myself.\"\n\nI believed him.\n\n\"What's wrong with her?\" I asked.\n\n\"Persistent vegetative state,\" he said. \"Coma.\"\n\n\"You wanted it to heal her,\" I said quietly. \"That's why you had it stolen.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I don't think it works like that,\" I said. \"It isn't as simple as plugging in alight.\"\n\n\"But it might work,\" he said.\n\nI shrugged. \"Maybe.\"\n\n\"I'll take it,\" he said. \"It's all I have.\"\n\nI looked back toward the window and was quiet fora minute. I made up my mind and said, \"Three days.\"\n\nHe frowned. \"What?\"\n\n\"Three days,\" I said. \"Three's a magic number. And supposedly that's how long Christ was wrapped in it. In three days, three sunrises, you should know whether it's going to help or not.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And then?\"\n\n\"Then the Shroud is returned in a plain brown wrapper to Father Forthill at Saint Mary of the Angels,\" I said. \"No note. No nothing. Just returned.\"\n\n\"And if I don't, you'll expose her.\"\n\nI shook my head and stood up. \"No. I won't do that. I'll take it up with you.\"\n\nHe stared at me fora long moment before his expression softened. \"All right.\"\n\nI left him there.\n\nWhen I'd first met Marcone, he'd tricked me into a soulgaze. Though I hadn't known the specifics, I knew then that he had a secret-one that gave him the incredible amount of will and inner strength needed to run one of the nation's largest criminal empires. He had something that drove him to be remorseless, practical, deadly.\n\nNow I knew what that secret was.\n\nMarcone was still a black hat. The pain and suffering of the criminal state he ruled accounted for an untold amount of human misery. Maybe he'd been doing it fora noble reason. I could understand that. But it didn't change anything. Marcone's good intentions could have paved anew lane on the road to hell. But dammit, I couldn't hate him anymore.\n\nI couldn't hate him because I wasn't sure that I wouldn't have made the same choice in his place.\n\nHate was simpler, but the world ain't a simple place. It would have been easier to hate Marcone.\n\nI just couldn't do it.\n\n---\n\nSanya satin a recliner, his expression puzzled, blinking at the phone. \"Again,\" he said.\n\nMolly sat cross-legged on the couch near him with a phone book in her lap and my shopping list she'd picked up in the tree house laid flat over one half of it. Her expression was serious, but her eyes were sparkling as she drew a red line through another entry in the phone book. \"How strange,\" she said, and read off another number."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sanya started dialing. \"Hello?\" he said a moment later. \"Hello, sir. Could you please tell me if you have Prince Albert in a can-\" He blinked again, mystified, and reported to Molly, \"They hung up again.\"\n\n\"Weird,\" Molly said, and winked at me.\n\nI left before I started choking on the laugh I had to hold back, and went out into the front yard. Little Harry was thereby himself, playing in the grass insight of his sister, inside.\n\n\"Heya, kid,\" I said. \" You shouldn't be out here all by yourself. People will accuse you of being a reclusive madman. Next thing you know, you'll be wandering around saying,\n\n\"Woahse-bud.\" \"\n\nI heard a clinking sound. Something shining landed in the grass by little Harry, and he immediately pushed himself to his feet, wobbled, then headed for it.\n\nI panicked abruptly and lunged out ahead of him, slapping my hand down over a polished silver coin before the child could squat down to pick it up. I felt a prickling jolt shoot up my arm, and had the sudden, intangible impression that someone nearby was waking up from a nap and stretching.\n\nI looked up to see a car on the street, driver-side window rolled down.\n\nNicodemus sat at the wheel, relaxed and smiling. \"Be seeing you, Dresden.\"\n\nHe drove away. I took my shaking hand from the coin.\n\nLasciel's blackened sigil lay before my eyes. I heard a door open, and on pure instinct palmed the coin and slipped it in my pocket. I looked back to find Sanya frowning and looking up and down the street. His nostrils flared a few times, and he paced over to stand near me. He sniffed a few more times and then peered down at the baby. \"Aha,\" he rumbled. \"Someone is stinky.\" He swooped the kid up in his arms, making him squeal and laugh. \"You mind if I steal your playmate fora minute, Harry?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Go ahead,\" I said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I need to get going anyway.\"\n\nSanya nodded and grinned at me, offering his hand. I shook it. \"It has been a pleasure to work with you,\" Sanya said. \"Perhaps we will see each other again.\"\n\nThe coin felt cool and heavy in my pocket. \"Yeah. Maybe so.\"\n\nI left the cookout without saying good-bye, and headed home. I heard something the whole time, something whispering almost inaudibly. I drowned it outwith loud and off-key singing, and got to work.\n\nTen hours later, I put down the excavating pick and glowered at the two-foot hole I had chipped in my lab's concrete floor. The whispering in my head had segued into\n\n\"Sympathy for the Devil\" by the Stones.\n\n\"Harry,\" whispered a gentle voice.\n\nI dropped the coin into the hole. I slipped a steel ring about three inches across around it. I muttered to myself and willed energy into the ring. The whispering abruptly cutoff.\n\nI dumped two buckets of cement into the hole and smoothed it until it was level with the rest of my floor. After that, I hurried out of the lab and shut the door behind me.\n\nMister came over to demand attention. I settled on the couch, and he jumped up to sprawl on his back over my legs. I petted him and stared at Shiro's cane, resting in the corner.\n\n\"He said that I must live in a world of greys. To trust my heart.\" I rubbed Mister's favorite spot, behind his right ear, and he purred in approval. Mister, at least for the moment, agreed that my heart was in the right place. But it's possible he wasn't being objective."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "After awhile, I picked up Shiro's cane and stared down at the smooth old wood.\n\nFidelacchius's power whispered against my fingertips. There was a single Japanese character carved into the sheath. When I asked Bob, he told me that it read, simply, Faith.\n\nIt isn't good to hold on too hard to the past. You can't spend your whole life looking back. Not even when you can't see what lies ahead. All you can do is keep on keeping on, and try to believe that tomorrow will be what it should be-even if it isn't what you expected.\n\nI took Susan's picture down. I put the postcards in a brown envelope. I picked up the jewel box that held the dinky engagement ring I'd offered her, and that she'd turned down.\n\nThen I put them all away in my closet.\n\nI laid the old man's cane on my fireplace mantel.\n\nMaybe somethings just aren't meant to go together. Things like oil and water.\n\nOrange juice and toothpaste.\n\nMe and Susan.\n\nBut tomorrow was another day."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\nChapter: 43"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He laid a hand on the wolf's back, and as he did, Hopper started forward. He let himself be led. The fur under his hand was thick and shaggy. It felt real.\n\nThe fog began to thicken, until only his hand told him Hopper was still there, until a glance down did not even show him his own chest. Just gray mist. He might as well have been wrapped in new-sheared wool for all he could see. It struck him that he had heard nothing, either. Not even the sound of his own footsteps. He wiggled his toes, and was relieved to feel the boots on his feet.\n\nThe gray became darker, and he and the wolf walked through pitch-blackness. He could not see his hand when he touched his nose. He could not see his nose, for that matter. He tried closing his eyes fora moment, and could not tell any difference. There was still no sound. His hand felt the rough hair of Hopper's back, but he was not sure he could feel anything under his boots.\n\nSuddenly Hopper stopped, forcing him to halt, too. He looked around... and snapped his eyes shut. He could tell a difference, now. And feel something, too, a queasy twisting of his stomach. He made himself open his eyes and look down.\n\nWhat he saw could not have been there, not unless he and Hopper were standing in midair. He could see nothing of the wolf or himself, as if neither had bodies at all-that thought nearly tied his stomach into knots-but below him, as clear as if lit by a thousand lamps, stretched avast array of mirrors, seemingly hanging in blackness though as level as if they stood on avast floor. They stretched as far as he could see in every direction, but right beneath his feet, there was a clear space. And people in it. Suddenly he could hear their voices as well as if he had been standing among them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Great Lord,\" one of the men muttered, \"where is this place?\" He looked around once, flinching at his image cast back at him many thousandfold, and held his eyes forward after that. The others huddled around him seemed even more afraid. \"I was asleep in Tar Valon, Great Lord. I am asleep in Tar Valon! Where is this place? Have I gone mad?\"\n\nSome of the men around him wore ornate coats full of embroidery, others plainer garb, while some seemed to be naked, or in their smallclothes.\n\n\"I, too, sleep,\" a naked man nearly screamed. \"In Tear. I remember lying down with my wife!\"\n\n\"And I do sleep in Illian,\" a man in red and gold said, sounding shaken. \"I know that I do sleep, but that cannot be. I know that I do dream, but that does be impossible. Where does this be, Great Lord? Are you really come tome?\"\n\nThe dark-haired man who faced them was garbed in black, with silver lace at his throat and wrists. Now and again he put a hand to his chest, as if it hurt him. There was light everywhere down there, coming from nowhere, but this man below Perrin seemed cloaked in shadow. Darkness rolled around him, caressed him.\n\n\"Silence!\" The black-clothed man did not speak loudly, but he had no need to. For the space of that word, he had raised his head; his eyes and mouth were holes boring into a raging forge-fire, all flame and fiery glow.\n\nPerrin knew him, then. Ba'alzamon. He was staring down at Ba'alzamon himself. Fear struck through him like hammered spikes. He would have run, but he could not feel his feet."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hopper shifted. He felt the thick fur under his hand and gripped it hard. Something real. Something more real, he hoped, than what he saw. But he knew that both were real.\n\nThe men huddling together cowered.\n\n\"You have been given tasks,\" Ba'alzamon said. \"Some of these tasks you have carried out. At others, you have failed.\" Now and again his eyes and mouth vanished inflame again, and the mirrors flashed with reflected fire. \"Those who have been marked for death must die. Those who have been marked for taking must bow tome. To fail the Great Lord of the Dark cannot be forgiven.\" Fire shone through his eyes, and the darkness around him roiled and spun. \"You.\" His finger pointed out the man who had spoken of Tar Valon, a fellow dressed like a merchant, in plainly cut clothes of the finest cloth. The others shied away from him as if he had blackbile fever, leaving him to cower alone. \"You allowed the boy to escape Tar Valon.\"\n\nThe man screamed, and began to quiver like a file struck against an anvil. He seemed to become less solid, and his scream thinned with him.\n\n\"You all dream,\" Ba'alzamon said, \"but what happens in this dream is real.\" The shrieking man was only a bundle of mist shaped like a man, his scream far distant, and then even the mist was gone. \"I fear he will never wake.\" He laughed, and his mouth roared flame. \"The rest of you will not fail me again. Begone! Wake, and obey!\" The other men vanished.\n\nFora moment Ba'alzamon stood alone, then suddenly there was a woman with him, clad all in white and silver.\n\nShock hit Perrin. He could never forget a woman so beautiful. She was the woman from his dream, the one who had urged him to glory."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "An ornate silver throne appeared behind her, and she sat, carefully arranging her silken skirts. \"You make free use of my domain,\" she said.\n\n\"Your domain?\" Ba'alzamon said. \"You claim it yours, then? Do you no longer serve the Great Lord of the Dark?\" The darkness around him thickened for an instant, seemed to boil.\n\n\"I serve,\" she said quickly. \"I have served the Lord of the Twilight long. Long did I lie imprisoned for my service, in an endless, dreamless sleep. Only Gray Men and Myrddraal are denied dreams. Even Trollocs can dream. Dreams were always mine, to use and walk. Now I am free again, and I will use what is mine.\"\n\n\"What is yours,\" Ba'alzamon said. The blackness swirling'round him seemed mirthful. \"You always thought yourself greater than you were, Lanfear.\"\n\nThe name cut at Perrin like a newly honed knife. One of the Forsaken had been in his dreams. Moiraine had been right. Some of them were free.\n\nThe woman in white was on her feet, the throne gone. \"I am as great as I am. What have your plans come to? Three thousand years and more of whispering in ears and pulling the strings of throned puppets like an Aes Sedai!\" Her voice invested the name with all scorn. \"Three thousand years, and yet Lews Therin walks the world again, and these Aes Sedai all but have him leashed. Can you control him? Can you turn him? He was mine before ever that straw-haired chit Ilyena saw him! He will be mine again!\"\n\n\"Do you serve yourself now, Lanfear?\" Ba'alzamon's voice was soft, but flame raged continuously in his eyes and mouth. \"Have you abandoned your oaths to the Great Lord of the Dark?\" For an instant the darkness nearly obliterated him, only the glowing fires showing through. \"They are not so easily broken as the oaths to the Light you forsook, proclaiming your new master in the very Hall of the Servants. Your master claims you forever, Lanfear. Will you serve, or do you choose an eternity of pain, of endless dying without release?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I serve.\" Despite her words, she stood tall and defiant. \"I serve the Great Lord of the Dark and none other. Forever!\"\n\nThe vast array of mirror began to vanish as if black waves rolled in over it, ever closer to the center. The tide rolled over Ba'alzamon and Lanfear. There was only blackness.\n\nPerrin felt Hopper move, and he was more than glad to follow, guided only by the feel of fur under his hand. It was not until he was moving that he realized he could. He tried to puzzle out what he had seen, without any success. Ba'alzamon and Lanfear. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. For some reason, Lanfear frightened him more than Ba'alzamon did. Perhaps because she had been in his dreams in the mountains. Light! One of the Forsaken in my dreams! Light! And unless he had missed something, she had defied the Dark One. He had been told and taught that the Shadow could have no power over you if you denied it; but how could a Darkfriend-not just a Darkfriend; one of the Forsaken!-defy the Shadow? I must be mad, like Simion's brother. These dreams have driven me mad!\n\nSlowly the blackness became fog again, and the fog gradually thinned until he walked out of it with Hopper onto a grassy hillside bright with daylight. Birds began to sing from a thicket at the foot of the hill. He looked back. A hilly plain dotted with clumps of trees stretched to the horizon. There was no sign of fog anywhere. The big, grizzled wolf stood watching him.\n\n\"What was that?\" he demanded, struggling in his mind to turn the question to thoughts the wolf could understand. \"Why did you show it tome? What was it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Emotions and images flooded his thoughts, and his mind put words to them."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "What you must see. Be careful, Young Bull. This place is dangerous. Be wary as a cub hunting porcupine. That came as something closer to Small Thorny Back, but his mind named the animal the way he knew it as a man. You are too young, too new.\n\n\"Was it real?\"\n\nAll is real, what is seen, and what is not seen. That seemed to be all the answer Hopper was going to give.\n\n\"Hopper, how are you here? I saw you die. I felt you die!\"\n\nAll are here. All brothers and sisters that are, all that were, all that will be. Perrin knew that wolves did not smile, not the way humans did, but for an instant he had the impression that Hopper was grinning. Here, I soar like the eagle. The wolf gathered himself and leaped, up into the air. Up and up it carried him, until he dwindled to a speck in the sky, and a last thought came. To soar.\n\nPerrin stared after him with his mouth hanging open. He did it. His eyes burned suddenly, and he cleared his throat and scrubbed at his nose. I will be crying like a girl, next. Without thinking, he looked around to see if anyone had seen him, and that quickly everything changed.\n\nHe was standing on arise, with shadowy, indistinct dips and swells all around him. They seemed to fade into the distance too soon. Rand stood below him. Rand, and a ragged circle of Myrddraal and men and women his eyes seemed to slide right past. Dogs howled somewhere in the distance, and Perrin knew they were hunting something. Myrddraal scent and the stink of burned sulphur filled the air. Perrin's hackles rose."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The circle of Myrddraal and people came closer to Rand, all walking as if asleep. And Rand began to kill them. Balls of fire flew from his hands and consumed two. Lightning flashed from above to shrivel others. Bars of light like white-hot steel flew from his fists to more. And the survivors continued to walk slowly closer, as if none of them saw what was happening. One by one they died, until none were left, and Rand sank down on his knees, panting. Perrin was not sure whether he was laughing or crying; it seemed to be some of each.\n\nShapes appeared over the rises, more people coming, more Myrddraal, all intent on Rand.\n\nPerrin cupped his hands to his mouth. \"Rand! Rand, there are more coming!\"\n\nRand looked up at him from his crouch, snarling, sweat slicking his face.\n\n\"Rand, they're-!\"\n\n\"Burn you!\" Rand howled.\n\nLight burned Perrin's eyes, and pain seared everything.\n\nGroaning, he rolled into a ball on the narrow bed, the light still burning behind his eyelids. His chest hurt. He raised a hand to it and winced when he felt a burn under his shirt, a spot no bigger than a silver penny.\n\nBit by bit he forced his knotted muscles to let him straighten his legs and lie flat in the dark cabin. Moiraine. I have to tell Moiraine this time. Just have to wait till the pain goes away.\n\nBut as the pain began to fade, exhaustion took him. He barely had a thought that he must getup before sleep pulled him down again.\n\nWhen he opened his eyes again, he lay staring at the beams overhead. Light at the top and bottom of the door told him morning had come. He put a hand to his chest to convince himself he had imagined it, imagined it so well that he had actually felt a burn...."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His fingers found the burn. I didn't imagine it, then. He had dim memories of a few other dreams, fading even as he recalled them. Ordinary dreams. He even felt as if he had had a good night's sleep. And could use another one right now. But it meant he could sleep. As long as there are no wolves around, anyway.\n\nHe remembered making a decision in that brief waking after the dream with Hopper, and after a moment he decided it had been a good one.\n\nIt took knocking on five doors and being cursed at twice-the inhabitants of two cabins had gone on deck-before he found Moiraine. She was fully dressed, but sitting on one of the narrow beds cross-legged, reading in her book of notes by lantern light. Back near the beginning, he saw, notes that must have been made even before she had come to Emond's Field. Lan's things were neatly placed on the other bed.\n\n\"I had a dream,\" he told her, and proceeded to tell her of it. All of it. He even pulled up his shirt to show her the small circle on his chest, red, with wavy red lines radiating from it. He had kept things from her before, and he suspected he would again, but this might be too important to hold back. The pin was the smallest part of a pair of scissors, and the easiest made, but without it, the scissors cut no cloth. When he was done, he stood there waiting.\n\nShe had watched him without expression, except that those dark eyes had examined every word as it came out of his mouth, weighed it, measured it, held it up to the light. Now she sat the same way, only it was he who was examined, weighed, and held up to the light.\n\n\"Well, is it important?\" he demanded finally. \"I think it was one of those wolf dreams you told me about-I'm sure it was; it must have been!-but that doesn't make what I saw real. Only, you said maybe some of the Forsaken are free, and he called her Lanfear, and.... Is it important, or am I standing here making a fool out of myself?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"There are women,\" she said slowly, \"who would do their best to gentle you if they heard what I just did.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His lungs seemed to freeze; he could not breathe. \"I am not accusing you of being able to channel,\" she went on, and the ice inside him melted, \"or even of being able to learn. An attempt at gentling would not harm you, beyond the rough treatment the Red Ajah would give you before they realized their error. Such men are so rare, even the Reds with all their hunting have not found more than three in the last ten years. Before the outbreak of false Dragons, at least. What I am trying to make clear to you is that I do not think you will suddenly begin wielding the Power. You do not have to be afraid of that.\"\n\n\"Well, thank you very much for that,\" he said bitterly. \"You did not have to scare me to death just so you could tell me there was no need to be frightened!\"\n\n\"Oh, you do have reason to be frightened. Or at least careful, as the wolf suggested. Red sisters, or others, might kill you before they discovered there was nothing to gentle in you.\"\n\n\"Light! Light burn me!\" He stared at her with a frown. \"You're trying to lead me around by the nose, Moiraine, but I am no calf, and there's no ring in my nose. The Red Ajah or any other would not think of gentling unless there was something real in what I dreamed. Does it mean the Forsaken are loose?\"\n\n\"I told you before that they might be. Some of them. Your... dreams are nothing I expected, Perrin. Dreamers have written of wolves, but I did not expect this.\"\n\n\"Well, I think it was real. I think I saw something that really happened, something I wasn't supposed to see.\" What you must see. \"I think Lanfear is loose at the very least. What are you going to do?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am going to Illian. And then I will go to Tear, and hope to reach it before Rand. We had need to leave Remen too quickly for Lan to learn whether he crossed the river or went down it. We should know before we reach Illian, though. We will find sign if he has gone this way.\" She glanced at her book as if she wanted to resume her reading.\n\n\"Is that all you are going to do? With Lanfear loose, and the Light alone knows how many of the others?\"\n\n\"Do not question me,\" she said coldly. \"You do not know which questions to ask, and you would comprehend less than half the answers if I gave them. Which I will not.\"\n\nHe shifted his feet under her gaze until it became clear she would say no more on the matter. His shirt rubbed painfully at the burn on his chest. It did not seem a bad hurt-Not for being struck by lightning it doesn't!-but how he had come by it was another matter. \"Uh.... Will you Heal this?\"\n\n\"Are you no longer uneasy about the One Power being used on you, then, Perrin? No, I will not Heal it. It is not serious, and it will remind you of the need to be careful.\" Careful about pressing her, he knew, as well as about dreams or letting others know of them. \"If there is nothing else, Perrin?\"\n\nHe started for the door, then stopped. \"There is one thing. If you knew a woman's name was Zarine, would you think it meant anything about her?\"\n\n\"Why under the Light do you ask this question?\"\n\n\"A girl,\" he said awkwardly. \"A young woman. I met her last night. She's one of the other passengers.\" He would let her discover for herself that Zarine knew she was Aes Sedai. And seemed to think following them would lead her to the Horn of Valere. He would not keep back anything he thought was important, but if Moiraine could be secretive, so could he."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Zarine. It is a Saldaean name. No woman would name her daughter that unless she expected her to be a great beauty. And a heartbreaker. One to lie on cushions in palaces, surrounded by servants and suitors.\" She smiled, briefly but with great amusement. \"Perhaps you have another reason to be careful, Perrin, if there is a Zarine as a passenger with us.\"\n\n\"I intend to be careful,\" he told her. At least he knew why Zarine did not like her name. Hardly fitting fora Hunter of the Horn. As long as she doesn't call herself'falcon.\"\n\nWhen he went on deck, Lan was there, looking over Mandarb. And Zarine was sitting on a coil of rope near the railing, sharpening one of her knives and watching him. The big, triangular sails were set and taut, and the Snow Goose flew downriver.\n\nZarine's eyes followed Perrin as he walked by her to stand in the bow. The water curled to either side of the prow like earth turning around a good plow. He wondered about dreams and Aielmen, Min's viewings and falcons. His chest hurt. Life had never been as tangled as this.\n\nRand sat up out of his exhausted sleep, gasping, the cloak he had used as a blanket falling away. His side ached, the old wound from Falme throbbing. His fire had burned down to coals with only a few wavering flames, but it was still enough to make the shadows move. That was Perrin. It was! It was him, not a dream. Somehow. I almost killed him! Light, I have to be careful!\n\nShivering, he picked up a length of oak branch and started to shove it into the coals. The trees were scattered in these Murandian hills, still close to the Manetherendrelle, but he had found just enough fallen branches for his fire, the wood just old enough to be properly cured but not rotten. Before the wood touched the coals, he stopped. There were horses coming, tenor a dozen of them, walking slowly. I have to be careful. I cannot make another mistake."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The horses swung toward his failing fire, entered the dim light, and stopped. The shadows obscured their riders, but most seemed to be rough-faced men wearing round helmets and long leather jerkins sewn allover with metal discs like fish scales. One was a woman with graying hair and a no-nonsense look on her face. Her dark dress was plain wool, but the finest weave, and adorned with a silver pin in the shape of a lion. A merchant, she seemed to him; he had seen her sort among those who came to buy tabac and wool in the Two Rivers. A merchant and her guards.\n\nI have to be careful, he thought as he stood. No mistakes.\n\n\"You have chosen a good campsite, young man,\" she said. \"I have often used it on my way to Remen. There is a small spring nearby. I trust you have no objection to my sharing it?\" Her guards were already dismounting, hitching at their sword belts and loosening saddle girths.\n\n\"None,\" Rand told her. Careful. Two steps brought him close enough, and he leaped into the air, spinning-Thistledown Floats on the Whirlwind-heron-mark blade carved from fire coming into his hands to take her head off before surprise could even form on her face. She was the most dangerous.\n\nHe alighted as the woman's head rolled from the crupper of her horse. The guards yelled and clawed for their swords, screamed as they realized his blade burned. He danced among them in the forms Lan had taught him, and knew he could have killed all ten with ordinary steel, but the blade he wielded was part of him. The last man fell, and it had been so like practicing the forms that he had already begun the sheathing called Folding the Fan before he remembered he wore no scabbard and this blade would have turned it to ash at a touch if he had."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Letting the sword vanish, he turned to examine the horses. Most had runaway, but some not far, and the woman's tall gelding stood with rolling eyes, whickering uneasily. Her headless corpse, lying on the ground, had maintained its grip on the reins, and held the animal's head down.\n\nRand pulled them free, pausing only to gather his few belongings before swinging into the saddle. I have to be careful, he thought as he looked over the dead. No mistakes.\n\nThe Power still filled him, the flow from saidin sweeter than honey, ranker than rotted meat. Abruptly he channeled-not really understanding what it was he did, or how, only that it seemed right; and it worked, lifting the corpses. He set them in a line, facing him, kneeling, faces in the dirt. For those who had faces left. Kneeling to him.\n\n\"If I am the Dragon Reborn,\" he told them, \"that is the way it is supposed to be, isn't it?\" Letting goof saidin was hard, but he did it. If I hold it too much, how will I keep the madness away? He laughed bitterly. Or is it too late for that?\n\nFrowning, he peered at the line. He had been sure there were only ten men, but eleven men knelt in that line, one of them without armor of any sort but with a dagger still gripped in his hand.\n\n\"You chose the wrong company,\" Rand told that man.\n\nWheeling the gelding, he dug in his heels and set the animal to a dead gallop into the night. It was along way to Tear, yet, but he meant to get thereby the straightest way, if he had to kill horses or steal them. I will put an end to it. The taunting. The baiting. I will end it! Callandor. It called to him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene returned a graceful nod to the respectful bow of the ship's crewman who padded past her, barefoot, on his way to pull a rope that already seemed taut, possibly shifting a trifle the way one of the big square sails set. Ashe trotted back toward where the round-faced captain stood by the tillerman, he bowed again, and she nodded once more before returning her attentions to the forested Cairhien shore, separated from the Blue Crane by less than twenty spans of water.\n\nA village was sliding past, or what had been a village once. Half the houses were only smoldering piles of rubble with chimneys sticking starkly out of the ruins. On the other houses, doors swung with the wind, and pieces of furniture, bits of clothing and house ware littered the dirt street, tumbled about as if thrown. Nothing living moved in the village except for one half-starved dog that ignored the passing ship as it trotted out of sight behind the toppled walls of what appeared to have been an inn. She could never see such a sight without a queasiness settling in her belly, but she tried to maintain the dispassionate serenity she thought an Aes Sedai might have. It did not help much. Beyond the village, a thick plume of smoke was rising into the sky. Three or four miles off, she estimated.\n\nThis was not the first such plume of smoke she had seen since the Erinin began to flow along the border of Cairhien, nor the first such village. At least this time there were nobodies insight. Captain Ellisor sometimes had to sail close to the Cairhienin shore because of mudflats-he said they shifted in this part of the river-but however close he came, she had not seen a single living person."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The village and the smoke plume slipped away behind the ship, but already another column of smoke was coming into view ahead, further from the river. The forest was thinning, ash and leatherleaf and black elder giving way to willow and whitewood and wateroak, and some she did not recognize.\n\nThe wind caught her cloak, but she let it stream, feeling the cold cleanness of the air, feeling the freedom of wearing brown instead of any sort of white, though it had not been her first choice. Yet dress and cloak were of the best wool, well cut and well sewn.\n\nAnother sailor trotted by, bowing as he went. She vowed to learn at least some of what it was they were doing; she did not like feeling ignorant. Wearing her Great Serpent ring on her right handmade fora good deal of bowing with a captain and crew born mainly in Tar Valon.\n\nShe had won that argument with Nynaeve, though Nynaeve had been sure she herself was the only one of the three of them old enough for people to believe she was Aes Sedai. But Nynaeve had been wrong. Egwene was ready to admit that both she and Elayne had received startled looks on boarding the Blue Crane that afternoon at Southharbor, and Captain Ellisor's eyebrows had climbed almost to where his hair would have begun had he had any, but he had been all smiles and bows.\n\n\"An honor, Aes Sedai. Three Aes Sedai to travel on my vessel? An honor indeed. I promise you a quick journey as far as you wish. And no trouble with Cairhienin brigands. I no longer put in on that side of the river. Unless you wish it, of course, Aes Sedai. Andoran soldiers do hold a few towns on the Cairhienin side. An honor, Aes Sedai.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His eyebrows had shot up again when they asked for just one cabin among them-not even Nynaeve wanted to be alone at night if she did not have to be. Each could have a cabin to herself at no extra charge, he told them; he had no other passengers, his cargo was aboard, and if Aes Sedai had urgent business downriver, he would not wait even an hour for anyone else who might want passage. They said again that one cabin would be sufficient.\n\nHe was startled, and it had been plain from his face that he did not understand, but Chin Ellisor, born and bred in Tar Valon, was not one to question Aes Sedai once they made their intentions clear. If two of them seemed very young, well, some Aes Sedai were young.\n\nThe abandoned ruins vanished behind Egwene. The column of smoke drew closer, and there was a hint of another much further still from the riverbank. The forest was turning to low, grassy hills dotted with thickets. Trees that made flowers in the spring had them, tiny white blossoms on snowberry and bright red sugarberry. One tree she did not know was covered in round white flowers bigger than her two hands together. Occasionally a climbing wild-rose put swaths of yellow or white through branches thick with the green of leaves and the red of new growth. It was all too sharp a contrast to the ashes and rubble to be entirely pleasant.\n\nEgwene wished she had an Aes Sedai to question herself right then. One she could trust. Brushing her pouch with her fingers, she could barely feel the twisted stone ring of the ter'angreal inside.\n\nShe had tried it every night but two since leaving Tar Valon, and it had not worked the same way twice. Oh, she always found herself in Tel'aran'rhiod, but the only thing she saw that might have been any use was the Heart of the Stone again, each time without Silvie to tell her things. There was certainly nothing about the Black Ajah."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Her own dreams, without the ter'angreal, had been filled with images that seemed almost like glimpses of the Unseen World. Rand holding a sword that blazed like the sun, till she could hardly see that it was a sword, could hardly make out that it was him at all. Rand threatened in a dozen ways, none of them the least bit real. In one dream he had been on a huge stones board, the black and white stones as big as boulders, and him dodging the monstrous hands that moved them and seemed to try to crush him under them. It could have meant something. It very probably did, but beyond the fact that Rand was in danger from someone, or two someones-she thought that much was clear-beyond that, she simply did not know. I cannot help him, now. I have my own duty. I don't even know where he is, except that it is probably five hundred leagues from here.\n\nShe had dreamed of Perrin with a wolf, and with a falcon, and a hawk-and the falcon and the hawk fighting-of Perrin running from someone deadly, and Perrin stepping willingly over the edge of a towering cliff while saying, \"It must be done. I must learn to fly before I reach the bottom.\" There had been one dream of an Aiel, and she thought that had to do with Perrin, too, but she was not sure. And a dream of Min, springing a steel trap but somehow walking through it without so much as seeing it. There had been dreams of Mat, too. Of Mat with dice spinning 'round him-she felt she knew where that one came from-of Mat being followed by a man who was not there-she still did not understand that; there was a man following, or maybe more than one, but in someway there was no one there-of Mat riding desperately toward something unseen in the distance that he had to reach, and Mat with a woman who seemed to be tossing fireworks about. An Illuminator, she assumed, but that made no more sense than anything else."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "She had had so many dreams that she was beginning to doubt them all."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Maybe it had to do with using the ter'angreal so often, or maybe with just carrying it. Maybe she was finally learning what a Dreamer did. Frantic dreams, hectic dreams. Men and women breaking out of a cage, then putting on crowns. A woman playing with puppets, and another dream where the strings on puppets led to the hands of larger puppets, and their strings led to still greater puppets, on and on until the last strings vanished into unimaginable heights. Kings dying, queens weeping, battles raging. Whitecloaks ravaging the Two Rivers. She had even dreamed of the Seanchan again. More than once. Those she shut away in a dark corner; she would not let herself think of them. Her mother and father, every night.\n\nShe was certain what that meant, at least, or thought she was. It means I'm off hunting the Black Ajah, and I do not know what my dreams mean or how to make the fool ter'angreal do what it should, and I'm frightened, and.... And homesick. For an instant she thought how good it would be to have her mother send her up to bed knowing everything would be better in the morning. Only mother can't solve my problems for me anymore, and father can't promise to chase away monsters and make me believe it. I have to do it myself now.\n\nHow far in the past all that was, now. She did not want it back, not really, but it had been a warm time, and it seemed so long ago. It would be wonderful just to see them again, to hear their voices. When I wear this ring on the finger I choose by right.\n\nShe had finally let Nynaeve and Elayne each try sleeping one night with the stone ring-surprised at how reluctant she had been to let it out of her own hands-and they had awakened to speak of what was surely Tel'aran'rhiod, but neither had seen more than a glimpse of the Heart of the Stone, nothing that was of any use."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The thick column of smoke now lay abreast of the Blue Crane."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perhaps five or six miles from the river, she thought. The other was only a smudge on the horizon. It could almost have been a cloud, but she was sure it was not. Small thickets grew tight along the riverbank in some places, and between them the grass came right down to the water except where an undercut bank had fallen in.\n\nElayne came on deck and joined her at the rail, the wind whipping her dark cloak as well. She wore sturdy wool, too. That had been one argument Nynaeve won. Their clothes. Egwene had maintained that Aes Sedai always wore the best, even when they traveled-she had been thinking of the silks she wore in Tel'aran'rhiod-but Nynaeve pointed out that even with as much gold as the Amyrlin had left in the back of her wardrobe, and it was a fat purse, they still had no idea how much things would cost downriver. The servants said Mat had been right about the civil war in Cairhien, and what it had done to prices. To Egwene's surprise, Elayne had pointed out that Brown sisters wore wool more often than silk. Elayne had been so eager to be away from the kitchen, Egwene thought, she would have worn rags.\n\nI wonder how Mat is doing? No doubt trying to dice with the captain for whatever ship he's traveling on.\n\n\"Terrible,\" Elayne murmured. \"It is so terrible.\"\n\n\"What is?\" Egwene said absently. I hope he isn't showing that paper we gave him around too freely.\n\nElayne gave her a startled look, and then a frown. \"That!\" She gestured toward the distant smoke. \"How can you ignore it?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I can ignore it because I do not want to think of what the people are going through, because I cannot do anything about it, and because we have to reach Tear."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Because what we're hunting is in Tear.\" She was surprised at her own vehemence. I can't do anything about it. And the Black Ajah is in Tear.\n\nThe more she thought of it, the more certain she became that they would have to find away into the Heart of the Stone. Perhaps no one but the High Lords of Tear were allowed into it, but she was becoming convinced that the key to springing the Black Ajah's trap and thwarting them lay in the Heart of the Stone.\n\n\"I know all of that, Egwene, but it does not stop me feeling for the Cairhienin.\"\n\n\"I have heard lectures about the wars Andor fought with Cairhien,\" Egwene said dryly. \"Bennae Sedai says you and Cairhien have fought more often than any two nations except Tear and Illian.\"\n\nThe other woman gave her a sidelong look. Elayne had never gotten used to Egwene's refusal to admit she was Andoran herself. At least, lines on maps said the Two Rivers was part of Andor, and Elayne believed the maps.\n\n\"We have fought wars against them, Egwene, but since the damage they suffered in the Aiel War, Andor has sold them nearly as much grain as Tear has. The trade has stopped, now. With every Cairhienin House fighting every other for the Sun Throne, who would buy the grain, or see it distributed to the people? If the fighting is as bad as what we've seen on the banks.... Well. You cannot feed a people for twenty years and feel nothing for them when they must be starving.\"\n\n\"A Gray Man,\" Egwene said, and Elayne jumped, trying to look in every direction at once. The glow of saidar surrounded her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Where?\"\n\nEgwene took a slower look around the decks, but to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. Captain Ellisor still stood in the stern, by the shirtless man holding the long tiller. Another sailor was up in the very bow, scanning the waters ahead for signs of submerged mudbanks, and two more padded about the deck, now and again adjusting a rope to the sails. The rest of the crew were all below. One of the pair stopped to check the lashings on the rowboat tied upside down on the deck; she waited for him to goon before speaking.\n\n\"Fool!\" she muttered softly. \"Me, Elayne, not you, so don't glower at me like that.\" She continued in a whisper. \"A Gray Man is after Mat, Elayne. That must be what that dream meant, but I never saw it. I am a fool!\"\n\nThe glow around Elayne vanished. \"Do not be so hard on yourself,\" she whispered back. \"Perhaps it does mean that, but I did not see it, and neither did Nynaeve.\" She paused; red-gold curls swung as she shook her head. \"But it doesn't make sense, Egwene. Why would a Gray Man be after Mat? There is nothing in my letter to my mother that could harm us in the slightest.\"\n\n\"I do not know why.\" Egwene frowned. \"There has to be a reason. I am sure that is what that dream means.\"\n\n\"Even if you are right, Egwene, there is nothing you can do about it.\"\n\n\"I know that,\" Egwene said bitterly. She did not even know whether he was ahead of them or behind. Ahead, she suspected; Mat would have left without any delay. \"Either way,\" she muttered to herself, \"it does no good. I finally know what one of my dreams means, and it doesn't help a hemstitch worth!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"But if you know one meaning,\" Elayne told her, \"perhaps now you will know others. If we sit down and talk them over, perhaps-\"\n\nThe Blue Crane gave a shuddering lurch, throwing Elayne to the deck and Egwene on top of her. When Egwene struggled to her feet, the shoreline no longer slid by. The vessel had halted, with the bow raised and the deck canted to one side. The sails flapped noisily in the wind.\n\nChin Ellisor pushed himself to his feet and ran for the bow, leaving the tillerman to rise on his own. \"You blind worm of a farmer!\" he roared toward the man in the bow, who was clinging to the rail to keep from falling the rest of the way over. \"You dirt-grubbing get of a goat! Haven't you been on the river long enough yet to recognize how the water ruffles over a mudflat?\" He seized the man on the rail by the shoulders and pulled him back onto the deck, but only to shove him out of the way so he could peer down over the bow himself. \"If you've put a hole in my hull, I will use your guts for caulking!\"\n\nThe other crewmen were clambering to their feet, now, and more came scrambling up from below. They all ran to cluster around the captain.\n\nNynaeve appeared at the head of the ladder that led down to the passenger cabins, still straightening her skirts. With a sharp tug at her braid, she frowned at the knot of men in the bow, then strode to Egwene and Elayne. \"He ran us onto something, did he? After all his talk of knowing the river as well as he knows his wife. The woman probably never receives as much as a smile from him.\" She jerked the thick braid again and went forward, pushing her way through the sailors to reach the captain. They were all intent on the water below."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was no point in joining her. He will have us off faster if he's left to it. Nynaeve was probably telling him how to do the work. Elayne seemed to feel the same way, from the rueful shake of the head she gave as she watched the captain and crewmen all turn their attention respectfully from whatever was under the bow to Nynaeve.\n\nA ripple of agitation ran through the men, and grew stronger. Fora moment the captain's hands could be seen, waving in protest over the other men's heads, and then Nynaeve was striding away from them-they made way, bowing now-with Ellisor hurrying beside her and mopping his round face with a large red handkerchief. His anxious voice became audible as they drew near.\n\n\"... a good fifteen miles to the next village on the Andor side, Aes Sedai, and at least five or six miles downriver on the Cairhien side! Andoran soldiers hold it, it is true, but they do not hold the miles from hereto there!\" He wiped at his face as if he were dripping sweat.\n\n\"A sunken ship,\" Nynaeve told the the other two women. \"The work of river brigands, the captain thinks. He means to try backing off it with the sweeps, but he does not seem to think that will work.\"\n\n\"We were running fast when we hit, Aes Sedai. I wanted to make good speed for you.\" Ellisor rubbed even harder at his face. He was afraid the Aes Sedai would blame him, Egwene realized. \"We are stuck hard. But I do not think we are taking water, Aes Sedai. There is no need to worry. Another ship will be along. Two sets of sweeps will surely get us free. There is no need for you to be put ashore, Aes Sedai. I do swear it, by the Light.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You were thinking of leaving the ship?\" Egwene asked. \"Do you think that is wise?\"\n\n\"Of course, it's-!\" Nynaeve stopped and frowned at her. Egwene returned the frown with a level stare. Nynaeve went on in a calmer tone, if still a tight one. \"The captain says it maybe an hour before another ship comes along. One with enough sweeps to make a difference. Ora day. Or two, maybe. I do not think we can afford to waste a day or two waiting. We can be in this village-what did you call it, Captain? Jurene?-we can walk to Jurene in two hours or less. If Captain Ellisor frees his vessel as quickly as he hopes, we can reboard then. He says he will stop to see if we are there. If he does not get free, though, we can take ship from Jurene. We may even find a vessel waiting. The captain says traders do stop there, because of the Andoran soldiers.\" She drew a deep breath, but her voice grew tighter. \"Have I explained my reasoning fully enough? Do you need more?\"\n\n\"It is clear tome,\" Elayne put in quickly before Egwene could speak. \"And it sounds a good idea. You think it is a good idea, too, don't you, Egwene?\"\n\nEgwene gave a grudging nod. \"I suppose it is.\"\n\n\"But, Aes Sedai,\" Ellisor protested, \"at least go to the Andor bank. The war, Aes Sedai. Brigands, and every sort of ruffian, and the soldiers not much better. The very wreck under our bow shows the sort of men they are.\"\n\n\"We have not seen a living soul on the Cairhien side,\" Nynaeve said, \"and in any case, we are far from defenseless, Captain. And I will not walk fifteen miles when I can walk six.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Of course, Aes Sedai.\" Ellisor really was sweating, now. \"I did not mean to suggest.... Of course you are not defenseless, Aes Sedai. I did not mean to suggest it.\" He wiped his face furiously, but it still glistened.\n\nNynaeve opened her mouth, glanced at Egwene, and seemed to change what she had intended to say. \"I am going below for my things,\" she told the air halfway between Egwene and Elayne, then turned on Ellisor. \"Captain, make your rowboat ready.\" He bowed and scurried away even before she turned for the hatch, and was shouting for men to put the boat over the side before she was below.\n\n\"If one of you says \"up,\"\" Elayne murmured, \"the other says \"down.\" If you do not stop it, we may not reach Tear.\"\n\n\"We will reach Tear,\" Egwene said. \"And sooner once Nynaeve realizes she is not the Wisdom any longer. We are all\"-she did not say Accepted; there were two many men hurrying about-\"on the same level, now.\" Elayne sighed.\n\nIn short order the rowboat had ferried them ashore, and they were standing on the bank with walking staffs in hand, their belongings in bundles on their backs, and hung about them in pouches and scripts. Rolling grassland and scattered copses surrounded them, though the hills were forested a few miles in from the river. The sweeps on the Blue Crane were cutting up froth, but failing to budge the vessel. Egwene turned and started south without another glance. And before Nynaeve could take the lead.\n\nWhen the others caught up to her, Elayne gave her a reproving look. Nynaeve walked staring straight ahead. Elayne told Nynaeve what Egwene had said about Mat and a Gray Man, but the older woman listened in silence and only said, \"He'll have to look after himself,\" without pausing in her stride. After a time, the Daughter-Heir gave up trying to make the other two talk, and they all walked in silence."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Clumps of trees close along the riverbank soon hid the Blue Crane, thick growths of wateroak and willow. They did not go through the copses, small as they were, for anything at all might be hiding in the shadows under their branches. A few low bushes grew scattered between the thickets here close to the river, but they were too sparse to hide a child much less a brigand, and they were widely spaced.\n\n\"If we do see brigands,\" Egwene announced, \"I am going to defend myself. There is no Amyrlin looking over our shoulders here.\"\n\nNynaeve's mouth thinned. \"If need be,\" she told the air in front of her, \"we can frighten off any brigands the way we did those Whitecloaks. If we can find no other way.\"\n\n\"I wish you would not talk of brigands,\" Elayne said. \"I would like to reach this village without-\"\n\nA figure in brown and gray rose from behind a bush standing by itself almost in front of them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene embraced saidar before the scream was well out of her mouth, and she saw the glow around Elayne, too. For an instant she wondered if Ellisor had heard their screams and would send help; the Blue Crane could not be more than a mile upriver. Then she was dismissing the need for help, already weaving flows of Air and Fire into lightning. She could almost still hear their yelling.\n\nNynaeve was simply standing therewith her arms crossed beneath her breasts and a firm expression on her face, but Egwene was not sure whether that was because she was not angry enough to touch the True Source, or because she had already seen what Egwene was just now seeing. The person facing them was a woman no older than Egwene herself, if somewhat taller.\n\nShe did not let goof saidar. Men were sometimes silly enough to think a woman was harmless merely because she was a woman; Egwene had no such illusions. Ina corner of her mind she noted that Elayne was no longer surrounded by the glow. The Daughter-Heir must still harbor foolish notions. She was never a Seanchan prisoner.\n\nEgwene did not think many men would be stupid enough to think the woman in front of them was not dangerous, even though her hands were empty and she wore no visible weapon. Blue-green eyes and reddish haircut short except fora narrow tail that hung to her shoulders; soft, laced knee-boots and close-fitting coat and breeches all in the shades of earth and rock. Such coloring and clothing had been described to her once; this woman was Aiel.\n\nLooking at her, Egwene felt a sudden odd affinity for the woman. She could not understand it. She looks like Rand's cousin, that's why. Yet even that feeling-almost of kinship-could not stifle her curiosity. What under the Light are Aiel doing here? They never leave the Waste; not since the Aiel War. She had heard all of her life how deadly Aiel were-these Maidens of the Spear no less than the members of the male warrior societies-but she felt no particular fear and, indeed, some irritation at having been afraid. With saidar feeding the One Power into her, she had no need to fear anyone. Except maybe a fully trained sister, she admitted. But certainly not one woman, even if she is Aiel."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"My name is Aviendha,\" the Aiel woman said, \"of the Nine Valleys sept of the Taardad Aiel.\" Her face was as flat and expressionless as her voice. \"I am Far Dareis Mai, a Maiden of the Spear.\" She paused a moment, studying them. \"You have not the look in your faces, but we saw the rings. In your lands, you have women much like our Wise Ones, the women called Aes Sedai. Are you women of the White Tower, or not?\"\n\nFora moment Egwene did feel unease. We? She looked around them carefully, but saw no one behind any bush within twenty paces.\n\nIf there were others, they had to be in the next thicket, more than two hundred paces ahead, or in the last one, twice that distance behind. Too far to threaten. Unless they have bows. But they would have to be good with them. Back home, in the competitions at Bel Tine and Sunday, only the best bowmen shot at any distance much beyond two hundred paces.\n\nBut she still felt better knowing she could hurl a lightning bolt at anyone who tried such a shot.\n\n\"We are women of the White Tower,\" Nynaeve said calmly. She was very obvious in not looking around for other Aiel. Even Elayne was peering about. \"Whether you would consider any of us wise is another matter,\" Nynaeve went on. \"What do you want of us?\"\n\nAviendha smiled. She was really quite lovely, Egwene realized; the grim expression had masked it. \"You talk as the Wise Ones do. To the point, and small suffering of fools.\" Her smile faded, but her voice remained calm. \"One of us lies gravely hurt, perhaps dying. The Wise Ones often heal those who would surely die without them, and I have heard Aes Sedai can do more. Will you aid her?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene almost shook her head in confusion. A friend of hers is dying? She sounds as if she is asking if we'll lend her a cup of barley flour!\n\n\"I will help her if I can,\" Nynaeve said slowly. \"I cannot make promises, Aviendha. She may die despite anything I can do.\"\n\n\"Death comes for us all,\" the Aiel said. \"We can only choose how to face it when it comes. I will take you to her.\"\n\nTwo women in Aiel garb stood up no more than ten paces away, one out of a little fold in the ground that Egwene would not have supposed could hide a dog, and the other in grass that reached only halfway to her knees. They lowered their black veils as they stood-that gave her another jolt; she was sure Elayne had told her the Aiel only hid their faces when they might have to do killing-and settled the cloth that had wrapped their heads about their shoulders. One had the same reddish hair as Aviendha, with gray eyes, the other dark blue eyes and hairlike fire. Neither was any older than Egwene or Elayne, and both looked ready to use the short spears in their hands.\n\nThe woman with fiery hair handed Aviendha weapons; along, heavy-bladed knife to belt at her waist, and a bristling quiver for the other side; a dark, curved bow that had the dull shine of horn, in a case to fasten on her back; and four short spears with long points to grip in her left hand along with a small, round hide buckler. Aviendha wore them as naturally as a woman in Emond's Field would wear a scarf, just as her companions did. \"Come,\" she said, and started for the thicket they had already passed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Egwene finally released saidar."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She suspected all three of the Aiel could stab her with those spears before she could do anything about it, if that was what they wanted, but though they were wary, she did not think they would. And what if Nynaeve can't Heal their friend? I wish she would ask before she makes these decisions that involve all of us!\n\nAs they headed for the trees, the Aiel scanned the land around them as if they expected the empty landscape to hold enemies as adept at hiding as themselves. Aviendha strode ahead, and Nynaeve kept up with her.\n\n\"I am Elayne of House Trakand,\" Egwene's friend said as if making conversation, \"Daughter-Heir to Morgase, Queen of Andor.\"\n\nEgwene stumbled. Light, is she mad? I know Andor fought them in the Aiel War. It might be twenty years, but they say Aiel have long memories.\n\nBut the flame-haired Aiel closest to her only said, \"I am Bain, of the Black Rock sept of the Shaarad Aiel.\"\n\n\"I am Chiad,\" the shorter, blonder woman on her other side said, \"of the Stones River sept of the Goshien Aiel.\"\n\nBain and Chiad glanced at Egwene; their expressions did not change, but she had the feeling they thought she was showing bad manners.\n\n\"I am Egwene al'Vere,\" she told them. They seemed to expect more, so she added, \"Daughter of Marin al'Vere, of Emond's Field, in the Two Rivers.\" That seemed to satisfy them, in away, but she would have bet they understood it no more than she did all these septs and clans. It must mean families, in someway."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You are first-sisters?\" Bain seemed to betaking in all three of them.\n\nEgwene thought they must mean sisters as it was used for Aes Sedai, and said'Yes,\" just as Elayne said'No.\"\n\nChiad and Bain exchanged a very quick look that suggested they were talking to women who might not be completely whole in their minds.\n\n\"First-sister,\" Elayne told Egwene as if she were lecturing, \"means women who have the same mother. Second-sister means their mothers are sisters.\" She turned her words to the Aiel. \"We neither of us know a great deal of your people. I ask you to excuse our ignorance. I sometimes think of Egwene as a first-sister, but we are not blood kin.\"\n\n\"Then why do you not speak the words before your Wise Ones?\" Chiad asked. \"Bain and I became first-sisters.\"\n\nEgwene blinked. \"How can you become first-sisters? Either you have the same mother, or you do not. I do not mean to offend. Most of what I know about the Maidens of the Spear comes from the little Elayne has told me. I know you fight in battle and don't care for men, but no more than that.\" Elayne nodded; the way she had described the Maidens to Egwene had sounded much like across between female Warders and the Red Ajah.\n\nThat look flashed back across the Aiel's faces, as if they were not certain how much sense Egwene and Elayne had.\n\n\"We do not care for men?\" Chiad murmured as if puzzled.\n\nBain knotted her brow in thought. \"What you say comes near truth, yet misses it completely. When we wed the spear, we pledge to be bound to no manor child. Some do give up the spear, fora manor a child\"-her expression said she herself did not understand this-\"but once given up, the spear cannot betaken back.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Or if she is chosen to go to Rhuidean,\" Chiad put in. \"A Wise One cannot be wedded to the spear.\"\n\nBain looked at her as if she had announced the sky was blue, or that rain fell from clouds. The glance she gave Egwene and Elayne said perhaps they did not know these things. \"Yes, that is true. Though some try to struggle against it.\"\n\n\"Yes, they do.\" Chiad sounded as though she and Bain were sharing something between them.\n\n\"But I have gone far from the trail of my explanation,\" Bain went on. \"The Maidens do not dance the spears with one another even when our clans do, but the Shaarad Aiel and the Goshien Aiel have held blood feud between them over four hundred years, so Chiad and I felt our wedding pledge was not enough. We went to speak the words before the Wise Ones of our clans-she risking her life in my hold, and I in hers-to bond us as first-sisters. As is proper for first-sisters who are Maidens, we guard each other's backs, and neither will let a man come to her without the other. I would not say we do not care for men.\" Chiad nodded, with just the hint of a smile. \"Have I made the truth clear to you, Egwene?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Egwene said faintly. She glanced at Elayne and saw the bewilderment in her blue eyes she knew must be in her own. Not Red Ajah. Green, maybe. Across between Warders and Green Ajah, and I do not understand another thing out of that. \"The truth is quite clear tome, now, Bain. Thank you.\"\n\n\"If the two of you feel you are first-sisters,\" Chiad said, \"you should go to your Wise Ones and speak the words. But you are Wise Ones, though young. I do not know how it would be done in that case.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene did not know whether to laugh or blush. She kept having an image of her and Elayne sharing the same man. No, that is only for first-sisters who are Maidens of the Spear. Isn't it? Elayne did have spots of color in her cheeks, and Egwene was sure she was thinking of Rand. But we do not share him, Elayne. We can neither of us have him.\n\nElayne cleared her throat. \"I do not think there is a need for that, Chiad. Egwene and I already guard each other's backs.\"\n\n\"How can that be?\" Chiad asked slowly. \"You are not wedded to the spear. And you are Wise Ones. Who would lift a hand against a Wise One? This confuses me. What need have you for guarding of backs?\"\n\nEgwene was spared having to come up with an answer by their arrival at the copse. There were two more Aiel under the trees, deep into the thicket, but next to the river. Jolien, of the Salt Flat sept of the Nakai Aiel, a blue-eyed woman with red-gold hair nearly the color of Elayne's, was watching over Dailin, of Aviendha's sept and clan. Sweat matted Dailin's hair, making it a darker red, and she only opened her gray eyes once, when they first came near, then closed them again. Her coat and shirt lay beside her, and red stained the bandages wrapped around her middle.\n\n\"She took a sword,\" Aviendha said. \"Some of those fools that the oath-breaking treekillers call soldiers thought we were another handful of the bandits who infest this land. We had to kill them to convince them otherwise, but Dailin.... Can you heal her, Aes Sedai?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nynaeve went to her knees beside the injured woman and lifted the bandages enough to peer under them. She winced at what she saw. \"Have you moved her since she was hurt? There is scabbing, but it has been broken.\"\n\n\"She wanted to die near water,\" Aviendha said. She glanced once at the river, then quickly away again. Egwene thought she might have shivered, too.\n\n\"Fools!\" Nynaeve began rummaging in her pouch of herbs. \"You could have killed her moving her with an injury like that. She wanted to die near water!\" she said disgustedly. \"Just because you carry weapons like men doesn't mean you have to think like them.\" She pulled a deep wooden cup out of the bag and pushed it at Chiad. \"Fill that. I need water to mix these so she can drink them.\"\n\nChiad and Bain stepped to the river's edge and returned together. Their faces never changed, but Egwene thought they had almost expected the river to reach up and grab them.\n\n\"If we had not brought her hereto the... river, Aes Sedai,\" Aviendha said, \"we would never have found you, and she would have died anyway.\"\n\nNynaeve snorted and began sifting powdered herbs into the cup of water, muttering to herself. \"Corenroot helps make blood, and dogwort for knitting flesh, and healall, of course, and....\" Her mutters trailed off into whispers too low to hear. Aviendha was frowning at her.\n\n\"The Wise Ones use herbs, Aes Sedai, but I had not heard that Aes Sedai used them.\"\n\n\"I use what I use!\" Nynaeve snapped and went back to sorting through her powders and whispering to herself."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She truly does sound like a Wise One,\" Chiad told Bain softly, and the other woman gave a tight nod.\n\nDailin was the only Aiel without her weapons in hand, and they all looked ready to use them in a heartbeat. Nynaeve surely isn't soothing anyone, Egwene thought. Get them talking about something. Anything. Nobody feels like fighting if they're talking of something peaceful.\n\n\"Do not be offended,\" she said carefully, \"but I notice you are all uneasy about the river. It does not grow violent unless there is a storm. You could swim in it if you wanted, though the current is strong away from the banks.\" Elayne shook her head.\n\nThe Aiel looked blank; Aviendha said, \"I saw a man-a Shienaran-do this swimming... once.\"\n\n\"I don't understand,\" Egwene said. \"I know there isn't much water in the Waste, but you said you were \"Stones River sept,\" Jolien. Surely you have swum in the Stones River?\" Elayne looked at her as if she were mad.\n\n\"Swim,\" Jolien said awkwardly. \"It means... to get in the water? All that water? With nothing to hold onto.\" She shuddered. \"Aes Sedai, before I crossed the Dragonwall, I had never seen flowing water I could not step across. The Stones River.... Some claim it had water in it once, but that is only boasting. There are only the stones. The oldest records of the Wise Ones and the clan chief say there was never anything but stones since the first day our sept broke off from the High Plain sept and claimed that land. Swim!\" She gripped her spears as if to fight the very word. Chiad and Bain moved apace further from the riverbank."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene sighed. And colored when she met Elayne's eye. Well, I am not a Daughter-Heir, to know all these things. I will learn them, though. As she looked around at the Aiel women, she realized that far from soothing them, she had put them even more on edge. If they try anything, I will hold them with Air. She had no idea whether she could seize four people at once, but she opened herself to saidar, wove the flows in Air and held them ready. The Power pulsed in her with eagerness to be used. No glow surrounded Elayne, and she wondered why. Elayne looked right at her and shook her head.\n\n\"I would never harm an Aes Sedai,\" Aviendha said abruptly. \"I would have you know that. Whether Dailin lives or dies, it makes no difference in that. I would never use this\"-she lifted one short spear a trifle-\"against any woman. And you are Aes Sedai.\" Egwene had the sudden feeling that the woman was trying to soothe them.\n\n\"I knew that,\" Elayne said, as if talking to Aviendha, but her eyes told Egwene the words were for her. \"No one knows much of your people, but I was taught that Aiel never harm women unless they are-what did you call it?-wedded to the spear.\"\n\nBain seemed to think Elayne was failing to see truth clearly again. \"That is not exactly the way of it, Elayne. If a woman not wedded came at me with weapons, I would drub her until she knew better of it. A man.... A man might think a woman of your lands was wedded if she bore weapons; I do not know. Men can be strange.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Of course,\" Elayne said. \"But so long as we do not attack you with weapons, you will not try to harm us.\" All four Aiel looked shocked, and she gave Egwene a quick significant look.\n\nEgwene held onto saidar anyway. Just because Elayne had been taught something did not mean it was true, even if the Aiel said the same thing. And saidar felt... good in her.\n\nNynaeve lifted up Dailin's head and began pouring her mixture into the woman's mouth. \"Drink,\" she said firmly. \"I know it tastes bad, but drink it all.\" Dailin swallowed, choked, and swallowed again.\n\n\"Not even then, Aes Sedai,\" Aviendha told Elayne. She kept her eyes on Dailin and Nynaeve, though. \"It is said that once, before the Breaking of the World, we served the Aes Sedai, though no story says how. We failed in that service. Perhaps that is the sin that sent us to the Three-fold Land; I do not know. No one knows what the sin was, except maybe the Wise Ones, or the clan chiefs, and they do not say. It is said if we fail the Aes Sedai again, they will destroy us.\"\n\n\"Drink it all,\" Nynaeve muttered. \"Swords! Swords and muscles and no brains!\"\n\n\"We are not going to destroy you,\" Elayne said firmly, and Aviendha nodded.\n\n\"As you say, Aes Sedai. But the old stories are all clear on one point. We must never fight Aes Sedai. If you bring your lightnings and your balefire against me, I will dance with them, but I will not harm you.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\nChapter: 47"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But at the next four inns he found, the innkeeper gave him the same answer as the first; the last two almost threw him out bodily when he offered to dice fora bed. And when the owner of the fifth told him he could not give a pallet to the Queen herself-this at a place called The Good Queen-he sighed and asked, \"What about your stable, then? Surely we can bed down in the hayloft fora price.\"\n\n\"My stable is for horses,\" the round-faced man said, \"not that many are left in the city.\" He had been polishing a silver cup; now he opened one door of a shallow cupboard standing on top of a deep, drawered chest and placed it inside with others; none of them matched. A tooled-leather dice cup sat atop the chest, just beyond the arc of the cupboard's doors. \"I do not put people in thereto frighten the horses, and perhaps make off with them. Those who pay me for stabling their animals want them well tended, and I've two of my own in there, besides. There are no beds in my stable for you.\"\n\nMat eyed the dice cup thoughtfully. He pulled a gold Andoran crown out of his pocket and set it atop the chest. The next coin was a silver Tar Valon mark, then a gold one, and a gold Tairen crown. The innkeeper looked at the coins and licked his plump lips. Mat added two silver Illianer marks and another gold Andoran crown, and looked at the round-faced man. The innkeeper hesitated. Mat reached for the coins. The innkeeper's hand reached them first.\n\n\"Perhaps just the two of you would not disturb the horses too greatly.\"\n\nMat smiled at him. \"Speaking of horses, what price for those two of yours? With saddles and bridles, of course.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I will not sell my horses,\" the man said, clutching the coins to his chest.\n\nMat picked up the dice cup and rattled it. \"Twice as much again against the horses, saddles, and bridles.\" He shook his coat pocket to make the loose coins rattle, too, to show he had more to cover the wager. \"My one toss against the best of your two.\" He almost laughed as greed lit the innkeeper's entire face.\n\nWhen Mat walked into the stable, the first thing he did was check along the half-dozen stalls with horses in them fora pair of brown geldings. They were nondescript animals, but they were his. They needed currying badly, but otherwise they seemed in good condition, especially considering that all the stablemen but one had runoff. The innkeeper had been extremely disparaging of their complaints that they could no longer live on what he paid them, and he seemed to think it a crime that the one man who remained had actually had the audacity to say he was going home to bed just because he was tired from doing three men's work.\n\n\"Five sixes,\" Thom muttered behind him. The looks he cast around the stable did not seem as enthralled as they might, seeing that he had suggested it in the first place. Dust motes shone in the last light of the setting sun coming through the big doors, and the ropes used to hoist hay bales hung like vines from pulleys in the roof beams. The hayloft was dim in the gloom above. \"When he threw four sixes and a five on his second toss, he thought you'd lost for sure, and so did I. You have not been winning every toss of late.\"\n\n\"I win enough.\" Mat was just as relieved not to be winning every throw. Luck was one thing, but remembering that night still sent shivers down his back. Still, for one moment as he shook that dice cup, he had all but known what the pips would be. Ashe tossed the quarterstaff up into the loft, thunder crashed in the sky. He scrambled up the ladder, calling back to Thom. \"This was a good idea. I'd think you would be happy to be in out of the rain tonight.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Most of the hay was in bales stacked against the outer walls, but there was more than enough loose for him to make abed with his cloak over it. Thom appeared at the top of the ladder as he was pulling two loaves of bread and a wedge of green-veined cheese from his leather scrip. The innkeeper-his name was Jeral Florry-had parted with the food for merely enough coin to have bought one of those horses in more peaceful days. They ate while rain began drumming on the roof, washing the food down with water from their waterbottles-Florry had had no wine at any price-and when they were done, Thom dugout his tinderbox and thumbed his long-stemmed pipe full of tabac and settled back fora smoke.\n\nMat was lying on his back, staring at the shadowed roof and wondering if the rain would break before morning-he wanted that letter out of his hands as quickly as possible-when he heard an axle creak into the stable. Rolling to the edge of the loft, he peered down. There was enough dusk left for him to see.\n\nA slender woman was straightening from the shafts of the high-wheeled cart she had just dragged in out of the rain, pulling off her cloak and muttering to herself as she shook the wet from it. Her hair was plaited in a multitude of small braids, and her silk dress-he thought it was a pale green-was elaborately embroidered across her breasts. The dress had been fine, once, but now it was tattered and stained. She knuckled her back, still talking to herself in a low voice, and hurried to the stable doors to peer out into the rain. Just as hurriedly, she ducked out to pull the big doors shut, enclosing the stable in darkness. There was a rustling below, a clink and a slosh, and suddenly a small flare of light bloomed into a lantern in her hands. She looked around, found a hook on a stall post, hung the lantern, and went to dig under the roped canvas covering her cart."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"She did that quickly,\" Thom said softly around his pipe."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She could have set fire to the stable striking flint and steel in the dark like that.\"\n\nThe woman came outwith the end of a loaf of bread, which she gnawed as if it were hard and her hunger did not care.\n\n\"Is there any of that cheese left?\" Mat whispered. Thom shook his head.\n\nThe woman began sniffing at the air, and Mat realized she probably smelled Thom's tabac smoke. He was about to stand and announce their presence when one of the stable doors opened again.\n\nThe woman crouched, ready to run, as four men walked in out of the rain, doffing their wet cloaks to reveal pale coats with wide sleeves and embroidery across the chest, and baggy breeches embroidered down the legs. Their clothes might be fancy, but they were all big men, and their faces were grim.\n\n\"So, Aludra,\" a man in a yellow coat said, \"you did not run so fast as you thought to, eh?\" He had a strange accent, to Mat's ear.\n\n\"Tammuz,\" the woman said as if it were a curse. \"It is not enough that you cause me to be cast out of the Guild with your blundering, you great ox-brain you, but now you chase after meas well.\" She had the same odd way of speaking as the man. \"Do you think that I am glad to see you?\"\n\nThe one called Tammuz laughed. \"You area very large fool, Aludra, which I always knew. Had you merely gone away, you could have lived along life in some quiet place. But you could not forget the secrets in your head, eh? Did you believe we would not hear that you try to earn your way making what it is the right of the Guild alone to make?\" Suddenly there was a knife in his hand. \"It will be a great pleasure to cut your throat, Aludra.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat was not even aware that he had stood up until one of the doubled ropes dangling from the ceiling was in his hands and he had launched himself out of the loft. Burn me fora bloody fool!\n\nHe only had time for that one frantic thought, and then he was plowing through the cloaked men, sending them toppling like pins in a game of bowls. The ropes slipped through his hands, and he fell, tumbling across the straw-covered floor himself, coins spilling from his pockets, to end up against a stall. When he scrambled to his feet, the four men were already rising, too. And they all had knives in their hands, now. Light-blind fool! Burn me! Burn me!\n\n\"Mat!\"\n\nHe looked up, and Thom tossed his quarterstaff down to him. He snagged it out of the air just in time to knock the blade out of Tammuz's fist and thump him a sharp crack on the side of the head. The man crumpled, but the other three were right behind, and fora hectic moment Mat had all he could do with a whirling staff to keep knife blades away from him, rapping knees and ankles and ribs until he could land a good blow on ahead. When the last man fell, he stared at them a moment, then raised his glare to the woman. \"Did you have to choose this stable to be murdered in?\"\n\nShe slipped a slim-bladed dagger back into a sheath at her belt. \"I would have helped you, but I feared that you might mistake me for one of these great buffoons if I came near with steel in my hand. And I chose this stable because the rain is wet and so am I, and no one was watching this place.\"\n\nShe was older than he had thought, at least tenor fifteen years older than he, but pretty still, with large, dark eyes and a small, full mouth that seemed on the point of a pout. Or getting ready fora kiss. He gave a small laugh and leaned on his staff. \"Well, what is done is done. I suppose you were not trying to bring us trouble.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Thom was climbing down from the loft, awkwardly because of his leg, and Aludra looked from him to Mat."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The gleeman had put his cloak back on; he seldom let anyone see him without it, especially for the first time. \"This is like a story,\" she said. \"I am rescued by a gleeman and a young hero\"-she frowned at the men sprawled on the stable floor-\"from these whose mothers were pigs!\"\n\n\"Why did they want to kill you?\" Mat asked. \"He said something about secrets.\"\n\n\"The secrets,\" Thom said in very nearly his performing voice, \"of making fireworks, unless I miss my guess. You are an Illuminator, are you not?\" He made a courtly bow with an elaborate swirl of his cloak. \"I am Thom Merrilin, a gleeman, as you have seen.\" Almost as an afterthought, he added, \"And this is Mat, a young man with a knack for finding trouble.\"\n\n\"I was an Illuminator,\" Aludra said stiffly, \"but this great pig Tammuz, he ruined a performance for the King of Cairhien, and nearly he destroyed the chapter house, too. But me, I was Mistress of the Chapter House, so it was me that the Guild held responsible.\" Her voice became defensive. \"I do not tell the secrets of the Guild, no matter what that Tammuz says, but I will not let myself starve while I can make fireworks. I am no more in the Guild, so the laws of the Guild, they do not apply tome now.\"\n\n\"Galldrian,\" Thom said, sounding almost as wooden as she had. \"Well, he is a dead king now, and he'll see no more fireworks.\"\n\n\"The Guild,\" she said, sounding tired, \"they all but blame me for this war in Cairhien, as if that one night of disaster, it made Galldrian die.\" Thom grimaced. \"It seems I can no longer remain here,\" she went on. \"Tammuz and these other oxen, they will wake soon. Perhaps this time they will tell the soldiers that I stole what I have made.\" She eyed Thom and then Mat, frowning in thought, and seemed to reach a decision. \"I must reward you, but I have no money. However, I have something that is perhaps as good as gold. Maybe better. We shall see what you think.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat exchanged glances with Thomas she went to root under the canvas covering her cart. I'll help anyone who can pay. He thought a speculative light had appeared in Thom's blue eyes.\n\nAludra separated one bundle from a number like it, a short roll of heavy, oiled cloth almost as fat as her arms would go around. Setting it down on the straw, she undid the binding cords and unrolled the cloth across the floor. Four rows of pockets ran along the length of it, the pockets in each row larger than those in the one before. Each pocket held a wax-coated cylinder of paper just large enough for its end, trailing a dark cord, to stick out.\n\n\"Fireworks,\" Thom said. \"I knew it. Aludra, you must not do this. You can sell those for enough to live ten days or more at a good inn, and eat well everyday. Well, anywhere but herein Aringill.\"\n\nKneeling beside the long strip of oiled cloth, she sniffed at him. \"Be quiet, you old one you.\" She made it sound not unkindly. \"I am not allowed to show gratitude? You think I would give you this if I had no more for selling? Attend me closely.\"\n\nMat squatted beside her, fascinated. He had seen fireworks twice in his life. Peddlers had brought them to Emond's Field, at great expense to the Village Council. When he was ten, he had tried to cut one open to see what was inside, and had caused an uproar. Bran al'Vere, the Mayor, had cuffed him; Doral Barran, who had been the Wisdom then, had switched him; and his father had strapped him when he got home. Nobody in the village would talk to him fora month, except for Rand and Perrin, and they mostly told him what a fool he had been. He reached out to touch one of the cylinders. Aludra slapped his hand away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Attend me first, I say!"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "These smallest, they will make aloud bang, but no more.\" They were the size of his little finger. \"These next, they make a bang and a bright light. The next, they make the bang, and the light, and many sparkles. The last\"-these were fatter than his thumb-\"make all of those things, but the sparkles, they are many colors. Almost like a night-flower, but not up in the sky.\"\n\nNightflower? Mat thought.\n\n\"You must be especially careful of these. You see, the fuse, it is very long.\" She saw his blank look, and waggled one of the long, dark cords at him. \"This, this!\"\n\n\"Where you put the fire,\" he muttered. \"I know that.\" Thom made a sound in his throat and stroked his mustaches with a knuckle as if covering a smile.\n\nAludra grunted. \"Where you put the fire. Yes. Do not stay close to any of them, but these largest, you runaway from when you light the fuse. You comprehend me?\" She briskly rolled up the long cloth. \"You may sell these if you wish, or use them. Remember, you must never put this close to fire. Fire will make them all explode. So many as this at once, it could destroy a house, maybe.\" She hesitated over retying the cords, then added, \"And there is one last thing, which you may have heard. Do not cut open any of these, as some great fools do to see what is inside. Sometimes when what is inside touches air, it will explode without the need of fire. You can lose fingers, or even a hand.\"\n\n\"I've heard that,\" Mat said dryly.\n\nShe frowned at him as if wondering whether he meant to do it anyway, then finally pushed the rolled bundle toward him. \"Here. I must go now, before these sons of goats awaken.\" Glancing at the still open door, and the rain falling in the night beyond, she sighed. \"Perhaps I will find somewhere else dry. I think I will go toward Lugard, tomorrow. These pigs, they will expect me to go to Caemlyn, yes?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was even further to Lugard than to Caemlyn, and Mat suddenly remembered that hard end of bread."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And she had said she had no money. The fireworks would buy no meals until she found someone who could afford them. She had never even looked at the gold and silver that had spilled from his pockets when he fell; it glittered and sparkled among the straw in the lantern light. Ah, Light, I cannot let her go hungry, I suppose. He scooped up as much as he could reach quickly.\n\n\"Uh... Aludra? I have plenty, you can see. I thought perhaps....\" He held out the coins toward her. \"I can always win more.\"\n\nShe paused with her cloak half around her shoulders, then smiled at Thomas she swept it the rest of the way on. \"He is young yet, eh?\"\n\n\"He is young,\" Thom agreed. \"And not half so bad as he would like to think himself. Sometimes he is not.\"\n\nMat glowered at both of them and lowered his hand.\n\nLifting the shafts of her cart, Aludra got it turned around and started for the door, giving Tammuz a kick in the ribs as she passed. He groaned groggily.\n\n\"I would like to know something, Aludra,\" Thom said. \"How did you light that lantern so quickly in the dark?\"\n\nStopping short of the door, she smiled over her shoulder at him. \"You wish me to tell you all of my secrets? I am grateful, but I am not in love. That secret, not even the Guild knows, for it is my discovery alone. I will tell you this much. When I know how to make it work properly, and work only when I want it to, sticks will make my fortune for me.\" Throwing her weight against the shafts, she pulled the cart into the rain, and the night swallowed her."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sticks?\" Mat said. He wondered if she might not be a little strange in the head.\n\nTammuz groaned again.\n\n\"Best we do the same as she, boy,\" Thom said. \"Else it's a choice between slitting four throats and maybe spending the next few days explaining ourselves to the Queen's Guards. These look the sort who'd set them onus out of spite. And they have enough to be spiteful for, I suppose.\" One of Tammuz's companions twitched as if coming to, and muttered something incomprehensible.\n\nBy the time they had gathered everything and saddled the horses, Tammuz was upon his hands and knees with his head hanging, and the others were stirring and groaning, too.\n\nSwinging into his saddle, Mat stared at the rain outside the open door, falling harder than ever. \"A bloody hero,\" he said. \"Thom, if I ever look like acting the hero again, you kick me.\"\n\n\"And what would you have done differently?\"\n\nMat scowled at him, then pulled up his hood and spread the tail of his cloak over the fat roll tied behind the high cantle of his saddle. Even with oiled cloth, a little more protection from the rain could not hurt. \"Just kick me!\" He booted his horse in the ribs and galloped into the rainy night."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the Snow Goose moved toward the long stone docks of Illian, sails furled and propelled by its sweeps, Perrin stood near the stern watching great numbers of long-legged birds wading in the tall marsh grass that all but encircled the great harbor. He recognized the small white cranes, and could guess at their much larger blue brothers, but many of the crested birds-red-feathered or rosy, some with flat bills broader than a duck's-he did not know at all. A dozen sorts of gulls swooped and soared above the harbor itself, and a blackbird with along, sharp beak skimmed just above the water, its underbeak cutting a furrow. Ships three and four times as long as the Snow Goose lay anchored across the expanse of the harbor, waiting their turns at the docks, or for the tides to shift so they could sail beyond the long breakwater. Small fishing boats worked close to the marsh, and in the creeks winding through it, two or three men in each dragging nets on long poles swung out from either side of the boat.\n\nThe wind carried a sharp scent of salt, and did little to break the heat. The sun stood well over halfway down to the horizon, but it seemed like noon. The air felt damp; it was the only way he could think of it. Damp. His nose caught the smell of fresh fish from the boats, of old fish and mud from the marsh, and the sour stink of a large tanning yard that lay on a treeless island in the marsh grass.\n\nCaptain Adarra muttered something softly behind him, the tiller creaked, and the Snow Goose changed its course a trifle. Barefoot men at the sweeps moved as if not wanting to make a sound. Perrin did not glance at them beyond a flicker of his eye."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He peered at the tannery, instead, watching men scrape hides stretched on rows of wooden frames, and other men lift hides out of huge, sunken vats with long sticks. Sometimes they stacked the hides on barrows, wheeling them into the long, low building at the edge of the yard; sometimes the hides went back into the vats, with an addition of liquids poured from large stone crocks. They probably made more leather in a day than was made in Emond's Field in months, and he could see another tannery on another island beyond the first.\n\nIt was not that he had any real interest in ships or fishing boats or tanning yards, or even very much in the birds-though he did wonder what those pale red ones could be fishing for with their flat bills, and some of them looked good to eat unless he watched himself-but anything at all was better than watching the scene behind him on the deck of the Snow Goose. The axe at his belt was no defense against that. A stonewall wouldn't be defense enough, he thought.\n\nMoiraine had been neither pleased nor displeased to discover that Zarine-I'll not call her Faile, whatever she wants to name herself! She is no falcon!-knew she was Aes Sedai, though she had been perhaps a little upset with him for not telling her. A little upset. She called me a fool, but that was all. Then. Moiraine did not seem to care one way or another about Zarine being a Hunter of the Horn. But once she learned the girl thought they would lead her to the Horn of Valere, once she learned he had known that, too, and not told her-Zarine had been more than forthcoming about both subjects with Moiraine, to his mind-then her cold dark stare had taken on a quality that made him feel as if he had been packed in a barrel of snow in the dead of winter. The Aes Sedai said nothing, but she stared too often and too hard for any comfort."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He looked over his shoulder and quickly returned to studying the shoreline. Zarine was sitting cross-legged on the deck near the horses tethered between the masts, her bundle and dark cloak beside her, her narrow, divided skirts neatly arrayed, pretending to study the rooftops and towers of the oncoming city. Moiraine was studying Illian, too, from just ahead of the men working the sweeps, but now and then she shot a hard look at the girl from under the deep hood of her fine gray wool cloak. How can she stand wearing that? His own coat was unbuttoned and his shirt unlaced at the neck.\n\nZarine met each Aes Sedai look with a smile, but every time Moiraine turned away, she swallowed and wiped her forehead.\n\nPerrin rather admired her for managing that smile when Moiraine was watching. It was a good deal more than he could do. He had never seen the Aes Sedai truly lose her temper, but he himself was at the point of wishing she would shout, or rage, or anything but stare at him. Light, maybe not anything! Maybe the stare was bearable.\n\nLan sat further toward the bow than Moiraine-his color-shifting cloak was still in the saddlebags at his feet-outwardly absorbed in examining his sword blade, but making little effort to hide his amusement. Sometimes his lips appeared to quirk very close to a smile. Perrin was not certain; at times he thought it was only a shadow. Shadows could make a hammer seem to smile. Each woman obviously thought she was the object of that amusement, but the Warder did not appear to mind the tight-lipped frowns he received from both of them.\n\nA few days earlier Perrin had heard Moiraine ask Lan, in a voice like ice, whether he saw something to laugh at. \"I would never laugh at you, Moiraine Sedai,\" he had replied calmly, \"but if you truly intend to send me to Myrelle, I must become used to smiling. I hear that Myrelle tells her Warders jokes. Gaidin must smile at their bondholder's quips; you have often given me quips to laugh at, have you not? Perhaps you would rather I stay with you after all.\" She had given him a look that would have nailed any other man to the mast, but the Warder never blinked. Lan made cold steel seem like tin."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The crew had taken to padding about their work in utter silence when Moiraine and Zarine were on deck together."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Captain Adarra held his head tilted, and looked as if he were listening for something he did not want to hear. He passed his orders in whispers, instead of the shouts he had used at first. Everyone knew Moiraine was Aes Sedai, now, and everyone knew she was displeased. Perrin had let himself get into one shouting match with Zarine, and he was not sure which of them had said the words'Aes Sedai,\" but the whole crew knew. Bloody woman! He was uncertain whether he meant Moiraine or Zarine. If she is the falcon, what is the hawk supposed to be? Am I going to be stuck with two women like her? Light! No! She is not a falcon, and that is an end to it! The only good thing he could find in all this was that with an angry Aes Sedai to worry about, none of the crew looked twice at his eyes.\n\nLoial was nowhere insight, at the moment. The Ogier stayed in his stifling cabin whenever Moiraine and Zarine were topside together-working on his notes, he said. He only came on deck at night, to smoke his pipe. Perrin did not see how he could take the heat; even Moiraine and Zarine were better than being belowdecks.\n\nHe sighed and kept his eyes on Illian. The city the ship was approaching was large-as big as Cairhien or Caemlyn, the only two great cities he had ever seen-and it reared out of a huge marsh that stretched for miles like a plain of waving grass. Illian had no walls at all, but it seemed to be all towers and palaces. The buildings were all pale stone, except for some that appeared covered with white plaster, but the stone was white and gray and reddish and even faint shades of green. Rooftops of tile sparkled under the sun with a hundred different hues. The long docks held many ships, most dwarfing the Snow Goose, and bustled with the loading and unloading of cargo. There were shipyards at the far end of the city, where great ships stood in every stage from skeletons of thick wooden ribs to nearly ready to slide into the harbor."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perhaps Illian was large enough to keep wolves at bay. They surely would not hunt in those marshes. The Snow Goose had outrun the wolves that had followed him from the mountains. He reached out for them gingerly, now, and felt-nothing. A curiously empty feeling, given that it was what he wanted. His dreams had been his own-for the most part-since that first night. Moiraine had asked about them in a cold voice, and he had told the truth. Twice he had found himself in that odd sort of wolf dream, and both times Hopper had appeared, chasing him away, telling him he was too young yet, too new. What Moiraine made of that, he had no idea; she told him nothing, except to say he had best be wary.\n\n\"That's as well by me,\" he growled. He was almost becoming used to Hopper being dead but not dead, in the wolf dreams, at least. Behind him, he heard Captain Adarra scuff his boots on the deck and mutter something, startled that anyone would speak aloud.\n\nLines were hurled ashore from the ship. While they were still being made fast to stone posts along the docks, the slightly built captain leaped into motion, whispering fiercely to his crew. He had booms rigged to lift the horses onto the wharf almost as quickly as the gangplank was laid in place. Lan's black warhorse kicked and nearly broke the boom hoisting him. Loial's huge, hairy-fetlocked mount needed two.\n\n\"An honor,\" Adarra whispered to Moiraine with a bow as she stepped onto the wide plank leading to the dock. \"An honor to have served you, Aes Sedai.\" She strode ashore without looking at him, her face hidden in her deep hood."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Loial did not appear until everyone else was on the dock, and the horses, too."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Ogier came thumping up the gangplank trying to don his long coat while carrying his big saddlebags and striped blanketroll, and his cloak over one arm. \"I did not know we had arrived,\" he rumbled breathlessly. \"I was rereading my....\" He trailed off with a glance at Moiraine. She appeared to be absorbed in watching Lan saddle Aldieb, but the Ogier's ears flickered like a nervous cat's.\n\nHis notes, Perrin thought. One of these days I have to see what he is saying about all this. Something tickled the back of his neck, and he jumped afoot before he realized he was smelling a clean, herbal scent through the spices and tar and stinks of the docks.\n\nZarine wiggled her fingers, smiling at them. \"If I can do that with just a brush of my fingers, farmboy, I wonder how high you would jump if I-?\"\n\nHe was growing a little tired of considering looks from those dark, tilted eyes. She maybe pretty, but she looks at me the way I'd look at a tool I'd never seen before, trying to puzzle out how it was made, and what it is supposed to be used for.\n\n\"Zarine.\" Moiraine's voice was cool but unruffled.\n\n\"I am called Faile,\" Zarine said firmly, and fora moment, with her bold nose, she did look like a falcon.\n\n\"Zarine,\" Moiraine said firmly, \"it is time for our ways to part. You will find better Hunting elsewhere, and safer.\"\n\n\"I think not,\" Zarine said just as firmly. \"A Hunter must follow the trail she sees, and no Hunter would ignore the trail you four leave. And I am Faile.\" She spoiled it a bit by swallowing, but she did not blink as she met Moiraine's eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Are you certain?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Moiraine said softly. \"Are you sure you will not change your mind... Falcon?\"\n\n\"I will not. There is nothing you or your stone-faced Warder can do to stop me.\" Zarine hesitated, then added slowly, as if she had decided to be entirely truthful, \"At least, there is nothing that you will do that can stop me. I know a little of Aes Sedai; I know, for all the stories, that there are things you will not do. And I do not believe stone-face would do what he must to make me give over.\"\n\n\"Are you sure enough of that to risk it?\" Lan spoke quietly, and his face did not change, but Zarine swallowed again.\n\n\"There is no need to threaten her, Lan,\" Perrin said. He was surprised to realize he was glaring at the Warder.\n\nMoiraine's glance silenced him and the Warder both. \"You believe you know what an Aes Sedai will not do, do you?\" she said more softly than before. Her smile was not pleasant. \"If you wish to go with us, this is what you must do.\" Lan's eyelids flickered in surprise; the two women stared at each other like falcon and mouse, but Zarine was not the falcon, now. \"You will swear by your Hunter's oath to do as I say, to heed me, and not to leave us. Once you know more than you should of what we do, I will not allow you to fall into the wrong hands. Know that for truth, girl. You will swear to act as one of us, and do nothing that will endanger our purpose. You will ask no questions of where we go or why: you will be satisfied with what I choose to tell you. All of this you will swear, or you will remain herein Illian. And you will not leave this marsh until I return to release you, if it takes the rest of your life. That I swear.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Zarine turned her head uneasily, watching Moiraine out of one eye. \"I may accompany you if I swear?\" The Aes Sedai nodded. \"I will be one of you, the same as Loial or stone-face. But I can ask no questions. Are they allowed to ask questions?\" Moiraine's face lost a little of its patience. Zarine stood up straighter and held her head high. \"Very well, then. I swear, by the oath I took as a Hunter. If I break one, I will have broken both. I swear it!\"\n\n\"Done,\" Moiraine said, touching the younger woman's forehead; Zarine shivered. \"Since you brought her to us, Perrin, she is your responsibility.\"\n\n\"Mine!\" he yelped.\n\n\"I am no one's responsibility but my own!\" Zarine nearly shouted.\n\nThe Aes Sedai went serenely on as if they had never opened their mouths. \"It seems you have found Min's falcon, ta'veren. I have tried to discourage her, but it appears she will perch on your shoulder whatever I do. The Pattern weaves a future for you, it seems. Yet remember this. If I must, I will snip your thread from the Pattern. And if the girl endangers what must be, you will share her fate.\"\n\n\"I did not ask for her to come along!\" Perrin protested. Moiraine calmly mounted Aldieb, adjusting her cloak over the white mare's saddle. \"I did not ask for her!\" Loial shrugged at him and silently mouthed something. No doubt a saying about the dangers of angering Aes Sedai.\n\n\"You are ta'veren?\" Zarine said disbelievingly. Her gaze ran over his sturdy country clothes and settled on his yellow eyes. \"Well, perhaps. Whatever you are, she threatens you as easily as she does me. Who is Min? What does she mean, I will perch on your shoulder?\" Her face tightened. \"If you try making me your responsibility, I will carve your ears. Do you hear me?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Grimacing, he slipped his unstrung bow under the saddle girths along Stepper's flank, and climbed into the saddle."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Restive after days on the ship, the dun lived up to his name until Perrin calmed him with a firm hand on the reins and pats to his neck.\n\n\"None of that deserves an answer,\" he growled. Min bloody told her! Burn you, Min! Burn you, too, Moiraine! And Zarine! He could never remember Rand or Mat being bullied by women on every side. Or himself, before leaving Emond's Field. Nynaeve had been the only one. And Mistress Luhhan, of course; she ran him and Master Luhhan both, everywhere but in the smithy. And Egwene had had away about her, though mostly with Rand. Mistress al'Vere, Egwene's mother, always had a smile, but things seemed to end up being done as she wanted, too. And the Women's Circle had looked over everybody's shoulder.\n\nGrumbling to himself, he reached down and took Zarine by an arm; she gave a squawk and nearly dropped her bundle as he hoisted her up behind his saddle. Those divided skirts of hers made it easy for her to straddle Stepper. \"Moiraine will have to buy you a horse,\" he muttered. \"You cannot walk the whole way.\"\n\n\"You are strong, blacksmith,\" Zarine said, rubbing her arm, \"but I am not apiece of iron.\" She shifted around, stuffing her bundle and her cloak between them. \"I can buy my own horse, if I need one. The whole way where?\"\n\nLan was already riding off the dock into the city, with Moiraine and Loial behind him. The Ogier looked back at Perrin.\n\n\"No questions, remember? And my name is Perrin, Zarine. Not \"big man,\" or \"blacksmith,\" or anything else. Perrin. Perrin Aybara.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And mine is Faile, shaggy-hair.\"\n\nWith something close to a snarl, he booted Stepper after the others. Zarine had to throw her arms around his waist to keep from being tossed over the dun's crupper. He thought she was laughing."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The hubbub of the city quickly submerged Zarine's laughter-if that was what it was-beneath all the clamor that Perrin remembered from Caemlyn and Cairhien. The sounds were different here, slower, and pitched differently, but they were the same, too. Boots and wheels and hooves on rough, uneven paving stones, cart and wagon axles squealing, music and song and laughter drifting from inns and taverns. Voices. A hum of voices like putting his head into a giant beehive. A great city, living.\n\nFrom down aside street he heard the clang of hammer on anvil, and shifted his shoulders unconsciously. He missed the hammer and tongs in his hands, the white-hot metal giving off sparks as his blows shaped it. The smithy sounds faded behind, buried under the rumble of carts and wagons, and the babble of shopkeepers and people in the streets. Under all the smells of people and horses, cooking and baking, and a hundred scents he had found peculiar to cities lay the smell of marsh and saltwater.\n\nHe was surprised the first time they came to abridge inside the city-a low arch of stone over a waterway no more than thirty paces across-but by the third such bridge, he realized that Illian was crisscrossed by as many canals as streets, with men poling laden barges as often as plying whips to move heavy wagons. Sedan chairs wove through the crowds in the streets, and occasionally the lacquered coach of some wealthy merchant or a noble, with crest or House sign painted large on the doors. Many of the men wore peculiar beards that left their upper lip bare, while the women seemed to favor hats with wide brims and attached scarves that they wound around their necks."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Once they crossed a great square, many hides in extent, surrounded by huge columns of white marble at least fifteen spans tall and two spans thick, supporting nothing but a wreath of carved olive branches at the top of each. A huge, white palace stood at either end of the square, each all columned walks and airy balconies, slender towers and purple roofs. Each reflected the other exactly, at first glance, but then Perrin realized that one was just a fraction smaller in each dimension, its towers perhaps less than apace shorter.\n\n\"The King's Palace,\" Zarine said against his back, \"and the Great Hall of the Council. It is said the first King of Illian said the Council of Nine could have any palace they wished, just as long as they did not try to build one larger than his. So the Council copied the King's palace exactly, but two feet smaller in every measurement. That has been the way of Illian ever since. The King and the Council of Nine duel with each other, and the Assemblage struggles with both, and so while they carry on their battles, the people live much as they wish, with none to look over their shoulders too much. It is not a bad way to live, if you must be tied to one city. You would also like to know, I think, blacksmith, that this is the Square of Tammaz, where I took the Hunter's Oath. I think I will end up teaching you so much, no one will notice the hay in your hair.\"\n\nPerrin held his tongue with an effort, resolving not to stare so openly again.\n\nNo one seemed to take Loial as anything much out of the ordinary. A few people looked at him twice, and some small children scampered along in their wake fora time, but it appeared that Ogier were not unknown in Illian. None of the folk seemed to notice the heat or the damp, either."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "For once, Loial did not appear pleased with the people's acceptance. His long eyebrows drooped down on his cheeks, and his ears had wilted, though Perrin was not sure that was not just the air. His own shirt clung to him with a mixture of sweat and the damp air.\n\n\"Are you afraid you'll find other Ogier here, Loial?\" he asked. He felt Zarine stir against his back and cursed his tongue. He meant to let the woman know even less than Moiraine apparently meant to tell her. That way, perhaps, she would grow bored enough to leave. If Moiraine will let her go, now. Burn me, I don't want any bloody falcon perched on my shoulder, even if she is pretty.\n\nLoial nodded. \"Our stonemasons sometimes come here.\" He spoke in a whisper not only for an Ogier, but for anyone. Even Perrin could barely hear. \"From Stedding Shangtai, I mean. It was masons from our stedding who built part of Illian-the Palace of the Assemblage, the Great Hall of the Council, some of the others-and they always send to us when repairs need to be done. Perrin, if there are Ogier here, they will make me go back to the stedding. I should have thought of it before now. This place makes me uneasy, Perrin.\" His ears shifted nervously.\n\nPerrin moved Stepper closer and reached up to pat Loial's shoulder. It was along reach, above his head. Conscious of Zarine at his back, he chose his words carefully. \"Loial, I do not believe Moiraine would let them take you. You have been with us along time, and she seems to want you with us. She will not let them take you, Loial.\" Why not? he wondered suddenly. She keeps me because she thinks I maybe important to Rand, and maybe because she doesn't want me telling what I know to anyone. Maybe that's why she wants him to stay."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Of course, she would not,\" Loial said in a slightly stronger voice, and his ears perked up. \"I am very useful, after all. She may need to travel the Ways again, and she could not without me.\" Zarine shifted against Perrin's back, and he shook his head, trying to catch Loial's eye. But Loial was not looking. He seemed to have just heard what he had said, and the tufts on his ears had fallen a little. \"I do hope it's not that, Perrin.\" The Ogier looked at the city around them, and his ears went all the way back down. \"I do not like this place, Perrin.\"\n\nMoiraine rode closer to Lan and spoke softly, but Perrin managed to catch her words. \"Something is wrong in this city.\" The Warder nodded.\n\nPerrin felt an itch between his shoulders. The Aes Sedai had sounded grim. First Loial, and now her. What don't I see? The sun shone down on the sparkling roof tiles, made reflections from pale stonewalls. Those buildings looked as if they might be cool, inside. The buildings were clean and bright, and so were the people. The people.\n\nAt first he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Men and women moving about their business, purposeful, but slower than he was used to further north. He thought it might be the heat, and the bright sun. Then he spotted a baker's lad trotting down the street with a big tray of fresh loaves balanced on his head; the young fellow wore a grimace on his face that was nearly a snarl. A woman in front of a weaver's shop looked as if she might bite the man holding up the bright-colored bolts for her inspection. A juggler on a corner ground his teeth and stared at the folk who tossed coins into the cap lying in front of him as if he hated them. Not everyone looked so, but it seemed to him that at least one face in five wore anger and hatred. And he did not think they were even aware of it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What is the matter?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Zarine asked. \"You are tensing. It is like holding onto a rock.\"\n\n\"Something is wrong,\" he told her. \"I do not know what, but something is wrong.\" Loial nodded sadly, and murmured about how they would make him go back.\n\nThe buildings around them began to change as they rode, crossing more bridges as they crossed Illian to its other side. The pale stone was as often undressed as polished, now. The towers and palaces vanished, to be replaced by inns and warehouses. Many of the men in the streets, and some of the women, had an oddly rolling gait; they all had the bare feet he associated with sailors. The smells of pitch and hemp were strong in the air, and the scent of wood, both freshly cut and cured, with sour mud overlying both. The canals' odors changed, too, making his nose wrinkle. Chamber pots, he thought. Chamber pots and old privies. It made him feel queasy.\n\n\"The Bridge of Flowers,\" Lan announced as they crossed yet another low bridge. He inhaled deeply. \"And now we are in the Perfumed Quarter. The Illianers area poetic people.\"\n\nZarine stifled a laugh against Perrin's back.\n\nAs if he were suddenly impatient with the slow pace of Illian, the Warder led them quickly through the streets to an inn, two stories of rough, green-veined stone topped with pale green tiles. Evening was coming on, the light growing softer as the sun settled. It gave a little relief from the heat, but not much. Boys seated on mounting blocks in front of the inn hopped up to take their horses. One black-haired lad about ten asked Loial if he were an Ogier, and when Loial said he was, the boy said, \"I did think you did be,\" with a self-satisfied nod. He led Loial's big horse away, tossing the copper Loial had given him into the air and catching it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perrin frowned up at the inn sign fora moment before following the others in. A white-striped badger danced on its hind legs with a man carrying what seemed to be a silver shovel. Easing the Badger, it read. It must be some story I never heard.\n\nThe common room had sawdust on the floor, and tabac smoke filled the air. It also smelled of wine, and fish cooking in the kitchen, and a heavy, flowered perfume. The exposed beams of the high ceiling were rough-hewn and age-dark. This early in the evening, no more than a quarter of the stools and benches were filled, by men in workmen's plain coats and vests, some with the bare feet of sailors. All of them sat clustered as close as they could manage around one table where a pretty, dark-eyed girl, the wearer of the perfume, sang to the strumming of a twelve-string bittern and danced on the tabletop with swirls of her skirt. Her loose, white blouse had an extremely low neck. Perrin recognized the tune-\"The Dancing Lass\"-but the words the girl sang were different from what he knew.\n\n\"A Lugard girl, she came to town, to see what she could see. With a wink of her eye, and a smile on her lip, she snagged a boy or three, or three. With an ankle slim, and skin so pale, she caught the owner of a ship, a ship. With a soft little sigh, and a gay little laugh, she made her way so free. So free.\"\n\nShe launched into another verse, and when Perrin realized what she was singing, his face grew hot. He had thought nothing could shock him after seeing Tinker girls dance, but that had only hinted at things. This girl was singing them right out."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Zarine was nodding in time to the music and grinning. Her grin widened when she looked at him. \"Why, farmboy, I do not think I ever knew a man your age who could still blush.\"\n\nHe glared at her and barely stopped himself from saying something he knew would be stupid. This bloody woman has me jumping before I can think. Light, I'll wager she thinks I never even kissed a girl! He tried not to listen to anymore of what the girl was singing. If he could not get the red out of his face, Zarine was sure to make more of it.\n\nA flash of startlement had passed across the face of the proprietress when they entered. A large, round woman with her hair in a thick roll at the back of her neck and a smell of strong soap about her, she suppressed her surprise quickly, though, and hurried to Moiraine.\n\n\"Mistress Mari,\" she said, \"I did never think to see you here today.\" She hesitated, eyeing Perrin and Zarine, glanced once at Loial, but not in the searching way she looked at them. Her eyes actually brightened at the sight of the Ogier, but her real attention was all on'Mistress Mari.\" She lowered her voice, \"Have my pigeons no arrived safely?\" Lan, she seemed to accept as apart of Moiraine.\n\n\"I am sure they have, Nieda,\" Moiraine said. \"I have been away, but I am sure Adine has noted down everything you reported.\" She eyed the girl singing on the table with no outward disapproval, nor any other expression. \"The Badger was considerably quieter when last I was here.\"\n\n\"Aye, Mistress Mari, it did be that. But the louts have no gotten over the winter yet, it does seem. I have no had a fight in the Badger in ten years, till the tail of this winter gone.\" She nodded toward the one man not sitting near the singer, a fellow even bigger than Perrin, standing against the wall with his thick arms folded, tapping his foot to the music. \"Even Bili did have a hard timekeeping them down, so I did hire the girl to take their minds from anger. From someplace in Altara, she does come.\" She tilted her head, listening fora moment. \"A fair voice, but I did sing it better-aye, and dance better, too-when I did be her age.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perrin gaped at the thought of this huge woman capering on a table, singing that song-a bit of it came through; \"I'll wear no shift at all. At all\"-until Zarine fisted him hard in the short ribs. He grunted.\n\nNieda looked his way. \"I'll mix you some honey and sulphur, lad, for that throat. You'll no want to take a chill before the weather warms, no with a pretty girl like that one on your arm.\"\n\nMoiraine gave him a look that said he was interfering with her. \"Strange that you should suffer fights,\" she said. \"I well remember how your nephew stops such. Has something occurred to make people more irritable?\"\n\nNieda mused fora moment. \"Perhaps. It do be hard to say. The young lordlings do always comedown to the docks for the wenching and carousing they can no getaway with where the air does smell fresher. Perhaps they do come more often, now, since the hard of the winter. Perhaps. And others do snap at each other more, too. It did be a hard winter. That does make men angrier, and women as well. All that rain, and cold. Why, I did wake two mornings to find ice in my washbasin. No so hard as the last winter, of course, but that did be a winter fora thousand years. Almost enough to make me believe those travelers' tales of frozen water falling from the sky.\" She giggled to show how little she believed that. It was an odd sound from such a large woman.\n\nPerrin shook his head. She doesn't believe in snow? But if she thought this weather was cool, he could believe it of her.\n\nMoiraine bent her head in thought, her hood shadowing her face."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The girl on the table was beginning anew verse, and Perrin found himself listening in spite of himself. He had never heard of any woman doing anything remotely like what the girl was singing about, but it did sound interesting. He noticed Zarine watching him listen, and tried to pretend he had not been.\n\n\"What has occurred out of the ordinary in Illian of late?\" Moiraine said finally.\n\n\"I do suppose you could call Lord Brend's ascension to the Council of Nine unusual,\" Nieda said. \"Fortune prick me, I can no remember ever hearing his name before the winter, but he did come to the city-from somewhere near the Murandian border, it be rumored-and did be raised inside a week. It do be said he be a good man, and strongest of the Nine-they all do follow his lead, it be said, though he be newest and unknown-but sometimes I do have strange dreams of him.\"\n\nMoiraine had opened her mouth-to tell Nieda she had meant in the last few nights, Perrin was sure-but she hesitated, and instead said, \"What sort of strange dreams, Nieda?\"\n\n\"Oh, foolishness, Mistress Mari. Just foolishness. You do truly wish to hear it? Dreams of Lord Brend in strange places, and walking bridges hanging in air. All fogged, these dreams do be, but near every night they do come. Did you ever hear of such? Foolishness, Fortune prick me! Yet, it do be odd. Bili does say he does dream the same dreams. I do think he does hear my dreams and copy them. Bili do be none too bright, sometimes, I do think.\"\n\n\"You may do him an injustice,\" Moiraine breathed.\n\nPerrin stared at her dark hood. She had sounded shaken, even more shaken than when she thought anew false Dragon had risen in Ghealdan. He could not smell fear, but.... Moiraine was frightened. It was afar more terrifying thought than Moiraine angry. He could imagine her angry; he could not begin to conceive of her afraid."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How I do maunder on,\" Nieda said, patting the rolled hair at the back of her neck. \"As if my foolish dreams do be important.\" She giggled again. A quick giggle; this was not as foolish as believing in snow. \"You do sound tired, Mistress Mari. I will show you to your rooms. And then a good meal of fresh-caught red-stripe.\"\n\nRed-stripe? A fish, he thought it must be; he could smell fish cooking.\n\n\"Rooms,\" Moiraine said. \"Yes. We will take rooms. The meal can wait. Ships. Nieda, what ships sail for Tear? Early on the morrow. I have that which I must do tonight.\" Lan glanced at her, frowning.\n\n\"For Tear, Mistress Mari?\" Nieda laughed. \"Why, none for Tear. The Nine did forbid any ship to sail for Tear a month gone now, nor any from Tear to call here, though I do think the Sea Folk pay it no mind. But there do be no Sea Folk ship in the harbor. It do be odd, that. The order of the Nine, I do mean, and the King silent on it, when he does always raise his voice if they but take a step without his lead. Or perhaps it be no that, exactly. All talk do be of war with Tear, but the boatmen and wagoneers who do carry supplies to the army do say the soldiers do all look north, to Murandy.\"\n\n\"The paths of the Shadow are tangled,\" Moiraine said in a tight voice. \"We will do what we must. The rooms, Nieda. And then we will eat that meal.\"\n\nPerrin's room was more comfortable than he expected, given the look of the rest of the Badger. The bed was wide, the mattress soft. The door was made of tilted slats, and when he opened the windows, a breeze crossed the room carrying the smells of the harbor. And something of the canals, too, but at least it was cooling. He hung his cloak on a peg along with his quiver and axe, and propped his bow in the corner. Everything else he left in the saddlebags and blanketroll. The night might not be restful."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If Moiraine had sounded afraid before, it had been nothing to when she said that something must be done tonight. For an instant then, fear scent had steamed from her as from a woman announcing that she was going to stick her hand in a hornets' nest and crush them with her bare fingers. What in the Light is she up to? If Moiraine is frightened, I should be terrified.\n\nHe was not, he realized. Not terrified, or even frightened. He felt... excited. Ready for something to happen, almost eager. Determined. He recognized the feelings. They were what wolves felt just before they fought. Burn me, I'd rather be afraid!\n\nHe was first back down to the common except for Loial. Nieda had arranged a large table for them, with ladder-back chairs instead of benches. She had even found a chair big enough for Loial. The girl across the room was singing a song about a rich merchant who, having just lost his team of horses in an improbable way, had for some reason decided to pull his carriage himself. The men listening around her roared with laughter. The windows showed darkness coming on more quickly than he had expected; the air smelled as if it might be making up to rain.\n\n\"This inn has an Ogier room,\" Loial said as Perrin sat down. \"Apparently, every inn in Illian has one, in hopes of gaining Ogier custom when the stonemasons come. Nieda claims it is lucky, having an Ogier under the roof. I cannot think they get many. The masons always stay together when they go Outside to work. Humans are so hasty, and the Elders are always afraid tempers will flare and someone will put along handle on his axe.\" He eyed the men around the singer as if he suspected them of it. His ears were drooping again."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The rich merchant was in the process of losing his carriage, to more laughter. \"Did you find out whether any Ogier from Stedding Shangtai are in Illian?\"\n\n\"There were, but Nieda said they left during the winter. She said they had not finished their work. I do not understand it. The masons would not have left work undone unless they were not paid, and Nieda said it was not that. One morning, they were just gone, though someone saw them walking down the Maredo Causeway in the night. Perrin, I do not like this city. I do not know why, but it makes me... uneasy.\"\n\n\"Ogier,\" Moiraine said, \"are sensitive to somethings.\" She still had her face hidden, but Nieda had apparently sent someone to buy her alight cloak of dark blue linen. The fear smell was gone from her, but her voice sounded under tight control. Lan held her chair for her; his eyes looked worried.\n\nZarine was the last down, running her fingers through just-washed hair. The herbal scent was stronger around her than before. She stared at the platter Nieda placed on the table and muttered under her breath. \"I hate fish.\"\n\nThe stout woman had brought all the food on a small cart with shelves; it was dusty in places, as if it had been hastily brought out from the storeroom in Moiraine's honor. The dishes were Sea Folk porcelain, too, if chipped.\n\n\"Eat,\" Moiraine said, looking straight at Zarine. \"Remember that any meal can be your last. You chose to travel with us, so tonight you will eat fish. Tomorrow, you may die.\"\n\nPerrin did not recognize the nearly round whitefish with red stripes, but they smelled good. He lifted two onto his plate with the serving fork, and grinned at Zarine around a mouthful. They tasted good, too, lightly spiced. Eat your nasty fish, falcon, he thought. He also thought that Zarine looked as if she might bite him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Do you wish me to stop the girl singing, Mistress Mari?\" Nieda asked. She was setting bowls of peas and some sort of stiff yellow mush on the table. \"So you can eat in quiet?\"\n\nStaring at her plate, Moiraine did not seem to hear.\n\nLan listened a moment-the merchant had already lost, in succession, his carriage, his cloak, his boots, his gold, and the rest of his clothes, and was now reduced to wrestling a pig for its dinner-and shook his head. \"She will not bother us.\" He looked close to smiling fora moment, before he glanced at Moiraine. Then the worry returned to his eyes.\n\n\"What is wrong?\" Zarine said. She was ignoring the fish. \"I know something is. I have not see that much expression on you, stone-face, since I met you.\"\n\n\"No questions!\" Moiraine said sharply. \"You will know what I tell you and no more!\"\n\n\"What will you tell me?\" Zarine demanded.\n\nThe Aes Sedai smiled. \"Eat your fish.\"\n\nThe meal went on in near silence after that, except for the songs drifting across the room. There was one about a rich man whose wife and daughters made a fool of him time and again without ever deflating his self-importance, another that concerned a young woman who decided to take a walk without any clothes, and one that told of a blacksmith who managed to shoe himself instead of the horse. Zarine nearly choked laughing at that one, forgot herself enough to take a bite offish, and suddenly grimaced as if she had put mud in her mouth.\n\nI won't laugh at her, Perrin told himself. However foolish she looks, I'll show her what manners are. \"They taste good, don't they,\" he said. Zarine gave him a bitter look, and Moiraine a frown for interrupting her thoughts, and that was all the talk there was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nieda was clearing away the dishes and setting an array of cheeses on the table when a stink of something vile lifted the hackles on the back of Perrin's neck. It was a smell of something that should not be, and he had smelled it twice before. He peered about the common room uneasily.\n\nThe girl still sang to the knot of listeners, some men were strolling across the floor from the door, and Bili still leaned on the wall tapping his foot to the sounds of the bittern. Nieda patted her rolled hair, gave the room a quick glance, and turned to push the cart away.\n\nHe looked at his companions. Loial, unsurprisingly, had pulled a book from his coat pocket and seemed to have forgotten where he was. Zarine, absently rolling apiece of white cheese into a ball, was eyeing first Perrin, then Moiraine, then him again, while trying to pretend she was not. It was Lan and Moiraine he was really interested in, though. They could sense a Myrddraal, or a Trolloc, or any Shadowspawn, before it came closer than a few hundred paces, but the Aes Sedai was staring distantly at the table in front of her, and the Warder was cutting a chunk of yellow cheese and watching her. Yet the smell of wrongness was there, as at Jarra and the edge of Remen, and this time it was not going away. It seemed to becoming from something within the common room.\n\nHe studied the room again. Bili against the wall, some men crossing the floor, the girl singing on the table, all the laughing men sitting around her. Men crossing the floor? He frowned at them. Six men with ordinary faces, walking toward where he was sitting. Very ordinary faces. He was just starting to reinspect the men listening to the girl when suddenly it came to him that the stink of wrongness was rolling from the six. Abruptly they had daggers in their hands, as if they had realized he had seen them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"They have knives!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "he roared, and threw the cheese platter at them.\n\nThe common erupted into confusion, men shouting, the singer screaming, Nieda shouting for Bili, everything happening at once. Lan leaped to his feet, and a ball of fire darted from Moiraine's hand, and Loial snatched up his chair like a club, and Zarine danced to one side, cursing. She had a knife in her hand, too, but Perrin was too busy to notice much of what anyone else did. Those men seemed to be looking straight at him, and his axe was hanging from a peg up in his room.\n\nSeizing a chair, he ripped off a thick chair leg that ran up to make one side of the ladder-back, hurled the rest of the chair at the men, and set about him with his long bludgeon. They were trying to reach him with their naked steel, as if Lan and the others were only obstacles in their way. It was a tight tangle where all he could manage was to knock blades away from him, and his wilder swings threatened Lan and Loial and Zarine as much as any of his six attackers. From the corner of his eye he saw Moiraine standing to one side, frustration on her face; they were all so mixed together that she could do nothing without endangering friend as well as foe. None of the knife wielders as much as glanced at her; she was not between them and Perrin.\n\nPanting, he managed to crack one of the ordinary-looking men across the head so hard that he heard bone splinter, and abruptly realized they were all down. It all seemed to him to have gone on fora quarter of a hour or more, but he saw that Bili was just halting, his large hands working as he stared at the six men sprawled dead on the floor. Bili had not even had time to reach the fight before it was done."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Lan wore a face even grimmer than usual; he began searching the bodies, thoroughly, but with a quickness that spoke of distaste. Loial still had his chair raised to swing; he gave a start and set it down with an embarrassed grin. Moiraine was staring at Perrin, and so was Zarine as she retrieved her knife from the chest of one of the dead men. That stench of wrongness was gone, as if it had died with them.\n\n\"Gray Men,\" the Aes Sedai said softly, \"and after you.\"\n\n\"Gray Men?\" Nieda laughed, both loud and nervously. \"Why, Mistress Mari, next you'll say you do believe in boggles and bugbears and Fetches, and Old Grim riding with the black dogs in the Wild Hunt.\" Some of the men who had been listening to the songs laughed, too, though they looked as uneasily at Moiraine as at the dead men. The singer stared at Moiraine, as well, her eyes wide. Perrin remembered that one ball of fire, before everything grew too jumbled. One of the Gray Men had a somewhat charred look about him, and gave off a sickly sweet burned smell.\n\nMoiraine turned from Perrin to the stout woman. \"A man may walk in the Shadow,\" the Aes Sedai said calmly, \"without being Shadowspawn.\"\n\n\"Oh, aye, Darkfriends.\" Nieda put her hands on generous hips and frowned at the corpses. Lan had finished his searching; he glanced at Moiraine and shook his head as if he had not really expected to find anything. \"More likely thieves, though I did never hear of thieves bold enough to come right into an inn. I did never have even one killing in the Badger before. Bili! Clear these out, into a canal, and put down fresh sawdust. The back way, mind. I do no want the Watch putting their long noses into the Badger.\" Bili nodded as if eager to be useful after failing to take a hand earlier. He grabbed a dead man by the belt in either hand and carried them back toward the kitchen."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Extend the story in collaboration with the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\nChapter: 52"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Master Gill winced at Thom's move and took his pipe out of his mouth."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Considering who you left with, lad, and considering the way things are now, maybe it's best I remember no more than that.\"\n\n\"Aes Sedai not in such good odor now, are they?\" Mat set his things in one big armchair, the quarterstaff propped against the back, and himself in another with one leg swinging over the arm. \"The Guards at the Palace seemed to think the White Tower had stolen Elayne.\" Thom eyed the roll of fireworks uneasily, looked at his smoking pipe, and muttered to himself before going back to his study of the board.\n\n\"Hardly that,\" Gill said, \"but the whole city knows she disappeared from the Tower. Thom says she's returned, but we've heard none of that here. Perhaps Morgase knows, but everyone down to a stableboy is stepping lightly so she doesn't snap off his head. Lord Gaebril has kept her from actually sending anyone to the headsman, but I'd not say she would not do it. And he has certainly not soothed her temper toward Tar Valon. If anything, I think he has made it worse.\"\n\n\"Morgase has anew advisor,\" Thom said in a dry voice. \"Gareth Bryne did not like him, so Bryne has been retired to his estate to watch his sheep grow wool. Basel, are you going to place a stone or not?\"\n\n\"Ina moment, Thom. Ina moment. I want to set it right.\" Gill clamped his teeth around his pipestem and frowned at the board, puffing up smoke.\n\n\"So the Queen has an advisor who doesn't like Tar Valon,\" Mat said. \"Well, that explains the way the Guards acted when I said I came from there.\"\n\n\"If you told them that,\" Gill said, \"you might be lucky you escaped without any broken bones. If it was any of the new men, at least. Gaebril has replaced half the Guards in Caemlyn with men of his choosing, and that is no mean feat considering how short a time he has been here. Some say Morgase may marry him.\" He started to put a stone on the board, then took it back with a shake of his head. \"Times change. People change. Too much change for me. I suppose I am growing old.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You seem to mean us both to grow old before you place a stone,\" Thom muttered. The cat stretched and slinked across the table for him to stroke her back. \"Talking all day will not let you find a good move. Why don't you just admit defeat, Basel?\"\n\n\"I never admit defeat,\" Gill said stoutly. \"I'll beat you yet, Thom.\" He set a white stone on the intersection of two lines. \"You will see.\" Thom snorted.\n\nFrom what Mat could see of the board, he did not think Gill had much chance. \"I will just have to avoid the Guards and put Elayne's letter right into Morgase's hands.\" Especially if they're all like that fat fool. Light, I wonder if he's told them all I'm a Darkfriend?\n\n\"You did not deliver it?\" Thom barked. \"I thought you were anxious to be rid of the thing.\"\n\n\"You have a letter from the Daughter-Heir?\" Gill exclaimed. \"Thom, why did you not tell me?\"\n\n\"I am sorry, Basel,\" the gleeman muttered. He glared at Mat from under those bushy eyebrows and blew out his mustaches. \"The boy thinks someone is out to kill him over it, so I thought I'd let him say what he wanted and no more. Seems he does not care any longer.\"\n\n\"What kind of letter?\" Gill asked. \"Is she coming home? And Lord Gawyn? I hope they are. I've actually heard talk of war with Tar Valon, as if anyone could be fool enough to go to war with Aes Sedai. If you ask me, it is all one with those mad rumors we've heard about Aes Sedai supporting a false Dragon somewhere in the west, and using the Power as a weapon. Not that I can see why that would make anyone want to go to war with them; just the opposite.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Are you married to Coline?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat asked, and Master Gill gave a start.\n\n\"The Light preserve me from that! You would think the inn washers now. If she was my wife...! What does that have to do with the Daughter-Heir's letter?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" Mat said, \"but you went on so long, I thought you must have forgotten your own questions.\" Gill made a choking sound, and Thom barked a laugh. Mat hurried on before the innkeeper could speak. \"The letter is sealed; Elayne did not tell me what it says.\" Thom was eyeing him sideways and stroking his mustaches. Does he think I'll admit we opened the thing? \"But I don't think she is coming home. She means to be Aes Sedai, if you ask me.\" He told them about his attempt to deliver the letter, smoothing over a few edges they had no need to know about.\n\n\"The new men,\" Gill said. \"That officer sounds it, at least. I'll wager on it. No better than brigands, most of them, except the ones with a sly eye. You wait until this afternoon, lad, when the Guards on the gate will have changed. Say the Daughter-Heir's name right out, and just in case the new fellow is one of Gaebril's men, too, duck your head a little. A knuckle to your forehead, and you'll have no trouble.\"\n\n\"Burn me if I will. I pull wool and scratch gravel for nobody. Not to Morgase herself. This time, I'll not go near the Guards at all.\" I would just as soon not know what word that fat fellow has spread. They stared at him as if he were mad.\n\n\"How under the Light,\" Gill said, \"do you mean to enter the Royal Palace without passing the Guards?\" His eyes widened as if he were remembering something. \"Light, you don't mean to.... Lad, you'd need the Dark One's own luck to escape with your life!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What are you going on about now, Basel?"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat, what fool thing do you intend to try?\"\n\n\"I am lucky, Master Gill,\" Mat said. \"You just have a good meal waiting when I comeback.\" Ashe stood, he picked up the dice cup and spun the dice out beside the stones board for luck. The calico cat leaped down, hissing at him with her back arched. The five spotted dice came to rest, each showing a single pip. The Dark One's Eyes.\n\n\"That's the best toss or the worst,\" Gill said. \"It depends on the game you are playing, doesn't it. Lad, I think you mean to play a dangerous game. Why don't you take that cup out into the common room and lose a few coppers? You look tome like a fellow who might like a little gamble. I will seethe letter gets to the Palace safely.\"\n\n\"Coline wants you to clean the drains,\" Mat told him, and turned to Thom while the innkeeper was still blinking and muttering to himself. \"It doesn't seem to make any odds whether I get an arrow in me trying to deliver that letter or a knife in my back waiting. It's six up, and a half dozen down. Just you have that meal waiting, Thom.\" He tossed a gold mark on the table in front of Gill. \"Have my things put in a room, innkeeper. If it takes more coin, you will have it. Be careful of the big roll; it frightens Thom something awful.\"\n\nAshe stalked out, he heard Gill say to Thom, \"I always thought that lad was a rascal. How does he come by gold?\"\n\nI always win, that's how, he thought grimly. I just have to win once more, and I'm done with Elayne, and that's the last of the White Tower for me. Just once more."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Even as he returned to the Inner City on foot, Mat was far from certain that what he intended would actually work. It would, if what he had been told was true, but it was the truth of that he was not sure of. He avoided the oval plaza in front of the Palace, but wandered around the sides of the huge structure and its grounds, along streets that curved with the contours of the hills. The golden domes of the Palace glittered, mockingly out of reach. He had made his way almost all the way around, nearly back to the plaza, when he saw it. A steep slope thick with low flowers, rising from the street to a whitewall of rough stone. Several leafy tree limbs stuck over the top of the wall, and he could seethe tops of others beyond, in a garden of the Royal Palace.\n\nA wall made to look like a cliff, he thought, and a garden on the other side. Maybe Rand was telling the truth.\n\nA casual look both ways showed him he had the curving street to himself for the moment. He would have to hurry; the curves did not allow him to see very far; someone could come along any moment. He scrambled up the slope on all fours, careless of how his boots ripped holes in the banks of red and white blossoms. The rough stone of the wall gave plenty of fingerholds, and ridges and knobs provided toeholds even fora man in boots.\n\nCareless of them to make it so easy, he thought as he climbed. Fora moment the climbing took him back home with Rand and Perrin, to a journey they had made beyond the Sand Hills, into the edge of the Mountains of Mist. When they returned to Emond's Field, they had all caught the fury from everyone who could lay hands on them-him worst of all; everyone assumed it had been his idea-but for three days they had climbed the cliffs, and slept under the sky, and eaten eggs filched from redcrests\" nests, and plump, gray-winged grouse fetched with an arrow, or a stone from a sling, and rabbits caught with snares, all the while laughing about how they were not afraid of the mountains'bad luck and how they might find a treasure. He had brought home an odd rock from that expedition, with the skull of a good-sized fish somehow pressed into it, and along, whitetail feather dropped by a snow eagle, and apiece of white stone as big as his hand that looked almost as if it had been carved into a man's ear. He thought it looked like an ear, even if Rand and Perrin did not, and Tam al'Thor had said it might be."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "His fingers slipped out of a shallow groove, his balance shifted and he lost the toehold under his left foot. With a gasp, he barely caught hold of the top of the wall, and pulled himself up the rest of the way. Fora moment he lay there, breathing hard. It would not have been that long a fall, but enough to break his head. Fool, letting my mind wander like that. Nearly killed myself on those cliffs that way. That was all along time ago. His mother had likely thrown all those things out already, anyway. With one last look each way to make sure no one had seen him-the curving length of street below was still empty-he dropped inside the Palace grounds.\n\nIt was a large garden, with flagstoned walks through expanses of grass among the trees, and grapevines thick on arbors over the walks. And everywhere, flowers. White blossoms covering the pear trees, and white and pink dotting the apple trees. Roses in every color, and bright golden sunburst, and purple Emond's Glory, and many he could not identify. Some he was not sure could be real. One had odd blossoms in scarlet and gold that looked almost like birds, and another seemed no different from a sunflower except that its yellow flowers were two feet and more across and stood on stalks as tall as an Ogier.\n\nBoots crunched on flagstone, and he crouched low behind a bush against the wall as two guardsmen marched past, their long, white collars hanging over their breastplates. They never glanced his way, and he grinned to himself. Luck. With just a little luck, they'll never see me till I hand the bloody thing to Morgase.\n\nHe slipped through the garden like a shadow, as if stalking rabbits, freezing by a bush or hard against a tree trunk when he heard boots. Two more pairs of soldiers strode by along the paths, the second close enough for him to have taken two steps and goosed them. As they vanished among the flowers and trees, he plucked a deep red starblaze and stuck the wavy-petaled flower in his hair with a grin. This was as much fun as stealing applecakes at Sunday, and easier. Women always kept a sharp watch on their baking; the fool soldiers never took their eyes off the flagstones."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was not long before he found himself against the whitewall of the Palace itself, and began sliding along it behind a row of flowering white roses on slatted frames, searching fora door."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There were plenty of wide, arched windows just over his head, but he thought it might be a bit harder to explain being found climbing in through a window than walking down a hall. Two more soldiers appeared, and he froze; they would pass within three paces of him. He could hear voices from the window over his head, two men, just loud enough for him to make out the words.\n\n\"-on their way to Tear, Great Master.\" The man sounded frightened and obsequious.\n\n\"Let them ruin his plans, if they can.\" This voice was deeper and stronger, a man used to command. \"It will serve him right if three untrained girls can foil him. He was always a fool, and he is still a fool. Is there any word of the boy? He is the one who can destroy us all.\"\n\n\"No, Great Master. He has vanished. But, Great Master, one of the girls is Morgase's nit.\"\n\nMat half turned, then caught himself. The soldiers were coming closer; they did not appear to have seen his start through the thickly woven rose stems. Move, you fools! Get by so I can see who this man bloody is! He had lost some of the conversation.\n\n\"-has been far too impatient since regaining his freedom,\" the deep voice was saying. \"He never realized the best plans take time to mature. He wants the world in a day, and Callandor besides. The Great Lord take him! He may seize the girl and try to make some use of her. And that might strain my own plans.\"\n\n\"As you say, Great Master. Shall I order her brought out of Tear?\"\n\n\"No. The fool would take it as a move against him, if he knew. And who can say what he chooses to watch aside from the sword? See that she dies quietly, Comar. Let her death attract no notice at all.\" His laughter was a rich rumble. \"Those ignorant slatterns in their Tower will have a difficult time producing her after this disappearance. This may all be just as well. Let it be done quickly. Quickly, before he has time to take her himself.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The two soldiers were almost abreast of him; Mat tried to will their feet to move faster.\n\n\"Great Master,\" the other man said uncertainly, \"that maybe difficult. We know she is on her way to Tear, but the vessel she traveled on was found at Aringill, and all three of them had left it earlier. We do not know whether she has taken another ship, or is riding south. And it may not be easy to find her once she reaches Tear, Great Master. Perhaps if you-\"\n\n\"Are there none but fools in the world, now?\" the deep voice said harshly. \"Do you think I could move in Tear without him knowing? I do not mean to fight him, not now, not yet. Bring me the girl's head, Comar. Bring me all three heads, or you will pray for me to take yours!\"\n\n\"Yes, Great Master. It shall be as you say. Yes. Yes.\"\n\nThe soldiers crunched past, never looking to either side. Mat only waited for their backs to pass before leaping up to catch the broad stone windowsill and pull himself high enough to see through the window.\n\nHe barely noticed the fringed Tarabon carpet on the floor, worth a fat purse of silver. One of the broad, carved doors was swinging shut. A tall man, with wide shoulders and a deep chest straining the green silk of his silver-embroidered coat, was staring at the door with dark blue eyes. His black beard was close cut, with a streak of white over his chin. All in all, he looked a hard man, and one used to giving orders.\n\n\"Yes, Great Master,\" he said suddenly, and Mat almost lost his grip on the sill. He had thought this must be the man with the deep voice, but it was the cringing voice he heard. Not cringing now, but still the same. \"It shall be as you say, Great Master,\" the man said bitterly. \"I will cut the three wenches' heads off myself. As soon as I can find them!\" He strode through the door, and Mat let himself back down."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Fora moment he crouched there behind the rose frames."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Someone in the Palace wanted Elayne dead, and had thrown in Egwene and Nynaeve as afterthoughts. What under the Light are they doing, going to Tear? It had to be them.\n\nHe pulled the Daughter-Heir's letter out of the lining of his coat and frowned at it. Maybe, with this in his hand, Morgase would believe him. He could describe one of the men. But the time for skulking was past; the big fellow could be off to Tear before he even found Morgase, and whatever she did then, there was no guarantee it could stop him.\n\nTaking a deep breath, Mat wiggled between two of the rose frames at the cost of only a few pricks and snags from the thorns, and started down the flagstone path after the soldiers. He held Elayne's letter out in front of him so the golden lily seal was plainly visible, and went over in his mind exactly what he meant to say. When he had been sneaking about, guardsmen kept popping up like mushrooms after rain, but now he walked almost the length of the garden without seeing even one. He passed several doors. It would not be so good to enter the Palace without permission-the Guards might do nasty things first and listen after-but he was beginning to think about going through a door when it opened and a helmetless young officer with one golden knot on his shoulder strode out.\n\nThe man's hand immediately went to his sword hilt, and he had afoot of steel bared before Mat could push the letter toward him. \"Elayne, the Daughter-Heir, sends this letter to her mother, Queen Morgase, Captain.\" He held the letter so the lily seal was prominent.\n\nThe officer's dark eyes flickered to either side, as if searching for other people, without really ever leaving Mat. \"How did you come into this garden?\" He did not draw his sword further, but he did not sheath it, either. \"Elber is on the main gates. He's a fool, but he would never let anyone wander loose into the Palace.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A fat man with eyes like a rat?\" Mat cursed his tongue, but the officer gave a sharp nod; he almost smiled, too, but it did not seem to lessen his vigilance, or his suspicion. \"He grew angry when he learned I had come from Tar Valon, and he wouldn't even give me a chance to show the letter or mention the Daughter-Heir's name. He said he would arrest me if I did not go, so I climbed the wall. I promised I would deliver this to Queen Morgase herself, you see, Captain. I promised it, and I always keep my promises. You seethe seal?\"\n\n\"That bloody garden wall again,\" the officer muttered. \"It should be built three times so high.\" He eyed Mat. \"Guardsman-lieutenant, not captain. I am Guardsman-lieutenant Tallanvor. I recognize the Daughter-Heir's seal.\" His sword finally slid all the way back into the sheath. He stretched out a hand; not his sword hand. \"Give me the letter, and I will take it to the Queen. After I show you out. Some would not be so gentle at finding you walking about loose.\"\n\n\"I promised to put it in her hands myself,\" Mat said. Light, I never thought they might not let me give it to her. \"I did promise. To the Daughter-Heir.\"\n\nMat hardly realized Tallanvor's hand was moving before the officer's sword was resting against his neck. \"I will take you to the Queen, countryman,\" Tallanvor said softly. \"But know that I can take your head before you blink if you so much as think of harming her.\"\n\nMat put on his best grin. That slightly curved blade felt sharp on the side of his neck. \"I am a loyal Andorman,\" he said, \"and a faithful subject of the Queen, the Light illumine her. Why, if I had been here during the winter, I'd have followed Lord Gaebril for sure.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tallanvor gave him a tight-mouthed stare, then finally took his sword away. Mat swallowed and stopped himself from touching his throat to see if he had been cut.\n\n\"Take the flower out of your hair,\" Tallanvor said as he sheathed his blade. \"Do you think you came here courting?\"\n\nMat snatched the starblaze blossom out of his hair and followed the officer. Bloody fool, putting a flower in my hair. I have to stop playing the fool, now.\n\nIt was not so much following, really, for Tallanvor kept an eye on him even while he led the way. The result was an odd sort of procession, with the officer to one side of him and ahead, but half turned in case Mat tried anything. For his part, Mat attempted to look as innocent as a babe splashing in his bathwater.\n\nThe colorful tapestries on the walls had earned their weavers silver, and so had the rugs on the white tile floors, even herein the halls. Gold and silver stood everywhere, plates and platters, bowls and cups, on chests and low cabinets of polished wood, as fine as anything he had seen in the Tower. Servants darted everywhere, in red livery with white collars and cuffs and the White Lion of Andor on their breasts. He found himself wondering if Morgase played at dice. Wool-headed thought. Queens don't toss dice. But when I give her this letter and tell her somebody in her Palace means to kill Elayne, I'll wager she gives me a fat purse. He indulged himself in a small fancy of being made a lord; surely the man who revealed a plot to murder the Daughter-Heir could expect some such reward.\n\nTallanvor led him down so many corridors and across so many courtyards that he was beginning to wonder if he could find his way out again without help, when suddenly one of the courts had more than servants in it. A columned walk surrounded the court, with around pool in the middle with white and yellow fish swimming beneath lily pads and floating whitewater lilies. Men in colorful coats embroidered in gold or silver, women with wide dresses worked even more elaborately, stood attendance on a woman with red-gold hair who sat on the raised rim of the pool, trailing her fingers in the water and staring sadly at the fish that rose to her fingertips in hopes of food. A Great Serpent ring encircled the third finger of her left hand. A tall, dark man stood at her shoulder, the red silk of his coat almost hidden by the gold leaves and scrolls worked on it, but it was the woman who held Mat's eye."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He did not need the wreath of finely made golden roses in her hair, or the stole hanging over her dress of white slashed with red, the red length of the stole embroidered with the Lions of Andor, to know he was looking at Morgase, by the Grace of the Light, Queen of Andor, Defender of the Realm, Protector of the People, High Seat of House Trakand. She had Elayne's face and beauty, but it was what Elayne would have when she had ripened. Every other woman in the courtyard faded into the background by her very presence.\n\nI'd dance a jig with her, and steal a kiss in the moonlight, too, no matter how old she is. He shook himself. Remember exactly who she is!\n\nTallanvor went to one knee, a fist pressed to the white stone of the courtyard. \"My Queen, I bring a messenger who bears a letter from the Lady Elayne.\"\n\nMat eyed the man's posture, then contented himself with a deep bow. \"From the Daughter-Heir... uh... my Queen.\" He held out the letter as he bowed, so the golden yellow wax of the seal was visible. Once she reads it, and knows Elayne is all right, I will tell her. Morgase turned her deep blue eyes on him. Light! As soon as she's in a good mood.\n\n\"You bring a letter from my scapegrace child?\" Her voice was cold, but with an edge that spoke of heat ready to rise. \"That must mean she is alive, at least! Where is she?\"\n\n\"In Tar Valon, my Queen,\" he managed to get out. Light, wouldn't I like to see a staring match between her and the Amyrlin. On second thought, he decided he would rather not. \"At least, she was when I left.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Morgase waved a hand impatiently, and Tallanvor rose to take the letter from Mat and hand it to her. Fora moment she frowned at the lily seal, then broke it with a sharp twist of her wrists. She murmured to herself as she read, shaking her head at every other line. \"She can say no more, can she?\" she muttered. \"We shall see whether she holds to that....\" Abruptly her face brightened. \"Gaebril, she has been raised to the Accepted. Less than a year in the Tower, and raised already.\" The smile went as suddenly as it had come, and her mouth tightened. \"When I put my hands on the wretched child, she will wish she were still a novice.\"\n\nLight, Mat thought, will nothing put her in a good mood? He decided he was just going to have to say it out, but he wished she did not look as if she meant to cut someone's head off. \"My Queen, by chance I overheard-\"\n\n\"Be silent, boy,\" the dark man in the gold-encrusted coat said calmly. He was a handsome man, almost as good-looking as Galad and nearly as youthful-seeming, despite the white streaking his temples, but built on a bigger scale, with more than Rand's height and very nearly Perrin's shoulders. \"We will hear what you have to say in a moment.\" He reached over Morgase's shoulder and plucked the letter out of her hand. Her glare turned on him-Mat could see her temper heating-but the dark man laid a strong hand on her shoulder, never taking his eyes off what he was reading, and Morgase's anger melted. \"It seems she has left the Tower again,\" he said. \"On the service of the Amyrlin Seat. The woman oversteps herself again, Morgase.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat had no trouble holding his tongue. Luck. It was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Sometimes I don't know if it's good or bad. The dark man was the owner of the deep voice, the'Great Master\" who wanted Elayne's head. She called him Gaebril. Her advisor wants to murder Elayne? Light! And Morgase was staring up at him like an adoring dog with her master's hand on her shoulder.\n\nGaebril turned nearly black eyes on Mat. The man had a forceful gaze, and a look of knowing. \"What can you tell us of this, boy?\"\n\n\"Nothing... uh... my Lord.\" Mat cleared his throat; the man's stare was worse than the Amyrlin's. \"I went to Tar Valon to see my sister. She's a novice. Else Grinwell. I'm Thom Grinwell, my Lord. The Lady Elayne learned I was meaning to see Caemlyn on my way back home-I'm from Comfrey, my Lord; a little village north of Baerlon; I'd never seen anyplace bigger than Baerlon before I went to Tar Valon-and she-the Lady Elayne, I mean-gave me that letter to bring.\" He thought Morgase had glanced at him when he said he came from north of Baerlon, but he knew there was a village called Comfrey there; he remembered hearing it mentioned.\n\nGaebril nodded, but he said, \"Do you know where Elayne was going, boy? Or on what business? Speak the truth, and you have nothing to fear. Lie, and you will be put to the question.\"\n\nMat did not have to pretend a worried frown. \"My Lord, I only saw the Daughter-Heir the once. She gave me the letter-and a gold mark!-and told me to bring it to the Queen. I know no more of what is in it than I've heard here.\" Gaebril appeared to consider it, with no sign on that dark face of whether he believed a word or not."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"No, Gaebril,\" Morgase said suddenly. \"Too many have been put to the question. I can seethe need as you have shown it tome, but not for this. Not a boy who only brought a letter whose contents he does not know.\"\n\n\"As my Queen commands, so shall it be,\" the dark man said. The tone was respectful, but he touched her cheek in away that made color come to her face and her lips part as if she expected a kiss.\n\nMorgase drew an unsteady breath. \"Tell me, Thom Grinwell, did my daughter look well when you saw her?\"\n\n\"Yes, my Queen. She smiled, and laughed, and showed a saucy tongue-I mean....\"\n\nMorgase laughed softly at the look on his face. \"Do not be afraid, young man. Elayne does have a saucy tongue, far too often for her own good. I am happy she is well.\" Those blue eyes studied him deeply. \"A young man who has left his small village often finds it difficult to return to it. I think you will travel far before you see Comfrey again. Perhaps you will even return to Tar Valon. If you do, and if you see my daughter, tell her that what is said in anger is often repented. I will not remove her from the White Tower before time. Tell her that I often think of my own time there, and miss the quiet talks with Sheriam in her study. Tell her that I said that, Thom Grinwell.\"\n\nMat shrugged uncomfortably. \"Yes, my Queen. But... uh... I do not mean to go to Tar Valon again. Once in any man's life is enough. My da needs me to help work the farm. My sisters will be stuck with the milking, with me gone.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Gaebril laughed, a deep rumble of amusement."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Are you anxious then to milk cows, boy? Perhaps you should see something of the world before it changes. Here!\" He produced a purse and tossed it; Mat felt coins through the wash-leather when he caught it. \"If Elayne can give you a gold mark for carrying her letter, I will give you ten for bringing it safely. Seethe world before you go back to your cows.\"\n\n\"Yes, my Lord.\" Mat lifted the purse and managed a weak grin. \"Thank you, my Lord.\"\n\nBut the dark man had already waved him away and turned to Morgase with his fists on his hips. \"I think the time has come, Morgase, to lance that festering sore on the border of Andor. By your marriage to Taringail Damodred, you have a claim to the Sun Throne. The Queen's Guards can make that claim as strong as any. Perhaps I can even aid them, in some small way. Hear me.\"\n\nTallanvor touched Mat on the arm, and they backed away, bowing. Mat did not think anyone noticed. Gaebril was still speaking, and every lord and lady seemed to hang on his words. Morgase was frowning as she listened, yet she nodded as much as any other."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From the small courtyard with its pool offish, Tallanvor led Mat swiftly to the great court at the front of the Palace, behind the tall, gilded gates gleaming in the sun. It would be midday, soon. Mat felt an urge to begone, a need to hurry. It was hard keeping his pace to the young officer's. Someone might wonder, if he started running, and maybe-just maybe-things had really been the way they seemed back there. Maybe Gaebril really did not suspect that he knew. Maybe. He remembered those nearly black eyes, seizing and holding like a pair of pitchfork tines through his head. Light, maybe. He forced himself to walk as if he had all the time in the world-Just a haybrain country lout staring at the rugs and the gold. Just a mudfoot who'd never think anyone might put a knife in his back-until Tallanvor let him through a sallyport in one of the gates, and followed him out.\n\nThe fat officer with the rat's eyes was still therewith the Guards, and when he saw Mathis face went red again. Before he could open his mouth, though, Tallanvor spoke. \"He has delivered a letter to the Queen from the Daughter-Heir. Be glad, Elber, that neither Morgase nor Gaebril knows you tried to keep it from them. Lord Gaebril was most interested in the Lady Elayne's missive.\"\n\nElber's face went from red to as white as his collar. He glared once at Mat, and scuttled back along the line of guardsmen, his beady eyes peering through the bars of their face-guards as if to determine whether any of them had seen his fear.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Mat told Tallanvor, and meant it. He had forgotten all about the fat man until he was staring him in the face again. \"Fare you well, Tallanvor.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He started across the oval plaza, trying not to walk too fast, and was surprised when Tallanvor walked along. Light, is he Gaebril's man, or Morgase's? He was just beginning to feel an itch between his shoulder blades, as if a knife might be about to go in-He doesn't know, burn me! Gaebril doesn't suspect I know!-when the young officer finally spoke.\n\n\"Did you spend long in Tar Valon? In the White Tower? Long enough to learn anything of it?\"\n\n\"I was only there three days,\" Mat said cautiously. He would have made the timeless-if he could have delivered the letter without admitting ever being in Tar Valon, he would have-but he did not think the man would believe he had gone all that way to see his sister and left the same day. What under the Light is he after? \"I learned what I saw in that time. Nothing of any importance. They did not guide me around and tell me things. I was only thereto see Else.\"\n\n\"You must have heard something, man. Who is Sheriam? Does talking to her in her study mean anything?\"\n\nMat shook his head vigorously to keep relief from showing on his face. \"I don't know who she is,\" he said truthfully. Perhaps he had heard Egwene, or perhaps Nynaeve, mention the name. An Aes Sedai, maybe? \"Why should it mean anything?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" Tallanvor said softly. \"There is too much I do not know. Sometimes I think she is trying to say something....\" He gave Mat a sharp look. \"Are you a loyal Andorman, Thom Grinwell?\"\n\n\"Of course I am.\" Light, if I say that much more often, I may start believing it. \"What about you? Do you serve Morgase and Gaebril loyally?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tallanvor gave him a look as hard as the dice's mercy. \"I serve Morgase, Thom Grinwell. Her, I serve to the death. Fare you well!\" He turned and strode back toward the Palace with a hand gripping his sword hilt.\n\nWatching him go, Mat muttered to himself. \"I will wager this\"-he gave Gaebril's wash-leather purse a toss-\"that Gaebril says the same.\" Whatever games they played in the Palace, he wanted no place in any of them. And he meant to make sure Egwene and the others were out of them, too. Fool women! Now I have to keep their bacon from burning instead of looking after my own! He did not start to run until the streets hid him from the Palace.\n\nWhen he came dashing into The Queen's Blessing, nothing very much had changed in the library. Thom and the innkeeper still sat over the stones board-a different game, he saw from the positions of the stones, but no better for Gill-and the calico cat was back on the table, washing herself. A tray holding their unlit pipes and the remains of a meal for two sat near the cat, and his belongings were gone from the armchair. Each man had a wine cup at his elbow.\n\n\"I will be leaving, Master Gill,\" he said. \"You can keep the coin and take a meal out of it. I'll stay long enough to eat, but then I am on the road to Tear.\"\n\n\"What is your hurry, boy?\" Thom seemed to be watching the cat more than the board. \"We only just arrived here.\"\n\n\"You delivered the Lady Elayne's letter, then?\" the innkeeper said eagerly. \"And kept your skin whole, it seems. Did you really climb over that wall like the other young man? No, that does not matter. Did the letter soothe Morgase? Do we still have to keep tiptoeing on eggs, man?\""
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"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I suppose it soothed her,\" Mat said. \"I think it did.\" He hesitated a moment, bouncing Gaebril's purse on his hand. It made a clinking sound. He had not looked to see if it really held ten gold marks; the weight was about right. \"Master Gill, what can you tell me of Gaebril? Aside from the fact that he does not like Aes Sedai. You said he had not been in Caemlyn long?\"\n\n\"Why do you want to know about him?\" Thom asked. \"Basel, are you going to place a stone or not?\" The innkeeper sighed and stuck a black stone on the board, and the gleeman shook his head.\n\n\"Well, lad,\" Gill said, \"there is not much to tell. He came out of the west during the winter. Somewhere out your way, I think. Maybe it was the Two Rivers. I've heard the mountains mentioned.\"\n\n\"We have no lords in the Two Rivers,\" Mat said. \"Maybe there are some up around Baerlon. I do not know.\"\n\n\"That could be it, lad. I had never even heard of him before, but I do not keep up with the country lords. Came while Morgase was still in Tar Valon, he did, and half the city was afraid the Tower was going to make her disappear, too. The other half did not want her back. The riots started up again, the way they did last year at the tail of winter.\"\n\nMat shook his head. \"I do not care about politics, Master Gill. It's Gaebril I want to know about.\" Thom frowned at him, and began cleaning the dottle from his long-stemmed pipe with a straw.\n\n\"It is Gaebril I am telling you about, lad,\" Gill said. \"During the riots, he made himself leader of the faction supporting Morgase-got himself wounded in the fighting, I hear-and by the time she returned, he had it all suppressed. Gareth Bryne didn't like Gaebril's methods-he can be a very hard man-but Morgase was so pleased to find order restored that she named him to the post Elaida used to hold.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The innkeeper stopped."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat waited for him to goon, but he did not. Thom thumbed his pipe full of tabac and walked over to light a spill at a small lamp kept for the purpose on the mantel above the fireplace.\n\n\"What else?\" Mat asked. \"The man has to have a reason for what he does. If he marries Morgase, would he be king when she dies? If Elayne were dead, too, I mean?\"\n\nThom choked lighting his pipe, and Gill laughed. \"Andor has a queen, lad. Always a queen. If Morgase and Elayne both died-the Light send it not so!-then Morgase's nearest female relative would take the throne. At least there's no question of who that is this time-a cousin, the Lady Dyelin-not like the Succession, after Tigraine vanished. It took two years before Morgase sat on the Lion Throne, then. Dyelin could keep Gaebril as her advisor, or marry him to cement the line-though she would not likely do that unless Morgase had had a child by him-but he would be the Prince Consort even then. No more than that. Thank the Light, Morgase is a young woman, yet. And Elayne is healthy. Light! The letter did not say she is ill, did it?\"\n\n\"She is well.\" For now, at least. \"Isn't there anything else you can tell me about him? You do not seem to like him. Why?\"\n\nThe innkeeper frowned in thought, and scratched his chin, and shook his head. \"I suppose I would not like him marrying Morgase, but I do not truly know why. He's said to be a fine man; the nobles all look to him. I do not like most of the men he's brought into the Guards. Too much has changed since he came, but I cannot lay it all at his door. There just seem to be too many people muttering in corners since he came. You would think we were all Cairhienin, the way they were before this civil war, all plotting and trying to find advantage. I keep having bad dreams since Gaebril came, and I am not the only one. Fool thing to worry about, dreams. It is probably only worry about Elayne, and what Morgase means to do concerning the White Tower, and people acting like Cairhienin. I just do not know. Why are you asking all these questions about Lord Gaebril?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Because he wants to kill Elayne,\" Mat said, \"and Egwene and Nynaeve with her.\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was nothing useful in what Gill had told him that he could see. Burn me, I don't have to know why he wants them dead. I just have to stop it. Both men were staring at him again. As if he were mad. Again.\n\n\"Are you coming down sick again?\" Gill said suspiciously. \"I remember you staring crossways at everyone the last time. It's either that, or else you think this is some sort of prank. You have the look of a prankster tome. If that is it, it's a nasty one!\"\n\nMat grimaced. \"It is no bloody prank. I overheard him telling some man called Comar to cut Elayne's head off. And Egwene's and Nynaeve's while he was about it. A big man, with a white stripe in his beard.\"\n\n\"That does sound like Lord Comar,\" Gill said slowly. \"He was a fine soldier, but it is said he left the Guard over some matter of weighted dice. Not that anyone says it to his face; Comar was one of the best blades in the Guards. You really mean it, don't you?\"\n\n\"I think he does, Basel,\" Thom said. \"I very much think he does.\"\n\n\"The Light shine onus! What did Morgase say? You did tell her, didn't you? The Light burn you, you did tell her!\"\n\n\"Of course, I did,\" Mat said bitterly. \"With Gaebril standing right there, and her gazing at him like a lovesick lapdog! I said, \"I maybe a simple village man who just climbed over your wall half an hour past, but I already happen to know your trusted advisor there, the one you seem to be in love with, intends to murder your daughter.\" Light, man, she'd have cut my head off!\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"She might have at that.\" Thom stared into the elaborate carvings on the bowl of his pipe and tugged one mustache. \"Her temper was ever as sudden as lightning, and twice as dangerous.\"\n\n\"You know it better than most, Thom,\" Gill said absently. Staring at nothing, he scrubbed both hands through his graying hair. \"There has to be something I can do. I haven't held a sword since the Aiel War, but.... Well, that would do no good. Get myself killed and do nothing by it. But I must do something!\"\n\n\"Rumor.\" Thom rubbed the side of his nose; he seemed to be studying the stones board and talking to himself. \"No one can keep rumors from reaching Morgase's ears, and if she hears it strongly enough, she will start to wonder. Rumor is the voice of the people, and the voice of the people often speaks truth. Morgase knows that. There is not a man alive I would back against her in the Game. Love or no love, once Morgase starts examining Gaebril closely, he'll not be able to hide as much as his childhood scars from her. And if she learns he means harm to Elayne\"-he placed a stone on the board; it seemed an odd placement at first glance, but Mat saw that in three more moves, a third of Gill's stones would be trapped-\"Lord Gaebril will have a most elaborate funeral.\"\n\n\"You and your Game of Houses,\" Gill muttered. \"Still, it might work.\" A sudden smile appeared on his face. \"I even know who to tell to start it. All I need do is mention to Gilda that I dreamed it, and in three days she'll have told serving girls in half the New City that it is a fact. She is the greatest gossip the Creator ever made.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Just be certain it cannot be traced back to you, Basel.\"\n\n\"No fear of that, Thom. Why a week ago, a man told me one of my own bad dreams as a thing he'd heard from somebody who'd had it from someone else. Gilda must have eavesdropped on me telling it to Coline, but when I asked, he gave me a string of names that led all the way to the other side of Caemlyn and vanished. Why, I actually went over there and found the last man, just out of curiosity to see how many mouths had passed it, and he claimed it was his very own dream. No fear, Thom.\"\n\nMat did not really care what they did with their rumors-no rumors would help Egwene or the others-but one thing puzzled him. \"Thom, you seem to betaking this all very calmly. I thought Morgase was the great love of your life.\"\n\nThe gleeman stared into the bowl of his pipe again. \"Mat, a very wise woman once told me that time would heal my wounds, that time smoothed everything over. I didn't believe her. Only she was right.\"\n\n\"You mean you do not love Morgase anymore.\"\n\n\"Boy, it has been fifteen years since I left Caemlyn a half step ahead of the headsman's axe, with the ink of Morgase's signature still wet on the warrant. Sitting here listening to Basel natter on\"-Gill protested, and Thom raised his voice-\"natter on, I say, about Morgase and Gaebril, and how they might marry, I realized the passion faded along time gone. Oh, I suppose I am still fond of her, perhaps I even love her a little, but it is not a grand passion anymore.\"\n\n\"And here I half thought you'd go running up to the Palace to warn her.\" He laughed, and was surprised when Thom joined him."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I am not so big a fool as that, boy. Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this. Men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget. Morgase might kiss my cheek and give me a cup of wine and say how she has missed me. And then she might just let the Guards haul me off to prison and the headsman. No. Morgase is one of the most capable women I've ever known, and that is saying something. I could almost pity Gaebril once she learns what he is up to. Tear, you say? Is there any chance of you waiting until tomorrow to leave? I could use a night's sleep.\"\n\n\"I mean to be as far toward Tear as I can before nightfall.\" Mat blinked. \"Do you mean to come with me? I thought you meant to stay here.\"\n\n\"Did you not just hear me say I had decided not to have my head cutoff? Tear sounds a safer place tome than Caemlyn, and suddenly that does not seem so bad. Besides, I like those girls.\" A knife appeared in his hand and was as suddenly gone again. \"I'd not like anything to happen to them. But if you mean to reach Tear quickly, it's Aringill you want. A fast boat will have us there days sooner than horses, even if we rode them to death. And I don't say it just because my bottom has already taken on the shape of a saddle.\"\n\n\"Aringill, then. As long as it's fast.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Gill said, \"I suppose if you are leaving, lad, I had better see about getting you that meal.\" He pushed back his chair and started for the door.\n\n\"Hold this for me, Master Gill,\" Mat said, and tossed him the wash-leather purse."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What's this, lad? Coin?\"\n\n\"Stakes. Gaebril doesn't know it, but he and I have a wager.\" The cat jumped down as Mat picked up the wooden dice cup and spun the dice out on the table. Five sixes. \"And I always win.\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "As the Darter wallowed toward the docks of Tear, on the west bank of the River Erinin, Egwene did not see anything of the oncoming city. Slumped head down at the rail, she stared down at the waters of the Erinin rolling past the ship's fat hull, and the frontmost sweep on her side as it swung into her vision and back again, cutting white furrows in the river. It made her queasy, but she knew raising her head would only make the sickness worse. Looking at the shore would only make the slow, corkscrew motion of the Darter more apparent.\n\nThe vessel had moved in that twisting roll ever since Jurene. She did not care how it had sailed before then; she found herself wishing the Darter had sunk before reaching Jurene. She wished they had made the captain put in at Aringill so they could find another ship. She wished they had never gone near a ship. She wished a great many things, most of them just to take her mind off where she was.\n\nThe twisting was less now, under sweeps, than it had been under sail, but it had gone on too many days now for the change to make much difference to her. Her stomach seemed to be sloshing about inside her like milk in a stone jug. She gulped and tried to forget that image.\n\nThey had not done much in the way of planning on the Darter, she and Elayne and Nynaeve. Nynaeve could seldom go ten minutes without vomiting, and seeing that always made Egwene lose whatever food she had managed to get down. The increasing warmth as they went further downriver did not help. Nynaeve was below now, no doubt with Elayne holding a basin for her again.\n\nOh, Light, no! Don't think about that! Green fields. Meadows. Light, meadows do not heave like that. Hummingbirds. No, not hummingbirds! Larks. Larks singing."
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Mistress Joslyn? Mistress Joslyn!\"\n\nIt took her a moment to recognize the name she had chosen to give Captain Canin, and the captain's voice. She raised her head slowly and fixed her eyes on his long face.\n\n\"We are docking, Mistress Joslyn. You've kept saying how eager you were to be ashore. Well, we're there.\" His voice did not hide his eagerness to be rid of his three passengers, two of whom did little more than sick up, as he called it, and moan all night.\n\nBarefoot, shirtless sailors were tossing lines to men on the stone dock that thrust out into the river; the dockmen seemed to be wearing long leather vests in place of shirts. The sweeps had already been drawn in, except fora pair fending the ship off from coming against the dock too hard. The flat stones of the dock were wet; the air had a feel of rain not long gone, and that was a little soothing. The twisting motion had ceased sometime since, she realized, but her stomach remembered. The sun was falling toward the west. She tried not to think of supper.\n\n\"Very good, Captain Canin,\" she said with all the dignity she could summon. He'd not sound like that if I were wearing my ring, not even if I were sick on his boots. She shuddered at the picture in her mind.\n\nHer Great Serpent ring and the twisted ring of the ter'angreal hung on a leather cord about her neck, now. The stone ring felt cool against her skin-almost enough to counteract the damp warmth of the air-but aside from that, she had found that the more she used the ter'angreal, the more she wanted to touch it, without pouch or cloth between it and her."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tel'aran'rhiod still showed her little of immediate use. Sometimes there had been glimpses of Rand, or Mat, or Perrin, and more in her own dreams without the ter'angreal, but nothing of which she could make any sense. The Seanchan, who she refused to think about. Nightmares of a White-cloak putting Master Luhhan in the middle of a huge, toothed trap for bait. Why should Perrin have a falcon on his shoulder, and what was important about him choosing between that axe he wore now and a blacksmith's hammer? What did it mean that Mat was dicing with the Dark One, and why did he keep shouting, \"I am coming!\" and why did she think in the dream that he was shouting at her? And Rand. He had been sneaking through utter darkness toward Callandor, while all around him six men and five women walked, some hunting him and some ignoring him, some trying to guide him toward the shining crystal sword and some trying to stop him from reaching it, appearing not to know where he was, or only to see him in flashes. One of the men had eyes of flame, and he wanted Rand dead with a desperation she could nearly taste. She thought she knew him. Ba'alzamon. But who were the others? Rand in that dry, dusty chamber again, with those small creatures settling into his skin. Rand confronting a horde of Seanchan. Rand confronting her, and the women with her, and one of them was a Seanchan. It was all too confusing. She had to stop thinking about Rand and the others and put her mind to what was right ahead of her. What is the Black Ajah up to? Why don't I dream something about them? Light, why can't I learn to make it do what I want?\n\n\"Have the horses put ashore, Captain,\" she told Canin. \"I will tell Mistress Maryim and Mistress Caryla.\" That was Nynaeve-Maryim-and Elayne-Caryla."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I have sent a man to tell them, Mistress Joslyn. And your animals will be on the dock as soon as my men can rig a boom.\"\n\nHe sounded very pleased to be rid of them. She thought about telling him not to hurry, but rejected it immediately. The Darter's corkscrewing might have stopped, but she wanted dry land under her feet again. Now. Still, she stopped to pat Mist's nose and let the gray mare nuzzle her palm, to let Canin see she was in no great rush.\n\nNynaeve and Elayne appeared at the ladder from the cabins, laden with their bundles and saddlebags, and Elayne almost as laden with Nynaeve. When Nynaeve saw Egwene watching, she pushed herself away from the Daughter-Heir and walked unaided the rest of the way to where men were setting a narrow gangplank to the dock. Two crewmen came to fasten a wide canvas sling under Mist's belly, and Egwene hurried below for her own things. When she came backup, her mare was already on the dock and Elayne's roan dangled in the canvas sling halfway there.\n\nFora moment after her feet were on the dock, all she felt was relief. This would not pitch and roll. Then she began to look at this city whose reaching had caused them such pains.\n\nStone warehouses backed the long docks themselves, and there seemed to be a great many ships, large and small, alongside the docks or anchored in the river. Hastily she avoided looking at the ships. Tear had been built on flatland, with barely a bump. Down muddy dirt streets between the warehouses, she could see houses and inns and taverns of wood and stone. Their roofs of slate or tile had oddly sharp corners, and some rose to a point. Beyond these, she could make out a high wall of dark gray stone, and behind it the tops of towers with balconies high around them and white-domed palaces. The domes had a squared shape to them, and the tower tops looked pointed, like some of the roofs outside the wall. All in all, Tear was easily as big as Caemlyn or Tar Valon, and if not so beautiful as either, it was still one of the great cities. Yet she found it hard to look at anything but the Stone of Tear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She had heard of it in stories, heard that it was the greatest fortress in the world and the oldest, the first built after the Breaking of the World, yet nothing had prepared her for this sight. At first she thought it was a huge, gray stone hill or a small, barren mountain covering hundreds of hides, its length stretching from the Erinin west through the wall and into the city. Even after she saw the huge banner flapping from its greatest height-three white crescent moons slanting across afield half red, half gold; a banner waving at least three hundred paces above the river, yet large enough to be clearly seen at that height-even after she made out battlements and towers, it was difficult to believe the Stone of Tear had been built rather than carved out of a mountain already there.\n\n\"Made with the Power,\" Elayne murmured. She was staring at the Stone, too. \"Flows of Earth woven to draw stone from the ground, Air to bring it from every corner of the world, and Earth and Fire to make it all in one piece, without seam or joint or mortar. Atuan Sedai says the Tower could not do it, today. Strange, given how the High Lords feel concerning the Power now.\"\n\n\"I think,\" Nynaeve said softly, eyeing the dockmen moving around them, \"that given that very thing, we should not mention certain other things aloud.\" Elayne appeared torn between indignation-she had spoken very softly-and agreement; the Daughter-Heir agreed with Nynaeve too often and too readily to suit Egwene.\n\nOnly when Nynaeve is right, she admitted to herself grudgingly. A woman who wore the ring, or was even associated with Tar Valon, would be watched here. The barefoot, leather-vested dockmen were not paying the three of them any mind as they hurried about, carrying bales or crates on their backs as often as on barrows. A strong odor offish hung in the air; the next three docks had dozens of small fishing boats clustered around them, just like those in the drawing in the Amyrlin's study. Shirtless men and barefoot women were hoisting baskets offish out of the boats, mounds of silver and bronze and green, and colors she had never suspected fish might be, such as bright red, and deep blue, and brilliant yellow, some with stripes or splotches of white and other colors."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She lowered her voice for Elayne's ear alone. \"She is right, Caryla. Remember why you are Caryla.\" She did not want Nynaeve to hear such admissions. Her face did not change when she heard, but Egwene could feel satisfaction radiating from her like heat from a cook stove.\n\nNynaeve's black stallion was just being lowered to the dock; sailors had already carried their tack off the ship and simply dumped it on the wet stones of the dock. Nynaeve glanced at the horses and opened her mouth-Egwene was sure it was to tell them to saddle their animals-then closed it again, tight-lipped, as if it had cost her an effort. She gave her braid one hard tug. Before the sling was well out of the way, Nynaeve tossed the blue-striped saddle blanket across the black's back and hoisted her high-cantled saddle atop it. She did not even look at the other two women.\n\nEgwene was not anxious to ride at that moment-the motion of a horse might be too close to the motion of the Darter for her stomach-but another look at those muddy streets convinced her. Her shoes were sturdy, but she would not enjoy having to clean mud off them, or having to hold her skirts up as she walked, either. She saddled Mist quickly and climbed onto her back, settling her skirts, before she could decide the mud might not be so bad after all. A little needlework on the Darter-Elayne had done it all, this time; the Daughter-Heir sewed a very fine stitch-had divided all their dresses nicely for riding astride.\n\nNynaeve's face paled fora moment when she swung into her saddle and the stallion decided to frisk. She kept a tight-mouthed grip on herself and a firm hand on her reins and soon had him under control. By the time they had ridden slowly past the warehouses, she could speak. \"We need to locate Liandrin and the others without them learning we are asking after them. They surely know we are coming-that someone is, at least-but I would like them not to know we are here until it is too late for them.\" She drew a deep breath. \"I confess I have not thought of anyway to do this. Yet. Do either of you have any suggestions?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A thief-taker,\" Elayne said without hesitation. Nynaeve frowned at her.\n\n\"You mean like Hurin?\" Egwene said. \"But Hurin was in the service of his king. Wouldn't any thief-taker here serve the High Lords?\"\n\nElayne nodded, and fora moment Egwene envied the Daughter-Heir her stomach. \"Yes, they would. But thief-takers are not like the Queen's Guards, or the Tairen Defenders of the Stone. They serve the ruler, but people who have been robbed sometimes pay them to retrieve what was stolen. And they also sometimes take money to find people. At least, they do in Caemlyn. I cannot think it is different herein Tear.\"\n\n\"Then we take rooms at an inn,\" Egwene said, \"and ask the innkeeper to find us a thief-taker.\"\n\n\"Not an inn,\" Nynaeve said as firmly as she guided the stallion; she never seemed to let the animal get out of her control. After a moment she moderated her tone a little. \"Liandrin, at least, knows us, and we have to assume the others do, too. They will surely be watching the inns for whoever followed the trail they sprinkled behind them. I mean to spring their trap in their faces, but not with us inside. We'll not stay at an inn.\"\n\nEgwene refused to give her the satisfaction of asking.\n\n\"Where then?\" Elayne's brow furrowed. \"If I made myself known-and could make anyone believe it, in these clothes and with no escort-we would be welcomed by most of the noble Houses, and very likely in the Stone itself-there are good relations between Caemlyn and Tear-but there would be no keeping it quiet. The entire city would know before nightfall. I cannot think of anywhere else except an inn, Nynaeve. Unless you mean to go out to a farm in the country, but we will never find them from the country.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nynaeve glanced at Egwene. \"I will know when I see it. Let me look.\"\n\nElayne's frown swept from Nynaeve to Egwene and back again. \"\"Do not cutoff your ears because you do not like your earrings, '\" she muttered.\n\nEgwene put her attention firmly on the street they were riding along. I will be burned if I'll let her think I am even wondering!\n\nThere were not a great many people out, not compared to the streets of Tar Valon. Perhaps the thick mud in the street discouraged them. Carts and wagons lurched past, most pulled by oxen with wide horns, the carter or wagoneer walking alongside with along goad of some pale, ridged wood. No carriages or sedan chairs used these streets. The odor offish hung in the air here, too, and no few of the men who hurried past carried huge baskets full offish on their backs. The shops did not look prosperous; none displayed wares outside, and Egwene seldom saw anyone go in. The shops had signs-the tailor's needle and bolt of cloth, the cutler's knife and scissors, the weaver's loom, and the like-but the paint on most of them was peeling. The few inns had signs in as bad a state, and looked no busier. The small houses crowded between inns and shops often had tiles or slates missing from their roofs. This part of Tear, at least, was poor. And from what she saw on the faces, few of the people here cared to try any longer. They were moving, working, but most of them had given up. Few as much as glanced at three women riding where everyone else walked.\n\nThe men wore baggy breeches, usually tied at the ankle. Only a handful wore coats, long, dark garments that fit arms and chest tightly, then became looser below the waist. There were more men in low shoes than in boots, but most went barefoot in the mud. A good many wore no coat or shirt at all, and had their breeches held up by abroad sash, sometimes colored and often dirty. Some had wide, conical straw hats on their heads, and a few, cloth caps that sagged down one side of the face. The women's dresses had high necks, right up to their chins, and hems that stopped at the ankle. Many had short aprons in pale colors, sometimes two or three, each smaller than the one beneath it, and most wore the same straw hats as the men, but dyed to complement the aprons."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "It was on a woman that she first saw how those who wore shoes dealt with the mud."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The woman had small wooden platforms tied to the soles of her shoes, lifting them two hands out of the mud; she walked along as if her feet were planted firmly on the ground. Egwene saw others wearing the platforms after that, men as well as women. Some of the women went barefoot, but not as many as the men.\n\nShe was wondering which shop might sell those platforms, when Nynaeve suddenly turned her black down an alleyway between along, narrow two-story house and a stone-walled potter's shop. Egwene exchanged glances with Elayne-the Daughter-Heir shrugged-and then they followed. Egwene did not know where Nynaeve was going or why-and she meant to have words with her about it-but she did not mean to become separated, either.\n\nThe alley suddenly let into a small yard behind the house, fenced in by the buildings around it. Nynaeve had already dismounted and tied her reins to a fig tree, where the stallion could not reach the green things sprouting in a vegetable patch that took up half the yard. Aline of stones had been laid to make a path to the backdoor. Nynaeve strode to the door and knocked.\n\n\"What is it?\" Egwene demanded in spite of herself. \"Why are we stopping here?\"\n\n\"Did you not seethe herbs in the front windows?\" Nynaeve knocked again.\n\n\"Herbs?\" Elayne said.\n\n\"A Wisdom,\" Egwene told her as she got down from her saddle and tied Mist alongside the black. Gaidin is no good name fora horse. Does she think I don't know who she means it for? \"Nynaeve has found herself a Wisdom, or Seeker, or whatever they call her here.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the tale as the plot helper for the writer.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\nChapter: 57"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perrin glanced around; none of the dockmen shuttling cargo about seemed to have heard. He was sure he would have smelled fear if they had. He bit back the sharp remark that hung on the end of his tongue. She had a quicker tongue, and a sharper.\n\n\"I wish you did not sound so eager,\" Loial rumbled. \"You seem to think it will all be as easy as Illian, Faile.\"\n\n\"Easy?\" Zarine muttered. \"Easy! Loial, we were nearly killed twice in one night. Illian was enough fora Hunter's song in itself. What makes you call it easy?\"\n\nPerrin grimaced. He wished Loial had not decided to call Zarine by that name she had chosen; it was a constant reminder that Moiraine thought she was Min's falcon. And it did nothing to stop Perrin wondering if she was the beautiful woman Min had warned him against, too. At least I've not run up against the hawk. Ora Tuatha'an with a sword! Now that would the strangest of all, or I am a wool merchant!\n\n\"Stop asking questions, Zarine,\" he said as he swung up into Stepper's saddle. \"You will find out why we are here when Moiraine decides to tell you.\" He tried not to look at the Stone.\n\nShe turned those dark, tilted eyes on him. \"I do not think you know why, blacksmith. I think that is why you will not tell me, because you cannot. Admit it, farmboy.\"\n\nWith a small sigh, he rode off the docks after Moiraine and Lan. Zarine did not dig at Loial in that cutting way when the Ogier refused to answer her questions. He thought she must be trying to browbeat him into using that name. He would not."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Moiraine had tied the oiled cloak behind her saddle, atop the innocuous-looking bundle that held the Dragon banner, and despite the heat had donned the blue linen cloak from Illian."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Its deep, wide hood hid her face. Her Great Serpent ring was on a cord around her neck. Tear, she had said, did not forbid the presence of Aes Sedai, only channeling, but the Defenders of the Stone kept a close eye on any woman who wore the ring. She did not want to be watched on this visit to Tear.\n\nLan had stuffed his color-shifting cloak into his saddlebags two days earlier, when it had become apparent that whoever had sent the Darkhounds-Sammael, Perrin thought with a shiver, and tried not to think of the name at all-whoever had sent them had not sent anymore pursuit. The Warder had made no concessions to the heat of Illian, and he made none to the lesser heat of Tear. His gray-green coat was buttoned up all the way.\n\nPerrin wore his coat half undone, and the neck of his shirt untied. Tear might be a little cooler than Illian, but it was still as hot as summer in the Two Rivers, and as always after rain, the dampness of the air made the heat seem worse. His axe belt hung looped around the tall pommel of his saddle. It was handy there, if he needed it, and he felt better not wearing it.\n\nHe was surprised at the mud in the first streets they rode along. Only villages and smaller towns had dirt streets, that he had seen, and Tear was one of the great cities. But the people did not seem to mind, many going barefoot. A woman walking on little wooden platforms caught his attention fora time, and he wondered why they did not all wear them. Those baggy breeches on the men looked as if they might be cooler than the snug ones he wore, but he was sure he would feel a fool if he tried them. He made a picture in his head of himself wearing those breeches and one of those round straw hats, and chuckled at it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"What do you find funny, Perrin?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Loial asked. His ears were drooping till their tufts were hidden in his hair, and he looked at the people in the street worriedly. \"These folk look... defeated, Perrin. They did not look this way when I was here last. Even people who let their grove be cut down do not deserve to look like this.\"\n\nAs Perrin began to study faces instead of just looking at everything at once, he saw that Loial was right. Something had gone out of too many of those faces. Hope, maybe. Curiosity. They barely glanced at the party riding by, except to get out of the way of the horses. The Ogier, mounted on an animal as big as a draft horse, might as well have been Lan, or Perrin.\n\nThe streets changed, gaining wide stone paving, after they passed inside the gates of the high, gray city wall, past the hard, dark eyes of soldiers in breastplates over redcoats with wide sleeves ending in narrow white cuffs, and rimmed, round helmets with a ridge over the top. Instead of the baggy breeches other men wore, theirs were tight, and tucked into knee-high boots. The soldiers frowned at Lan's sword and fingered their own, stared sharply at Perrin's axe and his bow, but in away, despite their frowns and sharp looks, there was something beaten in their faces, too, as if nothing were really worth the effort any longer.\n\nThe buildings were larger and taller inside the walls, though most were made no differently from those outside. The roofs looked a bit odd to Perrin, especially those that came to points, but he had seen so many different kinds of roof since leaving home that he only wondered what kind of nails they used with their tiles. In some places, the people did not use nails on their roof tiles at all."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Palaces and great buildings stood among the smaller and more ordinary, seemingly placed haphazardly; a structure of towers and squarish, white domes, surrounded on all sides by wide streets, might have shops and inns and houses on the other sides of those streets."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A huge hall fronted by squared columns of marble four paces on aside, with fifty steps to climb to reach bronze doors five spans high, had a bakery one side and a tailor on the other.\n\nMore men wore coats and breeches like the soldiers'here, though in brighter colors and without armor, and some even wore swords. None of them went barefoot, not even those in baggy breeches. The women's dresses were often longer, their necklines lower to bare shoulders and even bosom, the cloth as likely to be silk as wool. The Sea Folk traded a good deal of silk through Tear. As many sedan chairs and carriages drawn by teams of horses moved through the streets as ox-carts and wagons. Yet too many of the faces had that same look of having given up.\n\nThe inn Lan chose, the Star, had a weaver's shop on one side and a smithy on the other, with narrow alleyways between. The smithy was of undressed gray stone, the weaver's and the inn of wood, though the Star stood four stories tall and had small windows in its roof as well. The rattle of looms was hard-pressed to compete with the clang of the smith's hammer. They handed their horses over to stablemen, to betaken around back, and went inside the inn. There were fish smells from the kitchen, baking and perhaps stewing, and the scent of roast mutton. The men in the common room all wore the tight coats and loose breeches; Perrin did not think richer men-somehow he was sure the men in colorful coats with puffy sleeves and the bare-shouldered women in bright silk were all rich, or nobles-those folk would not put up with the noise. Perhaps that was why Lan had chosen it.\n\n\"How are we supposed to sleep with this racketing?\" Zarine muttered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No questions?\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "he said with a smile. Fora moment he thought she was going to stick out her tongue at him.\n\nThe innkeeper was around-faced, balding man in along, deep blue coat and those loose breeches, who bowed overhands clasped across his stout belly. His face had that look, a weary resignation. \"The Light shine on you, mistresses, and welcome,\" he sighed. \"The Light shine on you, masters, and welcome.\" He gave a small start at Perrin's yellow eyes, then passed wearily onto Loial. \"The Light shine on you, friend Ogier, and welcome. It is a year or more since I have seen one of your kind in Tear. Some work or other at the Stone. They stayed in the Stone, of course, but I saw them in the street one day.\" He finished with another sigh, seemingly unable to summon any curiosity as to why another Ogier had come to Tear, or why any of them had come, for that matter.\n\nThe balding man, whose name was Jurah Haret, showed them to their rooms himself. Apparently Moiraine's silk dress and the way she kept her face hidden, taken with Lan's hard face and sword, made them a lady and her guard in his eyes, and so worthy of his personal attention. Perrin he obviously took as some kind of retainer, and Zarine he was plainly unsure of-to her visible disgust-and Loial was, after all, an Ogier. He called men to push beds together for Loial, and offered Moiraine a private room for her meals if she wished. She accepted graciously.\n\nThey kept together through it all, making a small procession through the upper halls until Haret bowed and sighed his way out of their presence, leaving them all where they had begun, outside Moiraine's room. The walls were white plaster, and Loial's head brushed the hall ceiling."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Odious fellow,\" Zarine muttered, brushing furiously at the dust on her narrow skirts with both hands. \"I believe he took me for your handmaid, Aes Sedai. I will not stand for that!\"\n\n\"Watch your tongue,\" Lan said softly. \"If you use that name where folk can hear, you will regret it, girl.\" She looked as if she were going to argue, but his icy blue eyes stilled her tongue this time, if it did not cool her glare.\n\nMoiraine ignored them. Staring off at nothing, she worked her cloak in her hands almost as if wiping them. Unaware what she was doing, in Perrin's opinion.\n\n\"How do we go about finding Rand?\" he asked, but she did not appear to hear him. \"Moiraine?\"\n\n\"Remain close to the inn,\" she said after a moment. \"Tear can be a dangerous city for those who do not know its ways. The Pattern can be torn, here.\" That last was soft, as if to herself. Ina stronger voice she said, \"Lan, let us see what we can discover without attracting attention. The rest of you, stay close to the inn!\"\n\n\"\"Stay close to the inn,\"\" Zarine mimicked as the Aes Sedai and the Warder disappeared down the stairs. But she said it quietly enough that they would not hear. \"This Rand. He is the one you called the....\" If she looked like a falcon right then, it was a very uneasy falcon. \"And we are in Tear, where the Heart of the Stone holds.... And the Prophecies say.... The Light burn me, ta'veren, is this a story I want to be in?\"\n\n\"It is not a story, Zarine.\" Fora moment Perrin felt almost as hopeless as the innkeeper had sounded. \"The Wheel weaves us into the Pattern. You chose to tangle your thread with ours; it's too late to untangle it, now.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Light!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "she growled. \"Now you sound like her!\"\n\nHe left her therewith Loial and went to put his things in his room-it had a low bed, comfortable but small, as city people seemed to think befitted a servant, a washstand, a stool, and a few pegs on the cracked plaster wall-and when he came out, they were both gone. The ring of hammer on anvil called to him.\n\nSo much in Tear looked odd that it was a relief to walk into the smithy. The ground floor was all one large room with no back wall except for two long doors that stood open on a yard for shoeing horses and oxen, complete with an ox sling. Hammers stood in their stands, tongs of various kinds and sizes hung on the exposed joists of the walls, buttresses and hoof knives and other farrier's tools lay neatly arranged on wooden benches with chisels and beak irons and swages and all the implements of the blacksmith's craft. Bins held lengths of iron and steel in various thicknesses. Five grinding wheels of different roughness stood about the hard dirt floor, six anvils, and three stone-sided forges with their bellows, though only one held glowing coals. Quenching barrels stood ready to hand.\n\nThe smith was plying his hammer on yellow-hot iron gripped in heavy tongs. He wore baggy breeches and had pale blue eyes, but the long leather vest over his bare chest and apron were not much different from those Perrin and Master Luhhan had worn back in Emond's Field, and his thick arms and shoulders spoke of years working metal. His dark hair had almost the same amount of gray that Perrin remembered in Master Luhhan's. More vests and aprons hung on the wall, as if the man had apprentices, but they were not in evidence now. The forge-fire smelled like home. The hot iron smelled like home."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The smith turned to thrust the piece he was working back into the coals, and Perrin stepped over to work the bellows for him. The man glanced at him, but said nothing. Perrin pulled the bellows handle up and down with slow, steady, even strokes, keeping the coals at the right heat. The smith went back to working the hot iron, on the rounded horn of the anvil, this time. Perrin thought he might be making a barrel scrape. The hammer rang with sharp, quick blows.\n\nThe man spoke without looking up from his work. \"Apprentice?\" was all he said.\n\n\"Yes,\" Perrin replied just as simply.\n\nThe smith worked on fora time. It was a barrel scrape, for cleaning the insides of wooden barrels. Now and again he eyed Perrin consideringly. Setting his hammer down, just fora moment, the smith picked up a short length of thick, square stock and pushed it into Perrin's hand, then picked up his hammer again and resumed work. \"See what you can do with that,\" he said.\n\nWithout even thinking about it, Perrin stepped over to an anvil on the other side of the forge and tapped the stock against its edge. It made a nice ring. The steel had not been left long enough in the slowfurnace to pickup a great deal of carbon from the coal. He pushed it into the hot coals for almost its entire length, tasted the two water barrels to see which had been salted-the third was olive oil-then took off his coat and shirt and chose a leather vest that would fit his chest. Most of these Tairen fellows were not as large as he, but he found one that would do. Finding an apron was easier.\n\nWhen he turned around, he saw the smith, still with his head down over his work, nodding and smiling to himself. But just because he knew his way around a smithy did not mean he had any skill at smithing. That was yet to be shown."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When he came back to the anvil with two hammers, a set of long-handled flat-tongs, and a sharp-topped hardy, the steel bar had heated to a dark red except fora small bit of what he had left out of the coals. He worked the bellows, watching the color of the metal lighten, until it reached a yellow just short of white. Then he pulled it outwith the tongs, laid it on the anvil, and picked up the heavier of the two hammers. About ten pounds, he estimated, and with a longer handle than most people, who did not know metalworking, thought was necessary. He held it near the end; hot metal gave off sparks, sometimes, and he had seen the scars on the hands of the smith from up at Roundhill, a careless fellow.\n\nHe did not want to make anything elaborate or fancy. Simple things seemed best at the moment. He began by rounding the edges of the bar, then hammered the middle out into abroad blade, almost as thick as the original at the butt, but a good hand and a half long. From time to time he returned the metal to the coals, to keep it at the pale yellow, and after a time he shifted to the lighter hammer, half the weight of the first. The piece beyond the blade, he thinned down, then bent it over the anvil horn in a curve down beside the blade. A wooden handle could be fixed onto that, eventually. Setting the sharp-chisel hardy in the anvil's hardy-hole, he laid the glowing metal atop it. One sharp blow of the hammer cutoff the tool he had made. Or almost made. It would be a chamfer knife, for smoothing and leveling the tops of barrel staves after they were hopped together, among other things. When he was done. The other man's barrel scrape had made him think of it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As soon as he had made the hot-cut, he tossed the glowing metal into the salted quenching barrel. Unsalted gave a harder quench, for the hardest metal, while the oil gave the softest, for good knives. And swords, he had heard, but he had never had any part in making anything like that.\n\nWhen the metal had cooled enough, to a dull gray, he removed it from the water and took it to the grinding wheels. A little slow work with the footpedals ground a polish onto the blade. Carefully, he heated the blade portion again. This time the colors deepened, to straw, to bronze. When the bronze color began to run up the blade in waves, he set it aside to cool. The final edge could be sharpened then. Quenching again would destroy the tempering he had just done.\n\n\"Avery neat bit of work,\" the smith said. \"No wasted motion. You looking for work? My apprentices just walked away, all three of them, the worthless fools, and I've plenty you could do.\"\n\nPerrin shook his head. \"I do not know how long I will be in Tear. I'd like to work a little longer, if you do not mind. It has been along time, and I miss it. Maybe I could do some of the work your apprentices would have done.\"\n\nThe smith snorted loudly. \"You're a deal better than any of those louts, moping around and staring, muttering about their nightmares. As if everyone doesn't have nightmares, sometimes. Yes, you can work here, as long as you want. Light, I've orders fora dozen drawknives and three cooper's adzes, and a carpenter down the street needs a mortise hammer, and.... Too much to list it. Start with the drawknives, and we will see how far we get before night.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perrin lost himself in the work, fora time forgetting everything but the heat of the metal, the ring of his hammer, and the smell of the forge, but there came a time when he looked up and found the smith-Dermid Ajala, he had said his name was-taking off his vest, and the shoeing yard dark. All the light came from the forge and a pair of lamps. And Zarine was sitting on an anvil by one of the cold forges, watching him.\n\n\"So you really area blacksmith, blacksmith,\" she said.\n\n\"He is that, mistress,\" Ajala said. \"Apprentice, he says, but the work he did today amounts to his master's piece as far as I am concerned. Fine stroking, and better than steady.\" Perrin shifted his feet at the compliments, and the smith grinned at him. Zarine stared at both of them with alack of comprehension.\n\nPerrin went to replace the vest and apron on their peg, but once he had them off, he was suddenly conscious of Zarine's eyes on his back. It was if she were touching him; fora moment, the herbal scent of her seemed overwhelming. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head, stuffed it raggedly into his breeches, and jerked on his coat. When he turned around, Zarine wore one of those small, secretive smiles that had always made him nervous.\n\n\"Is this what you mean to do, then?\" she asked. \"Did you come all this way to be a blacksmith again?\" Ajala paused in the act of pulling the yard doors closed and listened.\n\nPerrin picked up the heavy hammer he had used, a ten-pound head with a handle as long as his forearm. It felt good in his hands. It felt right. The smith had glanced at his eyes once and never even blinked; it was the work that was important, the skill with metal, not the color of a man's eyes. \"No,\" he said sadly. \"One day, I hope. But not yet.\" He started to hang the hammer back on the wall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Take it.\" Ajala cleared his throat. \"I do not usually giveaway good hammers, but.... The work you've done today is worth more than the price of that hammer by far, and maybe it will help you to that'one day. \"Man, if I have ever seen anyone made to hold a smith's hammer, it is you. So take it. Keep it.\"\n\nPerrin closed his hand around the haft. It did feel right. \"Thank you,\" he said. \"I cannot say what this means tome.\"\n\n\"Just remember the \"one day,\" man. Just you remember it.\"\n\nAs they left, Zarine looked up at him and said, \"Do you have any idea how strange men are, blacksmith? No. I did not think you did.\" She darted ahead, leaving him holding the hammer in one hand and scratching his head with the other.\n\nNo one in the common room looked at him twice, a golden-eyed man carrying a smith's hammer. He went up to his room, remembering for once to light a tallow candle. His quiver and the axe hung from the same peg on the plaster wall. He hefted the axe in one hand, the hammer in the other. By weight of metal, the axe, with its half-moon blade and thick spike, was a good five or six pounds lighter than the hammer, but it felt ten times heavier. Replacing the axe in the loop on its belt, he set the hammer on the floor beneath the peg, handle against the wall. Axe haft and hammer haft almost touched, two pieces of wood equally thick. Two pieces of metal, near enough the same weight. Fora longtime he sat on the stool staring at them. He was still staring when Lan put his head into the room."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come, blacksmith. We have things to talk over.\"\n\n\"I am a blacksmith,\" Perrin said, and the Warder frowned at him.\n\n\"Don't go winter-crazy on me now, blacksmith. If you cannot carry your weight any longer, you may drag us all down the mountain.\"\n\n\"I'll carry my weight,\" Perrin growled. \"I will do what has to be done. What do you want?\"\n\n\"You, blacksmith. Don't you listen? Come on, farmboy.\"\n\nThat name that Zarine so often called him pulled him to his feet angrily, now, but Lan was already turning away. Perrin hurried into the hall and followed him toward the front of the inn, meaning to tell the Warder he had had enough of this'blacksmith\" and'farmboy,\" his name was Perrin Aybara. The Warder ducked into the inn's only private dining room, overlooking the street.\n\nPerrin followed him. \"Now listen, Warder, I-\"\n\n\"You listen, Perrin,\" Moiraine said. \"Be quiet and listen.\" Her face was smooth, but her eyes looked as grim as her voice sounded.\n\nPerrin had not realized anyone was in the room except for himself and the Warder, standing with one arm upon the mantel of the unlit fireplace. Moiraine sat at the table in the middle of the floor, a simple piece, of black oak. None of the other chairs with their high, carved backs were occupied. Zarine was leaning against the wall at the other end of the room from Lan, scowling, and Loial had chosen to sit on the floor since none of the chairs really fit him.\n\n\"I'm glad you decided to join us, farmboy,\" Zarine said sarcastically. \"Moiraine would not say anything till you came. She just looks at us as if she is deciding which of us is going to die. I-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Be quiet,\" Moiraine told her sharply. \"One of the Forsaken is in Tear. The High Lord Samon is Be'lal.\" Perrin shivered.\n\nLoial squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. \"I could have remained in the stedding. I would probably have been very happy, married, whoever my mother chose. She is a fine woman, my mother, and she would not give me to a bad wife.\" His ears seemed to have hidden themselves completely in his shaggy hair.\n\n\"You can go back to Stedding Shangtai,\" Moiraine said. \"Leave now, if you wish. I will not stop you.\"\n\nLoial opened one eye. \"I can go?\"\n\n\"If you wish,\" she said.\n\n\"Oh.\" He opened the other eye, and scratched his cheek with blunt fingers the size of sausages. \"I suppose.... I suppose... if I have a choice... that I will stay with all of you. I have taken a great many notes, but not nearly enough to complete my book, and I would not like to leave Perrin, and Rand-\"\n\nMoiraine cut him off in a cold voice. \"Good, Loial. I am glad that you are staying. I will be glad to use any knowledge you have. But until this is done, I have no time to listen to your complaints!\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" Zarine said in an unsteady voice, \"that there is no chance of me leaving?\" She looked at Moiraine, and shivered. \"I thought not. Blacksmith, if I live through this, I will make you pay.\"\n\nPerrin stared at her. Me! The fool woman thinks it my fault? Did I ask her to come? He opened his mouth, saw the look in Moiraine's eyes, and closed it again quickly. After a moment he said, \"Is he after Rand? To stop him, or kill him?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I think not,\" she said quietly. Her voice was like cold steel. \"I fear he means to let Rand enter the Heart of the Stone and take Callandor, then take it away from him. I fear he means to kill the Dragon Reborn with the very weapon that is meant to herald him.\"\n\n\"Do we run again?\" Zarine said. \"Like Illian? I never thought to run, but I never thought to find the Forsaken when I took the Hunter's oath.\"\n\n\"This time,\" Moiraine said, \"we do not run. We dare not run. Worlds and time rest on Rand, on the Dragon Reborn. This time, we fight.\"\n\nPerrin took a chair uneasily. \"Moiraine, you are saying a lot of things right out that you told us we must not even think about. You do have this room warded against listening, don't you?\" When she shook her head, he gripped the edge of the table hard enough to make the dark oak creak.\n\n\"I do not speak of a Myrddraal, Perrin. No one knows the strength of the Forsaken, except that Ishamael and Lanfear were the strongest, but the weakest of them could sense any warding I might set from a mile or more away. And rip all of us to shreds in seconds. Possibly without stirring from where he stood.\"\n\n\"You're saying he can tie you in knots,\" Perrin muttered. \"Light! What are we supposed to do? How can we do anything?\"\n\n\"Even the Forsaken cannot stand up to balefire,\" she said. He wondered if that was what she had used on the Darkhounds; it still made him uneasy, what he had seen, and what she had said then. \"I have learned things in the last year, Perrin. I am... more dangerous than when I came to Emond's Field. If I can come close enough to Be'lal, I can destroy him. But if he sees me first, he can destroy us all, long before I have a chance.\" She turned her attention to Loial. \"What can you tell me of Be'lal?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Perrin blinked in confusion. Loial?\n\n\"Why are you asking him?\" Zarine burst out angrily. \"First you tell the blacksmith you mean us to fight one of the Forsaken!-who can kill us all before we can even think!-and now you ask Loial about him?\" Loial murmured urgently, that name she used-\"Faile! Faile!\"-but she did not even slow. \"I thought Aes Sedai knew everything. Light, at least I am smart enough not to say I will fight someone unless I know everything I can of him! You....\" She trailed off under Moiraine's stare, muttering.\n\n\"Ogier,\" the Aes Sedai said coolly, \"have long memories, girl. It has been well over a hundred generations since the Breaking for humans, but less than thirty for Ogier. We still learn things from their stories that we did not know. Now tell me, Loial. What do you know of Be'lal. And briefly, for once. I want your long memory, not your long wind.\"\n\nLoial cleared his throat, a sound much like firewood tumbling down a chute. \"Be'lal.\" His ears flickered out of his hairlike hummingbird wings, then snapped down again. \"I do not know what can be in the stories about him you do not already know. He is not much mentioned, except in the razing of the Hall of the Servants just before Lews Therin Kinslayer and the Hundred Companions sealed him up with the Dark One. Jalanda son of Aried son of Coiam wrote that he was called the Envious, that he forsook the Light because he envied Lews Therin, and that he envied Ishamael and Lanfear, too. In A Study of the War of the Shadow, Moilin daughter of Hamada daughter of Juendan called Be'lal the Netweaver, but I do not know why. She mentioned him playing a game of stones with Lews Therin and winning, and that he always boasted of it.\" He glanced at Moiraine and rumbled, \"I am trying to be brief. I do not know anything important about him. Several writers say Be'lal and Sammael were both leaders in the fight against the Dark One before they forsook the Light, and both were masters of the sword. That is truly all I know. He maybe mentioned in other books, other stories, but I have not read them. Be'lal is just not spoken of very often. I am sorry I could not tell you anything useful.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps you have,\" Moiraine told him. \"I did not know of the name, the Netweaver. Or that he envied the Dragon as well as his companions in the Shadow. That strengthens my belief that he wants Callandor. That must be the reason he has chosen to make himself a High Lord of Tear. And the Netweaver-a name fora schemer, a patient and cunning planner. You have done well, Loial.\" Fora moment the Ogier's wide mouth curved up in a pleased smile, but then it curved down again.\n\n\"I will not pretend I am not afraid,\" Zarine said suddenly. \"Only a fool would not be afraid of the Forsaken. But I swore I would be one of you, and I will. That is all that I wanted to say.\"\n\nPerrin shook his head. She must be crazy. I could wish I were not one of this party. I could wish I were back homeworking Master Luhhan's forge. Aloud, he said, \"If he is inside the Stone, if he is waiting therefor Rand, we must go inside to reach him. How do we do that? Everyone keeps saying no one enters the Stone without the permission of the High Lords, and looking at it, I don't see anyway but through the gates.\"\n\n\"You do not go in,\" Lan said. \"Moiraine and I will be the only ones to enter. The more who go, the harder it will be. Whatever way in I find, I cannot believe it will be easy even for only two.\"\n\n\"Gaidin,\" Moiraine began in a firm voice, but the Warder cut her off with one just as firm.\n\n\"We go together, Moiraine. I will not stand aside this time.\" After a moment she nodded. Perrin thought he saw Lan relax. \"The rest of you had better get some sleep,\" the Warder went on. \"I have to be out studying the Stone.\" He paused. \"There is a thing that your news drove out of my head, Moiraine. A small thing, and I cannot see what it might mean. There are Aiel in Tear.\""
},
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"value": "\"Aiel!\" Loial exclaimed. \"Impossible! The entire city would be in a panic if one Aiel came through the gates.\"\n\n\"I did not say they were walking the streets, Ogier. The rooftops and chimneys of the city make as good hiding as the Waste. I saw no less than three, though apparently no one else in Tear has seen any of them. And if I saw three, you can be sure there are many times that I did not see.\"\n\n\"It means nothing tome,\" Moiraine said slowly. \"Perrin, why are you frowning in that way?\"\n\nHe had not known that he was frowning. \"I was thinking about that Aiel in Remen. He said that when the Stone falls, the Aiel will leave the Three-fold Land. That's the Waste, isn't it? He said it was a prophecy.\"\n\n\"I have read every word of the Prophecies of the Dragon,\" Moiraine said softly, \"in every translation, and there is no mention of the Aiel. We stagger blindly while Be'lal weaves his nets, and the Wheel weaves the Pattern around us. But are the Aiel the Wheel's weaving, or Be'lal's? Lan, you must find me the way into the Stone quickly. Us. Find us away in quickly.\"\n\n\"As you command, Aes Sedai,\" he said, but his tone was more warm than formal. He vanished through the door. Moiraine frowned at the table, eyes clouded in thought.\n\nZarine came over to look down at Perrin, her head tilted to one side. \"And what are you going to do, blacksmith? It seems they mean us to wait and watch while they go adventuring. Not that I will complain.\""
},
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"value": "> Next"
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"value": "He doubted that last. \"First,\" he told her, \"I am going to have something to eat. And then I am going to think about a hammer.\" And try to puzzle out how I feel about you. Falcon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "From the corner of her eye, Nynaeve thought she glimpsed a tall man with reddish hair, in a swirling brown cloak, well down the sunlit street, but as she turned to peer from under the wide brim of the blue straw hat Ailhuin had given her, an ox-drawn wagon was already lumbering between them. When it lurched on, the man was nowhere to be seen. She was almost certain that had been a wooden flute case on his back, and his clothes were certainly not Tairen. It couldn't be Rand. Just because I keep dreaming about him does not mean he is going to come all the way from Almoth Plain.\n\nOne of the barefoot men hurrying past, with the sickle-shaped tails of a dozen large fish sticking up from the basket on his back, suddenly tripped, catapulting silver-scaled fish over his head as he fell. He landed on hands and knees in the mud, staring at the fish that had come out of his basket. Everyone of the long, sleek shapes stood upright, stuck nose down in the mud, forming a neat circle. Even a few passersby gaped at that. Slowly the man got to his feet, apparently unaware of the mud on him. Unslinging his basket, he began gathering the fish back into it, shaking his head and muttering to himself.\n\nNynaeve blinked, but her business was with this cow-faced brigand, facing her in the doorway of his shop with bloody cuts of meat hanging from hooks behind him. She gave her braid a tug and fixed the fellow with her eye.\n\n\"Very well,\" she said sharply, \"I will take it, but if this is what you charge for so poor a cut, you'll not have more business from me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "He shrugged placidly as he took her coins, then wrapped the fatty mutton roast in a cloth she produced from the basket on her arm."
},
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "She glared at him as she put the wrapped meat into the basket, but that did not affect him.\n\nShe whirled to stalk away-and nearly fell. She was still not used to these clogs; they kept sticking in the mud, and she could not see how the folk who wore them managed. She hoped this sunshine dried the ground soon, but she had a feeling that the mud was more or less permanent in the Maule.\n\nStepping gingerly, she started back toward Ailhuin's house, muttering under her breath. The prices were outrageous for everything, the quality inevitably poor, and almost no one seemed to care, not the people buying or those selling. It was a relief to pass a woman shouting at a shopkeeper, waving a bruised reddish-yellow fruit-Nynaeve did not know what; they had a good many fruits and vegetables she had never heard of, here-in each hand and calling for everyone to see what refuse the man sold, but the shopkeeper only stared at her wearily, not even bothering to argue back.\n\nThere was some excuse for the prices, she knew-Elayne had explained all about the grain being eaten by rats in the granaries because no one in Cairhien could buy, and how big the Cairhienin grain trade had become since the Aiel War-but nothing excused the way everyone seemed ready to lie down and die. She had seen hail ruin food crops in the Two Rivers, and grasshoppers eat them and blacktongue kill the sheep and redspot wither the tabac so there was nothing to sell when the merchants came down from Baerlon. She could remember two years in a row when there had been little to eat except turnip soup and old barley, and hunters had been lucky to bring home a scrawny rabbit, but Two Rivers folk picked themselves up when they were knocked down and went back to work. These people had had only one bad year, and their fisheries and their other trade seemed to be flourishing. She had no patience with them. The trouble was, she knew she should have a little patience. They were odd people with odd ways, and things she took for cringing, they seemed to see as a matter of course, even Ailhuin and Sandar. She should be able to summon up just a little patience."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "If for them, why not for Egwene? She put that aside. The child behaved wretchedly, snapping at the most obvious suggestions, objecting to the most sensible things. Even when it was plain what they should do, Egwene wanted to be convinced. Nynaeve was not used to having to convince people, especially not people she had changed swaddling clothes for. The fact that she was only a matter of seven years older than Egwene was of no account.\n\nIt is all those bad dreams, she told herself. I cannot understand what they mean, and now Elayne and I are having them, too, and I do not know what that means either, and Sandar won't say anything except that he is still looking, and I am so frustrated I... I could just spit! She jerked her braid so hard it hurt. At least she had been able to convince Egwene not to use the ter'angreal again, to put the thing back in her pouch instead of wearing it next to her skin always. If the Black Ajah was in Tel'aran'rhiod.... She did not want to think about that possibility. We will find them!\n\n\"I will bring them down,\" she muttered. \"Trying to sell me like a sheep! Hunting me like an animal! I am the hunter this time, not the rabbit! That Moiraine! If she had never come to Emond's Field, I could have taught Egwene enough. And Rand.... I could have... I could have done something.\" That she knew neither was true did not help; it made it worse. She hated Moiraine almost as much as she hated Liandrin and the Black Ajah, maybe as much as she hated the Seanchan.\n\nShe rounded a corner, and Juilin Sandar had to leap out of her way to keep from being trampled. Even used to them as he was, he nearly tripped over his own clogs, only his staff saving him from falling on his face in the mud. That pale, ridged wood was called bamboo, she had learned, and it was stronger than it looked."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Mistress-uh-Mistress Maryim,\" Sandar said, regaining his balance. \"I was... looking for you.\" He flashed her a nervous smile. \"Are you angry? Why are you frowning at me that way?\"\n\nShe smoothed her forehead. \"I was not frowning at you, Master Sandar. The butcher.... It does not matter. Why are you looking for me?\" Her breath caught. \"Have you found them?\"\n\nHe looked around as if he suspected the passersby of trying to listen. \"Yes. Yes, you must comeback with me. The others are waiting. The others. And Mother Guenna.\"\n\n\"Why are you so nervous? You did not let them discover your interest?\" she said sharply. \"What has frightened you?\"\n\n\"No! No, mistress. I-I did not reveal myself.\" His eyes darted again, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a breathy, urgent whisper. \"These women you seek, they are in the Stone! Guests of a High Lord! The High Lord Samon! Why did you call them thieves? The High Lord Samon!\" he almost squeaked. There was sweat on his face.\n\nInside the Stone! With a High Lord! Light, how do we reach them now? She suppressed her impatience with an effort. \"Be easy,\" she said soothingly. \"Beat ease, Master Sandar. We can explain everything to your satisfaction.\" I hope we can. Light, if he goes running to the Stone to tell this High Lord we are searching for them.... \"Come with me to Mother Guenna's house. Joslyn, Caryla, and I will explain it all to you. Truly. Come.\"\n\nHe gave a short, uneasy nod, and walked alongside her, keeping his pace to what she could manage with the clogs. He looked as if he wanted to run."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At the Wise Woman's house, she hurried around to the back. No one ever used the front door, that she had seen, not even Mother Guenna herself. The horses were tied to a bamboo hitching rail, now-well away from Ailhuin's new figs as well as her vegetables-with their saddles and bridles stored inside. For once she did not stop to pat Gaidin's nose and tell him he was a good boy, and more sensible than his namesake. Sandar halted to scrape mud from his clogs with the butt of his staff, but she hurried inside.\n\nAilhuin Guenna was sitting in one of her high-backed chairs pulled out into the room, her arms at her sides. The gray-haired woman's eyes were bulging with anger and fear, and she struggled furiously without moving a muscle. Nynaeve did not need to sense the subtle weaving of Air to know what had happened. Light, they've found us! Burn you, Sandar!\n\nRage flooded her, washed away the walls inside that usually kept her from the Power, and as the basket fell from her hands, she was a white blossom on a blackthorn bush, opening to embrace saidar, opening.... It was as if she had run into another wall, a wall of clear glass; she could feel the True Source, but the wall stopped everything except the ache to be filled with the One Power.\n\nThe basket hit the floor, and as it bounced, the door behind her opened and Liandrin stepped in, followed by a black-haired woman with a white streak above her left ear. They wore long, colorful silk dresses cut to bare their shoulders, and the glow of saidar surrounded them.\n\nLiandrin smoothed her red dress and smiled with that pouting rosebud mouth. Her doll's face was filled with amusement. \"You see, do you not, wilder,\" she began, \"you have no-\""
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"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nynaeve hither in the mouth as hard as she could. Light, I have to getaway. She backhanded Rianna so hard the black-haired woman fell on her silk-covered rump with a grunt. They must have the others, but if I can make it out the door, if I can get far enough away they can't shield me, I can do something. She pushed Liandrin hard, shoving her away from the door. Just let me escape their shielding, and I'll....\n\nBlows hither from every side, like fists and sticks, pummeling her. Neither Liandrin, blood trickling from a corner of her now-grim mouth, nor Rianna, her hair as disarrayed as her green dress, lifted a hand. Nynaeve could feel the flows of Air weaving about her as well as she could feel the blows themselves. She still struggled to reach the door, but she realized that she was on her knees, now, and the unseen blows would not stop, invisible sticks and fists striking at her back and her stomach, her head and her hips, her shoulders, her breasts, her legs, her head. Groaning, she fell onto her side and curled into a ball, trying to protect herself. Oh, Light, I tried. Egwene! Elayne! I tried! I will not cry out! Burn you, you can beat me to death, but I won't cry!\n\nThe blows stopped, but Nynaeve could not stop quivering. She felt bruised and battered from crown to toe.\n\nLiandrin crouched beside her, arms around her knees, silk rustling against silk. She had wiped the blood away from her mouth. Her dark eyes were hard, and there was no amusement on her face now. \"Perhaps you are too stupid to know when you are defeated, wilder. You fought almost as wildly as that other foolish girl, that Egwene. She almost went mad. You must all learn to submit. You will learn to submit.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Nynaeve shivered and reached for saidar again. It was not that she had any real hope, but she had to do something. Forcing through her pain, she reached out... and struck that invisible shield. Liandrin did have amusement back in her eyes, now, the grim mirth of a nasty child who pulls the wings off flies.\n\n\"We have no use for this one, at least,\" Rianna said, standing beside Ailhuin. \"I will stop her heart.\" Ailhuin's eyes nearly came out of her head.\n\n\"No!\" Liandrin's short, honey-colored braids swung as her head snapped around. \"Always you kill too quickly, and only the Great Lord can make use of the dead.\" She smiled at the woman held to the chair by invisible bonds. \"You saw the soldiers who came with us, old woman. You know who waits for us in the Stone. The High Lord Samon, he will not be pleased if you speak of what happened inside your house today. If you hold your tongue, you will live, perhaps to serve him again one day. If you speak, you will serve only the Great Lord of the Dark, from beyond the grave. Which do you choose?\"\n\nSuddenly Ailhuin could move her head. She shook her gray curls, working her mouth. \"I.... I will hold my tongue,\" she said dejectedly, then gave Nynaeve an embarrassed, shamed look. \"If I speak, what goodwill it do? A High Lord could have my head by raising an eyebrow. What good can I do you, girl? What good?\"\n\n\"It is all right,\" Nynaeve said wearily. Who could she tell? All she could do is die. \"I know you would help if you could.\" Rianna threw back her head and laughed. Ailhuin slumped, released completely, but she only sat there, staring at her hands in her lap."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Between them, Liandrin and Rianna pulled Nynaeve to her feet and pushed her toward the front of the house."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You give us any trouble,\" the black-haired woman said in a hard voice, \"and I will make you peel off your own skin and dance in your bones.\"\n\nNynaeve almost laughed. What trouble could I give? She was shielded from the True Source. Her bruises ached so much she could barely stand. Anything she might do, they could handle like a child's tantrum. But my bruises will heal, burn you, and you'll make a slip yet! And when you do....\n\nThere were others in the front room of the house. Two big soldiers in rimmed, round helmets and shiny breastplates over those puffy-sleeved redcoats. The two men had sweat on their faces, and their dark eyes rolled as if they were as afraid as she. Amico Nagoyin was there, slender and pretty with her long neck and pale skin, looking as innocent as a girl gathering flowers. Joiya Byir had a friendly face despite that smooth-cheeked calm of a woman who had worked long with the Power, almost a grandmother's face in its welcoming appearance, though her age had put no touch of gray in her dark hair, anymore than it had wrinkled her skin. Her gray eyes looked more like those of the stepmother in the stories, the one who murdered the children of her husband's first wife. Both women shone with the Power.\n\nElayne stood between the two Black sisters, with a bruised eye and a swollen cheek and a split lip, one sleeve of her dress torn halfway off. \"I am sorry, Nynaeve,\" she said thickly, as if her jaw hurt. \"We never saw them until it was too late.\"\n\nEgwene lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, her face swollen with bruises, almost unrecognizable. As Nynaeve and her escort came in, one of the big soldiers hoisted Egwene over his shoulder. She dangled there as limply as a half-empty barley sack."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What did you do to her?\" Nynaeve demanded. \"Burn you, what-!\" Something unseen struck her across the mouth hard enough to make her eyes go blank fora moment.\n\n\"Now, now,\" Joiya Byir said with a smile that her eyes belied. \"I will not stand for demands, or bad language.\" She sounded like a grandmother, too. \"You speak when you are spoken to.\"\n\n\"I told you the girl, she would not stop fighting, yes?\" Liandrin said. \"Let it be a lesson to you. If you try to cause any trouble, you will be treated no more gently.\"\n\nNynaeve ached to do something for Egwene, but she let herself be pushed out into the street. She made them push her; it was a small way of fighting back, refusing to cooperate, but it was all she had at the moment.\n\nThere were few people in the muddy street, as if everyone had decided it was much better to be somewhere else, and those few scurried by on the other side without a glance at the shiny, black-lacquered coach standing behind a team of six matched whites with tall white plumes on their bridles. A coachman dressed like the soldiers, but without armor or sword, sat on the seat, and another opened the door as they appeared from the house. Before he did, Nynaeve saw the sigil painted there. A silver-gauntleted fist clutching jagged lightning bolts.\n\nShe supposed it was High Lord Samon's sign-A Darkfriend, he must be, if he deals with the Black Ajah. The Light burn him!-but she was more interested in the man who dropped to his knees in the mud at their appearance. \"Burn you, Sandar, why-?\" She jumped as something that felt like a stick of wood struck her across the shoulders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Joiya Byir smiled chidingly and waggled a finger. \"You will be respectful, child. Or you might lose that tongue.\"\n\nLiandrin laughed. Tangling a hand in Sandar's black hair, she wrenched his head back. He stared up at her with the eyes of a faithful hound-or of a cur expecting a kick. \"Do not be too hard on this man.\" She even made'man\" sound like'dog.\" \"He had to be... persuaded... to serve. But I am very good at persuading, no?\" She laughed again.\n\nSandar turned a confused stare on Nynaeve. \"I had to do it, Mistress Maryim. I... had to.\" Liandrin twisted his hair, and his eyes went back to her, the anxious hound's once more.\n\nLight! Nynaeve thought. What did they do to him? What are they going to do to us?\n\nShe and Elayne were bundled roughly into the coach, with Egwene slumped between them, her head lolling, and Liandrin and Rianna climbed in and took the seat facing forward. The glow of saidar still surrounded them. Where the others went, Nynaeve did not much care at that moment. She wanted to reach Egwene, to touch her, to comfort her hurts, but she could not move a muscle below her neck except to writhe. Flows of Air bound the three of them like layers of tightly wrapped blankets. The coach lurched into motion, swaying hard in the mud despite its leather springs.\n\n\"If you have hurt her....\" Light, I can see they've hurt her. Why don't I say what I mean? But it was almost as hard to force the words out as it would have been to lift a hand. \"If you have killed her, I won't rest till you are all hunted down like wild dogs.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rianna glared, but Liandrin only sniffed. \"Do not be a complete fool, wilder. You are wanted alive. Dead bait will catch nothing.\"\n\nBait? For what? For who? \"You are the fool, Liandrin! Do you think we are here alone? Only three of us, and not even full Aes Sedai? We are bait, Liandrin. And you have walked into the trap like a fat grouse.\"\n\n\"Do not tell her that!\" Elayne said sharply, and Nynaeve blinked before she realized Elayne was helping her fabrication. \"If you let your anger get the best of you, you will tell them what they must not hear. They must take us inside the Stone. They must-\"\n\n\"Be quiet!\" Nynaeve snapped. \"You are letting your tongue runaway with you!\" Elayne managed to look abashed behind her bruises. Let them chew on that, Nynaeve thought.\n\nBut Liandrin only smiled. \"Once your time as bait is done, you will tell us everything. You will want to. They say you will be very strong one day, but I will make sure you will always obey me, even before the Great Master Be'lal works his plans for you. He is sending for Myrddraal. Thirteen of them.\" Those rosebud lips laughed the final words.\n\nNynaeve felt her stomach twist. One of the Forsaken! Her brain numbed with shock. The Dark One and all the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, bound by the Creator in the moment of creation. But the catechism did not help; she knew too well how much of it was false. Then the rest of it came home to her. Thirteen Myrddraal. And thirteen sisters of the Black Ajah. She heard Elayne screaming before she realized she was screaming herself, jerking uselessly in those invisible bonds of Air. It was impossible to say which was louder, their despairing screams, or the laughter from Liandrin and Rianna."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Slumped on the stool in the gleeman's room, Mat grimaced as Thom coughed again. How are we going to keep looking if he's so bloody sick he can't walk? He was ashamed as soon as he thought it. Thom had been as assiduous in searching as he had, pushing himself day and night, when he had to know he was coming down sick. Mat had been so absorbed in his hunt that he had paid too little attention to Thom's coughing. The change from constant rain to steamy heat had not helped it.\n\n\"Come on, Thom,\" he said. \"Lopar says there's a Wise Woman not far. That is what they calla Wisdom here-a Wise Woman. Wouldn't Nynaeve like that!\"\n\n\"I do not need... any foul-tasting... concoctions... poured down my throat, boy.\" Thom stuffed a fist through his mustaches in a vain attempt to stop his hacking. \"You go ahead looking. Just give me... a few hours... on my bed... and I'll join you.\" The wracking wheezes doubled him over till his head was almost on his knees.\n\n\"So I am supposed to do all the work while you take your ease?\" Mat said lightly. \"How can I find anything without you? You learn most of what we hear.\" That was not exactly true; men talked as freely over dice as they did while buying a gleeman a cup of wine. More freely than they did with a gleeman hacking so hard they feared contagion. But he was beginning to think that Thom's cough was not going to go away by itself. If the old goat dies on me, who will I play stones with? he told himself roughly. \"Anyway, your bloody coughing keeps me awake even in the next room.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ignoring the white-haired man's protests, he pulled Thom to his feet."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was shocked at how much of the gleeman's weight he had to support. Despite the damp heat, Thom insisted on his patch-covered cloak. Mat had his own coat unbuttoned completely and all three ties of his shirt undone, but he let the old goat have his way. No one in the common room even looked up as he half carried Thom out into the muggy afternoon.\n\nThe innkeeper had given simple directions, but when they reached the gate, and faced the mud of the Maule, Mat almost turned back to ask after another Wise Woman. There had to be more than one in a city this size. Thom's wheezing decided him. With a grimace Mat stepped off into the mud, half carrying the gleeman.\n\nHe had thought from the directions that they must have passed the Wise Woman's house on their way up from the dock that first night, and when he saw the long, narrow house with bunches of herbs hanging in the windows, right next to a potter's shop, he remembered it. Lopar had said something about going to the backdoor, but he had had enough of mud.\n\nAnd the stink offish, he thought, frowning at the barefoot men squelching by with their baskets on their backs. There were tracks of horses in the street, too, just beginning to be obliterated by feet and ox-carts. Horses pulling a wagon, or maybe a carriage. He had seen nothing but oxen drawing carts or wagons either one in Tear-the nobles and the merchants were proud of their fine stock, and never let one be put to anything like work-but he had not seen any carriages since leaving the walled city, either.\n\nDismissing horses and wheel tracks from his mind, he took Thom to the front door and knocked. After a time he knocked again. Then again."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He was on the point of giving up and returning to The White Crescent despite Thom coughing on his shoulder when he heard shuffling footsteps inside.\n\nThe door opened barely more than a crack, and a stout, gray-haired woman peered out. \"What do you want?\" she asked in a tired voice.\n\nMat put on his best grin. Light, but I am getting sick myself at all these people who sound like there's no bloody hope. \"Mother Guenna? My name is Mat Cauthon. Cavan Lopar told me you might do something for my friend's cough. I can pay well.\"\n\nShe studied them a moment, seemed to listen to Thom's wheezes, then sighed. \"I suppose I can still do that, at least. You might as well come in.\" She swung the door open and was already plodding toward the back of the house before Mat moved.\n\nHer accent sounded so much like the Amyrlin's that he shivered, but he followed, all but carrying Thom.\n\n\"I don't... need this,\" the gleeman wheezed. \"Bloody mixtures... always taste like... dung!\"\n\n\"Shut up, Thom.\"\n\nLeading them all the way to the kitchen, the stout woman rummaged in one of the cupboards, taking out small stone pots and packets of herbs while muttering to herself.\n\nMat sat Thom down in one of the high-backed chairs, and glanced through the nearest window. There were three good horses tied outback; he was surprised the Wise Woman had more than one, or any for that matter. He had not seen anyone in Tear riding except nobles and the wealthy, and these animals looked as if they had cost more than a little silver. Horses again. I don't care about bloody horses now!"
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mother Guenna brewed some sort of strong tea with a rank smell and forced it down Thom's throat, holding his nose when he tried to complain. Mat decided she had less fat on her than he had thought, from the way she held the gleeman's head steady in the crook of one arm while she poured the black liquid into him no matter how hard he tried to stop her.\n\nWhen she took the cup away, Thom coughed and scrubbed at his mouth with equal vigor. \"Gaaah! Woman... I don't know... whether you... mean to drown me... or kill me... with the taste! You ought... to be a bloody... blacksmith!\"\n\n\"You will take the same twice a day till that hacking is gone,\" she said firmly. \"And I have a salve that you'll rub on your chest every night.\" Some of the weariness left her voice as she confronted the gleeman, fists on her broad hips. \"That salve stinks as bad as this tea tastes, but you will rub it on-thoroughly!-or I'll drag you upstairs like a scrawny carp in a net and tie you to abed with that cloak of yours! I never had a gleeman come tome before, and I'll not let the first one that does cough himself to death.\"\n\nThom glowered and blew out his mustaches with a cough, but he seemed to take her threat seriously. At least, he did not say anything, but he looked as if he meant to throw her tea and her salve right back at her.\n\nThe more this Mother Guenna talked, the more she sounded like the Amyrlin to Mat. From the sour look on Thom's face, and the steady stare on hers, he decided he had better smooth matters over a little before the gleeman refused to take her medicines. And she decided to make him. \"I knew a woman once who talked like you,\" he said. \"All fish and nets and things. Sounded like you, too. The same accent, I mean. I suppose she's Tairen.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps.\" The gray-haired woman suddenly sounded tired again, and she kept staring at the floor. \"I knew some girls with the sound of your speech on their tongues, too. Two of them had it, anyway.\" She sighed heavily.\n\nMat felt his scalp prickle. My luck can't be this good. But he would not beta copper on two other women with Two Rivers accents just happening to be in Tear. \"Three girls? Young women? Named Egwene, and Nynaeve, and Elayne? That one has hairlike the sun, and blue eyes.\"\n\nShe frowned at him. \"Those were not the names they gave,\" she said slowly, \"yet I suspected they did not give me their true names. But they had their reasons, I thought. One of them was a pretty girl with bright blue eyes and red-gold hair to her shoulders.\" She described Nynaeve with her braid to her waist and Egwene with her big, dark eyes and ready smile, too. Three pretty women as different from one another as they could be. \"I see they are the ones you know,\" she finished. \"I am sorry, boy.\"\n\n\"Why are you sorry? I have been trying to find them for days!\" Light, I walked right past this place the first night! Right past them! I wanted random. What could be more random than where a ship docks on a rainy night, and where you happen to look in a bloody lightning flash? Burn me! Burn me! \"Tell me where they are, Mother Guenna.\"\n\nThe gray-haired woman stared wearily at the stove where her spouted kettle was steaming. Her mouth worked, but she said nothing.\n\n\"Where are they?\" Mat demanded. \"It is important! They are in danger if I don't find them.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"You do not understand,\" she said softly. \"You are an outlander. The High Lords....\"\n\n\"I do not care about any-\" Mat blinked, and looked at Thom. The gleeman seemed to be frowning, but he was coughing so hard, Mat could not be sure. \"What do the High Lords have to do with my friends?\"\n\n\"You just do not-\"\n\n\"Don't tell me I do not understand! I will pay for the information!\"\n\nMother Guenna glared at him. \"I do not take money for...!\" She grimaced fiercely. \"You ask me to tell you things I have been told not to speak of. Do you know what will happen tome if I do and you breathe my name? I will lose my tongue, to begin. Then I will lose other parts before the High Lords have what is left of me hung up to scream its last hours as a reminder to others to obey. And it will do those young women no good, not my telling or my dying!\"\n\n\"I promise I will never mention your name to anyone. I swear it.\" And I'll keep that oath, old woman, if you only tell me where they bloody are! \"Please? They are in danger.\"\n\nShe studied him fora longtime; before she was done he had the feeling she knew every detail of him. \"On that oath, I will tell you. I... liked them. But you can do nothing. You are too late, Matrim Cauthon. Too late by nearly three hours. They have been taken to the Stone. The High Lord Samon sent for them.\" She shook her head in worried puzzlement. \"He sent... women who... could channel. I hold nothing against Aes Sedai myself, but that is against the law. The law the High Lords made. If they break every other law, they would not break that one. Why would a High Lord send Aes Sedai on his errands? Why would he want those girls at all?\""
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat almost burst out laughing. \"Aes Sedai? Mother Guenna, you had my heart in my throat, and maybe my liver, too. If Aes Sedai came for them, there is nothing to worry about. All three of them are going to be Aes Sedai themselves. Not that I like it much, but that's what they-\" His grin faded at the heavy way she shook her head.\n\n\"Boy, those girls fought like lionfish in a net. Whether they mean to be Aes Sedai or not, those who took them treated them like bilge pumpings. Friends do not give bruises like that.\"\n\nHe felt his face twisting. Aes Sedai hurt them? What in the Light? The bloody Stone. It makes the Palace in Caemlyn look like walking into a barnyard! Burn me! I stood right out therein the rain and stared at this house! Burn me fora bloody Light-blinded fool!\n\n\"If you break your hand,\" Mother Guenna said, \"I will splint and poultice it, but if you damage my wall, I will strip your hide like a redfish!\"\n\nHe blinked, then looked at his fist, at scraped knuckles. He did not even remember punching the wall.\n\nThe broad woman took his hand in a strong grip, but the fingers she used to probe were surprisingly gentle. \"Nothing broken,\" she grunted after awhile. Her eyes were just as gentle as she studied his face. \"It seems you care for them. One of them, at least, I suppose it is. I am sorry, Mat Cauthon.\"\n\n\"Don't be,\" he told her. \"At least I know where they are, now. All I have to do is get them out.\" He fished out his last two Andoran gold crowns and pressed them into her hand. \"For Thom's medicines, and for letting me know about the girls.\" On impulse, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and a grin. \"And that's for me.\""
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, prophecy\nAuthor: Robert Jordan\nTitle: The Dragon Reborn\nChapter: 62"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
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"value": "Rand entered the chamber slowly, walking among the great polished redstone columns he remembered from his dreams. Silence filled the shadows, yet something called to him. And something flashed ahead, a momentary light throwing back shadow, a beacon. He stepped out beneath a great dome, and saw what he sought. Callandor, hanging hilt down in midair, waiting for no hand but that of the Dragon Reborn. As it revolved, it broke what little light there was into splinters, and now and then it flared as if with alight of its own. Calling him. Waiting for him.\n\nIf I am the Dragon Reborn. If I am not just some half-madman cursed with the ability to channel, a puppet dancing for Moiraine and the White Tower.\n\n\"Take it, Lews Therin. Take it, Kinslayer.\"\n\nHe spun to face the voice. The tall man with close-cropped white hair who stepped from the shadows among the columns was familiar to him. Rand had no idea who he was, this fellow in a red silk coat with black stripes down its puffy sleeves and black breeches tucked into elaborately silver-worked boots. He did not know the man, but he had seen him in his dreams. \"You put them in a cage,\" he said. \"Egwene, and Nynaeve, and Elayne. In my dreams. You kept putting them in a cage, and hurting them.\"\n\nThe man made a dismissive gesture of his hand. \"They are less than nothing. Perhaps one day, when they have been trained, but not now. I confess surprise that you cared enough to make them useful. But you were ever a fool, ever ready to follow your heart before power. You came too soon, Lews Therin. Now you must do what you are not yet ready for, or else die. Die, knowing you have left these women you care for in my hands.\" He seemed to be waiting for something, expectant. \"I mean to use them more, Kinslayer. They will serve me, serve my power. And that will hurt them far more than anything they have suffered before.\""
},
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"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "Behind Rand, Callandor flashed, throwing one pulse of warmth against his back. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"You do not remember me, do you?\" The white-haired man laughed suddenly. \"I do not remember you, either, looking this way. A country lad with a flute case on his back. Did Ishamael speak the truth? He was ever one to lie when it gained him an inch or a second. Do you remember nothing, Lews Therin?\"\n\n\"A name!\" Rand demanded. \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Call me Be'lal.\" The Forsaken scowled when Rand did not react to the name. \"Take it!\" Be'lal snapped, throwing a hand toward the sword behind Rand. \"Once we rode to war side by side, and for that I give you a chance. A bare chance, but a chance to save yourself, a chance to save those three I mean to make my pets. Take the sword, countryman. Perhaps it will be enough to help you survive me.\"\n\nRand laughed. \"Do you believe you can frighten me so easily, Forsaken? Ba'alzamon himself has hunted me. Do you think I will cower now for you? Grovel before a Forsaken when I have denied the Dark One to his face?\"\n\n\"Is that what you think?\" Be'lal said softly. \"Truly, you know nothing.\" Suddenly there was a sword in his hands, a sword with a blade carved from black fire. \"Take it! Take Callandor! Three thousand years, while I lay imprisoned, it has waited there. For you. One of the most powerful sa'angreal we ever made. Take it, and defend yourself, if you can!\"\n\nHe moved toward Rand as if to drive him back toward Callandor, but Rand raised his own hands-saidin filled him; sweet rushing flow of the Power; stomach-wrenching vileness of the taint-and he held a sword wrought from red flame, a sword with a heron-mark on its fiery blade. He stepped into the forms Lan had taught him till he flowed from one to the next as if in a dance. Parting the Silk. Water Flows Downhill. Wind and Rain. Blade of black fire met blade of red in showers of sparks, roars like white-hot metal shattering."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand came back smoothly into a guard stance, trying not to let his sudden uncertainty show. A heron stood on the black blade, too, a bird so dark as to be nearly invisible. Once he had faced a man with a heron-mark blade of steel, and barely survived. He knew that he himself had no real right to the blademaster's mark; it had been on the sword his father had given him, and when he thought of a sword in his hands, he thought of that sword. Once he had embraced death, as the Warder had taught, but this time, he knew, his death would be final. Be'lal was better than he with the sword. Stronger. Faster. A true blademaster.\n\nThe Forsaken laughed, amused, swinging his blade in quick flourishes to either side of him; the black fire roared as if swift passage through the air quickened it. \"You were a greater swordsman, once, Lews Therin,\" he said mockingly. \"Do you remember when we took that tame sport called swords and learned to kill with it, as the old volumes said men once had? Do you remember even one of those desperate battles, even one of our dire defeats? Of course not. You remember nothing, do you? This time you have not learned enough. This time, Lews Therin, I will kill you.\" Be'lal's mockery deepened. \"Perhaps if you take Callandor, you might extend your life a little longer. A little longer.\"\n\nHe came forward slowly, almost as if to give Rand time to do just that, turn and race to Callandor, to the Sword That Cannot Be Touched, to take it. But the doubts were still strong in Rand. Callandor could only be touched by the Dragon Reborn. He had allowed them to proclaim him so fora hundred reasons that seemed to leave him no choice at the time. But was he truly the Dragon Reborn? If he raced to touch Callandor in truth, not in a dream, would his hand meet an invisible wall while Be'lal cut him down from behind?"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He met the Forsaken with the sword he knew, the blade of fire wrought with saidin. And was driven back. The Falling Leaf met Watered Silk. The Cat Dances on the Wall met the Boar Rushes Downhill. The River Undercuts the Bank nearly lost him his head, and he had to throw himself inelegantly to one side with black flame brushing his hair, rolling to his feet to confront the Stone Falls From the Mountain. Methodically, deliberately, Be'lal drove him back in a spiral that slowly tightened on Callandor.\n\nShouts echoed among the columns, screams, the clash of steel, but Rand barely heard. He and Be'lal were no longer alone in the Heart of the Stone. Men in breastplates and rimmed helmets fought with swords against shadowy, veiled shapes that darted among the columns with short spears stabbing. Some of the soldiers formed a rank; arrows flashing out of the dimness took them in the throat, the face, and they died in their line. Rand hardly noticed the fighting, even when men fell dead within paces of him. His own fight was too desperate; it took all of his concentration. Wet warmth trickled down his side. The old wound was breaking open.\n\nHe stumbled suddenly, not seeing the dead man at his feet until he was lying on his back atop his flute case on the stone floor.\n\nBe'lal raised his blade of black fire, snarling. \"Take it! Take Callandor and defend yourself! Take it, or I will kill you now! If you will not take it, I will slay you!\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\nEven Be'lal gave a start at the command in that woman's voice. The Forsaken stepped back out of the arc of Rand's sword and turned his head to frown at Moiraine as she came striding through the battle, her eyes fixed on him, ignoring the screaming deaths around her. \"I thought you were neatly out of the way, woman. No matter. You are only an annoyance. A stinging fly. A biteme. I will cage you with the others, and teach you to serve the Shadow with your puny powers,\" he finished with a contemptuous laugh, and raised his freehand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Moiraine had not stopped or slowed while he spoke. She was no more than thirty paces from him when he moved his hand, and she raised both of hers as well.\n\nThere was an instant of surprise on the Forsaken's face, and he had time to scream'No!\" Then a bar of white fire hotter than the sun shot from the Aes Sedai's hands, a glaring rod that banished all shadows. Before it, Be'lal became a shape of shimmering motes, specks dancing in the light for less than a heartbeat, flecks consumed before his cry faded.\n\nThere was silence in the chamber as that bar of light vanished, silence except for the moans of the wounded. The fighting had stopped dead, veiled men and men in breastplates alike standing as if stunned.\n\n\"He was right concerning one thing,\" Moiraine said, as coolly serene as if she were standing in a meadow. \"You must take Callandor. He meant to slay you for it, but it is your birthright. Better by far that you knew more before your handheld that hilt, yet you have come to the point now, and there is no further time for learning. Take it, Rand.\"\n\nWhips of black lightning curled around her; she screamed as they lifted her, hurled her to slide along the floor like a sack until she came up against one of the columns.\n\nRand stared up at where the lightning had come from. There was a deeper shadow up there, near the top of the columns, a blackness that made all other shadows look like noonday, and from it, two eyes of fire stared back at him.\n\nSlowly the shadow descended, resolving into Ba'alzamon, clothed in dead black, like a Myrddraal's black. Yet even that was not so dark as the shadow that clung to him. He hung in the air, two spans above the floor, glaring at Rand with a rage as fierce as his eyes. \"Twice in this life I have offered you the chance to serve me living.\" Flames leaped in his mouth as he spoke, and every word roared like a furnace. \"Twice you have refused, and wounded me. Now you will serve the Lord of the Grave in death. Die, Lews Therin Kinslayer. Die, Rand al'Thor. It is time for you to die! I take your soul!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As Ba'alzamon put forth his hand, Rand pushed himself up, threw himself desperately toward Callandor, still glittering and flashing in midair. He did not know whether he could reach it, or touch it if he did, but he was sure it was his only chance.\n\nBa'alzamon's blow struck him as he leapt, struck inside him, a ripping and crumpling, tearing something loose, trying to pull apart of him away. Rand screamed. He felt as if he were collapsing like an empty sack, as if he were being turned inside out. The pain in his side, the wound taken at Falme, was almost welcome, something to hang onto, a reminder of life. His hand closed convulsively. On Callandor 's hilt.\n\nThe One Power surged through him, a torrent greater than he could believe, from saidin into the sword. The crystal blade shone brighter than even Moiraine's fire had. It was impossible to look at, impossible any longer to see that it was a sword, only that light blazed in his fist. He fought the flow, wrestled with the implacable tide that threatened to carry him, all that was really him, into the sword with it. Fora heartbeat that took centuries he hung, wavering, balanced on the brink of being scoured away like sand before a flash flood. With infinite slowness the balance firmed. It was still as though he stood barefoot on a razor's edge above a bottomless drop, yet something told him this was the best that could be expected. To channel this much of the Power, he must dance on that sharpness as he had danced the forms of the sword.\n\nHe turned to face Ba'alzamon. The tearing within him had ceased as soon as his hand touched Callandor. Only an instant had passed, yet it seemed to have lasted forever. \"You will not take my soul,\" he shouted. \"This time, I mean to finish it once and for all! I mean to finish it now!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ba'alzamon fled, man and shadow vanishing.\n\nFora moment Rand stared, frowning. There had been a sense of-folding-as Ba'alzamon left. A twisting, as if Ba'alzamon had in someway bent what was. Ignoring the men staring at him, ignoring Moiraine crumpled at the column base, Rand reached out, through Callandor, and twisted reality to make a door to somewhere else. He did not know to where, except that it was where Ba'alzamon had gone.\n\n\"I am the hunter now,\" he said, and stepped through.\n\nThe stone shook under Egwene's feet. The Stone shook; it rang. She caught her balance and stopped, listening. There was no more sound, no other tremor. Whatever had happened, it was over. She hurried on. A door of iron bars stood in her way, with a lock as big as her head. She channeled Earth before she reached it, and when she pushed against the bars, the lock tore in half.\n\nShe walked quickly across the chamber beyond it, trying not to look at the things hanging on the walls. Whips andiron pincers were the most innocuous. With a small shudder she pushed open a smaller iron gate and entered a corridor lined with rough wooden doors, rush torches burning at intervals in iron brackets; she felt almost as much relief at leaving those things behind as she did at finding what she sought. But which cell?\n\nThe wooden doors opened easily. Some were unlocked, and the locks on the others lasted no longer than that larger lock had earlier. But every cell was empty. Of course. No one would dream themselves in this place. Any prisoner who managed to reach Tel'aran'rhiod would dream of a pleasanter place.\n\nFora moment she felt something close to despair. She had wanted to believe that finding the right cell would make a difference. Even finding it could be impossible, though. This first corridor stretched on and on, and others joined it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Suddenly she saw something flicker just ahead of her. A shape even less substantial than Joiya Byir had been. It had been a woman, though. She was sure of that. A woman seated on a bench beside one of the cell doors. The image flickered into being again, and was gone. There was no mistaking that slender neck and the pale, innocent-appearing face with its eyelids fluttering on the edge of sleep. Amico Nagoyin was drifting toward sleep, dreaming of her guard duties. And apparently toying drowsily with one of the stolen ter'angreal. Egwene could understand that; it had been a great effort to stop using the one Verin had given her, even fora few days.\n\nShe knew it was possible to cut a woman off from the True Source even if she had already embraced saidar, but severing a weave already established had to be much harder than damming the flow before it began. She set the patterns of the weaving, readied them, making the threads of Spirit much stronger, this time, thicker and heavier, a denser weave with a cutting edge like a knife.\n\nThe wavering shape of the Darkfriend appeared again, and Egwene struck outwith the flows of Air and Spirit. For an instant something seemed to resist the weaving of Spirit, and she forced it with all of her might. It slid into place.\n\nAmico Nagoyin screamed. It was a thin sound, barely heard, as faint as she herself was, and she seemed almost like a shadow of what Joiya Byir had been. Yet the bonds woven of Air held her; she did not vanish again. Terror twisted the Darkfriend's lovely face; she seemed to be babbling, but her shouts were whispers too soft for Egwene to understand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tying and setting the weaves around the Black sister, Egwene turned her attentions to the cell door. Impatiently, she let Earth flood into the iron lock. It fell away in black dust, in a mist that dissolved completely before it struck the floor. She swung open the door, and was not surprised to find the cell empty except for one burning rush torch.\n\nBut Amico is bound, and the door is open.\n\nFora moment she thought of what to do next. Then she stepped out of the dream...\n\n... and woke to all her bruises and aches and thirst, to the wall of the cell against her back, staring at the tightly shut cell door. Of course. What happens to living things there is real when they wake. What I did to stone or iron or wood has no effect in the waking world.\n\nNynaeve and Elayne were still kneeling beside her.\n\n\"Whoever is out there,\" Nynaeve said, \"screamed a few moments ago, but nothing else has happened. Did you find away out?\"\n\n\"We should be able to walkout,\" Egwene said. \"Help me to my feet, and I will get rid of the lock. Amico will not trouble us. That scream washer.\"\n\nElayne shook her head. \"I have been trying to embrace saidar ever since you left. It is different, now, but I am still cutoff.\"\n\nEgwene formed the emptiness inside her, became the rosebud opening to saidar. The invisible wall was still there. It shimmered now. There were moments when she almost thought she could feel the True Source beginning to fill her with the Power. Almost. The shield wavered in and out of existence too fast for her to detect. It might as well have still been solid."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She stared at the other two women. \"I bound her. I shielded her. She is a living thing, not lifeless iron. She must be shielded still.\"\n\n\"Something has happened to the shield set onus,\" Elayne said, \"but Amico is still managing to hold it.\"\n\nEgwene let her head sag back against the wall. \"I will have to try again.\"\n\n\"Are you strong enough?\" Elayne grimaced. \"To be blunt, you sound even weaker than you did before. This try took something out of you, Egwene.\"\n\n\"I am strong enough there.\" She did feel more weary, less strong, but it was their only chance that she could see. She said as much, and their faces said they agreed with her, however reluctantly.\n\n\"Can you go to sleep again so soon?\" Nynaeve asked finally.\n\n\"Sing tome.\" Egwene managed a smile. \"Like when I was a little girl. Please?\" Holding Nynaeve's hand with one of hers, the stone ring clasped in the other, she closed her eyes and tried to find sleep in the wordless humming tune.\n\nThe wide door of iron bars stood open, and the room beyond seemed empty of life, but Mat entered cautiously. Sandar was still out in the hall, trying to peer both ways at once, certain that a High Lord, or maybe a hundred Defenders or so, would appear at any moment.\n\nThere were no men in the room now-and by the looks of the half-eaten meals on along table, they had left hurriedly; no doubt because of the fighting above-and from the looks of the things on the walls, he was just as glad he did not have to meet any of them. Whips indifferent sizes and lengths, different thicknesses, with different numbers of tails. Pincers, and tongs, and clamps, andirons. Things that looked like metal boots, and gauntlets, and helmets, with great screws allover them as if to tighten them down. Things he could not even begin to guess the use of. If he had met the men who used these things, he thought he would surely have checked that they were dead before he walked away."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Sandar!\" he hissed. \"Are you going to stay out there all bloody night!\" He hurried to the inner door-barred like the outer, but smaller-without waiting for an answer, and went through.\n\nThe hall beyond was lined by rough wooden doors, and lit by the same rush torches as the room he had just left. No more than twenty paces from him, a woman sat on a bench beside one of the doors, leaning back against the wall in a curiously stiff fashion. She turned her head slowly toward him at the sound of his boots grating on the stone. A pretty young woman. He wondered why she did not move more than her head, and why even that moved as if she were half-asleep.\n\nWas she a prisoner? Out in the hall? But nobody with a face like that could be one of the people who uses the things on those walls. She did look almost asleep, with her eyes only partly open. And the suffering on that lovely face surely made her one of the tortured, not a torturer.\n\n\"Stop!\" Sandar shouted behind him. \"She is Aes Sedai! She is one of those who took the women you seek!\"\n\nMat froze in the middle of a step, staring at the woman. He remembered Moiraine hurling balls of fire. He wondered if he could deflect a ball of fire with his quarterstaff. He wondered if his luck extended to outrunning Aes Sedai.\n\n\"Help me,\" she said faintly. Her eyes still looked nearly asleep, but the pleading in her voice was fully awake. \"Help me. Please!\"\n\nMat blinked. She still had not moved a muscle below her neck. Cautiously, he stepped closer, waving to Sandar to stop his groaning about her being Aes Sedai. She moved her head to follow him. No more than that."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "A large iron key hung at her belt."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fora moment he hesitated. Aes Sedai, Sandar said. Why doesn't she move? Swallowing, he eased the key free as carefully as if he were trying to take apiece of meat from a wolf's jaws. She rolled her eyes toward the door beside her and made a sound like a cat that had just seen a huge dog come snarling into the room and knew there was noway out.\n\nHe did not understand it, but as long as she did not try to stop him opening that door, he did not care why she just sat there like a stuffed scarecrow. On the other hand, he wondered if there was something on the other side worth being afraid of. If she is one of those who took Egwene and the others, it stands to reason she's guarding them. Tears leaked from the woman's eyes. Only she looks like it's a bloody Halfman in there. But there was only one way to find out. Propping his staff against the wall, he turned the key in the lock and flung open the door, ready to run if need be.\n\nNynaeve and Elayne were kneeling on the floor with Egwene apparently asleep between them. He gasped at the sight of Egwene's swollen face, and changed his mind about her sleeping. The other two women turned toward him as he opened the door-they were almost as battered as Egwene; Burn me! Burn me!-looked at him, and gaped.\n\n\"Matrim Cauthon,\" Nynaeve said, sounding shocked, \"what under the Light are you doing here?\"\n\n\"I came to bloody rescue you,\" he said. \"Burn me if I expected to be greeted as if I had come to steal a pie. You can tell me why you look as if you'd been fighting bears later, if you want. If Egwene cannot walk, I'll carry heron my back. There are Aiel allover the Stone, or near enough, and either they are killing the bloody Defenders or the bloody Defenders are killing them, but whichever way it is, we had better get out of here while we bloody well can. If we can!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Mind your language,\" Nynaeve told him, and Elayne gave him one of those disapproving stares women were so good at."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Neither one seemed to have her full attention in it, though. They began shaking Egwene as if she were not covered with more bruises than he had ever seen in his life.\n\nEgwene's eyelids fluttered open, and she groaned. \"Why did you wake me? I must understand it. If I loose the bonds on her, she will wake and I'll never catch her again. But if I do not, she cannot go all the way to sleep, and-\" Her eyes fell on him and widened. \"Matrim Cauthon, what under the Light are you doing here?\"\n\n\"You tell her,\" he told Nynaeve. \"I am too busy trying to rescue you to watch my langu-\" They were all staring beyond him, glaring as if they wished they had knives in their hands.\n\nHe spun, but all he saw was Juilin Sandar, looking as if he had swallowed a rotten plum whole.\n\n\"They have cause,\" he told Mat. \"I.... I betrayed them. But I had to.\" That was addressed past Mat to the women. \"The one with many honey-colored braids spoke tome, and I.... I had to do it.\" Fora long moment the three continued to stare.\n\n\"Liandrin has vile tricks, Master Sandar,\" Nynaeve said finally. \"Perhaps you are not entirely to blame. We can apportion guilt later.\"\n\n\"If that is all cleared up,\" Mat said, \"could we go now?\" It was as clear as mud to him, but he was more interested in leaving right then.\n\nThe three women limped after him into the hall, but they stopped around the woman on the bench. She rolled her eyes at them and whimpered. \"Please. I will comeback to the Light. I will swear to obey you. With the Oath Rodin my hands I will swear. Please do not-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Mat jumped as Nynaeve suddenly reared back and swung a fist, knocking the woman completely off the bench. She lay there, her eyes closed all the way finally, but even lying on her side she was still inexactly the same position she had been in on the bench.\n\n\"It is gone,\" Elayne said excitedly.\n\nEgwene bent to rummage in the unconscious woman's pouch, transferring something Mat could not make out to her own. \"Yes. It feels wonderful. Something changed about her when you hither, Nynaeve. I do not know what, but I felt it.\"\n\nElayne nodded. \"I felt it, too.\"\n\n\"I would like to change every last thing about her,\" Nynaeve said grimly. She took Egwene's head in her hands; Egwene rose onto her toes, gasping. When Nynaeve took her hands away to put them on Elayne, Egwene's bruises were gone. Elayne's vanished as quickly.\n\n\"Blood and bloody ashes!\" Mat growled. \"What do you mean hitting a woman who was just sitting there? I don't think she could even move!\" They all three turned to look at him, and he made a strangled sound as the air seemed to turn to thick jelly around him. He lifted into the air, until his boots dangled a good pace above the floor. Oh, burn me, the Power! Here I was afraid that Aes Sedai would use the bloody Power on me, and now the bloody women I'm rescuing do it! Burn me!\n\n\"You do not understand anything, Matrim Cauthon,\" Egwene said in a tight voice.\n\n\"Until you do understand,\" Nynaeve said in an even tighter, \"I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Elayne contented herself with a glare that made him think of his mother going out to cut a switch.\n\nFor some reason he found himself giving them the grin that had so often sent his mother after that switch. Burn me, if they can do this, I don't see how anybody ever locked them in that cell in the first place! \"What I understand is that I got you out of something you couldn't get yourselves out of, and you all have as much gratitude as a bloody Taren Ferryman with a toothache!\"\n\n\"You are right,\" Nynaeve said, and his boots suddenly hit the floor so hard his teeth jarred. But he could move again. \"As much as it pains me to say it, Mat, you are right.\"\n\nHe was tempted to answer something sarcastic, but there was barely enough apology in her voice as it was. \"Now can we go? With the fighting going on, Sandar thinks he and I can take you out by a small gate near the river.\"\n\n\"I am not leaving just yet, Mat,\" Nynaeve said. \"I mean to find Liandrin and skin her,\" Egwene said, sounding almost as if she meant it literally.\n\n\"All I want to do,\" Elayne said, \"is pound Joiya Byir till she squeals, but I will settle for any of them.\"\n\n\"Are you all deaf?\" he growled. \"There is a battle going on out there! I came hereto rescue you, and I mean to rescue you.\" Egwene patted his cheek as she walked by him, and so did Elayne. Nynaeve merely sniffed. He stared after them with his mouth hanging open. \"Why didn't you say something?\" he growled at the thief-catcher."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I saw what speaking earned you,\" Sandar said simply. \"I am no fool.\"\n\n\"Well, I am not staying in the middle of a battle!\" he shouted at the women. They were just disappearing through the small, barred door. \"I am leaving, do you hear?\" They did not even look back. Probably get themselves killed out there! Somebody will stick a sword in them while they're looking the other way! With a snarl, he put his quarterstaff across his shoulder and started after. \"Are you going to stand there?\" he called to the thief-catcher. \"I did not come this far to let them die now!\"\n\nSandar caught up to him in the room with the whips. The three women were already gone, but Mat had a feeling they would not be too hard to find. Just find the men bloody hanging in midair! Bloody women! He quickened his pace to a trot.\n\nPerrin strode down the halls of the Stone grimly, searching for some sign of Faile. He had rescued her twice more, now, breaking her out of an iron cage once, much like the one that had held the Aiel in Remen, and once breaking open a steel chest with a falcon worked on its side. Both times she had melted into air after saying his name. Hopper trotted by his side, sniffing the air. As sharp as Perrin's nose was, the wolf's was sharper; it had been Hopper who led them to the chest.\n\nPerrin wondered whether he was ever going to free her in truth. There had not been any sign in along time, it seemed. The halls of the Stone were empty, lamps burning, tapestries and weapons hanging on the walls, but nothing moved except himself and Hopper. Except I think that was Rand. It had only been a glimpse, a man running as if chasing someone. It could not be him. It couldn't, but I think it was."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Hopper quickened his steps suddenly, heading for another set of tall doors, these clad in bronze. Perrin tried to match the pace, stumbled, and fell to his knees, throwing out a hand to catch himself short of dropping on his face. Weakness washed through him as if all his muscles had gone to water. Even after the feeling receded, it took some of his strength with it. It was an effort to struggle to his feet. Hopper had turned to look at him.\n\nYou are here too strongly, Young Bull. The flesh weakens. You do not care to hold onto it enough. Soon flesh and dream will die together.\n\n\"Find her,\" Perrin said. \"That is all I ask. Find Faile.\"\n\nYellow eyes met yellow eyes. The wolf turned and trotted to the doors. Beyond here, Young Bull.\n\nPerrin reached the doors and pushed. They did not budge. There seemed to be noway to open them, no handles, nothing to grip. There was a tiny pattern worked into the metal, so fine his eyes almost did not see it. Falcons. Thousands of tiny falcons.\n\nShe has to be here. I do not think I can last much longer. With a shout, he swung his hammer against the bronze. It rang like a great gong. Again he struck, and the peal deepened. A third blow, and the bronze doors shattered like glass.\n\nWithin, a hundred paces from the broken doors, a circle of light surrounded a falcon chained to a perch. Darkness filled all the rest of that vast chamber, darkness and faint rustlings as of hundreds of wings.\n\nHe took a step into the room, and a falcon stooped out of the murk, talons scoring his face as it passed. He threw an arm across his eyes-talons tore at his forearm-and staggered toward the perch. Again and again the birds came, falcons diving, striking him, tearing him, but he lumbered on with blood pouring down his arms and shoulders, that one arm protecting the eyes he had fixed on the falcon on the perch. He had lost the hammer; he did not know where, but he knew that if he went back to search, he would die before he found it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ashe reached the perch, the slicing talons drove him to his knees. He peered up under his arm at the falcon on the perch, and she stared back with dark, unblinking eyes. The chain that held her leg was fastened to the perch with a tiny lock shaped like a hedgehog. He seized the chain with both hands, careless of the other falcons that now became a whirlwind of cutting talons around him, and with his last strength snapped it. Pain and the falcons brought darkness.\n\nHe opened his eyes to stinging agony, as if his face and arms and shoulders had been sliced with a thousand knives. It did not matter. Faile was kneeling over him, those dark, tilted eyes filled with worry, wiping his face with a cloth already soaked in his blood.\n\n\"My poor Perrin,\" she said softly. \"My poor blacksmith. You are hurt so badly.\"\n\nWith an effort that cost more pain, he turned his head. This was the private dining room in the Star, and near one leg of the table lay a wooden carving of a hedgehog, broken in half. \"Faile,\" he whispered to her. \"My falcon.\"\n\nRand was still in the Heart of the Stone, but it was different. There were no men fighting here, no dead men, no one at all but himself. Abruptly the sound of a great gong rang through the Stone, then again, and the very stones beneath his feet resonated. A third time the booming came, but cutoff abruptly, as if the gong had shattered. All was still.\n\nWhere is this place? he wondered. More important, where is Ba'alzamon?\n\nAs if to answer him, a blazing shaft like the one Moiraine had made shot out of the shadows among the columns, straight toward his chest. His wrist twisted the sword instinctively; it was instinct as much as anything else that made him loose flows from saidin into Callandor, a flood of the Power that made the sword blaze brighter even than that bar streaking at him. His uncertain balance between existence and destruction wavered. Surely that torrent would consume him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The shaft of light struck the blade of Callandor-and parted on its edge, forking to stream past on either side. He felt his coat singe from its near passage, smelled the wool beginning to burn. Behind him, the two prongs of frozen fire, of liquid light, struck huge redstone columns; where they struck, stone ceased to exist, and the burning bars bored through to other columns, severing those instantaneously as well. The Heart of the Stone rumbled as columns fell and shattered in clouds of dust, sprays of stone fragments. What fell into the light, however, simply-was not, anymore.\n\nA snarl of rage came from the shadows, and the blazing shaft of pure white heat vanished.\n\nRand swung Callandor as if he were striking at something in front of him. The white light obscuring the blade extended, blazed ahead, and sheared through the redstone column that hid the snarl. The polished stone sliced like silk. The severed column trembled; part of it tore loose and dropped from the ceiling, smashing into huge, jagged chunks on the floor. As the rumbling faded, he heard beyond it the sound of boots on stone. Running.\n\nCallandor at the ready, Rand hurried after Ba'alzamon.\n\nThe tall archway leading out of the Heart collapsed as he reached it, the entire wall falling in clouds of dust and rock as if to bury him, but he threw the Power at it, and all became dust floating in the air. He ran on. He was not sure what he had done, or how, but he had no time to think on it. He ran after Ba'alzamon's retreating footsteps, echoing down the halls of the Stone.\n\nMyrddraal and Trollocs leaped out of thin air, huge bestial shapes and eyeless faces distorted with a rage to kill, in hundreds, so they jammed the hall before him and behind, scythe like swords and blades of deadly black steel seeking his blood. Without knowing how, he turned them to vapor that parted before him-and vanished. The air around him suddenly became choking soot, clogging his nostrils, shutting off breath, but he made it fresh air again, a cool mist. Flames leaped from the floor beneath his feet, spurted from the walls, the ceiling, furious jets that flashed tapestries and rugs, tables and chests to wisps of ash, flung ornaments and lamps ahead of them as drops of molten, burning gold; he smashed the fires flat, hardened them into a red glaze on the rock."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The stones around him faded almost to mist; the Stone faded. Reality trembled; he could feel it unraveling, feel himself unraveling. He was being pushed out of the here, into some other place where nothing existed at all. Callandor blazed in his hands like the sun till he thought it would melt. He thought he himself would melt from the surge of the One Power through him, the flood that he somehow directed into sealing up the hole that had opened around him, into holding himself on the side of existence. The Stone became solid again.\n\nHe could not even begin to imagine what it was that he did. The One Power raged inside him till he barely knew himself, till he barely was himself, till what was himself almost did not exist. His precarious stability teetered. To either side lay the endless fall, obliteration by the Power that coursed through him into the sword. Only in the dance along the razor's sharp edge was there even an uncertain safety. Callandor shone in his fist until it seemed he carried the sun. Dimly within him, fluttering like a candle flame in a storm, was the surety that holding Callandor, he could do anything. Anything.\n\nThrough endless corridors he ran, dancing along the razor, chasing the one who would slay him, the one he must slay. There could be no other end, this time. This time one of them must die! That Ba'alzamon knew it as well was clear. Always he fled, always staying ahead of sight so that only the sounds of his flight drew Rand on, but even fleeing he turned this Stone of Tear that was not the Stone of Tear against Rand, and Rand fought back with instinct and guesses and chance, fought and ran down that knife edge in perfect balance with the Power, the tool and weapon that would consume him utterly if he faltered."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Water filled the halls from top to bottom, thick and black as the bottom of the sea, choking off breath."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He made it air again, unknowingly, and ran on, and suddenly the air gained weight until it seemed every inch of his skin supported a mountain, squeezing in from all directions. In the instant before he was crushed to nothingness he chose tides out of the flood of Power raging through him-he did not know how or which or why; it was too fast for thought or knowing-and the pressure vanished. He pursued Ba'alzamon, and the very air was abruptly solid rock encasing him, then molten stone, then nothing at all to fill his lungs. The ground beneath his boots pulled at him as if every pound suddenly weighed a thousand, then all weight vanished so that a step left him spinning in midair. Unseen maws gaped to rip his mind from his body, to tearaway his soul. He sprang each trap and ran on; what Ba'alzamon twisted to destroy him, he made right without being aware of how. Vaguely he knew that in someway he had brought things back into natural balance, forced them into line with his own dance down that impossibly thin divide between existence and nothingness, but that knowledge was distant. All his awareness lay in the pursuit, the hunt, the death that must end it.\n\nAnd then he was in the Heart of the Stone again, stalking through the rubbled gap that had been a wall. Some of the columns hung like broken teeth, now. And Ba'alzamon backed away from him, eyes burning, shadow cloaking him. Black lines like steel wires seemed to runoff from Ba'alzamon into the darkness mounding around him, vanishing into unimaginable heights and distances within that blackness.\n\n\"I will not be undone!\" Ba'alzamon cried. His mouth was fire; his shriek echoed among the columns. \"I cannot be defeated! Aid me!\" Some of the darkness shrouding him drifted into his hands, formed into a ball so black it seemed to soak up even the light of Callandor. Sudden triumph blazed in the flames of his eyes."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You are destroyed!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rand shouted. Callandor spun in his hands. Its light roiled the darkness, severed the steel-black lines around Ba'alzamon, and Ba'alzamon convulsed. As if there were two of him he seemed to dwindle and grow larger at the same time. \"You are undone!\" Rand plunged the shining blade into Ba'alzamon's chest.\n\nBa'alzamon screamed, and the fires of his face flared wildly. \"Fool!\" he howled. \"The Great Lord of the Dark can never be defeated!\"\n\nRand pulled Callandor \"s blade free as Ba'alzamon's body sagged and began to fall, the shadow around him vanishing.\n\nAnd suddenly Rand was in another Heart of the Stone, surrounded by columns still whole, and fighting men screaming and dying, veiled men and men in breastplates and helmets. Moiraine still lay crumpled at the base of a redstone column. And at Rand's feet lay the body of a man, sprawled on its back with a hole burned through the chest. He might have been a handsome man in his middle years, except that where his eyes and mouth should have been were only pits from which rose tendrils of black smoke.\n\nI have done it, he thought. I have killed Ba'alzamon, killed Shai'tan! I have won the Last Battle! Light, I AM the Dragon Reborn! The breaker of nations, the Breaker of the World. No! I will END the breaking, end the killing! I will MAKE it end!\n\nHe raised Callandor above his head. Silver lightning crackled from the blade, jagged streaks arching toward the great dome above. \"Stop!\" he shouted. The fighting ceased; men stared at him in wonder, over black veils, from beneath the rims of round helmets. \"I am Rand al'Thor!\" he called, so his voice rang through the chamber. \"I am the Dragon Reborn!\" Callandor shone in his grasp."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "One by one, veiled men and helmeted, they knelt to him, crying, \"The Dragon is Reborn! The Dragon is Reborn!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Throughout the city of Tear people woke with the dawn, speaking of the dreams they had had, dreams of the Dragon battling Ba'alzamon in the Heart of the Stone, and when their eyes rose to the great fortress of the Stone, they beheld a banner waving from its greatest height. Across afield of white flowed a sinuous form like a great serpent scaled in scarlet and gold, but with a golden lion's mane and four legs, each tipped with five golden claws. Men came, stunned and frightened, from the Stone to speak in hushed tones of what had happened in the night, and men and women thronged the streets, weeping as they shouted the fulfillment of Prophecy.\n\n\"The Dragon!\" they shouted. \"Al'Thor! The Dragon! Al'Thor!\"\n\nPeering through an arrowslit high on the side of the Stone, Mat shook his head as he listened to the chorus rising out of the city in waves. Well, maybe he is. He was still having a hard enough time coming to grips with Rand really being there.\n\nEveryone in the Stone seemed to agree with the people below, or if they did not, they were not letting on. He had seen Rand just once since the night before, striding along a hall with Callandor in his hand, surrounded by a dozen veiled Aiel and trailing a cloud of Tairens, a knot of Defenders of the Stone and most of the few surviving High Lords. The High Lords, at least, seemed to think Rand would need them to help him rule the world; the Aiel kept everyone back with sharp looks, though, and spears if need be. They surely believed Rand was the Dragon, though they called him He Who Comes With the Dawn. There were nearly two hundred Aiel in the Stone. They had lost a third of their numbers in the fight, but they had killed or captured ten times as many Defenders."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ashe turned from the arrowslit, his eyes brushed across Rhuarc."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "There was a tall stand atone end of the room, carved and polished upright wheels of some pale, dark-striped wood with shelves slung between them so all of the shelves would stay flat as the wheels were revolved. Each shelf held a large book, bound in gold, covers set with sparkling gems. The Aiel had one of the books open and was reading. Some sort of essays, Mat thought. Who would have thought an Aiel would read books? Who'd have thought an Aiel could bloody read?\n\nRhuarc glanced in his direction, all cold blue eyes and level stare. Mat looked away hastily, before the Aiel could read his thoughts on his face. At least he is not veiled, thank the Light! Burn me, that Aviendha nearly took my head off when I asked her if she could do any dances without spears. Bain and Chiad presented another problem. They were certainly pretty and more than friendly, but he could not manage to talk to one without the other. The male Aiel seemed to think his efforts to get one of them alone were funny, and for that matter, so did Bain and Chiad. Women are odd, but Aiel women make odd seem normal!\n\nThe great table in the middle of the room, ornately carved and gilded on edges and thick legs, had been meant for gatherings of the High Lords. Moiraine satin one of the throne like chairs, with the Crescent Banner of Tear worked into its towering back in gilt and polished carnelian and pearlshell. Egwene, Nynaeve, and Elayne sat close by her.\n\n\"I still cannot believe Perrin is herein Tear,\" Nynaeve was saying. \"Are you sure he is all right?\"\n\nMat shook his head. He would have expected Perrin to have been up in the Stone last night; the blacksmith had always been braver than anyone with good sense."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"He was well when I left him.\" Moiraine's voice was serene. \"Whether he still is, I do not know. His... companion is in some considerable danger, and he may have put himself into it, also.\"\n\n\"His companion?\" Egwene said sharply. \"Wha-Who is Perrin's companion?\"\n\n\"What sort of danger?\" Nynaeve demanded.\n\n\"Nothing that need concern you,\" the Aes Sedai said calmly. \"I will go and see to her as I may, shortly. I have delayed only to show you this, which I found among the ter'angreal and other things of the Power the High Lords collected over the years.\" She took something from her pouch and laid it on the table before her. It was a disc the size of a man's hand, seemingly made of two teardrops fitted together, one black as pitch, the other white as snow.\n\nMat seemed to remember seeing others like it. Ancient, like this one, but broken, where this was whole. Three of them, he had seen; not all together, but all in pieces. But that could not be; he remembered that they were made of cuendillar, unbreakable by any power, even the One Power.\n\n\"One of the seven seals Lews Therin Kinslayer and the Hundred Companions put on the Dark One's prison when they resealed it,\" Elayne said, nodding as if confirming her own memory.\n\n\"More precisely,\" Moiraine told her, \"a focus point for one of the seals. But in essence, you are correct. During the Breaking of the World they were scattered and hidden for safety; since the Trolloc Wars they have been lost in truth.\" She sniffed. \"I begin to sound like Verin.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Egwene shook her head. \"I suppose I should have expected to find that here. Twice before Rand faced Ba'alzamon, and both times at least one of the seals was present.\"\n\n\"And this time unbroken,\" Nynaeve said. \"For the first time, the seal is unbroken. As if that mattered, now.\"\n\n\"You think it does not?\" Moiraine's voice was dangerous in its quiet, and the other women frowned at her.\n\nMat rolled his eyes. They kept talking about unimportant things. He did not much like standing not twenty feet from that disc now that he knew what it was, no matter the value of cuendillar, but.... \"Your pardon?\" he said.\n\nThey all turned to stare at him as if he were interrupting something important. Burn me! Break them out of a prison cell, save their lives half a dozen times between them before the night is done, and they glower as hard as the bloody Aes Sedai! Well, they did not thank me then, either, did they? You'd have thought I was sticking my nose in where it wasn't wanted then, too, instead of keeping some bloody Defender from putting a sword through one of them. Aloud, he said mildly, \"You do not mind if I ask a question, do you? You have all been talking this Aes Sedai... uh... business, and no one has bothered to tell me anything.\"\n\n\"Mat?\" Nynaeve said warningly, tugging her braid, but Moiraine said, in a calm only just touched with impatience, \"What is it that you wish to know?\"\n\n\"I want to know how all of this can be.\" He meant to keep his tone soft, but despite himself he picked up intensity as he went along. \"The Stone of Tear has fallen! The Prophecies said that would never happen till the People of the Dragon came. Does that mean we are the bloody People of the Dragon? You, me, Lan, and a few hundred bloody Aiel?\" He had seen the Warder during the night; there had not seemed to be much edge between Lan and the Aiel as to who was the more deadly. As Rhuarc straightened to stare at him, he hastily added, \"Uh, sorry, Rhuarc. Slip of the tongue.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps,\" Moiraine said slowly. \"I came to stop Be'lal from killing Rand. I did not expect to seethe Stone of Tear fall. Perhaps we are. Prophecies are fulfilled as they are meant to be, not as we think they should be.\"\n\nBe'lal. Mat shivered. He had heard that name last night, and he did not like it anymore in daylight. If he had known one of the Forsaken was loose-and inside the Stone-he would never have gone near the place. He glanced at Egwene, and Nynaeve, and Elayne. Well, I'd have come in like a bloody mouse, anyway, not thumping people left and right! Sandar had gone scurrying out of the Stone at daybreak; to take the news to Mother Guenna, he claimed, but Mat thought it was just to escape those stares from the three women, who looked as if they had not yet quite decided what to do about him.\n\nRhuarc cleared his throat. \"When a man wishes to become a clan chief, he must go to Rhuidean, in the lands of the Jenn Aiel, the clan that is not.\" He spoke slowly and frowned often at the red-fringed silk carpet under his soft boots, a man trying to explain what he did not want to explain at all. \"Women who wish to become Wise Ones also make this journey, but their marking, if they are marked, is kept secret among themselves. The men who are chosen at Rhuidean, those who survive, return marked on the left arm. So.\"\n\nHe pushed back the sleeves of his coat and shirt together to reveal his left forearm, the skin much paler than that of his hands and face. Etched into the skin as if part of it, wrapped twice around, marched the same gold-and-scarlet form as rippled on the banner above the Stone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Aiel let his sleeve fall with a sigh."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is a name not spoken except among the clan chiefs and the Wise Ones. We are....\" He cleared his throat again, unable to say it here.\n\n\"The Aiel are the People of the Dragon.\" Moiraine spoke quietly, but she sounded as close to startlement as Mat could remember ever hearing her. \"That I did not know.\"\n\n\"Then it really is all done,\" Mat said, \"just as the Prophecies said. We can all goon our way with no more worries.\" The Amyrlin won't need me to blow that bloody Horn now!\n\n\"How can you say that?\" Egwene demanded. \"Don't you understand the Forsaken are loose?\"\n\n\"Not to mention the Black Ajah,\" Nynaeve added grimly. \"We took only Amico and Joiya here. Eleven escaped-and I would like to know how!-and the Light alone knows how many others there are we do not know.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Elayne said in atone just as hard. \"I may not be up to facing one of the Forsaken, but I mean to take pieces out of Liandrin's hide!\"\n\n\"Of course,\" Mat said smoothly. \"Of course.\" Are they crazy? They want to chase after the Black Ajah and the Forsaken? \"I only meant the hardest part is done. The Stone has fallen to the People of the Dragon, Rand has Callandor, and Shai'tan is dead.\" Moiraine's stare was so hard that he thought the Stone shook fora moment.\n\n\"Be quiet, you fool!\" the Aes Sedai said in a voice like a knife. \"Do you want to call his attention to you, naming the Dark One?\"\n\n\"But he's dead!\" Mat protested. \"Rand killed him. I saw the body!\" And a fine stink that was, too. I never thought anything could rot that fast."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"You saw \"the body,\"\" Moiraine said with a twist to her mouth."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A man's body. Not the Dark One, Mat.\"\n\nHe looked at Egwene and the other two women; they appeared as confused as he. Rhuarc looked to bethinking of a battle he had thought was won and now learned had not even been fought. \"Then who was it?\" Mat demanded. \"Moiraine, my memory has holes big enough fora wagon and team, but I remember Ba'alzamon being in my dreams. I remember! Burn me, I do not see how I can ever forget! And I recognized what was left of that face.\"\n\n\"You recognized Ba'alzamon,\" Moiraine said. \"Or rather, the man who called himself Ba'alzamon. The Dark One yet lives, imprisoned at Shayol Ghul, and the Shadow yet lies across the Pattern.\"\n\n\"The Light illumine and protect us,\" Elayne murmured in a faint voice. \"I thought.... I thought the Forsaken were the worst we had to worry about, now.\"\n\n\"Are you sure, Moiraine?\" Nynaeve said. \"Rand was certain-is certain-that he killed the Dark One. You seem to be saying Ba'alzamon was not the Dark One at all. I don't understand! How can you be so sure? And if he was not the Dark One, who was he?\"\n\n\"I can be sure for the simplest of reasons, Nynaeve. However fast decay took it, that was a man's body. Can you believe that if the Dark One were killed he would leave a human body? The man Rand killed was a man. Perhaps he was the first of the Forsaken freed, or perhaps he was never entirely bound. We may never know which.\"\n\n\"I... may know who he was.\" Egwene paused with an uncertain frown. \"At least, I may have a clue. Verin showed me a page from an old book that mentioned Ba'alzamon and Ishamael together. It was almost High Chant and very nearly incomprehensible, but I remember something about'a name hidden behind a name. \"Maybe Ba'alzamon was Ishamael.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Perhaps,\" Moiraine said."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps it was Ishamael. But if it was, at least nine of the thirteen still live. Lanfear, and Sammael, and Ravhin, and.... Paah! Even knowing that some of those nine at least are free is not the most important thing.\" She laid a hand atop the black-and-white disc on the table. \"Three of the seals are broken. Only four still hold. Only those four seals stand between the Dark One and the world, and it maybe that even with those whole he can touch the world after a fashion. Whatever battle we won here-battle or skirmish-it is far from the last.\"\n\nMat watched their faces firm-Egwene's and Nynaeve's and Elayne's; slowly, reluctantly, but determinedly, too-and shook his head. Bloody women! They're all ready to goon with this, goon chasing the Black Ajah, trying to fight the Forsaken and the bloody Dark One. Well, they needn't think I am going to come pull them out of the soup pot again. They just needn't think it, that's all!\n\nOne of the tall, paired doors pushed open while he was trying to think of something to say, and a tall young woman of regal bearing entered the room, wearing a coronet with a golden hawk in flight above her brows. Her black hair swept to pale shoulders, and her dress of the finest red silk left those shoulders bare, along with a considerable expanse of what Mat noted as an admirable bosom. Fora moment she studied Rhuarc interestedly with large, dark eyes; then she turned them on the women at the table, coolly imperious. Mat she appeared to ignore completely.\n\n\"I am not used to being given messages to carry,\" she announced, flourishing a folded parchment in one slim hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"And who are you, child?\" Moiraine asked.\n\nThe young woman drew herself up even more, which Mat would have thought was impossible. \"I am Berelain, First of Mayene.\" She tossed the parchment down on the table in front of Moiraine with a haughty gesture and turned back to the door.\n\n\"A moment, child,\" Moiraine said, unfolding the parchment. \"Who gave this to you? And why did you bring it, if you are so unused to carrying messages?\"\n\n\"I... do not know.\" Berelain stood facing the door; she sounded puzzled. \"She was... impressive.\" She gave herself a shake and seemed to recover her opinion of herself. Fora moment she studied Rhuarc with a small smile. \"You are the leader of these Aielmen? Your fighting disturbed my sleep. Perhaps I will ask you to dine with me. One day quite soon.\" She looked over her shoulder at Moiraine. \"I am told the Dragon Reborn has taken the Stone. Inform the Lord Dragon that the First of Mayene will dine with him tonight.\" And she marched out of the room; Mat could think of no other way to describe that stately, one-woman procession.\n\n\"I would like to have her in the Tower as novice.\" Egwene and Elayne said it almost like echoes, then shared a tight smile.\n\n\"Listen to this,\" Moiraine said. \"\"Lews Therin was mine, he is mine, and he will be mine, forever. I give him into your charge, to keep for me until I come.\" It is signed \"Lanfear.\"\" The Aes Sedai turned that cool gaze on Mat. \"And you thought it was done? You are ta'veren, Mat, a thread more crucial to the Pattern than most, and the sounder of the Horn of Valere. Nothing is done for you, yet.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "They were all looking at him. Nynaeve sadly, Egwene as though she had never seen him before, Elayne as if she expected him to change into someone else. Rhuarc had a certain respect in his eyes, though Mat would just as soon have done without it, all things considered.\n\n\"Well, of course,\" he told them. Burn me! \"I understand.\" I wonder how soon Thom will befit to travel? Time to run. Maybe Perrin will come with us. \"You can count on me.\"\n\nFrom outside, the cries still rose, unceasing. \"The Dragon! Al'Thor! The Dragon! Al'Thor! The Dragon! Al'Thor! The Dragon!\"\n\nAnd it was written that no hand but his should wield the Sword held in the Stone, but he did draw it out, like fire in his hand, and his glory did burn the world. Thus did it begin. Thus do we sing his Rebirth. Thus do we sing the beginning.\n\n-from Do'in Toldara te, Songs of the Last Age, Quarto Nine: The Legend of the Dragon. Composed by Boanne, Songmistress at Taralan, the Fourth Age."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help the writer, keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, dragons\nAuthor: Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman\nTitle: Dragons of Autumn Twilight\nChapter: 26"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Raistlin reached out his thin hands to take the pouch from her.\n\nFewmaster Toede stared at it greedily, wondering what was in it. He would find out, but not in front of all these goblins.\n\nFinally there was only one person left who had not obeyed the command. Sturm stood unmoving, his face pale, his eyes glittering feverishly. He held his father's ancient, two-handed sword tightly. Suddenly Sturm turned, shocked to feel Raistlin's burning fingers on his arm.\n\n\"I will insure its safety,\" the mage whispered.\n\n\"How?\" the knight asked, withdrawing from Raistlin's touch as from a poisonous snake.\n\n\"I do not explain my ways to you,\" Raistlin hissed. \"Trust me or not, as you choose.\"\n\nSturm hesitated.\n\n\"This is ridiculous!\" shrieked Toede. \"Kill the knight! Kill them if they cause more trouble. I'm losing sleep!\"\n\n\"Very well!\" Sturm said in a strangled voice. Walking over, he reverently laid the sword down on the pile of weapons. Its ancient silver scabbard, decorated with the kingfisher and rose, gleamed in the light.\n\n\"Ah, truly a beautiful weapon,\" Toede said. He had a sudden vision of himself walking into audience with Lord Verminaard, the sword of a Solamnic knight hanging at his side. \"Perhaps I should take that into custody myself. Bring it-\"\n\nBefore he could finish, Raistlin stepped forward swiftly and knelt beside the pile of weapons. A bright flash of light sprang from the mage's hand. Raistlin closed his eyes and began to murmur strange words, holding his outstretched hands above the weapons and packs."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Stop him!\" yelled Toede. But none dared.\n\nFinally Raistlin ceased speaking and his head slumped forward. His brother hurried to help.\n\nRaistlin stood. \"Know this!\" the mage said, his golden eyes staring around the common room. \"I have cast a spell upon our belongings. Anyone who touches them will be slowly devoured by the great worm, Catyrpelius, who will rise from the Abyss and suck the blood from your veins until you are nothing more than a dried husk.\"\n\n\"The great worm Catyrpelius!\" breathed Tasselehoff, his eyes shining. \"That's incredible. I've never heard of-\"\n\nTanis clapped his handover the kender's mouth.\n\nThe goblins backed away from the pile of weapons which seemed to almost glow with a green aura.\n\n\"Get those weapons, somebody!\" ordered Toede in a rage.\n\n\"You get 'em,\" muttered a goblin.\n\nNo one moved. Toede was at a loss. Although he was not particularly imaginative, a vivid picture of the great worm, Catyrpelius, reared up in his mind. \"Very well,\" he muttered, \"take the prisoners away! Load them into the cages. And bring those weapons, too, or you'll wish that worm what's-its-name was sucking your blood!\" Toede stomped off angrily.\n\nThe goblins began to shove their prisoners toward the door, prodding them in the back with their swords. None, however, touched Raistlin.\n\n\"That's a wonderful spell, Raist,\" Caramon said in a low voice. \"How effective is it? Could it-\"\n\n\"It's about as effective as your wit!\" Raistlin whispered and held up his right hand. As Caramon saw the tell-tale black marks of flashpowder, he smiled grimly in sudden understanding."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tanis was the last to leave the Inn. He cast a final look around. A single light swung from the ceiling. Tables were overturned, chairs broken. The beams of the ceiling were blackened from the fires, in some cases burned through completely. The windows were covered with greasy black soot.\n\n\"I almost wish I had died before I saw this.\"\n\nThe last thing he heard as he left were two hobgoblin captains arguing heatedly about who was going to move the enchanted weapons."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The slave caravan.\n\nA strange old magician.\n\nThe companions spent a chill, sleepless night, penned up in an iron-barred cage on wheels in the Solace Town Square. Three cages were chained to one of the posts driven into the ground around the clearing. The wooden posts were black from flame and heat, the bases scorched and splintered. No living thing grew in the clearing, even the rocks were black and melted.\n\nWhen day dawned, they could see other prisoners in the other cages. The last slave caravan leaving Solace for Pax Tharkas, it was to be personally led by the Fewmaster himself, Toede having decided to take this opportunity to impress Lord Verminaard who was in residence at Pax Tharkas.\n\nCaramon tried once, during the cover of night, to bend the bars of the cage and had to give up.\n\nA cold mist arose in the early morning hours, hiding the ravaged town from the companions. Tanis glanced over at Goldmoon and Riverwind. Now I understand them, Tanis thought. Now I know the cold emptiness inside that hurts worse than any swordthrust. My home is gone.\n\nHe glanced over at Gilthanas, huddled in a corner. The elf had spoken to no one that night, excusing himself by begging that his head hurt and he was tired. But Tanis, who had kept watch all through the night, saw that Gilthanas did not sleep or even make a pretence of sleeping. He gnawed his lower lip and stared out into the darkness. The sight reminded Tanis that he had-if he chose to claim it-another place he could call home: Qualinesti.\n\nNo, Tanis thought, leaning against the bars, Qualinesti was never home. It was simply a place I lived...."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Fewmaster Toede emerged from the mist, rubbing his fat hands together and grinning widely as he regarded the slave caravan with pride. There maybe a promotion here. A fine catch, considering pickings were drying up in this burned-out shell of a town. Lord Verminaard should be pleased, especially with this last batch. That large warrior, particularly-an excellent specimen. He could probably do the work of three men in the mines. The tall barbarian would do nicely, too. Probably have to kill the knight, though-the Solamnics were notoriously uncooperative. But Lord Verminaard will certainly enjoy the two females-very different, but both lovely. Toede himself had always been attracted to the red-haired barmaid, with her alluring green eyes, the low-cut white blouse purposefully revealing just enough of her lightly-freckled skin to tantalize a man with thoughts of what lay beyond.\n\nThe Fewmaster's reveries were interrupted by the sound of clashing steel and hoarse shouts floating eerily through the mist. The shouts grew louder and louder. Soon almost everyone in the slave caravan was awake and peering through the fog, trying to see.\n\nToede cast an uneasy glance at the prisoners and wished he'd kept a few more guards handy. The goblins, seeing the prisoners stir, jumped to their feet and trained their bows and arrows on the wagons.\n\n\"What is this?\" Toede grumbled aloud. \"Can't those fools even take one prisoner without all this turmoil?\"\n\nSuddenly a cry bellowed above the noise. It was the cry of a man in torment and pain, but whose rage surpassed all else.\n\nGilthanas stood up, his face pale.\n\n\"I know that voice,\" he said. \"Theros Ironfeld. I feared this. He's been helping elves escape ever since the slaughter. This Lord Verminaard has sworn to exterminate the elves\"-Gilthanas watched Tanis's reaction-\"or didn't you know?\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"No!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tanis said, shocked. \"I didn't know. How could I?\"\n\nGilthanas fell silent, studying Tanis for long moments. \"Forgive me,\" he said at last. \"It appears I have misjudged you. I thought perhaps that was why you had grown the beard.\"\n\n\"Never!\" Tanis leaped up. \"How dare you accuse me-\"\n\n\"Tanis,\" cautioned Sturm.\n\nThe half-elf turned to seethe goblin guards crowding foward, their arrows trained at his heart. Raising his hands, he stepped back to his place just as a squadron of hobgoblins dragged a tall, powerfully built man into sight.\n\n\"I heard Theros had been betrayed,\" Gilthanas said softly. \"I returned to warn him. But for him, I never would have escaped Solace alive. I was supposed to meet him in the Inn last night. When he did not come, I was afraid-\"\n\nFewmaster Toede threw open the door to the companions' cage, yelling and gesturing for the hobgoblins to hurry their prisoner forward. The goblins kept the other prisoners covered while the hobgoblins threw Theros into the cage.\n\nFewmaster Toede slammed the door shut quickly. \"That's it!\" he yelled. \"Hitch up the beasts. We're moving out.\"\n\nSquads of goblins drove huge elk into the clearing and began hitching them to wagons. Their yelling and the confusion registered only in the back of Tanis's mind. For the moment, his shocked attention was on the smith.\n\nTheros Ironfeld lay unconscious on the straw-covered floor of the cage. Where his strong right arm should have been was a mangled stump. His arm had been hacked off, apparently by some blunt weapon, just below the shoulder. Blood poured from the terrible wound and pooled on the floor of the cage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Let that be a lesson to all those who help elves!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Fewmaster peered in the cage, his red pig eyes squinching in their pouches of fat. \"He won't be forging anything ever again-unless it be anew arm! I, eh-\" A huge elk lumbered into the Fewmaster, forcing him to scramble for his life.\n\nToede turned on the creature leading the elk. \"Sestun You oaf!\" Toede knocked the smaller creature to the ground.\n\nTasslehoff stared down at the creature, thinking it was a very short goblin. Then he saw it was a gully dwarf dressed in a goblin's armor. The gully dwarf picked himself up, shoved his oversized helm back, and glared after the Fewmaster, who was waddling up to the front of the caravan. Scowling, the gully dwarf began kicking mud in his direction. This apparently relieved his soul, for he soon quit and returned to prodding the slow elk into line.\n\n\"My faithful friend,\" Gilthanas murmured, bending over Theros and taking the smith's strong, black hand in his. \"You have paid for your loyalty with your life.\"\n\nTheros looked at him with vacant eyes, clearly not hearing the elf's voice. Gilthanas tried to stanch the dreadful wound, but blood continued to pump onto the floor of the cart. The smithy's life was emptying before their eyes.\n\n\"No,\" said Goldmoon, coming to kneel beside the smith. \"He need not die. I am a healer.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" Gilthanas said impatiently, \"there exists no healer on Krynn who could help this man. He has lost more blood than the dwarf has in his whole body! His lifeboat is so faint I can barely feel it. The kindest thing to do islet him die in peace without any of your barbarian rituals!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Goldmoon ignored him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Placing her hand upon Theros's forehead, she closed her eyes.\n\n\"Mishakal,\" she prayed, \"beloved goddess of healing, grace this man with your blessing. If his destiny be not fulfilled, heal him, that he may live and serve the cause of truth.\"\n\nGilthanas began to remonstrate once more, reaching out to pull Goldmoon away. Then he stopped and stared in amazement. Blood ceased to drain from the smith's wound and, even as the elf watched, the flesh began to close over it. Warmth returned to the smith's dusky black skin, his breathing grew peaceful and easy, and he appeared to drift into a healthful, relaxed sleep. There were gasps and murmurs of astonishment from the other prisoners in the nearby cages. Tanis glanced around fearfully to see if any of the goblins or draconians had noticed, but apparently they were all preoccupied with hitching the recalcitrant elk to the wagons. Gilthanas subsided back into his corner, his eyes on Goldmoon, his expression thoughtful.\n\n\"Tasslehoff, pileup some of that straw,\" Tanis instructed.\n\n\"Caramon, you and Sturm help me move him to a corner.\"\n\n\"Here.\" Riverwind offered his cloak. \"Take this to cover him from the chill.\"\n\nGoldmoon made certain Theros was comfortable, then returned to her place beside Riverwind. Her face radiated a peace and calm serenity that made it seem as if the reptilian creatures on the outside of the cage were the true prisoners.\n\nIt was nearly noon before the caravan got underway. Goblins came by and threw some food into the cages, hunks of meat and bread. No one, not even Caramon, could eat the rancid, stinking meat and they threw it back out. But they devoured the bread hungrily, having eaten nothing since last nightfall. Soon Toede had everything in order and, riding by on his shaggy pony, gave the orders to move out. The gully dwarf, Sestun, trotted after Toede. Seeing the hunk of meat lying in the mud and filth outside the cage, the gully dwarf stopped, grabbed it eagerly, and crammed it into his mouth."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Each wheeled cage was pulled by four elk. Two hobgoblins sat high on crude wooden platforms, one holding the reins of the elk, the other a whip and a sword. Toede took his place at the front of the line, followed by about fifty draconians dressed in armor and heavily armed. Another troop of about twice as many hobgoblins fell into line behind the cages.\n\nAfter a great deal of confusion and swearing, the caravan finally lurched forward. Some of the remaining residents of Solace stared at them as they drove off. If they knew anyone among the prisoners, they made no sound or gesture of farewell. The faces, both inside and outside the cages, were the faces of those who no longer can feel pain. Like Tika, they had vowed never to cry again.\n\nThe caravan traveled south from Solace, down the old road through Gateway Pass. The hobgoblins and draconians grumbled about traveling in the heat of the day, but they cheered up, and moved faster once they marched into the shade of the Pass's high canyon walls. Although the prisoners were chilled in the canyon, they had their own reasons for being grateful-they no longer had to look upon their ravaged homeland.\n\nIt was evening by the time they left the canyon's winding roads and reached Gateway. The prisoners strained against the bars for some glimpse of the thriving market town. But now only two low stonewalls, melted and blackened, marked where the town might have once stood. No living creature stirred. The prisoners sank back in misery.\n\nOnce more out in the open country, the draconians announced their preference for traveling by night, out of the sun's light. Consequently, the caravan made only brief stops until dawn. Sleep was impossible in the filthy cages jolting and jouncing over every rut in the road. The prisoners suffered from thirst and hunger. Those who managed to gag down the food the draconians tossed them soon vomited it backup. They were given only small cups of water two or three times a day."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Goldmoon remained near the injured smithy. Although Theros Ironfeld was no longer at the point of death, he was still very ill. He developed a high fever and, in his delirium, he raved about the sacking of Solace. Theros spoke of draconians whose bodies, when dead, turned into pools of acid, burning the flesh of their victims; and of draconians whose bones exploded after death, destroying everything within a wide radius. Tanis listened to the smith relive horror after horror until he felt sick. For the first time, Tanis realized the enormity of the situation. How could they hope to fight dragons whose breath could kill, whose magic exceeded that of all but the most powerful magic-users who had ever lived? How could they defeat vast armies of these draconians when even the corpses of the creatures had the power to kill?\n\nAll we have, Tanis thought bitterly, are the Disks of Mishakal-and what good are they? He had examined the Disks during their journey from Xak Tsaroth to Solace. He had been able to read little of what was written, however. Although Goldmoon had been able to understand those words that pertained to the healing arts, she could decipher little more.\n\n\"All will be made clear to the leader of the people,\" she said with steadfast faith. \"My calling now is to find him.\"\n\nTanis wished he could share her faith, but as they traveled through the ravaged countryside, he began to doubt that any leader could defeat the might of this Lord Verminaard.\n\nThese doubts merely compounded the half-elf's other problems. Raistlin, bereft of his medicine, coughed until he was nearly in as bad a state as Theros, and Goldmoon had two patients on her hands. Fortunately, Tika helped the Plainswoman tend the mage. Tika, whose father had been a magician of sorts, held anyone who could work magic in awe."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In fact, it was Tika's father who inadvertently introduced Raistlin to his calling. Raistlin's father took the twin boys and his stepdaughter, Kitiara, to the local Summer's End festival where the children watched the Wonderful Waylan perform his illusions. Eight-year-old Caramon was soon bored and readily agreed to accompany his teenage half-sister to the event that attracted her-the swordplay. Raistlin, thin and frail even then, had no use for such active sports. He spent the entire day watching Waylan the Illusionist. When the family returned home that evening, Raistlin astounded them by being able to duplicate flawlessly every trick. The next day, his father took the boy to study with one of the great masters of the magic arts.\n\nTika had always admired Raistlin and she had been impressed by the stories she heard about his mysterious journey to the fabled Towers of High Sorcery. Now she helped care for the mage out of respect and her own innate need to help those weaker than herself. She also tended him (she admitted privately to herself) because her deeds won a smile of gratitude and approval from Raistlin's handsome twin brother.\n\nTanis wasn't certain which to worry about most-the worsening condition of the mage or the growing romance between the older, experienced soldier and the young and-Tanis believed, despite gossip to the contrary-inexperienced, vulnerable barmaid.\n\nHe had another problem as well. Sturm, humiliated at being taken prisoner and hauled through the countryside like an animal to slaughter, lapsed into a deep depression from which Tanis thought he might never escape. Sturm either sat all day, staring out between the bars, or-perhaps worse-he lapsed into periods of deep sleep from which he could not be wakened.\n\nFinally Tanis had to cope with his own inner turmoil, physically manifested by the elf sitting in the comer of the cage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Every time he looked at Gilthanas, Tanis's memories of his home in Qualinesti haunted him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "As they neared his homeland, the memories he had thought long buried and forgotten crept into his mind, their touch every bit as chilling as the touch of the undead in Darken Wood.\n\nGilthanas, childhood friend-more than friend, brother.\n\nRaised in the same household and close to the same age, the two had played and fought and laughed together. When Gilthanas's little sister grew old enough, the boys allowed the captivating blonde child to join them. One of the threesome's greatest delights was teasing the older brother, Porthios, a strong and serious youth who took on the responsibilities and sorrows of his people at an early age. Gilthanas, Laurana, and Porthios were the children of the Speaker of the Suns, the ruler of the elves of Qualinesti, a position Porthios would inherit at his father's death.\n\nSome in the elven kingdom thought it odd that the Speaker would take into his house the bastard son of his dead brother's wife after she had been raped by a human warrior. She had died of grief only months after the birth of her half-breed child. But the Speaker, who had strong views on responsibility, took in the child without hesitation. It was only in later years, as he watched with growing unease the developing relationship between his beloved daughter and the bastard half-elf, that he began to regret his decision. The situation confused Tanis as well. Being half-human, the young man acquired a maturity the slower developing elf maid could not understand. Tanis saw the unhappiness their union must bring down upon the family he loved. He also was beset by the inner turmoil that would torment him in later life: the constant battle between the elvish and the human within him. At the age of eighty-about twenty inhuman years-Tanis left Qualinost. The Speaker was not sorry to see Tanis leave. He tried to hide his feelings from the young half-elf, but both of them knew it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Gilthanas had not been so tactful. He and Tanis had exchanged bitter words over Laurana. It was years before the sting of those words faded, and Tanis wondered if he had ever truly forgotten or forgiven. Clearly, Gilthanas had done neither.\n\nThe journey for these two was very long. Tanis made a few attempts at desultory conversation and became immediately aware that Gilthanas had changed. The young elflord had always been open and honest, fun-loving and light-hearted. He did not envy his older brother the responsibilities inherent in his role as heir to the throne. Gilthanas was a scholar, a dabbler in the magic arts, though he never took them as seriously as Raistlin. He was an excellent warrior, though he disliked fighting, as do all elves. He was deeply devoted to his family, especially his sister. But now he sat silent and moody, an unusual characteristic in elves. The only time he showed any interest in anything was when Caramon had begun plotting an escape. Gilthanas told him sharply to forget it, he would ruin everything. When pressed to elaborate, the elf fell silent, muttering only something about'overwhelming odds.\"\n\nBy sunrise of the third day, the draconian army was flagging from the night's long march and looking forward to a rest. The companions had spent another sleepless night and looked forward to nothing but another chill and dismal day. But the cages suddenly rolled to a stop. Tanis glanced up, puzzled at the change in routine. The other prisoners roused themselves and looked out the cage bars. They saw an old man, dressed in long robes that once might have been white and a battered, pointed hat. He appeared to be talking to a tree.\n\n\"I say, did you hear me?\" The old man shook a worn walking stick at the oak. \"I said move and I meant it! I was sitting on that rock\"-he pointed to a boulder-\"enjoying the rising sun on my old bones when you had the nerve to cast a shadow over it and chill me! Move this instant, I say!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The tree did not respond."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It also did not move.\n\n\"I won't take anymore of your insolence!\" The old man began to beat on the tree with his stick. \"Move or I'll-I'll-\"\n\n\"Someone shut that looney in a cage!\" Fewmaster Toede shouted, galloping back from the front of the caravan.\n\n\"Get your hands off me!\" the old man shrieked at the draconians who ran up and accosted him. He beat on them feebly with his staff until they took it away from him. \"Arrest the tree!\" he insisted. \"Obstructing sunlight! That's the charge!\"\n\nThe draconians threw the old man roughly into the companions' cage. Tripping over his robes, he fell to the floor.\n\n\"Are you all right. Old One?\" Riverwind asked as he assisted the old man to a seat.\n\nGoldmoon left Theros's side. \"Yes, Old One,\" she said softly. \"Are you hurt? I am a cleric of-\"\n\n\"Mishakal!\" he said, peering at the amulet around her neck. \"How very interesting. My, my.\" He stared at her in astonishment. \"You don't look three hundred years old!\"\n\nGoldmoon blinked, uncertain how to react. \"How did you know? Did you recognize-? I'm not three hundred-\" She was growing confused.\n\n\"Of course, you're not. I'm sorry, my dear.\" The old man patted her hand. \"Never bring up a lady's age in public. Forgive me. It won't happen again. Our little secret,\" he said in a piercing whisper. Tas and Tika started to giggle. The old man looked around. \"Kind of you to stop and offer me a lift. The road to Qualinost is long.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"We're not going to Qualinost,\" Gilthanas said sharply."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We're prisoners, going to the slave mines of Pax Tharkas.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" the old man glanced around vaguely. \"Is there another group due by here soon, then? I could have sworn this was the one.\"\n\n\"What is your name. Old One,\" Tika asked.\n\n\"My name?\" The old man hesitated, frowning. \"Fizban? Yes, that's it. Fizban.\"\n\n\"Fizban!\" Tasslehoff repeated as the cage lurched to a start again. \"That's not a name!\"\n\n\"Isn't it?\" the old man asked wistfully. \"That's too bad. I was rather fond of it.\"\n\n\"I think it's a splendid name,\" Tika said, glaring at Tas. The kender subsided into a corner, his eyes on the pouches slung over the old man's shoulder.\n\nSuddenly Raistlin began to cough and they all turned their attention to him. His coughing spasms had been growing worse and worse. He was exhausted and in obvious pain; his skin burned to the touch. Goldmoon was unable to help him. Whatever was burning the mage up inside, the cleric could not heal. Caramon knelt beside him, wiping away the bloody saliva that flecked his brother's lips.\n\n\"He's got to have that stuff he drinks!\" Caramon looked up in anguish. \"I've never seen him this bad. If they won't listen to reason\"-the big man scowled-\"I'll break their heads! I don't care how many there are!\"\n\n\"We'll talk to them when we stop for the night,\" Tanis promised, though he could guess the Fewmaster's answer.\n\n\"Excuse me,\" the old man said. \"May I?\" Fizban sat down beside Raistlin. He laid his hand on the mage's head and sternly spoke a few words. Caramon, listening closely, heard'Fistandan...\" and'not the time...\" Certainly it wasn't a healing prayer, such as Goldmoon had tried, but the big man saw that his brother responded! The response was astonishing, however. Raistlin's eyes fluttered and opened. He looked up at the old man with a wild expression of terror and grasped Fizban's wrist in his thin, frail hand. For an instant it seemed Raistlin knew the old man, then Fizban passed his handover the mage's eyes. The look of terror subsided, replaced by confusion."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Hullo,\" Fizban beamed at him. \"Name's-uh-Fizban.\" He shot astern glance at Tasslehoff, daring the kender to laugh.\n\n\"You are... magi!\" Raistlin whispered. His cough was gone.\n\n\"Why, yes, I suppose I am.\"\n\n\"I am magi!\" Raistlin said, struggling to sit up.\n\n\"No kidding!\" Fizban seemed immensely tickled. \"Small world, Krynn. I'll have to teach you a few of my spells. I have one... a fireball... let's see, how did that go?\"\n\nThe old man rambled on long past the time the caravan stopped at the rising of the sun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Rescue.\n\nFizban's magic.\n\nRaistlin suffered in body, Sturm suffered in mind, but perhaps the one who experienced the keenest suffering during the companions' four-day imprisonment was Tasslehoff.\n\nThe cruelest form of torture one can inflict on a kender is to lock him up. Of course, it is also widely believed that the crudest form of torture one can inflict on any other species is to lock them up with a kender. After three days of Tasslehoff s incessant chatter, pranks, and practical jokes, the companions would have willingly traded the kender fora peaceful hour of being stretched on the rack-at least that's what Flint said.\n\nFinally, after even Goldmoon lost her temper and nearly slapped him, Tanis sent Tasslehoff to the back of the cart. His legs hanging over the edge, the kender pressed his face against the iron bars and thought he would die of misery. He had never been so bored in his entire life.\n\nThings got interesting with the discovery of Fizban, but the old man's amusement value wore thin when Tanis made Tas return the old magician's pouches. And so, driven to the point of desperation, Tasslehoff latched onto anew diversion.\n\nSestun, the gully dwarf.\n\nThe companions generally regarded Sestun with amused pity. The gully dwarf was the object of Toede's ridicule and mistreatment. He ran the Fewmaster's errands all nightlong, carrying messages from Toede at the front of the caravan to the hobgoblin captain at the rear, lugging food up to the Fewmaster from the supply cart; feeding and watering the Fewmaster's pony, and any other nasty jobs the Fewmaster could devise. Toede knocked him flat at least three times a day, the draconians tormented him, and the hobgoblins stole his food. Even the elk kicked at him whenever he trotted past. The gully dwarf bore it all with such a grimly defiant spirit that it won him the sympathy of the companions."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sestun began to stay near the companions when not busy. Tanis, eager for information about Pax Tharkas, asked him about his homeland and how he came to work for the Fewmaster. The story took over a day for Sestun to relate and another day for the companions to piece together, since he started in the middle and plunged headlong into the beginning.\n\nWhat it amounted to, eventually, wasn't much help. Sestun was among a large group of gully dwarves living in the hills around Pax Tharkas when Lord Verminaard and his draconians captured the iron mines which he needed to make steel weapons for his troops.\n\n\"Big fire-all day, all night. Bad smell.\" Sestun wrinkled his nose. \"Pound rock. All day, all night. I get good job in kitchen\"-his face brightened a moment-\"fix hot soup. Very hot.\" His face fell. \"Spill soup. Hot soup heat up armor real fast. Lord Verminaard sleep on back for week.\" He sighed. \"I go with Fewmaster. Me volunteer.\"\n\n\"Maybe we can shut the mines down,\" Caramon suggested.\n\n\"That's a thought,\" Tanis mused. \"How many draconians does Lord Verminaard have guarding the mines?\"\n\n\"Two!\" Sestun said, holding up ten grubby fingers.\n\nTanis sighed, remembering where they had heard that before.\n\nSestun looked at him hopefully. \"There be only two dragons, too.\"\n\n\"Two dragons!\" Tanis said incredulously.\n\n\"Not more than two.\"\n\nCaramon groaned and settled back. The warrior had been giving dragon fighting serious thought ever since Xak Tsaroth. He and Sturm had reviewed every tale about Huma, the only known dragon fighter the knight could remember. Unfortunately, no one had ever taken the legends of Huma seriously before (except the Solamnic Knights, for which they were ridiculed), so much of Huma's tale had been distorted by time or forgotten."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"A knight of truth and power, who called down the gods themselves and forged the mighty Dragonlance,\" Caramon murmured now, glancing at Sturm, who lay asleep on the straw-covered floor of their prison.\n\n\"Dragonlance?\" muttered Fizban, waking with a snort. \"Dragonlance? Who said anything about the Dragonlance?\"\n\n\"My brother,\" Raistlin whispered, smiling bitterly. \"Quoting the Canticle. It seems he and the knight have taken a fancy to children's stories that have come to haunt them.\"\n\n\"Good story, Huma and the Dragonlance,\" said the old man, stroking his beard.\n\n\"Story-that's all it is.\" Caramon yawned and scratched his chest. \"Who knows if it's real or if the Dragonlance was real or if even Huma was real.\"\n\n\"We know the dragons are real,\" Raistlin murmured.\n\n\"Huma was real,\" Fizban said softly. \"And so was the Dragonlance.\" The old man's face grew sad.\n\n\"Was it?\" Caramon sat up. \"Can you describe it?\"\n\n\"Of course!\" Fizban sniffed disdainfully.\n\nEveryone was listening now. Fizban was, in fact, a bit disconcerted by his audience.\n\n\"It was a weapon similiar to-no, it wasn't. Actually it was-no, it wasn't that either. It was closer to... almost a... rather it was, sort of a-lance, that's it! A lance!\" He nodded earnestly. \"And it was quite good against dragons.\"\n\n\"I'm taking a nap,\" Caramon grumbled.\n\nTanis smiled and shook his head. Sitting back against the bars, he wearily closed his eyes. Soon everyone except Raistlin and Tasslehoff fell into a fitful sleep. The kender, wide awake and bored, looked at Raistlin hopefully. Sometimes, if Raistlin was in a good mood, he would tell stories about magic-users of old. But the mage, wrapped in his red robes, was staring curiously at Fizban. The old man sat on a bench, snoring gently, his head bobbing up and down as the cart jounced over the road. Raistlin's golden eyes narrowed to gleaming slits as though he had been struck by anew and disturbing thought. After a moment, he pulled his hood up over his head and leaned back, his face lost in the shadows."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tasslehoff sighed. Then, glancing around, he saw Sestun walking near the cage. The kender brightened. Here, he knew, was an appreciative audience for his stories.\n\nTasslehoff, calling him over, began to relate one of his own personal favorites. The two moons sank. The prisoners slept. The hobgoblins trailed along behind, half-asleep, talking about making camp soon. Fewmaster Toede rode up ahead, dreaming about promotion. Behind the Fewmaster, the draconians muttered among themselves in their harsh language, casting baleful glances at Toede when he wasn't looking.\n\nTasslehoff sat, swinging his legs over the side of the cage, talking to Sestun.\" The kender noticed without seeming to that Gilthanaswas only pretending to sleep. Tas saw the elf's eyes open and glance quickly around when he thought no one was watching. This intrigued Tas immensely. It seemed almost as if Gilthanas was watching or waiting for something. The kender lost the thread of his story.\n\n\"And so I... uh... grabbed a rock from my pouch, threw it and-thunk-hit the wizard right on the head,\" Tas finished hurriedly. \"The demon grabbed the wizard by the foot and dragged him down into the depths of the Abyss.\"\n\n\"But first demon thank you,\" prompted Sestun who had heard this story-with variations-twice before. \"You forgot.\"\n\n\"Did I?\" Tas asked, keeping an eye on Gilthanas. \"Well, yes, the demon thanked me and took away the magic ring he'd given me. If it wasn't dark, you could seethe outline the ring burned on my finger.\"\n\n\"Sun uping. Morning soon. I see then,\" the gully dwarf said eagerly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was still dark, but a faint light in the east hinted that soon the sun would be rising on the fourth day of their journey.\n\nSuddenly Tas heard a bird call in the woods. Several answered it. What odd-sounding birds, Tas thought. Never heard their like before. But then he'd never been this far south before. He knew where they were from one of his many maps.\n\nThey had passed over the only bridge across the White-rage River and were heading south toward Pax Tharkas, which was marked on the kender's map as the site of the famed Thadarkan iron mines. The land began to rise, and thick forests of aspens appeared to the west. The draconians and hobgoblins kept eyeing the forests and their pace picked up. Concealed within these woods was Qualinesti, the ancient elvenhome.\n\nAnother bird called, much nearer now. Then the hair rose on Tasslehoff's neck as the same bird call sounded from right behind him. The kender turned to see Gilthanas on his feet, his fingers to his lips, an eerie whistle splitting the air.\n\n\"Tanis!\" Tas yelled, but the half-elf was already awake. So was everyone in the cart.\n\nFizban sat up, yawned, and glanced around. \"Oh, good,\" he said mildly, \"the elves are here.\"\n\n\"What elves-where?\" Tanis sat up.\n\nThere was a sudden whirring sound like a covey of quail taking flight. A cry rang out from the supply wagon in front of them, then there was a splintering sound as the wagon, now driverless, lurched into a rut and tipped over. The driver of their cage wagon pulled sharply on the reins, stopping the elk before they ran into the wrecked supply wagon. The cage tipped precariously, sending the prisoners sprawling. The driver got the elk going again and guided them around the wreckage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Suddenly the driver of the cage screamed and clutched at his neck where the companions saw the feathered shaft of an arrow silhouetted against the dimly lit morning sky. The driver's body tumbled from the seat. The other guard stood up, sword raised, then he, too, toppled forward with an arrow in his chest. The elk, reeling the reins go slack, slowed until the cage rolled to a halt. Cries and screams echoed up and down the caravan as arrows whizzed through the air.\n\nThe companions fell for cover face first on the floor of the cage.\n\n\"What is it? What's going on?\" Tanis asked Gilthanas.\n\nBut the elf, ignoring him, peered through the dawn gloom into the forest. \"Porthios!\" he called.\n\n\"Tanis, what's happening?\" Sturm sat up, speaking his first words in four days.\n\n\"Porthios is Gilthanas's brother. I take it this is a rescue,\" Tanis said. An arrow zipped past and lodged in the wooden side of the cart, narrowly missing the knight.\n\n\"It won't be much of a rescue if we end up dead!\" Sturm dropped to the floor. \"I thought elves were expert marksmen!\"\n\n\"Keep low.\" Gilthanas ordered. \"The arrows are only to cover our escape. This is a strike-and-run raid. My people are not capable of attacking a large body directly. We must be ready to run for the woods.\"\n\n\"And how do we get out of these cages?\" Sturm demanded.\n\n\"We cannot do everything for you!\" Gilthanas replied coldly. \"There are magic-users-\"\n\n\"I cannot work without my spell components!\" Raistlin hissed from beneath a bench. \"Keep down. Old One,\" he said to Fizban who, head raised, was looking around with interest."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Perhaps I can help,\" the old magician said, his eyes brightening. \"Now, let me think-\"\n\n\"What in the name of the Abyss is going on?\" roared a voice out of the darkness. Fewmaster Toede appeared, galloping on his pony. \"Why have we stopped?\"\n\n\"We under attack!\" Sestun cried, crawling out from under the cage where he'd taken cover.\n\n\"Attack? BIyxtshok! Get this cart moving!\" Toede shouted. An arrow thunked into the Fewmaster's saddle. Toede's red eyes flew open and he stared fearfully into the woods. \"We're under attack! Elves! Trying to free the prisoners!\"\"\n\n\"Driver and guard dead!\" Sestun shouted, flattening himself against the cage as another arrow just missed him. \"What me do?\"\n\nAn arrow zipped over Toede's head. Ducking, he had to clutch his pony's neck to keep himself from falling off. \"I'll get another driver,\" he said hastily. \"You stay here. Guard these prisoners with your life! I'll hold you responsible if they escape.\"\n\nThe Fewmaster stuck his spurs into his pony and the fear crazed animal leaped forward. \"My guard! Hobgoblins! Tome!\" the Fewmaster yelled as he galloped to the rear of the line.\n\nHis shouts echoed back. \"Hundreds of elves! We're surrounded. Charge to the north! I must report this to Lord Verminaard.\" Toede reined in at the sight of a draconian captain. \"You draconians tend to the prisoners!\" He spurred his horse on, still shouting, and one hundred hobgoblins charged after their valiant leader away from the battle. Soon, they were completely out of sight."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Well, that takes care of the hobgoblins,\" Sturm said, his face relaxing in a smile. \"Now all we have left to worry about is fifty or so draconians. I don't suppose, by the way, that there are hundreds of elves out there?\"\n\nGilthanas shook his head. \"More like twenty.\"\n\nTika, lying flat on the floor, cautiously raised her head and looked south. In the pale morning light, she could seethe hulking forms of the draconians about a mile ahead, leaping into the cover on either side of the road as the elven archers moved down to fire into their ranks. She touched Tanis's arm, pointing.\n\n\"We've got to get out of this cage,\" Tanis said, looking back. \"The draconians won't bother taking us to Pax Tharkas now that the Fewmaster's gone. They'll just butcher us in these cages. Caramon?\"\n\n\"I'll try,\" the fighter rumbled. He stood and gripped the bars of the cage in his huge hands. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to force the bars apart. His face reddened, the muscles in his arms bunched, the knuckles on his big hands turned white. It was useless. Gasping for breath, Caramon flattened himself on the floor.\n\n\"Sestun!\" Tasslehoff cried. \"Your axe! Break the lock!\"\n\nThe gully dwarf's eyes opened wide. He stared at the companions, then he glanced down the trail the Fewmaster had taken. His face twisted in an agony of indecision.\n\n\"Sestun-\" Tasslehoff began. An arrow zinged past the kender. The draconians behind them were moving forward, firing into the cages. Tas flattened himself on the floor. \"Sestun,\" he began again, \"help free us and you can come with us!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "A look of firm resolve hardened Sestun's features. He reached for his axe, which he wore strapped onto his back. The companions watched in nailbiting frustration as Sestun felt all around his shoulders for the axe, which was located squarely in the middle of his back. Finally, one hand discovered the handle and he pulled the axe out. The blade glinted in the gray light of dawn.\n\nFlint saw it and groaned. \"That axe is older than I am! It must date back to the Cataclysm! He probably couldn't cut through a kender's brain, let alone that lock!\"\n\n\"Hush!\" Tanis instructed, although his own hopes sank at the sight of the gully dwarf's weapon. It wasn't even a battle-axe, just a small, battered, rusty woodcutting axe the gully dwarf had apparently picked up somewhere, thinking it was a weapon. Sestun tucked the axe between his knees and spat on his hands.\n\nArrows thunked and clattered around the bars of the cage. One struck Caramon's shield. Another pinned Tika's blouse to the side of the cage, grazing her arm. Tika couldn't remember being more terrified in her life-not even the night dragons struck Solace. She wanted to scream, she wanted Caramon to put his arm around her. But Caramon didn't dare move.\n\nTika caught sight of Goldmoon, shielding the injured Theros with her body, her face pale but calm. Tika pressed her lips together and drew a deep breath. Grimly she yanked the arrow out of the wood and tossed it to the floor, ignoring the stinging pain in her arm. Looking south, she saw that the draconians, momentarily confused by the sudden attack and the disappearance of Toede, were organized now, on their feet and running toward the cages. Their arrows filled the air. Their chest armor gleamed in the dim gray light of morning, so did the bright steel of their longswords, which they carried clamped in their jaws as they ran."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Draconians, closing in,\" she reported to Tanis, trying to keep her voice from shaking.\n\n\"Hurry, Sestun!\" Tanis shouted.\n\nThe gully dwarf gripped the axe, swung it with all his might, and missed the lock, striking the iron bars a blow that nearly jarred the axe from his hands. Shrugging apologetically, he swung again. This time he struck the lock.\n\n\"He didn't even dent it,\" Sturm reported.\n\n\"Tanis,\" Tika quavered, pointing. Several draconians were within ten feet of them, pinned down fora few moments by the elven archers, but all hope of rescue seemed lost.\n\nSestun struck the lock again.\n\n\"He chipped it,\" Sturm said in exasperation. \"At this rate we'll be out in about three days! What are those elves doing, anyway? Why don't they quit skulking about and attack!\"\n\n\"We don't have enough men to attack a force this size!\" Gilthanas returned angrily, crouching next to the knight. \"They'll get to us when they can! We are at the front of the line. See, others are escaping.\"\n\nThe elf pointed to the two wagons behind them. The elves had broken the locks and the prisoners were dashing madly for the woods as the elves covered them, darting out from the trees to let fly their deadly barrage of arrows. But once the prisoners were safe, the elves retreated into the trees.\n\nThe draconians had no intention of going into the elven woods after them. Their eyes were on the last prison cage and the wagon containing the prisoners' possessions. The companions could hear the shouts of the draconian captains. The meaning was clear: \"Kill the prisoners. Divide the spoils.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Everyone could see that the draconians would reach them long before the elves did."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tanis swore in frustration. Everything seemed futile. He felt a stirring at his side. The old magician, Fizban, was getting to his feet.\n\n\"No, Old One!\" Raistlin grasped at Fizban's robes. \"Keep undercover!\"\n\nAn arrow zipped through the air and stuck in the old man's bent and battered hat. Fizban, muttering to himself, did not seem to notice. He presented a wonderful target in the gray light. Draconian arrows flew around him like wasps, and seemed to have as little effect, although he did appear mildly annoyed when one stuck into a pouch he happened to have his hand in at the moment.\n\n\"Get down!\" Caramon roared. \"You're drawing their fire!\"\n\nFizban did kneel down fora moment, but it was only to talk to Raistlin. \"Say there, my boy,\" he said as an arrow flew past right where he'd been standing. \"Have you got a bit of bat guano on you? I'm out.\"\n\n\"No, Old One,\" Raistlin whispered frantically. \"Get down!\"\n\n\"No? Pity. Well, I guess I'll have towing it.\" The old magician stood up, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and rolled up the sleeves of his robes. He shut his eyes, pointed at the cage door, and began to mumble strange words.\n\n\"What spell is he casting?\" Tanis asked Raistlin. \"Can you understand?\"\n\nThe young mage listened intently, his brow furrowed. Suddenly Raistlin's eyes opened wide. \"NO!\" he shrieked, trying to pull on the old magician's robe to break his concentration. But it was too late. Fizban said the final word and pointed his finger at the lock on the backdoor of the cage."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Take cover!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Raistlin threw himself beneath a bench. Sestun, seeing the old magician point at the cage door-and at him on the other side of it-fell flat on his face. Three draconians, reaching the cage door, their weapons dripping with their saliva, skidded to a halt, staring up in alarm.\n\n\"What is it?\" Tanis yelled.\n\n\"Fireball!\" Raistlin gasped and at that momenta gigantic ball of yellow-orange fire shot from the old magician's fingertips and struck the cage door with an explosive boom. Tanis buried his face in his hands as flames billowed and crackled around him. A wave of heat washed over him, searing his lungs. He heard the draconians scream in pain and smelled burning reptile flesh. Then smoke flew down his throat.\n\n\"The floor's on fire!\" Caramon yelled.\n\nTanis opened his eyes and staggered to his feet. He expected to seethe old magician nothing but a mound of black ash like the bodies of the draconians lying behind the wagon. But Fizban stood staring at the iron door, stroking his singed beard in dismay. The door was still shut.\n\n\"That really should have worked,\" he said.\n\n\"What about the lock?\" Tanis yelled, trying to see through the smoke. The iron bars of the cell door already glowed red hot.\n\n\"It didn't budge!\" Sturm shouted. He tried to approach the cage door to kick it open, but the heat radiating from the bars made it impossible. \"The lock maybe hot enough to break!\" He choked in the smoke.\n\n\"Sestun!\" Tasslehoff's shrill voice rose above the crackling flames. \"Try again! Hurry!\"\n\nThe gully dwarf staggered to his feet, swung the axe, missed, swung again, and hit the lock. The superheated metal shattered, the lock gave way, and the cage door swung open."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Tanis, help us!\" Goldmoon cried as she and Riverwind struggled to pull the injured Theros from his smoking pallet.\n\n\"Sturm, the others!\" Tanis yelled, then coughed in the smoke. He staggered to the front of the wagon, as the rest jumped out, Sturm grabbing hold of Fizban, who was still staring sadly at the door.\n\n\"Come on. Old One!\" he yelled, his gentle actions belying his harsh words as he took Fizban's arm. Caramon, Raistlin, and Tika caught Fizban as he jumped from the flaming wreckage.\n\nTanis and Riverwind lifted Theros by the shoulders and dragged him out, Goldmoon stumbled after them. She and Sturm jumped from the cart just as the ceiling collapsed.\n\n\"Caramon! Get our weapons from the supply wagon!\" Tanis shouted. \"Go with him, Sturm. Flint and Tasslehoff, get the packs. Raistlin-\"\n\n\"I will-get my pack,\" the mage said, choking in the smoke. \"And my staff. No one else may touch them.\"\n\n\"All right,\" Tanis said, thinking quickly. \"Gilthanas-\"\n\n\"I am not yours to order around, Tanthalas,\" the elf snapped and ran off into the woods without looking back.\n\nBefore Tanis could answer, Sturm and Caramon ran back. mCaramon's knuckles were split and bleeding. There had been two draconians looting the supply wagon.\n\n\"Get moving!\" Sturm shouted. \"More coming! Where's your elf friend?\" he asked Tanis suspiciously.\n\n\"He's gone ahead into the woods,\" Tanis said. \"Just remember, he and his people saved us.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Did they?\" Sturm said, his eyes narrow. \"It seems that between the elves and the old man, we came closer to getting killed than with just about anything short of the dragon!\"\n\nAt that moment, six draconians rushed out from the smoke, skidding to a halt at the sight of the warriors.\n\n\"Run for the woods!\" Tanis yelled, bending down to help Riverwind lift Theros. They carried the smith to cover while Caramon and Sturm stood, side by side, covering their retreat.\n\nBoth noticed immediately that the creatures they faced were unlike the draconians they had fought before. Their armor and coloring were different, and they carried bows and longswords, the latter dripping with some sort of awful icor. Both men remembered stories about draconians that turned to acid and those whose bones exploded.\n\nCaramon charged forward, bellowing like an enraged animal, his sword slashing in an arc. Two draconians fell beforemthey knew what was attacking. Sturm saluted the other four with his sword and swept off the head of one in the return stroke. He jumped at the others, but they stopped just out of his range, grinning, apparently waiting for something.\n\nSturm and Caramon watched uneasily, wondering what was going on. Then they knew. The bodies of the slain draconians near them began to melt into the road. The flesh boiled and ran like lard in a skillet. A yellowish vapor formed over them, mixing with the thinning smoke from the smoldering cage. Both men gagged as the yellow vapor rose around them. They grew dizzy and knew they were being poisoned.\n\n\"Come on! Get back!\" Tanis yelled from the woods.\n\nThe two stumbled back, fleeing through a rainstorm of arrows as a force of forty or fifty draconians swept around the cage, screeching in anger. The draconians started after them, then fell back when a clear voice called out, \"Hai! Ulsain!\" and ten elves, led by Gilthanas, ran from the woods."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Quen talas uvenelei!\" Gilthanas shouted. Caramon and Sturm staggered past him, the elves covering their retreat, then the elves fell back.\n\n\"Follow me,\" Gilthanas told the companions, switching to High Common. At a sign from Gilthanas, four of the elven warriors picked up Theros and carried him into the woods.\n\nTanis looked back at the cage. The draconians had come to a halt, eyeing the woods warily.\n\n\"Hurry!\" Gilthanas urged. \"My men will cover you.\"\n\nElven voices rose out of the woods, taunting the approaching draconians, trying to lure them into arrow range. The companions looked at each other hesitantly.\n\n\"I do not want to enter Elvenwood,\" Riverwind said harshly.\n\n\"It is all right,\" Tanis said, putting his hand on Riverwind's arm. \"You have my pledge.\" Riverwind stared at him fora moment, then plunged into the woods, the others walking by his side. Last to come were Caramon and Raistlin, helping Fizban. The old man glanced back at the cage, now nothing more than a pile of ashes and twisted iron.\n\n\"Wonderful spell. And did anyone say a word of thanks?\" he asked wistfully.\n\nThe elves led them swiftly through the wilderness. Without their guidance, the party would have been hopelessly lost. Behind them, the sounds of battle turned half-hearted.\n\n\"The draconians know better than to follow us into the woods,\" Gilthanas said, smiling grimly. Tanis, seeing armed elven warriors hidden among the leaves of the trees, had little fear of pursuit. Soon all sounds of fighting were lost.\n\nA thick carpeting of dead leaves covered the ground. Bare tree limbs creaked in the chill wind of early morning. After spending days riding cramped in the cage, the companions moved slowly and stiffly, glad for the exercise that warmed their blood. Gilthanas led them into a wide glade as the morning sunlit the woods with a pale light."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The glade was crowded with freed prisoners. Tasslehoff glanced eagerly around the group, then shook his head sadly.\n\n\"I wonder what happened to Sestun,\" he said to Tanis. \"I thought I saw him runoff.\"\n\n\"Don't worry.\" The half-elf patted him on the shoulder. \"He'll be all right. The elves have no love for gully dwarves, but they wouldn't kill him.\"\n\nTasslehoff shook his head. It wasn't the elves he was worried about.\n\nEntering the clearing, the companions saw an unusually tall and powerfully built elf speaking to the group of refugees. His voice was cold, his demeanor serious and stern.\n\n\"You are free to go, if any are free to go in this land. We have heard rumors that the lands south of Pax Tharkas are not under the control of the Dragon Highlord. I suggest, therefore, that you head southeast. Move as far and as fast as you can this day. We have food and supplies for your journey, all that we can spare. We can do little else for you.\"\n\nThe refugees from Solace, stunned by their sudden freedom, stared around bleakly and helplessly. They had been farmers on the outskirts of Solace, forced to watch while their homes burned and their crops were stolen to feed the Dragon Highlord's army. Most of them had never been farther from Solace than Haven. Dragons and elves were creatures of legend. Now children's stories had come to haunt them.\n\nGoldmoon's clear blue eyes glinted. She knew how they felt. \"How can you be so cruel?\" she called out angrily to the tall elf. \"Look at these people. They have never been out of Solace in their lives and you tell them calmly to walk through a land overrun by enemy forces-\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What would you have me do, human?\" the elf interrupted her. \"Lead them south myself? It is enough that we have freed them. My people have their own problems. I cannot be concerned with those of humans.\" He shifted his eyes to the group of refugees. \"I warn you. Time is wasting. Be on your way!\"\n\nGoldmoon turned to Tanis, seeking support, but he just shook his head, his face dark and shadowed.\n\nOne of the men, giving the elves a haggard glance, stumbled off on the trail that meandered south through the wilderness. The other men shouldered crude weapons, women caught up their children, and the families straggled off.\n\nGoldmoon strode forward to confront the elf. \"How can you care so little for-\"\n\n\"For humans?\" The elf stared at her coldly. \"It was humans who brought the Cataclysm upon us. They were the ones who sought the gods, demanding in their pride the power that was granted Huma in humility. It was humans who caused the gods to turn their faces from us-\"\n\n\"They haven't!\" Goldmoon shouted. \"The gods, are among us!\"\n\nPorthios's eyes flared with anger. He started to turn away when Gilthanas stepped up to his brother and spoke to him swiftly in the elven language.\n\n\"What do they say?\" Riverwind asked Tanis suspiciously.\n\n\"Gilthanas is telling how Goldmoon healed Theros,\" Tanis said slowly. It had been many, many years since he had heard or spoken more than a few words in the elven tongue. He had forgotten how beautiful the language was, so beautiful it seemed to cut his soul and leave him wounded and bleeding inside. He watched as Porthios's eyes widened in disbelief."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Then Gilthanas pointed at Tanis."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Both the brothers turned to face him, their expressive elven features hardening. Riverwind flicked a glance at Tanis, saw the half-elf standing pale but composed under this scrutiny.\n\n\"You return to the land of your birth, do you not?\" Riverwind asked. \"It does not seem you are welcome.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Tanis said grimly, aware of what the Plainsman was thinking. He knew Riverwind was not prying into personal affairs out of curiosity. In many ways, they were in more danger now than they had been with the Fewmaster.\n\n\"They will take us to Qualinost,\" Tanis said slowly, the words apparently causing him deep pain. \"I have not been therefor many years. As Flint will tell you, I was not forced out, but few were sorry to see me leave. As you once said tome, Riverwind-to humans I am half-elven. To elves, I was half-man.\"\n\n\"Then let us leave and travel south with the others,\" Riverwind said.\n\n\"You would never get out of here alive,\" Flint murmured.\n\nTanis nodded. \"Look around,\" he said.\n\nRiverwind glanced around him and saw the elven warriors moving like shadows among the trees, their brown clothing blending in with the wilderness that was their home. As the two elves ended their conversation, Porthios turned his gaze from Tanis back to Goldmoon.\n\n\"I have heard strange tales from my brother that bear investigation. I extend to you, therefore, what the elves have extended to no humans in years-our hospitality. You will be our honored guests. Please follow me.\"\n\nPorthios gestured. Nearly two dozen elven warriors emerged from the woods, surrounding the companions.\n\n\"Honored prisoners is more like it. This is going to be rough on you, my lad,\" Flint said to Tanis in a low, gentle voice."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I know, old friend.\" Tanis rested his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. \"I know.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Speaker of the Suns.\n\nI have never imagined such beauty existed,\" Goldmoon said softly. The day's march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost.\n\nFour slender spires rose from the city's corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Grafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city's only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.\n\nThe buildings of Qualinost enhanced nature, rather than concealing it. The houses and shops were carved from rose-colored quartz. Tall and slender as aspen trees, they vaulted upward in impossible spirals from quartz-lined avenues. In the center stood a great tower of burnished gold, catching the sun-light and throwing it back in whirling, sparkling patterns that gave the tower life. Looking down upon the city, it seemed that peace and beauty unchanged from ages past must dwell in Qualinost, if it dwelled anywhere in Krynn.\n\n\"Rest here,\" Gilthanas told them, leaving them in a grove of aspen trees. \"The journey has been long, and for that I apologize. I know you are weary and you hunger-\"\n\nCaramon looked up hopefully.\n\n\"But I must beg your indulgence a few moments longer.\n\nPlease excuse me.\" Gilthanas bowed, then walked to standby his brother. Sighing, Caramon began rummaging through his pack for the fifth time, hoping perhaps he had overlooked a morsel. Raistlin read his spellbook, his lips repeating the difficult words, trying to grasp their meaning, to find the correct inflection and phrasing that would make his blood burn and so tell him the spell was his at last."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The others looked around, marveling at the beauty of the city beneath them and the aura of ancient tranquility that layover it. Even Riverwind seemed touched; his face softened and he held Goldmoon close. Fora brief instant, their cares and their sorrows eased and they found comfort in each other's nearness. Tika sat apart, watching them wistfully. Tasslehoff was trying to map their way from Gateway into Qualinost, although Tanis had told him four times that the way was secret and the elves would never permit him to carry off a map. The old magician, Fizban, was asleep. Sturm and Flint watched Tanis in concern-Flint because he alone had any idea of what the half-elf was suffering; Sturm because he knew what it was like returning to a home that didn't want you.\n\nThe knight laid his hand on Tanis's arm. \"Coming home isn't easy, my friend, is it?\" he asked.\n\n\"No,\" Tanis answered softly. \"I thought I had left this behind long ago, but now I know I never truly left at all. Qualinesti is part of me, no matter how much I want to deny it.\"\n\n\"Hush-Gilthanas,\" Flint warned.\n\nThe elf came over to Tanis. \"Runners were sent ahead and now they have returned,\" he said in elven. \"My father has asked to see you-all of you-at once, in the Tower of the Sun. I can-not permit time for refreshment. In this we seem crude and impolite-\"\n\n\"Gilthanas,\" Tanis interrupted in Common. \"My friends and I have been through unimagined peril. We have traveled roads where-literally-the dead walked. We won't faint from hunger\"-he glanced at Caramon-\"some of us won't, at any rate.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The warrior, hearing Tanis, sighed and tightened his belt.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Gilthanas said stiffly. \"I am glad you understand. Now, please follow as swiftly as you can.\"\n\nThe companions gathered their things hastily and woke Fizban. Rising to his feet, he fell over a tree root. \"Big lummox!\" he snapped, striking it with his staff. \"There-did you see it? Tried to trip me!\" he said to Raistlin.\n\nThe mage slipped his precious book back into its pouch. \"Yes, Old One.\" Raistlin smiled, assisting Fizban to his feet. The old magician leaned on the young one's shoulder as they walked after the others. Tanis watched them, wondering. The old magician was obviously a dotard. Yet Tanis remembered Raistlin's look of stark terror when he woke and found Fizban leaning over him. What had the mage seen? What did he know about this old man? Tanis reminded himself to ask. Now, however, he had other, more pressing matters on his mind. Walking forward, he caught up with the elf.\n\n\"Tell me, Gilthanas,\" Tanis said in elven, the unfamiliar words haltingly coming back to him. \"What's going on? I have aright to know.\"\n\n\"Have you?\" Gilthanas asked harshly, glancing at Tanis from the corners of his almond-shaped eyes. \"Do you care what happens to elves anymore? You can barely speak our language!\"\n\n\"Of course, I care,\" Tanis said angrily. \"You are my people too!\"\n\n\"Then why do you flaunt your human heritage?\" Gilthanas gestured to Tanis's bearded face. \"I would think you would be ashamed-\" He stopped, biting his lip, his face flushing."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, dragons\nAuthor: Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman\nTitle: Dragons of Autumn Twilight\nChapter: 37"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Don't even squeak!\""
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Flint said, whirling around to face them, a knife flashing in his hand.\n\nThe gully dwarves cowered against the wall, shaking their heads frantically, the pots clattering.\n\nThe companions reached the top of the stairs and stopped.\n\n\"We cross this hall to the door-\" Maritta pointed. \"Oh, no!\" She grasped Tanis's arm. \"There's a guard at the door. It's never guarded!\"\n\n\"Hush, it could be coincidence,\" Tanis said reassuringly, although he knew it wasn't. \"Just keep on as we planned.\" Maritta nodded fearfully and walked across the hall.\n\n\"Guards!\" Tanis turned to Sturm. \"Be ready. Remember-quick and deadly. No noise!\"\n\nAccording to Gilthanas's map, the playroom was separated from the children's sleeping quarters by two rooms. The first was a storeroom which Maritta reported was lined with shelves containing toys and clothing and other items. A tunnel ran through this room to the second-the room that housed the dragon, Flamestrike.\n\n\"Poor thing,\" Maritta had said when discussing the plan with Tanis. \"She is as much a prisoner as we are. The Dragon Highlord never allows her out. I think they're afraid she'll wander off. They've even built a tunnel through the storeroom, too small for her to fit through. Not that she wants to get out, but I think she might like to watch the children play.\"\n\nTanis regarded Maritta dubiously, wondering if they might encounter a dragon very different from the mad, feeble creature she described.\n\nBeyond the dragon's lair was the room where the children slept. This was the room they would have to enter, to wake the children and lead them outdoors. The playroom connected directly with the courtyard through a huge door locked with a great oaken beam."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"More to keep the dragon in than us,\" Maritta stated.\n\nIt must be just about dawning, Tanis thought, as they emerged from the stairwell and turned toward the playroom. The torchlight cast their shadows ahead of them. Pax Tharkas was quiet, deathly quiet. Too quiet-fora fortress preparing for war. Four draconian guards stood huddled together talking at the doorway to the playroom. Their conversation broke off as they saw the women approach.\n\nGoldmoon and Maritta walked in front, Goldmoon's hoodwas drawn back, her hair glimmering in the torchlight. Directly behind Goldmoon came Riverwind. Bent over a staff, the Plainsman was practically walking on his knees. Caramon and Raistlin followed, the mage staying close to his brother, then Eben and Gilthanas. All the traitors together, as Raistlin had sarcastically observed. Flint brought up the rear, turning occasionally to glower at the panic-stricken gully dwarves.\n\n\"You're early this morning,\" a draconian growled.\n\nThe women clustered like chickens in a half-circle around the guards and stood, waiting patiently to be allowed inside.\n\n\"It smells of thunder,\" Maritta said sharply. \"I want the children to have their exercise before the storm hits. And what are you doing here? This door is never guarded. You'll frighten the children.\"\n\nOne of the draconians made some comment in their harsh language and two of the others grinned, showing rows of pointed teeth. The spokesman only snarled.\n\n\"Lord Verminaard's command. He and Ember are gone this morning to finish the elves. We're ordered to search you before you enter.\" The draconian's eyes fastened onto Goldmoon hungrily. \"That's going to be a pleasure, I'd say.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"For you maybe,\" muttered another guard, staring at Sturm in disgust. \"I've never seen an uglier female in my life than ugh-\" The creature slumped over, a dagger thrust deep into its ribs. The other three draconians died within seconds. Caramon wrapped his hands around the neck of one. Eben hit his in the stomach and Flint lobbed off its head with an axe as it fell. Tanis stabbed the leader through the heart with his sword. He started to let goof the weapon, expecting it to remain stuck in the creature's stony corpse. To his amazement, his new sword slid out of the stone carcass as easily as if it had been nothing more than goblin flesh.\n\nHe had no time to ponder this strange occurrence. The gully dwarves, catching sight of the flash of steel, dropped their pots and ran wildly down the corridor.\n\n\"Never mind them!\" Tanis snapped at Flint. \"Into the playroom. Hurry!\" Stepping over the bodies, he flung the door open.\n\n\"If anyone finds these bodies, it'll be allover,\" Caramon said.\n\n\"It was over before we began!\" Sturm muttered angrily. \"We've been betrayed, so it's just a matter of time.\"\n\n\"Keep moving!\" Tanis said sharply, shutting the door behind them.\n\n\"Be very quiet,\" Maritta whispered. \"Flamestrike generally sleeps soundly. If she does waken, act like women. She'll never recognize you. She's blind in one eye.\"\n\nThe chill dawn light filtered in through tiny windows high above the floor, shining on a grim, cheerless playroom. A few well-used toys lay scattered about. There was no furniture. Caramon walked over to inspect the huge wooden beam barring the double doors that led to the courtyard outside."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I can manage,\" he said. The big man appeared to lift the beam effortlessly, then set it against the wall and shoved on the door. \"Not locked from the outside,\" he reported. \"I guess they didn't expect us to get this far.\"\n\nOr perhaps Lord Verminaard wants us out there, Tanis thought. He wondered if what the draconian said was true. Had the Dragon Highlord and the dragon really gone? Or were they-angrily he wrenched his mind back. It doesn't matter, he told himself. We have no choice. We must goon.\n\n\"Flint, stay here,\" he said. \"If anyone comes, warn us first, then fight.\"\n\nFlint nodded and took a position just inside the door leading to the corridor, first opening it a crack to see. The draconian bodies had turned to dust on the floor.\n\nMaritta took a torch from the wall. Lighting it, she led the companions through a dark archway into the tunnel leading to the dragon's lair.\n\n\"Fizban! Your hat!\" Tas risked whispering.\n\nToo late. The old magician made a grab for it but missed.\n\n\"Spies!\" yelled Verminaard in a rage, pointing up to the balcony. \"Capture them. Ember! I want them alive!\"\n\nAlive? the dragon repeated to himself. No, that could not be! Pyros recalled the strange sound he had heard last night and he knew without a doubt that these spies had overheard him talking about the Green Gemstone Man! Only a privileged few knew that dread secret, the great secret, the secret that would conquer the world for the Queen of Darkness. These spies must die, and the secret die with them."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Pyros spread his wings and launched himself into the air, using his powerful back legs to propel himself from the floor with tremendous speed.\n\nThis is it! thought Tasslehoff. Now we've done it. There's no escape this time.\n\nJust as he resigned himself to being cooked by a dragon, he heard the magician shout a single word of command and a thick, unnatural darkness almost knocked the kender over.\n\n\"Run!\" panted Fizban, grabbing the kenders hand and dragging Tas to his feet.\n\n\"Sestun-\"\n\n\"I've got him! Run!\"\n\nTasslehoff ran. They flew out the door and into the gallery, then he had no idea where he was going. He just kept hold of the old man and ran. Behind him he could hear the sound of the dragon whooshing up out of his lair and he heard the dragon's voice.\n\n\"So you area magic-user, are you, spy?\" Pyros shouted. \"We can't have you running around in the dark. You might get lost. Let me light your way!\"\n\nTasslehoff heard a great intake of breath into a giant body, then flames crackled and burned around him. The darkness vanished, driven away by the fire's flaring light, but, to his amazement, Tas wasn't touched by the flame. He looked at Fizban-hatless-running next to him. They were in the gallery still, heading for the double doors.\n\nThe kender twisted his head. Behind him loomed the dragon, more horrible than anything he had imagined, more terrifying than the black dragon in Xak Tsaroth, The dragon breathed on them again and once more Tas was enveloped by flame. The paintings on the walls blazed, furniture burned, curtains flared like torches, smoke filled the room. But none of it touched him and Sestun and Fizban. Tasslehoff looked at the mage in admiration, truly impressed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"How long can you keep this up?\" he shouted to Fizban as they wheeled around a corner, the double bronze doors insight.\n\nThe old man's eyes were wide and staring. \"I have no idea!\" he gasped. \"I didn't know I could do it at all!\"\n\nAnother blast of flame exploded around them. This time, Tasslehoff felt the heat and glanced at Fizban in alarm. The mage nodded. \"I'm losing it!\" he cried.\n\n\"Hang on,\" Tasslehoff panted. \"We're almost to the door! He can't get through it.\"\n\nThe three pushed through the bronze double doors that led from the gallery back into the hallway just as Fizban's magic spell wore off. Before them was the secret door, still open, that led to the Mechanism Room. Tasslehoff flung the bronze doors shut and stopped a moment to. catch his breath.\n\nBut just as he was about to say, \"We made it!\" one of the dragon's huge clawed feet broke through the stonewall, right above the kender's head!\n\nSestun, giving a shriek, headed for the stairs.\n\n\"No!\" Tasslehoff grabbed him. \"That leads to Verminaard's quarters!\"\n\n\"Back to the Mechanism Room!\" Fizban cried. They dashed through the secret door just as the stonewall gave way with a tremendous crash. But they could not shut the door.\n\n\"I have a lotto learn about dragons, apparently,\" Tas muttered. \"I wonder if there are any good books on the subject-\"\n\n\"So I have run you rats into your hole and now you are trapped,\" boomed Pyros's voice from outside. \"You have nowhere to go and stonewalls do not stop me.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "There was a terrible grinding and grating sound."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The walls of the Mechanism Room trembled, then began to crack.\n\n\"It was a nice try,\" Tas said ruefully. \"That last spell was a doozy. Almost worth getting killed by a dragon to see.\"\n\n\"Killed!\" Fizban seemed to wake up. \"By a dragon? I should say not! I've never been so insulted. There must be away out-\" His eyes began to gleam. \"Down the chain!\"\n\n\"The chain?\" repeated Tas, thinking he must have misunderstood, what with the walls cracking around him and the dragon roaring and all.\n\n\"We'll crawl down the chain! Come on!\" Cackling with delight, the old mage turned and ran down the tunnel.\n\nSestun looked dubiously at Tasslehoff, but just then the dragon's huge claw appeared through the wall. The kender and the gully dwarf turned and ran after the old magician. By the time they reached the great wheel, Fizban had already crawled along the chain leading from the tunnel and reached the first tree-trunk tooth of the wheel itself. Tucking his robes up around his thighs, he dropped down from the tooth onto the first rung of the huge chain. The kender and gully dwarf swung onto the chain after him. Tas was just beginning to think they might get out of this alive after all, especially if the dark elf at the bottom of the chain had taken the day off, when Pyros burst suddenly into the shaft where the great chain hung.\n\nSections of the stone tunnel caved in around them, falling to the ground with a hollow booming thud. The walls shuddered, and the chain started to tremble. Above them hovered the dragon. He did not speak but simply stared at them with his red eyes. Then he drew in a huge breath that seemed to suck in the air of the whole valley. Tas started instinctively to close his eyes, then opened them wide. He'd never seen a dragon breathe fire and he wasn't going to miss seeing it now-especially as it would probably be his last chance."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Flames billowed out from the dragon's nose and mouth. The blast from the heat alone nearly knocked Tasslehoff off the chain. But, once again, the fire burned all around him and did not touch him. Fizban cackled with delight.\n\n\"Quite clever, old man,\" said the dragon angrily. \"But I, too, am a magic-user and I feel you weakening. I hope your cleverness amuses you-all the way down!\"\n\nFlames flared out again, but this time the dragon's fire was not aimed at the trembling figures clinging to the chain. The flames struck the chain itself and the iron links began to glow red hot at the first touch of the dragonfire. Pyros breathed again and the links burned white hot. The dragon breathed a third time. The links melted. The massive chain gave a great shudder and broke, plunging into the darkness below.\n\nPyros watched it as it plummeted down. Then, satisfied that the spies would not live to tell their tale, he flew back to his lair where he could hear Verminaard shouting for him.\n\nIn the darkness left behind by the dragon, the great cogwheel-free of the chain that had held it in place for centuries-gave a groan and began to turn."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Matafleur.\n\nThe magic sword. White feathers.\n\nThe light from Maritta's torch illuminated a large, barren windowless room. There was no furniture. The only objects in the chill, stone chamber were a huge basin of water, a bucket filled with what smelled like rotted meat, and a dragon.\n\nTanis caught his breath. He had thought the black dragon in Xak Tsaroth formidable. He was truly awed at the massive size of this red dragon. Her lair was enormous, probably over one hundred feet in diameter, and the dragon stretched the length of it, the tip of her long tail lying against the far wall. Fora moment the companions stood stunned, with ghastly visions of the giant head rising up and searing them with the burning flame breathed by the red dragons, the flames that had destroyed Solace.\n\nMaritta did not appear worried, however. She advanced steadily into the room and, after a moment's hesitation, the companions hurried after her. As they drew closer to the creature, they could see that Maritta had been right-the dragon was clearly in pitiful condition. The great head that lay on the cold stone floor was lined and wrinkled with age, the brilliant redskin grayish and mottled. She breathed noisily through her mouth, her jaws parted to reveal the once sword-sharp teeth, now yellowed and broken. Long scars ran along her sides; her leathery wings were dry and cracked.\n\nNow Tanis could understand Maritta's attitude. Clearly, the dragon had been ill-used, and he caught himself feeling pity, relaxing his guard. He realized how dangerous this was when the dragon-awakened by the torchlight-stirred in her sleep. Her talons were as sharp and her fire as destructive as any other red dragon in Krynn, Tanis reminded himself sharply."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The dragon's eyes opened, slits of glistening red in the torchlight. The companions halted, hands on their weapons.\n\n\"Is it time for breakfast already, Maritta?\" Matafleur (Flamestrike being her name to common mortals) said in a sleepy, husky voice.\n\n\"Yes, we're just a bit early today, dearie,\" Maritta said soothingly. \"But there's a storm brewing and I want the children to have their exercise before it breaks. Go back to sleep. I'll see they don't wake you on their way out.\"\n\n\"I don't mind.\" The dragon yawned and opened her eyes a bit farther. Now Tanis could see that one of them had a milky covering; she was blind in that eye.\n\n\"I hope we don't have to fight her, Tanis,\" Sturm whispered. \"It'd be like fighting someone's grandmother.\"\n\nTanis forced his expression to harden. \"She's a deadly grandmother, Sturm. Just remember that.\"\n\n\"The little ones had a restful night,\" the dragon murmured, apparently drifting off to sleep again. \"See that they don't get wet if it does storm, Maritta. Especially little Erik. He had a cold last week.\" Her eyes closed.\n\nTurning, Maritta beckoned the others on, putting her finger to her lips. Sturm and Tanis came last, their weapons and armor muffled by numerous cloaks and skirts. Tanis was about thirty feet from the dragon's head when the noise started.\n\nAt first he thought it was his imagination, that his nervousness was making him hear a buzzing sound in his head. But the sound grew louder and louder and Sturm turned, staring at him in alarm. The buzzing sound increased until it was like a thousand swarming locusts. Now the others were looking back, too-all of them staring at him! Tanis looked at his friends helplessly, an almost comic look of confusion on his face."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "The dragon snorted and stirred in irritation, shaking her head as though the noise hurt her ears.\n\nSuddenly Raistlin broke from the group and ran back to Tanis. \"The sword!\" he hissed. He grabbed the half-elf's cloak and threw it back to reveal the blade.\n\nTanis stared down at the sword in its antique scabbard. The mage was right. The blade hummed as if in the highest state of alarm. Now that Raistlin called his attention to it, the half-elf could actually feel the vibrations.\n\n\"Magic,\" the mage said softly, studying it with interest.\n\n\"Can you stop it?\" yelled Tanis over the weird noise.\n\n\"No,\" said Raistlin. \"I remember now. This is Wyrmslayer, the famed magical sword of Kith-Kanan. It is reacting to the presence of the dragon.\"\n\n\"This is an abysmal time to remember!\" Tanis said in fury.\n\n\"Ora very convenient time,\" snarled Sturm.\n\nThe dragon slowly raised her head, her eyes blinking, a thin stream of smoke drifting from a nostril. She focused her bleary red eyes on Tanis, pain and irritation in her gaze.\n\n\"Who have you brought, Maritta?\" Matafleur's voice was filled with menace. \"I hear a sound I have not heard in centuries, I smell the foul smell of steel! These are not the women! These are warriors!\"\n\n\"Don't hurt her!\" Maritta wailed.\n\n\"I may not have any choice!\" Tanis said viciously, drawing Wyrmslayer from its sheath. \"Riverwind and Goldmoon, get Maritta out of here!\" The blade began to shine with a brilliant white light as the buzzing grew louder and angrier. Matafleur shrank back. The light of the sword pierced her good eye painfully; the terrible sound went through her head like a spear."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Whimpering, she huddled away from Tanis.\n\n\"Run, get the children!\" Tanis yelled, realizing that they didn't need to fight-at least not yet. Holding the shining sword high in the air, he moved forward cautiously, driving the pitiful dragon back against the wall.\n\nMaritta, after one fearful glance at Tanis, led Goldmoon to-the children's room. About one hundred children were wide-eyed with alarm over the strange sounds outside their chamber.\n\nTheir faces relaxed at the sight of Maritta and Goldmoon and a few of the littler ones actually giggled when Caramon came rushing in, his skirts flapping around his armored legs. But at the sight of warriors and their drawn weapons, the children sobered immediately.\n\n\"What is it, Maritta?\" asked the oldest girl. \"What's happening? Is it fighting again?\"\n\n\"We hope there'll be no fighting, dear one,\" Maritta said softly. \"But I'll not lie to you-it may come to that. Now I want you to gather your things, particularly your warm cloaks, and come with us. The older of you carry the wee ones, as you do when we go outdoors for exercise.\"\n\nSturm expected confusion and wailing and demands for explanations. But the children quickly did as they were told, wrapping themselves in warm clothing and helping to dress the younger ones. They were quiet and calm, if a bit pale. These were children of war, Sturm remembered.\n\n\"I want you to move very swiftly through the dragon's lair and out into the playroom. When we get there, the big man\"-Sturm gestured to Caramon-\"will lead you out into the courtyard. Your mothers are waiting for you there. When you get outside, look immediately for your mother and go to her. Does everyone understand?\" He glanced dubiously at the smaller children, but the girl at the front of the line nodded."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"We understand, sir,\" she said.\n\n\"All right,\" Sturm turned. \"Caramon?\"\n\nThe warrior, flushing in embarrassment as one hundred pairs of eyes turned to look at him, led the way back into the dragon's lair. Goldmoon scooped up a toddler in her arms, Maritta picked up another one. The older boys and girls carried little ones on their backs. They hurried out the door in orderly fashion, without saying a word until they saw Tanis, the gleaming sword, and the terrified dragon.\n\n\"Hey, you! Don't hurt our dragon!\" one little boy yelled. Leaving his place inline, the child ran up to Tanis, his fists raised, his face twisted into a snarl.\n\n\"Dougl!\" cried the oldest girl, shocked. \"Get back inline this instant!\" But some of the children were crying now.\n\nTanis, the sword still raised-knowing that this was the only thing keeping the dragon at bay-shouted, \"Get them out of here!\"\n\n\"Children, please!\" Chieftain's Daughter, her voice stern and commanding, brought order to the chaos. \"Tanis will not hurt the dragon if he does not have to. He is a gentleman. You must leave now. Your mothers need you.\"\n\nThere was an edge of fear in Goldmoon's voice, a feeling of urgency that influenced even the youngest child. They got back into line quickly.\n\n\"Goodbye, Flamestrike,\" several of the children called out, wistfully, waving their hands as they followed Caramon. Dougl gave Tanis one final threatening glance, then he returned to line, wiping his eyes with grubby fists.\n\n\"No!\" shrieked Matafleur in a heartbroken voice. \"No! Don't fight my children. Please! It is me you want! Fight me! Don't harm my children!\" Tanis realized the dragon was back in her past, reliving whatever terrible event had deprived her of her children, Sturm stayed near Tanis. \"She's going to kill you when the children are out of danger, you know.\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Yes,\" said Tanis grimly. Already the dragon's eyes-even the bad eye-were flaring red. Saliva dripped from the great, gaping mouth, and her talons scratched the floor.\n\n\"Not my children!\" she said with rage.\n\n\"I'm with you-\" Sturm began, drawing his sword.\n\n\"Leave us, knight,\" Raistlin whispered softly from the shadows. \"\"Your weapon is useless. I will stay with Tanis\" The half-elf glanced at the mage in astonishment. Raistlin's strange, golden eyes met his, knowing what he was thinking do I trust him? Raistlin gave him no help, almost as if he were goading him to refusal.\n\n\"Get out,\" Tanis said to Sturm. What?\"he yelled.\" Are you crazy? You're trusting this-\"\n\n\"Get out!\" Tanis repeated. At that moment, he heard Flint yelling loudly. \"Go, Sturm, they need you out there!\"\n\nThe knight stood a moment, irresolute, but he could not in honor ignore a direct order from one he considered his commander. Casting a baleful glance at Raistlin, Sturm turned on his heel and entered the tunnel.\n\n\"There is little magic I can work against a red dragon,\" Raistlin whispered swiftly.\n\n\"Can you buy us time?\" Tanis asked.\n\nRaistlin smiled the smile of one who knows death is so near it is past fearing. \"I can,\" he whispered. \"Move back near the tunnel. When you hear me start to speak, run.\"\n\nTanis began backing up, still holding the sword high. But the dragon no longer feared its magic. She knew only that her children were gone and she must kill those responsible. She lunged directly at the warrior with the sword as he began to run toward the tunnel. Then darkness descended upon her, a darkness so deep Matafleur thought fora horrible moment she had lost the sight of the other eye. She heard whispered words of magic and knew the robed human had cast a spell."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"I'll burn them!\" she howled, sniffing the smell of steel through the tunnel. \"They will not escape!\" But just as she sucked in a great breath, she heard another sound-the sound of her children. \"No,\" she realized in frustration. \"I dare not. My children! I might harm my children...\" Her head drooped down on the cold stone floor. Tanis and Raistlin ran down the tunnel, the half-elf dragging the weakened mage with him. Behind them they heard a pitiful, heartbroken moan. \"Not my children! Please, fight me! Don't hurt my children!\"\n\nTanis emerged from the tunnel into the playroom, blinking in the bright light as Caramon swung the huge doors open to the rising sun. The children raced out the door into the courtyard. Through the door, Tanis could see Tika and Laurana, standing with their swords drawn, looking their way anxsiously. A draconian lay crumbling on the floor of the playroom, Flints battle-axe stuck in its back.\n\n\"Outside, all of you!\" Tanis shouted. Flint, retrieving his battle-axe, joined the half-elf as the last to leave the playroom. As they did so, they heard a terrifying roar, the roar of a dragon, but a very different dragon than the pitiful Matafleur. Pyros had discovered the spies. The stonewalls began to tremble-the dragon was rising from his lair.\n\n\"Ember!\" Tanis swore bitterly. \"He hasn't gone!\"\n\nThe dwarf shook his head. \"I'll bet my beard,\" he said gloomily, \"that Tasslehoff's involved.\"\n\nThe broken chain plummeted to the stone floor of the Chain Room in the Sla-Mori, three little figures falling with it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tasslehoff, clinging uselessly to the chain, tumbled through the darkness and thought, this is how it feels to die."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "It was an interesting sensation and he was sorry he couldn't experience it longer. Above him, he could hear Sestun shrieking in terror. Below, he heard the old mage muttering to himself, probably trying one last spell. Then Fizban raised his voice: \"Pveatherf-\" The word was cutoff with a scream. There was the sound of a bone-crushing thud as the old magician crashed to the floor. Tasslehoff grieved, even though he knew he was next. The stone floor was approaching. Within a very few seconds he too would be dead....\n\nThen it was snowing.\n\nAt least that was what the kender thought. Then he realized with a shock that he was surrounded by millions and millions of feathers-like an explosion of chickens! He sank into a deep, vast pile of white feathers, Sestun tumbling in after him.\n\n\"Poor Fizban,\" Tas said, blinking tears from his eyes as he floundered in an ocean of white chicken feathers. \"His last spell must have been featherfall like Raistlin uses. Wouldn't you know it? He just got the feathers.\"\n\nAbove him, the cogwheel turned faster and faster, the freed chain rushing through it as if rejoicing in its release from bondge. Outdoors in the courtyard chaos reigned.\n\n\"Over here!\" Tanis yelled, bursting out of the door, knowing they were doomed but refusing to give in. The companions gathered around him, weapons drawn, looking at him anxiously.\n\n\"Run to the mines! Run for shelter! Verminaard and the red dragon didn't leave. It is a trap. They'll be onus any moment.\"\n\nThe others, their faces grim, nodded. All of them knew it was hopeless-they must cover about two hundred yards of flat, wide-open surface to reach safety."
},
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "They tried to herd the women and children along as swiftly as possible, but not very successfully. All the mothers and children needed to be sorted out. Then Tanis, looking over at the mines, swore aloud in added frustration.\n\nThe men of the mines, seeing their families free, quickly overpowered the guards and began running toward the courtyard! That wasn't the plan! What was Elistan thinking about? Within moments there would be eight hundred frantic people milling around out in the open without a scrap of shelter! He had to get them to head back south to the mountains.\n\n\"Where's Eben?\" he called to Sturm.\n\n\"Last I saw him, he was running for the mines. I couldn't figure out why-\"\n\nThe knight and half-elf gasped in sudden realization.\n\n\"Of course,\" said Tanis softly his voice lost in the commotion'It all fits.\"\n\nAs Eben ran for the mines, his one thought was to obey Pyros's command. Somehow, in the midst of this furor, he had to find the Green Gemstone Man. He knew what Verminaard and Pyros were going to do to these poor wretches. Eben felt amoment's pity-he was not, after all, cruel and vicious. He had amply seen, long ago, which side was bound to win, and he-determined, for once, to be on a winning side.\n\nWhen his family's fortune was wiped out, Eben was left with only one thing to sell-himself. He was intelligent, handy with a sword, and as loyal as money could buy. It was on a journey to north, looking for possible buyers, that Eben met Vermiaard. Eben had been impressed with Verminaard's power and had wormed his way into the evil cleric's favor. But more importantly, he had managed to make himself useful to Pyros. The dragon found Eben charming, intelligent, resourceful, and-after a few tests-trustworthy."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Eben was sent home to Gateway just before the dragonarmies struck. He conveniently'escaped\" and started his resistance group. Stumbling upon Gilthanas's party of elves the first time they tried to sneak into Pax Tharkas was a stroke of luck that further improved Eben's relationship with both Pyros and Verminaard. When the cleric actually fell into Eben's hands, he couldn't believe his luck. It must go to show how much the Dark Queen favored him, he supposed.\n\nHe prayed that the Dark Queen continue to favor him. Finding the Green Gemstone Man in this confusion was going to take divine intervention. Hundreds of men were milling about uncertainly. Eben saw a chance to do Verminaard another favor. \"Tanis wants you men to meet in the courtyard,\" he cried. \"Join your families.\"\n\n\"No! That isn't the plan!\" Elistan cried, trying to stop them. But he was too late. The men, seeing their families free, surged forward. Several hundred gully dwarves added to the confusion, rushing gleefully out of the mines to join the fun, thinking, perhaps, it was a holiday.\n\nEben scanned the crowd anxiously for the Green Gemstone Man, then dedded to look inside the prison cells. Sure enough, he found the man sitting alone, staring vaguely around the empty cell. Eben swiftly knelt beside him, racking his brain to come up with the man's name. It was something odd, old-fashioned....\n\n\"Berem,\" Eben said after a moment. \"Berem?\"\n\nThe man looked up, interest lighting his face for the first time in many weeks. He was not, as Toede had assumed, deaf and dumb. He was, instead, a man obsessed, totally absorbed in his own secret quest. He was human, however, and the sound of a human voice speaking his name was inordinately comforting."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Berem,\" said Eben again, licking his lips nervously. Now that he had him, he wasn't sure what to do with him. He knew the first thing those poor wretches outside would do when the dragon struck would be to head for the safety of the mines. He had to get Berem out of here before Tanis caught them. But where? He could take the man inside Pax Tharkas as Pyros had ordered, but Eben didn't like that idea. Verminaard would certainly find them and, his suspicions aroused, would ask questions Eben couldn't answer.\n\nNo, there was only one place Eben could take him and be safe-outside the walls of Pax Tharkas. They could lie low in the wilderness until the confusion died, then sneak back inside the fortress at night. His decision made, Eben took Berem's arm and helped the man rise to his feet.\n\n\"There's going to be fighting,\"he said.\" I'm going to take you away, keep you safe until it is over. I am your friend. Do you understand?\"\n\nThe man regarded him with a look of penetrating wisdom and intelligence. It was not the ageless look of the elves but of a human who has lived in torment for countless years. Berem gave a small sigh and nodded.\n\nVerminaard strode from his chamber in a fury, yanking at his leather, armored gloves. A draconian trotted behind, carrying the Highlord's mace, Nightbringer. Other draconians milled around, acting on the orders Verminaard gave as he stepped into the corridor, returning to Pyros's lair.\n\n\"No, you fools, don't recall the army! This will take but a moment of my time. Qualinesti will be inflames by nightfall."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ember!\" he shouted, throwing open the doors that led to the dragon's lair. He stepped out onto the ledge. Peering upward toward the balcony he could see smoke and flame and, in the distance, hear the dragon's roar.\n\n\"Ember!\" There was no answer. \"How long does it take to capture a handful of spies?\" he demanded furiously. Turning, he nearly fell over a draconian captain.\n\n\"Will you be using the dragonsaddle, my lord?\"\n\n\"No, there isn't time. Besides, I use that only for combat and there will no one to fight out there, simply a few hundred slaves to burn.\"\n\n\"But the slaves have overcome the guards at the mine and are rejoining their families in the courtyard.\"\n\n\"How strong are your forces?\"\n\n\"Not nearly strong enough, my lord,\" the draconian captain said, its eyes glinting. The captain had never thought it wise to deplete the garrison. \"We are forty or fifty, perhaps, to over three hundred men and an equal number of women. The women will undoubtedly fight alongside the men, your lordship, and if they never get organized and escape into the mountains-\"\n\n\"Bah! Ember!\" Verminaard called. He heard, in another part of the fortress, a heavy, metallic thud. Then he heard another sound, the great wheel-unused in centuries-creaking with protest at being forced into labor. Verminaard was wondering what these odd sounds portended, when Pyros flew down into his lair.\n\nThe Dragon Highlord ran to the ledge as Pyros dropped past him. Verminaard climbed swiftly and skillfully onto the dragon's back. Though separated by mutual distrust, the two fought well together. Their hatred for the petty races they strove to conquer, combined with their desire for power, joined them in a bond much stronger than either cared to admit."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Fly!\" Verminaard roared, and Pyros rose into the air.\n\n\"It is useless, my friend,\" Tanis said quietly to Sturm, laying his hand on the knight's shoulder as Sturm frantically called for order. \"You're only wasting your breath. Save it for fighting.\"\n\n\"There'll be no fighting.\" Sturm coughed, hoarse from shouting. \"We'll die, trapped like rats. Why won't these fools listen?\"\n\nHe and Tanis stood at the northern end of the courtyard, about twenty feet from the front gates of Pax Tharkas. Looking south, they could seethe mountains and hope. Behind them were the great gates of the fortress that would, at any moment, open to admit the vast draconian army, and within these walls, somewhere, were Verminaard and the red dragon.\n\nIn vain, Elistan sought to calm the people and urge them to move southwards. But the men insisted on finding their womenfolk, the women on finding their children. A few families, together again, were starting to move south, but too late and too slowly.\n\nThen, like a blood-red, flaming comet, Pyros soared from the fortress of Pax Tharkas, his wings sleek, held close to his sides. His huge tail trailed behind him. His taloned forefeet were curled close to his body as he gained speed in the air. Upon his back rode the Dragon Highlord, the gilded horns of the hideous dragonmask glinting in the morning sun. Verminaard held onto the dragon's spiny mane with both hands as they flared into the sunlit sky, bringing night's shadows to the courtyard below.\n\nThe dragonfear spread over the people. Unable to scream or run, they could only cower before the fearful apparition, arms around each other, knowing death was inevitable."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At Verminaard's command, Pyros settled on one of the fortress towers. Verminaard stared out from behind the homed dragonmask, silent, furious.\n\nTanis, watching in helpless frustration, felt Sturm grip his arm. \"Look!\" The knight pointed north, toward the gates.\n\nTanis reluctantly Ipwered his gaze from the Dragon Highlord and saw two figures running toward the gates of the fortress.\n\n\"Eben!\" he cried in disbelief. \"But who's that with him?\"\n\n\"He won't escape!\" Sturm shouted. Before Tanis could stop him, the knight ran after the two. As Tanis followed, he saw a flash of red out of the comer of his eye-Raistlin and his twin.\n\n\"I, too, have a score to settle with this man,\" the mage hissed. The three caught up with Sturm just as the knight gripped Eben by the collar and hurled him to the ground.\n\n\"Traitor!\"Sturm yelled loudly.\"Though I die this day, I'll send you to the Abyss first\" He drew his sword and jerked Eben's head back. Suddenly Eben's companion whirled around, came back, and caught hold of Sturm's swordarm.\n\nSturm gasped. His hand loosened its grip on Eben as the knight stared, amazed at the sight before him.\n\nThe man's shirt had been torn open in his wild flight from the mines. Impaled in the man's flesh, in the center of his chest, was a brilliant green jewel! Sunlight flashed on the gem that was as big around as a man's fist, causing it to gleam with a bright and terrible light-an unholy light.\n\n\"I have never seen nor heard of magic like this!\" Raistlin whispered in awe as he and the others stopped, stunned, beside Sturm."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Seeing their wide eyes focused on his body, Berem instinctively pulled his shirt over his chest. Then, loosening his hold on Sturm's arm, he turned and ran for the gates. Eben scrambled to his feet and stumbled after him.\n\nSturm leaped forward, but Tanis stopped him.\n\n\"No,\" he said. \"It's too late. We have others to think of.\"\n\n\"Tanis, look!\" Caramon shouted, pointing above the huge gates.\n\nA section of the stonewall of the fortress above the massive front gates began to open, forming a huge, widening crack. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, the massive granite boulders began to fall from the crack, smashing to the ground with such force that the flagstone cracked and great clouds of dust rose into the air. Above the roar could be dimly heard the sound of the massive chains releasing the mechanism.\n\nThe boulders began to fall just as Eben and Berem arrived at the gates. Eben shrieked in terror, instinctively and pitifully raised his arm to shield his head. The man next to him glanced up and-it seemed-gave a small sigh. Then both were buried under tons of cascading rock as the ancient defense mechanism sealed shut the gates of Pax Tharkas.\n\n\"This is your final act of defiance!\" Verminaard roared. His speech had been interrupted by the fall of the rocks, an act that only enraged him more. \"I offered you a chance to work to further the glory of my Queen. I cared for you and your families. But you are stubborn and foolish. You will pay with your lives!\" The Dragon Highlord raised Nightbringer high in the air. \"I will destroy the men. I will destroy the women! I will destroy the children!\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "At a touch of the Dragon Highlord's hand, Pyros spread his huge wings and leaped high into the air. The dragon drew in a deep breath, preparing to swoop down upon the mass of people who wailed in terror in the wide-open courtyard and incinerate them with his fiery breath.\n\nBut the dragon's deadly dive was stopped.\n\nSweeping up into the sky from the pile of rubble made when she crashed out of the fortress, Matafleur flew straight at Pyros.\n\nThe ancient dragon had sunk deeper into her madness. Once more she relived the nightmare of losing her children. She could seethe knights upon the silver and golden dragons, the wicked dragonlances gleaming in the sunshine. In vain she pleaded with her children not to join the hopeless fight, in vain she sought to convince them the war was at an end. They were young and would not listen. They flew off, leaving her weeping in her lair. As she watched in her mind's eye the bloody, final battle, as she saw her children die upon the dragonlances, she heard Verminaard's voice.\n\n\"I will destroy the children!\"\n\nAnd, as she had done so many centuries before, Matafleur flew out to defend them.\n\nPyros, stunned by the unexpected attack, swerved just in time to avoid the broken, yet still lethal teeth of the old dragon aiming for his unprotected flanks. Matafleur hit him a glancing blow, tearing painfully into one of the heavy muscles that drove the giant wings. Rolling in the air, Pyros lashed out at the passing Matafleur with a wicked, taloned forefoot, tearing a gash in the female dragon's soft underbelly.\n\nIn her madness, Matafleur did not even feel the pain, but the force of the larger and younger male dragon's blow knocked her backwards in the air."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The rollover manuever had been an instinctive defensive action on the part of the male dragon. He had been able to gain both altitude and time to plan his attack. He had, however, forgotten his rider. Verminaard-riding without the dragonsaddle he used in battle-lost his grip on the dragon's neck and fell to the courtyard below. It was not along drop and he landed uninjured, only bruised and momentarily shaken.\n\nMost of the people around him fled in terror when they saw him rise to his feet, but-glancing around swiftly-he noticed that there were four, near the northern end of the courtyard, who did not flee. He turned to face those four.\n\nThe appearance of Matafleur and her sudden attack on Pyros jolted the captive people out of their state of panic. This, combined with the fall of Verminaard into their midst, like the fall of some horrifying god, accomplished what Elistan and the others had not. The people were shaken out of their fear, sense returned, and they began fleeing south, toward the safety of the mountains. At this sight, the draconian captain sent his forces pouring into the crowd. He detailed another messenger, a wyvem, to fly from the fortress to recall the army.\n\nThe draconians surged into the refugees, but, if they hoped to cause a panic, they failed. The people had suffered enough. They had allowed their freedom to betaken away once, in return for the promise of peace and safety. Now they understood that there could be no peace as long as these monsters roamed Krynn. The people of Solace and Gateway-men, women, and children-fought back using every pitiful weapon they could grab-rocks, stones, their own bare hands, teeth, and nails.\n\nThe companions became separated in the crowd. Laurana was cutoff from everyone. Gilthanas had tried to stay near her, but he was carried off in the mob. The elfmaiden, more frightened than she believed possible and longing to hide, fell back against the wall of the fortress, her sword in her hand. As she watched the raging battle in horror, a man fell to the ground in front her, clutching his stomach, his fingers red with his own blood. His eyes fixed in death, seeming to stare at her, as his blood formed a pool at her feet. Laurana stared at the blood in horrid fascination, then she heard a sound in front of her. Shaking, she looked up-directly into the hideous, reptilian face of the man's killer."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The draconian, seeing an apparently terror-stricken elven female before him, figured on an easy kill."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Licking its blood-stained sword with its long tongue, the creature jumped over the body of his victim and lunged for Laurana.\n\nClutching her sword, her throat aching with terror, Laurana reacted out of sheer defensive instinct. She stabbed blindly, jabbing upward. The draconian was caught totally offguard. Laurana plunged her weapon into the draconian's body, feeling the sharp elven blade penetrate both armor and flesh, hearing bone splinter and the creature's last gurgling scream. It turned to stone, yanking the sword from her hand. But Laurana, thinking with a cold detachment that amazed her, knew from hearing the warriors talk that if she waited a moment, the stone body would turn to dust, releasing her weapon.\n\nThe sounds of battle raged around her, the screams, the death cries, the thuds and groans, the clash of steel-but she heard none of it.\n\nShe waited calmly until she saw the body crumble. Then she reached down and, sifting the dust aside with her hand, she grasped the hilt of her sword and lifted it into the air. Sunlight flashed on the blood-stained blade, her enemy lay dead at her feet. She looked around but could not see Tanis. She could not see any of the others. For all she knew, they might be dead. For all she knew, she might herself be dead within the next moment.\n\nLaurana lifted her eyes to the sun-drenched blue sky. The world she might soon be leaving seemed newly made-every object, every stone, every leaf stood out in painful clarity. A warm fragrant southern breeze sprang up, driving back the storm clouds that hungover her homeland to the north. Laurana's spirit, released from its prison of fear, soared higher than the clouds, and her sword flashed in the morning sun."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Dragon Highlord.\n\nMatafleur's children.\n\nVerminaard studied the four men as they approached him. These were not slaves, he realized. Then he recognized them as the ones who traveled with the golden-haired cleric. These, then, were the ones who had defeated Onyx in Xak Tsaroth, escaped the slave caravan, and broken into Pax Tharkas. He felt as if he knew them-the knight from that broken land of past glories; a half-elf trying to pass himself off as human; a deformed, sickly magician; and the mage's twin-a human giant whose brain was probably as thick as his arms.\n\nIt will bean interesting fight, he thought. He almost welcomed hand-to-hand combat-it had been along time. He was growing bored with commanding armies from the back of a dragon. Thinking of Ember, he glanced into the sky, wondering if he might be able to summon aid.\n\nBut it appeared that the red dragon was having his own problems. Matafleur had been fighting battles when Pyros was still in the egg; what she lacked in strength, she made up for in guile and cunning. The air crackled with flames, dragonblood dropped down like red rain.\n\nShrugging, Verminaard looked back at the four approaching him warily. He could hear the magic-user reminding his companions that Verminaard was a cleric of the Queen of Darkness and-as such-could call upon her aid. Verminaard knew from his spies that this magic-user, though young, was imbued with a strange power and considered very dangerous.\n\nThe four did not speak. There was no need for talk among these men, nor was there need for talk between enemies. Respect, grudging as it maybe, was apparent on both sides. As for the battlerage, that was unnecessary. This would be fought coolly. The major victor would be death."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "And so the four came forward, spreading to outflank him since he had nothing to set his back against. Crouching low, Verminaard swung Nightbringer in an arc, keeping them back, forming his plans. He must even the odds quickly. Gripping Nightbringer in his right hand, the evil cleric sprang forward from his crouched stance with all the strength in his powerful legs. His sudden move took his opponents by surprise. He did not raise his mace. All he needed now was his deadly touch. Landing on his feet in front of Raistlin, he reached out and grasped the magic-user by the shoulder, whispering a swift prayer to his Dark Queen.\n\nRaistlin screamed. His body pierced by unseen, unholy weapons, he sank to the ground in agony. Caramon gave a great, bellowing roar and sprang at Verminaard, but the cleric was prepared. He swung the mace, Nightbringer, and struck the warrior a glancing blow. \"Midnight,\" Verminaard whispered, and Caramon's bellow changed to a shout of panic as the spellbound mace blinded him.\n\n\"I can't see! Tanis, help me!\" the big warrior cried, stumbling about. Verminaard, laughing grimly, struck him a solid blow to the head. Caramon went down like a felled ox.\n\nOut of the corner of his eye, Verminaard saw the half-elf leap for him, a two-handed sword of ancient elvish design in his hands. Verminaard whirled, blocking Tanis's sword with Nightbringer's massive, oaken handle. Fora moment, the two combatants were locked together, but Verminaard's greater strength won out and he hurled Tanis to the ground.\n\nThe Solamnic knight raised his sword in salute-a costly mistake. It gave Verminaard time to remove a small iron needle from a hidden pocket. Raising it, he called once more upon the Queen of Darkness to defend her cleric. Sturm, striding forward, suddenly felt his body grow heavier and heavier until he could walk no more."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tanis, lying on the ground, felt an unseen hand press down on him."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He couldn't move. He couldn't turn his head. His tongue was too thick to speak. He could hear Raistlin's screams choke off in pain. He could hear Verminaard laugh and shout a hymn of praise to the Dark Queen. Tanis could only watch in despair as the Dragon Highlord, mace raised, walked toward Sturm, preparing to end the knight's life.\n\n\"Baravais, Kbaras! \"Verminaard said in Solamnic. He lifted the mace in a gruesome mockery of the knight's salute, then aimed for the knight's head, knowing that this death would be the most torturous possible fora knight-dying at the mercy of the enemy.\n\nSuddenly a hand caught Verminaard's wrist. In astonishment, he stared at the hand, the hand of a female. He felt a power to match his own, a holiness to match his unholiness. At her touch, Verminaard's concentration wavered, his prayers to his Dark Queen faltered.\n\nAnd then it was that the Dark Queen herself looked up to find a radiant god, dressed in white and shining armor, appear on the horizon of her plans. She was not ready to fight this god, she had not expected his return, and so she fled to rethink her options and restructure her battle, seeing-for the first time-the possibility of defeat. The Queen of Darkness withdrew and left her cleric to his fate.\n\nSturm felt the spell leave his body, his muscles his own to command once more. He saw Venninaard turn his fury on Goldmoon, striking at her savagely. The knight lunged forward, seeing Tanis rise, the elven sword flashing in the sun-light.\n\nBoth men ran toward Goldmoon, but Riverwind was there before them. Thrusting her out of the way, the Plainsman received on his swordarm the blow of the cleric's mace that had been intended to crush Goldmoon's head. Riverwind heard the cleric shout'Midnight!\" and his vision was obscured by the same unholy darkness that had overtaken Caramon."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "But the Que-shu warrior, expecting this, did not panic. Riverwind could still hear his enemy. Resolutely ignoring the pain of his injury, he transferred the sword to his left hand and stabbed in the direction of his enemy's harsh breathing. The blade, turned aside by the Dragon Highlord's powerful armor, was jarred from Riverwind's hand. Riverwind fumbled for his dagger, though he knew it was hopeless, that death was certain.\n\nAt that moment, Verminaard realized he was alone, bereft of spiritual help. He felt the cold, skeletal hand of despair clutch at him and he called to his Dark Queen. But she had turned away, absorbed in her own struggle.\n\nVerminaard began to sweat beneath the dragonmask. He cursed it as the helm seemed to stifle him; he couldn't catch his breath. Too late he realized its unsuitableness for hand-to-hand combat-the mask blocked his peripheral vision. He saw the tall Plainsman, blind and wounded, before him-he could kill him at his leisure. But there were two other fighters near. The knight and the half-elf had been freed of the unholy spell he had cast on them and they were coming closer. He could hear them.\n\nCatching a glimpse of movement, he turned quickly and saw the half-elf running toward him, the elvish blade glistening. But where was the knight? Verminaard turned and backed up, swinging his mace to keep them at bay, while with his freehand, he struggled to rip the dragonhelm from his head.\n\nToo late. Just as Verminaard's hand closed over the visor, the magic blade of Kith-Kanan pierced his armor and slid into his back. The Dragon Highlord screamed and whirled in rage, only to seethe Solamnic knight appear in his blood-dimmed vision. The ancient blade of Sturm's fathers plunged into his bowels. Verminaard feel to his knees. Still he struggled to remove the helm-he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. He felt another sword thrust, then darkness overtook him."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "High overhead, a dying Matafleur-weakened by loss of blood and many wounds-heard the voices of her children crying to her. She was confused and disoriented: Pyros seemed to be attacking from every direction at once. Then the big red dragon was before her, against the wall of the mountain. Matafleur saw her chance. She would save her children.\n\nPyros breathed a great blast of flame directly into the face of the ancient red dragon. He watched in satisfaction as the head withered, the eyes melted.\n\nBut Matafleur ignored the flames that seared her eyes, forever ending her vision, and flew straight at Pyros.\n\nThe big male dragon, his mind clouded by fury and pain and thinking he had finished his enemy, was taken by surprise. Even as he breathed again his deadly fire, he realized with horror the position he was in-he had allowed Matafleur to manuever him between herself and the sheer face of the mountain. He had nowhere to go, no room to turn.\n\nMatafleur soared into him with all the force of her once-powerful body, striking him like a spear hurled by the gods.\n\nBoth dragons slammed against the mountain. The peak trembled and split apart as the face of the mountain exploded inflames.\n\nIn later years when the Death of Flamestrike was legend, there were those who claimed to have heard a dragon's voice fade away like smoke on an autumn wind, whispering:\n\n\"My children...\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The last day of autumn dawned clear and bright. The air was warm-touched by the fragrant wind from the south, which had blown steadily ever since the refugees fled Pax Tharkas, taking with them only what they could scrounge from the fortress as they fled the wrath of the dragonarmies.\n\nIt had taken long days for the draconian army to scale the walls of Pax Tharkas, its gates blocked by boulders, its towers defended by gully dwarves. Led by Sestun, the gully dwarves stood on top of the walls throwing rocks, dead rats, and occasionally each other down on the frustrated draconians. This allowed the refugees time to escape into the mountains where, although they skirmished with small forces of draconians, they were not seriously threatened.\n\nFlint volunteered to lead a party of men through the mountains, searching fora place where the people could spend the winter. These mountains were familiar to Flint since the hill dwarves'homeland was not far to the south. Flint's party discovered a valley nestled between vast, craggy peaks whose treacherous passes were choked with snow in the winter. The passes could be easily held against the might of the dragonarmies and there were caves where they could hide from the fury of the dragons.\n\nFollowing a dangerous path, the refugees fled into the mountains and entered the valley. An avalanche soon blocked the route behind them and destroyed all trace of their passing. It would be months before the draconians discovered them.\n\nThe valley, far below the mountain peaks, was warm and sheltered from the harsh winter winds and snows. The woods were filled with game. Clear streams flowed from the mountains. The people mourned their dead, rejoiced in their deliverance, built shelters, and celebrated a wedding."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "On the last day of autumn, as the sunset behind the mountains, kindling their snow-capped peaks with flame the color of dying dragons, Riverwind and Goldmoon were married.\n\nWhen the two came to Elistan to ask him to preside over their exchange of vows, he had been deeply honored and had asked them to explain the ways of their people to him. Both of them replied steadily that their people were dead. The Que-shu were gone, their ways were no more.\n\n\"This will be our ceremony,\" Riverwind said. \"The beginning of something new, not the continuation of that which has passed away.\"\n\n\"Though we will honor the memory of our people in our hearts,\" Goldmoon added softly, \"we must look forward, not behind. We will honor the past by taking from it the good and the sorrowful that have made us what we are. But the past shall rule us no longer.\"\n\nElistan, therefore, studied the Disks of Mishakal to find what the ancient gods taught about marriage. He asked Goldmoon and Riverwind to write their own vows, searching their hearts for the true meaning of their love-for these vows would bespoken before the gods and last beyond death.\n\nOne custom of the Que-shu the couple kept. This was that the bridegift and the groomgift could not be purchased. This symbol of love must be made by the hand of the beloved. The gifts would be exchanged with the saying of the vows.\n\nAs the sun's rays spread across the sky, Elistan took his place on the top of a gentle rise. The people gathered in silence at the foot of the hill. From the east came Tika and Laurana, bearing torches. Behind them walked Goldmoon, Chieftain's Daughter. Her hair fell down around her shoulders in streams of molten gold, mingled with silver. Her head was crowned with autumn leaves. She wore the simple fringed doeskin tunic she had worn through their adventures. The medallion of Mishakal glittered at her throat. She carried her bridegift wrapped in a cloth as fine as cobweb, for the beloved one's eyes must be the first to see it."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tika walked before her in solemn, misty-eyed wonder, the young girl's heart filled with dreams of her own, beginning to think that this great mystery shared by men and women might not be the terrifying experience she had feared, but something sweet and beautiful.\n\nLaurana, next to Tika, held her torch high, brightening the day's dying light. The people murmured at Goldmoon's beauty; they fell silent when Laurana passed. Goldmoon was human, her beauty the beauty of the trees and mountains and skies. Laurana's beauty was elvish, otherworldly, mysterious.\n\nThe two women brought the bride to Elistan, then they turned, looking to the west, waiting for the groom.\n\nAblaze of torches lit Riverwind's way. Tanis and Sturm, their solemn faces wistful and gentle, led. Riverwind came behind, towering over the others, his face stern as always. But a radiant joy, brighter than the torches, lit his eyes. His black hair was crowned with autumn leaves, his groomgift covered by one of Tasslehoff's hankerchiefs. Behind him walked Flint and the kender. Caramon and Raistlin came last, the mage bearing the lighted-crystal Staff of Magius instead of a torch.\n\nThe men brought the groom to Elistan, then stepped back to join the women. Tika found herself standing next to Caramon. Reaching out timidly, she touched his hand. Smiling down at her gently, he clasped her little hand in his big one.\n\nAs Elistan looked at Riverwind and Goldmoon, he thought of the terrible grief and fear and danger they had faced, the harshness of their lives. Did their future hold anything different? Fora moment he was overcome and could not speak. The two, seeing Elistan's emotion and, perhaps, understanding his sorrow, reached out to him reassuringly. Elistan drew them close to him, whispering words for them alone."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It was your love and your faith in each other that brought hope to the world. Each of you was willing to sacrifice your life for this promise of hope, each has saved the life of the other. The sun shines now, but already its rays are dimming and night is ahead. It is the same for you, my friends. You will walk through much darkness before morning. But your love will be as a torch to light the way.\"\n\nElistan then stepped back and began to speak to all assembled. His voice, husky to begin with, grew stronger and stronger as he felt the peace of the gods surround him and confirm their blessings on this couple.\n\n\"The left hand is the hand of the heart,\" he said, placing Goldmoon's left hand in Riverwind's left hand and holding his own left handover them. \"We join left hands that the love in the hearts of this man and this woman may combine to form something greater as two streams join together to form a mighty river. The river flows through the land, branching off into tributaries, exploring new ways, yet ever drawn to the eternal sea. Receive their love, Paladine-greatest of the gods; bless it and grant them peace at least in the hearts, if there is no peace in this shattered land.\"\n\nIn the blessed silence, husbands and wives put their arms around each other. Friends drew close, children quieted and crept near their parents. Hearts filled with mourning were comforted. Peace was granted.\n\n\"Pledge your vows, one to another,\" Elistan said, \"and exchange the gifts of your hands and hearts.\"\n\nGoldmoon looked into Riverwind's eyes and began to speak softly.\n\nWars have settled on the North\n\nand dragons ride the skies,\n\n\"Now is the time for wisdom,\""
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "say the wise and the nearly wise.\n\n\"Herein the heart of battle,\n\nthe time to be brave is at hand.\n\nNow most things are larger than\n\nthe promise of woman to man.\"\n\nBut you and I, through burning plains,\n\nthrough darkness of the earth,\n\naffirm this world, its people,\n\nthe heavens that gave them birth,\n\nthe breath that passes between us,\n\nthis altar where we stand,\n\nand all those things made larger by\n\nthe promise of woman to man.\n\nThen Riverwind spoke:\n\nNow in the belly of winter,\n\nwhen ground and sky are gray,\n\nherein the heart of sleeping snow,\n\nnow is the time to say\n\nyes to the sprouting vallenwood\n\nin the green countryside,\n\nfor these things are far larger than\n\na man's word to his bride.\n\nThrough these promises we keep,\n\nforged in the yawning night,\n\nproved in the presence of heroes\n\nand the prospect of spring light,\n\nthe children will see moons and stars\n\nwhere now the dragons ride,\n\nand humble things made large by\n\na man's word to his bride.\n\nWhen the vows were spoken, they exchanged gifts. Goldmoon shyly handed her present to Riverwind. He unwrapped it with hands that trembled. It was a ring plaited of her own hair, bound with bands of silver and of gold as fine as the hair the surrounded. Goldmoon had given Flint her mother's jewelry; the dwarf's old hands had not lost their touch."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the wreckage of Solace, Riverwind had found a vallenwood branch spared by the dragon's fire and had carried it in his pack. Now that branch made Riverwind's gift to Goldmoon-a ring, perfectly smooth and plain. When polished, the wood of the tree was a rich gold color, marked by streaks and whorls of softest brown. Goldmoon, holding it, remembered the first night she had seen the great vallenwoods, the night they had stumbled-weary and frightened-into Solace, bearing the blue crystal staff. She began to cry softly and wiped her eyes with Tas's handkerchief.\n\n\"Bless the gifts, Paladine,\" Elistan said, \"these symbols of love and sacrifice. Grant that during times of deepest darkness, these two may look upon these gifts and see their path lighted by love. Great and shining god, god of human and elf, god of kender and dwarf, give your blessing to these, your children. May the love they plant in their hearts today be nourished by their souls and grow into a tree of life, providing shelter and protection to all who seek refuge beneath its spreading boughs. With the joining of hands, the exchanging of vows, the giving of gifts, you two-Riverwind, grandson of Wanderer, and Goldmoon, Chieftain's Daughter-become one-in your hearts, in the sight of men, in the eyes of the gods.\"\n\nRiverwind took his ring from Goldmoon and placed it upon her slender finger. Goldmoon took herring from Riverwind. He knelt before her-as would have been the custom of the Que-shu. But Goldmoon shook her head.\n\n\"Rise, warrior,\" she said, smiling through her tears.\n\n\"Is that a command?\" he asked softly."
}
] |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: fantasy, epic fantasy, dragons\nAuthor: Margaret Weis, Tracy Hickman\nTitle: Dragons of Autumn Twilight\nChapter: 40"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "In the wreckage of Solace, Riverwind had found a vallenwood branch spared by the dragon's fire and had carried it in his pack. Now that branch made Riverwind's gift to Goldmoon-a ring, perfectly smooth and plain. When polished, the wood of the tree was a rich gold color, marked by streaks and whorls of softest brown. Goldmoon, holding it, remembered the first night she had seen the great vallenwoods, the night they had stumbled-weary and frightened-into Solace, bearing the blue crystal staff. She began to cry softly and wiped her eyes with Tas's handkerchief.\n\n\"Bless the gifts, Paladine,\" Elistan said, \"these symbols of love and sacrifice. Grant that during times of deepest darkness, these two may look upon these gifts and see their path lighted by love. Great and shining god, god of human and elf, god of kender and dwarf, give your blessing to these, your children. May the love they plant in their hearts today be nourished by their souls and grow into a tree of life, providing shelter and protection to all who seek refuge beneath its spreading boughs. With the joining of hands, the exchanging of vows, the giving of gifts, you two-Riverwind, grandson of Wanderer, and Goldmoon, Chieftain's Daughter-become one-in your hearts, in the sight of men, in the eyes of the gods.\"\n\nRiverwind took his ring from Goldmoon and placed it upon her slender finger. Goldmoon took herring from Riverwind. He knelt before her-as would have been the custom of the Que-shu. But Goldmoon shook her head.\n\n\"Rise, warrior,\" she said, smiling through her tears.\n\n\"Is that a command?\" he asked softly."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"It is the last command of Chieftain's Daughter,\" she whispered.\n\nRiverwind stood up. Goldmoon placed the golden ring on his finger. Then Riverwind took her in his arms. She put her arms around him. Their lips met, their bodies melded together, their spirits joined. The people gave a great shout and torches flared. The sun sank behind the mountains, leaving the sky bathed in a pearl-like hue of purples and soft reds, which soon deepened into the sapphire of night.\n\nThe bride and groom were carried down the hill by the cheering throng and feasting and merriment began. Huge tables, carved from the pine trees of the forest, were setup on the grass. The children, freed at last from the awe of the ceremony, ran and shouted, playing at dragonslaying. Tonight care and worry were far from their minds. Men broached the huge casks of ale and wine they had salvaged in Pax Tharkas and began drinking salutes to the bride and groom. Women brought in huge plates of food-game and fruits and vegetables gathered in the forest and taken from the stores in Pax Tharkas.\n\n\"Get out of my way, don't crowd me,\" Caramon grumbled as he sat down at the table. The companions, laughing, moved over to give the big man room. Maritta and two other women came forward and placed a huge platter of deer meat before the big warrior.\n\n\"Real food,\" sighed the warrior.\n\n\"Hey,\" roared Flint, stabbing at apiece of sizzling meat on Caramon's plate with his fork, \"you gonna eat that?\"\n\nCaramon promptly and silently-without missing a bite-emptied a flagon of ale over the dwarf's head."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tanis and Sturm sat side by side, talking quietly. Tanis's eyes strayed to Laurana occasionally. She sat at a different table talking animatedly with Elistan. Tanis, thinking how lovely she looked tonight, realized how changed she was from the willful, lovesick girl who had followed him from Qualinesti. He told himself he liked the change in her. But he caught himself wondering just what she and Elistan found so interesting.\n\nSturm touched his arm. Tanis started. He had lost track of the conversation. Flushing, he began to apologize when he saw the look on Sturm's face.\n\n\"What is it?\" Tanis said in alarm, half-rising.\n\n\"Hush, don't move!\" Sturm ordered. \"Just look-over there-sitting off to himself.\"\n\nTanis looked where Sturm gestured, puzzled, then he saw the man-sitting alone, hunched over his food, eating it absently as if he didn't really taste it. Whenever anyone approached, the man shrank back, eyeing him nervously until he passed. Suddenly, perhaps sensing Tanis's eyes on him, he raised his head and stared directly at them. The half-elf gasped and dropped his fork.\n\n\"But that's impossible!\" he said in a strangled voice. \"We saw him die! With Eben! No one could have survived-\"\n\n\"Then I was right,\" Sturm said grimly. \"You recognize him, too. I thought I was going mad. Let's go talk to him.\"\n\nBut when they looked again, he was gone. Swiftly, they searched the crowd, but it was impossible to find him now.\n\nAs the silver moon and the red rose in the sky, the married couples formed a ring around the bride and groom and began singing wedding songs. Unmarried couples danced in pairs outside the circle while the children leaped and shouted and reveled in staying up past their bedtime. Bonfires burned brightly, voices and music filled the night air, the silver moon and the red rose to light the sky. Goldmoon and Riverwind stood, their arms around each other, their eyes shining brighter than the moons or the blazing fire."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Tanis lingered on the outskirts, watching his friends."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Laurana and Gilthanas performed an ancient elvish dance of grace and beauty, singing together a hymn of joy. Sturm and Elistan fell into conversation about their plans to travel south in search of the legendary seaport city of Tarsis the Beautiful, where they hoped to find ships to carry the people from this wartorn land. Tika, tired of watching Caramon eat, teased Flint until the dwarf finally agreed to dance with her, blushing bright red beneath his beard.\n\nWhere was Raistlin? Tanis wondered. The half-elf recalled seeing him at the banquet. The mage ate little and drank his herbal mixture. He had seemed unusually pale and quiet. Tanis decided to go in search of him. The company of the dark-souled, cynical mage seemed more suited to him tonight than music and laughter.\n\nTanis wandered into the moonlit darkness, knowing somehow he was headed in the right direction. He found Raistlin sitting on the stump of an old tree whose lightning-shattered, blackened remains lay scattered over the ground. The half-elf sat down next to the silent mage.\n\nA small shadow settled among the trees behind the half-elf. Finally, Tas would hear what these two discussed!\n\nRaistlin's strange eyes stared into the southlands, barely visible between a gap in the tall mountains. The wind still blew from the south, but it was beginning to veer again. The temperature was falling. Tanis felt Raistlin's frail body shiver. Looking at him in the moonlight, Tanis was startled to seethe mage's resemblance to his half-sister, Kitiara. It was a fleeting impression and gone almost as soon as it came, but it brought the woman to Tanis's mind, adding to his feelings of unrest and disquiet. He restlessly tossed apiece of bark back and forth, from hand to hand."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What do you see to the south?\" Tanis asked abruptly.\n\nRaistlin glanced at him. \"What do I ever see with these eyes of mine, Half-Elf?\" the mage whispered bitterly. \"I see death, death and destruction. I see war.\" He gestured up above. \"The constellations have not returned. The Queen of Darkness is not defeated.\"\n\n\"We may not have won the war,\" Tanis began, \"but surely we have won a major battle-\"\n\nRaistlin coughed and shook his head sadly.\n\n\"Do you see no hope?\"\n\n\"Hope is the denial of reality. It is the carrot dangled before the draft horse to keep him plodding along in a vain attempt to reach it.\"\n\n\"Are you saying we should just give up?\" Tanis asked, irritably tossing the bark away.\n\n\"I'm saying we should remove the carrot and walk forward with our eyes open,\" Raistlin answered. Coughing, he drew his robes more closely around him. \"How will you fight the dragons, Tanis? For there will be more! More than you can imagine! And where now is Huma? Where now is the Dragonlance? No, Half-Elf. Do not talk tome of hope.\"\n\nTanis did not answer, nor did the mage speak again. Both sat silently, one continuing to stare south, the other glancing up into the great voids in the glittering, starlit sky.\n\nTasslehoff sank back into the soft grass beneath the pine trees. \"No hope!\" the kender repeated bleakly, sorry he had followed the half-elf. \"I don't believe it,\" he said, but his eyes went to Tanis, staring at the stars. Tanis believes it, the kender realized, and the thought filled him with dread."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Ever since the death of the old magician, an unnoticed change had come over the kender. Tasslehoff began to consider that this adventure was in earnest, that it had a purpose for which people gave their lives. He wondered why he was involved and thought perhaps he had given the answer to Fizban-the small things he was meant to do were important, somehow, in the big scheme of things.\n\nBut until now it had never occurred to the kender that all this might be for nothing, that it might not make any difference, that they might suffer and lose people they loved like Fizban, and the dragons would still win in the end.\n\n\"Still,\" the kender said softly, \"we have to keep trying and hoping. That's what's important-the trying and the hoping. Maybe that's most important of all.\"\n\nSomething floated gently down from the sky, brushing past the kender's nose. Tas reached out and caught it in his hand.\n\nIt was a small, white chicken feather."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The'Song of Huma\" was the last-and many consider the greatest-work of the elven bard, Quivalen Soth. Only fragments of the work remained following the Cataclysm. It is said that those who study it diligently willl find hints to the future o the turning world.\n\nSONG OF HUMA\n\nOut of the village, out of the thatched and clutching shires,\n\nOut of the grave and furrow, furrow and grave,\n\nWhere his sword first tried\n\nThe last cruel dances of childhood, and awoke to the shires\n\nForever retreating, his greatness a marshfire,\n\nThe banked flight of the Kingfisher always above him,\n\nNow Huma walked upon Roses,\n\nIn the level Light of the Rose.\n\nAnd troubled by Dragons, he turned to the end of the land,\n\nTo the fringe of all sense and senses,\n\nTo the Wilderness, where Paladine bade him to turn,\n\nAnd therein the loud tunnel of knives\n\nHe grew in unblemished violence, in yearning,\n\nStunned into himself by a deafening gauntlet of voices.\n\nIt was there and then that the White Stag found him,\n\nAt the end of a journey planned from the shores of Creation,\n\nAnd all time staggered at the forest edge\n\nWhere Huma, haunted and starving,\n\nDrew his bow, thanking the gods for their bounty and keeping,\n\nThen saw, in the ranged wood,\n\nIn the first silence, the dazed heart's symbol,\n\nThe rack of antlers resplendent.\n\nHe lowered the bow and the world resumed."
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Then Huma followed the Stag, its tangle of antlers receding\n\nAs a memory of young light, as the talons of birds ascending.\n\nThe Mountain crouched before them. Nothing would change now,\n\nThe three moons stopped in the sky,\n\nAnd the long night tumbled in shadows.\n\nIt was morning when they reached the grove,\n\nThe lap of the mountain, where the Stag departed,\n\nNor did Huma follow, knowing the end of this journey\n\nWas nothing but green and the promise of green that endured\n\nIn the eyes of the woman before him.\n\nAnd holy the days he drew near her, holy the air\n\nThat carried his words of endearment, his forgotten songs,\n\nAnd the rapt moons knelt on the Great Mountain.\n\nStill, she eluded him, bright and retreating as marshfire,\n\nNameless and lovely, more lovely because she was nameless,\n\nAs they learned that the world, the dazzling shelves of the air,\n\nThe Wilderness itself\n\nWere plain and diminished things to the heart's thicket.\n\nAt the end of the days, she told him her secret.\n\nFor she was not of woman, nor was she mortal,\n\nBut daughter and heiress from a line of Dragons.\n\nFor Huma the sky turned indifferent, cluttered by moons,\n\nThe brief life of the grass mocked him, mocked his fathers,\n\nAnd the thorned light bristled on the gliding Mountain.\n\nBut nameless she tendered a hope not in her keeping,\n\nThat Paladine only might answer, that through his enduring wisdom"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "She might step from forever, and therein her silver arms\n\nThe promise of the grove might rise and flourish.\n\nFor that wisdom Huma prayed, and the Stag returned,\n\nAnd east, through the desolate fields, through ash,\n\nThrough cinders and blood, the harvest of dragons,\n\nTraveled Huma, cradled by dreams of the Silver Dragon,\n\nThe Stag perpetual, a signal before him.\n\nAt last the eventual harbor, a temple so far to the east\n\nThat it lay where the east was ending.\n\nThere Paladine appeared\n\nIna pool of stars and glory, announcing\n\nThat of all choices, one most terrible had fallen to Huma.\n\nFor Paladine knew that the heart is a nest of yearnings,\n\nThat we can travel forever toward light, becoming\n\nWhat we can never be.\n\nFor the bride of Huma could step into the devouring sun,\n\nTogether they would return to the thatched shires\n\nAnd leave behind the secret of the Lance, the world\n\nUnpeopled in darkness, wed to the dragons.\n\nOr Huma could take on the Dragonlance, cleansing all Krynn\n\nOf death and invasion, of the green paths of his love.\n\nThe hardest of choices, and Huma remembered\n\nHow the Wilderness cloistered and baptized his first thoughts\n\nBeneath the sheltering sun, and now\n\nAs the black moon wheeled and pivoted, drawing the air\n\nAnd the substance from Krynn, from the things of Krynn,\n\nFrom the grove, from the Mountain, from the abandoned shires,"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He would sleep, he would send it all away,\n\nFor the choosing was all of the pain, and the choices\n\nWere heat on the hand when the arm has been severed.\n\nBut she came to him, weeping and luminous,\n\nIna landscape of dreams, where he saw\n\nThe world collapse and renew on the glint of the Lance.\n\nIn her farewell lay collapse and renewal.\n\nThrough his doomed veins the horizon burst.\n\nHe took up the Dragonlance, he took up the story,\n\nThe pale heat rushed through his rising arm\n\nAnd the sun and the three moons, waiting for wonders,\n\nHung in the sky together.\n\nTo the West Huma rode, to the High Clerist's Tower\n\nOn the back of the Silver Dragon,\n\nAnd the path of their flight crossed over a desolate country\n\nWhere the dead walked only, mouthing the names of dragons.\n\nAnd the men in the Tower, surrounded and riddled by dragons,\n\nBy the cries of the dying, the roar in the ravenous air,\n\nAwaited the unspeakable silence,\n\nAwaited far worse, in fear that the crash of the senses\n\nWould end in a moment of nothing\n\nWhere the mind lies down with its losses and darkness.\n\nBut the winding of Huma's horn in the distance\n\nDanced on the battlements. All of Solamnia lifted\n\nIts face to the eastern sky, and the dragons\n\nWheeled to the highest air, believing\n\nSome terrible change had come.\n\nFrom out of their tumult of wings, out of the chaos of dragons,"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Out of the heart of nothing, the Mother of Night,\n\nAswirl in a blankness of colors,\n\nSwooped to the East, into the stare of the sun\n\nAnd the sky collapsed into silver and blankness.\n\nOn the ground Huma lay, at his side a woman,\n\nHer silver skin broken, the promise of green\n\nReleased from the gifts of her eyes. She whispered her name\n\nAs the Queen of Darkness banked in the sky above Huma.\n\nShe descended, the Mother of Night,\n\nAnd from the loft of the battlements, men saw shadows\n\nBoil on the colorless dive of her wings:\n\nA hovel of thatch and rushes, the heart of a Wilderness,\n\nA lost silver light spattered in terrible crimson,\n\nAnd then from the center of shadows\n\nCame a depth in which darkness itself was aglimmer,\n\nDenying all air, all light, all shadows.\n\nAnd thrusting his lance into emptiness,\n\nHuma fell to the sweetness of death, into abiding sunlight.\n\nThrough the Lance, through the dear might and brotherhood\n\nOf those who must walk to the end of the breath and the senses,\n\nHe banished the dragons back to the core of nothing,\n\nAnd the long lands blossomed in balance and music.\n\nStunned in new freedom, stunned by the brightness and colors,\n\nBy the harped blessing of the holy winds,\n\nThe Knights carried Huma, they carried the Dragonlance\n\nTo the grove in the lap of the Mountain.\n\nWhen they returned to the grove in pilgrimage, in homage,"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The Lance, the armor, the Dragonbane himself\n\nHad vanished to the days eye.\n\nBut the night of the full moons red and silver\n\nShines down on the hills, on the forms of a man and a woman\n\nShimmering steel and silver, silver and steel,\n\nAbove the village, over the thatched and nurturing shires."
}
] |
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